#did they clear it out for hunters to stay when needing a place

[jackandclairearesiblings]

SPN except instead of the bunker, they move into Bobby's house after he died and make it their own

[thalwri]

from ashes to warmth

sylus x fem! reader

synopsis: you return from a hefty battle against a few wanderers to face yet another fight to protect your home– or at least what's left of it. with nothing left, you force yourself to find refuge and there's only one person you know who can keep you safe.

warnings: angst, fluff, teasings towards smut, more fluff, mentions of death, teasing, quite suggestive

word count: 3,4k

minors don't interact.

it wasn’t supposed to go this way.

hunters were swarming around your apartment’s entrance as you returned from a gory mission. skin sticky with blood and sweat, body limping with small cuts and bruises, you didn’t have the energy to question their presence. but then you were forced to when they didn’t allow you inside.

“there’s an active metaflux in the estate,” xavier, one of your close companions, muttered while stifling a yawn. he was also dressed in his hunter’s uniform and slightly ruffled so he was just as surprised as you. even if he didn’t show it. 

“hunters aren’t speaking on it because there are a few civilians within the area.” he tugged you to a more secluded corner of the bustling crowd full of gown and slipper-adorned hunters off duty. “if the wrong person catches word, a few things will end up compromised– including the integrity of our safety.”

“guess that’s already been hit.” a bitter chuckle brewed in the back of your throat as you glanced at the seemingly calm estate you live in. it looked fine, and there weren’t any surrounding wanderers you could see.

unless they were already inside.

you could feel the wounds you wrapped throb in discomfort as blood seeped through a deeper cut on your arm. the flamma ignis and polar wyrm that attempted to rip your limbs off had done enough damage to put you out of commission for a few days. you still had to file your mission report on top of that–

crackle– BOOM!

the ground trembled beneath your feet as a shockwave threw you off your balance just enough to make you stumble back. the screams of the hunters around you were deaf to your ears, the intense ringing of the explosion piercing through your skull as your vision cleared from the bright orange and green blur before you.

bodies flew and thumped before you. their lifeless bodies had strings of smoke flowing above them, almost like their souls were ascending before your very eyes. slowly, you turned your gaze to the home of many– your home– reduced to rubble and ashes and sprawling with wanderers of all grading. the standard, elite, and superior all heading towards you.

it took hours to eliminate them all. the hunters that were equipped and lucid enough to fight were on the front lines. the rest of the hunters either went to the nearest hunter-residence to collect as many weapons as possible to support the fight which was much needed.

you and xavier stood within the front lines for the first portion of the battle that had felt endless, surging on through your pain and frustration towards the fact that your apartment was effectively destroyed– unable to cry or grieve but only allowed to scream out the fury with each gunshot and stab of the blade until there was nothing but protocores left.

the sound of a crow’s caws ran through the growing silence amongst the hunters, a silence of mourning accompanied by the crackling of the flames within the rubble. the emergency services had arrived, taking in as many of the injured as possible, and the paramedics adorned in black cloaks took the bodies of the deceased. 

one by one, the hunters dispersed, booking nearby hotels or calling friends and family to stay with at least until the apartment estate was rebuilt. you remained, still trembling with shock and disbelief, for near an hour. xavier had left saying he had a few things to settle and suggested you find a hotel before they were all booked out. you lied, saying you had a place.

well, you did. but your grandmother’s home also suffered the fate of an explosion.

you discretely listened in to the investigation taking place to your left. speaking in hushed whispers while some hunter’s watches illuminated a recollection of what had taken place. word of a radio-frequency chip being found in one of the elevators, whispers of some people still being inside at the time of the explosion, mutters of transmuted humans and the potential involvement of the company known as ever…

all leading to a single answer: this was no accident. you were all being targeted.

and whoever set it up succeeded. 

your territory is gone. and now you’re bare and open to whatever wishes to devour you.

unable and unwilling to hear more as much as your curiosities were piqued, you limped to your 270hm and placed the helmet over your head. another cry of the crows filled the silence of the night, almost consoling you as tears finally ran down your face. you didn’t know where you were going. you just drove.

you drove through the traffic and the wails of the ambulances, you drove through the quiet of the bloomshore district, and you raced the hypertrains of Azure Square and through the outskirts of the city until you found yourself stopping at a familiar luxury estate. 

you picked your phone out of your pocket, fumbling through your contact list until you found his name. the line barely rang before the call picked up. your words choked at the tip of your tongue, your breathing grew laboured as you struggled to put your thoughts into words.

you were terrified, in pain, and distraught. you didn’t know what to do or how you’d be able to tend to your wounds. the hospitals across the city were stacked, and your usual medical companions were likely occupied for the next few days. 

at this rate, you were beyond your wits end.

“kitten?” his deep voice engulfed you in comforting warmth. as you removed your helmet, a familiar ruby-eyed crow landed on your motorcycle. mephisto relentlessly cawed hopping on your uninjured thigh to nudge you. if it were any other occasion you would have threatened to eat him. this time, you appreciated him.

“i’m here,” you whispered, staring at the entrance to his mansion. one of the great many he owned.

“i know.” the large doors opened to reveal the pale, silver haired man before you. his hair was damp, his red and black blazer was draped over his shoulders almost as if he had rushed to put on some clothing after taking a shower.

sylus held his hand out to you, wordlessly requesting you join him inside. whether it was the gesture or you losing you grip on your emotions, you didn’t know but you found yourself bursting into tears. 

within an instant, a shadow of crimson and black feathers formed by your side and his warm calloused hands held you. you instinctively held him in your pained embrace, crying through the agony of your wounds, the grief of watching some of your colleagues pass in the midst of battle, and the overall disarray of losing practically everything you owned. 

sure, some things can be remade or retrieved from the cloud but that didn’t console the hurt. 

the misty shadow of sylus’ evol engulfed you both until you were flat above him on the bed of one of the many rooms in the property. the firepit was burning, sending a more comforting aroma to you rather than that of burning concrete and other things which you preferred not to dignify with words anymore.

you allowed yourself to shake as your cries echoed around the room, sylus chose to remain silent and comfort you by stroking your back, glancing at your wounds and calculating what he had to attend to first– comforting you or ensuring none of the injuries got infected. you appreciated his quiet care, the gentle touch of his hands and his chin rubbing the top of your head calmed you down just enough to push out a few words.

“the– the apartment estate… it– it–”

“i know,” he whispered as his grip tightened on you but not too hard to affect your wound. he gently pressed his lips on the top of your head. “i know.”

a heavy sigh left your lips in gratitude. you felt so sticky and gross and you were messing up his bed. you couldn’t help but feel bad.

“i’m sorry,” you quickly sat up, groaning at the pain growing throughout your body. “i must be making a mess–“

“there are many more beds, kitten.” his lips curved into a careful smile as his hands hovered around you just incase you lost your balance. “there are more important things to deal with. like that cut.”

you didn’t even get the chance to agree, he immediately swept you up with one arm– the other working at removing your shoes. he sat you on the side of the sink to turn on the shower. the cold touch of the porcelain sent shivers through your body. the mirrors blurred with steam, your body began to warm as a thin layer of sweat formed over your blood and dirt-stained skin. 

you hadn’t realised you zoned out until the sharp sting of disinfectant hit the open wound on your arm. your top and pants had long been removed, leaving you in your most comfortable state with the man you were most comfortable with. sylus carefully dabbed a disinfectant-drench cotton ball on each wound until they were reasonably cleaned of the blood and dirt. he gently wrapped your arm with a bandage, holding a thin layer of gauze directly above the cut, until it was snug on you. 

“next time you decide to fight over one hundred wanderers, do call for help.” sylus tutted, tossing the dirty cotton balls in the bin. “i was going to come when mephisto informed me– but i had gotten occupied by some temporary business partners.”

“you would have left and compromised your safety?” you sniffled, almost tempted to laugh. “it’s almost like you want me to hand you over to the Hunters Association.”

“i have a few friends there,” he gave you his signature smirk. “i think i’d be just fine.”

he had muttered something about preparing a room for you and left you in the bathroom to clean up and dress into some comfortable wear. your shower was long, filled with pockets of thought, regret, and semi-aggressive scrubbing to wash off the gunk sylus hadn’t cleaned. 

if the apartment wasn’t rebuilt soon, you’d have to make a request to carry out your missions more towards the areas surrounding the n109 zone. you wouldn’t be neglecting your work and you’d also have a place to stay. and from your previous conversation with sylus, you had full access to the power and connections onychinus had. you were safe. and he made sure of that.

you smiled to yourself as you stepped out of the shower to find a set of his clothes placed by the door for you. he had learned that you enjoy wearing his clothes so he always left some of his at your apartment whenever he visited. you felt guilty considering all those expensive adornments were now destroyed. he would probably stare at you then order the exact clothes online to show you they were easily replaceable. 

but his brooch– the one he gave to you while you hated him– that always stayed on your person. you took it with you on every mission, assigning it as your lucky charm, your protection charm, and a physical reminder of his permanent presence in your life. he would always be there for you, even if you hate him for it.

you found him in the living room of the house, carrying multiple pillows in his arms as he walked towards the couches. there were blankets, plushies, and an array of snacks lined up on the coffee table. the television was on and paused at the beginning of a film, waiting for you to settle down and binge on anything you would choose.

he motioned for you to join him as he sat on the carpet, reaching out to eat. “the food won’t eat itself.”

you wasted no time to dig in, relentlessly having a bit of everything and you could just tell from the intense flavour that he made it himself. in the background of your shameless consumption, a movie played in a lower volume opening the opportunity for conversation.

you casually slipped the information you had partly overheard while zoning out once the chaos cooled down. sylus carefully listened as he ate, maintaining his attention to your every word.

“and from what we know, ever has been producing those chips,” you added before quickly munching on another spoon of dessert that he baked. oh goodness you loved whenever he made food. “tenebras are also being suspected to be involved. i’m not surprised. the last time a hunter went rogue was a month ago and our codes and systems still haven’t been updated to strengthen security.”

sylus carefully hummed, tapping his finger on the corner of the vintage wooden coffee table. you recognised that habit, along with him fidgeting with a coin as a physical representation of him being in deep thought. if what you heard was mostly accurate to his other suspicions then the attack would be part of a larger scheme.

“but it’s too complex and deep to think about without enough information.” you took the words right out of his mouth. you wiped your mouth with a napkin, shrugging off the tension building in your shoulders. you glanced at your bandaged arm with a slight grimace, still feeling the painful sting of the events earlier that night.

the coffee table was pushed further away from the couches for the two of you to create a makeshift fort comfortable enough for you to rest in. you were tempted to throw a few pillows at him but your physical exhaustion rendered your ambition futile. 

sylus rested on the mini fort, both comfortable and serene. “don’t let this spot get cold, kitten,” he patted his chest and beckoned for you to come down to him. a gentle gust of his evol guided you to draw closer and closer until your legs were tangled with his. 

a giggle erupted from you. “you could have just asked.”

“i did.”

you plopped down beside him, cushioned by the blankets and pillows and the warmth from the room. you shared a momentary silence– it was like it was just the two of you alone in the world. like all your problems were dust against the push and tug of the wind. you felt so secure; so grateful.

“thank you, sylus.”

“there is nothing i wouldn’t do for you.”

your eyes darted to each other’s lips, silently communicating a mutual want. 

“you must remember that you will always have access to everything i own,” sylus muttered, moving closer to you. your lips were less than a breath away. “everything.”

and that included him. you brushed your finger over his temple, eliciting a soft noise to leave his lips– almost like a purr. for someone who relished in calling you a kitten, he seemed more like a cat to you.

you leaned forward, finally closing the gap between your lips. it was a brief, gentle kiss. one of gratitude and adoration. when you pulled away he stared at you, with a flicker of bewilderment crossing his eyes before he returned the gesture– just as a soft, just as delicate but for a second longer. 

enticed eyes and widening smiles were shared in the silence of your giddiness and your lips collided again, this time with your embrace on each other tightening. his hands slowly ventured down to your thighs and guided them to wrap around him to pull you in much closer. he gently nibbled your lips ravaging you like a delicacy that he’d only have once, ensuring he savoured every bit of you. 

your arms coiled around his neck and broad shoulders almost instinctively, tangling your fingers within the dangerously soft tufts of his hair, scratching his head just the way you knew he liked it. he groaned into your lips and automatically pushed his hips into yours, making it very clear that even the simplest touch from you had the power to ignite him with need for you– utter devotion for you. unadulterated love for you and you alone.

“you’re not wearing anything underneath, are you?” he grinned against your lips, kissing your skin from the corner of your lips, to your chin, to the start of your neck, all the way down with a searing swipe of his tongue until he reached your collarbones. his hands gently travelled under his dress shirt, creeping up your abdomen until they reached the swells of your chest and greeted them with a gentle squeeze. you gasped, feeling his touch shoot tingles down your spine and into your core.

“so you aren’t.” 

“i doubt you are either,” you bit back, glancing down at the growing tent between his legs. “considering you changed into grey pants.”

“i like the colour.”

“as if.”

“as if?” his teeth sank into your skin and licked over the sting to soothe it. “i think,” kiss. “it’s just a minor coincidence.” kiss. “like you wearing nothing underneath my clothes.”

you stifled a small yawn. “mm, maybe so.” sylus quickly raised his head, further messing his already ruffled hair.

“you’re tired, kitten.”

“oh, i wonder why.” you deadpanned, not moving from your immense closeness to him. you were so needy to feel him and feel amazing with him, but you were also so exhausted. like hours of sleep would satiate you before you can do anything else.

your eyes began to flutter as sylus’ continued to give you gentle kisses down your chest to your nipples, taking them in his mouth and gently suckling at your hardening nubs. the neglected one was quickly given attention from his large hand, massaging and fondling you with love.

a smooth moan escaped your lips before your next yawn could. sylus’ lips and hands travelled further down until he reached the hem of your– actually his– pants and tugged them down your hips. 

“you don’t have to do anything,” he pressed a wet kiss on your bare skin, sending waves of need right to your clit. his touch would always be able to entice you. “we won’t go too far into it if you’re too tired. i can take care of you in many other ways.”

his crimson eyes slowly looked up to yours. his face was flushed pink from his cheeks to his ears. his gaze on you was painted with pure endearment and adoration. he kissed his way across your hips to your thighs, painting you in his endless affections all the way to your knees. 

“you know how much pleasure i get from simply worshipping you, sweetie?” you wouldn’t have been able to utter a response other than a squeak or a flustered whimper. a deep chuckle erupted from the depths of his throat.

“i get very satisfied from it. your pleasure is my pleasure. and i’m more than happy to take good care of you while you relax for me. may i?” he paused in the midst of his affections. he glanced up to check on why you were silent to find the cutest sight before him.

you were asleep. eyes, half closed but body limp and relaxed above to him. tonight must have really taken a toll on you. or maybe it was the pillow fort being so comfortable that you involuntarily held hands with the influencing whispers of slumber summoning you. either way, it was the most adorable sight he had seen just yet.

“such a sleepy kitten,” he chuckled, moving back up to lie face to face with you. he watched your chest rise and fall for minutes that ran as quickly as seconds. the tranquility in your state of rest was both comforting and beautiful to see. 

it was almost sunrise and even he was becoming more tired. he could perhaps encourage you to stay with him for long– maybe he could go on more missions with you to ensure you aren’t at much risk to be injured as you were today. he’d also have to send some of his people to investigate the targeted attack. he’d rather burn the known universe to a crisp before you ever face an injury like that again.

before he ever risks losing you.

but for now, for the time being, you were with him. alive and well. injured, yes, but alive. that was all that mattered. and the comfort of that alongside you being comfortably coiled in his arms was more than enough for him to invite sleep overcome him.

just for a bit.

[circeyoru]

Love Trial _ Part 2

[Sung Jinwoo x High School Ex-Lover!Reader]

Part 1 ― Part 2 (here)

“I’m sorry. Let’s break up.”

“I understand. I wish you happiness, Hunter Sung. May your days be nothing of smiles and content.”

At the time, there wasn’t much to it, nothing that would make him take it back nor chase after your fleeting form. He, too, turned and left, returning to his work as a Hunter like usual. There was nothing personal, just that he felt like the distance and connection between you two was weaker than what he and you first had all those years ago. 

Well, the difference in your circumstances could be the reason. He was a Hunter and you were a citizen. As bad as he sounded, you two were in different worlds and you both knew it deep down. Yet both of you continued to cling to the hope and familiarity of what you two once had during the peaceful days of school and study. 

The distance felt stronger and farther when he first had the System. He put everything into growing stronger and securing his place so his family would have an easier time. He was grateful for your understanding and the space you’ve given him, but part of him wanted something more, something he can’t place. He was content with you in his corner when things were rough, he thought he was content with that.

More. More. More.

He craved for something more. Like his continuous growth in power and levels, he also wanted his relationship with you to grow. However, as he put more time into the System and its mission for his growth, he should have given you the time of day. Not that he realized until you two met up and told the other what happened recently. 

