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helenanell · 4 months ago

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Burn Away Like Mist

Aemond Targaryen

Burn Away Like Mist

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Aemond Targaryen X Baratheon Wife Reader

Summary: You despise your husband and that hatred is only compounded when you find him gazing up at the Iron Throne after the battle of Rook’s Rest.

Warnings: This is TOXIC, lots of cruelty and manipulative behaviour (on both sides.) Mention of child SA and a blade is drawn (Did someone say knife to throat?) - Enemies to Lovers, except they are so far from lovers in this. (maybe in a part two?)

Notes: No use of Y/N - Spoilers for S2 Ep 5 - Also, I really am not and have never been an Aemond girly (I will see Luke and Rhaenys avenged!) But I do find Aemond so, so compelling and I just couldn’t get this out of my head. Enjoy?

W.C: 4k

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To those in Westeros who still held to the old Gods or to those who cradled superstitions close to their chests as though they were their own babes, the wind often harboured ill portent; it weaved across the sky, stitching the future there with fate as its thread.

And yet, it was not an ill-wind that had been the true portent of doom. You knew that countless foul fates had been ushered forth with a single foetid breath.

The breath upon which the order to send dragons to war was uttered, was the breath that began the end.

The Targaryens had survived the Doom of Valyria, fleeing from fire whilst using it to forge a path to the Iron Throne. And now they were to die in fire, of that you were sure.

The dragons had begun their dance and a dynasty would die because of it. Your husband had already claimed the lives of two. Two dragons and two dragon riders.

You would never forget Prince Lucerys and how bravely he had stood before your father in the hall of Storm’s End, his chin tilted up defiantly and such an assured, level voice from a boy still so small. He had made you smile. Just looking at him had made you smile because in him you had seen…well, you had seen a boy who had been loved and so could love and care for others in turn. You had felt hope for the realm.

But then he had been chased into the sky by Aemond Targaryen, a man devoid of love.

You knew that your husband was a product of both his blood and his upbringing. Boys starved of love grow into men who hunger for something they have never tasted; something they do not understand. Fond feelings and affection cannot find root in inhospitable soil, let alone bloom there. That was not Aemond's fault and yet his actions as a grown man were. His violence and vengefulness was no one’s doing but his own.

The storm into which Prince Lucerys had fled had been a particularly terrible one, it had felt as though the sky was being rent apart with each roll of thunder, the stone beneath your feet trembling as though in terror of it. Or in terror of what was happening above.

The moment Aemond had left your father’s hall in pursuit of his nephew, some part of you had known what was to come. And yet, when you had heard what had befallen him, you had cried for that sweet boy who had so loved his mother and affirmed his honour by so swiftly declaring he was already betrothed.

Selfishly, you had wept for yourself too. Grief for the boy you had not known and grief for the life you could have lived had intermingled, the tears that rolled down your cheeks acrid to the point of toxicity upon your tongue.

Not even a week later, Aemond had returned for you. His dragon blotted out the sun and you had remained in shadow ever since.

Your father had promised you that the wedding would not take place for some time, but he had not accounted for your betrothed becoming a Kinslayer while his promise to wed you still echoed down the halls of Storm’s End. The greens needed all the support they could get and quickly.

You had been married the day after you had arrived in King’s Landing.

Now, if Aegon did not wake, your new husband would be a Kingslayer too.

You did not know what had happened during the battle of Rook’s Rest and yet you had seen the truth of it in the brief glimpses you’d caught of your husband since his return. His brother’s state was not only down to Princess Rhaenys and the Red Queen, Meleys.

Up until now, you had been grateful that Aemond seemed to have no inclination to even converse with you, let alone share your bed, but you couldn’t help but think how much easier it would be to plunge a dagger into his chest if he did. You were no soldier, and you would not waste honour on a man such as your husband, so you truly would have no qualms or quibbles over cutting his throat as he slept.

Ours is the fury. Those were the words of your House.

When you were a girl you had felt such great pride upon hearing them; they roused and emboldened you, filling you with such righteousness as you retained safe and protected in Storm’s End, with your only adversary the wind that battered the walls and howled down the corridors in dismay when it could not reach you.

Now, when you heard the words you wanted to laugh.

Baratheon fury was without a doubt that of a storm: irascible and unyielding. And yet…it was water and wind. To Targaryen’s, the wind was something to be ridden and all water was burned away like the morning mist by dragon fire.

You had known even before you had said your vows to Aemond in the Sept of Baelor that he wished that you were that mist. When he looked at you, his gaze harboured a flame that told you he wished that you too were so easily burnt away.

But you refused to burn.

It was this rapidly growing hatred that drove you to seek him out, to look at him without baulking, if only so he could not sate himself on your fear as well as that of so many others.

It was not a search that had taken much time. After all that had happened, what would your husband want to do but gaze upon that which he coveted?

You had first met Aemond during a storm and you found him now as another raged outside the walls of the Red Keep. It was an ill omen.

It was the first rumblings of a reckoning.

Earlier in the day, Aemond had made you stand on the walkway alongside himself and the dowager queen Alicent when Meleys’ head had been paraded through the streets.

‘Behold the traitor dragon Meleys!’

You had wanted to close your eyes and plunge yourself into darkness to avoid the horror of the sight, but those words would still have rung in your ears, so you forced yourself to bear witness to the tragedy.

Aemond stood now as he did then, with his hands clasped behind his back and standing so still he might as well have been stone. The movement of his shoulders was almost imperceptible, as if taking breath was something less than vital to him. As though it were beneath him.

He was standing with his back to you, gazing up at the Iron Throne. He stood at a distance from it, but not out of deference for his dying brother, you knew.

Aemond had considered himself a king long before his Aegon had fallen upon flaming wings from the sky, he was simply enjoying the sight of the seat upon which he would soon sit; the seat he felt he was both owed and that he had earned.

Another bolt of lightning fractured the darkness and the tips of the swords that formed the Iron Throne glinted in the flash. The white strands of Aemond’s hair were for a moment threads of silver, shimmering like spun stars.

Then, the lightning retreated and the shadows descended again. Your husband seemed just as comfortable in the light as he did in the dark. Why wouldn’t he be, when he appeared able to thrive in both?

You step forward, peeling away from the side of the room.

When you speak, your voice has to contend with the thunder, but you are pleased with how indifferent you sound.

‘You may as well sit on it.’ You call out. ‘The arduous task is done with. What difficulty could climbing a few steps pose compared to killing your own kin? Again.’

Aemond’s head tilts as if in contemplation before turning just enough for you to see his face. His impassive expression is lit by a particularly violent bolt of lightning, his one violet eye flashing as brightly as you presume the sapphire in the other socket does when caught in the sunlight. His hands are still clasped behind his back.

‘You are ill-informed, wife. My brother yet lives.’

You do not miss that he does not say ‘the king’ and you dare to scoff in response.

‘Yes, I imagine you are irritated by that. It would be better for you if his demise was the result of Dragon warfare. That is easier to explain than, say, a pillow over the face? Or will you choose poison?’

Aemond hums, the corner of his mouth lifting in a deceptive manner. He is not amused, but you cannot say exactly what the small movement upon his face means. He turns to face you fully.

‘Poison is the weapon of women and cravens.’ Aemond says, his voice languid, almost bored. It infuriates you.

You want him to be as angry as you are. You want him to burn from the inside out as you do. He is the cause of your pain, so you will be the cause of his. It is this desire that drives you to speak so recklessly to him.

‘Well, you certainly aren’t a woman.’ You answer snidely.

Your silent implication has the desired effect. Aemond advances towards you, his jaw is clenched and the lines of his face are as hard as the carved stone that adorns the hall. You do not flinch or take so much as a step back. You stand firm, staring him down as he stops barely an arms length in front of you.

He is certainly breathing now, his shoulders heaving as he draws in air with the anger he has that is so often unbridled.

But just when you think you’ve succeeded in provoking him, Aemond lets out a steady exhale, his expression turning imperious as he looks down at you.

‘Are you so listless that you must come to poke and prod at me as though you were a disgruntled infant?’ He says, his voice hushed and his tone belittling. ‘My good sister is surely in want of company and comfort during such a trying time. Go to her.’

You frown up at him, curling your fingers into fists, nails digging into your palms.

You’re sure that he dons a mask of indifference around you because he knows it drives you mad. In his eyes, you are deserving of nothing, not even his contempt.

It makes you that much crueller.

As you recall an exchange you’d had with a very drunk Aegon a few days prior. Your lips lift into a nasty smile as you step up to Aemond, your chests almost touching. It’s the closest you’ve been since standing before each other in the Sept.

There’s another low rumbling of thunder. It may well be a warning, but you take it as encouragement.

‘I suppose we have that in common then.’

Aemond’s head tilts to the side, humming with feigned interest. ‘And what is that, ñuha jorrāelagon?’

Your skin itches. You hate that you cannot know what he calls you, especially when he has that unknowable glimmer in his eye. You steel yourself and speak the words that you know will place you in peril.

‘It seems we are both prone to bouts of childishness.’ You say, smiling up at him. ‘I know what happened in the brothel, Aemond. Aegon took great delight in telling me of how he found you: naked and cradled in the arms of the establishments madam as if you were a babe.’

The noise that comes from Aemond borders upon the animalistic. So much so, that when he darts forward, his hand curling around the nape of your neck, that you expect to feel the sting of claws piercing your flesh.

You swallow down a gasp as Aemond drags you closer, forcing you to crane the neck he has in a vice grip in order to look up at him. Lightning gives you a better glimpse of his face that is now tight with fury.

He does not utter a word, he just glowers down at you as his heaving chest brushes yours.

You open your mouth to speak and his grip tightens, his nails digging into your neck. You do not know if he’s warning you or urging you on. You’re not entirely sure that he does either.

Either way, it would not stop you. This is the closest you’ve come to feeling alive since you left Storm’s End.

‘How old were you when it happened?’ You speak with a softness that you know he will not know how to contend with.

The jarring change in your tone and demeanour works. As Aemond takes in the concern that you force onto your face, his anger falters. It is only for a blink, but it feels like a victory all the same.

You are triumphant in the knowledge that he does not know you well enough to tell if you’re being genuine.

You aren’t, of course; you do not care for your husband. But that does not stop you from feeling sad for the boy that he was.

You have no doubt that the brothel all those years ago was Aegon’s doing; his was no doubt the lecherous hand that had forced Aemond into the arms of a grown woman. Undoubtedly, the sexual act had become conflated with tenderness for Aemond and for a comfort that he had never had.

Aemond manages to rebuild his cold exterior, but it is not as well fortified as before. He leans down, holding your neck tighter as he forces you to maintain eye contact.

‘You speak as though it is something which should torment me.’ He says quietly, sounding unconvinced by his own words. ‘As though it was something inflicted upon me, instead of something that I desired.’

‘You didn’t desire it. You were a boy.’ You answer, disgust dripping from your words at the thought of it.

Aemond’s hold on the back of your neck loosens, but he does not remove it completely.

‘Boys must become men.’ He answers flatly.

‘Yes, but that is something that time will take care of without interference. Boys become men, that is an inevitability, it is not a change that can be brought about by abuse-’

‘It was not abuse.’ Aemond hisses, nails digging into you once more.

Aegon had delighted in telling you a great many things.

During the wedding feast–if the rushed, dismal affair could even be afforded such a title–the King had been deeper into his cups than you’d thought possible and he had delighted in telling you any story he could conjure in order to diminish Aemond’s manhood in your eyes. He had spoken in great length about the disappointment you were soon to suffer in the bedchamber, but he had also regaled you with stories of his brother’s youth that had been rife with ridicule.

In what you had thought was preparation to defend yourself against Aemond’s coming attempt to bed you, you had sharpened your teeth on the tales of his childhood torment. But after he had spurned you, leaving your marriage unconsummated, you had not been able to bite anything.

Now, you were going to take the chance to bloody your mouth with those sharpened teeth. You meant to take a chunk of flesh.

‘Aegon did not make you a man, Aemond, nor did that woman, because you are still that little boy who was given a pig to ride–”

You choke on your own words as air rushes about your ears as you are forced up against the nearest pillar.

Your back slams into the cold stone as Aemond draws a familiar Valyrian steel dagger and presses it up against your throat. The muscles in his neck strain as he lets out a low grunt, as though the effort he is exerting to stop himself from killing you is physically painful.

You keep your eyes on your husband’s face, revelling in seeing his mask shatter, even as you feel the blade press into your skin.

You glower up at him and eagerly continue your tirade. At least if he kills you, you’ll be free of him: ‘Did you have to take the dagger from Aegon’s body, or did it fall to the earth alongside Sunfyre after you attacked them?’

Aemond’s knuckles whiten as he tightens his grip. ‘You wield your tongue as though it were a weapon, wife. It is impressive, truly. But you would do well to remember that only the real thing can cut.’ Aemond’s whisper skims across your cheek as he leans, your neck beginning to sting as he presses the dagger deeper. ‘Only one can draw blood.’

You fail to suppress a hiss of pain as you feel a bead of blood roll down your skin. And Aemond does not cease, almost spurred on by the sound of your pain. He leans in a little more, exerting further pressure on the blade.

The Baratheon fury that is your birthright flares within you and your hand shoots up. You wrap your fingers around Aemond’s wrist, attempting to stop the press of the weapon. It does not. Your reaction only serves to lift his lips into a sadistic smile.

‘Do you see now, how useless your words are?’ He coos, lips skimming the shell of your ear. You feel the vibrations of his words in your very bones. ‘How doomed of a rebellion your vitriol is?’

You answer by curling your fingers and digging your nails deep into his wrist as he had done with your neck. Nothing happens at first, but as you dig and dig, he leans back to peer down at you, his thin lips pressing into a tight line.

‘And what of your blade, Aemond?’ You goad, nails digging deeper. ‘What use does it have when you won’t use it? My throat is still yet to be slit.’

A shadow that has nothing to do with the darkness of the throne room passes over Aemond’s face. ‘Do you so wish for death, that you would offer yourself up like a lamb to the slaughter?’ He seethes.

‘But that’s just it, Aemond. You can’t slaughter me, can you?’ You say, sounding almost manic. Your blood has been drawn and both of you can taste it in the air. ‘My hand won Baratheon swords and my death would turn them against you.’

‘It would turn them against the Crown. I could cut your throat right here, right now and any retaliation your father offered would still be nothing more than treason. You are of no true consequence.’

‘So do it.’ You challenge, perversely energised by the feel of a blood trickling down your neck. ‘You are already a Kinslayer and a Kingslayer too if Aegon succumbs to his wounds. What does an oath sworn to my father mean to you? What are the vows you said to me? Although, now that I come to think of it, you are not truly my husband, are you?’

Aemond takes on an expression of mock pity, and tuts at you. ‘You may wish that to be true, but in the eyes of the gods and men, you are mine. My wife.’

You laugh bitterly, tightening your hold on his wrist, almost willing him to dig the steel further into your neck. ‘Am I? Without consummation I belong only to myself.’

Aemond lets out another of his characteristic hums that could just as easily signify danger as it could amusement. Another flash of lightning sends his one eye glowing.

‘You call me a boy and yet it is you with such infantile notions.’ He says. ‘You have never belonged to yourself. Before any man beds you, you belong to your father. You were his to give away the moment you were born and he has…to me.’

‘And you sneak out of the Red Keep and into the arms of a woman who you pay to hold you. Do you even know that affection can be something freely given?’ You lift your free hand and place it against his cheek, just below his eye patch. You could swear he flinches. ‘True comfort need not come as part of a contract.’

‘Is that what you are offering me?’ There is still a derision dripping from his words, but they lack their usual potency. ‘Affection and comfort? You would give this to me freely?’

‘No, I would not.’ You snap. ‘ If I were truly free, I would have taken the knife sheathed on my thigh and plunge it into your heart.’

For all your fantasising, you knew what harming, let alone killing your husband would mean for your family. For your dear sisters.

Something flashes in Aemond’s eye at your words. He eases back, the blade lifting from your skin by barely an inch. The wounds stings fiercely as the air hits it but you manage not to wince.

Your husband is tall enough that he can take his free hand and lift up your skirts, all while maintaining eye contact with you. Your breath hitches in indignation as his warm fingers run up your calf and over your knee, splaying out into a flat palm to run up your thigh as he searches.

You do not move.

When Aemond finds nothing he shifts his hand, moving to the opposite leg. When his fingers land on the dagger contained within the sheath, you see his own breath falter.

A grin spreads out onto your face. He hadn’t believed you.

You had surprised Aemond Targaryen.

With his eyes still on you and one hand still clutching the sheath on your leg, Aemond returns the Valyrian steel dagger to his belt. The now free hand moves to your neck, the pad of his thumb catching the bead of blood as it rolls down towards your clavicle.

With his eyes still on you, he pulls back the thumb now stained crimson and takes it into his mouth, lips closing over it and taking part of you into himself.

Your cheeks flush in fury, feeling that something else has been stolen from you.

He looks so satisfied, as though what he’s just consumed of you–both emotionally and physically–will feed him for years.

Letting out a furious groan you reach beneath your skirts and pull his hand from your thigh. You know he lets you do it, just as he lets you take your hands and hit out against his chest, shoving him away from you.

And yet, you still feel pleased with yourself when you see his eye widen slightly at the force of your push. He only just stops himself from staggering back, his now clean thumb falling from between his lips.

Aemond takes another step away from you, the carefully crafted impassivity returning to him.

But, the way he’s regarding you has changed. There’s a predatory glint in his eye that had not been there before. The sight of it makes your throat close up. You already miss his emotionless stare.

‘You should not concern yourself over the lack of consummation. If my brother dies, I will be King. And a King needs heirs. As does a Prince Regent.’ Aemond muses, revelling in the horror that blooms upon your face. ‘Enjoy the solitude while you have it, ñuha jorrāelagon. You may soon bear the burden of a queen.’

And with that he’s turning his back to you, the sound of his footfalls bruising you in a way the storm’s din couldn't.

But then, just before the towering doors, Aemond stops. He does not turn and yet you feel his attention on you all the same.

When he speaks, it is a whisper. A whisper that you should not hear at such a distance and over the thunder and yet somehow, you do.

You do not understand him, but you hear your husband's words.

‘Aōha perzys gaomas daor zālagon nyke, ābrazȳrys. Yn nyke raqagon se ōdres hen ziry’

(Your fire does not burn me, wife. But I enjoy the pain of it.)

And then, just like the first time you had met him, Aemond Targaryen departs a hall besieged by a storm, leaving you breathless with hatred in his wake.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #prince aemond #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #hotd #hotd spoilers #aemond one eye

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angelsdevils · 2 months ago

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October 2, 2025 - Reiner Braun (AOT)

Reiner Braun Attack on Titan Warning: Size Kink, Breeding, Plus Size Girlies, Oral, Body Worship

Tag List: @reiners-milkbiddies @galactict3a @useless-potatho

The town square lively with the spirit of Halloween. Strings of orange lanterns and lights hung between the lamp posts, the chilly air rustled through the autumn leaves. It was October 2, and the autumn festival was happening. You took a deep breath of hair, pulling your scarf closer to your face. Your breath curled up into the air, a shiver from the cold causing intake a sharp breath. Your sweater hugged your figure snugged. You were currently in a pumpkin patch, looking for the best pumpkin to carve.

You kneeled down to examine a particular large one, but you heard a familiar deep voice from behind.

“Need help lifting that?”

You turned around to see Reiner, his broad frame towering over you. His sharp jawline softened as he gave you that friendly smile tugging on his lips. You couldn’t help but smile brightly as he wasted no time in lifting the large pumpkin for you, he was already hold one for himself.

Your heart raced at his closeness, he always made you feel butterflies with the way he looked at you. You two weren’t together yet, no, but the way he made your heart flutter had you falling in love with him again.

“Thank you, Reiner, I didn’t know you enjoyed pumpkin patches,” you said after a silence of admiring how his muscles filled out his jacket. Your cheeks were pink but you could easily blame that on the chilly day.

Reiner grinned as he caught her eyes trailing over him. He effortlessly carried the pumpkins as they walked out of the pumpkin patch side by side. You felt your cheeks warm at his close proximity.

“You know, I have to admit that sweater dress looks really good on you,” Reiner’s voice broke the comfortable silence between the two of you. You looked up at him surprised before looking down at the dress.

“You think so? I thought maybe it was a bit too tight and didn’t flatter me at all.”

“Nonsense, I think this has to be my favorite thing on you.”

Your heart thumped in your chest at his compliment. If your cheeks weren’t red because of the cool air before, they were a dark red now.

When you arrived at your small, cozy apartment, Reiner walked in and sitting the pumpkins down on the kitchen table. He has been to your place multiple times before. So this was nothing new, but the way he was looking at you had you a bit nervous. He walked closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“We should carve the pumpkins together,” his fingers traced against your sides gently squeezing your love handles. You tensed under his hold, but nodded your head. You weren’t use to affection not from someone like him, who was just so handsome. He smiled brightly at you and went through your drawers grabbing the things you needed including a large sheet of paper to avoid a huge mess on the table.

You both sat at the table, carving the pumpkins. You two were side by side, his arms brushing against yours occasionally. Suddenly, Reiner broke the silence again, and you looked up at him.

“You know,” Reiner began, his deep voice was serious but held something else, “you don’t have to hide. Not from me anyway.”

You looked at him confused on what he meant, setting the knife down. “Hide what?”

He put his knife down and turned his large frame to you. “You. You don’t need to cover up or try and hide yourself, you are beautiful just the way you are.”

Your breath was caught in your throat at his words. You had been a bit self conscious about your body, trying to lose more weight, hide it under bigger clothes. Some clothes, like this sweater naturally fit a bit tighter.

Reiner stared at you with so much, admiration and sincerity it made you feel seen like never before.

“I—” you started, but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead you felt a wave of emotion, warmth spreading through your entire body.

Reiner leaned closer to you, his large hand gently reaching for yours. His fingers laced with yours before pulling you into his lap. His touch was gentle as if you were made of glass. He was always gentle with you but this time, he was even more gentle.

He leaned in capturing your lips with his in a gentle and passionate kiss, You gasped softly, gripping his shirt gently. You leaned more into the kiss, sighing softly. The size difference between the two of you was more apparent as your plush body pressed against his larger solid frame, but you didn’t feel out of place. You felt welcomed. Reiner’s strong arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer, he suddenly stood up, picking you up with ease.

You couldn’t help but let a small gasp out as he picked you up, he carried you to your bedroom and laid you down on the bed. He removed his shirt, his muscles rippling from the movement, your eyes trailed over his form. This was really happening, and he looked down at you. He removed his pants, before crawling onto the bed. His erection strained against his boxers.

“Can I remove this off of you?”

“Yes, you can…” You voice was breathless as his hands moved up to the hem of your sweater dress, pulling it over your head. You felt a bit self conscious of your body, but Reiner was breathless. Looking down at you.

“Fuck, you are so beautiful. How can you not see that?” He mumbled, leaning down and kissing you deeply. You kissed back hugging his neck, as his hands roamed over your body.

