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soulofapatrick · 1 month ago

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All’s Fair in Love and War - Azriel x female reader

Summary: Azriel finds you after the war with Hybern

Words: 2.8K

Warnings: blood, shock

Notes: sorry if this is messy - the idea came to me just now and I’m very tired and sleep deprived

Y/N's POV

The battle is over. The roar of soldiers, the clash of swords, the gut-wrenching screams of the dying—they all fade, swallowed by a profound, unnatural silence. It's not the kind of quiet that brings peace. No, this stillness presses down on me like a weight, suffocating, as if the very air has thickened in the aftermath of violence. The tension in my muscles, the ache in my bones, feels as though it’s settling deep inside me, wrapping itself around my insides and pulling me down. Yet, I refuse to lie down. I won’t let myself be coddled, not when the taste of battle is still so fresh in the back of my throat.

I’m sitting upright in a rickety wooden chair, the rough, splintered wood digging into my back, but I don't care. The fabric of my tunic clings to my skin, drenched in a sickly mix of sweat and blood—my own, other people’s, I can’t tell anymore. Feyre’s insisted I lie down, insisted I let her help me, but I can’t. I need to stay here, right where I am. I need to be present, to feel the weight of my own existence, even as the world tilts and shifts in ways that don’t feel real.

My body feels wrong. Alien. Detached. It’s like I’m floating just above myself, watching from a distance. My limbs are too heavy, my chest too tight. The stinging aches from the cuts, bruises, and burns barely register against the cold emptiness gnawing at me from the inside. It feels like the very essence of who I am has been swallowed up, frozen over in a deep, hollow void that refuses to release its grip. My heart is still pounding, but the beat sounds muffled, as if I’m hearing it through a thick wall of fog.

I can taste it—the blood. The metallic tang coats my mouth, thick and sticky, like copper settling on my tongue. It tastes of death, of everything I’ve just witnessed, of the blood spilled for this fleeting victory. It makes my stomach churn, but I can’t bring myself to wipe it away. I don’t want to. It feels like a mark, like a final seal on everything we’ve just survived. A reminder of the price we’ve paid.

Feyre is beside me, but she feels so far away, even though I can hear the soft shuffle of her feet and feel the warmth of her presence. Her High Lady aura glows faintly in the dim light of the medical tent, shimmering around her like a halo, but there’s an edge to her that I recognise. The poise, the grace, is still there, but beneath it, I can see the cracks—the lines of worry etched deep in her face. She hovers near me, her hands hovering uncertainly as though she doesn’t want to break something fragile, doesn’t want to push me too far. Her fingers brush over my cheek, but I can feel the hesitation there, the caution. She’s holding back, trying not to make me feel weak.

My cheek feels raw, tender, swollen. I can feel the blood caked against my skin, drying in clumps, pulling at the tender flesh of my face. I know the wound is deep. I know it’s going to scar, leaving me with a permanent reminder of this war, this senseless battle that has taken so much from us. But right now, I can’t find it in myself to care. Not when the pain feels so distant, so muted, as if it belongs to someone else. All I can feel is the relentless grip of numbness, seeping into me, pushing out everything but the silence, the hollow ache.

Feyre’s voice pierces through the fog, soft and concerned, but it feels like it’s coming from a world far removed from me. “Y/N, you need to rest. You’re in no shape to be sitting up.”

“I’m fine,” I rasp, my voice cracked, dry as the air around me. It’s barely above a whisper, yet I feel the weight of it, the lie that I’m trying to convince myself of. “Just… let me be.”

I try to ignore the way my words falter, the way my body trembles despite my best efforts to hold steady. The exhaustion presses down on me, a weight too heavy to bear, but I refuse to admit it. Instead, I focus on the rhythm of Feyre’s breath, steady and calm, though I know it’s not as unaffected as it seems. I hear the subtle shift in her posture, the uncertainty in the way she moves around me, as if she doesn’t quite know what to do with me now. She’s worried, but she’s not pushing—she knows better than that.

And as I sit there, trapped in my own numbness, I feel the sting of my injuries fade into the background, swallowed by something deeper, something even harder to name. The tent is still, heavy with the weight of what’s happened—what’s still happening—but in the silence, there’s a steady, almost magnetic pull drawing me in. The world beyond the canvas walls is chaos, but here, in this small space, there’s a suffocating quiet, a sense of something monumental about to shift.

The flaps of the tent whip open again, and I feel it, the change in the air before I even hear their footsteps. Heavy. Relentless. The hum of power vibrates through the ground, the soft, sure steps unmistakable even before I see them.

Azriel.

Rhysand, Cassian—they follow, but it’s Azriel who fills the space, his presence tangible, suffocating, like a shadow that has always lingered just beyond the edges of my sight. And I know, even before I look up, that he's close. That shadow—his shadow—rushes in, skimming across the floor like liquid night, trailing after him, pulsing with life, like it’s an extension of him.

Feyre’s touch, warm and light, presses briefly on my shoulder before she moves away, joining her mate and the others, leaving me with Azriel, leaving me with the space between us that feels far too large and yet too small all at once. I know the others are there, I hear their words, but it’s Azriel I feel, his presence like a weight, heavy and undeniable. The shadows, they rush forward, caressing the air around me as they always do when he’s near—silent, loving, soft. His shadows have always been an extension of him, always a part of who he is, and right now, they envelop me in a comforting embrace, soothing the sharp edges of the world that try to break me apart.

I can’t move. My head still feels too heavy, too fogged with shock, and my body refuses to listen to me. But I feel them—his shadows—brush over my skin, gentle whispers of darkness, caressing me in a way that’s almost tender. They tug softly at the edges of my pain, washing over me, calming the panic that bubbles beneath the surface.

The soft thud of his boots stops directly in front of me. I don't look up. My body still doesn't listen. The shadows pull tighter around me, brushing against my skin like a lover’s touch, their cool embrace more comforting than the warmth of the sun. They make me feel whole, like I'm not slipping away into the numbness that’s trying to take me.

And then, without a word, Azriel kneels in front of me. I feel the shift in the air around him, the way his presence seems to draw everything closer, making the world feel smaller, like it's only the two of us now.

His scarred hands, the hands that have seen so much destruction, are gentle as they reach toward me. He hooks his fingers under my chin, lifting my face toward him with a force that isn't harsh but is insistent, like he won’t let me hide. Like he can’t let me hide.

And I look into his eyes. Hazel. Always searching. Always filled with that intensity, that unspoken understanding. His eyes flicker over my face, tracing the marks left by battle—the dried blood on my cheek, the swelling beneath my skin, the injury I know will leave a scar. But he doesn't look at it in disgust or pity. He looks at me. At me, the way only he ever has—like I’m something precious.

"Y/N," his voice is low, hoarse, almost cracked under the weight of what he's feeling. The shadows gather around us, encircling us both as if they're shielding us from the rest of the world. They move with him, soft, soothing, like they too are trying to hold me together. The subtle crackle of power in the air is thick, the tension between us palpable, but it’s his touch—the warmth of his fingers on my skin—that seems to hold everything still.

Azriel leans forward, and the air thickens between us, charged, electric, suffocating. His breath skims over my lips, and I know, I know, that this moment is everything. The world outside, the battle, the blood, the pain—all of it feels so far away now. There is only the space between us. Only him. Only the suffocating weight of his presence, and the shadows that pulse with life, circling us like an embrace, like a cage.

His eyes burn into mine, molten, dark, searching. His chest rises and falls, too fast, too heavy, as if he's holding his breath, waiting, as if we're both on the edge of something we can't undo. His shadows caress me, tender and possessive, as if they, too, are desperate to make sure I don't slip away. They're everywhere—on my skin, in my veins, curling around me, holding me steady, holding me together.

And then, without another breath between us, his lips crash into mine.

It's not gentle. It’s feral. Desperate. As if he's been holding himself back for lifetimes, and now that barrier is shattered. His lips are fierce, hungry, demanding, and all at once, I feel everything he’s been keeping buried—every bit of the anguish, the fear, the longing—poured into the kiss.

Azriel’s hands are on me, pulling me, urgent and fierce, as if he’s afraid I’ll slip through his fingers if he doesn't hold on tight enough. His touch is rough—scarred fingers threading through my hair, tilting my head back with a force that has me gasping, his mouth crashing into mine in a kiss that is all need, all fire. I taste blood—his, mine, I don’t care, I can't care—not when he’s here, when his body is pressed against mine, when every inch of him is breathing life back into me.

And then, without warning, he pulls me down.

I barely register the movement before I’m on the floor, my knees digging into the hard dirt beneath me, the sting of it nothing compared to the overwhelming heat that radiates from him. He’s sitting back on his knees, his thick thighs caging me in as I straddle him, my legs on either side, and the world narrows to just the space between us. His hands move to my back, pulling me flush against his chest, and the kiss deepens, more desperate, more frantic, as if this is the only way he can make sure I’m real, that I’m alive, that I’m still here.

His shadows wrap around us like a dark cocoon, curling around us both, a living thing that soothes, caresses, and holds us together. They move over my skin, tracing the curve of my spine, filling the space between us with an almost painful tenderness, as if they’re echoing the rawness in his kiss. They wrap around my arms, my waist, gently tugging me closer, pulling me against him like I belong there, like I’m the missing piece he’s been searching for.

I don’t care that the ground is rough, that the dirt is grinding into my knees, that my body is still sore and battered from the battle. None of it matters because he’s here. He’s alive. His lips are on mine, and nothing else exists. Not the horrors we’ve just survived, not the pain coursing through me, not the scars I know are already forming on my skin. There’s only him, only this moment, only the desperate, consuming way we kiss like our very lives depend on it.

His hands grip my hips, pulling me closer, his breath ragged as he breaks the kiss just enough to speak, but I’m not ready to let him go. His lips are against mine once more, rough and relentless, as if he’s trying to memorise the feeling of me, of us—of the connection that is more than just physical, more than just a fleeting moment of relief after the battle. His scarred hands slide down my sides, gripping me tightly, pulling me even closer, and I can’t help but let out a soft gasp at the pressure. His body shifts under mine, his thick thighs holding me in place as his shadows wrap tighter around us, drawing me further into his orbit.

Every breath, every movement, is a slow, steady burn, and I can feel the intensity of it seeping into my skin, into my bones. He’s not just kissing me—he’s claiming me, as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he doesn’t. His hands move to my back, tracing the curve of it before pressing me harder into him, his chest rising and falling rapidly as though he’s fighting for air. His lips break from mine, but only just, brushing against my jaw, my neck, as he breathes deeply against my skin, each inhale shuddering, as if he can’t quite gather himself enough to speak.

“Azriel,” I whisper, the name feeling foreign on my tongue, but I don’t care. Not when I’m here, not when his shadows are around us like a fortress, cocooning us in a darkness that’s only ours. “What are you—”

“I thought I lost you,” he cuts me off, his voice raw, rough, like he’s been holding back for too long. His lips find mine again, desperate, hungry, and the world outside us disappears.

But even as the kiss consumes me, I feel his trembling fingers against my cheek, his touch soft, reverent, like he’s afraid of breaking me, as if the battle, the blood, the scars are all still too fresh for him to truly believe I’m here.

I tilt my head back, surrendering into him, letting the kiss go deeper, matching the frantic pace of his lips as his breath catches in his throat. And as I feel him pulling me, coaxing me closer, his shadows continue to circle, holding us together in the suffocating intensity of everything unsaid.

“I can’t lose you,” he murmurs against my lips, the words desperate, raw, and heavy with meaning, as if they carry the weight of everything he’s been holding inside. “You’re... everything.”

My heart races at the confession—his confession—and my hands move to his face, feeling the roughness of his skin, the rasp of his stubble, the undeniable truth in the way he kisses me. His lips are tender now, softer, as if he's trying to take the moment in, savour it, but there's still a hunger beneath it all. Still a desperate need to make sure I’m here, that I’m alive, that I’m not going anywhere.

I don’t have the words for this. For him. For us. So I let the kiss speak for me, my hands slipping down to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.

His shadows seem to gather around us tighter, pulling me into him, surrounding us in a blanket of darkness and heat that holds us together, that swallows us whole. Everything else falls away—the battle, the pain, the fear—all of it. There’s only Azriel and me, only this moment, and the undeniable connection between us that has always been there, buried beneath the surface, waiting to break free.

And then, he pulls back just enough for us to breathe. His eyes are searching mine, dark and intense, filled with something I can’t name. Something that flickers in his gaze, something fragile, but unwavering.

“I thought I lost you,” he repeats, the words a soft, desperate plea.

I lean forward, my forehead resting against his, and I finally whisper the only words that seem to matter right now: “You didn’t.”

And as his lips meet mine again, softer this time, full of relief, of unspoken promises, I know that this is the beginning of something new, something that neither of us can turn away from.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

TAGS:

@lilah-asteria @maleficmuse @fanficscuziranout @angelbunny222

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pinkrangermemes · 7 months ago

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EPIC: The Musical

lyrics that absolutely fuck me up, feel free to change pronouns and such as needed

"A mission to kill someone's son, a foe who won't run, unlike anyone you have faced before."

"I'd rather bleed for you."

"This is the will of the gods."

"Don't make me do this."

"The blood on your hands is something you won't lose. All you can choose is whose."

"You're as old as he was when I left for war."

"How could I hurt you?"

"I'm just a man who's trying to go home."

"When does a man become a monster?"

"When does the reason become the blame?"

"Forgive me."

"We should try to find a way no one ends up dead."

"You can relax, my friend."

"Think of all that we have been through. We'll survive what we get into."

"This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms."

"I see in your face there is so much guilt inside your heart."

"Have you forgotten to turn off your heart? This is not you."

"Have you forgotten your purpose? Let me remind you."

"Don't forget that you're a warrior of a very special kind."

"Don't disappoint me."

"What gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?"

"Don't you know that pain you sow is pain you reap?"

"Your life now is in my hand."

"A trade, you see. Take from me like you took from me."

"You shall be the final man to die."

"It's just one life to take."

"When we kill him our journey's over."

"Captain?"

"You've hurt me enough."

"When I kill you, my pain is over."

"Mark my words now. This is not the end."

"Remember them."

"Who hurts you?"

"If nobody hurt you, be silent."

"He's still a threat until he's dead."

"Finish it."

"What good would killing do, when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use?"

"The blood we shed, it never dries."

"I am your darkest moment."

"I am the infamous _______!"

"This way, you won't disappoint me."

"This way, you won't waste my time."

"Unlike you, every time someone dies, I'm left to deal with the strain."

"I'll remind you, I saw you as a friend, but now we're done."

"This way, you won't plague my life."

"This way, you'll close the door and have your damn goodbye."

"Since you claim you're so much wiser, why's your life spent all alone?"

"You're alone!"

"This day, you sever your own head."

"This day, you lost it all. Consider this as my goodbye."

"Don't forget how dangerous the gods are."

"How much longer 'til your luck runs out?"

"You rely on wit, and people die on it."

"I still believe in goodness."

"Lead from the heart, and see what starts."

"And what will we do when it tears us apart?"

"You're like the brother I could never do without."

"How much longer 'til your strength takes leave?"

"I can't have you planting seeds of doubt."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Sometimes killing is a must."

"Friends turn into foes and rivalries."

"Never really know who you can trust."

"The end always justifies the means."

"So much has changed, but I'm the same."

"I'm left without a choice and without a doubt."

"Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves."

"You are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great."

"You are far too nice."

"Mercy has a price."

"Unlike you, I've got no mercy left to give."

"The line between naivete and hopefulness is almost invisible."

"What have you done?"

"I am your darkest moment, the monster that always draws near."

"Remember me."

"There's only so much left we can endure."

"Think of your past and your mistakes."

"No, I'm not a player. I'm a puppeteer."

"I can hardly sleep now, knowing everything we've done."

"It's a game of wits, but you don't have to play."

"A foe like ____ is not to be messed with."

"You could be hurt or you could beat her."

"I'll help you conquer her."

"Wouldn't you like your outcome preferred?"

"Don't thank me, friend, you very well may die."

"Did you do something to them?"

"I don't know who you are or why you're here, but let me make this one thing clear."

"I've got people to protect, friends I can't neglect, so now there is no turning back."

