#don't know how sleep is ever supposed to make you feel rested when that shit is going on in your head

[running-in-the-dark]

I had one of my worst nightmares yet last night (and that's really saying something) soo now I'm scared to fall asleep. which is just great because I already have so much trouble falling asleep!!

[leviraaaaaa]

Levi nation, how we feeling today? 😔🫶

“What am I to you, Levi?”

The question was sudden, soft words reaching through the silence that had been until then. Levi looked up.

“What?”

You tilted your head, stretched on his sofa. You laid on it so casually, with your head resting on your folded arms, leaning against the armrest, one would think you were right at home. In your hands, you held a book, but he knew it had been on the same page for a while and that you hadn't been reading a word from it. No. He knew because your eyes had been on him instead.

“What am I to you?” You repeated when he didn't answer.

He looked at you as you watched him with a subtle eagerness behind your eyes. He was unable to form a reply. Why did you always say the most unexpected shit out of nowhere? You were so casual about it too, looking at him as if you merely asked him how his day was.

“What the fuck.” He muttered.

“What?”

He sighed, leaning back as he closed his pinched his eyebrows together. He chose this, he reminded himself for the hundredth time in his life, he brought this upon himself when he picked the most infuriating cadet to be his second. It was his fault and no one else's, that everyday he had to tolerate you and your ridiculousness. Why the hell had he done that?

“Stop with the stupid fucking questions.” He groaned irritatedly.

“Maybe if you answered them, I'd leave you alone.”

“Did you come here to distract me?”

You laughed softly. “Am I distracting you?”

“Don't think I haven't felt you staring at me.”

Your face showed no sign of embarrassment whatsoever at the very true accusation, instead there was amusement in your eyes. You leaned in, determined.

“Do you like me Levi?”

It's the way you looked at him. You knew. Of course you knew. He blinked, his chest suddenly tight. Suddenly, the room was suffocating. He looked anywhere but you.

“..in what way? Because you as a person is pretty shit."

But no, you see right through him. There was disappointment in your face. You sighed. “Liar.” You looked away from him, slumping back on the couch and draping an arm over your face. “I'm making this so easy for you, Levi. So fucking easy.”

He didn't have to look at you to know what you had meant.

Coward.

It was so easy, wasn't it? All he had to do is admit. To tell you yes. But he couldn't. Not even that.

“What if I die in tomorrow's expedition? How would you feel then? Knowing you had the chance and you didn't take it?” Your voice was casual, but there was reproach underneath. Levi flinched. It was a very real possibility. You hit right on the nail.

“Bull.” His expression darkened. “Don't say shit like that. We aren't even supposed to interact with titans.”

That was literally not the point, you thought annoyedly. But of course. Levi, the king of confrontation. What were you expecting? No, you hadn't expected much better from him in the first place, did you?

Your voice was tired when you spoke again.

“Are you ever going to tell me?”

You looked so exhausted. There were no expectations in your eyes. It was your way of giving him a way out, he realized, to let him know you didn't expect an answer from him. That he could just remain silent if he wanted to.

And he wanted to.

But he looked at you and felt something tight in his throat.

“...Maybe.” He murmured finally, his voice so quiet you could barely hear him. But your eyes widened. “Someday.”

You pushed your hand off your face, sitting up to look at him with surprise. You gazed blankly for a moment. That was as close as a confession you'd get.

You smiled.

“Someday.” You echoed.

—

Levi was sleeping.

Somehow he was aware he was sleeping.

There was a blunt ache somewhere in his chest. But he couldn't remember being hurt. His face felt dry, lips chapped, his eyes heavy. He was asleep, but he still felt so tired.

“Do you like me, Levi?”

He stirred, his consciousness returning back to him slowly as his mind registered the voice. He knew that voice. He knew those words. Like a twisted echo of something he couldn’t escape. A feeling of familiar sinister dread crept to his stomach.

Don't look. He tells himself. Don't look. If he didn't look, you'd go away.

He does anyway.

You're back on his couch, grinning slyly at him. When he looked at you, you’re smiling at him, eyes twinkling with amusement as if you were sharing a joke with him. An inside joke that only the two of you will understand.

You were sprawled on your stomach, the way one would to sunbathe. With both your arms on the armrest, you had your chin resting atop them, staring at him with those eyes. As though you belonged there, as though you’d never left. It was such a casual scene. Such a normal scene. Yet, he felt nauseous.

There was a vacancy in his chest, a suffocating emptiness. He hated it when you did that.

What made it worse you didn't even expect a fucking answer. You knew him too well for that. You came here every night for no other reason than to entertain yourself with his helplessness, like a sick, twisted little game.

“Must you do this every night?”

He asked. He could hear his own pleading tone, like he was begging you. He knew how pathetic he sounded, how miserable he must have looked. But you were grinning at him like he said something funny, it was such an obvious answer after all.

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” You asked him.

Fuck. Fuck.

“I would've.” His head hurt. He felt hollow. “You know I would've.”

“You didn't though.”

“I would've.” He repeated. Yet, he was doubtful of his own words, Would he have?

“Someday.” You hummed, reminding him, taunting him. It was a knife to his chest. He couldn't breathe.

Someday. The accusation was obvious underneath your casual tone. Someday. Just not today. Not then. Not now. Not ever.

“You're not being fair.”

“Oh.” You sighed softly, almost mocking him. “But Levi, when were you ever fair to me?”

He shook his head, your words creeping inside his brain like a parasite. “Leave. Please.”

You let out a chuckle, like it was the funniest thing you'd ever heard. Then you pushed yourself off the couch, standing up straight. You took your time, stretching your arms lazily like you had all day in the world, shooting him a soft smile. Then with every step you approached him with, he could feel his heart sinking. A little. A little. A little. More.

He let out a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut. He knew exactly the words you would say next. Every night. It was the same every night. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“But I'm not here.”

Your voice was soft beside his ear. A haunting whisper. He felt your fingers trailing the edge of his jaw, tilting his face towards you. Your hands slid down his neck and he shivered, opening his eyes to meet yours, all your playfulness gone. Now you just looked sad.

“Why are you doing this to yourself, Levi?” You said sadly, his name was soft in your lips, you said it like it was so fragile. “Why don't you let me go?”

You were so close. So fucking close. It took everything in him to not reach out, to not pull you in. He was stiff, pressed against the back off his chair, trying his best to put distance between. But it was no use. He was only a man, after all.

Your next words were a warm whisper against his lips, just a breath away.

“Wake up, Levi.” You told him. “Wake up.”

And when he opened his eyes, he was staring at the dark ceiling of his bedroom.

9 months, 2 weeks and 4 days since the day he'd lost you. 9 months, 2 weeks and 4 days of sleepless night. It had been 9 months, 2 weeks and 4 days of dreaming about you.

[artbiter]

wolf in sheep's clothing

art donaldson/reader nsfw summary: art falls for you first yet patrick gets the fortune of having you. what else is art supposed to do but play dirty? tags: stanford!art, stanford reader too, art is a borderline homewrecker, art donaldson is a SNAKE, patrick gets cucked right under his nose </3, oral, slight body worship, TBH idk note: hi this is my first time writing ff since .. 2021 .. and this is definitely a diff style from the ao3-approach i usually take to writing but please enjoy i really like art donaldson i really like challengers and i really like art taking what he wants (and i really like mike faist in blonde curls)

art donaldson is not a homewrecker, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't waiting for his chance with you.

he first meets you at one of his games, eyes flitting over the crowd and panting hard after a rather close singles win, before his gaze is magnetically drawn to your pretty face in the bleachers. smiling with your friends, you look so happy to just be watching this game, and when you make eye contact with art you wave excitedly like he's a celebrity, and whisper to your friends after he salutes back with a grin, trying to catch the breath your gorgeous smile has knocked out of him.

he wants to find you so bad after, and so he does. your friends are tennis groupies, hanging behind to flirt with any guy with a racket in hand, but you're just there for moral support. he chases after you just before you leave, just to say hi. an innocuous greeting and thanks for your support. and he sees how jealous your friends are that you tag along once with them and immediately get picked up by art freaking donaldson, but you seem to be oblivious, beaming at him and clasping your hands to your chest. you tell him he was great out there, that you've never "gotten" tennis but that you can feel he's a pro anyway. you part ways and he can't stop thinking about you.

when he tells patrick that he's met the prettiest girl he's ever seen at one of his matches, patrick thinks it's endearing and the epitome of dumb puppy love.

"did you even get her name? or were you just drooling over her?"

"nah, that would've been weird... right? oh shit, should i have? i was trying to be normal about it, i don't know." art beats himself up for not even picking up on your name in conversation, and resolves to seek out your identity and ask you out.

so when he finally has the fortune of seeing you again at a party, he's heartbroken when you smile and wave to patrick in tow.

"patrick!" you laugh and bound up to the pair. "didn't take you as a stanford party type of guy."

"i'm a plus one tonight. lucky i ran into you, huh?" patrick is eye-fucking you and doesn't even try to hide it, and art feels like doubling over in pure grief.

patrick notices but says nothing, only introducing you to art. "yeah, i'm here with my buddy art." he slaps art on the back lightly and art finds out that you and patrick met at another party before this. he remembers you from patrick's anecdotes over lunch, where patrick wouldn't shut up about the hottest chick he's ever seen who wouldn't go home with him, but has been texting ever since.

some other girl, presumably one of your friends, attaches herself to art's arm for the rest of the night, but he can't bring himself to notice or care when patrick kisses you and you lean into it.

patrick got to you first, and art hates himself for it. he won't admit it, but he feels the resentment festering inside of him as soon as patrick announces it's official.

the next best course of action for art is to play the best friend role, obviously. except like the unassuming snake art is, he's going to be your best friend, too.

he's your puppy, waiting on your beck and call — whatever you need, he's got it. your bio homework is impossible? sure, you can copy his. you got no sleep last night? he has your regular order from your favorite café committed to memory. patrick's being such a bad boyfriend? oh, tell him all about it.

"he's so inconsiderate," you whine, slumping over your pillow. "can you believe he forgot our six months? and when i brought it up, he didn't even say sorry. he was just, like, 'i didn't know we were still in high school.' i wanted to die, art, really."

art clicks his tongue in sympathy, criss-crossed on your dorm floor and nodding along to your laments. "no, he's definitely wrong here. i'm sorry he forgot something so important." for good measure, he adds in, "guys should be looking out for their girlfriends all the time. i'd be celebrating monthly anniversaries if i had a girl."

"ugh, right? i thought so, too." you flop back onto your bed, turning your head to gaze at art. he thinks you're so beautiful like this, clad in a t-shirt and shorts, bare faced with tears tinging your eyes. "you're a good guy. i don't know why you don't just date."

he doesn't want to date anyone if it isn't you, but he doesn't say this.

art watches you and patrick continue for another few rocky months, marked by arguments spawned from patrick's chronic nonchalance and your sensitivity to his perceived lack of care. and art gets the full report from both sides; patrick tells him all the time about how he's really trying to make you happy and support you, but he doesn't see why you value such small things. and you cry to art, sobbing that patrick never takes you out anymore if it isn't to fuck, that patrick is too friendly to other girls. art thinks to himself that patrick doesn't deserve you, but he rubs small circles on your back and reassures you that you need to do what's right for yourself.

(he's elated when you don't remove yourself from his touch.)

when you finally break it off with patrick, he hears it from his best friend first.

"dude, she dumped me." patrick's voice buzzes over the phone. "not gonna lie, i saw this one coming. but i thought i was doing good, seriously. fuck, what am i gonna do?"

"i'm sorry, man," art sympathizes before he hears a knock on his door. "yeah, it really does suck. take a breather for a few days. i'm sorry, but i really have to go right now." he peeks into the peephole and sees you standing outside. "let's talk more later?"

patrick is still rambling on the other end, but art hangs up and opens the door for you to immediately come spilling.

"art, i broke up with him. i really couldn't do it anymore." you tell art more things he already knows, like that you liked patrick a lot but you were just uncompatible in the end, and that you wished he listened. as always, art feeds into you, agreeing with your every word. something deep inside art tells him it's wrong to coax his best friend's girlfriend into breaking up with him, and that he's messed up for offering you his support when patrick technically should come first. but when you look up at art through wet eyelashes, sniffling and yearning for comfort, who is he to deny you?

art cups your face gently and presses his lips to yours. he doesn't miss how your eyes widen, but you don't jerk away. his heart pounds in his chest as he holds the small of your back with one hand while the other caresses your cheek. you smell so clean and warm, and your lips are so soft art wonders how patrick could ever give you up without a fight. it solidifies art's need for you, that if patrick won't make you happy, he will.

when you pull away from him, you're breathless, voice barely above a whisper. "art, i don't think we should—"

he can't contain himself from kissing your neck, relishing the soft, smooth expanse, inhaling your scent so deep into his lungs he finds it oxygen. "tell me you don't want this." he laps at your jaw, sucking light bruises onto the sides of your throat. "tell me you don't want me to treat you the way you should be, and i'll stop."

you moan his name involuntarily, and art takes it as the green light to carry you to his bed and kisses back up to your lips. "i'm sorry," he murmurs into your skin. "i'm sorry. i want you so bad."

"then show me," you sigh softly, hands rooting themselves into his blonde curls as his tongue probes your mouth.

like you even had to ask.

tugging down your sweatpants and feeling like coming just as the sight of your underwear, art immediately tears it off of you. he latches himself to your cunt, already weeping, and he looks up at you through hooded eyes, pupils blown wide. "already so wet for me, baby?"

"mmf..." your fingers, still tangled in his hair, tighten their grip as you push his head forward, and he obliges.

he licks wide stripes, feeling you convulse and twitch every time his tongue comes in contact with your clit. his dick throbs in his pants just from eating you out.

"you taste so sweet. fuck, you're delicious," he pants, making out with your pussy like it's your lips. "don't know how i survived this long without you."

you buck your hips up into his mouth, mewling and spasming as he suckles and licks at just the right places. your cunt is soaked, but neither of you can tell whether it's from your arousal or how much art is slobbering over your pussy. "right there," you squeak out, a hot wave washing over your body as you cum on art's face.

and fuck, art almosts busts on the spot with you. his mouth doesn't cease, swirling patterns all over your vulva, grazing over your clit, dipping his tongue inside of you as you lock your legs around his head desperately.

"too much, too much!" you feebly try to pull his head up from your cunt, but he's so addicted to your taste he barely notices how sensitive you are now, how your clit twitches and aches for a break.

art can only laugh softly as he pulls himself back up to you, kissing you gently as his hands roam underneath your shirt and to your bra clasp.

"mm, you're so good," you gasp into art's mouth as his kiss becomes sloppier. "so good to me, art."

"it's what you deserve," he mumbles back, unhooking your bra and clumsily pulling your shirt off so your tits spill free. and even art is admired by his own self-restraint, just staring at your perfect body on display for him. he's been dreaming of this day for months now, jerking himself off late at night to thoughts of you sucking his cock, to pictures of you smiling on his phone, to the memory of your voice the day he met you. it's so wrong of him to fuck his best friend's ex fresh after the split, but why do you feel so right beneath him? "i've been waiting for this," he whispers into your neck. "been wanting to show you how much i want you. want to make you feel good. want to treat you so much better."

"fuck me, art, please," you beg him, relenting and palming at his boxers. you're so fucking easy, letting him touch you like this and being compliant as he undresses you, kisses you all over, shrugs his boxers off as you help him position his cock right at your entrance. it's not your fault that art has been nothing but kind and gentle to you. it's not your fault that he's been flirting with you since day 1, and now all his desires have culminated into head of a lifetime. and art finally has what he wants now: you.

and even when he barely pushes the tip in, he wants to cum inside of you so badly he feels dizzy. "so fucking tight, i'm gonna cum, gonna cum right now," he gasps in your ear as he unsheathes himself, stretching your warm, tight hole. "so perfect, holy shit. fucking made for me, baby, you feel so—" he can't stop himself from rutting into you, and he just about comes undone when he hears his name tumble from your lips in pained moans. it takes all the self-control in the world for art to not pour himself into your wet heat right now.

"slow down, art, fuck, you're so big," you sob, clawing at his back. he wishes he could fuck you nice and slow, the way he always envisioned his first time with you would be. he'd fantasized about nights with you full of languid strokes, making you scream his name with calculated, intentional thrusts straight to the spongy patch buried within you. but art is just a humble man, and when your walls, silky and warm, are choking his dick, he can't resist fucking into you like a jackhammer. you cry, moaning uncontrollably as your hands clutch tightly at him, letting his cock ruin you.

art's head goes fuzzy, and all he knows now is your pussy trying to milk him dry and that he can't say anything coherent besides strings of guttural moans telling you how warm, how tight, how good you feel on his dick, how your sweet cunt was made for him, how beautiful you look and sound at his mercy, how he wants you to be his so bad and that he'll do anything for you to be his. that his only regret is not claiming you first.

you keep crooning in his ear, honeyed moans that intoxicate him dizzier and dizzier as you tell him that he can have you. with a few more stutters of his hips, and a convulsing squeeze from your walls onto his cock, his head falls into the crook of your neck as he pulls out and shoots ropes all over your stomach, right as you cry out his name uncontrllably, heaving beneath him. a low, resounding grunt rips from his throat while his seed paints your abdomen, and he feels you shiver upon the warmth touching your skin.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes again like the gentleman he is. his breath still heaves at an uneven rhythm, staggering as he attempts to regain his composure, but every time his eyes fall upon you it feels like he wants to go for round 2. "i'll clean you up, pretty girl. you were so perfect." he presses his forehead to yours, sweaty and damp, and whispers, "you were made for me."

some sick sense of pride fills art from head to toe as your body trembles in an attempt to catch your breath, your hair disheveled and lips puffy, patches of skin blooming pink and red from art essentially making out with every inch of your body. and you blush when you catch him staring, covering your face and murmuring for him to come back to bed.

he did this to you. he made you such a picturesque image of ruined perfection, splayed out on his bed and stained with his cum, pleading for his embrace.

patrick would have to pry you from his cold, dead hands.

[knoxic]

How to be a High Lady?

Eris Vanserra x Mate!Reader (f)

Summary: Reader's first meeting as a HL, Rhysand makes some comments and reader chews him out, then smut🤭

wc: 2,8k

warnings: oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v, Rhysand slander, might be some ??shit there sorry I wrote this instead of sleeping

part 2

How they met

Her expectations for her first meeting as High Lady weren't very high, obviously there would be judgment and doubt given who her High Lord is, surely there would be some snarky remarks.

༄

Eris had spent the last couple of day trying to remind her that she deserved the title, that she was already proving herself to be a good High Lady, that their court could already see it. Perhaps him being her mate had dulled the effect his words would have on her had it been someone's.

As soon as she accepted the mating bond Eris had took it upon himself to spoil her, never wanting to see her as low as she was when they first met, it was his personal mission to make sure she knew were she belonged, and that was right beside him, sitting in her throne wearing a golden crown made specially for her. He'd never let her doubt herself ever again, for he knew what she was capable of.

"That's a little questionable, coming from you," she ran her fingers through his hair, tucking a few strands behind his pointy ear, "But thank you, you always know what to say." She had received a pout and what seemed to be the best try at puppy eyes his fierce ones could manage.

༄

The rational part of her brain knew that being High Lady wouldn't be an easy feat, never mind being one in Autumn Court, but there'd been some noticeable change already. Bakers in the village she had visited days before greeting her with smiles and free pastries, farmers thanking her for being the reason Beron was dead and now they could receive a decent salary. Somehow, they respected her.

Almost a century ago, when Eris first brought up the idea of making her High Lady, she had laughed at how absurd if was, imagine, a High Lady in Autumn? Yeah, right. But he was serious, so serious he spent the whole night stressing on it, by the time the sun had risen she had decided to at least know more about what it took to rule a court. After days of researching in any library she could find in Autum, she realized a good part of what she'd "learned" were things she already knew but hadn't really thought about, others were hard concepts that she supposed would go to Eris when they became High Lord and Lady of Autumn.

She doesn't remember how nor when she agreed, but she did.

༄

As soon as they stepped foot in Day, their hands entwined, she felt some glances being thrown her way, whispers catching her ears when she sat beside Eris. His hand squeezing hers made her lock eyes with him, those amber eyes comforting any doubts she might had been feeling before.

"Hi! I don't think we've been introduced before, I'm Viviane." She had heard things about the female, how she took care of Winter when Kallias was stuck Under the Mountain, that surely wasn't easy, if someone deserved being High Lady it was her.

Viviane sat beside her, after pleasantries were exchanged conversations just flowed, their mates watching their interaction silently. It appeared that, as usual, the Night Court would be making their dramatic appearance being late to the meeting, and as everyone waited for them, the rest of the High Lords were simply talking between themselves or watching the others interact.

"It'll be nice to have another female here, there's too many males here." Viviane giggled.

"Meetings with Autumn's advisors already give me headaches, I can only imagine your suffering." They laughed a little before the room fell utterly silent. Night Court had arrived.

"We should do this again some time soon, just us." Viviane whispered and gave her a wink before straightening up in her chair and taking Kallias hand between hers.

Now it starts. She felt Eris tense beside her but didn't say anything, knew the image he still sell, instead, she watched Rhysand and Feyre marching towards their chairs, their hands clasped together, the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed right behind them, and in the midst of them was... Morrigan.

As Rhysand sat, his eyes locked onto mine, a smirk dancing in his lips, glancing between Eris and me I could see the thoughts running in his head.

"Oh, Eris... Is that, the precious mate of yours?" His voice in a sickly tone of amusement, "I thought you'd hide her forever." He knew the game he was playing, his words were a simple attempt to test Eris, to paint an image that he'd lock me up like Beron did to his mother.

"Whatch your tongue, Rhysand, before I burn it to ash." Eris didn't falter, his tone still cocky as ever. He took great pleasure in showing her off. "But to answer your question, yes, she is my precious mate."

She could see that Rhysand had a bitter comment on the tip of his tongue but was cut off by Helion, who asked something she did not pay attention to, violet eyes still challenging her to look away first, perhaps he was trying to test her or for him it was simply fun to intimidate others. His mate made him break the staring, Eris' hand squeezed mine as soon as he did, I looked at him and the different between his and Rhysand's eyes was outstanding. Eris looked at her as if saying 'say the word and we'll leave' as he did everytime they were in public.

The rest of the meeting went by in a blur, so far she hadn't heard anything that required her to say something, so she was quiet, until Autumn was brought into conversation and Eris let out that she was now High Lady. Rhysand had laughed, laughed as if Eris had told him a joke.

"Really, a High Lady? In Autumn?" His right eyebrow lifted, "What are you playing, Eris? Do you think your court would like you more if you pretend she's in command? Come on..."

"Why did you make Feyre a High Lady?" Eris bit back but his voice remained cocky.

"Do not bring my mate into this."

"You bring mine, I bring yours." Eris tilted his head as if taunting him. "It's a fair question, she's a child–"

"Watch your next words, Eris," Azriel spoke for the first time, "One of them might get stuck in your throat."

"Why do you care, Rhysand? Why does it matter for you if I'm High Lady or not?" Her voice was low and calculated, if she raised it then the Shadowsinger would turn to her and Eris would lose his temper.

"It doesn't matter to me. Though I must say, only a fool would believe he made you High Lady for pure reasons–"

"Don't you think I'm a High Lady because I can be a High Lady?"

"Perhaps not. What do you have of so special you think you can be one?"