His lips trailed over your body, starting at your lips, neck down to the curve of your breasts. He tapped you for you to lift up a bit so you did and he removed your bra. His breath hitched, as he kissed your breasts, swirling his tongue around your nipples.

“You have no idea, how much I wanted to do this…” He mumbled against your skin.

“Then do it, Reiner.”

Reiner didn’t need to be told twice, his mouth stayed on your skin tracing every dip of your body, kissing down every curve. When he got to your panties, he pulled them down your legs, and spread your legs.

“You look and smell so delicious…” he grumbled, wasting no time in diving in.

“Of fuck, Reiner…” You moaned loudly, as he delve his tongue deep inside you moaning. He held your waist tightly, trying to bury his face deeper into your cunt. You gripped his hair, your back arching off the bed.

Every breath, and moan that left your lips had Reiner eating you out faster. He was addicted, and he didn’t want to stop, not yet, not when he had you melting underneath him. You felt your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach.

“Reiner, nngh, so close… please don’t stop,” you begged.

“Don’t worry, have no intentions too…” he mumbled against your folds. He sucked on your clit, bringing it into his mouth. That action alone had you coming completely undone. Your body shook under him, and you whimpered softly. He pulled away, licking his lips after drinking up your juices.

He leaned up and pressed his lips against yours gently. You could taste yourself on his lips, and you didn’t mind it. Your hands trailed down his muscular chest, before tugging his boxers down. His erection sprung free, and you wrapped your hands around him and he cursed silently.

“I need to be inside you…” Reiner said, and you nodded.

“Okay,” you said softly. He took his cock into his hand and rubbed it against your pussy lips. He slowly pushed deep inside you, slowly. His size had you arching your back the stretch burned but in the best way possible.

“So, tight… fuck, you feel so good around me, (Y/N),” Reiner grunted. He leaned forward, his forehead pressed against yours. It was taking everything in him to not thrust into you, he was a big guy and even though he so badly wanted to fuck you hard and relentless, he cared about you too much to act on it unless you asked.

“Reiner, so big, feel so full. Please, move, need you to move…” You whimpered, hugging his shoulders. He started off slow, thrusting his hips slowly inside of you. He sighed softly. But your moans spur him on, and soon he was gripping your thick thighs, and thrusting into you hard and fast.

Your knuckles began to turn white from gripping the sheets, crying out his name. He loved the way your stomach and thighs jiggled with each harsh thrust inside of you. It made something snapped inside of him.

He went faster, practically folding you in half. He couldn’t help but groan softly and kiss you deeply.

“Fuck, fuck! Wait, slow down!” You cried out, but Reiner’s grip on you kept you still. His balls were hitting your ass, and the he suddenly had a thought. He loved how soft you were, your stomach.

“Fuck, I am gonna get you pregnant. Please say yes, please say I can cum inside.”

That thought had you crying out, you wanted it. You wanted him to fill you to the brim and get you pregnant.

“Reiner, yes, please… I want it, I want all of it.”

Reiner took your legs, putting them to the side of your head, folding you successfully. You didn’t even know you could be bent like that because of your size, but Reiner made you feel tiny compared to him.

Not long after he slammed into you completely and stilled. Spurts of cum filled you and you came hard at the feeling. You shook from the pleasure of being filled by Reiner. He didn’t pull out completely yet wanting it to stick.

He let your legs down, and leaned down pecking your lips.

“Next year around this time, we will have a baby to dress up.” He mumbled softly against your lips. He held your plump body against his, not letting you pull away from him. You didn’t want to pull away anyway, the thought had you glowing with a smile.

“We can all go to the pumpkin patch together, dress the baby in a cute little pumpkin outfit.”

“I am gonna have to work harder to provide for you and the baby, make you my little stay at home wife…” He nuzzled you. “Maybe keep you pregnant and full of me, so if you do decide to lose weight I still get to have your plump body to myself.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, pecking his lips gently.

© [@angelsdevils] all rights reserved. none of my posts or stories should be modified, reposted, etc. I do not own the character or the fanart, but I own the plots of these stories. All fanart goes to their appropriate owners.

#AOT #Attack on Titan #Reiner Braun #Reiner x Reader #Reiner x Chubby Reader #Kinktober 2024 #AngelsDevils

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roadkillxd · 2 years ago

Note

could i maybe request ghost and m!reader go out for the night and reader sees someone flirting with ghost so they make him jealous by flirting w someone else 🧍🏽 and it ends w jealous and possessive ghost fucking male reader for flirting w the bartender? 🌝 thank 🧎🏽🙏🏽

It wasn't the bartender ♡ Price anon is next !!

Ghost x M!Reader ↪ 1800 words — 18+ / SMUT.

Content tags — cis male submissive reader, cis male dominant Ghost, spit as lube, unsafe sex, referenced/implied Ghost x Soap, intentionally making partner jealous, possessive behavior, dubious consent (Soap), borderline cheating, crying, rough sex, penetrative sex, anal sex, fingering, mild choking, semi-public sex, slapping, spanking.

You watch from the mouth of the hallway to the restrooms, leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Hip jutted out. Glaring.

Ghost’s not paying you any attention, rapt on the girlie paying him some in turn. He’s on his fifth shot of whiskey—you’ve been counting. Always counting, so you know when it’s time to drag him to the bunk, and to know when he’ll get handsy, too.

He’s getting there.

Except this broad’s got his attention, and she’s got her dainty little hand on his arm, near the crook of his elbow, and he doesn’t move her off. She leans in real close and you know how Ghost is—you know he’s marveling over how small that hand looks on him. He’s got a real size thing, the freak.

One time he’d had his hands on your hips, fucking you from behind, and you could feel him stretching his fingers across your stomach, seeing how close he could get. It was a real thing for him.

Then you’re not looking anymore. You’re crossing the bar to where Gaz and Soap are sitting, footfall heavy but not audible over the combination of drunken conversations and rumbling music.

“Johnny!” You bark, and your tone’s got Soap startling before he’s turning his head over his shoulder to clock you.

“Aye, what’s—woah!”

You’re already on him, grabbing the back of his chair and swinging around to plant yourself in his lap, thick thighs dwarfing his own as you rest down a little hard, making him grunt.

You hear Gaz mutter a “Jesus Christ…” as he downs the rest of his drink, getting up to go find something else to do.

Soap’s hands are instinctively on your thighs, gripping tight. He’s wide-eyed—tries to shift to look past your shoulder at Ghost but you grab his face before he can, fingers pinching his cheeks as you turn him back to you.

“Lad,” he tries slowly, eyeing you warily, “I’d rather not end up on the sharp side of Ghost’s knife, if it’s all the same to you.”

“You won’t. Focus on me,” you trail your hands down to his chest, planting them there as you rock your hips forward, grinding down against Soap. You’ve never heard the Scotsman take in such a sharp breath, his whole body jolting like he’s trying to rock you off of him. Your thighs squeeze tighter against him. You didn’t get the goddamn record on that mechanical bull for nothing.

He’s got his hands up to the side now, in the air like he’s trying to surrender. You cackle, grabbing his wrists to settle them back onto your hips.

“Make it convincing.”

Over all the noise you hear the sound of a glass slam down on the bar, hard. You’re surprised you didn’t hear it shatter, too.

“He’s coming over,” Soap chokes, staring doe-eyed over your shoulder.

“Good.”

You elegantly swing your leg to stand, spinning in the process, literal inches from Ghost’s heaving chest. You look up with a sharp smile, meeting his dark eyes without hesitation.

“Is there a problem, Lieutenant?”

He doesn’t respond—grabs the back of your neck to drag you out the door like a misbehaved puppy. It’s got your cock stirring in your pants.

He pulls you into an alley, slams you into the wall. His hands are on the front of your throat now, and it squeezes in a question. You squeeze his hips in a silent response. He growls low in his throat.

“What the hell was that?”

“Mm, I could ask the same thing, Lieutenant.”

“Drop the rank. I was having a damned conversation, not riding Johnny’s cock—”

“Fuck, I’d pay to see—” his hand leaves your throat to slap you, your jaw aching as you flex it, feeling the ache.

You laugh and Ghost grips your hair hard, wrenching your head to the side.

“Teach you a fuckin’ lesson,” he hisses.

“What? Wouldn’t wanna watch, good ol’ boy? You know he’d let—” you gasp as Ghost bites down on your neck hard, having pulled his balaclava up over the tip of his nose. You groan, “fuckkk…”

His leg slots between your own, pressing up to grind against your bulge. You grasp at his hoodie, feeling how he moves further up your neck to suck a mark where you can’t hide it.

“Your mouth gets you into trouble,” he says lowly, voice scratching.

Your eyes are half-lidded, mouth hanging open.

“And out of it,” you breathe. He moves away from your neck to death glare at you. It doesn’t make you shrink away—never does. You smile instead, deciding to play along, “then shut me up, Lieutenant.”

He grabs your waist and suddenly spins you around hard. His hands are on your wrists before you can react, pulling them taut at the small of your back and holding them there with only one of his big hands. The other reaches up, entwining in your hair again to yank your head back.

He grazes his nose along your throat, breathing you in, scraping his teeth along your pulse point. You groan.

“Make you scream, instead,” he mutters, licking a line across your lips but moving away before you can kiss him, letting go of your hair so that your head falls forward, hung low.

He pushes your pants down just enough to get at your ass. You hear him spit and you shimmy in place, trying to entice him. He slaps your ass instead, the cracking sound wet with his saliva, before pressing a slick finger to tease at your hole.

His fingers are big compared to the average, but not thick compared to his body. Instead they’re long, a bit bony. The jutting knuckles rub against all the right places, fingers crooking to rub at your prostate, loosening you up quicker.

He fucks like he kills: quick and efficient.

He’s at least careful enough to keep you slick, spitting down onto your hole over and over—making you shiver. By the time he’s got you fucking back onto three of his fingers you’re nearly crying, jaw slack as you make desperate little noises into the night air.

“Lieutenant,” you gasp out, back arched so prettily for him. He can’t take his eyes off the sweat that drips down your spine, or how your slick little hole sucks in his fingers, “fuck, please.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, pressing his fingers into the hilt before twisting them, making your legs quiver, “you gonna be good for me now? Learned your lesson?”

You don’t respond for a long moment, focusing on the overwhelming pressure in your abdomen as he rolls the pads of his fingers over your prostate. You press your forehead to the cool brick wall and smile—a sharp thing he can’t quite see.

“Never.”

He growls, pulling his fingers free, and you shake—partly in silent laughter and mostly in anticipation for what’s to come. You don’t think Ghost’s ever gotten his cock out so fast, suddenly the leaking tip pressing hard against your fluttering hole. You moan loud and long as he slides into you, the slight burn from the improvised lube quickly giving way to pleasure as he fills you so full.

You think you can feel him in your stomach when he finally halts, his hips pressed flush to your ass. You squeeze around him, body trying to accommodate, and he groans weak and quiet against your throat, his face pressed there as he gives you time to adjust.

It takes you a full minute before you start to gently rock your hips, giving him the silent go ‘head. He nips at your neck in affirmation before drawing back, feeling how he slides through your tight walls till just the tip remains, before slamming back in hard.

You immediately sob out, voice echoing off of the brick walls, and Ghost claps a hand over your mouth, his pace never faltering as he grips your hips bruisingly tight.

“Johnny…” Ghost says, groans, and for half a second you think he’s moaned the wrong name, but then, “Johnny could never fuck you like this. Couldn’t split you open—make you fuckin’ scream and cry like I can.”

You pant against his palm, eyes rolling back as you nod your head. He licks over your face, collecting salty sweat on his tongue—makes you feel used in ways you can’t describe.

You love it.

You’ll have to go back to base after this lest the whole task force sees what a fucking wreck Ghost made of you, covered in bruises and bites and saliva, hair mussed and eyes glazed.

“He couldn’t make you cum like I can, not on his cock like I can. That’s what you’re gonna do, huh? Cream your fuckin’ jeans like some horny teenager. Just feels too good, doesn’t it, love?”

His voice is so deep, gravelly and clearly straining as he speaks right against your ear, exhaling hot puffs of breath. You furiously nod in response. You hadn’t even noticed it until he said something either, how close you are, your cock leaking and hard still trapped in your jeans.

Ghost’s cock rails your prostate over and over, that deep pressure settling in your tummy as heat floods your system. You try to warn him, so he can stop cause you know you’re not supposed to come first and you don’t want to be bad and—

“Cum for me,” he growls, and you do.

Your whole body shakes, like a seismic wave starting from your toes and ending at your neck, a full body shudder. Hot spurts of cum decorate the inside of your jeans, sticky and wet. Ghost fucks you through it—doesn’t stop fucking you. You’re so sensitive and he keeps pounding into you, pushing harder and harder against your tight, clenching hole trying to keep him out.

You’re actually crying now, wet sobs against his hand as he slides two fingers to press flat onto your tongue. You mindlessly begin to suck the digits and Ghost moans, hips stuttering a few times before he buries into the hilt.

His prick pulses and twitches as it fills you, spongy head pushing hard against your limit as he cums, his spend pushing out and dripping around his cock already. Too much to keep in.

Your cock sits limp and sad and a bit cold from the drying cum as you come down from your high, Ghost’s arms now tight around you, holding you against his chest. You try to get your footing, realizing how much weight you're putting on him. Your legs shake.

When he finally slips free you hiss, cold air brushing against your bare hole. He kisses your neck gently and pulls your pants back up. They’re dark enough to hide any stains.

“Let me drive you home,” he murmurs.

#modern warefare 2 #modern warfare #ghost x male reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #mine #smut

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midwesternwitchery · 1 year ago

Text

Bad Choices

Michael Meyers x Fem!reader

TW- This is a lot okay. Big NSFW themes. Michael saves you from SA/ lots of rough handling in the best way, overstimulation, stalking vibes. written from 1st person pov no name but use of y/n briefly. Brief descriptions of readers body/features, Fem reader

A/NI have no excuses its porn with little to no plot. Wrote this last year around halloween for a friend and completely forgot about it. Hope y'all enjoy 7.1K

please don't interact unless your over 18 nsfw under the cut

October in Haddonfield Illinois has a different sort of vibe. Everyone is on edge, especially me. The last few weeks it’s felt as if someone’s been watching me, following me around. It feels like every time I turn a corner someone will be on the other side. Watching. Waiting. For what, I didn’t know.

The air was brisk as I walked down the streets of Haddonfield, a rainbow of orange and brown leaves crunching under my feet. I had just come from a girls night at a local boozy coffee joint with some work friends. I’m not much of a drinker so I only stayed for one drink to be polite. It’s not that I wanted to be a loner, it just seemed to happen that way. So, when I moved here, I decided I wanted to change that. I wanted to make some friends and have a semi normal life. Maybe meet a nice guy and settle down but it’s not always that easy though.

Ahead of me I can see a group of men hanging out in front of the main bar in town. I knew it was stupid, but I decided my best bet was to avoid those men, so I cut down an alley to get to the woods behind the town. If I’m quick I can cut through and be home in 15 minutes. ‘Yeah, this is fine, I’m fine.’ I thought as I pushed through some bushes in my path but after a few minutes of walking I heard a branch snap to my left. I instinctively froze, my eyes wide and searching for whatever made that noise. The sun was low almost completely gone, so I didn’t have much light left to search for the source of the noise. After a moment of silence, I shrugged it off thinking it was an animal and continued on my way.

I walked a few feet down the path when a man in one of those cheap Halloween masks stepped out in front of me. I gasped and stopped walking panic rushing in my veins.

"C'mere girly, don’t ya wanna have a good time?” The man slurred at me.

I didn’t have time to answer as the man lunged at me and I sprang into action dodging him and running past. He kicked out a leg catching my ankle and I tripped, losing my balance and fell flat on my face, knocking the wind out of me. I didn’t let that stop me from fighting with everything in me. The man straddled my legs from behind, beginning to grope at my ass as I let out an ear piercing scream. He was trying to remove my skirt when suddenly his hands were gone.

I stopped struggling to sit up and look around and there he was. A mountain of a man in a dark pair of coveralls and another dirtier version of the Halloween mask. He had my attacker by the throat held up in midair, when a long sharp wicked looking knife appeared in his hand, and he began stabbing the man violently. The man’s blood was everywhere, splattering my savior and pooling at his feet. I was frozen in fear. If I moved, he would notice me but if I stayed, he would notice me for sure. I continue having this internal debate of what the fuck am I supposed to do when the man finally stopped stabbing my attacker, dropping the man’s limp body to the ground with a wet sounding thud.

Times up it’s now or never. I got up as he turned to look at me, the eyes of his mask were shadowed and my god he was massive. At least 6'7 with a wide chest and powerful arms, he stood there staring at me. ‘Th-thank you’ I stuttered out. He said nothing but cocked his head to the side in contemplation.

‘I uh… I’m gonna go now… Thank you … for saving me…’ I said as I took a step back and to my dismay, he took a step forward. I froze as he took another and another step toward me until he was directly in front of me. The sharp copper scent of the blood soaking his coveralls was strong this close, but I could smell something else too, something alluring and uniquely him.

I should move, I should run, but something in me told me not to. That if I run it will all be over. He would catch me and likely kill me, so I stay still waiting to see what he would do. I hadn’t realized I was instinctively backing away from him as he continued to step toward me until my back hit a tree, halting my progress.

‘Shit. This was it, I was going to die here, weren’t I?’ I thought as he raised his hand thinking he would strangle me with his oh so large hands. Jesus Christ he could palm a basketball with ease, his hands were massive just like the rest of him.

His hand landed on my cheek as his thumb wiped away a stray tear. He lifted his hand inspecting the tear before he lowered his head to my neck inhaling deeply. We stay that way for a moment. Me frozen in fear and wait am I aroused!?! What the fuck. I should not be enjoying this at all. As he inhaled deeply as he drug the nose of his mask up the column of my throat and I realized that yes, I am absolutely turned on.

He had one hand in my hair holding my head immobile while his other hand snuck around my waist keeping me pinned to his chest as he continued to explore. ‘Please….please let me go’ I beg, but it falls on deaf ears as he ignores me and continues his exploration of my body. He pulled at my shirt, ripping the fabric across my chest like it was paper, while his other hand snuck down my back to grab my ass. He lifted me way too easily with one arm bracing me between his body and the tree.

My skirt rode up and as I squirmed trying to get out of his hold, I felt him. Between my legs I could feel his hard cock practically throbbing against me. The only barrier between us my thin lace panties as my skirt had rucked up to my hips. I tried to resist pushing against him trying to get free of his hold when his grip tightened painfully on my hip. I inhaled deep to draw out a scream when his hand came up and wrapped around my throat. Effectively cutting off any chance of a scream escaping my lips. He ground his hips into me, and he groaned. He still hadn’t spoken but fuck his voice had to be deep if his groan was anything to go by.

His grip on my throat loosened and I choked out, ‘Michael? That’s your name, right? Please let me go.’ I choked on a sob as he reached down to rip the thin lace of my panties. He didn’t acknowledge me when I spoke, just continued on as if he had no real control over his own actions. As if he was compelled to strip me bare right here in the woods with my former attackers body not 6 feet away from us. His fingers explored my pussy, first rubbing my clit then further down pressing them inside of me roughly. I cried out and his hand squeezed my throat again, but he did ease up, fucking me slowly with his fingers as if he’s preparing me for him. Judging by the size of him I’m going to need it.

I tried resisting but fuck he was hitting all the spots inside me making me see stars as I convulse around his fingers. As I came down, he dropped my legs to the ground, and I fell in a heap at his feet. He said nothing but the sound of his zipper made me look up at him. Freeing his cock, I gasped he was huge pale and thick with a few veins on the underside of his cock. My body was a traitor, I shouldn’t be enjoying this, but the site of his hard pale cock made my mouth water and my pussy throb with need. He grabbed me by a fistful of hair bringing my face close to his cock. I knew what he wanted, and I wasn’t about to deny him.

He pressed his cock against the seam of my lips forcing it inside. The salty sweet tang of him hit my tongue making me moan. After a few moments of guidance, I took over. Bouncing my head on his cock I swirled my tongue around the tip as I reached up and fondled his balls. He let out a low growl tightening his grip in my hair he started to fuck my mouth in earnest. I couldn’t breathe all I could do was sit there allowing him to fuck my face as hard and fast as he wanted. My throat burned from the force of his thrusts, but I was undeniably wet. If my parties weren’t torn, they would be soaked right now. I opened my eyes looking up at him. To my surprise he was looking right back into my eyes. The light from the moon illuminating the masks eye holes just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his deep chocolate brown eyes.

His thrusts were getting sloppy, and my lungs burned from lack of oxygen when he suddenly pulled my head back and off his cock. He grabbed me under my arms and hoisted me up. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his hips, so I wouldn’t fall, as he roughly thrust his rock hard cock inside of me. I let out a horse scream, it was more of a screech really. He filled me to the brim his wide cock splitting me open as he held me against him. His arms were under my legs holding me up while his hands gripped my ass as he fucked me, kneading the flesh in his large palms. I moaned wrapping my hands around his neck bringing him closer to me. The only thing I could do was cling to him as he fucked me mercilessly in the woods against a tree.

Thrust after thrust he brought me higher and higher until I shattered, climaxing around his cock, my pussy convulsed, milking him as he let out a roar and came inside of me. He rocked his cock in and out as he came, his seed spilling out of me with the force of his thrusts, it ran down my thighs and ass.

He stayed that way for a few moments breathing labored hands flexing over my ass as he came down. I looked up at him as he looked back through the holes in his mask. I’m not sure why I did but I lifted my face and placed a kiss at the corner of the mouth of his mask. His body went ridged against mine and he pulled out letting my legs fall to the ground. I felt like my legs were wet noodles and I collapsed to the ground in a puddle at his feet.

I wondered if he would kill me now that he had his way with me, but I was so blissed out it didn’t really matter. It’s not like I could stop him. He was huge and so fast there would be no point in fighting back. I had heard the stories of Michael Meyers.

You don’t grow up in Haddonfield IL without hearing them whispered between adults and children. Michael Meyers was this towns own personal boogie man, and here I lay in the damp forest floor, his seed still leaking out of me as he looked down at me. Was he contemplating killing me? Probably.

In the end he tucks his softening cock back into his coveralls, buttoning them back up. He looked around before grabbing his knife tucking it into a pocket somewhere in his bloodstained coveralls. When he turned back to me, I was still in a heap on the ground, completely resigned to my fate when he reached down picking me up bridal style and began to walk. After a few minutes of carrying me through the woods my eyes started to droop. I snuggled into him and as I drifted off, I heard him say the one and only thing so far.

‘Mine.’

***

I woke up the next morning in my bed thinking it was all a dream. When I moved to get up, I realized it wasn’t. My body was bruised and battered, clothing dirty and torn with blood spatter across the skirt. ‘So, I did happen. It wasn’t a dream.’ I whisper to myself. How did he know where I lived, and how did he get me home without being spotted for that matter? Questions swirled in my head as I stripped, throwing my clothes in the trash as they were ruined, I wondered if I should burn them since my would be attackers blood was on them.

