#however the rest of the fandom needs to step up

[edoro]

Every day I check ao3 and see that there are no new Thistle fics and no one else has written my personal extremely specific Thistle csa headcanons and I fall to the ground wailing as I rend my garments and gnash my teeth in grief

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Better, Not So Hidden Half

Part 2 of The Better, Hidden Half

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader

Summary: After Tim decided he didn't want to keep you hidden any longer, you meet the rest of his friends (colleagues, as he prefers), but not the way he planned.

Warnings: depiction of minor injuries (Tim), fluff, grumpy!Tim, Smitty, mentions of drugging

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

When Tim was infected by an unknown biological weapon, he told you that he wanted to stop keeping you separate from the rest of his life. You’re his better half, and he cares deeply about you and your safety, but that doesn’t mean you should be his hidden half. During his short stay in the hospital, Wade introduced you to Lucy Chen, Tim’s rookie, and John Nolan. Since then, however, Tim hasn’t done proper introductions or made any real changes. He has started wearing his wedding ring to work, though, rather than leaving it on a chain around your neck. Baby steps, maybe, but it’s progress.

Your phone rings while Tim is at work, and your breaths grow shallow when you see Wade’s name on the screen. The last time something happened to Tim, Angela called you; any time you see Wade Grey, Angela Lopez, or Talia Bishop’s names appear on your phone, your heart drops in fear for your husband.

“Hey, Wade,” you answer softly.

“Can you please come talk some sense into your husband?” he asks.

Wade's tone and accompanying sigh are all you need to hear to know he’s tired. Sirens have surrounded you all day, so you’re not surprised that something happened.

“About what?” you reply.

“Sorry for the surprise call,” he adds, “I know those can be concerning, so I’ll go ahead and tell you that Tim was in a minor accident, but he’s refusing to get looked at.”

“Shocking,” you joke. “I’ll be there soon. How is he?”

Wade begins to answer, but you hear Tim yell, “If I need a break, I will take one!” in the background.

“Sounds about the same as usual,” you say and answer your question. “See you in a few.”

“Thank you. You’re the best honorary cop I’ve got.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Sergeant Grey.”

When you walk into the Mid-Wilshire Station, Tim and Wade are nowhere to be seen. You see Angela waiting nearby, and she rushes to hug you after you wave.

“Are you finally here to meet everyone? Since someone decided that he needed to talk to you alone to heal last time?” she asks playfully.

“I’m here because Tim is injured and stubborn,” you answer.

“And he’ll still be injured and stubborn after you meet the boots who can’t stop talking about you.”

“Is he okay?” you whisper.

“He’s fine. Barely injured, I promise.”

You nod and thank her before she leads you toward a small crowd of officers. Talia says hello, and the three in long sleeves stand up straighter when they see you.

“Mrs. Bradford, nice to see you again,” Lucy greets.

“You too, Officer Chen,” you reply.

“Lucy, please.”

“You’ve met Lucy and Nolan – however brief Tim kept it. And this is my rookie, Jackson West,” Angela introduces.

“Nice to meet you,” you offer with your handshake.

“So, you married Bradford?” he asks. “Why?”

You chuckle at the question but can’t answer your cliched answer of because I love him, and he’s really just a big softie under the sarcastic eye rolls and grumpy yelling before Nolan asks another question.

“At the hospital, you said less than five words to Tim, and he listened. No complaining, no hateful looks, just immediately obeyed. How do you do that?” Nolan inquires.

“Wait – how did you meet?” Jackson adds. “Let’s be chronological.”

Nolan nods in agreement, and you prepare to answer.

“Then I want to know your first thought of Tim. Before you met, just saw each other, whatever… what did you see that drew you in?” Lucy asks.

Angela and Bishop smile as your eyes bounce between the rookies and their never-ending questions. You can’t answer one before the next one is asked, and though you don’t feel the same, you can understand why Tim didn’t want you to meet them all at once.

“No!” Lucy exclaims. “Where did Tim propose?”

“The place where they met,” Talia answers.

Nolan turns quickly to yell, “You knew Tim was married! Why didn’t you mention her?”

“She’s not my wife,” Talia replies sarcastically. “Not my story to tell.”

“I would have talked about her because she’s my best friend,” Angela interjects. “But Tim threatened me.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Bradford,” Jackson says. “We’re just excited and shocked and have so many questions.”

“Mrs. Bradford?” a passing officer asks. “You’re too young to be Mom Bradford, and you’re not his sister…”

“I’m Tim’s wife,” you finish.

“This is Smitty,” Angela tells you.

She winks quickly, and you nod in understanding. You’ve heard plenty of stories about Smitty, and more than enough complaints when you’re alone with Tim. He seems unique, to put it lightly (and kinder than Tim does).

“You married Tim Bradford? Was he by any chance in possession of narcotics or mind-altering drugs when you met? Because it’s pretty easy to convince a woman to do something these days, just a little powder in an uncovered drink, you know,” Smitty continues.

“Smitty, have you drugged a woman before?” Nolan asks. His suspicion is evident in how he asks and the narrowing of his eyes.

“Well, Officer Smitty,” you begin. You nod at Angela, and her smile grows when she realizes you plan to play along.

Tim stands with a quiet grunt of pain. He stretches to the side to fight the growing stiffness and sees Lucy talking to a group of people. Smitty approaches the side, and Nolan steps back to reveal the focus of all of the attention. Tim doesn’t think twice and races out of Wade’s office to save you from the boots.

You address Smitty but don’t say anything more before Tim wraps his hand around your arm while the other grips your hip and pulls you backward. Tim moves you away from Angela and ignores the protests that follow your sudden departure. You don’t fight him as he leads you into Wade’s office. Wade looks up and mouths a relieved thank you.

“Tim, as much as I love meeting the people you pretend not to care about, would you please stop getting hurt and giving me an excuse to drop by unannounced?” you ask.

“I didn’t get hurt,” Tim argues.

His hands are still on you, so you turn in his hold to look at him. Several scrapes litter his left cheek, and you run a gentle finger under them. You can see that his shoulders are tense but you're grateful that his injuries seem to be limited to some stiffness and scrapes.

“What did Wade tell you?” Tim whispers.

“That you were being stubborn and not listening,” Wade mumbles behind you. “I’m surprised she believed me.”

Tim keeps his eyes on you but doesn’t comment further on his injuries or the rookies you just met. He looks down, and you follow his eyes to his hands. His left hand is wrapped tightly with gauze and bandages as he slides his right hand into his pocket.

“Had to take this off,” he tells you.

You extend your hand to accept his wedding ring and curl your fingers around it. After unhooking your necklace chain, you slide his ring on and keep it safe against your chest. Tim nods once it’s secure with you and pulls you to sit beside him. You lay a hand against his right cheek and smile as he leans against your hand. He leans in and kisses you quickly before glancing at Wade to ensure he isn’t watching.

“He’s seen us kiss before,” you remind Tim.

“And I will never let you forget it,” Wade agrees, focusing on the paperwork before him.

“No mind-altering drugs required,” Tim says with a small smile.

“Now I understand why you didn’t want me to meet Smitty.”

“I warned you.”

“Luckily, Angela introduced me to the rookies first, and I invited them over for dinner on Sunday. Wade, you and Luna are welcome to come, too, if you’d like,” you say.

Tim groans as Wade promises to pass the invitation on to Luna. You sit back carefully as Tim leans against you. He’s grumpy about your new connection with the boots but loves you. Tim meant it when he said he didn’t want to keep you hidden and risk wasting his life by separating from everything else that matters to him.

“Lucy won’t shut up,” he realizes with a dramatic sigh.

“Yeah, because I’m sure you carry half of the conversation as it is,” you tease. “Don’t forget how well I know you, Bradford.”

“As long as you don’t forget that I don’t like these people, Bradford,” Tim counters.

“You let Angela come over all the time. And don’t give me the whole ‘she scares me’ thing; you love her.”

Tim moves closer to you to whisper, “I love you more.”

“Then go get a full physical examination. Make sure all the handsomeness is still put together like it’s supposed to be.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Then maybe you don’t love me like you claim to. That’s why you leave your ring with me, right? Easier to bring women in when no one knows you’re married.”

Wade fails to hide a laugh before he covers it with a fake cough. Tim shakes his head but kisses you again before standing. You follow him to the door and thank Wade for the call. Tim waves everyone over, and Lucy beats the rest of them by a solid three seconds.

“Hi again,” she tells you.

“I’ll go see the medic if you rescind the dinner offer,” Tim tells you.

“You’ll go see the medic either way, so no,” you reply.

“We’ve decided a better way to ask questions, and we’ll give you time to breathe in the future,” Jackson says. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, Jackson. I understand the excitement; not the shock because, I mean, look at him," you wave toward Tim and continue, "but it’s not every day that you meet Officer Grumpy’s secret wife.”

“Did you just gesture to me like I’m a game show prize?” Tim murmurs.

“Tim and I will be happy to answer all your questions at dinner. It was very nice to meet all of you, and if Smitty asks again, I was absolutely drugged.”

Tim drags you away once again, and Angela only hears him ask, “Officer Grumpy?” before the door closes behind you both.

You turn and place a hand under Tim’s chin. One touch, a smile, and a kiss turn Tim back into your loving husband. He didn’t realize that keeping you separate from his work life gave you a unique power over him because he’s never had to hide his love for you or the physical affection he’s grown to crave.

“Be careful,” you request softly. “And call me if they find any other injuries.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tim answers.

“Don’t,” you warn.

“You kissed me first.”

“Thanks for letting me be part of your life, Tim.” He nods and kisses you slowly, but you push him away to warn him, “Ask Angela to tell you about Smitty before he says anything about our relationship.”

“You talked to Smitty, too? Maybe I should start leaving you at home again.”

“I love you,” you call over your shoulder.

“I love you,” Tim replies.

He walks back into the station with two things on his mind: learning what Smitty thinks about you and Tim that was worth a warning and getting home to you. Your touch, kiss, and the soft return of his ring will always be the best part of Tim’s day, and even though he wears his ring more often now, you still pull him in because he needs you more than he’s ever needed the ring.

[rebelliousstories]

Rightful Spot

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst, Mentions of Fighting

Word Count: 1,521

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: After coming back to his timeline and finally joining in on missions, Remy underestimated how powerful cuddles could be.

Consider Donating: Here

Looking back on it now, he could have stuck that landing better. However, the circumstances leading to him having to stick a landing were a bit unforgiving, so it should not have been terribly surprising. Still, falling from the sky and rolling into a dark alleyway was not how Remy wanted his welcome home to be.

He could not complain though. Remy was home. He was back in his own universe, and now had a renewed sense of purpose. Stumbling out into where he could see lights, familiar sights and sounds greeted him like old friends. New Orleans, Louisiana; home sweet home. Gambit was on Bourbon Street, which was always hustling and bustling.

His feet began the trek to who knows where. All he knew was that they were going some place familiar and safe. The man ducked and weaved, making his way effortlessly through the crowds. In his hands, a card was always there, just in case. Further and further from the crowds, his feet took him. Down to where there were some apartment buildings, his brain finally started catching up with his feet. Taking over, Remy bolted up to the top, and began to run across the rooftops to his destination.

Dropping onto the fire escape, he thanked whatever was out there that he managed to keep mostly quiet. Peaking inside the window, he was shocked to see someone was still awake. In fact, multiple someone’s had been awake and moving about the apartment. Remy could not hear what was being said, but he knew those faces. Scott with his red glasses, and Jean with her matching red hair, Storm with her flowing white locks, and her. His cher was sitting there entertaining them all.

She looked like she was exhausted. Not from sleep, but mentally and emotionally tired. She looked like how Remy felt being in the Void. In her hands was a mug of something warm, probably that tea she likes to drink, and one of Gambit’s jackets around her. His heart tugged at the sight, and his lips curled in a smile. She never did do well with the cold.

Picking the lock on the window, Remy silently creeped into the apartment. Their eyes had not noticed the new person in the apartment, but he noticed how quiet it had gotten. Before he could speak, his body was suspended in the air as Jean turned to face the man. But she gasped in shock and let the man go almost immediately. The rest of the party was just a second behind her.

“Now, that ain’t no way to treat da Gambit, no?” His hands began massaging his body as the other people finally reacted to the new arrival. He heard her voice whisper out his name as he stood once more.

“Cher, I’m home. I’m so sorry.” But before he got any closer, Scott stepped in front of the ladies.

“If you really are Gambit, what’s something only he would know, huh? What was the last thing he said to me?” Scott pressed, worried that this might be an imposter.

“Cyclops, really? I just got back, mon ami. We really gonna have us an inquisition right now?” But the man was not swayed.

“What was the last thing Gambit told me?”

The Cajun was looked around for someone to support him not doing this, and just wanted to lay his eyes on his girl again. But he groaned, and wiped a hand over his face in frustration.

“Gambit told ya, ‘I’ll go on the mission. Jean needs ya here. Tell my cher dat I love her.’ That was the last thing I told ya before leaving for that damn mission to go so some recon on the brotherhood.” Everyone stood down. But Scott was still unimpressed.

“Where have you been all this time? And why only come back now?” He continued, even though Jean was tugging at his sleeve.

“Went on dat mission, and touched down in da forest. Didn’t find no brotherhood, but instead some people called da TVA takin’ bunch o’ dem out. Next thing I know, I wake up in da desert in some place called the Void. Been der evea’ since. Den a Deadpool and a Wolverine fought to leave the Void, and bargained for my freedom to come back as well as others. Believe me now, Scott?” Remy was getting fed up with answering questions. All he wanted was to get her in his arms.

Before anyone could speak again, he was nearly knocked over by the weight and force of something hitting him hard and fast. Remy regained his balance and looked down to see his girl squeezing him tight. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Hands landed on his arms, and he found Scott and Jean there on one side, with Storm on the other. Remy pulled the rest of the gang close as he relished this moment he never expected to have again.

After a few months of training, flying back to New York to go live at the school again, and a brief adjustment period to not always being on edge about who or what was going to find him, Gambit was back in the field. He did not do solo missions anymore, but he was excelling in team exercises again. This last one had kicked everyone’s butt though.

What was meant to be a simple mission of going down to help stop a mutant riot in the city, turned into a full scale brawl with the Brotherhood. In the end, they had eventually stopped the riot, but not without acquiring some scratches and bumps. The flight back to the school was a silent one; one where everyone that was not navigating the plane just wanted to rest with their eyes closed, and their brain off.

It was a smooth landing, which was a blessing. But having to walk back up was a curse. Every bone felt ten times heavier, and their feet felt like they were made of lead, but they did it. Bidding his teammates adieu, Remy continued his climb to where their room was. Thankfully, she had moved back into the mansion, having left when Remy disappeared, and was staying in their old room together. It was just like no time had passed.

Creaking the door open, he was delighted to see that she was folding some laundry with music playing somewhere in the background. Upon hearing the footsteps, she looked up, smiled, and abandoned her task.

“Remy, you’re home! Are you alright?” Her arms wrapped around him in a tight hug that made him groan.

“Ease up, cher. Ol’ Gambit done had the card house dropped on him.” Pulling away, she saw that a bruise was starting to form right underneath his chin. She traced a feather light touch over it, and furrowed her brows.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” She pleaded, worried to see what other marks he had gained in the afternoon that he had been gone.

“Non, cher. Just finish wit’ dem clothes so we can lay down, yeah? Gonna go get out of my suit now.” Gambit pressed a kiss to her lips, but was careful over the split he felt in the corner. While he went to the bathroom to change, she resumed her task of getting the laundry done.

Her mind was distracted, and worried about her lover that was just on the other side of the door. She could hear his groans and hisses, especially once the water started and he was underneath the stream. Setting out a loose shirt, and an equally loose pair of pajama pants, she went to work putting the rest of the clothes away while waiting for him to come out.

The door opened, and she just had to turn to see. Bruises started darkening already, and there were some minor scrapes, but that seemed to be the brunt of his injuries. With a towel loose around his hips, he grabbed the clothes from the bed, and sent his lover a wink. Not a seductive or even teasing wink, but rather a way to say thank you. He disappeared back into the bathroom, and she changed herself to something a bit more comfortable. As she was pulling the covers back from the bed, Remy emerged once more, with damp hair, and a fresh set of clothes on.

Gambit crawled into the plush bed, and sunk into it with a groan. She giggled, but crawled in beside her lover all the same. His arms, no matter how bruised or sore, opened wide to accept her right where she was supposed to be. They were facing each other, and her hands were tucked up against his chest to keep her close. One arm under her neck, and one around her waist, Remy kept her as close as humanly possible.

“Je t’aime, cher.” Remy whispered, pressing a kiss to her hairline as they began to drift off.

“I love you too, Remy.” She replied, feeling perfectly at peace in her spot with her lover.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Pillow Talks

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x GN!Reader

Summary: Your master has sent you on a mission and Qimir, your supplier and guide, is accompanying you.

Qimir Masterlist

Your Master has tasked you with the mission of finding and killing a former Jedi that had previously wronged him. Per usual, he also assigned Qimir to be your guide and supplier, should you need him.

Although you were perfectly capable of doing things on your own, you had to admit it was nice to have company. For a long time, it had always just been you and your Master. Then when you were finally ready for your first mission, Qimir was assigned to you.

At first, you were annoyed, but then grew fond of the man. Sure, he can be a bumbling, fumbling idiot, but he’s also very knowledgeable, skilled, and can hold his own.

However, this particular mission, you’ve grown somewhat annoyed with him. Your search for the former Jedi led you to jungle planet of Eriaduan. The weather is hot and humid, causing you to sweat and feel sticky. It’s dampened your mood and motivation to fulfill this mission.

Doesn’t help that Qimir is being extra chatty as you trek through the jungle, “Can I ask you a question?” Some of his black strands of hair stick to his face due to sweat and humidity.

You sigh, “As long as you’re okay with possibly not getting an answer.” You reply as you step over branches and through shrubs.

“Why are you so adamant that your Master doesn’t care for you?”

Earlier, you tripped on a boulder and Qimir told you that you need to be more careful, “Your Master wouldn’t be happy with me if I brought you back injured.”

You had scoffed and told him, “Please, my Master doesn’t care about me, Qimir. Only cares about my ability to fulfill these missions.”

You shrug, “Because he doesn’t.”

“How do you know?” He asks with furrowed brows.

“The way he’s treated me isn’t how people treat those they care about, Qimir. He’s very…forceful. He never gives me a break, asks how I’m feeling. Honestly, it’s foolish of me to even want him to care about me, even just a little.” You pause at a fallen tree trunk and decide to sit for a little rest.

Qimir follows, sitting beside you, “It’s not foolish to want to be cared for. Besides, he always sends me to go with you. Surely, that must mean he cares for you right? Wants someone to have your back?”

You snort, “Or because he doesn’t trust me to do these things on my own.”

Qimir sighs and shakes his head, “I’m sure he knows you’re capable of doing this on your own. But…maybe he just wants you to have back up just to ease his mind?”

You shrug, “Guess we’ll never know because he doesn’t really talk to me unless he’s assigning me a new mission or berating me about not improving my skills.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I do care about you. Knowing you has brought some…excitement back into my life.”

You give him a grateful grin, “Thanks, Qi. I care about you too.” You two sit in a comfortable silence, catching your breaths and taking pause to finding this Jedi.

_______________

This definitely wasn’t how you expected things to go. You’d gotten injured during your fight with the Jedi. You were still able to kill him but not before get stabbed you in the side.

Qimir was freaking out, trying his best to keep you from bleeding out too much but you eventually succumbed to the pain, blacking out as Qimir pleaded with you to hold on.

When you finally wake up, you’re groggy. Your hand goes to your wound and you feel a bacta patch on it.

“You’re awake,” you hear the modulated voice of your Master.

You turn your head to see your Master standing at the end of your bed roll.

You try to sit up but you hiss in pain, “Don’t move. Lay still.” He approaches your side and kneels, he pulls back the bacta patch, “It needs to be changed.”

He grabs a new patch from the small pile beside your bed. Has he been taking care of you while you were out? Surely not, right? Had to be someone else. Maybe Qimir?

“Where’s Qimir?” You ask and your Master stills.

“I sent him away after he brought you here.”

“I hope you didn’t threaten or hurt him," you give your Master a threatening glare.

He questioningly tilts his head to you , “Why?”

“Because he’s my friend and I care about him.”

He stays silent for a few seconds before stating, “He left unscathed.”

“Good.”

Your Master cleans your wound and dresses it with a new bacta patch. It was weird, having him care for you in such a way. Usually when you got hurt or injured, you took care of yourself.

“You need to be more careful," he practically whispers.

“The former Jedi was a lot more skilled than I anticipated, but I fulfilled my mission.” The sentence comes off as factual, unfeeling.

“You got hurt.”

“It’s nothing new,” you say nonchalantly with a little shrug.

Your Master’s clenches his fists, “You need to be more careful,” he repeats.

"I'm fine. I'll do better. I know I'm not useful to you when I'm hurt."

"That's not why I want you to be careful," he says before standing and exiting the hut you made as your home on the secluded island.

_______________________

On your next mission, your Master has sent you to go undercover as a merchant on the planet of Batuu. Qimir, per usual, will be aiding you on the mission. You meet him at a cantina where an RX pilot droid was reprogrammed to play music throughout the place.

It seems like Qimir had been waiting for you a long time since his body was swaying, seemingly five drinks in already.

You sit on the stool beside him, causing him to turn to you and he gives you a drunken smile, "Heeeey! You're here!" he hiccups a bit and you can't help but chuckle, "How're you already this drunk?"

He shrugs, "Had to do something while I waited for you." He offers his cup to you and you push it back towards him, "I'm good," you say.

He shrugs again and downs the rest of the drink, "So, what's the plan?" A strand of his hair falls onto his face.

You giggle, moving the strand away, "I don't think we should discuss plans while you're in this state," your fingers linger on his face. Suddenly realizing what you did, you pull your hand away and clear your throat, "Um, we should discuss plans tomorrow while you're sober. So, drink some water and I'll meet you in the morning," you stand to leave but Qimir stops you.

"Wait, wait. Can I stay with you?" You look at him confused and he continues, "I, uh, lost my ship so I had to hitch a ride here. Don't have much credits left."

You give him a cocked brow and a hand on your hip, "And how did you expect to pay for your bar tab?"

He gives you a sheepish look, "I was kinda hoping you'd pay for it?"

You sigh, pulling out enough to pay for Qimir's drinks. The bartender thanks you and you have Qimir follow you out of the cantina.

"You're lucky I like you," you murmur, a hint of a smirk on your lips.

Qimir gulps and nods, "Yeah...lucky."

You two make it to the dingy hotel where you plan to stay for the next few days. As soon as Qimir enters, he plops onto your bed with a content sigh. Looking at him and then the room, you now realize that there's only one bed, which means you have to share.

It'll be fine. You can be professional about this situation.

You clear your throat, grabbing Qimir's attention, "So there's only one bed-"

Qimir immediately sits up, "I can sleep on the floor-"

"It's fine, Qi. We can be mature adults about this. We're not strangers or anything."

He gives you nonchalant shrug, "If you're sure."

You nod and head to the refresher to change. When you come back out, Qimir is already under the covers, having shed some of his outer robes.

You can't help the snort you let out when you see how close to the edge of the bed he is.

You slip under the covers, "Qimir, you're hanging off the edge, come closer. It's fine."

"I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or-"

You use the Force to pull him closer.

He rolls over to face you, "Uncalled for."

You roll onto your side to face him, "You were being stubborn."

You two stare at each other, letting some moments of silence pass. The air shifts but you're not sure if it's just you that feels so. You feel a pull, a need to lean in and press your lips to Qimir. You've always found him attractive, but have pushed those thoughts down because you know you can't have him. Your priority is your training and your loyalty is first and foremost to your Master. Before you do anything drastic, you sigh, rolling over to face away, "Good night, Qimir."

"Good night," he murmurs. You hear the rustle of the sheets as he gets comfortable.

You close your eyes, trying to push away the feelings that began to bubble up in your chest and stomach.

"Do you still think your Master doesn't care for you?"

Your eyes shoot open and you immediately roll over, "Qimir...what?"

He sighs and rolls back over to face you, "Do you still think that your Master doesn't care about you?"

You shrug, "Kinda."

"Kinda?" he looks at you with creased brows and a frown.

You shrug and move your attention to a loose thread on the pillow Qimir lays on, "After the last mission, he said he immediately sent you away?"

"...yes."

You turn to lay on your back and look at the ceiling, "I guess the entire time I was out, he was taking care of me. When I woke up, he changed my bacta patch. He told me I had to be more careful." You pause to recollect more of that day, "I figured this was all because I wouldn't be useful to him, but then he said that wasn't why."

"So he does care," Qimir simply states

"I'm still apprehensive about saying that with certainty, but the small gesture appears that way."

You glance at Qimir as he moves to mimic your position, "And how does that make you feel?"

You run your hands down your face and you give a deep breath, "It's nice to be cared for and to care for someone. But...it's scary. Doing the things we do, you never know when someone can take that away from you. Or if that someone takes advantage of that care and betrays you."

You suddenly feel Qimir's hand take hold of yours, "I understand," he murmurs, "Your Master is still a person too. Maybe he struggles with the idea of caring for someone because it's been so long since he's done so."

"Maybe," you reply, not pulling your hand from Qimir's. It felt nice, having his hand in yours.

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"...can I hold you?"

You turn your head, looking at Qimir, you can see he's slightly embarrassed, but he's also being vulnerable...and you're feeling a little vulnerable too.

"Okay," you whisper and you move closer as Qimir wraps an arm around you, holding you close to him.

You let out a shaky breath. It's been so long since you've been held like this, cared for in such a gentle way. It's a complete opposite of how you've spent your time training under your Master.

You hope you can have more moments like these with Qimir.

Your body feels more at ease the more time you spend in his arms. Your eyes slowly flutter close and you're off to a restful sleep.

Meanwhile, Qimir remains awake a little bit longer. He stares at you, his apprentice, his acolyte.

"I'll do better," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your head and pulling you closer to him as he listens to your breathing, leading him to sleep.