"My mate is a High Lord, according to you that should be enough," she continued before he could say anything, "But unlike Feyre I didn't turn High Lady overnight. Maybe I don't have anything special, I just spent decades learning what it takes to be a High Lord, studying the behavior of one and I must say yours is controversial, as was Beron but that's another history."

"What do you mean?" Rhysand had risen from his chair by now, the Illyrians behind him seething.

"Being a High Lord– or High Lady, means you take care or your court, therefore you take care of your people. Velaris is known for being a beautiful place but what of the rest of your court? Hewn City has been in shambles for centuries and you've been High Lord for almost 500 years, what have you done in that time to help them? Rhetorical question, nothing, at least nothing that matters anyway. About the Illyrian camps, the females now are able to learn how to fight but is it even worth it if you don't even have a safe home to go? So many things are begging for help but instead of helping, you just brag about your powers."

"What do you know about my court?" She could swear the room had turned a tad darker.

"Enough to know that, in spite of your judgement, we are doing a far better job at ruling than you are."

"You dare talk about my court and now you criticize the way I rule my own court?" The room was definitely darker, and colder, her left hand felt warmer than the rest of her body, courtesy of Eris. "Who do you think you are?"

"A High Lady."

The room fell silent for a moment, maybe her choice of words was too much for someone so new at this meetings. Rhysand still glared at her with those violet eyes promising death, two other pair of eyes shined behind him, calling for her to look, she didn't look away from Rhysand until a voice spoke up.

"She has a point. A great point of view, proves you're apt for ruling and wants what's best for Autumn, it'll be nice to see such a beautiful place grow." Helion voice was soft, albeit hesitant, and he seemed honest when his lips turned into a gentle smile, which she reciprocated easily. Mornings spent trying new pastries with Eris mother had them talking about her mysterious past lover who she'd then come to learn was Day's High Lord, perhaps that was why he looked forward to seeing Autumn grow, he was looking forward to the day she'd feel free. "I also believe the meeting is over, we should all get some rest for tomorrow, you're all welcome to stay here."

Eris stood up still holding her hand, a sign for her to follow, as they started walking towards the door his hand found place in her lower back, a small demonstration of protectiveness. She'd have to reward him later for being so patient today, not letting his temper get the best of him, at least for her first meeting.

༄

"You did so good today, my love." Eris told her as soon as they walked into their bedroom, his arms finding their way around her waist, holding her from the back, his straight nose nuzzled her neck the way he knew she loved.

"You think? Maybe I said too much..."

"Why, think they'll find out? Listen," he pulled back so she could turn in his arms but still held her waist, "Let them, you'll gain their respect a way or another, Helion already likes you, he'd be delighted to have a witch as smart as you to talk to about spells, the rest will follow suit."

"You know what I meant."

"I know, you did nothing wrong, your power gave you the knowledge for a reason, you used it to tell Rhysand how he's failing his own court, if anyone should apologize is him to his own people, not you." To make a point he gave her nose a small kiss, "But... I don't think he'll do anything at all."

"Yeah... He had many chances and time to change things, and he hasn't." She leaned her body against his, his hands moved behind her back and she felt her dress loosen up, "Thank you for behaving today, I guess you deserve a reward." She pulled back to smile at him, trying to appear innocent.

"Stop that," he laughed, "I wouldn't be opposed to that, but, I think I'd rather reward you. For standing up for yourself and your court, for not being intimidated so easily, you held you own and I'm proud of you."

Eris started pressing gentle kisses on her cheek and all the way down her neck while his hands slipped to her shoulders, pulling the fabric from her body and letting if fall to the floor. Her hands made quick work to unbutton his vest, wanting to have less clothing separating them.

His hands squeezed her bottom before slipping down her thighs and pulling her up, walking towards the bed while still kissing and nipping at her neck. One of her hands found place at the back of his head while the other found his cheek, a sign for him to kiss her lips.

As he kneeled on the bed and laid her down, he leaned back to pull off his vest and linen shirt, her undergarments following right after. Their kissed turned more more heated, his hands roamed through her whole body, gripping her tightly. When they pulled back to breath, his cheeks were a bright shade of red, as they always were around her.

Instead of going back to her lips, his mouth went to her stomach, kissing and licking, going up to her breasts and down her hipbone, his hands pulling her thighs up to rest on his shoulders while his mouth made delicate work of kissing her cunt. Pressing kisses and gentle kitten licks on her clit down to her entrance, teasing it with his tongue and going back to her clit, sucking harshly and soothing it with kitten licks again. When he deemed her wet enough, his fingers joined, middle and ring finger, clad with his wedding band, thrusting slowly and curving upwards while his mouth resumed licking and sucking her clit.

His unoccupied hand, which previously remained clasped tightly around the flesh of her tight, now brushed his fingers around her stomach, lightly running his fingernails through her skin making her erupt with goosebumps, his fingers thrusting into her quickening, her walls were squeezing him and he knew she wouldn't last long. Sucking specially hard on her clit and curving his fingers how he knew she liked, she came with a whimper, thighs shaking around his shoulders, he stills his fingers as to not overwhelm her but his tongue still licked her cunt, precisely avoiding her clit.

When she calmed down he pulled his fingers back and licked her clean of her cum, careful to not go so fast, when he was done he pulled back and leaned her body on hers so they could kiss, making her taste herself on his lips. Her hands roamed the expanse of his scarred back, up to the back of his neck and down to the waistband of his trousers, which she pushed as low as she could reach, a sign he took to get rid of them.

Him standing up gave her a full view of his body, he was lean and yet full of muscles, scars here and there that didn't compare to the ones in his back. General Eris Vanserra was handsome, High Lord Eris was still handsome but he was also elegant and charming. The Eris she had when they were in the intimacy of their bedroom was beautiful, a beautiful male and even beautiful mate and husband, he was a broken male that managed to stitch himself back together and remain good and he was beautiful.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He was kneeling back on the bed, his hands caressing her legs.

"Because I love you, and you deserve to be admired, Eris." She could swear his cheeks had turned a tad darker, even his ears were tinged pink.

Eris didn't say anything back, just leaned over to capture her lips, gentle this time, slowly parting them with his own and brushing his tongue with hers, licking and sucking on the tip of her tongue. When his hips touched hers she snuck a hand down their bodies to align his cock with her entrance, he gave a few small thrusts to tease her before fully thrusting himself inside her, when they did they moaned in unison. Together they were far from the people they were moments ago, together they didn't have titles or expectations to live up to, together they could just be and they didn't even have to say anything, their movements were unhurried and their sounds were quiet, all heavy breathing and small noises.

Eris' thrusts faltered every now and then, followed by a whimper of his own, one of his hands was tangled in her hair while the other held her face gently, stroking her cheek with his thumb while they kissed. Her legs kept to his sides, caressing him in any way she could, her kept changing between holding his arms and holding his shoulder or hair.

Their bodies had a thin layer of sweat, her cunt throbbing made Eris lose his rhythm, when he found he started thrusting faster, his hand is her hair tightened and they could barely focus on kissing, their mouths just hanging open with heavy breaths and the occasional stroking of tongues was they could manage. Their moans were getting louder, his hips meeting hers harder, their bodies slipping with sweat, his forehead met hers when they tipped over the edge, groans and whimpers mingling together through the bedroom. His seed hot inside her doing wonders to soothe her want for him.

When they calmed down enough to move, Eris rolled beside her and pulled to his sweaty chest, usually they'd bathe but they were both too spent to do anything else, at least for a while.

[slimybeth69]

Girl Dinner

@pedrospookie made the cutest fucking mood board for this fic, she also gave me so much inspiration for this! Let's all thank her for her perfect brain.

Part 1 of 4- Knocked Loose

Rating: explicit

Series Masterlist | Part 2

kidnapped!Joel x isolated&unhinged&potentially crazy!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions besides having hair long enough to hold and fall into your face, the reader is actually crazy, talks to herself- hears little voices in her head. You gotta know this going into it)

thanks to @bonezone44 for this idea.

w/c : 9k (whoops)

Summary: After the civilized world you once knew came to an end-- the men that survived... well they just take, take, take. Growing tired of having things taken from you-- you have a hankerin' to take somethin' for yourself... and make him perfect.

warnings/tags: non-con/dub-con/ altered mental state(?) throughout the entire thing. stockholm syndrome, violence (reader and Joel both get hurt) Joel is an unwilling participant... or is he? cockwarming, unprotected P in V, dirty talk- more to come.

authors note: Hey! I know a lot people get icked out by the idea of non-con or dub con, and that's fine, but I like it, so I'm gonna write this. I don't think any of this should be acted out ITRL. DON'T KIDNAP PEOPLE!! This is your last and final warning just so everyone is aware of what's going on. this is unbeta'd, poorly proofread and probably incoherent. I love you all so, so, so much.

The weather is finally starting to change, it's not as hot as a pigs asshole anymore, and you wake up feeling refreshed, rather than sticky and sour from sleeping in a pool of your own sweat all night long.

The first thought that comes to your head though isn't the changing weather, or how you'll eventually need to break out your warmer clothes soon, nope— you don't give a shit about any of that.

It's just Mister-man that you're thinking about.

He might be the most pretty thing you've ever seen. With his shoulder length, brown and gray curls, and his patchy facial hair that matches so nicely. The thought of how rough and scratchy it would feel against your tongue makes your spine tingle.

Mister-man is a big boy. Hefty, broad, and looked so strong whenever he came into the mall.

You've been watching him for a while. He comes around every three or four days snooping in all the stores for supplies.

It's like he doesn't even know you're here…or if he does, he doesn't care. Rude! You're a pretty girl!

He's just coming to take our stuff, just like the rest of the monster-men out there. If he finds us, he might wanna take-

"Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!" You put your hands over your ears, even though those voices just get louder when you do that.

Mister-man wouldn't hurt'chya…

Yes, he would. He's a man.

"It's too early for this," You grumble, sitting up in your bed.

The mattress store is nice and clean, just how you left it last night before you crawled into bed. You think about how it would be alarming if it wasn't exactly how you left it before you went to bed. You did your nightly walk-through to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be, and that there weren't any extras hanging about.

As you get dressed, you think about what the dark voice was about to say. You know exactly what Mister-man would try and take from you if he found you. What all the other men in this fucking place want from you.

It's hard to make any of that matter as you skip to your hiding spot in the rafters above the food court. That's where he always enters from, even though the easier entrance with less glass and boards to climb through is on the other side of the mall.

It's a good thing you set up a trap there too, if he comes in through that entrance, at least you'll hear the snare go off and hopefully get to him in time to get his gun and knife.

Mister-man is a creature of habit, he doesn't like to switch things up, Sug. He'll come through this door.

He might. He might not. Mister-man might be playing your game better than you, kid.

"Well then, it's a good thing I thought of everything," you murmur, climbing up the discarded scaffolding to get into the rafters.

It's not scary up here, you like the thrill of knowing if you made one mistake—

Goner!

Splat!

"I've never fallen though!" You giggle, settling in to the perch just above the now blown out glass doors. It's a comfortable little spot, and you've arranged some blankets and pillows from the mattress store up here so you can nap if you want. There are some snacks, and bottles of water in case you have to stay up here for more than just a couple hours, keeping an eye out for Mister-man.

People must have stayed here in the mall during the outbreak, or right after because the doors are boarded up the best they can be, and the tables and chairs from the food court are set up all around like a barricade.

It was perfect, less work for you to have to do, and no one else bothers to come in here anymore— it's either too far, too hard to get too, or not worth the pay out.

Not for our lovely, handsome, soon to be perfect, Mister-man; the reason he comes every week is so sweet.

You wondered why he kept coming back when there really isn't much to scavenge anymore: every single store had been picked through before you got here, and you went and took the last of whatever anyone else didn't want or need and squirreled it away in a nice hiding spot.

Mister-man came every three or four days-- so that he could sit his ass in a comfortable recliner for a couple hours.

Remember that time he took a nap?

"Of course I do! How could I forget?!"

It's the cutest thing, and you love to watch him relax. Rest. Let his guard down for a little while.

"Slept like a lil baby that day," you mumble, feeling the heat spread up your neck and behind your cheeks. It's impossible to not smile at the memory of Mister sleeping in his chair, arms behind his head, snoring loudly.

His hair was real soft...'n he smelled so..

Why does he let us get so close? It's gotta be a trap.

Oh shut up, maybe he wants us to get close!

"I don't think he can hear me too good," you breathe out to the empty mall. The sun is starting to shine directly in your eyes— which means Mister-man will be here soon. "Always lookin' over his left shoulder. He never looks over his right, me thinks he can't hear outta that ear."

Mister has been coming for a couple months. He first started when the snow started to melt. And he kept coming through the spring when everything was wet and soggy, and he'd traipse mud through the mall like this wasn't your house!

That's how you knew he had been there though, so you waited to see if he'd come back-- and he did.

Mister-Man kept coming, even when the summer got so hot it was almost unbearable. Venturing outside was almost dangerous, but Mister always came.

Just to sit in his chair.

The air is filled with the sounds of birds singing, and insects buzzing in the lazy, summer heat. The mornings aren't too bad anymore, but the afternoon is still sweltering.

The late afternoon's are even worse when the heat finally settles, and everything gets sticky, and feeling all wet even though it's not wet outside! It's hot, but the air feels thick and damp somehow.

Awh, looks like he ain't coming today, Sug.

Good-fucking-riddance.

"He'll show up. If not today… tomorrow…or the next day. Or next week! He always comes, sillies. Gettin' me all nervous for nothin—"

Shhhhhh!!!! He's coming.

Mister-man is coming. You can hear him before he even crawls through the hole in one of the boards. He has to slide the table he sets up every time he comes and goes.

Once he's upright, brushing himself clean of any debris that he might have picked up on his crawl into the mall, he starts to walk.

It's not hard to stay quiet, you know exactly where the spots that creak are, and where things might break and fall apart if you were to put too much weight on them.

It's easier to follow him around as he slinks through the abandoned shopping center than you thought, as long as you stay on his right side. You've been watching and learning, and had a long time to figure him out.

Mister is so cute, walking real slow with his back to the wall, his head on a constant swivel. You wanna call out to him and tell him it's just the three of you in the mall.

He continues to sneak very quietly.

Can't hide from us.

"He sure can't," you giggle, almost silently.

Mister-man pauses, and looks over his left shoulder, as if something caught his attention. He looks all around, head twisting in either and all directions. At one point, he looks right up at where you're standing.

It's like he's looking right at you, like he can see you flitting through the rafters right above him.

Mister-man just shakes his head, as if he was hearing things, and continues onward towards the furniture store.

Fuck, he really can't hear for shit.

"He sure can't."

Mister doesn't make it inside the furniture store today, unfortunately for him.

When Joel wakes up, his head is fucking pounding and— he's upside down. Shit.

Not again.

"What the fuck?" Joel croaks, his hands feel like they weigh a thousand pounds as he tries to lift them from where they're dangling over his head. His shoulders hurt, and his back aches. His ankles feel like they're on fire.

There isn't much he can do but hang here, waiting for his vision to un-blur and for the throbbing in his head to go away.

Probably get gutted like a pig.

Finally, after blinking a million times, Joel can see things clearly.

You- a young woman- with a gun in your hand, another strapped to the outside of your thigh, and a fucking machete strapped across your back.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" Joel shouts, his hands now easily flying to the holster—It's empty. The pack he had been carrying on his back is gone too.

Joel watches as you look at him like he should already know what you're doing: a half smile plastered onto your pretty lips, the crinkle at the corners of your eyes, your head tilted to the side ever so slightly, couching in front of his pack.

"Lookin' through your stuff," you croon to him.

Joel's blood boils. What the fuck are you doing? Who the fuck are you? How did you manage to get him all strung up, hanging from the ceiling?

He says nothing as you stay picking through his backpack, taking out every single thing he has in there. His map, compass, the backup flashlight, the gas-mask— which you're putting on?

Why? There weren't any spores in here— were there?

"This thing is fuckin' cool!" Your voice is muffled, and you stand up straight. Then you hold your hands out at your sides, and spin in a circle.

"Hey!" Joel barks at you, flinching away from the revolving barrel of your pistol with each rotation you make. "Stop swinging that thing around, would ya'!?" Joel shouts as you continue to spin.

You stop suddenly, and stare at him through the big, dark lenses of his gas mask. "You know all about swinging around, don'tchya?" You giggle at him.

Joel literally swings back and forth as you say this, very slowly spinning around as he sways, and the throbbing in his head only makes him more angry.

"Cut me the fuck down, keep what'chya want— I don't got time for all this," Joel grumbles, lifting his head so he can look at the rope tied around his ankles. It's a good knot, and without a knife, Joel isn't going to get down on his own, not without his knife.

He reaches behind him to feel for it on his belt—

"Lookin' for this?" Your still muffled voice questions Joel as his fingers brush across the empty space on his waist where his knife would be.

He tips his head almost all the way back, and then to the side so he can see you— and is greeted by the sight of you, still in the gas mask, and now, holding his knife by the blade with your thumb and index finger. All he can do is sigh, close his eyes and wonder how a trip to sit in his favorite recliner led to this.

"Now, I ain't really wanna hurt'chya— I was hopin' you was gunna say knocked out long enough for me to cut'cya down and—"

Joel doesn't wanna hear anymore. "Just cut me the fuck down— people are gon' come lookin' for me if you—"

You apparently don't wanna hear what Joel has to say anymore either, because you start to talk over him. "—we're just gunna go—"

Joel doesn't care, doesn't want to listen to your muffled voice— he wishes you would take his stupid, fucking gas mask off and talk to him like a normal person. He's gotta be able to barter with you somehow. "—don't let me go. If it's food 'n water ya' want, I can get ya' some—"

The two of you are just talking louder, and louder, until the both of you are shouting over the other, neither one of you actually hearing what the other is saying.

"—let me go!"

"—stay forever!"

The two of you stop and stare at each other in silence for a moment. Joel can't really comprehend what you just said, "Stay forever?"

"Yep!" You exclaim happily.

Did he say that aloud?

"You 'n me, together forever, Mister-man," you sigh dreamily at him.

It's not what you say, it's how you say it— like you really believe what you've just said. Like…it was something you had been thinking about, for a while.

"Huh?" Is all he can say, still slowly swaying and spinning. He has to turn his head almost completely around before he whips it to the other side, he wants to keep his eyes on you at all times. You seem un-fucking-predictable.

"Ain't'chya so excited!?" You squeal, and it makes Joel's head ache.

"Gon' fuckin' strangle you once I get down from here," Joel half grumbles, half chuckles under his breath. He crosses his arms over his chest, watching you rummage around for something in his bag.

"That's why I gotta do this," your muffled voice sounds sad as you pull something out and whip it behind your back, hiding it, and that makes Joel nervous.

"Do what?" Joel tries to see what you pulled out of his backpack.

"Gotta close your eyes," you shrug your shoulders, and rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.

Joel blinks at you, just staring at him through the gas mask. He's not completely unsettled by the sight of you in a gas mask, he's seen women wearing them plenty— it's the fact that you have him completely at your mercy and he can barely see your fucking eyes.

He's so fucking stupid for coming out here alone all the time, Tommy and Ellie both warned him- both told him that something would happen to him out here. He'd hurt his back— or worse. And no one would know where to find him- because this was his secret hideaway. A place to escape the responsibilities of being a dad, a grandpa, and a big brother.

Joel loves Ellie, JJ and Tommy more than he ever thought possible— and loves that he got to be around them everyday— it was just starting to be a lot.

If Joel had the means to move that recliner into his house in Jackson, he would have— but it's too big, too heavy and way too fucking far.

Now look at him, upside down!

"Ya' ain't gunna wanna see it comin'." You give Joel a small warning. "Please just close them," you whine, starting to nervously dance on your tip toes.

"No." Joel growls, arms still crossed over his chest.

"'Kay!" You exclaim, running over to Joel. "Warned ya'!" You pull the brick Joel had put in his pack for emergencies.

"Wait! Wait—"

Cripes-all-mighty, Mister-Man is heavy as hell!

It takes everything you have inside of you to drag him to the mattress store. By the time you get there, your shirt is soaked through with sweat, your hair clings to your forehead and the side of your face. Every muscle aches and feels as if it's being torn from the bone it's clinging to.

Huffing and puffing, you drag him through the sea of mattresses until you get to the staircase that leads into the basement office.

"Sorry, Mister-Man," you grunt and push him down the stairs—

He's fine! You lined the stairs, and the bottom where he landed with mattresses a couple days ago-- after you brought his favorite recliner down here. All by yourself. Did it just for Mister-Man, because you want him to be comfortable! You want him to feel nice, and relaxed, and safe here with you.

Once you have him nice and secure to his chair— you wait.

He hit his head pretty hard when you snared him— you didn't think of that part. Then he had to go and wake up! Like a dumb idiot! He could have just stayed asleep, then you wouldn't have had to hit him again!

Thank goodness for that brick he keeps in his backpack, which, what the fuck is that about? It's a good weapon, but it's heavy, and made his backpack harder to carry than you would like to admit.

You were also lugging that giant of a man around, ya' did good, Sugar.

Yeah, ya' did good, kid.

You wrap your arms around yourself and sigh, "Thanks."

You wanna tell the voices in your head that you love them, but you don't really always love them. Sometimes you hate them, and wish they would shut up, and sometimes they don't talk when you need them to— finicky fuckers! And they almost never see eye to eye, and it's exhausting. So you just say thanks.

Mister-man is so pretty up close. Even more pretty than you could have ever thought or dreamed of. He doesn't look like he's shaved or cleaned up his beard in the last couple days, and his hair was combed back away from his face when he got here today— but now it's a mess, matted to his forehead in drying blood, falling into his eyes.

"Shit," you whisper, taking in the sight of him all beat up—

Sug, you gotta clean him up— make him pretty again.

The sweet voice is right!

Mister-man looks so sad all bloody and a mess.

"I'll be right back," you murmur and press a gentle kiss to his forehead through his blood stained hair, and then double check all of the ropes around his wrists and ankles. 

He's secure, time to go get him lookin' nice again. 

When you come back, your bag is filled to the brim with supplies from the the multiple stores that still have things inside them. You got him a comb, and a spray bottle that you already filled with clean water. You were able to find some clean clothes that look like they'll fit him. 

He's also awake. 

"Hi, Mist—"

"Let me go." 

"—er-man!" You finish through the interruption. "I'm gunna clean you up now, and then we can have dinner. 'Kay?"

Mister-man stares at you.

"Oh!" You rip the gas mask off and place it on his lap. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to steal it. I promise." You cross your heart with one index finger. 

"Let. Me. Go." 

You wince with each barked word. "I. Don't. Wanna." 

"If I ever get outta here, m'gon' fuckin' kill ya'," he growls. 

You frown, pinch your eyebrows together and mock his thick, country twang. "M'gon' fuckin' clean ya' up real good, 'n then me 'n ya' can have fuckin' dinner." You growl back at him. 

"Shut th'fuck up, untie me—"

"Why!? So you can kill me?" You shake your head at him, giving him a small smirk. "Not gunna happen, Mister." 

His eyes go wider than you've ever seen them, as if he might be nervous. "What th'fuck you gon' do to me then, huh?" 

"Clean. You. Up. Then. Have. Dinner. Did I say it too fast the first time, or can you really not hear too good?" You cock your head to one side, and look at him quizzically.

"Th'fuck did ya' just ask me?" Joel feels his chest going tight-- this hasn't happened in fucking years. It can't be happening right now.

"I talk real fast sometimes, and I don't realize it, and so sometimes all my words come out real jumbled to--"

"'Bout my hearin'?" Joel's working overtime to suck the air in, to bring precious oxygen to his brain. His head is still pounding, and now he can't fucking breathe, and he can't even imagine what kind of sick, twisted shit you're going to do to him.