"Back at home my wife waits for me. She's my everything, my _____."

"Maybe showing one act of kindness leads to kinder souls down the road."

"This land confuses your mind."

"All I hear are screams every time I dare to close my eyes."

"I no longer dream, only nightmares of those who've died."

"Why would you let _____ live when ruthlessness is mercy?"

"I keep thinking of the infant from that night."

"____, when you come home, I'll be waiting."

"Even if you're the last thing I see, I'll be waiting."

"I took too long."

"I'll always love you."

"Your past is always close behind."

"I see a song of past romance."

"I see portrayals of betrayal and a brother's final stand."

"I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you."

"We've suffered and sailed through the toughest of Hells, now you tell us our efforts were nothing?"

"I see a wife with a man who is haunting. A man with a trail of bodies."

"How has everything been turned against us?"

"How did suffering become so endless?"

"Do I need to change?"

"What if I'm the monster?"

"What if I'm the problem that's been hiding all along?"

"If I became the monster, and threw that guilt away, would that make us stronger?"

"So what if I'm the monster lurking deep below?"

"If I gotta drop another infant from a wall in an instant so we all don't die, then I'll become the monster."

"I'll become the monster."

#since I haven't seen one yet #epic the musical #roleplay prompts #rp prompts #roleplay starters #rp starters #rp memes #roleplay memes #epic the musical starters #sentence starters #rp sentence starters

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dee-writes-angst · 7 months ago

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LILIES (Chapter Six)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY moving on from Eris is impossible, the grief you carry around is unbearable even with the help of your new (ish) friend Lucien.

CONTENT WARNINGS angst, arguing, leaving, grief (over someone who is still alive), major injuries, labor, brief descriptions of blood, Beron (iykykyk), themes of depression, mentions of reader not taking care of themselves, mentions of eating struggles

AUTHORS NOTE only two more chapters to go until it's all over!! I am so sad to see this amazing experience start to come to an end especially because I treasure each and everyone of you who has enjoyed my writing and decided to come along for the ride. Try not to kill me after this chapter, k? >:)

SERIES MASTERLIST

The days following Eris’s departure were a blur of heartache and despair. Each morning, you woke with the heavy realization that he was truly gone, the emptiness beside you a stark reminder of the love and companionship you had lost. You found yourself drifting through the hours, your mind replaying the moments of your last encounter, the anguish in Eris’s eyes haunting you.

Lucien was a constant presence throughout that week, his concern for you unwavering. He visited your chambers multiple times a day, bringing you meals and ensuring you were taking care of yourself and the baby. Despite your best efforts to hide your pain, Lucien saw through the facade, his keen eyes missing nothing.

“Have you eaten today?” Lucien asked gently one morning as he entered your room, carrying a tray laden with food.

You looked up from where you sat by the window, staring out at the gardens below. The vibrant colors of the flowers seemed muted, the beauty of the world outside failing to penetrate the numbness inside you. “I’m not hungry,” you replied softly, turning your gaze back to the view.

Lucien set the tray down on the small table beside you, his expression a mix of concern and determination. “You need to eat,” he insisted, pushing a bowl of fresh fruit toward you. “For the baby’s sake, if not for your own.”

At the mention of your baby, you placed a protective hand over your swollen belly, feeling the gentle flutter of movement beneath your palm. “I know,” you sighed, picking up a piece of fruit and taking a small bite. The flavors were bland, your appetite dulled by the overwhelming sorrow that clouded your mind.

Lucien sat down across from you, his gaze unwavering. “I’m worried about you,” he admitted, his voice filled with genuine concern. “You can’t go on like this. You have to find a way to move forward, for your sake and for the baby’s.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you looked away, unable to meet his compassionate gaze. “I don’t know how,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Everything feels so hopeless without him.”

Lucien reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “You’re stronger than you realize,” he said softly. “You’ve faced so much already, and you’ve come out the other side. You can do this too.”

Despite his comforting words, the days continued to blend together in a haze of grief. You spent most of your time in your chambers, the outside world seeming distant and unimportant. Lucien’s visits were the only interruptions in your solitary existence, his presence a reminder that you were not entirely alone.

As you sat by the window, your eyes tracing the familiar paths of the garden below, memories of the walks you and Eris used to take together filled your mind. You recalled the way his hand would fit perfectly in yours as you strolled through the winding paths, the conversations that ranged from deep thoughts, insecurities, and fears to light-hearted banter about nothing at all. Those moments had felt like pure magic, a respite from the chaos of the world, and a testament to the bond you shared.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the room in a warm, golden light, Lucien entered with a gentle knock. “I brought you something special,” he announced, holding up a small box. “I thought it might cheer you up.”

You managed a small smile, appreciating his efforts to lift your spirits. “What is it?”

He opened the box to reveal an assortment of your favorite pastries, the sweet aroma filling the room. “I remember you mentioning these once,” he said, placing the box on the table. “I had the cook make them for you.”

The gesture touched your heart, and for the first time in days, you felt a flicker of warmth. “Thank you, Lucien,” you said, your voice choked with emotion. “You’ve been so kind to me.”

Lucien smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s the least I can do,” he replied. “You’re important to me, and I want to see you happy again.”

Lucien coaxed you out into the gardens the very next week, his persistent kindness finally wearing down your reluctance. At 39 weeks pregnant, every movement was a chore, and you had been experiencing intermittent pains that you brushed off as mere discomfort from carrying your child. The idea of visiting the gardens, a place where you and Eris had built so many memories, filled you with a mix of nostalgia and pain. But Lucien’s gentle urging and genuine concern convinced you to give it a chance.

“Come on,” Lucien said, his voice soft but insistent. “The fresh air will do you good, and the gardens are beautiful this time of year. It might help to clear your mind.”

“I don’t know, Lucien,” you said, placing a protective hand on your swollen belly. “It was our place, where we grew to know and love each other. I’m not sure I’m ready.”

Lucien knelt beside you, his eyes filled with understanding. “I know it’s hard. But sometimes revisiting those places can help us heal. You don’t have to say anything, just let the garden work its magic. And I’ll be right there with you.”

You looked into his earnest eyes, seeing the care and concern that had been your lifeline these past few weeks. With a deep breath, you nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Lucien helped you up, and you both made your way to the gardens. The sun was warm, a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers. The familiar pathways brought a lump to your throat, each step a painful reminder of the love you had lost.

As you walked, the intermittent pains in your belly became more noticeable, but you brushed them off as mere discomfort from being on your feet. Lucien pointed out various plants and flowers, trying to distract you with light conversation. Despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself beginning to relax, the beauty of the gardens working its magic as Lucien had promised.

“You know, I’ve always loved this part of the garden,” Lucien said, stopping by a cluster of vibrant roses. “It reminds me of home, of simpler times.”

You managed a small smile, your mind drifting back to the countless times you and Eris had stopped at this very spot, sharing stolen kisses and whispered promises. The memory brought a fresh wave of pain, but also a bittersweet comfort.

Lucien’s voice broke through your thoughts. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his eyes filled with concern.

“I’m okay,” you lied, wincing as another pain shot through your abdomen. “Just a bit tired.”

Lucien frowned, his sharp eyes noticing your discomfort. “Are you sure? You seem a bit… off.”

You waved off his concern, not wanting to worry him. “It’s just the baby being active, I think. Nothing to worry about.”

He nodded, though his expression remained skeptical. “Alright, but if it gets worse, promise me you’ll let me know.”

“I promise,” you said, trying to sound reassuring.

As you continued to walk, the pains grew more frequent and intense, but you were determined to push through. You didn’t want to spoil this moment, this brief reprieve from the constant ache of your heart. But as you neared the center of the garden, where a small fountain gurgled peacefully, the pain became too much to ignore.

Lucien’s eyes widened in alarm as you doubled over, clutching your belly. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked, his voice filled with panic.

“I think… I think something’s wrong,” you gasped, the realization finally dawning on you that these weren’t just random pains. “Lucien, I think I’m in labor.”

His face paled, but he quickly sprang into action. “Okay, we need to get you to the medical wing, now.”

As Lucien hurriedly pushed you through the ornate hallways of the palace, aiming for the medical wing, your discomfort escalating with each moment, the last thing either of you expected was to run into Beron. The formidable lord of the Autumn Court was not supposed to be aware of your presence within the palace, a secret Eris had helped to keep. Yet there he stood, emerging from a shadowed alcove, his sharp gaze landing on you with immediate suspicion.

“Lucien, what is this?” Beron's voice cut through the tension, as cold and unwavering as the stone walls that surrounded you. His eyes flicked from you to Lucien, narrowing in displeasure.

Lucien, momentarily taken aback, recovered quickly, his arm instinctively tightening around you as if to shield you from Beron’s piercing gaze. “Father, she needs help. We were just—”

“Who is she?” Beron interrupted sharply, stepping closer. His towering presence felt oppressive, his aura exuding authority and control.

You could see Lucien hesitate, his eyes darting between you and his father, weighing his words. “A friend who requires immediate medical attention,” he attempted to explain, his tone carefully neutral.

Beron’s eyes finally settled on your swollen belly, his suspicion turning into derision. “A friend, or another of your irresponsible entanglements?” His voice was laden with scorn. “We do not run a charity for wayward souls here, nor do we harbor strangers without my knowledge.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened visibly, and he opened his mouth to protest, but Beron cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I will not allow it. Remove her from the palace immediately. She is not to receive aid here.”

Panic flared in your chest as you clutched at Lucien's arm, your other hand pressing against the waves of pain that threatened to buckle your knees. “Please,” you managed to gasp out, the effort leaving you breathless, “I need help.”

Beron’s gaze on you was unyielding, his decision firm. “Take her to the city or wherever you wish, but she leaves the palace grounds now. We will not be involved in this farce.”

Lucien, a mixture of anger and desperation painting his features, tried once more. “Father, she’s in labor, she could die if—”

“Not our concern,” Beron interrupted coldly. “You know my rules, Lucien. Now, obey them.”

Defeated and running out of time, Lucien nodded curtly to his father, the resignation in his eyes cutting deeper than any words could. He supported you gently, leading you away from the medical wing and towards the main entrance of the palace. Each step was agony, and your mind raced with fear not only for your unborn child but also for the lack of compassion from someone you had hoped might show even a trace of empathy.

The cool evening air of the Autumn Court hit you as Lucien guided you through the palace gates. The streets seemed darker, more foreboding than ever before, and as you stepped into the unknown, supported by Lucien, the harsh reality of your situation settled heavily upon your shoulders. You were alone, vulnerable, and in desperate need of care, cast out by the very power that ruled the land you now walked upon.

Lucien's steps quickened through the dimly lit streets of the Autumn Court, each of his movements marked by a desperate urgency as he supported your faltering steps. The pain rippled through you with increasing intensity, a relentless tide that drained your strength and muddied your thoughts.

"Please, Lucien, I can't," you gasped, the sharp spasms of labor gripping you tightly, forcing you to a sudden, halting stop. Your hands clung to him, your body bent in agony.

Lucien’s face was a mask of concern, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of help. "Just a bit further, we’ll find someone, a healer—anyone." His voice was strained, a thin veneer of calm barely concealing the panic beneath.

You shook your head, each movement a stab of pain. "No, I—I need Eris. Please, Lucien, find Eris. I can't do this without him," you pleaded, tears streaming down your face, mingling with the sweat of your brow.

Lucien hesitated, his gaze torn between you and the path ahead. "I don't know where he is," he admitted, his voice cracking with frustration. "And we don’t have time—he might be miles away."

But the pain was overwhelming, and in a heartbeat, your legs gave way, pulling both of you down into the gritty cold of an alleyway’s cobblestones. You collapsed against the hard ground, the rough edges biting into your skin, Lucien scrambling to cushion your fall.

"I can't walk anymore," you cried out, the words a choked sob. "Please, just go. Find him. Leave me, I can't—"

"No!" Lucien's response was vehement, his hands gripping yours tightly. "I won't leave you alone like this." His eyes darted desperately from your pain-contorted face to the empty street. There was no one, no help in sight, and the realization of your isolation seemed to settle heavily upon him.

He rushed you to every shop down the street, dragging you along as best he could, but it was late, and the few healers he could think of were not answering, their shops closed, their homes silent.

"Please, Lucien, you have to go—find Eris," you begged again between contractions, your voice barely above a whisper now.

Lucien looked down at you, agony etched across his features, torn between his instinct to stay and protect you and the desperate plea in your eyes. Finally, with a heavy heart, he nodded, squeezing your hand one last time. "I’ll find him," he promised, his voice thick with unshed tears. "Hold on, just hold on."

With that, Lucien stood, casting one last look at you lying vulnerable and writhing in pain, before turning and running back towards the palace, leaving you alone under the shadow of the night, hoping against hope that he could bring back Eris in time...

Alone and in agony in the shadow-strewn alleyway, you lay curled on the unforgiving cobblestones. Each contraction was a fierce, unrelenting wave of pain, tightening its grip around you, pushing you to the edge of consciousness. But now, an even more terrifying sensation joined the physical torment—a warm trickle of blood that stained your legs, a stark and frightening indicator of how dire your situation had become. Your skin, once flushed with the warmth of life, now felt clammy and cold, your body sweating despite the chill in the air.

Your mind, a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions, relentlessly circled back to Eris—his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the gentle timbre of his voice when he shared his deepest insecurities and dreams. The ache for his presence was overwhelming, engulfing every other sensation. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the grime of the alley, each one a testament to your regrets and the secrets you had kept hidden—most of all, the truth about Lucien being the father of your child. This secret had fractured the foundation of your relationship with Eris, driving a wedge between what could have been and what was.

Amid the despair, you made a silent, fervent vow. If you made it through this night, you would cast aside all shadows of deceit. Lucien would hear the truth about everything, and you would pray for Eris’s forgiveness and understanding. Determination to no longer live behind the veil of secrets fortified your resolve.

Raising your head with great effort, blurred by pain, your gaze fell upon a small miracle—a cluster of purple lilies pushing through a crack in the cobblestones. Their vibrant petals stood out defiantly against the oppressive grey of the alley, a splash of color in the darkness. These flowers, thriving against all odds in such an inhospitable environment, became a beacon of hope for you. Their resilience was inspiring, their beauty a stark reminder of life’s persistence even in the most unforgiving circumstances.

You clung to the sight of the lilies, letting them anchor you through the waves of pain. They became a symbol of your own will to endure, to persist through the darkness and fear that enveloped you. Each painful contraction was met with a whispered promise into the chilly night air—promises of honesty, of love reborn, of a future where shadows would no longer darken your path.

In that desolate alley, under the dim glow of distant streetlamps that fought their way through the thick fog, the purple lilies stood as silent witnesses to your struggle. They seemed to encourage you to hold on, to fight through the pain and despair for your unborn child, for Eris, for the chance at a cleansed and open future. With each labored breath, you held onto the hope that Lucien would return swiftly, and that perhaps, he would bring Eris back to your side, in time to mend what had been broken and to welcome a new life together.

As the city's misty tendrils wrapped around the winding alleys, Lucien's footsteps echoed against the cobblestones, each one a thunderous drumbeat in the night. His breath came in ragged gasps, a desperate symphony of exertion and urgency. The dim light of distant streetlamps flickered overhead, casting long shadows that danced along the walls.

His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum, a relentless rhythm driving him forward with single-minded determination. The weight of his fear and concern for you hung heavy on his shoulders, urging him to push himself harder, faster, toward the medical wing where he hoped to find help for you.

The narrow streets seemed to blur together as he raced through them, the buildings looming like silent sentinels in the night. Shadows flickered and danced at the edges of his vision, teasing him with glimpses of what lay beyond. Every corner turned, every alley crossed, brought him closer to his destination, but the distance felt insurmountable, the obstacles in his path endless.

His senses were heightened, every sound magnified—the distant cry of a night bird, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the faint echo of footsteps following his own. He dared not look back, for fear of what—or who—he might see.

Every fiber of his being was consumed by a single, relentless thought—to find help for you, to ensure your safety and well-being. With each passing moment, the weight of his fear and concern grew heavier, driving him forward with an urgency that bordered on desperation.