[bad268]

Frank Told Us (Colby Brock X Pregnant! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Sam and Colby & Co

Requested: Yes by @eattothebeatt and anon. I hope y'all don't mind that I combined them, they were pretty similar. (Also, since I'm ahead on requests, I'm gonna post Wednesdays and Saturdays until it's cleared <3)

Warnings: slipping in snow (idk).

Pronouns: She/her

W.C. 1263

Summary: The Conjuring House is no joke, especially when a certain ghost (Frank) ruins a surprise.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

The Conjuring House was no joke, that was a fact that Y/n knew well. After going to the Conjuring House on three separate occasions with Sam and Colby and being witness to some crazy things, she didn’t need any convincing of that.

This time was one to top the charts. Ever since Sam and Colby heard about Satori and Cody, they knew that they wanted to meet them and get their expertise on camera. So Y/n decided to go with them. However, one thing happened about a week before the flight that may have changed the trajectory of the trip.

Y/n missed her period.

She took a test and met with her gynecologist, and they both came to the same conclusion. She was pregnant. She was not super far along, a little over a month, but she was not sure if she should go on the trip. After talking it over with her gynecologist, they decided she should be fine as long as she stepped away when it got too much and did not put herself in dangerous situations. She knew that if she had told Colby that they were expecting, he would abort the whole video, and she knew she did not want to be responsible for that

So they arrived at the Conjuring House. Sam and Colby in the front and Kat and Y/n in the back. Satori and Cody said they would meet them there, so they did not worry about getting a bigger car.

“Are you guys ready for this?” Sam asked enthusiastically as he pulled into the driveway.

“Are you ready to get another attachment?” Kat snapped back jokingly, causing Sam’s jaw to drop and the rest of the car to laugh.

“No need to come for my brother like that,” Colby defended, turning back to point a finger at Kat.

“You should definitely put this at the end of the video,” Y/n added, directing everyone’s attention to the camera that was recording.

“Anyway, what’s up guys! It’s Sam and Colby,” Colby started the intro.

“Today, well, this week, we are at the Conjuring House with Kat and Y/n!” Sam continued.

“These guys get 10 million subscribers, and we get dragged into this,” Y/n laughed gesturing to Kat as they climbed out of the car, so Sam and Colby could do their intro in peace. The two walked into the house and greeted Satori and Cody. The four made small talk until Sam and Colby came into the house.

“I see you made yourself comfortable without us,” Colby teased as he sat next to Y/n on the couch and laid his arm over her shoulder. “Do we know how we're going about tonight?”

“I think we’re just letting Satori and Cody do their thing and we’ll go with the flow,” Y/n explained as she leaned into Colby’s side. “What do you guys think? It is your video.”

“I think that’s fine,” Sam said, setting up the cameras. Kat started pulling out different gadgets and placing them around the room.

“We’re ready to start whenever you guys are,” Satori offered, moving to stand up with Cody. Colby stood up as well before he turned back and held his hand out jokingly for Y/n to stand up.

“Well, thank you, kind sir,” Y/n joked in a mock posh accent.

“You’re welcome, governess,” Colby joked back, causing the two to chuckle before turning serious again. “Ok, back to the task at hand-”

Hours later, Satori and Cody were still getting so much in response. It was nearing midnight at this point, and they were still nonstop. After the third hour, Y/n got a huge headache, and it did not prove to be a problem until the knocks started getting louder.

“Hey, I’m gonna go get some fresh air. My head hurts,” Y/n announced as she stood up and walked out the door, not waiting for a response. Kat immediately said she would follow Y/n and trailed behind her as they walked through the snow carefully toward the car.

“Are you okay? You’re really pale,” Kat asked as they leaned against the hood of the rental car.

“I have a huge headache, and honestly, I need to tell someone,” Y/n admitted and let out a sigh before saying, “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re kidding!” Kat exclaimed excitedly, reaching out to hold Y/n’s hands. “You’re serious? Oh my god, I’m so happy for you guys! Does Colby know?”

“If I told him, he wouldn’t have let me come,” Y/n laughed as Kat pulled her into a hug. “I’m so glad I finally told someone. I’ve been keeping that to myself for the last week.”

“You’re kidding!” Kat exclaimed again. She was too excited because when she jumped away from the car, she pulled Y/n with her and they both lost their footing. “Woah!”

“Ouch! Kat!" Y/n laughed as she landed on her back in the snow with Kat leaning over her. They were laughing like maniacs despite knowing that one or both of them could have been seriously injured. “What the hell? You’re crazy, get off me.”

Meanwhile, in the living room, Satori and Cody kept at it with Sam and Colby, teaching them along the way. The first person they connected with asked about Colby, so Satori and Cody took back over. 

“Way to go, Colby,” Sam jokingly scolded. 

“Shut up, Sam,” Colby joked back.

“You want to talk to Colby?” Satori asked as was met with a knock immediately. “Okay, what is your name?” She went through the alphabet and found the name they were spelling out. “Frank? Yes. Colby, do you know a Frank?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Colby answered, “Who are you to me?” Satori started the alphabet again and the knocks spelled out:

“Grandfather? No, Great-grandfather? Yes,” Satori interpreted. “What message do you have for Colby?” The knocks started back up and what it spelled caused a chill to run down everyone’s spines. “Protect? Protect who?...Y/n. Protect Y/n from what?”

They did not get an answer as they heard shouting from outside, causing Colby to bolt out the door immediately.

“Y/n?” He shouted, not caring that it was midnight. His ears were ringing, and his heart stopped when he saw Y/n laying in the snow. He could not breathe, and he could not register that the girls were laughing and not in danger. He slid down to be down by Y/n’s head as he held her hand. “Holy shit, are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“All good, Colby,” she laughed, pushing Kat off her as she stood up. Y/n inspected the snow around her as she felt around her stomach,  “I don’t see any blood and I don’t feel any pain, so I think we’re both good.”

“Yeah, you and Kat look fine to me,” Colby sighed as he took Y/n into his arms.

“No, not Kat, no offense,” Y/n retorted before looking up at Colby as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She whispered, “Me and the baby.”

“Baby? Whose baby? My baby? Our baby?” He asked so quickly Y/n could not keep up with him as he held her at arm’s length before cheering loudly when she nodded her head. He ran back to the house to tell Sam only to find Sam, Satori, and Cody standing at the doorway. “I’m gonna be a dad!”

“Yeah, Frank just told us.”

~~

Part 2 ->

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[bakuliwrites]

Just to Be Held- Astarion x Reader

I’ve had this condition for two centuries, but truth be told? You were my first.

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Baldur's Gate III

Pairing: Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Reader

Tags: Discussions of sex, blood, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional, body autonomy, Baldur's Gate III spoilers, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Affection, Gender-Neutral Tav, Astarion's POV, Tiny Kisses, In this house we cherish and love Astarion the way he deserves to be cherished and loved

Summary: Astarion and Tav share a quiet, peaceful moment together along their journey. Astarion learns that he is valued and loved. Read here or over on my AO3.

Sometimes, when Astarion drinks from you, it's overwhelming. The sensation of his teeth piercing your skin, pin-pricks in your tender flesh, warm blood welling up to greet his lips. He can feel himself drowning, every nerve ending in his body lit aflame. It's almost too much as iron bursts across his taste-buds, flooding his throat with the heat rushing through your veins. 

He drinks to sate and never in excess. He's certain that if he let himself partake in too much of you, his mind might never rest, though it is tempting at times. All the years he's spent in darkness, forced to consume the blood of pests and creatures far less appetizing than you, have left him longing for sweeter meals. But he hadn't accounted for how utterly overwhelming that might be.

When he's finished, he pulls back, breathless and overheated. It's as if he's febrile. Sometimes, he's filled with a clarity, a strength unlike anything he's ever felt before. Other times, his skin feels like it's on fire. Like with the slightest coercion, he might combust. In these moments, all he really wants is to rest. But he’s never known rest, and he’s not quite sure how to ask for such a thing. So he resorts to what he knows: teasing you with tantalizing promises of illicit rendezvous’ or making some sort of snide remark before stalking off into the night.

Sometimes, his encounters with you end in said trysts. Most often, however, they don’t. It’s almost frustrating how unbothered you seem when, after he’s done feeding from you, he doesn’t initiate anything further. You sit almost passively, waiting for Astarion to make a move, seemingly content either way the night ends. If you’re not doing this for sex, he wonders, then why the hell are you helping him at all? Surely, no thinking creature would want something so important as their blood to be taken from them without getting something in return. At least, that’s his logic for it. It almost makes him trust you less for not demanding recompense. 

So, no stranger to confrontation, Astarion decides it’s high time you gave him some sort of explanation. As you enter his tent that night, he greets you with a steely gaze, a frown deepening the lines of his face. 

“Are you alright, Astarion?” you quietly venture, boots crunching over gravel. A small branch snaps under the weight of your steps, causing you to flinch as if the rest of your party is going to hear it from where they slumber. When they don’t come bursting through the tent flaps, your shoulders relax once again and you turn back to the pale elf before you. Your furtiveness is almost endearing, Astarion realizes, and irritatingly so.

“What are you getting out of this little arrangement of ours?” he blurts, crossing his arms over his chest and passing you the most petulant gaze he can muster. He watches a look of shock pass over your face, before it settles into something pensive.

“I- I don’t know,” you mutter, “I guess- I haven’t really thought about it as something I would ‘get anything’ out of. It’s just- you need to feed. And I’m happy to provide.”

“You know, most people would expect something in return,” he reasons, dissatisfied with your answer, “It’s not as if what you’re doing is a minor inconvenience for you, like letting me borrow a hanky or something. I’m draining you of something rather necessary for you to live.”

“I mean,” you return with a shrug, looking rather flummoxed by his outburst, “It’s not like you’re taking a lot.” 

“Tsk,” he huffs, realizing he’s not going to get anywhere with this line of questioning. Perhaps asking you was a fruitless endeavor from the start. Astarion drops the subject, pouting as you settle in to let him take what he needs from you. You bare your neck to him, relaxing on his bedroll as he leans down to sink his teeth into you. It’s always the same each time: your involuntary gasp as his teeth pierce your flesh, the combination of both his and your relaxed exhales as he drinks. 

Maybe it’s the humid night air or maybe it’s his own frustration, but Astarion feels the fever in him build with each sip he takes from you. A pyretic euphoria, born of longing for blood more nourishing than what he had to resort to for two whole centuries. He feels satiated by you and it’s almost- embarrassing. He feels mortified to react so viscerally, so enthusiastically. He pulls back suddenly, watching you wince as he roughly removes himself from your neck. But the irritation on your face dissipates when you meet his gaze. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you offer, your voice so gentle, it hurts him, “You seem preoccupied.”

Astarion hardens his gaze, gritting his teeth and opting to remain silent. Of course he’s preoccupied, but it’s nothing he wants to delve into. Least of all with you. But instead you decide to pry, speaking up with a tender, “Want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly, no,” he returns, glancing sheepishly away and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, crimson smearing his pale skin. He bites the inside of his cheek, snagging it with his sharpened canine, hoping it’ll stop the stinging threat of tears in his eyes. 

“You can go now. I’m done with you,” he coldly spits, avoiding your gaze. He hears the rustle of fabric as you obediently lift yourself from his bedroll and make your way to the tent flap. But instead of opening it and leaving like you normally would, you pause, your hand grasping the fabric. 

“I like being with you,” you quietly explain, turning to face the vampire spawn, “You asked me what I get out of this arrangement of ours. Well, I just- I guess I just like you.”

Astarion frowns, arms still crossed and posture stiff as a board. But he can’t hold his silver-tongue, despite his upset. 

“Unfortunate, really,” he murmurs, unable to help the smile tugging at his lips when you laugh. 

“I don’t need to ‘get anything’ out of this time with you,” you go on, letting go of the tent flap and striding back towards him. You kneel down, eyes filled with a brightness Astarion can hardly believe is meant for him. A silence passes as you wait for him to respond. He fidgets with his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists before he finally allows his shoulders to slump and an exhausted sigh to escape his lips. His body still feels overworked, heated and unable to settle. 

“I assumed that sex was what you wanted from me,” he starts, still unable to look you in the eye, “Stupid assumption. It’s the only thing I’m-”

It’s the only thing I’m good for, he wants to say, but stops himself. 

“Well, let’s be honest,” he chuckles ruefully, trying to divert your attention from his unfinished statement, “I wanted that, too. I mean, how could I not.” He says this with a sly smile, something impish twinkling in his eyes as he sweeps over your form. But then his face falls and he casts his glance to the ground again.  

“It’s just- sex isn’t always what I want,” he finishes, “And I assumed that it’s what you wanted. So I guess I was- I don’t know- worried that you would be disappointed when we don’t tear each other apart like animals every time I feed from you.”

Another pause, this time filled with anticipation. With anxiety. For some reason, when Astarion has been around you lately, he’s found himself incapable of holding his tongue. He spills his thoughts left and right to you. It’s terrifying, the effect you seem to be having on him. It’s taken him a long time, but still, he isn’t sure he should trust you. Yet here he is, regurgitating deep-seated fears that are better left buried in the rot that’s bloomed in his mind. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he hears you whisper, pulling him from worry, coaxing him from the tendrils of self-hatred and disgust that have entangled him for two hundred years. He glances at you, disbelief in his crimson eyes before a rueful smile breaks his shock.

“You are far too kind to me,” he chuckles, a cocky smile on his face. 

“I mean it,” you return, brows crinkling your forehead, “We don’t even have to touch if you don’t want to. And if you don’t want to keep this arrangement anymore, that’s totally fine. I’d be happy to help you find another source of food. I won’t be hurt.” 

He eyes you suspiciously, scanning you for any hint that you might burst out laughing at some sort of cruel joke you’ve made, or some sign that you’re absolutely bullshitting him. The look you’re giving him is almost naive. He scowls, nauseated by your sincerity.

“Well, I don’t mind physical affection,” he mutters, desperately trying to hold on to his air of indifference, “Just-”

His shoulders slump as he releases a heavy sigh. He’s been worn down by your patience, worn down by years of keeping everything to himself. Here you are, offering up companionship without any expectation. Here you are, sitting in front of him, telling him that you actually, for some gods’ forsaken reason, like spending time with him and you’re not expecting any sort of compensation from him. So why is he trying so desperately to push you away?

“All I’ve ever been is used,” Astarion admits, wondering if he’ll regret this admission later. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, like it always does. “I don’t get a say in what happens to my body. I don’t get a say in what happens to me at all.” 

“Astarion,” you breathe, gently cupping his face and turning his head so he can meet your gaze. His eyes are filled with a deep sorrow, the desolation of two hundred years scarring every crimson facet of his irises. In you, he sees no ounce of malice, no smarmy flattery, or deceit. All he sees is you, offering him your kindness, offering your companionship, expecting nothing in return. 

“What do you want?” you go on, “Right here. Right now.” 

Astarion’s mouth goes dry. His blood, your blood, threads through his veins like white hot needles. His nerves feel open to the air, every brush of the wind on his skin like lightning shooting through his body. Overwhelmed. He’s so overwhelmed.

“I just want to be held,” he finally whispers, and the absolute devastation in his voice threatens to break what little composure is left in that tent. 

“I think I can do that,” you return, smiling softly. You let him take the lead, laying back on the soft bedroll beneath, waiting for him to decide what he wants to do. He sits beside you, cautious. He is raw and he is new, shivering from his overworked nerves, cold from the overpowering feeling of sweet blood in his body. 

Gently, Astarion lays his head down on your chest and tenses, unsure of what to do. When was the last time he was gifted a moment to just rest? To just lay in the arms of another? He can’t remember, and thus, he can’t even remember how to relax. He shifts uncomfortably where he lays, trying to find some position where his arm isn’t falling asleep. You give no protest, patient as he rearranges himself. Finally, he finds something suitable and goes back to resting his head on your chest. 

“I can stay as long as you’d like me to,” you offer, your voice reverberating through your body, before you both fall quiet.

In the silence, Astarion listens to the powerful thrum of your heart, the way it beats in rhythm to an unsung tune. He hears the air constrict in your lungs when he first rests his head upon you, before you let out a deep, comforting sigh. Crickets chirp in a jovial dissonance beyond the fabric of the tent and a wolf howls sorrowfully somewhere in the distance. 

Astarion can still taste the metal of your blood on his tongue. He can smell it rushing through your veins, nourishing and enticing. It mingles with the faint smell of whatever makes you you, whatever pleasant natural musk you have that has become so comfortingly familiar over the months. The curling smoke of the fire outside has woven itself into your clothing, though it is not unpleasant in scent. 

Astarion glances up at you from where he lays, studying your serene face. Your eyes are closed, eyelashes feathering shadows on your cheeks. Your mouth is parted ever so slightly as you doze, lips evoking pleasant memories of the way they’ve felt against his skin in nights past. He lets his eyes rove for a moment, searching the tent ceiling as if he’ll find something particularly interesting up there. He doesn’t, except for a small hole he’ll have to patch, come morning. Though, it is nice to see a couple twinkling stars peeking through the broken fabric. 

As his eyes flutter shut, Astarion feels the heat from your body, cozy and benevolent. He presses further into you, wanting desperately to feel your closeness. In response, your arm wraps around him, pulling him nearer. Your nails tickle his back as you rub small circles into it. Snowy ringlets caress his forehead when a breeze picks up the fine strands of his hair. The earth beneath him isn’t terribly comfortable, but between you and the bedroll, he doesn’t much care. 

For the first time in two centuries, Astarion thinks he might feel peace. It’s very possible, he decides, that in this quiet moment, he feels safe. In your arms, he could let down his defenses. Wrapped in your warmth, Astarion could allow himself to be vulnerable. 

He slips his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers, quietly whispering that he’d like it if you stayed the rest of the night.

"Also, if you could possibly not tell the others about this?" he adds, somewhat jokingly, "Can't let them think I've gone soft."

"Your secret's safe with me," you chuckle, before smiling softly at him and pressing a tender kiss to the top of his head. He lets the feeling wash over him, calm and comfort him. When his body settles, when his mind finally manages to quiet, Astarion lets his eyelids fall shut. He lets you envelope him in your embrace. He lets himself sleep, knowing he’s safe with you. Astarion lets himself dream, and they’re the first pleasant dreams he’s had in centuries.  

A/N: I normally do a banner for my fics, but I really wanted to use this gif I had made of one of my favorite Astarion cutscenes. It's where he admits to Tav that they're the first "thinking creature," as he puts it, that he's ever drank from. The line delivery is incredible, the way Astarion looks away is so heartbreaking and endearing. This small moment of vulnerability is one of the first ones we see from him and it just feels so special. I wanted to write a fic exploring how he might feel in regards to Tav letting him have the freedom of feeding from them. And I wanted to explore the idea that Astarion might find it odd if Tav doesn't expect anything in return. There's a later line in one of his cutscenes where he's very obviously self-conscious about the fact that he and Tav haven't been intimate in a while. His sense of self and value is so contingent on the fact that his body has been used for two hundred years. I wanted to write something for Astarion that would give him a peace, gentility, and rest, without sexual intimacy. Anyway, I could ramble on and on about this forever. Perhaps I need to make a longer post about it, so I'll get on that.

[sara-scribbles]

The Littlest Dragon (Part 1)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Malleus Draconia/GN!Reader Summary: Your quiet life as a herbalist is disrupted when you take in an injured dragon Word Count: 5,768 Notes: I just really want a mini-dragon Warnings: None

Part 1, Part 2 Part 3

You almost mistake the bundle of black for a pile of cloth. Upon closer inspection, you can see shiny obsidian scales that shimmer in the light. The creature is larger than a squirrel but smaller than a house cat. Unsure what to do, you approach him cautiously but he doesn’t move.

Gently turning him over, your eyes widen. “A dragon?” Despite his small size, he has definite features of the powerful beasts just squished together in a smaller form.

A quick once over, you can see a twisted front leg and one wing bent at an odd angle. The creature's chest moves up and down but you can almost make out a pained gasp. Making a snap decision, you carefully wrap the dragon in your coat before rushing back home. Your half filled basket of herbs forgotten.

Bursting through the gate, you startle the three chickens resting nearby. The cluck loudly as you give a quick apology. Setting the dragon down on your table inside the cottage, you wash your hands before grabbing what you need.

Setting the armload of potions, salves and bandages, you get to work patching up the dragon. Thankfully the little guy stays passed out throughout the process. You clean and disinfect the wounds before applying salves. You create a makeshift splint for the front leg and wing. After finally satisfied, you slump down in a chair.

Watching the creature curiously, you decide to let him rest until he wakes up. You aren’t sure about the healing rate of dragons let alone such a small one.

Resting your cheek on the table, you gently stroke the top of his head. You’re fascinated by the two horns that curl back into his head. “I didn’t realize they could be so small,” you mumble.

Letting out a deep sigh, you take the dragon upstairs to your bedroom. You place a pillow on a chair in the corner of your room and set him down. Recalling a lesson on dragons, you bundle a spare blanket around him for a makeshift nest. Leaving the creature to rest, you return downstairs to clean up.

---

A few days go by but the dragon remains asleep. You periodically check in on him to change the dressings and reapply the salves. You’re happy to say the wounds are healing nicely. However, you’re starting to worry if the dragon will ever wake up.

It’s the middle of the night when you’re roused from sleep. Blearily opening your eyes, you meet the deep green gaze of the dragon. He stands on the pillow next to your own. His tongue flicks out making you flinch.

“Oh, you’re finally awake,” you mutter. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sit up, which causes the dragon to step back. “How’d you even get over here?” You finally notice the bandages on the wing missing, but he seems perfectly fine.

He tilts his head to one side. Dragons are said to be intelligent creatures, you recall. “Do you want something to eat? I assume you’re probably hungry after sleeping for five days.”

Without waiting for an answer, you get out of bed and head downstairs with the little creature flying after you. You manage to make a simple plate of beef and vegetables. Watching the dragon attack the meal with such ferocity, you realize he must have been starving despite seeming so calm. Once he finishes the meal, he sits back with his claws on his stomach.

“Satisfied?” You chuckle as you notice food all over his face. He stays completely still as you clean his face.

Leaning an elbow on the table, you both stare at each other. “So… what do I call you?” He only lets out a gurgling of growls in response. “How about Tsunotarou?” He seems to nod as if your silly name is an acceptable one for a dragon.

“Well, it seems like your wing is healed, but your front leg still needs a bit of time. If you want, you can stay here until then,” you offer.

He says something you don’t understand once more, but looks satisfied as he decides to perch on your shoulder. “Alright, let's go back to bed. I have an early morning.” Yawning, you head back upstairs for some sleep.

---

You live in a cottage away from others. It was a gift from your late parents. Small but cozy, you don’t mind the solitude. In the front, you have a chicken coop with three hens. You also have a small barn for your goat, Phillis. In the back, your garden grows a few vegetables, fruits and herbs. The woods nearby provide you with wild herbs and berries. Anything else you need, you can go into town or ask Ace and Deuce to bring them.

As a herbalist, you create salves and potions, which you sell in town once a week. Unlike most herbalists, you lack magic. However, that’s never stopped you from doing your job. Plus you were taught by the best of the best, so the quality of your work is great. 

The usual day consists of you getting up early to feed the chickens and goat. Then you take stock of your inventory. After, you usually head into the woods to gather herbs. The rest of the day consists of brewing potions and salves, and tending to the garden. At night, you make dinner, make sure the chickens are in their coop, and do some light reading before bed. Rinse and repeat.

It may seem dull to most, but you enjoy the routine. Sometimes your day is broken up by a visit from Ace and Deuce, an adventuring duo, who you’ve known since school. They argue and fight, but ultimately work well as a team when needed. Their antics never fail to make your day entertaining.

Today when you get up, the dragon follows you. In the kitchen you make a breakfast of eggs and a fruit bowl. It seems Tsunotarou isn’t too picky on what you feed him as he gobbles everything up. After a quick cleanup, you and your new companion head outside. Your three chickens are already awake. They strut around the front yard as you grab a bag of feed.

“Alright, ladies, time for breakfast,” you call. Sprinkling the food, the three descend near you in a flurry of white and brown feathers.

Tsunotarou, who perched himself on your shoulder, leans forward watching in rapt interest. “Do you want to try to feed them?” you ask, holding the bag of feed up.

Using his good claw, he picks up a small handful before tossing them in the air. Most of the feed falls on the ground, though some does fall on the chickens. “Maybe aim a little more toward the ground,” you chuckle.

The three start trying to eat the feed off each other's backs, which causes a lot of squawking. One pecks another on the head rather viciously. “Flora, that’s not nice! Now apologize to Merryweather,” Scolding the chicken, she seems to deflate a bit before sulkily wandering off with a sad cluck.

Shaking your head, you set aside the chicken feed to grab food for Phillis. “Those two always seem to be fighting,” you tell Tsunotarou, who continues to watch the three hens. “Fauna is the mild mannered one of the group, thankfully. I guess she balances them out.”

Phillis comes trotting over the moment you're within sight. Patting her head, you scratch her behind the ears. “Morning, princess.” She bleats happily at the attention. The little dragon flies off your shoulder to get a better look at Phillis. She noses his stomach curiously as he reaches out to pat her on the snout.

“She’s a gentle one.” You smile as she nudges your side to hurry you up on getting her breakfast. “Okay, okay! I’m getting there.”

Once you give her food and water, you head back inside to your work room. You go through your current stock of ingredients while Tsunotarou flips through the thick tome of recipes. You wonder briefly if dragons can read, but knowing how highly intelligent they are, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise.

“That was given to me by my former teacher, Crewel. He taught me everything I know about brewing potions,” you explain as you check things off. “He was a tough teacher, but I learned from the best. I still have nightmares about that riding crop…” Not that he ever used it on you, but when he wanted to make a point, he made one.

You continue, “The potion and salve I used for you is for speeding up the healing process. It supposedly works on all living creatures, so I was hoping it would work on dragons.”

Tsunotarou leaves the tome to come over to your side. You shake your head as you reread your lists. “I seem to be out of a lot of stuff,” you mutter to yourself.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh. “I’ll have to make a trip into town.” Glancing at the creature on your shoulder, you regard him silently. His intelligent green eyes stare back as he stretches his wings.

