#i wanted to add a bit of into the woods as well

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Hello my beautiful friend! I am SO ready to dive back into this series!

Right off the bat, the sexual tension with the gambling 👌🏻. I don't know what it is, but I always love in movies or shows or books when they have a poker game/card game between two people who are obviously into each other. I don't think it's a trope, but- the sexy smiles over the cards, the bluffing, the flirting, the teasing, just OH GOODNESS 😮‍💨

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too? You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

I'm not going to lie, I would have thought this to myself if I was in her situation. At the same time I feel bad for her because she has all this bottled inside and it's probably even worse that she's in close counters with him, just second guessing everything. BUT I also love that you've given us these wonderful domestic moments between the two of them. ❤️

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says. Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

DANG IT DEAN STOP HIDING FROM YOUR FEELINGS! Man really out there chopping wood trying to forget all his problems and relieve some tension 👀, while the reader is inside trying to educate herself🤣

The way you integrated John's journal into this chapter was so good! It adds on to the lore of the story. I'd never read through the official "John's Journal" merch so it was nice to see those little details and honestly made me feel more connected to the reader, because it was the first time that I was reading the entries too!

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

Girl it's okay we can cry together- DEAN WAS IN THE CRIB WITH SAM. Nothing is okay. I am made of tears. INCONSOLABLE 😭

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—” “Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating. “The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

No, NO, No. Dean NO.

Bad Dean!

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

AND he knows that she is supposed to be HIS. For the love of rice krispy treats! SHE HAS A BROKEN ANKLE DEAN. Don't let her leave!!!

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life.  Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate? You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Sweetie he's a grumpy old onion, you gotta peel him back one gorgeous layer at a time. 🤣

This bit is also so heartbreaking, because it's literally her meeting her mate and her believing that he doesn't want her, when it's probably all he does. There's something so raw about that. The idea of finding someone who was literally made for you and believing that they want no part of you. Oh goodness my fragile heart😭

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

I'm not going to lie, I wasn't expecting it to be a Bear. I literally thought this was going to turn into Dean saving her from a Wendigo- because of the allusions to her dad being killed by one, but this was such a (un)pleasant surprise LOL

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester: For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach. Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

I LOVE this insight into his head, just a little piece but enough for the readers to see that Dean does in fact care and that he does feel something for her! Not to mention again... HE PICKS HER UP. I've read Dean in so many fics doing that but each time it just makes me *swoon*.

And oh my word, him finally sitting down with her on the couch and allowing himself to let down some of his walls and let the reader in is just so good!! Not to mention now the reader is going to tell him the truth over how she lost her dad! I'm very excited to read the next chapter, but this one was amazing Alex! 🤗

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart. 

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.” 

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear? 

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. 

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you. 

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest. 

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you. 

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore. 

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says. 

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

 Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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[sanyu-thewitch05]

Girls in Red

Wonderland

Savannah

Completely Under Your Love

What’s Real and What’s Not

Sandy Skies Ahead

"Ok, the mirror should be all fixed. You know what to do, Yuu," Crowley says, sitting in a chair while reading a romance novel.

"I hope you come and get me if I'm in trouble," I sneer, annoyed by Crowley's lack of caring for my wellbeing.

"You'll be fine. Besides, Ace and Deuce already entered before you."

"They what?! Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"I was being oh so kind and wanted to surprise you! Who wouldn't want friends helping them out?"

"In case you've forgotten, I have almost died there, sir! You know what, never mind! I'll find them on our own! Come on, Grim!"

Grim and I angrily go in the mirror and land on the bright green grass, wearing red cloaks. My hair is a rose red, while Grim has red in the places where blue usually is.

"Oh, cool, we're Rose Red! My mom used to tell me about how she was Snow White's sister that everyone left out!" I squeal, looking at her red locks. "I've got to take a picture of this."

Grim hands me the camera Crowley gave me, and we take a selfie in their new forms. I put the photo in a nice place where it will stay and venture through the woods to find the Evil Queen's castle. After an hour of going through bushes, vines, and logs, we find the Evil Queen's castle. It's bigger than usually pictured, and the well is shiny and clean.

"Woah, this place is amazing!" I squeal, dusting myself off.

"Snow White, go see who's at the door?!" The Evil Queen yells, making Grim and I think of running away.

Neige, known as Snow White, trots down the stairs and hugs me.

"I'm so glad you're back! I'd thought you'd never return from your travels! Tell me, how was it?!" Neige questions, spinning around and hugging me, Rose Red, his sister.

"It was fun! I saw a lot of magical things! Tell me, how is stepmother?" I ask, following Neige up the stairs.

"She's-she's fine. Stepmother has been on edge lately, but we've gotten along better recently. Come on! I have to show you a surprise we made!" Neige exclaims, running up the stairs and going to the Evil Queen's room.

I follow behind and glance at the purple decor around the room. But the most intriguing part was the blood splatter elegantly hidden behind a violet curtain. I tiptoe into the room while holding Grim and find a bloody sight. A young white man with brown hair and noble blue clothing is splayed across the table with his stomach cut open and guts spilling out. His eyes are lifeless but have the eternal look of pleading for help. I back away, knocking over a vase, gaining the attention of Neige and his stepmother.

"We killed him for you," Neige says, touching my shoulder.

"He was looking for you so he could take you away to his kingdom. You have to understand why we did this," The Evil Queen adds, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"No! He wasn't coming for me! He was coming for you, Snow!" I scream, pushing them off of you.

"Why does that matter? I like staying here with my stepmother. I like staying here with you. We don't need anyone else," Neige calmly says, stepping toward me.

God! I go into this story expecting everything to be normal, but instead, I get Norman Bates and his evil stepmother!

"I thought you two hated each other!" I scream, going behind the dead prince.

"Not anymore! I’ve realized there’s more to the world than beauty! And that’s love!” Vil says, making me shiver in disgust.

"I hope you mean love in a platonic way," I groan, trying not to gag. "Oh God, why couldn't I have a story with characters that act normally!"

"Please don't leave. We've only just begun to your presence," Vil pleads, his heels clicking more as he walks toward me.

Neige circles in from the other direction leaving me nowhere to go. Nowhere to go but down, that is! I hold onto Grim tight and leap out the tower window, trying to grasp the vines for a soft and hopefully painless fall. I grab the thorniest part of the vine, inches above the ground. I recoil my hand, rose-red blood going everywhere, and flee for the woods. As I go into the woods, the thorns and vines seem to circle in until I find a cottage.

"Come out, dearest! You can't hide from us for long! You'll never survive in these woods in the dark!" Vil yells, his voice sounding like an old wicked wizard's.

I run to the cottage, lock the door behind her, and hide underneath a small bed. She stays there as the daylight wanes and the woods begin to get a bit wilder.

"Wow, these woods are truly something else," I say, noticing the ground-shaking footsteps of a giant or large beast. "You can hear people talking and the magic gathering all at once."

The cottage door suddenly slams open and hurried footsteps go to a bed next to me. A girl with auburn with dark red hair and a red cape slides underneath a bed accompanied by a lovely gray wolf. Their green eyes look at me, and she flashes a nervous but friendly smile.

"Nice red cape," She compliments, taking down her hood.

"Thank you. Say, are you hiding from someone as well?" I ask, stroking Grim's back as he sleeps.

"It's not the Big Bad Wolf this time. I made a couple of giants mad while trying to help this baker couple break a curse. My friend, Jack, I think he killed a giant's husband, and now the family wants revenge. But what about you? What are you running from?" The girl asks, huddling her knees.

"I was visiting my stepmother and sister-you'll probably know them-the Evil Queen and Snow White. Everything was going well until I found the prince on a table covered in blood, and his stomach split. And to think I thought my sister loved him," I say, still in shock that Snow White and the Evil Queen killed the prince. "Turns out they get along too well and want me to stay in that tower as well.”

"Really? I thought the Evil Queen didn't like Snow? Crazy how things change so fast. My name's Blanchette, but most people call me Little Red Riding Hood. Nice to meet you, now what's yours?"

"My name's Rose Red. Any idea how to get out of these woods?"

"No idea, but most brilliant ideas come in the midst of darkness. Come, it's best we travel now while the giants head toward the kingdom."

Blanchette gets up with me and travels through the woods in the darkness. Our arms are together as we skip through the woods. A man with a blonde bob suddenly appears in front of us, offering his services.

"Oh, Mr. Huntsman, you've appeared again! Off to kill some more beasts?" Blanchette asks, smiling at Rook, the Huntsman.

"No, no. A queen and her stepdaughter have caught my eye. No person, never mind, two would be caught dead in the woods at this time of night," Rook replies, giving a creepy smile.

"Well, we'll be sure to yell for help if we spot them. Good day, sir!" Blanchette says, quickly skipping forward to get away from Rook.

Even though they were feet away, I could still feel Rook's eyes boring through me. The path begins to clear with fewer vines surrounding the road. The road gets darker, and soon, we encounter a black canyon.

"I guess this it?" Blanchette asks, throwing a rock into the darkness only to hear silence. "There's got to be a way across."

"I think we have bigger problems, way bigger problems!" I exclaim, pointing at the giants, Neige and Vil, walking toward us.

"Oh no," Blanchette says, staring at the giant. "Huntsman, if you're around! Now would be a great time to help!"

"Found you!" Neige and Vil say, running towards me.

I make a last-minute duck and Neige and Vil jump into the darkness. Their screams get softer and softer until no one can hear anything except a gentle thud. An arrow hits a giant in the eye, and the two others come tumbling into the dark canyon. Their bodies create a bridge to the other side, letting Little Red and Rose Red(Yuu/me) travel to the brighter side of the woods where the sun rises. We, the two girls in red run across the giant's back, leaving the woods together.

"I made it! We made it!" Blanchette squeals, hugging me while spinning around. "I hope I see you again!"

"Goodbye!" I say, hugging Blanchette back and not letting go. "Oh, wait! Let's take a picture!"

I pull out my ghost camera and take a picture of her and Blanchette. The morning sun washes over the girls, bringing a classic fairytale end to the story.

Grim and I appear outside the Dark Mirror, but with two keys instead of one.

"Ooh! Look! We got a key with a red hood and a mirror!" Grim yells, pawing at my key chain.

"We got more than that, Grim! Look at this awesome cape!" I exclaim, spinning around in the red cape.

"I see you two are happy," Crowley says, getting up from the floor as if he's fallen.

"Yep!" Grim and I say together.

I take out the selfie from earlier and smile at it. I take the photo of Blanchette, myself, Grim, and Blanchette's wolf from the ghost camera, putting it into her cape's pocket. Grim and I skip out of the Mirror Chamber and back to Ramshackle, happy as one can be.

3rd POV

Meanwhile, Ace and Deuce come out of the Mirror Chamber traumatized by what they’ve seen.

“I had no idea fairytales were so brutal!” Ace cries, helping Deuce steady his balance.

“Between chasing Cinderella and getting rid of the giants I’m quite tired of fairytales. What happened with Little Red anyway?” Deuce replies, hobbling out of the room.

“Who knows,” Ace responds.

[pierisim]

WOODLAND Ranch

Hello hello! 🐎

Welcome to Woodland Ranch! During this collection, we well go ranch/rustic but with a little bit of cozyness and elegance at some point ! 

I will add some build pieces and buy pieces each month as I don't have as many time as I would like to to create an entire build set in one month, so lets get some pieces every month! 

You will now have 31 pieces to decorate the bedroom, and nice windows, closed or opened versions! You also have wooden panneling, wood and painted version. Same swatches for the panneling and flooring, in case you want a color block room! Speaking of flooring, there are two flooring, and one is made to be a ceiling item, with little beams like the panneling! 

You can find the items by searching for WOODLAND RANCH or Pierisim in game.

Some items share the same textures so make sure to have the packages finishing by "texture" in your mod folder :)

All base game compatible.

unmerged and merged version available.

public release 15 of September.

DOWNLAOD

[paxtito]

fire and the thud.

pairings: wednesday x fem!reader

word count: 7683

warnings: smut, 18+. knives, grave digging, swearing, wednesday almost kills someone, fingering, kissing, lesbian sex (all characters are 18+)

summary: your mother, larissa, was good friends with morticia back in their days at nevermore. when you and wednesday were born, you were practically attached to the hip. but, your father wanted you to live with him for a while, leaving you and wednesday without contact until now. you’d come back from visiting your father in england to find that wednesday had been enrolled at nevermore.

a/n: this fanfic has really been through some shit, changed the title and outcome so many times but i’ve finally settled on this. apologies in advance for any errors and also the length

MASTERLIST

The heavy oak doors of Nevermore creak as you push them open, the familiar scent of old wood and faint lavender filling your senses. The school looks almost exactly the same as when you left it—high arches, dark stone corridors, the peculiar, warm-yet-foreboding atmosphere that clings to every corner. You never expected to be back so soon, certainly not so suddenly, but here you are. And it feels strange, like returning to some half-forgotten dream.

You adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder, peering around the entrance hall. Somewhere above, the great clock ticks in its steady, methodical rhythm, echoing faintly down the halls. You’re looking for your mom, the Headmistress herself, but she’s nowhere in sight just yet. You smirk a little, wondering if she’s busy welcoming another batch of outcasts to her beloved school, as she likes to call them.

Then you hear footsteps, a soft, deliberate sound against the stone floor, and look up—freezing for just a second as your gaze lands on her.

Wednesday stands there, her face as pale and expressionless as ever, eyes watching you with an intensity you remember all too well. She hasn’t changed one bit, from the dark braids draped over her shoulders to the sharp, calculating gaze that seems to see right through you. She’s grown older, of course, taller maybe, but she’s exactly as you remember.

And you’d know her anywhere. After all, you practically grew up together—your mother, Larissa, and Morticia Addams were ‘best friends’ back in their Nevermore days. Some might say the two were as different as night and day, yet there was always a bond there, something that brought them back to each other despite the odds. And that bond, somehow, extended to you and Wednesday, two kids who had little choice but to spend time together while their mothers reconnected over tea and half-whispered memories of the past.

You take a hesitant step forward, feeling a strange swirl of nostalgia and nerves rise in your chest. “Wednesday?”

She tilts her head, her dark eyes assessing you coolly. “Back from England already?” Her voice is calm, as if no time has passed at all, like she’s still the same stoic, blunt child you remember.

“Surprise,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heart is pounding.

There’s a moment of silence, charged with the weight of all the years you’ve been apart, and yet, something about it feels natural, like slipping back into an old habit.

“You look… different,” she says finally, her gaze sharp as ever as she sizes you up. “Taller.”

“So do you,” you reply, then add with a faint grin, “Except the taller part.”

She narrows her eyes at you in a way that only Wednesday could, but it’s almost… fond. “If I remember correctly, I was always the smarter one. Height is irrelevant.”

“Glad to see your sense of humor hasn’t improved,” you shoot back, grinning. It’s strange how quickly the old rhythm returns between you both, the teasing, the barbs exchanged without any real bite. It’s as if no time has passed at all.

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "Your sense of humor has certainly deteriorated during your time abroad."

You roll your eyes, but can't help the smile tugging at your lips. "Maybe I just needed to be back among the living dead to rediscover it."

She snorts softly, the sound oddly endearing coming from her usually stoic demeanor. "I suppose being back at Nevermore will do that to a person."

As you stand there trading barbs, you can't help but let your gaze wander over her. She's still as pale as ever, her dark hair braided tightly against her skull. But there's a new edge to her, a sharpness that wasn't there before. It's in the set of her jaw, the way she holds herself with a quiet confidence that demands attention without saying a word.

"So," you say, breaking the silence that has fallen between you. "What have you been up to since I left? Still perfecting your taxidermy skills?"

A ghost of a smile flits across her lips. "Among other things. But some secrets are best kept buried."

You can't help but laugh at that. "Fair enough. I suppose I've got a few of my own to keep under wraps."

She tilts her head, studying you with those dark, penetrating eyes. "I'm sure you do. Though I must admit, I'm curious to hear about your adventures in the land of the living."

You shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal. "Not much to tell, really. Just your standard boring English school life.”

She arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Somehow, I doubt that."

You sigh dramatically. "Fine, you got me. It wasn't all bad. Made some friends, learned a few things. But nothing compared to the excitement of Nevermore."

A genuine smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "I'm glad to hear it. It would be a shame if you'd gone soft during your time away."

—

A few days have passed since your sudden return to Nevermore, and you're still adjusting to the odd juxtaposition of the familiar and the foreign. The school itself hasn't changed much, but you're older now, seeing it through different eyes. And then there's Wednesday, who seems to be everywhere you turn, her dark eyes following you like a specter.

It's late afternoon, and you're wandering through the grounds, trying to clear your head after a particularly dull history lecture. The air is crisp, the leaves crunching under your feet as you make your way towards an old oak tree.

As you approach, you see a figure already seated against the trunk, long legs stretched out, head bent over a book. Even from a distance, you recognize the shock of dark hair, the pale skin. Wednesday looks up as you draw near, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in your approach.

"I thought I might find you here," you say, settling yourself onto the ground beside her.

She doesn't move, just continues to stare at you, her gaze unreadable. "Did you?"

You shrug, plucking a leaf from the ground and twirling it between your fingers. "Call it intuition."

She watches the leaf spin for a moment before speaking. "I've been thinking about that day. The day you left."

You freeze, the leaf falling forgotten to the ground. You've tried not to think about that day too much, the way it felt to leave Wednesday behind, to step into a world that didn't understand you the way she did.

"Yeah?" you say, keeping your voice carefully neutral.

She nods, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "I remember standing at the window of my room, watching your car disappear into the distance. I remember thinking that I wouldn't see you again."

A lump forms in your throat, but you swallow it down. "And now here I am."

She turns to look at you then, her gaze intense. "Yes, here you are. But you're different. Older. Changed."

She falls silent then, her eyes drifting back to the distant horizon. You can see the tension in her jaw, the way her hands clench around the book in her lap. It's clear that whatever she's thinking, it's weighing on her.

Finally, she speaks, her voice low and steady. "I know we haven't spoken much since you returned. But I want you to know that... I'm glad you're back, Y/N."

The words catch you off guard, and you blink, trying to process them. Wednesday isn't exactly known for her emotional outpourings, and hearing her say those words feels... significant. Important.

Wednesday's words hang in the air between you, weighty and profound. You can feel the sincerity behind them, the depth of emotion that she usually keeps tightly locked away. It's a side of her that few people get to see, and you feel a rush of warmth in your chest at the thought that she trusts you enough to share it with you.

"I'm glad too," you say softly, meeting her gaze. "Gladder than I ever thought I'd be."

She looks away then, a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks. It's a rare sight, and you can't help but smile at the sight of it.

“Cute.”

Wednesday's blush deepens at your comment, and she shoots you a sharp glare. "I am not cute," she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. "Don't ever call me that again."

You hold up your hands in mock surrender, trying to keep the grin off your face. "Sorry, sorry. I meant 'formidable' or 'intimidating'. Those are much better descriptions of you, I'm sure."

She narrows her eyes at you, but there's a hint of something else in her gaze - a glimmer of amusement, perhaps, or maybe just a touch of affection. "You'd better believe it," she mutters, but there's no real bite to her words.

You settle back against the trunk of the tree, stretching your legs out in front of you. "So, what's new with you? Any exciting murder mysteries or occult rituals I should know about?"

Wednesday rolls her eyes, but there's a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Wouldn't you like to know? I'm afraid my secrets are safe with me."

"Damn," you sigh, feigning disappointment. "And here I thought we were friends."

She snorts softly, nudging you with her elbow. "We are friends, Y/N. But even friends have limits."

You grin at her, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest at the casual familiarity of the gesture. "Fair enough. I suppose I can respect that."

For a while, you sit in comfortable silence, watching the play of light through the leaves overhead. It's peaceful, in a way - just the two of you, lost in your own thoughts, content in each other's presence.

Wednesday's eyes drift shut for a moment, her face tilted towards the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves above. There's a softness to her features that you rarely see, a vulnerability that she only shows when she thinks no one is looking.

She's always been like that - guarded, cautious, quick to put up walls to keep people out. But with you, she lets her guard down just a little. It's a privilege, really, to be trusted with this side of her.

You watch her, committing every detail to memory. The way her dark lashes cast shadows on her pale cheeks, the slight parting of her lips as she breathes in the crisp autumn air.

A breeze rustles the leaves above, and Wednesday's eyes flutter open, fixing you with a questioning gaze. "What are you looking at?" she asks, her voice low and suspicious.

You shake your head, grinning. "Nothing. Just enjoying the scenery."