Joel watches your eyes drop to the ground by his feet, and it's almost like you pull your body in on itself somehow, retreating into a place where you're trying to hide from him in plain sight. "I been watchin' you when you come in here... just act like you can't hear all that good outta your right ear," you say in a voice so small Joel can barely hear it.

"Watchin' me?" Joel scoffs.

Who the fuck are you? How long have you been watching him? How come he's never seen you before? Never even seen a trace of another person around here, just the stray raccoon or possum.

Joel's blood boils when you nod your head at him, still unable to look him in the eye. "Ya' should be ashamed. Whatever it is ya' wanna do to me is probably fucked--"

"I'm not ashamed," your voice snaps, and finally you lift your head to meet Joel's gaze. "Not even a little."

"Actin' like it," Joel's voice is snappier, and louder, and it makes you flinch.

"Maybe a little embarrassed--"

"Ashamed, fuckin' embarrassed, same fuckin' thing." Joel rolls his eyes at you.

"Not really," you shake your head from side to side and raise both of your eyebrows at him. "Not at all, actually."

"Would you shut th'fuck up?!"

"Would you shut th'fuck up..." You mock Joel. "I'm tryin' to do somethin' nice for you, and you keep telling me to shut the fuck up!"

"Do somethin' nice f'me?!" If this wasn't almost thirty years after the fucking apocalypse happened, Joel would think he was on some hidden camera show.

"Yeah!" You hold out the supplies you had brought back from wherever the fuck you had run off too while Joel was unconscious.

"Doin' somethin' nice would be lettin' me go, sweetheart." Joel switches his tone- does something he wouldn't normally do in a situation like this.

Your eyes light up. They crinkle in the corners a little, like they did the first time he saw you, but you're not upside down this time. The corners of your lips are trying to curl up, but you're actively trying to stop them.

"Don't call me that, 'less you mean it."

With the comb, water bottle and first-aid kit in hand, you take your place behind him and inspect the wound. 

It's a surface wound, but dirty from the brick and still very bloody. 

It's a painstaking process, because you don't want to be the cause of his pain anymore. Not ever again if you can help it.

Really, that's up to Mister, but he'll find out on his own soon enough! He just has to play nice, be sweet and kind— be the Mister you want him to be, and he'll be perfectly happy here with you. Life here with you in the mall could be perfect! He just needs to be perfect. He's almost there, he just has to keep his mouth shut. 

He's not quiet, not at all. He hoots and hollers at you to stop, to let him go, that he's gonna gut you like a fish if he ever gets free from here.

The way he talks, his voice feels like the deepest note on a piano, or the thickest string being plucked on a guitar. It vibrates in the spaces between your ribs, and forces all the air out of your lungs when he talks.

He's taking your breath away... how romantic.

The sweet and airy voice in your head is right, he is taking your breath away. You wish he would stop saying those mean and terrible things to you-- they're making you hurt inside, where your stomach is.

Guilt. You should just kill him right now--

"Hurt him?"

Mister stops shouting, and raises one eyebrow at you.

Look'it those big brown eyes. Like a baby cow. All wet 'n big, kinda scared lookin'.

Ugh, shoot him right between those beautiful brown eyes, kid. You can do it.

He ain't hurt you yet, Sug...

Because she tied him up--

As she should, she's gotta feel him out a little, make sure he's really not gonna hurt her.

How is he ever going to hurt her if he's tied up?

"Okay, enough!" You almost shout-- there they go! Never seeing eye to eye, making things harder than they needed to be!

"I'll yell all I fuckin' want," Joel does holler, loudly. So loud. He's going to draw attention.

"Do I need to get the brick again?"

Joel stops shouting.

He really can't hold back the pained sounds coming from his throat as you attend to his wound.

You're being so, so gentle!

He's acting like a giant baby.

"M'hurtin' you?" You mumble as you drag the damp cloth along his forehead carefully, cleaning the moderately large gash you left there with the brick. It's swollen, and bruised now... you feel so terrible.

He'll forgive you, Sugar.

Mister-man doesn't say anything, he just flinches away from your touch for the millionth time.

"M'sorry, didn't mean t'hurt you this bad." You slowly start to work the comb through his hair, spraying it down with water when you needed to. You're careful to never pull on his hair too hard, and work the tangles out meticulously so you don't bring him any more discomfort.

"Got'chu some medicine." You reach into your pocket and pull out two white pills.

"I ain't takin' nothin' y'give me, fuckin' crazy bitch." He grumbles.

Mister watches you walk around to the front of him, and kneel between his legs.

"S'just regular," you hold your hand up to his face so he can inspect the pill on his own. "Nothin' strong like they had in the QZ's," it's a gentle explanation as he studies the medicine in your palm. "Can find some for ya' if you wanted me to, m'real good at findin' stuff."

"Find it in your heart t'let me outta here," Joel gives you the sweetest, crookedest smile that makes you stomach feel like it grows ten sizes, and your heart feels like it's racing something else inside of you.

There are sweet wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, and the lines on his forehead deepen, and he has the softest dimple on his left cheek.

Sug, he's so pretty.

Kill. Him. Before. He. Kills. You.

"So pretty," you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, and rest one of your elbows on his knee, propping your head up on the heel of your hand. The pills are still right in front of Joel's face, and his eyes flash between them, and your face.

"Not takin' them" he grumbles, twisting his head away from your hand.

"Suit yourself," you put the pills back into your pocket, dipping your head down to press a soft kiss to his knee. "M'gunna go get us dinner, I'll be back."

Joel stares at the tray of food you set down on the table you dragged over to be directly in front of him.

"Where's the protein?" Joel looks up at you from the plate of crackers with peanut butter, a small bowl of raspberries, two packets of expired pretzels you would get on an airplane, and a full bottle of labelless whiskey.

"S'in the peanut butter," you say through a mouthful of your own cracker.

Begrudgingly, Joel opens his mouth when you hold a cracker up to his lips. "Where's the meat?"

The crackers are dry, and kind of stale somehow? The peanut butter is still nice and creamy, just the way Joel remembered it before the outbreak.

"Where would I find meat?"

Joel pinches his brows together and blinks at you. "Ya' live in the woods, got a gun or two-- fuckin' know how to set a snare--"

You gasp softly, and rest one elbow on the table and point at him with a lazy index finger, "You 'spect me to go out there and kill an innocent lil friend? They ain't ever done nothin' t'me. Why would I go out 'n hurt 'em when I ain't got no reason to?"

Joel continues to blink, trying so hard to keep his eyes on you and not the ropes you have him tied down with so tightly they're starting to dig into the skin on his forearms-- painfully.

"Ya' kiddin', right?" He watches as you place a raspberry directly into the peanut butter on the cracker and hold it out for him.

"Issa good combo, try it." You nod your head at him, urging him to open his mouth.

Joel doesn't want to, doesn't want to give you the satisfaction of knowing he needs you, and is going to keep needing you until you decide to kill him, or set him free.

He opens his mouth though, because Joel hasn't had a raspberry in years and he loves them, and the sight of that plump, juicy berry sitting so comfortably in that pillow of delicious, creamy peanut butter is making his stomach rumble. Loudly.

"Want some?" You hold up the bottle of whiskey, screw off the cap and take a swig. "See, it's safe," you look at him through your lashes, and give him a one-corner-of-your-mouth-smile.

Joel nods his head, because what else was there to do if he was going to be a prisoner here? He tried so hard to free himself of the restraints while you were gone, but you know how to tie a knot, and Joel just ended up giving himself rope burn.

An hour later, Joel feels pretty good, but not good enough to forget the situation he's in, but the booze is making you very chatty, and he might actually be enjoying the conversation.

"'N I get power from the solar things up on the roof, I think."

"Ya' think?" Joel smirks at you, he can't help it.

"I dunno how the solar works," you exclaim, holding one hand towards the ceiling. "It's the sun and black screens," you give the ceiling the middle finger and groan. "Barely works when the sun is out-- I just wanna watch my movies--"

"What kinda movies ya' got?"

He wishes he never asked.

You're sitting between his legs on the floor-- reaching behind you to feed him raspberries, never taking your eyes off the screen.

Joel thing's about biting your fingers off, thinks about taking the tips right off with his front teeth.

What would you do if he did that? Joel is still tied up, and he would just have raspberries and bloodied fingertips in his mouth, and then possibly a crazy, unpredictable, angry woman who would try and kill him.

Joel has seen angry people every day for close to thirty years... he knows what they look like, what they sound and act like--- you don't sound or act angry.

"Love this part," you sigh, leaning back into him, and resting your head on his knee.

Joel looks up to the screen, watching Cinderella transform into her beautiful ball gown.

Joel wishes he could reach out and run his fingers through your hair.

No he fucking doesn't? What the actual fuck? What did you put in the food, or the whiskey to make him feel this way?

Joel clenches his hands to fists on the arms of the recliner, and tenses his jaw-- grinding his teeth in the process.

You continue to drink throughout the movie, and when the credits are rolling-- you stumble to your feet, and then into his lap.

"Get off'a me," Joel gripes as you nuzzle your nose against the side of his face.

"Just wanna cuddle," you murmur, curling yourself up into his chest, yawning sleepily. "F'just a lil bit."

"Get off'a me, ya' fuckin' nut!" Joel shouts, and regretfully, tries to headbutt you.

His cheekbone, the side of his nose and part of his forehead connect with the top of your skull in a dull, aching thud.

You scramble off his lap, and fall to the floor, one hand holding the top of your head where Joel had just whacked you. The right side of his face is throbbing, and he thinks his nose might be bleeding, or he's crying- he doesn't know- he doesn't care. He just wants to go home.

"What the fuck!?" You shout back at him. "Mister, I ain't been mean to you at all, minus the brick- okay? What the hell is your problem!?"

Joel can't help but laugh, it starts off as a chuckle, but quickly matures into full on guffawing. "Y'fuckin' insane, ya' know that?" Joel rumbles through his fit.

Through the tears in his eyes, Joel can see you glaring at him.

Okay, he hurt her, can she kill him now?

Sugar, he ain't mean it... not really... he just needs some time to adjust.

He could have really hurt her, are you serious?

He's just nervous! Give the man a break--

Tired of giving men breaks- tired of letting them get away-

"Both of you, knock it off." It's a stern warning to the voice as you glare at Mister.

He stops laughing and blinks at you. "Huh?" He cocks one eyebrow up high, "Both o' ya?"

His question doesn't register, all you can think about is how disappointed you are in him.

"I was gunna let'chya sleep in the big bed with me," you huff, climbing to your feet. "Ain't gonna do that no more."

"I ain't wanna sleep in the big bed with y'crazy fuckin' ass, anyway!" He screams at you.

"What're ya' bein' so fuckin' mean for? I cleaned ya' up, made ya' pretty again-- fed you dinner 'n shared my drink with you!"

Do not cry! What're you doing!? Don't let him see you cry! Get out of here, right now!

The dark voice is right, the burn in your nose and the sting in your eyes are tell tale signs of tears- and you hate them. Hate the way they make your face wet and sticky, hate how they make your heart hurt, hate how your head feels like it's ten pounds heavier when you get done crying.

He'll come around, Sug. Gotta give him some time. If ya' stay nice-- it'll happen sooner than you think.

"I like bein' nice," you murmur, not taking your eyes off Mister.

"Th'fuck are you talkin' about!?" He exclaims, eyes wide, almost obsidian with rage and confusion.

"G'night, Mister. We'll try again t'morow."

Mister doesn't rest, doesn't relax, doesn't settle down at all.

When you open the door to his room, he's still screaming his head off.

"Hey!" You shout back at him, grabbing his attention. "We got raiders 'round here. We got infected movin' in and outta here all the time-- you know how fuckin' loud you are?"

"Hopefully they all hear 'n come runnin'. I'd love to see you get torn to shred-"

"'Kay, m'real sorry ya' feel that way. Even sorrier that I gotta do this."

Mister doesn't stop fighting you the entire time you shove the bandanna into his mouth. He even bites down on your index and middle finger as you stuff the last corner of fabric between his teeth.

Hit him.

It happens so fast, you don't have time to stop yourself from the back of your hand connecting with his cheek.

"Now, you gunna play that game? I can play, too," you inspect your finger and the deep indentation he left that's already starting to bruise.

The duct tape is hard to rip, and you need to use your teeth to cut a strip to go over his mouth.

Mister is mumbling something around the bandanna, but you can't understand him, and honestly are still mad about your fingers-- they hurt! Really bad!

"Glad I still got that medicine... I'm gunna fuckin' need it!" You dig around in your pockets and look for the two white pills. Your fingers throb while you look, the sensitive skin; tender to the touch as it brushes against the fabric inside your pockets.

Mister glares at you with his almost black eyes.

"I'm sorry!" You find the pills, throw them into your mouth and swallow dry. "I'm sorry for hurtin' you. I do not like doin' it, I mean it." You take a couple steps towards him, and drop to your knees between his legs again.

Mister watches, his whole body still as you rest your head on his knee again.

"Just want ya' 'round. M'sorry," you close your eyes, not wanting him to see them fill with those traitorous tears. "Jus' real lonely out here. Miss havin' someone t'talk with...'n snuggle up to at night."

The fuckin' duct tape makes it impossible for Mister to say anything--which is the worst. You wanted someone to talk with, not at.

"I'll take the tape off in the mornin', and we can try again over breakfast, 'kay?"

Mister doesn't make a single sound for the rest of the night.

Joel is drunk again. Fuck, this is never good.

You're in his lap, knees on either side of his thighs with one arm around his neck, your head resting on his shoulder. There is something about the way your fingers twirl around in his hair at the nape of his neck that feels good. Too good.

"C'mon, get off'a me," Joel groans, but there's no passion in his voice. It's been almost three weeks of just this, and he doesn't hate it. Not when he's drunk.

Honestly, he barely dislikes it when he's sober, but he's better at acting like he doesn't want you on his lap when he hasn't had a drink that night.

How can he not like it just a little bit? You're soft, and warm, and fit so perfectly on his lap it's like you were made to be there.

"Couple more minutes, Mister. Please?" You fucking whimper,

The sound floating through Joel's ear canal sends a shiver down his spine, and directly into his cock. It twitches in his jeans. He's got to start thinking about baseball, and carpentry work, and how he's probably going to die soon.

Nothing works. Joel can feel the heat from your cunt through the thin fabric of your shorts, and his hands have been tied down to this chair every time you're not around. The only time you let him up is to use the bathroom-- and you have a gun while you wait for him the entire time, so he's never horny then!

And, as thankful as Joel is for this- you've never even looked at him like that. You look at him like you're in love with him all the time, but you've never once looked at him like you wanna touch him.

Joel tries to push his hips further into the chair, away from the perfect, searing heat of your middle.

"Where'ya goin?" Your voice purrs in his ear, your fingernails ghost across the skin on his neck and he shivers again, his cock feels it tenfold.

You feel it now, too.

"What're ya'--" you pause to look between your bodies, and then your eyes flash up to his. "That f'me?" You're whispering, and your glassy eyes are wide, and look so flattered.

"Ain't for nobody, stop lookin' at 'em," Joel grumbles, again, not really meaning any of it even though he should mean every single word.

"'Em?" you question him with your big, wet eyes and his cock twitches again.

Joel swallows hard, his eyes falling to your bottom lip clutched between your teeth, and nods. "Him, yeah, whatever you wanna call it-- ain't for you." He sighs softly.

"Why not?" you sink down further into his lap. The thin shorts you have on to wear to bed do nothing to keep your warmth contained. It's almost like Joel can feel what it would be like if you just whipped him out and sat-

He's never drinking with you again. Never again.

"Get off'a me," Joel leans forward gently as you lean into him, the tips of your noses touch softly.

"Gunna bite me if I kiss ya'?"

Joel is a goner, your breath smells sweet like raspberries and whiskey and every single thing about you is warm and soft-- Joel knows that if he wasn't fucking drunk he'd be fighting you tooth and nail, but he cannot right now.

He can't think about anything but what you'd feel like wrapped around him, milking him.

"Take'em out," Joel is the one to lean into the kiss, his lips aren't hesitant, or tentative at all when they meet yours. He is going to try and bite you- and he does, he nips at your bottom lip, but gently. He pulls back with it still bitten, and listens to you moan softly.

The quickness of your fingers isn't your friend, you struggle with his belt for what feels like an eternity as you push back against his kiss, eagerly slipping your tongue into Joel's waiting mouth.

Joel groans low in his throat when you wrap your hands around his girth, and then chuckles at your shocked gasp when you pull away to get a good look at him.

"He ain't gon' bite'chya," Joel teases, leaning forward, searching for your lips again.

"Might split me in half," you moan, presumably at the thought of Joel stretching you open.

Joel can't contain his own moan as you put the image in his head. "Fuuck, sit on him-- lemme feel ya'."

The sound that leaves you makes Joel throb in your hand, "Ya' want me t'put 'em inside?" You whisper, the silky smoothness of your hands on him, stroking him so slowly is making his head spin.

"Jeeesus, yes-- fuckin' c'mon- do it," Joel lets his head fall back against the recliner, and watches as you pull your shorts to the side, and lift yourself to hover over him. "C'mon..." Joel eggs you on in a whisper. "Y'can do it, crazy girl."

"Don't call--" you pause when you notch the head of him at your entrance. "--me crazy."

Joel groans loudly as you sink down and let every wet, soft part of you engulf him. He throbs again when you whimper and whine, eyes clenched shut, your hands grasping at his shoulders as you inch your way down his length.

"Ow, ow, ow," you whine, leaning forward to rest your head on Joel's.

He could headbutt the shit out of you right now, but fuck, the way you're looking at him, with real tears in your eyes, not just from drinking.

"Hey, ya' doin' real good, sweetheart, keep goin'-- nice 'n slow," Joel encourages you, because he doesn't want it to stop either. "Jus' like that, crazy girl."

God damn, is crazy pussy always this good? He wouldn't fucking know, he wouldn't ever get involved with you if he knew you back in Jackson- but out here, after almost three weeks with you... it's hard to deny the physical needs of a man. And you're so fucking soft and wet.

The two of you groan in unison when you fully seated. The velvet walls of your pussy are fluttering, and clenching around him as you adjust to his length.

"You're so big," you hum, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "Didn't think ya'd wanna do this," you whisper into his mouth. "Wasn't gon' take it from ya-- don't like that."

"Take what'chya need from me, whenever ya want it, shit," Joel tries to buck his hips up into yours to give you what you want but you whine in protest.

"Still hurts."

Joel settles his hips and leans into the best he can being tied down, his fingers grip the armrests of the chair tightly, groping it like he would be groping you if he could.

"Untie me," he murmurs while grinding up against you, not pulling out of you at all, just letting you feel him, letting you open up around him so it'll start to feel good.

"No," you nip at his bottom lip now, but you suck it into your mouth and tease him with your tongue as your walls start to rhythmically clench around him.

"Fuck, ya' doin' that on -ur-ose?" Joel groans with his bottom lip still being lapped at, The feeling of your tight, wet sucking him in deeper somehow- like it's fucking bottomless almost makes him come right then.

You pull back, his lip slips from between your with a wet pop "Mhm, ya' like it?" You clench harder around him and then release, and then do that over, and over again.

"Fuckin' untie me, wanna touch you- gotta feel how soft ya' are all over, c'mon," he's begging, he needs to feel the swell of your ass in his palm, or one of your tits spilling between his fingers as he grips you.

"No, you'll just try 'n leave me-"

"No, no, no-- I'll stay 'n... uh.. I'll... um- uh--oh, I'll play nice wit'chya" Joel racks his brain with anything that he could say that would possibly give him a chance at being able to really touch you.

"Lyin' t'me," you moan, and Joel throbs inside of you.

"Not lyin'-"

You pull back from his face at an alarming rate, and you scan his face slowly, as if you were drinking in every feature, savoring the flavor-- Joel watches you swallow hard and imagines that it's his load you just took down--

"Untie me, let me touch ya' a lil bit," Joel whispers, keeping his eyes locked on to yours. "Make ya' feel real good, promise." Joel licks his lips as he watches you struggle internally with the decision. "C'mon... gotta feel how soft ya' are, crazy girl. Just one hand."

"Fine."

You stay seated in his lap, his cock still throbbing inside of you as you work on the knot that will free his right hand. He's trembling in the anticipation of it all.

As soon as the pressure is gone off his wrist, Joel reels his arm back as far as he can, and sends it flying forward with as much force as he can muster after not eating meat for almost an entire month.

You scream as his fist connects with your right eye, and go flying to the floor.

Joel might be completely sober right now, and he knows he needs to move fast before you get up and probably shoot him for lying to you, and then punching you.

Yep. Shoot him. Shoot him right between his perfect, brow, baby-cow eyes. End it.

The dark voice in your head is right, but it's almost impossible to think about anything else but the pain shooting into your brain from your right eye socket.

"You motherfucker," you sob. The pain is electrifying- and you can't even see out of your right eye anymore!

That was your least favorite eye!

Kill. Him.

When you sit up, Joel is working on the knot around his left wrist.

You stumble to your feet, holding your hand over your eye trying to keep the actual ball in, in case it falls out, and walk over to the table with his book bag on it. You rummage around until your fingers wrap around the item you're looking for.

When Joel sees what you're carrying, not even attempting to hide it behind your back, he quickens his efforts on the knot.

Your left hand isn't your dominant one, but your right is busy keeping your eyeball in your head because it most surely got knocked loose or something.

You have to whack Joel twice before he goes unconcious.

"S'what ya' get for almost takin' my eye out!"

While he's still asleep, you take this opportunity to cut the jeans he's wearing off of him. You carefully unbutton the green and red flannel he was wearing and slip that off of him fully intact.

Once he's fully secure, with a new restraint around his chest to keep him fully pinned down to the chair, and the bandanna and tape back around his mouth-- you shut all the lights off, every single one, and leave him down there to think about what he did.

He's gonna learn to play nice, and if he wants to play rough first... so can you.

The air is thick with tension and stench of his sweat and fear.

The big-guy should be kind of scared- you didn't want it to come to this, but he just cannot participate nicely!

You circle your Mister-man slowly, drinking in every detail of him. His broad chest heaves with ragged breaths, muscles taut and straining as he fights against the restraints for the thousandth time.

No matter how hard he struggles, he cannot break free. Oh boy. Mister-man has some big feelings about it, and he's trying to let you know.

He is struggling— like, so fucking hard, against his bonds that tether him to the chair, that are cutting deep into the skin on his wrists. It's unfortunate, but he keeps wriggling around! If he just stopped, it'd all be fine!

You lean in close, pointing to your right eye, which is still black and blue, but thankfully not as swollen anymore, and frown at him. "This hurt!" You exclaim. "It hurt so bad, and you said you were gunna play nice. Why'd ya' lie t'me?"

His eyes are blown wide with fury and desperation. But he cannot respond, not really, his voice is saying things, but it's muffled by the duct tape stretched tight across his mouth.

He's still clad in only boxer shorts, a thin gray t-shirt, and socks, he looks vulnerable and exposed.

It really shouldn't be so hot-- but it is. You can't stop thinking about what he said the other night.

"Take what'cya want from me, sweetheart. Whenever you want it."

You wonder if he really meant that, because he punched you in the face right after.

But... he got excited! He wanted it, Mister-man kissed you first.

Oh Sug, he's down bad.

Please kill him. Shoot him right now, then you can just move to a different part of the mall. It's very simple.

