#he sees a reporter in the middle of battle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adelheidvonschicksal · 20 days

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⋆｡°✩ DARLING, DON'T BE AFRAID

Summary: Despite living with Xavier for the past few weeks, you still haven't taken the plunge to see if all this time together make you anything more than roommates especially when he disappears again in the middle of the night. Determined, you decide to question him on where his feelings lie. You just never thought a simple kiss on the cheek was the only push needed.

Pairing: Xavier x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: Roommates AU, Vanilla Smut (A lot of it. Like 7k words of smut), Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Emotional Sex

Word Count: 12,000~

Note: Sequel to Do Roommates Sleep Together. This part can be read as a standalone. So not necessary to read part one but it adds more context.

AO3 Link

You make a final decisive pull of the trigger. A loud pang resonates in the air and smoke spirals off the barrel. The Wanderer disappears in a wisp of debris and dust that is quickly caught in the wind.

Xavier stands a few feet in front of you. His sword twirls with one final arc of light illuminating behind the sharpened tip before it dematerializes in his hand. You’re oblivious to the way his eyes search and find you on instinct as you run eager fingertips on the warm barrel of your pistol.

“Mission completed. We should report back.”

You raise your head to meet his gaze while your gloved fingers remain faithfully on your weapon. The adrenaline from a successful mission is still surging through you.

“I want to test out my guns some more.”

His eyes soften at your response, but the weight of his gaze is still heavy as he walks towards you and places his hand on your head.

“There will be more Wanderers tomorrow,” he murmurs. His thumb gently brushes your forehead before his hand swoops back over your hair. Though your hands were still itching for another battle, your mind was weak to the calmness of his tone, like the slow tumble of waves on the shore, as he coaxes your head back to look at him more directly. “Let’s go home.”

This time you do not protest. Even if you did, what could you possibly say?

Your aggression relaxes along with your shoulders, allowing you to give in to his request with a quick holstering of your twin guns.

You return to headquarters and give your mission report to Jenna – pausing only to poke fun when she mentions how much Xavier’s reporting time has improved since the two of you became partners – then you start on the way home with the sun kissing at your back.

Laughter fills the air on the streets. Immediately, you feel warm inside. It was only thanks to the work you do every day that citizens could enjoy this peaceful dusk without fear of monsters scrambling to destroy the city like so many years ago.

It’s rewarding to know you hold some small part in the safety of the city after almost dying in the catastrophe as a child. You breathed it in fully, letting joy fill your lungs as you savor the calm moment. The emotion is only highlighted by the fact that when you look to your side, you can see Xavier there, putting weight to the empty space left in the wake of your family’s death.

Walking home together in the past was a random occurrence, happening whenever your busy schedules after missions aligned. As freshly cemented roommates, it was almost a given you’d walk home together now. Not just to the apartment complex, but to an actual shared home.

This path you go along every day has become special in that time. It’s full of promises, the kind you could only wish for on snowy New Year's evenings as you tied red ribbons to the shrine gate and prayed for good things to happen in your life. Not a lot of those wishes came true but Xavier did.

In that way, you were a fortunate person.

It was only your guess if he felt the same. You want to ask him. Unlike when you’re fighting Wanderers, you’re not brave when it comes to Xavier - a part of you prefers to leave things between you unsaid. It’s safer that way as you can keep living in a beautiful world of your own illusions.

Therefore, you’re unable to help yourself. Pinching the sleeve of his uniform, you tug on it gently to gain his attention; Xavier looks at you with glossy glazed eyes. He’s always so sluggish after missions. His steps slow and methodical, like a robot, as he barely manages to straighten his spine and raise his head.

“Chin up, Xavier. We’re almost there.”

“I’m exhausted,” he says.

You don’t need to hear him say it to understand. You think you’ve become good at reading his body language by now. Donning a sympathetic smile, you shift your hand, aiming for a lower target, and entwine your fingers with his under the guise of leading him faster.

“My next solution is carrying you by the way.”

A smile cracks on his face, impossibly light as his gaze drifts to the hold you have on his hand. “I don’t think you could carry me.”

“You dare doubt me?” Truth be told, he was right. He was tall and muscular and much thicker under that uniform than he looked. He would probably crush you under his weight if you tried to lift him. Despite how improper it was to think, you wouldn’t mind if he wanted to place his weight on top of you in another way. You tick up the corner of your lips into a surprisingly innocent smile opposite of the images in your imagination as you flash your bicep to him. “I’m very strong.”

“I think it would make more sense if I carried you.”

“I can walk.”

“I don’t see why that matters,” he says with a yawn, and you smile.

“Are you sure you won’t drop me?”

“If it’s a choice between falling asleep and dropping you then I’ll definitely stay awake. Otherwise, you might end up carrying me after all,” he says. Xavier always manages to be unfailingly charming. Given the mystery of his past and the way he carries himself, you often question exactly what kind of upbringing he had. You almost ask but your interrogation doesn’t have the chance to plant seeds when he stops in front of you and kneels.

You thought he was joking when he said he’d carry you home but that doesn’t stop you from wrapping your arms over his broad shoulders and letting him scoop your legs up around his solid waistline.

His clasp on the back of your thighs makes you shiver. You feel like a touch-starved virgin that the simple strength of his hands over the thickness of your pants incited such a reaction out of you, so you bury your burning face against the back of his neck.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

Xavier must feel your hair against his neck, and you use the fact he can’t see your face to your advantage as you nod against his nape.

“Just hungry.”

For his part, Xavier doesn’t question your sudden hunger. Instead, he asks what you’re in the mood for and starts to list the restaurants that you pass on the way to the apartment complex.

You lay your cheek against him, watching the many buildings pass you by until you point out one you don’t recognize, flashing with many signs about a grand opening.

“How about that one?” you ask.

Xavier chuckles, continuing on in his steps past the building in question. “It’s not that great.”

“How do you know?”

“I tried them out.”

You squeeze into his shoulders, pushing off of them in a childlike manner and an even more dramatic gasp. “Without me?”

“I was going to bring you something back, but they weren’t very tasty. I like your cooking a lot more.”

You know he can’t see you, but you puff out your cheeks anyway. You wrap your arms tightly around him again, willing your heart not to skip when his back tenses as your chest compresses against him.

“Are you asking me to cook dinner for you? I’m quite exhausted after all that running around,” you tell him sarcastically.

He accidentally makes you regret your teasing when he agrees with a compassionate offer, “I’ll cook for you today.”

Hearing the word cook from his mouth makes your stomach sour. If there’s one thing after all these months you learned, it’s that Xavier is a…creative cook to put it gently. Or rather, he has zero cooking ability if it involves electricity. You didn’t mind. The two of you make it work with you doing most of the cooking and him cleaning up after, at your own behest, because if he had his way, he’d be in the kitchen much more often.

“On second thought, I’ll cook.”

“You still don’t trust me,” he says with a sigh. Guilt tingles through you. However, your continued survival outweighs the guilt that the memory of his puppy eyes can draw out of you. “I’ll handle the cold stuff, and I’ll leave the meat to you.”

“Deal,” you say, nuzzling your head against his neck.

When you get home, the night pans out like it always does. The two of you take turns in the shower with dinner being cooked shortly after, and the human garbage disposal known as your roommate leaves very little work for you to do once all is said and done.

You decide to start on the last of chores for today while Xavier washes the dishes. It’s routine to check the plants before going to bed as the many potted flowers were like your own children after you spent so many hours tending to them, finding the perfect ratio of nutrients and water to keep them thriving.

It is also routine to hunt down the birds so lovingly named Fatso and Alarm Clock by the sleepy man of the house to give them some of the seeds and nuts you regularly brought home from the store. You told Xavier that happy birds would stop eating his strawberries when in reality you liked to spoil them.

So, you spread out the seeds on the ground for them, leaving them there for later.

“If you feed them, they’ll never leave.”

You can’t help the laugh that leaves you. As much as he complains about the birds, you think, if his constant curiosity about the birds’ day-to-day lives was anything to go by, that he’d miss the two fluffy creatures if they were to ever find new nesting grounds. You turn back to the balcony door with a cheeky grin. “I have experience with things that don’t leave after you feed them. You enjoyed dinner a little too much.”

It’s hard to see in the fading light but Xavier blushes and brings a shy grip to the back of his neck. “Last I checked you moved in with me.”

That silences you. There’s no denying his observation, and you fail to notice him getting closer until he reaches his hand out to help you up. You willingly reach out, hand sinking into his touch as he lifts you to your feet.

The coolness of your palms touching slowly births a lingering warmth. The soft squeeze around your hand makes it hard to let him go but eventually you must. Otherwise, you might say things that are better kept to yourself as you walk back into the house and close the sliding door behind you.

With a pounding heart, you retire to your room early.

This room is a little different from the master room at your old apartment. The wall color is a little different brighter and it’s smaller. Luckily, you made the space work pretty easily by migrating half your plushie collection into Xavier’s room, checking like a dutiful mother to make sure he was treating them right and placing them with love should they roll off his dresser. Sighing, you change into slightly more comfortable clothes, choosing a random pair of soft shorts and a tank top to wear before climbing into bed. It’s ten when you finally let your eyes slip shut, and it's around eleven you feel someone touching you.

Your eyelids are surprisingly heavy; you can barely pry them open enough to see the wisp of grey-brown hair shadowing medium-blue eyes. You don’t protest as you feel his fingertips brush along your waist or when his knee digs into the mattress, sinking you towards his weight.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he wants. You raise your arm enough to let your fingertips greet the curve of his chin in silent acceptance. Slowly, you drop your hand and squeeze his bicep. Like a good little soldier, he follows the order to fall into the bed with you.

The most comfortable position is to slot your arm on top of his as he hugs your waist, props his leg on top of yours, and spoons your back. There’s absolutely zero space between your lower halves; and if he notices how you, with a small amount of shame, subtly shift and push yourself back on him a little more, he doesn’t say as he lolls his head against the curve of your neck while his incredibly light exhaling on your skin comforts you after a long day.

With a flutter of your eyelids, you slowly slip back into sleep with the happiness that comes with being roommates with your crush.

It’s times like these that make you think maybe he loves you. It’s also times like these that make you forget that despite all of the endearing things about him and despite how much you care about him, you don’t truly know a lot about him.

Xavier has always been a man with a lot of secrets. You’ve known this since you first met him asleep in the forest. It’s true that you once accepted the fact you’d never learn all his secrets but that was before whatever this abnormal relationship that the two of you found yourself in.

Even after living together for more than two months now, you still had no idea where he would go when he would sneak off in the middle of the night. You didn’t question where he goes anymore, you found that he wouldn’t give you a straight answer to save his life. You merely stayed up until you heard the sound of the door opening or the warped echo of air being sucked into a vacuum, indicating he teleported inside.

So, when you wake up at two in the morning, finding yourself alone and the side of the bed where he laid mere hours ago already cold, you’re not surprised.

Getting out of bed, you slip on your slippers and drag your feet to the balcony. It’s a familiar situation when you collapse into the swing chair, with nothing but the cold and the chirping of the birds to keep you company until he undoubtedly returns with his body hosting a family of fresh wounds.

It’s incredibly frustrating because you love him and seeing him hurt, without you having been there to prevent it, drives you crazy. You wonder why he won’t tell you, and your heart sinks, as quickly as a stone cast in a lake, with the idea that maybe you were the only one thinking that your relationship meant more than it did. Because even after all this time, you still aren’t close to him in the way you want.

Clenching your fists, you shove your eyes against them. It was all so infuriating when he ran off to fight Wanderers or whoever and left you all alone to overthink and worry about him like some helpless house plant. It was enough to make you want to cry as the strange foreboding sense of losing him begins to echo inside of you, making you nauseous. There’s only one way to get rid of this feeling. Taking in a deep breath, you settle to give him a piece of your mind about sneaking off so much and also to bite the bullet to confess your feelings.

It was only a matter of waiting for him to actually return home and to get your heightened nerves to stop firing in every direction in the meantime.

By the time you heard the door to the apartment creaking open, you’d nearly fallen asleep in the wicker swing chair. You swallow down the bitter taste of fear, ignoring the tumultuous waves it makes when it hits your stomach. You’d never get anywhere if you didn’t face him.

Carefully, you hop up from your seat and make slow strides into the apartment. It’s still dark in the house; you hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights earlier. Yet Xavier carries a lightness around him, mostly imagined by yourself, that makes him easy to spot in the darkness.

For a moment, things seem normal as he takes a few stiff steps forward. Suddenly, he falls forward, the white of his uniform nearly a blur with how fast he collapses onto the sofa, but it is nothing compared to the speed at which you rush to his side.

You call his name, press two fingers to his throat, and let your eyes slip closed with a desperate concentration as you search for his pulse behind the blaring red of his collar.

It’s a gradual pace, averaging twenty beats a minute and slowly rising. For anyone else, you’d immediately rush them to the hospital. For Xavier, that number is a relief.

You hold your hand to your pounding heart, practicing deep measured inhales to calm it. It appears he fell asleep as soon as he entered the room, with only enough awareness to kick off his shoes at the door.

It looks like your lecture will have to be postponed for another day.

You’re thankful for all the training you had to take to become a hunter because it takes an enormous amount of effort to throw one of his arms over your shoulders and drag him to his bedroom. You make a mental note to never let him question your ability to carry him again as you sit him on the bed and shuffle off his uniform jacket, leaving him only in his pants.

In a tender motion, you gently cup his face and examine him. Dirt cakes his face; and when you brush it away, there’s a small cut on his cheek. It hits you again just how reckless and secretive he can be, echoing with a bitter thought that he didn’t bring you again. The only bright spot is the little cut is his only injury this time.

Laying him on his back, you leave for only a moment to get a warm washcloth and an adhesive from the bathroom. It’s a blue band-aid with a cartoonish pink bunny on it, something a kid would love and has probably been collecting dust in the drawer longer than you’ve been alive.

It takes all the seriousness out of your body when you return, clean his face off, and place the colorful bandage on his cheek. It’s hard to believe this narcoleptic pretty boy was the strongest member of the Hunters Association.

“I didn’t think when we moved in together I was going to become a babysitter,” you commented with a little huff and poke of his cheek. “You’re terrible at taking care of yourself. Can’t cook. Can’t stay awake. Can’t tell someone when you’re going out. I bet you didn’t even lock the door when you came in. …What if a Wanderer floated in after you and trampled all the flowers, or did you just not want to leave any for me tomorrow?”

You know your complaints are falling on deaf ears as he cuddles up to his pillow without a care in the world. But if you didn’t complain, you’d get depressed instead. Dropping to your knees, you sit on the floor and prop your elbow on the bed to get a better look at him.

He looks so peaceful.

There’s no tension, no crease to his expression. It’d be easy to mistake him for a normal young man if it weren’t for the strong humming of his Evol tickling at the wall of your resonance.

“I’ll let you sleep, but you’re getting it in the morning! I expect answers. Otherwise, I won’t cook breakfast for you,” you attempt to sound threatening in your words with every poke to his cheek a not-so-silent promise to follow through. “I’ll take my missions with the new recruit all the ladies at work gossip about. And the next time I get a snack shipment, I’m letting Jeremiah have first pick!”

With one last prod to his face and no reaction otherwise, you stop your demands and sit back on your legs.

Bit by bit, you feel your energy dissolving. It’s no use. It’s all empty threats. You’ll probably not cook for a few days, eat in front of him too, at least until he gives you those puppy eyes, and you’ll fold just like origami paper. You’ll still save him the snack you know he likes even if you allow Jeremiah first pick of the rest. And you’d never be interested in the new recruit or anyone else.

Xavier can be distant and formal. For others, his hyper-independence was evident. Taking on missions alone and avoiding group settings is just the way Xavier’s personality works. He’s reliable and gets along with everyone at a surface level and he’s known to go out of his way to help others without seeking validation for it so it never ruffled any feathers when he goes off on his own or rejects an invitation to drink with the others after work.

They didn’t see. They didn’t see how easy it was to care about him. They appreciate him but they weren’t aware of how intensely and passionately he could feel when he unfurls that independent nature. How he always quietly adjusts his dominant foot to point your direction whenever a Wanderer appears. How his voice drops and his touch becomes the smallest bit more graceful and careful when he sees you upset. How sweetly he looks when he sleeps.

It makes your resolve crumble and your heart squeeze, something only he can do without even being awake to know it.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you mumble to him.

As you lean closer, you easily ignore the stirring in your gut that tells you to stop.

The bandage is a little rough against your lips as you seize the chance to kiss him. It’s a short and small thing, much more delicate than your prodding from earlier because you want to indulge the romantic in you. You want him to somehow sense the feelings cultivated in your heart over the past few months though impossible when he’s asleep.

You don’t let it last long. Instead, the desperate urge to feel his heat against you spurs you to rest your forehead against his cheek. It’s warm and soft, and the faint scent of pine trees of the no-hunt zone fills your nose. You savor being this close to him, allowing yourself to indulge in it until the heat on your skin starts to match his, and you finally let him have peace for the night.

With no need to remain in his room, you stand and pivot towards the door, wondering how you’ll manage to grasp any form of sleep tonight. However, you don’t make it two steps before there’s a tug at your arm.

You yelp as you’re pulled towards the bed while the shock has you stumbling forward into it. The hand leaving your arm in favor of grasping around your wrist stops you from falling completely but your knees have already buckled. You’re left nearly a head under him when he finally swings his legs over the side of the bed and shifts into a full sitting position. This position is oddly familiar. When you uncertainly force your eyes up to meet his face, this vulnerable angle becomes unmistakable.

His voice is husked and rasped from sleep, sending a chill up your spine when paired with the swirling shadows darkening his blue eyes under his hooded lids and dark lashes. That’s the look of a predator, of the association’s strongest hunter, and you face the inkling realization that you’re the prey.

Nervously, you begin to divert your eyes. He takes a page out of your own playbook and reaches under your chin to guide your sight back to him as you fight not to whimper at the pressure of his thumb pushing down as if he wants to part your lips. It isn’t until now that you notice how close you are to his lap and how another few inches would drop you to your knees.

“Why worry about Wanderers following me home when you’re so much scarier.”

“What do you mean?”

Memory has never been your friend. This though is the first time you’ve forgotten how to breathe when his fingers completely close around your wrist. His hold is firm, preventing you from wringing your way out of his grasp, but it doesn’t hurt.

He might as well take that grasp and use it to squeeze your heart instead when he brings your hand to his face. You’re unsure what he’s planning; the awkwardness of the situation makes your fingers straighten and twitch away as he holds your hand closer to his face. Sensing your trepidation, he closes the last of the distance instead by tilting his head into your hand with the same affection as always as he lets your fingertip brush against the silly little bunny bandage.

The familiarity of the motion puts your heart a little more at ease but not enough to bring your breathing back to you as he mumbles, “I don’t remember giving you permission to kiss me.”

Your lips part with a silent puff while your brows push forward, highlighting the confusion in your mind onto your face. He takes advantage of the moment to nuzzle your hand. It’s a notion you can’t appreciate as his words finally sink into your mind and reform into a horrifying conclusion.