I started the shower stepping under the warm spray, wincing as my bruised body slowly softened. I contemplate if I will ever see him again. A part of me knows I should hope I never do, he attacked me, assaulted me. I should have reported it first thing. Deep down though I hope he comes back. I hope he finds me again.

Little did I know Michael had been watching me for months waiting for an opportunity to take me. I belonged to him now and deep down I knew it. There was no escape even if I wanted to. He wouldn’t let me go so easily. A part of me thought he was a myth. That the big bad Michael Meyers wasn’t real. After last night I knew he was real, the green and purple fingerprints he left on my throat and hips are proof he was real and that it did in fact happen.

I stepped out of the shower grabbing my towel to dry off. Today was my day off and thank God for that. Inspecting myself in the mirror there is a massive handprint shaped bruise wrapping completely around my throat.

‘Fuck it’s a good thing I’m off today. How the fuck am I going to hide this at work?!?’ I thought, panicking for a moment.

There’s no way I can explain this away, I have to figure out what I can do to heal it or hide it. The thought of the bruises fading makes me a bit sad though, feeling like the bruises are a part of him. That he marked me as his and while I realize it's fundamentally fucked up, a part of me doesn’t want them to fade.

Shaking my head at myself I walked out of the bathroom down the hall to my bedroom. My home was small, but it was mine. It was the first real thing I did for myself, buying this home and making it my own. My room was small much like the rest of my home, but it had a window seat that overlooked the fields and woods beyond. My gaze caught there, where the woods met the fields. Was he out there now watching and waiting? My face warmed at the thought.

As I’m getting dressed my phone pings letting me know a text came through. I open it seeing it’s the work group chat asking for volunteers to work Halloween night for the trunk or treat. The nursing home I worked for was usually short staffed for events like this and since I have no kids or commitments, I messaged back saying I would work it. I walked to the calendar on the wall marking down the date 2 weeks from now. I could have said no but I could use the hours and well I didn’t have much of a life so why not it’s not like I have plans with a masked man again. Sighing, I sank down onto the window seat, grabbing my latest romance novel I settled in for the day, determined to get Michael Meyers off my brain.

***

Six days had passed since my encounter with the famed killer. I wasn’t able to completely hide the bruises on my throat, so I used the excuse of a car accident over my weekend off. I could tell a few of my coworkers didn’t completely believe me but since I wore an athletic style turtleneck under my uniform of scrubs, they couldn’t see the extent of the bruising. I was sore, so very sore all over even now almost a week later. I didn’t mind though, thinking it would never happen again, I cherish the soreness. It reminds me that it was real. That actually happened.

Rounding the corner of the nurses station I plopped down in a chair, sighing heavily. Marcy, my work bestie turns to me, ‘You good?’ She asks. ‘Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long week.’ I reply.

She frowns at me, ‘You should have taken some time off after your accident.’ Her tone scolding.

‘You know I can’t afford to take time off like that. Bills to pay and whatnot.’ I wave my hand dismissively as I turn to the computer to fill out my end of shift reports.

A few of our residents were scattered throughout the main sitting area near the nurses station, chatting amongst themselves or watching the tv in the corner. I looked up at the clock on the wall, thinking I had 30 minutes till the end of my shift, just enough time to finish my reports and head home when one of the residents cried out.

Marcy and I shot up out of our chairs and ran over to her to see what was wrong. ‘What’s wrong Edna?’ Marcy asked, concern laced in her voice as she tried to calm the elderly woman. ‘A mask! There was a man in a mask! He was right there in the window!’ She cried out.

A man in a mask? No… it couldn’t be... I thought.

He wouldn’t come for me again. He had his way and would forget all about me. Marcy and I finally calmed Edna, telling her it was a trick of the lighting or maybe a teenager playing a prank, that there was nothing to worry about. Eventually she calms down and Marcy wheels her back to her room while I go to finish my reports

My mind was racing with thoughts of him so it took longer than it should have to finish up. Once I finally finished, I grabbed up my stuff and clocked out, leaving through the employee entrance on the side of the building. It was late in the evening and the crisp autumn air blew past bringing the nostalgic smell of fallen leaves and bonfires. I wrap my jacket tighter around my body as I begin to walk home. I lived close enough I didn’t need to drive to work and honestly driving freaks me the fuck out. So, I never got my license. There was no need, between public transit and my bicycle I got around just fine!

Walking through the town was always an adventure this time of year. Many teenagers liked to pull pranks this time of year, but the town square was my favorite. The council always made sure to decorate and be as festive as they can during the holidays. I rounded the corner of the square and set off down the path to my home. I lived on the outskirts of town bordering the woods and crop fields. I liked living just on the edge of town, it was close enough to get around but not in the middle of everything. I valued my solitude too much to want to deal with the exhausting mother hens and matchmakers in town.

As I continued walking my thoughts drifted to Michael. I doubted I would ever see him again, he had his fun and seemed to be done with me. As I walked, I got the sense that something or someone was watching me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I looked around the street. Glancing to my left across the street between two buildings I caught a glimpse of a white mask. Giving it a double take I froze. It was him, Michael, he was watching me. It was as if my subconscious summoned him just by thinking of him. Suddenly it all made sense, the feeling of someone watching me over the last few weeks. It had to be him, there was no other explanation other than a general feeling of paranoia.

He stood across the street in the shadow of the street light between two houses. As I stood there frozen in place, he continued to stare at me. What was he thinking? I thought. Would he come for me? Right here in the middle of town? I wasn’t sure what to do so I stayed still. After a moment he took a step back out of the shadow of the streetlight and into the surrounding darkness. I stood there for a few moments longer, unsure of what to do. It almost felt like an out of body experience, standing there, staring where Michael had previously been across the street.

Shaking my head, I snapped out of it and began walking, albeit a bit faster than I previously had. I was almost home, if I could just make it there, I’d be safe. Or as safe as I could be against a brutal murderer. I knew if he came for me there would be no stopping him, just as it had been the first time, I encountered him. Finally reaching my front steps I pulled out my keys as I walked up the steps to my front door. I didn’t have much as far as decorations went, money was tight most of the time so when I did make a splurge purchase, I tried to make it count. The jelly window clings hanging on my front windows had been one of those impulse purchases, but they gave me a sense of nostalgic joy.

I was off work the next two days, so I decided I’d make myself something to eat, then go take a nice hot bath. I set my bag down, stripping off my jacket, I lit some incense and got out the ingredients for a simple soup and salad. It felt as if ages had passed since I was last home, even though realistically it had only been a few hours since I had left for work. As I worked on my dinner, I had that feeling again, of being watched. Looking up from the knife in my hand I took in my surroundings.

My home was small but cozy, crystals were set on every surface I could spare. Homemade crochet throws on my couch, smoke from the incense curled up into the air giving the room a slightly hazy look with the low lighting.

A feeling came over me, something was telling me to look out the window above the sink. I ignored it. Sure, if this was a horror movie, I’d be screaming at the girl to run but I never said I was smart. The way this feeling was twisting my insides I decided I’d rather die ignorant if that was my fate. Finishing up chopping the veggies I added them to the pot on the stove to simmer while I went to run a bath.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I reached the landing turning the corner to the bathroom. I flicked on the light, which unsurprisingly let out a loud buzz as the old light warmed up. My body ached after the long hours on my feet at work, so each night after work I completed my ritual of bath time, dinner then bed. With the schedule I had, mostly working nights it was hard to keep with a normal schedule. So, I tried to keep up with my after work routine as much as I could, to give myself a sense of normalcy. I finished cleaning out the tub and while letting the water fill, I dropped some of my homemade rose and chamomile bath salts.

Stripping my clothes, I put my hair up in a messy updo and stepped into the steaming rose scented tub. Oh yes, this right here was heaven, and should the great makers decide to take me now, well I’d die a happy woman.

Sighing, I slipped deeper into the water, allowing it to come up to my chin, completely engulfing my shoulders under the bubbles. I let my mind wander as my body relaxed in the hot water.

What was he doing? He just stood there looking at me as if he had been waiting for me and wanted me to know he was there. It’s not like he’s looking after me now… Right?

My body flushed at the thought.

He wouldn’t be looking after me. There’s no way.

Thoughts of him swirled around my head, reminding me of that night. The night he saved and ruined me. I had tried not thinking about it, but I was alone now. No coworkers or residents to distract me from these unfamiliar thoughts and feelings. I had been with other men before and always found their advances to be lackluster. My body never “Came alive” as the romance novels say, I had always felt like I was on autopilot. That night however it felt like my body was on fire when he touched me, and it made me crave more of him, more of that intoxicating feeling.

Sighing softly, I slid my hand down my body to the apex of my thighs. I knew this was a bad idea, it would only further this irrational infatuation for the LITERAL SERIAL KILLER. As the pads of my fingers brushed my clit, I gasped. Fuck this didn’t feel anywhere near as good as it did when he touched me. I continued circling my clit, driving myself higher and higher, when my phone rang, startling me out of my impending climax.

Fuck what now?!

Pulling the drain on the tub I figured it was for the best. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that.

It was one time, get over yourself.

I stepped out of the tub and reached for my cell phone answering it without looking at the caller ID.

‘Hello?’ I spoke, my voice coming out a bit course, ‘Y/N dear! I was hoping I’d catch you before you went to bed.’ My mother’s shrill voice spoke through the receiver. I groaned internally, wishing I had checked the caller ID and allowed it to go to voicemail… again.

‘Mom, hi what’s up?’ I said hoping this would be quick but knowing it likely won’t be. ‘Oh your step father and I were wanting to discuss the upcoming holidays. When were you thinking you would fly in?’ She said.

‘Uh well mom actually I don’t think I’ll be able to make it up this year…’ I said slowly, being careful to choose my words wisely, knowing my father in law was likely listening on the other end of the phone.

There was a long pause. ‘What do you mean you won’t be able to make it?’ she said in a small flat voice. ‘Well with work and the virus I offered to work the holidays to give some of my coworkers with families at home a chance to enjoy the holiday.’ I replied, my voice firm. I knew this wouldn’t go over well but was hoping to delay this conversation as long as possible.

My stepfather Roy came on the phone then. ‘Y/N this isn’t negotiable. You will come to Christmas dinner with your family.’ He stated.

It wasn’t a question of whether I wanted to spend the holidays with my family. Of course, I did, it was Roy I didn’t want to be around. My mom married him when I was 10, he was always a bit too handsy for any decent step father to be with his stepdaughter. Mom had tried leaving once before when I was a teenager, but Roy was a police officer with lots of connections, so it wasn’t as simple as a divorce.

I take a deep, calming breath.

He’s a thousand miles away so he cannot hurt you through the phone. I remind myself before replying. ‘Well Roy, I am an adult now so I get to make my own decisions on how I spend my time.’ I replied and held my breath knowing this was going to royally piss him off. He was big on appearances, coming from a long line of police officers he had a large family and liked to keep his ‘family man image’ intact.

‘Y/N, this isn’t up for discussion. You will obey your parents. I’ll expect you for Christmas dinner. No exceptions.’ I heard the phone beep as he hung up on me. Hopefully he doesn’t take things out on mom, but I have to put my foot down sometime and now that I live on the other side of the country from where my parents lived, now was the best time to start.

The smell of my soup drifted up the stairs and made my stomach grumble. I had almost forgot about the soup on the stove. Rushing down the stairs, hoping it hadn’t boiled over. I reached it just in time, flicking the stove burner off I moved the soup to a trivet on the counter and dished myself out a bowl. It smelled heavenly, rich with flavor and spices this was sure to calm my nerves after speaking with Roy and mom.

I ate in silence at my breakfast nook. Staring out into the yard, my thoughts once again drifted to Michael. I couldn’t figure out what he was doing tonight. A part of me thought he would cross the street and end me right there where I stood, but he didn’t. He just watched me cocking his head with that unreadable stare.

I finished my soup, rinsing the bowl and putting the lid on the pot to let it cool overnight on the counter. Reaching up I grabbed a bottle of wine down from the top of the refrigerator, popping it open I poured myself a glass. I downed it in one go, after refilling my glass I gathered my things, turning the lights off and headed upstairs to my room.

I flicked the light on, walking into my room I set my wine down and put my phone on the charger. I all but threw myself into my bed, collapsing into the soft down comforter. After leaving my parents house with nothing, I worked and saved as much as I could to afford this house, and everything in it. I wanted to take care of myself the way I had never really been cared for, this included way over priced linens and silky nighties like the one I was currently wearing.

Try as I might, I couldn’t get comfortable. It felt like I had ants under my skin, I couldn’t relax. Michael came to mind again, the thoughts from earlier creeping back in. I sighed rolling over to open my nightstand, I withdrew old faithful, my vibrator. I hated that I felt this way about a literal psychopath, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t enjoy my time with him that night.

I slid my hands to my panties, slipping them off and rucking up my satin nighty, my hands began exploring my body. Flicking and rubbing my clit, I turned on the vibrator. As I was beginning to slip it inside myself, I heard a creek from the hallway. My mind was already hazy with pleasure, so it didn’t fully register. That is until a large, scorching hot hand came down on my inner thigh.

My eyes flew open, a small scream caught in my throat when Michael wrapped one of his massive paws around my throat, a warning to keep silent and still. He must have been watching me from the darkness of the hallway. How the fuck did he get in and how didn’t I hear him?! I wondered as I froze when his other hand slid up my inner thigh to the toy I had just begun to enjoy. He slid it out of me bringing the vibrating toy up to his face to inspect. He sniffed at it, looking at the toy all over, likely looking for the off button. He didn’t find it and instead threw it against the wall, shattering it into about a billion pieces across my bedroom floor.

God he was massive. Just looking at him between my legs on the bed, he towered over me. I was always a bit on the curvy side so the fact that he could make me feel so small, lit something inside of me that I don’t think I’m entirely ready to address. His hand was wrapped around my throat still, while his other hand came back down on my inner thigh, spreading me wider for his gaze. He sat there for a moment, gazing at my slick pussy. His thumb slid over my mound to find my clit, and he began rubbing it, watching my reactions to his touch.

It was rough at first, almost too much pressure, but after a few moments he lightened his touch, experimenting to see what I liked. Oooh he’s learning what I like? Why would he care if I enjoyed it? Most men I had been with didn’t particularly care if I orgasmed or not, but it seemed Michael wasn’t like other guys.

My body came alive under his touch, it felt as though I was strung taught like a bow about to snap, when it hit me. The most intense orgasm I had ever ripped through me. I tried to scream but Michael's hand still gripped my throat, keeping me quiet but not fully restricting my airflow. My body shook with spasms as I came down from my high. He just stayed there staring at my pussy, now soaked with my orgasm and arousal.

His hand released my throat, and he shifted lower onto the bed. He was so large he was basically hanging off my bed already, so he shifted a bit more until he was kneeling on the floor beside the bed. Suddenly his hands gripped my hips and dragged me closer to the edge, until my ass was at the edge. The lights were already off so I couldn’t see much but I thought I saw a flash of white before I felt his breath fan out across my dripping pussy.

OH FUUUCK... His tongue darted out to lick me from asshole to clit. He paused, inhaling deeply he let loose a low growl, making me shiver, before he gripped me tighter dragging my pussy up to his face. He devoured my pussy like a starving man, licking and nipping at my folds. On and on he went licking my pussy until I reached higher and higher to my peak. I gripped his hands over my hips as I writhed under his ministrations.

The overstimulation was almost too much, I tried to wiggle away but that seemed to spur him on. He gripped me tighter dragging my ass up his body as he sat up to get a better a better hold on me. He continued abusing my clit until I came undone again on his mouth. Panting, I moaned, ‘Michael…please I can’t s'too sensitive.’ Finally, he relented, releasing my body and laying me back down on the bed.

I lay there staring up at him in the dark, my body felt like an overcooked noodle from my orgasms. I couldn’t see much in the dark, but I saw that same flash of white as he went to put his mask back on. I wondered why he felt he had to wear it all the time. Then I wondered what made him want to take it off with me.

‘Wait.’ I said, ‘Leave it off… please’ I said in a small voice, unsure of his reaction.

He paused his movements, lowering the mask once again he stood there thinking, before dropping the mask to the floor. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. He leaned down over me, his nose brushing just above my mound. He trailed his nose up my body, sniffing me along the way. Once he reached my throat, I turned my head giving him more access.

This shouldn’t feel this good, I shouldn’t feel like his touch is setting my skin on fire, but I do, and I can’t find it in me to regret any of this. Sure, he was a brutal serial killer, but he had saved me from that man, he watched over me as I walked home at night. He likely had been doing it for a while and hadn’t shown himself until tonight.

His warm, wet tongue darted out to lick a strip up from the center of my chest, up the column of my throat. My breathing quickened, unsure of what his intentions were. He rose up, his heat leaving me feeling cold and empty. As he stared down at me, I had this overwhelming feeling of loss. Like by him withdrawing I was losing something. I looked down partially in shame for what I was feeling, but also in submission. What I didn’t count on was seeing the outline of his raging hard on. Suddenly I didn’t want him to leave, I wanted to take care of him the way he took care of me.

I sat up on the bed, slowly reaching out to the front of his blood stained coveralls, watching for any sign that I should stop. He gave none, so I grasped the zipper, sliding it down his body slowly as if not to spook him. Once opened I dragged the sides down enough so I could reach in and grasp his cock, pulling it out of his coveralls. I hadn’t gotten a very good look at him a few weeks ago at our first encounter, but God damn if he isn’t perfect everywhere. He was huge, long and as thick as a coke can.

How the fuck did he fit?! I thought.

Rationally I knew he was large, and I knew he would fit as he had before but seeing it right there in front of me was another thing. I reached out to grasp his cock, firmly stroking it from base to tip, when I saw a drop of pre-cum beading at the tip of his enormous cock. My tongue darted out to lick the salty sweet drop up. Michael threw his head back and groaned loudly.

It was the most sound I had ever heard from him, he was always so quiet, like a ghost. I supposed when you’re a gigantic serial killer it pays to be quiet. One of his massive hands slipped into the hair at the back of my neck, pulling my mouth closer to his erect cock.

I looked up at him and he paused, cocking his head to the side as if to say, ‘You good?’. I nodded and sunk my mouth down on his cock. A strained groan escaped his chest as I began sucking his cock in earnest.

I wanted so desperately to please him, to make him feel the same way I felt earlier. I continued sucking his cock, while his hand stayed at the back of my neck. As he drew closer, he began thrusting in and out of my mouth, eventually his hand on the back of my neck stilled my movements until I was sitting there on the bed, while he fucked my face. In and out, he became rougher and rougher. With each thrust he hit the back of my throat until he was almost there. I could feel the way his balls were tightening, the thrust of his hips more and more erratic until I swallowed around him, drawing his cock into my throat, sealing off all airflow as he came down my throat. I began to choke, and he pulled back removing his softening cock from my mouth, as I licked up all his seed from my hands.

He watched me clean myself up as he tucked himself back in his coveralls. He then turned, leaving the room, returning a few moments later with a wet towel. I moved to take the towel, but he gripped it tighter, gesturing for me to lay back, so I did. Propping myself against the pillows at the head of my bed he leaned down over my body and began to wipe up the mess between my legs. I’d never had a man do this before, I’m not sure what surprises me more, the fact that this man, this serial killer has more tenderness in him than the average man, or the fact that I am enjoying it so damn much.

Michael turns and leaves the room again, returning a few moments later. I was still in the same position as I was before, not having the energy to move after our activities and the long day I’d had. I shivered involuntarily, as he stood there staring at me. He pulls the covers down gesturing for me to get under, and I comply, slipping between the sheets I let out a sign of contentment. The only thing that could make this better is if he crawled into bed with me and cuddled all night. I bet he would keep me warm through the cold nights. I thought sleepily.

Just as I drifted off, I felt a whisper of something across my forehead. A kiss I realize belatedly, he kissed me goodnight. My eyes were too heavy to open as I felt him step away from the bed and leave the room, as quietly as he had entered. I smile dreamily, tomorrow I will have to deal with the consequences of my actions but for tonight, I’ll bask in the warm feelings running through my veins.

#michael meyers #halloween smut #Michael Meyers x reader #check the trigger warnings

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things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 7 months ago

Text

The amount of how much I love this comic is insane lol

So this is a mixture of the two posts leading up to this point and the text post about the aftermath.

Hope you like it!

Content Warning: Blood and sexually suggestive themes

"Stupid fucking Charlie, making me do this shit. Don't they remember who I am? I'm the fucking Adam." Adam glared at the vegetables on the cutting board, he was being made to cut them up for everyones dinner tonight. "I hope they all get food poisoning." The mental picture of all those freaks getting sick from the food he prepped only soothed him on a small scale.

It wasn't enough, nothing would be enough.

How fucking DARE she make Adam do a bitches job. Cooking and cleaning was woman's work, Adam didn't need to be doing this. He was THE fucking man! Best man to ever live.

Redemption, what a fucking joke. Even if it were possible, Adam was damn sure that the way back into heaven wasn't at the bottom of a sack of god damned potatoes.

All he was missing was a fucking frilly little apron with some girly ass saying on it.

She could have at least had Adam do a manly job, like chopping wood, working with tools, fuck he'd even take working in a garden setting again over this shi- "AAAUUGGHHH! Son of a bitch!" Adam cursed, he pulled his hand away it throbbed in pain.

He fucking cut himself!

He glared down at the knife. This was Charlie's fault! Adam looked at his finger he hurt and froze.

He was bleeding.

Bleeding red.

Angels bleed gold. Hellborns bleed black. Sinners bleed red.

His stomach dropped, he felt hollow. You really are a filthy sinner now, here's the proof. His mind whispered to him only making a tighter knot clench his insides.

Adam watched in horror as the crimson liquid dripped from his finger onto the cutting board, soiling the food there. "Shit!" He turned and placed his finger under running water in the sink, it just seemed to not stop fucking bleeding.

"Adam, is everything okay in here? I heard you yell and- Oh my! You're hurt." Charlie came over to Adam's side. He hurt himself! She should get him a bandaid. "Here let me-"

"NO! Don't touch me!" Adam snarled pulling away. His temper flared as he looked at her, this was all hers and Lucifer's fucking fault!

Charlie frowned, but quickly tried to give him a polite smile. "You're still bleeding, there's blood all over the counter. You need a bandaid."

"I KNOW I'M BLEEDING YOU STUPID BITCH!" Adam squeezed his hand, it only made more blood ooze out which further pissed him off.

She flinched at his harsh words. "Adam, it's not a big deal. Cuts happen."

"Don't you fucking get!? The blood is red." He felt bile at the back of his throat just saying that. "That means I'm stuck down here with you freaks!" Adam spat out the last word with so much hate and venom, his eyes a blaze. A smaller, softer part of him that was sad started to set in.

Adam turned away from Charlie and took off out the door. "Just..... Just leave me alone." He took off to lock himself in his room.