He's really mad; which makes no sense! He punched you right in the eye! What is he mad for!?

"I thought after three weeks you'd be begging me to take you upstairs, Mister," you purr seductively, taking a step behind him, out of his line of sight. "Instead you hit me!?" You give Joel a good thwack against the side of his head with your open hand.

Not enough to really hurt him— that's coming soon— but enough to let him know to cut the shit. It's getting old, and now you want a fun, willing participant to play with you… and not someone who is going to act like they don't like… all this.

The perfect basement office of an old mattress store in an abandoned mall about a two hour hike outside of what used to be Jackson, Wyoming?

There's no spores, there's no mildew or stink! It's clean, you make sure to keep everything so clean for him.

Despite his insessant pestering about meat for some reason, he's well fed! He gets to drink whenever he wants!

Why is he so upset!?

Joel grumbles something from behind the duct tape and it's honestly lost of deaf ears because you don't care for what he has to say right now, it's never nice or sweet. It's always mean— that's why he's got the duct tape on.

Soon.

Soon the big-dumb-idiot will be singing your name, happily, and without restraints.

He's just gotta wear something else first.

You slip the shock collar around his thick neck while you're still behind him.

He doesn't like it, at all. He thrashes and writhes, and makes a desperate, pleading groan from behind deep in his throat.

"Well, you wanna act like all them other dogs out there, you're gon' get treated like one," you press a kiss to the top of his skull, and pull back before he can rear his head forward and smash it against your nose.

He's going to try-- he always does.

Slowly, you wind your way around him, trailing a finger along his sweat-slick forehead and crawl into his lap. He struggles at first, until he sees the remote in your hand.

"Gonna zap all the bad outta you… make you perfect for me." You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Have an idea...for how you can hug me-- and not hit me."

Joel mumbles something else, muffled through the duct tape. It doesn't really matter what he's saying, all that matters is how warm he is. How he makes you feel so safe and comfortable.

It's easy now, with the threat of being zapped, to rest your forehead against his, and nuzzle the tips of your noses together.

"You gunna be good for me, Mister-man?" It's a purr as you press a kiss to the duct tape covering his mouth. "Or am I gunna have to train you how to be good?"

omg this might be the longest tag list i've ever done let me know if you want me to take you off, add you, if I forgot you-- I'm SORRY!!!

TAG LIST: @pedrospookie @gothcsz @joelmillerisapunk @sp00kymulderr @paleidiot @goodvampykitten @rosebuds-and-moonlight @diabaroxa @zhazy-blog2 @almostempty @xdaddysprincessxx @tobethlehem @lilac-boo @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @rav3n-pascal22

[surielstea]

The Best I Ever Had

Based on this request.

Pairing: Eris x Fem!Reader (Azriel’s ex)

Summary: Reader seeks revenge on her ex-boyfriend, and that revenge just so happens to take the form of a very willing Vanserra.

Warnings: Smut | Minors DNI | p in v | fingering | cervix brushing | no aftercare (not Eris) | angst (not Eris) | manipulation (not Eris)

7.6k words

I've been dating the shadow singer for a little over a year now— but calling it dating seemed to be a stretch. It started with a few dates but inevitably it turned into a cycle of him telling me to come over, we'd hook up, then I'd leave in the morning. If he wasn't busy I'd stay for breakfast, but that was pretty much it.

Now I lay next to him, thoroughly fucked out and sweating. Azriel was a busy male but when he fucked, he fucked good. That fact made me feel selfish for wanting more than just being a casual hookup.

I sigh audibly, sitting up and slipping out of the bed, waddling into the bathroom to get myself cleaned up. That was another thing, once Azriel got what he wanted he was kind of done with me, so aftercare was absent and it made me feel like shit.

I huff as I wipe myself down with a warm rag, then splash water over my face and pat it dry with a soft towel.

I met the spymaster through Morrigan, I hadn't been particularly close to the inner circle but Mor was a good friend of mine, and of course, I could see the way he looked at her, admired her with a silent devotion. He has for years while I just watched in the background. Then the three Archeron sisters showed up and he began doing it to Feyre's sister Elain, or Nesta's friend Gwyn. But never me. Never looked at me that way. I was slowly realizing I was becoming a placeholder until something better fell into his lap.

I turn the faucet off and leave the bathing chamber, shuffling back to the bed, slightly defeated. I slide onto the mattress, my boyfriend already sounds asleep with his winged-back facing me. I yawn and decide I’ll voice my opinions tomorrow after a full night's rest, perhaps over breakfast, I could tell him how I feel.

With a plan in mind and enough exhaustion to make a pegasus pass out, I was able to find a light sleep.

The morning greeted me with an empty bed, Azriel's spot empty, and I doubted the male was downstairs making me breakfast. I grumble a curse as I flip the blankets off of me and get up. I simply glance at myself in the mirror and brush my hands through my hair before leaving his room in my nightgown, rubbing at my eyes as I descend the stairs and into the kitchen.

The clatter of a fork sounds and I turn to my left to see the silent shadow singer who had just finished eating. "You didn't want to wake me up?" I say, squinting at the male's silhouette framed by large windows of the morning light behind him. He shrugged in reply. "Figured you'd rather sleep," He murmured as he stood, collecting his dishes and walking towards me.

As he brushes past me towards the sink I remember the loose plan I had put together last night.

"I was thinking," I start. It was now or never. He turned his head to me slightly, signaling that he was listening while he placed his dishes in the basin. "We've been going out for about a year now, maybe we should do something special?" I offer and he turns to me fully, slight confusion creasing his brows. I didn't understand what was so puzzling about it.

"Like what? And when?" He asks, his tone making me feel like I was scheduling a business meeting. I roll my eyes and take a few steps closer. "I don't know, you're always busy," I sigh, making my annoyance clear. He bristles. Perhaps I shouldn't have said that.

"I just mean, would it kill you to take a break for a day?" I look up at him, my arms behind my back. I hated this. Hated the way he looked down at me as I begged him to just give me the slightest fraction of his attention. He blows out a long breath in contemplation. "I suppose I can take a day off in a couple of weeks," He utters like it's such a chore to leave work.

"A couple of weeks?" I balk with wide eyes and he shrugs again. "I'm not that flexible," He explains and my frown deepens. "Just the other day you took off to help Morrigan with writing letters to the continent," I argue. "That's, different," He said with a slight hesitance in his voice. "How so?" I cross my arms over my chest.

"Because that's Mor," He muttered and a pang of hurt bloomed in my chest. My lip quivered at the words but I maintained my composure. "Listen, I'm not trying to make you sad I'm just telling you the truth," He craned his neck, stretching it out like I was tiring him out with this conversation. "Which is?" My brows raise a fraction. He opens his mouth, then shuts it again, rethinking what he was about to say.

Instead of speaking at all, he leans in and presses a light kiss to my lips, his hands coming to the back of my neck as he slants his mouth over mine. There was no passion behind it, just a move to shut me up and I was a fool to fall for it.

He kisses down my jaw, making his way to my neck where his marks from last night were already fading. His other hand finds my thigh, pushing me up against the counter and hiking up my dress. "Az," I place a hand on his chest. "Az, I don't want to have sex," I murmur, pushing him away and he backs off, confusion in his eyes because that hack has worked every time before.

"I just, I wanted you to look at me the way you look at Elain, or Gwyn, or—" I start. "Don't be ridiculous," His hands come to my cheeks as he interrupts me. "I'm not with them now am I?" He tilts his head. "No, but, you would be as soon as they called," I reason and his gaze falters because he knows I'm right.

"Don't think like that," He shakes his head. Then presses his lips to mine again, his hand returning to my thigh. "Don't think," He whispers and that sets me off. I push him away harder, sending him stumbling a few feet back. He looks at me like I've gone insane. I'm sick of it, sick of feeling so compliant when he wanted me and when he didn't. I was easy to please, and he liked easy, but he loved a challenge more.

"If you're not going to even take the time to make your girlfriend feel like she means anything to you, then," My breath hitched and a stupid smirk came across his features when I didn't finish my sentence. "Then what?" He scoffs. "You're gonna break up with me? Then when you can't find a male who fucks you better than I can you'll come crawling right back, I know how you are," He crossed his arms over his chest and I hated it. Hated that he was right. Because he was such an arrogant asshole but he was handsome and knew how to pleasure a woman. Which was rare to find in the Night Court.

"No, I'm done this time," I stand my ground. "Don't be like this," He sighed at the dramatics of it, looking up to the ceiling like I was draining him. "You always do this," He shakes his head. "I'm serious," I bite out. "Yeah, sure you are," He scoffs, unbelieving of my words as he leaves the kitchen without another word.

I'm serious. I hated being treated like this. I have a long life ahead of me, I can find someone better, perhaps go to another Court where I won't be given such limited options.

I collect my things, forgetting about the rest of my clothes in Azriel's room as I shrug on my jacket, I looked ridiculous with the oversized leather jacket over my short nightgown but I was only going home.

I gave one last look at the house before slipping out and closing the door with a particularly hard slam, making sure he heard I proudly took my leave.

My pride didn't last long before tears began to stream down my face. It was foolish to be crying over my own decision but I couldn't help it. Leaving him meant leaving the entirety of the inner circle, and as close as Morrigan and I were, she'd choose Azriel without a second thought. I knew it, she knew it, and he definitely knew it. So now I was walking through the streets of Velaris teary-eyed, hands shaking as I attempted to wipe them away but inevitably I gave up and just let them run, let myself crumble into the dejection of it all.

I had a house in the hewn city, it wasn't a home necessarily but, it would make do for a few nights until I figured myself out. I muster all of my energy and source my power, before winnowing back to the Court of Nightmares. I sigh in relief to be home, a shock to myself since this is the last place I'd ever want to be. Yet here I was, in my shitty apartment with little to live for. I slump onto the couch and curl into a ball, then just allow myself to bawl and promise myself this is the last time I’ll ever cry over the shadow singer again.

It had been a week.

Azriel was right when he said I’d crawl back to him. This sort of thing happened often, we’d argue then I’d leave until eventually I got too lonely and find my way to his doorstep, he’d take me back and we would pretend to forget about what had happened until the cycle repeated, over, and over, and over again.

But I was done this time. I promised myself I was done and I’m sticking to it. A week was the longest I had gone without going back to him so I took myself to the flower shop down the street to treat myself to something as a reward. Flowers had always brought a smile to my face. Azriel never quite understood when I’d bring him to the gardens, he didn’t see the beauty of them, the way they all lived so harmoniously with each other. So he rarely went to the flower markets with me, it especially hurt when I found out Elain and him had visited the gardens more than—

I shook my head, voiding my thoughts of the spymaster and focusing on the beauty of the white dahlias in front of me. I picked up the bouquet and went to the clerk’s cart to pay. I had visited her whenever I was in the Hewn City, so it was nice to see the familiar face.

She smiles brightly when she sees me. “Just the dahlias for today?” She asks in a raspy tone and I nod. “Yes, but I’ll most likely be back tomorrow for those daffodils tomorrow,” I say, placing five marks down on the counter. “I’ll be looking forward to it,” She says, taking the bouquet from my hands and wrapping it in a burlap paper. “My tulips bloomed this morning, they should be in stock by the end of the week,” She hinted and I grinned at her memory of my favorite flower. “A pleasure as always, Moe,” I say as she hands me the wrapped bouquet.

“Have a good day!” She calls back and I wave at her from over my shoulder before walking down the cobblestones back towards my apartment.

It was a short walk, only around the corner, I had been a few yards away from my apartment yet somehow I still managed to clumsily ram right into a wall while staring down at the flowers— no, not a wall, a male who barely even faltered as I stumbled back. "Sorry, you alright?" Warm hands come to my shoulders, steadying me. I look up to see a familiar set of amber eyes, ones that could only belong to one Eris Vanserra. "Oh, it's you," He uttered but his voice didn’t carry any distaste, only simple curiosity in his gaze. "Are you okay?" The male asks and I was surprised at the concern of his voice.

I often ran into Eris, so much so that it had become sort of a thing between us. I had never loathed him like the others, I understood him better than the rest of the inner circle who had never tried to see more than just a monster. It was clear to me that he was nothing like his father, no matter how much he tried. So clear that it had been a shock to me when Rhys didn’t understand he was only wearing a mask, even when the High Lord had to do something similar while Under the Mountain.

"I'm fine," I shrug with a hurried motion, Eris was also good at reading me, leaving me terrified that he’d somehow see right through my feigned smile. "You sure?" One of his hands left my shoulders only to lift my chin, angling it up towards him. "Who's got a pretty girl like you crying?" He tilts his head, and I blanch. How was he so good at that? I pull away from his touch and avoid his piercing gaze.

"I'm fine," I repeat. "You're a terrible liar, sunshine," He intoned.

Sunshine. A nickname that was only used to remind me that I didn't belong in the Night Court, didn't belong with the Inner Circle at all. There was no place for the sunshine in a place that thrived in darkness.

"Where's that bastard of yours, I doubt he'd like you running around the Hewn City dressed like that," He gestures to my low-cut dress, my cardigan parted just enough to reveal any excessive, albeit impressive amount of cleavage. I press the flowers to my body and a smirk grows over his lips. "He wouldn't care," I grumble. "Really?" He tilts his head. I shrug. "We broke up last week," I don't know why I told him. Some undiscovered part of me has always trusted him, so much that my actions have often betrayed my own thoughts.

"Is that right?" A smile curves his features, nothing but amusement in his tone. "You could at least pretend to feel bad," I frown.

"Why? He lost something he didn't deserve, you gained the freedom to be with someone better. It's a win in both cases, for you at least," He justifies, and a small smile tugs at my lips. "There she is," He admires and maybe it was because I was looking for revenge, or maybe it was because Eris and I had always flirted, but I couldn't help but feel this magnetic pull to the male.

"Hey, do you want to come inside?" I offer, brushing past him and walking up the steps of my apartment, he blinks in shock, I was surprised with myself just as much but I didn't show it. "Just to talk, I'll open a bottle of wine?" I added and his cool demeanor returned.

"Why not," He hummed.

"You're telling me, he did all that— then didn't even provide aftercare?" Eris said in pure disbelief and I nodded with a sigh, thinking myself stupid for letting a male treat me so poorly.

I had spilled most details of my relationship with the Shadow singer to Eris, it may have been wrong to vent to one of the male's many enemies but I owed him nothing anymore, it wasn't like Eris could do much with the details of our relationship anyway.

We sat on my couch, too small for his large legs so I was positioned with my feet in his lap, not that I was complaining once he started tracing shapes on the tops of my knees mindlessly. Eris actually listened, it hadn't been something I hadn’t experienced in quite some time. This easy conversation that made me feel like he wanted to be a part of it. Perhaps it was the three glasses of wine or the glint in his eyes, but what he said next left my head reeling.

"I have a meeting with him today, maybe I should mention it," He hummed, his tone so casual I could hardly tell if he was being serious or not.

"It hurt," I mumble, unsure if I was referring to the sex itself or how he treated me. "It shouldn't," He replies with that damned look in his eyes, reassuring every part of my turmoil. "I know," I shrug.

He doesn't reply, his eyes linger on mine, something beneath that gaze that reminded me so much of how I used to look at Azriel, a certain yearning that I've known so well it was hard to mistake it for anything else.

But before he does something he'll regret, before he gets me attached his breath catches in his throat and he suddenly stands. I look up at him curiously with creased brows.

"Well thanks for the drink, sunshine," He says. I stand, following him to the door like some dog. Was I capable of honing independence for five seconds?

"I appreciate the gesture, but I don't need to be walked out," He gives me a crooked smile, and something foreign pangs in my chest, something I hadn't even felt with Azriel. "But, it was just," I struggle to find exactly what I wanted to say. "Never mind," I sigh, spinning on my heel, angling back to the couch but he grabs my wrist and pulls me back to face him. "It's okay, use your words," he eased and I swore I didn't imagine his thumb stroke on the back of my palm.

"I was just going to ask if you wanted to help me get back at the spymaster," I utter and his brow lifts a fraction. "Are you always plotting in that pretty head of yours?" He leans against the doorway, clearly interested. "You can say no if you want—" I start. "Tell me what I have to do," he sighs and a small smile curves my lips.

"How would you feel about faking a relationship, for the sole purpose of making him mad, nothing more I promise," I say. His brows raise and his hand leaves the knob of my front door. "Why don't I come with you, to the meeting?" I propose. A grin curves his lips. "Look at you scheming," He hums and I roll my eyes. "Who do you think I learned it from?" I smile and he returns it. "Go get cleaned up then, I'll wait," He leans against the closed door and I nod, spinning on my heel and walking down into the hall.

Faking a romance with Eris had been easier than I had thought. Our touches were casual, before the others had even arrived he had his arm slung around my shoulders as if he'd been at my side for the past century. Maybe this was all to get back at Azriel, but my hand on his abdomen didn't have to be there, and I didn't have to look up at him like he stole the breath from my very lungs but it was involuntary, something that couldn't be helped when around him.

He was regal, his features sharp and his words sharper. But more importantly, he actually looked at me, looked at me like I was anything worth importance and more than just a distraction. "You nervous?" He asks, his other arm coming around my waist as I turn to him fully. Everything was so natural, whatever this tether was between us rendered any awkward tension and allowed a casual intimacy.

"No," I shake my head and I meant it, I didn't feel scared with his arms around me, his warm hands splayed over my waist as if they were meant to be there. "You think we'll be convincing enough?" He tilts his head down at me. I peer up at him through my lashes, wrapping my arms around his neck— something about him made me feel so bold, so powerful, so content.

"You want to practice?" He offers with a smirk. "It couldn't hurt," I whisper, his mouth just inches from mine. "Unless you bite," I add and his smirk widened. "Only if you want me to," He shrugs. I grab him by the back of his neck and pull him down, his lips sealing over mine with a fervent force that was unknown to me, his hands mapped my body as he slowly pushed my back into a trunk of a tree, he was entirely addicted to the way I felt, the way I tasted. He was at my mercy and entirely satisfied with the fact.

I arch up into him and he kisses me deeper, pushing me harder into the tree as his tongue swiped over my bottom lip with a needy intent. I parted my lips just wide enough for his tongue to take control, worshipping my mouth like a temple and I could only let him, knew no better but to comply because I loved it, loved the attention, the feeling of him giving me his all while I met him halfway, giving and taking.

“Gods, are you done?” A familiar voice grumbles from the distance and I freeze, Eris’s lips slip from mine, and a broad smirk breaks across his features as he turns to face two winged men, revealing me in the process.

Their eyes weren’t on Eris like mine were, they were pinned directly on me. I smile softly as Eris possessively tightens his hold around my waist, fingers digging into my skin through the material of my dress.

Cassian and Azriel continued to gawk at me, the both of them held straight expressions but their eyes didn’t leave me once, brows twinged upward in both shock and concern, as if I was in any more danger with Eris than with Azriel.

“Are we going to get this over with or are you going to continue to stare?” Eris cut through their gazes and both their eyes snapped towards him. “What’s she doing here?” Azriel seethed, crossing his arms over his chest like he always did when he was infuriated. He was so easy to read for a spymaster. Eris seemed to have recognized this too, anyone angry had little control over what they said, making Eris gain the high ground.

“We can trust her, if that’s what you’re worried about,” The male beside me retorts. Azriel only ground his teeth in reply.

The meeting had started and they began talking about politics, to which I quickly tuned out. Azriel made a few digs at me but it was nothing but a toddler lashing out over not getting what he wants.

It was amusing to watch his cool demeanor deteriorate while Eris found every weakness and dissected it with insults and remarks, I just stared up at the red-haired male with an amused grin, my arms wrapping around his torso, occasionally pressing kisses to the top of his hand that had been slung around my shoulders.

I can remember kissing Azriel’s hands, the scars, it was one of our better moments. It was a low blow to do it to Eris too but it had happened without thought, like an instinct and it made Azriel absolutely feral.

Once the meeting was over Cassian was quick to grab Azriel’s arm and tell him to winnow before he could say anything he’d regret.

“Always a pleasure Cassian,” Eris smiled to the male. “Shadow singer,” He nods his head. “If you don’t mind I’d like to leave early, we have places to be,” Eris looks at me with a smile and I return it. “Yeah enjoy my sloppy seconds,” Azriel spat and I smirked. “You’re the one who told me to find someone who could fuck better than you,” I scoff. “Don’t be jealous because I did.”

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous when I had you before you started whoring yourself around—” He started. “Az,” Cassian warned, even his brother was upset at him. It felt good to make him hurt, felt like power. Eris looked like he was about to retort, looked angry, and angry meant having little control over what you say so I placed a hand on his abdomen and he clamped his mouth shut with a low growl. He knew this was my battle, knew it should go out on my terms. However, that didn’t stop his fingertips from singing with fire.

“It’s humiliating, honestly Az,” I tease. “Don’t call me that,” He bites but I ignore him. “First you lose Elain to Lucien, and now me to his brother?” I say like it’s something to study, a truly demeaning tone. It made him furious. “Maybe you’d be better off going for girls who don’t want you,” I shrug and the spymaster snarled, Cassian winced at the indirect mention of Morrigan. “Just a suggestion,” I shrug, then look to Eris, signaling that I’m finished.

“Excuse us,” Eris flashes them a smile as he slips his warm hand into my cold one. Eris doesn’t wait for them to reply before he winnows us away, back to my apartment.

“You’re a lot more cunning than you look, Sunshine,” Eris says, his hand leaving mine in favor of coming to my cheek as I peered up at him. “I wasn’t too mean, was I?” My brows crease in worry. I wanted to get back at Azriel, sure, but I wasn’t looking to break any alliances. “There’s the girl I know,” He uttered. “I didn’t mean to be impolite— I just,” I begin to ramble until he tilts my head up manually to face him, making me seal my lips shut at the wonder in his eyes, how he looked at me the way no one has before.

“You were perfect,” He reassured. “And watching you tear him apart was awfully attractive,” He smirked. “I did not tear him— what do you mean?” I snap my head up to look at him and he shrugs. “I’m just saying, I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t want to,” He shrugs. He wanted to?

“Do you, still want to?” I asked meekly with his hands on my cheeks and my heart pounding against my ribs so loud I was sure he could hear it.

“So shy,” He observes with a growing smile. “That’s okay, we can work on that,” He says like it’s a pressing issue, clearly excited to corrupt it out of me.

I rise onto my toes and crash my lips onto his, warmth blooming in the pit of my stomach at the sensation. My hands came to his jaw while he traveled down onto my waist, one finding purchase at my hip while the other came under my hip, tapping twice and indicating for me to jump. I wrap my legs tightly around his torso as he catches me.

My back bows as he leans into it, tilting my head to the side and opening my mouth for his tongue. We blindly stumbled down the hallway, he must’ve been guessing his steps because he was too busy with his lips on mine, too enamored with our kiss to ask which door was my bedroom.

He got lucky and opened the door to the master chamber, quickly closing the door behind him.

I didn’t want to waste another moment without his skin to mine, a moment without him inside of me, a moment without his hands in my hair— so I was grateful when my back met the mattress of my bed and he crawled over me, settling between my open legs, hovering above me with his hands on either side of my head.

We were both panting when he pulled away, need blazing in his eyes like a fire and I leaned closer to smother it, or get burned by it, I hadn’t decided yet.

His lips reconnected with mine and I was quick to reach for the buttons of his shirt, pulling him free from the fabric that strained against his muscular arms while he worked at the ties of my dress.