“So, I either have to leave you here alone.” He bristles, eyes narrowing. “Or, you have to stay hidden until we get back from town.” You aren’t sure how people would react if they saw a small dragon on your shoulder. It would be better not to take the chance of possibly causing a commotion.

He agrees to your second option as he flies off your shoulder and lands in the satchel you keep hung up near the front door. His head pokes out when you don’t move. “I’m coming. I’m coming.”

You leave for the main shopping center with the dragon in tow. A bit nervous, you try to calm yourself through the walk. Tsunotarou pokes his head out taking in the scenery. At least someone is feeling fine.

The hustle and bustle of the town can be heard as you near the gate. The guards let you through without much of a glance. Here, adventures and merchants can check in the numerous guilds while stocking up on supply. It’s always busy as people move in and out. You only really stop here every few months to get supplies. By now, the shops you frequent are familiar with what you need, which makes shopping a little easier.

First stop is to pick up some herbs. Looking at your herb list, you easily weave your way through the streets. “I was dangerously low on four leaf clovers and died mandrakes…”

“Hello?” The greenhouse is quiet as you don’t see anyone. “Jack?” You tap the little bell on the front counter.

Finally, someone comes to the front. “Hey, (Y/N),” Jack greets with a nod. Though just a part-timer, he knows the greenhouse inside and out. 

Smiling, you point to your list. “Just need to restock a few things.” Handing the list over, he quickly looks everything over.

“I’ll be right back with everything.” He’s gone in a flash.

You feel Tsunotarou wiggle around in the satchel before poking his head out. “You have to stay hidden,” you whisper, placing a finger over your lips.

His head turns this way and that way before he retreats back into the bag. Just in time too as Jack returns with your things. Scratching his head, his ears twitch. “Uh, sorry we’re out of powdered death caps. We oughta be getting some next week.”

“That’s fine. I don’t think I’ll be needing them right away. Can you put me on the list to set some aside when they come in?” He leans over to hand you the other items. He pauses for a moment, his brows drawing together as his eyes dart around.

“Jack?” You inch back a bit. You can only hope he’ll ignore whatever he’s smelling.

Seeming to remember himself, he pulls back with an awkward cough. “S-sorry…” He hastily scribbles your name down in a small book. “That’ll be thirty-three for the rest.”

As you reach in your satchel for your coin purse, your hand brushes against the dragon hiding there. Freezing up, your gaze darts over to Jack, who thankfully is busy doing something else. You feel coins being pressed into your hand. Glancing inside your bag, Tsunotarou looks up at you expectantly. He flicks his tongue out a few times.

Counting the coins in your hand, you can’t help the grin spreading across your face. He had given your exact change. “Somethin’ up?” Jack inquires, noting the way you’re looking down.

Snapping your attention back to him, you shake your head. “Nope. Here’s the money.” You hurriedly hand him the coins. “I’ll see you next week, Jack.” Giving him a rushed wave, you quickly leave the greenhouse.

Once a good distance away, you let out a deep sigh. “I think that went well.” Opening your satchel a bit, you’re met with judging green eyes. “Don’t look at me like that! I panicked!” 

Shoving the bag of herbs into a corner of the satchel, Tsunotarou curls deeper into the bag. Letting the satchel bag flap fall back down, you return to the other lists you made. “Guess we’ll visit Sam’s shop next…”

Sam’s is busy as usual when you arrive. Pushing through the throng of customers, you make your way to the shelf filled with bottles. Picking out a few that you need for potions, you move on to the jars. By the time you go to checkout, you can feel Tsunotarou squirming inside the satchel. He pokes his head out every now and then, but only does it when there aren’t many people around. People are too busy with their own shopping, they don’t even glance your way. 

“Welcome back, little imp!” Sam greets.

You return the greeting with a wide smile. “Hey, Sam. Just the usual.” As Sam wraps each glass bottle in brown paper, you mentally do the math of how much you owe.

He carefully splits your items into two bags. “That’ll be one-hundred unless you’re looking for something out of stock?”

“No, I’m good for today.” You reach into your satchel and Tsunotarou presses the coins into your hand. “Here you go.”

Sam eyes your bag with interest but doesn’t say anything. “See you next time!”

You’re thankful that Sam doesn’t pry. The next stores are all uneventful. By the time you’re walking back home, you have an armload of bags. Your satchel can usually hold more, but the extra guest makes it difficult to fit anything beyond the herbs in there.

Once home, you put everything away before feeding everyone. Later, you’re stretched out in front of the fireplace with a botany book in hand. Tsunotarou is curled up on your lap while you read and take notes along the pages. Though you’re used to being alone, it’s like a familiar comfort to feel his weight on your lap. 

When it’s time for bed, you carry the still sleeping dragon upstairs. Putting Tsunotarou in the makeshift nest, you climb into bed. However, before you can fall asleep, Tsunotarou flies over with the blanket in his mouth. Standing at the edge of the bed, it’s almost like he’s giving you puppy dog eyes.

Rolling your eyes, you pat the empty spot near your pillow. “Fine, come on.”

He lets out a satisfied chirp. He wraps the blanket in a neat pile before laying down. Laying on your side, you chuckle while scratching the top of his head. “Good night, Tsunotarou.”

---

At the end of the month you’re preparing a few potions that need to be bathed in moonlight. Tsunotarou sets down the vials you’ve finished in the rack on the windowsill near the front door. You're grateful to have the extra…claws while juggling a few other things at once.

“One more glamor potion and that should be the last of the orders,” you tell Tsunotarou as he perches on your shoulder while you’re stirring the cauldron. “Thanks for the help.” You give him a little scratch under his chin. 

You swear he purrs with the way you feel his body vibrate. “I swear you’re a cat disguised as a dragon,” you chortle while bopping him on the nose.

He stares back at you before slowly blinking in return. “You can’t blame me for making the connection. You even caught a snake and left it as a gift,” you continue while sprinkling in some crushed rose petals. “Also, you shouldn’t do that again.”

The dragon grumbles deep within his chest. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gesture, but let's leave the wildlife alone.” 

Pouring the potion into a vial and sealing it, you hand it off to Tsunotarou, who takes it into his paws before flying off to put it in the rack. Taking a seat, you lean back with a deep sigh. 

Tsunotarou returns, taking a seat on the table. His front paw is fully healed and is no longer wrapped in bandages. Despite being back to full health, it doesn’t seem like he plans to go anywhere.

Suddenly there’s a commotion of loud squawking before the front door is thrown open. “Oi! (Y/N), we’re back!” Ace shouts while letting the door bang.

You tumble back in the chair and hit the ground. “Ahhhkk-ow!” Your head rebounds off the floor with a loud smack.

Two things happen at once. Deuce, who’s behind Ace, rushes over to help you up; however, he’s met with a hissing dragon blocking him that spits red flames at him. His sleeve automatically catches fire and the cottage is filled with panicked, confused screaming.

“Ahhhahhhhhck! Put it out!”

“Is that a dragon!?”

While the two run around screaming, you stare in a daze at the ceiling. Tsunotarou’s face suddenly fills your vision. He chirps a few times before you finally respond with a pat on his head. “I’m okay…”

Slowly sitting up, you notice the two idiots are now quiet. Deuce is no longer on fire, thankfully. However, they take in the sight of Tsunotarou sitting on your shoulder from a safe distance. You wince when you touch the already forming lump on the back of your head.

You huff before glaring at the redhead. “What did I say about suddenly bursting through the front door, Ace?! Can’t you knock like a normal person?”

“Well…I-I…!” Ace sputters unintelligibly before he jabs a finger at the dragon on your shoulder. “Forget about me for a second! What’s that thing?!”

Tsunotarou bares his teeth with a low growl. “We are going to have this conversation later,” you tell him before shifting gears. “This is Tsunotarou. I found him in the forest a little over a month ago.”

“Is he like a baby dragon?” Deuce asks, eyes wide.

Picking up the fallen chair, you shake your head. “I don’t think so. Anyways, baby dragons are much larger. Maybe he’s just a special type of dragon?”

Ace leans closer but pulls back when Tsunotarou snaps at him. “Kinda vicious. He almost barbecued poor Deucy.”

“You also busted in here suddenly. He probably thought you two were threats,” you point out. “Anyways, What trouble did you get into this time?”

“Psssh! Why’d you think we got in trouble?”

“Because you have an infected, bleeding wound on your arm, Ace.” Rolling your eyes, you go to your workroom before returning with a handful of potions, salves, and bandages. “Sit.”

As they plop down, you hand them each a potion. “We had a commission to take down some orcs that were terrorizing a small village,” Deuce explains. “But, uh, turns out it was actually a colony of orcs.”

“So you got beat up?” You clean Deuce’s cuts, which are mostly minor. A few do need some salve and bandages.

You move on to Ace, who looks the worse between the two. “We didn’t get beat up,” Ace grumbles. “We took them down! Aaaa-ouch!!” Biting your lip, you continue to dab his infected wound. 

“You two get into more trouble than anyone I know. Did you at least get a good reward?”

“Of course!” Ace pulls out a hefty coin purse and lets it fall on the table. “All in a day's work.” He grins smugly with his nose in the air.

Flicking his nose, you shake your head as he covers his face. “Don’t freely show that off or you’ll get mugged. Again.” Finished with his wounds, you place a small container of salve in his hand. “Use this once a day until everything is gone. It should, hopefully, not scar.”

“Um, (Y/N), can we crash here?” Deuce asks. He shrinks back when you give him a look.

Rubbing your temples, you sigh, “Fine. But one of you is gonna be sleeping on the floor cause I only have one couch.”

Ace jumps up. “Dibs!”

“Wait, you got the couch the last time! It’s my turn!” Leaving the two bickering adventurers, you head upstairs to find some spare blankets.

Tsunotarou gives you a questioning look as you rummage around in your closet. “They’re good friends. A little annoying at times, but they’ve always had my back.” You can’t count how many times they’ve slept at your place.

“They’re just as rowdy as they were in school,” you mutter as you head back down with two pillows and some blankets.

---

You can’t sleep. Tossing and turning, you finally settle on your back to glare at the ceiling. Ace and Deuce both snore loud enough to be heard from your bedroom. Tsunotarou had disappeared though you weren’t too worried. He would sometimes leave in the middle of the night, most likely to hunt, but he would always return by the time you got up.

Sitting up, you carefully make your way downstairs. “Maybe something to eat will help,” you mumble. You spot Ace hanging off the couch, so you know who lost the argument.

Just as you’re about to tiptoe around Deuce, you hear some loud clucking. Eyes furrowing, you wonder why the hens are up at this hour. Forgetting about your midnight snack, you head to the front door. Stepping outside, the air is warm but nice enough for early summer. Before you can move, you notice a figure standing near the chicken coop.

Not only is it strange to see a person at this time, but there’s also one other thing making you pause and rethink your plans. The moon hangs large in the sky and bathes the world in an ethereal silvery glow. The stranger stands there, head tilted upward to the sky, completely still.

And completely naked.

Slowly closing the door, you slide the deadbolt in place with a muffled click. Hopefully the naked stranger will leave. You doubt the deadbolt would keep anyone out if they actually wanted to break in. However, the act of using it at least gives you a small peace of mind.

Deciding the hens can take care of themselves, you head back to bed. You’re far too tired to deal with whatever nonsense is happening outside. As you drift off to sleep, your last thought is of Tsunotarou. You send a small prayer to whoever is listening that he’s alright.

However, you're woken by a loud crash. And then. “AHHHHHH!!!” “DO SOMETHING!!!”

Bolting out of bed, sunlight filters through the window. Despite feeling like you didn’t sleep at all, it’s morning. You grab the nearest object, a broom, before rushing downstairs. In your haste you nearly slip but manage to catch yourself. Wielding the broom, you’re ready to smack whatever intruder is causing trouble.

Instead of a naked intruder, you witness Ace trying to put out a fire with one of your spare pillows. Deuce is rushing over with a cup of water and dumps it on the flaming blanket. It goes out with a loud sizzle. Both boys let out a relieved sigh as you set the broom down.

“Mind telling me what’s going on?” you ask, not amused.

“Your overgrown lizard,” Ace jabs a finger at Tsunotarou, who is sitting on top of the table, “tried to set me on fire! He tried to murder me!!”

You glance at Deuce, who is still clutching the cup, then back at the frazzled redhead. “Did you do anything to him? Tsunotarou doesn’t just attack people out of nowhere.”

Ace rubs the back of his neck as he suddenly loses the fire in his eyes. “I…I might have said he got fat… And that you should get rid of him,” he admits. “B-But! I’m not wrong! He’s gotten bigger overnight. Soon he’ll be too big for your house!”

Your attention goes to the dragon, who sits patiently while watching the scene. You can’t deny that he’s gotten bigger. Now he’s the size of a large cat, possibly even bigger. “Do dragons usually have growth spurts?” you wonder aloud.

“I don’t remember reading about this at school,” Deuce says, nodding thoughtfully.

“Would you two think about the bigger issue!? He’s gonna grow too big and probably eat us all! That’s what dragons do!” Ace shouts, waving his hands around wildly. 

Walking over to Tsunotarou, you gently stroke his head. “You wouldn’t do that would you?” He gurgles happily, leaning into your touch. “See. He wouldn’t eat us. We’re not very tasty anyways.”

Ace slaps a hand over his face. “(Y/N), he’s a dragon! Not a pet!”

“I know. And dragons are highly intelligent, which means they can understand us.” You chuckle when he rubs against your arm. “I’m pretty sure if Tsunotarou wanted to eat us, he would’ve burned us all alive by now.”

Deuce shudders. “Morbid…”

“Oh yeah!” You completely ignore the last comment. “There’s possibly a naked stranger wandering around this area. I saw him standing near the chicken coop last night.” Tsunotarou makes a noise in the back of his throat.

“...what?” Both boys stare at you before scrambling for the front door.

“Pretty sure he left already!” They don’t hear you as they race outside still in their sleepwear. Lifting Tsunotarou into your arms, you huff, “You’ve gotten heavier too. I’m not sure if you’ll be able to fit in my satchel now.” He only nuzzles your face with his scaly snout.

Coming outside, the hens are just fine. Tsunotarou flies out of your arms to grab the bag of feed. Deuce watches in rapt interest as he throws chicken feed in front of the hens. “He actually helps out?” he asks, surprised. 

It really is a sight to see. “Yup. He’s been helping with small things here and there. He even hands me ingredients when I make potions.”

Once the hens are properly fed, he flies off to take care of Phillis. Despite her initial fear of him, Phillis seems to have gotten used to him. You two follow behind to Phillis's pen. Tsunotarou pats the top of her head while she eats.

“I never thought I’d see a dragon taking care of a goat instead of eating one…” Deuce looks both perplexed and awed.

“Hey!” Ace storms over with twigs and leaves in his hair. “What the hell, Deuce!”

“Huh??”

“I thought we were looking for the weirdo (Y/N) saw. Instead you leave me to do the work.” he grumbles.

Deuce gestures over to Tsunotarou. “I-I got distracted,” he sputters.

The redhead barely passes a glance over to the dragon. “Excuses like always, Deucy.”

“Did you find anything,” you ask, distracting Ace.

“Nah. Think whoever it was left.” Ace shakes his head.

Resisting the urge to say “I told you so” because he didn’t listen, you head back inside. “Come on, unless you wanna stay in your pajamas.”

While Ace gets cleaned up in the bath, Deuce helps with getting breakfast ready. “Hey, do you want us to ask Riddle to come over?”

You hand a plate to Tsunotarou to bring to the table.“Why?”

“To get some protective runes made around the perimeter of your place. Maybe it’ll keep the weirdo you saw out.” There’s a huff and light growl from behind him. “Uh… is he okay?” He inches away from the irritated dragon.

You scratch the top of Tsunotarou’s head, which causes him to almost vibrate. “Something wrong, Tsunotarou? Are you worried about the weirdo too?” You chuckle when he butts your arm with his head.

“You don’t seem too worried,” Deuce points out.

“Milk or orange juice?” You hold up two jugs.

“Milk, please.”

“I mean, I think if that stranger wanted to hurt us, he would've broken down the door. The deadbolt doesn’t do much,” you say while setting down glasses. “I’ll be fine, Deuce, so don’t worry.”

“...sure,” he agrees hesitantly. You can still see the concern on his face, but before you can say anything more, Ace comes down.

“Breakfast ready?” He slides into a chair looking around expectantly.

You hand him a bowl of fruit. “No thanks to you.”

Breakfast is a lively affair with the two extra guests. Ace and Deuce keep the conversation going as they regale you with their latest adventure in detail. It goes by far too quickly for your taste. Sure your days aren’t so quiet with Tsunotarou, but it does get somewhat lonely having a one-sided conversation.

“Well, Tsunotarou, it’s just you, me and the girls again,” you say with a deep sigh. You set him on the ground with a groan. “Okay, buddy, you’re a little too heavy to hold for long periods now.”

He lets out a pitiful sound before rubbing his head against your thigh. “Come on, let's get the rest of the day started.” As you go back into the house, Tsunotarou doesn’t immediately follow.

His sharp green eyes survey the area around your home. Tongue flickering out, a low snarl starts in his chest. Something catches his eye in the trees just beyond your fence. His back bristles as he opens his mouth. Green flames swirl around his mouth as his eyes narrow.

“Tsunotarou, are you still out here?” you call, coming back outside. Lifting him up, you don’t notice the way his gaze is focused on something else. “Are you mad that I can’t carry you?” you ask with a chuckle.

The dragon doesn’t respond as he rests his snout on your shoulder. As you close the door, his gaze never leaves the line of trees. There’s a flash of yellow before the door is firmly shut.

---

To your surprise Ace and Deuce return a few days later. And even more of a surprise, Riddle is with them. You nearly slam the door in their face when you see them. Nervously looking between the two adventures, you can feel heat prickling the back of your neck. Ace avoids eye contact while Deuce sheepishly mouths an apology.

Riddle is the first to speak up. “These two let it slip that you’re harboring a dragon. Being the head of the Heartslabyul Guild, I thought it would be prudent for me to check. Rule 134 states no unregistered magical creatures within 10 miles of the guild are allowed. They must be taken to the appropriate handlers.”

Casting dirty looks at the two, you open the door wider. “Please come in, Riddle.” You rather like having your door on its hinges.

As he enters, he looks around before his gaze zeroes in on the dragon resting on the couch. “It really is a dragon…”

Ace and Deuce carefully slink past you before you shut the door. “As you can see, Riddle, he’s not a danger to anyone.” You try to smile as innocently as possible.

He turns to you. “I realize the rules may not apply to you, (Y/N), since you’re not a part of  our guild, but a dragon is dangerous regardless of its size. Ace mentioned he grew bigger last night. Who’s to say he won’t stop growing and then lay waste to everything?”

Said redhead suddenly has a keen interest in your hanging herbs. “Tsunotarou isn’t like that,” you argue. “He’s never hurt anyone and he’s been living with me of all people.” The magicless human who would be a prime target for magical creatures.

Riddle walks over to the now awake dragon. Tsunotarou regards him with keen interest unlike Ace and Deuce. They both size each other up. Riddle’s brows draw together as he continues to observe him.

“Everything okay?” you ask when the staring seems to drag on.

“Did you know there’s a curse on him?” He walks around the couch to observe Tsunotarou on all sides. The dragon doesn’t move an inch but seems fairly relaxed despite Riddle being a complete stranger.

You and the two boys share a look. “No, I didn’t. Is that why he’s so small?”

“Maybe.” He’s unsure. “It’s old magic and very powerful. I honestly don’t know what kind of curse it is.” Standing in front of Tsunotarou once more, Riddle sighs while touching his head. “This is more complicated than I thought. I’ll need to do some research before trying to determine the curse. I might have to ask Vil for his help on this.”

Sitting on the arm of the couch, you stroke Tsunotarou’s head. “Are you cursed?” you ask him. His head bobs up and down. “How come you two didn’t notice?” Your question is directed at the two bean spillers.

“They probably wrote it off as the creature's magical powers leaving a residue,” Riddle answers. He gives them a stern look. “They’ll need to go through more training later.”

Both stiffen as the color drains from their faces.

“So what now?”

Shaking his head, Riddle glances at his pocket watch. “I need to head back to the guild for tea. I’ll look into curses and consult Vil about this as well. For now, just make sure no one else sees him. We don’t want people to think a dangerous creature is on the loose and panic.”

“Alright. Thank you!” At least he’s going to try and help. You know Riddle could have decided Tsunotarou was a danger and taken him away. 

When they’re gone, you plop down on the couch. Tsunotarou immediately climbs into your lap and makes himself comfortable. “Cursed huh?” You lift his face so you can look into his eyes. “Are you secretly a prince who got cursed by an evil sorcerer and only true love's kiss can break the spell?” you ask with a teasing grin.

He stares back before blinking slowly. Laughing at the ridiculous thought, you bop his nose affectionately. “I hope Riddle figures out your curse. I’d love to see your full form.” 

[captainsophiestark]

Vigilante Book Club

Jason Todd x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist! - Part 2 Part 3

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: DC

Summary: After having an all-around terrible day, the only person who might be able to make it better is a certain book-loving vigilante.

Word Count: 1,562

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed heavily as the tomato I'd set on the counter and turned my back on for two seconds rolled onto the floor and went splat. Some days were just meant to be shitty, apparently.

Today had started out perfectly nice and ordinary. The sun had even been shining, which was a miracle in itself sometimes in Gotham. But then, I'd left my bag unattended at the coffee shop while grabbing my order from the counter, before returning to my table. It didn't have anything legitimately valuable in it, in terms of what the thief got, but it did have my favorite copy of my favorite book, which I'd had for the better part of a decade. All my little notes, bookmarked favorite pages, and the first edition put into print before a few typos and errors were corrected on later runs; in other words, irreplacable. And now it was gone forever.

The rest of my day had likewise been terrible, although normally mundane events might've been colored a little by the loss of my book. Now, all I wanted to do was eat something I liked and then immediately go to bed. And even that wasn't going to plan.

I huffed, setting down the knife I'd grabbed when I turned my back on the tomato and intending to replace it with some paper towels. I froze mid-turn, however, at the sound of the window in my hallway sliding open. Because of course this day hadn't ended yet.

Slowly, as quietly as possible, I turned back to the counter and picked up the knife. I knew I'd locked that window, but apparently someone had managed to just quietly and easily slide it open. That wasn't a good sign.

I crept across the kitchen, tensed and ready to run at a moment's notice as I neared the corner to the hallway. I wanted to see who or what I might be dealing with, while also being prepared to run if I needed to.

I paused at the edge of the kitchen, taking a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. Finally, I mustered up the courage to slowly lean around the corner to peek into the hallway. When I did, I found someone standing much, much closer than I'd been expecting them to be.

"AH!" I screamed, jumping back while brandishing the knife out in front of me. I made it halfway across the room in one leap as the person in my house shifted backwards too.

"Shit," he swore, voice slightly distorted by the vocal modulator in his very recognizable helmet. The Red Hood. Standing in my apartment, apparently after having broken through my window.

I lowered my knife slightly and stopped in my living room, just a few steps from my kitchen. I wasn't completely relaxed, but in general, the Red Hood seemed to have a helpful, non-dangerous-if-you're-not-evil reputation. But he'd also just broken into my house.

"What the hell are you doing?" I demanded. Red Hood held up his hands to show he was unarmed, and apparently also to answer my question: he held a familiar bag I thought I'd never see again in his hand.

"Sorry for scaring you. I didn't think anyone was here, I was planning to just drop this off and go. But I busted some black market smugglers today, and one of their lower-ranking guys had this. Seemed like something you might want back."

I barely let him get through the end of his sentence before I dropped the knife on the nearest table and rushed across the room to grab my bag. I yanked it open while it was still in Red Hood's hands, peering inside with my heart hammering in my chest. I almost collapsed on the spot when I found my book inside, looking exactly the way I'd left it.

"Oh thank goodness!" I cried. I turned back to Red Hood, still clutching my book tight. "Thank you so much for bringing this back to me! I was heartbroken when it got taken."

Red Hood just shrugged. "Glad I could help."

He started shifting back towards the door, carefully setting my bag and the rest of its contents down on the counter, but I couldn't just let him leave like that. He'd quite literally saved my day; I wanted to do something for him in return.

"Wait! Can I... offer you dinner, or something?" I asked. "I was about to start making some tacos..."

Red Hood's gaze drifted to the kitchen as mine did, landing on the pitiful start I'd made on dinner and the tomato still on the floor. I couldn't be totally sure because of the helmet, but I thought I heard him snort.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but that doesn't look anything like dinner. Maybe next time I bust some criminals I'll find a cookbook I can bring you."

I scoffed in mock-indignation, but I couldn't quite hide a smile all the same.

"I know how to cook, alright? Today's just been... a little rough. Until you brought my book back, at least!"

Red Hood chuckled. "Well, I'm glad I could help. Makes my day a lot better, too."

We shared a smile (I assumed, since I couldn't technically see his face), then I lit up as a shock of inspiration hit me.

"Oh! What if I let you borrow this book!" I cried. "It's absolutley fantastic, I promise you won't forget it. Since you knew it was important, I'm assuming you're a reader?"

He stared at me, looking a bit taken aback.

"I'm a very big reader, but... you'd actually let me borrow this?"

He gestured to the book still clutched tightly in my hand, and I whipped it up to my chest again, holding it tight to me.

"Hell no! I won't let anyone borrow this copy, ever. But I have a loaner copy I've used to get my friends invested in the story that I'd be happy to share with you. And... maybe you could come back when you're done reading it, and we could talk about it? Maybe over dinner? I promise I'm a better cook than the current state of my kitchen would suggest."

He didn't respond right away, to the point that I started to get a little nervous. Maybe he'd really wanted to leave when he'd first started heading back to the window, and didn't want anything to do with me or this conversation. Just when I started crafting something to say to let him off the hook, he finally spoke up again.

"...As long as you're sure it wouldn't be an inconvenience for you."

"What? Of course I'm sure! If you're interested, I'd love someone else to talk to about my favorite book. And I'd still love to make you dinner as a thank you for bringing this back to me."

Red Hood nodded. "Okay. That'd be nice, thanks."

"Sure thing. Let me go and grab you my other copy of this book, one second."