Shamefully, he kept the System and the power boost he had a secret from you and only told you about the dungeons he cleared. How he was better now and could afford things like medical bills and rent, so you didn’t need to lend him a hand. Effortlessly, you told him everything was going on with your life without many secrets he could sense; it was all so natural to you. Even the part about some colleagues asking you out.

It got him thinking. The situation between you two. Can one really call it a romantic relationship? When the two of you met up after so long, you two shared a meal and he found it hard to even share his mind and situation. There wasn’t much romantic love going on, more like close friends getting together. If people were to see the two of you on the streets, unless you two were holding hands or Jinwoo have his arm over your shoulder, you two looked more like friends.

Just friends. Maybe best friends..?

That’s why he did what he did without remorse. Without realizing his fault. Without realizing the heartbreak he gave you.

Jinwoo thought it was fine to just downgrade you to the status of ‘friends’ instead of staying loyal as your romantic partner. Instead of even trying to revive this distant and strained relationship.

When Cha Hae-In appeared in the picture, he thought ‘This is love’, so he pursued it. A unique bond and connection unlike any other. He was slow to it, but it was worth it, he thought. There was that skip in his heart and minor butterflies in his stomach, so it had to be, right?

A date with Hae-In in the amusement park proved otherwise.

“What a coincidence. Didn’t expect to see you two here.” Choi Jong-In smiled while coming over with an ice cream cone and cup in his hands. “On a date?”

“Guildmaster.” Hae-In bowed his head in respect, though one could notice the blush on her face. “What are you doing here?”

“A causal outing with a friend of mine.” Jong-In answered. He raised his hands to gesture at the icy treat. “Was put on ice cream duty cause I flinched during a roller coaster ride.”

Hae-In laughed, “How does anyone notice that? They’d have to be staring at you the whole time.”

Jong-In nodded along with a smile, “You’re right; this friend of mine really was doing that the entire time, only cause staring at me was better than the ride and wanting free ice cream. I’m happy to oblige either way.”

“Jong-In! What’s taking you so long?!”

The familiar voice made Jinwoo’s head snap over to the side. There you were, walking through the crowd, panting a bit from a suspected run and dodging other people. He did notice a mid-freeze from you, but you continued to walk in his direction.

“Speak of the devil.” Jong-In chuckled and met you halfway, “Slow down, I’m not going anywhere.”

You glared at the fire mage and snatched the ice cream cup, “I’m scared my ice cream would melt! I didn’t care about you!”

“Ouch.” Jong-In playfully acted hurt.

You looked over Jong-In’s shoulder to see Jinwoo and Hae-In. You nodded your head in their direction and greeted them, “Hunter Sung and Hunter Cha. It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise.” Hae-In nodded, while Jinwoo only managed to nod without a word of exchange.

There was silence in the air, Jinwoo can’t help but stare at you, making you nudge closer to Jong-In’s side. A flame burned in his chest at your actions. He didn’t fail to notice how you tugged at Jong-In’s sleeve before the fire mage spoke up, “Well, it’s about time we head our way. Have a good time you two.”

Ironically, this time when you turned and left him, he wanted to chase after you. Just as he took one step and his lips parted, a weight on his arm grounded him. He looked down to see Hae-In shily smiling up at him. “Do you want to try what they did? Sounds fun!”

Right, you have had the best ideas to light up your times together. You can turn dull activities to something worthwhile.

“Let’s.”

As time passed, he found himself longing for your presence more and more. He’d see you while it was Hae-In he was spending his time with, scroll through your past chats with him (he’d see you online and offline from other chats presumably), and even hesitate to call you from time to time. He was always able to stop himself from actually calling you or texting you at the last second, swiftly coming to a sense of guilt. 

Then he buried himself in fights. Dungeons, worldly events, extra quests from the System. Anything to keep himself and his mind off of you, to remind himself why he said those words to you in the first place. It was his Hunter role that made things different, so he thought he’d be happier while attaching himself with a talented Hunter like Hae-In. However, in the end, all he only managed to do was foster more and more guilt and ache from his decision to be apart from you.

His blasted mind kept going back to the scene of you with Jong-In. He did know of your friendship with the man, that you had met him during your college days, an experience that he had to cut short due to his urgent need for money. Thinking back, why you didn’t first break up with him to go to Jong-In was a miracle. Since he was a lowly E-Rank and Jong-In was a successful S-Rank.

What a fool he was to give you up just like that.

He made attempts to see you again; the least he could do was treat you as a friend when he was such a heartbreaker. Through the eyes of his Shadows, he searched for you. Yet, every time, you were busy with your work or you were with some friends of yours. It looked as though you were well off without him, while he was wallowing in his own self-created sorrow. Your smiles without him was like a stab in his heart time and time again. Why did you stay with him when you were far better without him?

Silently, he sent his Shadows to protect you from any dangers. Call it a sixth sense or something, there was this uncanniness of you always glaring in the direction of where his Shadows were, as if you could tell he was looking at you and when.

.

.

.

“Will you allow me to call you mine?” Jinwoo asked the big question on his knee while you stared at him with your hands covering your mouth, obviously hiding a gasp. 

! NOTIFICATION

[WOULD YOU LIKE TO RESTART THE WORLD?]

YES NO

Words wouldn’t form and your eyes started to water. The only thing you managed to do was nod your head repeatedly, showing him that dazzling smile of yours and the echo of your laughter surrounded him.

! NOTIFICATION

[WOULD YOU LIKE TO RESTART THE WORLD?]

YES NO

Jinwoo rose to hug you. His arms opened and reached for you, yet the moment you were within arm’s reach, you faded to nothing. The smile on his face and the giddy feeling in his chest all disappeared like it was never there, replaced with an ache in his heart.

Jinwoo’s hand clenched as he stared at the spot where you once were. Imprinting into his mind that that was a reality he should have made come true and not here. “I know that all of this is an illusion…”

.

.

.

When the war was won and the Monarch of Destruction was no more, he had kneeled down in exhaustion. His mind hallucinated that you would be there to hug him. His ear would be against your chest as you would hug his head to close to you, you had always used your own heartbeat as his calming music after the deadly raids. It was the most melodic tune he had ever heard in his life. It would be fast initially, then slowed down to soft beats that his heart would follow. 

Of course, he’d never have the luxury of that anymore.

If only he had one more chance. “Just once more.” If only he hadn’t been so stupid to make that mistake. Your presence, your voice, your heart, your smile, your love. He could have it all again. If only he had a chance to start over. “Could I use the Cup of Reincarnation just once more?”

Soon. He’ll see you again.

.

.

.

My nightmare is over, and now, I’m with my younger sister, my mother who’s healthy, and my father who didn’t disappear. I was given the last chance to set everything right. I won’t lose this opportunity. I can now rewrite the future that is to come. But, just for a little… Isn’t it okay for me to just treasure this peace that I’m feeling? As a reward for myself.

He knew his duty and he knew when he’d meet you. High school was the fated time and place where the two of you left in love and started going out. This time, he’d fall in love with you and cherish you. Only you. Without the whole thing with gates and Hunters, he wouldn’t have to leave you to attend college. This time, he could attend college with you. By your side.

First. He has to deal with the Monarchs.

.

.

.

Jinwoo stayed seated as he stared at the melting buckles of ice cream he left untouched. The sweetness from the cold dessert had lost its flavour. To be thrown away after one’s purpose is fulfilled was a terrible feeling. Was this for you left when you were abandoned by him all that time ago? He hated this feeling and he hated himself for not realizing it sooner.

Just then he turned his head to the side, the glass showed the streets outside and the people that crowded it because of the giant gate he made for his return. His eyes weren’t mistaken. It had to be. There you stood, a younger form from what he recalled, but definitely you. You were staring at the ice cream shop’s menu with a thinking face before looking down to your phone and started moving once more.

He practically leapt out of his seat and ran to the doors. He saw your back disappear into the crowd and the call of your name from someone, someone he didn’t think would be there with you. Then you were gone again. He could have sent his Shadows to search for you or follow you, but it wasn’t a meeting that would do him much favour. In time, he’d meet you in high school. 

To wait a while longer then…

Manhwa Scene Used (just in case any of you wanna re-read): 161 (illusion with Reader), 179 (Jinwoo’s return & ice-cream shop)

Note: A bit longer, but it's cause Jinwoo's POV is bits and pieces since he needed to balance his depression and saving the world. You know, hero/MC stuff.

This got dragged on for posting cause I got annoyed with the people asking when/where's part 2 when there are responses above theirs already. Please just check before you ask something. It's not that hard, guys...

Part 3 in the works, no promises on when it'll be out

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

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[artyandink]

kindred

“DON’T STAY AWAKE FOR TOO LONG, DON’T GO TO BED”

A/N: a little angst piece cause I felt like it, heavily inspired by Carry On but it happens before so tEcHnIcAlLy Carry On is inspired by this :)

God, Dean should have never taken his eye off the ball, the ball being you. Sure, you were such a damn good hunter — one of the best he’d ever seen — but even the best had their drawbacks, even the best had their moments, even those moments couldn’t be afforded. You and Dean had been casing a possible group of vampires in Houston while Sam hunted a werewolf down in Wichita, and you two determined that it could only be a few. You could take ‘em, you were good enough.

Wrong.

It was a whole nest, a whole ass nest, which you two had been able to mostly clear with some machetes and bullets laced with dead man’s blood. Until one son of a bitch had snuck up behind you when Dean thought the worst was over and shoved a thin wooden stake right through your stomach and yanked it back out

How fucking ironic.

Dean couldn’t hear the yell of your name that left his mouth as you crumpled to the floor, couldn’t feel when his hand holding the machete lashed out and took the thing out, dropping to his knees in front of you as you propped yourself against a wall.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart.” His voice was frantic, looking at the gigantic fucking hole in your stomach that was leaking hot blood— shit, shit. “Keep your eyes open, yeah? Don’t take ‘em off me, don’t you dare. You’re fine, you’re—” He had to cut himself off before his voice broke into a million pieces. His heart was racing, head spinning, hands frantically taking off his flannel to press against your stomach to stem the blood flow— you were a fighter, right? You fought everything, you never backed down, you wouldn’t this time, right?

“Dean,” You rasped out, in shock, looking down at the gash that was in your stomach, then back at him. “Dean.” It was like you were a broken record in your head, your head lolling forward, to which his hands flew up to keep your head up. Your body was fighting, he could see it in your eyes. “D—Dean.”

Your voice was strangled, and that was one of the worst sounds he’d ever heard in his life. Hearing it hurt his heart almost as much as seeing the wound did. You were pale, clammy — you were bleeding.

“Eyes on me,” Dean repeated, holding your face tighter in his hands, his eyes flitting to the wound every other two seconds. “Eyes on me, princess, c’mon, stay with me. Please.”

The panic was clear as hell in his eyes, like a storm tearing through a calm night. The sight of all that blood, your blood, staining your clothes and the ground beneath you tore his heart open and just left him raw.

He gently kept your head in place, not letting you slump, not letting you give up. “Stay with me. No falling asleep, sweetheart. Stay awake.” Just keep your eyes open, keep looking at him. He needed to see the light in your eyes.

You could feel it. You could, the pain stabbed through your stomach, making you let out a sort of strangled cry, breathing heavily. “I’m not— I’m not ok, am I?” You couldn’t even recognise your own voice, it was hoarse, it was raspy. Oh, God, oh, God.

The cry punched Dean in the gut, and he held back an almost strangled sound from himself, the way your voice was so quiet and broken making his heart shatter. He didn’t answer your question, because if he knew you weren’t ok, he’d lose it. He’d go insane with worry.

He shook his head, refusing to believe it, refusing to accept it— you were fine, goddamn it, you were gonna fight. “It’s gonna be ok. You’re gonna be fine.” He repeated those words like a mantra, both for your benefit and his.

“I can’t— just tell me.” You begged, your eyelashes fluttering, but you kept them open, wanting to hear it. “Tell me you’ll be ok, Dean, please.” You reached for his hand on your cheek, gripping it. “You an’ I both know I ain’t makin’— makin’ it outta here.”

“Stop it. Stop it.” Dean’s voice was a broken whisper, his chest heaving. He couldn’t lose you, he would not. “You’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine because I won’t let you die on me, do you understand?”

He wanted to break, he wanted to scream at the world, he wanted to cry and sob. But if he did, he’d fall apart. You needed him to stay strong, to keep you alive.

“Then tell me something good.” You whispered, hot tears rolling down your grimed cheeks, eyes becoming more vacant by the second and he saw it. “Tell me something good, talk t’ me.”

Talking, he could do that — talking was a distraction, yeah, distraction for the both of you. What was something good, though? What could he say to you that would be any reassurance when you were literally bleeding out in his arms?

“You know what’s good?” He spoke, his voice strained but still a little gruff. “You are. You’re so goddamn good. And when we get out of here— because we will get out of here, got it — I am gonna tell you that every day.”

You grinned weakly, losing control over your breathing, gripping his hand as fear struck through in the form of pain in your lower abdomen. “I love you.” You blurted, laughing a little in relief — a weak, barely there laugh — that you’d finally said it. You finally did it. “Never told you that, but god, I’m crazy for you, Dean. Just— just remember that.”

For once in his life, his heart soared and plummeted at the same time. You were saying this now? You had to say it now? Not when you were safe, when he could celebrate getting your love and devotion in words and actions.

“You’re a goddamn idiot, you know that?” The scoff he let out sounded wrecked, but his thumb was a gentle caress against your face, trying to sooth you, wipe away the tears. “Why say it now?”

“You know I don’t know how feelings work.” You scoffed, unable to stop a watery laugh, blood trickling from the corner of your mouth as you coughed, some more dribbling down. “But I’m glad I— that I said it. You love me back, right? You…” You looked to him for some confirmation. Any at all.

He ached at the sound of that laugh, and he almost winced at the sight of the blood dribbling from your mouth. You were losing it too fast for his liking, but you were staying awake, and that was something he wanted to cling to.

“Of course I fucking love you back.” The admission was instant, like he had no time to be coy or hide it. Hell, what was the point of hiding anything at this rate? “Been crazy about your stubborn, beautiful ass for years. Thought it was plain to see, sweetheart.”

“Do I have to remind you that I ain’t a psychic?” You coughed again, gripping his hand tight, eyes dropping to his lips. “C’mere. Please, c’mere, Dean. Just— I’m losin’ it fast, don’t leave me hangin’.”

“Not leaving you, sweetheart.” He assured you, his voice quiet as he gently lifted you and manoeuvred you so you were laying properly in his arms. All the while, one hand kept firm and hard against your stomach, while the other gently touched your face, the curve of your cheek, your hair — anything he could get his hands on.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, trying not to think about how much his heart was screaming at the idea of losing you.

Your hand left his, cupping his own cheek, even if you knew you tasted copper and he probably could too. The kiss was simple, sweet, slightly desperate and one hell of a goodbye, not wanting to let it go, salt from your tears staining your lips as well.

The taste of your tears and your blood was something he didn’t want on his tongue, not one damn bit. It felt like a goodbye, like you were giving up, and he couldn’t have that. You were too damn good to give up, too good for him to say goodbye to.

“Please.” He mumbled against your lips, desperately kissing you, like they could keep you here, like a kiss from him would keep you alive.

“I don’t wanna go.” You whispered, losing grip fast, desperately holding on to talk to him. “Just— just don’t blame yourself, ok? It was my— my dumbass that got us here. Ok? So— so just tell me it’s ok, tell me you’ll be ok.”

“I don’t blame ya, god, I don’t." He didn’t even stop to think, he didn’t know how he’d keep going in a world without you. “Stop taking responsibility, you stupid—“

He cut himself off, hating how you were trying to act like your own death wouldn’t shatter him. All he wanted was to be able to fix this — fix you — and keep you alive.

He grabbed your hand and pressed it to his chest, wanting you to feel his heart, feeling your hand curl into his undershirt.

“Dean, please, tell me I can go.” You begged, feeling the tears fully roll down your face now, giving him a brave smile. “Tell me it’s ok, please, I can’t— I can’t hold on anymore.”

He didn’t want you to go, he couldn’t let you go, but he could see it in your eyes that your grip on the world was slipping. You were so damn brave, but he was selfish, he would do anything to keep you here, even just for a second longer.

“Go where?” He knew what you meant, but he wanted to hear it one more time, he wanted a few more seconds hearing your voice. “Please, sweetheart, fight for me.”

“I love you.” You murmured, voice weak, low, head tipping forward so your forehead rested against his cheek. “I love you… I can’t…” Your breathing was slowing, grip loosening on his hand. “Tell… me.” He had to, right? He had to say it’s ok.

“Don’t you dare.” He hated the weakening tone in your voice, the way your hand slackened; hated how you were making your peace because that wasn’t allowed, not now.

He wanted to stay strong. He didn’t want to break, but hearing your voice like that, so weak and soft, broke something in his chest. Dean pulled you as close as possible, burying his face into the crook of your neck, letting the first sob free from his throat.

He gave in. “Course it’s ok. I’ll be ok, sweet girl, I’ll be ok.”

He felt you let out a breath, but you didn’t take in another one. Your head fell limp against his shoulder, but you didn’t pick it back up. Your hand released his shirt, slid down like it was weighted and never got back up.