She narrows her eyes, but there's no real anger behind it. "You're strange, Y/N. You always have been."

"And you love it," you tease, nudging her back with your shoulder.

She doesn't deny it, just shrugs and turns her attention back to the book in her lap. But you can see the hint of a smile on her lips, the way her shoulders relax just a fraction.

It's in moments like these that you realize just how much you've missed her, how much a part of your life she's always been. And as you sit there, side by side beneath the old oak tree, you can't help but feel a sense of rightness, of belonging.

Whatever the future holds, whatever challenges lie ahead, you know that you'll face them together. You and Wednesday, the odd couple, the misfits, the outcasts. Together, you can weather any storm.

“Remember our little grave digging rendezvous? There’s an abandoned graveyard in the woods… Could pay it a visit tonight.”

Wednesday's head snaps up at your suggestion, her dark eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, she just stares at you, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

"I thought you'd never ask," she purrs, her voice low and conspiratorial.

You can't help but grin at her enthusiastic response. "Thought you might be too busy with your taxidermy collection to spare a night for some good old-fashioned grave robbing."

She rolls her eyes, but there's a glint of amusement in her gaze. "Please. Taxidermy is a hobby, grave robbing is a lifestyle."

You laugh, shaking your head in mock disbelief. "Of course it is. I don't know why I even asked."

Wednesday leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Meet me at midnight by the old stone wall. Don't be late."

—

The sun has long since set by the time you make your way to the rendezvous point, the old stone wall looming ominously in the darkness. You can feel the chill in the air, the way it seeps into your bones and makes your breath mist in the night. It's the perfect weather for a little grave robbing, you muse to yourself, a wicked grin tugging at your lips.

As you approach the wall, you see a familiar figure waiting for you in the shadows. Wednesday is leaning against the stone, her dark hair a stark contrast against the gray of the wall. She's wearing all black, as usual, her pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight.

"Right on time," she says as you draw near, her voice low and teasing. "I was beginning to think you'd chickened out."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Please. Like that would ever happen."

She pushes off the wall, falling into step beside you as you make your way towards the woods.

The forest looms ahead, an impenetrable wall of darkness that seems to swallow the moonlight whole. Wednesday leads the way, her steps sure and confident even in the pitch black. You follow close behind, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

As you venture deeper into the woods, the air grows colder, damper. The trees seem to press in around you, their branches reaching out like grasping fingers. You can feel the weight of the forest, the way it seems to pulse with a life of its own.

After what feels like an eternity, you break through the treeline and into a small clearing. Before you lies the graveyard, a jumble of crumbling headstones and weathered crypts. The place has an eerie stillness to it, as if the very air is holding its breath.

Wednesday grins at you, her eyes glinting with a manic light. "Welcome to our little slice of paradise," she says, gesturing grandly at the graveyard.

You stare at the graveyard, your heart racing. The crumbling headstones and weathered crypts seem to loom menacingly in the darkness, casting eerie shadows across the overgrown grass. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, and you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched.

Wednesday seems oblivious to your unease, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she surveys the graveyard. "Isn't it beautiful?" she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "All this history, all these stories, just waiting to be uncovered."

You swallow hard, trying to muster up some of her enthusiasm. "Sure," you manage, your voice coming out a little higher pitched than you intended. "Beautiful."

Wednesday turns to you, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Come on, Y/N. Where's your sense of adventure? This is what we've always dreamed of, isn't it? A chance to get our hands dirty, to delve into the unknown?"

You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as her. "You speak like a poet."

Wednesday grins at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Poetry is for the weak. I prefer the prose of the macabre."

She strides forward, her boots crunching on the dead leaves littering the ground. You hurry to keep up, your heart pounding in your chest as you weave between the headstones. Some are little more than crumbled ruins, the names and dates long since eroded away. Others stand tall and proud, their epitaphs still legible in the moonlight.

As you make your way deeper into the graveyard, you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle, and you whirl around, half expecting to see some ghostly figure lurking in the shadows. But there's nothing there, just the endless rows of graves stretching out before you.

Wednesday, meanwhile, seems completely at ease. She moves through the graveyard like a cat, her steps silent and sure. Every so often, she pauses to examine a particularly interesting headstone, running her fingers over the engraved letters as if trying to read the secrets of the dead.

"Look at this one," she says, gesturing to a large, ornate tomb. "Elias Crane, died 1847. Apparently, he was a wealthy businessman. But rumor has it, he made his fortune through less than savory means."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. "Such as?"

Wednesday leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Grave robbing. Body snatching. All the things respectable society frowns upon."

You can't help but grin at that. "Sounds like our kind of guy."

Wednesday nods, a wicked glint in her eye. "Exactly. I bet he's got some fascinating stories buried with him."

You put your backpack down, pulling out a plastic spade, one that is obviously meant for kids at the beach.

Wednesday's eyes widen as you pull out the child's spade, a mix of amusement and disappointment crossing her face. "Really, Y/N? A plastic shovel? I was expecting something a bit more... professional."

She reaches into her own bag, pulling out a sleek, black shovel that looks like it could double as a weapon. "This is how you do grave robbing.”

She strides over to the nearest grave, kneeling down beside the headstone. You hurry to follow, your plastic spade feeling woefully inadequate in comparison.

"Alright, let's see what secrets Mr. Crane is hiding," Wednesday murmurs, plunging her shovel into the soft earth.

You do the same, your spade making a hollow 'thunk' as it hits the ground. Wednesday shoots you a look, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“My shovel is cuter.”

Wednesday snorts, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Cuter? Really? We're going for aesthetics over functionality here?"

She shakes her head, but there's no real annoyance in her voice. If anything, she seems even more excited by the challenge.

"Alright then, Y/N. Let's see what you can do with that adorable little spade of yours."

With that, she plunges her own shovel into the ground, the blade slicing through the earth with a satisfying thud. You follow suit, your plastic spade making a far less impressive noise as it scrapes against the dirt.

For a while, the only sound is the steady rhythm of shoveling, punctuated by the occasional grunt of effort. Wednesday moves with a practiced ease, her movements efficient and precise. You, on the other hand, quickly find yourself winded, your arms burning with the unfamiliar exertion.

"Come on, Y/N," Wednesday calls over her shoulder, a teasing lilt to her voice. "Put some muscle into it. We're not here to dig a hole for a potted plant."

You grit your teeth, redoubling your efforts. Slowly, painfully, the hole begins to take shape, the walls of the grave yawning open like a hungry mouth.

As you work, you can't help but steal glances at Wednesday, marveling at the way she seems so completely in her element. Her pale skin glows in the moonlight, and there's a fierce determination in her eyes that takes your breath away.

"Watch it!" Wednesday yells suddenly, and you jerk back just in time to avoid smacking your shovel against hers. You stare down into the hole, which is now deep enough for you to stand in. The wooden coffin lies below, its surface covered in a layer of dirt and debris.

Wednesday tosses her shovel aside, dropping to her knees beside the grave. She runs her hands over the coffin, tracing the intricate carvings that adorn its surface.

Wednesday's eyes shine with excitement as she runs her hands over the ancient wood, tracing the intricate carvings etched into its surface. The coffin is clearly old, the once-polished finish now dulled by centuries of exposure to the elements.

"Look at this craftsmanship," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "They just don't make them like this anymore."

You peer into the grave, your heart hammering in your chest. The idea of what lies inside the coffin is both thrilling and terrifying, a reminder of the fragility of life and the inevitability of death.

Wednesday seems oblivious to your apprehension, her attention focused solely on the task at hand. She pulls a small crowbar from her bag, wedging it between the lid of the coffin and its frame. With a grunt of effort, she pries the lid open, the ancient wood groaning in protest.

The smell that wafts up from the coffin is overwhelming - the cloying scent of decay, of earth and rot. You gag, stepping back from the edge of the grave. But Wednesday seems unaffected, leaning forward to peer inside.

"Well, well," she breathes, a note of excitement in her voice. "Looks like our friend Elias is still with us."

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look into the coffin. The body inside is little more than a skeleton, clad in the tattered remains of a funeral suit. The flesh has long since rotted away, leaving only bones and a few scraps of leathery skin.

Wednesday reaches into the coffin, her slender fingers brushing against the yellowed bones. She lifts out a human femur, examining it with a critical eye.

"Fascinating," she murmurs, turning the bone over in her hands. "Look at the way the marrow cavity has collapsed. That suggests a prolonged period of exposure to the elements."

She carefully places the bone back inside the coffin, her expression thoughtful.

You just blink, unsure of what to do now. “Well, that was exhilarating.” You mutter, sarcasm etched in your tone.

The moonlight filters through the trees, casting an eerie glow over the graveyard. Wednesday turns to you, a mischievous glint in her dark eyes. "What's the matter, Y/N? Not quite the thrill you were hoping for?"

You can't help but smirk back at her, despite the unsettling nature of your surroundings. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm just not cut out for the macabre after all."

Wednesday scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Don't be ridiculous. You're the one who suggested this little adventure in the first place."

You shrug, trying to project a nonchalance you don't quite feel. "I may have gotten carried away. But hey, at least we found something interesting, right?"

Wednesday's gaze lingers on you, her expression softening slightly. "Yeah, I guess so. Though I'm not sure what we're going to do with Elias now."

You glance back at the open coffin, a shiver running down your spine. "Maybe we should put him back? Seems only right, considering we disturbed his rest."

Wednesday nods, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Probably for the best. Wouldn't want to deal with the wrath of a vengeful spirit."

Together, you carefully lower the coffin lid, sealing Elias back in his eternal slumber. As you brush the dirt back over the grave, you can't help but feel a sense of relief, a sudden desire to leave this place behind.

But as you turn to go, you find yourself face to face with Wednesday, her eyes wide and searching in the moonlight. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the air between you crackling with tension.

"Y/N," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "There's something I've been wanting to say..."

Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath catching in your throat. You know what's coming, have known for a long time, but hearing her say it out loud is still a shock.

Before you can utter a response, Wednesday closes the distance between you, her cool fingers curling around the back of your neck. She pulls you closer, her eyes locked on yours, a swirling vortex of emotions - longing, desire, and a hint of vulnerability.

Her lips brush against yours, soft and tentative at first, then with growing confidence and passion. You melt into the kiss, your arms encircling her waist, pulling her flush against you. The world falls away, the graveyard and the dead forgotten as you lose yourself in the taste and feel of her.

Wednesday's lips are cool and sweet against yours, her tongue darting out to trace the seam of your mouth. You part your lips, granting her access, and she takes full advantage, deepening the kiss with a low moan. Your tongues dance and twine, a sensual battle for dominance that leaves you both breathless.

When she finally pulls back, you're both panting, your hearts racing in sync. Wednesday's eyes are dark with desire, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. She rests her forehead against yours, her voice husky and low.

"I've wanted to do that for so long, Y/N. I hope I didn't misread the signs."

You chuckle softly, your fingers tangling in her silky hair. "Not at all. I've been waiting for this too."

You and Wednesday are still caught up in the afterglow of your first kiss, your bodies pressed close, when a sudden noise shatters the silence of the graveyard. It's a rustling sound, the crunch of dead leaves underfoot, and it's coming from the direction of the woods.

Wednesday's head snaps up, her eyes narrowing as she scans the treeline. "Did you hear that?" she whispers, her voice tense with suspicion.

You nod, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. "It sounded like it came from over there."

Wednesday reaches into her bag, pulling out a small, wicked-looking knife. She hands it to you, her grip tight and urgent. "Just in case."

You take the knife, your fingers closing around the smooth handle. The blade gleams in the moonlight, its edge honed to a razor's sharpness.

Together, you creep towards the source of the noise, your footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of dead leaves. As you draw closer to the woods, you can hear the sound more clearly now - a low, guttural moan, followed by the unmistakable sound of retching.

Wednesday holds up a hand, signaling for you to stop. She points to a shadowy figure, hunched over just beyond the edge of the trees. The figure is swaying slightly, as if drunk or disoriented, and you can see the glint of a bottle in its hand.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a drunk," Wednesday murmurs, a hint of disgust in her voice. "Probably some vagrant who thought he'd find shelter in the woods."

You're about to suggest leaving the man be when he suddenly staggers forward, his eyes wide and wild as they lock onto yours. He lets out a low, animalistic growl, raising the bottle like a weapon.

"Hey, man, some of us are trying to sleep here!" he slurs, taking a stumbling step towards you. "Why don't you and your little girlfriend fuck off?"

Before you can react, Wednesday lurches forward, her hand outstretched. She aims the knife at the man's throat, her eyes narrowed.

The drunk man's eyes widen in fear as he sees the knife, his bravado evaporating like mist in the moonlight. He stumbles backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away.

You move forward, your hand gripping over Wednesday’s, stopping her from going too far. “No.”

Wednesday hesitates, her grip on the knife faltering. She looks at you, confusion and frustration warring in her eyes. "What are you doing?" she hisses, her voice low and urgent. "We can't just let him get away. Who knows what he might do?"

The drunk man stumbles further back, his eyes darting between you and Wednesday. "Hey, look, I don't want any trouble, alright?" he says, his voice shaking. "I'm just trying to find a place to sleep, that's all. I didn't mean no harm."

Wednesday scoffs, her grip tightening on the knife once more. "Oh, and I suppose disturbing our private moment is no harm done? I don't think so."

The man's eyes widen in panic as he realizes the precariousness of his situation. He raises his hands in a placating gesture, the bottle still clutched in one trembling fist.

"Please, I'm sorry, I'll go, I won't bother you again, just please don't hurt me," he babbles, his words slurring together in his haste.

Wednesday's jaw clenches, her eyes narrowing to slits. She takes a step forward, the knife glinting in the moonlight.

"You should have thought of that before you interrupted us," she snarls, her voice dripping with venom.

The man's eyes dart to you, pleading for help, for mercy. You can see the terror in his gaze, the knowledge that he is completely at the mercy of these two strange girls.

“Goddamn it, Wednesday. Stop it.”

Wednesday's grip on the knife loosens slightly at your command, but she doesn't lower it. Her eyes are still fixed on the drunk man, her expression a mix of anger and contempt.

"Why should we stop?" she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. "He's just some pathetic vagrant. No one will miss him."

The man's eyes widen in fear, his body trembling as he backs away from you both. "Please," he whimpers, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want any trouble. I'll leave, I swear."

You step forward, gently placing a hand on Wednesday's arm. The touch is light, but the gesture is clear - a plea for her to stand down, to show mercy.

Wednesday's eyes flick to you, surprise and confusion written across her face. She's so focused on the drunk man that she hadn't expected your intervention.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" she asks, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "This man needs to be taught a lesson."

The drunk man takes another stumbling step backwards, his eyes darting between you and Wednesday in terror. He's clearly aware of the precariousness of his situation, the thin line between life and death that he's currently balancing on.

For a moment, Wednesday seems torn, her gaze flickering between you and the drunk man. You can see the conflict in her eyes, the war between her darker impulses and the bond she shares with you.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Wednesday lowers the knife. She lets out a long, shuddering breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Fine," she says, her voice tight. "But if he steps out of line again, he's fair game."

The drunk man lets out a shaky sigh of relief, his body sagging with the realization that he's been spared. "Thank you," he mumbles, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I'll go, I promise. Just please, no more trouble."

He turns and staggers off into the woods, his footsteps crunching on the dead leaves. You watch him go, a sense of unease settling in your stomach.

You can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation, a nervous energy buzzing through your veins. "Where did you even get that knife, Wednesday? I didn't realize you were packing heat on our little graveyard rendezvous."

Wednesday's lips quirk into a wry smile, her eyes glinting with mischief in the moonlight. "Always be prepared, Y/N. You never know when you might need a little... protection." She tucks the knife back into her bag with practiced ease, her movements fluid and graceful.

You shake your head, a mix of amusement and exasperation coloring your voice. "I swear, sometimes I think you're just looking for an excuse to use that thing. What would your parents say if they knew?"

Wednesday scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Please. They'd probably be proud. 'Our little girl, all grown up and ready to defend herself.' Besides, it's not like we actually used it."

You can't argue with that logic, even as a shiver runs down your spine at the thought of what might have happened if you hadn't intervened. "True enough. But maybe next time, let's stick to less... lethal forms of self-defense, hmm?"

Wednesday shrugs, her expression unrepentant. "Can't make any promises. But I'll try to keep my bloodlust in check, for your sake."

Despite the morbid humor of the situation, you can't help but feel a surge of affection for Wednesday. Her dark sense of humor, her fierce protectiveness, her willingness to embrace the macabre - it's all part of what draws you to her.

You step closer to her, your hand finding hers in the darkness. "Come on," you murmur, tugging her gently towards the edge of the graveyard. "Let's get out of here before anyone else decides to crash our party."

—

The heavy door of the dorm room creaks open, revealing the dimly lit space within. Wednesday stumbles inside, pulling you along with her. Her lips never leave yours as she kicks the door shut behind you, her hands roaming eagerly over your body.

You're lost in the moment, your senses overwhelmed by the feeling of her mouth on yours, the press of her body against yours. It's only when you feel the edge of the bed hit the back of your knees that you break the kiss, gasping for air.

Wednesday's eyes are dark with desire, her hair mussed and her lips swollen from your passionate embrace. She tugs at your shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons in her haste to get it off.

"Wednesday, wait," you breathe, your voice husky with need. "Are you sure about this?"

She pauses, her eyes meeting yours in the dim light. There's a flicker of uncertainty in their depths, a moment of hesitation. But then she's pressing against you again, her mouth finding yours once more.

"I've never been more sure of anything," she murmurs against your lips. "I want you, Y/N. I've wanted you for so long."

You surrender to the moment, your hands tangling in her hair as you deepen the kiss. Clothes are shed in a flurry of fabric, landing haphazardly on the floor as you tumble onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and heated skin.

A soft groan, followed by the rustle of sheets, startles you both out of your passionate haze.

"W-Wednesday?" a sleepy voice mumbles. "Is that you?"

Wednesday's eyes widen in horror, her face flushing crimson as she realizes the mistake she's made, scrambling to cover herself with the nearest piece of clothing.

“Oh, hey, Enid.” You smile, trying to appear nonchalant.

Enid sits up in her bed, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She blinks a few times, her gaze adjusting to the dim light. When she focuses on you and Wednesday, her eyes widen in surprise.

"Oh, um, hi," she stammers, her cheeks flushing pink. "I didn't realize you two were... I mean, I thought..."

There's an awkward silence, broken only by the sound of Wednesday's heavy breathing and the distant chirping of crickets outside.

Enid clears her throat, pulling the blanket up higher around her shoulders. "So, uh, are you two going to...?" She trails off, her eyes widening as she realizes the implications of her question.

Wednesday's face is beet red, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "No!" she blurts out, her voice uncharacteristically high-pitched. "We weren't going to... I mean, we weren't..."

Enid's eyes widen, her mouth falling open in shock. "Wednesday, are you... are you blushing?"

Wednesday scowls, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "I am not blushing," she snaps, her voice tight with embarrassment. "I just... I didn't expect you to be awake at this hour."

Enid blinks, her expression softening. "It's okay, Wednesday. I'm not judging. I'm happy for you, really." She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I always knew you had a thing for Y/N."

—

Since that night in the dorm room, things had been undeniably awkward between you and Wednesday. The air was thick with unresolved tension, the memory of passionate kisses and wandering hands lingering like a ghost in the room. You couldn't look at her without feeling a flush creep up your neck, your heart racing at the slightest brush of her fingers against yours.

Even Enid seemed to notice the change in your dynamic, her knowing smiles and raised eyebrows a constant reminder of the unspoken desire simmering beneath the surface. You tried to focus on your classes, to push aside the distracting thoughts of Wednesday's lips on yours, but it was a losing battle.

As you walked down the hallway towards your next class, your mind was miles away, replaying the events of that fateful night. Wednesday's touch, her breathless moans, the way her body had felt pressed against yours...

Suddenly, you felt a hand grab your wrist, yanking you roughly into a nearby janitor's closet. The door slammed shut behind you, plunging you into darkness. You stumbled, your heart leaping into your throat as you struggled to make out the silhouette of your attacker.

"Do you have any idea how hard it's been for me to focus on anything since that night?" a familiar voice growled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes adjusted to the dim light, revealing Wednesday's face, etched with a mixture of frustration and desire. She stepped closer, her body mere inches from yours, her breath hot against your cheek.

"I can't stop thinking about you, Y/N," she whispered, her voice low and urgent. "Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is your face, feel your touch..."

Her hands slid up your arms, her fingers digging into your skin as she pulled you closer. "Tell me you feel it too," she breathed, her lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me you want me as much as I want you."