As he rounded a corner, his foot caught on a loose cobblestone, sending him stumbling forward with a sharp curse. But before he could regain his footing, he collided with a shadowy figure that loomed out of the darkness.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still as Lucien recoiled, his heart pounding in his chest like a trapped animal. But as the figure stepped forward into the dim light of a nearby streetlamp, Lucien's breath caught in his throat.

"Eris?" he gasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. But the figure said nothing, its features obscured by the shadows, before vanishing into the darkness once more.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd @daardyrnitta @talesofadragon @thecraziestcrayon @asaucecoveredsomething @starryhiraeth @darling006 @rosewood-cafe @saltedcoffeescotch @dumblani @paleidiot @rcarbo1 @yourmomsushi

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save-the-villainous-cat · 6 months ago

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I just got the best idea! Vampire villain with a strong moral code who refuses to feed on blood, making themselves weak with hunger. Hero notices and purposefully cuts their finger on villain's fang to get them to eat🤍

The villain had never thought they could be overpowered by a human. It was terrifying to say the least.

Once the blood was in their mouth and the hero's hand off their throat, the villain started to suck on the hero's finger involuntarily. The instinct was ancient, something older than the vampire themselves. They had forgotten how good fresh blood tasted.

However, they could collect themselves pretty quickly.

"You're stupid," the vampire whispered. "You had a perfect physical advantage. You could have killed me..."

"Take more," the hero said, pushing their finger into the villain's mouth quick enough to make them gag. This time, the villain grabbed their enemy's wrist and nearly pushed them off their hips.

"I'm good," they said through gritted teeth. The vampire didn't really enjoy it when the hero was so adamant about absolutely everything they did. The hero always found a way to get what they wanted. They were a pain in their ass. Annoying and heroic.

"You're still pale," the hero said. "Interesting..."

They pushed the villain's chin up and managed to slip one finger under the villain's upper lip, lifting it to examine the villain's fangs as if they were a doctor.

"I am a vampire," the villain reminded them. "Sunlight doesn't turn me to ashes but the sunburns are out of this world."

"And you are sure you are fine?" the hero asked. They turned the villain's head to the right and then to the left, continuing their examination. Christ, they even put their hand on the villain's chest to search for a heartbeat.

"I'm great, just - get off, will you?" The hero stood up but the villain still needed a moment. They feared they would pass out again if they stood up.

They looked around the room but there was nothing. No furniture. Just a door that looked like it couldn’t be opened from the inside.

What a joke.

"You know," the hero said, hands on their hips, "this is actually quite interesting. I certainly didn't expect my dear nemesis to end up in the same cell as me. I guess they wanted you to eat me. A little grotesque if you ask me."

"But not too far-fetched," the villain said. They pushed themselves up but ended up leaning against the wall. "Hunger turns everyone into an animal."

"You still don't look too good," the hero said. Once again, they kneeled beside the villain. Their hand raked through the villain's hair and stopped on their forehead.

The villain didn't know why the hero was always so touchy. They never crossed any boundaries and the villain actually welcomed those soft hands on them, but still...it was strange. Strange to feel someone's warm skin on theirs like this.

"How much blood do you usually drink?"

"God, I don't know...I'm trying to quit." The hero stared at them. The silence was uncomfortable and the villain didn't know if they had said something wrong.

Then the hero huffed.

"And you say I'm the stupid one." They rolled their eyes. "So, severe undernourishment, I guess. That's why you're so weak."

"Ey, I am alright-"

"Which makes this even more baffling. What is an undernourished vampire doing in a supervillain facility?"

"What is an annoying hero doing here?"

"Saving a dumb vampire, apparently."

"Ugh. I was experimented on," the villain said. The hero had probably saved their life. That was something the villain certainly did not want to think about. Gosh, the hero was so annoying with their caring nature and their stupid curiousness. When they looked at the hero, though, they looked horrified. "No, all of it was voluntary. I got some money for it in return. Nothing bad, really."

"I got caught when I tried to steal some documents. They weren't that nice to me." The hero lifted their shirt and the villain saw two giant fresh bruises. The hero's ribs were definitely damaged.

"Shit..." the villain mumbled. "Scoot over. Are you okay?"

They let their fingers ghost over the hero's skin. Unsurprisingly, the hero flinched and threw their head back, cursing quietly.

"Looks broken. We need to get you out of here," the villain said.

"Wait, the experiments...they knew you were trying to quit with the blood?" the hero asked. They let their shirt fall down again but the villain couldn't help but think about the bruises.

Their own injuries healed pretty quickly. But they had totally forgotten that this would take days, maybe even weeks for the hero to get better. Humans were so fragile. They feared the hero could fall apart any second.

"...yeah, they encouraged it even."

"Great," the hero said. "This is the next phase of their experiments, then."

The villain stared at them. They thought they were on rather good terms with the company.

"Wait, you don't mean..."

"Yup. They really want to see if you'll eat me," the hero said. "Which also means we are definitely under surveillance."

#denkst du vielleicht grad an mich #writing snippet #heroxvillain snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #vampire #vampire villain

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blueicequeen19 · 1 year ago

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Thinkin’ Bout Me

Warnings: making out, heavy petting, talk of partying and alcohol, talk of hookups, mostly inspired by Thinkin Bout You by Morgan Wallen 💦🤍

It didn’t matter where you went or what you were doing, he was always there.

Watching. Waiting. Wanting.

Everything reminded you of him no matter how hard you tried to drown him out. Everything smelled like him. Felt like him. Tasted like him.

You pulled away from Rafe, the familiar taste of Fireball on his tongue. Everyone you knew hated Fireball except one person yet now, it was what Rafe decided he was drinking for the night.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” Rafe drawled, his hands low on your waist as he pulled you in for more. Your eyes locked on the seething Pogue across the room as you gave Rafe your neck instead. You could smell the weed on Rafe’s collar and it only drove you further mad.

JJ was hitting his vape like there was no tomorrow and downing whatever was in his cup while he glared back at you. The dark look in his eyes and the firm set to his jaw only made it harder to look away. At least he seemed like he cared for once.

“Let’s go upstairs.” Rafe purred in your ear, his hands grabbing your ass as he pressed his mouth to yours. You didn’t want to taste the Fireball but he didn’t give you much of a choice. It instantly reminded you of the time you and JJ got so drunk off it that you did body shots off eachother before an intense, sloppy hook up.

“I’ll meet you upstairs.” You pushed at Rafe’s chest until he took a step back, giving him a tight smile before he nodded and stumbled off to find an empty room. You immediately bolted, running out the side door of the massive Kook mansion and through the trees where you’re parked. You didn’t make it far before ringed fingers snagged your wrist and yanked you back.

“Where are you running off too? Both of your boyfriends are here.” JJ snapped, letting you rip your hand free to shove him chest.

“Fuck you.” You snarled, attempting to flee again only for him to shove you against a tree.

“No, fuck you.” JJ growled in your face, the Fireball on his breath almost making you whimper. You turned your head, hating the effect he always had on you.

“What’s wrong, babe? Thought you’d be able to forget about me? That you’d crawl under someone else and forget?” JJ gripped your jaw, making you face him again.

“Too fucking bad.”

“Stop it.”

“Every time you close your eyes, tell me, who do you see?”

“Stop—.”

“When you're tastin' what he's drinkin', are you thinkin' bout me?” Your eyes widen at the realization. He must’ve given Rafe the Fireball to fuck with you. JJ smiles widely and you slap his chest.

“I hate you!”

“You wish you hated me.” You shove JJ’s chest and he laughs, securing both your wrists with one hand above your head, his chest firmly pressed against yours.

“I remember licking Fireball off your clit.” JJ’s voice was lower as he pressed his growing erection against your stomach. “I licked it off every square inch of your body and you begged me for more.” You shook your head, hating how good he felt and how right he was.

“I sucked on your perky little nipples until they were nice and sore. And still you begged me to keep going. Please fuck me, JJ. I need it. Give me your cock. I need to feel you inside me.” JJ taunted, the anger still in his voice before running his tongue up the side of your neck while your blood ran hot.

“Stop—.”

“Then I spread your legs and I pushed inside you until your eyes rolled back in your fucking head. You came so hard while screaming my name that I’m surprised you can remember any name that’s not mine.” JJ’s hand cupped your pussy hard through your shorts, making you whimper against him.

“So when you’re in his bed, am I in your head?” You finally get the courage to turn your head only for him to slam his mouth against yours in a wet, toy curling kiss that tasted just how you knew it would. JJ pulls away too soon, stepping back to leaving you panting and aching for more.

“I bet I am now.”

Then he’s gone.

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #obx2 #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj obx

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cameronspecial · 1 year ago

Text

Her Guardian And His Redemption

Pairing: Bodyguard!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Sexual Thoughts, Being Kidnapped, Someone Getting Killed.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 6.7K

Summary: He was supposed to be there to protect her, but he wasn't. And then he made the biggest mistake of his life. How could he fix it?

A/N: This is Part 2 of Her Protector And His Hubris.

Masterlist

Francesca Chambers is not Y/N. It was painfully obvious to Drew as soon as he opened the file about her. Each page details a new fact that tells him he is going to hate working on this assignment. Francesca is the daughter of Senator Chambers and many of these sheets depict her run-ins with the media. One article on a meltdown about not getting the right colour car on her sixteenth birthday. One Reddit thread about a heated argument with someone just trying to do their job. One video of her attacking her friend because they were wearing the same outfit. He didn’t need to do any more research on her to know she was going to be a handful. She was nothing like Y/N and everything like his previous clients. Every single week there was a new party. A new incident. A new thing he had to cover up so he didn’t get in trouble with the senator. To make matters worse, Francesca seems to think that he should be completely infatuated with him because she is God’s gift to the world.

“Drewwww, I need your help,” she drawls out from the bathroom. He sighs and puts his book down. The paperback copy of East of Eden is worn out. The spine is cracking because of how many times he has read it and the cover is missing the corner, lost a long time ago. It is not as nice as the copy Y/N gave him, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it. He knew that every time he looked at it, it would remind him of the danger he put his love in. The cushion of the chair creaks under his weight as he rises from the chair. He makes his way upstairs and stands outside of the door. He wraps his knuckles against the dark wood, “What’s wrong?” “I need you to come inside,” she pleads.

“I don’t think it would be appropriate if I do so.”

“Please, Drew. It’s important. It is a matter of my safety.”

Knowing it could spell out a disaster if he doesn’t check on her safety after that, he enters her bedroom and then the bathroom. He finds her in the bathtub, covered in bubbles. “I need you to get me a towel,” she orders with a smile. He looks at her with tight lips, “That doesn’t concern your safety.” “Yes, it does! I could slip while going to get it,” she argues, batting her eyelashes at him. He doesn’t argue; it would go nowhere. He gets the towel for her, throwing it on the toilet before storming off to his room. This isn’t the first time she’ll pull this type of shit and it won’t be the last.

———

Drew would never admit that his feet are aching. He should be used to this much standing by now. Yet, every time he goes shopping with Francesca, time seems to slow down, causing the blood to pool his feet. He isn’t one to be bashful and he isn’t with Y/N, but without Y/N around, he doesn’t know where to look. Especially because of the store they are in right now. The lacey materials all around the store fill his imagination with thoughts of her. Every garment he sees, he pictures her and all the naughty things he wants to do to her. “I want to try these on,” he overhears Francesca's demand to the sales associate. The other woman puts on a fake grin, “Of course, Miss. All of our changing rooms are currently in use at the moment, but I could make sure you get the next available one. Do you want to keep browsing and I’ll come to get you when it is ready?” Francescar’s eyes narrow and her lips pucker. Drew prepares himself for the hail storm that is about to occur, pretending to survey the store for threats. Although, he probably entered the store with the biggest one. “Excuse me! Do you know who I am? My father is a senator and one for call to him can have you fired,” she screeches, pointing an accusing finger at the employee.

The blood drains from the associate's face, “I’ll see what I can do.” “Good,” his client’s words chase after the scurrying worker. “Can you believe some people?” she mumbles under her breath. Drew gives her a disapproving look, “You were rude to her.” “No, I wasn’t. I was just reminding her of her place,” she retorts. He rolls his eyes, nothing can get through to her. They are soon rushed to the changing rooms and Drew stands at the entrance. Francesca goes into the changing room, coming back out soon after in the first lingerie set. It’s a pastel green set that goes with her olive eyes. Drew can see her vying for her attention out of the corner of his eyes, yet his focus is on something outside of the changing room. It is a pastel pink slip dress. Flower lace covers the breasts and also forms two slits at the bottom of her dress on the sides.

An image pops into his mind. The woman he loves standing in a doorway adorned by pink and flowers. He waits patiently for her to saunter over to him with her arms swinging at her side. She would straddle his hips, sitting back on his thighs. Her finger would raise and curl to beckon him forward. His hands find her thighs, pressing her closer to his crotch. He brings his lips closer to her and captures the beautiful petals. “I love you,” he promises to her. “Drew, you aren’t looking at me.” Francesca snaps him out of his fantasy. Irritation seeps out of him, “That’s because my job is to identify threats in our environment and I can’t do that if I’m looking at you.” He doesn’t glance over at her; instead, he continues to search the store for possible threats. She huffs at the lack of attention, “You are such a buzzkill.” She goes back into the changing room, leaving him to wish he could really say those things to his precious.

———

James Notting isn’t Drew. It was obvious to Y/N that he was a good bodyguard. Except he would never make her feel the way that Drew can make her feel. She knows she is safe with James; it doesn’t feel the same way as when she is with Drew. Drew’s protection made her feel warm. With Drew, it didn’t feel like an obligation. It feels like his life mission to keep her safe. He wasn’t doing it for the money. He was doing it because he truly cared for her on a personal level. She doesn’t blame James for not being Drew; she has a hole inside of her heart James can’t fill. She finishes packing up her work to bring home and heads to the elevator with James following behind her. He opens the car door for her once they get to her car. As she ducks to get into the car, she has to move her right shoulder, which causes an ache to shoot through it. Her hand reaches for her healing wound and this only causes more pain. “Are you okay?” James worries. She nods and continues to sit in her seat.

The car ride to her apartment is quiet. The only sound is the music playing from her playlist. When they get home, Alice is already making dinner in the kitchen. The aroma of the frying chicken instantly hit her nose. She greets Alice with a smile and makes her way into her office to put her work away. She is about to head back downstairs to talk to Alice when a cardboard box catches her eye. She should’ve brought that to the security firm a long time ago. Y/N holds in a breath as her feet drag across the hardwood floor towards it. Her hands shake while reaching for the lid to take it off.

Versace and cigarettes. It surrounds her in its embrace. She immediately regrets opening it and wants to put the lid back on; nevertheless, the items inside draw her in like a siren song. She picks up the item on top. The custom copy of East of Eden she had made for him. Realizing he left it behind hurt her more than she could ever know. She was so proud of herself for thinking of the gift. Every time she found him reading it, a small spark would shock through her heart. To her, the book was a symbol of her love for him and he left it behind as he left her. The next thing she finds is his WCU shirt. He probably forgot it was in her drawers because it became her sleep shirt after the first night they made love. She used to make him wear it for a day whenever it would stop smelling like him, making him laugh with the way she would beg him to put it on right at that second. A coil wraps around her heart and tightens until it squeezes tears out of her. She brings it to her nose like she did on that fateful night, breathing in all the memories she had with him. The late mornings in bed she would spend with that shirt on. He would play with the hem of it while he guided her cooking from over her shoulder. The way he would go crazy to bring her pleasure with it on.

A polaroid is the final thing she can bring herself to pick out. The sunlight from the apartment window gave her an ethereal look. She was focused on the art book in front of her, sketching an outfit for her upcoming fashion show. He brought the Polaroid camera to his eyes and called out her nickname. It caused a smile to bloom across her, which was the moment he captured forever. The photo was printed out and he wrote My Precious in the blank area with a heart at the end. She watched as he put the photo in his wallet. “So I can have you wherever I go,” he said to her, kissing the photo and then her. Of course, like it always did, the kiss turned into passionate sex. Y/N guesses he doesn’t want her wherever he is now.