Your eyelashes fluttered, closed, but you didn’t open them again.

His whole damn world stopped. He had felt everything, even heard the moment your breath left you, and then nothing. Every good thing, every sweet moment, every stupid laugh and smile and sarcastic comment — it all just stopped.

Dean sat there for a long moment, refusing to believe it, refusing to believe you were gone. He gently laid you as best he could, not letting go as he put his fingers against your throat, trying to find your pulse.

There was nothing, he found nothing, just your cheeks paling, head limply falling sideways, lips parted — stained with blood — one final tear rolling down your cheek.

You were cold.

“No. No.” He couldn’t stop himself from pulling you back into his lap, cradling you to his chest like a broken doll. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to tear apart the world and everyone in it for letting this happen.

He let out a wretched sob, burying his face into your hair, wanting to feel you just one more time, praying to a god he was never sure existed to bring you, his pretty girl, back to him.

“Come back.” He whispered, his voice cracking, begging. “Please, please, come back to me, just breathe again, give me something— anything.”

He gently gripped your chin, lifting your head up so he could see your face one more time, ignoring the fact that you were so damn still. Just a breath, that’s all he needed, just one damn sign you were still with him, even if it was just for a few seconds.

“I’ll do anything.” He choked out, pressing messy kisses to your face and hair, not caring about the blood — he’d never care less about it, he’d take every damn drop you had left in you. “Sweetheart, just open your eyes, just move for me, please?”

Nothing.

“Please?”

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

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@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

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@cheynovak

special tags for my boos: @jasvtsc @deanswidow @beausling @titsout4nicholas @figthoughts

@deansbite

[targaryenluvs]

Can you make a fic with a dark coriolanus x reader

Post Lucy running away where he stays a peace keeper for some time and he helped reader avoid being picked for the games and he abuses his power as peace keeper against reader whom he helped and holds it over her head (she has no family but her friends are like family) and he does all types of fucked up stuff to her sexually and he fetishizes her for being a woc (reader is a woman of color) and he fetishizes her skin or something and he keeps saying all creepy stuff and he then marries her (after convincing her no one would want her after him) and parades her around and shows off to capitol ppl who also fetishize her and she becomes basically his property with a creepy nickname and you pick the ending

BROWN JEWEL

pairing: dark!coriolanus snow x fem!poc!reader

summary: he was a lifeline and you’d grabbed on in hopes to avoid the reaping, but you were coriolanus’ obsession and he was not going to let you go.

warnings: obsession, abuse of power, nc touching, threats, forced marriage, fetishisation of skin color?? non-con (p in v), public sex, pregnancy, forced marriage, jealousy of infants? kisses, kinda stockholm/reader gives in

wordcount: 3.1k

a/n: audibly gasped reading this rq (i did change it around a bit since some of it i was unsure of how to write and if i felt comfy doing it) i went off track for sure

this was your last year for being involved with the reaping.

just tomorrow then you'd be in the clear for the rest of your life.

you had friends who relied on you, and their families which were practically your own. you’d been raised with them after your parents passed and you owed them your life. you were an amazing hunter and your game kept them going. you were skilled with hunting, medicine, literate because of your best friends mother. you helped them all in so many ways and you knew they needed you.

through your older years, you began to realise you weren’t exactly the same as your friends. their light skin and light eyes in contrast to your darker tones were always a reminder of your unshared bloodline. yet they never treated you any differently.

you had to live for them.

so it was how you ended up in the tree line by the peacekeepers barracks. hoping to bribe one into pulling your name from the bowl before it was placed infront of the justice building. what you didn’t expect was for a soldier to find you first.

“what’re you doing here?” he spoke from behind you as you stumbled to get up. “i... i wanted to talk to someone, to try and uhm, get them to do something for me.” he exuded confidence with his chin in the air and his grip on his gun. he obviously thought he was better than you. “what do you want me to do for you?” you sighed, “i was hoping, to get my name taken out of the reaping bowl.” he tilted his head, a smirk on his face and you wanted to peel your skin off with the way he was looking at you.

“come closer.” and you did, stepping into the moonlight. he found you to be gorgeous, glowing. “i’ll do it.” your eyes widened as you smiled, “thank you!” and he took a step closer to you, “but what will i get in return?”

and that’s when you should’ve run for the hills.

at the reaping ceremony, he coincidentally placed himself right next to your row. his stares were harsh on your back. your hands were sweating and you couldn’t think straight until that name was called, and it wasn’t yours.

“we’re safe.” your friend whispered into your ear as you smiled at her, “yeah, we are.” but for some reason you weren’t convinced. the peacekeeper was on you like a shadow ever since the day before. on the walk home he was following you and you knew it, but if you confronted him you had no clue what he’d do to you. so you felt it best to keep your head down, and get home. you didn’t expect for him to barge his way in.

“what’re you doing?” your voice was shaky and you could feel the perspiration on you, for someone reason this man made your body go haywire and you wanted to leave. “why? can’t i come see the pretty girl i saved?” your head was facing downwards as you began to mumble, “my names only in eight times, my odds were low anyways. a lot of people took tessera.” you heard him click his tongue, tutting and shaking his head in disagreement, “seven.”

he was right infront of you now, and as he bent down to whisper in your ear, you froze up, “i don’t do things for free y/n. when i want something from you, and i do, i will come to collect.” he held your face in his hand as you asked, “what’s your name?” he smiled, “coriolanus, but you can call me corio.” and he held you to it.

every time you saw him he’d be unbelievably smug.

even your friends noticed, “he keeps staring at you, that peacekeeper.” you were having a night out, your senses flooded with music and laughter. but not too far away was coriolanus, downing his beer. you shifted around before slyly looking his way. “it’s probably nothing. you know how these peacekeepers are. i think i’m going to head home.” you kissed her cheek before making your way out and to your home.

you were only a few minutes away when you took notice of the shadow behind you, lurking. “y/n.” you stopped in your tracks and turned his way. “corio.” he grinned at the nickname you used. his expression should've warned you, his words rung through your mind.

an intoxicated man was a dangerous one.

"when i want something from you, and i do, i will come to collect."

corio held you against the shabby wall as his hands held you in place. your pants swamped at your ankles as he rutted into you harshly. “stay quiet for me yeah?” your hands shoved at his chest but it seemed to be pointless.

“please, please corio not here.” coriolanus couldn’t bring himself to listen to you, and he sure as hell didn’t care if someone saw. what were they going to do? you were his, you needed to realise that. the quicker you did the easier it would be for you. your cries and protests went in one ear and out the other, “shh, i’ve got you. don’t worry.” he cooed, ignoring your pleas.

you felt humiliated, treated like trash. taken in an alleyway like a whore, as coriolanus continued on. your legs felt like jelly and your weight rested on the wall behind. his hands came up to lower your shirt, your breasts spilling out. “fuck, you’re made for me. all mine.” he groaned as he felt your walls tighten around his cock.

“come for me baby. come on.” you didn’t want to, you wanted to run away from him but your breath was laboured as your head lolled back. but even with that he wasn’t done with you. he wanted more. he wanted all of you and he wouldn’t stop until he’d had enough. you weren’t sure if he’d ever get his fill.

your cheeks burned as you walked back to your home, cum-stained panties and shame filling you to the brim. acquaintances walked past, you smiled and waved with fake kindness. your feet dragged along, your legs shaky and hands trembling. you wanted to drag the walk out as long as possible.

coriolanus could tell, but he couldn’t do anything yet. so he grit his teeth and walked with determination.

he’d punish you later.

and it was all you knew. almost every night corio crawled into your home, took you all over the house till dawn. and in return you were able to provide your family with everything they could want.

dana has a cold?

the medicine was at the front door hours later.

peter hurt himself at the mines?

a first aid kit was ready to be picked up by noon.

not a single person around you was hungry, sick or uncared for. all thanks to coriolanus. your friends were able to infer where all your resources came from, but you’d never asked for their aid.

you just wanted to help them, in any way you could.

what you didn’t anticipate was coriolanus in your home, tossing your nicest clothes into a suitcase. the jewellery he’d bought, shoes etc. “what’s going on? why are you packing my things?” he didn’t respond, he just kept packing, moving around the room and throwing in things he deemed important.

“we’re leaving, back to the capitol. you’re coming with me, now help me pack.” you grabbed his wrist in a moment of anger, forgetting your place. “let. go. now.” he demanded as you retracted your hand, “i’m sorry. but, you need to talk to me. i’m not going to the capitol corio, this is my home.” you should’ve known he was going to hate your words.

he grabbed your wrists, fingers digging in as you cried out in pain. “you are coming with me, otherwise i am more than happy to hurt you. all the supplies for your friends? gone. you know i won’t hesitate to hurt them. so if you want them to be taken care of, you’ll listen to me. now pack your things and shut up.” he spit out as you pulled away from him.

you didn’t even get to say goodbye.

the capitol scared you to no extent. the prying eyes, the excessive, almost wasteful, wealth and resources. you felt uncomfortable in your own skin. the people of panem viewed you to be a rare phenomenon. as if darker skin was unattainable. it was nothing like district 12, and you knew you’d never fully fit in. but corio wouldn’t let that be.

coriolanus thrived under dr gaul. overtime he’d been provided with an apartment and inheritance courtesy of the plinths and he was happy to indulge his sweet girl with whatever she could wish for.

the most expensive silks, finest jewels. you felt like a little porcelain doll, with multiple faces. you were bound to crack.

by the time coriolanus snow rose to be the president of panem, all the fight in your body was a distant memory, a shell of your former self. "you have everything you could ever wish for," according to your husband, "but you still think of them." his words were filled with disdain but held an ounce of truth.

your heart yearned for home. for peters terrible cooking. for dana’s flower crowns. nights out with your friends singing your heart out before sneaking out to the lake a certain covey had let slip on. a simple life.

but it all felt to be out of your grasp, far in the back of your mind.

presidential campaigns, parties, shopping, and super rich kids with nothing but fake friends. it was all your new normal. the residents of panem tolerated you for being the first lady of panem, admired you for your looks, and despised you for your background.

you’d never felt more alone.

you found solace in your children. ciron, your baby boy. only five years old but undeniably bright. he was ahead of most children his age in studies, able to remember so much in such a small mind. he was the spitting image of coriolanus. the old coriolanus. curly blonde hair, striking blue eyes. but his kindness, his care for others? that was all his mother. he was the perfect mix, and a huge mommy’s boy. the second he learned something knew he rambled on about it, only to you. he loved to play with your hair, curling it around his fingers.

“now we match mommy!” he smiled as you picked him up, resting him on your hip. “now i’m almost as pretty as you baby.” you teased as you attacked him with kisses on his face. he squirmed in your arms, small hands coming to cover his face. the noise seemed to wake caroline, her squeals and cries echoing through the home.

“shh, we have to be quiet okay?” ciron nodded as the two of you made your way to her nursery. it was caroline’s first birthday today, and coriolanus had spared no expense on your account. the celebration was to be held at your home, filled with people who couldn’t care less. but you just wanted to give her what you never had. a party at the presidents house was rare, and a lot of the hadn’t seen you in a while.

caroline was all you. darker skin than ciron, olive like. brown eyes and dark hair.

during your pregnancy with ciron, coriolanus showed you off to the people. you were regularly seen out and about, at parties, shopping, walking etc. coriolanus took any opportunity to parade you about to the people of panem. something out of their reach but so sweet, so beautiful. you despised it, being seen as nothing more than his property.

“she’s a fine girl you have coriolanus.” grandma’am spoke as she pinched your cheeks, “just have to take the district out of her.” as if you were an animal to be dissected.

“are there any more of her type?” the man joked as coriolanus’s hand tightened on your waist.

you’d always loved yourself, your hair, your skin color, your body. but it all seemed to be under coriolanus’s ownership the second you’d allowed him to take you to the captiol. no one cared about you. no one bothered to help. they just admired and touched when they could.

so you’d plead with him, begging him to let you rest for the remainder of your pregnancy. he surprisingly agreed, letting you confine yourself to your shared room.

and with cirons birth, you felt hope. his wide eyes, consuming all he could with his sight, his tiny fingers wrapping around your finger. your heart swelled with joy at his face, your saving grace.

coriolanus wanted to pry him from your fingers. for the next few weeks your attention was purely on the boy and coriolanus began to feel neglected. he was already traumatised from his own mothers passing, his sister taking her life. with the announcement of your own pregnancy the thoughts poured in.

would the baby take you too?

would he be forced to listen to your screams?

would he have to raise the baby he despised?

he hadn’t even met your child yet and he'd already made his mind up. the baby was no good, an heir was needed of course but at the cost of his wife? would he pay the price?

your screams of agony and pain clawed at his throat. he felt sick, bile rising as he forced it down. coriolanus would not be seen as weak. but he couldn’t help himself, your hands clutched onto his as a lifeline. your pleas for aid, and coriolanus could do nothing. helpless.

the finest doctors in panem, machinery and medicine yet it all seemed useless.

to you it was worth it, the second you held him in your arms. all the pain in the world if it meant you’d have him as the outcome. one of the nurses placed a pair of scissors in his hands, urging him to cut the cord as coriolanus masked his disgust.

snip!

tigris cooed over the baby as lethargy hung over you like a cloud. “isn’t he the sweetest coriolanus?” all he managed was a nod, his focus on you.

his strong wife, who’d given way to new life. your eyes were fluttering close as you murmured, “ciron.” the doctors and nurses gleefully agreed, “what a fine name!” the head doctor announced as he held him in his arms, a nurse taking him away to be cleaned.

and after all that, you were pregnant once more. another child for the happy family but another nuisance in his eyes between yourself and him.

all you ever cared about was the kids.

“has caroline eaten?”

“is ciron awake?”

“is his teacher here yet?”

“coriolanus, i think we need to take ciron shopping again. he’s growing so quickly!” he knew he should’ve been happy. but all he wanted was for you to be his again. you were always too tired for him, already asleep with ciron by your side, taking his place.

or you were breastfeeding caroline, meaning that he was sure he wasn’t going to get to feel you up that night. too sore, too tired, not in the mood. he couldn’t catch a break.

-

you’d decided to have caroline and ciron match. baby blue, how sweet!

it’d only been about an hour in and you’d had enough. these people never really moved on. the same comments about how special you were, how lucky you were. compliments stuffed down your throat you were sure you’d gag.

you grounded yourself with caroline, clutching onto her as coriolanus made the rounds. “anna!” you shouted out to one of your servers. “yes, mrs snow?” you refrained from rolling your eyes at the last name, “bring the cake out, now please.” she wasn’t sure, “mr snow said-” you smiled at her, “caroline’s getting fussy, better if we blow the candles out now so i can feed her and get her to bed.” she scurried away to get everything in order as coriolanus found you.

“sweetheart. you can’t hide the birthday girl at her party.” you chuckled, “i know, i know. she’s getting tired, we’re going to have to get the candles out early. cirons already sleepy too, he worked really hard today. i’m so proud of him.” you beamed as coriolanus took a sip from his glass, “oh did he?” he sneered. you were about to reply but the cake being carried out took your attention. “look sweetie! it’s your cake!” caroline lifted her head from your shoulder as you pointed at it.

“come on corio.” he downed his drink before following along. maybe if he was nice you’d fuck him tonight.

the four of you were a picture perfect family, cameras shuttered as everyone sang for caroline. she rested on your side as ciron stood in front of coriolanus, his hands resting on his sons shoulders. a smile plastered on his face. “happy birthday to you!” you bent down with caroline to blow the candles out as everyone cheered.

for once, you felt happy.

you sat infront of caroline’s crib, rocking it side to side. it was around 12 now, the party packed up, ciron in bed sleeping soundly, and coriolanus in his study. it’d been a while since you and coriolanus had been together. your pregnancy with caroline was risky according to doctors and you were told to take it easy. it’d been at least two months since his last time with you, and god he needed release.

once you figured she was asleep you made your way to corios study. “corio? you busy?” you peaked your head through the door to find corio writing away. “come in.” you closed the door behind you as he rolled back in his seat, patting his lap as you plopped down.

“you want something?” you rested your head in the crook of neck, roses infiltrating your senses. “m’ tired, wanna sleep with you.” coriolanus was taken aback for once, in his eyes you’d deprived him of your presence for so long and here you were wanting for him. coriolanus would have to settle for now. he caressed your cheek, “alright, come on.” his arm lifted your legs and you interlaced your fingers behind his neck.

over your time with coriolanus you’d learned to like things about him, since there was no point in you hating him anymore. his voice in the night, whispering to you. his soft hands washing your hair. when he was relaxed, the two of you would bask in eachothers presence, reading silently. baths together, his hands raking through your hair, trailing over your body with care. and as the two of you slept together, in a tight embrace, coriolanus felt at ease.

his brown jewel, all to himself.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

do you have any new recs for sterek with size difference? (preferably with smaller stiles)

Sure.

The Hoodie by PersePhonesDreams

(1/1 I 1,988 I General)

Stiles didn’t mean to keep Derek’s hoodie—really, he didn’t. But the oversized, ridiculously soft thing quickly became his favorite comfort item, a piece of Derek he couldn’t quite let go of. It’s not like Derek would notice anyway... right?