“…You were awake the whole time.”

He chuckles so easily at the dry peep that echoes from you, the rivet of that warm sound collects in your palm and makes your face scalding hot. You didn’t face a burning heat like this even when fighting one of those flame dragons. All the while, Xavier was laughing at you…

“Not the whole time.”

With your head catching up, you find enough of yourself again to actually glare at him and smack his shoulder. “That’s not the point!”

With another display of strength, he locks your other wrist, pulls you up, and then snatches you into him. Luckily, you’re able to flatten your palms against his chest to brace yourself. His heart as well as his face is unnervingly calm compared to your own organ that’s currently orchestrating its escape from your chest, battering your ribcage even harder as you unconsciously stretch your fingers over his naked skin.

You don’t like this. This bullying, which you only describe as such because you can’t think of a word more fitting for the way he’s treating you, is too one-sided.

“It was on the cheek,” you argue with a steeled voice. You fake the confidence to stare him back down, choosing to trade your determination to confess to him tonight in exchange for preserving your pride. “It was friendly.”

To your satisfaction, your declaration of war makes him the one to pause this time. His eyes widen and there’s a quiver in those waves of blue that he hides by glancing down and away.

“…Is that what it was?”

You nod. “I wasn’t…going to do anything else.”

Xavier smiles, shaking his head, and there’s a new determination in his eyes that causes your teeth to clench down on the inside of your cheek as he leans closer.

“In that case, is it okay to return the favor?”

He doesn’t give you the time to answer. He’s already closing the distance, his dark lashes already fluttering, and his lips already puckering to kiss you as you’re squeezed flushed against him, only your palms stopping your chest from colliding with his.

“Wait!”

Hearing your disapproval, he pauses, but that cheeky grin still doesn’t dissipate.

“What's wrong?” he asks with a sigh. You’re sure it’s not a true question. “Am I not allowed to give you a friendly kiss as well.”

The implications make your stomach twist while your thighs squeeze together pathetically with the sudden throbbing of arousal that spikes through you as you tumble further and further into this rabbit’s trap.

“I—that’s!”

“So, you were misbehaving,” he concludes from your sheepishness. “I guess that means I need to punish you instead.” He breaks his hold around one of your wrists to ghost his fingertips along your cheek and down your neck until all you can do in response is breathe out a moan, much to his surprise given by the rise of his eyebrows and the slight dust of pink on his bewildered face. “…I didn’t think you were that sensitive there.”

Your mind swims with the traitorous thought of wanting to show him where you’re more sensitive dancing in your mind before you can sweep it away. When his fingers dance along your neck again, you whimper and hold in another moan.

“Don’t hold back on my account. You know my most sensitive spot after all, as hunting partners, it only makes sense for me to know yours, right?”

You can hardly think of a response to that. It’s true. You know his biggest weaknesses and as you come to terms with the situation you run your thumb over the plump inside of your thigh hesitantly. It takes you almost an entire minute to decide on what you want to say, and you don’t notice his hold on your wrist weakening.

“My weakness—”

Suddenly, your arm drops back to your side.

“I’m kidding,” Xavier states; the small smile he normally wears comes back to his face as you look up at him with wide eyes. “I was only curious as to what your reaction would be.”

The tension in the air wanes and buries itself in your heart. The embarrassment clings to every cell living in you, unshakeable as you try to keep a brave face. “You’re cruel.”

“Am I? You were the one touching me, all the while promising to run off with some rookie,” he reminds you.

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t—you’re so frustrating,” you scream at him, and this is the first time he appears to take you seriously all night.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, with less teasing and more concern. He wraps an arm around your waist. His legs slot between yours, leaving your knees to collide with the plush of the bed as he hugs you tighter and tighter until you’re nearly seated in his lap. “Don’t be mad. I only thought—”

“Xavier?”

“Did you really mean it then?” he redirects. He snakes his other arm around your waist, this time when he holds you it feels…weak, and his pursed lips and narrowed eyes hold back a troubled emotion. “That it was in a friendly way?”

Your breath hitches at the swirl of his thumbs nervously circling the small of your waist. Nervously, he waits for an answer you long lost in the rapids of the constantly changing tides of the last few minutes.

“If you meant it…if you truly wanted to kiss me,” he pauses, trying to find his voice. The one to tell you that you’re all he thinks about. “Then you should have woken me up.” His face holds a serene glow that completely enraptures you as he looks up at you. “I wouldn’t have rejected you,” he swore.

He loved you so much it ached. Moving in together should have been enough to prove it. He guesses not; because when he thinks you want him back, you’re so hesitant to accept. Even now, you’re unable to respond.

This cycle has become painful, even for someone as patient as himself, the wait when you’re this close to him is agonizing. So, he decides now to be the one to end this circle the two of you found yourself in with one decisive motion.

He tests the waters, not knowing if he’ll swim or drown, but he has confidence in his ability to read your personality and actions as he cups the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss.

Your mind empties immediately, your body on autopilot when it registers the warm, silky skin of his lips on yours. Closing your eyes, you willingly tumble and fall into the taste of him, chasing after it when he breaks away.

“There. We’re even,” he says, but to you, that’s far from the truth. You’re far from even after all the heartache and sleepless nights he’s been putting you through, after all the push and pull that left you aching and wanting both in your heart and between your thighs.

The self-satisfied smile on his face quickly fades as you grope his shoulders, digging your nails in like you’re afraid he’ll escape. Your knees press to the top of the bed as you plant yourself more onto his lap. He braces his hands on your hips to catch you as you run your hand into his hair and crane his head back, so he has to look you in the eye.

His ears pinken at your sudden brazenness, but it doesn’t reflect in his voice as he smiles at you. “Are you trying to get more?”

“Am I being too greedy?” you ask. He chuckles at the jut of your lips and the pleading eyes before you press another demanding kiss to the corner of his lips.

Xavier moans from his throat as he latches onto your jaw to redirect your kisses to his lips. Kissing him is nearly maddening, the twitch of his muscular thighs under your ass making your mind hazy. With one hard squeeze at your hips, he catches up to the zealousness of your kisses.

His tongue pokes and prods at your mouth. However, he doesn’t need much permission to keep going as you open your mouth wider. His mind skips and lags at just how quickly your mouth overtakes the slick appendage. It leaves him more than a little out of breath and flustered with the rate your mouths keep parting and meeting, tongues desperately searching and licking the inside your mouths as if this is the first meal you’ve had in weeks.

You’re hungry to memorize each other despite having all the time in the world now to do just that. When the two of you finally indulged enough and earned enough satisfaction, you’re able to calm down and readjust the pace.

“I think we’re both greedy,” he jokes about the both of you before sliding his tongue back into your mouth. This time he’s slower as he presses down on your tongue, causing your teeth to lightly graze over the top of his.

There are too many sensations going on for you to keep up. The way your breasts hug his hard chest has you feeling sensitive while the heat seeping from his tongue stroking in your mouth has your stomach bundled in tight knots that won’t know release until he’s inside of you.

Dreams were nothing compared to this. Nights filled with nothing but inappropriate thoughts of him turn into nightmares at the slim chance of having to face them again should this go wrong.

Impatiently, his fingers curve into the hump of your ass to anchor you and encourage you to grind on his lap, or rather grind against the hard tent brazenly making its presence known with each hurried roll of your hips.

You whine from the separation of your sexes when he begins to lift you up, but your complaints quickly die in your throat. They’re replaced by a squeal as he flips you and your back bounces on the mattress.

Xavier climbs over you, his face flushed, breath ragged, and overall, he’s just absolutely beautiful to you. Reaching up, you cup his cheek and play with the ends of his hair, unable to recall the last time you’ve felt this high.

“Xavier,” you whisper breathlessly as you swoop his bangs back to see more of his handsome face and save it to memory. “What are we?”

Xavier tilts his head, furrowing his brow at your question, and there’s a second where a ray of doubt breaks through the clouds of lust in his irises. “We’re…whatever you want to be.”

“I want to be with you,” you say. Those words tumble out more effortlessly than you ever thought.

Xavier overlaps your hand with his, holding on tight as if to prove a point. “You are with me.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” he corrects. Then, he dazzles you as he always does, “I want you to tell me so there’s no mistake, and you can’t take it back later.”

You inwardly become embarrassed when it crosses your mind that this is the first time you’ve ever confessed to him without multiple drinks in your system. It’s too late to turn back now that you’ve crossed the Milky Way and landed on the other side.

But why would you when you’re so close?

“I want to be with you always. Whenever and wherever you are. Whether that’s having fun together or fighting. I-I love you, and—”

“And I love you,” he answers. You’re not sure if you’re jealous or relieved that he can say those three words without hesitation.

“I don’t want anything to be between us. I don’t want any more secrets or hidden things. I’m tired of this. I just want to be real, more than partners or roommates or whatever other title that isn’t boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Okay,” Xavier agrees as easily as he agreed to be roommates with you in the first place.

“Okay?”

“I want that too,” he agrees as he repositions himself on top of you and his lips curve into a small smirk, “girlfriend.”

You’re accustomed to the finicky organ known as your heart tightening with pain when you’re overwhelmed; this time when it skips a beat, it’s welcomed. Smiling, you gaze up at him as he releases a slow, strained breath. It’s validating to know he’s been just as nervous as you.

Everything suddenly becomes full force again when his knees move to either side of your legs while he pins your hands above your head in one tight fist. His teeth nip at your earlobe, and his free hand gropes at your breast, fingers outstretching to fully take it in his grasp. Wet kisses burn on your throat, each one firing off a rapid signal to arch your back.

“Slow down,” you whine before cutting it off with a moan as he hits a particular delicate spot. The discovery spurs him on, like a pet with a new toy, and he bites your nape once again causing your hips to jerk. With a burning desire building in your stomach at every touch, you pitifully hug your thighs together to try to ease it. “I didn’t get a chance to absorb all that,” you tell him, mostly to get some time to catch up. It backfires wonderfully as he grips onto the bottom of your tank top.

“I have a better way to help you understand.”

The sheets shift with his movement, your lower half dipping towards him as if he holds his own gravitational field. He settles between your legs and strokes against you with one slow, languid rock. It instantly makes you throb. It’s painful how hard you clench over absolutely nothing, panties gathering the lust that’s dripping from you.

You simultaneously hate and love him for causing this need that’s bubbling inside you.

Large hands press your shirt further up your torso. “Arms up,” he demands softly, which you have no problem obeying, and he quickly lifts your shirt over your head.

He lowers his hands to hold at your waist, and they fall still on you as he takes in your naked skin. You’re not privy to his thoughts. The silence of the room feels defean-ing now that your needy gasps of air aren’t filling it.

He pauses, eyes taking you in as you raise your eyebrows at his hesitancy. Xavier smiles, mumbling out, “Just thinking where to start.”

Xavier smiles at you so tenderly. Everything about him is incredibly soft on first appearance. He has big blue puppy eyes, he prefers white, cozy clothes, and his voice is just as gentle as his appearance. Everything about him is soft except for his hands.

Those are hardy and battle-honed, worn with calluses built up with every swing of the sword he’s taken since he was a child, enough of them to slay thousands of Wanderers over the years.

They drag.

Oh, they drag so dangerously slow over your skin, dipping into the pudge of your stomach and highlighting a small circle in the warm, buzzing glow of his Evol. The rays shine gold over your flesh, shimmering brightly in the dark of the room.

“Here,” he states before hunting down another spot on your torso. A beauty mark, like a beacon, earns the sharp eyes of a hunter. He zones in on the vulnerable location, creating a golden target. “Maybe here.”

You squirm with every mapped spot he creates. “Xavier.”

The residue of his power leaves your skin humming; you’re overly aware of each spot he highlights with his power. You like to think your senses would still be heightened regardless of this little game. After all, you’ve been wanting him to touch you forever.

Every night next to him felt like torture, being unable to touch him more than a hug when all you could feel on your back was his hard chest, his arm tight around your waist, and the outline of his cock against your ass as he sighed in your ear.

It runs through your head that he must have put more thought into touching you than you assumed as he continues to stripe lines over the top of your thighs right under your night shorts, making your breath heavy in your throat. You’re no longer sure if he’s marking you to tease you, to track what parts of your body he’s claimed for himself, or to simply make you laugh from the humming of his Evol tickling you like fuzzy static on an old tv screen. Even as he smiles at your shallow giggles, there’s no denying the aura of possession radiating from him that makes you antsy when he finally presses his finger to your sternum.

“Let’s start here,” he says followed by a soft hum as he tattoos a line straight between your breasts, leaving you highlighted in slowly fading graffiti.

“About time you decided,” you say with an playfully exaggerated roll of your eyes. He cocks his head at you with a sly smile.

“I can’t help if I want to touch all of you,” he murmurs. Any response you had ready dies when he licks the encircled zone of your shoulder then swiftly to the notch of your throat, drawing a moan out of you that you didn’t think you were capable of until you met him.

Tilting your head, you allow him more room to work as he kisses your chest. His warm tongue slips through the line he marked, his nose dragging against you as he litters your engorged skin with kisses.

“More,” you beg. Who was he to keep you waiting any longer?

He slips a fingerpad over the tip of your nipple, gently pressing down and then rolling it. It does nothing to satiate you. Satisfaction keeps escaping your grasp, the goalpost of what’s enough moving further out of reach with every pinch and pull of your pebbling nipples. Chasing it makes you brash, and you give a hard push to the back of his head.

Just as you want, he spoils you. He bites and nips the supple skin, drawing out soft pleas from your angelic lips. When he finally graces you with the slick, velvety lap of his tongue on your pert nipple, you mewl and arch. His lips are a little rough after being out all night, his hunger for you more palpable than ever as he gropes harder and sucks at your wet skin.

Your aching pussy throbs with every brush of his clothed cock. Your patience drains more and more as you crave something to fill you. It isn’t until he switches sides and gently nips and suckles around your other teat that you realize he’s been fingerprinting you with his Evol, the polka dots slowly fade away each time he adjusts his hand to knead your breast.

“You’re still being cruel,” you manage between moans.

“I think I’m being very fair,” he reasons, recapturing your lips to silence your complaints, and it works as your mind keeps repeating when his tongue makes a temporary reservation back in the confines of your mouth.

When he parts with you again, he cements it with a soft kiss then another. He keeps peppering them on you so fast that you almost miss the way his tongue darts over your bottom lip before his teeth bite down.

Xavier sighs between his kisses, each one adding more pressure, turning from loving, adoration-filled into needy, heavy smooches.

“Wanted.”

Another kiss that leaves you whimpering.

“To.”

He fondles your chest again, alternating between rolling and pinching your sensitive, puffed nipple then grasping your bare tits in his hands, molding and kneading them.

“With you.”

With your thighs closing at his waist, you curve your back and meet the sloppy buck of his hips. There’s a rush of excitement leaking from you when his kisses trail back over your breasts, hitting the tiny ring of bite marks he seared on you before tracing across the targets of light decorating your belly.

“So bad.”

Skin on fire, legs spread wide to accommodate his chest as he sinks lower to press wet kisses to your stomach, you call out to him. “Xavier, baby,” you whisper and brush his hair to get his attention. And does he give it to you when his eyes flick up to look at you from under the grey tuffs of his hair.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight.

You bring your finger to your lips, not only to pry them open so you can speak but also because you need to bite on it. Otherwise, the surge of lust in you at the sight of his head so close to your cunt and the back of your thighs resting on his broad shoulders would cause you to cum right there.

“My most sensitive spot…is my legs…”

It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, and he quirks his eyebrows up at you with false concern. He lowers his head to kiss your stomach again, this time noticeably closer to your mound. “Are you sure you want to tell me that in this situation? It isn’t wise for the prey to put themselves at a disadvantage.”

“I said no secrets,” you remind him, curling a finger to beckon him back up. Inwardly, you curse that he decides to bring your legs with him by keeping them propped up on his shoulders. Somehow, you manage to ignore his obvious teasing and poke at the cutesy adhesive still stuck on his face. “If you were listening, you should know you’re still in trouble for sneaking off so much without telling me.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he tells you, a layer of remorse riding his explanation. “I wasn’t expecting to go anywhere.”

Amused, you shake your head at how boyish he sounds as he defends himself while he pulls off that wide and pleading look to bolster his cause. Even with your amusement, you’re not willing to let him off just yet. Sternly, you tap his cheek again.

“That’s not going to work this time.”

Pouting, Xavier holds onto your hand, stopping your playful jabs. “Please give me a chance to lighten my sentence, Miss Hunter, it was unintentional,” he negotiates with a kiss on your palm. The sincerity in his request eases your heart enough to allow him a little wiggle room, or perhaps it’s the slick trailing more between your folds.

“You only got until morning to make a case for yourself.”

“I’ll make you forget by then.” He snatches up your ankle towards his face, a much more pleasant position than your last, as your muscles were starting to ache from having your knees pushed to your face.

He caresses your ankle, pressing an airy kiss. The little bump of his nose against the ball of your ankle tickles, making a giggle cascade from your lips as you slide lower with the pull of your leg.

“Silly,” he mumbles before shuffling off your shorts. Your underwear comes off with more of a fight, the stickiness soaked into it causing the dainty fabric to cling lewdly to your skin and outline to the shape of your cunt.

You don’t often hear Xavier curse but that’s what happens along with his tongue rolling over his upper lip when he catches the image. He reaches out and his fingers twitch, threatening to curve against the spreading stain in your panties but he resists and hooks his fingers into the waistband. He takes his sweet time watching the doused material peeling from you with thin strands of cum sticking to it.

It takes him more effort than he’d like to admit to resist diving straight in. Instead, he keeps it slow, sensual, as much for his sake as yours as he skims his lips up your calf.

He does the same with your center, carefully pressing two fingers against you as he holds your leg up on his shoulder. His mouth stays on your inner thigh, but his eyes are entirely locked on his fingers and the way they effortlessly collect your cum and slip between your lips with barely a push. You can feel his breath shudder out against you before he forces it down with a bite of your thigh but that does nothing to hide the way his entire body tenses when his fingers slip from your clit all the way to your clenching hole.

It does nothing good for your ego or your sanity to think how normally calm and collected Xavier is losing his composure just by touching you. How he’s so obviously turned on when you haven’t nearly returned as much as he’s been giving you.

He presses his hands at the crook of your thighs, pushing your legs further apart, and quenches himself between your legs. His name leaves you in one low drawn-out sigh. Sure, you were baiting him when you told him your weakness, but you weren’t expecting him to abuse the knowledge so readily.

He held your legs blood cuttingly tight to keep you from squirming away from his wriggling tongue, and by the moan that reverberates from his chest and the strong jerk against the mattress when your juices hit his tongue, you think he would only be satisfied if you crushed his head between your straining thighs. When he suckles your clit; when his voice, muffled, hits your pussy; when his biceps tighten around your legs as if encouraging you to do so, and when his eyes meet yours with a silent demand, you know that’s exactly what he wants.