You feel Wednesday's breath on your ear, her words sending a jolt of electricity through your body. The suddenness of her actions catches you off guard, but the desire in her voice is undeniable.

"I... I do," you manage to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been thinking about you too, Wednesday. Nonstop."

Wednesday's hands slide down your sides, her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. She presses you back against the wall, her body molding to yours in a way that makes your head spin.

"Then why haven't you done anything about it?" she demands, her voice a low growl. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "I wasn't... I mean, I didn't think..."

Wednesday cuts you off with a searing kiss, her lips claiming yours with a hunger that takes your breath away. You melt into her, your hands tangling in her hair as you lose yourself in the sensation of her mouth on yours.

When she finally pulls away, you're both breathing hard, your chests heaving against each other. "I can't wait anymore," Wednesday pants, her eyes wild with need. "I need you, Y/N. Right here, right now."

Your mind races, the implications of her words sinking in. You're not in your dorm room, where you can take your time, explore each other at a leisurely pace. You're in a janitor's closet, surrounded by cleaning supplies and the faint scent of bleach.

But the desire in Wednesday's eyes, the way her body is pressed against yours, makes it hard to think straight. Your hands slide down to her waist, your fingers digging into her hips as you pull her closer.

"We shouldn't..." you start, even as your body betrays you, arching into her touch.

Wednesday silences you with another kiss, her tongue delving into your mouth as her hands roam over your body with a desperate urgency. "Don't think," she breathes against your lips. "Just feel."

Wednesday's hands slide under your shirt, her fingers skimming over the smooth skin of your stomach. You gasp, your back arching off the wall as she trails her touch higher, brushing against the soft swell of your breasts.

"Wednesday," you moan, your voice breathy with need. "We can't... not here..."

But even as the words leave your lips, you're arching into her touch, your body betraying your true desires. Wednesday's mouth finds your neck, her teeth grazing against your pulse point as she sucks and nips at the sensitive skin.

Your head falls back, your eyes fluttering closed as you lose yourself in the sensation. Wednesday's hands are everywhere, sliding under your clothes, mapping the curves of your body with a desperate hunger.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you're about to do. With a sudden burst of strength, you reverse your positions, pinning Wednesday against the wall with your body. She lets out a surprised gasp, her eyes widening as she looks up at you with a mix of shock and desire.

"My turn," you murmur, your voice low and commanding. Your hands slide under her shirt, your fingers skimming over the smooth expanse of her stomach. Wednesday shivers, her skin breaking out in goosebumps under your touch.

You lean in, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Wednesday moans into your mouth, her hands fisting in your hair as she pulls you closer. Your tongues tangle together, the kiss growing more heated with each passing second.

Your hands continue their exploration, sliding up to cup Wednesday's breasts through her bra. She arches into your touch, her nipples hardening under your palms. You break the kiss, trailing your lips down her neck, your teeth grazing against her pulse point.

Wednesday's breath comes in short, sharp gasps, her body trembling with need. "Please," she whimpers, her voice barely above a whisper. "Touch me, Y/N. I need you."

Your fingers find the clasp of her bra, undoing it with a deft flick. The garment falls away, exposing her breasts to your hungry gaze. You lower your head, your tongue swirling around one hardened peak.

Wednesday cries out, her back arching off the wall as you lavish attention on her breasts. Your hands slide down her body, tugging at the waistband of her skirt.

With a swift movement, you yank the garment down, leaving Wednesday in nothing but her panties. She steps out of the pool of fabric, her legs trembling with anticipation.

Your hands slide up her thighs, your fingers hooking into the waistband of her underwear. With a slow, deliberate movement, you tug them down, revealing her most intimate parts to your eager gaze.

Wednesday is bare before you, her body laid out like a feast for the taking. You take a moment to admire her, your eyes drinking in every feature.

Wednesday's breath hitches as you drink in the sight of her, her body quivering under your appraising gaze. The air between you is electric, charged with a heady mix of desire and anticipation.

You step closer, your body pressing against hers in a delicious friction that sends sparks racing through your veins. Wednesday's hands come up to rest on your shoulders, her fingers digging into your skin as she anchors herself to you.

"Please," she breathes, her voice a desperate whimper. "I need you, Y/N. I've been dreaming of this moment for so long."

Your hand slides between her legs, your fingers brushing against the slick heat of her core. Wednesday gasps, her hips bucking forward, seeking more of your touch. You tease her, your fingers dipping just barely inside before retreating, driving her wild with need.

Wednesday's breath comes in short, sharp gasps as your fingers tease her most sensitive spots. Her hips grind against your hand, seeking more of your touch, more of the delicious friction that's building inside her.

You can feel the heat of her, the slickness coating your fingers as you work her higher and higher. Wednesday's head thrashes from side to side, her eyes squeezed shut as she loses herself in the pleasure.

"Don't stop," she whimpers, her voice a desperate plea. "Please, Y/N, don't stop."

Your fingers plunge deeper, curling inside her in a way that makes her see stars. Wednesday's back arches off the wall, her nails digging into your shoulders as she rides the wave of sensation.

You can feel her tightening around your fingers, her body tensing as she nears the edge. You double your efforts, your thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

Wednesday's cry echoes off the walls of the small closet, her body shaking as the orgasm crashes over her. She clings to you, her nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on your skin as she rides out the waves of pleasure.

You hold her through it, your hand gentle as you help her down from the high. When she finally stills, you pull your hand away, bringing your fingers to your lips. You lick them clean, savoring the taste of her on your tongue.

The taste of Wednesday on your fingers is exquisite, a heady mix of sweet and salty that makes your head spin. You savor it for a long moment, your eyes locked with hers as you lick them clean.

Wednesday's body is still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm when you pull your fingers from her slick heat. The taste of her essence lingers on your tongue, a tantalizing reminder of what you've just shared.

You meet her gaze, your eyes dark with desire and satisfaction. "I should get going," you murmur, regret tinging your voice. "I don't want to be late for class."

Wednesday nods, her breath still coming in short, sharp gasps. She reaches out, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you in for one last, searing kiss.

"Until next time," she whispers against your lips, her voice a promise of things to come.

—

[strangersteddierthings]

Eddie blinks. Once. Twice. And a third time for good measure. The scene before him doesn't change. Steve Harrington stands off to the side of the lunch table, behind Jeff and Frankie who have both gone still as statues like they think if they don't move, King Steve won't see them.

"Uh, what?" Eddie finds himself saying, against his own will. He heard Harrington the first time, doesn't need or want him to repeat himself, but his disbelief seems to have won out against his grudge for all jocks and his indifference to Steve Harrington in particular.

Harrington's face pinches, like he's three seconds away from rolling his eyes. He doesn't do that, though, which Eddie will give him one brownie point for. "I asked if you had a minute to talk." Eddie's taking away his brownie point because Steve 'asks' in a way that sounds more like a demand.

Hearing the question and or demand a second time doesn't lower Eddie's hackles, but it does pique his curiosity. He drums his fingers atop his lunchbox, thinking it over. He wishes he could say he's pretending to think about it before he tells Harrington to fuck off, but the truth is he actually is thinking about it.

What could Harrington possibly have to say to him? They very much do not run in the same circles. Eddie only talks business at the picnic table past the edge of the woods out back and everyone who buys from him knows that. They share several classes, since they're both seniors, but everyone knows Eddie's on a track to not graduate (again) so he can't possibly be coming to discuss Mrs. Click's homework assignment.

"Sure. Should we go elsewhere or...?" Eddie trails off, lifting a hand to wave in a circle in Steve's direction, questioning.

Steve looks over his shoulder, back towards the side of the cafeteria taken up by the 'popular' crowd. When Steve turns his face back, he looks- well, kind of sad for a moment before it's smoothed over with indifference.

Interesting.

"No. It's probably good that the rest of your friends hear it anyway," Steve answers.

Jeff's eyebrows rise to his hairline, and Frankie frowns as his eyebrows raise at the same time, showing an expression of interest. Eddie's got no idea what Gareth's face is doing because Eddie can't see him unless he wants to turn his face away, but he's certain it's probably a glare of some sort.

Eddie leans back in his chair, wiggling like he's getting extra comfortable before he says, "Well, alright Harrington. Shoot."

"I'm graduating this year, so I just wanted to give you a heads up for next year. I tried to curb the bullying, but I know it still happened. So, since I'm not going to be here to watch out for that, you're gonna wanna up your," Steve gestures to all of Eddie, "everything."

He knew Steve curbed the bullying a bit, heard the confirmation of that last year from Jason Carver and Tommy Hagan, when he'd stepped in to save Gareth. Or rather, Gareth had come flying in to save him and then Eddie had to save Gareth- well, the details don't matter really.

"My everything?" Eddie asks, more confused than angry. He thinks he should be angry. Harrington has all but outright said he doesn't think Eddie's going to graduate with him, after all. But no. The main emotion now is confusion.

"Yeah. Your, y'know, freakinesss or whatever. Be more of it."

"Be more of a freak?" It's fascinating, that Harrington just keeps talking like he thinks anyone at this table care for his opinion.

"Yeah!" Harrington says, cheery like he thinks that Eddie's agreed with him somehow, complete with a stupid snap of his fingers that turns into a finger gun pointed at Eddie. "You've already got this like unapproachable mad dog kind of look about you, most of the JV team is already scared of you. Just like, up that a bit more and they'll probably steer clear of you and your friends." Then Harrington frowns deep, looking around the table of nerds and dorks before looking down at the top of Gareth's head to add, "well. Except probably curly here. No offense, but you seem an easy target."

"Fuck off," Gareth growls, because of everyone at the table, Gareth does have the most bite. (Most bark goes to Eddie himself). Eddie's more prone to run from a problem than engage in it, unlike Gareth, who he's had to pull off of a few people this year.

"Or not," Harrington retracts his previous statement and Eddie will grant the man another brownie point, which brings the total up to one.

"Good to know my reputation precedes me," Eddie grins, wild and a bit manic.

Harrington is unphased. "Yeah! Do that more. I think it really freaks Jason out and he's most likely to take the captain slot next year, so if you get him afraid of you, the rest of the team'll fall in line and leave you alone too. I think he's super religious, so like, lean into the satanic panic thing people are up in arms about and next year will be a breeze. And-"

Eddie lifts a hand, a motion for Harrington to stop talking. It surprised him a little that Harrington does. Even more interesting. "Stop me if I'm wrong here, Harrington, but are you suggesting that I become the bully?"

Harrington's mouth opens and closes a few times before his face pinches again. Instead of looking like he's going to roll his eyes and be bitchy, Harrington looks confused and then like he's deep in thought. An uncomfortable amount of awkward silence falls over there table, but it's just when Eddie's about to break that silence that Harrington finally speaks. "No. I'm saying just like, be you but bigger. Like, you don't even gotta look in the team's direction. If you're just more of a freak than you usually are, they'll steer clear without the bullying."

"You sure know how to compliment a guy," Eddie deadpans. He's not even upset that Steve's called him a freak. He's spent the majority of his high school career cultivating that outlook. He wasn't just a freak, he was The Freak.

Now a look crosses Harrington's face. One Eddie's not sure he's interpreting correctly. If he had to take a guess, he'd say the look was calculating, knowing, in a way that Eddie doesn't think Harrington could actually achieve. Then it's gone, replaced with the bitchy, eye-rolling look Eddie's used to seeing, and Harrington says, "I haven't said anything untrue."

Hmm. The most interesting thing yet. Eddie might not be graduating (again) but he's not dumb. He didn't survive this far in his life, with a father like his, without learning to read people. He wasn't as good as he wanted to be at reading people last year, but he's definitely good enough know to think that, maybe, just maybe, Harrington also knows a thing or two about cultivating a public perception. Making sure people only see a certain side of you.

"Alright," is what Eddie answers, "I'll take what you've said under advisement."

"Uh. Okay," Harrington says before he just walks away. Conversation over.

"Well," Jeff says, "that was strange."

"Very," Eddie agrees as he watches Harrington walk away, tracking him until the cafeteria door slams shut behind him when he exits.

Eddie has always wanted to up the ante, so to speak. Jump on a cafeteria table and rant about capitalism and organized sports. He never has before but next year seems like a great time to try.

[beloveds-embrace]

Can we get that dark version of graves 💀. Sorry no hate to him but I like how this men operates lowkey like mafia in the dukedom au. Also is Konig still her personal guard in the regular au?

In the regular au, no, I don’t have König for her in there lol fyi i wrote this while spaced out during a lecture im sorry if it sounds rushed lol 😭

Referenced post

As for Graves: god, he is so smug. So, so smug, arrogance and pride growing each second he spends with you and over you. It shows in his gait when he walks, when he begins lording over the other servants and staff, when he begins latching to you, joining you on your free time when he checks beforehand that no one else is there with you. All of this even before you tell John your request.

After you do, and after you insist you really do want Graves, he becomes almost like a blown up balloon. He wants to monopolize all your time, all your interactions, and why would you say no when he gives you the love and affection you long for?

You don’t say no; but the same can’t be said for them.

It doesn’t matter if Graves truly loves you back. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t love you and only wants to desperately hold on to his one chance of rising in society. Nothing about Graves really matters to them except how to break his connection to you.

Graves thinks that the reason the rest of the staff slowly begin to distance themselves from him, ill-mannered towards him in general, is out of jealousy due to his closeness to you. He thinks that the reason John adds more stable hands is because you want to have others help him and who he can lord over. He thinks the reason bland and spoiled food he gets is because the cook is jealous of him, as well. Who wouldn’t be, knowing it’s only him who has your affection?

He thinks everything is done for him, due to you. It makes him latch all the more to you, and you love it even if you sometimes look confused by it.

When you send him a letter, askinh to meet him privately late at night in the woods behind the duchy, it’s the first time he’s considered saying no to you. But as it is, Graves thinks you are a spoiled thing, born with a silver spoon, and he doesn’t want to spoil his standing with you. The woods behind the duchy are a bit… unconventional. He’s heard rumors of servants sometimes dying in there, a long time ago, but there was no solid evidence of it ever.

Whatever it is, he can deal with it. His confidence builds when Kyle greets him formally, a little smile on his lips compared to the previous days. The food he’s presented with is delicious and warm, and Duke Riley even gives him a nod when passing by him. He gets called into John’s office to talk about a payrise, as well.

Everything’s well. Going into the woods, therefore, shouldn’t be a problem.

It shouldn’t have been a problem.

Stumbling through the dark woods in question, cradling his bleeding leg, Graves begins to realize that he’s made a horrific misjudgment.

Why would you, of all people, want to meet here? You, soft and delicate? You, who has never known what it feels like to have a single scratch on your body?

This place isn’t meant for you. You wouldn’t even consider this place.

You didn’t send him that letter.

And Graves is realizing it just now.

He lets out another pained shout when his foot catches onto a bear trap, falling forward. Hands and knees scratched, blood pooling under him, and covered with the dark canopy of the night sky with nothing to guide him except the dim light of the stars, Graves has never felt more hopeless.

The snapping of dead twigs and leaves, loud in the suffocating silence of the woods, makes his twist his neck to see-

Beasts. Snarling, deep dark beasts, gaping maws and rows of twisted, sharp teeth. They laugh and bark, snapping at him and there is nothing he can do to struggle back because the damned trap is still holding him down.

Behind those beasts, there is a figure. The eyes that peer at him in hatred are familiar, but Graves cannot recall their owner at this moment. Tall, blond hair, at the manor ever so often-

“You should not have touched what doesn’t belong to you, Graves.”

He is not granted enough time to think about how familiar the voice is.

And so, on a dark January night, Philip Graves disappears.

“Still no sign?” You ask, twisting your handkerchief between your hands again. Your days have been hard, lately, and grow harder the longer your lover remains missing. Though you aren’t even sure if he is truly missing. If he was, then how come the rest of the servants all said that they couldn’t find any of his personal belongings?

He had seemed so happy with you… you don’t understand.

“I’m afraid not,” Simon tells you softly, coming to stand beside you. He holds a hand out for you, and despite knowing it wouldn’t be proper, you do not stop him from drawing you into a hug. “The dogs didn’t find any traces of him, either.”

Your eyes move over to the two dogs curled on their respective pillows, one napping and the other chewing on a bone. You loved them; they were all over you the second Simon had brought them to you, rolling over to get stomach rubs from you. They provided a temporary retrieve from your dark and depressing thoughts, just simply holding them making you feel better.

“They are good hunters.” Simon had told you, his knuckles gently wiping away your tears. “If he is anywhere lost nearby, they will find him.”

But now, there wasn’t a trace of him. You hated to admit it, but perhaps Philip’s leave might have been his own choice…

“Do not cry.” Simon whispers softly when he hears you sniffling, arms warm around you. You melt against him, just clinging to this comfort. “John will still search, but you still have all of us to help you get through this, sweetheart.”

Get through this, and get over Graves. The rest of the staff all agreed that he wasn’t good for you, anyways, and the dogs had their fun.

And Simon now gets to hold and comfort you, after he’s already had quality time with the rest of his beloveds.

Your tears will dry, eventually, and your heart will open up again.

[beansprean]

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oh my god they're engaged to be engaged...

(also this is entirely separate from the izzyguana series fyi, but my god I have drawn their little island so many times by now)

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Wide shot of Stede and Ed's ramshackle house on a hill of long grass, a forested mountain sliding into the sea behind them as the sun peeks above the waves, painting them orange and yellow. Some work has been put into the house since they found it: the holes in the roof have been boarded over or covered with tarp, a rickety porch railing and staircase off the left side have been built on from scraps, oil lamps have been hung on each corner, and an addition on the right side is in progress, rocks stacked on the wood-slat roof and tarps hanging from unfinished walls. Planks of wood, tools, and fishing poles are leaned up against the porch, the path to the house has been cleared out and defined by stones and shells, and a wooden sign out front has the words "Best Little Inn By The Sea! +fishing equipment" carved into it. Stede and Ed, wearing a teal blouse with brown leather trousers and purple tee with black leather trousers respectively, are standing on the porch and looking out over the land, arms around each others waist. Stede raises his arm in a wave and shouts, "Great to see you two! Come again any time!" In the foreground, Pete and Lucius are walking down the path away from the house, looking tired. Pete has one arm around Lucius's shoulders and his eyes are closed, head listing to the side. Lucius covers his mouth as he yawns, lifting the other to throw a halfhearted wave over his shoulder. 1b. Waist-up in profile of Stede and Ed on the porch, sunrise behind them. Closest to the viewer, Stede stares out after their guests, hand lowering, smile fading to something a little bittersweet. Ed leans into Stede, free hand in his pants pocket, and rests his head in the crook of his neck as he follows Stede's gaze with a thoughtful smile. Ed asks, "You ever think about that for us?" 1c. Repeat. Stede's hand drops further, wrist dangling, as he turns his face toward Ed with a bewildered smile. "What?" Ed straightens from his cuddle, embarrassed, but keeps his right hand on Stede's waist. His left gestures randomly as he scrunches up his face, avoiding Stede's gaze. He explains, "Y'know...the matie-monie thing, whatever."

2a. Zoom out slightly; Stede takes a step back toward the house to face Ed as he pivots with his back toward the yard. They are still connected waist-to-hand. Stede plants his free hand on his hip with a smug little smirk and says, "Well I certainly hope that's not your proposal." Ed waves his free hand in a 'stop' motion, flustered as he meets his partner's eyes, and splutters "Wha- no! No, mate, I just... 'M having a dialogue." 2b. Repeat, zoom in. Ed dips his chin to look up at Stede through his lashes, red-faced and accepting defeat as he mumbles, "...How would you want it to go, though? Hypothetically." Stede giggles helplessly, free hand leaving his hip to rest fingertips on Ed's chest. 2c. Repeat, the background cutting out in favor of the sunrise occurring between them. They are almost forehead-to forehead, both of Stede's hands now pressed to Ed's chest and idly playing with the tips of his hair. Ed stares at his face with hooded eyes. Stede smiles, gaze lowered to focus on his hands, and says "Oh, I don't know. A bit of romance, you know. Dazzle." 2d. Repeat, zoom in to bust, background now mottled oranges and yellows. Ed raises his head to look past Stede with a frown, brow furrowed in confusion as he repeats blankly, "Dazzle." Stede hums idly to himself, concentrating on petting Ed's chest. 2e. Repeat. Stede lifts his head with a little smile, putting them nose-to-nose and adds, "I wouldn't say no to some fireworks." Ed flusters at the pointed reminder of their first time, cheeks turning red and a wobbly smile creeping across his face.