When Derek unexpectedly shows up at Stiles’ window one quiet night, Stiles’ not-so-secret attachment to the hoodie is exposed, leading to a conversation that changes everything.

Cue awkward confessions, teasing smiles, and the realization that maybe Derek doesn’t mind Stiles keeping more than just his hoodie.

jacked and kind by LookWhatIHaveWaitingForMe

(4/4 I 3,288 I Mature)

Stiles forces Derek to participate in the "jacked and kind" TikTok trend and this time Derek doesn't need convincing.

Be Still, My (Beating) Heart by mznaughty01

(1/1 I 3,878 I Explicit)

The time for games was definitely over. Because now? Now it was time for Derek to breed Stiles’s sweet ass.

(K)Not Tonight by slimypaws

(1/1 I 4,961 I Explicit)

Stiles had the very clever idea to go to his favourite place while in heat and during a full moon on top of that, his brain clearly having melted into a useless puddle.

He had never picked up the scent of another person, werewolf or human, here after all, so why should he start to worry now? Until he did pick up another scent after all. Everything went downhill from there.

Teen Witch by AngieNoir

(2/? I 8086 I Explicit)

Derek knows that there's something strange about Stiles and that's stirring up trouble in Beacon Hills, drawing the attention of werewolf hunters. Driven to protect his own, he believes he must kill the young witch. Yet, as he watches him, Derek finds himself falling in love, torn between duty and desire. A werewolf. A witch. And a danger that’s impossible to resist.

Wrapped in a Dream by wolfcloaks

(8/8 I 34,577 I Explicit)

He finds him in the middle of the clearing, mouth grappling with a foreign tongue, alabaster skin damp with the remnants of prior rain.

He's absolutely beautiful, Derek thinks, this creature, this boy.

Matenapped by xcaellachx

(12/12 I 36,671 I Explicit)

Alpha Derek Hale has known Spark Stiles Stilinski was his mate for over six years. The traumatized Spark had killed the rogue alpha who tried to kill his friend so many years ago and was still scarred by the experience. Now, Stiles was settled in as a magic shop owner and Derek was ready to claim him for his own. The ritual of matenapping was an old but accepted tradition and Derek had his den ready to receive his mate. It was time.

Stiles Stilinski thought Lydia was insane for thinking the sexy alpha wanted to matenap him. He was damaged by his past and determined to stay single so he didn't harm anyone. He kept his magic tightly leashed and couldn't believe that anyone could want him. Not a murderer. Even when the wolf came to see him and touched him gently, winking at him and looking at him longingly, he just couldn't accept it.

Very soon, Stiles wouldn't have a choice but to believe it. Derek was taking his mate and bringing him to his mating den where he would court and woo him until he couldn't help but fall in love with him.

The Lighthouse Keeper by tugela54

(11/11 I 75,073 I Explicit)

On a rural island just off Alaska’s northern Inside Passage, stands a centuries old lighthouse - the perfect sanctuary for its keeper to hide when the moon is full, to burn and rage through its cycle with the townsfolk being none the wiser.

But then a new resident comes to Beacon Harbour – a bright-eyed young student chasing an elusive whale species – and all of a sudden those thick stone walls seem paper thin…

Delinquents for Hire, Won’t you Let us Conspire? by skayaks

(18/18 I 89.909 I Mature)

The Sheriff slams a gun on the dining table, “What are your intentions with my son?” Stiles violently spits his water out, coughing instantly from the sheer disbelief.

OR

The one where a reluctant Stiles Stilinski goes to a very intimidating delinquent Derek Hale for help when he’s finally fed up with being picked on by Jackson’s shitty gang of wannabe jocks.

Naturally, as things tend to go for Stiles, he doesn’t have much of a fun time.

[milkloafy]

STUCK WITH YOU — BLADE

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: in which you get sick and blade is wondering how the hell he got stuck having to take care of you. ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: sickfic, fluff, swearing, gn!reader, stellaron hunter!reader, reader doesn’t like room temp water LMAO only ice cold, blade’s kinda mean but a softie trust me u.u ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.8k+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: i haven’t written for blade in ages so i am very rusty but i hope u enjoy <3 this is a self-indulgent fic i wrote while sick and bed-ridden yesterday :c if any of y’all got the summer cold/flu too i hope u feel better !! :> 

You felt like shit and the last thing you needed was someone threatening you to get better. 

It would have been one thing if those threats worked in scaring your illness away. But you were certain that it did the opposite of help— It simply gave you an unwanted headache instead. 

“Can you stop glaring at me whenever I blow my nose?” you demanded with a sniffle, tossing your tissue into the trashcan Blade so graciously placed next to your head.

“Can you stop blowing your nose so loudly?”

You glared at him, responding by grabbing another tissue and blowing your nose even louder. You winced at the force, feeling a slight throb in your head from the overexertion.

With an ever-present scowl on his annoyingly handsome face, Blade shook his head at you. You could practically sense the disappointment and annoyance radiating from him. “Don’t make yourself feel worse.” 

“I’m not trying to,” you said, choosing to lay back down on your bed rather than arguing with him.

Your throat was sore, your nose was both runny and stuffy with no in-between, your muscles were achy, and your body was tired. There wasn’t much fighting spirit left for you to spare in your current state. Hence, the reason the Stellaron Hunters had Blade stay behind on the mission until you recovered enough to join everyone. Why they didn’t leave someone more personable and caring like Sam behind was beyond you. But you supposed you should be grateful Elio let anyone stay behind instead of having you recover alone. 

Coughing, you reached for a glass of water to moisten your throat only to find it already empty. You groaned to yourself, the thought of having to get up from your warm and cozy bed to fill up your water in the cold, cold kitchen made you shiver. 

With a sigh, Blade exited your room while muttering a quick, “Stay put.” 

You blinked blearily, eyes barely able to follow his quick-moving figure out the door. 

In a flash, Blade returned with two separate cups—one filled with clear water, and the other with warm tea. He set them both down on your nightshade, collecting your empty glass to clean in the sink. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, touched that he brought you drinks without you having to ask. You grabbed the glass of water first, letting out a giggle when you saw the single ice cube floating on the top. With a smile, you questioned, “One ice cube?”

Blade shrugged, a nonchalant look on his face that one could easily mistake as uncaring. “You don’t like room temperature water. If I brought warm water to you, you would rather die of dehydration than drink it.” 

A nodded sheepishly, unable to deny what came out of his mouth.

“Still, you need fluids to feel better. I figured one ice cube might be enough to satiate you.” 

Staring at the melting ice cube, you assumed it didn’t do much to help the temperature of the drink, but the thoughtfulness of your fellow Stellaron Hunter was enough to coax you into drinking it regardless. 

“That’s…surprisingly sweet of you,” you said, taking a sip of water. It was, in fact, not cold enough for you, but you still pushed onwards. “Thanks, Bladie.” 

The scowl on his face deepended. “Don’t call me that. And drink the tea. I put honey in it since its anti-inflammatory.” 

“Your frown lines are forming prematurely,” you jested, setting the glass of water aside to pick up the steaming cup of tea. The warm mug felt hot against your skin and you felt a droplet of sweat forming on the side of your head. In the blink of an eye, you threw the blankets off your body and fanned yourself dramatically with one hand. You shared a look with Blade. “It’s too hot for tea.” 

“It’s not too hot, you just have a fever,” he said with annoyance, walking over to the thermostat and turning down the temperature regardless of his words. “But you can wait for it to cool down then—” 

Before he finished his sentence, you had already taken a sip of the drink. Immediately, you felt a burning sensation on the tip of your tongue and jumped. “Ow!” you yelped, placing the mug down and glaring at it. “That’s hot!” 

Blade glared at you. “Tea is typically made from hot water. I just told you to wait for it to cool down.”

“But you said that after you told me to drink it!” you sniffed, nursing your tongue by dipping it into the lukewarm glass of water. “You can’t give a sick person mixed signals like that.”

“You’re sick, not incompetent.” He paused. “Not more than normal, at least.” 

“Hey!” you protested. At the sudden overuse of your voice, you felt your throat growing more irritated. You coughed and coughed, taking in deep breaths of air to stop yourself. 

He folded his arms as he scolded you, “Don’t overexert yourself. Get some rest.” 

With tears forming around your eyes from coughing, you matched his haughty expression. You croaked out, “You’re naggy. Did you know that?”

“Only to those who don’t listen.” 

“You tell me like a million different instructions! How can I listen?” you retorted, your headache coming back as your shoulders tensed in irritation. 

When he noticed your slight wince of pain, Blade sighed and relented. He walked over to the side of your bed and picked up the cup of hot tea. With a blank expression, he blew the surface of the drink, cooling it down until the steam went away. 

“Here,” he said as he held out the cup to you. “Now drink.” 

Your stared open-mouthed at the drink. You felt as if he was giving you whiplash with his crass words and caring actions. You didn’t quite know how to feel, but you knew you were at least a bit grateful. 

Carefully, you sipped the cup of tea Blade gently (and begrudgingly) placed in your hands. This time, you did not feel the scalding heat burn your tongue. 

“Thank you,” you said, chugging as much of the tea as you could. “It wasn’t hot that time.” 

He nodded in response, stepping away from the side of your bed once he confirmed you finished your drink. Blade studied you as you laid back in bed, closing your eyes to try to soothe all your ailments. It didn’t work, but you would certainly keep trying. 

Without the blankets covering you, you felt cold again despite the sweat you felt gathering on your forehead. You heard rustling and the clanging of glasses next to you.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Blade walking away with the dirty cups in hand, muttering something about how he wasn’t your maid. You smiled weakly, knowing he was doing his best to take care of you regardless of his bitching and moaning. 

Blade returned with a slightly damp washcloth in hand, folded perfectly into a compact rectangle. You sniffled through your stuffy nose, watching as he held out the washcloth to you, before taking it back last minute. Confused, you pulled your hand back as well. 

“I’ll just do it. Before you mess up somehow,” he said, leaning down by your side and placing the damp washcloth on your forehead. 

The instant he placed the towel on you, cool relief coursed through your body. You shivered at the sensation, letting out a noise of satisfaction. 

You peeked one eye open, looking at Blade with another sheepish expression. “Thank you. Again…” 

“You don’t need to keep thanking me.”

“I do!” you insisted, staying as still as a board despite the passion in your voice. “I know you would rather be out on a mission right now, following Elio’s script with the others. But instead you got stuck here taking care of me.” 

He folded his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s not your fault. Kafka forcibly volunteered me.” 

You chuckled lightly at that. It certainly seemed like something Kafka would do. Either to annoy Blade, tease you, or irritate the both of you just for fun. 

“You just need to get better soon,” he said as if it were that simple. “Then we can both get back on the field.”

“Is that why you’ve been such a good little nurse, Bladie?” you teased, touching your fingertips to the cool washcloth on your forehead. 

He glared at you, but there was no anger behind the expression. “Call me that one more time and you will see what happens.” 

“Will you bring me more hot tea to burn my tongue on?” you asked in mock horror. Despite his menacing-sounding threats, you knew Blade would never hurt you. 

“I’ll bring you room temperature water with no ice,” he promised blankly. 

Your mouth dropped in surprise and you shook your head fervently, the small towel falling off your face. “No, please! I won’t call you Bladie again.”

Blade rolled his eyes at your dramatics but immediately went to pick up the fallen washcloth. “Stop moving around like that. You’re going to make your headache worse.”

“Sorry, mother.” 

He scowled and plopped the washcloth back on your forehead, less gently this time than the first. You stuck your tongue out at him in response before feeling another fit of coughs come your way. 

Once you managed to soothe your throat and gather your breath, you sighed. “I hate being sick.” 

“Then drink more fluids and go to sleep.” Blade grabbed the glass of water from your nightstand and began to walk out with it. “I’ll get you some more before you try to rest.”

Closing your eyes shut, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself despite your discomfort. He had a rough exterior, but he surprised you with how much effort he put into helping your sick self out. 

His hidden thoughtfulness was enough to stir something in your stomach—butterflies, you hoped, and not an unwanted stomach bug to add to your list of ailments. It was unfamiliar to you, but certainly not unwelcome. 

Blade entered your room one last time for the night, bringing you a new glass of water with a single ice cube, and a fresh new washcloth folded to perfection. 

You giggled, noticing his attentiveness to detail. “Thank you, Bladie. I really appreciate all of this.” 

He sighed but didn’t argue when he heard that nickname. Thankfully, he did not take the ice cube out of your water and hand the glass to you lukewarm.

“You are so… You’re welcome,” he relented, replacing the damp towel on your forehead with a fresh and cold one. “Now, hurry up and recover.” 

“I’m trying,” you laughed, no longer annoyed by his impatience. “I’m sure I will, with you doting on me like this.”

“I don’t dote.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Bladie,” you sang softly, your eyes finally feeling heavy after drinking more water and relaxing your muscles with the help of the cool washcloth. “I’m finally getting sleepy…”

He nodded. “That’s good.” 

“Mhm,” you murmured, your voice drifting into a sleepy mumble. “‘M tired. Goodnight… Blade.” 

There was a long pause before you heard Blade’s response while you drifted off into a deep slumber. “Get well soon, Y/N.”

[leighsartworks216]

Angel, Please

Zayne x gn!Reader

Went shopping with my roommate thinking it would be really quick, and then spent like an hour in there just pushing the cart for them and losing all energy and ability to think. This is the result of that

Title is from the song "Angel, Please" by Ra Ra Riot

Warnings: sensory overload, anxiety, avoiding a mental breakdown, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship

Word Count: 2,103

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You stare down at the shopping list in your hand, written in a mix of handwriting. Some items listed were written down by Zayne, others were added by you. A culmination of a week or so worth of groceries. It’s harder to read the words than it should be.

You have milk, cereal… You look back and forth between your cart and the list, but you can’t connect the dots. Nothing is clicking together.

Milk. Check.

Cereal. Check.

Your skin feels uncomfortably hot and itchy, but you don’t take off your sweatshirt and you don’t scratch. Your chest is tight, and you can’t seem to get a deep enough breath in. You zone out while staring at the list, urging your body to get a hold of itself.

“Excuse me,” someone scoffs as they invade your space to reach for something on the shelf behind you. They give you a look, judgemental and cruel, and walk away with a huff. Their basket bumps your cart with a clang that makes you twitch.

God, could they please turn the music down? The lights down? You just- You just need everyone to disappear. You just need to disappear.

You bite your cheek long enough to suffer through a self-checkout. You rapidly scan whatever you do have - more than just milk and cereal, but you don’t even process them anymore - and pay as quickly as possible, conscious of the eyes of other waiting customers trying to check out boring into you, judging you, urging you to just fucking move already.

The cool autumn air doesn’t soothe you enough. You throw everything into the trunk of your car. The pavement of the parking lot vibrates your hands as you push the cart to the nearest return. You rub them on your sweatshirt desperately.

You have to keep it together. You can’t break down in a parking lot at a grocery store just because all of your senses were freaking out. You are a Hunter! You fight Wanderers! You put your life on the line every single day! Why are you losing it here of all places?!

Your hands shake as you find Zayne’s number. It connects to the bluetooth in your car and you pull out of the parking space.

Are you really 100% fit to drive? No. But you need to get away from here as soon as possible. As tempting as it would be to ask to be picked up, you don’t want to be a burden.

“Hello?”

You swallow thickly. Your hands rub restlessly at the steering wheel. “H-Hey.” You clear your throat. “Hey. I’m heading home now.”

“Are you alright?” Zayne asks.

You want to put your head on the wheel and cry. You feel pathetic.

“Did something happen?” You picture his frown. The way his eyes sharpen when he tries to pick apart a little mystery. You want him with you right now. “Please answer me.”

“I-I’m fine,” you answer quickly, a knee-jerk reaction to the question. You know you’re trying to convince yourself. You know he doesn’t believe it for a second. “Just… Just stay on the phone with me until I get back. Can you…? Am I bothering you?”

He hushes you softly through the phone. “You’re not bothering me, darling. I’ll stay with you.” You sigh shakily. His voice sounds so nice right now. Your left leg bounces restlessly. “What do you want to talk about?”

You scramble to think of anything. You anxiously wait for traffic to clear enough to let you turn out of the parking lot. Your mind is taking in too much and too little information at the same time. Cars are just colored shapes, but you know where every single light source is around you. They keychains hanging from the key in the ignition rubs your leg like someone is drawing fire across your skin with a paintbrush. You try batting them away, but the jingle grates in your ears like it’s been amplified.

You pull into the flow of traffic, at last.

“Why don’t we talk about that show you enjoy so much?” he offers carefully. “The one with the girl caught in a love triangle? What was her Evol again?”

“She…” You swallow and check your speed. As badly as you want to get home, you don’t want to get pulled over either. “She can feel other people’s emotions. And, and in one episode she changes them, too.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Does she feel the attraction from the other characters? The men from the love triangle. What are their names?”

“Joseph and,” you turn on your blinker and wait at the stop light, “Damien. She can, but she feels bad because she’s not interested in either of them. So she pretends she doesn’t feel it.”

“So if she’s not interested in the prospective love interests, who does she like?”