I ducked into my bedroom, going straight to the bedside table and carefully setting down my copy of my favorite book. No way I wanted to take a single risk of anything happening to it again.

Once that book was safe, I turned to my brimming bookshelf to grab the copy for Red Hood. Only a fellow reader would understand the importance of returning the copy he brought back to me, and honestly, I couldn't wait to hear his thoughts on the story after his first read through.

I returned to the hallway and handed the book over with a smile. Red Hood took it, tucking it safely away in a deceptively large pocket in his hero suit.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll come back in... a week?"

My eyebrows shot up. "Is that enough time for you to read it?"

"Of course. I've gotta do something to fill the time I'm not running around catching book thieves."

I smiled, and I got the distinct impression that Red Hood was doing the same. After a moment, he cleared his throat, and started heading back towards the window again.

"Anyway... thanks for the book. I'll see you next week."

"See you next week! Bring your thoughts on the book, and maybe a different mask so you can actually eat dinner."

He chuckled. "Don't worry, I wasn't planning to try to force it under the hood."

"Good. And feel free to use the door instead of the window next time!"

He just waved, clearly making no commitment as he stepped out onto the fire escape. I smiled as I watched him go, waving back when he met my eyes and shut the window. I moved closer and watched him as long as I could before he disappeared over the rooftops, off into the night for whatever other vigilante stuff he had to do tonight.

I sighed, staying at the window for another moment to process the past ten minutes. Everything had started to feel like a hallicination, possibly brought on by my truly terrible day.

No matter what, though, I could reassure myself it was real with the newly-returned book on my bedside table, or the knife I'd left in my living room. Somehow, my precious copy of my favorite story had made its way back to me. And even better, I now had a date with a vigilante scheduled to address said book.

I just needed to figure out what dinner went with 'Red Hood comes over to discuss literature'.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

DC Taglist: @gaychaosgremlin

[novamariestark]

back again with another hank request 😅

the reader gets into a bar fight with some random girl that’s talking shit about hank and their relationship, so the reader feels like she needs to defend him. the bartender instead of calling the cops, just calls hank. hank comes in and is kind of laughing to himself a little bit as he just effortlessly throws the reader over his shoulder and is like “alright slugger time to go home” or something like that.

Army - Hank Voight

Summary: No one talks shit about your man. Simple.

Warnings: None?? Except bad writing? 🤣

Word count: 1109

Fandom: Chicago P.D

Pairing: Hank Voight x Reader

Molly’s was buzzing with energy, as it usually was at this time. People like you, who had either a successful day at work and wanted to celebrate, or a stressful day and wanted to drink it away, filled the bar. This, however, was your usual habitat at this time—not because you were stressed or celebrating, but because it gave you something to do while waiting for your boyfriend, Hank Voight. He usually worked late, and you’d come here to kill time until he could swing by and pick you up.

You were nursing your drink at the bar, half-listening to the background noise when you overheard a voice mention your boyfriend’s name, followed by a sentence that made your blood boil.

"Must be nice dating a guy who can make all your problems disappear…"

You froze, the words echoing in your ears as the rest of the noise in the bar became nothing but a backtrack. The woman sitting a few seats down didn’t even bother to keep her voice low, her friends laughed along with her. Your eyes narrowed in her direction, glaring daggers into the back of her head which was covered in fake blonde hair and cheap extensions. Your hands clenched tighter around your drink as you thought about ripping them out her head.

Behind the bar, Gabby, who had been putting freshly cleaned glasses away, caught the conversation and saw the storm brewing in your eyes. She sighed, already knowing where this was headed. She placed the last glass on the shelf before stepping away from the bar. Gabby slipped her phone out of her pocket and quickly dialled her brother.

"Oh yeah," another one chimed in, laughing quietly, "I bet she pays him back for those favors. You know, in her own whore way. I mean that’s the only reason he’s with her."

They both giggled, sending a smug glance your way. And that was it. They had just dropped a match over a pool of gasoline. Your grip on your glass tightened as you slowly turned in your seat.

You tilted your head, giving her a slow, dangerous smile. "I’m sorry, I was too busy daydreaming about ripping out your crappy extensions. What did you just say?"

The first woman leaned back, tossing her hair over her shoulder with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "You heard me. Come on, it’s Voight. Everyone knows the guy bends the rules. I’m just saying, must be nice to have all your messes cleaned up for you. I’m sure you find ways to thank him for that."

Your vision blurred red. "You don’t know a damn thing about him or me."

"Oh please," she scoffed, "Everyone knows he gets his hands dirty, and you just smile and reap the benefits. Well… we also know you do a little more than just smile."

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you slammed your drink down and stood up.

"Say that again. I dare you."

The woman blinked at your challenge, clearly not expecting you to bite back so directly. Her lips curled into a smug grin as she leaned forward, her eyes locked on yours.

"I said," she began slowly, "everyone knows you’re just Voight’s little sidepiece, riding his coattails. And when things get messy—" she paused, glancing at her friends, who were snickering like schoolgirls, before her eyes found yours again, "—he cleans it all up. But we all know you do more than just sit pretty. Bet he’s got you on your knees thanking him every time."

Your heart pounded in your chest, the blood rushing to your ears as the last bit of your restraint snapped. You could practically see yourself launching at her, your hands in her fake blonde hair, dragging her off her stool.

Behind the bar, Gabby had moved out of sight, her phone pressed to her ear as she muttered something, "Hey, it’s me," Gabby said quietly. "Let Voight know his girl’s about to take someone’s head off."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Your fists clenched so hard your knuckles turned white. The woman raised an eyebrow, as if daring you to do something. "Oh, what? You gonna hit me?" she mocked, getting more giggles from her friends who maybe had one braincell between them.

You didn’t even think twice as your fist flew forward, landing squarely on her jaw. The shock in her eyes was priceless, but it was quickly replaced by a furious scowl as she stumbled back into her seat.

"Whoa, Y/N!" Gabby shouted, starting to rush around the bar, but you were already past the point of no return.

The woman recovered quickly, lunging at you with a wild swing. You ducked, avoiding the slap by inches, and shoved her back, sending her crashing into the table behind her. Her friends were still laughing, egging her on, which only fueled your anger more. You were ready to go at it again, fists clenched and teeth gritted.

And then you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, lifting you effortlessly off your feet. Before you could even register what was happening, you were hoisted up and over someone's shoulder effortlessly.

"Alright, slugger, that’s enough for tonight." A deep, familiar voice told you.

You blinked down and found yourself looking at the back of Hank Voight’s leather jacket as he carried you toward the door, his grip firm but gentle.

"Put me down, Hank!" you growled. He just chuckled as you squirmed slightly in his grip, "Hank, come on, let me at her just for a second," you pleaded, your eyes narrowing back toward the bar.

Once you were outside, he put you down on your feet. Hank shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You already gave her a taste,"

“But,” you said, gesturing back to the bar, intending to plead your case as to why he should let you back in there to smack the taste out that bitch’s mouth.

Hank grabbed your hand, placing a soft kiss to the back of it before leading you towards his car, “No buts,”

You sighed, knowing full well he wasn’t going to let you go back, so you just snuggled into him as you walked. Your right arm moving to hug his, your chin resting on his smooth leather covered shoulder.

“I’ve still got some paperwork to do, can I trust you not to start a fight with Rusek?”

You smirked, leaning in closer to kiss the skin just below his ear, “I don’t know, maybe you’ll have to handcuff me,”

“Don’t tempt me, beautiful,”

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

Finally another talented writer in our growing fandom!!!

Plsplsplspls can I request leviathan with a reader who's not that much infatuated by him? Probably acting nonchalant even. I wonder how he'll react. Can sfw or nsfw! (⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ

GHCHG It’s genuinely so sweet and cute how many people are excited about this with me and surprised me how many people like my writing!

Also THIS IS SUCH A AMAZING CONCEPT??? He’d be just so jealous and upset, he’s so confused, why aren’t you fawning over him? His ego is hurt realizing the only human in Hell, the ONLY person he wants to catch the attention off, isn’t interested in him.

Leviathan

Cw: unwanted advances, unhealthy relationships (attempted technically), pining, insecurities,

-

You knew you’d catch the attention of the kings after Satan, but you weren’t to interested in befriending them, you had 72 to go through before you could go home. So of course you want to be fast!

However, Leviathan didn’t allow you to slip by so easily, even dragging you to stay in Hades for a while, while Satan rested you were left with Leviathan. He eyed you constantly, keeping way to close to you in attempts to divert your attention to him, though he seemed to not even know what to do once he had your attention.

He was handsome, you did find him attractive, but you assumed he only wanted a fling, or someone he could dominate to boost his own ego, so once he started making advances, you didn’t outright say ‘no’ but avoided them.

When he reached to wrap an arm around you? You just so happened to walk to the side.

He tries to sneak a kiss? You notice a demon or object that has your attention and turn away from him.

Leviathan was beyond frustrated, and as fun as it was to leave him wallowing over a human avoiding his touch, he started hanging random devils for getting ‘too rowdy/handsy’ with you. He hung Barbatos for helping you up after you tripped!

You wanted to yell at him, but decided, it would feed into his attitude so you decided to upset him with someone he cant hurt. At least not as easily.

You had Satan come over to your ‘room’ (that Leviathan welcomed himself into.) and layed in bed next to you. You could feel Leviathan glaring you both down and as you chatted with Satan, at one point you two are shoved apart and Leviathan pushes himself between you. (Almost pushing Satan off the bed.)

“Watch it.” Satan growled, shoving Leviathan a bit. Leviathan growled back and you can see very quickly that Leviathan is ready to escalate things so you decide to step in.

You grab Leviathan by his horns and pull him back towards you, making him awkwardly flop on the bed. “Leviathan, don’t be a pain in the ass, would giving you be good if I give you…a half hour of undivided attention?”

His eyes lit up at that and you can see a grin spread across his face. “Oh? You’d like to be with me alone for that long? What do you have in mind?” You can see a light brush spread across his face.

You hear Satan laugh before he’s interrupting. “Leviathan you sound desperate!” Satan got up without you needing to tell him. “See you when you don’t have a needy demon wrapped around you.”

He waltzed away while you held Leviathan by the horn to prevent him from scrambling after Satan. “Don’t walk away!” Leviathan hissed out. “Let go, I’m going to kill him-“ You pinched his horn tip and he visibly jumped, whimpering at the overwhelming sensation.

Satan grinned but left, leaving the door unlocked likely in case you needed help. Or something. You watch Leviathan adjust beside you feeling his horns like you might have bent one.

You lift his chin to make him look at you. “You really want me, don’t you?” Leviathan locked eyes with you, scanning your face for sarcasm. He nodded. You palm him through his clothes, feeling his stiff member draw attention to itself by bobbing. “Is this for me?”

You mocked teasingly, only for a low moan to escape him. “…only if you can give me the best orgasm you’ve ever given.” He hissed out, rolling his hips. “You’ve been with all of my subordinates, my Fellow Kings…I envy to think how you made them feel. Make it up to me.”

You roughly yank his pants down along with his undergarments, exposing his dripping cock that you flick the base of. He bucks in response with his shaft shamelessly presenting itself for you.

You reach down and gently squeeze it, stroking it teasingly upon getting a positive reaction from. “Don’t you have an entire town of demons ready to die for you? Why do you need the approval of a human?”

He groans, avoiding your gaze and pretending he didn’t hear what you said. Though as soon as you slowed down he spoke up. “You…are very important to me. I…need you.” He grabbed you and forced your head down to give you a kiss, holding you there while he shoved his tongue in your mouth.

You respond by biting down. He doesn’t pull away instantly, instead testing how long till you used a worrisome amount of pressure. You bit hard enough to draw a small amount of blood. He quickly release you and recoils. “N-no one has done that before…” He seemed awestruck.

[her-satanic-wiles]

Kinktober Day 10 - Aphrodisiac

Brother Imperator x Succubus!Reader

He’s newly appointed to the Ministry as head honcho, the man who makes all the decisions. You love a man in power thanks to the Dark One, especially when they try to resist your powers as much as the good Brother does.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 7.7k.

Reading Time: 32 min.

Warnings: clothed man/naked woman, cunnilingus, degradation, face sitting, mentions of exhibitionism, mentions of public sex, multiple orgasms, predator/prey, plus size!reader, PIV sex, praise kink, public sex, unprotected sex, vaginal sex

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @cosmixxdust @copiasslut @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @hauntedharmonic-ghoulishhaunter @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sister-of-sin-claudia @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Inspired by Trust In Me from the Jungle Book. This was almost a self insert and I’m not even sorry about it. Big bitches rise!

The glint of his grucifix was what first caught your eye, a shimmering beacon in the dim candlelight, pulling you from the shadows like a moth to a flame. You lingered in the hallway, concealed by darkness, watching the faithful sheep wander through the sacred space. The whispers of prayers and hymns filled the air, but all you could hear was the sinful pulse beneath their dark piety.

Your nostrils flared, taking in the scent of them—sex. The intoxicating musk of sweat and arousal clung to the congregation like a second skin. The lingering essence of their pleasure radiated off them, mixing with the incense that swirled lazily through the air. They reeked of it, their bodies pulsing with the afterglow of indulgence. The lightness in their steps betrayed how recently they had succumbed to their primal urges, fucking each other senseless in secret corners. You could hear them down in the dark basements, bouncing, and licking, and sucking and fucking, and screaming.

They were a quick meal—easy prey. You could snatch one of these writhing souls from the flock, drain them in the shadows, and be done with it. Their release would fill you, but it would fade soon after, leaving you hollow and hungry once again.

But the glint of his grucifix… it kept you anchored, drawing your eyes like a predator watching its prey. The two rubies clasping his blazer, blood-red and shimmering, held your gaze. And then there was the cross itself, pure diamond, gleaming with such sacred light it almost made your skin crawl. Almost.

You inhaled again, deeper this time, letting your senses stretch toward him. Him—his scent was different. Stale. Not a drop of sex clung to him. He hadn’t fucked in months. Not even a stolen touch to himself in the dark. The absence of lust around him made the tension in his body palpable, like an overripe fruit begging to be split open. His chastity, however voluntary, was a brittle mask, hiding the pent-up desires that pulsed beneath the surface.

A wicked smile curved your lips. Perfect.

All that caged need, that desperate yearning, it would make him so easy to seduce. His innocence, brittle as glass, would shatter beneath your touch. And the feast he’d give you… oh, you could taste it already. One deep, throbbing release from him would be worth more than a hundred fleeting climaxes from the rest of these sheep. You could already imagine the richness of his pleasure flooding your senses, satisfying you for months.

Your core stirred, a dark, hungry ache that bloomed within you. The thought of him between your legs, spreading him out like a banquet for you to devour—it made you shudder with anticipation. You could already see it. His body trembling under your touch, his breath quickening as you led him to the edge, until he begged you to push him over. His moans, thick with desperation, would echo through the hallowed halls, smothered by the walls that pretended to guard against sin.

And when you were done, when he had spilled everything he had, you’d consume him, leave him nothing more than bones on silk, a hollow shell of the man he once was.

Your hunger twisted inside you, fierce and demanding. The thrill of corrupting someone so pure, of taking that untouched lust and turning it into your feast, was nearly overwhelming. The thought of how his soul would tremble at the touch of your fingers, how his body would shudder in betrayal as it succumbed to your dark allure, was enough to make you nearly lose control.

You stepped forward, letting your power unfurl in the air, thickening it with lust, with an aphrodisiacic pull. He wouldn’t stand a chance. His eyes would widen, lips parting in unconscious longing, as you reached him. The sacred cross dangling against his chest would flicker with a unholy light, but it wouldn’t protect him. Not from you.

Slowly, you’d let your lips curve into a sweet, almost innocent smile—an invitation cloaked in desire. His knees would buckle, his resolve cracking under the weight of your allure. He would fight it, of course. For a moment. They always do. But that glint of fear in his eyes would melt away into submission, and when it did, you would descend on him like a predator that had waited far too long.

And oh, the sound he’d make when he finally gave in…

Sweet agony.

Your fingers twitched in anticipation. Tonight, you would feast.

You followed him, footsteps soundless as a shadow, your form gliding through the dim corridors like a predator on the prowl. He moved ahead, oblivious to the danger that trailed him—a lamb on its way to slaughter. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows along the stone walls, but not a single one betrayed your presence. The world around you didn’t stir, didn’t bat an eyelid to the demonic sister who crept behind their beloved leader, with hunger gnawing at her stomach and arousal pulsing deep within her core.

Your eyes never left him. Each step he took, each slight shift in his posture, was a symphony to your sharpened senses. His breath, though steady, carried an edge of tension, his body taut under the weight of devotion and years of unrelenting denial. But it wouldn’t be long now. You could already taste the fear that clung to him, faint and delicate, like the first drops of blood in the water.

He entered a small chapel off the main hall, the heavy door creaking as it closed behind him. You paused just outside, leaning against the cold stone, savoring the moment. Your tongue flicked over your lips. This was it. No escape.

Pushing the door open with a barely audible click, you slipped inside, the air in the room thick with the stifling scent of incense and the oppressive weight of sanctity. He knelt at the altar, his back to you, oblivious to the darkness that had followed him in. His head was bowed in prayer, the low murmur of his voice sending a tremor of something delicious down your spine. The grucifix around his neck gleamed faintly in the candlelight, a last desperate symbol of his faith.

He had no idea what was coming.

A quick scan of his mind revealed the woman he would worship. The image was vivid—plump and round, with thick thighs that could crush him, a waist wide and inviting, hips that swayed like a promise. Breasts so full and heavy that they spilled through grasping fingers, too much for him to hold, too much for him to handle. But it was exactly what he wanted, what he fantasized about in those dark, lonely moments when his mind wandered and his hand wrapped around his cock.

Your body rippled like liquid beneath your skin, your form bending and twisting, giving way to his fantasy. The change was smooth, subtle at first, and then unmistakable. Your hips widened, stretching the fabric of your robe as your thighs thickened, curving into the soft, inviting shape that had danced in his most sinful dreams. The fabric magically stretching with you, your waist becoming fuller, your breasts heavy and plump, swelling beneath the layers of cloth until they were too much to be contained.

The soft sound of your footsteps was swallowed by the stillness of the room, but he must have sensed something—an unearthly presence lingering just behind him. His body stiffened, the rhythmic murmur of his prayer faltering for just a moment. You stopped, standing over him, your shadow looming tall and dark against the stone floor.

“Who’s there?” His voice was steady, though you could hear the faint tremor beneath it. Fear, like a sweet perfume.

You smiled, the curve of your lips hidden by the hood of your cloak. “Brother Imperator,” you purred, your voice a velvet caress, dripping with a subtle seduction that made the air around you hum. “Do you not recognize your own flock?”

He turned his head slowly, his brow furrowing in confusion. The dim light caught your face, the faintest glimmer of something… wrong. Something predatory. His breath hitched as his eyes met yours, the weight of your gaze enough to make him swallow thickly. “Sister…?” His voice faltered, uncertainty slipping in.

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, stepping closer, your body towering over his as he remained kneeling. “You look troubled, Brother,” you murmured, the edges of your words tinged with mockery, though laced with a sweetness that made his cheeks flush. “Perhaps your prayers have gone unanswered?”

His lips parted, and you saw the faint glisten of his tongue, almost tasting the nerves that danced across it. You crouched beside him, your face now level with his, the dark fabric of your habit barely concealing the otherworldly hunger in your eyes.

He tried to stand, to pull away, but your hand was already there, fingers curling gently around his wrist—too gentle, too soft for the grip that sent his heart racing. “Don’t be afraid,” you whispered, your lips close to his ear now, your breath warm against his skin. “You’ve been so good… so pious… but I see the longing in you, Brother.” You tightened your grip just slightly, your touch a mixture of promise and threat.

“D-did Lord Lucifer send you?” He asked, hope in his eyes of a reward for his hard work.

No, Lord Lucifer did not send you… but he didn’t need to know that.

“Oh, yes!” you lied. “He delivered me unto you personally - to thank you for your service to Him.” You reached your hand up to stroke his face, the smooth jawline felt like velvet beneath the back of your hand. You allowed your thumb to catch on his enticing pink lips. “Would you let me bestow His gift upon you?”

You could take him by force, use his body as you wanted. You had the power. But the consent made your meal sweeter, far more succulent. The enthusiasm they’d throw your way made it taste that much more delectable.

His lips parted in a soft gasp as your thumb grazed across them, his breath trembling beneath the weight of your touch. The hope in his eyes was almost too sweet, too innocent, a deer in the jaws of a tigress. His gaze flickered with something between fear and excitement, the very idea that Lord Lucifer had personally rewarded him setting his mind alight. The heat radiating from him was palpable, his resolve slipping further with every second your fingers lingered on his skin.

“I…” His voice was weak, trembling with the weight of temptation. You could feel the hesitation, the vestiges of his piety clinging to him like a threadbare cloak. His lips brushed your thumb as he spoke again, softer this time, his words barely a whisper. “I would be… honoured.”

Your smile widened, a dark, sultry curve, as you let your hand slide from his lips to his neck, fingers tracing the line of his pulse—fast, frantic beneath the thin veneer of control he still tried to maintain. His blood sang with a hunger he was too afraid to name, but you could feel it, smell it in the air around him. It was intoxicating.

“That’s what I wanted to hear, Brother.” You purred, voice laced with sweet venom. You took a slow step closer, your body brushing against his in the dim light of the chapel. He inhaled sharply, his composure unraveling as you pressed against him, your presence a tangible force that enveloped him, pulling him deeper into your thrall.

His eyes flickered down, catching the faint curve of your body beneath the dark fabric of your robes. His breath stuttered again, a flush creeping across his face as his fingers twitched at his sides. He wanted to touch you, wanted to lose himself in you.

You leaned closer, lips brushing against his ear as you spoke. “I can feel it, you know… your need. You’ve worked so hard for Him. And now you deserve to be rewarded.” The lie rolled from your tongue so easily, dripping with sin as you let your other hand wander down his chest, feeling the shudder that rippled through him at your touch. His body tensed beneath your fingertips, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t want to.

“Yes…” His voice was faint now, nothing more than a breath, a surrender.

You turned his face to yours, gently, like one might guide a lamb to slaughter. His wide eyes, filled with nervous anticipation, met your own, and you could feel the last remnants of his resistance crumbling like dust. He was yours now—completely.

His lips parted again as you leaned in, your breath ghosting over his skin, the tension between you palpable, electric. His heart pounded beneath your palm, his pulse quickening with each passing second. The hunger in your core twisted, urging you to take him, to devour him whole.

But you waited.

“Do you want this?” you asked softly, your lips hovering just inches from his. The question was unnecessary—you could already feel his answer in the way his body trembled, in the heat radiating off him. But hearing it would make it all the sweeter.

He swallowed hard, his voice shaky, uncertain, but filled with an eagerness he could no longer hide. “Yes… please…”

And there it was—the moment of consent, the breaking of his will. The words tumbled from his lips like an offering, and you could practically taste the sweetness of it.

Your smile deepened, dark and victorious, as you finally closed the gap between you, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was both soft and demanding. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he hesitated, his body frozen in shock. But then his lips parted, and he surrendered completely, melting into your touch, into the wicked promise you offered him.

The kiss deepened, and you let your power flow through him, subtle at first, a slow, creeping warmth that spread through his veins. His hands, once trembling at his sides, finally rose, fingers brushing against your waist, hesitant but needy. He groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your lips as he pressed closer, his body betraying him in the most delicious way. His erection grew rapidly, the feel of your soft body beneath his fingertips and the addicting way you kissed made him give over to you so easily it was almost pathetic.

You pulled away just enough to speak, your voice a low, sultry whisper that made his heart race. “Good boy… let go. Let me show you what true devotion feels like.”

You felt his body respond in kind, a shudder running through him as your words curled around his mind like a serpent, squeezing out the last drops of resistance. His erection pressed against you, desperate and needy, as though his very soul had been waiting for this moment, for the permission to surrender completely.

Your lips brushed against his again, teasing, barely giving him what he craved. “You’ve been so good,” you murmured, your breath warm against his skin, sending a ripple of desire through his entire body. “So devout. Let me reward you properly.”

He moaned softly, a sound that reverberated through his chest, and you could feel the heat radiating from him now, his body a furnace of pent-up lust and unfulfilled desire. His hands, once hesitant, now gripped at your waist, pulling you closer, his hips twitching forward in desperate need for friction, for release. It was almost pathetic, the way he melted under your touch, so easy, so malleable.

You chuckled, low and wicked, your lips ghosting over his neck now, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The scent of his arousal filled the air, mixing with the incense, and your hunger surged. His body, so tightly wound, begged for release—release only you could give.

Your hand slid down between your bodies, pressing against the hardness straining beneath his jeans. He gasped, his body jerking against yours, his breath coming out in ragged pants as you teased him, fingers dancing over his length with a delicate touch. “Feel that?” you whispered against his ear, your voice dark and laced with cruelty. “That’s what you’ve been denying yourself. All this time, fighting your desires… for what? For Him?”

He whimpered, his body trembling under your touch. His eyes fluttered shut, his lips parted, but no words came out—just the sound of his breath, shallow and ragged, as you continued to torment him. His hands tightened on your waist, fingers digging into your flesh as if he were afraid to let go, afraid you would leave him hanging on the edge of this delicious torment.

You leaned in closer, pressing your body fully against his now, your mouth hovering just inches from his ear. “You’ve served Him so well,” you whispered, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his neck, feeling the pulse beneath it quicken. “But now it’s time to serve yourself.”

His head fell back, a low moan escaping his lips as your fingers closed more firmly around his length, stroking him through the thick fabric of his jeans. You could feel him trembling, could hear the soft, pleading sounds that escaped his throat, and it sent a thrill through you. So needy. So easy.

You freed him, undoing the button and the zip and letting his thick length out of its cage. His cock was beautiful, long and girthy, with the precum glistening against the head, tantalising and teasing you.

“Look at you,” you purred, your fingers teasing him with slow, deliberate strokes, your lips grazing his throat. “Such a good little servant. So desperate to please.” His body jerked in response, his hips pressing up against your hand as you continued to stroke him. “Tell me, Brother… what would you do for me?”