———

After dinner, Y/N goes into her study to finish up her work. Her eyes double-check the guest list for her fast-approaching event. “James, I have the list for you to look over,” she informs the man somewhere in the apartment. He stoically enters the office and takes the list from her. He closes the door behind him, walking to his room. The sofa chair creaks as he sits to look over the names. He is looking over the possible guests to get a sense of what to expect and to flag any potential threats that she needs to change out. Most of the people are her usual ones until he meets one that causes him to freeze. Francesca Chambers. Shit. She probably invited the senator’s daughter because the girl is known to throw tantrums when not invited to exclusive events. Y/N never would have done it if she knew Drew was Ms. Chambers’ bodyguard. James could tell her that fact, but he won’t. Drew made a mistake and James wants to help him fix it.

———

When the invitation came in the mail, Drew started to buzz with anticipation of seeing her again. He has seen her on social media, but it could never be the same as seeing her in person. It could never beat being able to reach out and feel her warm, smooth skin. Tonight’s event is raising money for the foster system. It would go towards group housing for kids who can’t stay in a foster home, food, and items. Another very important fact that Y/N wants to emphasize is getting children in the foster care system actual bags for their things. He remembers the day she had decided this would be her next fashion event all those months ago. She had watched an Instagram reel of a foster mother and one of the details that stood out was the fact that the children the mother was newly fostering had their personal belongings in a garbage bag. Her heart broke for the children who were already going through a hard time. She wanted to give them the dignity of their stuff being regarded as special. He had to comfort her as she cried for the kids in the foster system. He loves that she always brings her plans into reality.

During the fashion show, he stands at the back of the room, searching for anyone he needs to neutralize. Every outfit is absolutely stunning and pride fills him up. He wishes he could’ve been there to watch her create such beauties. The end of the show is nearing when Francesca has to go to the bathroom. Like a good bodyguard, he follows her and waits outside of the room. He can still hear the noises coming from down the hall. His foot impatiently taps against the floor. Francesca is taking forever. The music starts to fade out and is replaced by a familiar voice. “Hello, thank you for coming to support the event. There are around three hundred ninety-one thousand children in the foster care system. Now, that may not seem like a lot to you. But that doesn’t mean that they don’t deserve better…”

Her voice starts to fade from his ears as he begs the universe to make his client leave the bathroom so that they can make it back for the end of Y/N’s speech. The universe doesn’t answer. Instead, Francesca takes ten more minutes in the bathroom and he discreetly rushes her back to where everyone is. It was too late. No one stands on the stage anymore and everyone is already moving on to where the cocktail party is being held. Francesca picks up her purse from her chair and they head over to the next room. His eyes scan the room, looking for the one person who could make him feel at home even though he is so far from where he grew up. He had been trained for this moment, so he could easily find her. He is too far away to hear the laughter that falls from her lips. Her head is thrown back in delight and he desires to be by her side, whispering how magnificent she has done. How noble this event is. How proud her mother would be of her. He knows those are the words she is dying to hear. Fear floods through him. There are so many people in this room, right now. And while he does trust James to protect his precious, big events like these can be hard to navigate with no help.

Francesca hates charity. Why should she care about people below her? The only reason she is at this event is because she has to see the girl, who has such a strong hold on Drew. No matter how stupid Drew thinks she is, she knows he is in love with Y/N Y/L/N. She has seen the articles around the pair and Francesca wants that love for herself. Even now, she can see the way he looks out for Y/N and jealousy toils in her stomach. She needs his attention on her. She struts over to him and places her hand on his chest. “I really like this suit on you, Drew. You fill it out amazingly,” she flirts, running her hand up and down his pectoral muscle. To her surprise, he doesn’t shove her hands off of her. She takes this as an invitation to continue even if his awareness isn’t on her. Satisfaction comes to her when she catches Y/N’s envious gaze.

How dare he? Y/N and Drew had to keep their relationship a secret, yet it was okay for him to be public about his relationship with a senator’s child. Francesca is a more public figure than Y/N. It made no sense. They both had agreed to keep them on the down low, so she doesn’t understand why this bothers her. Francesca leans in to whisper something in Drew’s ears and he doesn’t react. Y/N is familiar with Drew’s composed demeanour. What kills her even more? Drew is letting Francesca touch him at her event. He broke her heart and now, he was breaking it all over again by flaunting his relationship with another girl. He can’t be clueless about who is hosting the show. Y/N never thought that Drew would go for someone so spoiled and rude. Maybe she doesn’t know him at all. She turns back to Jackie and distracts herself with the other woman’s story about a fashion malfunction.

Drew hates the feel of Francesca’s hands on him; however, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Y/N is safe. That her surroundings aren’t putting her in danger. Like he should’ve done the last time he worked for her. His vision falls on her again. This time, he examines her in full glory. Her red dress helps her stand out against the crowd. It only has one strap that rests on the side of her left shoulder. This leaves the still-healing bullet wound out for anyone to see. The skin where the scar is is taught, puckering in redness. He hopes she is taking care of it and that it is healing fully. If his self-confidence didn’t get in his way, then he would’ve been there to help her do all that stuff. He can make amend with that part of himself by keeping her safe tonight. He spends the rest of the night ignoring his job and fulfilling his life mission.

———

She gets home around one in the morning. Her feet aching from the night spent in heels and her hair giving her a headache from how tight it is. She stumbles to her bedroom, ridding herself of her clothes. She turns on the shower and gets to work on taking her hair down. Once steam starts to fill the room, she checks the temperature of the water to find it is perfect. The warmth of the water causes her to let her emotions out. She can’t distinguish between her tears and the water from the shower head. It makes no difference to her. Memories from the night pass through her brain. The way Francesca would cling to Drew’s suit. The way he wouldn’t even look in her direction. The way that watching him with another girl made her feel like she lost him all over again. To make it worse, every single moment she had with him made an appearance. It feels like every single emotion she has been trying to avoid comes crashing down on her at once.

Her shower ends about half an hour later and she may be tired, except she needs to complete her daily ritual. She gets her ice cream out of the freezer and plops down on the couch. The Office’s theme song starts to play on her TV. The ice cream helps fill the ache in her heart and lulls her to sleep, causing the ice cream to melt as she slumbers.

———

It has been about a month since Y/N’s last event and the exes haven’t seen each other since. In that month, Drew realized he lost his social security card. He couldn’t get a new one yet because his birth certificate was missing too. His brain wracks through the last time he remembers seeing it and bites his lip when he realizes where it is. He left it in Y/N’s filing cabinet. She had insisted he put all his important documents there for safekeeping. His social security card must be there too. This is how he finds himself waiting at the concierge desk of her building. He no longer had access to her apartment without going through security protocols. “Hello, Ms. Y/L/N. There is a Mr. Starkey here. He says that he needs to retrieve a birth certificate and social security card from your residence,” he listens to the concierge call Y/N. The man behind the desk places the phone on the receiver and turns to Drew, “She says you can go up.”

He listens to the elevator music, tugging on his flannel’s sleeves with nerves. He doesn’t know what to expect with being so close to her again. The front door is already open once he gets to her floor. His feet glide against the tile of the floor, scarping a little against it. Y/N is waiting for him at the door. “Where are the documents?” she asks. He gives her a soft smile, “I forgot them in your filing cabinet.” Her slippered feet slap against the hardwood floor as she walks to her home office. Drew removes his shoes and follows her. He catches up to her to see she is already getting out his files from the cabinet. He holds his hand out to take them, only for her to throw them carelessly onto her desk. She doesn’t wait for him to take it for her to quickly leave her office.

He runs after her, not ready to let this conversation come to an end. “Your charity event last month was amazing,” he applauds. She doesn’t look over her shoulder whilst she boils some water for tea, “Really? I didn’t think you had noticed with Ms. Chambers on your arm.” “Am I detecting jealousy?” he kids, hoping it would relieve some of her tension. “Jealous of Francesca Chambers?” Y/N laughs. “Why? Because she gets my sloppy leftovers. Because she is dating someone who promised to protect me, but is the reason why I got shot.” It was cruel to use Drew’s lowest point in life and to pit it against him. She doesn’t care. She needs him to hurt more than she does right now. She can’t stand to be in his presence. Drew’s heart bleeds with pain and it takes everything in him not to start crying at that instant. His insecurity starts to make itself known again. The constant belief of being at fault for his precious almost dying plagues his mind. He deserves this pain. It’s only half of what he deserves. “I never wanted you to get hurt. You know that right?” he justifies, stepping forward only for her to step back.

“Well, I did get hurt, Drew. You couldn’t protect me and I almost died. It was all your fault,” she screams. “Leave. I want you to go, now!” He tries to argue. “Precious, please. I need to hear you say that you know I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he pleads. No matter how irrational, he needs confirmation that she trusts him. That she did believe he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. She needs his anguish to subdue hers. “Please, Precious. Tell me that you believe me.” She breathes out a low chuckle, “Why would I say that? It. Was. Your. Fault.” Words can’t explain the feeling in his heart. The acid of her word burns his heart so it disintegrates. The one thing left behind is the carving of her name, waiting to be filled by her love again.

———

There were three places where James didn’t need to follow Y/N to every room she went. Her apartment. Her father’s house. And her office. At her apartment and dad’s place, James needed to remain on the premises and ready to be at her side. In her office, he could remain in front of her office as long as he checked in with her every hour. An hour isn’t very long; however, it is long enough for Y/N to disappear. “I’m just going to meeting room five-sixty. It’s supposed to be a two-hour meeting,” she fills him in. He bobs his head, “Got it. I’ll check in on you in an hour.” With her notebooks and laptop in her arms, she heads toward the elevator and presses the down button. Being on the twentieth floor meant that she had a long wait down to the fifth floor. On her ride down, people went on and off without her attention because she was absorbed by her phone. She should’ve been watching her environment. Drew used to drill into her brain how important it was to do so if she was alone. It must have slipped her mind.

By the time an unsettling feeling overcame her, it was too late. Her eyes glance up from her phone and she twists to the other person in the elevator. Ahead of her recognition of the figure beside her, a white cloth smothers her mouth and nose, causing her to inhale the fumes. It has a hint of sweetness combined with the familiar scent of nail polish remover. Her orbits start to droop and she is pulled into unconsciousness.

———

She wakes up cuffed to a chair. Her hands and feet are both restrained and she tries to break the chair. A shooting pain goes up her butt while the sound of metal hitting concrete reverberates through the cold cement room. Shit, it’s a metal chair. She doesn’t bother to shriek for help. There is no point in wasting her energy. She tries to think of how to dislocate her thumb to escape the cuffs. It doesn’t come to her. The door in front of her opens with a squeal and her kidnapper makes herself known. Sienna Cox is a carbon copy of her brother. Y/N recognizes Sienna from the pictures Sean showed her during their three dates. The dangerous woman approaches Y/N with a knife in her hand. She circles the chair, letting metal glide against metal. Y/N flinches as the sharp point greets her soft skin. “You are the reason my brother is in jail,” Sienna states, hate dripping from each word. Y/N is never one to back down, “Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s because your brother tried to kill my then-boyfriend, which got me shot. Your brother almost killed me.”

Sienna’s hand harshly tugs back Y/N’s head and the point of the knife connects with her neck. Y/N tries to remove Sienna’s hold, which produces a crimson knick on the side of her neck. “No, my brother is in jail because you had to choose a low-life bodyguard over him,” she growls. Y/N provokes Sienna more, “Hmm, nope. Your brother being an ass and delusional is the reason why he is in jail.” “Ugh, shut up,” Sienna yells, pulling pain from the incapacitated girl by slashing her forearm. Blood oozes from the cut and she can tell it is going to need stitches. She cries out in pain, starting to truly feel her life is in danger. Earlier, she didn’t think Sienna was capable of hurting her. How could she be so stupid?

———

Drew previously thought the day Y/N got shot was the most terrible day of his life. He was wrong. The ringing of his phone stops him from doing his job. He should be watching Francesca at the mall. The phone call prohibits him from doing it. The sole thing more important than James’ call would be Y/N’s. “She has been taken.” No greetings. No pleasantries. No small talk. Those didn’t matter though. Y/N was in danger. Drew doesn’t think about his client and runs to the car. “I want you to pull all the security footage from wherever you are. Comb it for the last seen citing of her,” he instructs. “Get background checks on everyone, and I mean everyone, who has been in the same vicinity as the place where she last was seen in within the last thirty minutes of her being there. Where are you?”

“Her office. She went down to the fifth floor for her meeting. She never got there.”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon. Start with the hallway footage for both the twentieth and fifth floors as well as the elevators. Have a secondary team look through all other footage.”

“Got it.”

He blows through every single stoplight. He’ll deal with this later. James meets Drew at the door and gives him an update on what they found so far. “We know she was taken from the elevator, except we can’t identify the person who took her because a hat is obstructing her face,” James notifies. Drew looks shocked, “How do you know it was a female?” All the women, who don’t like Y/N, never registered as a peril to him. They weren’t the type to get their hands dirty with physical harm. “Height and body shape. We are going through the women who checked in to match outfits with the pictures they took when they checked in,” James clarifies. His brain processes everything, “You probably aren’t going to find her at the check-in. Get the tech geeks to program the computers to extract all the footage with similar clothes to the suspect. I’ll go through all of it myself. I want it done in the next five minutes.”

Y/N’s office is eerily cold without her brilliant smile to light it up. His hand traces against the glass desk's smooth surface. He should’ve been here to stop her from being taken. It’s happening all over again. This could be his chance. He could halt her from being hurt. From nearing the brink of death again. This time, he is going to be there to be the one to protect her. His vows to himself are interrupted by James. “They got what you want.” Drew jogs after James to the emergency base camp for the search. “Show me what you got,” he orders. He inspects the screens simultaneously and finds what he needs. He knows her from the background research he did on her brother. Sienna Cox.

———

Honestly, Y/N would’ve done anything to get away from Sienna. Her villain monologue is a horrible torture method. At least she is too distracted to use the knife more on Y/N. “And when I visit him in jail, they take my phone away. Do you know how hard it is to not be able to use my phone for an hour?” Sienna complains, twirling the knife in her hand. Y/N fights the urge to make a snarky remark. The ruckus from upstairs freezes both girls. “Ugh, what could that be?” Sienna groans, leaving the room.

Drew wanted Sienna to know they were there. It would make it more fun for him and the group. The narrow hallway means Y/N can merely be in one direction. I’m coming for you, Precious. He thinks to himself. Sienna rounds the corner of the doorway and halts at the guns trained on her. She changes course back to where she came from. The rescue team runs after her to find her with a knife against Y/N’s neck. “Take one more step and this Bitch gets a new necklace. A deadly one,” Sienna warns, digging the knife in harder. A sob racks through Y/N’s body until she spots Drew in front of her. A silent connection transcends them with their eyes locked on each other. She didn’t mean those words and she trusts him. On the way over here, Drew found out everything about Sean’s sister and what buttons of hers to push. “Okay. I just wanted to let you know that James over here loves your podcast,” Drew plays into her ego. He discovered if there was one thing Sienna loved more than her brother, it was herself.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t buy his bait and the knife bites more into Y/N’s neck so that blood flourishes around it. Y/N whimpers at the new pressure on her. “You think that you can flatter me into letting your precious Y/N go? Well, you can’t! You guys are the reason why my brother is in jail and I’m going to stop her from testifying against him,” Sienna screeches. Her arm raises in the air with the knife, ready to bring it back down into Y/N. Drew has killed before, but this is personal. He can’t let fear come in the way of what he has to do and he prays that Y/N has the sense to stay still. His gun aligns with Sienna’s head, taking the shot. A coined-size hole punctures her head and blood spews out of the wound. Y/N shouts as red rain showers her. “Get me out of here, please,” she implores, struggling against her restraints. Drew motions with his head to tell James to take care of Sienna whilst he helps Y/N. He hurries towards her, pulling out a tissue from his pocket.