At the plunging of his fingers in you, you break down, catch his head in a vice-like grip, and push him into you. Your heart flutters and the remaining butterflies in your stomach migrate away at the growl he lets out. Your walls happily clench around those thick fingers, your dripping hole making it easy and smooth work to pump in and out of you. You’re not sure when he decides he would rather feel your muscle tightening around his tongue instead, but you can only respond with the tilt of your head back into the sheets and the stroke of your heel on his bare back when it happens.

The only thing better is his palm grinding down on your clit, alternating between slow rotations and rough sporadic grinding that has your toes curling and your eyes glossing with the buildup of tears.

“You’re too loud,” he comments yet he doesn’t stop, in fact, he presses down harder, making you whine. “You’re going to wake the neighbors.”

“Since when have you cared what the neighbors think?” you barely manage to whimper out.

“I’m not worried about them. I just don’t want anyone else to hear what only I should,” he remarks, lapping up the juices spilling down your legs.

His confession is a surprise to you. You never took him to be so possessive. But if that possessiveness is what kept his tongue swirling on your swollen clit and an intense moan escaping your lips then you didn’t mind.

However…

His fingers weren’t enough anymore.

Choosing to surprise him, you decide to turn the tables on him. You jerk your legs, catching him off guard but not enough to tip him over. He looks at you with concern. It doesn’t stop you from trying again with extra force this time until you can weaken his grasp and force him down on his back.

Having the world’s strongest hunter under you was only something you could dream of—first as a rival and now as a lover. The adrenaline has you tunnel-visioned as you straddle his stomach, your soaked cunt making a waterboard out of his abs, which Xavier has also picked up on if the dusky pink on his cheeks is anything to go by.

You grab his hands, gripping tight to regain his attention. Xavier looks taken back especially when your fingers interlock his and pin them back. Whether he’s shocked or curious you don’t know, and you also don’t ask to borrow his power.

“You’ve been having too much fun,” you tell him as you check to make sure your finger is sufficiently coated with light. “For my turn, I’ll attack here and here,” you whisper, marking off his chest and drawing a line across his neck.

There’s a hint of worry finally when he sees you’re aiming for his weak spot. “If you’re trying to teach me the best spot to kill Wanderers, I already know.”

“More like the best spots to defeat a Xavier,” you remark, flattening your palm over his heart, finding your own thumping when you verify that you finally managed to raise his heart rate to the levels of a normal human.

“You’re pretty forward today.” Xavier reaches out to hold your hips and cocks his head at you with an inquisitive glance. “Are you always this easy to excite or is it because of me?”

You feel your face heat at his question. As if he didn’t already know the answer. No one else could make you like this. Needy. Shy. Aroused. Flustered. Confused. Infatuated and in love more than you’ve ever been.

Your eyes soften. “And if I said it was you?”

“Then, you can use me all you want,” he confesses and gently coaxes you back to sit on his hard cock. You smoothly slide your hands to his shoulders, rotating loving strokes into his fair skin before you stop to free his cock from his pants.

It springs readily into your palm, so responsive. You reward him by letting him have a little taste of you. He tries to hide the hitch of his breath as if he could hide any reaction from you right now. It’s so hard to get him to react to anything, and your brain won’t let you miss a single moment as you sit back onto his lap and grind.

His cock slides between your lips, so big that you can feel it stroking you fully, his swollen, dribbling head making you whimper whenever it bumps your clit.

“You, you’re so—” he begins, his eyes flitting from the gentle shake of your tits to his cock glistening between your folds, but he loses his voice to a low whimper when you increase your pace. It’s not on purpose but you can’t help yourself; you’re aching for him just as much as he is for you. “Hah, please...”

His cock is leaking onto him with each sleek thrust, a little pool of precum glistening on his belly as your hips buck. It makes your stomach twist and your insides twitch to see him so excited for you.

“Not yet,” you tell him, brushing fingers across the length of his throat. His mouth parts with a croak that plasters a crooked smile on your face.

His eyebrows knit, and he frowns as you decide to tease him a little by slowing your strokes while your nails continue to follow the thick vein protruding from his neck as he desperately holds down his whines.

“And you call me the cruel one.”

He was gorgeous under you. Beautifully flushed and sheened with sweat. His lips were so close to quivering each time his swollen head was swallowed back under your heat. It’s strange how his pitiful expression actually excites you, leaving you wetter and funneling this cycle of him repeatedly scrunching his face before relaxing it with a moan.

“Please,” he asks again, this time more politely, pleadingly, and downright cutely. He knows what he’s doing because you decide to take pity on him when he gazes at you. “Please let me have you?”

It takes only a second for you to reposition yourself and hover over him. There’s a split hesitation when it registers that you’re actually going to have sex with him and how large he actually is with his cock standing tall and the tip kissing at your entrance. You press downward anyway.

The stretch is both painful and pleasurable, straining your nerves as you lower. The wince on your face is accompanied by a hiss on your lips. However, Xavier is there again to catch you.

“Let’s take our time,” he instructs.

You nod, slowly thrusting halfway onto him. Each rise and fall of your hips coating him with your cream little by little makes it a bit easier to sheath him each bounce.

“Good girl,” he whispers soothingly. Face constricting, he bites down on his lip to hold in a weak groan. It’s not your fault that the praise made your walls flutter and tighten.

When you finally suck him in completely, your eyes roll.

“There you go,” he continues. He slides his hand into one of yours, encouraging you to hold onto it as you slowly and pointedly follow the curve of his cock, “Just like that,” he rasps out. As you take him in fully, your pussy reaching his lap and pushing against his balls, you find it hard to concentrate on the exact words leaving him.

You take a minute to sit with him fully sheathed inside of you, allowing your stretched core to get more accustomed to his cock and also for the high of joining with him to cool off. Otherwise, you’d lose control.

You feel so full. It’s a wonderful sensation, and the pleasure increases tenfold when you lift your hips then have him stretch you again.

Rubbing your fingertips into the back of his palm, you lift and slam back onto him again, causing a ragged groan from you both that ricochets off the walls of the room. It isn’t until now that you recognize how bad you’ve been needing this.

Needed him.

You’re still nowhere near understanding why this need is inside of you. Anyone can give you pleasure, and he’s not the first, but nothing quite matched the warmth overtaking you when his cock pistons and rubs against your nerves as you ride him.

The thought that Xavier was right about fate being written in the stars barely breaks through the thick fog of arousal clouding your brain. The heat spurs you to bounce harder to meet his jerking thrusts.

He sighs under you; the pressure on his lower half increases while your eyesight blurs and your head angles back. You’ll both be each other’s undoing at this rate, he thinks, as he watches the beads of sweat accumulating in little shiny droplets on your forehead and on your bouncing chest in a light sheen.

Chasing that desire to see you undone, he pulls you to a halt, burying himself deep inside of you, before pressing his hand to your mound, brushing past the patch of damp hair to zone in on your sticky, swollen clit.

The instant whine of his name makes him dizzy. Centuries have gone by, and he’s never heard you say his name with such wanton desperation nor seen you grind onto him, stirring his cock in you as if your sanity depended on it.

His certainly depended on you. Always has especially in the many decades he thought he’d never see you again. That need is even clearer from how sensitive yet eager his cock is to you squeezing around it as you shudder on top of him while keeping an unbearably tight hold on his hand. Your movements come to a near stop except for the occasional rut to prolong the rush of your orgasm.

The sight of you breaking down on top of him threatens to make his eyes roll back as he squeezes onto your legs for grounding. Your strangled gasp followed by your muscles relaxing tells him that you’re coming down.

“I take it you’ve finished,” Xavier says with a smirk, and you only have half the mind to swat at his chest like a lazy cat. Your legs burn, your chest unable to fill with enough oxygen to catch your breath. You think you’ll skip the gym tomorrow but Xavier has other plans.

“I’m not finished,” he reminds you.

You look down at Xavier; you’d been so busy finding your own pleasure, you didn’t realize he hadn’t cum yet. You feel a lingering guilt but he swiftly takes the situation into his own hands.

You’re still too sensitive to fight back as he slides his cock out of you with a wet pop. It takes two swift movements for him to lift you off of him and roll you onto your stomach.

Your chest feels restricted, tight to the mattress as he presses on top of you, his grey-brown hair rubbing your shoulder as he cuddles your back. It’s an affectionate notion, distracting from the pressure in your lower half as he slides off the last of his clothes and thrusts his cock back inside of you.

You thought you were filled to the brim the first time, yet this angle was different. It felt much tighter, and the slightest shift of his hips had you muffling moans into your arms.

“I want to hear you,” he sweetly requests, yanking on your hips to raise your ass higher and pull you further away from the muffling effects of the bed. Your fracturing mewls mix into his grunts, both sounds washing out the sloppy, wet paps of his cock pounding into you.

His hand swoops down your bending back in one long soothing stroke before his head collapses onto you. His grunts are loud, tumbling right into your ear along with the slapping sound of his hips meeting your ass. Your legs feel like jelly, and the rest of your body becomes weightless as your mind only focuses on his cock recklessly burning its way through you.

Xavier’s breath rolls against your back along with his forehead as he buries you under his weight; his grip on your thighs tightens to an unbearable degree, leaving you to wonder if you’ll have marks in the morning.

You don’t really care if he does when he moans your name and heat fills you, spreading with each sporadic thrust until he finally bottoms out inside you one last time and holds until he completely empties.

Taking his time to enjoy the sensation, he waits before pulling out of you, making you whimper with the sudden void. Shakily, you collapse back into the sheets and flip onto your back with a sigh. His eyes are still half-lidded as he watches you; he chews briefly on his bottom lip, reminding you of the look in his eyes earlier.

“Xavier,” you question but he silences you with a kiss, which you tiredly return. His fingertips slide down from your knee to your thigh, and he teases your opening, the mixture of cum making it easy for him to stroke your still spasming pussy.

Xavier sighs against your lips before moving his kisses to the swoop of your neck. “You’re so beautiful and all mine.”

Your mouth parts with a dry moan as he slides thick fingers over your clit. It starts to ache from his touch but it’s hard to deny him, even as he tortures you with his methodic and precise rotations over the bead.

His name is on your mouth, each syllable heavy on your tongue. You leave garbled gasps in his mouth as he makes out with you while your hand draws down his chest, attempting to make a mental map of every twitching muscle and healed wound on the way down.

Your heart jumps with the twitch of his cock when you wrap your hand around it. There’s going to be no trouble getting him to rebound, you think. He’s already thickening again with the warm strokes of your hand and tracing of your fingers over the slowly beating vein lining the underside of his shaft.

Xavier doesn’t even let you finish exciting him before he rolls back on top of you and settles his head between your breasts. Between all the cum in between your legs and his half-hard cock, it isn’t as mind-numbing to have him inside you. What is different is to feel him twitching and growing inside you with his renewed thrusts.

You’re hiccupping by the time he pushes your legs back and starts to hit deep inside of you, leaving the corner of your eyes tearing. You’re overwhelmed with everything. The uncharacteristic amount of energy he possesses as his hips snap into you. How each powerful rock leaves tingles aftershock-ing inside you, ruining your chances to recover before he does it again. The heavy scent of sex mixed with pine overwhelms your nose. His sweaty chest blocks out any light in the room, sealing any notion that you can be distracted by anything other than him as he pushes up your knee towards your chest.

You’re quickly working up to your second orgasm; the painful cramping in your foot tells you it’ll be bigger than the last. You’re right. When you come undone again, it’s with a shrill sob. You’re too out of it to even register when he finishes until he starts kissing your neck again.

He’s still inside you, you realize once your mind finally lands back on earth. His cock is resting in the heat inside you, waiting for him to work the two of you back up again. You know that’s the goal when his thumb gently brushes over one of your nipples again. Your sore insides constrict and strain. You don’t think you could survive a third round.

“Xavier, please, no more.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice dry and husky in your ear as he kisses under it.

“Too much,” you tell him, pushing on his chest to make some space between the two of you.

“I didn’t catch that,” he coos defiantly. When he notices that you’re being serious, he obediently pulls out of you. His kisses become smoother as he pecks your lips. “What’s wrong? Is it aching?”

You nod then puff your cheeks in frustration when you see the amusement on his face.

“It’s not funny!” you say, holding onto that angry, childish pout until his smile turns sympathetic.

“You’re right,” he agrees and shifts off you. Quickly, he locates his briefs on the corner of the bed. He steps out of bed and pulls them on. To your surprise, he leaves you, alone and cold.

“Where are you going?”

Xavier disappears without answering you and only the sound of running water gives you any sort of hint of where he might’ve gone. When he returns, it’s with a rag dangled in his hand.

“A boyfriend should help clean his girlfriend up after times like this,” he explains and leans over you; he presses the wet cloth between your legs; the rag is incredibly soothing on your bloated skin. It’s a blessing to your sore muscles as he starts to massage and clean you. “It feels better already, doesn’t it?”

“I guess,” you answer pitifully, grumbling a bit because the look on his face still seems like he’s teasing about your neediness.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s my fault you’re a little sore.” He’s definitely taunting you, but you don’t have the energy to fight about it. “All done,” he remarks, tossing the rag to a forgotten section of the dresser. He carefully climbs back on top of you, waiting for the moment your hand finds his bicep to guide him down next to you.

It isn’t the first time he’s been this affectionate, and it won’t be the last time. However, this time feels more special than any time you’ve slept together, and not just because you can feel the stickiness of his sex-clad skin against your naked body. Well, that’s part of the reason.

“Something on your mind?”

“Nothing. I’m really happy,” you explain.

“If it really makes you that happy, maybe we should do it more often,” he offers, and you pinch his unwounded cheek to punish him. Jumping back, he knocks your hand away and caresses his wounded face. “I’ll need another bandage if you keep doing that,” he complains weakly.

“You only have yourself to blame!”

Xavier sighs. “You’re always right,” he concedes, more so that he can cuddle you without fighting rather than actually agreeing with you, you fear.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Are you really doubting your boyfriend?” he asks. Heartbeat skipped, you clamp your mouth shut as he unfolds the blankets over the two of you.

It’s finally settling back into your mind that the two of you are a couple now. “I’m still…not used to it yet with you being that.”

“You will get used to it the longer we’re together. The same as I will.” Xavier sighs, happily so. “Although, we might run into the same problem again.”

You blink at him. “Why?”

Thoughtful, Xavier hums then explains, “First comes love then comes marriage as they say.”

He catches you off-guard once more. As always, Xavier is forever forging on ahead with little regard for convention. “Aren’t you thinking too far ahead?”

“Maybe,” he agrees but there’s no drop in his confidence as he smiles at you and draws his hand over your hairline. “But I loved you since we met.”

“Xavier, please,” you beg, finding your favorite place to hide your flustered face in the crook of his elbow.

He can’t help but laugh at you as he curls his arm around you. “Especially that,” he confesses and places one more kiss on the top of your head before inviting you to go to sleep.

You do, falling asleep against his chest less than thirty minutes later. For him, sleep is elusive for once as he mulls over the day’s events.

The word girlfriend on his tongue is sweet. The idea itself burns wonderfully in his chest, but it isn’t enough. He knows he still needs to wait a bit longer, take his time, your bashful response to his prodding was enough to tell him that it isn’t time yet. It’s hard not to rush when this is the closest he’s ever been to the one thing he truly wants.

Xavier guesses he’ll still have to rely on his dreams for a little while longer. It’s okay, he tells himself, it’ll work out this time. He’ll find a place to settle with you and have a quiet life, a place where he can see stars.

And this lifetime, when he asks you to marry him, he hopes you’ll say yes.

#xavier x reader #xavier smut #love and deepspace x reader #lnd smut #xavier love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads smut #notsfw #adelssmut

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disneyprincemuke · 8 months

Text

midnights, 2 * mv1

you were in the middle of eating dinner alone when you got the feeling of getting punched in the gut

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: i specialise in angst and heartbreak so B)

notes: man i shouldve just written this when my breakup was fresh, because when i tell you my heart was BROKE… (i love oversharing)

(prev) // (next)

your eyes are glued to your phone in your hand, as the other works the chopsticks to grab yourself some noodles. the tv is switched on in the background for some background noise.

the deafening silence in your apartment has haunted you for the past weeks since the breakup. to battle it, the tv is always turned on in your presence to keep you grounded.

you’ve been on instagram scrolling for about 5 minutes when a strange sensation hits you in your stomach. your throat feels weird, and your arms slowly start to feel numb.

you put the chopsticks down onto the plate that sat peacefully on your coffee table. you take a deep breath and lay your phone down on the carpet, looking around the emptiness of your apartment.

it’s the sudden realisation that you almost didn’t have a place to stay after the breakup. you had sublet the apartment your sister when you moved into max’s, and since she got engaged to her boyfriend and bought their own place, you’ve thought about putting it back on the market.

good thing you hadn’t.

it’s the weird void you felt in your chest sitting here all by yourself. being alone has never felt so definite until now.

the silence that creeps up on you every waking moment you’re in here miserably haunts you. you miss the sounds of clicking from max’s driving simulator, or the random clangs of things when the cats were in a mood, and the mews that conveyed dissatisfaction from the food bowl being empty.

your apartment is barely a shell of the home you’ve gotten used to.

you come home to nothing every day. no cats with their affectionate head rubs against your feet, and absolutely no loving boyfriend at the door whose hands cup your cheeks while he greets you with a loving kiss to your lips.

“-max verstappen scores at least three points in the sprint on saturday evening in losail, he will be crowned 2023’s champion.”

the mention of the name makes you lift your head to the tv. there’s your ex-boyfriend in all his glory, spraying champagne and having fun.

being this hung up about the breakup feels almost illegal; like you had the least right out of everyone to be so heartbroken, seeing as you did initiate it.

your phone lights up, notifications from alexandra and kika flooding your lock screen. you admire their determination — you haven’t picked up their calls and responded to text messages in almost 4 days.

you sigh and turn your head, eyes landing on the framed picture of you with the cats. you miss them terribly, almost as much as you miss the man himself. but it’s way more complicated than just dropping by into your old home to visit the cats.

victoria has mentioned to you that it’s no problem if you do in the week, since max is away for a race. you just couldn’t handle the thought to even be in that apartment. you’d just miss him way too much, and you would fold immediately.

but the constant fights that occurred towards the end of your relationship keeps reminding you to stay away. it’s unfair to keep holding on when it hurts you both.

your eyes linger on the frame that’s faced down on your entertainment centre. you have the picture in it memorised: you and max in abu dhabi under the fireworks when he won his first championship.

it was when he had first said he loved you.

how did it dwindle down so quickly? you could have sworn max was everything you wanted in a person. how did his little quirks you once loved about him be the same thing that drew you away?

you glance at the tv screen, the reporter moving on to other news. you’re holding your own hands back from chucking the tv remote at it.

“oh, god,” you mutter to yourself. the tv screen blacks out when you press the button on the remote.

you rub your forehead in frustration, feeling a headache creeping up from the back of your head. it’s the result from crying right before dinner.

the doorbell stops you from grabbing the faced down picture frame to hug— a habit you’ve gotten used to when you and max were separated due to work.

you tilt your head, eyebrows furrowing as you scramble to your feet. you push yourself off the floor and basically drag yourself over without asking who it is.

though, there’s a slight hope sparking up in your chest. could it be?

you unlock the door quickly, a small smile still stretching on your face when you realise who it is. it’s alexandra and kika, plastic bags decorating their hands and arms as they smile sadly at you.