3a. Repeat. Stede asks, "What about you?" Ed leans back from their embrace, smile turning incredulous as he repeats, "Me?!" 3b. Waist up of Ed as he turns, sunrise at his back, to lean his left arm against the porch railing. He glances over the yard with a resigned little frown, fiddling with a piece of his hair with his right hand. He replies, "I dunno. Never really thought about it." 3c. Chest up of Stede as he mirrors Ed's pose with a fond if slightly amused smile, stairs and forest behind him. Offscreen, Ed continues, "Bet you had a whole scrapbook of ideas, eh?" 3d. Repeat. Stede straightens with a "Well!" and turns his body to face the house. 3e. Knees-up from the house POV as both men lean against the porch railing, the yard, ocean, and brightening sky beginning to streak itself with orange beyond. Stede is facing the viewer, back to the yard, leaning with his elbows braced on the railing. He aims his gaze to the side with a bit of a pained smile and says, "When Mary and I were engaged, a scrapbook wouldn't have been much use." Ed is turned toward Stede, left elbow propped on the railing. He scowls and sticks out his tongue at mention of Mary. 3f. Repeat. Stede turns his head toward Ed, who quickly tucks his petty tongue back in his mouth and schools his expression into one of interest. Stede continues, "Everything had been decided for us already. Never really got to the proposal part."

4a. Repeat. Ed turns his body more fully toward Stede, folding his arms on the railing and leaning his head over them with a warm smile. Stede raises his eyebrows in surprise and goes slightly pink as Ed says, "I'll have to make it really good, then." 4b. Stede turns his body toward Ed, left arm sliding against the railing behind him and right hand cupping Ed's chin as he leans closer, nose to nose. Ed's eyes hood, looking at Stede's mouth as is curls into a loving smile. Stede responds, "Can't wait." 4c. Repeat. Ed suddenly goes pale and blurts out, "You'll say yes, though, right?" Stede freezes in surprise, lips puckered in preparation of a kiss. 4d. Repeat. Stede throws his head back in a loud bark of laughter, straightening up and turning fully toward Ed to cup his cheek in his right hand and his shoulder with the other. Ed aims an embarrassed, besotted smile at him as Stede replies, "Ed, of course! Who could say no to you?"

5a. Repeat, both now in profile. The orange and yellow light of the sunrise is slowly spreading across the sky from the left. Ed straightens up from his lean to bring their foreheads together, still a bit red-cheeked and with a nervous edge to his smile as he lowers his gaze. He says, "You can say no if you want, though." Stede smiles at him with every ounce of tenderness he has, hands firm on his cheek and shoulder. He replies, "There's nothing I want more than to say yes to you, Ed. Permanent ink, remember?" 5b. Repeat. Stede moves his right hand from Ed's cheek to hook around his back, tugging him closer as he leans himself back. Ed stumbles forward with a helpless grin, cheeks even redder, bracing himself with his right hand on Stede's chest. When their eyes meet, Stede's smile turns teasing and faux-sinister, continuing, "You're stuck with me regardless. Foreverrr~" 5c. Repeat, larger and brighter, as Stede and Ed finally come together in an affirming kiss, the land behind them retreating to allow the sea and sky to fill the background. The sun finally breaches the horizon, sending glitter sparkling across the waves and gilding the pair in warm golden light. Ed's right hand is cupping the side of Stede's neck, thumb tracing through his sideburns, and Stede's right is hooked fully around his shoulders, cushioned in his soft hair. They are both smiling into the kiss, unhurried and in harmony.

6a. Repeat as they pull back from the kiss just far enough to meet each other's gaze, arms still around each other, Ed's right hand brushing Stede's cheek and Stede's buried in the back of Ed's hair. Ed smirks flirtatiously, eyes hooded, and says, "You know... I hear there's a traditional engagement sex sabbatical, too." Stede matches his expression, left hand sliding down Ed's shoulder to press against his lower back. Stede replies playfully, "Oh, is there? I suppose I can plan that part, then." 6b. Repeat. Ed brings his left hand up to mirror his right, cupping both of Stede's cheeks, and arches up on his toes to lean over Stede with a teasing grin. His movement forces Stede to arch his back in the first motions of a dip, hands briefly flying free of their grip on his future fiance to try to catch his balance. Their lips a centimeter apart, Ed hums, "Mmm, gimme a rehearsal, first." Stede tosses his head back with a giggle in response, eyes closed, cheeks pink. Hearts float above their heads. 6c. Shot at the bottom of the hill Stede and Ed are stationed on, the packed-dirt path to the house curving upward in the background, the stones and shells now more conservatively scattered. Amidst the tall grass and tropical plants lining the way are handmade wooden signs shaped like arrows pointing the way to the inn. Words carved into them say "this way!" and "best inn!" Pete and Lucius are in the foreground, walking down the hill towards the viewer, Pete's right arm still looped around his husband's shoulders. They still look very tired with dark circles beneath their eyes - Pete still hasn't opened his. Lucius has, barely, and is scowling his way forward with a furrowed brow, declaring, "We are leaving them the worst review." Pete nods solemnly. Text nearby points to them and says 'kept up all night by noises'. Pink hearts and exclamation points spill out behind them from the bend in the path, echoing the lovey-dovey noises from above that must have made their stay so insufferable. /end ID

[queers-gambit]

Blue Bunny

prompt: you and the Twins show up to collect the same debt.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.4k+

warnings: Tan's real name being Aaron, Lemon's real name being Brian, Mafia antics, depiction of murder, blood, guns, brief physical violence, given nickname [ Bunny ], Daddy's Girl trope? dialogue heavy fic.

"I like the lilac, what do you think? Maybe the yellow?"

"The pink's rather nice."

"How's about green? For St. Patrick's Day? Celebration of spring?"

Your lover chuckled over the receiver, phone set on speaker to the desk in front of you. "Think I prefer the blue," he replied, the smirk evident.

"You always prefer blue," you teased, handing the bottle of pale blue nail polish to your nail tech. "So, tell me, where are you now? Haven't seen yah all week," You pouted, placing your AirPods in to keep the conversation private. Not like it mattered, your nail tech, Collette, only spoke French, and she was the only other person in the room.

"'Fraid I can't divulge that information, sweetheart," Aaron sighed, "on a bit of business right now."

"Now? Like, in the present?" You chuckled, nodding at Collette when she pointed at the length of the acrylic.

"Yeah," Tan mused back, "say hello, sweetheart!"

"Hello, luv!" Brian, or otherwise known as Lemon, was heard calling. His twin, your lover, used the codename Tangerine for the contract agency they worked for - keeping their identities safe. Something you didn't necessarily have to worry about, being as your name held power. It was something like a shield in the criminal world, everyone knowing your surname dictated fear.

"Oh, hello, my sweetness," you cooed, grinning slyly. "What's it you two are up to? What sort of business are you on?"

"Ah, hang on a tick, love," Aaron mused, setting his phone down. You waited patiently, hearing a series of gunshots ringing out as you watched Collette paint the pale blue in sleek, professional strokes. Screams echoed over the line, tires screeches, several grunts of exertion, but you didn't so much as flinch, just admiring the work your nail tech did.

You blew on your nails, admiring the color.

Collette asked if you wanted to keep the paint shiny or add a matte overcoat, you humming, replying in French that you preferred the shiny coat. She held up a bottle of silver glitter, perking her brows, watching you nod - trusting her artistic eye.

"Hello? Still there, Bunny?" Aaron got back on the line, using your pet name he bestowed on you after your first date. You had a cold coming on, and after he kissed you, you instantly sneezed - nose screwing up like a fluffy bunny.

"I'm here," you smiled.

"Right, what color did you go with?"

You grinned, "Take a guess."

"Blue's your color."

"More like yours. I much prefer pastels, but I think this color's the best of both our preferences."

He chuckled, "Listen, yeah? You free Thursday? I'l be in your neck of the woods."

"Ah, I'm traveling this week," you answered with a pout, "what about next week?"

"I might be able t'swing that, yeah," Aaron agreed easily. "You hear from that Edward bloke recently?"

"No, no, I've told you, I'm done with him. You're quite the jealous type, you know, scared him off real good."

"Ah, well, don't like folks touchin' what's mine, now, do I?"

"Apparently not," you smiled, phone line beeping with an incoming call. "Oh, shit, I gotta go, Aaron, Daddy's calling."

"Mhm, and we all know you betta answer, huh?"

"It's how we all stay alive," you laughed. "Bye."

"See yah real soon, Bunny. Make sure your toes match!"

You hung up with a laugh, then accepted your father's incoming call, "Hi, Daddy."

"Hello, sweet one," he answered. "What are you up to?"

"Collette's doing my nails."

"Ah, very good. What color?"

"A pretty pale blue."

"Wonderful. Tell Collette I say hello. We'll have t'get her a sensational Christmas bonus with the way you work her."

You chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Listen, poppet, I need you to do something for me."

"Mhm, anything you need, Daddy."

"One of our associates is late on payment."

"How late?"

"A week."

"Oh, you're taking time in collecting," you mused, appreciating the full set Collette was detailing. "What's the hold up? Why wait?"

"I'm stuck in Prague."

"Daddy."

"I know," he rushed, "but I need you on this one, princess."

"Who's the associate?"

"Fella name Wilmer DeLano."

"I know of him, doesn't he own the chain of pharmacies? His son and I went to university together, right?"

"The exact same," your father confirmed. "I need you to go collect, princess, please."

"How much is the debt?"

"With the added week, chalks it up to $3 million."

"US dollars?"

"Yeah."

"Since when do we deal in US dollars?" You asked with a curled lip.

"Not the question I think you want to be asking."

"Uh, no, you're right, okay, sure, I can collect. Tonight?"

"He's not expecting it, knows I'm still in Prague. Take Rufus and Gunther with you for protection detail."

"I'd rather take Samuel."

"No, he's doing a different favor for me."

"Daddy."

"He's making a delivery, all right?"

"What about Gunther and Casey? Rufus creeps me out."

"That's fine," your father agreed with a sigh. "Listen, princess, tonight might get a little hairy, so I want you prepared."

"Daddy, I'm literally getting my nails done, I'm not handling a gun. That's what Gunther's for."

"I taught you better than that. You protect yourself, you can't depend on anyone else."

You nodded, "Yes, sir. Do you wanna call the boys or...?"

"I'll call them, don't worry. Just be ready to go by 8. Remember, princess, $3 million - and make sure you count it, too."

You agreed, promising you loved him, then wishing him luck in Prague on whatever his business was. After hanging up, Collette smiled, asking in French, "When are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"That you have a boyfriend," she laughed. "He's your father, he'll be happy for you."

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh, please," she scoffed, swiping the glitter on your nails. "That boy that you're always on the phone with? You're not hiding it, not from me."

You felt warmth flush your chest, heating your core. "He's still not my boyfriend," you mumbled stubbornly.

"He picks your nail colors," she grinned, "that's a boyfriend!"

You double checked the address your father sent, nodding at Gunther in the driver's seat. "All right, lads, I want this a clean collection. Just got my nails done," you smirked, the lights of the three-story home still on and indicating DeLano must've been home.

"Yes, ma'am," Casey agreed, getting out of the backseat and opening your passenger door; helping you out, letting you readjust your clingy black dress. Gunther moved around the back of the car, grabbing the usual go-bag brought to every collection.

Slowly, carefully, you stalked up the long driveway, heels clacking with every pace. You let Gunther peer through the windows, him nodding before leading the way to the backdoor. It was simple enough to jimmy the lock open, silently swinging the door wide open and stepping over the threshold.

Casey went around the side to enter through the living room as you walked through the kitchen, surrounding your target. Wilmer DeLano was sat at his dining room table with his wife, looking up when you cleared your throat. He jolted in shock, but Casey blocked the only other doorway; his gun in hand, both clasped in front of him.

Gunther checked the rest of the house.

"Hello, Mr. DeLano," you greeted casually. "Oh, something smells wonderful in here, you cook this?" You asked his wife, casually strolling up to the table, Red Bottoms sounding over the polish hardwood floors. You plucked up a slice of roast, tearing a bite off and humming, "Oh, very good that. You're a lucky man, Mr. DeLano to have such a talented wife."

"Who are you?" The portly woman begged, flinching when you hummed and brandished your gun.

"Right, guessing you don't know," you nodded. "Your husband's in a bit of a lucrative business, Missus. Nice house, though," you gazed around, "lot of fine art you've got hung up, saw all name-brand appliances in your kitchen."

"H-He owns a chain of drug stores - "

"Yes, yes, yes, I know. Very true," you agreed, "but that's only a front, it's not the full picture. I'm here to help illustrate, if you will. C'mon, why don't we all go into the living room? Hear that's where the safe is kept."

"What is happening!?" Mrs. DeLano demanded, gun pointed at her temple.

"Up, up," you demanded.

Slowly, Wilmer lifted from his seat with his hands held in peace, "Okay, okay, we can - let's go talk in the living room. Just don't threaten my wife, she's got nothing t'do with this."

"For now," you agreed, gathering the couple to the living room couch.

"Boss," Gunther alerted, dragging your old university classmate and a previous lover, Edward DeLano, up from the basement, "found this one down there, smoking a joint. Rest of the house is clear."

"Wonderful," you nodded, gesturing for Eddie to sit. "You bring enough to share with the class?" But your old peer just looked around the room of criminals. "Guessin' he didn't wanna share," you pouted, then rolling your eyes. "Well, now that we've all gathered - "

Suddenly, there was a noisy crack and bang as the front door was kicked in, making all three of you gangsters turn with weapons drawn and aimed. However, you chuckled and dropped your arm when you realized it was the Twins, Aaron and Brian, or Tangerine and Lemon, standing in the splintered doorway.

"At ease, lads," you chuckled, holstering your gun to your thigh. "These are friends of mine."

"You outsourced the job? Out your fuckin' mind, princess? Huh?" Casey growled, not lowering his gun as Tan and Lem strolled in.

"Don't fuckin' talk to her like that," Aaron snapped instantly.

"Fuck off, Casey, I would never outsource, I know the fucking rules," you sound more amused than anything.

"Well, ain't this fun?" Aaron mused with a grin, strolling in casually before pausing in the open foyer as Brian tried shutting the door again - but it the very doorframe was shattered, making it impossible. "Sorry 'bout the front door, ol' chap, but you understand, yeah? 'S just business," He nodded at DeLano. "Bunny," he smirked at you, hands in his tailored suit pants pockets; polished Italian leather shoes gently scoffing across the floor.

Aaron magnetized to your side, coiling his arm around your waist to lean in and peck your cheek.

"Hi, handsome. Thought you weren't in town until later?"

"We wrapped a different job early," he answered. "Question is: what're you doin' here, love?"

"Collecting debt payment."

"No shit," he grinned, "so are we."

Your head cocked; leaning into his side with your own arm wrapping around his chiseled waist. You asked, "He owes my father money. You?"

"Owes an associate, too." He smirked at the DeLano's you two stood in front of, "Ain't that right, geezer? Got yourself into a bit of a pickle, didn't yah? Got a bit of a problem with the nose candy, don't'cha, naughty boy?"

"You told me you quit!" Mrs. DeLano hissed, "now you're in debt!?"

"I have it under control," Wilmer deflected stiffly.

His wife sobbed and begged, "W-Would someone please just explain what's going on!? Who are you people!?" Tears fell fast. "What do you want from us!?"

"This ain't rocket science, love, fuck you mean what do we want?" Lemon snickered. "You not listenin' or something?"

"Ah, right, well, I was in the middle of explainin' the situation," you told the Twins, waving a manicured hand in the air as if swatting away a pesky fly. "'Ello, lovie," you grinned at Lemon when he stationed himself on your other side, "good t'see you."

"Sweetheart," he nodded, offering a side hug when you released his brother, "been too long, hasn't it?"

"Since Cancún," you agreed. "Right, then! Onward, ho! Casey, darlin', would you be a doll and open the bag? Get us set up t'count up?"

"'Course, boss," he agreed, kneeling at the mahogany coffee table and unzipping the duffel you brought.

"Right," your hands clapped, the family jumping at the sudden sound, "back to what I was sayin'. See, your husband owns the drug stores, that's true," you allotted, "but he also launders money for the Mafia. For my father, my family. Maybe you've heard of him?"

You relaid your father's first and last name, seeing the Fear of God paint over the DeLano's. "What?" Eddie snapped at his father sat beside him. See, despite dating briefly, you kept your identity a secret from Ed. "What have you done!? Do you know who her father is? Know what he's done!? He fuckin' gutted his own brother - "

"Allegedly," you interjected sharply.

" - all in the name of business! You don't know what this family is capable of!"

"Yes, boy, I'm well aware, the man is my bloody business partner," Wilmer snapped right back.

"Well, not so much of a partner now, are yah? Just more of a fuckin' nuisance," You smirked, earning the attention again. "So, you see, your husband washes our money, earns a significant cut for shouldering the risk. Payment's collected every two weeks and as of today, your husband's a week late on delivering our cash load."

"I-I can explain, please - "

"No need," you cut Wilmer off, "because I didn't get t'where I am now by listening to pathetic explanations. I don't listen to excuses. Fact is, you own my father money, and because you're late, the total is now $3 million - and he wants it in US dollars."

"Well, ain't that somethin'?" Tan smirked at Lem. "Turns out, he owes our client some million, too."

You hummed, nodding, "Right, right, but see, thing is, if my Daddy ain't paid, he goes postal. Nasty business, truly messy, just a chaotic clusterfuck, bodies left everywhere, cities in shambles." Turning back to the family, you offered, "So, we're just gonna make this easy. You cough up what you owe, we won't blow your brains out all over this nice Persian rug. Mmmh! See that, love?" You pointed to the fabric you stood on, looking at Aaron. "That's real authentic, you can tell by the threading. Be a shame to ruin it, yeah? Exquisite work."

"Sure is," he agreed, "but did you see up there, Bunny? 'Bove the mantel?"

"Oh, yes," you breathed in impression, "an ancient Aztec tribal mask. An artifact, very hard to get your hands on. Heard the British Museum was actually lookin' for that particular mask."

"Seems like Mr. DeLano is quite the collector of finer things," Lemon admired, pointing at a portrait on the wall. "Oi! Is that what I think? Is that a fucking Monet?"

"Priceless," you nodded.

"Listen, right, we've got strict orders, yeah?" Your lover sighed, shifting his weight. "We're t'collect payment by any means, a message is t'be sent. Right?"

"That's right, yeah," Lemon agreed, crossing his arms. "Make sure this kinda misunderstanding don't happen again."

Gunther asked, "You need tarps for this?"

You refused, "No, we're not here to kill anyone. We're here to let a loyal man the opportunity to pay us what's owed."

"Listen t-t-to me," Wilmer begged, stuttering in fear, "I don't have the money. Okay? The government came sniffin', I had tax liens to pay off to avoid prison time - "

"More fuckin' excuses! Jesus, fuck, man!" You groaned. "Who do you think can do more damage - the bloody government or my family? Huh? Look, lad, I know you've got what we're owed, so, be a good li'l boy and open the safe. Huh?"

"Fucking do it, Dad!"

"What're you doing, Wilmer? What are you waiting for!? You can't play this game! You'll get us all killed!"

"I don't have the money! How can I pay with what I don't have!?"

"Why do I not believe that?" You mused to Tan.

"'Cause you've been in this business a helluva lot longer than he has," Tangerine / Aaron answered. "You know a rat when you smell one, I reckon."

You nodded, then pulled your gun out again, aiming, and firing at Eddie's knee to shatter his kneecap. Blood splattered onto the couch. He screamed in agony, you raging above the panicked cries and shocked shouts, "Do I have your fucking attention now, Mr. DeLano?"

Edward sobbed in pain, trying to staunch the bleeding, Mrs. Delano gasping and shrieking. "Do whatever they want, Wilmer! For fuck's sake! Just do it!"

"Listen to your wife, mate," Lemon advised. "Unhappy wife, unhappy life, innit?"

You aimed at Eddie's other knee, firing, causing another flurry of screaming, crying, and begging. "If you want your son t'only have two bullets in 'im, I suggest you get moving!" You barked, aiming at Wilmer. "Now!"

"Well, wait a tick," Tangerine halted, "if we're both on the job, how's it gonna look if the geezer's telling us the truth, hey? Who gets the money?"

"Let's find it first, darlin', distribute later," you breathed as Casey finished setting up the automatic money counter. "Mr. DeLano? I advise you to do what we're asking. See, I use to duck hunt - I'm an excellent shot. The next bullet's goin' in your son's head and I never miss. Now, where's the fucking money!?"

"I don't have it! Please!"

"The money, DeLano, where's the fucking money!?"