Charlie watched him go, her heart broke for him. Who knew a little blood would upset him so much?

That was when her dad walked in through a portal from the family manor. "Hey there sweetie, what are you-" He stopped when he saw the blood. "What happened here?"

So Charlie told him. She has been impressed with Adam's progress that he's made, it was a shame to have him relapse over something as small as a little cut on his finger. "Would you mind talking to him? I don't think he'll be very receptive if I try."

Lucifer smiled at her. "Sure thing."

Adam sat on his bed, holding his knees to his chest as he glared at the floor. His finger stopped bleeding a little while ago, now his glove was just ruined.

Why did this have to happen to him? He was Adam! He was an amazing fucking person he didn't deserve to be a fucking sinner. Bad enough he had to see those horns in the mirror now instead of his perfect halo. His wings now black and red and not their rightfully golden color. Now he had fucking sinners blood? Fuck his life.

At least he still had his golden eyes, no longer a heavenly glow but still gold nonetheless.

Yeah, THAT made everything better, ugh.....

Adam jumped when there came a knock at his door. "Adam, are you in there?" God dammit, that's Lucifer. Maybe he'll just go away?

"Go away!" Adam shouted. He let out a shriek when the king poofed himself into Adam's room without a warning. "What the fuck, prick!? Don't you understand the concept of-"

"Charlie told me what happened." Lucifer simply said.

Well fuck. Adam looked surprised for half a second, she told on him like a fucking child? Bitch. "Yeah, so what's it to you?" Adam looked away, his bed sheets suddenly back very interesting to look at.

Lucifer removed his hat and set it down on Adams desk before taking a sat beside him on the end of the bed. "Charlie's been telling me how good of a job you've been doing lately. She can't stop talking about the progress you've made." Lucifer had hoped that would help the sinner open up, but by the scowl on his face it didn't do much to help.

Adam scoffed, progress? Spare him. He fixed Lucifer with a glare. "Progress? What progress? This whole building is a joke. Redemption? Stop shitting me, this third rate hotel could rehabilitate shit." Adam held up his hand with the cut on it. "THIS! This is the fucking proof that I am done for! No one, not even your daughter can fix...." Lucifer didn't look very impressed with his little rant. "....Me."

Adam pulled his hand back and curled in on himself again, there was no fucking point in trying to express who he felt. Especially to Lucifer of all people. "So just drop it okay? It's not like you care about me getting back into heaven anyway."

They sat there in silence for a few beats. Not uncomfortable or awkward, just silence. Only the hum of the radiator filled the quiet.

Until Lucifer broke it. "You're right, I don't care about you getting back into heaven." Adam blew out some air. Fucking prick, though he wasn't surprised. "But I do care about you becoming better. Do you really think that I would have picked you up from the streets if I didn't? If I didn't believe in my own daughter or your potential, I wouldn't have even bothered."

Adam turned to look at Lucifer shocked. Did he really say that? "My what?"

Lucifer smiled at him and leaned on his fist. The look on Adam's face was, dare he say cute? "You heard me." As quickly as the look was there it disappeared just as fast, a new frown in its place.

"Well sorry to disappoint you, but I'm no fucking geine pig for your stupid little experiment."

"Who's experimenting! I just think having a nice warm bed to come back to and people who aren't trying to kiss your ass because of your position is kinda nice." When all he got was a questioning look from Adam, he added. "You know I'm right."

Even if it was right, Adam would never let him know he was right.

Lucifer took him by the wrist and started to pull him towards the door. "Now come on, you need to apologize for getting your blood all over the food."

Adam winced, "I don't-" He had been such an ass to Charlie, he doubted that a mere I'm sorry would magically make things better. Plus, his cut was still open.

"Oh that's right, your cut. You didn't even take care of that did you?" Lucifer smirked and held out his hand. "Come on, let me heal you."

Adam flinched away slightly from the devil's outstretched hand. "Fuck no, I'm good."

Seriously? Lucifer resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He just kept a small smile in place. "Adam." He beckoned with his own hand.

Adam gave him a contemplative look before finally giving Lucifer his injured hand. Lucifer removed the ruined glove and looked at Adam's hand for a moment. He could just heal it with a wave of his hand, be done with it. But an idea came into his mind and oh, how funny would it be?

Adam watched Lucifer for a bit, what was he waiting for? Heal his fucking hand! What he didn't expect was for him to lean down and practically kiss Adam's hand.

Wha-! Adam was so shocked, he froze in place as he watched. Lucifer looked up at him, his red and yellow eyes glowing. He laved his tongue over Adams hand, making sure to get the little cut on his finger.

Oh the shocked look on Adam's face was SO worth it. Lucifer ran his tongue up slowly to his wrist.

Adam was transfixed by the sight, did it get warmer in here? His face felt warm. This should not be a hot sight.

In a blink of an eye, Lucifer had moved away from him, Adam's glove now back in place. "Okay! All better pal, hope to see you at dinner. We had to order take out because of you!" Lucifer snatches up his hat, put it on his head and left through a portal leaving Adam alone.

Adam looked at the door where the king once was, his face burned hot. His wings sprang up at his side's. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" He had a fucking wing boner! They wouldn't go down! He also had a bit of a ..... Not so wing boner.

Lucifer stood outside Adams door licking his lips with a smirk. Normally sinner blood was bitter and coppery, Adam's was actually kind of sweet with a copper undertone.

If he knew working Adam up like that was this much fun, he'd have done it sooner.

Adam didn't go down to dinner that night, he grabbed something a little later when everyone fucked off to their rooms for the night. He couldn't look at Lucifer after what happened today, it was too weird.

It took Adam until nearly three in the morning to get to sleep. This afternoons events kept replying on his mind.

His dreams were out to get him too.

Adam watched as Lucifer licked his hand, he became breathless as that sinful tongue licked up his wrist, his arm, only pulling away long enough for the king to crawl up his body. Adam's breath hitched, he tried to move away but Lucifer's other hand seized his chin, tipping his head slightly. He felt that tongue lick a strip from his collar bone, up his neck to the base of his ear. Adam gasped when he felt the devil's hot breath in his ear. "I know your secret, Adam." Came his voice low and smooth.

Adam shivered. "You don't know shit." He felt his head be turned to face Lucifer, who held him by his chin still. Those eyes watching him, haunting him with an infuriating smirk on his face.

"I know you want me, tell me you don't and I'll stop." When Adam didn't answer, his smirk grew. "You want to go back to heaven so badly? How about I bring it to you?" Adam watched wide eyed as Lucifer smashed their lips together, he took a hold of both of Adams wrists as he pushed him down into the mattress, pinning him there. "I always knew you'd look better under me.~"

Adam's eyes snapped open, dread filling him as he looked at the ceiling of his room, ignoring his boner. "NO!!"

~ 2 Weeks Later ~

Adam did eventually apologize to Charlie for what happened, even if it was bull shit and her fault. But whatever, he lived.

Lucifer had recognized that after the whole 'licking Adam' thing happened, it awakened some lustful feelings inside of him. Especially after quite an explicit dream where he.... Licked more than Adams hand.

He was at peace with these feelings. Adam, although an asshole, was a handsome man, human, angel, or demon he was good looking. Lucifer wasn't fucking blind. Adam may have wore loose fitting robes, but you could still tell he had a nice ass, especially when he bent over.

Okay, maybe thinking of having Adam bent over at the breakfast table wasn't appropriate. But still!

Speaking of, Lucifer wasn't sure, but he swore that Adam was avoiding him. At first it was funny, Lucifer understood the guy likely needed space. He gave that to him, he was nothing if not a gentleman.

But two whole weeks? Seriously? Now he was just getting pissed off.

Adam had been pissing and moaning like a bratty little bitch the time and it got worse when Lucifer came into the room. So to rest something out, he watched Adam from afar, he was talking and being his normal asshole self when with the others. Then Lucifer would come in and his whole demeanor would change, he'd get angry, spew swears and get up and leave.

Today, Lucifer finally had enough. Adam tried to run away from him again, this time he followed him. He shoved Adam into a nearby closed room. "Okay, you've been acting all pissy for two weeks now. What is your problem?"

Adam bristled. "Nothing! None of your fucking business, now let me out!"

"Not until you tell me what's got your panties in a twist. Come on, you know I won't let this go-" Lucifer made a move to reach out to touch Adams arm.

Adam flinched away from him. "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME! YOU, YOU-" He couldn't even think of an insult he was so flustered.

Okay, that outburst was way too loud, even for Adam. Lucifer thought about it as he looked him over. When it clicked, Lucifer smirked. "Oh ho, seriously? That little bit of teasing got to you THIS badly?" He got closer to Adam invading his personal space. "Who would have thought that the self proclaimed Dickmaster would want a piece of little ol' me.~"

Adam swore all the blood in his body was in his face. "I DON'T WANT YOU, I WOULD NEVER WANT YOU!!"

Tell that to your face, Adam. "Hey, there's no shame. If you just needed to get laid all you had to do was ask, save everyone from your tantrums." Lucifer started to circle Adam like a shark. He made sure his voice came out in an echo, ever omnipresent. "Think about it Adam. I could bring you pleasure like you've never felt before, make you see constalations to stars you've never seen and more colors than you know the name of."

Adam gulped, fuck that sounded enticing. He was getting hard just thinking about it. He shouldn't be as tempted as he was, the urge to give in was strong. He had to be stronger, he had to try.

Adam yelped when he felt a hand firmly squeeze his ass, he wasn't sure he liked the spark of pleasure that brought him.

Lucifer was in front of him again by the door. "Think about it, but don't take too long. You wouldn't want to keep me waiting.~" He purred and winked before leaving the room. Adam would come to him and when he did, oh, he was going to make him beg for it.

Adam stood there dumbfounded. "Shit."

So that was how he found himself outside of Lucifer's door that night. He was fighting with himself to knock or not.

Fuck it, you're already in Hell, he thought.

He knocked softly on the door and waited. If this was a trick he'd find a way to kill that short fuck.

Lucifer opened the door with a satisfied smirk. He knew Adam would come knocking, he was glad it was this soon. "Adam, come on in.~"

Adam grumbled, no going back now. He entered the bedroom, the door clicked softly behind him.

(I'll post an NSFW ending on AO3 later lol)

Aftermath of this comic and this comic

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x adam #my fic #long post

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bittermarrow · 3 years ago

Note

Slashers reacting to an S/O that beats the absolute shit out of an escaped victim who tried attacking them or tried taking them as a hostage.

a/n: this ask automatically caught my attention because there’s nothing I love more than bamf readers in fanfics. i was gonna add more characters but these were getting long, but you’re more than welcome to request this prompt for other characters too!

CHARACTERS : THOMAS HEWITT, PENNYWISE

WARNINGS : FEM!READER, MURDER IN SELF-DEFENSE, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE.

THOMAS HEWITT

You were washing the dishes in the kitchen when it happened, blissfully unaware of the escaped victim clambering into the room bloodied and full of adrenaline. You had your headphones on and plugged into your little cassette player in your back pocket, dancing around in your little jean shorts, humming and mouthing the words. They noticed your nonchalance and as they heard heavy footsteps following behind them, they took their chance.

You yelped as a bloody hand smacked over your mouth and a knife was held to your throat, you struggled as you’re dragged away from the sink.

Monty, who’d been sitting at the table, starts yelling for help. You didn’t even know he cared like that, humbled by the geezer’s concern for your well-being.

“Charlie! Charlie help! Get that damn boy in here! Help!” the crippled man shouts.

“S-Shut the hell up before I slit her fucking throat!”

As you recover from your surprise and realize the situation, anger bubbles hotly inside you, eyes narrowing and your fingers clenching around the fork you’d been washing. You jab the fork right into the victim’s thigh and he shouts in pain, hand loosening around your mouth just enough for you to clamp your teeth down on his fingers. You jam your elbow into his ribs once, twice, thrice until he lets you go.

You don’t waste any time sending a harsh punch to his jaw, a harsh crack following your blow as blood gushed from his lips. You kick him to the ground with surprising force and kick the knife from his hand, straddling his waist and reaching for the broom he’d knocked to the floor on his way in. You’re seeing red, adrenaline pumping through you like a sickening high, giving you the strength you always forget you have.

When Thomas storms into the room, chainsaw ready to split into the victim's flesh, he finds you on top of the victim, the length of the wooden broom being forced against their throat. He watches in amazement as you mercilessly shove the broom against their throat, crushing their windpipe until their flailing body goes limp. You’re breathing heavily, chest rising and falling rapidly and eyes wide as you release your grip on the broom and lean back, staring down at your handiwork. That felt good.

Your slightly jostled headphones are still playing music, but you hardly hear it now. Your gaze shifts to Thomas’s wide eyes, frozen in place, chainsaw hanging in one hand. Truth be told he didn’t think you to be so capable, but clearly there were still things he didn’t know about you. His first thought is always to be concerned for you though, so the chainsaw hits the floor and he crosses the room in a few long strides to kneel beside you.

Your wild eyes melt into a look of affection, and you reach your arms out for him. Thomas leans into your arms and you throw them around his neck, hoisting you up and off the victim’s body. Once your feet are on the ground you shake off his worried hands that check for injuries.

“M’fine, Tommy they were too busy getting the stuffing beat out of them to hurt me.” You hear the rumbling murmur of a laugh sound deep in his chest and grin.

“I ain’t ever saw a girlie fight like that, you best be careful with that one’s temper boy.” Monty snorts from the table, rousing a laugh from you. You’d forgotten he was even there in your rage.

Thomas is proud of you for taking down someone all on your own. Also rests a bit easier knowing that you aren’t a delicate flower and can defend yourself if needed. It doesn’t make him any less protective or concerned for your safety, but he’s comforted knowing you won’t be a helpless victim.

PENNYWISE

Walking home alone in Derry was never the best idea considering the type of people living there. There’s always some prick and his goons wanting to pick a fight for apparently no reason. And yet here you are doing just that with only an umbrella keeping you safe from the heavy rain as you walk home from work.

You hear the heavy footsteps long before you start to believe you’re being followed. Hyperaware of what could become of this, you speed up, eyes searching for a quick escape. You wished you’d looked better before ducking into an alley because now you were faced with a dead end. You turn to backtrack and freeze when you see three men blocking the way.

Anxiety swirls in your belly and your eyes search the men for weapons. Only one is armed, a bowie glinting in the moonlight. Your eyes narrow as they start to close in. You take a few steps back and close your umbrella, letting the rain mix with your makeup as it drips down your face.

Your eyes are steel as they approach.

“What’s a little lady like you doing out here all by yourself at this hour?” One guy asks, sneering.

“Back off and none of you creeps get hurt.” You threaten, not in the mood for pointless verbal foreplay.

Your witty response earns you snickers, but your expression doesn’t crack.

“Aw darlin’ just stay quiet an’ cooperate and this’ll go nice an’ smooth.”

The moment a hand grabs your wrist your umbrella meets his face with a sickening crack, followed by mucky water being splashed in his face by your boot. Another man lunges to restrain you but is stopped by a knee in the groin, left sputtering when you jam the handle of the umbrella into the side of his skull and kick him away from you. The third guy doesn’t even make it to you, silenced as his jugular is torn out by a monstrous jaw.

You don’t even realize that Pennywise is there in the heat of the moment. You drop the umbrella and put your fists up, backing one guy into a wall and punching him repeatedly in the face until his nose and lips burst. The second grabs your ankle and tries to drag you down to the ground but you spin and kick him straight in the face. You reach into your purse for your knuckle brace and slip it over your fingers, wasting no time in beating the living daylights out of the guy you’d been punching before. Blood spatters on you from behind as the clown starts tearing into the man that grabbed your ankle but you pay it no second thought.

If these men thought they’d make easy prey of you they’d pay dearly for it. You’re doing the rest of the women in Derry a favor.

You keep the hits coming until the face of the prick is unrecognizable and you stumble away from him, breathing heavily as he falls to the pavement, lifeless.

You back up into a hard shape and whirl around, fists swinging before they’re caught by bloodied silk gloves and you’re met with the familiar face of your mate. You calm down immediately, falling against his tall form in exhaustion. Your arms wrap around it, unbothered by the blood as it takes you into his arms and presses you close, the still-potent scent of your fear keeping him on high alert. A mixture of drool and man blood pools over your shoulder in heaps.

“I’m okay, Penny… I’m okay.” You soothe, an affirmation for you as much as it is for him to calm down.

You take in the bloody mess that is left of the three men and know that you aren’t responsible for the missing limbs. Pennywise must have sensed your fear and rushed to your aid, or perhaps he’d been watching you the whole way home and struck when the fight broke out. You were a tough bitch, you knew that, but you knew you wouldn’t have been able to take on three grown men without him.

“Vermin.” The clown spits venomously at their corpses, his eyes glowing bright amber with contempt. “Crushed like worms for touching my mate, back to the dirt where they belong.”

It’s forehead rests against yours and you sigh, makeup smeared all over your face, but you couldn’t care less about appearances at that moment.

“I love you.” You smile, eyes closed, and you hear it purr.

#ashi.writes #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface x reader #pennywise x reader #it x reader #slashers x reader #slasher headcanons #thomas hewitt headcanons #pennywise headcanons #female reader #f!reader #fem!reader

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thebangtancloud · 3 years ago

Text

Garlic ~ Kim Seokjin

Pairing: vampire!Seokjin x human!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Vampire AU

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Mentions of biting, blood-drinking, and sexual activities. Continuous banter and teasing.

Summary: Jin is... allergic to garlic. You don't believe him. How can vampires be allergic to anything except the sun and sleep?

"What do you think you're doing?"

A low growl made you jump in surprise, turning around in time to watch Jin waltz into the kitchen with a skeptical look on his face.

"Uh...cooking?"

"You're cooking fish?"

"Um," you swallowed, your ears burning up at the way he was staring at you. "Yes."

"You don't like fish."

You really don't.

"I was cooking it for you," you giggled sheepishly. Jin raised an eyebrow in suspicion, glancing at the vegetables on the chopping board and then at the fish that was frying in the oil.

"Is that-"

"These vegetables are for a stir fry mushroom recipe that I want to try!"

"But the-"

"Jin! Get out of my kitchen!"

"But I can't-"

"Oh my god," you gasped in exasperation. "Get out already."

"I..." he smirked, "-smell something fishy."

Your systems shut off for just a moment, wishing you could just pick up the half-fried fish and smack it across Jin's face for the lame joke that he chose to crack.

"You're unbelie- oof!"

Before you could bat an eyelid, Jin had you pinned to the refrigerator, the delayed rattle of the bottles inside vibrating through the door against your back.

"Jin!" you shrieked. "How many times have I told you not to do that! You scared the shit out of me!"

His head twisted to the side, effectively producing a loud popping sound that made your toes curl.

"You love it when I move fast, admit it," he smirked.

One look at the daze in your eyes and Jin raised a hand to cover them, leaning forward and pulling your head to rest against his shoulder.

"You okay?"

You hummed, gripping his shirt and nodding lightly.

"I'm getting used to you throwing me around the place."

"I don't throw you around," he guffawed. "I always protect you!"

"Right," you snorted, pushing him away and taking tiny steps towards the stove. Not everyone had the skills to recoup from the speed at which Jin moves.

"But baby," he whined, coming up to you and hugging you lightly from behind. "I smell something else too, for real."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Like my fatal enemy. A thorn in my flesh. A knife to my throat. An itch to my skin."

"Jin," you deadpanned. "You're being dramatic."

"And you're being a mean ignoramus!" Jin exclaimed, letting go of your body and throwing his hands up - for emphasis.

"I told you I'm allergic to garlic! But no-" he shook his head animatedly with a cute pout, "-you're bent on testing if it's really true and you've fried the fish with such humongous chunks of garlic that could almost be mistaken for an onion! Why do you want to kill me? Do you want to get rid of me so soon? Have I not treated you well?"

Jin finished with a little yell, blinking rapidly and breathing in deeply after using up most of his energy.

"You're mean," he whispered finally, facing away with a little pout.

You took a moment to let his words replay in your mind before bursting into a girly giggle. His head snapped towards you when he heard you laugh, watching you take two steps and reach your palms up to cover his burning ears.

"Is this...funny?" He asked in disbelief.

"You're cute," you acknowledged.

He stared down into your eyes, rendered speechless. That made you laugh even more, clinging onto his broad shoulders for support as your cackles filled the kitchen.

"Baby," he whined, "don't laugh at me."

"Okay," you gave in, your laughs subsiding into little giggles, straightening yourself up to look at him properly. His pink hair was almost too bright against his pale skin, but you didn't mind, because the red tint of his pouty lips made you want to just stand up on your tippy-toes and pull him into a kiss. His lips always looked like red cherries that you were always tempted to bite into.

"I know I'm handsome."

"Pfft-" you scoffed, shoving him away from you when he sent you a cheeky smile. "Yeah, right."

"Now tell me, ma'am," he snapped his fingers in front of you. "Why were you poisoning my food?"

You rolled your eyes. "As if you'd die if I really poisoned it. Idiot."

"I really could!" Jin gasped, wide eyes staring down at you accusingly. "You know I'm allergic to garlic."

"No like-" you raised a hand up. "How?"

"How? What do you mean how?"

"Yeah, how? How can you be allergic to garlic? How can you be allergic to anything?"

"Did you like... forget? I was a human, once upon a time? Human's have allergies? Did you... forget?"

"First of all," you placed a hand on your hip, giving him a pointed look. "I wasn't even born when you were a human so that rules out the possibility of me 'forgetting' that you were allergic to garlic - or anything for that matter."

"But I told you!"

"You also told me that you don't eat. Like yeah whatever you drink human blood and whatnot," you sassed, missing the way he rolled his eyes at you.

"But you eat. You eat what I cook and that makes it hard to believe that your words are...believable."

"I eat to make you happy," he frowned with a pout.

"You even go out in the sun. Vampires don't do that."

"I wear a lot of-"

"Sun protection creams, layers, yeah okay- I get you. But you go out in the sun. You don't die if you do that. Unlike what you told me."

"I'm really considering turning you into a vampire so that you'd know what I feel! Everything is not a bed of roses like you see in the movies!"

"My point is," you shook your head. "I don't believe you're allergic to garlic."

His fists clenched, tempted to throw you over his shoulder and run around - just to torture you.

"Just try it once!" you pleaded. "You won't die!"

"You don't get it, do you?" Jin sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.

"It might not kill me, but it would hurt me, (Y/n). Vampires are not immune to pain. I feel pain, too."

"Jin," you whispered sadly when you noticed the look on his face. "Are you upset?"

"A little," he admitted. "I don't want to experience what I used to go through all those years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you frowned, reaching out a hand to turn off the stove. “I won’t push it. I didn’t know you would get upset.”

“I really wish you would believe me, (Y/n),” he mumbled under his breath, taking a hold of your hand in his icy ones and giving you a gentle squeeze.

“Sometimes you really get on my nerves.”

You almost snorted at the way he was talking like a baby.

“You do, too.”