“you really didn’t have to,” you frown, stepping aside and gesturing for them to come in.

“we can’t leave you all by yourself,” alexandra smiles, making a sharp turn for the kitchen.

you follow behind the pair, plastic bags laid down on the table slowly. it’s only then you realise the overnight bags on their shoulders, now neatly piled by the couch.

kika pulls out a bottle from a plastic bag, presenting it to you from where she is with a grin. “i am hoping you like red.”

“if you don’t,” alexandra pauses, taking out another bottle from another, “we have white wine.” she puts it down onto the table, slowly taking out bags of chips and tubs of ice cream. “but if you don’t feel like drinking, we have junk food.”

“we can eat our body weight,” kika smiles at you.

you frown, tears welling in your eyes at their thoughtfulness. “thank you,” you manage to huff out as your tears start falling out of your eyes. “this means so much to me.”

asking max for a breakup was never part of the plan that night. you still don’t even know where it came from because you know that you still want to be with him.

but when his silence filled the tiny room, eyes barely being able to meet yours, you knew that you basically had your answer. you didn’t fight for it any more after seeing the lifeless eyes that once used to be so bright.

maybe he had been beating around the bush. maybe he couldn’t bring himself to be the one to ask you for a breakup.

maybe you asking for it brought him relief, freeing him from the shackles of your deteriorating relationship.

in the flight back home, you were afraid that no one could ever love you as much as max did. but here are your friends, coming over unannounced to take care of you, despite the fact that you’ve been ignoring them.

kika and alexandra engulf you in a hug, one hand patting your hair and the other rubbing circles on your back. “we’re always here for you.”

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 x you #f1 x reader #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fanfic #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

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mncxbe · 2 months

Note

For 8 SFW,can it be Chuuya, Akutagawa, Fydor, and anyone else you want to add?👀

Only if you want to do this though!!

i did Chuuya and Aku🥰 i love these little gremlins. hope you like it♡

8– accidentally walking in on them while they're changing

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑Chuu chuu

You finally got home around 8 p.m. Work was exhausting and you just couldn't wait to curl up in bed next to your boyfriend and watch a movie with him. Date nights were rare occasions since you were both busy people, so you tried to make the most out of the little free time you had.

When you got in front of the bedroom door you found it slightly open. Through the crack, you could see Chuuya taking off his tie and shit, slowly undoing the buttons with a deft hand as he held his phone in the other.

"Yes, boss, the mission went well. I'll hand in the report by tomorrow at noon." he spoke in a level voice as he put on a comfy t-shirt and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

You knew you shouldn't spy on him like this, especially when he had a work call, but you just couldn't help yourself. There was something so beautiful about watching Chuuya do things, even if it meant simply changing his clothes, because you knew you were the only one who got to see him like this. In the comfort of your home, the feared mafia executive turned into an ordinary man, your man.

Once he hung up the phone you slipped inside the room, the creaking sound of the door sliding open alerting your boyfriend. He turned to face you with a wide smile on his face. "Hey, princess. Good to have you home. How was your day?"

He opened his arms, welcoming you in his embrace and you basically melted against his chest. Running your hands through his ginger locks, you pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of his head "It was good, but I missed you. Couldn't wait for tonight."

"That's good to know, love. I'll pick a movie for us while you change, ok? Oh and I also ordered us some Chinese food. Hope you're hungry."

Yea, you were hungry– starved even, but you didn't want to let go of him just yet. So when Chuuya's hands settled on your hips to guide you away from him you hugged him even tighter, cooing "Just one more minute Chuu. I really like this...."

The redhead chuckled at your reaction, snaking his arms back around your hips "As you wish, my love."

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑Aku

Akutagawa has always been quite peculiar when it came to being naked around you, even months after you got together. That was part of the reason why your relationship lacked physical intimacy. Nevertheless, you understood his hesitance and respected his space.

At least until you accidentally walked in on him changing. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear your boyfriend moving around in his bedroom.

Akutagawa was standing shirtless in the middle of the room, his pants lowered to the middle of his thighs. When he noticed your presence, a frown etched itself on his features. "Y/N for god's sake can't you knock?" sneered the man, struggling to pull up his slacks.

Something about the way he fumbled with his clothes was utterly adorable. He looked... surprised, shy? Your eyes trailed along his figure: narrow shoulders and hips, pale skin littered with bruises and cuts from his battles. But you could clearly make out his lean muscles, flexing under his skin.

Akutagawa's initial annoyance melted away the moment he saw the adoring expression on your face. You looked at him like he was the most beautiful person on earth, your gaze so loving and gentle. A blush crept on his cheeks as he covered his face with the back of his hands, clearing his throat. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked in his gruff voice and you smiled bashfully.

"You look really handsome" you admitted and he sighed contently. "Then come here, babe. I'll show you some more"

#𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #chuuya bsd #bsd chuuya #chuuya fluff #chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya nakahara #akutagawa bsd #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa x reader #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #akutagawa ryuunosuke #akutagawa fluff

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ginnsbaker · 10 months

Text

loving an avenger

Summary: The last installment from the Dentist AU, sequel to it's just dinner;

Vision tilts his head slightly, a gesture you've come to recognize as him deep in thought. “If that's a prerequisite for you,” he states presumptuously, like the answer to your prerogative is so startlingly obvious yet you failed to catch them. “Then may I suggest you sleep with her and then ask her to marry you?”

Word count: 3.2k | Tags: Fluff, Marriage Proposals gone wrong , 'Efficent' is Wanda's middle name according to her

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Author's note: And that concludes our Dentist AU! All fluff, no tears.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Wanda Maximoff is your girlfriend.

No matter how many times you repeat it to yourself, you’re never going to get used to the fact that Wanda Maximoff is your girlfriend.

And dating this particular Avenger is both your greatest source of comfort and anxiety.

On the days when it's peaceful, when the weight of the world isn't pressing down on either of you, the indescribable comfort comes from the simplicity of your relationship with Wanda. Those are the days when her protector-of-the-world persona fades into the background, and you get to be with simply Wanda, the woman.

Grocery shopping, for instance, becomes something you look forward to on weekends. Walking down the aisles, hand in hand, you spend more time discussing the virtues of one brand of pasta over another, or debating whether to indulge in a tub of ice cream, than any imminent world threat. Sometimes, Wanda playfully levitates a grape or two, making them dance in the air before popping them into your mouth, her laughter ringing in the quiet corners of the store.

Strolls in the park are as romantic as the candlelight dinners you frequently organize at various fine dining spots in the city, especially after learning that Wanda rarely goes out. You both love laying down on the grass, feeling the sun warming your skin, and the world around fades as you listen to her recount stories from Sokovia, her voice soft and nostalgic. Some days, you carry a little music player, and with wired earbuds shared between the two of you.

And then there are the quiet afternoons at home. The beautiful monotony of those moments is the real magic. With you engrossed in a book and Wanda laughing at sitcom reruns, or the two of you attempting to bake. Baking sessions usually end with more flour on both of you than in the bowl, dough fights, and running around the kitchen before tackling Wanda onto your bed and kissing her silly. Even if the cookies turn out a bit burnt, the warmth is always just right.

On the flip side, when the world demands its due from her, it's pure torment. The darker undertones of dating an Avenger are impossible to ignore. An ever-present undercurrent of anxiety runs deep within you. The unpredictability of her life means that any moment could be the last time you see her smile, hear her laugh, or feel her touch.

The agony of days, sometimes even weeks, without contact from her is torture. Every second feels like an hour, every hour like a day. The silence, the not knowing, is the worst part. Is she okay? Is she hurt? Each time the news reports another battle or threat, your heart clenches, waiting for a hint that she is alright. But more often than not, there's no word, no sign. Just the excruciating wait.

And then there are the times she returns, not as the invincible hero, but as a wounded Wanda. A cut on her lips, a gash across her forehead, or bruises marring her porcelain skin. You often nurse her wounds, fighting back tears and the urge to plead with her to stay, to give it all up.

One evening, in a moment of weakness and sheer fear, you do suggest it.

“Why can't you just leave it all behind? There are other, stronger heroes who can step in,” you murmur to her, both of you teetering on the edge of sleep.

“I caused so much darkness for a long time,” she says, her fingers coming up to trace your cheek and ease the creases on your forehead. “I need to pay my dues. I need to make things right.”

You find it hard to believe, considering the Wanda you know is nothing but a beacon of light. The thought of her having a dark past seems so distant, so unfathomable. Yet, her commitment to redemption is undeniable.

“Until when?” you ask softly, eyes locked onto hers, searching for answers. “When will it be enough?”

Wanda hesitates, her gaze drifting to the ceiling, as if searching for the answers there. “I don't know,” she whispers. “But every day, I try to be better than I was the day before, hoping that one day the scales will balance.”

You turn to face her fully, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Wanda, you've done so much good. You've helped countless people. At some point, you need to forgive yourself too.”

She chuckles lightly, the corners of her mouth turning up. “You know, sometimes I think that maybe it won't be for too long.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued, “Oh? And why's that?”

“Because,” she begins, her fingers playfully tracing patterns on your arm, “If I have you by my side, maybe I'm doing something right. I like to think of you as my little reward for turning things around.”

You can't help but laugh at that, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Your 'little' reward? Are you calling me short?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I'm just saying that for all the vastness of the universe, it's the small, unexpected joys that matter the most.”

“Well, in that case,” you grin, your heart swelling in your chest, “I'm honored to be your 'little' joy.”

It always ends up like this. She sneaks in a flirty comment during your serious talks, and somehow, just for a moment, you forget about the worries that'll come back later.

But this is also how you eventually realize that you love her.

No matter what she chooses to do, you swear—even if it kills you, even if it disrupts your peace and turns your world upside down—you'll never leave her side unless she asks you to.

Within a week, you're back at the Avengers compound, not to visit Wanda, but to meet with a different Avenger.

Vision.

Wanda is on a small mission with Natasha, and you specifically timed your visit so that she wouldn't be around. You've come with a purpose, one that you're unsure of how it'll be received.

Finding Vision is no easy task, but after inquiring discreetly, you're directed to a chamber that seems more like a serene meditation space than a room in a superhero compound.

“Vision?” you call out tentatively as you step into the dimly lit room. The chill in the air is so intense it feels like walking into a server room, almost expecting to find rows of computers thrumming in the cold. Instinctively, you pull your doctor's coat tighter around your body.

Vision appears almost instantly. “How may I assist you?”

You exhale slowly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Okay, this is going to sound weird, but... I need some advice about Wanda.” It feels a bit ridiculous as the thought crosses your mind—asking a synthezoid about relationship matters. But he's close to Wanda, and honestly, you're at a loss for who else to ask.

Vision's gaze sharpens a touch, “Go on.”

“I love her,” the words tumble out before you can rein them in. “Every time she's out on a mission, I'm a wreck. I'm always scared something might happen to her. I wish she'd... I don't know, think about retiring? Or at least find some way to be safer. But I have no idea how to even bring it up.”

Vision remains silent for a beat, then replies, “It's not uncommon for those close to Avengers to feel this way. But Wanda's commitment to this role is profound. Asking her to retire would be asking her to change a fundamental part of who she is.”

“But what about her safety?” you press on rather desperately.

Vision takes a moment, as if deliberating if the term ‘safety’ should even apply to the likes of them, before saying, “In our line of work, there are no certainties. Every mission, every decision carries inherent risks. It's a reality we've all accepted. It's the price of our commitment to a greater good.”

You nod defeatedly. Maybe you were hoping for a different answer. But like the rest, he too prioritizes the greater good above himself.

“I just wish there was something more I could do,” you say.

Vision steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder in a gesture that's surprisingly comforting coming from a synthetic being. You’re beginning to understand why Wanda considers him her best friend.

“Your presence in her life, the love you offer, it's more than you realize. Hold onto that,” he says. Then, he looks at you with an unexpected sparkle in his surprisingly soulful eyes. “Have you considered making a lifelong commitment to Wanda?”

You gulp, taken aback. “You mean... marriage?”

The suggestion from Vision was so unexpected, so left-field. But thinking about it, there were times—like when you'd make Wanda laugh and her nose would scrunch up all cute—where the idea did, fleetingly, cross your mind.

(You’re so embarrassed to admit it, but it’s just how your brain works around Wanda Maximoff.)

“Yes,” Vision nods. “Sometimes, offering stability and a promise of forever can provide an emotional security that transcends physical safety.”

For a moment, it strikes you—for someone who isn't even human, he sure has a knack for relationship advice. What Vision is suggesting does make sense: If you can't keep her safe, you'll keep her happy. Sometimes that's the only thing you can do.

But there’s just one problem.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to say this, but…we haven't even... I mean, we're taking things slow,” you stumble over your words, your cheeks burning at the thought of being with Wanda that way. It's also not the sort of detail you’d anticipated sharing with Vision, of all beings, but it's out now.

Your jaw drops slightly, and you blink a few times, attempting to find words. “Vision, that's...easier said than done,” you manage to say, your voice faltering a bit towards the end. You quickly clear your throat, wondering if the temperature in the room could drop any further, because despite the chill, you're suddenly feeling quite warm in your civilian clothes.

“What do you mean by ‘easier said than done’?” Vision asks, rubbing his chin, no doubt a conscious effort to display his human side. “Do you need me to teach you how to—”

“No!” you blurt out, hands shooting up in a frantic 'stop right there' motion. Your mind races with the myriad of things Vision might've been about to suggest. “I've got a pretty good grasp on...human basics, thanks.”

“Ah. Noted. I simply meant to offer guidance in whatever form you might need. Perhaps I could download a helpful guide or recommend books?” he asks.

You snort, the image of Vision giving sex education a new meaning now firmly planted in your mind. “No, thanks. I think I'll stick to the old-fashioned way of figuring things out. You know, trial and error, preferably without any downloadable guides.”

He nods, making an exaggerated display of understanding, “Ah, the human way of fumbling through experiences. Intriguing. And very inefficient.”

“Well, humans fumbled their way through evolution, so…”

“An interesting perspective. Still, if ever you need a recommended reading list…”

“No reading lists,” you say with a grin. “Just... help keep her safe. That's all the help I need from you.”

Vision’s lips curl into a slight smile. “Very well. That, I can promise.”

Despite your initial reaction to Vision's advice—of sleeping with Wanda and then asking her to marry you—as being ridiculous, it’s all you can think about.

You only realize what you've done after stepping out of the jewelry store, having just purchased an engagement ring with a central ruby stone encircled by tiny diamonds.

Tonight is the night.

You’ve set the mood—candles, soft music, the whole shebang. After weeks, maybe even months of hinting and hoping, you’re ready to take the next step with Wanda. Well, at least you think you are. There are two things in particular that are making your palms sweat and your heart race tonight. Firstly, the intimate step you’re trying to take with Wanda. And secondly, the engagement ring you impulsively bought, still tucked inside your back pocket, silently judging you for your timidity.

The two of you are cuddled up on the couch, the distance between you almost non-existent. The movie, 50 First Dates, plays in the background, but neither of you are paying it much attention.

The kissing has been going on for a good two minutes (not that you're counting or anything, but you just so happen to be facing the wall clock), and so, you make your move, your hand finding its way to her back, fingers fumbling clumsily as you try to find the clasp of her bra.

She stiffens and you hold your breath. Oh no. Did you move too fast? Just as a bead of panic-induced sweat is about to roll down your forehead, Wanda turns to you with a knowing look. “Looking for something?”

You stammer, trying to form a coherent sentence, “I just thought—”

She grins, cutting you off, “You do realize I'm wearing a sports bra, right?”

Right. You forgot she just came in from yet another mission.

Your face turns a shade of red that could give her usual Avenger attire a run for its money. “I didn't... I mean, I couldn’t…”

Wanda laughs, a hearty, genuine laugh, putting you somewhat at ease. “You could've just asked me, you know.”

And before you can process that, with a flick of her wrist and a sparkle of magic, you feel the fabric disappear, replaced by the warmth of her skin. Your fingers freeze in place, feeling the soft flush beneath them.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her gaze. “You okay there?”

This. This is how you die—getting a heart attack with your hand under Wanda’s shirt.

Trying to reclaim some semblance of dignity, you manage a wobbly smile, words stumbling over themselves in a race to get out. “I was just... I mean, I thought... I didn't expect you to be so... efficient.”

Her laugh is soft, a touch husky, doing nothing to help calm the racing of your heart. “Darling, 'Efficient' is my middle name.”

You want to point out the countless times her middle was anything but ‘Efficient’ but that would definitely ruin the mood.

“Good to know. Any other magic tricks you're planning to pull tonight?” you ask with a smirk.

She leans in close, her lips grazing your ear. “Guess you'll have to stick around to find out.”

You both shift, trying to find a more comfortable position on the couch. In the process, the velvet box containing the ring slips from your back pocket and falls to the floor. As you bend down to pick it up, Wanda gets there first, snatching the box away with her powers just as your fingers graze it.

“What's this?” she asks, her eyes widening in surprise.

For a moment, you're caught in an invisible stasis. “I, uh... it's not what it looks like?” you stutter out, though it's clear by her expression she doesn’t buy it for a second.

With a smirk, she slowly opens the box, revealing the delicate ring inside. Her eyes flit between the ring and your flushed face, her playful smile replaced with an expression of tender surprise. “Is this…”

You swallow hard. “Yes, it is. I was... I was going to ask you. Later. After, well, after other things.”

Wanda laughs, a hint of tears in her eyes. “You were planning on proposing after we...?”

Hearing your idea echoed back by Wanda makes you feel slightly foolish. Darn it, Vision.

“Well, the cat's out of the bag now,” you sigh, looking directly into Wanda's eyes, a surge of bravery taking hold. “And honestly, I don't think I can wait any longer to ask you. I really, truly love you. So, Wanda Maximoff, will you marry me?”

Wanda looks down at the ring, then back to your eyes, searching for answers and confirming truths. After losing her entire family, right in front of her is the possibility of starting a new one. A tear escapes from the corner of her eye.

“You had a whole plan, didn't you?” she murmurs, her voice quivering.

“An extremely convoluted and very poorly executed plan, yes,” you admit sheepishly.

Her laugh is light and airy and causes her nose to do that thing you’re so crazy about. “Oh, you...” she trails off, leaning down to capture your lips in a soft, slow kiss. When she pulls back, she’s beaming. “Yes. Yes, I'll marry you. But maybe let’s deal with one thing at a time tonight, okay?”

“Of course, one thing at a time,” you quickly agree. But then, a wave of insecurity washes over you. “But, just so you know, if after we...you know...if you don't find it... satisfying or if I don't live up to your expectations or anything, you can totally change your mind about the proposal. No pressure or anything.”

Wanda looks amused for a moment, then her expression turns sultry. “Darling, trust me when I say that's not going to be an issue,” she purrs.

You open your mouth to respond but are momentarily derailed when Wanda, with one fluid motion, removes her shirt, rendering you speechless.