"Please - "

"You want a dead son!?"

"All right!" He sobbed, "All right, fine! Yes, you win! Just please, please! Don't hurt my family anymore! Please, just leave them alone! I'll do what you want, just - leave them out of this!"

You nodded, "Well, you fucked with my Daddy's money. Only right I cripple you in a sense. Hey? Now, chop chop," you checked your watch for the time, "I'm a very busy bee and don't have all night."

"You're a smart lad, DeLano, we know you would've wanted to prep for a comfy fall if it came to it," Lemon laughed easily from beside you. "Ain't no way you're bone dry, know you have money stashed for security. Just c'mon, mate, these two sickos consider this a sort of foreplay, they'll go all fuckin' night with yah if you continue to refuse," he gestured at you and Tan.

You tacked on, "Lotta places to shoot someone without killin' 'em. Just saying..."

Wilmer stood from the couch, his wife shooting across the newly vacated space to embrace her whimpering son. The money launderer approached the Monet painting and lifted it from the wall; revealing an iron safe. You shared a look with Tangerine, smirking as the combination was entered and the door opening.

"That's what we fuckin' thought," Tangerine sneered, seeing the stacks and stacks and stacks of money. " Fuckin' hell. Right, so, look, count up the lady first. We'll settle after," he sniffed, fluffing his suit's lapel, picking off a piece of lint.

Wilmer began handing stacks to Casey to count, one of your arms crossing over your stomach to prop up your other arm; hand limp in the air. "Faster," you demanded, the man sweating bullets.

"Oh, now, look at that," Tan mused, taking your hand to admire your fresh manicure, "you went with blue."

"Like it?"

"Looks real pretty, Bunny, but I know something these would look better wrapped around," he grinned, making you smack his stomach playfully. "You wanna go get drinks afta this? My treat."

"Sounds like a date," you accepted, Gunther storing the counted cash into the dark duffel. "How's it lookin', Casey?"

"Looks 'bout right, boss," he reported, handing over another stack of banded money. "You want me t'count the Twins up?"

"Oh, if you would please, darlin', it would be very helpful," you nodded. "But I'm having a thought, right? Stay with me, would yah?"

"Oh, go on, toots, you've got great ideas," Lemon encouraged with a chuckle.

"Not always," Casey snickered, "remember what happened in Texas? At that Western bar?"

"Oi, the electronic bull was not my fault!"

"But the incident with the tequila and donkey was!"

"Hush!" You scolded. "Listen, all right, you see, this fucker tried to stiff us all... Let's clear the safe out. Take away any safety net? Truly cripple him, set him back to nothing?"

"Sound like your father," Gunther chuckled.

"That's a compliment," you shot back. "Go on, I want the lot."

Gunther agreed, standing, and approaching the safe. He shoved Wilmer out of the way, sweeping his arm into the safe and starting to load up the duffel. "You can't do this! If you take it all, what are we supposed to do!? How is my family supposed to survive when leeches like you suck us dry!?" Wilmer barked, making the amusement drop from your face.

"Watch your tone."

"No! No, I will not! You think you're high and mighty because of your father, but you're just a spoilt little girl! You all break into my house, extort me - "

"Can you truly extort a criminal? For the money they owe other criminals?" Brian / Lemon wondered out loud as he meandered the living room, making you shrug.

"He likes playing victim," you mused, but in the time you looked over your shoulder, Wilmer charged. You gasped when his shoulder bullied into your gut, tackling you past Tangerine and into the coffee table, shattering it.

"GO! RUN!" He shouted at his family, Tangerine lunging instantly to wrangle him off of you; the breath knocked from your lungs.

"Got some fuckin' nerve, don't yah!? Touchin' my girl!?" He raged, throwing the man to the floor again. "Nobody fuckin' moves!" Aaron growled, gun pointed at Wilmer.

"Not like they can, two blown out knees," Brian grunted as he helped pick you up from the wreck.

"Yeh all right, Bunny?"

"All right, love, yeah," you answered and adjusted your dress, picking up your weapon as Tan began wailing his balled-up fist into Wilmer's face at a jackhammering pace. It was wildly attractive, watching the man you were in-love with beat the shit out of someone who offered you threat and harm. Then something caught your eye, gasping, "Oh, you rat bastard! You broke my fucking nail!"

You yanked Tan back; aiming at Wilmer, pulling the trigger to let a close-range bullet explode the man's head; leaking brain matter on the Persian carpet. You turned to Mrs. DeLano and Eddie, cocking your head as they begged and pleaded for their lives, but you weren't listening anymore. "Got it all, boss," Gunther informed, dropping the stuffed duffel. "What we doin' with them?"

"Exactly what my father would do," you decided. "No witnesses."

"PLEASE! NO, GOD! NO, DON'T, PLEASE! WE WON'T SAY ANYTHING, I SWEAR! I SWEAR! PLEASE! MERCY! MERCY MERCY!"

Three more gunshots sounded, Tangerine's gun smoking before being tucked back into his shoulder holster under his jacket. "Well," he fluffed his lapels again, sniffling harshly, "shall we be on our way, Bunny? We good here?"

"Oh, might as well - got what we needed," you agreed, grimacing when blood bloomed towards your expensive shoes. "Ugh, what a mess. I'll make a call, have this cleaned up, pose it as a murder-suicide," you side-stepped the puddle. "Gunther, Casey, take what you want from this place, get the cash back to the stash house. I'm gonna grab a drink with the lads," you smirked, looping your arm with Aaron's.

Lemon / Brian packed up their share of the money, following behind as Tangerine / Aaron lead you from the house; placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting the end, inhaling, tossing his free arm around your neck. The night was dark and brisk, refreshing on your clammy skin as you stabilized your breathing; always a little shaken after taking life.

Call it morality.

Once in their tinted Mercedes, Brian got in the backseat, Tan rolled his window down to smoke, and you pulled out your ringing cell phone to answer, "Hi, Daddy."

He breathed in relief, "Good, you answered. Means nothing bad happened."

"That's not entirely true," you admitted. "We're leaving now."

"What happened?"

You winced, brushes already forming, "DeLano got bold, he attacked. So we left no witnesses."

"Good girl," he praised. "You feel all right?"

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm actually going to drinks with some, uh, friends," you glanced at Tangerine - seeing his lips pulled in a smirk as he started the car and pulled off down the street. "Turns out, DeLano didn't just owe us, but some coke dealer, too. Right, love?" You checked.

"Right," Aaron confirmed, reaching over to plant his hand on your thigh and give a soft squeeze.

"Right, yeah, so, he tried lying 'bout money, I shot his son's kneecaps - "

"That's my girl!"

" - and cleared the safe out. That's when DeLano attacked me - "

"WHAT!?"

"Daddy," you reprimanded softly. "I'm okay. Actually, the hired contractors on the job saved my arse - they showed up after we did with the same agenda. Gunther and Casey are gonna take the cash to a stash house, I gotta call Mr. Brooks about cleaning up."

"Did you say contractors?"

"Yeah, uh, you know, from The Agency?"

"You mean hitmen?"

"Yeah, guess you could say that. Think they're more like contract killers? Verbiage is so fickle."

"Who? Who exactly was there?"

"The Twins, Daddy. Don't worry, they're absolutely charming, only took their payment. We're gonna go for drinks, yeah?"

"Huh," he grunted, "must've been some bigwig t'send them two. Or a considerable debt." You were about to reply when he gasped in realization, "Wait, no. No, no, hang on a tick, don't bloody tell me."

"What?"

"This the lad you've got a thing for, innit? The one that sends yah flowers every other week?"

"Daddy."

"Don't tell me it's that Tangerine fucker, princess, please!"

"Oh, no, look at that, we're heading into a tunnel! I'm gonna lose the call; talk tomorrow, be safe, good luck in Prague, okay, muah! Muah! Muah! Love you! Bye, bye, bye!" You rambled quickly, blowing air kisses, then hanging up swiftly.

"The hell was that about?" Aaron chuckled. "He mad we were there?"

"Not entirely."

"Was he mad you're gettin' drinks with us?" Brian laughed from the back.

"That's a little more accurate. Well," you winced, "he was a bit testy that I'm goin' with Aaron..."

"I haven't done a damn thing to him," he grumbled.

"You do have a bit of a reputation, bruv."

You smiled sweetly, gripping Aaron's hand on your thigh, "He's my father, 'course he's gonna worry."

"'Bout time he found out, keeping you two a secret was mad frustrating, yeah? You two are disgustingly in-love."

Tangerine squeezed your thigh again, sending you a bright grin, "That we are."

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[7seas-of-ryy]

Not Good Enough

Author’s Note: My second job started up again, I take care of my nephew in the mornings and after school, and I've been sick!! I have about 7 WIPs right now that I know need a lot more time before they will be finished. I hope you all enjoy this story!!

Summary: You know you're ready to go on your first mission but what does Az think?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: a few cuss words, let me know if I need to add any :)

---

“You can’t be serious.” You shouted at the male in front of you.

“I’m the most serious I’ve ever been. And this argument is over.” He calmly stated in response.

You scoffed and looked over to Cass for help but he refused to make eye contact. Looking back at Azriel, you decided you wouldn’t give up that easy.

“You don’t get to decide when the argument is over. I’m coming with on this mission, I can help you.” You argued.

“Yes, I do get to decide that. No, you’re not coming. And no, you can’t help us. End. Of. Discussion.” He was starting to get frustrated with you.

His words only made you more mad, your temper getting the best of you.

“You’re ridiculous! You have been training me for months.. MONTHS! And you haven’t let me go on a single mission or actually see any action. This trip will be too dangerous for just the two of you. You need me to help you so why can’t you just let me come with.” You exclaimed.

“Because you’re not good enough!” Az shouted right back.

Ouch. That one hurt. Before you could compose yourself he continued.

“If you’re not fast enough, strong enough, smart enough when you’re on missions like these, you die. I was put in charge of you to train you and it is up to me to decide when you are good enough. I am telling you that you aren’t. I don’t want to hear about any of this again!” He finished his rant, his chest was heaving.

You tried to hide it but the look of hurt was clear on your face. When you glanced over at Cassian he was looking at you this time, like you were a puppy who had just been kicked. You hated it, you didn’t want sympathy.

Az noticed how much he hurt you and reached out his hand to you.

“Y/N-” He started but you backed away from his reach.

You turned around and walked away before he could try and speak to you again. Eventually Cass and Az continued to prepare for their mission and you went to your room before you could be embarrassed any further.

You couldn’t believe him, he trained you for months and always told you how well you were doing. He would tell you how you impressed him with your intelligence but now you’re not good enough? You knew you were good enough. During the meeting with the IC, when Az first announced you wouldn’t be joining him and Cass, both Feyre and Rhys looked surprised as well.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you started to pack. You gathered your weapons and your bag and slid on your gear. When Cass and Az left, you waited a bit and then quietly followed their trail. It didn't matter that Az thought so lowly of you, you were going to prove him wrong.

You knew you had to stay a little farther back so they wouldn’t notice you, so you tracked them instead. Using all of the training you’ve had, you successfully followed them and stayed hidden the whole time.

The mission was supposed to be simple. Find the creature that had been causing problems and kill it. It should be easy enough for Cass and Az so you really couldn’t understand why he refused to bring you with.

You watched as Az and Cass followed the monster into the woods, trying to catch it off guard so it would be an easy kill. You stayed hidden in the shadows behind them and to the right when you heard some shuffling. Peering to where the noise was, you saw a second creature sneaking behind the 2 Illyrians.

Before you could even blink, the first creature turned around and swung at the two. The monster behind them pounced and landed on Cassian. He managed to fight it off and was dealing with that one when you saw Az backed into a tree. The vile beast swung at him again, and sent Az flying to the ground.

You took off running straight to Az, knowing you had to save him. Right before the creature could land the killing blow, you jumped on it's back. With fairly large daggers in both hands you brought your arms down, impaling it in the head with the two blades. It died quickly and fell with you still on top of it.

Cass had already killed the other one and came over to help you roll the creature off of Az. You held your hand out to him to help him up. After just saving his life, surely he sees how well you can do your job.

“What are you doing here?!” He yelled at you, rage in his eyes.

You were stunned, you saved his life and this is how he treats you? No, maybe he was in shock still?

“I assessed the situation first, Cass was holding his own and I saw you about to be killed so I acted fast. And I effectively and efficiently eliminated the threat. I did everything right-” You explained but he cut you off.

“No, what you did was disobey my direct orders to stay home. You could have been killed! You aren’t ready to handle this yet and you just proved it by not listening to me!” He continued to yell at you.

“How about you try saying ‘thank you’, you know, for literally saving your life one minute ago.” You sneered.

It was silent while the two of you glared at each other, smoke practically shooting out of your ears before Cass stepped in.

“Listen she did just save our asses and she’s already here now. We were going to set up camp and head home tomorrow anyways so she can just stay with us.” He told Az and then looked at you, “Come on, the cabin is about 30 minutes from here. Let’s go.”

He held out his arms, insinuating you needed to let him carry you so he could fly you to the cabin. The flight went by fast and you were still pissed at the spymaster when you landed.

The three of you entered the space silently and it wasn’t until Cass said something that you realized what the problem was.

“There’s only two beds.” He stated.

“Yes, because there was only supposed to be two of us on this mission.” Az grumbled and sent a look your way.

You rolled your eyes at him and looked at Cass instead.

“It’s a long trip home tomorrow so none of us should sleep on the floor. We don’t want to have a bad back all day long, believe me I’ve been there before. So who wants to share a bed?” Cass asked with a grin.

“Let’s just get three sticks. We can pull them and whoever pulls the longest gets the bed to themselves?” You suggested.

“Pretty and smart.” Cassian replied with a wink at you.

Az let out a growl at his words and Cass held his hands up. Unbelievable, he couldn’t even let anyone else compliment me.

“Fine.” Az agreed to your plan.

You all pulled sticks and held them up. Cass quickly let out a cheer, seeing his was the longest and started getting cozy in bed. You and Az glanced at each other and painfully made your way over to the bed. You sat on the edge of the bed when the spymaster hesitated.

“No. I’m not sharing a bed with her.” Az told Cass.

“Oh grow up. You’re mad at me so you’re going to throw a tantrum? It’s just for one night, then I promise you won’t ever have to be disgusted by sharing a bed with me again.” you snapped.

“What? No.. I’m not…I just…” He trailed off, “Fine. We leave at sunrise.”

Cass nodded his head in agreement and closed his eyes to sleep. You laid down and Az slowly got into the bed next to you, making sure to stay as far away as he could. The first thing you noticed was how cold the room was. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you decided to just try to stay put, too mad to ask for something to warm you up. Eventually, you let sleep take over.

You woke up to a large hand gently shaking your shoulder.

“Come on, you’re freezing.” Az whispered to you.

“I’m fine.” You stubbornly stated.

“No, you’re not. You’re literally shivering.” He argued.

You tried to stay completely still, to stop the shaking but you were just so cold.

“You would rather freeze to death than get close to me?” He added when you didn’t respond.

You stayed silent again and his hand traveled to your waist. His other hand slid under you and he pulled you into his chest. His wings wrapped around the both of you, creating warmth and giving you instant relief. You slightly pushed back into him even more, craving his body heat and he responded by wrapping his arms around you tighter.

You were still mad at him but you would be lying if this position didn't make you blush. For a while now, you've had a bit of a crush on the Shadowsinger, which is probably why everything he said to you hurt even worse. Pushing those thoughts to the back of your head, you decided to just relax.

The two of you fell asleep that way and when you woke up, his wings were still around you but now your face was nuzzled into his chest.

“It’s been sunrise for 45 minutes now. C’mon wake her up, it’s time to go.” Cassian complained.

“Shh. She hasn’t gotten this much rest in a while. Let her sleep a little longer.” Az grumbled.

His hands were rubbing up and down your back and you desperately wanted to stay like this longer. But then you remembered how mad you were at him so you opened your eyes. You got up and started to gather your things to leave, ignoring the look on Azriel’s face.

“Morning sunshine.” Cassian smirked at you.

You flipped him off and walked past him.

“Alright, we have to walk for about two hours north, then we can fly the rest of the way.” Az told you the plan.

“I know. Don’t forget I made the whole trip here.” You spoke with a sharp edge to your tone.

“Yeah, I was going to ask you. How did you know where we were? I mean you can’t fly so how did you follow us?” Cass inquired.

“I didn’t follow you. I tracked you. I stayed hidden the entire time and using the limited knowledge I had of the mission, I figured out where you were headed. It was actually pretty easy.” You asserted.

Cassian’s eyebrows raised in awe and Azriel’s eyebrows shot down in confusion.

“No that doesn’t make sense.” Az grumbled.

“Az, she outsmarted us and saved our asses. It’s time to admit you were wrong.” Cass stuck up for you.

You gave Cass a slight nod in thanks and the three of you continued to walk home. No one spoke for the rest of the walk until it came time to fly the rest of the way. You went up to Cass but he didn’t reach for you.

“I’m sorry, I hurt myself last night fighting the creature. Az will have to fly you.” Cass explained.

You were confused because he flew you last night after the mission but you were too drained to argue. Slowly, you made your way over to Az. Before Cass took off you heard him say 'Tell her' and fly off. You gave Az a confused look and he shrugged his shoulders.

He picked you up and the two of you took off. You could see Cass ahead of you but you were far back enough that he couldn’t hear you.

“What did Cass mean?” You asked.

Az stared straight ahead and didn’t respond.

“Really? I mean you can’t even talk to me now? You’ve been so rude to-” You started.

“I was scared.” He muttered, “I was scared of you getting hurt, ok? I didn’t want you in the field because I can’t lose you. I know you’re smart and strong enough but I was.. I don’t know. It’s stupid and I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” You said dumbly.

“That’s it?! Yell at me or something, I know I was an ass. I’m so sorry.” He told you.

“I’m not going to yell at you… I understand the fear of losing someone. Why do you think I wanted to come with? When I saw that beast on top of you about to kill you…I didn’t even stop to think. I just knew I had to save you, I’ve never felt that type of fear before. If something happened to you.. I don’t even want to think about that.” You told the male holding you.

“Well, I think it’s time for me to thank you for saving my life. If you weren’t there, me and Cass would both be gone right now, so thank you.” He gently spoke.

You gave him a warm smile and held onto him just a little bit tighter. There was comfortable silence for a little bit before you heard Az clear his throat.

“Now, tell me how you really tracked us all the way there. There was a point in the journey where we went through a portal. It would’ve been impossible to track us unless you had put a spell on the portal.” Az wondered.

“Ok fine. Once you got to the portal, one of your shadows noticed me and instead of letting you know, it stayed behind. It waited for me to catch up. Then it led me to you and even silenced my steps in the woods.” You admitted.

“What?!” he spoke in shock.

He looked down and could see a little shadow curled in your hair, peeking out like a child about to get scolded.

“You little traitor!” He gasped.

“Hey don’t be mean to it! I used my resources like you taught me, it just so happened that one of your shadows was a resource to me.” You let out a small laugh.

You could see the house coming into view when all of the sudden, Az took a turn and started to head towards a mountain instead. You weren’t sure where he was going but you trusted him so you stayed quiet. He landed and set you down.

“So there is actually one more thing that I have to confess. My shadows have always liked you.” He blurted.

“Well I like them too.” You told him, confused at his confession.

“Ok that’s not all.. I also like you, a lot. Look I’m not good at this, I actually have a terrible track record but all I know is I love you. And I don’t want to mess this up.” He finally revealed the truth to you.

“That’s actually really convenient because I love you too. I’ve actually been madly in love with you for a while now.” You told him.

“I really want to kiss you right now but I’m covered in mud and gunk from the mission yesterday and I want our first kiss to be nicer than that. After we get home and get cleaned up would you like to go on a date with me? Maybe get some dinner?” He nervously asked you.

“I would love nothing more than to go out with you.” You blushed.

His smile lit up his whole face. The two of you made your way to the house and once you were cleaned up you met in the living area. Before you left for your date you wanted to mess with him a little.

“I bet you’re happy I didn’t follow your orders, huh?” You joked.

“Yeah yeah, I would have told you my true feelings eventually.” Az grumbled.

“NO YOU WOULDN’T HAVE. I HAD TO LISTEN TO YOU BITCH ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS FOR HER FOR MONTHS NOW.” Cassian screamed.