“I do?” His head snapped up, wide eyes alert.

“Yes, you’re a pain in my butt.”

“(Y/n)!” he gasped, tugging you right up against him, this time a little slower so that you could adjust to the change in position. Your hands rested flat against his broad chest, eyes scrunched shut with a little squeal that he pulled out of you.

“I’m a pain in your butt?”

“What else are you?” you challenged, slapping his chest lightly.

“Your boyfriend,” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ah-ah!” you shook a finger to correct him. “There’s the thing that you missed. Boyfriends can be a pain in the butt at the same time. So-”

“The only time I was a pain in your ass was when we-”

“Jin!” you shrieked in panic, pushing him away and staring at him with wide eyes, watching the way he bent over to start giggling at the way he got you flustered in a matter of seconds.

“What?” He chuckled at your expression. “You said yes.”

“Oh my god,” you covered your eyes in shame. “I can’t believe you right now.”

“What’s there to believe? It’s in the past, you were a human and very much alive when we did it so there’s nothing that’s unbelievable at this moment.”

“Shut up or I’m going to sprinkle some ginger powder over you.”

He gasped lowly, narrowing his eyes to threaten you.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.”

“I’ll bite you.”

“You’ve been doing that quite often.”

“I’ll bite you for real this time.”

“I’ve heard that a couple hundred times now.”

“Look,” he urged you to turn towards him, your secret weapon already in your hand when you looked up at him innocently. Instead of getting intimidated, you couldn’t help but bite back the giggle that almost bubbled out of you when he brought his fangs out, red eyes burning with a fire that was meant to scare you but did nothing except for making you smile at him.

“Doesn’t work on me anymore,” you grinned evilly at your boyfriend who seemed to deflate at your words.

“(Y/n) …” he whined, pouting heavily and stomping his foot on the floor.

“If you ever try to bite me again,” you trailed off, showing him the garlic in your hand. “I’ll bite back.”

“Right,” he muttered, pulling on a poker face.

“You’re the best girlfriend, ever.” He flicked a hand through his imaginary long hair that sat over his shoulder.

“I see your futile attempt at being sarcastic, but that doesn’t work either because I know that I am the best girlfriend, ever.” You flicked your hair as well, smiling sweetly at him.

For a moment, Jin was tempted to shoot you with a witty comeback, but his smirk somehow turned into a soft smile, taking a little step towards you and holding a hand out for you.

“Come here.”

You watched his eyes carefully lose their fiery color, the gentle chocolate brown orbs gazing fondly at you. Placing your hand into his palm, he pulled you into his arms, resting his head against yours.

“You are the best girlfriend, ever.”

Smiling softly into his shoulder, you nodded. “I know.”

“Tsk,” he clicked his tongue, a warm chuckle vibrating through his chest. “Cheeky little one.”

“You love all of it,” you challenged, running your hands over the expanse of his back. “Don’t you?”

“That I do, ma’am.”

He pulled away to look down into your eyes, brushing back the loose strands of hair and letting his cold fingers rest against your jaw.

“Can we make a deal?”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“I won’t throw you around,” Jin smirked, running his thumb along your bottom lip, “if you agree to stop trying to feed me garlic.”

“I really want to try it though,” you giggled lightly. “But okay.”

“Really?” His eyes lit up instantly.

“Yeah,” you patted his cheek. “No matter how unbelievable your words are to me; I still wouldn’t want to risk hurting you.”

“You’re being too sweet,” he raised his eyebrows suspiciously. “Would you really accept this deal?”

“I mean – yeah. It’s a great deal. You wouldn’t have to eat garlic and I wouldn’t have my brains jiggling around in my skull every time you decide to run faster than the speed of light, with me in your arms.”

Jin’s head turned towards the ceiling in an attempt to control the cackle that almost came right through his nose.

“Okay,” he laughed loudly, nodding at the same time. “Okay, it’s set then.”

“Hmm.”

“Now, before we seal the deal…”

“Are you going to throw me around one last time?” you gasped in horror.

“I can,” he shrugged casually, lunging forward and biting into the apple of your cheek.

“So before I do, go throw out all the garlic that you find in this house.”

Masterlist.

#jin vampire au #vampire au #jin fluff #kim seokjin fluff #kim seokjin imagines #kim seokjin scenarios #jin fluff imagines #jin fluff scenarios #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #jin x reader #jin x you #jin x y/n #jin oneshot #kim seokjin oneshot #seokjin fluff

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arizona2004 · 3 years ago

Text

The Fight

Azriel x reader

Warnings: mentions of sex(no actual smut)

Word count: 2931

Note: I used the pronouns “me/I” instead of “you” but it’s not an Original character still y/n

Looking at the lacey, black fabric hanging on the rack it was impossible not to remember the time I had worn a similar contraption -that showed even more skin- for my mate. It was impossible not to remember the way Azriel’s eyes were blown wide when he saw me or the way his hands felt on my skin, giving me his undivided attention. I was so lost in the memory of Azriel’s lips and teeth grazing my skin I didn’t even notice Mor come up behind me.

“The dress is beautiful, and all y/n, but you look like you want to fuck it. Calm down, girly.”

My cheeks immediately reddened at the comment, but I ignored that and said anyways, “Do you think Az will like it?”

“Oh, Azriel is who you’re thinking about. I should have assumed it wasn’t me given he’s your mate and all, but a girl can still dream,” she responded with a wink and a smirk, making me blush even redder, reminding me of another night before I even knew my mate. It was one drunken incident centuries ago that Mor and I hardly ever spoke about, but it was one of the best nights of my life, excluding every night spent with my mate, of course. “I’m sure he’ll love it, but he’d also love you if you were dressed in a trash bag,” Mor continued.

“I’m gonna have to disagree with you there. He’s barely touched me in the last week. I need something that’ll get his attention.”

“Then wear nothing,” she replied with a smirk.

“I’m not going naked to Rita’s tonight, Mor.”

“Oh, but he’d be certain to take you home immediately.”

I rolled my eyes and took the dress off the rack and to the counter to pay. “Are we all going out to eat beforehand or to Rhys and Feyre’s?” I asked.

“Probably out, but it doesn’t matter because Rhys is paying either way,” she responded with a grin.

Rolling my eyes at her, again I finished paying, and we headed for the door.

…………….

I haven’t seen Az all day, he had left bed before I woke, and yesterday I hadn’t seen him until he had finally turned in for the night. I’ve been more stressed than usual, even with work being slow. With Azriel and I barely talking or touching, I’ve been incredibly tense. I know Mor would only shut down the thought if I voiced it to her, but I can’t help but wonder if Az is getting bored of me or if he realized he doesn’t love me anymore. I’m probably just being paranoid.

I climb into the tub scented with vanilla -Azriel’s favorite- and began washing my hair.

…………….

As I was just finishing up washing and was about to get out and dry off I heard Azriel walk into the bedroom. He knocked at the bathroom door, “y/n?”

“Yeah, come in,” I answered.

His eyes met mine, he looked tired, and I immediately grew concerned, but before I could say anything, he spoke, “Are you gonna be ready in 45? That’s when we need to meet up with everyone,” he said, never straying his eyes from mine.

“Yeah,” I responded, and he left. He didn’t even look at me, not even a peak. He always peaked a glance when I was naked. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I covered my mouth to stifle my crying. I sat there for a few additional minutes pulling myself together and panicking over my mate.

When I finally pulled myself from the tub, I cleaned up my face, applying makeup to cover any signs I had been crying, and dried my hair, pinning half of it back. Hanging up my towel, I walked into the bedroom naked, Az quickly looked away when he realized, and it was like a knife to my heart. I continued on my path toward the closet to retrieve my dress. As Azriel finished lacing up his boots, he walked out the door and headed downstairs. I stared after him and decided that if he was gonna act like this, then I was gonna be worse.

After slipping into the tight lace dress that had an underlayer that only covering my privates and left the rest of my skin open wherever the lace didn’t cover it, I strapped on some black heels and painted my lips red. I knew Az was standing in the foyer, and I could feel his eyes on me as I descended the stairs, but I refused to look his way. He was angry, and I could feel it, “You’re not leaving the house dressed like that,” he said behind me as I walked toward the door, hips swaying. With my hand on the handle, I glanced back and said, “oh, yes, I am,” before opening the door and swinging it shut in his face. I quickly walked down the steps with a grin plastered across my face and joined everyone waiting for us in the street.

“I just knew you’d look incredible in that dress,” Mor commented, “but I still think you should have come naked.”

I smirked at her and was about to respond, but Azriel had appeared behind me and grabbed my elbow. “Go inside and change. I’ll wait,” he growled in my ear.

“No,” I said pulling my arm from him.

“No?”

“I like this dress, and I want to wear it out tonight,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest, pushing my breasts up, showing them even more in the low cut of the dress.

His eyes darkened, and I could feel the anger rolling off of him as he said, “Your ass is practically hanging out the back of it, and the lace barely covers anything.”

“It covers enough,” I said, head still raised high, as I turned from him and towards the others, “So where are we going to eat?” I asked with an innocent smile. Azriel was still staring at my back seething, and everyone else was looking between us, a little hesitant and concerned, but Mor just named a place and put her arm in mine, walking us away.

Everyone soon followed after, and I could feel Azriel’s stare against my back, but I ignored it as Mor and I laughed together. I was perfectly happy being silently angry until Mor said, “Are you and Az, okay?”

I had to will myself not to cry. I took a deep breath, I’m not going to be sad because my relationship might be falling apart, I’m just going to be angry and get my revenge. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we be okay?” I responded with a fake smile.

“Well, he’s definitely mad, and I’m starting to think this dress overdid it with trying to get his attention,” she whispered.

“You don’t think I should have worn the dress?” I asked.

“Oh, no, I think you should wear it. Just maybe not to intentionally piss him off. Or maybe in a larger size, because your ass really is about to be on full display,” she said with a glance at my rear.

A growl immediately erupted from Azriel, and he glared at Mor. She tensed slightly, and I quickly glared back at Azriel and let a warning growl of my own loose as I pulled her closer to me by her hip.

As we arrived at the restaurant, a waiter took us to our reserved table in the back, and I sat with Mor at my left and pulled Cassian into the chair on my right. I could feel Azriel’s anger spark at that as he took a seat across from me, and I leaned into Cassian to whisper about something Mor and I had been discussing. He laughed at my comment but quickly stopped and looked away from me. Looking up, I realized Azriel was glaring at him. “Stop it,” I whispered across the table at him.

“Stop what?” he asked curtly, turning his glare to me.

“Glaring and growling,” I said.

“I’m not,” he said, then turned his head away, ignoring me.

The rest of dinner was tense. Azriel continued glaring or growling at anyone that looked my way a moment too long. And I avoided his looks, continuing my conversation with Mor and Cassian, occasionally adding a hand to their thighs or shoulders just to piss Azriel off a little more. Cassian wasn’t too happy about it, probably fearing for his life, but Mor happily flirted back after she drank a little wine.

We all got up and headed for Rita’s after dinner. The walk was short, and I stayed next to Mor and Cassian the whole time, mostly to protect them from any threats Az might send their way if I wasn’t there. When we got into the club, Amren parted from the group -probably to go to the Summer court rather than spend the night with us- and Rhys went to the bar to order some drinks. The rest of us headed for our designated booth, and as Azriel and Feyre sat down, I pulled Cassian and Mor to the dance floor.

Cassian quickly slipped away from me, dancing with some female I’d never seen before, but Mor kept her hands on my hips and danced with me. I glanced to Azriel, finding him downing a shot while Feyre and Rhys looked on worriedly. Rhys whispered something to him, but nothing was gonna help the mood I put him in.

After a while, Mor and I went back to the table to drink. Mor went back to the dancing before I did, so I sparked a conversation with Rhys and Feyre, avoiding Azriel’s eyes. As I stood to start dancing again, I realized that I should have had fewer drinks. Dancing was gonna be difficult. When I arrived at the edge of the dance floor, I looked over my shoulder at Azriel. He was studiously ignoring me. Of course, he isn’t going to come dance with me, I thought to myself. So I started swaying my hips by myself, wishing his hands were on them. I kept on like that, dancing where I knew Az could see me. If he was looking. Eventually, a pair of hands did find their way to my hips, but the first thing I noticed was that they weren’t Azriel’s. Well, at least someone wants to dance with me, I thought, so I let him pull me closer.

After a minute, I turned my head toward the booth, but Azriel was no longer there. I was about to pull away from the male to look for Az when I felt his lips kiss my neck. Okay, that was too far, and I was about to say as much when I pulled away, but before I got the chance, he was ripped away. I spun around to see Azriel holding the male by his throat and growling something I couldn’t hear in his ear.

“Az, stop it,” I protested, but he didn’t even look my way.

Rhys showed up a moment later and was saying something to Azriel, but my head went fuzzy. My ears were ringing, and everything looked blurry. I tried stepping forward and reaching out for Azriel, “Az…” but instead, everything went black. Right before I hit the floor, I felt hands catch me. Azriel.

It was only a few moments later when I woke up sitting in the booth, and Feyre was placing a glass of water in front of me. I quickly drank half of it and set it down before resting my head on Azriel’s shoulder. But then he pulled away, and my anger from before rose back up again.

“I cannot believe you’re angry with me,” I growled at him.

“You can’t believe I’m angry. Of course, I am. That man kissed you and was dancing with you,” he growled back, eyes blazing.

“I didn’t ask him to kiss me, and he wouldn’t have been dancing with me if you had been.”

“Maybe he wouldn’t have been dancing with you if you weren’t dressed like that,” he snapped back.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean? I’m only attractive when I show some skin?”

“Of course not,” he practically yelled back. “But if you weren’t dressed as though you’re just wanting every male to wonder what the hell’s under that lace, then they wouldn’t try to touch you.”

“They also wouldn’t try anything if they had any idea I have a mate. Why do you think I’m dressed like this, Az?” he furrowed his brow and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, I said, “You’ve barely spoken to or touched me all week, and we haven’t had sex in almost two weeks. The only male I wanted attention from was you,” I said, standing up and walking toward the door.

Once I was outside, I started walking home. I could’ve just winnowed but, I was hoping Az would come after me. Please, please, please. Run after me. Just like in the storybooks. Please! I practically shouted down the bond, but he didn’t come, so I winnowed to the foyer of our house and cried until I couldn’t anymore.

Eventually, I picked myself up and went upstairs. I ripped the dress off, never wanting to see it again, before wrapping myself in a robe and walking into the bathroom. I washed all of the ruined makeup off my face and brushed the lingering taste of alcohol away. Not that it mattered, because minutes later, I was seated by the toilet puking everything up and crying again. Azriel still wasn’t back when I fell asleep on the bathroom floor. But in the morning, I woke up in bed.

A glass of water was sitting on the bedside table, but Azriel’s side of the bed was still mostly made. He hadn’t slept there. I sat up in bed and was drinking the water when Azriel walked in, “You’re up,” he seemed surprised. I didn’t say anything. My mouth was still dry, and my eyes puffy from crying. “I guess we need to talk,” he said, sitting down at the foot of the bed.

“Are you seeing someone else?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He looked at me incredulously, “No! Of course not. Why would you even think that?”

Relief washed through me, and I just shrugged my shoulders slightly, looking down at my lap. I could feel the tears welling up, but I didn’t want to cry, so I tried to push them back down to no avail.

Azriel pushed closer to me on the bed and lifted my chin, “Hey, look at me. Look at me,” When I finally lifted my head, he looked me in the eyes and said, “I love you. I love you so much, you have to know that,” he pulled me into his lap, and I cried lightly into his shoulder while he kept murmuring those words again and again.

I fell asleep again, and when I woke up, I was curled against Azriel’s left side, his right-wing wrapped around us as he lay on his back. I snuggled closer to him, and when he wrapped his arms tighter around me, I asked, “Why haven’t you been around? I wake up and, you’re gone. I go to bed and, you’re still not here,” I looked up at him, and he looked back, pulling me up and pressing my forehead to his.

“At first, I was just busy with work. Then it felt like there was some disconnect between us. I didn’t know what to do so, I just pulled away. I realize I should have come to you, but it just feels easier to stay in the shadows.”

“Azriel…”

“I know. It’s stupid, and I’m an idiot.”

I pulled back slightly, opening my eyes, “I was not going to say that. I do wish you would have come to me, it would have made things a lot easier, but the way you feel is not stupid,” He kissed me then. Just his lips pushing against mine. Not too gentle, but not rough either. We stayed like that for a little while longer, just holding each other tightly.

We finally got up when our stomachs began to grumble and went to the kitchen. It was after 3 pm I sat at the breakfast bar while Az made us a couple of sandwiches. Things were less tense but, we were both still walking on eggshells around one another. I know I’m not mad at him anymore and, I don’t think he’s upset but, things are still a little off.

We make generic small talk while we eat, but the silences in between aren’t as comfortable as they used to be. After we finish eating, I pick up our plates and bring them to the sink. Before I realize he’s behind me, Azriel puts his hands on my shoulders and starts massaging.

“You’re tense,” he says, “what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. Things aren’t the same,” I frowned and leaned back into him, looking at him over my shoulder.

He smiled softly and said, “We got into the biggest fight of our relationship. Things aren’t going to be the same. But you still love me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” I said, turning around to look at him directly.

He just smiled again and kissed my lips lightly, “I still love you, too, y/n. I’ll love you always.”

“Always,” I repeated with a grin, kissing him harder.

part 2 (smut)

#azriel x reader #female reader #azriel #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #morrigon

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chaseatinydream · 4 years ago

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pirate king (1) || atz

The sounds of the waves crashing against shore, the white sea foam like clouds of the sky.

Salt touches your tongue as sea spray catches the light of the sun, casting a beautiful rainbow across your cheeks.

Seagulls circle in the clear blue expanse above, their cries ringing out for miles.

Rain lashes against your arms and droplets clings to your eyelashes. They resemble tears.

Lightning splits the darkness of the clouds and thunder akin to cannon shot rolls overhead, but there is no fear.

You smile wide, eyes closed, but then something in your chest weighs you down.

Suddenly, you’re yanked into the depths, water filling your nose and lungs and all at once, you cannot breathe. The weight in your chest drags you down, down, down, and no matter how hard you flail and thrash about, no matter how desperately you reach for the surface…

There is nothing but darkness.

Drip, drip, drip.

Your eyes flutter open softly, like a new butterfly’s wings. You’re lying on something wet and rough beneath your body, and to your horror, when you instinctively try to rub your eyes, your hands are bound together by a coarse, thick rope.

Right in front of you is a puddle of water and drops of water keeps falling into it, forming tiny ripples. You try to sit up as your eyes instinctively follow its path, up the grime ridden stone walls to the crack in the ceiling were rainwater seeps through. A spider lazily weaves its web in a corner and for a moment, you’re spellbound by it.

Crack!

You flail backwards at the deafening sound of a thunderclap, but your hands are tied together and you’re sent crashing to the ground painfully. Luckily, the ground is wet so the fall isn’t as painful as it could have been, but you still feel a tenderness in your hip where bare skin got dragged across uneven stone. You suck in a breath.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. Sit up again.”

Exhaling carefully, you roll onto your back, ignoring the pain of the small rocks digging into your side, and finally heave yourself up with a haphazard effort of numb limbs. Your bound ankles come into view, along with dirty, calloused bare feet. They’re tied with a thick red cord that there’s no chance you can cut through or untie, and when your mind finally screams at you the obvious, your heart stops.

“You’re in a prison.”

Your head snaps to the right, metal grills lining the tiny window in the room. To your left, the only exit secured with heavy metal bars, kept locked by three iron chains, each with a metal padlock at the end. Whoever locked you up here wanted to make sure you had no chance of escape. Before you can think any further, the sound of chattering and clanking metal wrenches you back to the present.

“-some woman down here.” The sound of heeled boots echoes down a flight of steps. There’s a soft squeak of leather and the man curses. “Damned stairs, what was that bastard Arthur thinking, holding a public execution today? Justice calls, my ass. He probably just wants to get rid some whore that heard his mouth running when he was drunk-”

“Quiet, Mannon!” Another voice, higher and hushed this time. “You never know if someone could overhear you! The governor will have you hanged!”

“Ha!” A derisive snort. To your mounting horror, their footsteps seem to be drawing nearer to your cell. “As if his men are going to lug themselves here to check on a mere prisoner. Lazing about in their offices all day, doing nothing but paperwork, afraid to get their hands dirty- Oh, she’s awake.”

Your face jerks upwards, but seconds later you flinch away from the light of the torch in the men’s hands. Slightly disoriented, you try to regain your bearings. That’s when the shorter and slightly rounded man pulls out a set of key from the pocket of his crimson uniform, moving towards your door. Your hope bubbles in your chest like a warm spring.

You watch, fascinated, as the chains slither away from the bars, landing in heaps on the floor. The man that resembles a bamboo stick draped in an ill fitting uniform steps forward and with a quick swipe of a pocket knife the ropes fall from your ankles. Warm blood rushes to your feet as if it’s the first time and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” You say gratefully, but the men simply stare at you, one unsympathetic and stone cold, the other won’t quite meet your eye. The portly one shakes his head, hand reaching down for the cord that binds your hands behind your back and tugs you to your feet carelessly.

“Don’t thank us for dragging you to the gallows, girlie.” The man snaps, unceremoniously shoving you forward. Before you fall, the other man catches you by the shoulders, steadying you. He’s warm.

“Mannon, stop doing this, alright?” His voice echoes somewhere far, far away, as if you’re underwater. You don’t register what he said.

Gallows?

“Yes, gallows, the place where people get hung, idiot.” A voice in your inner subconscious rings out, surprisingly clear even through the white noise that had filled your mind from panic. The insult manages to slap you back to your senses.

“Idiot?” You repeat to yourself under your breath, almost offended as the two guards pull you out of the cell and march you up the stairs with your hands tied behind your back. This laughingly pales in comparison to the actual trouble you are in.

Then it hits you full force.

You are walking to the gallows. Walking to your own death.

There’s a moment of serene peace for a moment, then you’re panicking, trying your best to recall what exactly has led you to this. What had you done to be deserving of the death penalty? You wrack your mind desperately for some some sort of answer, some sort of reason, but nothing comes forth except a blank, white canvas where your memories should be.

Where are your memories?

Fear floods through you like a tidal wave, rising and sweeping throughout every corner in your mind. It’s so real it’s palpable, clawing at your throat and stealing the breath from your lungs. There is nothing in your memories, no smiling parents, no first birthdays, no new pretty dresses, no favourite foods, nothing but white noise and the sound of waves crashing against shore.

How old are you? What did you eat yesterday? Why are you here?

Who are you?

You can’t even begin to fathom the answer to that one question.

“Hey, move it.” The rounder guard behind you shoves the small of your back forward, your bare feet dragging along the cobblestones of the street. The sky is dark and grey, as if weeping for all that you cannot remember and you see the townspeople peering at you and whispering to each other from tiny cracks in the doors and windows, no doubt wondering who it is unlucky enough to suffer the wrath of the official of the town. But there is not an ounce of recognition, only sympathy. Nobody cries for you, nobody tries to stop you as you take one step after another to the gallows. Nobody knows you.