Leaning in so that her lips hover just inches from your ear, she murmurs, “I want you so bad, you're really going to have to work hard to change my mind.”

Her fingers trace a lazy path up your neck, sending shivers racing down your spine.

“By the way,” Wanda whispers as you struggle to focus on her words through your half-lidded eyes. “I really, truly love you too.”

After that, words become superfluous. The need to be closer, to feel her against you, overpowers every sense and sensation. And as the seconds and minutes melt away, you find that with Wanda, everything falls perfectly into place.

“Just so we’re clear,” you pant out moments later, catching your breath and gazing at the ceiling, “It’s still a ‘yes’, right?”

Wanda's body trembles with laughter next to you, making you grin ear to ear. Before long, you're rolling back on top of her again, ready for round two.

The soft lapping of water against the shore serves as nature's own version of wedding bells. Your father's lakehouse, usually a place of quiet reflection and family gatherings, is now adorned with delicate white drapes and soft pastel flowers, transforming it into an intimate wedding venue.

Steve Rogers, wearing a suit that accentuates his otherworldly physique, gives you a supportive pat on the back. “Nervous?”

“About the wedding or the fact that half the guests could snap me in half with their pinky?” you reply with a nervous chuckle.

“You’ve got this,” he assures you, seeing past your attempt at a lighthearted joke.

As for Wanda, she had never anticipated that half the attendees at her wedding would be dentists, including your parents and a slew of your colleagues. It was a running joke between the two of you; her slight dental phobia up against your chosen profession. But life has a funny way of turning things around.

Sometimes what we fear the most becomes our strength, and that strength becomes an anchor. And you are hers, as much as she is yours.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x female reader #steve rogers #vision

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itsgreti · 9 days

Text

BONDS FORGED IN FIRE

pairing. task force 141 x f!reader (platonic)

summary. (Y/N) is a medic who joined Task Force 141 and proved her worth, earning the respect of her new team, who later on became her family.

warning. mentions of physical injuries, using guns (typical cod theme)

word count. 1.6k

a/n: parts in italics are flashbacks. english is my second language, so if you find any mistakes, don't hesitate and text me!

(Y/N) found herself drawn to the call of duty, as a skilled medic, she had always believed in the power of healing in the middle of chaos, and her dedication to saving lives had earned her a reputation far and wide. But it was a chance that would change the path of her destiny.

Task Force 141, a legendary unit working in secrecy had heard of (Y/N)'s deeds and sought her out for her unmatched skills. Captain John Price, the team's stoic leader, saw the value of the skilled medic in the heat of battle, and he knew that (Y/N) would be an inevitable asset to their ranks.

When (Y/N) first arrived at the Task Force 141 base, she met with a mix of scepticism and curiosity. Ghost, the mysterious special forces operator known for his gruff manner, eyed her suspiciously, his scepticism obvious in every word he spoke. "Another recruit," he muttered, his tone with disregard. "We'll see if she's worth the trouble."

Soap MacTavish, on the other hand, greeted her with a friendly and playful smile. "Welcome to the team, lass," he said, his easy-going nature a steady contrast to Ghost's grumpiness. "Don't mind Ghost, he's always like this."

Captain Price, ever the commanding presence, wasted no time in assessing (Y/N)'s skills. "We expect nothing but the best from you," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Our missions are dangerous, and lives depend on your expertise."

And then there was Gaz, the welcoming soldier whose warmth and company put (Y/N) at ease. "Glad to have you on board," he said with a smile, offering her a handshake. "We're a tight-knit group here, but we look out for each other."

(Y/N) had barely settled into her new surroundings when the call came in. Their first mission together would be a test of her skills and her ability to integrate into this close-knit team. The objective was clear: infiltrate an enemy stronghold and secure valuable intelligence. It was the kind of high-risk operation that Task Force 141 excelled at.

As they gathered in the meeting room, Price outlined the mission. "We'll insert under the cover of night," he began, pointing to a map of the compound. "Ghost, you'll take overwatch. Soap, you're on demolition. Gaz, you and (Y/N) will handle the interior place. We move fast, we move quietly, and we get the job done. Understood?"

A chorus of affirmatives followed. Ghost remained aloof, his eyes hidden behind his skull mask, but (Y/N) could feel his gaze on her. Soap offered her a reassuring smile, while Gaz gave her a thumbs-up.

As they geared up, Soap sidled over to (Y/N). "Nervous?" he asked, his tone light.

"A little," she admitted, securing her medical pack.

"Don't worry, lass. You'll do fine. Just stick close to us, and we'll watch each other's backs."

Ghost, overhearing, grunted. "This isn't a walk in the park. Keep your head down and stay focused."

(Y/N) nodded, determined to prove herself. "I will, Lieutenant."

Price's voice cut through the tension. "Mount up, we're moving out."

The helicopter ride to the drop zone was tense. The team remained silent, and each member was lost in their thoughts. As they approached the target, Price's voice crackled over the comms. "Get ready. We insert in sixty."

The helicopter hovered just above the ground, and one by one, they rappelled down, disappearing into the shadows. Ghost took position on a nearby ridge, his sniper rifle at the ready.

"Overwatch in position," Ghost reported his voice a low whisper over the comms.

"Copy that," Price responded. "Gaz, lead the way."

Gaz signalled for (Y/N) to follow, and they moved silently towards the compound, while Soap and Price secured the other floors. The night was their ally, cloaking them in darkness as Gaz and (Y/N) approached the perimeter.

Inside, the compound was a maze of corridors and guard posts. Gaz moved with practised ease, his rifle at the ready. (Y/N) stayed close, holding her rifle close to her chest and her senses on high alert.

"Clear," Gaz whispered, motioning for her to follow. They reached a heavily secured door, and Gaz quickly hacked the keypad.

"We're in," he said, pushing the door open.

Inside, they found a room filled with computers and filing cabinets. (Y/N) immediately began searching for the intel while Gaz kept watch. Minutes felt like hours as they sifted through the files, the tension thick in the air.

"Got it," (Y/N) said, holding up a flash drive. "Let's move."

Gaz nodded, but just as they turned to leave, the alarms blared to life, red lights flashing throughout the compound. "We've been compromised!" Gaz shouted.

"Fall back!" Price ordered over the comms. "Ghost, we need cover fire!"

"On it," Ghost replied, his sniper rifle already picking off approaching enemies.

The team moved swiftly, fighting their way through the compound. Soap detonated the charges, creating chaos and confusion among the enemy forces. (Y/N) stuck close to the team, her medical kit ready for any injuries.

As they reached the outer perimeter, an explosion rocked the ground, sending debris flying. Gaz was hit, a piece of shrapnel embedding in his leg. He fell to the ground with a grunt of pain.

"Gaz is down!" (Y/N) shouted, dropping to her knees beside him. "I need cover!"

"Copy that!" Ghost replied, his rifle taking out enemies with deadly precision.

Soap and Price formed a protective barrier around (Y/N) as she worked quickly to stabilize Gaz's leg. "Hang in there, Sergeant," she said, her voice calm despite the chaos.

Gaz gritted his teeth, his face pale. "Just a scratch, doc."

With Gaz stabilized, they resumed their retreat, moving as a solid unit. They reached the extraction point just as the helicopter arrived, the rotors kicking up dust and sand. Ghost provided cover fire until the last moment, ensuring everyone made it on board safely.

(Y/N) smiled as she remembered her first mission with Task Force 141. It's been a few years now, and she is still in one piece alongside the others. The members of Task Force 141 became like family to her, and she took her role as their caretaker seriously.

The sun was beginning to set over the rugged landscape, casting a warm, golden hue across the horizon. As the team settled into their temporary base, a rare moment of peace descended upon them. (Y/N), was busy tending to the minor wounds of Gaz again, just like in her first assignment with them. Despite the exhaustion etched into her features, she moved with practised ease, her hands steady and her touch gentle.

Price was the first to sit down on a makeshift bench. He lit a cigar, the familiar ritual helping him unwind. His sharp eyes softened as he watched (Y/N) work. "You always manage to patch us up, don't you, doc?" he said with a hint of a smile.

(Y/N) looked up from bandaging Gaz's arm and returned the smile. "Someone's got to keep you guys in one piece, Captain."

Gaz winced slightly as (Y/N) tightened the bandage. "Yeah, well, if it weren't for you, I'd probably be in pieces by now."

(Y/N) chuckled, giving his shoulder a gentle pat. "You're tougher than you look, Gaz."

Ghost, silent as ever, observed from the shadows. His skull mask concealed his expression, but his eyes betrayed a glimmer of gratitude. He had always admired (Y/N)'s dedication and the calm she brought to their chaotic world. He approached her, handing over a canteen of water. "You should take a break," he said, his voice a low rumble.

(Y/N) accepted the canteen with a nod. "Thanks, Simon. But you know me… I can't rest until everyone else is taken care of."

Soap, always the optimist, sauntered over and plopped down beside Price. "Well, lass, once you're done, how about joining us for a quick drink? We all deserve it."

(Y/N) finished tending to Gaz and wiped her hands on a rag. "I think I can manage that, Johnny. Just give me a few more minutes."

As (Y/N) wrapped up her duties, she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. These men were more than just her comrades – they were her family. Each of them had their own way of expressing gratitude, and she cherished the small moments of connection they shared.

Finally, (Y/N) joined the group around the small fire they had built. Soap handed her a flask with a grin. "Here, this should help take the edge off."

She took a sip, feeling the warmth spread through her body. "Thanks, Soap. I think we all needed this."

Price puffed on his cigar, his gaze distant but peaceful. "It's not often we get a chance to sit like this. We should make the most of it."

Gaz nodded, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Agreed. We don't get many moments like these."

Ghost remained silent, but his presence was a comfort to everyone. He leaned back, his eyes reflecting the firelight. In these quiet moments, the mask felt less like a barrier and more like a part of him, a reminder of the bond they all shared.

(Y/N) looked around at the men who had become her family. "You know, no matter what we face out there, I always feel safe knowing we're together."

Soap raised his flask in a toast. "To the best damn team there is."

"To Task Force 141," Price echoed, raising his cigar.

Gaz lifted his flask as well. "To us."

Ghost gave a rare, slight nod, his eyes meeting (Y/N)'s. "To family."

They clinked their flasks together, the sound a small but significant affirmation of their bond. As the night grew darker, they shared stories and laughter, the weight of their burdens temporarily lifted. At that moment, surrounded by her team, (Y/N) felt a profound sense of belonging. No matter what lay ahead, she knew they would face it together.

And in those brief moments of solace, amidst the warmth of company and the glow of the fire, Task Force 141 found a momentary but precious break from the relentless world outside.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #call of duty x you #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader

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satoruphilia · 6 months

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Stronger Than The Strongest? Gojo x Reader

tags: somewhat canon au, reader is a sorcerer, geto doesnt go insane, reader's curse is pretty much yuta's, tooth rotting fluff, not proofread, no smut, fair date, gojo is head over heels, featuring the smiths

A/N: I have 4 hours to fuck around before I need to get to work, wish me luck

2.2k words ON THE DOT!

Being a student sorceror was something you never expected. Finding friends along the way, and even a boyfriend? Unheard of. But here you were, you had a main friend group with Gojo Satoru, the strongest, Geto Suguru, your best friend, and Shoko Ieri, the only sense of the group. She had some medical technique you didnt understand, resulting in her dreams to become a doctor. Geto's and Gojo's were the most powerful. Your cursed technique was a little more complicated than theirs, you didn't even know if it was a cursed technique or luck. Before the Jujutsu world, you were on the streets with one friend, Rika. Until one day, you found her dead. The grief of the incident transformed her into a Curse. She was basically attached to you, she came out when you requested. When she came out, her strength was comparable to Sukuna, king of curses. But you also had trouble controlling her.

You, Geto and Gojo were sent on a mission, which instantly soured your mood. Gojo was so self absorbed and inlove with himself. How the hell did Suguru put up with him? He was a spoiled sheltered boy, you knew how the world rolled, just didn't know how he hadn't been bitch slaped yet (an; im sorry gojo) atleast you had geto with you aswell.

"Y/N! After this, let's go get candy, im hungry!" You rolled your eyes, continuing your walk to an abandoned middle school. There were reports of a Grade 1 curse killing off the kids. While they fucked around, you were focused on analyzing the situation. Would Rika be necessary or could you let them deal with it? You were tired anyway.

You and Geto made the decision to let Gojo handle the curse after you found it. Given his strength, he could handle it. As Gojo muttered something about showing off due to his audience, you took one of Geto's cigerettes and lit it. Throughout a battle, the curse unexpectedly doubled, and then those two doubled. Four curses were now aimed at him. His strategy faltered, raising an eyebrow between the two of you.

Gojo Satoru was struggling, huh. Not something you planned to see in this lifetime. He grunted, falling onto his back after another blow. Did that idiot seriously turn off infinity to show off? "Rika," you said coolly. A dark curse appeared behind you, before going after the duplicates.

Geto laughed and threw his arm over Gojo's shoulder, "You're a dumbass." All he did was roll his eyes.

"I had it under control, y/n just wanted to impress me, right?" This had Geto roaring in laughter. You were walking beside the two, drinking a bottle of water, even more tired than when you came.

"Can't believe you already lost your title," He teased, "The strongest isnt the strongest anymore" Gojo rolled his eyes and laughed it off, but observing him closely, something was different. Fear? Hurt? Did he just get humbled? It was fascinating. They ran off to some candy shop, and that was the end of it.

Maybe.

While you forgot about it, Gojo drove himself crazy. He knew what Geto said was a joke, 80% of what he said was a joke. Now he was obsessing over it. Not even the fact that he struggled, but how nonchalant you were about saving his ass. You still had a cigerette in hand the whole time. The way you effortlessly wielded your cursed techniques, the grace in your movements, and the fire in your eyes ignited something within Gojo. As the minutes ticked by, Gojo found himself unable to focus on anything else. His mind drifted to you. You became more than just a lady to him. He started to stare at you in class, always trying to study with you without Geto, taking note of your beauty. That was another thing that drove him crazy. He knew you were conventually attractive, but now you were so much more.

"That was hilarious," he greeted, a playful glint in his eyes. "You correcting Yaga-sensei. The class was wild!"

You chuckled. "He was making himself look stupid, so yeah."

He chuckled in return, rubbing the back of his head. "You still need help with Math? Im an expert." Where did he learn that from? Geto, who he wouldn't shut up to. Of course, he never shut up, but he was always asking Geto about you. You and Geto were closer friends, considering he was a respectable person unlike Gojo. You two occasionally skated and smoked together, and Gojo was not jealous at all. Even after Geto told him you were like his little sister.

As the conversation continued, Gojo found himself hanging onto your every word, genuinely intrigued by your words. He laughed at your jokes, listened intently to your stories, and even found reasons to touch on shared interests. It wasn't long before he realized that his feelings were evolving beyond a mere admiration for you.

In the following days, Gojo's interactions with you became more intentional. He'd join you for lunch, initiate conversations about non-jujutsu related topics, and even offer his assistance in training. When he found out how much you loved music, he made a playlist for when you two hung out. All your favorites were in there, and he sprinkled in a few love songs by your favorite singers. His once carefree demeanor seemed to soften in your presence, and there were moments when his gaze lingered just a bit longer, his eyes betraying a depth of feeling.

Eyes dont lie, something you've learned throughout your youth. So you hyperfixated on it when talking to people. Thats how you saw through people's bullshit, especially guys who just wanted you for your body. Initially, you assumed Gojo was trying to get in your pants. but now its been 3 months since that mission. 3 months since he's changed his attitude around you. And around a month since you started falling for him aswell.

It wasn't until a quiet evening in the school library that you realized your feelings. He found you reading with your headphones in, smiling as he took a seat next to you. "I love the smiths," You flinched, looking up at him and pulling one headphone to the side.

"Sorry?"

"I said I love the smiths," It took a second, then you smiled, realizing it could be heard from outside. You paused your song, taking them off. "You know, listening to music that loud can make you go deaf."

"Then together we'd make the Helen Keller duo, huh?" He snorted. You laughed aswell. The joke wouldn't be funny anywhere else, but with him, everything seemed to be downright hilarious.

"I'm not blind, my vision is so good I can wear a blindfold and still see perfectly," The conversation dissolved into nonsense. Music, studying, whats new, cats, even the upcoming summer break. Eventually he brought up your curse, interrogating it's ability. "So why does she do everything you say?"

"We have a deal. If I give her energy, she will do as I say. It's like Aki Hayakawa's ability, if you've ever seen-"

"Chainsaw Man!!" He exclaimed, making you smile wider. "I literally love that anime, I binged it at a sleepover with Suguru," Once again, the conversation dissolved into useless stuff. Eventually, it was brought back to Suguru. "Are you secretly crushing on my Sugu?" You snorted.

"He's like my brother."

"Ohh, so you're crushing on me!" You felt a heat on your cheeks, but rolled your eyes.

"That'd be pointless, you have other girls waiting on you." His smile nearly faltered.

"You can't blame them, Im the hottest on campus."

"You know, I don't think I see Sugu as a brother anymore," You said with a smirk. He groaned before gagging.

"Im hotter than him, thats why I have a roster," This time, you gagged.

"thats so cringe. How do you explain him dating Kaelyn then?" He rolled his eyes, changing the subject again. It must be like 1 in the morning now, and he offered to walk you to your dorm. Your comment on him having other girls stuck with him. You were smart, had the highest grades in most of your classes and you were an expert on analyzing. Why couldn't you see his feelings for you? And why was he feeling like a middle school boy, why was it so hard to talk to you? Were you seriously stronger than him?

Gojo, normally the master of composed nonchalance, found himself stumbling over his words. "Y/n," You looked at him. He knew he was obvious, considering Suguru and Shoko always asked him if he had asked you out already. Suguru even told him it was obvious to everyone except for him and you, then calling you two idiots. "You should come to the fair with me tomorrow, I'll pick you up." You smiled brightly, reached the door to your dorm.

"Alright, text me the time. Bye Gojo."

"huh, you still wont call me Satoru," He whined.

"Bye, Satoru"

Shit.

If he wasnt head over heels already he was now.

Four knocks hit your door the next evening. You opened the door for him after fixing your hair for the 32nd time. He looked you up and down, a pink tint growing on his cheeks. "Your outfit is beautiful." Even in its simplicity, beauty can be found. You donned a red tube top, black jacket and bootcut jeans. He wore black jeans and a white tee.

At the fair, you two had tons of fun running around. Geto also came, he brought Kaelyn, who kept calling this a double date. They eventually ran off, leaving you and Gojo alone. You challenged him to one of the games, both wanting the cute cat plushie. He of course won, but decided to give you the plushie. You kept it sticking out of your purse slightly, as if it were Elle Woods and her chihuahua. Your cheeks were sore from smiling and talking so much. It grew dark, meaning it was a busy time for the fair. You didn't think much of it, hell, you weren't even analyzing the crowd so see if anyone had bad intentions. You were so focused on Gojo.