You slowly pull up as a yellow arrow blinks, waiting for a gap in traffic to pull through. Once you’re driving steadily again, you answer. “She has a crush on her bed friend in the show, Melina. It’s really sweet, actually. But Melina has no clue, even though Therese, the main girl, keeps hinting at it, because Melina thinks Therese is interested in Damien.”

“That would be a tricky situation to be in. Who do you think she’ll end up with by the end?”

You laugh, but it’s slightly airy and strained, like someone punched it out of you. “I hope she gets with Melina, obviously!” You turn your blinker on again at a stop sign and turn after a second. This road doesn’t get too busy. “There’s actually some hints that Joseph and Damien will end up together. Everyone online thinks they’re competing for Therese’s love to try hiding their own feelings for each other.”

He doesn’t respond for a second. “Are you almost home, darling?”

You blink, and just like that, you’ve been snapped back into your body, aware once more of your surroundings. You’re in the middle of pulling into the apartment’s parking lot. You don’t even remember the drive to get there. “Y-Yeah. I’m here, actually,” you murmur.

“Okay. I’ll meet you down there. Do you need me to stay on the phone until then?”

You fiddle with the keychains, considering it. Everything doesn’t feel so itchy anymore. Your eyes hurt, but it feels more like the sting of exhaustion. Your head still thuds with a headache, but the noises that fueled it before feel more bearable now. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“Call me again if you need to. I’m on the way.”

The call ends and you turn off the car, pulling the keys from the ignition and holding them in your lap. You feel surreal, like your brain hasn’t quite caught up to your body now that it’s not screaming about every little thing. The parking lot outside your window doesn’t feel real. The bike you parked next to, your bike, feels out of place.

You groan and rest your head against the steering wheel, shutting your eyes tightly. Why can’t you just feel normal already?

A finger taps on the glass. You look up and watch as Zayne opens the door for you. “Are you alright?” he asks again.

You bite your tongue to avoid answering automatically. But the real answer eludes you. You don’t think you’re gonna freak out if your sweatshirt happens to brush your neck in a weird way, but you’re not exactly sure you could just calmly ignore it if it did happen either.

You slip out of the seat and out of the car. Zayne has that concerned look on his face, like you’ve just told him you haven’t slept for a week straight, but he doesn’t say anything, just shuts the door behind you.

He opens the trunk and begins gathering messily thrown-together bags of groceries. You grab one of the lighter ones that he leaves for you, and close the trunk. The car beeps when you hit the lock button on the fob.

Once you’re inside, you sit at the kitchen island and watch as he puts away everything you got. You find the crumpled list in your pocket. You have the clarity now to see just how many items you missed, including things you needed to make dinner tonight. You want to crumple yourself up into a ball like this paper.

Zayne’s hand comes into view as he slides the paper over to where he stands. He has a notepad and a pen, and he goes down the old list to write out what you missed.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t answer until he finishes the list, clicking the pen and setting it down. Then, his full attention is on you. “Can you tell me what happened now?”

You can’t meet his eyes. It’s hard enough admitting actual health issues to him, let alone stupid shit like this. Logically, you know he’s seen this happen to you before, know he wouldn’t think it’s stupid like you do. But it’s still difficult.

“I just got overwhelmed,” you mutter. You trace shapes into the marble countertop. “Everything was so loud and bright and… And I panicked, that’s all.”

“How do you feel now?”

You sigh and cross your arms on the counter, resting your chin on them. “I’ve got a headache, and I’m tired. But I’m not? I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like I’m in a dream. Nothing feels real right now.”

He hums in understanding. “I can think of several treatment plans that may help.” You finally look at him and he shoots you a wry grin. “First, I suggest you take some pain medication for your headache, before it gets any worse. After that, you have a few options. You can go take a nap or spend some time alone to decompress. You can put on your noise-cancelling headphones and listen to music or a podcast. Or we can watch that show you told me about, and I can make you some tea.”

“That’s a lot of choices, doc.”

“It’s in the patient’s best interests to have a lot of options,” he says. “You’re not beholden to any one choice.”

You look away as you think about it. What do you want right now? What do you need? “Can I mix and match?”

He nods. “Of course you can.”

“Tea sounds nice,” you start. “I don’t want to sleep right now, but I can listen to music, I think. But I just want to be with you.” You look at him again. “Is that alright?”

He smiles, answering you without words. Instead, he moves around the kitchen to fill a kettle with water and sets it on the stove. He disappears down the hall to retrieve two pills and your headphones, setting both on the counter in front of you. He fills a glass with some water for you to take the meds. You grab the headphones and slip them on, and head over to the couch to get comfortable. They connect to your phone once you turn them on. You scroll through your playlists for a while, but the more you look, the more unappealing it sounds to you.

Zayne comes in with a steaming mug of tea, prepared how he knows you like it. You hesitantly take off your headphones. “Actually, will you read to me?”

“What would you like to hear?”

You shrug. “Anything. I just want to hear your voice right now.”

He browses the bookshelf nearby. You set your headphones down and blow on the tea to cool it down. He slips one of the books out and carries it over to the couch. You curl into his side the second he’s sitting down.

The book is one of your favorites. You’ve never seen him read it before, but he’s seen you pull it out lots of times ever since you moved in together. You smile. A comfortable warmth emanates from your heart.

The paper slides gently from one side to the next as he turns the pages. It’s not grating. It doesn’t send shocks of discomfort through your body. You cradle the mug close as you rest your head on his shoulder, letting your eyes relax as you skim the familiar words. His shirt on your cheek isn’t scratchy at all. It’s nice and soft.

He begins reading and you close your eyes. You breathe in deep the cool scent of his cologne, the fresh smell of his body wash, the slightly bitter, rich essence of the tea.

You can relax here. You can exist here. This feels real.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope

[bluskaiwriting]

top of the food chain | sergei "kraven" kravinoff

➤ pairing: AFAB reader x Sergei Kravinoff / Kraven

➤ warnings: Smut, predator/prey power play, mild kink if you squint (a little rusty so i'm just easing back into it)

➤ notes: it has been so long since i've felt the proper urge to write smut for a character and of course it has to be kraven *chef's kiss*

➤ more: masterlist | smut reblog blog 

She thinks it must be fate, the way she practically fell into his trap. Their destinies tangled like a spider's web before they even breathed their first breaths. He was made for her as she was made for him.

She'd been barely old enough to be out there in those woods alone. Old enough that the judge declared she was no longer a ward of anyone. She was finally free.

Hopping on the first train out of there, she ended up somewhere in the mountains. After years of suffocating under someone else's thumb. Fresh air and green grass, that was all she wanted.

The mountains seemed perfectly idyllic and visions of her spending her days here flashed in perfect sequences before her.

Until she realised that she was woefully unprepared for the rough terrain and most definitely did not think her dumb little plan through.

Night fell quicker than she realised, leaving her shivering and struggling to find food. By some miracle, she had gotten the fire going before darkness fell but now the gurgle of her stomach was starting to echo.

Foraging was her plan, though she only knew brief notes of medicinal roots and herbs. Sustenance was slightly different. She'd trudged as far as the firelight touched to avoid losing her way.

Losing the spirit and gusto that so quickly drove her out here, dread and dispair began to take their place. A feeling rose up in her, souring her nose and wetting her eyes.

She was a fool, a silly little girl who honestly believed she could do something for once in her life.

About to lose all hope, something glinted in the moonlight in the corner of her eye, something that looked hopefully like a berry. Instinctively, she turned and stepped towards the glint.

Suddenly she was 10 feet in the air, trapped in a net of some sort and still frozen from shock. She was now caught in a trap.

A stupid, stupid trap that she was doomed to stay in until the hunter who set it up remembered to check on it or until she died of starvation.

Fortunately, luck seemed to be on her side tonight. A man emerged from the shadows, steps feather-light against the ground in practised movements. Shoulder-length dark hair that curled against his cheekbones, glowing yellow eyes that pierced through her soul, and the build of a hunter for sure.

The small glimmer of hope she'd felt at the sight of another soul, was quickly eclipsed by something much darker, and far more primal. For some odd reason, her gut told her that she was prey and she needed to run.

She was always very good at ignoring her instincts.

Her eyes scanned slowly, taking him in. Strong thick thighs, long arms lined with veins, and plump lips. She imagined what it would feel like to be caught in those arms, to sit upon those thighs and feel him tense beneath her.

He raised his eyebrow as he clearly caught her eyeing him, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. His eyes were now scanning her too in reciprocation.

Her breath hitched at the sight, and her chest rose and fell in rapid motion. She was a prey caught in a predator's trap.

Though not an entirely unwilling prey.

He approached slowly, eyes never leaving her's.

"Who are you?"

She was surprised to hear an American accent lilting in his voice, betraying his almost native grasp of Russian.

"Cut me down."

Her voice was clear and crisp, she hoped, betraying none of her nerves and trepidation.

His eyebrows raised once again before he stepped forward and lowered the trap to the ground.

It was almost unfair, how easily she followed him when he beckoned to her. The pathetically desperate way she almost tripped over herself to run after him, when he sped up.

It's just because she was afraid of being out there alone, purely for safety reasons. At least, that's what she told herself to ease the sting on her ego.

And how she really found herself beneath him, panting and wanting? Well, she was cold and he was a human heater of course.

"Faster, please." She whimpered pathetically, whining with every thrust he delivered.

His hips pistoned in and out of her poor puffy pussy, wetness dribbling out of her with every push.

"Is all this just for me?" He asked, voice lilting with arrogance.

He pulled back and spread her thighs wide, taking in the sight before him. Pink lips glistened with the evidence of what they'd just been doing, her mind absolutely blank of anything.

Dipping his head, he breathed in deeply, a growl emanating from his chest.

Fuck.

Licking a long stripe along her slit, he pressed deep into her cunt, fucking into her with his tongue. He wasn't just tasting her, he was devouring her.

As he laved on her clit, his fingers hooked into her. Noises of uh, uh, uh, left her breathless.

She could feel it building, cresting higher and higher. She was so close if she could just get him a little deeper.

As his fingers explored her, he found a spot that had her making a noise. A noise so vulgar, her flushed cheeks grew hotter.

Smirking, he ground his palm into her swollen clit and drove his fingers into that spongey spot repeatedly.

She let out a wail so loud, she was certain all the animals heard. Her vision spotting white and a continuous ringing in her ears.

"Jesus Christ."

He huffed a laugh as he sat back up, releasing her thighs from his grip.

"Turn over." He smacked her ass, still kneeling before her looking more like a beast than a man as his eyes seemed to glow.

Trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm, she propped herself onto her knees and lowered her arms to the bed. In this position, she almost felt like she was presenting herself to him, spread open for his taking.

She felt more than she heard him spit onto her, warm and wet. She clenched around nothing at the feeling.

Prodding at her entrance, he pushed into her warmth slowly, letting out a groan at the feeling of her walls squeezing him.

Her breath hitched at the fullness of it all and she swore she could feel him in her throat.

He pulled out so slowly, that she felt shivers run down her spine. He pushed back in harder, driving her up the bed.

A gasp left her as he sped up, pounding into her like his life depended on it. Kissing her cervix with every push in, it should have hurt, but all she felt was ecstasy.

As the stars rushed beneath her eyelids, she could feel that she was close again, but she needed a little bit more.

It seemed her beast-man could sense it too, and he brought his fingers down to draw tight circles around her clit.

Breathy high-pitched moans echoed in the dome, as she met her peak.

"Oh god, fuck. Yes, fuck."

She wasn't making sense anymore if she ever was. She clenched down on him, seizing up as waves of pleasure rolled over her.

In the vice grip of her cunt, he followed her over the cliff, grunting into her ear.

Lips pressed to the side of her head, he breathed into her hair as he came down from his orgasm.

As if the fog cleared, they looked at each other in a different light.

A softer light it seemed.

"I'm Sergei."

[writinginatree]

Sugared Blood

Relationship(s): Lost boys & vampire!reader (Dwayne's pov)

Summary: Forcing you to stay home on Halloween, the boys have to get creative to keep you from sulking all night.

"Sweetie, you can't live off of candy."

You glared up at Dwayne from your place in your favorite old armchair, demonstratively shoving another piece of whatever candy your hand found first into your mouth.

He sighed. "I'm not saying you can't have candy. In fact, you can have as much as you want, as long as you promise to thoroughly brush your teeth before we sleep. But human food can't sustain you anymore. You need blood."

You just stuck your chocolate-stained tongue out at him, which earned you a laugh from Paul, who was using the distraction Dwayne provided to steal some of your candy for himself. The whole bag was stolen, anyway, since David had deemed trick-or-treating too dangerous for you.

Hunters were especially vigilant on Halloween, knowing many creatures saw it as the one day in the year they could show their true faces, and after the almost-disaster that Michael had brought on, David was refusing to take any chances. You had cried, raged, sulked, and pleaded with him, all to no avail. Maybe next year, he'd told you, but Dwayne was almost certain you would be staying home next year, too. And the year after that, and the next, and every other Halloweens that would follow. As much as he wished you could have your fun, Dwayne had to agree that safety came first, and unfortunately for you, that meant laying low when people on the street whispered about things lurking in the dark.

Despite begrudgingly accepting you had to stay home — not like you really had a choice, anyway — you were still very much unhappy with David and his overprotectiveness. All night, you'd done nothing but gorge yourself on candy and insist Dwayne read you scary stories, refusing any and all suggestions of other things to do — including drinking the bottled blood the boys kept for you.

They'd stocked up on the precious liquid a few nights ago, since Dwayne had suggested you'd feel better about having to stay home if they stayed in, too. Though everyone had agreed on the sentiment, all solidarity went out the figurative window this evening, when upon waking up, David had discovered he was out of cigarettes. The huge bag of candy he'd brought back with him to bribe you hadn't earned him your forgiveness as he'd hoped, nor did the Stephen King book covered in bloodstains which made it very clear how David had gotten it.

Dwayne held the bottle of blood out to you again, but you just pulled a face and continued eating candy.

"Come on, you've got to be hungry. Going on a hunger strike won't make David change his mind either," Dwayne tried to reason with you.

"I'm not hunger striking," you argued. "I'm just only having candy today. I don't want to drink blood all the time."

"You can't live off of candy."

"Sure I can."

"No, you can't. You're not human anymore. You're a vampire, and that means you need blood to live."

The way you drew a face, scrunching up your nose, drew you curious looks from all of them, even getting the attention of David, who'd been pointedly avoiding you all night in hopes of you forgetting about your grudge until tomorrow. But this sudden dislike for blood was more than a little peculiar. You'd never had a problem with the consumption of it, even when you'd been newly turned. Usually Dwayne or David went to feed with you alone, keeping things tamer than when they went without you, but despite your youth, it hadn't taken you long until you seemed to take as much joy in killing as the rest of them. So what was the issue now?

"What's wrong with blood?" Marko voiced the question going through all of their heads.

"Well, nothing, really..."

"But?"

"I just don't like having the same thing all the time," you whined, crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat to glare at them. "I can't stand it anymore. Can't we, like, make anything from the blood? I mean, vampires have been around for ages, and you're telling me none ever came up with some nice recipes because they got bored of having plain blood every day?"

"Y'know, I think the kid's got a point," Paul said. "We could totally come up with something more fun than boring old blood."

"Blood-candy!" you insisted, a chant Paul and Marko instantly added their voices to.

Dwayne shared a sceptical look with David. While they had added a small cooking corner in the cave since you joined them, it had turned out that despite your shared love for human food, none of you had much talent for producing anything actually edible. Trying something as complex as making your own candy — with blood as a special ingredient, no less — was bound to end in chaos. Still, if it kept you from further sulking, they'd let you try.

Not that there was any stopping the feral blonds, anyway, now that you'd put the idea into their heads. They were already on their feet, merrily letting you drag them to the cave's little kitchenette.

Dwayne and David had no choice but to follow, and try to keep the three of you from setting the whole cave on fire.

Bouncing excitedly on your feet, you threw a disarray of bowls, knifes and spoons onto the counter. "I bet we could make chocolate filled with blood!"

"Hmm, I guess," Dwayne said. "But maybe we should start with something a bit simpler, don't you think?"

"Fiiine. Then let's— Let's try making, like, a bloodshake!"

"A bloodshake?"

"Yeah. Like a milkshake, but with blood. That should be easy, right?"

"Alright, let's try," Dwayne agreed.

You clapped your hands. "Okay, what should we put in there besides the blood?"

"Milk," Paul and Marko answered as one.

"Duh. What else?"

"Cinnamon?" Dwayne offered, hoping to keep it simple.

"How about a banana to make it a bit thicker?"

"Yes to both."

"And some cocoa powder," Paul said.

You nodded. "And vanilla extract."

"Do we even have a blender?" Marko interrupted.

"Uhhh..." You scratched the back of your head, looking around. Since there was no electricity in the cave, you also didn't have any electrical kitchen equipment. "No?"

"Right, that's a no to the banana then."

"Right."

"Anything else then?" Paul asked.

Dwayne quickly shook his head, and David said, "Let's not add too much stuff, or it'll just taste like a mess."