We were a tangle of limbs and needy pulls until eventually he thrashed my dress off and I unbuckled his pants. He breathed deeply as he pulled away, taking my bare body in, studying every curve and fill of my figure. Gods he looked like an animal with that glint in his eyes. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” He confessed, head dipping into my neck and leaving sloppy love bites trailing from my jaw to my collarbone. “You imagined this?” I murmur, attempting to tease him but it came out all too soft and innocent. “Fuck, every night baby,” He admits and my cheeks flush.

He manages to get his pants off, freeing himself from the constraints of his boxers. I nearly gasped at the sight of him because, Mother, he was huge.

“Eris I don’t think I can,” I look down at his erect member with creased brows, afraid he might split me in half.

“I know baby, it’s okay, we’ll stretch you out first,” He reassured, placing a gentle kiss on my neck and I nodded, trusting him.

“You want my tongue or fingers?” He questions and his sultry gaze leaves me wanting his lips on mine. “Fingers,” I say, only because I favored his lips when they were kissing me. I’d have to see how good he was with his tongue at a different time.

He flashed an animalistic smile before leaning down and sealing his mouth over mine, tongue immediately finding its place swirling with mine, not a battle but a dance.

He practically rips my panties off, and then two of his fingers dive into my soaked folds, my arousal lubing his hand. He smiles at the feel of me, how wet I was over just a few kisses.

His thumb made contact with my clit and I arched, a soft moan slipping from the base of my throat and he caught it with his mouth. He smirks, his fingers beginning to circle over my pulsing entrance, I ached for him, for all of him.

“Eris,” I pleaded out and that was all he needed before he sent both of his long, wide fingers into my cunt. I gritted my teeth at the stretch, holding back moans as he began to curl them expertly inside of me, flicking over that sensitive spot with ease like he knew exactly where I wanted him.

“Fuck, so good at that,” I murmur incoherently, sweat lining my brow as he continues to pleasure me with his hand alone.

His thumb returned to that delicate bud, teasingly circling it with the perfect amount of pressure. My breathing becomes heavy as a symphony of moans is pulled from my chest. There was no way to explain the feeling in my abdomen, the feeling he caused. It was engrossing and hot, so fucking hot.

He was like a furnace above my body, absorbing all the heat from the room so he could possess it, burning over me.

“Eris, I can’t s’too much,” I whisper helplessly and his hand continues to work, continuing its relentless pleasure over my pussy.

“Be a good girl and cum on my hand, alright?” He instructs and I suck in a sharp breath, feeling that orgasm pick up then tumble over that fine line. My legs jolt as I find release, doing exactly as he said and reaching my high on his fingers alone. “That’s it, just like that,” He hummed, helping me down from my climax as he pulls his fingers from my stimulated cunt.

“You think you’re ready to take me Sunshine?” He tilts his head with a caring look in his eyes, if I didn’t know any better I’d think he was being mean, but his touches were gentle and his movements were slow, hinting that if I wasn’t ready he would stop and we could go to bed now.

“I want you inside Eris,” I confess. I wanted him more than just inside. I was ready to cut myself open and allow him to dissect me, analyze me. But I’d have to settle for this connection instead. “Please,” I beg, tears at the corners of my eyes from my earlier release and he nods. “Tap me twice if it’s too much alright?” He kisses my cheek with the intimacy of lovers who have been tangled in bedsheets for decades. “Okay,” I nod.

We watch as he aligns his heavy cock with my entrance, a pearl of his pre-cum budding at his red, angry tip. He swipes himself through my folds a few times, the weight of him alone enough to satisfy. He lathers himself in my arousal, then strokes himself once, twice, until finally, he pushes his head into my aching slit. He grunts at the tight feeling and I was unsure if I was pushing him out or sucking him in.

He moves deeper, going quicker as to get the most uncomfortable part for me over with. His movements remain gentle, my fingers intertwine into his deep, auburn hair. Whiskey-colored eyes stare down at me half-lidded and it only leaves my heat sopping wet.

I swallow my moans as he reaches halfway, then deeper. He brushes over that perfect, sensitive spot then somehow goes further. I hadn’t even known it was possible to be so fucking long because by the time he had sheathed himself entirely his tip lightly kissed my cervix.

I writhed beneath him as he began to pull in and out, thrusting his hips at a leisurely pace, feeling out what made me feel good and where he was when I moaned the most. He was specializing this entirely to me and how it made me feel.

“Faster,” I panted. “Fuck, Eris I want you feral,” I plead, the tears that had been threatening at my eyes now spilling onto my cheeks, down onto the mattress below my head. He followed my instruction, picking up his pace and beginning to piston himself into me with such a maddening force that the bed began to creak against the power.

He held me tight so I didn’t move up the bed with his movements, and the sounds, the wet, lewd sounds of his cock entering me over and over sent me into a moaning mess.

“Spread your legs,” He ordered. I did as he said, going as far as I could manage. “That’s it, wider baby,” He hummed and I let out a cry of pleasure as he brushed my cervix at his next thrust, breath leaving my lungs momentarily at the feeling. He smirks at the way I squeezed him tighter. He grabbed my thighs and forced my legs apart himself, folding me in half and bringing them up to my chest, holding me in a mating press.

I whimpered at the realization that I was completely vulnerable for him, laid entirely bare and I fucking loved every second of it.

A fire roared in the hearth, the warm light making his skin practically glow with the sheen of sweat on his chest. “You’re so tight,” He grunted out in between thrusts. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock.” My pussy pulsed at that, at the unapologetic force of his shaft as he rammed into me, the dirty words, the perfect sounds that filled the room.

Eris continues to push into me, faster this time, his speed outmatched and the look in his eyes, pure lust. He leans down and trails kisses from the side of my neck, taking in the expanse and leaving it with marks and saliva. He kisses to the back of my ear, his soft whimpers inaudible if he was any farther sent me reeling, gods he whined every time he drove into me and I loved every fucking moment of it.

“All mine,” He purrs at the shell of my ear, his breath fanning over my jaw. “All yours,” I reply and he twitches at the devoting words. “No one else can fuck you this good, isn’t that right?” He hums and I mewl— because he was right, he sent me to planets of pleasure, the emotion behind each of his thrusts left me convulsing.

“Mhm,” I nod. “Best I ever had, Eris,” I pant and he smiles, nipping at my earlobe before returning his attention to rolling his hips over mine, his balls slapping against my ass as my slick drips onto my thighs.

He continues to push into me, every injection harder and deeper than the last leaving me to spiral beneath him. His base rubbed against my clit and that had been my breaking point. “Eris, I’m gonna—” I couldn’t even get the words out. “I know, me too baby go ahead,” He allowed and with his next thrust hitting my cervix I found that sweet ecstasy and it was more than just a wave of pleasure it was a tsunami, crashing down onto me with a force I thought I’d never recover from. I felt full, complete.

He followed soon after, his release pumping into me and painting my walls white, and gods he was so close to my womb I could feel his warm seed seep into my cervix while I milked his cock dry.

I pant and my legs jolt as he guides them away from my chest and slowly pulls himself from my throbbing cunt, still squeezing him in despite just experiencing the best orgasm of my life.

He flipped over onto the pillow beside me. Our pants filled the room as the fire dwindled into ash and we were left in the darkness, with nothing but the company of each other.

We lay there for only a moment before Eris left my side on the bed, pulling his boxers back up. I assume he’s going to leave now that whatever transaction this was is over, and even if I felt my heart crumbling to pieces I’d let him go. We didn’t owe each other anything, there was no reason for him to stay anymore, even if I wanted him to.

I ignored the noises of clothes ruffling and drawers opening, closing my eyes and waiting for him to leave until I got up to clean myself.

That was until warm arms came beneath my back and thighs, hoisting me up into his arms bridal style.

“What are you doing?” My brows crease, arms wrapping around his neck involuntarily. “I’m getting you cleaned up,” He explains with such a casual smile it makes my heart beat twice as fast.

He led me into the bathroom and placed me on the cool counter, the apex of my thighs aching with an already developing soreness. “Why don’t you tell me about your day?” He offers, finding a rag beneath the sink and wetting it with warm water. “You were with me for most of my day,” I mumble and he smiles at the fact. “Tell me about before, talk to me,” He says and an odd feeling begins to spread in my chest, the kind that made my cheeks flush and my head spin.

So I did. I told him about my day, how I went to the flower market and ran into a familiar face, how I invited him in for wine and it managed to end in the best sex of my life.

I also told him about how I felt when I was getting my revenge on Azriel. Told him that it made me feel powerful, but also that I was satisfied where it ended and I wasn’t interested in associating with him at all any longer.

I told stories, topics varying in length until I was sure I had been talking his ear off— but he was listening, chiming in now and then, signaling that he was still tuned in to whatever I had to say. It was healing to talk about all of this while he cared for me, his touches gentle and his calloused fingers warm. He healed internal scars with those hands.

When I cleaned myself up I wiped myself down and then changed into a nightgown before getting into bed. He took his chance to go above and beyond, he even offered a bath but I told him I was tired so he only wiped me down in touches so featherlight I would’ve missed it if I hadn’t been staring at him in the low lighting the entire time.

He brushed through my hair and made sure I was okay and safe. I had realized he was so gentle with me because of the way his father had treated women in the past, his mother in particular. Becoming a male like that seemed to be Eris’ greatest fear, which made clear why he was so soft with me. And perhaps it was also because I deserved the kindness.

“This one?” He held up my softest nightgown and I nodded, putting my arms up so he could slip it over my head. He grinned as I adjusted the dress down past my head, leaving my hair in my face, making me grin wildly. He reached out and brushed it behind my ears.

“I love that smile,” He hums and my cheeks burn with a blush. He then leans in and presses a loving kiss to my lips. I had never experienced anything quite like it and now I never wanted anything else. He pulled away, analyzing my features beneath the dim light, and if I wasn’t red from his earlier comment I definitely was now.

“Alright, let’s get you into bed,” He reached beneath my thighs and hoisted me up into his arms, carrying me back into my room and then laying me down on the soft mattress.

I sigh contentedly as he slips into the bed beside me. “Can you hold me,” I whisper, feeling confident enough around him to ask such a thing. “Was planning on it,” He smirks, wrapping his arm around my torso, and pulling me right into his chest.

I smirk excitedly, slinging my leg over his torso and wrapping my arms around the back of his neck. “I thought you were tired?” He murmured as I pecked all over his face in lazy kisses. “I don’t want to waste this,” I confess and his gaze softens. “I’ll be here in the morning,” He reassured and I swallowed thickly. “Promise?” I murmur and he nods, pressing a hard kiss on my forehead. “I promise, sunshine.” And those words sent me into the first peaceful slumber I’ve had in a while.

Eris had not been in the bed next to me when I awoke. A sense of hurt and betrayal ran through me at the sight of the empty bed. I audibly groaned in defeat, muttering curses into my pillow because last night had left me so hopeful, but I suppose what’s easy in the evening is a drag by morning.

I huff and slip from my covers, adjusting the straps of my nightgown and leaving my bedroom with small, waddling steps due to my horribly sore legs.

I continued my slow, depressing trudge until I made it into the kitchen and froze at the sight of Eris leaning over the stove, making breakfast.

“You’re going to get burned cooking shirtless,” I warn, ignoring the visible release of tension in my shoulders. Because he held up his promise, even better, he’s making me food. He whirls around to face me with a small smile. “I won’t get burned,” He scoffs, holding his hand out to the fire of the stove, the flames growing then reaching towards him and forming into a ball in his palm.

I marveled and walked closer, staring straight into the flickering ball of heat, dangerously close. “You won’t either,” He says, uncurling his fingers and allowing the fire to stretch into a line of flames leading from me to him. My breath hitched as the flame came into contact with my skin but it didn’t burn, in fact, it barely even tickles. The serpent of fire twines around my wrist, dancing along my skin and I smile, looking up at him excitedly like I was the one controlling it.

“See? You’re safe,” He says then retracts the flames and feeds them back into the fire at the stove. Safe. That was the feeling that’s been filling that pit in my stomach.

“Now, you hungry?” He tilts his head and I look up at him in wonder, why was I ever settling for less when I could have everything I ever wanted with him?

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my lips hard onto his, attempting to show my gratitude through the action, my chest pressing to his as his arms came around me, heating my frame as I exposed my fragile heart to him and he returned the movement with the same tenderness. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He mumbled against my mouth, making me smile giddily up at him.

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[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (16/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: You know what's coming - they don't call me queen of slow burn for nothing.

Warnings: angst, jealousy, swear words

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: thank you all for your kind words on my engagement! and I'm sorry for this part! love ya. feedback is appreciated!

Charles is so close to you that you can breathe him in. His warm breath gently brushes your face, you feel the pressure of his big hands on your back and the thought that friends shouldn't look at each other like that makes your heart beat faster. 

Because Charles is looking at you just like that. As if you weren't friends, as if the connection between you was more intimate than a friendship could ever be. As if he's willing to cross the invisible line that separates his lips from yours. 

Your hands, resting against his hard chest, feel the strong heartbeat beneath and your fingers lightly claw into the fabric of the thick sweater as a sign for him to please be bold. 

Take this step with me, it's supposed to say. Take this step and come to me. 

And Charles even seems to understand. His gaze flickers from your eyes to your mouth, and you're so close you can almost feel his tongue against your mouth as he licks his lips. 

And then his hands disappear from your back as he takes a big step backward. Your touch slips from his chest, his scent disappears from your nose, and a distance is created between you that you can not only physically see, but also emotionally feel. 

When you look up into his face - a little confused - his features are harder than they were just seconds ago. 

"Let's go," he says coldly, tucking his hands, which a moment ago had you pressed against him, into the pockets of his sweater. "I need some sleep before I leave tomorrow, and like you said, we also need to grab a bite to eat and head back home." He turns away from you, takes the few steps to the door, and leaves the store without looking at you again. 

Puzzled and admittedly repulsed, you look after the man. 

He had been so close to you just a moment ago - and all of a sudden there is an uncrossable ocean between you. What has happened that he is now withdrawing like this? Did you do something wrong? Forced yourself on him? Crossed a line? 

No, after all, he sought your closeness first, pulled you closer to him, and whispered all those affectionate words to you that fogged your head and made little butterflies flutter around in your stomach. 

But maybe that's exactly the mistake. Maybe you've completely misread the situation. Maybe he behaves similarly with his other friends. While you can't imagine how he would pull Pierre into such an embrace, every friendship is different, after all. 

And lastly, you don't know how Charles behaves with his female friends either. The thought of him hugging other girls like that, too, and whispering such flirtations in their ears, makes your stomach tighten involuntarily. A nasty feeling that you didn't even feel when Raphael was flirting with other girls in front of you back then. 

You suppress the nausea rising in you and follow Charles, who is waiting for you in front of the store, typing on his cell phone. You lock the door behind you and toss the key into the mailbox, which hangs hidden by ivy vines on the wall of the house next to it. Without looking at your roommate, you start moving. "Well, let's go."

The icy Nice night wind blows in your face and ruffles your hair as you walk back to the car, but Charles doesn't seem to mind in the least. "What do you want to eat?" he asks nonchalantly, still staring at his phone. He seems so far away, as if the moment just now didn't even happen.

You shrug, unsure how to handle the situation. "I don't care. You go ahead and pick something."

"We don't have a lot of options at this point," he counters as your car enters your field of vision. "It's really late and a lot of restaurants have already closed." He continues typing away on his phone as he unlocks the Renault. "According to Google, I think there's a bistro nearby where the sandwiches are supposed to be good. Would you be okay with that?"

"Like I said, I don't care," you reply to him, getting into the car.

"What kind of sandwich do you want?" he asks after plopping down in the driver's seat. "I guess they have one with lettuce, chicken, and avocado." He raises an eyebrow. "I think I'll order that." He tucks his phone away and starts the car before letting it roll out of the parking lot. 

"I'll settle for a plain ham and cheese sandwich," you say, looking out the window. 

The fact that Charles is pretending you didn't almost kiss just now unsettles you so much that you can barely look at him. And the fact that you wanted to kiss him - actually wanted to kiss him - almost makes you disappear into your seat in shame. 

Because, as it seems, he doesn't want to. He draws the line between friendship and something more much more clearly than you do. And he doesn't seem to shift it to suit him. To him, you're his friend, his roommate, a means to an end until he can move into his other apartment. 

You are his friend. Friend. Friend. Friend. 

"Here we are," Charles breaks through your train of thought. He's already parked the car and points to the bistro on the street corner in front of you. A young man is tidying up the few chairs that are in front of the building and wiping down the tables with a rag. "I'll just get us something to eat. Do you need anything else?"

You look over at him with raised eyebrows. "I don't think we can get anything to eat there anymore."

"Why not?"

Confused, you look at him and point to the young man. "Because he's closing up store?"

Charles shrugs. "Just let me try it. It'll work," he smiles, and when you don't reply, he gets out. He jogs the few feet to the bistro and greets the man with a handshake, then points to the place. A little confused, but very pleased, the employee escorts your roommate into the building. 

How could you be so stupid? How could you think Charles would want something more from you than friendship? After all, it's Charles - funny, caring, and so handsome that it partially takes your breath away and he sneaks into your dreams. Why would someone like Charles - someone who could really have any woman on the planet - want more from you when you couldn't even keep someone like Raphael?

You've known each other for three fucking days. What makes you think he could even feel anything else for you after such a short time? How delusional do you have to be to even have a thought like that?

You're on the verge of jumping out of the car and walking home. 

How are you supposed to look him in the face now? Charles is not stupid, he would immediately notice that something is wrong. And you can't lie to him either, because he would see right through you. You don't want to face your feelings either, because that would mean that you have feelings for him that go beyond your friendship - and you are not ready for that pain. 

When Charles steps out of the bistro onto the street with two bags in his hand, you feel sick. Your appetite is abruptly gone, and just the thought of eating something makes you scrunch up your nose. How are you going to be able to eat anything after what happened?

Pull yourself together, you tell yourself. That's not a solution either. 

The only reasonable solution is obvious. The line that you've been pushing back and forth more than frequently over the past few days must stand nailed between you from now on. And it must be drawn up so that you can't cross it as you please. You have to protect yourself, protect your heart - especially after the thing with Raphael - and that's the only way without banning Charles from your life. 

Because that's the last thing you want. And you'll do anything to stop that from happening. 

"Here," Charles says as he rejoins you, handing you a bag. "I wasn't sure which ham you liked, so I just picked the one that looked the best." He places his own bag on the center console before steering the old Renault onto Nice's streets. 

Silence settles between you as you drive home. While Charles takes a bite of his sandwich in the meantime, you pick apart the bread with your fingers. 

To build this wall that is supposed to protect your heart, you need distance, which is definitely not possible in your small apartment. And the fact that you share a bed doesn't make matters any better, of course. For sure, it would be smarter if you reinstate your old deal - one of you sleeps in the bed, the other on the couch. 

But how are you supposed to set that up after you just agreed on the new arrangement at noon today? Snubbing Charles would be too obvious. He'd notice something was wrong, and he'd definitely be able to conclude that it had something to do with your almost-kiss. 

The fact that he will be out of the country for the next few days could be an advantage. The physical distance and the fact that you won't be spending every single second of the day together could build the wall between you up brick by brick. After that, you could claim that you are used to sleeping alone again - humans are creatures of habit, after all. And by then you will have shared the bed only twice. 

That shouldn't really be so obvious - right?

"Don't you like it?" asks Charles as you cross the border to Monaco. His gaze lingers briefly on your sandwich, which by now looks a bit messy. 

" Um, yes I do," you answer quietly and bite off a piece of it. Under other circumstances, the sandwich would actually taste delicious, but now it seems to have no taste at all. You chew on it a bit before choking down the dry lump of bread. "Thanks for getting us something to eat."

Your roommate smiles at you. "I'm sure my nutritionist would scold me if he saw me eating an entire sandwich in the middle of the night." He looks at the rest of his meal. "Even though it has lettuce and avocado on it." He tucks the last corner of his sandwich between his teeth, then grins at you with his mouth open. 

You roll your eyes. "You're disgusting."

His grin widens even more. "You love me," he teases you with his mouth full before swallowing. 

You don't even think to respond. 

The rest of the ride is quiet, and even when you arrive home, you remain silent. The silence is not uncomfortable, but the tension between you is still palpable. As you stand side by side in the bathroom brushing your teeth, you avoid Charles' gaze in the mirror, which you can clearly feel on you. 

The silence, however, gives you the opportunity to prepare yourself for what is about to come. It will be the last time you share a bed with Charles - which sounds like something you've been doing for years. The fact that your friendship feels like this doesn't make it any easier. 

If Charles comes home from Italy and you tell him you prefer the couch, he will surely feel put out. And rejecting your closest friend in such a way may not feel right, but keeping you safe is a priority. One thing you had to learn from Raphael. 

When you enter the bedroom in sleeping clothes, Charles is already in bed. He's lying on his side, facing the center, and apparently the man doesn't own pajamas, because his bare chest glows warmly in the light of the bedside lamp. He scrolls around on his phone, his upper arm resting on his side so that his biceps look even beefier. 

"I set an alarm, hope that's okay with you," he says as you lie down on your side of the bed and slip under the covers. "I have to get out on time, and then we can have a proper goodbye."

You plug your phone into the charger and then place it next to your pillow. "It's all good. We'll be fine." You pull your blanket up to your chin and snuggle in deep, trying to block out the fact that Charles is lying shirtless next to you. 

The brunette sets his phone aside, then flicks off the bedside lamp. As the room is in darkness, it feels like he's lying skin to skin next to you. You can feel his closeness, his warmth, and you would love to build a wall of pillows between you to bring the imaginary boundary into the physical world. 

You turn onto your back and stare at the ceiling, hearing Charles move under his covers as well, and hold your breath as you feel him rest his hand on your bedding. It's like he's reaching out for your hand. 

"I was with my ex yesterday," he says quietly, as if he doesn't dare say it out loud. 

You try to suppress the tugging in your chest. You have no right to feel this way when at the same time you wish there were countless pillows between you. You have no right to it when you're trying to protect your heart. You have no right to feel this way about your friend. 

"With Annika?" Your voice mirrors his, quiet, calm, hesitant. 

You hear his pillow ruffle. He nods. "She's the reason you and I share the apartment. She's living in my first apartment right now. Well, I'm still letting her live there." 

You purse your lips. "Your buddy from yesterday - he said he heard about you two and that he was sorry." You fight the urge to reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. Him revealing himself to you is something you didn't expect.

"Yeah, that was Nico." He takes a deep breath. "Annika cheated on me."

Confused, you turn in his direction, even though you can't see him. "And then you still let her live there?"

He turns as well, facing you. "I wasn't a good boyfriend during the years we were a couple. My job was always my priority, I couldn't give her what she needed. She tried - really tried - but I never really got into it and -" He rubs his palm over his forehead. 

"- and then she cheated on you." You feel like wrapping him in your arms. "Are you letting her stay in the apartment because you feel guilty?" 

"I - I don't know - maybe -" His breath catches and you can clearly hear him struggling with himself. "Maybe if I had paid more attention to her, this wouldn't have happened. If I had taken more time to be with her. If -"

"Stop," you interrupt him harshly, "We're not going to continue this spiral of thought. There's no point going through the ifs, ands, and buts because you can't change it now. You can't change the fact that she cheated on you, and you can't turn back time to make it better. The only thing you can do is do better next time."

The thought of Charles eventually having a new girlfriend and making a real effort with her makes you feel sick. You don't like it, this fucking jealousy that's spreading through you, creeping through your veins like battery acid and leaving a sickening taste in your mouth. 