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[actuallyprobablyafaerie]

list of things that made me scream in pjo episode 3

Percy picking grover because he trusts him not to betray him!!! THEY ARE BEST FRIENDS OK

Luke still comes off as so likable and inconspicuous that whole convo he had with percy and the shoes i just

GROVER AND THE CONSENSUS SONG I CANT

annabeth staring at the different flavors of candy in the gas station and not being able to pick and just buying all of them. Thats the annabeth we deserve

ANNABETHS KNIFE APPEARANCE ALERT and a fury is IMMEDIATELY killed

uncle ferdinand foreshadowing……………

When annabeth and percy start arguing in the woods and grover tries to change the subject by talking about his uncle and they both completely ignore him. I LOVE GROVER SO MUCH

the bickering in this episode is ON POINT by the way

like the stuff theyre arguing about makes sense. Yes i would be concerned about those things too

ESPECIALLY since theres such a focus put on trust (esp after percy learns that someone is going to betray him) and percy and annabeth are arguing about stuff theyve lied or havent told each other about???? Sorry that might be skipping ahead a bit but GOD is that the good stuff

i love that they changed how the three of them ended up going into auntie em’s because before it was a little concerning that none of them figured out it was medusa. Plus having a fury outside just adds to the tension a perfect amount i think, because it really traps them in there

all the discussion about the gods and what medusa talks to percy about in the kitchen - YES MAKE ME HATE THEM!! All of this is adding up to lukes motivations making so much sense in the end

ALSO!! Them harkening back to sallys line in the first episode when she tells percy that not all heroes look like heroes and not all monsters look like monsters - they brought it back so perfectly. Percy wanting to trust medusa because of what his mom said, medusa calling Poseidon a monster, ALL OF IT is so good

When theyre down in the basement and grover puts on the shoes and then just fucking. Flies away and disappears into the darkness yelling a little. and annabeth and percy just kind of helplessly watch him go before being like - welp i guess that plans not working. That was peak comedy

them using annabeths hat on medusa and then using it to kill alecto THEY WERE SO SMART FOR THAT!!! Also percy just the invisible severed head was a hilarious concept to me

when percy suggests burying the hat in the ground with the hat on to make sure no one bad finds it and annabeth just!!! Agrees!!! And then grover has to be like no that hats important to her its a gift from her mother!!! And then percys like well we’ll find another solution then. That whole scene was good yes i liked that

also annabeth revealing that grover was her protector too and percy asks about it and grover just changes the subject and doesnt answer. He is the KING of avoidance

also grover finally interrupting annabeth and percy when they start fighting and giving his whole speech about getting along. That wouldve felt a little cheesy and preachy and out of place from anyone else but considering grover tried to get them to sing the consensus song a few hours earlier i fully believe that he would say that

I AM IMPERTINENT

Why the fuck wasnt there a lin manuel maranda jumpscare warning. I couldve used one of those

but actually all the jokes in this episode were so on point. Like percy calling drachmas chuckie cheese tokens. And him arguing about voting on the bus. Anyways

10/10 episode i will be rewatching like eight times before next tuesday.

[d1stalker]

Second Nature [Logan Howlett]

Summary: In the freezing cold of the wild, you are saved by a man with many secrets. He takes you in, and soon you learn that you’d follow him anywhere. Takes place during The Wolverine (2013)

Warnings: does not accurately follow the events of the movie, hairy logan (heart eyes), misunderstandings

WC: 4.2k - MASTERLIST

----

Northern Canada was just as unforgiving as it was beautiful. The chilled air bit at your skin, and the vast wilderness stretched out endlessly, it was a place where few dare to venture.

It had been days since you’ve seen another soul, your only company being the towering trees and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures in the brush. You weren't not entirely defenceless as a mutant, though your powers were something you keep close to your chest.

The day started like any other—cold, silent, and solitary. You were making your way through the dense forest when you heard it: the deep, guttural growls of a pack of wolves. Your senses went on high alert as you froze, but before you could react, they were upon you. 

There were too many of them. You fought as best you could, using your powers in quick, controlled bursts, but the wolves were relentless, and violent. Just as you thought you might not make it out, a figure burst through the trees. He moved with immense speed, claws extended from his hands—no, not quite claws, but something far more lethal. He tore through the wolves with an ease that spoke of years of experience, and within moments, the threat was gone.

You were left standing in the snow, gaping at the man who had just saved your life. He was wild-looking, with long, tangled hair and a thick beard, his eyes fierce and sharp. He didn’t speak at first, just looked you over, assessing mutely, before finally grunting out a rough, “You alright?”

You nodded, though your heart was still pounding from the encounter. “Yeah, thanks to you.”

“Shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said gruffly. “This place isn’t safe.”

“I can take care of myself,” you replied, though you knew full well how close you had come to an early demise. You didn’t offer any explanation for why you were out here, and he didn’t ask. Instead, he simply turned and started walking away, as if saving your life was just another day for him.

You hesitated for a moment before following him. He didn’t seem to mind, and you were curious about the man who had appeared out of nowhere. He led you back to a small, rough cabin hidden deep in the woods. It was clear he had been living here for a while—there was a worn, lived-in look to the place.

Over the next few days, you found yourself staying in that cabin. The man, who you learned was named Logan, didn’t talk much, but he didn’t seem to mind your presence either. You kept your powers hidden, mainly out of habit, but a part of you was unsure of how he would react if he knew the truth. You knew he was some sort of mutant too, but he had an air of someone who had seen too much, who carried a heavy burden, and you weren’t ready to add to that.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, a quiet companionship developed between you. Logan was still rough around the edges, but there were moments when you caught glimpses of something softer beneath the surface. He was a man who had been through hell and survived, but the scars were still there, etched into his soul.

You weren’t sure when you started to think of him as a friend, but it happened slowly, in the small, unspoken ways you helped each other. He taught you things about the wilderness, how to track and hunt, while you offered a quiet presence that seemed to ease the tension in his shoulders.

Then, one day, everything changed. A woman appeared at the cabin, her hair bright red and her demeanour as sharp as a blade. Yukio, she called herself. She had come to find Logan, to tell him that his old friend Yashida was dying and wanted to see him one last time in Japan. Logan was reluctant at first, but Yukio was persistent, and eventually, he agreed.

You hadn’t expected him to invite you along, but when he turned to you with a serious look in his eyes and said, “Come with me,” you found yourself nodding before you could think about it.

----

When you arrived at the estate in Japan, Yukio immediately declared that a cleanup was in order. Logan resisted, of course, but she insisted. You were too tired to argue and knew she was right. You hadn’t had a proper bath in weeks if not months. The little tub in the cabin did barely enough to make you feel freshened up, and the idea of finally being clean was too tempting to pass up.

She led you to your separate rooms, where hot baths and fresh clothes awaited. The water was blissfully warm, and as you soaked, you felt the tension slowly ebb away. You scrubbed your skin clean, washed your hair until it felt soft and light again, and when you finally stepped out of the bath, you almost didn’t recognize yourself. The fresh clothes Yukio provided were simple yet elegant, a far cry from the rough, dirty outfit you’d been wearing for days.

After dressing, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. For the first time in a long while, you felt... pretty. It was a strange sensation after everything that had happened, and you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about it. Logan already waiting for you when you saw him. Your breath caught in your throat. His long beard was nowhere to be seen, a uniquely styled facial hair left in it’s wake. His hair was trimmed as well. His usual gruff demeanor was still there, but he looked... different. Handsome, in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

He was staring at you too, a look of surprise flickering across his face before he quickly masked it. "You clean up nice," he said lowly.

"Thanks," you replied, trying to sound casual, though you were acutely aware of the way his eyes lingered on you.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, taking in the sight of each other. You had always thought Logan was attractive in a natural, untamed way, but seeing him like this, it made your heart stir in your chest.

Yukio interrupted your thoughts, her voice cutting through the silence. “Good. Now that you two don’t look like wild animals, we can get to work.”

----

Yukio led you and Logan through the estate’s winding paths, the sound of your footsteps muted by the soft ground. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the garden, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to admire the beauty of the place.

Finally, you reached a large, open room where an elderly man sat in a wheelchair, his frail form dwarfed by the spaciousness of the room. Yashida’s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and labored, but there was a sense of peace about him, as if he had come to terms with his impending death.

“Logan,” Yukio said softly, her tone respectful as she gestured for him to approach.

Logan stepped forward, his usual confidence tempered by something more subdued. He stopped a few feet from Yashida, his hands clenched at his sides as he struggled to find the right words.

“Yashida,” he eventually said, addressing the man before him. “It’s been a long time.”

Yashida’s eyes slowly opened, and when they focused on Logan, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Logan,” he rasped, his voice weak but filled with warmth. “You came.”

“Yeah,” Logan replied, his tone softening. “I came.”

Yashida’s gaze shifted to you, and you felt a strange mix of emotions as his eyes, still sharp despite his age, studied you intently. “And who is this?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

“I’m just a friend,” you said, offering him a small, respectful bow. “I’m here to support Logan.”

Yashida’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Thank you for coming,” he said, his tone sincere. “It means a great deal to me.”

Then, another figure entered the room, a young woman with delicate features and a quiet grace that immediately drew your attention. She moved with the fluidity of someone who was used to being in control, but there was a sadness in her eyes that mirrored Yashida’s.

“Mariko,” Yashida said, his voice softening as he spoke her name. “Come, meet Logan.”

Mariko stepped forward, her gaze flicking to Logan with a mixture of curiosity and caution. “Logan,” she said quietly, her voice as soft as the rustling leaves outside. “It’s an honour.”

Logan inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before he looked away. “Likewise.”

There was an awkward silence as you stood there, feeling like an outsider in this reunion. You watched the way Mariko looked at Logan, her gaze filled with something you couldn’t quite place—respect, maybe, or perhaps a cautious admiration. Whatever it was, it made your chest tighten with an emotion you weren’t ready to examine.

“Please, sit,” Yashida said, gesturing to the cushions on the floor. “We have much to discuss.”

You sat down beside Logan, feeling the tension in the room build as Yashida began to speak, his words measured and deliberate. He spoke of his time with Logan, of the bond they had shared during the war, and of the gratitude he felt for the life Logan had given him. But there was something else in the way Yashida spoke—an underlying desperation that made you uneasy.

“I have a gift for you, Logan,” Yashida said, his eyes locking onto Logan’s with an intensity that belied his frail appearance. “A gift that will free you from your suffering.”

Logan stiffened beside you, his expression darkening. “I don’t need anything from you, Yashida,” he announced.

“But you do,” Yashida insisted, his tone growing more urgent. “You’ve lived long enough to see the world change, to see those you care about die. I can give you what you’ve always wanted—mortality.”

The room fell silent as Yashida’s words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down on you like a physical force. You glanced at Logan, searching his face for any sign of what he was thinking, but his expression was unreadable.

“I didn’t come here for this,” Logan said after a long pause. “I came because you asked.”

Yashida’s expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face before he nodded slowly. “Very well,” he said. “But the offer stands. Should you change your mind...”

Logan didn’t respond, his jaw clenched as he stared at the floor. You could feel the tension radiating off him, and it took everything in you not to reach out and touch his arm, to offer some kind of comfort.

----

The air was thick with the scent of incense and the soft murmur of prayers as you stood at Yashida’s funeral, surrounded by mourners dressed in black. The solemnity of the occasion hung heavy, but there was an undercurrent of tension that you couldn’t ignore. Logan was beside you, his expression unreadable, though you knew him well enough by now to sense the unease in his posture.

In that moment, your mind wandered to the days you’d spent in the Yukon, the solitude that had once been your only companion. You hadn’t ended up there by choice. No, you had been running—from a world that feared what it didn’t understand, from people who saw you as a threat. The fact that you were a mutant had always set you apart, but it was also the reason you had been hunted, feared, and ultimately driven into the wild. 

You still hadn’t told Logan about your powers, not out of a lack of trust—hiding them had simply become second nature to you. But as you stood at the funeral, watching the proceedings with a growing sense of dread, you realized that your secret was about to come crashing down around you.

It happened so quickly that you barely had time to react. One moment, the funeral was proceeding as expected, and the next, the mourners were scattering in panic as a group of Yakuza thugs stormed the ceremony, their eyes locked on Mariko, Yashida’s granddaughter.

“Mariko!” Logan’s voice was a deep growl as he pushed through the crowd, his adamantium claws shooting out. You sprang into action right behind him, your heart pounding as you watched the Yakuza close in on Mariko. You knew that even though he was fast, Logan wouldn’t make it in to her in time. 

Suddenly, the world seemed to slow down, and your instincts took over. Thrusting your hands out, you called for your powers and the air around you responded, swirling with a sudden, powerful gust that sent the Yakuza stumbling back. Logan's head whipped over to you, his eyes widening in shock, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Fire erupted from your fingertips, a controlled burst that seared the ground between Mariko and the attackers, creating a barrier they couldn’t cross. But the attackers didn’t yield, and they regrouped quickly, readying themselves for another assault.

Logan was at your side in an instant. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I—” you faltered, the words catching in your throat as you continued to fend off the enemy. The earth beneath you trembled as you called on your powers again, sending a wave of stone and dirt crashing into the Yakuza, knocking them off their feet.

“I didn’t know how,” you finally admitted tightly, from the strain of maintaining control over the elements. 

Logan’s expression was a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper. But he didn’t have time to respond before the Yakuza pressed their attack, forcing both of you to focus on the immediate threat.

Together, you and Logan fought them off, your powers weaving through the chaos as Logan’s claws tore through the ranks of the attackers. It was over in minutes, but it felt like an eternity. When the last of the Yakuza fell, you stood there, breathing hard, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Mariko was safe, but the damage was done. Logan turned to you, his gaze intense. “You didn’t trust me,” he said, the hurt clear in his voice.

“It wasn’t about trust,” you said quietly, lowering your hands as the last remnants of your power faded into the air. “I’ve spent my whole life hiding who I am, Logan. It’s not something I can just turn off.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “I get that,” he finally said, his voice softer now. “But you knew about me––my mutation. I thought—”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” you interrupted, your voice breaking slightly. “It’s just… I didn’t want to bring attention to it. I wanted to leave it in the past.”

Logan’s expression softened, the anger fading as he listened to your words. “You don’t owe me an explanation,” he said after a moment, surprising you. “But I want you to know… I would’ve understood.”

You looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. It was strange, how this man who had saved you, who had become your friend, could look at you with such understanding, after you had hid something so important from him. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words heavy with the weight of everything you hadn’t said before.

He didn’t say much after, just turning and heading toward Mariko, going to check on her. 

----

In the days following the incident at Yashida’s funeral, something between you and Logan shifted. It was subtle at first—an awkwardness that hadn’t been there before, a hesitation in his eyes whenever he looked at you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed, and not for the better.

Logan had started pulling away from you. At first, you thought it was because of Mariko, and his new mission—that he had simply found something else to focus on. But as the days went by, you realized that it was more than that. Logan wasn’t just distant—he was hurt. And it wouldn't take a genius to know why.

He had been wounded by your secret, by the fact that he thought you hadn’t trusted him enough to reveal your powers. You had tried to explain, to make him understand that it wasn’t about him, but the damage was done.

The distance between you pained you. You had grown to care for him deeply. It had started as friendship, a bond forged in Canada, but somewhere along the way, you knew your feelings had begun to change. You hadn’t meant to fall for him, but it happened all the same, creeping up on you like the first rays of dawn after a long, cold night.

But as you watched him pull away from you, and towards Mariko, those feelings felt like a mistake.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want Logan to be happy—far from it. You cared about him too much to wish anything but the best for him. Still, seeing the way he looked at her, the way he seemed drawn to her despite the mayhem surrounding them, made something inside you ache. You had thought that maybe, just maybe, there could be something more between you and Logan, but it was clear now that whatever you had shared was truly just a friendship. Nothing more.

And that realization hurt more than you cared to admit.

You tried to push those feelings aside, to focus on the task at hand. There was still so much to do, and Japan was far from safe. The Yakuza were remained a threat, and Yashida’s legacy was more tangled than you had ever imagined. But no matter how hard you tried to concentrate on the helping, your mind kept drifting back to Logan and Mariko.

So, you did the only thing you could—you pulled away. You gave Logan and Mariko space, leaving them to each other whenever possible. It hurt to do it, to step back when all you wanted was to be by Logan’s side, like you’d for months, but you convinced yourself it was for the best. If this was what Logan wanted, if she was who he needed, then who were you to stand in the way?

Even as you distanced yourself, you continued to help them in whatever ways you could. You were still in Japan, still part of the mission Logan got roped into, but you became a shadow, always there but never too close. You helped Mariko when she needed it, fought alongside Logan when necessary, but you never lingered, never gave him a reason to think you wanted anything more.

----

When the trip was over, and the two of you returned back to Canada, things were different. The easy companionship you had shared was strained, the unspoken tension between you making every moment feel heavy with uncertainty. You weren’t sure where you stood with Logan anymore, and it was driving you mad.

He had been quiet since your return, keeping to himself, and you had done the same, unsure of how to bridge the growing distance between you. It hurt, more than you wanted to admit, but you weren’t sure what to do about it.

You had spent the day wandering the snowy landscape, trying to clear your head, but no amount of fresh air could chase away the doubts that had settled in your mind. By the time you returned to the cabin, the sun was beginning to set. You hesitated at the door, your hand hovering over the handle as you debated whether to go inside or keep walking.

Before you could decide, the door swung open, and Logan stood there, his expression unreadable. “You’ve been gone a while,” he said, his voice rough from disuse.

“Just needed some air,” you replied quietly as you stepped inside.

Logan closed the door behind you, his eyes lingering on you for a moment. Then, “We need to talk.”

You nodded, your stomach twisting with anxiety as you followed him to the small living area. You sat on the edge of the worn couch, your hands clasped tightly in your lap as you waited for him to start.

Logan remained standing, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’ve been thinking… about everything that happened in Japan.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “So have I.”

He looked up at you then, “I don’t know how to do this,” is all he could get out.

“I know."

“I’ve been thinking about why things got so messed up between us,” Logan continued, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “And I think… I think it’s because I was hurt that you didn’t tell me about your powers, that you’re a mutant too. I took it personally, and that was wrong.”

You shook your head, “I shouldn’t have lied to you. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Logan. I just… I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Logan stepped closer, his hand resting on the back of the couch as he looked down at you. “You didn’t lose me,” he said quietly. “But I think I almost lost you because I didn’t know how to deal with it. That’s why I pulled away. I didn’t want to get hurt, so I put up walls.”

“And Mariko? I mean, it's not like you need to justify anything to me, but--fuck--I...” You started, letting your words drift off. You didn't know where you were going with this, but Logan would have to be a real idiot to not catch on.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and it scared you. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

“When we were in Japan… I was hurt. Not just by everything that was happening, but by what I thought was going on between us. I felt like you didn’t trust me, like you were keeping me at arm’s length, and I didn’t know how to handle that. And then there was Mariko… she was there, and I turned to her because… I don’t know, I guess I was looking for something to distract me from what I was feeling.”

You stayed silent, letting him speak.

“But it wasn’t what you think,” he affirmed. “It wasn’t about feelings, or love, or anything like that. Mariko was just… there. I was in a bad place, and she was someone who didn’t expect anything from me, who didn’t know me the way you do. We got physical, but it wasn’t real."

You blinked, trying to make sense of his words. “So, it didn’t mean anything?”

Logan shook his head. “Not the way you’re thinking. I won’t lie to you—it happened, and I’m sorry for that. But it wasn’t because I didn’t care about you,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “It was because I did, and I didn’t know how to deal with my own emotions. I made a mistake, and it hurt you, and I hate that.”

You could see the regret in his eyes, the way he was struggling to find the right words. “I thought you wanted to be with her,” you admitted, “That I was just… in the way.”

He swallowed, “You were never in the way. I pushed you away, and I’m sorry for that.”

You looked up at him. “Where does that leave us then, Logan? Should I… should I stay here? With you?”

Logan’s eyes softened, and he reached out to gently cup your face in his hand. “I want you to stay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But only if that’s what you want too.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch as a wave of relief washed over you. “I want to stay,” you whispered back, your heart pounding in your chest. “I need to know that we’re on the same page though, that this is more than just… friendship.”

His thumb brushed against your cheek. “It is,” he confirmed, “I care about you, more than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time. And I want to figure this out, whatever it is between us.”

You opened your eyes, looking up at him with a small, trembling smile. “I want that too.”

Logan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He leaned down, nuzzling his nose with yours as he spoke, an action that nearly had your heart bursting in your chest. “Then let’s do this. No more hiding, no more running. Just us.”

“Just us,” you echoed, happy.

------

[charliemwrites]

Bark bark bark awoooo

No content warnings

You’re gonna fucking combust.

Somehow, someway, this is Johnny’s fault. You’re not sure how yet, so he it isn’t fair for him to be in trouble, but you know it.