He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he tried to find his voice. “A-anything,” he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. “Anything you want… just… please…”

You smiled darkly, your eyes gleaming with satisfaction. His submission was perfect, total. He had fallen into your trap with such ease, so eager to give up everything, to be consumed by you.

Slowly, you pulled away, watching with dark delight as his eyes snapped open in shock, the sudden loss of your touch making him whimper in protest. His erection red and angry, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he stared at you with wide, pleading eyes.

“You want more, don’t you?” you asked, your voice dripping with sweet mockery. His nod was frantic, his body shaking with need, but you weren’t ready to give it to him yet. Not until he was completely yours.

“You have to ask for it,” you whispered, leaning in just enough for him to feel your breath on his lips. “Beg me.”

He hesitated, his pride warring with his desire for only a moment before he gave in completely, his eyes dropping to the floor as he whimpered, “Please… please, I need you. I need it so badly.”

Your smile widened, triumphant and wicked. Perfect.

You took a step back and stripped yourself of your veil and habit, with no underwear underneath, you were fully exposed to him and his hungry eyes.

His eyes widened as you stood before him, fully revealed, the dim light casting shadows over your body in a way that only accentuated your inhuman allure. His breath hitched, eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of you.

You tilted your head, your lips curling into a dark, seductive smile as you watched him. The devout Brother, the leader of the Ministry, Satan’s favourite son, was now nothing more than a quivering, desperate man, wholly in your thrall.

He swallowed hard, his gaze darting between your eyes and the rest of your body, his erection still painfully obvious even after the release you had granted him. It wasn’t enough. He was far from sated.

You stepped forward, your hand reaching out to gently brush the side of his face. He trembled beneath your touch, his skin warm, his pulse racing beneath your fingertips. “Don’t worry,” you whispered, your voice soft but laced with danger. “I’m going to give you exactly what you deserve. All you have to do… is worship me.”

His breath caught, his lips parting, and you saw the flicker of hesitation in his eyes—the last vestiges of guilt, of fear, before they were swept away by the force of his need. He nodded, barely able to form the words as his voice cracked. “Yes… I’ll worship you.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at you. “Good. On your knees.”

He dropped without hesitation, the weight of his desire pulling him down like a stone into the abyss. His hands reached out instinctively, trembling as they hovered near your thighs, but he didn’t dare touch you—yet. Not until you gave the command. His eyes were wide, almost pleading, as he stared up at you.

You stepped closer, letting your fingers trail through his hair, tugging gently as you forced his head back to meet your gaze. The sight of him, kneeling at your feet, was intoxicating—delicious in its submission. “You know what to do,” you purred, your hand tightening slightly in his hair. “Make me feel how much you need this.”

His breath trembled as he leaned in, pressing tentative kisses along the inside of your thigh, his lips soft and reverent as though he were worshipping a holy relic. But this was no act of piety—this was pure, carnal desperation. His hands finally settled on your hips, his fingers digging in just enough to ground himself as he moved higher, his lips tracing a burning path up your body.

A shiver of pleasure ran through you as his lips neared your core, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. You let out a soft sigh of approval, your fingers tightening in his hair as you guided him closer, demanding more.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice low and dangerous. “Don’t stop.”

With a whimper of submission, he obeyed, his mouth moving between your legs with an eagerness that bordered on frantic. The heat of his breath, the desperation in every flick of his tongue—it was almost too much, and yet not enough. You could feel the power building between you, every drop of his devotion feeding into your hunger, making your desire grow more intense, more ravenous.

You rolled your hips against his face, the sharp sting of pleasure making your body hum with delight as you let yourself fall into the moment, letting him give you exactly what you wanted. His moans were muffled against your flesh, and the vibrations sent shocks of pleasure through your body as you gripped his hair tighter, forcing him to keep going, to give you everything.

You moaned. “Lie on the floor.”

He pulled off you quickly, obeying immediately. He watched from the ground as you lowered yourself over him, hovering above his face before sitting on it entirely.

As you lowered yourself onto his face, your thighs framing him, you felt the desperate pull of his hands gripping your hips, guiding you down onto him like a man starved. His mouth latched onto you with fervor, and the way his tongue moved, eager and reckless, sent a bolt of pleasure straight through you.

His groans were muffled against your skin, each one sending delicious vibrations deep into your core. You leaned back, your hands braced against your thighs as you rode his face, grinding against his mouth, feeling the sharp edge of his teeth grazing against you with each desperate flick of his tongue.

He was so eager, so hungry. You couldn’t help but let out a moan, a low, satisfied sound that echoed off the chapel walls. The thrill of it all—this filthy act in such a sacred place, however inviting it was, the power you had over him—made the pleasure all the more intense. He wasn’t just a man beneath you anymore; he was yours, completely, utterly devoted, worshiping you as though you were the goddess he had never known he needed.

“You’ve done so well,” you purred, grinding harder against his face, your voice dripping with dark affection. “But I’m not finished with you yet.”

His body jolted, a soft, muffled whimper escaping him, but he didn’t stop. If anything, his pace quickened, his tongue delving deeper, licking and sucking with wild, unrestrained devotion. You could feel the tension building in your core, that sweet, unbearable pressure mounting as you rolled your hips, your pace becoming erratic as you chased your release.

With a gasp, your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him tighter against you. His muffled groans of desperation only spurred you on, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

“Yes… just like that…” you moaned, your voice barely more than a breathless whisper. “Don’t stop. You’re mine now… all mine.”

And as the climax hit you, your body convulsing in a violent wave of ecstasy, you felt the power of it surge through you, your very essence pulling from his submission, his devotion, his soul. He was shaking beneath you, gasping for breath as you rode him through the peak of your pleasure, leaving nothing behind for him to hold on to.

Finally, with a satisfied sigh, you lifted yourself from his face, gazing down at him. His chest heaved, his eyes half-lidded, dazed and spent, his lips still glistening with your release.

You stood up slowly, your legs shaky with the lingering pleasure of your climax, but you weren’t done with him yet. Not by a long shot. The chapel floor was cold beneath your feet, but you didn’t feel it—your skin still buzzing with the heat of his devotion, with the power you had over him.

You gazed down at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he lay there, spent and trembling from his efforts. His lips were swollen, his face flushed, and his eyes half-lidded with lust. Yet, despite how exhausted he looked, his cock still stood painfully erect, a testament to just how much he wanted you—how much more he still had to give.

Your lips curled into a wicked smile as you placed one foot on either side of his hips, standing over him, your body fully exposed to his ravenous gaze. His eyes widened as he stared up at you, helpless and needy, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare.

“Look at you,” you purred, lowering yourself just enough to let him feel your heat hovering above his aching length. “So desperate for me. Do you even know how pathetic you look right now?”

He whimpered softly, his eyes pleading, and the sound sent a thrill through you. You reached down and gripped his cock, feeling it twitch under your touch as you guided him to your entrance, teasing him, letting the tip brush against your slick folds but not giving him the satisfaction of entering you just yet.

“I could leave you like this,” you mused, your voice a low, dangerous purr. “Make you beg for it until you’re nothing but a broken mess on the floor. Would you like that?”

His breath hitched, his body tensing beneath you as he struggled to find the words, but all that escaped him was a desperate, choked sound. You chuckled, relishing in his torment for just a moment longer before you finally lowered yourself onto him, taking him in inch by inch. His gasp was immediate, his body jerking as you sank down onto his length, enveloping him in your tight, wet heat.

You let out a low, satisfied moan as you settled fully onto him, the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you sending a wave of pleasure through your body. His hands flew to your hips, gripping you tightly as if to ground himself, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Fuck…” he gasped, his voice trembling as his hips instinctively bucked up into you, seeking more, needing more. But you were in control here, and you weren’t about to let him have anything unless you wanted it.

You placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back down against the cold stone floor as you began to move, slow and deliberate. His eyes rolled back as you rocked your hips, your pace agonizingly slow, making him feel every inch of you as you rode him.

“Is this what you wanted?” you asked, your voice dripping with mockery as you leaned forward, your breasts grazing his chest. “To be used like this? To be taken by something so much more powerful than you could ever hope to be?”

He nodded frantically, his fingers digging into your hips as his breath came out in ragged pants, but you didn’t give him time to answer. You increased your pace, rolling your hips in slow, torturous circles as you rode him, taking what you wanted, letting his cock fill you over and over again.

The sound of your skin slapping against his filled the chapel, the obscene rhythm echoing through the holy space as you fucked him on the very floor he had once knelt on in prayer. His moans grew louder, more desperate, as his body surrendered to you completely, his hips jerking up to meet your every movement.

You threw your head back, a deep moan escaping your lips as you felt the pleasure building inside you once more, the tight coil of desire winding tighter with every thrust. His cock was perfect, hitting just the right spot with every movement, and you rode him harder, faster, your nails digging into his chest as you chased your release.

“Look at you,” you growled, your voice rough with pleasure. “A pathetic, whimpering mess beneath me. Is this what you imagined when you swore yourself to Him?”

He whimpered in response, his body trembling beneath yours as his hands gripped your hips tighter, his breath coming out in sharp, ragged gasps. His cock twitched inside you, and you could feel him teetering on the edge, ready to fall apart for you completely.

But you weren’t done with him yet.

You slowed your movements just enough to drive him mad, keeping him on the brink, torturing him with the promise of release but not giving it to him. His moans turned to desperate pleas, his body thrashing beneath you as he begged for mercy.

“P-please,” he gasped, his voice raw with desperation. “Please… let me come…”

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Only when I say so.”

You felt the desperation in his body, the way he writhed beneath you, his hips bucking as if trying to coax his release from you. The sound of his pleas echoed in the chapel, mingling with the sharp slaps of skin against skin, and it only fueled your hunger. You couldn’t resist teasing him a moment longer.

With a wicked grin, you decided to grant him the pleasure of your movements. You tightened your grip on his chest, fingers digging into his skin as you rolled your hips with renewed vigor. Each thrust was relentless, a passionate declaration of your dominance as you claimed him entirely.

“Such a good boy,” you murmured, your breath hitching as you increased your pace, riding him harder. The intensity of his desire washed over you like an intoxicating wave, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his desperate thrusts. His moans transformed into deep, guttural sounds, filled with a mix of pleasure and frustration.

The chapel’s cold floor beneath you faded into oblivion as the heat between you grew. Every thrust sent shocks of pleasure coursing through your body, the electric connection sparking with each movement. You reveled in the feeling of his length filling you, the way your bodies collided, and how his needy cries echoed within the sacred space.

“Let go,” you commanded, your voice low and sultry, urging him to surrender completely to the ecstasy you were providing. “Give in to your desires.”

He obeyed, his body arching up towards you, chasing that elusive release you had kept just out of reach. The warmth of his skin beneath your hands, the desperate rhythm of his thrusts, and the sight of his pleasure-stricken face drove you wild. You pressed your hips down harder, taking your pleasure as he lost himself in yours.

“Please…” he whimpered, his voice cracking as he struggled against the intoxicating wave of need threatening to consume him. “I can’t hold on much longer… please let me come…”

You loved the way his voice trembled with desperation, how he begged and pleaded like a sinner before his goddess. And yet, you weren’t quite finished with him. The feeling of control surged through you, powerful and thrilling, and you couldn’t resist the urge to draw this out a bit longer.

With a wicked smile, you leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear once more. “Not yet,” you whispered, the words laced with dark promise as you tightened your core around him, milking him for every drop of pleasure you could extract.

His back arched, a raw moan escaping him as you felt him tense beneath you. He was so close—so very close. But you pulled back just enough to keep him on that precipice, your body quivering with the effort of holding back your own release as well.

“Ride it out for me,” you commanded, the authority in your voice making him whimper. “You can do it. Just a little longer. Show me how devoted you really are.”

With that, you increased your pace once more, driving him harder against the floor as your body took everything it wanted. Each thrust pushed him further toward the edge, and you could feel the tension in his body building, ready to snap at any moment. His desperate pleas only intensified your need, the power you held over him sending a thrill down your spine.

His hands clutched at your waist, pulling you closer as if trying to merge your bodies into one. You loved that he wanted you so desperately, that he was willing to submit to your will without question. It made you feel powerful, alive, and it was exactly what you craved.

Finally, you leaned down, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss, your tongues dancing together as you drove your hips down harder, faster. The pleasure surged through you both, a wave that threatened to drown you in ecstasy, and you could feel his release building within him. The taste of his desperation lingered on your tongue, fueling your own need as you lost yourself in the moment.

“Now,” you gasped against his lips, your voice barely more than a breath. “Come for me.”

With your command, his body shattered beneath you. He let out a primal groan, his back arching as he finally released himself, spilling deep inside you with a cry of pure bliss. The warmth of him flooding you sent shockwaves through your entire body, and you rode him through the waves of ecstasy, your own climax crashing over you as you surrendered to the pleasure.

Together, you rode the high, the chapel echoing with the sounds of your union, a sacred act of pure, unfiltered desire. His essence had poured into you, filling you up and satiating your hunger. You breathed heavily, basking in the deliciousness of your meal.

Before you could catch your breath, he shifted beneath you, a glint of newfound determination sparking in his eyes. With surprising strength, he pushed you onto your back, the cold chapel floor pressing against your skin as he loomed over you, the raw need radiating from him almost palpable.

“Wait—” you began, but he silenced you with a heated kiss, his hands gripping your wrists as he pinned them to the floor beside your head. The fervor in his movements sent a thrill through you, igniting a spark of excitement deep within.

He buried himself inside you once more, the sensation of him filling you again pushing you over the edge of pleasure. You gasped against his lips as he began to thrust, his movements driven by an insatiable hunger that mirrored your own. His rhythm was wild and desperate, a primal instinct taking over as he chased the high of a second orgasm, your bodies intertwining as if they were destined to fit together like this forever.

“More…” he gasped, his voice strained as he pressed deeper, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. The intensity of his desire only fueled yours, igniting an inferno of lust that threatened to consume you both. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and the sight of him lost in the throes of ecstasy was intoxicating.

“Please… let me feel you,” he murmured, his breath hot against your neck, the urgency in his voice sending shivers down your spine. You reveled in the way he sought to claim you again, your body responding eagerly as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to push even deeper.

The grucifix on his blazer swung wildly above you as his thrusts grew more frantic, more desperate as he chased that high, the aphrodisiac coursing through his veins giving him a stamina you hadn’t anticipated. Each thrust was a declaration of his need, his primal instincts taking control as he lost himself in the rhythm of your bodies moving together once more.

The pleasure mounted quickly, the tension in your core tightening as you felt the familiar heat beginning to build again. You moaned his name, the sound blending with the echoes of the chapel, and it only seemed to drive him further, his movements becoming more erratic, fueled by your sounds of pleasure.

“Just like that… don’t stop…” you urged, your voice breathy as you felt yourself spiraling toward that edge once more. He complied eagerly, losing himself in the moment as he pushed harder, faster, his hands gripping your thighs as he buried himself deeper inside you.

“Sathanas, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice hoarse and ragged. “I can’t get enough…”

You could feel the heat building inside you, an insatiable hunger igniting with each thrust as you surrendered to the rhythm of his body. The world around you faded, the only thing that mattered was the pleasure coursing through you, the connection that bound you both in this moment of bliss.

“Come for me,” you urged, your voice a sultry whisper, and it sent him over the edge. With a final, desperate thrust, he cried out, his release flooding you once more as you felt him pulsing inside you. The sensation tipped you over the edge, your own climax crashing through you as you reveled in the delicious aftershocks of both your pleasures intertwining.

You writhed beneath him, lost in the waves of ecstasy that surged through your bodies, feeling completely and utterly consumed by the moment. As his release filled you once more, a deep, primal hunger awakened within you—a hunger that went beyond mere physical satisfaction. You could feel the warm, intoxicating rush of his essence flooding through you, sending delicious waves of pleasure radiating outwards, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

With each pulse, you savored the taste of him, letting it wash over you, feeding on his orgasm again as if it were the sweetest nectar. The sensation was euphoric, a heady mix of power and pleasure that sent shivers down your spine. You could almost feel the tendrils of his release seeping into your very being, nourishing your essence and filling you with warmth and satisfaction.

As the last shudders of ecstasy faded, the warmth of his body collapsed against you, a heavy weight that anchored you to the cold chapel floor. His breathing was ragged, softening into a gentle rhythm as he drifted into unconsciousness, spent from the pleasure you had given him. You could feel the heat radiating off him, a testament to the fervor of your union, and for a brief moment, you relished the sweetness of your victory, the satiation of your hunger.

But before you could fully bask in the aftermath, a deep chill enveloped the chapel, cutting through the remnants of warmth like a cold knife. Shadows danced along the stone walls, twisting and writhing as if alive, casting eerie shapes that seemed to flicker and vanish before your eyes. A palpable tension filled the air, thickening it with an electric anticipation that made your skin prickle.

Then, with a grace that seemed otherworldly, He emerged from the darkness—Satan, the God of Darkness, cloaked in an aura of authority and danger. His presence was magnetic, drawing your gaze with an irresistible pull, as if He were the very embodiment of temptation itself. His form was draped in a flowing garment of black velvet that shimmered like the night sky, accentuating his lithe yet powerful frame.

His skin glistened, the deep crimson hue catching the flickering candlelight, creating an almost surreal contrast against the shadows that danced around him. Long, elegantly curved horns sprouted from His goat-like head, twisting upwards like the branches of a dark, twisted tree, glinting with an otherworldly sheen that hinted at both beauty and menace.

Satan’s eyes were a swirling abyss, deep pools of molten gold that seemed to pierce through the veil of your very soul. In them, you could see the weight of centuries, the seductive allure of a power that promised both ecstasy and destruction. They glinted with an unfathomable knowledge, as if He held the secrets of the universe in his gaze, and for a moment, you felt utterly naked before Him—exposed, yet exhilarated.

He moved closer, hooved feet clopping against the cold floor, each step deliberate and graceful, the air around Him charged with an intoxicating energy. You could feel the temperature drop even further, your breath visible in the air, mingling with the lingering scent of desire and smoke that clung to the chapel. The shadows shifted, stretching and elongating, as if bending to his will, swirling around Him in a dark dance that was both mesmerizing and foreboding.

Satan’s lips curled into a knowing smile, an expression that held a multitude of meanings—pleasure, intrigue, perhaps even a hint of disapproval. “My dear succubus,” He spoke, His voice smooth and rich, a seductive whisper that wrapped around you like silk. “It seems you have indulged in your own appetites.”

His gaze flicked down to the unconscious figure beneath you, and his smile widened, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth that glinted like daggers. “Such a delightful little feast you’ve had.” There was a playful lilt to His tone, yet it held an undertone of warning, a reminder of the power that coursed through his being.

You met his gaze, feeling both enthralled and wary, a thrilling mix of fear and fascination coursing through you. “He was… delectable,” you replied, your voice steady despite the tempest of emotions swirling within you. “A gift of desire, just as You promised.”

Satan chuckled, a low, dark sound that reverberated through the chapel like distant thunder. “And yet, you seem to have drained him to the brink of exhaustion. Is it not wise to leave your prey alive for the next indulgence?”

As He spoke, you felt a shiver run down your spine, the implications of His words sending a thrill of excitement through you. You had given in to your desires, but there was a deeper hunger within you now, one that craved the power he embodied.

“Would you like to be my next indulgence, my Dark Lord?” you asked, playfully teasing your God.

Satan’s smile deepened, His sharp teeth glinting in the dim candlelight, an embodiment of wickedness and allure. The shadows danced around Him, reflecting the darkness that thrummed in the chapel, echoing the intoxicating energy between you. He stepped closer, the air thickening with His presence, each movement imbued with an undeniable charisma that both captivated and terrified.

“Ah, My sweet succubus,” He purred, His voice a silky caress that wrapped around you like a lover’s embrace. “You play with fire, and yet I find your audacity utterly delectable.” His gaze roamed over you, an appraising look that lingered on your exposed skin, the remnants of your previous indulgence evident in the lingering heat that radiated from your body.

He paused, leaning closer, the heat of His breath brushing against your face. “But tell Me, what makes you think you could handle the full weight of My indulgence?” His eyes glinted with a mixture of mischief and challenge, the promise of darkness dancing within their depths. “Many have tried, but few can withstand the depths of My desires.”

The thrill of His words sent a shiver of anticipation through you, igniting a hunger that pulsed beneath your skin. You met His gaze boldly, feeling a rush of confidence surge within you. “I am not afraid of the depths, my Lord. It is the heights of ecstasy that draw me to You.”

Satan chuckled again, a sound rich with amusement, echoing through the chapel like a dark melody. “Such spirit,” He replied, His tone dipping into something more serious, a glimmer of intrigue lighting His eyes. “You intrigue Me, little succubus. Your hunger matches My own, and that is a rare find.”

Satan’s smile widened, a predatory gleam dancing in His eyes as He stepped closer again, the shadows swirling around Him like a living cloak. He extended His hand towards you. “Come home, child,” He said, waiting patiently for you.

With a final glance at the still-unconscious figure on the floor, you reached for His hand, feeling the warmth of His touch blend with the darkness that surrounded you. As your fingers intertwined, the chapel shifted, the air crackling with energy as you were drawn into the depths of His domain, where pleasure and power coalesced in a tantalizing embrace.

He had brought you back to Hell, where you belonged.

Prev./Next

[fluentmoviequoter]

Every Day After

Requested Here!

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!shy!SWAT!reader

Summary: You are Deacon's best friend, and when you're poisoned and nearly killed, his protective tendencies make an appearance as he stays by your side to help you heal.

Warnings: angst to fluff, depictions of benzene poisoning, references to drug use and distribution, mention of character death, poisoning scene loosely based on 1x19 "Source"

Word Count: 6.6k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Being shy and being a member of 20-David don’t always mix well. Some days, you can talk with them without any problems; other days, they push you a touch too far, and you’re more comfortable being quiet. But no matter what kind of day it is, your team is your family, and they have your back.

One member of the team, however, you consider to be your best friend. David “Deacon” Kay is one of the best friends you have ever had, and when he jumps in to defend you and protect you, it’s easy for the rest of your team to see why you’re so attached to him.

“Where’s Deac?” Hondo asks as he enters the locker room.

“Not here yet,” you answer after closing your locker.

“You mean you didn’t carpool? Deacon was okay letting you out of his sight for that long?”

“He’s my friend, not my probation officer,” you reply softly.

Hondo smiles at your comment before explaining, “I just mean you’re usually together. Don’t see you separated much these days. Is there a reason for that?”

“Not whatever you’re thinking,” you answer, your voice weaker than it was a moment ago. “He’s my friend.”

“Who’s your friend?” Deacon asks, using the other door to come in.

“You,” Hondo answers, winking at you. He chuckles when you turn your chin away from him and steps toward the door as he calls, “We’re rolling in twenty to serve a warrant, so do your thing.”

“You alright?” Deacon asks, placing his backpack in his locker.

You nod, reaching down to tie your laces and take a moment to breathe. Your job is stressful, so finding quiet moments whenever you can helps you be a better S.W.A.T. officer.

“Here,” Deacon says, gently knocking your hand out of the way as he ties your laces.

Standing up straight, you watch Deacon double knot your laces and ensure your safety before tapping the side of your boot. He stands and meets your eyes.

“You good?” he asks, looking into your eyes as he rolls his shoulders.

“I am. Are you?”

“Always,” Deacon answers with a smile. “When you’re around, at least.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, gesturing toward your boots.

“That was adorable,” Street says.

You look over quickly, surprised to see him standing in the doorway. His smile grows when you lock eyes with him; you immediately drop your eyes to avoid his pleased look.

“A little Cinderella-esque, but cute. We just got a tip that our guy’s gonna try to run, so we’re rolling now. Unless you two need a minute?”

“We’re good,” you reply, while Deacon says, “Let’s do it.”

Deacon spreads his hand across your upper back, sweeping his thumb over the base of your neck in a comforting motion. You know he has your back, and the rest of your team is there for you, too, but physically feeling Deacon at your side makes you feel prepared to take on anything.

Climbing into Black Betty, you sit in your usual seat beside Deacon and listen to Hondo explain the warrant and the layout of the house you’re breaching.

“This guy will be armed, but we don’t know what else he may have goin’ on in there, so stay liquid,” Hondo concludes.

Deacon nods once as Black Betty stops. You follow Deacon to the west side of the house, waiting for Hondo’s signal to shoot a flashbang through a window before using the new opening to enter the residence. Deacon moves in first, clearing the room before you cover the hallway so you can move deeper into the house.

Tapping Deacon’s shoulder, you let him know you’ve got his back before he enters a bedroom.

“Closet only,” Deacon alerts, stepping back into the hallway before you.

Something hits the floor in the closet, but before you can turn back to check, the door slings open, and someone steps out. The suspect appears to be male, but you can’t tell much about his physical composure as he slams you into the wall behind you. You raise your arms to his neck, attempting to push him off of you. He grunts as he pushes harder, raising you so your feet are off the floor. Deacon moves in your peripheral, but you use the suspect’s momentum to kick him in the torso, falling onto him as he tips back.

“You’re under arrest,” you pant, flipping him onto his stomach and removing handcuffs from your belt.

“Get down!” Deacon yells.

You don’t hesitate to obey his demand, dropping to the floor beside the suspect as someone opens fire.

“30-David, we’re taking fire in the west hallway,” Deacon radios.

Looking over, you don’t see Deacon and assume he has taken cover in one of the bedrooms.

“One suspect in custody, one armed but not visible. Likely barricaded in the back room at the northwest corner,” Deacon continues.

You feel a hand on your ankle but immediately recognize the touch. Twisting, you confirm your suspicion when you see Deacon gesture for you to stay quiet. He raises to his knees in a doorway, and you move your weapon to your back just before he pulls you into the bedroom.

“Thank you,” you whisper as he closes the door.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replies, matching your volume. “Nobody else even got in, we’re trapped in here.”

“We need our cuffed guy. At the least, maybe we can trade him to get out.”

“I’ll get him, but if he makes noise, I’m pushing him back out.”

You nod and help Deacon pull the man you just fought with into the room. He pants as the door closes but doesn’t fight against you or Deacon.

“Yo, this dude is crazy,” he says, though you suspect he’s talking to himself. “I’m just try’na buy some dope fo’ ma cousins and he tell me to get in the attic and get the 5-0 off his trail.”