Speaking of being focused on Gojo, he gradually become more and more irritated. You stopped him, having to yell over top the people, asking whats wrong. He tried to play it off, then you realized his head was probably so overwhelmed with how many people were there. You took his hand and walked around, finding a spot behind a hot dog machine. He sat down, groaning and rubbing his temples. "Too many people..." You sat next to him, closer than friends should be. You held his hand, waiting for his migraine to calm down. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin this," Your eyebrow raised, surprised to hear him apologize sincerly.

"Dont, you didn't ruin anything." After a minute, he looked at you, the proximity sending red to his cheeks.

"Suguru was right," You eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Youre stronger than me," His gazed set on your eyes, then your lips. "Can I kiss you?" You only smiled, leaning closer.

"Yeah," You weren't sure who closed the distance, neither of you were, but your lips were pressed against his. You pulled away, before leaning back in. You'd been waiting for god knows how long. When you pulled away this time, his hand rested on yours again. "I'm not stronger than you, Satoru."

"Theres a million definitions to strength. I can't describe it, but you are stronger than me. As a person." You understood what he meant. You talked about nothing and yet everything, still sitting behind the truck, the noise of people dying down.

"Its about 9:00pm, people are starting to leave. Do you want to ride the ferris wheel?" He smiled, taking your hand and standing up, helping you up after.

"Of course," when you two left, Geto and Kaelyn saw you holding hands and squealed like little kids. They started on who bet what, making Satoru laugh. You were right earlier, there were a lot less people. 'Nobody Gets Me' was playing faintly in the background.

How am I supposed to tell you?

I dont wanna see you with anyone but me

On the ferris wheel, he had one arm wrapped around your shoulder, his other hand holding yours.

Nobody gets me like you

How am I supposed to let you go

You looked into the stars, mesmerized by their beauty. Satoru stared at you, just like you stared into the stars. He could get lost in you. Satoru wasn't a man who had plans for the future. He knew he would have to be a sorceror, and he'd die being one. He was okay with that on the terms that he wouldn't be bored, and he'd have a really fucking cool death. Now that had changed, all he wanted to do was grow old with you. He was okay dying of sickness or age, as long as you were by his side.

Only like myself when Im with you

Nobody gets me, you do

part 2???

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mother-above · 4 months

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The Golden Warrior | Chapter 10

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 10/?

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: 18+ suggestiveness, swearing,fluff, and very stubborn characters

*masterlist*

Azriel despised going to Illyria. He hated dealing with the warlords and loathed dealing with Illyrian problems that wouldn’t even be there if the males weren’t misogynistic assholes. There were reports of wing clippings in a war camp at the edge of Illyria. Usually, Rhysand and Cassian would be the ones to deal with this, but Rhys was busy with Hewn City and Cassian was newly mated.

Azriel spent a total of four days and three nights in that camp interrogating and then eliminating all those who took part in the wing clippings. The shadowsinger did not hold back, he made sure the males that committed this crime were publicly held accountable. He paid a visit to the young girls, and it broke his heart to see them lying on their stomachs, their small wings tattered and unhealable. He wished you were there; he knew you’d be able to make the girls more comfortable and lift their spirits.

Your absence is another reason for Azriel’s irritable mood. It has been two months since he last saw you. Your letters were vague and gave no information about how you were doing. He asked to visit, and you came up with some bullshit excuse, he felt better when Feyre told him that you said the same thing to her but that didn’t stop Azriel from brooding. He almost sent his shadows to find out, but he knew you would find them, and he didn’t want to spend a whole week sick and throwing up into a toilet.

Azriel spent sleepless nights thinking about what you could be doing. Were you sleeping around trying to forget about Tarquin? Were you drowning yourself at work trying to forget about the battle? Were you doing both? Another thing causing Azriel’s constant surly mood was that he was needy. He wanted you all the time and when he slept, he would dream about your soft body underneath him. He would wake up upset that your body wasn’t entangled with his, his hands gripping your thighs. Pleasuring himself barely tapped the surface, he needed more, he needed you and he had no idea if you would ever kiss him again.

One time, it got so bad Azriel found himself in a pleasure hall in the middle of the night. It felt wrong being there, and just when he was going to turn around and go home, he felt a hand slip around his waist, in an aroused daze, he followed the female into a room. His shadows were screaming at him to stop, and when the female pressed her semi-clothed body against his, he ran over to the trash can and heaved into it. He apologized and then slipped into the shadows to get as far from her as possible. Azriel took a scalding bath and soaped and lathered his skin at least three times to get rid of the female's scent. He went to bed alone and ashamed. Even his shadows were upset at him and were nowhere to be found. That was the biggest reason Azriel took the job to deal with the wing clippings, he needed to punish himself for even thinking going to the pleasure hall was a good idea.

When the time came for Azriel to go back to Velaris, the violence Azriel unleashed at the camp did little to make him feel better. He was tense about anything and everything, he was halfway to Velaris when he felt a talon scrape against his mental shield.

Yes?

Even Azriel’s mental response was gruff.

We’re having a family dinner when you get home. Also… your mate is here at the House of Wind.

Why the hel didn’t you tell me sooner?

Surprise, purred Rhysand.

Azriel beat his wings faster. Rhysand had told him a few weeks back that you were having a tough time and Thesan was thinking about sending you to Night Court for a while. The frigid wind stung his face, but his body and wings were warmed up from the physical exertion, Azriel had never flown this fast before, he was desperate to see you. Minutes later, he passed by the wards protecting Velaris, his wings beating hard as he saw the twinkling House of Wind in his sight. He could feel your presence, you were so close, and his shadows chittered with glee.

He free-falls right above the House, his feet landing with such force the mountain shook. A chorus of hellos rang through the air, but Azriel heard nothing. His fierce gaze searched for yours and when he did, he felt his heart drop. Your eyes were tired, the dark circles on your skin emphasized that something was wrong. Your sizable feathered wings were nowhere to be found and you looked like you lost a bit of weight. What horrified Azriel the most was the absence of your radiance. Your skin looked just like his, ordinary, with no hint of a glow beneath it.

Azriel greeted his brothers and family, but he could barely keep his eyes off you. By the time he reached you, those in attendance were discreetly staring at the both of you. Even those who knew nothing of the bond could clearly see that something was happening between the two of you.

His tall figure towered over as he took in every new detail, and you were doing the same. Instinctively, your arms reached up and he met you halfway, his arms carefully encircling your waist as he hugged you. He wanted to cry out when he noticed how different your body felt, while still muscular, you felt strange and fragile. He breathed you in and even the smell of lilacs and sweet morning dew was dampened by the sharp bitterness of your power. He couldn’t believe how different you were, he swore to himself he would never leave your side again.

“Hi,” he said softly. “It’s good to see you.”

The sound of his voice sent a strange rush of reassurance through your body. Your usually tense muscles relaxed, and you found that horrible gnawing pit in your stomach had calmed.

“Hi,” you breathed out. “It’s nice to see you too.”

The two of you didn’t talk, you didn’t feel like you needed to. It was enough to stand there and be in each other’s presence. His shadows were ecstatic, they hovered around and gave you a look over, some felt protective, so they latched onto your shoulders and stayed there as you walked to the dining table.

The dinner was served family style, and the conversation was entertaining. Being the newcomer, you stayed quiet as you observed the dynamics between everyone at the table. Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, Morrigan, and Varian were by far the loudest and rowdiest. Everyone was quite cheerful; they were excited to have a new face in the house and you found yourself feeling comfortable in the unfamiliar environment. They made sure to include you in conversations, but they never pushed you too far.

The wine was flowing, thanks to Feyre who sat next to you constantly refilling your glass. The food was surprisingly good, you took a special interest in the chicken dish that you knew originated from Dawn Court. Azriel was delighted to see you reaching for seconds, he met eyes with Rhysand whose twitch of the lips told Azriel that he too was happy.

Her body knows that she’s safe and close to her mate.

Azriel nodded.

Rhysand had mentally filled him in that your trauma had made you lose interest in most things. Azriel discreetly simmered with anger because it seemed like everyone but he knew about your situation before he did. He was angry at Thesan and Rhys for not telling him that you were acting like this. Azriel hid his fury well; he refused to sour your seemingly content mood. What bothered him the most was the fact that he didn’t insist and tried harder to see you. He thought that giving you space was the best thing, you had gone through something traumatic, and he wanted you to be the one to reach out, but clearly, it wasn’t the best idea.

Once dinner was over, everyone moved to lounge in the living room and balcony. More wine and amber-colored liquor were poured, feeling in the mood to drink, you divulged and had a couple of glasses. It was strange to see Rhysand so informal, splayed out on the couch with Feyre’s feet on his lap. Morrigan wanted to go dancing and after no one wanted to go out, she huffed and flopped onto a floor cushion and declared that one night, she would get everyone in the room to party with her.

Feeling warm and slightly overwhelmed by Cassian’s drunken storytelling, you got up from the loveseat and headed to the balcony. You welcomed the cool air as you took in the sights of snowcapped mountains. You weren’t sure if it was the city lights that gleamed below you or the warmth of the liquor but for the first time in a while, you felt something other than dread. The tickle of a shadow around your ankle was the first thing you felt, your lips quirked up when you saw Azriel join you by the balcony.

“It’s beautiful here.”

Azriel sidled closer to you and leaned his forearms on the banister. “It’s my favorite place in the whole universe. I have a meeting in the morning but after, I’m free to show you around.”

“Thank you, but Feyre and Morrigan had already offered to give me a tour.”

Azriel clicked his tongue. “I’m sure I have better spots to show you. The best views require wings- “

You winced and he grimaced. His eyes land on the space behind your back. “I’m sorry. How are your wings? In your letters, you told me they were healed…”

You chewed your bottom lip and gazed at the city lights. “I haven’t been able to fly since the war. I tried taking off and I ended up faceplanting and fracturing my wrist. They’ve been glamoured since then.”

Azriel saw the pain in your eyes, and he felt awful. He wished he could help you like you’ve helped him. Without your healing, Azriel would’ve never flown again.

A breeze blew by and despite the warmth of the liquor, you shivered. Feeling bold, Azriel curled a wing around you, and shortly, warmth enveloped you as the mix of cedar and lilac filled both your senses. You hummed as you felt your body continue to relax, his warmth alluring enough to make you lean against him. The bond thrummed in Azriel’s chest; happy you chose to be close to him. He was near enough to pull you closer by the waist, but Azriel held back, it would have been too much for you.

“I can help you with the flying,” said Azriel softly.

You lifted your head and looked up to see that he was genuine. Callon and the other Peregryn’s were too scared to offer such services, scared that you would be offended. Once again resting your head against his shoulder, you slightly shook your head,

“Thank you for offering but I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

“Okay,” he said, his voice so deep that it rumbled. “let me know when you’re ready. I’m here for you.”

You breathed deeply, inhaling morning dew and night mist, and felt at ease. It felt strange to feel this much comfort and safety, you don’t think you’ve felt these feelings since before the war with Hybern.

Turning to Azriel, you looked up into his warm green and honey-colored eyes. “I missed you. Sorry if my letters were short, I didn’t know what to say.”

He shrugged. “You’re here now, that’s what matters.” He didn’t think it would be this hard to act this nonchalantly. He cherished those letters no matter how vague they were, each letter you sent was tucked away in a safe spot on his office desk.

“I missed you too,” said Azriel, every emotion he had felt the past few months was poured into those four words.

You don’t know if it’s the liquor, his warmth, his scent, or the way he was looking at you but suddenly, your faces were only inches apart. You glanced at his lips and remembered how soft they felt and how he made you feel like you were floating. Acting on impulse, you go on your toes so you can reach him, and just as your lips are about to press against his, Cassian’s slurred voice cuts through the air.

“The Golden Warrior and the Spymaster!” said Cassian as he walked toward the two of you.

Eyes wide, you sprung away from Azriel and wrapped an arm around yourself. Your cheeks grew hot, and you refused to look at the shadowsinger. “I- uh, I think I’m going to head to my room now. Thank you for the dinner, good night,” you said hurriedly walking inside and past the others.

Once Azriel could hear you bounding up the stairs, a growl rumbled from his chest as he glared at his brother.

“What the fuck was that Cas?”

Cassian, who sobered up quickly, shrunk away and held his hands up. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you!”

Azriel stood there menacingly, everyone thought Azriel was going to punch him but instead, Azriel slipped into a shadow and disappeared.

Cassian stood there stunned and turned to see everyone in the living room glaring at him.

“If he hit you, I wouldn’t have stopped him,” said Nesta. “You would’ve deserved that.”

Mor and Amren were scowling while Rhysand and Feyre just sighed heavily. Varian, Elain, and Lucien looked at each other with wide eyes, this was a pair they never expected much to the disappointment of Elain.

Safely in your bedroom, you walked to the bathroom and looked at your flushed cheeks as you placed your fingers over your lips. You grimaced when you saw that the crimson color had made its way to your ears, a slight glow emitting from your skin.

“What the fuck,” you mumbled. “Don’t kiss your friends.”

Feeling physically and emotionally exhausted, you drew a bath and sat in the suds contemplating your first day in Night Court.

Azriel was lying on the floor in the middle of the training ring and it was cold, but he didn’t care. He was beating himself up for the almost kiss, he wasn’t sure if it was him who started leaning in or if it was both of you. He saw how startled you looked and now he’s scared that any progress that was made had regressed. He remembered Thesan’s advice to be patient with you, but Azriel was preparing himself for the reality that you may never feel the bond snap or if you decide to stay friends. That’s what Rhysand did with Feyre, he was patient and let her make all the choices.

Azriel would never force the bond on you, he wished and told the Mother above that he would take whatever role you wanted him to be. All he wants is for you to be in his life. After a few hours, the cold finally got to him, so Azriel went downstairs and walked quietly through the halls. He was about to enter his bedroom when he heard sniffles from the room across from him. The faint trace of lilacs made his jaw go slack.

Sneaky bastards thought Azriel.

The shadowsinger softly knocked on your door but he heard nothing but the sound of you crying even harder. His shadows were hissing at him to go to you and after a few seconds, Azriel slowly opened the door. Curled up on the right side of the bed was you sobbing in your sleep. He felt his heart drop as he watched your face contort in anguish, the tears streaming from your closed eyes. Quietly padding to your bedside, Azriel whispered your name, but it wasn’t enough. Feeling brave, Azriel rested his hand on your bare shoulder and shook you gently.

Waking up with a start, you snatched the hand that was on you and only relaxed when you saw that it was just Azriel.

“Are you okay? Your room is across from mine, and I heard you crying… I thought I should wake you.”

You sat up and rubbed your wet eyes. “I’m fine,” you said still disoriented.

Azriel awkwardly stood next to you. He did not think this through, now you were going to think he was strange for bursting into your room uninvited. He watched you blink back the tears and to his surprise, you reached over and patted the foot of the bed asking him to sit there.

He was pleased you wanted him to stay, as calmly as he could he nodded and sat on the edge, his feet planted on the floor as he turned to look at you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going through a hard time? I would have taken time off work; I would’ve helped you.”

You shook your head as a frown formed. “That’s the thing, I don’t understand how everyone is acting like thousands of faeries didn’t die. In the beginning, I thought everyone was feeling what I felt, and I didn’t want to bother anyone. I don’t know how everyone moved on so fast, I feel responsible for every single Dawn Court death,” you said as your lips trembled. Hugging your knees, you looked at the Azriel, the faint faelight bright enough so you could see his silhouette. “If I was powerful enough, I could’ve taken more Hybern soldiers down, I could’ve saved more Prythian lives.”

“Please believe me when I say you were powerful enough, it just happened that you were up against the godsdamned Cauldron. Amren had to unbind herself and die to beat them.” Azriel shook his head, he restrained himself from wanting you in his arms and comforting you. “The first battle is the hardest, I locked myself in a cabin and was in a drunken stupor for a whole month until Cas and Rhys dragged me outside. I don’t think anyone moved on… we’re all clinging onto normalcy, so we aren’t consumed by the guilt of being lucky enough to survive. When you’re centuries years old, you learn how to deal with that heartache.”

You sat still and absorbed his words as you looked at the outlines of his wings, the scarred membrane so familiar to you.

“Sometimes I can still smell blood and hear the clanging of metal. I know it’s not real, but it scares me and it makes my blood run cold.” The very thought of those hallucinations gives you chills, the goosebumps littering the skin that your pajamas don’t cover. “Sometimes I get these nightmares, they’re not all about the war, sometimes it's things that happened in the past.”

Azriel stood up and reached over to grab the crumpled ends of the blankets and pulled to cover you. His warm hands brushing against your skin made a blush spread through your cheeks as you thanked him. He sat back down on the edge of the bed but this time, he was much closer to you, his wings brushing the side of your calf.

“What were you dreaming about?”

Your heart started to pound against your chest. Should you tell him that you were dreaming of the boy? Of him?

“I’ve been getting these reoccurring nightmares,” you said shakily. “It’s about a little boy locked in a dark cellar.”

Azriel’s face blanched, his heart pounding just like yours was.

“Tonight I watched these young boys pour oil on the little one’s hands and light them on fire. I couldn’t move to help him, it was like I was stuck in the shadows… gods I can still hear him scream,” you whispered, tears running down your face as the vivid dream replayed in your head. “I tried to help him but I couldn’t.”

Azriel was frozen, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Is this something mates experienced? Did they have dreams of each other? He watched as your puffy red eyes looked down at his hands that were clasped tightly on his lap.

“Az?”

“Yes, dove?”

There were a few moments of silence, the only thing heard was you and Azriel’s heartbeats.

“Are you the boy I’ve been dreaming about?”

He let out a long exhale. “I think so,” whispered Azriel. He waited for the bond to snap for you, the golden cord in his chest reaching out to the empty half. A few seconds later, there was nothing and disappointment flowed through him.

“That’s what happened to your hands then? Your brothers burned you?” Your breathing sped up, the confusion of why you were dreaming of Azriel overwhelming you. The painful images once again flooded your mind, your eyes squeezed shut as flashes of burned flesh, beheaded monsters, and ashes overtook your mind. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save them.”

You were hyperventilating and the tears streaming down your face no longer letting you see Azriel who was kneeling on the bed panicking about how to help you. Your mental state was too fragile, Azriel immediately felt bad for being frustrated with you. Reaching out, Azriel cradled your face with both hands and wiped your tears away.

“Breathe,” he said calmly. “Inhale and exhale slowly. Follow me.”

He led by example and then you follow by syncing your breaths.

“I’m so sorry,” you said as you placed your hands over his. The scars on top are rough against your palms. “What they did to you was horrible.”

“There was nothing you could have done to help me and that’s okay,” he said soothingly. “It happened so many years ago, and Cas and Rhys already punished them for it.”

“Why would I dream of you?” You said as your eyebrows furrowed.

His thumb that stroked your cheekbone lifted and moved to trace the jagged scar that ran above it. He couldn’t tell you now, not in this state. “I don’t know,” lied Azriel. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep? We can try to figure it out another day.”

Looking down at your pillow, you hesitated. You were exhausted but you were scared to close your eyes.

“Will you stay? Just until I fall asleep?”

“Y-yes,” stammered Azriel. “I can stay with you.”