“This is your fault,” you tell him, pouting in bed — bare ass naked, but that means nothing to him, he’s a dog. He cocks his head, and you wave your (broken) vibrator at him. “I don’t know how, but it is. Is this because I wanna chop your balls off?”

His mouth closes, eyes big - like he actually understands you. In your horny delirium, you almost believe he really does.

You flop onto your back with a sigh, eyes a little wet with frustration.

It’s been two months since you last successfully got off. Your vibrator (and its replacement… and its replacement’s replacement) keep breaking, or running out of battery. The plug is defective or falls out of the socket.

Once you successfully got right to the edge - just for it to die. You almost did cry that time.

Sure, there’s your hand. But every time you try ol’ reliable a certain four-legged roommate interrupts one way or another. And when you tried to kick him out of the room, and then ignored the howling, scratching, and general drama - there was loud and rapid knocking at your door.

Like fucking clockwork. If you get anywhere at all, you never get to finish.

It wouldn’t be so bad, either. Your libido isn’t anything crazy, you don’t think. At least it wasn’t before. But now there’s Soap.

Soap who you should not be so attracted to. Who has no sense of propriety or boundaries, who murmurs the dirtiest things to you in the most public and otherwise mundane places. And he just keeps. Showing. Up.

Like he’s got a tracker on you or something. (You’ve checked, he doesn’t.)

He’s like every guilty fantasy you had as a good, studious girl back in high school. The kind of guy to grab your thigh under your parents’ dinner table and take your virginity in the back of his car. Maybe corner you by the lockers between classes to kiss you silly and drive up your absence record.

You never actually went for those boys — and perhaps gratefully, they never went for you. In romance novels, it would be a quaint little coming of age story. The stuff to swoon over. But reality was a lot scarier for you, especially with your older sister always keeping an ear out to report back to your parents and… well, yeah.

You’ve always been a firm introvert, anyway. That’s why you live out in the woods with only a dog for regular company.

But Soap. Soap is some unholy amalgamation of those innocent, shy girl fantasies turned R-rated. Like the grown-up version of those cute YA novels.

And you have no defense for it — except distrust, that is.

Soft-hearted as you are, you know you don’t do casual well. And you know that guys like Soap just like to spin you up and up until you finally give in, think the dreaded words “maybe it’ll work out” despite that rational voice in your head saying, “don’t bet on it.”

Doesn’t stop you from secretly wanting him though.

Fear is the only thing keeping you in check now. Some of it for you own feelings; of getting invested in a guy that has done nothing but treat you like a prime cut of meat. The rest of it is a genuine concern that he might be a bit dangerous. He’s so much bigger than you, visibly stronger. Has gone out of his way to make you uncomfortable (doesn’t matter that a very dark and slutty part of you liked it) and ignored your attempts at brushing him off.

Fear, unfortunately, is beginning to add to the temptation.

“I’m not going to do it,” you tell yourself, or maybe Johnny. Soap’s contact is on the screen. You don’t remember putting it into your phone, but you must have at some point. “Nope. No way.”

You slide a sideways look at Johnny, tail wagging at a steady clip.

“He’s probably a former frat boy or something, right?” you muse.

Snort.

“No, you don’t think so?” you question, sitting up. He happily crawls into your lap when you pat your thighs, chin resting on your tummy. “Nah, you’re right. Could almost imagine him beating the hell out of one for pissing him off.”

A little grumbly noise. You smile and start petting absently over his head and ears, phone forgotten now.

“This is dumb anyway,” you sigh, head tilted back to the ceiling. “You don’t like men. I couldn’t bring him back here.”

Johnny’s ears flick. You giggle and start flopping them around, making airplane noises. Eventually he huffs and starts licking at your face until you stop, complaining that you’ll need to wash off now.

—

“Fuck it.”

Johnny picks his head up, staring at you as you run a hand down your face.

“Fuck it all. I’m going to a bar. I’m getting… I dunno. Laid or something.” Thank god it’s only Johnny here. You don’t think you could live with the embarrassment of someone else hearing the way you talk.

You set your hands on your hips, nod to yourself.

“And if it happens to be Soap, then… sign from the universe, right?” You grimace a bit, striding for your bedroom. “Please don’t let him be a murderer or something…”

For once, Johnny is perfectly behaved as you get ready. He doesn’t try to lick at you when you come out of shower (freshly shaved and lotioned and everything). Sits patiently on the bed as you pick through your closet, even noses at a pretty pink dress you rarely wear but were considering for this.

He doesn’t try to bump your arms or hands while you do your makeup, just watches attentively. You choose a pretty, matching bra-panty set, apply a light spritz of perfume. Hesitate over jewelry.

“Is it normal to wear jewelry when you plan on fucking?” you wander allowed.

A little “boof” from the bed. You’ll take that as a yes.

You decide on a set of faux pearls with a gold heart pendant in the center. Not quite a choker, but high enough on your throat to suggest one. A delicate bracelet, a pair of stud earrings, and you’re just about set.

“Christ, I hate doing this alone,” you mutter, fumbling with the zip on the back of the dress.

Lastly, the shoes.

“Fuck it,” you say again. Your mantra for the evening, apparently. Wobble into a pair of heels, a bow on the outside of each ankle where you buckle them.

You pause when you’re done, giving yourself a once over in the full length mirror. Pleased with what you see. Coquettish and pretty, not necessarily bombshell sexy maybe, at least not on first glance. But the necklace, the heels, the cutouts at the waist of your dress… it’s all exactly what you wanted.

“Alright,” you breathe, tummy swooping with excitement. “I can do this… right?”

Johnny’s gotten down off the bed, is keeping a respectful distance. You appreciate it, don’t want to have to lint roll hair off yourself.

“Oh, god. What if he’s bad?” You ask, giving him a horrified look. “What if he’s been, like, compensating?”

To your shock, he stomps his paw and starts damn near howling. Carrying on and on like he’s bitching you out. You blink in shock, almost laugh — then check the time.

“Oh! Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let you starve!”

You toddle off to the kitchen and prep his dinner, scrunching your nose at the raw chicken and beef liver. He grumbles and fusses the whole way, making you laugh as you pretend to have a whole conversation about the economy with him.

“Okay, bonnie Johnny,” you coo, setting his bowl down. “Be good, okay? If I bring someone back here please don’t eat them, okay?”

More grumbles and whines and growls. You roll your eyes, blow him a kiss, and slip out the door.

You tell yourself you just need action with someone. Don’t admit to yourself that there’s really a specific someone you’re hoping to see.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part sixteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.2k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

"I can't believe I woke up early for this."

You loosen your muscles, turning to dead weight in Ghost's arms, before using the awkward position to slip away. 

"No one said you had to be here," Ghost throws over his shoulder before his gaze fleets back to yours. "Good. Again."

Blue groans as you reposition yourself for the basic defense maneuver. You can see why she'd find this boring— Ghost started you off with a move so basic it was almost insulting when he explained it. But you quickly realized his reasoning. Each time you do it, your pulse tampers down less and less while in his arms. He's had to remind you a few times to "Breathe, Twix"— the order so quietly uttered into the shell of your ear that Blue likely didn't even notice. Perhaps you have grown used to taking orders from him, or maybe having Blue close by is helping, because you've been able to ward off the threat of panic so far.

"Fine, I'm out of here," Blue rolls her eyes the second you've finished the move again. "Let me know when you—" she jabs a finger at Ghost, "—decide to make things more interesting." As she leaps off the log she'd been perched upon, she adds: "Oh, and don't get too close, Ghost. She might bite."

"So I've heard."

Heat rises to your cheeks. And then— you're alone with him. You take a swig of water from the canister Blue lent you to ignore the awkward feeling in your chest. "Again?" You wipe your mouth. "Or have I passed your test?"

"Test?" he repeats, the gravel in his voice rolling over the word as his brow lifts in question.

"Well, I haven't... had a repeat of last time, and it's been an hour. I think I've proved that I'm ready for something a little more..."

"More what?" 

More interesting.

"Hand-to-hand, I guess. Something harder."

He rubs his jaw, as if to feign consideration. "Right, then. Let's try another one."

The next one he shows you is still simple, except you fail every other time. Basically, he gets behind you and you have to sidestep to avoid the trap of his arms. Somehow, Ghost's movements are light as a feather even though he's built like a rock. 

But then you get better at it. The next two days pass in much the same manner until you start to react a bit faster. He teaches you a few more basic tactics. How to wriggle your wrist out of someone's hold. How to avoid being grabbed from the front by rolling to the ground. All defense. After hours spent with him, he doesn't even have to remind you to breathe anymore. Chopping wood in the evenings helps, too. You go to bed exhausted and wake up ready to practice before Ghost even touches your shoulder.

On the third day, he gets you up even earlier. You cram your wool-covered toes into boots, confine your hair in a hasty bun, and follow him to the clearing that has become your makeshift training ground. It takes you a moment to register that some things are different: his boots have been replaced by sneakers, and his jeans by loose, black gym shorts. The exposed skin is strange, making your eyes widen. If Blue were awake, she'd certainly comment. 

His calves mirror the strength of the rest of him, and on the left leg, swirling ink catches your eye, reminiscent of the tattoos you discovered when tending to his wound. Skulls and a dagger; perhaps corny, but fitting for him.

"Have you tried it?" His voice cuts through your thoughts.

"Tried what?"

"The bow."

A white cloud forms around your mouth as you nod. "Needed some getting used to, like you said."

Yesterday you had a hard time shooting a chipmunk you wanted for lunch, so you spent the early afternoon firing arrows at oaks until the new bow started to feel like an extension of your limbs again.

"Let me know if I need to adjust the string."

"Will do," you say, almost mumbling.

When you reach the familiar circle of trees, you bounce once on your toes and crack your knuckles. Ghost retrieves something from his pocket. A roll of gauze. It is tossed at you without warning, and your hands fumble to grab it. 

"Wrap up," he commands. "Your hands will thank you for it."

You look up at him, brows raised, but begin covering your palms and knuckles. When you're done, you throw the roll back to him. Ghost stretches his arms above his head and splays his feet into a firm stance, jerking his chin at you in a go-ahead motion. Your brows furrow as you try to understand what the fuck he's doing.

"Go on. Get ready."

"Um. Ready for what?"

"A little hand-to-hand."

Your mouth falls open. "What?"

He shrugs. "That's what you wanted, right? I think you're ready for it."

"That's not what I meant," you almost laugh, shaking your head. "I didn't mean I want to— to fight you. I just meant we don't have to stick to the basics."

"We won't." There is the slightest trace of amusement in his voice, so faint you wonder if it's even there. "You have ten seconds to get ready, Twix."

"I don't even—" you sputter, eyes flying open. If you weren't awake before, you are now. He seems completely serious, his hands in fists and his shoulders squared.

"Five."

"Oh, fuck me," you exhale, balling up your bandaged hands. Did he get you up at this hour so there was no chance of Blue joining? He didn't want her to watch him finally annihilate you? You don't think he would seriously hurt you, not after everything, but that doesn't mean your heart doesn't begin to thump wildly when the seconds are up. Neither of you makes the first move; you are focused on keeping yourself distant, and he is circling you like a predator, flicking his eyes along the length of you. 

"What the fuck is that stance? I could just tap you and you'd fall over." His amusement has faded. "Is that how I showed you to stand when chopping wood?"

You shake your head, teeth gritted, and fix it, spreading your boots against the soil. 

"Better."

Then, he's lunging. You forget everything about your stance and prance to the side like a skittish deer. There is a moment of relief when you successfully dodge him, only for it to abruptly end when he darts around your back and hooks an arm around your neck. Your heart skips over a beat. Holy shit is he fast. 

"Be aware of your surroundings at all times," he chastises against the top of your hair. His hold is not aiming to fully restrain you, so when you claw your nails into his arm, it loosens and you slip away, staggering three strides before facing him with your fists up.

"What's the point of raising your fists if you're not going to hit me?" Ghost circles you again, and you have to shift your feet to keep up with him. "Come on, nurse. Where should you aim?"

"You're too tall." Your chest heaves. "I... I can't reach your face or neck without you blocking."

"Use the height difference to your advantage. Reach places that I can't."

You pause to think about it, studying him.

Ghost almost growls. "Stop hesitating. I could have killed you by now."

A mix of annoyance and determination makes you leap forward, jabbing your knuckles at the part of him where you know his liver would be. He captures you by the elbow before the blow can land, and sends you stumbling to the side, a few wisps of hair cascading over your face.

"Liver. Not bad. I might've let you have it if you moved quicker."

A hiss leaves your lips as you whirl around and punch directly into his core this time. He allows the hit, but your knuckles ram into solid muscle instead of the vulnerable stomach you hoped for, and you recoil with a wave of your hand, cussing under your breath.

"You hurt yourself more than you hurt me."

"Well, should I just kick you in the dick then?" you retort without thinking, flexing your fingers. Luckily, the gauze absorbed most of the damage. 

"That's always an option."

His tone is serious, to the point that you almost give it a try, but then he's closing in on you again, sending you back to the defensive. He doesn't hold back. You run in circles and duck frantically, earning a few hits to your ribs. He doesn't use enough force to send you down to the ground, but enough to knock the wind out of you. Rapid breaths fire through your lungs and beads of sweat percolate your hairline. Ghost, on the other hand, appears unaffected.

"Fight back," he says in a mild voice; almost bored.

You nearly throw your arms up. "I would if you'd give me a fucking chance."

"You said not to coddle you."

"I'm aware. That doesn't mean you have to—"

Your spine suddenly meets something hard. A tree. He's backed you into it without you even realizing. When Ghost takes another swipe, you dip your head down and then use his recovery time to grab onto a branch and hoist yourself up.

You're barely perched upon it when a hand grips your ankle and drags you back down, an audible gasp reverberating in your chest as you land flat on your back with Ghost on top. His hand quickly cradles the back of your skull before it can crack on a hard tree root, while his other hand captures both of your wrists.

"You good?" Although he is the one who has you effectively pinned, his tone seems sincere. He scans your face from your forehead to your parted lips. 

"Just... peachy." 

His brows furrow. "What was your plan once you got up there?"

Labored breathing splinters your voice. "I didn't have much of a plan, really."

He speaks flatly. "I can tell."

"You had me cornered," you point out.

"You should have been—"

"Aware of my surroundings," you finish for him, exhaling deep through your nose. "I know."

Your eyes shift around, from his covered face to where his chest just barely presses into yours. It's all so close. Uncomfortably close. You can feel the steady pace of his heart against your sternum, and make out the faintest flecks of green in his eyes.

An ounce of fear and something else you can't quite discern balls up in your stomach, making you swallow. You've been pinned like this before and nearly had your face eaten. Ghost simply stares at you, as if waiting for you to make a move, but when you tug on your wrists, his grip doesn't relent.

"Could you... could you maybe get off of me?"

He shifts some weight off you, if only by a little. "Relax and think," he murmurs. "What are your options here?" The curve of his lips tightens before he adds, "Besides biting my nose off. I'd like to keep that for now."

With a sigh, your eyes slide up to the awakening sky. Hues of violet and orange stare down at you. "Do I... do I even have any options? You must weigh like a ton." The words are past your lips before you can shut your mouth. 

"You always have options." 

"Doesn't mean any of them will be effective," you say.

His eyes darken, and the green disappears. "Why do you do that?" 

"Um... do what?"

"Doubt yourself. After all that you have survived." He sounds irritated. 

"As if you haven't doubted me?" You can't help it; you scoff. "You told her I wouldn't come back that time I went on my own. I mean, I'm still weak, remember? No amount of chopping wood will make me as strong as you or those men who almost killed us."

"It's not about strength," he replies.

"That's easy for you to say," you wiggle your wrists for emphasis. "You have nothing to be afraid of. You were cut out for this shit from the start."

"I have everything to be afraid of." His eyes narrow, but his voice softens. "And so were you."

"Me?" Your voice slightly elevates, and a lick of anger curls within you. "I should be in grad school right now, or maybe I would've quit nursing and gone into something useless and hate my life, but I was never meant to kill anyone, let alone fight them. I was meant to be young and stupid and make mistakes. Now, if I make a fucking mistake, it will cost me my life." Your nostrils flare as you huff, sending a piece of hair flying up into his face, and you writhe beneath him. "Get off of me, Ghost."

But he doesn't.

Beats of silence linger in the small gap between your bodies.

You should feel embarrassed for saying all those things, but instead, you think about what he said:

Don't hesitate.

The ball inside you is a fiery mix of emotions that you usually try your damn hardest to ignore and break and shove away.

But now you let it spread through your body like a sizzling tide, from the tips of your fingers down to your toes and... to your knee. Before you can change your mind, you slam it upward as hard as you can into the apex of his groin. 

"Fuck," Ghost mutters, the only sign of any pain aside from the brief moment that he closes his eyes.

His hold loosens only by a little, but it's enough for you to slip out from under him and find your way back to your feet, your chest rising and falling.

He clears his throat after a moment and rises.

"Good." The two of you share a stare-off for a few seconds before he shakes his head, saying again: "Good, Twix. More of that."

You rip your gaze away from him, cheeks hot, and say nothing as you snatch the canister and bring it to your lips, but the water does little to cool you down. 

You shiver in the bitterness of twilight, your fingers red and numb, wishing for a pair of gloves. The fireflies are coming out, dots of luminescence darting around you. You swing the axe down again, throat raw as you grunt, and then you add the broken logs to the growing stack. Sudden light footsteps announce the end of your alone time. 

"It's me," Blue greets kindly. 

You drop the axe, hands feeling stiff, and turn to face her with a breathless smile. "Hey. What are you doing out here?"

"Checking on you. Ghost went hard on you this morning, huh?" she says with a sigh. "I could hear you guys. You were a bit... loud. Made it hard to sleep."

"Not too hard. I'm… I'm good." 

If she is unconvinced, she doesn't comment on it. Rather, she hugs you. A warm one. You return the embrace before she pulls away.

"I also came because I wanted to invite you to a bonfire."

"Bonfire?"

"Well, with all your..." her eyes flicker to the pile of logs you've conjured over the past hour. "...special workouts, we have a lot of wood now. I told Ghost to make a big fire outside and we can cook dinner over it. It'll be fun, come on. Ghost is making tea, too."

Soon enough, your sore fingers are tingling, holding a warm, ceramic mug of tea. Ghost chucks another bundle of wood into the fire, spitting out smoke and embers, and sits on a tree stump while Blue takes the folding chair. Your hair is down, tucked behind your ears, and a patchwork quilt Blue grabbed from her room lays across your lap. The mug burns pleasantly against your lips when you take a sip, the herbal taste sliding down your throat. Whatever plants he used to make it work together perfectly. It reminds you of the tea your mom used to make when you were sick.

"Do you like it more well-done or is this okay?" Blue asks, meticulously spinning the skewered squirrel meat over the fire.

"That's good, thank you."

Ghost cooks their dinner, and the three of you eat and sip in a comforting silence. You avoid looking at him, opting for the starry sky above your head, where bold stars beam even brighter than the fireflies. It's quite nice. When you're done, you toss the bones into the fire and listen to them splinter.

Blue breaks the silence. "Would you rather be burned alive or be attacked by a bunch of squirrels with rabies?"

You take another sip of tea. "How many squirrels, exactly?"

She taps her chin. "One hundred."

"I think if it were fifty, I could handle them. One hundred, probably not. I'll choose being burned."

She makes a face. "That is a terrible death."

"Most deaths are terrible."

"Fair enough. Ghost?"

For the first time since this morning, you steal a glance. His elbows rest upon his splayed knees, and the orange flames reflect in his eyes as if they were twin black, mirrors. "I could handle the squirrels."

She snorts a laugh. "Even you can't survive rabies, though."

He shrugs. "Takes some time to kill you."

"Let's play a different game," you interject. "Maybe something a little less... morbid tonight."

"Like what?" Blue chimes. 

You shrug indifferently. "What other ones do you know?"

"Not that many. You tell us one, Twix."

"Well, I know one good one. You have to act something out and then we'll guess what it is. But you can't talk."

"Oh, that's easy."

"Try it, then," you nod at her.

She leaps up from the chair, nearly spilling her tea in the process. Without hesitation, she puts on a stoic expression and begins shooting finger guns. Quiet laughter shakes your shoulders.

"Are you, um... Ghost?" you guess, making her throw her arms up.

"How did you guess so quickly?"

"It was a bit obvious."

"Not to me," Ghost murmurs. "Terrible impression, kid."

Across the fire, you glance at him again, and his eyes meet yours, reminding you of the events that took place and the words that you spat. Emotions pulse against your ribs, like a swarm of flickering fireflies, but you fail to catch and examine any of them. 