You furrow your eyebrows as you listen. The story may not make sense to everyone, but being a cop in Los Angeles quickly teaches you just what people are willing to do to score drugs.

“Did he offer to trade you drugs for getting the police away from him?” you ask.

“Sure did. ‘N’ then he dipped.”

“That’s not him in the back room, the one that was shooting at my partner?”

“Nah, that the guy who stay here. He bad, too, though. Ain’t nobody on this street mess with him.”

“Hondo,” Deacon radios.

“Are there more people coming?” you ask quickly.

“Is you a cop?” the man asks sarcastically.

You turn toward Deacon, and he nods to answer your unasked question about getting out of here. He will get you out of this, and you trust him, but you don’t want to imagine what he’d do to save you. He may be protective of you, but you care about him too and don’t want him to risk his safety, or worse, his life, to keep you out of harm’s way.

“Deac,” you whisper.

He looks at you, and you point to a loose piece of flooring beside the wall.

“This house may have a crawl space,” you explain, moving toward the corner.

You begin pulling pieces of the floor up quietly, smiling when you reach a spot without a subfloor. Deacon sees the opening above the small crawl space and drags your apprehended suspect toward it.

“I’m going to uncuff you,” Deacon says. “But there are dozens of officers waiting out there, so if you try to run you will fail and rack up more charges than you’re already facing.”

“Man, just get me outta this psycho’s house!” the man responds.

Deacon lets him go out first, not trusting him to be behind you. Helping you into the hole, Deacon waits until you’re moving toward the access panel on the south wall to slide into the opening. He pulls a few pieces of flooring back into place, hoping that if the “psycho” owner of the house manages to get in the room faster than expected, he won’t realize how you escaped.

When Deacon stands after army crawling the entire length of the house, you immediately hug him. His arms wrap around you without hesitation, glad to see you safe and out of the house. When a shot sounds from the other side of the house, Deacon wraps an arm around the back of your head and rushes across the yard, ushering you to Black Betty.

“Thanks for keeping me informed,” Hondo chides when he sees you.

“Radios don’t work when they get crushed,” Deacon argues, pointing to your destroyed radio. “You can thank this guy for that.”

“Man, my name’s Randy. Please take me to jail and don’ let these fools fin’ me,” your radio destroyer and previous enemy interjects.

“New warrant just came through,” Luca alerts. “We can hit his stash house, try to draw him out.”

“Fantastic,” you grumble.

Deacon pats your back, a reminder that you’re not alone, and the team now has an idea of what you’re up against. While Luca drives to the stash house, you take a mental note of your new injuries. For the most part, you feel fine, but you know there will be bumps and bruises tomorrow, and you’ll feel them when the adrenaline wears off.

“You need to get everything checked when we’re done. He hit you hard,” Deacon says quietly, ensuring no one else can hear.

Nodding, you agree to whatever he says. Deacon saved your life and though you don’t think you need a doctor, you’ll do anything he wants right now.

“We’ve got intel that this place is empty but stick together anyway. The call was right before we left, so it could be full now,” Hondo alerts. “We’re not here for the drugs, narcotics’ll deal with all that later, we’re just trying to catch a rat.”

“By becoming the cheese,” Street complains.

“We’ll be fine, playboy,” Luca promises.

“As long as you stick to the plan and listen,” Hondo amends. “Let’s get to it.”

You lead Deacon inside this time, using a small lock bypassing device. As you clear the first floor, you don’t see any sign of anyone using the building, and there isn’t as much as residue from drug use.

“Looks like he moved,” Deacon muses.

“Maybe our tipster made more than one call,” you agree.

“We don’t know that,” Deacon reminds you. “Stay vigilant.”

You nod, letting Deacon take the lead as you climb the stairs.

“This level looks just as empty,” Deacon says into his comm. “Second floor appears to be a code 4.”

“Something ain’t right,” Hondo replies.

“Deacon,” you call.

You don’t attempt to conceal your worry, and he turns quickly.

“Don’t move,” you add. “This place is rigged.”

“Rigged how?” he inquires.

“Hondo, you need to get everyone out,” you radio. “Watch the floor and don’t step on anything that isn’t flooring.”

“Copy that,” Hondo responds before commanding the team to exit cautiously.

“Why?” Deacon asks.

“You too,” you demand. “You need to go but be careful.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it harshly as you look down. There’s a small button under your boot, and you’ve already depressed it. The moment you move off of it, something will happen. It doesn’t appear to be a landmine or any other kind of explosive, but that makes you more concerned because you don't know what it is.

“Deacon, please,” you beg, your voice a whisper as you look at him. “Just give me a minute to try to figure this out.”

“No,” he answers. “I’m going to take a few steps back, and you decide what you want to do, or we can wait for a bomb squad.”

“It’s not a bomb.”

“Then do what do you need to do. I trust you.”

You want him to leave but don’t want to be alone if this is the end. You tap the wall beside you and quickly realize that whatever this detonator is connected to is probably directly to your side, hidden between the studs.

“Can you- can you back up, like a lot?” you request. “I want to try something, but if I’m wrong, you can’t be this close.”

Deacon nods, taking about ten steps backward. He stops, his complete focus on you as he keeps a hand on his gun. Whatever happens, he’s prepared to rush toward you. Feeling helpless is something Deacon hasn’t felt in a very long time. He realizes you wouldn’t be in this position if he had done a better job protecting you and tries to find a way to take your place. He steps forward, but you raise a hand to stop him before speaking.

“I’m going to move backward, really fast,” you explain. “Last chance to leave, Deac.”

“Wait-“

You move your foot up, stepping back, your movements fast but not fast enough. Something sprays from the wall beside you and into your face. As you gasp for air, Deacon runs toward you, pulling you over his shoulders as he watches the floor. Rushing through the stash house, Deacon radios for Hondo to get an ambulance.

Bursting through the door, Deacon lowers you to the concrete and watches you. Your breaths are short gasps, and a bright red rash spreads across your chest and face. Deacon pulls your Kevlar vest over your head and tugs your shirt down, giving you more room to breathe and removing any pressure from your chest.

“What’d she get hit with?” Hondo asks, kneeling beside your head.

“I don’t know!” Deacon answers, not meaning to take out his fear on Hondo but failing to hide it. “Whatever it was came from the wall and she immediately started having trouble breathing.”

“This isn’t good,” Hondo adds. “Her airways are closing; we only have a few minutes to figure out what this is and counteract it.”

“We don’t have time for an ambulance,” Luca says. “Get in, Betty and I will get you there.”

Deacon nods and pulls you into his arms again before laying you on the floor of Black Betty and pulling your head into his lap.

“St. Stephen’s is the closest hospital,” Luca tells Street. “I need you to call ahead and give them as much information as you can. They’ll need to be ready.”

“I’m on it,” Street replies, moving into the backseat beside you and Deacon. He talks quickly and quietly to the doctors on the other end of the line, but when your gasps turn to strangled wheezes, he yells, “Just be ready!”

Luca pulls into the emergency room ambulance entrance a moment later, rushing to the back to open the doors. Several nurses take you from Deacon, put you on a gurney, and run into the hospital. Deacon runs behind them, leaving the rest of the team outside.

“How long has it been?” Hondo asks. “She only had eight minutes, tops.”

“Six since they came out,” Street answers, looking up from his watch. “If it’s too late, Deacon…”

“Will never forgive himself,” Luca finishes. “And we won’t either.”

Hondo’s phone chimes, and he looks at it before shaking his head, his jaw clenched as he makes a half-sigh, half-laugh sound. “Our guy just turned himself in. And Deac’s buddy Randy lied to them about who was in the house. They knew where we were the whole time.”

“We have to leave her?” Street asks.

“For a bit. We’ll get updates and come back later,” Luca answers. “She’ll be fine.”

As Street, Luca, and Hondo leave to return to HQ and question Randy and the original suspect, Simon, you’re surrounded by nurses and doctors. As you near the eight-minute mark, the doctors decide to run down a list of possible treatments.

“Symptoms align with benzene poisoning by inhalation,” someone comments.

“Intentional overdose?” a young woman in bright pink scrubs asks.

“Get her out of here!” a doctor snaps, glancing toward Deacon with an apologetic look.

“That explains the skin irritation, irregular heartbeats, and lung irritation may be the cause of the shortness of breath,” the first person continues. “That would have been an incredibly high, concentrated dose.”

“Whatever she got hit with was thick enough that I could see it standing five yards away,” Deacon offers.

“I’m calling it,” the chief doctor says, “benzene poisoning by inhalation. Get her on oxygen, clean her eyes and skin, and get these clothes off. We need to remove the outside traces and get her breathing regulated before we move on.”

The nurses jump to action, and Deacon steps back as you’re wheeled into a room. The doctor who sent the Barbie lookalike away opens the door to your room a few minutes later, gesturing for Deacon to step inside.

“Her breathing is regular, heart rate has returned to a stable, though slightly elevated, number, and we’re running some tests right now to check for long-term damage,” he explains.

Deacon keeps his eyes on you as he listens to the doctor, letting the steady rise and fall of your chest prove that you are okay, that you are alive. No thanks to Deacon. Immediately upon hearing that you may have long-term damage, Deacon lets himself remember that it is his fault you are in this hospital bed, on oxygen, and possibly in danger of losing your career. He should have been more careful, he thinks, done more to protect you.

“Sergeant, I’m unsure if it’s my place to say this, but you saved her life, so don’t allow yourself to think otherwise. I’ll be back in a bit to check in on her, but if you need anything, press that call button.”

“Thanks, doctor,” Deacon replies, his eyes still on you.

Deacon takes a seat in the chair beside your bed, forcefully tearing his eyes away from you to text Hondo and Luca that you’re stable but unconscious. They reply quickly, saying they’ll be back soon and asking for more updates as Deacon gets them. He hopes he won’t have to tell them about any permanent damage.

“Deac?” you mumble, your voice quiet and distorted by the oxygen mask covering your face.

“Hey,” he answers, dropping his phone into his lap as he leans toward you. “Let me tell someone you’re up.”

“Deac, wait,” you request. When he sits back down, you say, “Thank you. You saved my life.”

“I should’ve noticed that it was a trap,” Deacon argues.

“The doctors said it was benzene. That doesn’t kill you unless you have prolonged exposure or inhale an incredibly large dose. I would’ve died if you hadn’t been with me.”

“I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me at once,” Deacon replies, hoping to lighten the mood.

“I- I’m really dizzy, Deac.”

“I’ll get the doctor,” Deacon replies, pushing the call button before he walks to the door and stops a nurse.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Grayson,” the doctor says as he enters your room, looking at your chart on a tablet. “You seem to be one lucky officer.”

“I’ve got a good team,” you answer, looking at Deacon’s hands rather than any of the faces in the room.

“Well, I understand you’re feeling dizzy and have a bit of a headache, so I’ll make this quick. Those symptoms should go away, but it may take up to a few weeks to see improvement there. Other common symptoms of benzene overdose include nausea, and the breathing difficulties you experienced was caused by lung irritation which may cause shortness of breath. Weakness is the only other symptom I’d expect to see. Since your exposure was so concentrated and delivered so quickly, I don’t think you’ll experience any of the more intense effects, but I’d like to keep you for observation for, let’s say 36 hours just to be sure we found everything.”

“Will I get completely better? Where I can go back to work at S.W.A.T.?” you whisper, even though you are terrified to learn the answer.

“Oh, I have no doubt you will be back in uniform within a month. Again, there’s only a few symptoms that may last, and at the most they should pass within a month.”

“Thank you.”

The doctor nods and hands Deacon a piece of paper before he leaves. Deacon returns to his spot beside you and looks at the paper before passing it to you.

“When you’re up for it, you’ve got some bed-bound exercises you can do to stay in fighting shape,” Deacon explains.

“Where are Hondo, Street, and Luca?” you inquire.

“They got our guy, so they went to interview him and Randy.”

“Randy lied, didn’t he?”

Deacon nods, and his jaw clenches as he realizes that Randy probably knew about the benzene trap and may have even been the one to set it up, yet let you go, knowing you were headed for a death trap.

“What happens when I get discharged?” you ask, looking at the blanket as you keep your head down.

“They’ll probably want you to take it easy for a few days, be around someone in case something happens, and then you can ease back into fieldwork. With your record and how much Hicks and Hondo trust you, you probably won’t have to wait long after you get medical clearance,” Deacon explains, smiling as he thinks about you getting back to work as soon as you can.

“I don’t have anyone,” you whisper.

Deacon doesn’t catch it, leaning closer to look at your list of exercises. When it’s time to go home, they may not let you because you live alone and don’t have any family nearby. You grow sad at the idea of going to a rehab facility or staying in the hospital longer just because you don’t have any family nearby to take care of you. Suddenly, your head begins pounding, and the room seems to spin. You raise your hands to your head, putting pressure on your eye sockets to ease the pain. Deacon’s hand jumps to your back, pressing against the top of your spine as you ride it out.

“I don’t like that,” you murmur, moving a hand to your stomach as it churns. “It’s going to be a long few weeks.”

“We’re going to make Randy and Simon pay for it, though,” Deacon whispers. “And we’re all here for you.”

You nod, and when Deacon leaves to answer a call from Hondo, your nausea worsens.

“Tell me they’re talking,” Deacon answers.

“Oh, they’re talking, just not giving us enough to put it on either one of ‘em,” Hondo answers. “I need you to do me a favor though.”

 “Anything.”

“You and Randy had some kind of connection, however brief it was. We’re thinking if you come in and tell him she didn’t make it, he’ll give something up.”

Deacon looks back into your room, but you’re turned away, curled into the fetal position, and, unknown to Deacon, fighting to keep your bearings as the dizziness causes nausea and worsens your headache.

“I’ll be there in twenty,” Deacon replies.

“Sergeant, I’ve got her test results here,” Doctor Grayson says as he walks down the hall. “Everything looks good in the long-term, so we’re just going to have to wait out the side effects. I’m going to discuss continued care with her now, would you like to join?”

“I’ve got to get down to the station, but if you’ve got a-“

“Complete list of recommendations and necessary actions,” Doctor Grayson finishes, passing Deacon a paper. “Along with a few more low impact exercises, since she is clearly ready to get back to work.”

“Thank you, doc. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Doctor Grayson watches Deacon leave before knocking and entering your room.

“Sergeant Kay had to return to the station for a moment, but I have good news for you,” he begins.

You sit up against your pillows, giving him your full attention. Your mind wants to think about Deacon, curious about what he’s doing.

“I could use some good news,” you reply.

“Your test results look good, and I see no indications of long-term damage or complications. So, once these initial symptoms pass, you should be as good as before. What symptoms are you experiencing now?”

“Headache, dizziness, and nausea. Every once in a while it feels like my chest gets tight, but the dizziness is the worst.”

Doctor Grayson nods, pressing a button on his tablet. “I think you’re going to be ready for discharge tomorrow evening, as I said originally, I’d just like to observe you a bit longer and make sure nothing changes. You will need to have whoever you will be staying with complete the discharge paperwork; having someone nearby will be crucial to your recovery and ensuring those symptoms don’t get out of hand.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t have any family nearby and there’s no one I can ask to take me in for who knows how long while I recover,” you explain softly.

“We’ll discuss this further in the morning, but my team and I will make sure you have somewhere safe and comfortable to stay, I promise that. I’ll be back once more before the end of my shift, but you know where the call button is.”

While you try to fall asleep, hoping it will help you heal faster and move on from the intense dizziness and nausea, Deacon is lying to criminals and hoping it will help you heal by getting some answers.

“Randy, remember my partner? The woman you helped me get out of the house this morning after you tried to kill her?” Deacon asks.

“Yeah, nice lady, but she can kick,” Randy replies.

“She died fifteen minutes ago. From an involuntary benzene poisoning. You know what that means, Randy? That someone poisoned her, murdered her, and is going to prison for a very long time.”

“Ooh,” Hondo adds, tilting his head in disbelief. “Cop killers never do well in prison, but when it’s one of our own? A S.W.A.T. officer? You’re dealing with a whole ‘nother set of problems in this room alone.”

“Benzene ain’t kill people after the first time,” Randy argues.

Deacon slaps the table as he leans over it. “You put enough benzene in that wall to kill me, Hondo here, and yourself, and you’re the only routine drug user in here.”

“Man, she really dead?”

“She is,” Hondo answers. “And now we have to tell her family, even though we’re grieving too.”

“I only did that ‘cause Simon told me to. He said it wouldn’t hurt nobody, just confuse ‘em or some’in. I ain’t mean’a kill nobody, specially not no cop!”

Deacon nods at Hondo before they walk out of the interview room, and Randy is left to wonder why they seemed so happy after learning that he set the trap that killed you. Across town at St. Stephen’s, you do feel like you’re dying just because you’re refusing to take more than anti-inflammatory pain relievers, unwilling to use anything stronger after years as a cop.

“Sergeant Kay will be back soon,” your nurse says. “He called and asked about you a few minutes ago. You must be very close.”

“We are. My team is the only family I have, but they’re also my best friends.”

“I didn’t mean your team. How are you feeling? Is the dizziness any better or worse?”

“It’s about the same,” you answer, forgetting her first point.

“Well, that’s good, at least it’s not worsening. We weren’t expecting a miraculous recovery this quickly, but Doctor Grayson wants us to give you as much time to sleep as we can, so you won’t have many, if any, middle of the night pokes and prods from us.”

“That sounds nice,” you answer with a small smile.

“I’ll leave you to rest until your friend gets back.”

You fall asleep before Deacon returns, and when he sees you resting, he texts Hondo an update and makes himself comfortable for a night at your side. There is a folder with Deacon's name on it on the small countertop in the corner of the room. Deacon opens it and finds a list of rehabilitation centers and a note that you can’t go home alone tomorrow before he decides to do something while you sleep. Deacon has been restless since the moment you alerted him to the traps set in the storehouse, but he finally has something to do that will help you.

“Excuse me,” he says, approaching the nurses’ station with a kind smile. “I’m Deacon Kay, I came in with-“

“My favorite patient,” the nurse finishes. “What can I do for you, Sergeant?”

“Doctor Grayson left this list of rehab clinics for me, but I’d like to take her home with me tomorrow. I don’t feel right sending her somewhere when I’ve got plenty of room.”

“And I have no doubt you will attend to her no matter what. If you fill out the discharge forms, she’s free to go with you when the doctor signs off. Doctor Grayson comes in at four, so he’ll be the one signing off.”

Deacon accepts the clipboard holding the discharge paperwork and takes it back to your room to complete it. The nurses watch him with smiles, able to tell that he’s more than a friend and protective as more than a teammate, even if he’s unwilling to admit it.

You whimper in your sleep, pressing your face into the cushion to relieve your headache. Deacon moves a hand onto your bed, only pulling it away from your side to flip to the next page of paperwork.

“When did you get back?” you ask into the pillow with your eyes closed.

“Not long ago. How are you feeling?” Deacon replies, smiling when you take his hand.

“The headache is getting worse.”

Deacon brushes his thumb over his knuckles as you curl tighter around the pillow.

“I’m sorry,” Deacon whispers.

“It’s not your fault, Deac. You saved my life,” you reply.

“Shouldn’t have endangered it.”

“Deacon-“

You get dizzy before you can say anything else, gently squeezing Deacon’s hand as you clamp your eyes shut. Deacon stands, laying his other hand on your shoulder as you wait for the dizziness to pass. You know now to expect the nausea that follows, but each time it happens, the nausea is less intense.

“Do you think it’ll really take weeks to feel better?”

“No,” Deacon answers. “You’re strong – and stubborn – so you’ll fight to get back in fighting shape.”

“It hurts.”

Deacon frowns but doesn’t apologize again, though he’s blaming himself for everything. Maybe having a soft spot for you, as the team so lovingly puts it, made him blind to certain dangers of working together. He trusts you and would do anything to protect you from the risks of being a S.W.A.T. officer; now, he wonders if being distracted by you made him stop thinking about what he could do for you.

“You should go home,” you say. “It’s getting late.”

“I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right here when you wake up, or if you want to stay awake.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Deacon doesn’t add that despite how much he wants to, he needs to stay by your side and do what he couldn’t do earlier today: protect you and be there for you through all this pain and recovery.

When you wake again, the sun is up, and Deacon is no longer in your room. You can hear him talking, though, and when the door opens, he steps inside with Doctor Grayson.

“Good morning,” Doctor Grayson greets. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

Shrugging, you don’t want to bring up how sad you are to go spend the next few weeks alone in a rehab facility, which is arguably no better than a hospital.

“You did well last night, so I’m comfortable sending you home now, given that your discharge situation has changed.”

“It has?” you ask, looking at Deacon rather than the doctor.

“I’m taking you to my house,” Deacon explains. “Not for you, for Hondo. He needs hourly updates and none of the rehab places do that.”

You duck your chin, hiding from Deacon’s teasing as you smile. Part of you wants to insist Deacon doesn’t have to do this, but the other part desperately wants it.

“Are you sure?” you whisper.

“Positive.”

Deacon sets a backpack on your bed, gently taps your leg, and walks out to complete the discharge. You open the bag and smile when you see some of your clothes and a blanket. Standing carefully, you change into the clothes and wait at the edge of the bed for Deacon to return.

“Let’s go,” Deacon murmurs as he takes your hands.

Pulling your backpack over his shoulder, Deacon keeps a hand in yours as he walks beside your wheelchair. When you reach the hospital entrance, Deacon’s car is waiting, and he helps you into the passenger seat before setting your bag in the back and getting inside.

You close your eyes, your stomach churning and your head spinning as the car moves. Deacon offers a hand over the console, and you hold it as he drives through Los Angeles and to his house. Releasing a shaky breath as he parks, you squeeze his hand in thanks.

“It’s going to be a long few weeks for you,” you mumble.

“You’re wrong, but we’re not worrying about me. Our top priority is you and getting you healthy again. That means that you need to talk to me, even if you don’t want to, okay?”

You nod, and Deacon smiles as he argues, “That’s not talking.”

He gives you a break from his teasing and helps you inside before carrying a few bags in from the car. You recognize them and realize he must have gone to your place last night to get everything you’ll need over the next few weeks.

“Deac, why’d you go back to the station yesterday?” you ask, reclining on his guest bed while he unpacks your bags.

He points to the water bottle beside the bed, waiting until you start drinking to say, “Hondo had an idea to flip Randy, and it worked. He gave up his boss, and they found enough evidence to charge both of them with a long list of felony charges.”

“What was his plan?” Deacon doesn’t answer, so you ask, “You told him I died?”

“Yeah,” Deacon says softly.

You nod before you move to the edge of the bed. Deacon rushes to your side as you stand and wobble slightly. As he grips your arms, you lean your head against his shoulder, taking deep breaths as your heartbeat pounds in your ears.

“Do you still get nauseous after this happens?” Deacon whispers, rubbing his hands over your shoulders.

“No,” you reply. “That passed after the first few hours. Now I just have a headache that won’t go away and get really dizzy. It’s random, so I don’t know when to expect it.”

Deacon nods and makes a mental note to keep a very close eye on you, especially when you’re up and moving around. Deacon's heart breaks as he watches you be affected by something he should have never let happen. Watching you be poisoned, being helpless in the hospital, and feeling like he can’t do enough to help you is weighing on Deacon, but he can’t worry about himself when you’re struggling because of him.

“Stop,” you demand, so softly that Deacon barely hears it.

“Stop what?” he asks.

“You’re blaming yourself. I could tell from the moment you turned around in that house. There’s nothing you could have done, Deacon, to keep this from happening, but you saved my life. So, please stop blaming yourself and thinking about what you could’ve done differently.”

Deacon thinks about everything you said, and his mind lingers on how your shyness was nowhere to be seen as you asked him to stop blaming himself. You read him with no effort, and the realization makes him smile.

“I’ll try. But only if you promise to talk to me, really talk to me, and let me know what’s going on,” Deacon offers.

“Deal. Right now, the floor is kind of spinning, but I need to walk around because everything is stiff.”

“I got you,” Deacon murmurs, letting you hold onto him as you walk around his house. You know he means it in more than the obvious way; he’s always had you and always will.

“Why’d you stay?” you ask. “In the hospital, I mean. And then you brought me here. If you did it just because you blame yourself-“

“Not at all. I was blaming myself, you’re right about that, but I did this because I care about you. That soft spot that the guys tease me about… that’s you. So, when I get overbearing and protective and everything else you’re going to see over the next few weeks, just know that it’s because I care about you.”

“I’m your soft spot? Because we’re friends?”

Deacon smiles, letting you lead him toward the patio door. “Something like that.”

Your breathing catches, and you stop to take a few shaky breaths before returning to your normal breathing patterns. Deacon rubs his hand up and down your spine as he waits, hovering nervously beside you.

“The headache is a little better,” you tell him. “Either walking around or your touch is curing me.”

“Why not both?”

You smile before looking away from Deacon. He walks you back to the bedroom and digs through one of your bags before handing you a piece of paper. While you look at the exercises depicted on the therapy list, you lean back against the pillows, tired and experiencing the worst headache of your life.

“Don’t rush anything,” Deacon says. “You’re already getting better, but don’t risk that trying to heal on your schedule.”

“What does ‘something like that’ mean?” you murmur. “About why we’re friends and I’m your soft spot.”

“It means that you’re my soft spot because we’re friends for now.”

“You don’t want to be friends forever?”

Deacon chuckles and sits on the edge of the bed as he answers, “Not really. I’ve always wanted more.”

You sit up quickly and wince in pain. You don’t hesitate before asking, “You do?”

“Are you okay?” You shrug, and Deacon answers, “Yeah. You’re my friend, but, c’mon, you couldn’t tell?”

“I thought you were just being nice, protecting me because we’re teammates.”

“That’s part of it. But even if you left S.W.A.T. today, I’d still be right here.”

“If I didn’t know you, I’d think that’s why you’re so upset,” you muse. “But you’re just a great man.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

You shake your head and look away from Deacon.

“Could we- could we try to be more? After I’m back in fighting shape?”

Deacon smiles, leaning closer to you as he promises, “Yes. Just tell me when.”

You lean back, huffing when your headache worsens suddenly.