One hand smoothes back her hair and the other wipes the blood off with the tissue. “Drew, you’re here,” she sobs out, reaching for him with her seized hands. Red swelts are starting to form around her wrist and Drew wishes he could kill Sienna a second time. He gently pushes her hand against the metal armrests, “Of course, I am, Precious. But I need you to give me a second, okay? I’m going to get bolt cutters to get you out of here.” Her pleas end his movement. “Don’t leave me, please. I don’t want to be alone.” He nods at her need and wraps his arms around her shoulder. His lips press against her temple, “Never. I’ll never leave you.” He calls out for some bolt cutters and a few minutes later he is given some. “Okay, Precious. I’m going to cut the cuffs off with these. It might be a little loud,” he briefs her. He snips the bracelets around her wrists and ankles. She is finally able to move freely, bringing Drew as close as possible to her. “I was so scared. I thought I was going to die,” she confesses, gripping to him like he is a life raft. He flattens her hair some more, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. She can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Y/N,” a familiar voice hails. She untangles herself from Drew’s hold, tearing his heart apart at the loss of contact. Her father grasps her in his arms. The father-daughter duo cling to each other, weeping at the fear of her being lost. Drew did what he came to do and it seems like he isn’t needed anymore. With his vision trained on the pair, he exits the damp cellar and goes home.

———

Saving her proved to him how much of a mistake breaking up with her in the first place was. Simply apologizing to her isn’t what she deserves for what he did. He could make a big grand gesture to show how wrong he was. Pay for a skywriter. Organize a flash mob at her favourite places. Rent a billboard at Time Square. Those weren’t right for Y/N though. They weren’t personal to her; nonetheless, Drew knew the perfect thing for her.

———

It’s been a week since Y/N was held captive for about three hours. She has already found a therapist, who has been helping her through her trauma. One thing has been killing her since that day and it’s the fact that she didn’t get to say thank you to Drew for saving her. She was horrid to him when he came to get his documents and she completely picked at his insecurities. Even with her behaviour towards him, he was there for her in her greatest moment of need. To add the cherry on top of the cake, he quit his job at the security agency because of her. He was going to get a suspension for leaving Francesca at the mall, so he decided to quit instead. James reassured her that Drew had enough money saved up to be out of work for at least ten years, which eased some of her worries. She glances at James standing behind her and she brings her hand up to knock on the door.

Drew opens the door with a measuring tape around his neck. A dazzling smile crosses her face and her eyebrows form a hairy caterpillar. “Precious, are you okay?” he frets, examining every inch of her to make sure she has no additional injuries. She nods and spots the sewing machine behind him on his table. The sage green fabric is snagged between the sewing needle and the base of the machine. She shakes out of her confusion to verbally answer him, “Yeah, I’m fine. I actually came to say thank you. You know… for last week. You don’t know how much it meant for me that you were there.” She fiddles with her fingers and his hand cups his neck as he rubs it. “You don’t have to thank me, Precious. I know I hurt you, but I will always be there to save you. I’m glad you are safe,” he appeases. She disagrees, “No, I was so rude to you. You didn’t deserve it. I hurt you and you put it aside to help me, like what I should’ve done that day.” He doesn’t need her to tell him what day she is talking about. He already knows.

Silence overcomes the couple and Y/N is again drawn to the equipment behind him. Her finger points at everything, “What’s all of this?” “Oh, um,” the hand on his neck continues its friction of the skin. “I’m trying to sew you a jacket.” One corner of her mouth raises, “You are making me a jacket?”

“Yeah… I made a mistake and I needed to show you how much I love you, so I wanted to make you a jacket that says, Precious.”

Her heart skips a beat and the idea of him learning to sew just for her makes her feel honoured. “That’s really sweet, Drew.”

“Can I tell you something?” he asks. This is his opportunity to tell her who she is to him. Her head hinges up and down. His hand laces with hers and he pulls her into this apartment. He closes the door, “I called you precious because even before we started dating, I knew you would be a treasure to me. It was an instant connection for me and I was a fool to have let you go. I understand if you don’t want to forgive me now. I just need you to know all this.” Her hand reaches up to his chest, grazing it softly with her warmth. “You broke up with me and I didn’t think I could ever forgive you. But you were there when I needed you and with the jacket, I can see how remorseful you are about the decision you made. I’ve made some poor choices too. And if you can forgive me too, then I think we both deserve a second chance,” she admits, not being able to meet his eyes. His finger raises her chin, “I will always forgive you because there is no one else in this world that I was meant to protect more than you. A second chance is all we are going to need. I’m never letting you go.” She jumps into his hold, smushing her lips onto his. His hands grip her thighs to keep her steady and his tongue enters her mouth.

Air eventually needs to enter their lungs, so they break apart with their foreheads together. He sneaks a peek at the fabric on the table and he sighs. “I know I’m supposed to be making it for you, but I’m going to need your help with the jacket. I screwed up somewhere and I have no idea how to fix it,” he fesses up. She giggles, “I can do that, except not right now. There is something else we need to be doing other than sewing.” He grins at the way her eyebrows move and he carries her to his bedroom.

A few months ago, Drew had made the biggest regret of his life. All he saw was his faults and it led him to that decision. Thankfully, the universe saw his pain and decided to help him out. It gave him a chance to prove to himself he was worthy. It gave him his redemption.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @f4ll-for-you @mellillasstuff @jjsmarijuana @thelomlisrafecameron @crlsummer @rubixgsworld

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 years ago

Text

Exactly as you are

Previous chapter / Next chapter

summary: when two broken souls meet something is bound to happen.

warning: mentions of past trauma, sexual assault, forceful behavior, groping without consent, touch aversion, murder, blood, fighting.

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"No offense, but this looks like a suicide mission", Jesper said right as Kaz finished going over the details of their newest job. Pekka Rollins has been doing everything in his power lately to bring down Kaz, and his ego was bruised way too much already to let it slide. Not to mention the power the Dime Lions were starting to gain. One misstep and Kaz was going to lose everything that he had worked so hard to get.

"You are in looks for a new owner?", Kaz barked out, and Jesper just shook his head in irritation, "Here I was thinking that we had moved into the brother territory". Those words got followed by Kaz harshly clicking his cane onto the stone floors. A line. A line had been crossed with that. Kaz only had one brother. The one that was dead. Thrown onto a wooden raft. Dead. Clamy and cold. All over. Kaz closed his eyes, lowering his head as the tightness in his chest grew. Threatening. Laughing at him as it choked a breath out of him.

"Look, all I am saying", Jesper had continued after a moment, knowing that the last thing Kaz needed now was someone jumping in to soothe him and God above even acknowledge the anxiety rising inside him, "That there has to be a way to go into this with at least fourth percent chance of coming out alive". Kaz pulled at the top button of his black shirt. The tightness was now uncomfortable. Suffocating. The crows glanced around each other. Nina quickly shook her head. A silent way of saying not to push it. She could feel the painful speed of his heart beating. Yet she knew better than to help slow her boss's heart. Tried it once. Got yelled at, and Kaz hadn't looked her way for over a week. Wylan grasped Jesper's hand as he let out a deep sigh. "Kaz…", Jesper started once more, but the door to the office opened and in you strolled, halting in your steps the moment your eyes landed on the scene in front of you.

You knew what they did. Kaz had told you most things, or at least the things you had to know, the first night. But you weren't a crow. That you knew, and Kaz himself had repetitively reminded you of it. You never went on the jobs. You weren't a part of the meetings or debriefs. The only deeper insight you got was if you were up at night alongside Kaz. When his mind was fuzzy enough that he would start muttering his thoughts out loud. Routes. Names. Object. Numbers.

The four of them looked at you with big eyes but said nothing. Yet you only glance their way for a split second, your eyes instantly moved to Kaz, who was leaning hunched on the table. The glance lingered, but you dropped it. Turning to walk out of the room, knowing that this wasn't something for your eyes. "You, out", Kaz's voice boomed through the room as he gestured to the crows all standing nervously in front of the table. You debated on leaving as well, yet you paused. Something in between the lines, unspoken pleas that made you halt in your track.

Jesper stopped in front of you right before walking out. He wore the emotions on his sleeve. Reading him was so easy. You knew he cared, knew how much he loved Kaz, and how much he was truly ready to sacrifice for him. So you blinked slowly. Letting him know that if only Kaz allowed you, you were going to look after him. Jesper nodded his head. He had no idea what was going on between the two of you behind closed doors, but he was sure of two things - you had altered something in Kaz and he found somewhat of a safe haven in you.

You moved across the room as quietly as a mouse. "You are here to complain about something that I've done as well?", Kaz snarled, lifting his head, you shook your head before reaching for a jug of water. Kaz cocked his head to the side as the family silk scarf caught his eye. You had braided it into your hair which was now neatly wrapped around your head like a crown. He had no idea how you had created that masterpiece but he sure was mesmerized by it. Only brought out of his trance once he heard a glass of water being placed on the table in front of him. Blinking he turned away from you, "Then why are you here?". The tightness in his chest was close to gone and Kaz found himself hating the fact that it passed so easily, so quickly. He enjoyed the pain at times. A cold reminder that he was still alive. The only time Kaz was one hundred percent sure that he was indeed not dead.

You said nothing as you sat down on the other side of the table. Kaz let out a huff and followed suit only now realizing how much his legs ached from putting all his body weight on them without the help of the cane. He ran a hand through his messy hair, now savoring the feeling of air flowing into his lungs. You tapped your finger onto the table to get his attention back on you. Pulling a bundle wrapped into a piece of newspaper. "Finally found the poison to kill me off?", he said making you let out an annoyed huff, as you crinkled your brows at him in annoyance. Kaz didn't acknowledge it, just like most times. No dissatisfaction that you expressed ever seemed to alter his emotions. Well, not that you could see it from the outside.

Kaz tore the paper off, holding up a glass jar of ink, then glancing to the side of the table where his jar sat. Empty. How had he missed that? "Useful", he said, setting the bottle aside before pulling out a handful of papers, "If there's nothing else you are here for, walk yourself out". You pushed the glass of water closer to him, mindful of the paperwork now all over the table. The desire to tell you off was bubbling inside him, but he still reached for the glass, lifting it closer to his lips. You nodded your head in satisfaction before refilling it, knowing that there was no way Kaz was going to do it himself, before stepping out of the study.

The club was way busier than usual for the middle of the week. People were lingering by every corner of the place. All chairs, even the extra ones from the back of the house occupied. "Cute guy alert at six o'clock", Wylan said as he placed the empty glasses onto the bar. Nina and Inej looked up straight away, you followed suit. "Cover Jesper's ears. He might die knowing you find someone besides him cute", Nina chirped, eyes still on the guy. "Not for me, just… for any of you", he quickly defended himself right as the pink shades colored his cheeks. A smile painted your face at how easy it was to fluster him and how much Nina enjoyed doing just that.

You scanned the crowd, trying to find Kaz among them but with no luck. Usually, he was here by now. Rarely did he stay behind fully. If not somewhere tucked away in the corner, observing the commotion, then in his backroom - but not tonight, it seemed. "I'm sure Kaz just lost himself between all of his paperwork", Nina reached for your hand, squeezing it gently but letting go straight away, equally as much as with Kaz knowing not to linger. You nodded your head before moving to dry the washed-up glasses. She could feel the way your heart practically cried to see Kaz. You hated crowds as much as Kaz did. Nina knew that if Kaz had seen the buzz here tonight, you would have already been in the backroom with him, away from all of this noise and bodies. She caught you glancing around the club again as you placed the glasses onto the tray, making sure you had a good grip on it, "You want me to take over?", she asked, and you knew the intentions were good and caring, but you still shook your head. This was your job, and until it was Kaz telling you to back away, you weren't going to stop.

But maybe you should have. Should have listened. Should have taken the offer. Cause the more the night went on and the smell of cigarettes and alcohol grew thicker, the more touchy the males became. You weren't able to carry full trays of beer anymore. Hands too shaky, legs too wobbly to hold them up without spilling. And God forbid you spilled any of it on any of the customers. It was only Wylan, who was still here, and Jesper, but he was somewhere deep within the club most definitely gambling. You ushered Nina through the door about an hour ago. She had been practically sleeping with her face on the bar. And there was no room for a passed-out female in the club full of hacking males. Inej had disappeared as well. She didn't enjoy being in the club as it was, and for that, you couldn't blame her.

You were a handful of steps away from the bar when two sets of hands gripped your forearms, jerking you backward. You were thankful that your hands had been empty because the glasses would have been tumbling down. You only heard laughter and whistles as they dragged you through the floor. Your eyes darted towards the bar, but Wylan wasn't there. A cold shiver ran down your back. You tried to wiggle out of their grip but in all honesty, you knew very well that you had no chance of escaping.

Your back hit the back wall as they stepped in front of you, pinning you beneath them. You haven't seen their faces before. Nor did you want to look. It had been a while since you had found yourself in a situation like this. Helpless. Too weak to defend yourself. Numb it out, you kept telling yourself, numb it all, it'll pass by shortly and then you'll pick yourself back up. "What a pretty piece of art we have here", one of them muttered, the sharp smell of alcohol hitting your nose. "Pekka is looking for a new property", the other male sniffed the side of your neck like a hungry hound, before licking his lips, "You seem just the right fit for his description". You swallowed hard. The name itself made your blood run cold. You didn't know much of the other gang leader, but enough to know that if you were to fall into his arms, the nightmare that would follow would be the worst you ever had.

"But he didn't say anything about in what state you were to be delivered", a tough hand gripped your left breast through the shirt, causing you to shut your eyes tightly. You will not scream. You will obey. If not for yourself. Then for Kaz. Because you couldn't allow yourself a thought of him getting hurt because of you or a scene that you caused. "One against two. Will you fight, baby girl?", the nickname made you cringe so hard that goosebumps ran down your arms, but you shook your head. The taler of the two let out a laugh before roughly yanking the top of your dress open.

"You're playing with my toy, boys", the two of them quickly jerked their heads toward the sound. Kaz had his deadly glare on, and if looks cool kill - they would have been six feet under a long time ago. "I don't see your signature stamp on her, Brekker, or did you mark her somewhere else", the taller one said with a laugh before his hand moved to cup your core with his hand. Even with your dress as a layer between his fingers and your body, the feeling of the touch itself made you bite the inside of your cheek so hard that the metallic taste filled your mouth.

"Want to play? Pay up", Kaz barked harshly, stepping closer. He was on fire, or at least he felt like it. The moment he ran into a breathless Wylan about to go look for him, Kaz knew that something had happened. Something bad must have happened, but he didn't allow himself a chance to let that thought settle as he marched into the club. Considering that most males had their heads turned to the back of the club said enough to him. Showed enough to him as he strides towards the commotion.

"Name the price, little boy", the male dared. Kaz's face twitched. The room fell dead silent, you didn't dare to look, pressing yourself closer to the wall. "Your eyes", Kaz said casually, and not even a second later, the peak of the crow, that was on his cane, ripped through the tall male's eyeball. The scream echoed. Other shouts erupted as people started to flee from the club. Jesper, who must have felt the commotion was quick to rip the other male away from you, hitting his head with the back of his gun. You had slid down the wall. Breathing as hectic as the mess that was unfolding in front of you.

Kaz had no recollection of how many times he had driven the sharp end of his cane through the fuckers face, but he sure as hell was long dead when he was done with him. No one was in the club besides them now. Yet the rage didn't subside. Oh no, it only grew, and Kaz was about to turn to Jesper, who had strict orders to keep an eye on you if he wasn't around to do so himself. But the shaky breath that remained Kaz more of a cry that slipped past your lips, making him turn to you.

Your knees were pressed to your chest. Nails dug into your palms so deep that they drew blood. You were shaking so hard, your whole body spasming as you took shallow breaths that only hit the surface before a sharp cry was pushed away from your lungs. Kaz threw Jesper a death glare as a promise. Promise to skin him after he was done before he fully turned towards you. Limping your way before he fell to his knees not far away from you. Yet leaving a comfortable distance between you both.

"Y/N", he called out, but you didn't seem to hear him, "Y/N", he called out way louder this time. Whatever you were muttering under your breath now Kaz couldn't make out. Now more than even he wished he could just hold you. Not sit a couple of feet away like some weak piece of shit who had brought this upon you. "They are gone, we took care of it", your lower lip quivered at his words. Kaz desperately searched your body for any signs of you coming back, but the cage you had yourself locked into now seemed impossible to break. "Jesper will get you to your room. Nina will sleep with you tonight", the softness in his voice scarred him, but he couldn't be harsh now. Not now. Not with you.