Moving to the left side of the bed, you watched as Azriel tucked his wings in and laid on your pillow, the scent of lilacs filling his senses. A shy smile graced your lips and Azriel couldn’t help but reciprocate it. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

To both of your surprise, you found yourself reaching over to take his hand and placing it in the middle of the bed. You lightly traced the ridges of the marked skin, Azriel searched your face for any hint of disgust, but he found none, only pure curiosity. He relaxed as your fingertips ran over each knuckle and finger, the movements lulling him into a tranquil state. As if you were protecting him, you placed your hand over where the burns were concentrated. Azriel felt his heart swell, the gesture alone made his eyes glimmer, the golden bond in his chest thrumming in comfort and happiness. With your eyelids growing heavier by the second, you felt the smallest tug in your chest, and then blissful sleep took over.

***

The next morning, you were awakened by a knock on the door, and your eyes flew open to look at the other side of the bed. Judging by rumpled sheets and slight warmth, Azriel must have gotten up an hour ago. With your permission, Nuala floated in with her shadowy form and stood at the foot of the bed, a slight smile on her face as she took notice of the right side of the bed. A blush crept up your neck, you couldn’t believe you went to sleep holding Azriel’s hand.

Nuala asked you if you would like to be attended to, but you politely declined. You were Dawn Court royalty; Rhysand must’ve suspected you got ready with attendants but that only happened on special occasions. She leaves you with a few coats and cardigans lent by Mor and Feyre before leaving you to get ready.

Before using magic to make the bed, you stared at Azriel's side for a moment longer before going to the bathroom to get ready. You emerged dressed and ready for the day wearing linen pants and a wool sweater, your puffy eyes the only remnants of last night's crying.

You were the last to show up for breakfast, the only seat was between Azriel and Feyre. A chorus of “good mornings” filled the air and you responded, your lips slightly smiling when you caught Azriel’s eye, him trying and failing to hide the smirk. With a wave of Rhysand’s hand, breakfast dishes were placed on the center of the table. Without asking, Feyre is already pilling pancakes on your plate while Azriel spooned fruit on the side. A grateful smile graced your lips as they spoiled you, Nesta who sat across handed you the maple syrup.

The group called themselves the inner circle and you understood why, aside from you and the other newcomers on the table, Rhysand and the inner circle had been friends and rulers for five centuries. It was clear that they all loved and respected each other, and they extended the same courtesy to their new family and guests. They were talking about the Winter Solstice that was coming up in about two months, all the Courts held parties or rituals that day, it just so happens that Winter Solstice was Dawn Court's biggest celebration of the year.

You grimaced; you should’ve been planning things for the annual grand ball, but you had forgotten. Rhysand reassured you that Thesan had the ball covered but that didn’t ease the guilt you felt for being an inadequate second. For the rest of breakfast, you stayed quiet while blankly looking at your half-eaten pancakes. Cassian kept trying to coax a laugh out of you while Mor and Feyre tried getting you to talk about anything, but nothing worked. Your conscious was still preoccupied with punishing you for how useless you’ve been to your Court. Azriel gave his family a look and shook his head, silently telling them to drop the subject. Normally you would have been bantering with his family, but you weren’t okay.

After breakfast, you went to your room to get ready for your day out. You dressed in the thickest clothes you packed and clasped your sapphire necklace around your neck. You didn’t want to scare the citizens of Velaris with your power, the last time they felt dark magic was when Hybern attacked their city. You emerged from your room wearing a wool coat and went to the balcony where Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand were waiting to fly you all down.

Azriel approached with something dark blue in his hands. His brothers pretended to be in a conversation but really, they were snooping. He stopped when he was close enough to feel the heat radiating from you.

“Hi, sorry about last night, I got up just after the sun rose. I fell asleep and I didn’t wake up till the morning, I know I was only supposed to stay till you went to slee- “

“It’s okay,” you said quietly, your cheeks feeling hot. “I don’t mind. I should be the one embarrassed, I made you stay because I was scared. Thank you for staying.” You chuckled softly.

Azriel shook his head. “I didn’t mind at all, I’m just glad I could help you.” Before he could back out, he thrust the soft blue cloth toward you.

“What’s this?” Your fingers brushed against his as you grasped onto the cloth. Holding it up, you realize it was a beanie made of yarn. “Did you make this?”

Cassian and Rhysand looked at each other with wide eyes. They didn’t even bother faking a conversation, they stood there staring at each other solely communicating telepathically.

Azriel brushed his hands along his inky hair. “Um... yes, I did. It’s something I learned when Rhys was Under The Mountain, I found out it calms me when I get stressed. You don’t actually have to wear it or anything…I just thought that it might be helpful.”

A genuine smile spread across your lips, your eyes lighting up for the first time in a while. “It’s beautiful, this is exactly what I needed!”

You slipped the beanie around your head and ears and beamed up at Azriel who looked at you in awe. He couldn’t believe his mate was standing in front of him wearing something he made, the blended blue yarn matched the color of his siphons and your sapphires.

As you thanked him, Feyre, Mor, Nesta, and Elain arrived at the balcony at the same time, Rhysand had ordered them to stay inside until he permitted them. The ladies’ eyes flew to your head, they kept their cool but inside, they were grinning like a mad person. It was time to fly down, and you found yourself wanting Azriel to be the one to carry you. You sound ridiculous, you thought. With a smile, you asked Cassian to do the honors and he obliged, as he took off, you missed the apologetic smile he shot to Azriel who just landed on the balcony after bringing Mor down.

Since the males had a meeting with Azriel’s spies, the girls gave you a tour of Velaris. They showed you their favorite shops, the Sidra, and the Rainbow neighborhood which you immediately loved. Seeing the soft smile on your face, Feyre ordered molten chocolate for everyone as you all stood and watched the street musicians. You watched the children laugh and dance and you couldn’t help the tears in your eyes. Feyre, who was in a particularly playful mood, dragged her sisters closer and made them dance with her. Mor hooked her arm around yours and made you sway to the beat as you watched all kinds of faeries dance. These precious fae were what you helped protect in the war, you endured so much so they could have this. At that moment, that hollow feeling in your chest felt a little smaller.

Dawn Court had a city similar to this, it’s in the process of rebuilding but you knew that someday it would be just as cheerful as Velaris. You walked into a bookstore that the group must frequent a lot because the shopkeeper knew everyone’s name. They introduced you and the shopkeeper and patrons stared curiously. Despite wearing the necklace, the alluring darkness of your magic still lingered around you, your beauty drawing them in. The group dispersed to look for their genres, by the time you arrived at the romance section, Nesta was already there with books in her arms. You and Nesta laughed, and she even gave you a few recommendations. By the time you were to meet with the boys and Amren for lunch, you all had shopping bags filled with clothes and books.

Rhysand took you to his favorite restaurant, the view from the window was beautiful and the ambiance was refreshing. Azriel pulled out a chair for you to sit on and you bit back a smile when you saw he placed himself next to you. You were in a much better space after the great morning you had, you were able to laugh and chat a little bit with the group. Something you did notice was Lucien and Elain. They sat across from each other and Lucien would try to talk to Elain, his eyes pained when Elain gave him scraps. You sat near them so it was hard to ignore the couple, you could no longer take the awkwardness, so you pulled Lucien and Elain into a conversation. You asked him about Autumn Court and how he grew up and asked what it was like to grow up in the human territories. They both were grateful for your intervention, both proactively asking questions about yourself so they could avoid each other.

When everyone was watching Cassian and Nesta bicker, you took a sneaky glance at Elain and studied her and Lucien. Ignoring your mate seems cruel, you thought. This was why you hoped the bond hadn’t snapped for Tarquin, and you hoped it would never snap for you. You didn’t want Tarquin to go through this. Guilt ran through you at the thought of the male, but you couldn’t help it. It was cruel that he was your mate and you felt nothing for him.

After lunch, everyone goes their way, either to do more shopping, see a show at the theater, or run errands. It left you and Azriel alone to come up with your own plans. You don’t see it but Feyre shoots Azriel a thumbs up as his eyes shoot out daggers, begging his High Lady to stop. Azriel asked what you wanted to do, truthfully you wanted to lie down and sleep, but you were in a new city and a guest, it would be rude for you to mope around. You suggested walking around and Azriel nodded, happy that you wanted to do more.

Against your protests, Azriel carried your shopping bags, you only had two, but the male was insistent. He showed you his favorite spots in the city and even brought you to a blacksmith he liked. The shop was filled with knives, daggers, swords, and other metalwork. You liked his work so much, that you purchased this dagger with an obsidian blade and intricately carved hilt that you found in some random corner of the store. The price was hefty, but you had the money, and the dagger called to you, so you had to have it. Azriel smiled at your purchase, the dagger you chose was older than you and him combined, and the obsidian material was the same as his Truth-Teller.

Finally admitting you were tired, the two of you sat on the benches by the Sidra, the sound of the flowing water easing your weary mental state. A couple passed by you and Azriel, they’re holding hands and talking loudly in their own world. You watched how completely unaware they looked, if you threw a pebble at them, you don’t think they’d notice.

“You look like you want to shove that couple into the river,” chuckled Azriel.

“What makes you say that?”

Azriel poked the side of your downturned mouth. “Dove, you’re scowling at them.”

Realizing he was right, you huffed as you neutralized your expression.

“So I take it that you still hate love?” said Azriel. He emphasized the word so dramatically that a giggle escaped your lips.

Your gaze returned to the couple, they were laying out a picnic blanket, working in practiced tandem as they set their food up. It was cold outside, but it didn’t even look like it was bothering them, the mere presence of their significant other was enough to warm them thoroughly.

“I don’t hate love… I just have a problem with what it’ll do to someone. Look what it did to my parents…”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” interrupted Azriel. You were supposed to be getting better, not reliving your painful past.

“It’s alright, I can talk about them. My mother was the second-born of High Lord Lydo, her older brother was Thesan’s father. She was also a powerful healer, she had a specialty with bones, and she could fix any break. My father was the Peregryn Commander, and he was fierce and strong, and everyone was afraid of him. They were married and mates, so in love and inseparable to the point their top priority was each other and I was always second. When I was a teenager, an enemy of the Court had captured my father. No one was having luck finding him and my mother wanted to search for him, but I begged her not to go. I had this horrible feeling in my stomach that something bad was going to happen, but she was so distraught that she ignored me. She led a search party and that was the last time I saw her alive. A few days later, soldiers came back to Dawn carrying their bodies. I was 16 years old when this happened,” you said fiddling with your fingers.

The shadows swarmed around you, feeling your distress, and intertwined themselves in your hands.

“Growing up, my parents loved each other more than they loved me. My mom chose to go and left me behind. Some may think I’m selfish for holding a grudge for this long, but I can’t help it. We had our best warriors and spies searching for my father, yet my mother chose to leave me behind knowing the risks. I think that’s selfish.”

Azriel gaped at you, he was in pure disbelief. No wonder you were the way you were, you’ve been angry and bitter for years.

“Two incredibly powerful people, yet their bond made them vulnerable. That’s why they’re dead. They put each other over their duties. Over me,” you paused to control your trembling voice. “To me, that’s abhorrent, it’s weakness.”

Azriel was quiet for a long time, his handsome face twisted into a frown as he absorbed all the information you gave him. “You don’t have to be like your parents. I’ve seen mated couples do a phenomenal job at keeping a balance between work and their life. Look at Feyre and Rhys, they’re doing great.”

It was hard to do with all your layers on, but you turned to the side and brought your legs up to lean on the bench. Fully facing Azriel, you looked at him thoughtfully “You’re a warrior and spy, I’m sure you know how hard it can be to focus when your family and friends are on the battlefield, how much more distracting is it when your lover is out there too?”

Azriel’s head cocked to the side. “Yes, there’s a risk of being distracted but I think it’s the opposite,” he said carefully planning his words. “I think knowing someone out there is waiting for you… protects you. It makes you fight harder because you know you must go home, it’s not an option to die on the battlefield.”

You nodded as you tried to understand what he meant. Your memories flashed back to seeing Azriel fighting on the battlefield. “It’s too much distraction, all it takes is one bad split decision and then everything goes to shit!”

“What do you mean? What happened?”

You slammed your hands onto the wood beneath, your mood switching up once again as your words spit out like fire. “Because of you, you idiot! I saw you on the battlefield and some creature came up from behind and you didn’t notice. That millisecond it took to decide to help you, led to me getting stabbed and almost having my wing ripped off! Now I can’t even fucking fly because that's what happens when you get distracted, Azriel!”

You were panting and didn’t realize you were standing up and you didn’t even care that other fae were staring.

Azriel gawked at you, his mouth opening and closing. When words failed, he just stared at you in silence as you slumped down and covered your face with your hands. Azriel felt guilt creep up, he had no idea that’s what happened.

You were in a daze; you didn’t even realize how much you cared about the shadowsinger until now. The shock on his handsome face seared behind your closed eyes. Your chest burned and you didn’t know what to do, how did you not realize you were beginning to care for Azriel in that way?

You stood up and picked up your shopping bags, without looking him in the eye you said, “Can we go back to the house?”

Azriel was stunned. You had just admitted that you cared for him in a way that scared you. By the looks of your reaction, he didn’t want to do or say anything that would agitate you more. He knew he was treading on a fine line; this was something you needed to deal with yourself, and it was you who had to come to terms with your feelings.

“Okay,” he said as quietly and gently as possible.

He waited for you to wrap your arms around his neck before he scooped you up, his arms under your knees and back. He unfurled his wings and shot up to the skin. Your embrace was tight as you watched the city shrink, you looked out to the surrounding mountains and pain flooded your mind. Your emotions made your magic struggle against the sapphires that dampened it. You were confused about your emotions and now you were being reminded of why you should never let them get in the way.

If only your wings worked, you’d be able to explore these mountains yourself and escape your thoughts. Feeling defeated, you closed your eyes and leaned on Azriel’s chest as exhaustion took over.

Azriel spoke up not being able to deal with how much anguish you were in. “You’ll fly again. I was serious when I said I would help you.”

You nodded as tears escaped, a shadow chittered and caressed your face.

a/n: Thank you for reading! lmk what you think, lets fangirl down in the comments!

taglist❤️: @inloveallthetime , @phoenix666stuff, @books-and-lit

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #acotar x y/n #azriel fanfiction #azriel angst #acotar #acotar x reader

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wandixx · 11 months

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I just realized that there is literally zero fanfics with Danny Fenton/M'gann M'orzz pairing and idk, am I the only one who see nearly endless potential in it?

I don't know how they met but they're probably pretty fast friends.

With Danny being space nerd, he would ask M'gann all the questions about Mars. At the same time, from what little I know about Miss Martian, she is "Earth nerd" and would ask him all the questions about Earth and what normal teenage life is like, because YL team is not the best study case. Like, only Wally and maybe Artemis (I don't know a thing about her other than 'snarky/blunt archer') had normal human life. He is happy to answer, introducing her to his semi normal life before accident.

They exchanged stories about stars from their respective homes.

Just imagine, Danny binge watching "Hello Megan" just to know what she is talking about and it's not his thing, really, but he learnt to enjoy it because he associated it with M'gann (we can have Jazz being fan too and feeling 'betrayed' because she tried to strongarm her brother to watch it for years and all it took was to cute alien girl to mention it and he is pulling all nighters).

Just imagine, M'gann asking one of her teammates (probably Robin) to teach her to play Doomed, so she can play with her halfa friend and his friends and not ask about every controller. They don't really mind her being newbie but sudden progress doesn't go unnoticed or unpraised.

Everlasting trio inviting her to Nasty Burger every once in a while to talk about random, not hero related things.

Rest of the YJ may not even know about Phantom. They just know about this Danny, M'gann's totally civilian friend, who likes milkshakes and video games.

They share their stories and tips about heroing and powers they have similar. Mostly M'gann shares things she learnt from her uncle or in Mountain because let's be honest, self taught is rarely better than someone with proper mentoring. She for sure helps with ghosts if they attack during her visit, even if Danny tries to shield her from it. "I'm supposed to be your civilian friend, am I not?"

She definitely does what she can to help with his hero PR. She may or may not accidentally convinced rest of the Team she has celebrity crush on underappreciated ghost hero from the middle of the nowhere. They help her, spamming all negative news reports with praises for Phantom from both hero and civilian accounts. It caused some mess, Justice League had questions but Danny was happy so it doesn't matter.

If we go with ghost being super emphatic we can have Danny overwhelmed by everyone's feelings (honest hate his parents have towards his hero persona, confliction of towns people, concern of his friends, excitement of Casper students idk, EVERYTHING) and M'gann helps him overcome it. Later both of them being there for eachother when everything was just too much. Y'know just this mutual understanding that nobody else can really give them.

Maybe some communication troubles because M'gann prefers telepathy and Danny does not like it in a slightest (Freakshow flashbacks or something) but tries to accommodate. Or M'gann doesn't even try because idk, one of telepathy rules is "don't read thoughts of dying person unless they project it to you" and she feels it goes for dead (even if only halfway) too.

They're just vibing with eachother.

Then there is ghost attack outside Amity and Team is send to deal with it. M'gann is surprisingly competent at dealing with everything ghost does while evacuating civilians while someone magic competent is called. Suddenly she stops, gets her phone and makes a call:

"Hey Danny, do you have a moment?" whole team is too shocked to react, because in the love of whatever they believe in, why is Megan calling her civilian friend in the middle of the battle with unknown entity. "It's [insert whatever ghost you want] wrecking havoc. Can you come by at take them to the zone? I don't have thermos on me right now. Thank you."

WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

Que Danny flying top speed to wherever she is, fights a ghost and contains them. Que someone (maybe Wally) being like:

"When did you wanted to tell us that your civilian friend is a hero?"

M'gann honest to god forgot that Team thought Danny was a civilian.

"I worked quite hard to drag her into as little of my Phantom bullshit as I could. I am proud of being a civilian friend, thank you very much"

They all came in contact together after that.

Martian Manhunter tried to give Fenton a shovel talk but boy was too excited to meet his favourite hero and to focused on not making fool of himself to be actually scared or something. He deals with Skulker on a regular basis anyway, there are very few threats that could actually scare him.

Team members also tried to shovel talk him, just in case. They all failed for one reason or another

Or maybe Danny is already YJ member. Everything above can still happen just without ghost attack. Danny can have issues with Zeta Tubes though. That's a good stuff.

There can be a drama of "I'm your friend only because I'm alien/semi normal, am I not?"

Or we can go with space obsessed Danny going full Vlad on cute alien girl. Y'know, because "that's a halfa thing to do". M'gann is not into that. I'm not really excited about this take but that's a possibility too.