You are alone.

Suddenly everything becomes so real to you. The feeling of cool rainwater as it trickles down your cheeks, the stone against your bare feet. The crisp cold air of a storm. The colour of the rain clouds. In another few minutes, you will be completely devoid of all sensation.

“I refuse.”

Like any thunderclap, the sound is deafening, it makes your eardrums ring and if your hands weren’t tied you’d clap them over your ears. But most thunderclaps don’t split buildings or cause massive screaming and mayhem.

“The official’s building!” The skinnier guard cries out in horror at the sight of the roof on one of the larger buildings on a hill collapse in on itself. There’s another ear splitting boom, and in the next second, your eyes manage to catch a glimpse of a round shape flying through the air before in plunges into the already collapsing building.

“Pirates!” You hear someone scream, his voice cracking with desperation and fright. “Pirates at the harbor-” His voice is abruptly cut off just as the clanging of a bell fills the air.

“Hurry, Philip! We need to get there!” The guard, Mannon, yanks on his partner’s arm and without a second glance back at you, they sprint down an alleyway, pulling sabers from hip sheathes.

You blink.

You’re free, just like that.

Your eyes dart around for something to free your hands with, but there’s nothing and you can hear the sounds of screaming getting ever closer. Townspeople are fleeing into buildings, doors being slammed shut, candles being extinguished, bolts drawn. From where the official’s building, you hear the click of several heeled boots pacing down the street in double time.

Between them and the pirates, you’d pick the pirates.

So with your hands bound behind your back, you dash down the same path your two captors took.

The sound of cannon fire fills your ears and there’s smoke everywhere. Your eyes sting, but you force yourself to keep moving, one foot in front of the other, one step at the time. There’s another earth shaking boom and suddenly the ground next to you explodes. You bite back the scream in your throat and continue running, you can’t afford to fall now. There are people all around you, dressed in the distinctive red coat of the law authorities here or in a motley array of tunics and breaches, both hold weapons, and both are dying.

As you move forward without looking back, there’s the sound of clashing metal, musket fire, screams of the wounded or dying. A man suddenly falls in front of you, blood pooling like a blossoming rose across the white of his undershirt, matching the vibrant red of his uniform. You leap over the corpse and turn back, staring open mouthed at his unclosing eyes, still wide in his shock, the slack muscles in his cheeks and jaw unmoving.

He’s dead.

You look up, almost instinctively. There’s a young man standing there, a long spear in hand. He’s wearing a sandy brown shirt over a white linen tunic and long, white pants that only accentuate his height tucked into knee high leather boots. His eyes, a soft brown beneath matching curls, meet yours for a split second.

Then you run.

You sprint as fast as you possibly can, feet flying over fallen swords and broken planks. You cannot stop. Through the acrid scent of smoke and gunpowder, you can finally smell it.

The sea.

In the harbor three ships are docked. One, with the emblem of a crimson rose embroidered onto its flag, has had its mainsail torn to shreds and the deck peppered with holes. Majority of its crew lie dead or unmoving, and even as you watch one of the last gun crews are blasted into the sea by a round cannonball, which shatters upon impact with the deck to form tiny, flying pieces of shrapnel that take out the gun crew beside it. The other ship, presumably a merchant vessel, is looted bare as its crew watches helplessly. Pirates heave chests of salted fish and silk cloth onto the third vessel.

The third ship is a large, ocean going vessel. Above its three sails on the mainmast flies its flag. A plain black design with the word ATEEZ in bright, bold orange, you immediately know this is the pirates’ ship. The harbor is chaos, clamoring of two sides to get the upper hand, but you can’t stop now. Taking a deep breath, you dash forward.

A blade narrowly misses your neck as you continue running with all your might, sliding under the business end of a swinging club. You barely feel the sting of your skin tearing as a stray musket ball nicks your upper arm, adrenaline pumping through your veins like a drug. You feel something warm and wet soak into the fabric of your sleeve, but like hell you’ll let that stop you now. By sheer dumb luck, you finally reach the gangplank of the pirate ship and dash up it, the wood creaking beneath your feet. They might be bleeding after that mad dash through town, but you’re here.

Now what?

Fighting is still going on all around. Pirates work in small groups to fight off boarding officers as they try to swarm the pirates. You hear a voice shout out “Fire in the hole!” over the din, and the five subsequent explosions send the boat rocking from side to side.

You’re still not safe.

Glancing around desperately, your eyes fall onto a small hatch in the main deck. Dodging the end of an ax on the path of its back swing, you leap for the trapdoor. Thank heavens you’re barefoot, because only with your toes you manage to nudge the bolt open and pull the hatch open. It’s stairs, leading down into the gloom of the storage hold, and from what you can hear, relatively quiet.

You’ll take your chances.

With a painful grunt, you take the stairs two at the time and your legs give out at the last moment. You crash to the floorboards just as the hatch closes over your head, throwing you into darkness except the faint shafts of light coming in from the cracks in the upper deck. Your ankle throbs with pain, but you don’t have time to worry about that. You frantically drag yourself behind a few barrels in the corner, out of sight of anyone coming down the steps and huddle down, praying for the ship to sail as fast as possible.

As if the gods were listening, you hear someone above deck shouting commands. “Weigh the anchor! Unfurl the sails! Wooyoung, fire the retreat flare!”

The voice is deep as the ocean and has an unmistakable air of command. You hear the pirates scrambling to carry out the orders, footsteps thudding across the deck and from the screams and splashes next to you, they are tossing the town officers overboard too. Not a second later another massive boom rocks the ship side to side, you knock your head on the barrels and a bundle of sackcloth falls onto you.

“Oww…” You mutter under your breath feeling something warm trickling down your temple, but then suddenly you hear the same, deep voice issuing commands again.

“Raise the gangplank, make way!”

There’s a sudden jerk of movement as the wind fills the sails. You gasp as you are almost thrown forward, barely regaining your balance at the last moment as the ship begins moving away from the harbor. The furious cries and jeers of the town officers fade away, replaced the sound of the sails beating in the wind and the lapping of waves against the side of the ship.

Home, your mind tells you.

As if all the fight has left you in a single moment, you slump back against the wall, the energy thrumming in your veins evaporating like steam, leaving only a sore ache in your limbs. You should really tend to the cut on your head or find some way to free your hands, but the overwhelming exhaustion crashes over you. The sackcloth is really warm, and you need to be properly rested before you can think of a plan.

“Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a few seconds.” You tell yourself as your eyelids slide shut and your breathing slows. You sink into a deep sleep.

It feels like you’ve barely closed your eyes when a voice shakes you out of your slumber.

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restlessfandoming · 4 years ago

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“the president and the troublemaker” (part 9) (chilumi fic)

“Lumine is the student council president and Childe is the school’s number one troublemaker. They cross paths more than they’d like. Especially when Childe finds out Lumine’s big secret. Highschool AU à la Kaichou wa Maid-sama.”

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8]

my brain b decayin luv

[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link] // [Main AO3]

the president and the troublemaker (part 9)

Was this a hallucination?

Had Lumine been out in the sun for too long?

Surely, there was no way she was about to fight Childe of all people.

And yet, there he stood, with that stupid grin of his, stretching his arms across the ring from her.

“What are you doing here?” Lumine said through gritted teeth.

“And let you have all the fun, all alone? No way,” he teased. He stretched his arms upwards, his gray tank top riding up as well, exposing well-sculpted abs (which of course made a gaggle of girls screech nearby). He caught sight of Lumine’s gaze, and laughed. “Aren’t you a little hot in that t-shirt, Lumi?”

Bastard.

Lumine would’ve obliterated the ground underneath that smirking ginger if she could.

“Hey, ref,” she said to the man sitting on the lifeguard chair behind her. “Any illegal moves we can’t do?”

The man pondered for a second. “Not really—we’re pretty casual here.” He laughed. “Just make sure you guys don’t hurt each other too much.”

“No promises,” Lumine muttered, marching to the center of the ring.

Childe copied her movements, and eventually stood before her. “Looks like we’re the last two left,” he said. “I wonder who will become champion of this little competition?”

Lumine didn’t respond, instead choosing to glare up at him.

He tilted his head curiously. “Lumine…,” he asked lowly. “Did I really hurt you earlier?”

No, you didn’t hurt me. She didn’t know what he was doing to her.

Her life was going perfectly fine, the exact way she had planned, until Childe found out her secret. Not only did he find out her secret, he had inserted himself into her life, and left her a swirling mess of confusing feelings—feelings she had never experienced before nor any idea of how to deal with them. He said he loved her.

“Ready!” the referee shouted.

Lumine raised her fists up.

Childe mimicked her with raised brows. “That doesn’t really look like a wrestling stance to me.”

The referee blew the whistle—the match had begun.

Lumine immediately swung forward with a punch, to which Childe blocked easily with his forearm.

His eye twitched. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Lumine swung again, with her other arm, and Childe quickly moved back, out of the way. The crowd around them broke into hushed murmurs as the realization set in that this was not a normal match.

Childe shook out his hands, then raised them back up, cocking his head from side to side. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With a grin, he lunged towards her with a fast and powerful swing.

Lumine felt the air blow past her face as she jumped back, her palm catching his other fist as it came in quick succession milliseconds after. She shoved his hand away, with her leg darting out in an attempt to sweep him off his feet.

He jumped, and using the brief window of distraction, she swung at his face again. At the last second, his hands caught her forearm, and she was now stuck in his vice grip.

“Come on, Lumine,” he breathed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She tried pulling her arm away, to no avail. “You,” she hissed.

His grip loosened, just a bit, and Lumine yanked her arm out.

“Me?” he asked. “What about me exactly?”

“Everything.” She threw a jab at his face. “Everything you do.” Another jab. “You tease me. You confuse me.” A sweep with her foot. “I don’t know what’s happening to me—because of you.”

Childe dodged every single one of her moves, though his brows were now furrowed in concentration, and a slick sheen of sweat glistened on his face; they were tiring each other out. At this rate, neither one of them would win. Lumine’s frustration grew, bubbling and festering deep in her gut.

“If you want me to stop,” Childe said, “I will.” He threw a punch at her. “Say the word, and I’ll go away.” Each word he said was punctuated with a swing at her, backing her up further and further.

Do I want him to disappear?

If he did, her life could go back to normal—she could go back to normal.

And yet, part of her knew it wouldn’t feel right.

He had really taken her out of her comfort zone, broadened her horizons. Made her a better fighter. A better person.

Childe wasn’t the problem. The problem was her: it was her frustration and her inability to figure out how she felt about him.

“Do you really hate me, Lumine?” Childe asked.

No.

I like you, you idiot.

She stepped back, ready to answer through her fists. What she didn’t realize, however, how far back she was, and she crashed directly into the referee’s chair.

There were sharp gasps from the audience as she fell onto her back, the wind knocked from her lungs, too stunned to roll out of the way as the tall metal chair came tumbling down on her. She could only shut her eyes, and brace for impact.

The unmistakable hollow sound of metal against skin resounded in her ears. But she didn’t feel anything. She opened her eyes.

Poised above her was Childe, his hands on either side of her head, while his body shielded hers; his face was twisted in pain.

“Childe?” Lumine whispered.

He opened his eyes, and upon seeing her gazing right back at him, he forced a meek smile.

“Hey, girlie,” he said, strained. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” She put a hand on his chest, gentle, trying to help stabilize his shaking arms. “What about you?”

A heavy huff of a breath. “I’m fine.”

The chair was lifted off of him as spectators gathered around the two, a swirl of questions and calls for medical attention.

As he sat up, Lumine sat up as well, her hand subconsciously clutching the front of his shirt, holding him close as her concern grew.

Childe kept persisting he was fine to everyone around, but when someone behind noted a large bruise was blossoming across his back—so large it was visible through his top—Lumine turned him around and examined it herself.

Her fingers traced the injury, and when Childe winced, she told him they were going to the nearest clinic—no arguments. After a hasty call to Kaeya and Aether explaining the situation, the two were sitting in one of the clinic’s rooms, waiting for the doctor.

“I told you, I’m fine,” Childe repeated from his seat on the exam table. “It’s just a bruise. It’ll go away.”

“You really don’t like getting your injuries treated,” Lumine huffed from her chair nearby. “You didn’t even want to go to a hospital after diving off a building.”

He shrugged with a smile. “What can I say? I like to test the limits of my strength.”

Lumine rolled her eyes. “You’re not invincible, you know.”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Jesus, who let your ego grow this much?”

“I haven’t died yet, so there’s nothing to prove I’m not invincible.”

Lumine stood, and poked at his back. She saw his muscles jolt and scoffed. “You sure about that?”

Childe leaned back on his hands. “Injuries and scars mean nothing if I’m still breathing.”

Lumine looked at him curiously. “What kind of mentality is that?”

He looked back at her, his blue eyes dark in thought. Then, he grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled it over his head.

Immediately, Lumine slammed her eyes shut, even throwing her arms over her face to block out her vision completely. “What are you doing?!” she managed to squeak out.

There was a soft chuckle from Childe, and before she knew it, he had gently grabbed her hand, guiding it towards it, until she felt her fingers flat against his chest. She let out another squeak as her hand felt his bare skin.

Though it definitely didn’t feel normal. It felt smooth, unnatural. Lumine opened one eye to peek.

There was a large pinkish-white scar etched on his sternum. A knife wound of sorts. Right by the heart. Life threatening.

“Some no good scumbags did this to me when I was young,” Childe explained. “Insignificant now, but maybe the reason I push myself so much. Nothing will ever come close to this life-or-death moment.”

Lumine’s entire system felt dry as she imagined a little boy with a smattering of orange hair and bright blue eyes with this wound, gaping of blood. What kind of monsters…? “Do...Do you know who did this to you?” Lumine didn’t realize how hoarse her voice sounded until she heard her nearly trembling voice spill out.

Another chuckle, a little darker this time. “What? Are you going to get revenge for me?”

Lumine’s eyes stung. “You’re not angry? Upset that some monsters out there nearly killed you? When you were only a kid?”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Childe let out a sheepish laugh. “Didn’t mean to make you upset, Lumine.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, straining to keep the tears at bay. “I just...I’m always so dependent on you. Whenever I need help, you’re just magically there to save the day.” Her head hung down, eyes fixed on the floor. “I can’t even repay you for all the times you’ve come to my rescue. And you’re always the one to get hurt. Even when I’m horrible, when I’m stubborn and angry and—”

Childe wrapped his arms around Lumine, pulling her in for a tight embrace. “I’m plenty dependent on you too, Lumi.” His words buzzed against her ear as his chin rested on her shoulder.

She hesitated a moment. But her arms eventually found their way around him as well. “Just...let me help you. Like how you help me.”

He pulled back, just a bit, his lips ghosting over her forehead as he murmured, “You already are.”

Lumine looked up at him, how impossibly close he was. Her eyes trickled down to his lips.

His eyes followed hers, and she felt his muscles tense against her skin.

As the heat crept from the pit of her stomach to the apples of her cheeks, Lumine’s eyelids fluttered closed, and she leaned in—

CLICK.

“Alrighty, how are we doing today—?”

Lumine and Childe froze and turned to the open door. The doctor looked back at them with raised brows.

“Sorry, should I come back…?” the doctor asked, his voice lined with amusement.

Lumine’s arms snapped back to her own body as she frantically waved in front of her. “N-no, no, no; ah, uhm, sorry, doctor!” She quickly deflated back into the chair, facing the wall away from Childe as the doctor began his examination.

Her heart was constantly hammering away at her chest the entire time, barely noticing the exam was over until Childe tapped her arm, jolting her back to reality.

“Ready to go, Lumi?” he asked, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Already? What did the doctor say?”

“Oh? Were you a little...distracted?” If possible, his grin stretched wider.

Lumine stood, leaving the room abruptly. “You can die for all I care,” she muttered sarcastically.

He jogged to keep up with her. “He said I was okay: just a bad bruise that will go away after a while.”

The two exited the building, walking into the colorful sorbet glow of sunset.

“Back to the beach house?” Lumine asked.

Childe hummed in agreement. There was a brief pause before he leaned down, right into her shoulder, and said, “Unless you want to finish where we left off.”

Lumine put her palm on his forehead, shoving him away, his laugh breezing her arm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answered, walking away. I am going to die from embarrassment.

God, she had never been so...so vulnerable in front of someone. To think, she was about to kiss—

“You never did answer me, by the way,” Childe said, walking by her side.

“What?”

“When we were fighting.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Whether you hate me or not.”

Lumine bit the side of her cheek. “What about you?” she blurted. “Do you really love me, or is it just another one of your stupid jokes?”

“Does it bother you?”

Childe had stopped walking, his expression all tight lines.

“Does it bother you?” Childe repeated. “If I’m in love with you?”

Was she going to continue running from him? Denying anything and everything about him? In the end, it would just hurt them both, wouldn’t it?

“No,” Lumine answered quietly.

A soft smile tugged at Childe’s lips, and he stepped in front of her, putting his hand on top of her head. “And do you hate me, Lumi?”

“N-no.”

“Again.”

Her face scrunched. “I...I don’t hate you, Childe.”

I like you. Why couldn’t she just say it?

“Don’t look so constipated, Pres.”

Lumine’s jaw dropped as her head snapped up at Childe’s face. “I am not—!”

Childe kissed her forehead, gently, his hand delicately placed on her cheek.

“Thank you, Lumine,” he said, his breath rustling her golden locks. “For everything today.”

She clutched his shirt, legs shaking—but she didn’t back away. “I should be the one saying thank you. For saving me.”

“Always.”

“I’ll save you too,” Lumine whispered. “I swear.”

“It’s a promise, then,” Childe whispered back.

* * *

[part 10]

#genshin impact #genshin lumine #genshin childe #childe #lumine #chilumi #fanfiction #fanfic #me

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waitimcomingtoo · 5 years ago

Note

Heyyyyy baby! Okay, I don't know if I'm the only one who's experienced this but did it ever happen to you that you're really good friends with someone in a platonic way and then one night you have a dream about them and you just wake up with this weird crush? Making you notice things about them? Maybe you could do a Tom x Co-star reader oneshot based on this? I'd want reader to be working on Spiderman then we could explore her relationship with the rest of the cast. But that's up to you. ;*

Don’t Dream It’s Over

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Masterlist

“Don’t be scared. I got you.” A smirk lit up Peters face before he slipped his mask on as you peered off the ledge hesitantly.

“What if I fall?” You chewed your bottom lip.

“Don’t worry about that, pretty girl.” He said softly as he held your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “I’m always gonna be here to catch you.”

“Okay.” You agreed, and Peters pumped his fist in the air.

“You might wanna hold me a little tighter.” The eyes of his mask widened in excitement as he wrapped his arm around your waist. “For safety reasons, of course.” He added timidly.

You rolled your eyes at him but complied. You wrapped both arms around his neck and fit yourself as close against his body as you could.

“You ready?” He asked you and you nodded.

“You’re gonna love this.” He said excitedly and stepped off the building. You began to fall freely until and a scream ripped through your throat. Peter shot a web at a nearby building and you were suddenly lit flying upwards, wind rushing in your ears.

“Don’t let me go!” You squealed and tucked your face into Peters neck.

“I won’t.” He laughed in delight as he swung towards another building. Sensing your fear by how tightly you were clutching him, he decided to land. He swung towards a building and landed gracefully on the rooftop. You still held him tightly and he let out a chuckle.

“You can let go now.” He said shyly, not that he wanted you to. You slowly slid your arms down and opened your eyes.

“How was that?” Peter asked you as he removed his mask. He noticed the look on your face and worried that he had upset you. “Did you not like it? We don’t have to do it again.” He said apologetically. You flung your arms around Peters neck and pressed a kiss to his lips. When Peter recovered from the surprise, he kissed you back and let his hands rest on your hips.

“I love you.” You mumbled against his lips when you pulled away. The corner of his mouth tweaked up in a half baked smile. “I’ve felt it for a while. I don’t feel scared when I’m with you. I feel like I can do anything. Isn’t that love?”

“I think it is.” He nodded, eyes full of hope.

“Then why are you just standing there?” You asked him and he made a face that showed he didn’t understand. “Kiss me.”

The moment your lips touched Peters, your eyes fluttered open and you found yourself staring at the ceiling of your trailer. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you sat up in bed. Even though it was just a dream, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach that it was over. You felt oddly disappointed, and a little dazed. You had hours upon hours worth of fittings and rehearsal to look forward to that day, but there was only thing on your mind: Had Peter Parker always been that cute?

You’d seen Tom in his Spider-Man suit a million times since filming began, but the thought of him in that red and blue was making your heart skip a beat that morning. You rushed out of bed to get dressed, suddenly feeling eager to see him. You threw on a dress he had complimented once before and smiled at your appearance before something dawned on you.

“Oh shit.” You whispered.

You now had a crush on Tom Holland.

You sped walked out of your trailer on high alert. You spotted Zendaya by the makeup trailer and waved her over.

“DAYA!” You shouted. “Daya come here.”

“What’s wrong girlie? You look like you’ve had a fun morning.” She folded her arms and laughed at the panicked look in your eyes.

“You know when you have one of those dreams that make you wake up with a crush on a person you thought you could never have a crush on?” You asked her quietly and she raised her eyebrows.

“Oh shit. Are you asking me out?” She teased you and you clenched your jaw.

“No, Daya. It wasn’t you.” You looked around for anyone who might be listening and quieted your voice. “It was Tom. Well, it was Peter. But now I think I like Tom.”

“Everyone knows that.” She shrugged you off and you scoffed.

“No, everyone speculates that.” You corrected her and she pursed her lips. “I honestly never had feelings for him until now. How am I supposed to act around him?” You whispered harshly.

“Just act like you always do.” She said and you groaned. You ran your fingers through your hair and tugged it.

“I can’t even remember how I used to act. All I can think of is that damn suit.” You folded your arms and blew out a breath. Zendaya looked you up and down and cocked her head.

“Damn, girl. What kind of dream was this?” She raised an eyebrow and you shoved her playfully.

“It wasn’t like that. It was romantic. I kissed him.” You insisted and she nodded skeptically.

“How did the kiss feel?” She interrogated you.

“I mean, I left my earthly body and saw the time knife but that’s it. It wasn’t anything special.” You dismissed it and Zendaya let out a laugh.

“So mediocre then?” She asked sarcastically. “Just talk to him. It’s the only way to tell if these feelings are real or just from your dream.”

“What do I say?” You asked desperately.

“I can’t think of everything. You need to take it from here.” Zendaya told you and you nodded reluctantly.

“You’re right. I’ll talk to him.” You squeezed her arm and walked away. You only got a few paces before you ran into a lady from the props department.

“Hey, Y/n.” She greeted you. “Could you take this to props please?”

“Oh, sure.” You smiled at her and took the fake knife she was holding. You kept walking and tried to think of a plan for what you were going to say to Tom.