Just the moment Jesper moved to put a hand around you, the most heart-reaching scream slipped past your lips as you backed away. Jesper bit his lip, trying to keep his tears at bay. If anything he deserved whatever was to come after you calmed down and if you calmed down. Kaz backed away slightly as you pushed yourself away from everyone. He was helpless. So helpless that he realized that all the moments of weakness he had gone through till now could never compare to this.

Then your eyes shot open. The fear was in them so big as your hand clasped around your throat. Trying to scratch a path for even a slither of oxygen. Choking. Dying. It looked like you were dying, and Kaz moved towards you as if that had been his second instinct. Bloody gloves clasping your hair as he turned your face towards him. "Breathe, Y/N. Breath, for fuck sake", he cried out angrily. Kaz had already lost Jordie, and he sure wasn't going to lose you now, as well.

His face was inches away from yours. The familiar scent of him crept all around you. The scent that you fell asleep within his bed. The scent that had even mixed into your clothes that were put neatly next to Kaz's in the drawers in his room. With both hands on your face, Kaz hoped to catch your frantic eyes, and when you finally took a big gulp of air, he almost felt reborn. Your shaky palms rested on his chest, where his heart was beating rapidly. Beating. You blinked a couple of times, grounding yourself. Clinging to the feeling of Kaz being so close.

The water inside Kaz was bubbling almost to the top. Too much, for too long, but he couldn't pull away. Not now. Not when he needed to get you out. Even if it meant that he was going to drown himself. That would be worth it. Worth it if only you stayed above the water. "Kaz…", his heart stopped beating when his name rolled off your tongue. Of that he was sure. He met your scared eyes. Eyes in search of him. For him because even after this, you felt safe with him. Even if Kaz didn't deserve it.

"I'm right here, right with you", he whispered to you. Wanting to press his forehead to yours, but he knew that any more skin contacts would have him pulling away. "Kaz", you rasped out again, and he only managed to nod his head as he watched the movements of your chest evening out. Your hands slipped away from his chest when you realized that you had been touching him. A line. You crossed his line. But his eyes didn't look angry. Not with you. Your body slumped, Kaz was quick to catch your shoulders before turning to Jasper, who stepped closer, replacing him.

The taste of sick flooded Kaz's mouth. As he watched you looking at Jesper. He was so gentle with you. Talking you through all of his movements before gathering you into his arms. It should have been Kaz doing that. Pulling you closer. Getting you away from this place. You looked so out of it. So warn out. So small in Jesper's arms. With the adrenaline wearing down, your body was going to crash. Kaz wanted to order Jesper to bring you up to his room, but instead, he leaped towards the nearest bowl that still covered the tables before emptying his stomach. His anxiety needed a way out of his body. When he finally lifted his head neither of you was here. That was what he wanted. Kaz needed to be alone. To dwell in self-pity for a bit before he would make his way back to you. Before he burnt the whole word. Set buildings flying. Ripped bodies with his hands. Just to keep you safe. To not fail you. He couldn't allow himself to fail you.

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine

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the-one-and-only-duckduckgo · 8 months ago

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As I see the word around me turning pink (or, in some cases, purple), I've decided that it's time to make a sequel to that tma post. Yes, I'm at episode 20. No, I'm not okay (I promise). Perhaps, I need therapy. Anyways, enjoy:

The Magnus Archives but I've met the fandom (and am even more confused)

There's an Archivist (you have to use the capital letter if you want to survive), his name is Jon,sometimes Jonathan and sometimes Jalapeño.

He is also somehow the author of the podcast, and the guy speaking. I don't know how. Nothing feels real anymore.

Apparently, he brings the romantic side of the podcast. I'm glad. He should think about bringing the "makes sense" side too.

#JusticeForMartin2024

Get. Sasha. And. Tim. Some. Fucking. Representation.

There's Gerard Keay, who doesn't have anything to do with Gerard Way (I checked), and I love him.

He's also very dead. My point still stands.

WHERE IS THAT FUCKING HOMOPHOBIC VASE WHY DON'T YOU WANT ME TO UNDERSTAND YOUR INSIDE JOKE, WHY?

There's a guy named Evan Lukas, whose name reminds me of another guy. Was it James Lukas? Peter Lukas? George Lukas? Not a single idea.

Five people told me to be scared of the Mikes.

Who are they?

Is that a sect? A typo? A secret level you unlock once you understand what that vase joke refers to?

There's a secret link between everything.

Is it that every one of the stories involves being scared of something, and being alone?

Wait. Nevermind. That's a horror podcast, people are usually scared in these. I'm trying to be logical here.

I miss Gerard Keay.

OH WAIT WAIT SORRY I DIDN'T TELL Y'ALL THAT JALAPENO CAME OUT OF HIS RECORDING CLOSET TO TALK TO A MADAM. THAT REALLY DISTURBED HIM AND HE HAD TO LOCK HIMSELF AGAIN TO RECOVER, BUT I'M PROUD OF THE PROGRESS HE MADE

Michael is not okay. Do they need help?

I don't know their pronouns, and people answered with really disturbing and unhelpful things. Could someone help?

I kinda like Michael. Even if they're blonde.

Unless they're part of the Mikes. I have a bad feeling about the Mikes.

Uhh lots of blood, spiders, worms, death, spooky nights, people being alone, eyes everywhere, insanity, blood sacrifices, the Unknown, and evil books.

Oh, and drugs. Very important, the drugs

Leaving you with that, hope I didn't miss a very important point. May the stars shine in your direction, or whatever.

#tma #discovery of the tma universe #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerard keay #and every spooky thing that deserves to be tagged there. wahoo.

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crippleprophet · 2 years ago

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guess who has ✨brain damage✨

#like we knew but having it confirmed on mri is. hm. a lot.#actual visible changes aren’t that large but i sure am symptoming #mac.txt #i am not someone who needs to be reminded that inside everything is blood.

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brrbrina · 1 year ago

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echoes

part: 2/?

pairing: joe burrow x og!c

warnings: cheating, angst, fluff (?), pregnancy (?) and i think that´s it.

The day after Joe left the house for the very first time, Kendall felt a wave of sadness take over her body. She was devasted, and tired, she constantly woke in the middle of the night as if the house she was sleeping in was haunted.

Every single part of that bed smelt like him, every part of her body was once kissed by the lips of a man who had kissed someone else and she despised that. She felt like her world stopped, when they met, falling in love was not on her plans, and falling in love with a man like Joe wasn´t what she wanted.

"I think we should go with the big backyard one," Joe said hugging her from the back, "This way our babies would have the space to run, and then the babies of our babies" he chuckled putting his lips against the back of her head, Kendall smiled and closed her eyes; it was one of the moments she felt like her life made sense in only a way love makes you feel.

Now, that memory pained her, she was tied to him for life, for two entries now, she didn´t know what to do. The night Kendall found out she was pregnant -again-, happiness took over her body, brainstormed ideas of how she would tell her big baby and the love of her life the good news. The night she confronted Joe became savory, the memory of her telling the news to the father of her son was stained by betrayal and insincerity.

"I made waffles and fresh orange juice" Joe smiled at her showing the plates in the breakfast bar, which was once planned down to the smallest detail. "I think you should go" Kendall sighed "Natalie has a friend coming over today for a playdate and I don´t want her to create a false story on her head in which you come back here and we live happily ever after".

"Who is Mat?" Joe asked her and Kendall looked at him with surprise, "You do know I'm the father of Natalie and that baby you´re carrying right? You are not messing up the mind of my children with that man coming and hanging with them..." Kendall stopped him "You have a lot of nerve telling me I´m the one "messing" with her mind when you were fucking someone else" Joe looked down.

"While Natalie was sleeping here, happy that her daddy won a game so she could tell her friends in school he was the best, you were putting your dick inside another woman, so no, I'm not messing anything up, you did" water filled her eyes and her voice trembled when she stopped "You took away the happiness of being pregnant with MY baby and turned into a grey cloud above me every single day" she felt her knees weak.

"I hate you so much Joe, I hate you because a part of me needs you like a drug I'm addicted to, and I hate you because you destroyed the life WE built together, my kids will grow up in a broken home and the worst part of all is that I will never tell them what you did, that´s the difference between me and you. I´m putting them on top of everything and you didn´t even think twice about the damage you would cause" She said sobbing, and Joe felt his blood drop to his feet.

He left Kendall´s place and drove to the condo he was living in at the moment, he found no motivation in anything, he missed the chaos of his past life. He remembered clearly when he and Kendall got married.

"... You have filled my life with colors and turned it into a musical every time you´re near me. I promise to love you and take care of you and the family we will hopefully soon start. There is not a day where I take you for granted, waking up beside you it´s a pleasure and something I will love to grow old with.

You are the woman of my dreams, the best road trip partner, and the comedic duo made for me, I will make sure to remind you that I´m the man that I am because of you. That every mole on your body holds a million I Love You´s you will hear forever. I´m so happy that I´m becoming Mr. Carter" Kendall chuckled "I know you´re the designer but you´re the muse of my life, of every romantic, naughty, or funny thought that comes to my mind you´re the one I see. I love your laugh and I will try my best to come up with the biggest dad jokes so I can crack a small out of you. Here´s to a lifetime of love, I love you, Kenny."

He didn’t have the guts to admit when he stopped loving her because he wasn't sure if he ever stopped.

People always say you don´t know what you have until it´s gone and he realized that too late, when he met Jackie, he loved the adrenaline of starting a romance again. But now it was painful, he missed everything about Kendall. The way she always made him choose the color of her nail polish or how the pantry was always stocked with Joe´s favorite candy.

How was he so naive to lose his soulmate, the mother of his kids, the love of his life but also his best friend. He hated his life now, a life without her or his kids was a living nightmare, his baby was about to be born, and he hadn´t seen a single eco photo of him. Kendall was sad and blue all the time, the only thing keeping her going was her babies and the company she worked so hard for.

She missed Joe, she couldn´t forget him, and she was tired, she was about to give birth and her life would be upside down once again.

"God I miss you so much" was the first sentence that came out of her mouth when she boldly called Joe at 1 am, she had been crying nonstop, and as much as she hated to admit it, he was the love of her life.

He showed up that night, and he stayed there. It was pointless for him to go home when his pregnant ex-wife was almost about to give birth.

The next few months were a roller coaster of emotions, their baby was born, Joe wasn’t there when he arrived to this world. He was on a work trip when baby burrow arrived and everything happened too quick. Kendall went into labor at 7 am and her baby came out of the womb right away. He looked so much like Joe, it was a very strange feeling, when Natalie was born. He was there, he held her hand as she was pushing their baby girl into a world in which they would do anything to make her happy. That was the only promise Joe made to Kendall that she was sure he would keep.

The new baby mama had been crying nonstop, she wasn’t sure of how she would manage her life now as a single mom with a soon to be a 6 year old.

“How are you doing?” Joe said entering the room with ballons and flowers, Kendall started to cry again. They weren’t in bad terms now, they will share the most important thing on their lives forever. There are science fairs, dance recitals, birthdays, christmas and thanksgiving they will have to share.

“I’m not gonna lie, i’m very scared” Kendall said holding her tears. “Kenny you’ve done this before, you are the best mom ever, Natalie and baby are so lucky that you’re their mother” Joe said smiling with teary eyes. “I know i’ve done this before but i wasn’t doing it alone you know?” The guilt eat Joe alive every second of the day. “Hey, i’m not going anywhere, i can stay home until baby is a bit older” Kendall chuckled, and then start to cry again “What’s wrong?” Joe looked at her concerned “Everything Joe, our baby is here and we don’t even have a name for him, and Natalie keeps asking when is her daddy coming home and i’ve run of ways of explaining her why he’s not” She cried “I hate my new life, I hate going grocery shopping alone and carrying everything by myself, i hate driving everywhere and i really really miss you Joe” he was crying when she said that.

“I know I fucked up, and no amount of sorry’s will mend what I did, we can work this out, for the fourth of us - “ He was interrupted by the nurse entering with baby burrow after checking that everything was okay with him, Joe saw him for the first time and started crying, he held him in his arms and the nurse walked out of the room. “He looks so much like Natie” he whispered and Kendall giggled as she wiped her tears away. “Both of them look like you it’s not fair” she said crossing her arms “We can always try and make one that looks like you” Joe smirked and Kendall’s mind went numb, she didn’t had and expression on her face “Sorry maybe that was too much” he cleared his troat.

“I will make you fall in love with me again, I promise my love” he kissed her forehed and that was the last thing Kendall heard before she fell asleep. And she was so happy to hear that.

a/n! Hiii, i hope you like this chapter, i think the next one it’s the last one of our little series. :) I’ll try to post over the weekend but i don’t promise anything. If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments. And i would love to hear you thoughts on this chapter and how do you expect the next one will be!!

#joe burrow #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow angst #joe burrow echoes

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thedgeoftheuniverse · 2 years ago

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Spring Breeze

joel miller x reader

word count: >1k

a/n: to whoever requested this i am SOOO sorry i lost ur request pls pls find this i am so sorry also tumblr stop fucking up my formatting

He is hesitant, you can feel it in the stiffness of the joints—he does not want to accept the comfort of being cared for, he does not know how; he has spent a lifetime as a protector, never accepting that he deserves to be treated with the same devotion.

He has been gone for what seemed to be ages. Time passes relentlessly, each second gone reminding you that he was not beside you, each minute taunting you with a very plausible reality that he never will be again. Patrol should not take so long. It never takes this long and you cannot smother the worry erupting from your chest. You did not know how to occupy your time.

You have been a long-time resident of Jackson, having been rescued by Maria from borderline starvation. You were welcomed to the commune with open arms, shown luxuries you thought would never again exist, and given opportunities to taste a semblance of life from before—what little you could remember of it. You became reacquainted with your love of baking as well as members of the community who craved the loaves of bread you sat out every morning. It was how you met him—he came to you with wringing hands and an empty stomach, he could not withstand the temptation of the warm dough in front of him. He came nearly every day, giving you shy smiles and kind words, but rarely left with your offerings. He seemed to only want the sweetness of your voice and the smell of the pastries.

It is in this moment, in the space between your bodies, that you realize the comfort of Jackson is nothing in comparison to Joel Miller.

It is not until dusk that he returns. His feet carry him to your home (he cannot understand why, but he knows you smell like a spring breeze and summer has been brutal) and his heart seeks solace in the embrace of your arms.

“What happened?” You ask him as you take in the sight of his mangled body—blood covers his clothes, his knuckles bruised and busted, hair matted and body trembling, You have never seen him in such a state—you did not believe he had the ability to feel fear, but he wears it brazenly.

“People.” He did not need to say anymore for you to understand.

“Come on, cowboy. Let’s get you cleaned up.” You lead him into your kitchen, where you pull a chair up to the sink and instruct him to sit.

“You don’t ha—” “I know. Just let someone take care of you.” You interrupt as you fill one side of the sink with lukewarm water and retrieve a rag from the drawer below.

You start with his hands. He is hesitant, you can feel it in the stiffness of the joints—he does not want to accept the comfort of being cared for, he does not know how; he has spent a lifetime as a protector, never accepting that he deserves to be treated with the same devotion. You take special care at his split knuckles, applying a featherlight pressure as you begin rinsing the blood. He will never show it to you, but you know that he is in pain.

It is when you move to his arms that you notice the slowness of his blinks—his eyes are staying closed just a moment longer than necessary—and the stiffness fading from his body. His breath, one jagged and heavy, slows down to a steady rhythm. You are humming a song that you cannot remember the name of as you wash away the physical evidence of the violence that lays inside of him, allowing the softness you are familiar with to shine through once again. And it is when you gently lean his head back into the sink, running warm water and your nimble fingers through the grayed strands that he begins leaning into your touch. You are gentle and warm and the embodiment of everything he feels he no longer deserves, but you give it so willingly that he is unable to refuse. Sighs and hums of content leave his lips as his entire being is consumed by you—a spring breeze that he will never stop longing for.

You are turning the water off when he bashfully whispers: “Can you do that just a little longer?”