“I thought the Hondo-induced headaches were bad, but this makes them seem easy.”

“I’m telling Hondo you said that.”

“No, you aren’t. You know I’m shy and injured.”

“You haven’t been acting very shy.”

“Because I’m disoriented and have a crush on you,” you mumble as you drift to sleep.

“I’ll be right here when you wake,” Deacon whispers.

“And every day after?”

“And every day after,” he promises, smiling as you fall into a restful sleep.

Deacon has no doubt you’ll be back to yourself in a few days, meaning his advances will make you shy, but, for now, he’s happy waiting on you hand and foot, doing everything he can to help and keep you comfortable.

[rebelliousstories]

You’re A Disappointment

Relationship: David x Reader

Fandom: The Lost Boys

Request: No

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Word Count: 3,393

Masterlist: Here

The Lost Boys Masterlist: Here

Summary: After a meeting with Max, David returns to the cave; he’s angrier than a bat out of hell.

A slower night gripped the boardwalk of Santa Carla. Unusual for this time of year, but not even the murder capital of the world could continue full throttle all the time. Resting against the railing, a young woman allowed her eyes to scan over the crowd. Her lover rested next to her, smoke billowing from his plush lips. His brothers were nearby causing havoc, but that did not matter as much to him. The girl next to him was gently linking her pinky with the hand that was down near his side. Just having her nearby, within holding range was enough to quiet the voices in his head for a little bit. He did not need to keep the carefully crafted image he spent so long making up with her nearby. However, the older man walking out of the back of his video store, and locking his eyes with the young man made the walls go back up. The man took another slow drag of his cigarette, waiting to see what the man wanted.

“Ha ha! You should’ve seen the look on his face, David! We totally made him need to change his pants.” A loud voice yelled as several figures bounced up to the couple that was leaning against the railing. But David did not turn his head towards his pack mate that had come near. No, his eyes stayed trained on the older man at the video store.

“David, I’m telling you… David?” The other blonde vampire had quieted down as he watched the leader. The entire pack watched with curiosity as David kept smoking, seemingly having a conversation with the older man at the video store. David’s lover and pack turned to see what he was looking at so intensely, and took a step closer together when they noticed. Dwayne immediately stood to David’s left, while Paul and Marko shielded the girl to David’s right. The bleach blonde took one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out beneath the toe of his boot. Watching the older man walk back into the video store, David spoke but did not look to the group around him.

“Dwayne, take the kitten back to the cave along with the boys. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” David went to go walk off but felt a hand grab his. He turned and was met with the concerned gaze of his lover. Leaning over, his unoccupied hand cradled her face while his lips pressed against her forehead. David turned quickly and did not spare another glance towards his pack, getting on his bike and riding off as fast as he could. The lady stood next to Dwayne who gently grabbed her hands to guide her towards his own bike. A concerned look refused to leave her face as the group got closer to the three remaining bikes.

“He’ll be fine, princess. David always is.” Dwayne reassured her quietly as she nodded. She kept repeating that in her head as much as she could, to try and convince herself that her lover would be fine.

“Yeah chicka. David’s always fine. And if he’s not, we just give him you and he calms right on down!” Paul got out in between laughs. Marko joined him in agreeing chuckles while Dwayne just shook his head. Making sure David’s girl was secured on the back of his bike and felt safe, Dwayne led the other two boys through Santa Carla. They whooped and cheered, screaming at the top of their lungs as the wind wiped across their face and through their hair. Getting all the way back to the cave, Dwayne gently navigated the young woman through the rough terrain of the the underground hotel. Letting the terror twins run amuck ahead, Dwayne made sure to treat her with a delicacy, knowing that if there was even a little scratch on her, David would not be happy. He already would not be happy coming home tonight; there was no reason to add fuel to that fire.

Marko ran immediately to check on his birds, while Paul lit up a joint from his coat pocket and made his way around the cave. Dwayne ran into his little alcove and grabbed his current book, eager to read, but watched the movement in front of him. The lady in the cave made her way and sat in David’s chair. There was a specific air around her, a mood that she had been in since leaving the boardwalk.

“Bela? You good?” Marko came around and placed his hand on her shoulder. She nodded, but there was no happiness behind her smile. Before Marko could continue, Paul slammed into him from behind which sent both vampires tumbling to the ground. She watched the boys tumble, swipe, curse, and rough house with each other. It sent out a small giggle from her lips watching them, but her mind switched to David. Whoever that man was at the video store made the pack tense and shield her, which did not make her feel good about her boyfriend being alone with the man.

Sunrise neared and there was still no sign of David. Dwayne had long since made sure that Laddie was safely tucked into his nest, and Star was in hers. Neither were seen much that night as Laddie was not feeling well leaving Star to stay with him and take care of the young halfling. The terror twins of the vampire pack had calmed down and stalked off to their sleeping perch in the cave. They did make sure to stop by the girl who had yet to move from her boyfriend’s chair all night, and give her some reassurance the best they could. Dwayne was the last to retire, trying desperately to wait up for David with her but the impending sunrise made him grow increasingly sleepy. But he went by the girl who was still up and tried to get through to her.

“He’ll be home soon, princess. You don’t have to stay up.” Dwayne spoke quietly, placing his hand on her shoulder. She blinked once, twice, three times before turning and giving him a soft smile.

“Thanks Dwayne. But I’m not going to be able to sleep anyways.” She said softly and squeezed his hand in comfort. The vampire stayed there with the young lady for another minute before giving her one last comforting squeeze, and walking further into the cave to prepare for sleep. Checking her watch, she started to worry as there was only about an hour of darkness left for her lover to make it home safely and he was still nowhere. She grabbed one of the books from Dwayne’s alcove, and settled back into her lover’s chair. Passing the time was difficult as she kept checking her watch every five minutes to make sure that David was not about to become a pile of ash. Thirty minutes from sunrise, and the barest hint of a changing sky, she heard it. The rumble of a bike pulling up above where the entrance to the cave was made her heart sore. Tossing the book back where she was sure Dwayne would collect it, she ran all the way to the fountain and waited.

Hearing a fierce screech, she watched as David flew into the cave. He landed but paid no attention to the girl that was clearly waiting on him. He threw a brick that was at his feet at the cave walls before moving onto a different target. His chair was thrown without care, and several cans that had been littered about were instead flung into the air in a furious flurry. David tore tapestries and fabric from their post, but did not dare tear down Star’s nest, having enough wherewithal to not destroy that. But he did not show the same care for the rest of the cave. Watching from the fountain, his girlfriend stayed quiet and let him vent out his frustrations. It would not be a good idea to get in the middle of the storm now, and figured he would either tire himself out and sleep the rest off, or get everything out of his system and then would turn to her. But as she watched him destroy any and everything, she knew it would be a while before it was out of his system entirely. David was uncharacteristically fired up and awake for this time of day, as the sun had finally broken the surface of the horizon.

The boys could no longer leave the cave but the new light had shown something that she had missed before. There was blood all over her boyfriend. All over his chin, chest, his hands, and in his beautiful formally bleach blonde hair. Her watch chimed on the hour and she watched her boyfriend slow down and breathe deeply in the shadow of the cave. Bright morning light had infiltrated just the very top of the cave, which meant the entire main area was still shrouded in shade but that did not stop David from finding the darkest corner and cowering in it like a wounded, wild animal.

“David?” She called, ever so softly over to her boyfriend. His chest heaved up and down as he took in deep breaths from the physical exertion.

“David? Hey, are you alright big guy?” She cautiously approached the man. As far as she could tell he made no indication that he was even aware of her presence. Her footsteps grew closer and closer, but David still did not acknowledge her. She got within arms reach of her lover, and slowly crouched down to be eye level with him. But this caused David to shift further back into his hiding hole. Reaching her arm out to place on him, caused David to violently shift away and hit his head against the cave wall.

“David? Honey, you’re scaring me. Are you alright?” His eyes closed as he tried to calm his breathing down.

“You should be asleep, kitten.” David rasped out. In his voice, anyone could see it was clearly used for even more talking and shouting than had been in the cave. It startled his girlfriend a little bit. She was not expecting to hear his voice like this. It sounded so… defeated. It sounded so unlike David. David was never one to show weakness to anyone. He was their fearless leader that protected them, and guided them.

“I couldn’t sleep not knowing if you were okay.” She whispered. His eyes opened slowly and looked at the girl in front of him. Her concern washed over her face and it made David feel bad.

“I’m always okay. You need to go to sleep. Go to your nest.” But neither made a move away from their current spots. That is, until, David’s lover got up and walked away without a word. He slumped against the cool cave wall feeling the exhaustion starting to hit him. Physical and mental exhaustion combined with the fact that the sun just made him want to sleep, it was all starting to be too much for David to handle. His eyes shut yet again, but they quickly reopened when he felt something cool and wet delicately touching his face.

His lover had returned with a damp rag, and had begun to clean up the blood that David had not bothered to clean off before. They sat in silence as she swiped the rag over his face, neck, and chest. The rag became stained with red, but David was steadily becoming cleaner with every pass. She finished up on his skin, before moving on to a clean part of the rag to gently wipe his hair as best as she could. But David raised his hand up and caught her wrist gently to pull it away.

“Wanna tell me why you’re like this? I’ve never seen you like this David.” She gently rested her hands on David’s legs and watched his face intently. The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out. He looked like he was trying to find a reply that would keep his problems away from his lover while reassuring her that he had everything under control. But he did not have everything under control, and he could not find anything to hide his feelings. He was far too exhausted to come up with a clever response.

“I had a meeting with Max.” He stated bluntly.

“Who’s that?” She asked with a curious expression.

“Right,” David sighed, “forgot you don’t know about him. Max is our sire. The vampire who made all of us vampires.” He explained slowly and quietly. His girlfriend stayed quiet and let him continue.

“He said something tonight that really got to me. I didn’t mean for it to but it did.” David wet his lips and looks down at his hands, still having a soft grip over one of her wrists but not doing anything more than resting on her.

“What, David?” But the man did not say anything. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times, trying to get the words to come out. But they refused. He could not repeat what his sire had told him. Letting go of her wrist, his hand came up to cup his lover’s cheek. And that is when it flashed in her head. David was letting his memory flash through her mind’s eye.

She saw the same man from the video store in front of her, and felt herself inhaling a cigarette. But it was not her smoking or standing in front of the video store man; it was David. She watched as the man, Max, was rambling on and on in front of her.

“Honestly, David, all I ask is a little order. A little discipline. Is that too much for you to handle?” Max criticized the vampire in front of him, but David refused to back down.

“I said I would handle it, Max. If it’s rushed, it will backfire.” His voice stayed steady. David hated being treated like he did not know what to do or what was going on by anyone, including Max.

“If you keep that human around much longer without starting the process, it will not end well for anyone.” Max took his glasses off and cleaned them with a cruel smile on his face. In a flash, David was breathing the same air as his sire, staring him dead in the eyes.

“Are you threatening us?” David said sternly. Max brought his glasses up to rest gently on his face.

“And what if I am? That girl is not part of the family. You have no claim over her. As far as I am concerned, she’s an outsider. She is fair game, so to speak.” The elder vampire backed up, and threw his hands up in the air. Moving to his desk, Thorn sat at the side, kept it its eyes on David as he came closer to the vampire.

“I have staked my claim and she is under my protection. I have given her the choice to take it slow for her own sake so she doesn’t do what Star did and hold onto her humanity indefinitely. If you so much as lay a finger on her-“

“You’ll what David? Fight me? I am your father, boy. If I had known you would have caused me this much trouble over a couple girls, I would have left you in that alley all those years ago. I didn’t expect you to be such a disappointment.” Max’s words made David stop where he was. Still a few feet from the desk, but now feeling cold. So very chilly.

“What did you say?” He murmured knowing that Max would still be able to hear him.

“You’re a disappointment, David. I ask you for so little. I ask that you follow a few rules, gather a few new family members for yourself and the boys, and yet you can’t do that. The most basic aspect of our species that ensures our survival.” Max had stated all of this with the same blasé that someone would have talking about the weather. Both vampires watched each other intensely; neither making the first move. But when Max went to open his mouth again, David was quick to shut it.

“Listen here,” David slammed his hands down onto the desk of his sire, “I have followed your stupid rules, and done your bidding whenever asked. And it still wasn’t good enough. I gained the others, not you. Your blood may have turned them but I pulled them in. I made them what they are now. Star was rushed to turn and now look at where that’s gotten us? I now have a half in my cave that despises me for the gift that I gave her on your orders because you wanted a girl. But listen here, if you so much as think about turning my lover without my knowledge or hers, I’ll stake you myself.” David left before his sire had a chance to respond. He straddled his bike, and burned rubber turning away from his sire’s home. David knew that sunrise was approaching, but it did not stop him from following the sounds of a nearby beach party.

She was slowly pulled from the memory before she could see anything else, but the blood on him filled in the gaps. Her heart hurt to think that David had to go through that on his own. The comment had clearly struck a nerve with her vampire lover, and he was trying to deal with it the only way he knew how. She leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to his forehead. Another on his temple, then his cheek. She repeated the actions on the other side and continued down. David simply allowed her to continue, not encouraging but not discouraging her either.

“You’re not a disappointment, David. You do so much for the pack to ever think that way. Don’t every believe him when he says that, my love.” She spoke so softly that it caused David to close his eyes and rest his head against her own.

“I’ll spend the rest of eternity telling you what an amazing man you are, as long as you believe me. And I appreciate you waiting on me, even if you’re dying to have me join you.” Her hand came to rest on the other side of his face that was not tucked against her own. And there they sat, simply existing in each other’s presence. David could not put into words what it meant to him to have her there with him after the night that he had. His body had finally let out its last bit of exhaustion and nothing seemed more amazing than sleep at that moment.

David pulled away and pressed a single, loving kiss to his partner’s lips, and stood up. She followed him up shortly, and rested her hands gently on his chest. With one arm around her back, David bent down and picked his lover up. Carrying her deeper into the cave, her nest had awaited them with his boys nearby. Her nest was specifically located in the nearest alcove to their perch so she was nearby in case David needed to check on her. But it also made it easy to check on the boys if he decided to sleep next to her instead. Ducking underneath the curtains, the inviting bed was just sitting there begging for the couple to lay down. They toed off their shoes, and David removed his jackets. As the couple laid down, David opened his arms for his lover to slot herself into. The daylight pulled David under the veil of sleep quickly and soon enough he was sleeping peacefully.

His lover stayed up for just a little bit longer to watch him sleep. She would feel bad about it, had she not caught her vampiric lover doing the same to her many times over. But it made her happy to see him finally get some sleep after the exhausting night that he had. And she was going to do everything in her power to make sure that David realized that he was not in any way, shape, or form, a disappointment.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 14

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: yall i still can't believe sophie is asian. im so frickin happy dude. yerin is gonna be amazing. i just know it. anyway, enjoy!

Series Masterlist

You hide behind your hand as you snort with laughter. Benedict is beaming beside you. Hearing your laughter again makes his heart soar.

After your mother-in-law granted permission for his visitation, he immediately prepared himself for the trip to France. He was excited to see you, but he was also nervous. Therefore, he dragged Eloise with him. His younger sister wasn't in the mood to witness another pair of lovesick fools, however, she had never been to France. So she took up the opportunity to regardless. At the moment, a part of her regrets accompanying her brother.

"Hang on, how did you not know she was married?" Eloise asks Benedict.

"I never saw her wear a ring and her home didn't seem like a man lived in it!"

You chuckle, shaking your head, "How is it you always find yourselves in such situations, Ben?"

"Because he is an idiot, Y/N," Eloise responds and you laugh. Your laughter even brings a smile on Eloise's face, "Sorry to change the subject, but I hope you have been well, Y/N."

You softly smile at the young woman you always saw as a sister, "I'm getting better, Eloise. It definitely helps that you and Ben are here," you rest a hand on Benedict's and Eloise's, "Your company was very much needed."

"Always here to help," Benedict says softly.

"You didn't say long you'll be staying here for."

"Madame Montclair has allowed us a week, unless you grow tired of us."

You scoff, "I will never grow tired of you, Ben," realizing what you said you add, "And you, Eloise! Don't tell your siblings, but you two are probably my favorite Bridgertons."

Eloise hums, "Oh, please, Y/N. We already knew that," she bumps your shoulder with a cheeky grin and you two giggle.

Benedict watches as you and Eloise discuss your current works. Every once in a while, you'd turn to him and ask him a question. And every time your eyes fall upon him, the world goes quiet and he feels at ease.

________________________

Benedict gets along well with your mother and father-in-law. They, too, are fond of the arts and are in deep conversation with Benedict and his time at the academy here in France.

You can't help but feel a sense of pride fill you as Monsieur and Madame Montclair laugh at Benedict's jokes, praise him for his successes, and, overall, displays an openness to him. However, James had told you that is just how your mama and papa have always been. Good people.

Their relationship often makes you think if that's how your parents would have turned out if your mama hadn't passed early on. Would your father still love and care for you? Would he be happy and proud of your success as a writer?

The thought of him made you lose your appetite. You place your fork and knife down with a frown, immediately bringing you to the attention of papa.

"Are you alright, ma fille?"

"I apologize, I've suddenly lost my appetite. Is it alright if I step outside for a moment?"

Mama nods, "Yes, of course. Shall one of us go with you?"

"I will be alright. It'll just be for a moment, excuse me." You look to Ben with a nod and then to Eloise. Everyone watches as you exit the dining room.

Benedict clears his throat, "Forgive me if this seems inappropriate, but how has Y/N been doing from your perspective?" he asks the older couple, "She's only told me that she has her good days and bad days, but nothing truly more than that."

Madame Montclair sighs, dabbing at her lips with her napkin, "It is true. Much like my husband and I, Y/N feels as though she has accepted her life without James. Other days, it's hard to even go about her day without being stricken with grief. But as the months have come and gone, I think she is slowly healing. Her desire to go back out into the world becoming stronger and stronger. She will be going back to London after your visit."

Benedict and Eloise look at each other in surprise, "She hadn't told us that yet."

"Ah. Well, I apologize for that. I'm sure she was going to tell you. But I do think it's good that you two are here. I can already see she's happier."

Benedict softly smiles and nods, "Yes, well, my sister and I care a great deal about Y/N."

"That much is very clear, Mister Bridgerton," Monsieur Montclair says, "And I hope when she returns to London, you continue to care for her. We, too care a great deal about her." The older man gives a stern look to Benedict, one like a father scolding a son.

Benedict nervously clears his throat, "Yes, of course, sir."

_______________________

You're sitting on a bench outside, letting the air cool you. You're not sure how long you've been out there, but Benedict comes out with concern etched all over your face. He sits beside on the bench, hand grabbing yours to warm them, "Are you alright?" he asks, using his breath to warm your now cold fingers.

You sigh, "Yes. I'm sorry to leave dinner like that."

"It's fine. I just want to know what happened."

"Just watching James' parents made me think of my own. They made me wonder if, had mama not died, would they end up like that? Happy and proud of me? Would papa still love me and admire my work rather than scold me and cast me aside?"

Benedict squeezes your hand, "I understand. I, too, often think about how life would be if my father didn't pass. But I think it's best not to dwell on those things. If you get too caught up in it, you miss out on the wonderful things that are happening now right in front of you."

You hum, looking down at your fingers intertwined with Benedict's, "My aunt once told me after my mama passed, that in death, there is life. New beginnings. I suppose she is right. After mama's death, started my desire to publish my writings. With James' death, he brought you back into my life." You stare into Benedict's eyes, seeing how soft they are as they look back at you.

You find yourself leaning closer and Benedict is too, "Ben-"

"Everything alright?" you hear Eloise as she approaches and you two immediately create some distance between each other.

You clear your throat and look over your shoulder, "Yes! We were just about to head back inside."

"Very well. Make haste, it's cold out!"

___________________________

Your almost kiss with Benedict kept you up that night. You've been mentally scolding yourself for your weak resolve. He had only been staying with you for a few days and you are already throwing yourself at him. Your heart has always been weak when it came to Benedict. Even after falling in love with James, your love for him never compared to the love you had for Benedict. You always knew this.

However, it hasn't been a year since James had passed and you're already moving on with another man. You can't in good conscience do such a thing to James like that, even if he already knew how your heart had always belonged to Benedict.

Still. You need to control yourself around Benedict no matter how much your heart yearns for him.

[bad268]

could you write some fluff for kimi antonelli?? you write him so well 😭😭 maybe when kimi's caught out in public by fans w his girlfriend being affectionate or something 🙏💗

Caught (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Clearly (thank you for being patient <3)

Warnings: none.

Pronouns: You/your

W.C. 1276

Summary: Secret relationships get revealed when celebrating the championship win.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Kimi was a very private person. He just wasn’t very open with his personal life. Especially those who are closest to him. This includes you, his significant other.

You two had originally met in karting but officially met at the Italian Formula 4 Championship as competitors and teammates. However, certain circumstances led to you dropping out of the championship.

Kimi was the only person to stay in contact with you after the departure.

One thing led to another, you both stayed in contact, and you have been together for just under a year now. 

Not that any of the fans would know! As said before, Kimi is a very private person, and that includes you. The only people who really know about your relationship are your respective families and the Prema team. The team found out when you suddenly came back into the garage with Kimi’s dad after leaving the sport almost six months prior. In all honesty, they saw it coming from a mile away. 

You tried to come to the most recent race, the last race of the season. You really did, but it was not your fault that you were bedridden with the flu in Italy. Kimi still wanted to try his best at the last race because he wanted to show his skills to Prema and Mercedes, maybe to you too knowing how you were feeling unwell, despite already securing the championship.

After he finished up the podium celebrations from race 2, he sent you a text, letting you know he was cleaning up and would be doing media before he could call you. In all honesty, you were asleep, so you did not see it until nearly two hours later.

Instead of responding, you decided to send him a selfie of you laying in the bed with the text, “Just woke up, did I miss anything?”

On the track, Kimi stepped away to get some peace from the chaos that is media and fans after a season closer. He found a fairly desolate section as he opened his messages. He had been checking them periodically, hoping to see a response from you, but he never saw one. It never even showed as read, so he assumed you were asleep.

Just as he opens his messages, he sees the notification of a picture sent by you. He opens the picture without a second thought, laughing lightly at the face you made before he immediately sends one back with all of the updates he has. After sending a couple of funny pictures back and forth, you decided to just call him.

Little did he know, a couple of fans had walked up behind him, hoping to record his reaction to a picture they made him, and they watched him send you pictures and listened in as he talked to you. They had evidence that Kimi had a significant other; they just needed to find out who it was.

~

A week later, back in Italy, you and Kimi were finally able to celebrate his championship win. Despite insisting that you wanted to plan everything and arguing (shortly) with Kimi over it, you both decided that you would alternate things to do.

Kimi chose breakfast. It was only right that as the champion, he got to choose where you started. It was a simple breakfast at home that you both made together and it definitely did not end with you both covered in flour. 

Then, Kimi had a couple of meetings, so you had to put a hold on the celebrations. This gave you time to think about what your plan was for the rest of the day as if you did not already know exactly what you were going to do.

So when lunch came, you chose Kimi’s favorite restaurant. Plus, he was finally able to eat it since the season was over, and you got special permission from his nutritionist. It was the best place to splurge after a win. An added bonus, it was fairly empty save for a few small groups. No one paid either of you any mind.

After lunch, Kimi chose to do a walk around your favorite park. It was a fairly desolate park, but it was one that you grew up going to all the time. Kimi knew it was a calming place for you.

Not to mention, there were swings. Who doesn’t love swings?

The swings were side by side, so as soon as you arrived at the park, you took off toward them, laughing as you left Kimi in your dust. Just as you were about to reach the swings, Kimi catches up. He picked you up and spun you around briefly before setting you back down.

You turned around in his arms as you held onto his biceps, smirking up at him. “You think you’ve won, don’t you?” He chuckled as he looked at you skeptically, but it changed immediately when you darted off into the open field. You shouted behind you, “You’ll need to catch me first!”

And once again, it was like you were on the track again. Living life like there was no tomorrow, having fun doing the most minuscule things, all the while with someone you really cared about. It was like the old Prema challenges you did with Kimi and Conrad. It made you miss the simpler things. 

You were off in your own little world, casually going back and forth laughing and chasing after each other around the park. At one point, Kimi tackled you and you rolled around the grass before he stopped, leaning over you, “I caught you.”

Just as he was leaning down, that was when you heard it. The clicking of a camera. Turns out a group of fans saw you at the restaurant earlier and followed you to the park.

Your heads snapped toward the group, and instead of getting upset, Kimi calmly walked over to them to offer autographs and pictures. 

“Are you two together?” One asked immediately.

“Weren’t they your F4 teammate?” The other asked.

“You two are cute together,” One gushed.

“How long have you been together, if you don’t mind us asking?” The last one asked.

“Yes, yes, thank you, and almost a year,” Kimi answered honestly with a small smile as he continued signing things. He took a couple of pictures with them before chucking as he continued his original thought, “We haven’t announced it yet, but we’re planning it.”

“I got a good shot,” The third fan exclaimed, pulling out their phone to show him the picture. It was of him leaning over you just before you noticed their presence. This was the picture that alerted you of the audience. “I can send it to you if you want to use it.”

“That would be great. I’ll credit you in it too,” He laughed, looking back at you, still sitting on the grass, hiding your face from the onlookers. Kimi sighed, turning back to the group to make a deal, “I’m going to head back to them, but send it to me, and we’ll post it tomorrow. Just don’t post any of the pictures please.”

He didn’t give them much time to reply before he walked back over to you and sat behind you. His body shielding you away from the rest of the people, your backs toward the group. Kimi leaned his head on your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your torso and showed you his phone.

The Instagram DM from the fan had already arrived, and he wanted you to see the picture. “I think this is the perfect way to announce us.”

~~~

Part 2 ->

~~~~~

© BAD268 2023. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Drink With Me (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 6. self-sacrifice Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, f!reader, Vampire Apocalypse AU Summary: Two years after Jake was forced to watch you ripped apart by the creatures that now terrorize the world, he is a shell of the man he once was. However, a familiar voice calling to him in the dark may give him a second chance. Word Count: 5911 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Vampires, Character Death, Murder, Grief, Biting, Mention of Suicidal Thoughts, Drinking (alcohol and blood), Language Notes: Not beta read so sorry for any mistakes! Part of @ailesswhumptober's event! 💗

Series Masterlist

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

“No….No!” 