You try to mask it, even as tears spring to your eyes. "I don't know how exhausting your job in the car industry is, but maybe you can find someone who can walk the road with you. Who can travel with you when your job requires it. Who will stay by your side and support you when things get tough and stressful." Your voice trembles, and you hope Charles can't hear it. 

"Do you think there's someone like that for me? Who's willing to give up that much for me?" he asks, scooting a little closer to you. 

The voice in your head almost screams at you - "me, me, me" - but of course you can't repeat that out loud, so you nod. 

In fact, you'd be willing to give up everything for him, even though it's not much, of course. You have no job, no responsibilities except for the apartment, whose rent you don't have to pay, and you'd give anything to explore the world. 

But Charles is your roommate, your friend. You want someone for him who can make him happy. Even if it's not you. 

"Of course," you answer quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I believe that there is a person out there for everyone. A soulmate to share everything with. Someone who's there for you and with whom you don't have to pretend to be somebody else."

"Hmm." You feel Charles' breath on your face. Only then do you realize how close he is to you. "So there's someone for you, too. Someone who will make time for you, won't let you down, and will take care of you. And most importantly, someone who doesn't fuck other women."

You have to smile. "The latter would be enough for me. But even that seems impossible. After all, look at us. We've both been cheated on."

Charles shrugs. "But if that hadn't happened, we wouldn't be living together now. We wouldn't even know each other, we wouldn't be friends." He exhales. "The fact that we both got cheated on really sucks, of course - but we found each other through it. And I wouldn't trade that for anything in this world."

Something tugs at your heart. You place another brick on the imaginary wall between you. 

"I don't want to go to Italy."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice."

Charles exhales a breath. "You said you were just going to sit here and wait for me to come home." He sounds concerned. 

"I was kidding," you try to lighten the situation. "I'm going to work, of course." The lie tastes bitter on your tongue. "And I still have Kika and Pierre." You pause. "And Lando."

You can feel your friend stiffen beside you at the mention of the Brit. "I thought you're happy with the tiramisu you had here on site?" His voice sounds colder and more bitter than it did a few seconds ago. 

"I am." You turn away from him, onto your back, to put distance between you. "But there are other desserts to try, aren't there? Or sandwiches. Pasta. Or something else. I've got to get these few days over somehow."

Unlike you, Charles notes that the meals you listed are all things you've already eaten together. That you would want to possibly top those few memories you have with him with Lando leaves a sickening taste in his mouth.

"Well, if you have to work and you're meeting with Kika and Pierre and we're facetiming in between, you might not have that much time to try other dessert. Or sandwiches. Pasta. Or something else," he repeats your words. 

"We'll see. If there really is someone suitable out there for me, I'm definitely not going to find him on our couch." When Charles doesn't answer, you declare the conversation to be over. You close your eyes, snuggle deeper into your blanket, and try to block out the fact that the person you want - the one who might be right for you - is lying shirtless next to you. 

You already have, Charles answers you in his mind, taking a deep breath. Your scent still clings to his bedclothes from noon today, his skin tingling as he breathes it in. Me. Me. Me.

next part

[lanalosty0uu]

⋆.˚ chapter i: ahoy! ᝰ.ᐟ

🕰️ BACK TO THE FUTURE 🕰️

warning: slight cussing, time travel confusion.

main masterlist

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

The next day you wake up, you felt weird textures coming up to your nose. It felt like… dust. You woke yourself up by sneezing hard, first sneeze of the day. What else felt off? It was your room that was being quiet different… Scratch that, it was completely different from when you slept on last night. The room that Mrs. Byers made you sleep in for the rest of your exchange days, the once nice purple room with soft bed, now turned into a horrifying, messy, and filled with dust.

You unlocked your phone to look for any notifications

9.13 P.M. Friday, 27th June 2025 No new notifications

P.M? But the sun is literally shining outside? And Friday is yesterday... Today's supposed to be Saturday? Things are starting to feel off, so you stood up and went out of the house.

The once beautiful house seems to be... Abandoned, now. All glass are falling out of it's place, boards covering some of the window and doors. It looks like there's no one ever lived on this place. You kept looking around in confusion as you went out of the house, coughing like a sick maniac.

"What the hell?"

You started walking down the neigborhood, passing all these big houses along the way. This still looks like Hawkins, though... But, something feels different. Seeing all the people dress weirdly like they're in some kind of cosplay event.

As you kept walking, the town starts to get crowded. Looking at these people give you the creeps, but what actually gives you the chills are the fact that lots of people stare at you as you walk. You don't feel like you're dressing weird, you feel normal. Black T-shirt, baggy jeans, and red converse, with a dark red flannel, yet these people just can't take their eyes off your, like you just comitted some murder.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✧˖°.

You saw a building in front of you.

STARCOURT MALL

A neon sign says above the mall's entrance. The neon signs was already lit up even though it was still... Probably like 10 or 11 A.M? You don't really know what time is it now, since the clock on your phone basically stopped at 9 at night.

The whole vibe of the mall felt off. It’s like… you’re in the backrooms… Might as well watch too much TikTok videos, you thought. But, you were actually convincing yourself that al this doesn’t seem right. It felt like a dream. Well, at least your phone’s clock stopping is a sign that you’re dreaming, it doesn’t make any sense, right?

The mall was filled with people and shoppers of all ages, it was like the mall was just opened a couple of days ago. You really want to ask the people here about where you are and why do these people dress weirdly.

scratch that.

You only want to ask about where you are right now. Even though this whole places does look like Hawkins, but it doesn’t feel like Hawkins. Sadly, your urge to ask the people around you isn’t strong enough, compared by how these people look like they’re enjoying their time at the mall. You don’t wanna be some party pooper who just ask random people a nonsense question and ruin their mood. Until finally, you found a not-so-busy ice cream store.

The yellow colored sign with blue background, that was surrounded by red light edges says

SCOOPS AHOY ice cream parlor

You saw a guy, leaning on the counter, as if he’s so done with his job. You decided to ask the guy about your question(s) earlier since he doesn’t look so busy.

“Ahoy, there! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain… I’m Steve Harrington.”

His sudden ice cream jingle scared the shit out of you, it made you widening your eyes at him.

“Hi, uhm… mind telling me where am i now?”

"You're in Scoops Ahoy Ice Cream Parlor, ma'am... How may I help you?" The man answered your stupid question with a bored tone. Geez, he must hate his job so much, huh?

"No, I mean... Where am I excatly now?"

The man in front of you squinted his eyes, like he's being suspicious with me.

"You're in Hawkins, Indiana. The United States of America." He responded once again, as if I have no idea where Hawkins is. So this is actually Hawkins? Indiana? Why so different?

You looked around the ice cream shop, leaving the man staring at you in confusion. You pay attention to every detail in it like some kind of detective trying to solve a murder mystery, even if you can still feel the man's eyes on you through your every move.

"Ma'am, are you okay? You need help with anything?"

"No, no... I'm fine, don't worry." Your voice says otherwise, though.

Your eyes finally stopped at the box shaped television on the counter, showing a news broadcast about the newly builded mall, this Starcourt Mall.

"...the year 1985 will surely be a memorable year for us, the people of Hawkins, getting a chance to witness and experience the beautiful Starcourt Mall..."

You felt like your head was spinning when you hear the words: 1985.

“Ma'am, are you sure you’re okay? or do i need to call a doctor?” His face is fully concerned of your well being right now. Instead of answering him, your eyes travelled from the television back to the man's direction.

“What year is it now?"

“it’s 1985? duh..?”

And that's the moment when you knew.

You are doomed.

note: finally, the first chapter's here! i really, reaaallyyyyy hope y'all like it! i'll make sure to post daily since i also need to catch up with some school stuff here. if there's any confusion about this whole time travel thingy (trust me, i was also pretty confused with my own thoughts) feel free to ask! and feel free to request to be on my taglist! happy reading <3

taglist: @xprloki @pupwrites @gorlillaglue25 @lovestrucklyuniverse

[atlabeth]

all of me | luke castellan

pairing: knight!luke castellan x princess!reader

a/n: sooooooo i know that i said i would work on something else but this hit me and suddenly i could not rest until i wrote something for it so you're getting headcanons since i can't formulate proper thoughts. some of this is dialogue but most of this is pure stream of consciousness. im already kind of obsessed w them ?

wc: 3.7k lollll this got away from me but it was so much fun.

warning(s): parental death, fighting, normal royal stuff. fluff, angst, all that good shit

princess!reader and knight!luke

yeah

and they're childhood friends bc they grew up in the castle together

YEAH

luke is the son of a kingsguard and he wants to be just like his mom 

his father is out of the picture (booo) and his mom never really talks about him but she’s raised luke the best she can

shoutout to may castellan, she was the first female kingsguard! and definitely the first to personally guard the king 

you are the heir to the throne and the only thing you're sure of is that you want luke to be in your life

you basically spent all your time together because he was kinda the only one your parents would approve you hanging out with

most of the crownsguard don't have children and those that do have them live with their spouse outside of the palace, and your parents didn't want you spending time with the children of servants

and luke's mom is your father's closest friend because she's the king's personal knight and so everything’s basically already vetted and they don’t have to worry about you accidentally getting murdered by him 

so you and luke basically spend every moment of your free time together!! 

even when you’re not free tbh 

sometimes you beg your tutor to hold your lessons outside so that you can sneak glimpses at the knights training and luke training alongside them 

whenever he sees you, his face always instantly brightens and he will lose focus in whatever tf he’s doing because he’s only thinking about you now 

and instead of either of you doing what you’re supposed to do, you just spend the whole time making faces at each other and trying to grab the other’s attention 

after his mother tries (and fails) to get him back on track a million times and your tutor realizes that you’re never going to listen to her historical prattles they allow the two of you to talk for “FIVE MINUTES AND NO LONGER MY BOY” and your tutor is all “i ask that you do not delay our lessons any further, your highness” 

and tbf you and luke could notttttt care less. you immediately join up and you start teasing him about his form and how he was holding his sword and he just makes fun of you for having to be a princess

“Your form is horrendous, Luke! How do you expect to beat anyone holding a sword like that?” 

“At least I’ll be on the battlefield one day. You can bore our enemies to sleep with your recounts of Aureldan history.” 

“Oh, I bet I could beat you right now. I’ve got royal blood in my veins.” 

“And I’ve got knight’s blood in mine,” he says. “I’ve at least got a sword. That’s more than you have.”

You huff. “Mother says I have to learn propriety before I even think about picking up a weapon.” 

“Do you want to hold mine?” he asks immediately, his eyes lighting up as he offers it over. “It’s just wood because Mom doesn’t want me to hurt myself, but that means it’s safe for you.” 

you do. obviously. 

You’ve got soft hands, untouched by the world, and the sword feels foreign in their grasp as you realize this is in fact the first time you’ve ever held a weapon. You cut it through the air a few times and Luke is grinning wider than ever 

“I think the role of a warrior princess suits you,” he says.

“It is nice,” you muse as you turn it over in your hands, already growing used to the feeling of it. 

“And you look great with it,” he says. “Powerful.” 

“I’d give myself a splinter before I can do anything with it,” you retort as you hand it back to him. “It’s a nice thought, though.” 

His eyes light up. “You should train with us sometime. My mom is the best at teaching— she’d teach you everything you need to know!”

You glance back at your tutor, who is very clearly eavesdropping, and you sigh as you look back at Luke. “Maybe in a few months.” 

Luke’s mother calls his name and it’s obvious that your time is over. You hug each other and promise to meet up as soon as your responsibilities for the day are over, then go back to your respective duties. 

Your tutor takes you inside because she doesn’t want anymore distractions, and you wave at each other like crazy as you’re walking back into the castle.

so yeah. you’re best friends and you have been since you first met as children, and though it is a battle for your betters to keep you on task if you’re near each other, you just light up when you see each other and it actually helps 

You’re learning dining etiquette and if you get told that you’re using the wrong spoon again, you’re going to lose your mind. 

luke is hurrying through the halls to catch up with his mother and you both catch a glimpse of each other. 

your posture straightens, he stops in his tracks, and you both smile at each other. then luke’s mother calls his name again and he’s on his way again. 

spoons aren’t that bad, you think 

you’re mulling over history books in the library that make you want to fall asleep.

luke just happens to be walking past on the way to his chores, and when he spots you, he yells out your name and waves at you. you wave back, and you both stifle laughs as your tutor shushes you 

suddenly, you’re not feeling so down.

Luke is training on his own out in the yard before dinner and he’s about ready to break his sword over his knee because he can not get this damned move right. 

he hears your voice across the way and sees you, all dressed up and with your parents about to get into a carriage. you’re on your way to a ball, he remembers you telling him earlier, and he finds himself smiling. 

You had been complaining about it, and Luke had told you to just think of the two of you hanging out whenever you were bored. You said you were already planning on it.

His smile widens. He’d be thinking of you too, wondering what it would be like for him to attend with you. Dressed in the same gaudy outfits as the rest of the court, having to go through the same dull niceties that you’d been raised on, listening to stories from other royals he couldn’t care less about. 

Standing beside you as an equal. 

Luke’s young, but he already doesn’t care for nobles and their court. But he thinks he would wear any amount of uncomfortable suits and listen to any number of dull proposals for you. 

for the rest of the night, he trains better than he thinks he ever has. 

and of course, you break the rules together. GOD HELP YOUR CHARGES YOU ALWAYS BREAK THE RULES TOGETHER 

your tutor cannot count how many times you’ve slipped out of lessons and she’s found you in the halls talking with luke, him smiling brighter than she’s ever seen as he listens to you go on and on and on 

your mother cannot count all the times you’ve talked about what you and luke did that day instead of describing to her any of the history or arithmetic you were supposed to be learning 

May always keeps watch over her son, but she’s been known to turn a blind eye when Luke thinks he’s being sneaky to go off and see you. 

and of course, sometimes you actually hang out when you’re allowed to hang out lol 

you’ve run around every bit of the palace grounds together, you ride horses together (with parental supervision of course), and once you’re a bit older, you’re actually allowed to practice with luke and the rest of the knights! 

typically, it’s a shorter session with May teaching the two of you, and typically, it ends with both of you ready to die because you’re just kids and even though Luke is a prodigy, you are sooooo bad at swordfighting. it’s honestly not even funny how bad you are at it the first couple of lessons 

But May just pats you on the shoulder and promises to work with you until you’re as good as her. 

(luke pouts and says he wants to be better than you. you forget that you’re holding a sword and just start complaining at each other) 

(“you CAN’T be better than me luke I’m the princess”) (“YES I CAN MY MOM’S THE GREATEST KNIGHT EVER”) (“SHE PROTECTS MY DAD WHICH MEANS I CAN BE THE BEST EVER”) (“THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE”) (“YES IT DOES”) (“NO IT DOESN’T”) (“I’M YOUR PRINCESS YES IT DOES”) 

(the lesson ends when May has to pry you two apart) 

but we haven’t gotten to the knight part. 

because it’s a bit sad. 

what happens to may in pjo canon is awful but 

May Castellan dies when you and Luke are sixteen. A month after your birthday, in fact. Four months after Luke’s. 

(he’s always held those three months over you, especially as you get older.) 

(it doesn’t seem to matter as much now.)  

rumor has it throughout the kingdom that she slowly went insane and then fully lost it, ultimately dying in an attack against the king during a ball that turned out to be a set-up. 

the only one who knows what really happened that night is your father as he was the only other person there at her death that still lives, but he refuses to talk about it, only saying that “Head of the Kingsguard May Castellan died a hero and shall be remembered as such”. 

Luke… does not take it well 

besides the king, he obviously spent the most time with his mother and it was obvious to anyone that she loved him with all her heart and wanted him to follow whatever dreams he may have had 

she’s given a knight’s funeral and you are beside Luke the entire time, holding his hand or him leaning against you as you listen to eulogies or even just sitting next to each other because your presence is enough for him. it doesn’t matter what—you’re always connected in some way, and no one says a single thing. 

he needs you, and you need him. it’s as simple as that. and no one dares to correct the princess when she’s icier than they’ve ever seen her.

You put on that front to protect Luke—you don’t want anyone bothering him, and you don’t want him to have to worry about you at a time like this. 

Because you know he would. He always does. 

When Luke gives his speech, barely able to hold back tears, he looks at you the entire time. he doesn’t tell you, but you’re the only reason he’s able to get through the day. 

Luke becomes a ward of the royal family. 

There’s no chance you’re letting him leave, and Luke doesn’t want to go either. The memories of his mother all around are painful, but he takes some small comfort that she’ll live on in Aurelda forever. 

Your parents have no objection to it—he grew up in the palace anyways, and he can practically provide for himself. You wouldn’t have let them say no. 

You’re thankful beyond words that Luke is still here. Because everything feels like a mess, and things are a little more manageable with him by your side. 

Someone tried to kill your father. They killed Luke’s mother instead. Both of you are broken in different ways.

Obviously, this sparks the beginnings of war both in Aurelda and in Luke’s entire being. 

but that’s a topic for another day. 

May’s death changes your relationship. 

She was his mother, obviously, but you were close to her as well. you could never forget every time she ruffled your hair and complimented your sword fighting, or every time she would acknowledge you in the midst of a crowd with a smile and a nod, or every time she would act like a mother and not a knight. 

she had the best hugs in the entire kingdom. 

But her death changes your relationship because Luke changes. 

He’s angrier. His edges have all sharpened, honed by his own spirit. He softens when he’s around you, but to the outside eye he’s impenetrable. He thinks you’re the only one that understands him. 

Others pity him, fear him, are jealous of him. 

You treat him the way you always have. Like your best friend. 

That’s all he needs. 

And so Luke throws himself into his training, vowing to become the youngest kingsguard in Aureldan history to honor his mother’s memory. He wasn’t able to save his mother, and he needs to become strong enough to protect the ones he loves from anything. 

(You don’t know it, but he thinks of you every time he closes his eyes and sees the night his mother died. He’s in the place of his mother and you’re in your father’s position, and Luke knows that he would sacrifice himself for you every single time.) 

So you don’t have as much time for each other anymore. Luke is on his kingsguard mission, and you’re starting to come into your own as the Crown Princess of Aurelda. 

You can’t sneak out of lessons anymore to go talk with Luke, because you’re starting to learn about the nuances of politics. 

Luke can’t let you interrupt his training, because he’s on a warpath and he won’t be stopped before he reaches his goal. 

You can’t neglect your responsibilities because they’re more than just etiquette or history lessons. War is going to come to Aurelda sooner or later, and you’ve got to be ready when it does.

You’re only sixteen, but neither of you are children anymore.  

But you’re still best friends. Nothing can change that—it’s just changed the way you show it. 

You take your morning walks with your mother past the training grounds, and Luke always smiles at you and salutes no matter what. You bow your head in a very refined, princess-y nod, and you continue on. 

Luke makes sure he’s always the one that gets to deliver news to you, even going so far as to make deals with other servants and messengers just to make sure he gets to see you at least once a day. 

Most of the time, you end up seeing each other at night. Just happening to end up in the kitchens at the same time for a midnight snack that results in hours of talking with each other. Bringing Luke to your balcony to look at the stars together. 

Even some midnight training has occurred together, though you always end up a sweaty mess and having to make a bath for yourself because you can’t alert your servants. Luke says he likes you best when you have that vicious glint in your eye while you’re training with him. 

Luke still has horrific dreams, and though he weathered them on his own for a while, one night he finds himself outside your door. When you open it, seeing his haunted eyes and disheveled appearance, you let him in immediately.

It’s not the first time you’ve slept in the same bed after nightmares, and you know it won’t be the last. 

(You spent the whole week together after his mother’s death. Not even your parents could complain when they saw the change in both of you.)  

And Luke does it. He completes his training, having become one of the fiercest and youngest warriors Aurelda has ever seen. Traditionally, knights are older, but an exception was made for Luke—he’s got the Castellan name and a childhood spent with the greatest knights in the kingdom to back him up.

You’re the first person he tells when he finds out, and your scream of pure joy must have echoed throughout the entire castle. You hug him tighter than he’s ever been hugged before, and for just a moment, in your embrace, he feels like you’re both kids again. 

Weeks from his eighteenth birthday, your father knights Luke Castellan in an official ceremony. 

Not just as a member of the kingsguard, though—he is sworn in as a knight, and as your personal bodyguard. 

Your father didn’t tell you beforehand, and you thank a childhood of courtly influence to keep the shock off your face. One hand tightens ever so slightly into a fist, and you let it out just as quickly. 

You can’t see Luke’s expression, kneeling and head turned downward. You would pay all the gold in the kingdom to know what he was thinking. 

“Sir Luke Castellan.” Your father’s voice booms through the hall, and a shiver even goes down your spine. “Do you swear to serve Aurelda as her loyal knight, through war and peace, through riches and debt?”

“I do,” Luke says. 

“Do you swear to protect the Crown Princess of Aurelda—” your father says your entire title, and for the fifth time you wonder how many middle names a princess needs, “—my daughter—with everything you have in you, until your dying breath?” 

Your breathing stills for the slightest moment. 

Luke doesn’t flinch. “I do.” 

The thought of Luke dying for you is unimaginable. It’s something you’d never ask of him—you don’t think you could live in a world without him anyways. You know it’s what knights are expected to do—for king and country, my life for yours—but that’s for any member of the royal family—any member of the court. 

Luke is assigned solely to your protection. 

And he doesn’t even falter when he bonds his life to yours. 

As soon as the ceremony is over and Aurelda has gained three new knights, you’re on your way to Luke. You don’t care if anyone else wants to talk with the princess, you don’t care if your parents need to tell you something—royal propriety be damned, you need to talk to Luke.

He doesn’t look surprised when you march up to him, but there’s already a different air about him. 

Maybe it’s because in these past couple of years he’s absolutely shot up in height, maybe it’s because his insane training regimen has toned every part of him, maybe it’s because he’s done what no one else has done before, or maybe it’s just because he actually accomplished his goal. 

But when he smiles at you, that crooked slant to his lips that always meant mischief when you were younger, it’s enough to make that train of thought immediately shut down. 

“Princess,” he greets. “I think we’re going to be spending a lot more time together, these days.” 

“Yeah,” you say, the warpath you’d intended to be on fading away almost immediately with his words (and that goddamned smile that will certainly be the death of you someday.) “Maybe this is our way to make up on all that lost time.” 

“...I’d like that,” Luke says. 

“Can I hug you?” you ask wryly. “Or is that unbecoming of a brand new knight?” 

“I don’t think anyone will tell the princess she is doing something wrong,” Luke says. 

So you do. You hug him, and he immediately wraps his arms around you, and you hate that you had any doubt that he would. You’ve always felt safe in his embrace even since you were children, and now that he’s four times as strong and much taller, you feel it more than ever. 

He truly does look the part of a perfect knight. You remember the days of wooden sword fights and afternoons by the lake, wondering what your future awaited, but sure you would be together no matter what. 

You feel like you’ve aged a century since then.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” you say as you pull away. “You’re incredible. I mean— you always have been, but this… It’s everything you’ve ever wanted. So I’m proud of you.” 

Luke brushes his curls out of his face with a gauntleted hand, his smile turning a bit more genuine. “It means the world, princess. You are… one of the main reasons that I even made it up here. So I have you to thank.” 

You feel your cheeks heat. “I haven’t done anything.” 

“You’ve been you,” he refutes. “You’ve stood by my side through everything, and you’ve always been there when I need you no matter what. You’ve done everything.” 

You’re thankful for the sheer sleeves of your gown, because now your entire body feels warm. And maybe that’s why you practically blurt the question out, but it’s been burning in your mind since the moment it happened. 