“I’ve got a better idea.” You reply. You towel dry his hair with the same kindness you used to wash it before you lead him to your couch. As you sit, he goes to position himself upwards beside you—you can feel the disappointment radiating from his skin (or maybe he is always this warm and you have never noticed) and you realize he does not understand your intentions: “Lay down.” You instruct.

He is unsure at first; he has not been in such an innocently intimate position in many years, but the softness in your expression tells him your intentions are true. He does not need to try to relax when your nails begin to scratch at his scalp and your free hand rubs up and down his bicep. He thinks this form of intimacy is the most terrifying thing he has experienced—he is still learning how to accept being cared for but when you whisper, “You’re okay,” he is wrapped in a silk blanket by your words and transported to a time where he was whole. His hair is softer than you had thought it to be; this is just as therapeutic for you as it is for him.

There is no longer empty space between you. There is only silent air and nimble fingers as Joel sleeps in your lap, arms curled into his chest and his shoes still on. It was the first night he fell asleep in peace.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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lynnlovesthestars · 1 year ago

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201 one-liners of /everything/.

hi, i made this list of prompts you can use while you submit requests! I was asked in dms if I had one, and i guess it's time to share it!:)

There's a bit of everything: fluff, hurt/comfort, smut [...]. Just add the corresponding number in your request!

"look at me. breathe. you're safe now."

"c'mon, breathe, breathe, don't you dare die on me. don't you dare--"

"hey. i need your hands steady, i can't stitch this up myself. i can guide you, but you need to breathe."

"it'll all be over soon. you can do this. stay awake and breathe with me, okay? one, two--"

"can't--breathe--"

"i wonder how much more pathetic your screams would be if... say, you couldn't breathe? i've this nice little leash here..."

"he's not breathing, oh god, someone help, he's not--"

“you wanna tell me where you got those bruises from?”

“I know you’re bleeding. I can smell your blood, and you’re pale. now you wanna tell me what happened and who hurt you? or do I have to find it out myself?”

“who did this to you?”

“I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at the scum that thought he could do this to you, and I will make him pay for it.”

“stop squirming and it will hurt less.”

“I’m sorry for yelling. I supposed I got so angry that I lost it, but I wasn’t angry at you. I was angry at that sick fuck, and at myself for not seeing the signs sooner.”

“is that really what you think of me? you think I would — you think I would hurt you?”

“you don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“no, I won’t allow you to put yourself in danger like that again. and if I have to tie you up or chain you down to this very bed to make sure you stay put, I will.”

“you can hate me all you want, but I’m not letting you hurt yourself anymore.”

“eat. this is not a question, you have to eat something and I’m hoping that you won’t make me force you.”

“it’s okay, you can cry.”

“I am saving you whether or not you want to be saved.”

“you’re a stubborn brat, but you’re my stubborn brat. I will not let anybody touch what is mine.”

“I told you to listen to me. you should’ve listened to me.”

“I don’t want you to apologize to me, I want you to stop doing this to yourself.”

“let me see [the wound]. I said let me see.”

“you don’t realize how much you mean to me, do you?”

“I know it hurts, but I need you to be brave for me right now.”

“stop it. stop fighting against me. I am helping you.”

“I’d burn the world down for you.”

“look what you made me do. none of this would’ve happened if you just listened to me.”

“I saved you. all these deaths? it’s worth it. I would do anything and everything to keep you safe.”

'When did this happen?'

'What the fuck [name]. And you didn't tell me?'

'How long were you planning on hiding this?'

what are you do-" "look, now we match!"

"you're cleaning this up, right? since this was your idea."

. "feeling better?" "it feels like i've been slapped but on the inside." "so... no?"

"who let you look so cute today?"

"since we're dating, does that mean i can hold your hand whenever i want?"

"i've been looking for my x-" "my x, you mean."

"i've always wanted to come here with you."

"this song reminds me of you."

"oh no, my head, it's falling conveniently onto your shoulder!"

"shut up and kiss me already."

"i've waited for so long just to say that to you."

"your hands are colder than the one time i lost a bet and i had to stick my hand into the snow for five minutes."

"you love me?" "i always have."

"what's that even supposed to be?" "it's a drawing of you, idiot."

"here comes the airplane!" "i can feed myself." "too bad."

"i know it's not the best but-" "i love it."

"i can hear your heartbeat- why is it going so fast all of a sudden?"

"You don't miss me, you only miss the thought of me,"

"That's not love! That's obsession,"

"Well done. You've officially pushed away everyone that's ever given a fuck about you,"

. "I'm better than this," // "No, you're not!"

"I don't miss you,"

"I just want to die,"

"I tried apologizing, I tried fixing it, I gave you space! What can I do to make this right!?" // "Nothing! This will never be right- I will never forgive you!"

"Trust me," // "I wish I could,"

“I remember the first time we met.”

“I know it’s your favorite.”

“Everything okay? You don’t seem like yourself.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Let me get that for you.”

“I’m here to listen.”

“Let’s go out. Just the two of us.”

“I don’t have to ask, I know.”

“Well, I don’t, but you do.”

“I did it for you.”

“No one’s ever done this for me before…”

“Only you can call me that.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“It’ll take more than that to get rid of me.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“We’ll get through this together.”

“Don’t worry, I knew what you meant.”

“I’m not going anywhere.

Perhaps i should phrase myself better. You. Wont. Lay. A. Single. Finger. On. Her.

Yeah, I killed him. I won't apologize for that.

He had it coming.

"He was asking for it." "For a beat-up?" "Yeah."

I don't care if you want me here or not. I'm staying.

He said what?!

"He had it coming." "you killed him." "Exactly."

Are you falling in love with me, hon'?

You're playing a dangerous game, darling.

You’ll stay by my side until I tell you so.

„You’d defy the gods, only for me?” „i would destroy the gods for you.”

You can change what you do but you cant change what you want.

If I cant have you no one should.

You don't want to make me jealous, honey.

“You think I stare at you just for fun? Well, think again.”

“I didn’t brush my hand against yours for you to snatch your hand away like that. My feelings are frankly, hurt.”

“Your presence is just so… It fucks me up, but like, in a good way.”

“I have a crush on you. And by crush, I mean like… I would literally die for you if you asked me to.”

“I want you to be mine but I also feel like you don’t want to be mine and that makes me very, very upset.”

“You think I did all of this for your attention? Well, unfortunately… You’re right. I’m an idiot in like. Or in love.”

“The only reason why I’m letting you get away with shit like this is because I like you, you dense fucking cabbage.”

“I think it would devastate me to find out you don’t like me back.”

“Keep in mind that this isn’t something I do for just anyone. There’re a lot of things I’ve done that I’ve only done for you.”

“The issue here is that you think I’m not head over heels in love with your dumb fucking ass.”

"What if someone sees us?"

"I would love to just take you out on a date."

"Let's meet at our spot."

"But I don't care about what anyone else thinks!"

"Not sure I can go the whole day without kissing you."

"I would love to hold hands with you."

"They will be mad if they ever find out."

"Let's go somewhere where we no one knows us."

"I'll just keep dreaming of our first real date."

"Can we really keep going like this?"

"It's not easy, but I'm right here with you."

"Are you sure that you're ready to tell them?"

"I would love everyone to know about us."

"You're not my dirty little secret. And I never want you to think that."

I need you.”

“Try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?”

“Spread”

“I want to watch you take off your clothes.”

“Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”

“You want to do this right now? Even though we could get caught?”

“You look so beautiful tied up to my bed,”

“I want you to be rough with me, please leave marks on my skin,”

“Say my name,” “Louder,”

“No, I’m the one that’s supposed to be making you feel good,”

“Don’t stop, whatever you do. I like that, a lot.”

“I love hearing you moan,”

“I want to hear you beg for it.”

“I want to kiss every inch of your body before I fuck you,”

“I don’t have the patience to remove your clothes right now,”

“Your pussy tastes so sweet,”

“I can’t wait until we're alone. There are so many things I want to do to you right now.”

“Bite me,” “Where?”

“Were you just touching yourself?”

“The game is, either of us is only allowed to touch the other with their mouth.”

“I love how your body loses control when you cum.”

“Fuck me like a starved animal or leave.”

“Show me how you like to be touched.”

“Harder, Deeper...”

“I missed being with you like this,”

“I’ve been excited to see you all day.”

“You’re my perfect match,”

“No one else can compare to your loveliness,”

“The way you smile like that always turns me on,”

“I’ll keep you warm. Hold me closer.”

“Kiss me again, like you mean it.”

“Are you my secret admirer, the one that’s been sending me all the flowers and notes?”

“You're supposed to be washing my hair, but this feels more like a massage.”

“Hold my hand tight. I’ll protect you.”

“When do you think help will come?” “Not for a while, I guess we’re stranded here alone for the time being.”

“I’m sorry, you’re so pretty I forgot what I was going to say”

“I fall in love with you every time I look in your eyes”

“Why are you staring at me?" + "Because I think you're beautiful”

“I’ve never felt safer than I do in your arms”

“Sorry… your hair was in your face… thought I should move it so I could see you better”

“C'mere, I don't mind letting you sleep on me”

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting”

“How did I get so lucky to have you in my life?”

“I'm right here; I won't leave your side. Go back to sleep, darling”

“You are the whole of my heart”

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you”

“I love you, I always have and I always will”

“No. I’m not letting you go it’s too early to get out of bed”

“You’re the most beautiful thing I ever met”

“I’ll always be here for you”

"i'd sleep so much better if you were here every night."

“I was never a morning person, but then I started waking up to your face and you know… Maybe mornings aren’t that bad, after all.”

“I fucking hate you.” “No you don’t. Take that back right now.”

“You know I’d do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything.”

“Oh, fuck. Do that again.”

“You’ve given me so many reasons to walk away.” “Then why don’t you walk away? It’s not like I’m keeping you hostage here.” “You still don’t get it, do you? It’s because I love you.”

“…Damn it all to hell, if I don’t get to have you tonight then I’m never going to be able to have you.”

“Let me call you mine, just for tonight.”

“I think you and I make an amazingly stupid pair.” “I know! Our two brain cells combined together make for quality entertainment and a unique kind of stupidity.”

“I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

“Bet you they don’t make you sound like that, do they?”

“Fuck, you’re such a wreck, and because of me, too.”

“You are driving me insane and I’m this close to losing my shit because of you.”

“Is hating me your only personality trait?”

“Never scare me like that again!”

“Oh, don’t worry. I have every plan to make you submit to me.”

“I’m not even gonna lie, I’m just so fucking obsessed with you.”

“That could be us.” “That is us.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you— slow down, you’ll get what you want soon enough.”

“I want you to remember every single second of this.”

“Bet you they can’t make you feel the way I do.” “Bet’s on.” “Wait, what? That was not my intention—”

“Hm, but I think I like having you spread out like this. Such a gorgeous sight.”

“…You’re an addiction I never want to quit.”

“I had nothing to live for, but then you came into my life. So thank you.”

“Why’d you— why’d you do that?” “B-Because I promised you I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

“I swear if we get caught then I’m actually going to kill you.”

“Just when I was about to give up…”

“I trusted you with my life.” “Well, I’m sorry but you’re clearly very gullible.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same as I do, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Does me doing all these things not account for anything?” “I never asked you to do those things for me, though, did I?”

“I… I think I’m happy.” “You think? So you’re not one hundred percent certain?”

“Who’s laughing now?” “…Clearly not you. You’re crying, dear God.”

“You actually came back.”

“I fell in love, so hard, and so fast, but a part of me knew it wasn’t going to last.”

“Your heart’s always on your sleeve.” “Only around you, because you’re the only one who knows me so well. Too well, in fact.”

“You’ve got me acting like a fool.”

91 notes · View notes

recurring-polynya · 9 months ago

Text

I was cleaning out my WIPs folder a few months ago, and I found the original draft of my Kira-and-Rose-Review-a-Restaurant story. It was nearly complete, and it's not anything earth-shattering, but it's also mildly entertaining, so I thought I would finish it up and send it out into the world. Then, of course, I procrastinated on that for months, but, hey! It's Kira's birthday! Happy birthday, Kira!

(read on ao3)

🍴 🐟 🍶

“Captain,” said Izuru, clutching his folders like a lifeline, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“My companion will have the tekkadon, but he would like the orange sauce on the side,” Captain Outoribashi informed the waiter. He squinted at his lieutenant. “Is that alright? Do you like tekkadon?”

“Er, yes, it’s fine,” Izuru excused. “Sir, when you said we could go over these budget requests over dinner, I thought we would go to a ramen stand or something. This is far too--”

Rose waved a hand. “It’s covered, don’t worry about it.”

Izuru chewed the inside of his cheek while his new captain continued to order a rather frightening amount of food. The waiter seemed to be taking all this in stride.

Captain Outoribashi couldn’t be more different than Captain Gin, he kept reminding himself. Rose was elegant and mannered, and was trying very, very hard to make everyone in Squad Three feel comfortable and welcome. He also had absolutely gorgeous waves of shining hair, velvety purple eyes that you could just fall into, and amazing taste in absolutely everything. Izuru would never have assumed in a million years that his captain would have any sort of… interest in someone like him, and yet, here they were. In a fancy restaurant. After work hours.

“Sir,” he started again, when the server had left. “It’s not about the money-- well, also, I feel you may have been misinformed, it’s true that I come from a noble family, but, uh… not a very well-funded one. It’s, just, er… I feel that a captain and a vice-captain should have a very professional relationship, you see, and this place is rather upscale, and I feel like you’ve gotten the wrong idea--”

Rose blinked at him. “You’re friends with Lieutenant Hisagi, no?”

Izuru’s cheeks colored. “Well, yes, sir, we’ve known each other since our school days.”

“He didn’t tell you?”

Izuru felt all the blood in his body fall down into his feet. “Tell me… what?”

“Well,” said Captain Outoribashi, with a sneaky smile on his face. “One of the first things I realized upon my return to Soul Society was that old curmudgeon Kyouraku Kenji had retired and that the restaurant review column had been vacant for nearly three years!”

“Wait, what?” Kira sputtered.

“According to your friend,” Rose rambled on, “His former captain felt that the column was elitist or somesuch and didn’t want to continue it, but what could be more egalitarian than communicating the rapture of fine dining to the masses? I thought I was going to need to lean on my good friend Kensei for a little old-fashioned favoritism, but Lieutenant Hisagi was perfectly willing to hand me the post, can you believe it? I assumed he might have mentioned it to you, you’re also a Bulletin contributor, are you not?”

“You’re here to review this restaurant?” Kira managed to get out.

Rose put an elegant finger to his lips. “Shh! We’re supposed to be secretive about it, but I refuse to use a nom de plume, so I am sure we’ll be quite infamous before long.”

“'We'?” Izuru echoed.

“Well, I need to try as many dishes as possible,” Rose mused. “I have to bring companions. You had a noble upbringing, so I’m sure your palate is quite sophisticated. And you’re a writer! I hope you don’t mind, but I was already planning on blatantly stealing any particularly clever turns of phrase that pass your lips.”

Kira felt frozen absolutely solid. Why did his captains always have to be so interested in him? Why couldn’t he get an icy asshole like Kuchiki who would forget he even existed whenever he was out of eyesight, or a battleax like the Kenpachi, who would just break his arms first thing in the morning? Who was he kidding? He knew very well he wouldn’t last ten minutes in Squad Eleven before someone ran his underwear up a flagpole.

Rose’s face fell. “If you’re not interested, just say so. I’m sorry for presuming. Do you happen to know anyone who likes fine dining? Kensei has excellent taste in cuisine, but he dislikes ambience, and you can’t take Hirako anywhere. Beyond that, I’m afraid I’ve fallen out of touch with many of my old acquaintances.”

No! Kira scolded himself. He has offered you a reasonable boundary and you can just say no. Say no, Izuru. Say it. Just because he’s lonely doesn’t mean it’s your job to be his friend. You’re his lieutenant and that’s all you have to be.

“An assortment of shiokara,” the waiter returned, setting a tray on the table holding a number of sampler bowls. “And your sake.”

“Do you like shiokara?” Rose asked, gesturing at the pots of fermented fish before picking up the sake. “Also, do you drink?” he asked belatedly. “I love it, but only with shots.”