He tries to race to your side, to stop the torment playing out before his eyes, but he is held back by hundreds of hands wrapping around him, pulling him away. Fighting against them with every ounce of his strength, he screams, “Get the fuck off of me! We need to help her! No! What the fuck are you doing?” 

“She’s gone, Hangman,” dozens of disembodied voices whisper in unison from the darkness behind him. “I’m so sorry, but there’s nothing else anyone can do for her now. It’s over. It’s been over for years. You failed. Just as you continue to fail every night.”

“No! I can save her! Please, let me save her this time!” Jake sobs as he continues to struggle against whatever is holding him back. “Please!”

But it’s no use. He’s not strong enough. As he is dragged farther and farther away, he sees you lift your head one last time, panic and pain etched across your face. You lock eyes with him and just have time to scream a terrified, “Jake!” before one of the creatures rips your throat out with its teeth—

Jake bolts upright with a deep gasp, only to immediately collapse back onto his mattress with a pitiful moan. He grabs his head as it throbs painfully with every beat of his racing heart and he squeezes his eyes together tightly in an attempt to stop the world from spinning around him. But it does little to help. His nearly naked body feels sticky and gross tangled in his soiled sheet and he wonders if it’s just sweat from the nightmare, or if he vomited in his sleep again. Maybe both…probably both. 

At least he is fairly certain he hadn’t pissed himself this time if the intense pressure in his bladder is any indication. However, he doesn’t have the faintest desire to crawl to the bathroom so he’ll worry about those consequences later. Instead, he rolls over and tries to push your final agonized scream from his mind so he can go back to some semblance of sleep.

Just as he begins to pass out again, he hears the curtain hanging around his small space being pushed back and the toe of a boot digs into his side. Without opening his eyes, he swats at the foot, trying to shove it away. “‘uck off, Phe,” he mumbles somewhat coherently. “‘s too early.”

“Tell that to the rest of us who have already been awake for several hours,” Phoenix snaps, driving her boot deeper into Jake’s ribs. When he tries to roll away, she sighs, “Do we really have to do this every morning? I’m not your fucking babysitter. Get up! Bob and I need your help setting up the trap while the light’s in the right position.”

There is nothing in the world that Jake wants to do more than ignore her and go back to sleep. However, she’s right. They do go through this every morning and by now he has accepted the fact that he can not win this argument. So, reluctantly, he peels open his eyes and squints up at her.

Seeing that some progress is being made, Phoenix removes her boot from his side and takes a few steps back. In doing so, she almost slips on the drink Jake had spilled the night before. Looking around his small space, she shakes her head. 

“Jesus, Hangman,” she grumbles as she kicks a few empty wine bottles out of the way, sending them clinking across the floor only to crash into piles of more. “How the hell are you still consistently finding this much alcohol? We’re barely finding enough food.”

Heaving himself up until he’s sitting on the edge of his mattress, Jake rests his head heavily in his hands as the world continues to spin around him. Still slurring slightly, he mutters, “‘s not enough. Two bottles a night aren’t helpin’ anymore. Nightmare’s back.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve all got our own nightmares that haunt us and you don’t see the rest of us pickling our livers to deal with it.” She hurls a half-empty backpack at him which smacks into the side of his head, nearly knocking over his unsteady form. “Now get your shit together and meet us out front in thirty minutes. We’ve got work to do.” She stomps out of his little alcove to give him some privacy but then pivots to add, “And for fuck’s sake, take a shower.”

Forty-five minutes later, Jake steps out of the shower stall, a thread-bare towel wrapped low on his hips. He shivers slightly as he pads across the cold tile floor towards the sinks. The water heater broke a few months ago and with no one left in their dwindling group who knew how to fix it, freezing showers had become the norm. While they should be grateful they even had any water at all, Jake can’t help but recall a time when a hot shower was the best part of his day. 

A soft gasp leaves your lips as he presses his bare body against yours, pinning you to the cool tile wall. Your eyes sparkle in the muted light filtered through the shower curtain as you gaze hungrily at him. Warm water flows over his back as he sinks into you—

No. No memories. Not now. Not when he doesn’t have the luxury of going back to his “room” and drowning them in booze. 

Instead, Jake quickly dresses, trying his best not to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Half the time—when there is still enough lingering alcohol in his system—he sees your mangled corpse standing behind his reflection. The other half, he left staring at the shell of the man he had become. In some ways, that’s worse because he knows it would break your heart to see what losing you has done to him.

Even though sanitation supplies had only really become a scarcity in the last few months, Jake had given up the will for self-grooming long before that. The tangled beard covering his sunken cheeks is a clear indication of that as is the long greasy strands of hair hanging limply in front of the dark circles surrounding his bloodshot eyes. You had always preferred him clean-shaven and with shorter hair. But you were gone so he didn’t give a fuck.

Exiting the bathroom, Jake heads toward the front of the church. He averts his eyes as he passes the bulletin board that had been converted into a memorial shrine for those they had lost. He remembers the days when there had only been a few names and pictures up there. Now, the fallen takes up every inch of the board and spills out across the wall. Jake used to use the board as his motivation to keep fighting, to not let more names be added to the list. But now that it contains so many faces of the people he cared deeply for or respected—you, Coyote, Iceman, Cyclone, Payback—it has become a constant reminder of all the ways he failed.  

Once, this rag-tag group of survivors who had dubbed themselves The Daggers had numbered in the dozens. But now, there are only a handful left. And with supplies and food dwindling quickly, there is no telling how long it’ll be before the rest of them earn a place on the board.

As he pushes his way through the church doors, Jake recoils as he is hit with the full brightness of the sunny day. His headache which had previously dulled slightly in the cold shower came rushing back with a vengeance. Groaning, he digs his sunglasses out of the backpack Phoenix had thrown him earlier and places them on his face. They were a cheap plastic pair Coyote had picked up for him on one of his runs to the pharmacy over a year ago, but they at least cut out some of the glare.

Phoenix is leaning against the fence with her arms folded across her chest, a scowl carved deep into her face. Now that most of those originally in charge were no longer with them, the title of leader had fallen on her shoulders. For the past few months, she had done everything in her power to hold the group together despite the increasingly dire conditions—and one jackass of a drunk who makes her life that much more difficult.   

Next to her, Bob scans the area just beyond the fence, his blue eyes alert behind his cracked glasses. With his unusual prescription, it’s been impossible to find a replacement after they slipped off his face running from a pack of creatures. He made it safely to the church in one piece—one of his lenses did not. Yet, he has never once complained or made excuses for his impaired vision. 

They were the best of the remaining survivors and had become the only real hope the Daggers had left. Yet they spent most of their days dragging Jake’s sorry ass around to ensure he didn’t drink himself to death.

Jake had been like them once: always stepping up when volunteers were needed, doing what he could to fix what was broken, protecting the people within their group. But he hadn’t been that person for the past two years. Not since he had watched you devoured before his eyes as he stood on these very steps.

It was that moment he tried desperately to avoid every night in his dreams. Reliving that day over and over again. Knowing all the moments he could have done something differently or acted faster that would have saved you yet being unable to change anything. Just forced to hear your agonizing final screams before catching his last glimpse of you whispering his name…

He needs to find more alcohol.

“About fucking time,” Phoenix mutters under her breath, pushing herself off the fence.

Bob shoots her a stern look, one that softens as he turns his attention to the new arrival. “Thanks for helping us out, Jake. We appreciate the extra hands.”

“Not like she gave me much of a choice,” Jake mutters under his breath. But seeing the way Bob’s shoulders slump at his words, he does his best to smile at him. “But I’m here now so let’s do this.”

Bob’s smile returns and he nods happily at the other man. As he turns to exit the churchyard, Phoenix shoots Jake another dirty look. He knows despite Bob’s insistence that she keeps dragging Jake along with them, she’s afraid Jake’ll screw up and cost her or Bob their lives. And it’s a fair concern. After all, it’s his fault Bob was almost killed the time his glasses were damaged. Jake had been drunk on patrol and hadn’t seen the creatures until it was almost too late to warn the rest of the team. While Bob never blamed him, Phoenix did. She tried to be as supportive as possible when Jake first began to spiral, but after the incident with Bob, she only tolerated his antics for the sake of her partner. Though not even she despised this version of Jake as much as Jake despised himself. 

Jake knew what a failure and a screwup he had become. Yet as much as he wished he could pull himself together and become the man he used to be, he also knew that there was only one person who could help him do that. 

But you were never coming back.

It’s amazing how much the world can change in such a short amount of time. In the three short years since the creatures first appeared, the center of town is now virtually unrecognizable. Vines and various foliage scale the sides of all the buildings. Cars are abandoned in the middle of the street, some with their doors still open as their passengers fled from them. Every window has been dark since the power grid failed. And without the constant upkeep, everything is starting to decay.

The warehouse is no exception. Once bustling and full of life, it has now is a shadow of its former self. With very few windows save those by the entrance and no interior lights left to brighten the space, the interior becomes a black hole after walking just a few feet into it. However due to a collapse in the roof, at certain times of the day, a single shaft of light shines all the way down to the ground floor creating a small illuminated circle on the floor. 

It is in this small safe haven that Jake finds himself. Echos bounce off the walls of the cavernous space as he puts the finishing touches on the trap in front of him. Four months ago, a few survivors passing through had shared what they had discovered with The Daggers—a way to kill the creatures. Jake still doesn’t understand how it works, something to do with converting normal light into an artificial sunlight of sorts, but luckily there were those smarter than him around who understood and harnessed this knowledge into weapons. Since then, The Daggers had managed to take out a few of the creatures. However, they quickly learned that attacking the creatures in the large packs they usually hunted in resulted in costly casualties on both sides.

It was Phoenix’s brilliant idea to take the stealth approach instead of the head-on one. They began setting traps in the area using motion lights in the hopes of eliminating some of the creatures stalking near their hideout in the middle of the night when they were at their most active. So far, they have had promising results. 

Jake is almost done setting this trap. Then he can test it and use his flashlight to get himself from this shaft of light back outside. Hopefully, he’ll then have time to sneak off to try to find more alcohol before Phoenix and Bob return for him. He hasn’t checked the houses a few blocks to the east yet and maybe—

“Jake…”

Jake’s head snaps up as his heart freezes in his chest, the trap instantly forgotten. His eyes dart around the room searching for the source of the sound. But there’s no one else there. He’s alone…he’s always alone.

Yet, just as he begins to return to his job at hand, he sees something. Squinting, he peers deeper into the heart of the building and just makes out the faint outline of a single figure within the darkness.

Instincts kicking in, Jake draws his knife from his boot and drops into a defensive stance in the center of the beam of light, waiting for the attack he knows is coming. His eyes flicker around the space, searching the darkness for signs of the rest of the swarm, yet for now all he can see is the one in front of him. But he knows that can’t be it. The creatures hunt in groups, using their numbers to overwhelm and incapacitate their victims so escape is nigh on impossible. The only few loners they had come across over the years were ones that had been injured or were too malnourished to contribute to the next hunt.

But the figure standing before Jake doesn’t seem injured or blood-crazed. It stands straight and still, completely unmoving. For several moments, nothing happens. Though still cautious, Jake begins to relax his stance a little, wondering if his eyes or mind is just playing tricks on him.

But then, a voice cuts through the silence. “I was three blocks away when I caught your scent. I don’t know how, but I immediately knew it was you.”

The knife slips from Jake’s fingers, the clatter of metal on tile echoing around the cavernous room. The voice that he had not heard outside of his dreams for the past two years punches him in the chest, nearly bringing him to his knees as tears welled up in his eyes. “B-baby?”

There is a pause before the voice continues, unemotional and flat. “I should have bolted in any other direction, put as much space between us as possible but…I couldn’t. I’m selfish enough that I had to risk seeing you one last time.”

“Oh my god,” Jake breathes. “It’s really you.”

He takes a few stumbling steps towards the figure—towards you—but you draw back further into the shadows. “No! Stop! Stay in the light.” There is a panicked edge in your tone, the first sign of emotion you have let slip in, and it is enough to make Jake listen.

As much as he longs to launch himself into your arms, he reluctantly does what you ask. He lingers just shy of the darkness, the toes of his boots resting at the point where the last of the sunbeams fade on the tiles. 

“How are you here?” he asks, his voice breaking. 

“You know how.”

He did. It was a fear that had nestled in the back of his mind these past two years that he didn’t dare consider. Whether that was out of the fear of falling into despair or building up false hope, he didn’t know. But he had never let himself imagine this moment and, now that it was happening, he didn’t know what to do. 

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, he says, “You said you caught my scent…Do I smell as sexy as you remember?”

A surprised snort of laughter echoes throughout the room as you are taken aback by his question. But when you speak, he hears tears in your voice, “Yeah, Jake. As sexy as always.”

Whatever cold, distant shell you had put in place when you first arrived crumbled and Jake can now hear the real you behind the words. Swallowing, he murmurs, “Please…let me see you.”

Your outline shifts in the darkness. “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please, baby. For the last two years, all I could see was that last memory of you. I need this.”

“No. Seeing me like this is not going to be any better than seeing me like that. I’ve changed.”

“So have I. But I love you and I’ll still love you no matter what.”

For a moment, there is only silence. Then you whisper, “Step to the other side of the light.”

Jake immediately scrambles backward, almost falling as he stumbles over the long-forgotten trap. But he makes it to the outer rim of the circle of light and waits. 

Slowly, your shape edges closer to the light. At first, Jake still can’t make out any details of the person in front of him. But when he does, his heart clenches in his chest. 

There is no denying that it is the woman he loves standing before him but yet it’s not the you he remembers. Your skin has been drained of its color and now resembles that of a corpse, cold and lifeless. Sharp, pointed teeth jut out your mouth over bloodless lips and your fingers end in claw-like talons. You are still wearing the same clothes you had on the day you were attacked but they are shredded and stiff with dried blood in various colors ranging from bright red to rusty-brown. Jake wonders how much of it is yours and how much is your victims.

Any lingering doubt he had about how you are here, any sliver of hope you had escaped your fate, is shattered instantly. This isn’t a miracle. It is a nightmare, a curse. 

But based on the gasp that escapes your trembling lips, you must be thinking the same thing as you get a good look at the man he has become. 

“Oh, Jake…” Your hands fly up to cover your mouth as your eyes continue to roam over his body. Yet even covered, he can see your jaw trembling as you cry, “Baby, what…We promised if something ever happened to the other, we wouldn’t give up. We would keep fighting.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Jake snaps. But then he wilts under the weight of your gaze. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he whispers, “I almost ended it—a few times. Drugs, booze, even thought I’d take my nickname literally. Made a noose and everything. But the thing that always stopped me was that promise. So, yeah, I–I’ve been a bit of a mess since you—” he gestures at your transformed self “—and I’m sorry. I tried to be strong but losing you was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. We were supposed to face this hellscape together and I didn’t know how to cope without you so I let myself become someone that I hate. But now that you’re back—”

“I’m not back, Jake. That’s not why—” You shake your head, letting your hands drop. “I shouldn’t be here. This was a mistake and I never should have come. I should have just let you think I was dead. I-I have to go.”

“No! Please–” As Jake takes a few steps across the circle of light, you cower back, retreating further into the darkness.

“Stop!” There is a pained quiver in your voice. “I’m barely controlling myself as it is. If you get closer…I can’t hurt you, Jake. I can’t. But I know if you get any closer, I will and there’ll be nothing I can do to stop it.”

Jake shakes his head. “No. I don’t believe it. You would never hurt me.”

“You don’t get it. It’s not a choice, it’s an undeniable force. It’s hard enough to control myself when I’m fully satiated, but I haven’t fed in almost a week. Your blood—” You squeeze your eyes closed tightly. When you open them again, they have darkened significantly. There is still some color in them, not the pitch-black orbs Jake is used to seeing when the creatures were attacking, but the change still makes him inhale sharply. “The venom doesn’t just turn us into these…these things. It drives us to hunt, to kill. And that need is neverending.”

It breaks Jake’s heart to hear the pain in your voice and he can’t imagine what you’ve been dealing with the past two years. However, as much as it horrifies him, he also wants to know more. “Wh-what does it feel like?”

You turn to gaze into the darkness surrounding you. “It’s like acid in my veins, a constant burning fire in my gut that only grows stronger if it’s not satisfied. Blood’s the only thing that soothes the pain for even a few hours, but it’s never enough. I’ve tried to stop myself, I have, but each time I drink it gets hard to fight. And with every life I take, I feel a little more of myself slip away. I’m not the woman you loved anymore, Jake. I’m just a monster with her face.”

Jake shakes his head with a firm set in his jaw. “No. I don't believe that. It's still you. Why else would you have looked for me? The woman I love is still here and she needed to see me just as much as I needed to see her.”

“Jake–” 

“And I don’t care what you think.” Without hesitation, Jake crosses the remainder of his little haven of sunlight and steps forward to join you in the inky darkness. You cower back again but he takes another step to maintain the same distance between you. “You're not going to hurt me. I know that. Because you're so strong and brave and you can fight this–”

“It’s not that simple—”

“Yes, it is.”

“Jake, stop—”

“No. Not until you believe that—”

“I've killed Daggers.”

Your admission hangs like a dense fog between you. Obviously, Jake had realized what being turned into a creature meant for your feeding habits, but he had been trying not to focus on that. However, now faced with the truth, Jake suddenly connects a few horrifying dots in his head. 

He swallows before asking, “Coyote?”

Last year, he had gotten there just a moment too late. There was nothing he could do but watch as what was left of his best friend was ripped apart by a mass of creatures. But then, just for a second before Fanboy grabbed his arm and pulled him away, he caught a flash of one of the creatures and he could have sworn…

Your eyes widen, clearly not expecting him to know that, but you nod slightly. Then, in a small voice, say, “And Rooster.”

“Roo….Rooster?” The truth about Coyote had been painful, yet regardless of who killed him, Jake had come to terms with his best friend’s death months ago. But Rooster…

He had left the group a few weeks ago after hearing a rumor of someone sounding suspiciously similar to his godfather leading another group out in the desert. They all knew it was dangerous but if anyone could make it, it would have been Rooster. Yet if what you said was true…

“I never wanted you to find out.” Tears begin to stream down your cheeks, thick, black goo that leaves streaks in their wake. “I tried to stop myself but I couldn't. Coyote was already being attacked when I found him and the blood…this thing took over. And the worst part was he…he recognized me just before I tore his throat out. There was this mix of elation I was ‘alive’ and horror at what I had become. I still see it when I close my eyes. With Rooster it was different. I was alone when I found him. We’ve been starving since you found a way to destroy us and I needed blood so badly. He was dead before he even knew I was there.”

This newest revelation is the last straw for Jake. A man can only process so much trauma at once before he reaches his breaking point. Falling to his knees, he hangs his head, tears dripping off his face onto the dusty tile beneath him as his shoulders shake with stifled sobs. 

“Jake…I…” Your voice is brimming with tears as Jake sees your feet take one hesitant step closer to him. But then, you stop. 

For a moment, there is only the sound of his soft cries echoing through the empty space. However, when you finally speak again, your voice has more of the defiance and strength he loves most about you. “You don’t understand what it’s like. When I slip into a frenzy, nothing in this world exists except for blood. Faces…names…past relationships…none of it means anything at that moment. All that’s left is the pure animalistic need to feed. It’s only after I’ve been sated that I come back, that I can remember what happened or what I did. Standing over what’s left of a person, realizing I’m to blame, knowing I’ve murdered them or I’ve forced them to become a monster just like me. I couldn’t stop myself from killing Coyote and Rooster, but I made sure neither of them could turn. They may not have deserved their deaths, but more than that, they didn’t deserve this afterlife. It was the least I could do for them. And I’m sorry it wasn’t more.”

You fall silent again, but Jake just continues to cry with no acknowledgment of what you said. After a moment of this, you plead, “Jake, talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking. If you want me to go—” 

“Please…” Jake breathes, the weight of the past two years pressing down on him. “Please let me hold you.”

“W-what?” Based on the utter shock in your voice, that is not what you were expecting him to say.

It takes everything in him, but Jake lifts his eyes so they meet yours. “Baby, I need you in my arms again. To feel you, touch you, prove this is real. I have dreamed about you every night for two years. Horrible, bloody nightmares that have destroyed my life. I need you to chase those nightmares away.”

“Jake, have you not heard a word I’ve said? I’ve killed our friends and I’ll kill you too. Or worse, I’ll turn you.”

“I want you to,” he whispers.

“Jake!” Normally when discussions became this heated between you and you resorted to that sharp tone, your chest would be heaving as you became worked up. Yet this time, your heart isn’t beating and your lungs aren’t huffing air so it remains deathly still. “I can’t do that to you. I won’t condemn you to this life.”

“Please…” Jake sobs loudly, too emotionally and mentally drained to get to his feet and walk to you. “I can’t live without you anymore. I need us to be together, whatever that looks like.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“You’ve made it pretty clear. But I’m willing to bear the pain, the…the consequences of this choice if it means I can be with you. So, please, don’t make me spend one more second without you. Either kill me or turn me, but I can’t do this anymore.”

You stare at him for a long time, your darkened eyes not giving any hint as to what you are thinking. Then, slowly, you nod. “I don’t want to kill you or turn you, but I need you too. I think…I think I always knew when I came here that this is how it would go and I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stay away.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t.” Jake opens his arms, still kneeling on the floor. “Come here, baby.”

With stilted, hesitant steps, you begin to walk towards him. You balk a little as you get closer, fighting against the instinct to avoid the sunlight, but Jake is far enough in the shadows that you can reach him without crossing into the light. Slowly, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him and reach out. 

Jake can’t wait any longer. He grabs your hand and pulls you into his chest, squeezing you as tightly as he possibly can. Your skin is icy beneath his touch, but he doesn’t care. He’s holding you in his arms again and nothing else in the world matters. 

However, you apparently don’t share the same outlook. Your entire body goes rigid beneath him, every muscle tensing as he draws you in. He can feel you begin to tremble as an animalistic growl rumbles in your chest.

“Ja—I can’t—Let me go. Don’t wanna hurt—” You manage to choke the words out through a clamped-shut jaw. As your eyes turn completely black, your teeth begin to grow longer until they resemble true fangs. Several poke through your lips as you press your mouth firmly closed. You are still trying to save him despite everything.

Squeezing you tighter, Jake mutters, “No. It’s okay, baby. I want this. Just let go.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, black tears falling on his chest. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

And you sink your fangs into his neck.

Living up to your promise, there is only a small sting as your teeth break his skin. However, in seconds, your venom enters his bloodstream and Jake tries to jerk away from the searing pain. However, your clawed hand clamps firmly on his shoulder, forcing him to remain in place. The venom spreads throughout his system until every cell in his body is screaming out in agony. He wants to black out but his body won’t let him. The change is already occurring and he is being forced to be conscious for every last second of his human life.

As you drink, small sounds begin slipping out between your lips, reverberating against Jake’s skin. Soft moans and gasps that have Jake flashing back to all those times you were beneath him as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. And for just a second, he can bear the pain knowing he is giving you some semblance of pleasure.

However as a vice of white-hot agony squeezes around his lungs and heart, Jake begins to jerk in your grasp as he begins to suffocate. Feeling his distress, you slide your teeth out of his neck and press your blood-soaked lips to the wound. Running your hand through his hair, you coo, “It’s okay, baby. It’s almost over now. I can already taste the change beginning in your blood. But this next part is the worst. Fighting it just makes it harder. Try to relax and let it happen. And I’m right here, my love, forever.” Then you sink your teeth back into his neck.

The choking suffocating feeling only intensifies, but against every self-preservation instinct in Jake’s body, he tries to listen to your advice and just gives in. Closing his eyes, he begins to slip into a sort of meditative state. While the pain or pressure doesn’t lessen, the panic and tension ease slightly. And even once he feels his heart take its last beat and his lungs go still, he tries to remain in this headspace until you are finished.

He isn’t sure how long he is kneeling there before—

“No…”

Jake picks up the soft sound as it is breathed across the empty warehouse, his ears already tuning into sounds humans shouldn’t be able to hear. His eyes flutter open and just over your shoulder, he can see Bob and Phoenix bathed in sunlight standing at the entrance to the building. Bob has tears in his eyes, his lips whispering your name in horror as he watches the growing gory mess you are making of Jake’s neck. He glances back and forth between Jake and Phoenix, silently pleading with her to find a way to fix this.

But Phoenix just stares at the pair of reunited lovers, her jaw set tightly. And Jake knows she understands. Phoenix always understands. 

Jake is weak from blood loss and pain, but he manages the slightest of nods. Lifting two fingers to her forehead, Phoenix gives Jake a small salute in return.

Then she raises her flashlight.

As the beam of light strikes your shoulder, your mouth instantly disappears from Jake’s throat with an agonized hiss as you try to flee from the pain. But using what strength he has left, Jake holds you in place. 

The betrayal on your face as you turn to look at him almost outweighs the pain. Jake knows you must think this was a trick, that he must have been stalling you all along just for this moment. Yet, he had meant every word he said.

Smiling as every cell in his body begins to burn differently from before, he whispers, “Together.” And he holds up his hand which is cracking and disintegrating in the light just like yours.

Though still pained, your face softens as you realize what he is doing. Transformation or death, those had been his choices. However, it turns out it wasn’t an “or” but an “and”.

Reaching out, you link your fingers with his, your skin flaky and fragile in his grasp. You snuggle your head against the unbitten crook of his neck, whimpering slightly as the light does its job, and you whisper back, “Together.”

Jake wraps his other arm around you and holds you close, silently vowing to never let go again.

The last thing he sees before his world slips away is the strangely beautiful swirl of particles of your two disintegrating bodies intermingling in the beam of sunlight. 

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@wkndwlff, @ravenmoore14, @clancycucumber230, @slightly-psycho-multifan, @kmc1989,

@deppresseddyslexic, @horneybeach1, @mandylove1000, @aczhang777, @lovelyy-moonlight

@winterassassin1804, @seresinhangmanjake, @seitmai