“Hey there Juliet.” Jacob nodded at you. You stopped in your tracks so hard that your shoes skidded.

“Juliet? What have you heard?” You held the fake knife up to his throat and he held up his hands in defense.

“Woah there ku’uipo. Relax.” He chuckled and you lowered your knife. “I was just referring to the knife. You know how those crazy kids killed each other in old England.”

“Romeo and Juliet takes place in Verona.” You said and Jacob made a face like he didn’t understand.

“It’s in Italy. And they killed themselves.” You corrected again. “Why are we talking about this?”

“You’re right. What we should be talking about is what you think I heard.” Jacob smirked. Knowing Jacob wouldn’t drop the subject, you confessed.

“Have you ever had one of those dreams that makes you wake up with a crush on someone?” You whispered and he nodded.

“Yeah. I had one just last week and now I’m in love with Jake Gyllenhaal.” He said seriously and you glared at him. “Why, have you ever you ever had one of those dreams?”

“No.” You said quickly.

“Then why did you ask?” He challenged you.

“Ask what?” You played dumb.

“I…I don’t remember.” He blanked.

“You asked me if you could bring this knife back to props. And I said yes.” You lied and handed him the knife.

“Okay.” He shrugged and began to walk towards the props department. Jacob turned around again with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Tom.” He stated, and your heart stopped.

“What?” You faked a laugh.

“You dreamt about Tom.” He said, sure of himself this time.

“What? No.” You tried to lie but saw no use. “How did you know that?”

“Hawaiian intuition.” He tapped his head twice.

“That’s not a thing.” You accused him.

“Oh yeah? Then how did I know you’re crushing on Tom?” He asked you with a knowing smirk.

“I think Props is really missing that knife.” You tried to get out of the situation by sending him away.

“Alright. See you around, Juliet.” He saluted you with the knife and walked away. You swallowed thickly and soon as you turned around, you were met with Tom smiling face.

“Hey Y/n!” He greeted and you jumped back.

“Christ on a bike, Tom. You scared me.” You clutched your hand over your heart.

“Sorry, love.” He laughed softly, making your knees weaken beneath you. “Why was Jacob carrying a knife?”

“It was a prop knife. You could find it at a dollar store. It’d probably be more than a dollar, though. My guess is $3.99. Are you excited for the holidays? I am.” You rambled and Tom tilted his head in confusion.

“Are you okay?” He chuckled, taking a step closer to you and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Are you kidding? I’m fine. It’s almost crazy how fine I am. How are you? Are you parents doing okay? They were so nice to me last time I saw them.” You said through a smile and Tom snorted.

“Yeah, you are pretty fine.” Tom commented and you gulped loudly.

“God in Heaven.” You said in a straggled voice and looked up at the sky.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Tom said, thinking he offended you. “I just meant that I think you’re pretty. I’m sorry if that was inappropriate.”

“No, no, no.” You stammered and he relaxed. “Totally appropriate. Don’t even worry about it. I don’t even remember it. What were we talking about again?”

“That I think you’re pretty.” He played along and you pretended to remember.

“Were we? That’s crazy. You’re a crazy guy, Holland. One crazy son of a gun. But I uh, I think you’re pretty too.” You said quietly as you looked down at your shoes.

“Hey uh, did you hear about the crazy actress who killed her costar?” You asked suddenly and he furrowed his brows.

“No, oh my God. Who?” He wondered.

“Reese.” You nodded and looked past him.

“Witherspoon?” He asked in shock.

“No. With her knife.” You gave the punchline and grimaced. “I’m so sorry. That was a bad joke.”

“I thought it was funny. I always think you’re funny.” He smiled. Your breath hitched in your throat at his gaze. You’d never noticed how pretty his eyes were, or the little flecks of gold embedded in them.

“I , well, you — but you know, it’s just — I didn’t even uh, it was just a joke so, you know.” You stammered.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked you and you felt your palms beginning to sweat.

“Never been better, Peter.” You gave him a thumbs up, not realizing your slip up.

“Peter?” He repeated and your face fell.

“I didn’t say Peter.” You said quickly, eyes shifting to the left.

“I’m pretty sure you did.” He looked you up and down, wondering why you were acting so funny around him today. His stare only made you worse.

“Really? That’s funny, you must be hearing things. Hold on a minute, COMING DAYA.” You yelled behind you as if you were being called.

“I didn’t hear Zendaya calling you.” Tom said skeptically, beginning to think you didn’t want to talk to him.

“Wow Tom, you better get your ears checked. They are all out of wack, my man.” You laughed nervously as you began to back away. “I gotta go help Daya with something but I’ll catch you later.”

“Okay. Have fun.” Not too much fun, though.” He joked and you pointed finger guns at him, immediately killing you inside.

“Fank yew! It’ll be an alright time, it will.” You shouted in a cockney accent. You shut your eyes and covered your face with your hand. “I’m so sorry. I regret that so much. Can you please forget I just did that?” You pleaded with him.

“Might be a little hard to forget, love. I think it seared itself into my frontal lobe.” He tapped the side of his head and smiled at you. You gave him a big smile and hurried away. You stormed all the way to Zendaya’s trailer and shut the door behind you.

“I cannot believe that just happened.” You whined and covered your face with your hands.

“Woah there. Why are you all red?” Zendaya put down her script and laughed at your appearance.

“Because Tom just tried to talk to me and I forgot how to person.” You yelled in frustration, only making her laugh harder.

“I’m sure it was fine. It’s just Tom.” She insisted in dismissal.

“Exactly!” You exclaimed. “It’s just Tom. So how come when he looked at me, my brain told me to go EFF myself and put on a Nikki Minaj song.”

“Oof. That bad, huh? What song?” She asked you, amused with your embarrassment.

“Super Bass.” You half smiled. “The whole time Tom is talking to me I hear “this one is for the boys with the booming system. Top down, AC with the cooler system.” I couldn’t even think straight!” You whined.

“You’ve been friends with Tom for years.” She pointed out. “What happened?”

“It was that stupid dream! I had a dream we were in love and now I’m whipped. Whipped like…” You trailed off when you couldn’t think of the right word.

“Whip cream?” She raised an eyebrow and you glared at her.

“Shut up. I feel ridiculous.” You sighed and took a seat on her bed. You rested your head on her shoulder and she rubbed your back.

“I’m sure he didn’t think you were ridiculous.” She said quietly. “And look on the bright side.”

“Which is?” You asked her as you plopped down in her swivel chair.

“There are worse people you could be crushing on. Tom is a really great guy. He ill, he real, he might gotta deal. He pop bottles and he got the right kind of build.” She said in a serious tone.

“The way I’m about to shadow kick you right now.” You said gravely as you looked up at the ceiling.

“I’m serious. He’s one of your best friends right? What’s so bad about him being your boyfriend?” She nudged you gently and you sighed.

“There’s nothing bad about it. But what if that’s not what he wants?” You asked quietly as you played with your fingers.

“Take a look at yourself in the mirror, model.” Zendaya spun your chair around to face the mirror as she tucked some of your hair behind your ear. “Of course that’s what he wants.”

“You better be right.” You looked at her in the mirror and she smiled at you.

“I am. Now come on. We have rehearsal on the Crown Jewels set.” She held you up out of the chair.

“I’ll meet you there in a second. I have to grab my script.” You told her before leaving her trailer. You went back to your trailer as she went to set.

“Is this mace real?” Jake asked as he weighed it in his hands as the rest of the cast went over their scripts.

“You really think they’d give us a real mace? Especially with you on set, Donnie Darko?” Jacob teased him and Jake began to play with the mace like it were a sword.

“Do they even make maces anymore?” Zendaya wondered, backing away from Jake a little as his swings gained momentum.

“Who’s they?” Jacob laughed.

“The blacksmithes.” Jake said seriously before we went back to moving his mace.

“Yeah, Jacob. Don’t you know about the blacksmiths?” Zendaya asked sarcastically, making a face at him.

“This thing is kinda heavy, though. Makes me want to swing it around and take down the leader of the Huns or something.” Jake realized as he began to swing his arm in a circle.

“Jake, put the prop down.” Jacob laughed nervously as Jake got a little too close with the mace.

“I physically cannot put it down. It’s in control now.” Jake insisted as he swung it around even harder.

“How are you the oldest and most childish person here?” Zendaya asked as she hide behind a suit of armor for protection.

“I feel so free.” Jake smiled wildly. “Is this how the vikings felt?”

“How would anyone here know that?” Zendaya sassed.

“And why do you want to know how the Vikings felt?” Jacob added.

“Hey guys.” You greeted the room happily only to get smacked in the mouth with the mace upon arrival. You collapsed to the floor and felt warm blood trickling down your face.

“Y/n! I am so sorry!” Jake covered his mouth with his hand when he realized what he had done. He bent down beside you and sent the mace down.

“Jesus? Is that you?” You asked groggily as you looked up at Jake.

“Yes. Jesus accidentally hit you in the mouth with a mace. But Jesus was just trying to feel like a Viking. Do you forgive Jesus?” Jake as he he picked your head up a little and let it rest on his hand to keep you elevated.

“Yes?” You asked in confusion as the corners of your vision began to blacken.

“She’s okay guys!” Jake called to Zendaya and Jacob. “But can we get a medic?”

Zendaya rushed out of the room to get a medic right as Tom entered it. He took one look at you on the floor and bloody and dropped to his knees.

“What the hell happened here?” Tom snapped as he took your hand. He dabbed some of the blood off your chin with his sleeve and saw a large cut on your mouth. He looked up at Jake for answers and Jake looked very sheepish.

“Someone hit Y/n with a mace.” He said quietly.

“Hm. Could it be the man holding the mace?” Tom asked in sarcastic anger as he pointed to the mace. He turned his attention back to you and slowly helped you sit up. He held you against his chest and tried to get the hair unstuck from your face.

“Jesus hit me.” You whined and Tom looked at Jake with a raging anger.

“You hit her? I’ll kill you.” He tried to move towards Jake but you patted his chest.

“Jesus hit me accidentally.” You added, and Tom calm down.

“Are you okay, darling?” Tom asked, switching to his most gentle tone. He pulled a pack of tissues out of his pocket and held it against your mouth to slow the bleeding.

“I’m all dandelions and fruit cups down here, handsome.” You giggled, vision still swirling.

“She’s losing consciousness. Where is the medic?” Tom growled and look towards the door right as a woman in white came in.

“Right here. Move aside, please.” The medic ordered. Tom reluctantly laid you down on the ground and backed away to give you space.

“Pickle side, pickle side.” You laughed to yourself and moved your hands like you were conducting. The medic transferred you to a gurney and began to roll you towards the door.

“Where are you taking her?” Tom asked as he followed them.

“We’re gonna take her to the closest hospital. It looks like she needs stitches.” The medic told him and his heart sank.

“I love that song.” You mumbled and began to hum Stitches.

“Can I come?” Tom pleaded as he helped push the gurney along.

“Are you family?” The medic asked him.

“Yes.” He said quickly but she didn’t look convinced. “No. Please. I need to be there when she wakes up.”

“Fine. Get in the back of the ambulance.” The medic nodded towards the ambulance and Tom climbed inside. He waited until you were loaded in and took your hand in his.

“This is just like Grey’s Anatomy.” You smiled a little, then stopped when it hurt. “Nobody knows where we might end up. Nobody knows.” You sang to yourself.

“Thats right, Y/n. Just hang tight, sweetness. It’s gonna be okay. We’re almost there.” Tom said soothingly as he stroked your hair. You smiled at him softly before you fell unconscious.

“We’re almost there. Just hang tight.” Peter looked over at you, taking your hand in his to kiss the back of it.

“Is she gonna like me?” You asked him, hoping for an honest answer.

“Sweetheart, May is going to beg you to move in before dinner ends.” Peter chuckled. “She’s gonna love you.”

“How do you know?” You worried, trying to distract yourself by looking out the window.

“Because I love you. And I’m her kin.” Peter shrugged and you snapped your attention to him.

“That’s the first time you ever told me that.” You smiled softly at him as the streetlight lit up his profile.

“Is it?” He raised his eyebrows to play along. “I didn’t know.”

“Pull over.” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“What?” He laughed, his smile fading when he saw that you were serious.

“Pull over.” You repeated. Peter obliged and pulled over as soon as he could.

“Is there something you needed?” He asked you with a coy smile.

You smirked at Peter before unbuckling your seatbelt. You leaned across the gear and pulled him into a long kiss.

“I love you too.” You told him, and kissed him again.

“Love? You awake?” Toms voice pulled you out of your dream. Your eyes fluttered open and you looked over to where his voice was. He was sitting in a hospital chair, pulled right up to your bed. “How you feeling?”

“Like I got hit with a mace.” You tried to sit up and he immediately went to your side to help you. You gave him a grateful smile and rubbed your eyes.

“Yeah, I figured. Jake said he’s really sorry. He’s been calling me every five minutes to see if you’ve woken up.“ Tom smiled softly and touched your cheek. He kept his touch light, not wanting to hurt you.

“Thanks, Peter.” You leaned into his touch and rubbed his wrist lightly with your thumb.

“Back to the Peter thing, huh?” He laughed softly. “They told me they got you on some crazy pain killer that was gonna make you loopy.”

“You wanna know something?” You raised your eyebrows suggestively.

“Tell me, darling.” He took a seat on your bed and gave you his full attention. You walked your fingers up his arm and drew patterns on his shoulder with your fingernails.

“I’ve been dreaming about us.” You told him, something you’d never admit if you weren’t on the medicine.

“Have you?” He raised his eyebrows. “What are you dreaming about us doing?”

“You’re mine.” You leaned into him with a sleepy smile. “And I’m yours.”

“You’ve been dreaming about us being together? Like as a couple?” He asked for confirmation and you nodded.

“Uh huh. And then I wake up and I’m sad.” You pouted and stuck out your bottom lip.

“Why are you sad?” He asked quietly, his heart beginning to speed up. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and gave a sad smile.

“Because it was just a dream.” You told him. Tom let out a shaky breath and tried to process what you were saying.

“Are you saying your want us to be together?” He tilted your chin up so he could see your reaction. He knew you were high on medicine and probably had no idea what you were saying, but a part of him hoped you were telling the truth.

You leaned in with a dopey smile and pressed your nose against Toms.

“You’re the boy of my dreams, Peter.” You cooed and he pulled his face away in annoyance.

“Right.” He sighed and looked away. “Peter.”

“Are you mad at me?” You worried when you noticed his reaction. Even with the medicine compromising your mentality, you could tell he was angry.

“No. No darling, I’m not mad. Not at you.” He mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

“Come here.” You pulled at his shirt and he cradled a smile. “I want to be close to you.”

“Okay.” He obliged and scooted closer. You shut your eyes and rested your head against his forehead.

“Can I ask you something?” You whispered, and he could’ve sworn you were sober for a moment.

“Anything.” He nodded against your head.

“Can you hear my thoughts?” You asked seriously and Toms face fell in disappointment.

“No. No I can’t hear your thoughts.” He told you and pulled away.

“Good.” You cupped his chin and turned his face back to you. “Because they’re all about you.”

You let your thumb slowly drag down his lip, laughing a little at the sound it made when you let go. Toms throat tightened at your action and he gulped.

“You’re so pretty.” You smiled as your eyes trailed down his face.

“You’re pretty too.” His lips tugged into a grin.

“Peter.” You whined as you pushed him away.

“What?” He asked, confused with your mood change.

“You’re giving me butterflies.” You said timidly as you played with the edge of your hospital gown. “But I like someone else. I can’t like you too.”

“You like someone?” His face paled. “Do I know him?”

“Yeah. He’s like a really, really good friend of yours.” You blew out a breath.

“Is it someone on set?” He questioned you.

“Maybe.” You said in a sing song voice and shrugged.

“Who?” He asked, getting more worked up by the minute.

“I like Tom.” You whispered loudly and Toms eyes widened.

“What?” He whispered back.

“Shhhh, Peter.” You pinched his lips between your fingers. “You can’t tell Tom that I like him.”

“I think he might already know.” Tom said when he pulled your hand away from his face.

“What?” You panicked. “Who told him?”

“Whew, I don’t know.” Tom played along. “I think Zendaya did.”

“Daya? No. She swore she wouldn’t. It must’ve been Jacob.” You hit your fist against the bed.

“You told Jacob before me?” Tom exclaimed.

“I didn’t tell him. It was his Hawaiian intuition.” You tapped the side of your head twice.

“His what?” Tom tilted his head to the side.

“I have to go to sleep now, Peter. I can’t talk about this right now.” You waved your hand and pulled the sheets over your lap.

“You’re gonna tell me that you like me and then go straight to sleep?” He whined.

“I don’t like you, Peter. I like Tom.” You corrected him. “I like Tom and his curly hair and his brown eyes and his cute ass nose. God, what a nose. And I like his accent and his smile and his ambition and FUCK, his nose.”

“You mentioned that already.” He chuckled shyly.

“I did?” You sat up slightly and shrugged. “Because I love it. I love it all. And if you’ll excuse me, I needs my sleeps.” Tom sat back in his chair and sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be getting any real answers until you woke up.

“Good morning.” You said weakly as you reached for the ice pack next to your bed. You held it against your cheek and sighed in relief.

“Hi sunshine.” Tom smiled softly. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah. I don’t feel like someone put my brain through a pasta maker anymore.” You said as you rubbed your eyes.

“Aw. How about your mouth?” He questioned.

You gave him a weak smile until it hurt and returned the ice pack to your face.

“There she is.” He smiled back. “You may want to keep the smiling to a minimum until those stitches heal.”

“That wont be a problem.” You groaned in misery and leaned against his body. He hesitantly brought his hands to your head and stroked your hair.

“Hey, can we talk about before? About what you told me?” He asked softly as he combed the tangles out of your hair.

“Tom, if you think I remember a single thing since this morning…” You shook your head as you trailed off.

“You told me that you liked me.” He got straight to the point. “Or, you told Peter that you liked me. But I heard, o-obviously.”

“Oh God.” You buried your face in your hands to hide your shame.

“Jacob knows, Zendaya knows. You told everyone but me.” He said softly. You began to panic now that he knew. Even if he was cool about it, it’d never be the same between the two of you.

“Sorry, no.” You blurted, back to forgetting how to act around Tom.

“Sorry, yes. You told me a few hours ago, love.”

You turned away from him in shame and squeezed your eyes shut, wishing you were anywhere but in that hospital bed.

“I’m sorry if that creeps you out. I guess I don’t really have control over the fact that you’re…” You trailer off with a loss of words.

“The boy of your dreams?” He humored you and you huffed out a breath.

“Leave me alone.” You groaned and put your head back in your hands. Tom gestured for you to scoot over so he could take a seat beside you, and you did.

“You know, those stitches come out in a week.” He brought you and you looked at him quizzically.

“And?” You asked, unsure of his point. Tom took your chin between his fingers and placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth. Your entire body froze as he pulled away and gave you a half cocked smile.

“Find me in a week.” He winked.

“Pssh.” You smirked. “In your dreams.”

Tag list 🏷

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andypantsx3 · 4 years ago

Text

war paint | 5 | hot water

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

length: 27,765 words / 10 chapters

summary: Desperate times force you to disguise yourself and join the kingsguard. When a suspicious string of crimes strike the palace, however, Captain Katsuki Bakugou starts paying extra close attention. (spin off of in cinders)

tags: mulan AU, secret identity, romance, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, some violence, eventual smut

You laid low over the next few weeks, avoiding Captain Bakugou to the best of your ability.

You didn’t make eye contact during your drills, shifting behind Kaminari and Sero’s shoulders when you could. You kept to your bunkroom when you weren’t on duty, and ate quickly in the mess halls, leaving as soon as you were finished lest he come dine with his battalion. You left the palace grounds only to post your wages to your family, and hurried back quickly in case Bakugou came looking and found you gone.

You also steered clear of Nishimura and his idiot friend Hasumi, taking alternate routes when you saw them on the training grounds and saying nothing about the animals and bugs you continued to find in your sheets.

Your only relief was your continued patrols, especially when you were assigned to Sero or Kaminari. Kaminari in particular was good at getting you out of your funk, tripping over himself to make you laugh and forcing you to socialize with all his palace favorites like Hagakure the laundress or on one notable occasion, Ochako Uraraka, companion to the princess-to-be and wife of the prince’s trusted valet, Izuku Midoriya.

His favorite stop, however, continued to be Mina’s workrooms and you found yourself getting quite comfortable with her, relaxing into her bright and cheery presence. She kept you well entertained with easy humor and palace gossip.

“I heard Captain Bakugou told the prince he’ll have the thief in chains before the wedding,” Mina said one evening as you and Kaminari finished up your rounds. “But it’s hard to know where he’ll strike next. There’s no discernable pattern in the rooms he targets or the things he seems to take.”

“Wow, never thought anyone would be able to stump that guy,” Kaminari said, kicking his feet up on Mina's worktable. Mina growled, shoving his muddy boots off the bright fabrics. Kaminari overbalanced and only just managed to stop himself from face planting, grabbing her chair tightly.

He shot Mina a dirty look but continued. “Bakugou’s basically like a bloodhound. I thought for sure he would have sniffed the thief out by now.”

Mina sighed. “I know! And it’s giving the servants ideas now, too. One of them stole Lady Yaoyorozu’s best gown right out of the laundry rooms last Sunday. The housekeeper’s had a right time of it trying to track down the culprit.”

You thought back to your own patrol on Sunday, but it hadn’t taken you anywhere down near the laundry rooms. Nishimura and Hasumi’d been on that route and you wondered if the theft had occurred right under their noses, the pair of fucking idiots.

“If I were the thief,” Kaminari said, “I would steal an entire tray of those little cinnamon buns cook Rikido makes.”

You laughed. You had yet to try one, but from the way the other soldiers waxed poetic about them, you didn’t doubt they were worth stealing.

“Ooh, I would pilfer those sweet cakes he does,” Mina said longingly. She looked as though she was thinking wistfully of a long lost lover.

You thought to yourself. If you were any kind of thief, you’d steal money, most likely, to send back to your family. Or maybe something of the captain’s to burn. You wondered if he cared enough for anything that you could get him to beg you for it back. You quite liked the image of him on his knees before you...

A chuckle from Kaminari brought you out of your fantasy.

“Maybe we should take up a life of crime,” he said.

Mina eyed him. “Think of how fast Bakugou would figure you out and say that again. He’s the smartest person in this entire castle.”

Kaminari winced. “On second thought, protecting and serving is my passion. I’ve never so much as looked at a stolen pastry. If someone approached me with one I’d report them straight to the captain.”

You’d heard from Mina exactly how the prince’s future bride had bribed her way into the mid winter ball, so you weren’t buying it.

“In other news,” Mina said, “The new servants' baths are finished. You lot might get to try them! I heard they’re only waiting on an inspection from the steward to open. Hagakure said she already snuck in for a dip in the ladies’ baths and just about melted.”

Your interest piqued. You hadn’t had more than a rushed scrub down in weeks, and if the baths weren’t open yet, your chances of being disturbed were few.