“Ah, same,” Kira finally managed. “I tend to think of it as bar food, though, I’m a little bit skeptical of the artisan nonsense from the menu.” It was out of his mouth before he even thought about it-- you’re not at the izakaya with Hisagi and Abarai!! he reminded himself.

“Oh, Kira, you cannot say something like that and then refuse to give me your opinion on the finished product!” Rose sighed. “Please, just help me with this first review! I’ll…” he frowned. “I don’t know what you like. I’ll let you pick the music we listen to in the office for a whole week.”

Kira had already experienced the horror of Rose’s automatic music player that he had brought back from the World of the Living. “Er, that’s okay,” he replied. “I don’t really know any of the music you have. It’s probably better if you pick.” He grabbed a bite of firefly squid with his chopsticks. “I’m here, might as well.”

Rose’s face glowed.

---

“ ‘...I found the dish quite pleasant, although more adventurous diners may find the flavors too subtle. My delightful dining companion, a man of culture and manners, proclaimed that ‘you could throw a rock toward Rukongai and hit a bar with better shiokara than this.’”

“Savage,” Rangiku declared.

Momo slammed her Bulletin down on the table. “How did you convince him to let you go along? I wish my captain took me to fancy restaurants!”

“Who says it was me?” Izuru frowned, sipping his sake. “I don’t think it ever said the guy’s name. It could have been anyone.”

“Later on, he says that you described the rosewater agar agar as ‘smelling like your great- aunt’s house,’" Renji pointed out dryly, "which is the same thing you said about that facial cream Yumichika tried to get you to use."

"Why do you pay attention to things like that?" Izuru griped.

"Because he took it very personally and complained to me for a month about it!"

"Anyway," Shuuhei broke in, "Captain Outoribashi told me it was you. He wanted to make sure you got your co-author stipend." He jerked his chin. "He said he wasn't sure if you were going to keep doing it with him."

Izuru shrugged. "It was sort of by accident that I ended up going anyway."

"Well, if you don't want to, tell him that I like going to fancy restaurants," Rangiku offered.

"I think it's a nice opportunity to get to know your new captain!" Momo announced. "But if you really don't want to, I also like going to fancy restaurants."

"I also think you should do it," Renji said. "I don't care about fancy restaurants, but that was the funniest restaurant review I've ever read. Captain Kuchiki thought it was hilarious, too, by the way."

"He what," said Izuru.

"He chuckled softly and shook his head," Renji translated.

Izuru had to take a minute to process that one.

"Also, that sweet, sweet co-author stipend," Shuuhei pointed out.

Izuru glared at him.

"Look, it's too soon to have more than anecdotal feedback, but my editorial instincts tell me this column is going to be a big hit. You and Captain Outoribashi have rapport, Izuru! Chemistry!"

Izuru frowned, deeply. "He's my boss, Hisagi, and he's only been that for three weeks. All I want with him is an appropriate work relationship with healthy and firmly respected boundaries."

"How about a 10,000 kan per month dining budget?" Shuuhei replied, and took a shot of sake. "Alcohol permitted."

"Oh," said Izuru. "Well. Maybe that, too."

If you enjoyed this, maybe you'd like to read their review of the Seireitei Waffle Hut?

#my writing #happy birthday kira!#oh gosh i've started a new Squad Six is Jerks i guess i have to manage to write more short fiction this year 💀

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dumpsterfire-daydreams · 30 days ago

Text

Adorable Ghost, Adorable Reader, (I'm not saying anything else because the rest is a surprise lol)

Seriously, thank all of you so much for your support and enthusiasm. This was my first ever real story and I wasn't sure how it was going to play out. I just wanted to scratch out my smutty drabbles and let them float away on the internet. I never knew folks would actually read my stuff, let alone enjoy it! But literally from day one, you guys showed up and showed tf out lol. And I can't thank you enough. Y'all are the fuel to my writing choo choo train and that train is gonna keep on chugging! Thank y'all for everything! And if there's every a story idea you wanna drop in my insta or want to get in line for a commission, drop me a message! Even if you just wanna chat or play videogames together, I'm down.

All my love,

DumpsterFireDaydreams

Reader POV:

Many years later,...

"Princess?" Simon called from across the front yard, scanning the area for any sign of you. "Where are you hiding?"

After all these years, he still called you "princess". Others called their other half "babe" or "honey". But you were his little princess and always would be. While you might have grown a bit older, the loving term never did. It made your heart flutter just as strongly as it always had. The only person whose title had changed was his. You still stuck to "Ghost" when you weren't alone. But at your home in the countryside, you only called him Simon. Your Simon.

"I'm over here!" You shouted back from the car port, peeking your head out from behind the bumper of the pickup truck to wave him down.

Simon jogged over to where you sat, hunched over the open hood of an old pickup truck. Your hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and all manner of car fluids stained your hands.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" He asked, genuinely surprised. "Gave me a real scare when I couldn't find you inside."

"Sorry. I'm just tinkering," you chirped, patting the other half of your work bench. "How was work?"

He happily sank down on the seat beside you, stretching a bit. "Ah, you know. Same old, same old. Rookies who need to slow down and master the basics, veterans that need reminders on how things are done, and the regulars who always manage to get into some kinda trouble no matter what I say. Same story every day without fail."

As much as he complained about it, you knew he loved what he did. Even though he'd stepped down for the taskforce a few years ago, he never really left his training behind. And a local paintball team had practically begged him to step in as their head coach. It was a happy middle ground for both of you though. He got the rush of battlefield strategy and waging war. You got the benefit of him coming back home splattered with brightly colored paint instead of blood. It was a win-win all around.

"Are the guys really going to come buy and show them how the pros do it? Because if they do, I wanna watch."

"Yeah, they should all be coming down next weekend. Figured it'll give them a good bit of fun for once."

You paused, quickly counting on your fingers to do a headcount. "How many am I cooking for again? Well, just tell me who is gonna make it so I can know what to make for everybody."

"Price is definitely coming. Soap said he wouldn't miss this for the whole world. And I just know he's bouncing off the walls with excitement already."

"I have no doubts about that," you laughed, shaking your head. "Please remind him some of these players are kids. The last thing we need is some angry parent mad that he took a mug shot at their little angel."

You could picture the scenario all too easily. Soap crouched behind a corner, smirking mischievously as he waited for an unsuspecting opponent to wander his way. And the second someone did, he'd pop out and send paint pellets splattering across the front of their mask. You could practically hear his raucous laughter just imagining it.

"He'll be fine," Simon huffed, waving his hand. "Don't let his cover fool you. No matter how old he gets, I swear he's just an oversized kid himself by the way he acts sometimes. They'll probably love him the most."

"True. So Price and Soap. Anyone else?"

"Alejandro is still back home visiting his girl, but he said he should make it here just in time. And König and Ida are flying in from overseas to see everyone. Figured we'd make a 141 family reunion out of it."

"König and Königin, you mean."

Simon rolled his eyes at the correction. "Ida, Königin, same difference. Their callsigns are too damn similar and it's confusing."

Though it had been pretty confusing at first, you thought the matching callsigns were adorable. After König had settled down back home, he'd reconnected with an old flame from his special forces days. And when he'd brought her to meet the rest of the team, they lovingly called her Königin. And it made sense why they had. If "König" meant king and she was his partner, it only made sense to give her the German title for queen. It fit her too. Because though she was a force to be reckoned with in the field, Ida carried herself with a soft gracefulness in peacetime. You'd finally gotten to meet her the last time you and Simon had visited his old base. And she was such a sweetheart. The same loving tenderness König exuded was evident in her too. And König looked genuinely happy. He had a new air of peace and calm about him. Even confidence! And you were happy for him too.

Everyone had shown up to their wedding, Soap eager to lead the rowdy reception. She invited you to stand by her side as a part of her bridal party and you happily accepted. And when you and Simon tied the knot a few years afterwards, the whole team regrouped all over again for the celebration. If someone had told you that the gruff, skull-faced lieutenant would one day be your husband, you never would have believed them. And if they had told you König was destined to be his best man, standing by his side for support as he recited his heartfelt vows to you, you would have thought they were insane! But after the dust had settled from when the two of you had parted ways, you and König were quick to resume a close friendship. And when your wedding day arrived, König and Ida were right there by your side to ensure everything was perfect for your special day.

It was always so nice to have everyone back together again. Any excuse to get the family all in one place was never wasted. Though years had spread them all apart distance-wise, their shared bonds continued to remain strong as ever. Like a true family should.

"Hmmm," you pursed your lips, deep in thought. "Maybe I should make something simple that everyone would actually eat. Hot dogs and hamburgers? I'll man the grill!"

"Oh, no you don't," Simon laughed. "You combined with open flame? I don't know if I like the sound of that."

"Aw, come on! I've been working on this truck all afternoon and it's still in one piece!"

Simon tilted his head, studying your work. Though he was hesitant, he couldn't argue with what he saw. Everything you'd done in the engine bay was carried out just as he would have done them himself. Your hands were hopelessly dirty, but your handiwork was impeccable by his standards.

"That's a fair point," he nodded, clearly impressed. "But what made you wanna get your hands dirty with this thing again? You decide to give the old fella another go?"

"Yeah. I really wanna figure him out and finally get him on the road again," you sighed. "After errands, I got a bit restless and wanted something fun to do."

Simon chuckled, a soft smile spreading across his face. "You call this old piece of junk fun?"

"Shhh! Don't say that!" you giggled. "You'll hurt his feelings!"

"He can consider it payback for hurting my feelings all these years. Breaking down at the worst times and all that nonsense. But if he doesn't like it, he's more than welcome to start up anytime he wants."

You patted the side of the car lovingly. "He will! He's just a late bloomer. But he'll grow up big and strong, just like his daddy."

Ghost laughed, shaking his head. As he did, his brown strands caught in the breeze, the wind tussling them up a bit. It seemed another haircut was in order. No matter how many times you nudged him to let it grow out, Simon was firmly stuck in his ways. He didn't need any fuss over his looks. Just a kitchen chair and the steady hum of the clippers in your hand was heaven enough for him.

"Besides," he'd always say. "No one's gonna see it under the mask."

And he was right. It wouldn't show then. But over the years, that mask was another layer of himself he'd shed when it was just the two of you. He'd still pull it out every now and then for some sexy fun. But for the most part, it sat idle on the mantle beside his death certificate until it was needed again.

They were small steps to most people: using his name and baring his face. But for him, you knew they were huge. Without those barriers between him and the outside world, he was vulnerable. He was unguarded. He was human. And it touched you to see him gradually grow comfortable enough to be so vulnerable around you. He always protected you from physical threats or danger without fail. But it was your greatest honor to protect the tender heart he'd kept hidden for so long.

"I know you love working on this thing," he said, rubbing your back. "But are you sure it's worth the effort? We already have my jeep and it runs just fine. We could probably make a decent chunk of change selling this old thing for scraps."

"No," you smiled, but your voice was firm as you shook your head. "We're not selling it, Simon. We need it!"

You let your vague response linger in the air until Simon prompted you to continue, right on cue. "...For?"

"You know I have safety concerns with jeeps. The whole 'no doors or windows' thing?"

Simon scoffed and rolled his eyes, knowing full well where the conversation was headed. His treasured car had been the topic of many heated discussions over the years, some playful and some admittedly not so playful. But when he opened his mouth to defend himself, you rushed on.

"We need something that can get us safely from one place to another. You, me,... and the baby."

All of Simon's prepared arguments flew out the window as he sat there in stunned silence, dumbfounded. He had mentally listed every possible counter to what you had to say, but there was no way he could have anticipated a declaration like that.

"You're-you're pregnant?!"

"Don't act so surprised," you giggled, swatting at him. "It takes two to tango and you know how much we tango. It was bound to happen eventually!"

"No, I'm serious," he whispered, grabbing your hand and turning you to face him. "You're really pregnant?"

You blushed, tearing up a bit as you nodded. "Mmhmm!"

His hands trembled against your shoulders, his eyes wide as a million questions flew through his mind. But he held them all at bay to pull you into a tight embrace.

"Holy shit, princess!" he murmured, laughing in pleasant surprise. "I… We… We're gonna be parents! Princess!"

"I took the test when I got home. I did two, actually. We're gonna be parents!"

"Is it a boy? Is it a girl? What is it?" Simon pulled back, his hands hovering over your stomach as he knelt to lovingly coo at where his child was growing. "Are you a boy, a girl, something in between?"

"Simon!" You doubled over slightly as you laughed, clutching his arm for support. "It's way too early to even know something like that yet!"

"Well, whatever you turn out to be, don't you worry 'bout a thing. I'll be standing by and looking out. And the second you give the signal for evac, I'll meet you at the extraction point. Okay, little one? Just don’t give your Ma a hard time or we'll have problems."

"Aw, they wouldn't dream of it," you murmured. "I'm sure I won't even feel a thing!"

Simon gave you a doubtful look before laughing along with you. You were both practically bursting with joy and excitement. Your eyes danced with a bright happiness. But as he traced your cheek with his fingertips, he could sense there was trepidation in there too.

"Hey, you're gonna be just fine. When the cravings hit, when you start crying over every little thing, and when the baby finally comes? We'll get through it together. Even at the scariest parts, I'll be right there with you. Okay?"

"I know," you sighed. "It's just really sudden. I mean, we've talked about starting a family before. And I'm so excited to finally do it! But I'm kinda scared, too. Shocker, I know, but I've never done any of this before. Is it normal to be this nervous?"

"I say it is. Hell, I'm nervous too. But you're gonna be just fine. You're gonna be a great mother, princess. Trust me. It's me I'm more worried about, honestly. Didn't exactly have the best example for fatherhood growing up. And I really don't wanna mess up, you know?"

"I know how you feel, Si. But look at it this way! You've always been there for me, protecting me and taking care of me. Without fail. You didn't mess me up!"

His face fell into a lopsided smirk. "Didn't mess you up maybe. But I sure knocked you up good, huh?"

"Stop, I'm being serious," you laughed. "Honestly. They'll be lucky to have you as a dad. You're gonna do great, I know it."

Simon relaxed a bit more, clinging to your words of encouragement. Eventually, he nodded and let out a breath of relief. His hands cradled your sides, pulling your stomach close as he planted a gentle kiss against your abdomen. His future child hadn't even arrived yet, but he was already wonderstruck and showering it with love.

"You're gonna laugh, but I had a silly idea for names."

"Oh?" Simon raised an eyebrow. "Lay it on me."

"Well, if it's a girl, we could name her Lilith. It means 'ghost' or 'spirit of the night'. And if it's a boy, maybe Caden? 'Spirit of War' just stood out to me. It's dumb, I know. But I thought it'd be fun to keep the Ghost theme going in a subtle way. Our own little family tradition."

"Lily and Cade," he murmured, immediately creating affectionate nicknames for both options. "It's not dumb, love. It's perfect. Our own little band of ghouls and ghosts."

"It's your kid too, though. You have any ideas?"

Simon rose to his feet, brushing the dust off his pants. "I don't have names or anything. But I do wanna sort something out right right off the bat. We'll baby-proof the house. And all my guns and ammo will be kept safely out of reach. But the minute they are old enough, I'm teaching the little rascal how to shoot. If they wanna be Little Ghosts in name, they gotta fight like one too."

"I suspected as much," you giggled. "I was gonna make you promise to be safe at first, but I know you. They'll be in good hands."

"Oh, the best hands," he smirked, puffing out his chest. "But come on. Let's get you inside and off your feet."

The sun was starting to dip lower on the horizon. But as late as it was getting, you didn't have the heart to leave the car port just yet. The open engine bay yawned at you, seemingly pulling you in. It always felt like the perfect fix was just around the corner. And though it never was, you weren't ready to surrender for the night just yet.

"Aw, man! Five more minutes? I'm okay, I promise!"

"Nope," Simon shook his head, tugging the tools from your hands before scooping you up in his arms. "That was an order, princess. I'm not taking any risks. Don't worry about the car, though. I'll sort it out myself now that I've got a good reason to. But from here on out, Lily comes first."

"Or Cade," you chirped, poking his arm. "It could still go either way!"

"You think I can't tell when I’m in the presence of a princess? Trust me, it's Lily. I just have a feeling. Call it a fatherly instinct."

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