“Did you know?” 

He frowns. “Know what?” 

“That you would become my personal guard,” you said. “You’ve wanted to be a part of the kingsguard since you were a child, and now…” 

“Princess,” Luke says, “I asked your father for the honor.” 

That throws you off. “What?”

“Do you think he would entrust your wellbeing to just anyone?” he asks. “It’s part of the reason I’ve been training so hard—I wanted to prove to him that I was worthy of the position.” 

“Luke—” you start, but he shakes his head.  

“War is coming to Aurelda whether we like it or not,” he says. “All I want is for you to be safe. This way, I can ensure it.” 

“You said you would die for me,” you say. “You vowed it.” 

“That is generally how knighthood works, yes—” 

“Luke,” you interrupt forcefully. “I don’t want you to die for me.” 

“The goal is for nobody to die,” he says wryly. 

You cross your arms. “You know what I mean.” 

“Your safety is my number one concern, princess,” he says. “That’s all you need to know.” 

You stare at him. He stares back. 

You win, because Luke sighs and shakes his head. “We don’t have to worry about that at the moment. Right now, you have to get back to change before you sit in on an advisor’s meeting with the king and queen.” 

You frown. “How do you know?” 

“I’m your guard,” Luke says. “It’s my job to know.” 

“You were just sworn in!” you protest. 

“And I am always prepared,” he remarks. Luke holds his hand out in a gesture towards the door. “After you, princess.” 

You shake your head as you start walking. You hear Luke’s footsteps start soon after, much heavier than yours in full armor as opposed to your ceremonial dress. “You are ridiculous.” 

“Which is also my job,” Luke muses.

and so luke becomes a knight, but not just any knight.

your knight.

good luck handling that crush on him you've harbored since childhood now.

[darkfictionjude]

Okay so I know this is a touchy subject already especially since certain people have already been bitchy about it before, but sometimes Crowny is genuinely difficult to play as. I feel super conflicted about them since they're the literal personification of "damn bitch you live like this?"

Realistically, progress isn't linear and different people get different results even if they do the exact same thing, but as of now it feels like they aren't really allowed to improve at all. If you study you're still mediocre leaning towards bad in terms of understanding. You try to workout you see absolutely no results, not even the tiniest bit. When it comes to the other characters, it's always one step forward and two steps back. When you give them a hobby or try to get them to pick up a skill they find little enjoyment. When people bother them they barely fight back or even argue, and when they do it's like a sarcastic quip or a grumble at most. By the end, they haven't even made a dent. These don't make them less of a person and it doesn't make them a failure since the world is quite literally out to get them, but it's like they aren't allowed any satisfaction in their life. (Yeah it's been like a month, maybe barely scratching two in the current timeline so maybe this contradicts what I first said about progress but I'm dumb as hell)

It's wild to go from the side quests, backstory segments, interactions with the ROs and then Crown family just for all the hype to fade when there's a segment with just Crowny all alone. I know that there's a reason for why they are the way they are, but I literally have to take breaks from reading their solitary moments sometimes because it seems to drag on. I know things aren't easy in this universe, I know the world is supposed to be cruel and unfair, but like can they at least get a cake for their efforts? Or a hug? Or be able to sleep through one night and wake up well rested?

I hope I'm not sounding like an asshole or a insane here. Personally, they're relatable in a lot of aspects. I may not have had supernatural shit going after me, but I had a lot of issues that many of their experiences brush way too close to. It's just the way it's presented that makes them feel like they're like the random piece of chewy cartilage in an otherwise perfectly cooked steak, unpleasant but I'm gonna eat it anyway.

I literally just wrote a whole ass book complaining, but I at least wanna say I do love your work, Crowny included even if my words seem to say otherwise, and I'm super excited to see what happens in the timeskip since i know this is like JUST the beginning. I'm like seriously praying my tone is coming off the right way if that's even possible. If you read through all this thanks. I'm not gonna hide behind anon because I at least wanna be able to explain myself if this comes across wrong.

but like can they at least get a cake for their efforts? Or a hug? Or be able to sleep through one night and wake up well rested?

Well no 😭😭

And that comes from the fact that they are self loathing, depressed as hell and have virtually no support system while dealing with things that they aren’t mature enough to handle, actually their mental health is getting far worse which is by design

I feel like perhaps some readers have not realized just how depressed crowny is. All the things you described about them finding little enjoyment, etc., are key markers of major clinical depression

I feel also people did miss the fact that crowny kind of exploded in the library they didn’t shut up, they didn’t let it go which I think is a positive because this is the first time they’ve have enough to say “enough”

Sorry but I like my things slow burn 💀 that Halloween party is meant to be a breakthrough for them and I think perhaps it’s been glossed over by some because what happened to James has gotten the most attention and the final moment in the woods. Crowny outed their “friends” for the first ever and fought back against their tormentor in only one single night. James for all his issues did the one thing that broke the camel’s back and pushed Crowny over the edge, all 7 episodes have led to this

Crowny is meant to fall before they come up that’s how I wanted it because realistically someone could not handle all of this without losing their mind. It has barely been two months, Crowny has only seriously hit the main plot in episode 4 which in the current timeline was about 3 weeks ago (from episode 7)

Truly the progress that crowny did make in episode 7 should have taken longer, people with crowny’s issues spend years in therapy before they feel they have the right to fight back.

There’s a reason episode 7 is the midseason finale. It’s not only about the plot but about crowny themself….

Dw you’re tune is fine I can usually tell when someone doesn’t think before they write 😭

[sl-vega]

Hi Vee, I would like to request a sick! gn reader with some of the genshin characters (Yae Miko, Wanderer, Albedo, and Kazuha) where reader can’t really talk all to well cause of said sickness. What sort of shenanigans would ensue as our dear reader tries to communicate. It’d also be really cool if the reader knew a bit of sign language and tried to communicate that way (your choice on whether the characters know it or don’t). Have a lovely morning/day/evening!

NOW I'M (LOVE)SICK

pairings: Yae Miko, Albedo, Wanderer, Kazuha x [GN!] Reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, headcanons/drabbles, canon compliant, sick! reader, reader knows sign language

synopsis: in which your s/o tries their best to make you feel better since you've fallen ill

CW: mild language, potentially ooc, vee doesn't know how to do headcanons so you have been warned

additional notes: lol perfect timing for this request cuz I'm actually sick rn // header credits: yae header by @/k1aya on pinterest, albedo header by @/kuno on pinterest, wanderer header by @/ggoldiz on pinterest, Kazuha header by @/detailuffy on pinterest

YAE MIKO-Divina Vulpes

miss girl would be babying you 100%

kinda acts more like your mom than your s/o in this case tbh

"I told you not to go adventuring in the rain!" but then she goes back to saying shit like "aww you poor thing~, let me get some soup for you"

yae would also tease you too, cuz yk, she's yae miko

since she's not human, I don't think she can get sick, well not any human diseases at least

she tries her best to be there for you though, probably reads a bunch of light novels from her publishing house to help you fall asleep

if you try to communicate via sign language to her, she probably just hushes you and grabs your hands so you stop frantically making hand signs

cuz she wants you to get your rest

I think she does know a little sign language, but she never really committed to learning it, she'd gladly start for you though

ALSO

i think she'd turn into her fox form and let you cuddle with her like she's a stuffed animal

totally not projecting rn

ALBEDO-Princeps Cretaceus

he'd def send sucrose over to check on you if he's busy, but once he's done with his work, he is SPRINTING over to check on you

✨he's a runner he's a track star✨

maybe it's just me but I feel like Albedo would be the type of boyfriend that worries over you a lot

when he does come over, he probably has lots of concoctions that are supposed to clear your throat, but they're probably made of...

less than delicious materials

and you aren't becoming your boyfriend's personal test subject no thank you, not today

since he has a little sister, he knows how to take care of you

probably has experience cuz klee would get super sick after running around in the rain for too long-

makes you chicken soup, and tea, the usual

if you try to communicate with him via sign language due to losing your voice, he'll probably have the same reaction as yae

just forces you to go back to sleep

he def knows sign language (mr. genius🙄) but he wants you to get better as soon as possible

klee also comes over at some point, probably tells you some crazy story about how she tried to blow up dawn winery with diona or smth-

her and Albedo also make some get well cards for you once you fall asleep as well <3

WANDERER-Peregrinus

this mf

if you've heard his voice lines you already know what this bastard would say to you

he'd call you weak and say shit like "a small illness has already rendered you helpless? how pathetic..."

THE FACT I CAN PERFECTLY HEAR HIM SAY THAT-

he's a puppet so he's never been sick cuz he can't get sick either

nahida would probably slap him and scold him and tell him to be nicer though

on the inside he's super concerned about you

lowkey, he's afraid of losing you

not that he'd ever admit it-

(tsundere scara for the win)

he's worried that you're going to end up like the child he used to live with, and that you'll become "powerless before your mortality" as he'd like to say

same as yae + albedo, if you'd try to communicate with him via sign language he'll tell you to sleep

(in a slightly aggressive way but he's scara what do you expect?)

i don't think he knows sign language at all tbh

he'll ask nahida about it and he'll probably start borrowing books from the akidemiya and practices in secret for you

he WILL ruin his sleep schedule for you but he'll probably just brush it off and be like: "meh, it was easy."

when in reality this mf has spent an AGONIZING amount of time just to try and impress you

he'll make you tea too, the bitter kind

the VERY bitter kind

oml this sounds like scara slander 😭 dw I actually really like him

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA-Acer Palmatum

like albedo, he'd be super worried about you

tells beidou that he needs to make sure you're okay before the crux leaves for it's next destination

brings you tea, soup, and writes cute little love poems for you while you rest in his lap

tells you stories about his travels while holding your hand and sappy stuff like that

kazuha is a top tier boyfriend fr fr

unlike the others, if you tried to communicate with him via sign language, he let you teach him certain phrases

i think he knows a little bit due to his travels so he's picked up on a bit of it

he thinks it's really cute of how you try to explain things to him since you can't speak so you probably alternate between the hand signs themselves and pen and paper

VERY attentive to you

"slow down love, we have all the time in the world."

[ram-bles]

can I have hcs abt daisuke comforting an upset reader? like they were trying to do/make something new and it kept not working so now they’re upset at themselves and like, daisuke comforting them? sorry if this is rlly incoherent

daisuke x mechanic intern!reader | There's always tomorrow.

I know you wanted hcs but I kind of got carried away.... I hope you're fine w this anon 🙇 bonus general hcs

# : comfort. gender neutral reader.

At this point, you could tell the intervals of the static on this clunky monitor with how much staring you've done at it. Continuously debugging and iterating the codes for the test circuit just beside you. The only time you took breaks was when Swansea had to drag you out to eat since you surprisingly didn't listen to Daisuke. Even the crew was impressed that you got Swansea this worried for you.

You pressed on tab, the other intern flinching at how hard you pressed the key, eyebrows knitting as he gave you a worried gaze. He knows that look, you often do it before running the program. Slamming on enter, you stare at the bright green [BUILD SUCCESSFUL...] nervously. It was a whole process really, coding, flashing, building, testing. The problem was always the last part. You've been remaking this stupid circuit for the whole day, but whenever you try to fix one problem, another one pops up. Just like this trial. One of the goddamned LEDs weren't lighting up.

Your palms roughly meet the table surface, shaking everything on top. With a heavy sigh, rub your face aggressively and groan. Better that than screaming profanities, right? You're questioning your career choice again. Your thoughts were disturbed when a hand rests on your shoulder and you tense up for a moment, only to relax ever so slightly when you hear him call out for your name, soft, concerned.

Daisuke was with you this whole time, always reminding you to take breaks and checking up on you. Even sneaking in snacks. He's the only one who could keep you grounded whenever it came to situations like these— it's hard for him not to, after all. Always so mindful of your well-being and how you feel. It makes you wonder if you reciprocate and thank him enough for it.

"Dude, your eyes are like super red." His eyes pop up in your peripherals as he leaned over to peek at you. "C'mon. We can take a break together?" Another heavy sigh escapes from your lips and you leaned back, head resting on his shoulder with closed eyes as he pets your head. He signalled for the both of you to head up and rest with two pats on your cheek, only surprising him when you spun your stool around to bury your face on his chest. Daisuke's chin rests on top of your head, fingers twirling on your hair and unconsciously massaging the back of your head.

"Stupid thing won't work."

"It was lighting up?" His smile became more wobbly when he hears you sigh again.

"Not correctly."

"Dude, I still don't know my shit around circuits and your out here programming them. Do you know how cool that is to me?" You hum, tightening your hold around his waist and he chuckles. There was a moment of comfortable silence, hugging the frustrations away. "The coolest."

"You know what I do when I can't get my drawings right?" You give him another noise of acknowledgement and he continues in a tone as if he was saying the most obvious thing ever.

"Take a break!"

"Sleep on it. Gotta check the piece with fresh eyes to find the mistakes." He tilts his head to face you, combing your hair back. "You wouldn't find it if you've been staring at the same thing for too long, right? There's always tomorrow."

The way you looked up at him had his heart skipping a beat. "Dai?"

"Yeah?"

"You're so reliable, y'know."

"I'm supposed to be giving you the compliments!" You both end up laughing and he stares at you affectionately. "C'mon, we can continue your playthrough, ooor if you're too tired you can just watch me."

[ Bonus ]

🌺 Straying away from mechanic intern, just in general really, he wouldn't be able to stand seeing you be disappointed over yourself. He knows that feeling all too well. Gives you compliments based off on what he wants to hear too. He always asks if you want to figure it out first or if it was possible for him to help.

★ It's okay! We can always get back to it!

🌺 If you do accept his help, he'd be trying his utmost best like always. If it works out? Yay! Let's celebrate by hanging out! If it doesn't? Peek above, take a break and come back to it when you're in a better mindset.

🌺 Ends up barraging you in compliments either way. Hugs, cuddles, kisses, snacks, games, whatever you want as a reward.

🌺 Yeah. Checks up on you from time to time just to see how you're holding up. Not to the point where it's disturbing you though. If he brings you snacks, drinks, or pick me up doodles, he'll pass it to you silently but making sure you're aware that he's giving you the items.

[dsireland86]

I physically can't stop picturing Folio bending me over his drums and fucking me until im dumb

Shit. Like this thought hasn't ever crossed my mind before....

Drummers Always Hit It Harder

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The venue was empty at eleven at night. While everyone else was either sleeping, playing video games, or chilling, I chose to get a head start on setting up merch stuff for the following day. Actually, I was sick of being surrounded by five guys who were constantly getting on my nerves with all their immature antics and conversations. I needed a girl moment. The sound of a door opening and closing startles me. I didn't think anyone knew I was here. I’m surprised to see Folio as he comes into view a few minutes later, holding two cans of beer.

"You want one?" I smile, knowing he already knows the answer. Opening it, he hands it to me. "Why do you work so much?" I shrug, sitting the can down after taking a long sip. "I think you need to get laid." My head turns up and I stare wide-eyed at Folio. “What the hell, Folio! Where did that thought come from?” "From watching you all the time. You work and sleep. That’s it.”

The twinkle in his soft brown eyes makes my heart flutter and his confession of watching me makes my panties instantly wet. It's no secret I have the biggest crush on the band's drummer. I have for a while. Matt, my brother, told Folio that if he ever touched me thought, he was a dead man, and to my disappointment, Folio listened. It's not as if I was willing to throw myself out to anyone; just Nick. Only Nick.

I don't know if he knows how much I like him, but there are nights when he's the one helping me get myself off in a desperate attempt to satisfy a natural hunger and need for the opposite sex. In my mind, Folio's the only one worthy of getting between my legs

"Are you okay?" He grins at me and I almost lose it. "Um, yeah, I'm fine," I lie, taking another drink from my can. I hear his adorable chuckle and it takes me a moment to get my head back into what I was doing. "Do you want some help? I don't even know what you're doing?"

He comes over to me as I reach for my drink, beating me to it instead. As both our hands wrap around the can, our fingers touch, sending shivers all over my entire body. I smile, looking up at Nick only to find he's already staring at me. There's a look in his eyes I swear I've never seen before. It's dark, alluring and needy. Clearing my throat, I watch his lips curl up into a grin.

"First, you show up here when I'm completely alone, telling me I need to get laid and now you're asking me if I need help? Help with what exactly, Folio? Getting laid or setting up merch?” Nick’s speechless for a moment, fighting the urge to laugh. “You know you're skating on thin ice, right? Matt says you're a dead man if you and I,"

"I don't fucking care what your brother thinks or says, y/n. We're grown adults."

My abdomen clenches tight, the tingling sensation running through my sex is maddening to the point I think I actually whimper. The same overwhelming need to suffocate myself in Folio is taking over everything thought at the moment.

"So, what are you saying, Nick? I’m supposed to tell my brother to fuck off?”

He chugs the rest of his beer, tossing the empty can into the tiny trash can against the wall. He comes over to me, his presence instantly making my knees weak. My thighs tighten together as the unmistakable feeling of how wet just the thought of Nick makes me, soaks my panties.

He stares at me, his dark gaze tearing me apart already. I'm at this mercy at this point. "Will you hate me and swear to never speak to me again if I tell you the truth?" At first I think he's joking, but then I quickly realize he's serious. "No," I shake my head. "No I won't." Folio relaxes and holds his hand out to me. "Come with me." I don't question. I take his hand, feeling that same intense spark spread through me.

He leads me through the empty venue floor, through the dark, around the side of the stage and up the back steps to the stage floor. Besides the small light coming from his phone flash light and the soft glow from down below in the merch table area, we're surrounded by darkness. His kit is the only thing on the stage, centered perfectly in the middle of a large drum rug beneath our feet.

"Nick, what are we doing up here?" I'm nervous. I know I shouldn't be, but I am. Not out of fear, but out of intense anticipation. "Wait here," he says quietly, setting his phone down on the stool.

I'm left alone to look around the vacant venue, thinking how crazy it is that by this time tomorrow night, this place is going to be jammed packed with people, enjoying the utter chaos the guys are going to bring. Dim lights come one above, giving off just enough light to see what's around me. Moments later, Folio returns to the stage, finding me instantly.

He doesn't waste any time, snatching me up in his arms and pulling me into him. He's already hard enough for me to feel him through the zipper of his jeans, pressed against my abdomen. My breath gets caught in the back of my throat as his arms snake around my waist and slip down over the curves of my ass, pushing our bodies closer together. My heart is pounding in my chest, loud enough that I'm sure he can hear. But as nervous as I feel, this feels right. Folio's arms around me feel right. His hands on me feels right. His body pressed against mine feels right.

"Are you going to answer my question?" I ask, voice barely above a whisper. I hook my fingers in the belt loops of his jeans, tugging on him lightly. "Yeah, I will, but I need to be sure of a few things first." "Like what?" My brows draw together in confusion. Folio's eyes dart over my face, trailing up and down before landing on my neck. "I want to kiss you," he says, eyes finding mine again. "Then kiss me."

In an instant Folio’s lips are on mine, his tongue diving deep into my mouth. I can taste the alcohol as it slides over mine, drawing out small little whimpers and cries from me. The connection between us is better than I ever thought it could be; wild, needy and so fucking hot, causing me to becomeI’m a panting wet mess for Nick and willing to do whatever he wants. What was supposed to be a quick try turns into a deep need. Folio slips his hands around my face, cupping it gently while my hands travel to his waist, gripping his black Harley shirt and tugging on him. The world around us is suddenly blurred, slipping away quickly. I have to hold on to his wrists to keep from slipping away with it as the sensation and realization of what's happening roars to life inside me.

"Ugh, fuck," Folio curses against my lips while staggering, trying to keep the two of us from falling over. His hands slip under my shirt and slide up my back, undoing the clasp of my bra, I let him, but not before pulling back to look at him.

"You want the truth?" he asks, hoarsely, licking his lips. I want his tongue again, in my mouth, on my body, and sucking between my legs. The tendrils of hair falling over his forehead only add to the irresistibleness of his strong body holding me tightly. I run my hands up the back of his neck and into his newly cut hair, sighing at finally feeling it between my fingers and nod in response to his question.

"I like you, a fucking lot, and I know you like me too. I hear you at night; when everyone else is asleep, and you think you're being quiet."

I lower my face in embarrassment.

"Are you thinking about me when you fuck yourself?" he asks, lifting my chin as he reaches down and palms my sweet spot. "Oh, god, Nick," I whine, gripping his forearms. "Do you?" "Yes," I weakly confess. That smile. Fuck. "I thought so."

Nick kisses me again, hungrily, rocking his pelvis against me in hopes of easing the frustration. His lips trail over my jaw and down my neck, where he licks my skin before sucking on it. Gasping from sheer panic I pull his face away.

"No hickeys! Matt will kick your ass," I scold him, but see the playful glint in his eyes.

"He'd kick my ass regardless, especially if he knew the things I think about when it comes to you and me,” slipping his hand inside my leggings. I know I should stop him, but I don't want to. I want whatever he wants, whatever he wants to give.

“Spread your legs for me.” I do as he tells me, holding on to him for balance. Folio doesn’t waste a second getting what he wants. Pushing my panties to the side, he runs his finger up in between my soaked folds, inserting a finger, knuckle deep into me. He pumps his finger, in and out slowly, twisting the further in he goes. I hold back a choked moan, swallowing the cries of how fucking good this feels. 

“You like this?” I nod, lowering my forehead against his chest. “Fuck you’re so wet. You don’t know how many times I’ve gotten myself off to the idea of being inside you.” I gasp when Nick pushes further up, hitting that certain spot “Nick!” I cry, grabbing his biceps and digging my nails into them.

A feral growl emerges from deep inside his chest. Quiet curses fall beneath Nick’s breath as he continues his slow, burning pace of fucking me with his fingers. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s like Nick already knows everything about my body and how to please me. He grabs my ass and pushes my pussy harder into his hand, forcing me to grind down harder on it “Fuck if I’m not hard for you,” he whispers, his breath just shaky as mine and I can tell he’s struggling with composure just as much as I am. “I never thought I’d get this hard just from watching you ride my hand. Holy shit!” I clench and tighten around his hand, biting the inside of my cheek and lips in order to suppress the moans dying to escape. I can’t get to Nick’s hand the way I want to, so I yank my leggings down, exposing his hand buried deep inside me. I look down, watching his fingers thrust in and out of me, moaning over how fucking good it feels. I grab his wrist, keeping him right where I want him while I help guide his hand harder into me. 

“That’s it baby, feel me in you. Ride my hand baby girl,” Folio coos, praising me. His soft kisses on my forehead and the side of my head melt every worry and anxious thought away. 

“You’re fucking beautiful, y/n, you know that don’t you.” I shake my head, whining

Folio’s hand starts to move faster, pushing through my inner walls harder than before. The much welcomed assault is making the coiled heat tighter and tighter in my belly. 

“Well you are; so fucking beautiful. I want you. All of you. I want to give you all of me. Every single piece.”

The pressure of his thumb circling my clit draws out a slew of choice words.

“Fuck Nick, oh god, I’m going to cum, I can…. Mmmm, fuck! Don’t stop, please!” I moan.

Folio drops to his knees, forcing my legs further apart, and presses his mouth right onto my clit, almost making me scream. His sucks my bud, pulling it between his teeth, then swirls his tongue around my clit, while he continues to fuck me with his fingers. He holds my gaze as I shamelessly begin grinding on his face, feeling him hum in approval as I do so. He builds speed inside me, determined to watch me fall apart right here like this, all over his fingers, all over his mouth.