Dwayne was half expecting you to contradict them, just to spite David, if nothing else, but apparently that grudge was now finally forgotten. You emptied a bottle of blood into a big mixing bowl, then added what Dwayne estimated to be about two cups of milk. He wanted to tell you that maybe you should measure out the ingredients to get the 'shake' to taste like you wanted, but you were already throwing in seemingly random amounts of the spices you'd agreed on.

When all ingredients were swimming in the bowl, Paul handed you a whisk, and you stirred everything together, droplets of the liquid splashing onto the counter and your arms with every circle the whisk made. Dwayne sighed internally. Cleaning up the mess would probably fall to him. Paul and you couldn't be trusted to do it properly, and David was too proud to bother with housework, which left only him or Marko, who much preferred causing chaos over eliminating it.

Once you deemed everything sufficiently mixed — minutes more than would have been necessary, if you asked Dwayne, which of course you didn't — you lifted the whisk from the bowl to lick it clean, only to have Paul snatch it away and do so instead of you.

"Hey!"

Paul only grinned and stepped out of your reach.

As David placed five mismatched glasses on the counter, Dwayne snatched the ladle to take filling the glasses upon himself before you could make an even bigger mess.

Since Paul eagerly started gulping his down as soon as he was handed it, Dwayne supposed the result had to be at least sort of edible. Then again, Paul's preferences in taste could be very questionable sometimes, so the first sip Dwayne took was small, just in case.

"Hey, that actually tastes good!"

Marko was right. The 'milkshake' was better than Dwayne had dared to hope.

"Could have used some sugar, though," you said.

David shook his head, and Dwayne found it fine as it was, too, but neither of them wanted to argue with you. They watched in silence as you dumped one spoon of sugar into your glass, then a second. After stirring and taking another sip, you added a third, and tried again.

"Ahh, perfect."

"Are you trying to fuck up your teeth?"

"My teeth are doing just fine," you argued. "They love sugar."

"Right..."

"Anyway, can we try making blood-chocolate now? And you have to tell me another scary story while we do. Please!"

Dwayne found himself unable to do anything but nod. This was going to be a long night, but as long as you were happy, that was fine.

[xan-izme]

Crybaby (Sully fam X daughter!reader)

Summary: Reader has always been a crybaby. Sensitive and had a soft spot for all living life. Jake disliked how sensitive you always were, he sent you out on your own for a month and came back a cold-blooded killer.

Warnings: Death, gore, mentions of death, mentally unstable reader, violence, Trauma

You were kind, sweet. Always looked on the bright side, you were on the same path as Kiri, training to become Tsahik. But it was clear you weren't as good as Kiri, which you were quick to admit.

That lead to Jake placing you with your brothers, training to become warriors. He wanted to tough you up, Jake loves how much you cherished love, he loved seeing the world through your optimistic eyes.

But ever since the sky people came back, he just needed his eldest daughter to be strong. Be there just in case he would leave this world a little too early.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Y/n, I need you to keep your balance! keep tripping like that you'll get killed." Jake's words hurt you, but you remember how upset he was the last time you nearly cried.

You inhaled sharply "Yes father." You stood up from the ground and faced your twin, Neteyam. He gave you a knowing look that wanted to know if they should stop, you shook your head lightly, not wanting to seem more of a wimp to your father then you already are.

You were an average hunter, your skills in fighting weren't that bad either.

But that wasn't enough for Jake. He needed to know that you were as skilled as Neteyam, as skilled as your mother was. So, it was always.

"Be faster"

"Hit stronger"

"Not good enough, try again!"

You would push your limit. Till you couldn't keep your eyes open. Your father would say words of gratitude here and there. Like small nods and a "Good work"

Your brothers sometimes feel like that's not enough for how much he makes you do. But just the smallest amount of approval from Jake made you feel like you were on cloud nine, causing you to do more, work harder.

Then one day, you were having a hard week, you were getting frustrated at the simplest things. Even your fathers nagging was annoying you.

When it came to training, you slipped up and made multiple mistakes that Jake just could not take it.

"Y/n, come now." Jake spoke calmly. You and your twin glanced at each other. You stood up with the help of Neteyam and followed your father.

The two of you walked through the woods.

"Baby, you know why I push you and your siblings so much, right?"

You nod your head, feeling a little nervous even if Jake was using his usual soft tone. "Then you understand--" Jake held you by your shoulders "--That this family, this clan is our fortress. And protecting this family is everything"

His words were deep to you, it was clear this was important to him. "And I need you to be strong. And training here hasn't been helping. So, Im sending you off. Away from here, so you can improve more on your own" Jake saw how your expression dropped "don't worry! It'll only be for a month. Ill check in every few weeks." He tried to reassure you. It didn't really calm your nerves down, but seeing how desperate he was to make sure you and the family was safe?

there was no way you could say no.

So, you left, you were on your own. The first few days were hard. And there were multiple times when you got seriously hurt and cried. God, you cried so much. All that crying made you hate yourself.

Hate every flaw you had. You even hated the soft part of you. Scolding yourself, knowing that kindness and your crying will not protect the clan, your family.

Jake did try to visit you. But you never stayed in one place. The two of you talked a little over the inner coms when you two would be miles apart. But those convocations didn't last.

You were training harder than ever. Perfecting every little thing down to the bone. In all honesty, you did go a little off from the safe zone, where you ran into a few sky people. You made it our alive, as for those sky people?

Well, you only let one live, still having that small kindness and mercy in you. Which was a big mistake.

You received a message from Norm and Max when they wanted to check on you, that a sky person bombed up a small part of the safe zone close to the high camp. No one was killed, but a lot were majorly injured.

Gaining all the details of the incident, you realize that it was the sky person you let live.

Cursing yourself and beating yourself for being so foolish, so naive for thinking nothing of what that sky demon after setting it free. So, you vowed to not give your enemy's any type of mercy, to kill all those evil demons, to protect you clan, your family.

Because this family was your fortress. And you were determined to be theirs.

Your month was over, and you were just so excited to go home. To hug and smother your siblings with kisses. To show your dear parents how strong and skilled you've become. To make your father proud of you. To officially be seen as enough to help protect everyone.

Norm gave you an inner com that was connected to your family, being told that your parents and dear twin brother were on patrol at the moment.

You decided to fly your Ikran to where you were told you parents and twin would be at. But when you were a few clicks away from them, you heard Lo'ak's voice. Saying he has gained sight of intruders. Ones who were carrying guns.

Dreamwalkers

You spoke into your inner coms.

"I'm closest to their location. I'll engage."

"Y/n-- wait, no! Y/n you better not!" Jake shouted.

"Y/n te i'tri Mo'ata Sully. Stay down! that's an--"

You turned your intercoms off. The safety of your baby siblings was the only thing you had in mind. It was almost eclipse, and telling by how the winds picks up and the clouds, it was to rain soon.

Your Ikran felt the panic and determination you were feeling and speed up to get to the location faster.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

You made it before your parents and twin could. You killed off every single dreamwalker. And that demon who took your mother's home away, who took Kiri's mother away.

The demon who caused so much harm to your clan.

"Any last words Demon?" you say, tilting your head as you held the sharp dagger to Quritche's throat. The Demon growled and spat in your face.

You weren't very pleased with that; you turned your head towards your siblings who were huddled against a tree.

"Spider"

The small human boy flinched by the way your voice sounded.

"Close your eyes." You said with a small fond smile. But it felt nothing like that. Kiri quickly brought Spider close to her and covered his eyes.

You looked back at Quaritche. The moment you slit his throat and began to detach his head from his body, was the moment Jake and Neytiri entered the scene.

Neytiri was quick to go by her younger children's side. Your ears perk and notice Jake. Once you laid eyes on him. Your face lit up.

"Father!" Youran to him and hugged him. Jake was in utter shock at the scene in front of him. He slowly hugged you tight. You pulled away, smiling, unphased by the amount of blood that was on you.

"I did it. I saved them. Look!" you pulled Jake to where Quaritche's dead body was and grabbed the head of the demon.

"I have killed him. I did it!"

Neteyam slowly entered and looked over what you had done.

"Mommy!" Tuk whined and was quickly embraced by Neytiri.

You were smiling, happy that you've finally rid your father of the nightmare that had burdened your family.

But when you began to see the look Jake had. You started to notice that was not the look of approval you hoped for.

"Y/n . . .What have you done?"

Your smile dropped, being replaced with confution

"Wha-. . .what? what's wrong? what did I do wrong!?" You didn't understand. Did you not put them down fast enough? Should you have taken out the leader before the others? What was it that was wrong??

"Y/n, baby. This--" He was pointing out to the bloody battle around them "--Is wrong. You tampered with their body's. Some of them are still bleeding out!"

"N-no! it's okay you see! I made it for them to not move at all and suffer their punishment." You tried to defend yourself. Tried to make your dear father know that it was okay. And that you did a good job.

Neytiri hurried the children to exit this part of the forest fast, including Spider. Neytiri didn't like Spider, but the boy didn't deserve to see all of this. None of her children did.

"That is not our way!" Jake yelled. Frustrated, worried and scared for his daughter in front of them.

Your ears pinned back. Feelings of sadness, betrayal and anger infecting your heart.

"Well, your way didn't work for me. You said so yourself! Why can't you just be happy!?" Your nose scrunched up in anger.

"I did this for the clan, for our family-- For you!" You were getting upset. All you wanted was the feeling of being called a Sully, worthy of the tittle as Toruk Makto's daughter.

"You can't do this. Your way will bring unbalance to the clan. And if you can't do that. . . then I'll have to strip your tittle as a warrior of this clan." Jake's words caused everyone to stop.

"Ma jake." Neytiri spoke, her eyes glancing between her mate and child.

You felt your bottom lip quivering. But your eyes refused to release the tears. You slowly backed away from Jake, nodding your head a little. Your eyes found its way to Spider who kept tripping, his legs still shaking from what he witnessed.

"Spider." You spoke up. The boy forced himself to look at you.

"Keep tripping like that. . . . . and you'll get killed."

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

You Love Me for Everything You Hate Me For

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cock warming; insinuated breeding kink

Summary: You knew better and Daryl would remind of that.

A/N: Inspired by @retroellie headcanon regarding submissive vs dominant Daryl and @thewalkingdilf headcanon on cock warming. 🩵

*gif is not mine

You choked on another whine, body vibrating with fine tremors of barely contained arousal and a desperation for relief. You had lost track of time, stretched and molded around Daryl’s cock buried to the hilt inside you. The hunter was on his third cigarette, taking ample time to enjoy each long draw while his sharp blues remained locked onto your face. 

How the fuck was he able to be within your velvety walls and remain completely still, completely lucid, completely fucking hard?

“Daryl, please.” You took the risk, bit the bullet, even after you were ordered to remain unmoving and silent. Turning his head to the side, he let the smoke billow from his mouth in a cloud that blocked his eyes from you for a moment. 

“Knew better than to wear that shit out where that creep could stare atcha like a piece’a meat.” In his defense, the skirt really had been a bit on the shorter side, barely covering the curve of your ass. Spencer had followed you around like a lost puppy, ensuring he stayed behind you. You weren’t stupid and neither was Daryl. You knew where the man’s gaze had been drawn. 

“You brought me the skirt from your run. I wore it for you.” You knew your backtalk would get you absolutely nowhere. Truth be told, you were probably earning yourself more time without the fucking you yearned to receive. 

You both were well aware that Daryl didn’t care one bit what you wore outside. It made him proud for you to show off. Everyone knew you were his, so completely and utterly and helplessly his. He just wanted a reason to toy with you, not that he needed one. 

“Don’t matter.” His index finger moved from where his hand rested on your thigh, flipping up the edge of the fabric in question the slightest bit. “Need remindin’ who this is for.” 

You did whine then, shifting your hips in the smallest motion to seek friction against your swollen, throbbing clit. His large hand left your thigh to grasp your hip tightly, squeezing in warning. 

“Don’t be a brat or I’ll keep ya here all day.” The cigarette was left hanging from his chapped lips so that his free hand could glide under your top, the rough pad of his fingertip carving a line over the swell of your right breast and down to your nipple. The little bud pebbled beneath his attention, your pussy clenching around him. There was a twitch inside of you but your archer’s expression remained indifferent. 

“God, Daryl, please let me move. I’ll be good, I swear.” Your hands left his shoulders to lay flat against his chest, itching to unbutton his shirt and feel his skin beneath your palms. “You can cum inside me. Fill me up if you want.”

His finger stilled over your areola, a dark brow arching. “That’s temptin’, sunshine. Real temptin’.” He moved his hand to your other breast. “Too bad I ain’t in the mood to bargain.” 

You fell forward, your face buried against his neck. You thought for sure that would break him. You knew the risks. So did he. Fucking a baby into you had been discussed but ultimately placed on the back burner. He wanted it. He’d made that clear. You wanted to give him that, a little family of his own, but Alexandria was just too new. You could always see it in his eyes, though. The subtle disappointment when he pulled from within your tight heat to empty himself on your skin. 

“Please! I’ll do anything!” You pleaded, sitting up to grind your hips down again. His hand squeezed your hip at the same time that he pinched your sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Anythin’, huh?” His eyes met yours while he tilted his head, considering your offer. “Alright.”

The sound that burst from within you was the most desperate, embarrassing keen you’d ever let slip. Your walls hugged him again, preparing for the fucking of a lifetime. His smoke was dropped into a glass of water on the table, joining the ones that came before it. 

“What do you want me to do?”

The grin he gave you induced goosebumps all over your skin. “Wait. Wantcha to wait.”

[d0llcuries]

NOT SO MIGHTY WARRIOR

author's note: this is my first time writing an x reader fic so pls bear with my potentially odd/boring attempt at a oneshot. additional apologies if neteyam is out of character!! (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

pairing(s): neteyam x fem na'vi! reader

summary: in which you're his unexpected peace

you sat amidst a cluster of older gatherers without speaking a single word and occupied yourself with a new batch of obtained fruits and herbs. the older ladies sat with the younger and whispered happily about families and olden days. you were often in need of their comfort, as it was their calmness that steadied you and let you get on with your task at this unhurried pace. on the positive side, you felt, much as the young women loved the thrill of the chase and enjoyed being in swift movements and intense instincts of a hunter, your heart was always too tender for it.

you never liked the idea of pulling a bow and aiming for a target or stalking something simply for a meal and so you found your place amongst the gatherers of the clan. this was more subtle, a more sensitive role and you were quite happy in it.you looked and already there was a heap of gathered things next to your sitting body, a small assortment of bright colors — berries, medicinal herbs and soft-skinned fruits that you sorted according to their variety and ripeness.

the pattern of work was pleasant and you allowed yourself to be washed over by the soft babbling of the older women that surrounded you like a passing summer’s wind in the trees. this was a gentle and known moment, and you let yourself dissolve into it.

that was until you felt a shift, an unfamiliar energy entering the space.

you looked up, catching sight of neteyam walking toward the group. immediately, something felt off. he carried himself with the same grace and respect as always, his movements fluid and confident, but there was something in the way he held his shoulders, a tension you were not used to seeing in him. his jaw was tight, eyes sharp but distant, like he was working hard to stay composed.

neteyam was always the picture of poise—strong, responsible, steady—but today, there was a flicker of something else behind his usual calm. “good afternoon, everyone,” he greeted the group, his voice polite and measured as ever. the older women smiled, nodding in return, but neteyam’s gaze lingered on you. “pardon me.. but may i speak with you for a moment?”

his tone was respectful, but the urgency behind his words was clear. the older women exchanged knowing glances and waved you off with soft chuckles, murmuring something about young love. you felt a flush of heat rise to your cheeks, quickly setting aside the basket you were sorting through before standing and nodding to him. “of course.”

he led you away from the group, deeper into the forest, his usual silence feeling heavier today. you followed, feeling the tension rolling off him in waves, his quiet frustration palpable in the way he moved. how odd, you thought, how odd that he asked to speak with her privately. young na'vi like you would kill for an opportunity like this, to be singled out by neteyam, the perfect warrior, the one everyone admired. perhaps you should consider yourself lucky, maybe even honored. so why did your stomach twist with nerves, your hands suddenly feel too still glued awkwardly to your sides?

when the trees opened into a small, sunlit clearing, he stopped, turning to face you, his chest rising and falling like he had been holding everything in for too long.

“lo’ak... he got into trouble again.” the words spilled out, heavy and filled with frustration. you were not surprised when neteyam mentioned lo’ak had gotten into trouble again. lo’ak was always the one to test boundaries, his spirit wild and untamed, always chasing something bigger. despite his good heart, he acted on impulse, never quite thinking about the consequences until it was too late. you couldn’t help but admire his courage, but it always left someone—usually neteyam—cleaning up the mess. his hands clenched at his sides, his tail flicking behind him in sharp, restless motions. the calm, collected neteyam you knew was cracking before you. “i had to take the blame, again. father... he did not even ask. it is always assumed that i will handle it, that i will fix things.”

his voice was tight, bitter even. you could see it now—how the weight of being the eldest, the responsible one, was grinding him down. she looked at him, and she hated to admit it—clearly, in his moment of frustration, she should be serious, should focus on his words rather than how his jaw clenched or how his muscles tensed beneath his skin. but she was just a girl, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t ignore how attractive he was, even now. his eyes sharp with irritation, and yet all she could think about was how unfair it was that someone could look so good even when they were angry. it made her feel guilty, so she bit her bottom lip in order to prevent a lovesick smile grom graving her face.