Use it as you will. Just please someone write it

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #no other fandom tags to not iritate people in either fandom who aren't into dp x dc stuff #just let them vibe #danny fenton/m'gann m'orzz #they could be so cute together #danny's reveal to yj could be something like:#M'gann: shapeshifts into her civilian disguise #Danny: oh I can do that too #and then shifts into his human form #que everyone is shocked #everyone other than m'gann #she knew #Wally: Why are ghosts Martians on steroids?#i definitely don't have around 1000 if no more words of Danny comforting M'gann after she saw civilian die in car crash she couldn't prevent #he found a ghost and dragged them and all that jazz just give his friend a closure #but he was really sus about it so uncle J'onn does not approve #“M'gann what are martian funeral traditions?”#that's the question that started this whole mess #I know nearly nothing about dc martians so it probably doesn't make to much sense canon wise #that's the reason why i won't post it #probably #maybe I'll get myself to do research and edit what I have to fit #who knows #do i tag correctly?#idk how to tag

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brookghaib-blog · 17 days

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Whispers of the past pt.2

Pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x reader

tw: mentions of death

Summary: 10 years ago, Y/N went missing after being attacked by a kaiju, now working by Gen Narumi's side as his secret weapon, she hides herself in hopes that one day she reconnects with her first love, Hoshina Soshiro.

pt.1 - pt.3

Y/N's pov:

The bar was a haven for the weary souls of the city, a place where laughter mixed with the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation.

However, today was a slow day, the nights were full and tough, filled with people driking by themselves to get their loneliness away, others just friends enjoying their youth and love, others? Just men looking for a dancer to pay their way into a night full of lust.

At afternoon, just with a couple people showing up, I stood behind the counter, expertly mixing drinks, my eyes scanning the room for any signs of trouble or someone needing my service. It was a routine I had grown accustomed to, a semblance of normalcy in a life that was anything but joyfull.

"Evening, Chisuka" a familiar voice broke through my thoughts. I looked up to see Captain Narumi leaning against the bar, his eyes sharp and knowing.

"Good evening, Captain," I replied, keeping my tone neutral. "What brings you here?"

He smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Just checking in. How's everything?"

"Quiet, for now," I said, glancing around the bar. "But you never know when things might change."

Narumi nodded, his expression turning serious. "You remember your mission, right? If anything happens, you're to report to me immediately."

I nodded, a weight settling on my shoulders. "I understand."

As he was about to leave, he paused, holding my chin and looking back at me, never breaking our eye contact, “Chisuka… stay safe. We need you."

I watched him go, my mind swirling with a mixture of emotions. Despite the danger, despite the constant fear of discovery, I had found a purpose in my new life. I was fighting for a cause, even if it meant staying in the shadows, hidden from the ones I loved.

The night I vanished played out like a nightmare in my mind, a memory I could never escape. I had been walking home from school, my thoughts filled with dreams of the future, when a kaiju attack erupted. The last thing I remembered was the ground shaking, buildings collapsing, running to try and help my sweet mother and my baby brother, only to come back to their corpses…their lifeless eyes.

My mother was out of reach, her body under what used to be our home, only her head picking out, maybe she felt the kiss I left her with. My baby brother, four years old, died in my arms, the pain was too hard for him to endure, too hard for him to talk, maybe not too hard for him to listen to me, hopefull that my last words of love would give him some peace of mind when walking into the unknown.

When siting beside my mother and holding my brother, a blinding pain as something inexplicable happened. When I woke up, I was no longer human. I had become a kaiju, a monster in the eyes of the world. How could I come back. Now that I only had Soshiro, and I had turned into what he hated the most.

For months, I lived in hiding, grappling with my new reality, until one day, Captain Gen Narumi found me. It was in a battle field, I turned into a kaiju to help a family that was in my sight in the middle of the attack, with no weapons or skills at all, I was only left with one strategy.

I was desperate, afraid of dying, I wanted to see sohiro's face again on day, I couldn't die, I revealed my self, not thinking of consequences.

Instead of destroying me, he offered me a chance to fight back, to use my newfound abilities for a greater purpose. He gave me a new identity and a new mission: to serve as a secret weapon for the first division, known by their higher ranks.

Later that night, as I cleaned up the bar, the door swung open, and a group of soldiers from the defence force walked in, their uniforms unmistakable. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized one of them—Soshiro. He looked older, more hardened, but his eyes still held that same spark I remembered.

I quickly turned away, focusing on cleaning a glass, my hands trembling. I couldn't let him see me, couldn't risk him recognizing me.

As the soldiers settled at a table, I caught snippets of their conversation. They spoke of the latest kaiju threat, of battles and strategies, but one name kept coming up: Captain Gen Narumi.

"He's got something up his sleeve," one of the soldiers said, his voice low. "Something big. Even we don't know what it is."

Soshiro nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Whatever it is, let's hope it gives us the edge we need."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. They had no idea that the captain’s secret weapon was standing right in front of them, serving drinks and pretending to be someone else.

For now, I had to stay hidden, a shadow among the living. But one day, when the time was right, I would reveal the truth. And until then, I would fight from the shadows, a secret weapon waiting to be unleashed.

#hoshina soshiro x reader #kaiju no. 8 #soshiro hoshina #hoshina x reader #kaiju art #soshino x reader #fics #fanfic

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hiraya-rawr · 1 year

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so i betrayed you, my love– (2/5)

Xiao Version || Childe Version || Thoma Version || Gorou Version || Ayato Version

synopsis !! Part 2 of “You Were The Enemy All Along” featuring the aftermath of betrayal and confrontation, with more depth to their stories! (Part 1 of each character was also included to make reading convenient.)

contains !! some character lore spoilers / a little violence / dialogue heavy in some scenes / reconciliation but also complicated relationships mending together / cameos of other characters! / might be easier to understand if you knew the lore of the characters

notes !! This was commissioned by the wonderful @mh8 who allowed this to be posted in public for everyone to enjoy! and honestly childe scares me to write bc I've barely written anything for him but I tried to bring out his charm? idk 😭

CHILDE

wc !! 2.4k

The noisiest of them all. He doesn't understand at first, tries to deny it by making jokes. The prank is up, what are you still doing? It's only when your betrayal becomes painfully obvious does he allow himself to laugh. It's ironic to be surprised coming from his line of work. He should really be used to these things.

"If you're this desperate for a fight, you could have just said so," He laughs, "Though, I warn you comrade, I won't hold back this time." It's so easy to drown in the adrenaline of battle and if he doesn't think hard enough, it feels no different than any of your usual spars together. There's a battle crazed look in his eyes at the thought of not holding back with you, but it's odd how numb he feels as Foul Legacy takes over.

Whether or not he wins the fight, the result remains the same; with him lying in the middle of the battlefield, mask still on, staring blankly upwards. He thinks of the abyss he fell into as a child, and briefly wonders when did it all go wrong.

— Before Him

You sighed in relief, a long day of training was finally coming to an end. Dottore was not an easy harbinger to be a rookie under; aside from the harsh training requirements of a Fatui Agent, you also had to deal with a lunatic scientist for a mentor. You were lucky enough to have the doctor more distracted on conducting his experiments rather than training fresh meat like you.

You leaned against a wall. You were in an isolated, snowy village, a mile away from the nearest Fatui training ground. It existed quietly, the villagers were as cold as Snezhnaya in that barren wasteland. You knocked twice on the concrete behind you, then an additional four times, then once more.

“Agent (Name), report.” A voice muffles from behind the wall, a figure you can't see.

“Pulcinella adopted a strange boy. . . He's coded as Childe. They say he fell into the abyss. He's quite strong, we've only sparred once but I know there's something off with him.”

“Hmm. A peculiar new recruit. I've heard from the other agents.” Muttered the figure of the shadows. He doesn't talk much. You know it's to keep identities hidden and to avoid letting you know too much lest you get caught and the information forced out of you (and believe me, the information will be forced out of you).

“You think he could rise in the ranks? Perhaps become a general or diplomat?” You question quietly.

“I think he could be the next Harbinger.”

A sharp intake of breath, surprised. A Harbinger. The next and possibly youngest one after so long.

“Continue your work. Do what you believe is best for our organization. Leave any files you found useful under the gap.” Were his last orders before hearing the footsteps walk away. Work was never easy; you dealt with loneliness most of the time. The only comfort was when an ill-reputed plan of the Fatui failed, knowing it was only possible through your contributions and warnings. For every plan you thwarted was a step closer to revealing your identity and getting killed for it.

Yes, you're prepared. You've been preparing for it ever since you joined the Fatui.

With a sigh, you went back to the training grounds.

— With Him

There’s a reason why Diluc Ragnvindr survived the hunt by the Harbingers when he sought out revenge in Snezhnaya. That should have been the first red flag for Childe. You were transferred early under his platoon, just when he was solidifying his position as a Harbinger. You were the subordinate he sent out to represent the 11th and, having the approval of Dottore (The old geezer, what a wack. Should he really be trusting a mad scientist? Childe questions this everyday) he trusted you enough to do your job.

Yet, the winery-heir-slash-fatui-serial-murderer escaped Snezhnaya with the help of those damned underground pests they've been trying to get rid of. Honestly, Childe could care less about the guy— if anything, he was immensely excited to try and pick a fight with him! But it still hurt his pride that one of his early missions as a Harbinger didn't turn out well. He needed to prove himself to the Tsaritsa after all! If not to at least make Pulcinella proud.

Going back to you.

It was always him and you; you and him ever since you transferred; sparring blade against blade. It was easy to get along when you were one of the only trainees close to his age, even easier when you managed to keep up with him in everything, bloodlust and all.

You were his match and he was yours, or so he believed.

“Say, why did Dottore transfer you anyway? Did you get kicked out, pissed him off somehow?” Childe once asked, boots scraping the ground as he dodges an attack from you flawlessly. Despite Dottore’s rather crazed way of managing his platoon, agents were given a handful of benefits for being under a high ranking Harbinger with a budget larger than the others (Experiments don't pay themselves, you know!).

You huff, a little tired from the onslaught of keeping him entertained in battle, “No, didn't he tell you? I requested for transfer.”

“Oh really? What, did the good looks of a new Harbinger catch your eye?” He teases, going on the offensive once more as he sprints to slash his blade. You block it with yours, trying to push him back with force. When he does pull back, getting pushed a few meters away as hir boots skid on snow, you scoff.

“Good looks? If that were the case, I would have transferred to–”

He immediately sprints ahead again, blade nearly catching you off guard as you block the attack.

“Aww come-” Slash. Block. “-on! Don't tell me you're not-” Kick. Jump. “-even a little bit enraptured by-” Hit. Block. “-me?” He huffs heavily, finally catching your eye as your blade stays on his, pushing each other back with all your strength.

“Hmp. Must you be so arrogant?” You strain out, matching his force before– “Maybe. . . maybe just a little bit.” You avert your gaze at the very moment he catches sunlight in your eyes. Childe pauses, his grip on the blade loosens momentarily at your admittance. You take the chance— kicking his stomach back with force as he skids across the training ground, the sword clattering on the ground.

“Does this mean I won?” You giggle, your weapon still in your hand as he looks at you from where he crouches, a smile on your face.

Maybe it's the butterflies that erupted in his stomach, but he laughs out loud. Childe wonders to himself; Is this the thrill of battle? Or something else? You tilt your head in confusion.

“As if! I haven't even gone all out yet!” He yells enthusiastically, “Agent (Ņ̸̛͕͔̏̓ͅa̶͍͊m̸̲̫̄͝ȩ̴̹̙̄̀ͅ.)”

Your smile tenses. Your heart beats. Pensively, you also wonder to yourself; Is this the success of a mission? Or . . . something else?

— After Him .

You should've known.

You should've known, you should've known, you should've known that the Fatui would never have let a betrayal such as yours go so easily. The past few months after him was spent laying low, hiding from daylight and any chance that you could be recognized. A large bounty was on your head and the Fatui weren't cheap by any means. The organization shielded you as much as they could but even you had missions you had to continue fulfilling. You’d gladly risk your life for the better good; after all, if you didn't, you wouldn't have went undercover in the Fatui anyway.

But now, he was chasing you.

It's back to the snowy forests of Snezhnaya, sprinting and dodging all the tall pines in your way. You hear him gaining speed from behind you, hydro blades swishing as they cut through branches, unbothered to waste energy on dodging. Distantly, the sound of a Fatui gunner prepares his shot. You immediately switch directions, a pyro blast landing inches from where you once were. It’s followed by more blasts, each hitting a little closer to you until—

“Ah!”

It grazes your shoulder, blood escaping the wound and soaking your clothes. You don't stop running, adrenaline keeping you alive and conscious. Childe barks something out in Snezhnayan. You’re too distracted with running to understand what he said, but the Pyro Gunner stops shooting and soon enough you focus on escaping.

A clearing appears in your line of sight. A field of snow and endless white and—

Crash! You're knocked off your feet, landing on the snow. You feel him on your back as you quickly force him away, rolling to the side and kicking. It's a blur from there on— a flurry of kicks, punches, scratches, the snow around you forming the most unrecognizable snow angel.

Until his hydro blade was on your neck as he keeps you pinned underneath him. No amount of sparring could've prepared you for a battle to the death with a harbinger. Your breaths fog together with every exhale, the proximity feels bad for your heart but finally, you get a clear view of the face you haven't seen for months.

“I win,” He says, an ever-so-childish grin on his lips, “Any last words?”

It astounds you how casual he is, as if you weren't running for your life just moments ago. Sparring had always been his favorite game but this wasn't like the other times. You do as you were trained (by both the Fatui and your organization)— you keep your mouth shut. Last words are worthless in the face of the enemy, you’d rather bite your tongue off.

“Hmm. . . the (Ņ̸̛͕͔̏̓ͅa̶͍͊m̸̲̫̄͝ȩ̴̹̙̄̀ͅ) I know would have barked back some words. You would've scoffed.” Childe says, the blade pressing deeper onto your neck, drawing beads of blood to the surface. “Or was that some personality you made up? Was it fun for you?”

Silence.

The smile falls off his face. Something darkens in his eyes. “Alright. You won't talk, that's okay. Anyone who would dedicate their lives living undercover naturally wouldn't respond. I can respect that.” He starts, the blade doesn't move an inch on your skin, the snow numbing more of your back, “But at least answer me this. Not for your organization, not for you. . . answer it for me; was I ever anything to you?”

Silence. Keep quiet.

Something unrecognizable crosses his face. There’s a smile on his lips, but his eyes are pained.

“You know,” He whispers, leaning down closer to you. “Whenever we sparred, did you feel anything? Anything at all?” His face contorts to a mix of frustration, “Because I sure as hell knew I loved you. I can differentiate things, (Ņ̸̛͕͔̏̓ͅa̶͍͊m̸̲̫̄͝ȩ̴̹̙̄̀ͅ.)! I knew what was bloodlust, it wasn't just me being battle hungry. I’m not dumb! I knew— know I love you!”

As if wanting to hide from your gaze, he hides his face on the crook of your neck. Forehead to the snow, blade stilling on your skin. Despite how cold everything is, the warmth of him seems enough to coax you in.

“. . . At least tell me how much of it was real. Please.” He mumbles slowly. Did you mean to cause this much anguish? Did you have to go fall for someone like him?

The words fall from your tongue before you could even catch them. The lack of hesitation, the urge to come clean; “Everything. . . everything was fake. Even my name. (Ņ̸̛͕͔̏̓ͅa̶͍͊m̸̲̫̄͝ȩ̴̹̙̄̀ͅ.). It's fake.”

He freezes over you, listening intently. Snow falls quietly into the ground, you wonder if you'll be buried in— caved to become timeless underneath the ice. Briefly, you think it would be fine if it happens if it's with Childe.

“I know it's hard to trust me, but please— loving you,” Pause. You feel tears well up in your eyes, blinding your vision of the descending snowflakes. “Loving you was real. Is real. It was the realest thing I had in that life under the Fatui. I’m so sorry, Childe, I’m really sorry. And I’m sorry we have to end like this.”

“You mean it?” He asks, hushed.

“Yes, yes, archons I mean it.”

“Then what's your real name?”

Your breath hitches, “(Name).”

“(Name).” He repeats.

The awareness of the metal on your throat becomes all too obvious. Breathing too hard would cause it to press more against your skin. You try to calm down, trying to accept the falling of the snow (the fall of you) as the end of your life nears and suddenly—

the blade is retrieved. You hear the shuffle of leather as it's placed back into its holder. Blinking, bewildered, you glanced up at him only to see his boyish grin.

“You honestly didn't think I'd kill you, right?”

Your mouth falls open. You want to hit him.

“You're going to let me go?”

“I mean, I did kind of let the traveler go back in Liyue.”

“The senior Harbingers reprimanded you for that!” You sit uo, hands flailing as you grab a handful of snow to throw at him. He lets it hit his stomach, laughing.

“It's fine, it's fine! The higher ups don't really care about me as much as they do the others anyway,” He shrugs nonchalantly, “It gives me a whole lot of leeway. If I say I don't want to kill you, they'll just nod along.”

You stare at him longer than you mean to, holding his cheery gaze as the snow continues to settle around you. How quiet and peaceful to exist with him in that space.

“Is this really okay?” You ask and he falls silent with you.

He looks away to the white horizon, speaking in a softer voice, “Well, of course not. You still betrayed me, I still got hurt,” He inhales, “But you love me. I think that's all that really matters, no?”

Tears well up in your eyes. You can't bear to think how close you were to losing your life (losing him) and how easily he pushes your lifelong conflicts aside. So who cares if you played for the opposing organization? Who cares if you struggled with love and truth?

You've faked yourself for so long but Childe would still embrace you, lies and all.

“Come on, the snow must be cold.” He extends his hand, gesturing for you to take it, “Sooner or later the other scouts would be arriving. You should keep running east.”

“Ajax–” You start but he hushes you gently.

“We won't be seeing each other for a while. I don't know when we’d meet again but. . . you know, I’m sure it'll work out if it's us. So don't cry anymore, (Name).”

Stiffly, you nod. It was this moment that you tried to memorize everything about him— his eyes, his ginger hair, the way your name -your real name- falls off his tongue. You replay every sound he made to say such a name, just for the sake of remembering.

“Now go—” He pushes you to the direction, “Don't worry! I won't let them catch the love of my life!” He grins widely, hydro blades appearing in his hands once more as you nod towards him, tear stained smile in response. Your feet take you away, further and further away as you hear the familiar sounds of his blades against his own agents. Icy wind whipping against your face. You can't help the laugh that escapes you, surely the agents would think their blood-crazed superior is in another one of his impulsive moods.

You pity them and envy them all the same.

notes !! thoma is up next, featuring some of our fav inazuma characters <3 ill edit it into a post once my finals settle down (currently cramming in a cafe) I hope you guys liked this one

childe // i really tried to fulfill that he's the more talkative of the bunch! and honestly with childe’s history of forgive and forget, i dont think it's a surprise that he’d easily forgive MC and brush everything under the rug. if anything, he kind of likes the complexity as far as i could tell! by the way, did you like the inclusion of “before him, with him, and after him”? i think it was a poem or a dedication in some book. I really like the thought of it since it's a good way to divide timelines. BY THE WAY do you like the parallels? In part 1, he was left on the snow looking up at the sky. Now in part 2, ur the one on the snow looking up at him :D

#genshin #childe #childe x reader #genshin childe #ajax x reader #genshin ajax #genshin tartaglia #diluc #tartaglia #genshin impact #harbinger x reader #genshin harbinger #fatui harbinger #genshin x reader #genshin angst #childe angst #genshin angst/comfort

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