“Where are they?” you asked, trying not to look as interested as you felt.

Mina described their location and dropped the tantalizing fact that they’d been built over a natural hot spring just south of the castle. Mentally, you could feel yourself rubbing your hands together with glee. Maybe tonight you could soak away all the stress from the past few weeks.

Kaminari yawned in disinterest. “No wonder you’ve got such a girly face, L/N. You’re basically as bad as Mina.”

You scoffed. “There is nothing wrong with being clean.”

He raised a golden eyebrow. “You even sound like Mina.”

Mina patted your arm sympathetically. “Denki was born to repel women, L/N, don’t hold it against him. A woman likes a well groomed man. Keep it up and you’ll have your share of ladies hanging off you when you grow up.”

You stifled a laugh. You certainly hoped not.

Kaminari, however, looked absolutely incensed and he bit out a retort at Mina, storming out of her office and bodily dragging you with him. You suppressed a smile and followed him through the rest of your rounds, trying to look appropriately chastened when he told you off for not defending him.

You felt lighter than you had in ages, though, and you looked forward to an evening spent in the baths.

Late that evening, hours after everyone went to bed, you crept out of the barracks and followed a worn path to the south of the castle. The baths proved tricky to find in the dark, but soon enough you stumbled upon the entrance. In case Hagakure was around for another illicit dip, you stuck to the men’s side, not wanting to explain to the laundress why her friend the soldier suddenly had sprouted a pair of breasts.

You lit a match and followed its light into the steamy heat of a dark room. You pressed it to a set of sconces set into the wall which, when lit, revealed an open pool sunk into the floor of the room. The light wasn’t enough to see the bottom of the spring by, but you could see steam curling off the surface of the water and you shivered in delight.

You quickly undressed, leaving your clothes and your breast bindings in a neat pile by the side of the pool, and climbed into the dark water. The heat instantly loosened your shoulders, and you could feel what must have been months of tight knots unraveling within your muscles.

You let out a sigh and sank in up to the top of your head, letting the water sluice over your shoulders and hair. You grabbed for your soap and washed down thoroughly, luxuriating in a feeling of total cleanliness that you hadn’t felt in months.

Then you let yourself float, feeling near ecstasy in every single nerve where the warm water touched your skin. The gentle lap of the water against the side of the pool and the steam curling up around your face lulled you into a stupor.

Until the scrape of a boot at the entrance reached your ears. Cussing, you ducked back down in the water, swimming over to press your chest up against the side of the pool, your heart beating frantically like a frightened rabbit.

Your stomach dropped when light caught on a lock of unruly blonde hair, and Captain Bakugou slipped into view.

“Interesting place for me to find a soldier who’s supposed to be in their bunk,” he said, smirking. His eyes were bright in the torch light.

You wanted to rush out of the baths and leap into your clothes, but you could only hold still in fear as he stepped closer. He looked like he’d come from his own bed, only wearing a loose linen shirt over a pair of soft breeches, his usual uniform conspicuously absent. You tried to ignore the peek of a well defined pectoral through the low collar of his nightshirt.

“Captain,” you said quickly, “I, um...I couldn’t sleep.”

He moved to the edge of the pool, staring down at you. “And you think that means you can just defy my orders, pretty boy?”

You flushed. “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

He looked you over, scarlet eyes running over your wet hair and shoulders. “You look awfully comfortable in there. Not gonna get out?”

Your heart shot into your throat. You couldn’t get out, not in front of him. Not if you didn’t want this whole charade to be ruined right here, right now. You didn’t know if Bakugou would knife a woman, but you didn’t want to take your chances and find out.

“I’m, um, embarrassed to, Captain,” you said by way of explanation. You stared at his boots, not daring to look up into his handsome face.

“Well aren’t you delicate, princess,” he quipped. His boots shifted and all of a sudden his face was in front of yours. You startled, shooting back from the rim of the pool, water sloshing loudly around you. You covered your chest protectively -- you didn’t know how well he could see in the low light of the torches but you didn’t want to test it.

A gleam of interest came into his eye and his gaze picked over you again. He looked disconcertingly curious, his head cocked to the side, like a wolf considering which part of the prey to tear into first.

To your horror, his hand moved to his shirt. Before you knew what he was doing, Bakugou grinned and pulled his nightshirt over his head. You had a glimpse of strong arms and a defined chest with a mouth watering set of abs before you panicked and whipped around, staring hard at the opposite wall.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice coming out high and squeaky.

“The fuck you think I’m doing, shrimp?” he asked. You heard the mortifying sound of his belt being undone and the scuff of his boots as he stepped out of them. “I’m testing something.”

“C-captain,” you said. “You’re not coming in here.”

You heard a low chuckle. “Don’t wanna share, princess?”

“Th-that’s not it!” you gasped, spine locking up as you heard his pants hit the ground. There was a slosh and water rushed over your back in a small wave. “Captain, this isn’t right.”

His rough voice was coming too near. “It’s a communal bath. We’re communally bathing. You some kind of pervert or something?”

You certainly felt like one if the way your eyes had tried to stay stuck to his chest was any indication. “And if I am?” you asked.

There was another low chuckle, this time right by your ear. “Awful shy for a pervert.”

You stood still, hardly daring to breathe. Your thoughts raced wildly from one topic to the next. What did he think he was doing? How were you going to get out of here without him figuring you out? If you pushed him, could you make it out of the baths before he caught you? If he caught you, what would he do?

A broad, hard chest pressed right against your back and your brain froze completely. You stopped breathing.

What was this? This was beyond teasing. What was the captain trying to accomplish?

“Still embarrassed?” he rumbled in your ear. A shiver went through you and your arms tightened around your chest, praying he couldn't see anything over your shoulder.

“This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me,” you blurted. You tried to will your mind to disconnect from the nerve endings in your back. He was so, so warm.

He snorted, and there was a moment of hesitation before he sloshed away from you again. You sighed in relief as the heat of his body left your back. “Not counting you getting your ass kicked in the mess hall.”

Irritation flashed through and you would have rounded on him if you could have turned around. “I wasn’t getting my ass kicked.”

There was a splashing sound from behind you. “Oh, were you only pretending to be losing spectacularly?”

You clenched a fist under the water. “Look, why are you here?”

There was a beat of silence.

“You ain’t the only one who can’t sleep,” Bakugou admitted roughly, surprising you. You chanced a look at him over your shoulder, only to whip back around, shame-faced. Yep, his abs were still there.

“W-why can’t you sleep?” you asked for something to say, voice a little shaky. You cleared your throat.

“Why can’t you?” he asked.

You frowned. “I asked you first.”

He let out a low chuckle. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

You could feel your cheeks heat, and you tamped down on an indignant so are you. A soldier didn’t talk to their commander that way, nor a peasant to a marquis.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me, princess,” Bakugou said. His voice sounded smug, like he knew what retort you were clamping down on.

You thought for a moment on what you could tell him. You couldn’t exactly admit to waking in the middle of the night to bathe without having your gender revealed. You could be vague, though, and still tell the truth.

“My family,” you said. “There were some things that, uh, led me to the kingsguard, and I was thinking about that.”

Bakugou seemed to accept that. “I was thinking about how I'll kill that thief nice and slow when I get my hands on him.”

You shivered despite the warm air of the bath house. The thought was unsurprising, but Bakugou being kept awake by it was. “You’re more bothered about this than I would have guessed.”

A loud, gusty sigh echoed from the other end of the spring. “They’re fucking with my territory. And they’re bothering the shit out of Shouto and his dumbfuck valet.”

“The prince?” you asked, surprised.

“He’s a...friend,” Bakugou admitted. You were somewhat shocked by the admission that Bakugou had anything like friends. You wondered what the prince was like, to be so unbothered by Bakugou’s rough manner. Or maybe Bakugou didn’t try his usual tack with a member of the royal family.

“I’ll kill anyone who fucks with him,” Bakugou growled quietly, “Or that green-headed little snot rag.”

You guessed he meant Midoriya, the valet. He sounded oddly protective for someone he called a name like snot rag. You wondered wildly if, despite the disturbing terms in which he spoke of them, he considered the prince and his valet something like family. It would explain why he was so bothered by the thief when he was normally so unflappable.

“I hope you find them,” you said, the sincerity in your voice surprising even you.

“Oh, I will,” he promised darkly. You shivered again.

A loud splashing from his end of the spring distracted you and you looked back over your shoulder, only get an eyeful of a very chiseled butt leaving the pool. You yelped, covering your eyes.

“What are you doing?” you gasped.

Another low chuckle reached your ears, along with the rustle of fabric. “Leaving. Didn’t you want that, princess?”

You took a breath. “Well--yes.”

There was more rustling. “I’ve had my fun with you,” he said, and you heard the scuff of his boots as he pulled them on again. “Don’t let me catch you out of your bunk again or I’m fucking discharging you.”

You nodded, heart beating wildly. Had you really gotten away with this? “Yes, sir,” you answered dutifully.

Bakugou let out another derisive snort. “Get to bed,” he said imperiously, and then he was gone.

You turned to stare after him, listening to the tread of his boots grow further away. Finally, as the sounded faded, your knees gave out and you sank back under the water, feeling horribly relieved, and yet more confused than you had ever been before.

You'd escaped, but...what the hell had just happened?

#bakugou x reader #fanfic #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki

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f0xfordcomma · 3 years ago

Text

re:union (kataang week 2021) DAY SEVEN

prompt: the sea and the sky

re:union

chapter seven: reunions

rating: T

words: 2529

summary: "He had fought hard for this unity. Had spent countless hours in courtrooms and offices arguing with dignitaries and representatives about the benefits of a United Republic. He had spent long nights drafting up documents and looking over contracts. He had dreamed of finally seeing this day, finally seeing this unity. All he could see tonight though, was a yellow flower drifting around the crowded room on an intricately braided head of ochre hair."

read it on ao3

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chapter seven: reunions

By the time Aang had handled Councilman Zhu’s dumpling crisis, he had lost track of Katara.

“She went to get changed for the feast,” a familiar, though deeper than he remembered, voice sounded from behind him.

“Sokka!”

“Hey buddy! It’s good to see you.”

They squeezed each other in a bone-crushing hug. The first one, Aang realized, he had gotten since his return. Aang held on a little harder at the thought.

“Where’s Suki?”

“Getting ready with the rest of the warriors. They are playing a special part in the performance tonight.”

“Wow! I can’t wait to see that!”

“Heh—yeah, me too.” Sokka’s voice went somewhere dreamy. “But, uh, I think it’ll be hard to watch with your head buried in my shoulder like this…”

“Oh right! Sorry… just happy to see you.”

“I missed you too buddy.” Sokka squeezed Aang’s shoulder reassuringly. “Now, you should go get ready! Can’t have the guest of honor stinking up the place tonight.”

“Guest of honor…” Aang grumbled, rolling his eyes in exasperation at Zhu’s exuberance. Still, he broke away from Sokka, giving him a nod as he made his way towards the room’s egress.

“Oh, and Aang?” called Sokka from near the food tables where he was stealing an hor’s d'oeuvre from under a cloche. “She’s not seeing anybody, in case you were wondering.”

Aang stopped still, his ears burned, his head swam. He hadn’t realized how much the question was plaguing him until he had heard it vocalized. She’s still single. There’s still time. He had let her go once, had regretted it every day since. She’s still single. He had no idea if she still wanted him the way he wanted her. But she’s still single. He resolved to try and change that fact by the end of the night.

He opened his mouth to speak but only a low whine came out. He cleared his throat but ended up coughing around the words as he forced them out. “I—is that… is that so?”

“It is.” Sokka snorted.

“That’s uh… thanks Sokka!” Aang shouted in salutation as he rushed out the door, needing to hide his burning blush and, as everyone had insisted, finally get cleaned up.

⬭

He wore a new set of robes. The pants dyed a dark amber with northern saffron. The belt and sash a sunny terra-cotta color that complimented the blue of his tattoos.

He surveyed his face in the mirror, taking in the scruff along his jawline, the tan around his temples, the laugh lines near his lips. He hadn’t spent much time looking at himself over the past few years, hadn’t had a mirror at any of the temples. The only time he would look at his reflection was when shaving his head, and even then, the refraction of the water made it difficult to examine his countenance with any detail.

Aang had never much minded the way that he looked--hadn’t had much use for vanity when living with the monks, hadn’t had much time for insecurity when running from the fire nation, hadn’t had much need for self-consciousness when being loved by Katara--he’d always thought his face was friendly enough, his body was strong enough. Something about looking at himself now though, fully a man, strong and steady and serene in a way that he’d never seen himself before, made his chest swell with confidence.

“I look good, huh buddy?” He directed the question to Momo, who had joined him in his room after an afternoon spent swooping around Cranefish City in search, no doubt, of sweets from strangers.

In reply, the lemur flew over to perch on his shoulder, scratching through the stubble on Aang’s chin with a squawk.

“You really think she’ll like it?” He scratched Momo between the ears and produced a plum from the pocket of his pants.

Momo took the fruit eagerly between his paws and greedily gobbled it down.

“Aw buddy, you flatter me.”

“Well babe,” a feminine voice dripping with thinly veiled amusement sounded from behind him, “it looks like we’ve officially lost him.”

“You’d think so, but he’s been talking to the lemur like that for as long as I’ve known him.”

“So what you’re telling me is, he has always been insane?”

“Pretty much.”

Aang’s face was beet red (he had lost count, at this point, as to how many times this had happened today) as he spun on his heel to face the Firelord and Firelady, who were standing in his doorway in their formal robes and appraising him with mirth-filled expressions.

“Uh, hey guys… how, uh… how long have you been standing there?”

“Oh, long enough, hot stuff.” Mai shot him a wry smile with a raised eyebrow before turning and pecking her husband on the cheek quickly as she took her leave. “I’m going to go make sure the kids are ready. We leave in ten, boys.”

Once Mai was out of earshot, Zuko burst into laughter and walked over to throw an arm around Aang. “Anything you want to talk about there, Aang?”

“Yeah! Why is it that I don’t see any of you for three whole years, and the first thing anyone does is tease me.”

“That’s not true! The first thing I did was put you on babysitting duty.”

“You’re not funny, Zuko.”

“Hey! Now who’s teasing whom?”

Aang scowled. Zuko, trying to school his face into a slightly more serious expression, straightened up and stalked a few paces across the small room.

“I’m going to give you some unsolicited advice because Uncle isn’t here to do it for me.” Zuko pantomimed stroking his beard and affected a strong accent that, ultimately, sounded nothing like Iroh. “Follow your heart.”

“Follow my heart? That’s it? No tea metaphors? No floral imagery? You make a pretty rotten Iroh, Zuko.”

“Hey, I tried.” Zuko shrugged. “I don’t know, man. You’re still in love with Katara, right?”

Aang flushed but nodded his head, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Are you going to do something about it?”

Aang met Zuko’s eyes determinedly and nodded again.

“Good. You’d better.”

“Thanks Zuko.”

“Any time. By the way? I agree with Momo, the beard really suits you.” At that, Zuko strode out of the room, chuckling softly to himself.

⬭

“So, Sugar Queen,” Toph plopped herself on Katara’s bed with a huff, swinging her bare feet up to rest on the adjacent wall so she could still feel what was happening. “You seemed pretty cozy with our Prodigal Son back there. Locked that down yet?”

“Toph!” Katara spluttered, pulling her paintbrush away from her lips.

“That’s a no, then?”

“Wha--no, not a… he just got back! And I don’t even know if… it’s none of your business, anyway.”

“Right, right. So you guys haven’t talked about your feelings, like, at all, yet? What the heck was all that flirting on the beach then?”

“What flirting? We were just hanging out. As friends! Being friendly! We were friends before we were ever anything else, Toph. You know that!”

“Uh huh, uh huh. Good point, Katara. Your definition of ‘friendly’ has always been a little bit off when it comes to Aang…”

“Toph! I will kick you out.”

“No, you won’t. Want to know why?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“You know me so well, Sweetness. And you aren’t going to kick me out because I know you very well and if I’m not here in, oh, seven minutes when you inevitably start second guessing yourself, to give you one of my patented Toph Beifong pep talks, you are going to freak out.”

Katara grumbled something crass under her breath and scowled at Toph’s reflection in the mirror, but ultimately, she knew her friend was right, so she obliged the company while she finished putting on her makeup.

Katara rarely wore makeup. It hadn’t really been a custom among the women in the Southern Water Tribe growing up, and during the war there hadn’t been time to worry over such trivialities. Afterwards, though, she had been the victim of many a makeover by Ty Lee. Had been the guest at many formal galas that required a bit of dressing up. Had been gifted a set of Kyoshi warrior paints by Suki. Had spent an afternoon wandering around the market in Caldera hunting down the exact right shade of lipstick with Mai and learning everything that she could possibly hope to know about knife maintenance.

Aang had always gotten incredibly flustered around her when she wore makeup. That was, perhaps, her favorite part of the process.

It had been years since she had put any makeup on her face. Her face was different now. Her eyes crinkled a bit at the corners when she smiled, her cheeks were less plump, more defined, her lips were fuller—perhaps the lipstick made her lips look too full? Perhaps it wasn’t the same color that she had used that one night in Omashu when Aang had ended up wearing more of it than she had? Perhaps she should wear something pinker? Redder? What had Mai said about skin undertones?

“You look fine.”

“You really think so, Toph?”

“No idea.” Toph deadpanned. “But I’m sure that even if you look like an armadillo-hog, Aang will still forget his own name when he sees you. That is your goal with the facepaint, right?”

“Uh…”

“Of course it is, don’t try to lie to me, Sweetness. Listen, I know two things: that boy’s heartbeat has always only ever been impacted by you, and a lot of other men have also had hammering heartbeats when they talk to you. Wanna know what that tells me? You ain’t ugly. In fact, I assume you’re pretty hot. So, chin up, shoulders back, let’s go get you your man back.”

Katara spluttered and blushed. “Oh… uh, okay.”

“You don’t sound confident yet. You are still in love with him, right?”

“Yes.” She whispered.

“Obviously. Then get your pretty little butt out of here and go do something about it. Chop chop, girly!” Toph, still laying on Katara’s bed, started snapping at her while she squared her shoulders in the mirror and gave herself one more once over, nodding at her reflection and resolving to talk to Aang as soon as she had the chance.

“Right. Okay. I can do this. Thank you, Toph.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“Eh, yeah… I told Yugi to meet me here so we can head over together. Or wait… was it Satoru? Toklo? I don’t know, some guy is picking me up. Can’t show up to a stuffy formal function without someone to talk to all the boring people for me, now can I?”

“You do know all of your friends are going to be there tonight, right?”

“I said what I said.”

Katara rolled her eyes as she hurried past Toph and prepared to leave. “Whatever, just lock up when you leave, okay? Mrs. Shao is out tonight so I’m the last one in the house.”

⬭

The ballroom was lavishly decorated. The colors of all four nations draped around the room in every detail. Tapestries hung on the walls with the new seal of Republic City, flanked on either side by the insignias of the four nations. The tables were lined with dishes from across the world. The floral arrangements featured regional blooms from all over. In a ballroom in a government building in a sleepy corner of the Earth Kingdom continent, the entire world was united in one beautiful display.

He had fought hard for this unity. Had spent countless hours in courtrooms and offices arguing with dignitaries and representatives about the benefits of a United Republic. He had spent long nights drafting up documents and looking over contracts. He had dreamed of finally seeing this day, finally seeing this unity. All he could see tonight though, was a yellow flower drifting around the crowded room on an intricately braided head of ochre hair.

From his seat onstage next to Zuko, he watched her make her way around the room hugging and smiling and laughing and chatting. Her sleeveless blue dress was modern but carried traditional nods to her water tribe roots. Her lips were a dark cherry red. Her hair was braided. He had braided it. A yellow flower sat at her crown and winked sunshine at him whenever she turned her head. She was beautiful. Of course, he already knew that. But she was beautiful.

“Aang? Hello… Aang??”

“Huh, what?” Aang was drawn from his stupor when Zuko nudged him with his elbow.

“You’re up.”

“Oh.”

Zhu introduced him. He somehow made a speech. There was roaring applause. Her eyes were blue, her lips were red, the flower was yellow. She was blushing.

He took his seat next to Zuko. Her eyes were blue . There were performances. Her lips were red . Suki shot finger guns at him in greeting as she and her warriors took the stage. The flower was yellow. Music started up and the gathered crowd dispersed to make way for dancing. She was blushing.

“Excuse me.” He rushed off-stage and into the crowd, chasing a glimpse of yellow in ochre, a swish of blue chiffon. She was pushing her way through the crowd, too. Her eyes were blue. “Katara, I--”

“Dance with me?”

She was offering him a hand. The tsungi horn rang out a familiar song. He took it. “Of course.”

They knew this dance by muscle memory. It was as familiar as their own names, as each other’s name. He flew around her in swirls. She swam around him on waves. They were the sea and the sky and there could not be one without the other. He lifted her, she spun around him. He dipped her, she glowed. She was the sun and he was the moon. She illuminated his sky. He compelled her tides.

The music ended. They were breathing heavy, faces inches apart, hearts still hammering the now silent drum beat.

“Can we go somewhere?”

⬭

The sound of the party flooded the streets of Republic City. Everyone seemed in good spirits, bustling about in a dance as they went about their evening errands. The cicada-crickets sang along to the Tsungi horn. The air was hot, heavy with humidity. They watched the waves from a rooftop. Their hands were intertwined.

Out across the bay, the sea and the sky collided in a canvas of colors. The green and yellow and red and orange of twilight reflected on the water’s dusky blue blue blue. The colors blurred together, obscuring the horizon line, obscuring the separation between their two elements. Out here, there was no sea, no sky. No air, no water. No Aang, no Katara. Just them. Just together. Just finally.

They made promises to each other. They held on. They did not let go.

“Sweetie?”

“Hmm?”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

He had to lean every so slightly down to kiss her.

Her hands in his hands.

Blue. Grey.

Sea. Sky.

Their city had a new name.

They were here.

They were home.

⬭

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It's done! It's done!

So sorry for the delay in posting this! I could've squeezed it out yesterday but didn't feel like doing so would wrap up all the things the way that I wanted to so I needed to take a bit more time on it and, obviously, this chapter grew to be quite a bit larger than the others.

I have had SO MUCH FUN participating in Kataang week this year and hope to do it again next year maybe? Also I /might/ have a little storm brewing for Maiko week so... be on the lookout for that at some point?

The love and support that I've gotten for this fic this week? OH MY GOD like wow it's been so lovely! Thank you all for reading.

And a million thanks to @foxy-knowledgeseeker for being an absolute angel and beta-ing this sucker for me. I'm gonna apologize for my choas just once more. (Sorry! Thank you!)

Bwah! Okay, time for a nap <3

@kataang-week

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

#kataang week 2021 #kataang #ao3 #foxford writes words #avatar the last airbender #atla #katara #aang #zuko #sokka #mai #toph #momo #the sea and the sky #re:union

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