“lo’ak acts without thinking. he never considers the consequences,” neteyam’s voice grew softer, yet edged with a bitterness you rarely heard. “and i have to step in. i have to clean it up, face my father’s disappointment. no one... no one asks how i feel about it.”

his eyes darkened, as though the words had finally been let loose after being caged for so long. he turned away from you, looking down at his hands, his fingers tightening into fists. oh brother.

so you might have had a crush on him—every girl did! he was neteyam, after all, with that effortless charm and strength that made hearts race without him even knowing it. but right now, he obviously needed advice, not you daydreaming about grabbing him and kissing that stupidly perfect face of his, as riveting as that might be for you. yet. no, now was the time to say something smart, to get it through his thick skull that he needed to relax, because carrying all of this weight on his shoulders wasn’t going to do him any favors in the long run. you stepped closer, your chest aching at the sight of him so burdened.

“neteyam,” you began, your voice soft, your eyes filled with warmth and understanding, “you do not always have to be the one to fix everything.” he looked back at you, his expression raw, searching your face as if waiting for you to tell him something different.

“but who else will?” he asked, his voice low and quiet. “if i do not, then...”

“it is not your job to bear all of this on your own,” you whispered, taking his hand gently in yours. his skin was warm, and it took everything in you to fight the squeal that threatened to rise forth from your throat at the mere fact that you were holding hands with the neteyam te suli tsyeyk’itan. “you are allowed to feel frustrated, to be angry. it is not fair for everyone to expect so much from you.”

neteyam’s breath hitched slightly, his ears twitching at your words. his eyes softened just a little, like the tight knot in his chest was loosening, if only by a fraction. “but lo’ak... he needs me.”

“he does, but that does not mean you have to sacrifice yourself,” you replied, stepping even closer, your hand still cradling his. “you are strong, neteyam. the strongest person i know. but even the strongest need someone to share the weight with.”

his gaze fell to the ground, his expression caught somewhere between exhaustion and relief. your words seemed to hang in the air, softening the edges of his frustration. he blinked, as though your touch and your voice had calmed the storm inside him. but then, as if realizing how much he had let himself unravel in front of you, a flicker of embarrassment crossed his face.

his tail gave a hesitant flick, curling slightly behind him, and he let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar, sheepish way. “i... i did not mean to unload like that,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, his gaze dropping to the space between you. he was embarrassed—mortified, even—by his outburst. imagine, a sully, future olo’eyktan, standing there venting about his brother’s reckless behavior to a... gatherer? someone who simply looked after tuk and collected herbs? it felt beneath him somehow, like he should be stronger, more composed. but as much as he tried to justify his shame, it wasn’t that simple. she was more than that, more than just a gatherer in his eyes. did he—did he have a crush on y/n? uh oh. maybe lo’ak had been right all along, teasing him about how often his thoughts wandered her way.

the violet hue of embarrassment tinted his cheeks, and you could see the faint quiver in his tail as it stilled behind him. “i am sorry i-”

you smiled gently, stepping closer, your hand still lightly resting on his arm. “no, do not apologize,” you said, your voice filled with warmth. “you do not have to be strong for me.”

he looked up at you, his amber eyes softening even more, the tension in his shoulders easing as he let your words wash over him. there was something so vulnerable in his gaze, something so open that it made your heart swell. the wind rustled through the trees, and in the quiet of the moment, you could feel the warmth between you growing, like an invisible thread connecting you.

and then, as if realizing just how close you were, neteyam’s eyes flickered over your face, and for the first time, he seemed to really see you—the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, catching in your hair, the soft curve of your lips, the gentle rise and fall of your chest. as neteyam began to relax, his gaze drifted to how beautiful she looked, the delicate beaded necklaces around her neck, each one crafted by her own careful fingers. her top woven from flower vines, had been a gift from her mother, and the way it sat gently against her skin was almost too captivating. oh, he really shouldn’t be looking there—his breath caught in his throat, his tail curling behind him in the faintest of twitches. “you are... beautiful.”

your breath stilled in your chest, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your heart racing at the softness in his voice, the way his eyes lingered on you. but before you could respond, he quickly looked away, clearly embarrassed by his own admission, his tail swishing behind him awkwardly. “i mean, uh... thank you for listening to me,” he stammered, clearing his throat, “you always know how to make things better.”

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your heart full. “well,” you teased lightly, “it is my job to keep you from completely falling apart, is it not?”

his laugh was soft, but real this time, and the tension that had weighed him down seemed to lift a little more. and then, without missing a beat, you added, “perhaps, if you want to truly get your mind off things, you could take me for a ride on your ikran? i think it would be a fair trade after all that venting.”

his eyes lit up at the suggestion, his tail flicking behind him in excitement, but he quickly cleared his throat, trying to play it off coolly. “i suppose... that could be arranged,” he said, his voice trying to sound composed, but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him.

you laughed, your heart swelling as you watched him slowly come back to himself. “then it is a deal,” you said, stepping back, your eyes twinkling with warmth.

word count: 1,694

if u have an criticism (constructive or not) feel free to voice it ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)

[wandanatsgf]

Lovers, Vampires, Strangers Part 2

Pairing: Vampire!Wanda x Vampire!Reader

Word Count: 2886

Summary: This story starts in the year 1850. You and your girlfriend Wanda are happy together. You have everything you could ever want, until she secretly turns you into a vampire. After a horrible accident, you leave her and that life behind. Now 173 years later, she's come to ask you for a favor.

Part 1

Part 2: 2023, The Second Shittiest Year of my Life

“What do you want Wanda?” I ask the girl who was frantically banging on my door.

“I need a place to stay for a few days, please,” she begs. It makes me laugh. She really thinks I would help her after what she did? She’s insane.

“No way,” I tell her.

“Please Y/n,” she asks again.

“No,” I say. “I’m not letting you into my home or life again, Wanda.”

I go to shut the door when a small bullet sized wooden stake comes whizzing through the air. It flies through the small crack in my door from where I haven’t shut it all the way. I hear Wanda yell out some cuss words, while I barely manage to dodge the bullet. I should’ve just shut the door and let Wanda fend for herself, this is her problem after all. But I, being the idiot that I am, didn’t.

“Fine you can come in,” I say, pulling the brunette girl inside with me. I quickly shut and lock the door.

“What the hell was that Wanda?” I exclaim as I run through my house, grabbing the first bag I see. I put the guns and knives that II keep hidden throughout my home in there, in case whoever is outside tries to go after me, since I too am a vampire.

“That was Natasha,” she says like that explains everything.

“She’s a girl I…used to be with. She’s a little angry is all.”

“A little angry?!? She just tried to kill you Wanda.”

“Yes well vampire hunters tend to do that Y/n.”

“What the actual hell Wanda. You brought a vampire hunter to my front door?!?”

“Not on purpose. I didn't know she was a vampire hunter when I was sleeping with her. And I thought I had lost her back in Budapest. Clearly someone is determined to kill me.” Wanda rolls her eyes as she talks, as if this Natasha girl is a mere annoyance, like a gnat or a fly, and not a hunter trying to kill her.

I’m so mad at her I don’t even know what to say. I finish gathering my things, but I leave my phone in case someone tries to use it to find my location. I make sure I avoid all windows as I make my way to the secret exit of my house that will lead me to the other side of town, the exit I had installed in case of emergencies just like this. I go to the bookshelf door I had installed and open it.

“Are you coming or not?” I call out to Wanda, who was currently just standing there. Wanda quickly moves to where I am, not avoiding windows. Which leads to them being shot out by Natasha.

“Great another thing I have to deal with,” I mumble under my breath.

“What was that?” Wanda snarkily asks.

“I said great that’s another thing I have to deal with. Because of you,” I add on.

“Oh please don’t act like your life was all sunshine and rainbows before I got here,” she says as I lead her down a staircase. “We both know you were lonely without me.”

“Really? I’m the lonely one?” I say. “I can assure you, Wanda I have been anything but lonely since you left.”

“You really think Kate Bishop can fill my place that easily?”

“And how do you know about her?” Wanda says nothing, but it’s clear she had been keeping tabs on me.

“I should’ve known you’d never leave me alone, Wanda. You were always the possessive type.” I turn down a corridor and open the door. I walk out and into open air. The passage leads to a road two streets over where my getaway car is stashed.

“I’m not possessive. I just don’t want anyone to have what’s mine,” she says. I chuckle under my breath, reading through her lie. I choose to ignore her and walk over to a car, praying that it’s unlocked. Of course it isn’t, but i guess when you have vampire strength it doesn’t really matter. I get into the car in no time and I make quick work of hot wiring it so I can get away, and hopefully leave Wanda here. I get the car on and I climb in, quickly locking the doors so Wanda can't.

"What do you think you're doing?" Wanda asks, clearly annoyed. She stomps her feet like a child and it makes me laugh.

"I'm leaving," I say through my laughter.

"Not without me you aren't."

"Yes I am. I got you away from Natasha, which you're welcome for by the way. Now I'm off to save my own skin. Now get out of my way or be roadkill Wanda. Your choice." Wanda refuses to move, much to my annoyance.

"Move Wanda," I scream out.

"No," she screams back. I can feel my annoyance rising with every passing second, and then Natasha runs around the corner, guns blazing. I unlock the car and allow Wanda to hop in before I floor it. I pull out of the parking space, driving away as fast as I can, leaving Natasha in the dust.

"Happy?" I finally ask once we have gotten a little further down the road.

"Yes, very." I can tell she is pleased with herself, something that I absolutely loathe. I choose to ignore her so I don’t blow up.

We drive for what feels like forever, and I being a vampire would know what forever feels like. So trust me when I say it felt like forever.

Wanda does her best to annoy me, but I ignore her every time, not in the mood for her games. Eventually I pull into a decent looking hotel on the side of the road. I’m not sure where we are, but we’ve driven for at least 16 hours straight and I’m tired. Well as tired as you can be when you’re undead.

“Here we are,” I say as I park the car.

“Where are we?”

“I don’t know. But we’re safe aren’t we? You could be a bit more thankful,”

“It would be safer if we knew where we are,” Wanda retorts.

“Well why don’t you work on that while I get us a room.”

“Fine,” Wanda says, for once not starting an argument.

I happily hop out of the car, grateful to be away from Wanda, and I enter the lobby.

“Hi I need two rooms,” I say to the front desk lady.

“I’m sorry we only have one room available.”

“Fine I guess that’ll work,” I grumble. It really doesn’t work for me but I’ll just have to suck it up…or sleep in my car. Honestly I’d do anything to not be near Wanda for longer than I have to.

“And how will you be paying?”

“I won’t be. The bill will be comped by the hotel,” I tell the girl. I look in her eyes and change the tone of my voice, activating my compulsion.

“Here you go,” the girl says cheerily, handing me my room key.

“Thanks.”

I walk back to the car where I had left Wanda to give her the bad news.

“Unfortunately they only had one room,” I grumble, throwing her a room key.

“Don’t sound so upset. It’ll be just like old times,” she says, sending me a wink. I let out a scoff at her words.

“I’d rather sleep on the cement than in a bed with you Wanda.”

“Fine have it your way,” she says. She gets out of the car and walks into the hotel and to our room. I try and make myself comfortable in the car, but it’s no use. It’s too small and too hot. I grab one of my guns that I had brought and tuck it into the waistband of my pants then I reluctantly go inside, bracing myself for the snarky comment I know Wanda is about to say.

“Aww I knew you’d change your mind. I’m just too irresistible.”

“God you’re so full of yourself. But no I’m in here because the car was uncomfortable. It has nothing to do with you Wanda.”

“Sure, whatever helps yourself sleep at night.”

God this woman is infuriating. I choose to ignore her last comment.

“So you’re not talking to me now?” I give her the silent treatment.

"Real mature y/n."

"Whatever Wanda. I'm going to go get us some essentials, try not to get into trouble while I'm gone," I say, just wanting to get out of here and away from Wanda.

"Aww sounds like someone cares about me," she teases.

"No I just don't want all of this hard work to go to waste," I say as I walk out the door. It's currently 10pm at night so luckily anywhere I go should be jut about empty. I drive to the nearest Walmart, leaving Wanda in the dust at the hotel. I get us some toiletries and snacks (because yes even though we are vampires and undead we still like human food). My next stop is a blood bank, where I steal as much blood as I can. I prefer it this way over drinking straight from the source. It's much cleaner and not so scarring to humans. After about two hours I make my way back to the hotel, carrying my shopping bags inside, only to find Wanda gorging herself on a member of the cleaning staff.

"Wanda," I yell out. She drops the maid and her face takes on a guilty look, like a child who knows they are doing something bad.

"Yes?" She tries to adopt a nonchalant tone but it isn't working.

"I literally told you not to get into trouble and the first thing you do is get into trouble."

"But I was hungry," she says, as if that justifies her actions.

"I don't give a damn if you're hungry Wanda. If I tell you to do something so do it."

"That's funny I don't remember ever taking orders from you, but you sure did take a lot from me," Wanda says, referencing the times when the two of us would sleep together, before I hated her guts.

“Well things have changed Wanda. I’m trying to keep us alive and away from your vampire hunter ex. So either listen to me or leave.”

“Fine,” is all she says. She goes off to the bathroom to shower while I heal the woman Wanda had just dropped. I compel her to forget anything had ever happened, and off she goes back to work.

I close the door behind her and I put my grocery bags down and put things away. After I’m done and had a snack and some blood, I tuck my gun out of my waistband and put it on the small side table. I jump into bed. The bed is rock hard. There’s absolutely no give or bounce in it whatsoever, but I guess an aching back is a small price to pay for safety.

“Move over,” Wanda says once I had finally gotten myself comfortable.

“No,” is all I say back.

“Yes. Move or I’ll make you move y/n.”

I refuse to move, ignoring the glares that Wanda throws at me.

“Fine have it your way.” She walks over to me and picks me up as if I weigh nothing. I try to resist, but it's pointless, and she moves me anyway.

"I'm older than you and I'm stronger than you. Next time it would be wise to do as you're told," she whispers into my ear. Her words have me blushing. A fact that I try to hide form her, but of course she notices.

"Did my words make you needy baby?"

"Fuck off Wanda," I say, but it doesn't come out as strong as I want it to.

"No baby I think you want me to fuck you, isn't that right?"

Her dirty words send my thoughts racing back to the times when we had slept together and how good it felt. But that was before she hurt me, and this is now. And now I don't like her. Even if she's gorgeous and makes me feel good. She's still the woman who turned me against my will. She's still the woman who hurt me, the woman I hate. So I form my resolve.

"No goodnight Wanda," are the next words that come out of my mouth. Wanda's mouth opens and closes like a fish, she's shocked that I didn't give in. I get up and turn off the lights and the two of us lay there in silence. I'm sure Wanda is seething in silence at being told no, but it isn't my problem. I quickly fall asleep, and I only wake up when I hear a loud banging noise.

The door to our room is kicked in, making us jump out of bed. In comes a brunette woman I don't recognize.

“Oh great and who’s this? Another one of your exes?”

“Actually yes,” Wanda and the woman sat at the same time. The woman walks closer to the bed, while Wanda and I try to walk further away without blocking yourselves in.

“Of course it is,” I say rolling my eyes. “How’d you piss this one off?”

“She may or may not be a vampire hunter also. So y’know when she found out about me she wasn’t exactly my biggest fan,” Wanda whispers to you.

“Really Wanda? You sleep with two fucking vampire hunters when you’re a vampire yourself. Are you stupid?” I whisper back.

“Haven’t I already proven that yes I am stupid.”

“I guess you’ve got a point there,” I say.

"Are you two done arguing now?" The woman asks.

"Yes Maria, we're done." Ok so Maria is her name. "Can you just get this over with," Wanda says, her tone sounding exasperated.

"Oh come on Wanda, I wanna drag this out. Hurt you just like you hurt me." Maria pulls the sleeve of her black jacket off her shoulder, showing off the scars that mar it.

"What the fuck did you do?" I look at Wanda, but there's no emotions on her face.

"What I had to do to survive." Wanda glares at Maria, but it's not the playful one she has been giving you all day. This is a true glare. The kind that says I want you dead.

Maria lunges and Wanda deflects her punch while you try and grab your car keys, which are all the way across the room. You almost make it, but then Maria grabs you by your hair, pulling you back. You claw at her arm, digging your nails into her skin. She shrieks and lets you go, turning her attention back to Wanda.

"How'd you find me anyway?" Wanda asks as she ducks under Maria's fist.

"Your little pet led me right to you. She wasn't as inconspicuous as she thought at that blood bank. I was just going to kill her, but then I realized she was with you, and well, I didn't want to waste such a delicious opportunity." Wanda's eyes turn a dark black color, something that only happens when a vampire is truly emotional, and strikes Maria, making the woman stumble. While she's disoriented I run to the side table and grab my gun. I hate using these things on humans, but if it means I get to live I'll do it. I aim for her leg and pull the trigger.