“Nick! Oh god, Nick, I’m about to cum! Baby, fuck!” I scream, grabbing Folio’s hair and holding his head right where I need it to stay as he works me through my orgasm. I feel his teeth skim my folds as I thrust my pussy against his tongue, forcing him to lick and swallow everything

My legs are trembling. I grip Nick’s shoulders as he stands up, wiping his mouth on his shirt.

“You good?” he asks, helping me balance while I step out of my leggings. Breathlessly, I nod my head pressing my hands on his now bare chest as he helps me out of my shirt. The soft, easy feeling of Folio’s hands running down my sides and over my bottom makes me realize I'm completely naked, standing before him. 

“Hey, look at me.”

Raising my head, I meet Folio’s gaze, feeling my face heat up. 

“You're beautiful.” 

He kisses the tip of my nose and then my forehead, leading me over to his drum kit and forcing me gently to bend over his biggest and tallest floor tom. I suck in a huge breath from the sudden coldness against my breasts and stomach. I lay there, body shaking, from over stimulation and fear that we’re going to get caught. 

"I wanna fuck you, just like this. Harder and faster than necessary. I wanna think about your breast flush against my toms and the sounds you make when I fuck you, pounding into you sweet little cunt until you can't walk, every single time I play.  

Nick presses me down with his hand on the middle of my back, running his hand over my ass.

"You have such a perfect ass, god damn!"

His hand comes down hard on my ass causing me to cry out a shrilled moan. “Fuck, Nick,” my words coming out through a choked sob. 

"Do you want me to fuck you, sweetheart?"

I hear his jeans unzip and fall to the stage floor where he kicks them to the side.

Despite the pain on my bottom, I nod quickly, desperately aching for Nick to fill me.

"I need words. Do you want me to fuck you baby?" "Yes, Nick, please. Hurry up and fuck me." "I won't be gentle." "I'm not asking you to be."

Folio grabs my hips and forces my legs apart with his knee, aligning the tip of his cock with my entrance, probing it in and out a few times. The pressure that he puts on my folds alone, gently rutting against me, has me whimpering.

“Baby girl, you’re so fucking wet, it’s dripping into my tip, holy shit,” he mutters, still rutting against me. He sinks a little further in and already I can tell he’s going to fill me completely just from the slight stretch of my walls. 

“Fuck, honey, you’re really fucking tight,” Nick sighs, gripping my hips harder. “Are you ready for me?” “Yes. Just fill me, Nick. Stretch me, fill me, do whatever, just please let me feel you,” I beg. Without a word, he enters me, pushing into me with one quick thrust after another, sinking further down into me each time. Biting my tongue and the side of my cheeks to keep from screaming out, our muffled needy moans and grunts fill the air around us as Nick fills me completely, his thickness gliding right through my walls as if his cock was made for me.

"Motherfucker," Folio groans, throwing his head back. With his hands locked in a tight grip on my hips, he works me open, stretching me to fit his hard, thick cock that he barely gives me enough time to adjust to. His skin slaps against my skin as I grip the side of the tom the best I can while he fucks me at a brutal pace like a savaged dog. With every grunt, every deep and needy growl, we're shaking his entire drum kit, making cymbals crash together and creating sounds that hopefully drown out the sounds I’m making.

Nick’s hand snakes around my throat and lightly squeezes it, lifting me up a little. It has me arching my back and pushing my ass out a little more, creating a new angle for his cock to go in at.

"F-fuck, Nick, baby, you're gonna make me cum again," I cry out, moaning louder the closer I get. My skin is on fire, as Nick fucks me to towards the precipice of my climax. His hands find my breast, cupping them entirely to fill his hands. He massages them, rolling them around in his hands and squeezing their nipples so hard I can feel it in my pussy.

“I want you, y/n,” Folio confesses, panting as he slows his pace for a moment. “I want you to be my girl. I don’t want to share you with anyone else. I want this every day, every night with you. Stay with me baby.”

He kisses my shoulder, dragging his lips down the spine of my back and making goosebumps cover my skin. Nick's confession hits me right in the heart. I've wanted him for so long, that hearing him say this makes me cry.

"Yes," I cry through a whimper. "Fuck yes, I’m yours. I’ve always been you, Nick.” “Yeah? Really? You will?” The excitement in his voice is unmistakable. “I will. I am.”

Without a warning, Folio brings his hand down on my ass again, officially claiming it as his. It’s enough to snap the building tension inside me, as I throw my hand up and cover my mouth to silence the loud scream as my second orgasm crashes through me. Folio continues pounding into me, never letting up even though I’ve long abandoned my hand over my mouth and allow every word and sound to roll right off my tongue.

“Just like that, sweetheart, keep moaning like for me,” he encourages me. Droplets of sweat drip onto my back as he grunts, thrusting in and out a few more times before finally reaching the edge.

"Fuck! Fuck, baby, I'm about to cum. I wanna cum inside you,” he pants.

"Do it. I'm good," I assure him.

"You sure? Shit your pussy feels so fucking good! Fuck it!"

With one more sharp grunt, Folio cums, filling my entire insides with his release. My body is shaking so badly that I think I might collapse.

"Holy shit," Folio groans, falling over me gently, covering me with his body.

"Nick, my arms are about to give out," I whisper.

"Okay, come here, I've got you," he says breathlessly, slowly pulling out of me. Gently, he pulls me back against him, lowering us to the floor, and collecting me entirely in his arms and into his lap. I cuddle deep into him, not at all caring about how hot and sweaty he is.

"Here, use this," he tells me, handing me his shirt.

"What's this for?" I look up at him and melt over how adorably cute he is.

"Um, well given the fact that your thighs aren't wet, I'd say you might need to,"

"Oh god! Yeah, okay," I laugh shyly, taking his shirt and shoving it between my thighs. The moment I let go, the intense pressure inside me begins to fade.

"Come here," Folio coos, pulling me tight against him. His heart is pounding as we sit quietly in the middle of the stage that will be a chaotic mess by tomorrow night.

"That was intense."

"Just a little. I'd say you hit pretty hard."

Folio snickers, running his hands through his hair.

"Drummers always hit it harder."

"This drummer likes hitting you harder," he teases, kissing my forehead.

I laugh, shaking my head at his corny joke.

“You gonna let me hit that ass harder every time I fuck you?” 

I look up at him and he leans over and kisses me.

“Mmm, maybe. You’ll just have to be a good boy and wait and see.” 

“Fuck, you’re such a tease.” 

We sit in silence for a little while, listening to the sound of our hearts returning to their normal beating pattern. I love it here; being completely alone with Nick, safe in his arms.

"Were you serious when you said yes? You'll be mine."

I smile against his chest that I lightly pepper with kisses.

"Were you serious when you asked me to be?"

I gaze up at him, my eyelids heavy with tiredness. Folio grins, caressing my face gently, before laying a soft kiss on my lips.

"A thousand percent." "Then I'm a thousand percent serious, too."

We eventually dress, cuddle for a little more before walking off the stage after Folio turns off the light. He looks back up at it, smiling widely.

"What?" "I'm not going to be able to play clearly tomorrow after tonight. All I'm gonna be thinking about is you bent over my floor tom, ass naked.”  "Oh, really?" I giggle, throwing my arms around his neck, freely kissing him before we leave the venue. "Yeah, really. And the way that perfectly little round ass looked after being smacked a few times." "Yeah, which by the way hurt, a lot." "I didn't hear you complaining when I did it."

I glared at Nick.

"That's not the point." "Well get used to it. This ass is mine now. I'll smack it, bit it and fuck it whenever I want." "Hmm, I think I could get used to that." "Yeah, me too," Folio grins, giving me another kiss. "So, what are we going to do about my brother?" I ask, addressing the monkey in the room. "Don't worry about that. I'll take care of telling Matt."

The door to a mechanics room suddenly opens and my brother emerges, holding a box of cables. I freeze instantly as pure panic takes hold of my chest.

"There you are, I've been looking for you everywhere!" Matt exclaims, setting the box down. "What have you been doing over here? Where were you just now?" His gaze shifts from me, over to Folio, then back to me. Then he notices my hand laced with Folio's, and I watch Matt’s face fall a thousand feet. "Y/N, why are you and Folio holding hands?”

Fuck.

[bookskeepers]

third time's the charm ♡ chapter five

content warnings: light, awkward, both of them don't really know how to talk to people, reader makes a tiktok reference, abs, bra mentioned, no nsfw, tsukishima might be ooc sorry lol

word count: 1,646

a/n: i am running out of gifs. also sorry if my writing feels british my internal monologue is the same voice as baldur's gate 3's narrator 💔

also sorry this took so long ? it sat in my drafts for a week holy shit

taglist: @wakashudou

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

Tsukishima Kei has three rules he follows when he's hooking up with someone.

1. Keep all communication to Tinder.

2. No dilly dallying.

3. Do not stay the night.

Of course, rule 2 had some exceptions -- occasionally he'd watch a movie to lead up to the act, but no more than that. He views hookups as a business transaction: get the goods and dip. Luckily, both sides (usually) benefit.

♡*•.¸♡¸.•*♡*•.¸♡¸.•*♡*•.¸♡¸.•*♡*•.¸♡¸.•*♡*•.¸♡¸.•*♡*•.¸♡¸.•*♡*•.¸♡¸.•*♡

He hadn't intended to stay the night at all after your romp together. He meant to help you back into your underwear, maybe cuddle for a few minutes, and then leave. But with the way your head rests against his chest, and with how comfortable you look, how is he supposed to say no?

Your hair is splayed out around you, strands tickling his skin. He finds himself absentmindedly tracing patterns on your near-bare back with his fingers as he scrolls through his phone with his free hand, willing exhaustion to hit. Your dorm bed, despite being the same as literally every other dorm bed, is somehow comfier than his own. Maybe it's because he's sharing it with you, although he's not sure.

More often than once, he catches himself observing your sleeping form. Your head is on his chest, your torso turned so that your boobs are pressed against his own torso. He can feel the silky material of your bra against him, and he wonders if you're uncomfortable. It looks like the wire's digging into your skin from his vantage point. One leg overlaps his own while the other remains straight on the mattress, and the arm he can see is splayed out on his ribs. He watches as your chest rises and falls slowly, the pattern of your breathing steady in your sleep.

"You fell asleep so quickly," he mumbles out loud, impressed. Part of him thinks you're a little stupid; who would let someone they just met stay the night? And why would you fall asleep so quickly on a stranger?

Another part of him finds it endearing, though. To be instantly trusted by someone in such a vulnerable state... it's not a feeling he's used to.

None of what just happened was what he was used to.

Sex is a fickle thing, he thinks. He has his own experience with it, most of it involving smooth R&B playing in the background, the music intermingling with the sound of skin-on-skin and feminine -- and occasionally masculine -- moans. It's never been without music, and there's never been conversation when the act's actually started.

He enjoyed the conversation, though. Listening to you try to form sentences while he went down on you was erotic in its own way. Maybe it was the teasing nature of it, or the way you'd gasp and fall silent, head thrown back in pleasure, before struggling to gather your thoughts and continue.

He finds that his eyes are drifting shut despite trying to keep them open, that he's playing with something very dangerous. After all, he thinks it wouldn't be too hard to get addicted to this: laying in a twin XL-sized bed that's too small for two people with you using him as a mattress more than you're using the actual mattress. The weight of you on his body is more comfortable than he'd ever admit to anyone, and your mannerisms and personality have already been etched into his brain. You're different.

The thought snaps him out of his reverie and he physically cringes. He doesn't think you're the kind of person who'd enjoy being told, "You're not like other people." In fact, he thinks you'd probably smack him, although he doesn't know you nearly well enough to be confident in this assumption (but he's right. You would smack him, only because you take comfort in knowing there are other people who are as weird as you, if not weirder).

When his eyes open again, sunlight is streaming through the window on the far side of the room. At some point during the night, you must've gotten up to put on a shirt -- his shirt, he realizes with a jolt -- because you're no longer laying against him bare-chested, instead now clad in a loose, black tee. He fumbles around for his phone, discovering it underneath his ass. He taps on the screen a few times, watching as it lights up with a photo of him and his volleyball club from high school. The time reads 10:32am, and you're out like a light. No one ever said sex wasn't tiring, though.

His movements must be disturbing your slumber, because you shift in your sleep. One of your legs ends up fully over him while his free arm ends up trapped between your body and his. You sure know how to make yourself comfortable, he thinks.

Slowly, delicately, he extricates himself from your hold, each move calculated as not to disturb your slumber. After all, he hadn't intended to stay the night -- vague memories of the mild shock on your face after you asked makes him think you hadn't originally intended to ask, either.

He pulls his pants on before remembering that there's a bit of a dilemma. You're wearing the shirt he came with, and he half-heartedly wonders if anyone's out and about on campus on a Saturday mid-morning. It's not that he's embarrassed of how he looks, he would just much rather be able to blend into the crowd with ease. Being shirtless would prevent that, probably.

If he was wearing athletic shorts, on the other hand, he could pretend he was going on a run. Alas, he wore jeans to your dorm. It seems his options were either leave and demand you return his shirt via Tinder, or--

"Where're you going?"

Your sleep-tinged voice cuts through his thought process, and he snaps his head up to look at you. It seems his movements were not calculated enough, since you're now awake. He watches as you blink sleep from your eyes, turning onto your back to stretch your limbs out in all directions with a quiet groan. You sit up in the bed, glancing from him to the shirt you're wearing. "This isn't mine," you say at last.

He lets out a slight chuckle. "No, that's mine. You must've put it on during the night. And I was just heading out, actually."

You let out a gasp, clapping your hands over your heart. "Without even saying goodbye? How cold. How cruel, Tsukishima. I'm heartbroken." Your tone is light, teasing; he can't help but smile in response.

"You were sound asleep. I didn't wanna disturb you." His eyes trail over your body, hidden by a combination of his tee and the blanket that's draped haphazardly over your form.

You raise one eyebrow at him, a devious look in your eyes. "So you were just gonna leave my dorm without a shirt on?"

"Was hoping I could pass as someone going for a morning jog."

"In jeans?"

He falls silent at that, because how could he refute those words? You were just voicing his internal argument, anyways. He lets out a huff and sits on the edge of your bed, taking care to avoid squashing your feet under the blanket. "You have a good point," he finally mutters. He's not sure why he feels embarrassed, but he can feel the tips of his ears heat up as a blush begins to crawl down his features.

"I make those sometimes," you say. He glances at you and catches you looking away from his torso, your cheeks now dusted with the color of shame from being caught in the act. He lets out another chuckle.

"You can look, you know. It's not like I'm actively trying to hide it."

Your response to that is to fish out a pair of sunglasses from your nightside table and put them on before shifting your body to face him. You lean closer to his torso, remarking, "Sunglasses are so great because no one can tell where I'm looking," before straightening up and taking the accessory off. "Sorry. Got struck by divine inspiration for that one."

He just shakes his head, a look of feigned annoyance passing on his features, before he holds his hand out. "Can I have my shirt back now?"

You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes. "I guess." With swift movements, his shirt is off your body and in his hand, exposing your bra -- and upper body -- to the elements. Now it's his turn to stare, and he does so without shame.

"You literally saw all of this last night," you state after a brief period of quiet. That snaps Tsukishima out of his reverie, and he puts his shirt on.

"Yeah? You saw all of this--" he gestures to his now-clothed torso, "--last night too."

"Touché."

The silence returns as he stands and shuffles about the room, seemingly aimless in his wandering. This time, it's tinged with an undercurrent of awkwardness, as if neither of you are sure about what to say next. Finally, he relents: "I'm gonna go now."

"Sounds good!" is your automatic reply, and he watches as you immediately facepalm. "Not good as in, you suck get out, good as in, go live your life, I swear."

"Haha, I got it, no worries."

And with that, he's out the door, the image of you shirtless in your own bed seared into his retinas.

Another round wouldn't hurt, right? is all he's thinking about as he walks back to his own dorm, trying to mathematically calculate how much time should pass before he reaches out to you again. Because you, as a person, seem to have him hooked with your charm and your appeal.

Besides, he's already broken one rule with you -- what's the harm in breaking the other two?

[angularbean]

Cupid's Chokehold [Adam x Fallen Angel! Reader]

"My bitch's hotter than yours."

Word spreads around heaven like wildfire, it doesn't help how big mouthed Adam is. Which he argues is one of his best qualities, among varies of other things; he would say with a wink.

The winners couldn't help but be baffled how Adam managed to snag a pretty thing like you. You were practically the epitome of an angel. He was just, well, Adam.

Ethereal and graceful. Almost always perfect. Almost.

To him, Adam loved you most when you weren't. He loved when strands of hair are out of place. He'd purposely rustle your hair to fuck with you. Not because it reminded him of certain activities; yeah that's exactly why and he knew it.

You always remained calm and collected, but the few times you let your emotions go haywire, Adam reveled in it. Ooh, especially when you got mad. He loved to rile you up. Always purposely trying to upset you, though never serious, he couldn't help it. The way your brows furrowed, eyes glaring, jaw clenched, wings fluffed up... it was always a looong night when you fought.

He especially loved how you looked when you woke up.

So disheveled, imperfect.

Hair frizzed and tussled. Your eyes clouded with sleep. The pretty, little night gown you would wear to sleep falling off your shoulders. He was no better than a sinner.

"Your tits look amazing, babe."

Adam wiggled his brows which earned a soft smack to his shoulder.

Oddly enough, the two of you were almost polar opposites. You were a free thinker; often challenging Heaven's morals. Adam, the commander of the well hidden Exorcists, liked the way Heaven ran.

When Adam's loose lips revealed the extermination plot and you were furious. Much to the dismay to Adam, but doing wonders for his hormones.

You challenged Sera. Heaven is supposed to be peaceful and pure. What they were doing to those poor sinners was wrong. The rest of Heaven should be made aware of this ploy. You threaten Sera; to blow her little operation wide open.

"Do you wish to be cast out just as Lucifer?"

Sera challenged, her voice calm, but the anger in her eyes apparent. Nothing more was said. You wouldn't accept this.

You made your way to the little home you and Adam shared. He had been carelessly lounging on the couch when you announced withdrawal from Heaven.

Adam quickly sat up, spitting out whatever he had been drinking.

"What the fuck? Do you have shit for brains, babe?”

He grabbed your hand leading you to his lap, motioning for you to sit. Which you hesitantly did.

"I know you don't like this, sugar tits, but you don't have to like it. You just have to let it happen. Just stay here with me."

He moved to press a kiss to your cheek. His lips met your hand instead.

"I can't stand by this, Adam. It's not right."

You stood, turning away from him. "I have to leave."

But that was eons ago.

You still loved Adam, and he you. Despite your differences, your love still managed to bloom. He'd visit you in Hell as much as possible, especially on the eve of the exterminations.

The angel missed you, more than he would ever admit. He wished you would just come back to Heaven with him, but he respected your wishes; much to his dismay. That's what he loved about you. How strong-willed you are, always standing for what you believe is right.

Adam always tried to make it up to you. Even though he was more than trilled to execute extermination day; he hated the way they made you feel. Muttering "I'm sorry"'s as he peppered kisses on your skin.

He usually never laid hands on a sinner if it was possible, he even lowered the death quotas.

"It wouldn't be fun with them all dead, now would it? Dumbass."

Up in Heaven, the winners were absolutely baffled at yours and Adam's relationship. Opposites attract, I guess. But it was still a little fucking weird. The chokehold you had on that angel was insane; and he didn't want to be let go.

While away, Adam always had an excuse to bring you up. You were his precious little "angel" after all. He even carried a provocative polaroid of you in his wallet. Adam had absolutely no need for one, he could get whatever he wanted for no price. The wallet carried nothing but a picture of you.

Mid conversation, he'd pull out his wallet and whip out the photo of you.

"Hot as fuck right? Can't wait to tap that later."

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my first adam fic, hope y'all enjoyed! sorry if it's bit ooc(,:

[kevinsdsy]

THE TROJANS SOCIAL MEDIA AU HEADCANONS pt. 1

laila dermott

laila dermott is muslim!! i've had this headcanon since i read the king's men for the first time in 2019 hehe and now is my time to push it.

nabil & laila are besties. they're both muslim and both in same-sex relationships which leads to them having an understanding of each other like no one else on the team could have with them.

ntm laila fr was his standing pillar when he was figuring out his sexuality

nabil mahmoud

nabil is gay!! which is something he really had to deal with and accept due to him being muslim too (bc what am i without the religious trauma due to sexuality lore)

nabil and tony are dating each other in the socmed au!! even without the au i would like to believe and headcanon there's something happening there :))

i've written a bit more about them in another headcanon post tho.

antonio "tony" jones

tony is what like a year or two older than the rest? he's an assistant and i'm not sure how old they're supposed to be in the book tbh so i would like to think it's possible or he's an intern (i love him being an intern either way tho so i'm very much leaning into that one)

jeremy knox

JEREMY KNOX USED TO PLAY FOOTBALL (soccer), but due to him playing so aggressively and due to him always being guilty of too many fouls he switched to exy :))

cody winter

cody doesn't know what sleep is and they don't care to find out. they're living on like 2 to 4 hours a sleep a night and surprisingly enough it works for them too.

cody is also SUPER competitive which is why they have managed to be part of the captain gc. their competiteviness has led to them pushing the backliners as much as cody can and the backliners actually listen to them too.

shawn anderson

oh shawn. shawn shawn shawn.

you were supposed to be no one. a random guy on the team.

you exist to me now. i feel like i could make a whole post about just him atp.

shawn was supposed to be comedic relief for the posts i felt were too out of character for the rest of the team LMAOO, but now he actually has a personality (to me)

shawn works a part time shop at a café. even though he's surrounded by coffee at all times and drinks so much of it he's the sleepiest guy to ever exist.

like that man gets about 8 hours a sleep every day and still takes nap, but still ends up with bags under his eyes.

he's always tired for some reason and everyone is so used to it atp. like he will ALWAYS sleep on the bus/airplane, no matter how long the drive/flight is.

but when he's finally awake he's so hyper. he says the silliest things. repeats the same phrases over and over again and has about zero filter.

most of the time the zero filter has to do with the fact he speaks before he thinks. it even catches himself off guard sometimes.

i feel like this is too long and we haven't even gotten into jean and shawn dynamic so i'm just gonna cut it off here and they’ll get another part i think

derrick allen

bro we don't even know who derrick is, but apparently he's someone to me now too.

this man has crazy attachment issues, but is also the biggest simp for shawn too.

he likes going around kissing shawn and making out with shawn, but whenever shawn mentions something serious derrick acts like it's just a joke. which i guess is easy to do, because shawn is always treating everything as a joke anyways. except he's really not trying to when it comes to derrick.

jean falls victim to shawn ranting and crying about derrick. so jean respectfully ignores derrick til he gets his shit together.

and i just realised i have SO MUCH to say about derrick and shawn too so let me cut myself off.

derek thompson

same as shawn and derrick. derek is supposed to be a no one, but here i am and suddenly derek is being perceived by me too

SOOO derek was supposed to be like the third party with derrick and shawn. it was supposed to be the three of them flirting and making out and being little shits but then y'all were asking about derrick & shawn and i decided yk what let's do it. then later the short oneshot was written by oomf and derek got mentioned as the one shawn is in love with and i was like oh... i fucked up the dynamic. but in another universe it would've been the three of them ig

ANYWAYYSS derek takes medication. i haven't really decided on what kind of medications, but while thinking about him i always imagined either depression or adhd or both idk

and i have so many more headcanons for the au, but this is too long so i´ll post part 2 another time :))