"That should keep her occupied for a while, now let's go," I tell Wanda. We both run out of the room, car keys in my hand. We both jump in the car, leaving Maria behind in the hotel room.

"Looks like being attacked wasn't my fault this time," Wanda says once our adrenaline has finally gone down.

"Well you still dated this one too so I'm sure this is somehow also your fault."

"Ok whatever you say," Wanda says, although I know she doesn't agree with me. "So we've got Natasha and Maria on our tails now, so where do we go now? With the both of them following us, there aren't many places that would be safe."

"I might know a place," I say. "It's like a safehouse of sorts."

"Why didn't we go there in the first place?"

"it's complicated," I say, not wanting to answer her question.

"Like how Natasha and I are complicated? Or Maria and I?"

"Not exactly," is all I say, and thankfully Wanda drops the subject. We drive for a few more hours until I finally turn into a driveway. The house before us looks like any other house in the suburbs would. There's flowers and trees lining the driveway and a little picket white fence around the house. You would never suspect that a supernatural creature lives inside it.

We walk up to the door and all I feel is anxiety. I had taken us to the one place I hadn’t wanted to go to, but it’s out last option. It’s the only place I know that would be 100% safe. So reluctantly I knock on the door, praying the woman who lives on the other side of it answers, and that this won't be another decision that bites me in the butt.

[cultofdixon]

Huddling for warmth

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • A blizzard occurred during the harsh winter after the farm and before the prison. You and Daryl got trapped in it and things didn’t go perfectly…• ANGST/SFW/NSFW - Nudity • TW: Hyperthermia / Minor Injury / Anxiety / Scars / Illness

Requested by: Anon

When the fire happened, everything changed. It came naturally that Rick became the leader of this group but everything was icy.

Now they were starting all over in finding a place to call home…or at least a temporary shelter for the upcoming winter

“Here” Y/N shrugged off her jacket giving it to Carl for an extra layer of warmth as the weather was getting colder for winter.

“She’s going to freeze to death if she keeps giving her coats to Carl and Lori” Glenn makes the comment to Maggie after she finishes getting a fire going in a house they were holding up in for the night. Little did he know the archer was listening to such.

About an hour passed and Rick returns with a deer that Daryl obviously got. But they also went through a few homes and Daryl approached Y/N who was leaning on Carol near the fire, dropping a jacket over her shoulders and didn’t stay for her to get a word in.

But he saw the smile on her face and that caused an old familiar feeling to burn in his chest.

“The winter will get worse and we should scavenge a few places before holding up for a good month” Hershel tells Rick while looking out at the snow that started to fall.

“I’ll get Glenn, Maggie, and Carol to come check a few houses with me. You and Lori can keep an eye on the rest” Rick stated adjusting his jacket and giving Daryl a look. “Think you can hunt some more game before the weather gets thicker?”

“I’ll try but the second the tracks ain’t clear, I’m coming—-“

“You ain’t going alone. Take Y/N. She has huntin’ experience. She’s hunted with you before” True. Before Rick returned from presumed dead, Daryl went hunting with his brother and the previous hunter before the Dixons came…also known as Y/N. But she didn’t join him on the trip before he heard his brother was left on a roof.

Y/N was ahead of Daryl following tracks they’ve caught on at the edge of the tree line by the neighborhood they’re held up in. He half expected her to be a chatterbox like how she was before the barn fire. But something always had to be off.

Before he could say anything to her, she readied her hunting bow and landed the shot on the unlucky rabbit.

Opportunity “Yea ever heard of a lucky rabbit’s foot?”

“Yeah, but doesn’t it usually have like…an amethyst with it?”

“Thought it was an amulet” Daryl questioned only to get a short lived laugh out of Y/N causing a hint of a smirk on his face.

She rises to her feet with the rabbit in hand brushing the hair out of her face to look at the archer. “You want the foot?”

“Sayin’ I need some good luck?”

“Dunno. You’re the one that said it” Y/N kept a smile on her face that soon faded when the cold breeze was a bit more intense than she expected. “Hershel said winters will be bad. Just. Didn’t expect that”

What was just a breeze seemed to pick up the more they trekked along in the forest…

“Have the winters always gone from mild to extreme?”

“You aren’t originally from Georgia?” Daryl brushed his hair back when the wind blew harder than before.

“That a deal breaker?” Y/N jokes only to suddenly trip and fall into the snow that’s collected since the morning. “Jeez. Maybe I need that lucky rabbit’s foot”

The crimson in the white became clear to Daryl as he knelt down to make sure she didn’t hurt herself to a certain degree. Thankfully just a scratch from the tree root they couldn’t see in the snow, which started to concern Daryl with how the weather started to pick up the more they were out there.

“We should head back. Or try to find our way back”

“Before it gets worse?” She added while cleaning up the blood with her bandana as it’s going to have to do until they can get a better look at it. “It’s already there”

“Our foot prints got swept” Daryl frowns knowing that would likely happen. He rose to his feet helping Y/N up as he tried to take a moment to listen to the surrounding but even the wind was picking up as much as the snow fall.

It got to blizzard level pretty quick.

“This is getting bad” Y/N had to shout for Daryl to register anything, but as they continued on through the blind scenery…the sound of something moving through the snow caught both their attention until the archer turned around.

No Y/N.

Daryl’s panic started to set in because on top of not seeing his surroundings. He had zero clue on where Y/N could’ve fallen or been dragged to.

The hiss of the wind continued to throw the archer off when he followed the trail before it disappeared right away. He quickly realized when he slipped falling on his ass that she had fallen…but fallen into the river they passed before the blizzard became more prominent.

“We have to be careful, Y/N” Daryl states gesturing to the river they were currently passing when the snow started to pick up in inches.

Y/N laughs at the man. “Okay captain obvious. We aren’t going to be able to see it later if this blizzard picks up”

“Hopefully not. We’ll be fine”

But we aren’t fucking fine! Daryl thought as he carefully made his descend toward the river and while the rushing water picked up in his ears…he couldn’t hear anyone.

“Y/N!” He screams and was about to step in the water when something grabbed at his ankle.

The new instinct was to take his knife out and plunge it into the water skull, but when he knelt down it came clear.

“Holy fuck. Thought I’d have to go swimming”

“I-I-It’s a b-b-bit c-cold” Y/N coughed out a bit letting go of his person to lay in the snow like before. The moment she felt into the water, she was wide awake and knew she had to get out. But the second her soaked body met the cold harsh weather, it brought her to this semi frozen weak state. Crazy how quick the body reacts.

“Can yea move?” Daryl shouts only to ensure that she can hear him but with no response only shaking breathing he could barely hear, he brought his arms under her armpits starting to drag her to the main path out of the ditch by the riverbank. “Think warm thoughts” he kept repeating even if every fiber of her being wanted to curl up and scream.

Y/N wanted to scream when the cold only got worse for her as Daryl brought one of her arms around his shoulders.

“We need to hide out somewhere”

“F-Fast” She gripped onto him trying not to succumb to the cold making her falter in her steps.

Daryl tried his best not to stumble because of how she was. His anxiety eventually got the best of him and he didn’t care if she’d protest getting him wet given her soaked person when he picked her up bridal style to get a faster pace going.

The two ended up in a small house nowhere near the neighborhood they were originally in. There was no time to question how they even got far from where the rest of the group is. Daryl had to barricade the doors to the room they were in and try to get a fire going to help warm up Y/N as she was placed on the couch in the living room shivering.

“R-Remind me, n-n-never t-t….s-shit” Y/N groans pulling at the soaked clothes on her person wanting to take them off as she hated the uncomfortable sticky feeling. But there was more going on and it started to concern her.

And the man that was currently trying to start a fire in the fireplace knowing he might have to move Y/N closer to the fire. The second it started, Daryl rose to his feet rounding the couch and pushing it closer enough for her to feel it. But even then it didn’t work in its entirety.

“Gotta strip yea”

“W-Woah. B-Bu…Buy m-m-me dinner f-first” Y/N scoffs in a playful manner listening to the man groan before he went further into the house scavenging for anything and found a blanket he had to shake out before even thinking of wrapping Y/N in it.

Daryl set the blanket on the arm rest. “Strip. I won’t—-“

“N-Need h-he—help” She coughed slightly after and Daryl instinctively pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. She was starting to get warm and not in a good way.

“Fine but I need your—-“

“F-Fuck Daryl! I-I-It’s fine!” Y/N snapped gripping the back of the couch to get her to sit up as Daryl brought himself beside her helping her get out of the wet clothes.

Her clothes laid in a pile beside the couch as Daryl was about to straighten them out close to the fire to try and dry, Y/N pulled the blanket over her shoulders more but manage to trap Daryl by bringing herself into his lap. She couldn’t speak given once the clothes were off she was even colder. The blanket wasn’t going to instantly help and the archer had been inside for some time that the snow melted off of his person so that she could do what she was currently doing.

The archer froze when she climbed into his lap curling up against him taking in his warmth and tugging the blanket to cover every exposed bit on her person. He didn’t look at her, for a sense of privacy. Not that she cared. There was something else but now wasn’t the time. Daryl carefully wrapped his arms around her bringing her close and eventually shifting his body to lay down with her trapped between him and the couch.

“…please pull through” Daryl whispers hoping she would respond even if it’s intentions were for her not to hear. But given she hasn’t said anything in a minute, got him worrying again. “Y/N?” He shifted slightly going to check her pulse but just the smallest movement jostled her eyes to open with a glare before closing once more and hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

Y/N went in and out most of the night but her shivering stopped after a couple hours. She clung onto Daryl with a bruising grip taking in all the warmth he gave…he didn’t dare letting go for whatever reason afraid she freeze all over again.

But after being in that state for two days and her clothes dried eventually with the help of the fire…Daryl let go to help her redress keeping his focus on her actions as she fumbled trying to work the buttons of her flannel that he eventually helped her.

The archer wore his crossbow on his chest, the rabbits on his belt, and carried Y/N on his back still wrapped in the blanket on their way back to where the others were.

About halfway there, Rick and Glenn met them as they had come to a decision recently to go out and search for them once the blizzard passed…

“Is she okay?”

“She’s sick” You don’t survive freezing temperatures without a cold or flu to follow.

“Is she bit?” Glenn gestures to her ankle wrapped in bandages Daryl had.

“No, she fell. Fell once before falling into the river” Daryl states walking passed to make it to the house as the two who joined them kept an eye on their surroundings.

“You’re lucky we found some Tylenol on the run we went on when y’all went hunting” Rick states. “Should help with the fever”

“Hershel is gonna want to isolate her when we get back. Just in case—-“

“Don’t yea dare finish that, kid” Daryl snapped while pushing the door open with his foot as Rick took care of keeping it open for him to come through.

Out of instinct, Hershel rose to his feet gesturing to the other room to keep Y/N in even if it was the kitchen and Maggie laid a blanket on the floor before Daryl laid her down.

“Wish I had a thermometer to get an actual reading, but she definitely feels warm. I’m guessing you held up somewhere to try and warm her up to avoid hyperthermia” Hershel gave Daryl a look listening to him hum in response. “Well yea did good, son. Kept her from getting worse”

When she woke, Hershel got her to take some of the medicine they collected along with some water before leaving her to sleep once more. Daryl waited til the old man left the room before pushing the table in the doorway in case of emergencies. He sets his crossbow down against the wall kneeling beside her adjusting the blanket to cover her more watching her roll over to face him.

“Hey…”

“You can speak clearly now” Daryl jokes about the shivering stuttering mess she was before and that got a small laugh from her.

“Thanks for keeping me alive…” Y/N whispered shifting a bit to get comfortable on the floor as Daryl gently brushes away the hair in her face.

“Had to…I wanted to…I needed to” He whispered to her as he brought himself to sit on the floor keeping close to her watching her extend her hand from under the blanket to hold his.

Daryl stayed with her the entire time…the entire time.

[oncasette]

𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗜'𝗟𝗟 𝗕𝗨𝗥𝗡

rafayel qi x fem!reader, boyfriend!xavier shen x fem!reader

summary: 1.0k

“You can have a couple weeks off,” he coughs out. His brows pinch together, a hand coming out to swipe through a dab of still wet paint. He wants to tear through the canvas. He wants to set it alight with his evol, coat it in a thick layer of everburning flame.

or the one where you finally have enough pto to take a holiday with your boyfriend, but that means also taking a holiday away from rafayel.

content: jealousy, unrequited love

masterlist | beat you to it masterlist

If Rafayel had it his way, you’d never leave his side. You’re already gone enough as it is with your regular hunter duties, why couldn’t you just spend the rest of your time here, with him, in his studio? He knows it’s a drastic measure, but it’s one he can’t help but fantasize about at times. Keeping you close to him, his heart. Still, he’d yet to formally declare his feelings for you, so he guesses he’ll have to settle with being your employer. For now. Even if he was already planning your wedding. 

“Rafayel?” he hears you say as you enter his studio, prompting him to nearly topple off the ladder he was perched on, but he manages to steady himself enough to stay atop it. He doesn’t know how you manage to startle him so thoroughly sometimes. His senses are already keenly aware of you, the fact that you’re able to sneak up on him at times is beyond him. 

“Hey, uh… you usually text when you’re stopping by. Not that I mind, of course,” he says awkwardly. He sets his brush down and climbs off the ladder to stand in front of you. 

“Oh, sorry. I was just already on my way home from work and… you know,” you say and Rafayel flounders for a recovery. To think that he made you feel unwelcome in his home? He could die.

“No! It’s not a problem, really. You know the door’s always open for you,” he says, resting a hand on your shoulder for a second in what he hopes reads as reassurance. 

“I actually did come over for something,” you say, moving to plop yourself down on his couch. He was glad you were so comfortable in his space, a space he’s so keen to share with you, and smiles softly as you kick off your shoes and tuck your feet up under you. Now, if he could just get you to wear something of his, the scene would be perfect. Maybe that button-down you’d complimented once…

“Raf?” you call.

“Yes, sorry,” he clears his throat and moves to sit beside you. “Anything you need.”

Rafayel lets a myriad of different scenarios run through his mind. Were you finally declaring your love for him? Were you telling him off, telling him you couldn’t be his bodyguard anymore? Were you moving out of Linkon–not that that one would matter, he’d follow you anywhere. Was your building being destroyed and you needed a new place to stay?

Did you remember him?

“My PTO request finally through and I’m taking a couple of weeks off work,” you tell him. His ears perk up. Were you inviting him on a vacation? “And I was hoping, as a token of my exemplary work as your bodyguard, that you would give me some time off too?”

His eyelids flutter a bit, confused. Time off? From him? You seem to notice his hesitance. 

“So…”

“Where are you going?” he asks softly. 

“My boyfriend, Xavier, is surprising me with a trip, actually,” you say and his fingertips ache at the way you seem to warm at the thought, your face ducking down to hide the way you fluster. “He won’t tell me where.”

“Your boyfriend?” he asks. It just barely crests his lips. It sits on the center of his tongue. He traps it there, tight. But, I love you… 

My beautiful, wondrous bride. I have loved you since the dawn of time, since the first drop of water formed the ocean. I have loved you for as long as I’ve known myself.

You don’t notice. Or, if you do, you don’t care to comment on it, on the longing in his eyes.

“Yeah, I haven’t told you about him? He’s my partner at work, too. I feel like I would have mentioned him before,” you say as if it doesn’t drive the knife that much deeper. 

He swallows, his throat dry. “And you wanted some time off from being my bodyguard?”

“Yeah, I mean, if that’s alright? You didn’t mention any events or anything coming up that you would need me for. I figured it would be a good time…” you trail off. 

Never. Never would it be a good time for you to leave him.

You start up again. “I mean if there’s something you really need a bodyguard for, I can see if Tara could step in in my place. She’s wonderful, really, I think you’d get along great.”

Rafayel waves you off. He stands quickly, his back facing you as he turns to the painting he’d been working on when you arrived. It all seems inconsequential now. The colors, the strokes, the artistry of it all. 

“You can have a couple weeks off,” he coughs out. His brows pinch together, a hand coming out to swipe through a dab of still wet paint. He wants to tear through the canvas. He wants to set it alight with his evol, coat it in a thick layer of everburning flame. 

“Really? Oh, Rafayel, you’re the best,” you cheer. He doesn’t turn, can’t bear to see the joy carved through your cheeks. He feels your presence behind him and his muscles tense. He hopes you don’t touch him, and he realizes it’s the first time he’s come up not willing to bear your touch. The brand of your skin against his. 

“You should go, then. I have a deadline,” he says coldly. 

“Oh.” And your looming touch retracts. “Right, I, uh… I’ll text you when I’m back in Linkon.”

Something in him braces as you walk out the door. The loss of your presence in the room feels like a rib has been yanked from his sternum. It’s so cold, so lonely, so quiet. The absense of your touch and your voice sits heavy over his head. Rafayel stares blankly out the window, watching as the waves crash against the shore, wondering what the point of it all was. After everything he’d lost, after all the times you’d forgotten and moved on without him, he still couldn’t get you in this life. His bride, held in the arms of another man.