A tug on your arm ends the shared look. Tea splatters around the rim of your mug as Blue ushers you up. "Your turn now."

"Alright, alright."

You decide not to feel humiliated with both pairs of eyes on you. They've both seen much stranger things than you act out a squirrel, which must be a good impression because Ghost guesses it right away.

A sudden crack of lightning in the distance puts an end to the game before Ghost can have a turn, which you suspect he is pleased about. He puts out the fire just before clouds roll in, blocking out the stars, and a drizzle of rain begins. Back inside, you kick off your boots and sink to the sofa as Blue says goodnight. Once she’s in her room, Ghost pauses in the threshold of the hall and speaks over his shoulder.

"Get some sleep. You'll need it for tomorrow, even if it's raining.”

[kaijutegu]

So. Now that she's home and safe and gonna be ok, I can talk about this.

I almost lost Kaiju. Christmas Day. I was woken up by a phone call from Allison, who will be referred to a LOT in this story. Allison runs the pet store where I board Kaiju. She called to tell me that Kaiju had lost a LOT of blood. (As it turns out, half her blood volume. Humans die when we lose 40%, just so you know. She lost 50%.)

There were no visible injuries, and she had passed a bloody stool. Or rather, a blood clot with some poop in it. She continued to pass only blood when they put her in the bathtub to clean her up. If I'd taken her anywhere else, that... would have been it, probably.

But Allison is an actual miracle worker and knew an emergency vet who was open- on Christmas Day- and could see reptiles. As soon as she called me, she took her to the e vet, where they gave her fluids and oxygen and got her stable. They did some x rays and found... nothing.

In fact, the e vet actually complimented me on her bone density and how nice her toe joints look. Whatever this mysterious haemorrhage was, it was in the soft tissue.

The immediate thoughts were:

Impaction

Cancer invading an artery

Aneurism

Reproductive issues

However, the emergency vet couldn't figure it out, and my vet was out of the country. The e vet consulted with a lot of vets and it was decided she'd go into Chicago Exotics for care the next day- they were willing to see her on immediate notice. Allison drove her over and they did an ultrasound... and couldn't differentiate the mass they found.

So, exploratory surgery it was.

But... she didn't have enough blood for that. She wouldn't have survived... if Allison hadn't found blood for her. Tegu donors were found, the transfusion happened, and was completely successful.

And what the surgery found was completely unexpected. No cancer. No repro issues. No typical impaction.

Instead? Weird white things in her muscles and a partial impaction that seems to be related to a reduction in her ability to properly digest. There are two possible diagnoses at this point. One is visceral gout. This is very strange because in reptiles, articular gout basically always happens first, and her kidneys are fine.

The other option? Weird, potentially cross species parasite she picked up when she was in the Everglades. Something she's likely had all her life, something that was dormant until recently.

I'll know when the pathology report comes back in a week or so.

Anyways! She is doing very well. She is alert and interested in things. She has an incredible appetite, even though she can't have solid food yet. She's on three meds, including one I have to inject. At her three week recheck, we will add a fourth- either the correct anti-parasitic or a medication to improve kidney function, depending on the diagnosis. Currently she's in a hospital cage and she hates it- she can't have any substrate because of the stitches.

The vet says it should take about three months until she makes her full blood volume. Her pack cell count should be at 35%. It was at 7% on the 26th. But by the 28th, it was at 10%. She's gonna be ok. She's tough. My little girl is a fighter, always has been. You have to be scrappy to survive in the wild.

And throughout this entire experience, everybody has told me how lovely her personality is. Through the injections and cloacal probing and everything, she never bit or even tried to. The vet didn't think she even wanted to bite. Like it wasn't a question of wanting to bite and not being strong enough- it's just not something in her behavioural repertoire. She doesn't bite because she doesn't want to. Because even at her most scared, at her most painful, she's still Kaiju, the best tegu to ever live. Love is stored in the tegu, and it continues to be stored in the tegu. We have a long road ahead of us, but she's out of the woods and is going to be ok. We both are.

Also, consider this a MAJOR plug for Curious Creatures in Chicago. I'm never going to board my animals anywhere else.

[acotarxreader]

Stress Relief

Azriel X Reader

Synopsis: Working for the Night Court has become near impossible with Azriel determined to drive you out the door but can a camping trip arranged by Rhys smooth things over.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut, frenemies to lovers, lots of dialogue, if you see a typo no you didn't

A/N: Hehe this kinda long but I wanted to keep the chaos to one part. I'm finding writing since Other Worlds a bit stressy so I think posting this nonsense will help with that and we can return to out regularly scheduled programming. Let me know what you think!

Requests open! (I am working on your Cass request if you see this anon👀 )

----------------------------------------------------------------

“YN you need to fucking relax”

“I suggest that you keep quiet Azriel if you'd like to keep your head attached to your shoulders” Azriel rolled his eyes at you from the couch as you paced up and down, trusty list in hand. 

“I’m just saying you’ll give yourself a heart attack”

“Hey! Do you want me to add your name to this list!”

“Az would only want to be on it if it's your To Do list” A pillow flew from alongside Azriel right at Cassian as he howled. 

“I’ll relax once we get there”

“Why do you get so fucking neurotic when it comes to travelling?”

“Why are you so fucking anno-”

“Okay okay stop it you too! We promised Feyre no fighting on Rhy’s big camping trip, she’s already upset Elain won’t come, just don’t add to her stress” You and Azriel groaned like scolded children at Cassian’s words. You counted the bags again, checking off your list as you went. Azriel stood to grab his bag, coming chest to chest with you before pushing past.

“I’m flying ahead because I can’t be around her uptight ass anymore”

“Aw you look at my ass” you smiled sarcastically as Cassian laughed in the background. 

-

You all finally arrived deep within the woods of the Night Court, luggage crashing down around the group. You couldn’t stop thinking that you had forgotten everything, glancing from the list to the pile repeatedly, your friends happily unpacking. The night had already begun to creep in, Azriel and you delaying the group by fighting about which was the fastest route to take. You busied yourself fixing up some of the tents as Azriel dug through the pile of bags in search of his own. 

“YN, what’s the plan for us sleeping together?”

“Excuse me?” you deadpaned to Azriel. 

“Sor-Sorry I meant the plan for sleeping?” he quickly corrected himself, his shadows doing their best to cover his rosie cheeks. 

“Well, Feyre & Rhysand, Cassian & Nesta, Amren & Mor and then I guess you and Lucien and then I get my own tent” you beamed, shaking a sleeping bag from its case. 

“Funny how that worked out isn't it” he remarked and you rolled your eyes but the group agreed to the sleeping arrangements, with further prodding for Lucien to agree. 

You gathered around the fire, feasting on the fire-roasted food Cassian did his best not to cremate, trading life stories in pure unadulterated ease, everything Rhysand had wanted for this trip. You swaddled yourself deeply into your sleeping bag as the fire began to sink beneath its tinder. 

“Do you regret leaving Summer Court for us YNN?” 

“I think I love the Night Court more than I ever could Summer” You smiled in reply to Cassian, your eyes flashing to Rhysand briefly before he launched into his favourite Tarquin story, Azriel noticing the fleeting glance seemingly tinged with an element of sadness. 

“You like it even though being an emissary to the Seasonal Courts clearly makes you want to pull your hair from your head?” Azriel whispered to you. 

“You and your antics are the only thing that causes me to do that, I seriously think you need a refresher training on diplomacy” you bit back to his sharp whisper. You had shared the job with Lucien but soon found yourself taking on the brunt of the work as Lucien was lost in Elain.

“You need to stop being so uptight seriously, I think you need to be fucked or something, anything to get you to relax” Your head whipped towards him, the group laughing at Rhysand's story, choosing to ignore the two of you, assuming it was an argument. You huffed out in disgust at Azriel, he watched your chest release the full capacity of air from your lungs before taking another deep breath. You shuffled slightly in the sheet, wrapping the sleeping bag tighter around yourself and facing back towards the fire. It was then Azriel realised he was fully staring at your chest. 

“I didn't…I didn't mean that I want to be the one to….fuck you…I meant …” 

“Just stop talking Az” you scoffed, choosing to listen to Rhysand instead as Azriel mentally cursed himself for losing his edge over you. The fire sank until it went out, the laughter from the group lighting the forest. 

“Okay, it's like 2am, time for bed kids especially if we’re going for the hike tomorrow” Rhysand stood, pulling a sleepy Feyre to her feet. The group said their good nights as you climbed into your canvas home. You stretched along the fabric floor and sank into sleep easily, tired from the day as you balled up in your opened-out sleeping bag. 

-

“Hey! YNN! Wake up!” 

“I swear to the Gods you better be a super polite Naga about to rip my head off otherwise you’ll wish you were” you breathed out without opening your eyes, the sound of your tent zip worse than a blaring alarm to your sleepy state. 

“It’s Az, I need to sleep in here, push over” he collapsed next to you without invitation, your hand sailing outwards to clock him flat into the chest with a thud. 

“Az, what the fuck? It's like 3am, get the fuck out we’re not braiding one another's hair!” you whisper-shouted at him while you sat up. 

“Lucien is snoring like he’s trying to deafen me and I don’t fancy interrupting Mor and Amrens beauty sleep and as for the mates, I don’t need to explain why I don’t want to go in there” you sighed at him as he gave you a look that said he wasn’t going anywhere. You sank back into the canvas, Azriel pulling the sleeping bag from you. 

“Az” you bit out. 

“I’m not going to freeze to death because you’re a blanket thief”

“You’re going to find yourself on the other side of the zip if you don’t go to sleep” you said, rolling into the slack of the sleeping bag, pulling it fully from Azriel. He almost grunted at the action, catching the end and whipping it from under you, sending you rolling into the wall of the tent. 

“Az!” you barked and he raised his hands up in surrender. You sank beneath the cover again, moving closer to Azriel to spread the sleeping bag more evenly. Azriels eyes fixed on the mesh vents on the tent roof, the sound of the night filling the tent.

“Do you ever think you’ll go back to the Summer Court?” Azriel broke the silence that filled the tent, you sighed before replying. 

“If you keep being a prick then maybe” you deflected the question successfully.

“I’m a prick because I care” You laughed at his joking tone, rolling to your side to face him more, hands tucked in under your cheek. 

“As much stress as you and Cass and your antics cause me, which is a lot might I add, I would find it very hard to leave you freaks” you half laughed, eyes still heavy. 

“We’d miss you” he admitted

“I mean who would keep your secrets from one another if not me” you teased. 

“What secrets?” you tapped the side of your nose lazily and Azriel nudged you slightly in annoyance at your grin. 

“Fine fine emmm.... Cass is the one who told all those females in the Rita's where to find you when you were home” you yawned into a light laugh. Azriel felt annoyance grow in him at this revelation, that had caused him months of being harassed by all sorts from every walk of life. 

“I swear I’m going t-”

“Just leave it Shadowsinger” you gave a small laugh, grabbing his hand as he went to leave the nest you’d both made, pulling him back down and forgetting to let go, you lost your fight to sleep then, entirely drifting back off. Azriel glanced at you sleeping peacefully next to him and found himself surprised at enjoying holding your hand beneath the sleeping bag. 

Azriel stayed awake for half an hour, staring up at the canvas above him, torn between the growing pain in his shoulder and not wanting to let go of your hand. The nerves felt like they were screaming as the muscles went dead in his arm, an idea coming to him. He quickly rolled towards you while releasing your hand and grabbing the other but he greatly misjudged the distance, sending his head straight into yours. You almost immediately dropped his hand to place it on the bump growing on your head, Azriel feeling regret for waking you but more so for letting you go. 

“You're such a freak Shadowsinger” You laughed half asleep before rolling in closer to him and draping your arm across his waist, pulling yourself closer to him softly, resting your head between the pillow and his chest. Azriel felt such an unfamiliar level of comfort at the movement but also a new level of confusion. 

You moved from next to him then, leaning on your elbow to prop yourself up and look at him as puzzled as he looked at you. 

“Sorry I-I don't know why I did that”

“Emm it’s okay YN…it was actually kinda comfortable…I’m ok-ay if you’re okay with it” he spoke the words with caution and you found a sigh of relief leave you that you didn’t know you had. You rolled away from Azriel to face the tent wall, his face slightly greying with nerves, had he been vulnerable to the wrong person? He braced for your rejection only for it not come, instead you shuffled slightly down and laid your back flat into his chest. Azriel cautiously moved his arm across your waist, only to have you catch hold of his hand and move it across faster, forgetting to release his hand again. 

Azriel nestled his chin on top of your head, pulling you in as close as he could as you both tangled your legs together. He felt so entirely comforted by how close you were to him…too close he thought suddenly. He shuffled in the bed a little to try to hide the part of him betraying any sense of secrecy he had about his changing feelings towards you. You just moved back to where you were, leaving him no place to hide. Azriel felt your whole body smirk against him as you traced little circles along the back of his hand with your thumb, he hated how you were winning. 

“You’re not hard for me to read Azriel” he definitely heard the smirk from you. He refused to let you win, he tried to push the embarrassment from his voice before speaking again-

“Well I hardly think that's surprising, I already told you what I think needs to happen for you to relax” he barely whispered, your body's turn to stiffen in the bed alongside him, he smiled with the point he won. 

Azriel slowly moved to hover his mouth above your neck, both so still in the movement that he could almost see the hairs on your neck stand on their end. He gave little thought to his next movement, now acting on his instinct as he met your neck almost painfully softly. He kissed you there until you found your neck flexing to allow him more access. A betraying soft moan of approval escaped you as Azriel smiled into the nips he gave you, gaining a further point advantage. 

You couldn’t let him hold the win for long as you began to push yourself into his growing length, a low growl escaping him before he reburied himself in your neck, more feverishly this time. Your hand wrapped tighter around his as you began to grind into him, encouraging him further. You rolled onto your back, Azriel now almost hovering over you and moved without thinking. He leaned down and met his lips with yours. Electric, you were electrifying one another. This night was going further than you both thought it would. Sex was one thing but kissing someone like that and feeling such overwhelming desire as a result was another thing. You both separated almost surprised at the waves of confusion mixed with yearning. 

“I-I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have…” Azriel didn’t know what he was saying, almost begging you with his eyes to say anything. 

“I-” you were cut off by the sound of Lucien's loud sneeze from across the fire pit causing you both to almost jump. It hit you both then what you were about to do, with all your friends mere metres away. 

“Night Azriel” was all you found yourself saying before rolling back to face the wall of the tent, not taking his arm with you. Azriel cursed in his head before lying back down on the canvas. He didn’t sleep for the rest of the night, the thought of what could have been controlling his thoughts. He didn’t think you were asleep either but didn’t challenge you on it, what had you both done?

-

You rolled over to find the space next to you empty as the sun leaked in the thin canvas the next morning. You ran your hands down your face, cursing your actions from the night previous. You got dressed haphazardly, removing a mirror from your pack to braid your hair back, your eyes falling on deep maroon markings on the side of your neck. You traced them gently with your fingertips, a small smile escaping you at the memory. 

“YN! Get up! We’re leaving in 10” Cassian's voice accompanied him banging on the top of your tent, chasing your smile away. You ran your hands through the loose braid, separating it out again to cover the evidence of your lapse in judgment. 

You hauled yourself out through the soft door once you were dressed to find your friends all laughing at one of Cassian's stories, ready and waiting for you to set off. Your eyes landed on Azriel as he tilted his head back laughing before his eyes met yours, he almost instantly tore them from you and looked back to Cassian. 

-

The group set off bounding along the mountain in total ease, Nesta winding Rhysand up ahead of you and Cassian. 

“So YN…you gonna tell me why Az won’t look at you?” 

“How am I supposed to read that pain in the ass’s mind?” you replied almost too quickly to him as he raised an eyebrow, catching your hand and helping you up a steeper part of the path. You looked at the back of Azriel’s head ahead of you as he lead the group along the path to the waterfall. 

“Hmm likely story YN and tell me why I could have sworn I heard Az leave your tent this morning?” he couldn’t bury the teasing tone as you sighed. 

“Lucien was snoring so Azriel just stayed in my tent, no big deal” You could see the thoughts race through Cassian’s grinning face, you tilted your head slightly forward, ensuring the truth was still covered by your hair. 

“Interesting, I don’t know Lucien to be a snorer” He gave a small laugh as you raised your eyebrow, only getting a playful shake of the Illyrian's head in return. A sudden slap of mud met the side of Cassian's face. 

“That’s for Rita’s!“ Azriel shouted back the path, his hand having just released the ball of mud. 

“You told him YN!” Cassian’s head snapped to you as you howled with laughter.

“Must have slipped out?” you tried your best to lie, only to have the broad male throw you over his shoulder as you screamed in hysterics. He ran with you, the group all roaring laughing as they followed. You suddenly couldn’t feel Cassian under you as he flung you from his arms, landing with a splash into the large lake. 

“Cassian! I’m going to kill you!” you shrieked, the cold water bursting through you sending power coursing. You sent a tendril of water, playfully pulling Cassian from where he stood straight into the water alongside you, the group following suit in fits of laughter, leaving Azriel to watch from the rocks. Azriels eye caught the slight glimpse of his handiwork beneath your soaked hair, a pang of pride beating through him then replaced by panic. A shadow met the side of your face, draping your hair back to cover the markings. You looked towards Azriel and found yourself laughing at the action, he returned a smile. 

-

After a day of hiking and swimming and being a bunch of fools, you all came back to the campsite ready to feast on whatever you could scrounge up. 

“Okay everyone, it’s time to announce the reason behind this little trip” Rhysand announced to his family gathered around the roaring fire. 

“Well, as you know, YN has been with us now for some months now-”

“Unfortunately” you hit Azriel into the chest at his sarcasm.

“Anyways-” Rhysand threw a warning glance “-YN has helped to negotiate many our trade agreements and cleaned up many of our messes-” Cassian raised a glass to you at Rhysands words, the group laughing “-But anyway, I’m sorry to announce that I have failed as your High Lord in convincing her to stay with us” the group turned to face you in almost shock. 

“I know everyone I said-”

“-You said you wouldn’t leave” Azriel cut across you, semblances of pain dripping from his quick words. 

“I know Az but-”

“-No, you said you wouldn’t leave” his words turned to tones of anger, the group looking amongst themselves, feeling as though they were intruding. 

“Yes but Az, I’m needed at home, they’re still recovering from Amarantha and Tarquin needs m-”

“-But I- I mean we need you!” He stood from the log to look down at you, your sad eyes meeting his. Suddenly aware of the scene he was making he dissolved into shadow as you tried to call after him. 

“I better go-”

“No Cass, I'll go” you winnowed out of the clearing. 

-

Azriel crashed into his room in the House of Wind. Mixtures of emotions spinning in his head like the shadows around his heels. 

“Az” he whipped around to see you stood with your hands up chest level in surrender. 

“Here to pack your bags?” he chewed out. 

“Oh fuck off Azriel, don’t actually pretend you want me to stay” you matched his tone. 

“And why do you say that?” he snapped back.

“Because you’re the reason I’m leaving!” he took a small step back in shock at your sharp admission. He sat down on the edge of his bed, brow furrowing in thought. 

“What have I done to you?”

“What haven’t you done!? You go out of your way to make my job difficult, every motion I put forward you try to shoot down, you’re constantly following me watching every move I make waiting me to fuck up! Now you have what you want, I’m leaving!” you paced up and down in front of him, releasing the tension you held in your shoulders. 

“I don’t want you to leave” he sounded almost offended that you thought so. 

“What?”

“You really think I want you to leave…especially after last night” he stood from the bed, stepping in front of you to stop your pacing.

“I thought that especially after last night you’d want me to leave” You half laughed.

“At least I guess I’ve given you something to remind you of me” he gave the smallest smile, his hand sweeping your hair off your shoulder to look at his busy work as you felt yourself blush.

“Don’t leave YN, who would I play with?”

“Cass maybe” you grinned, something seemingly darkening in his eyes. 

“I don’t want to fuck him” he breathed out.

“That’s not what Rhys told me” You laughed again before noticing his serious eyes. 

“Please don’t leave me YN”

“And what will I tell Tarquin?” you chuckled, unsure what to do with Azriels edgy tone. His hand found yours, hazel eyes fixated on you.

"Tell him you're preoccupied" "With what exactly" he moved closer to you with your words ever so slightly rattling out of you.

“Az if we kiss…this might become more than what either of us wants”

"What if its what we both want?" he was mere millimetres from you now, unable to fight against this magnetic force pulling you forward. Something bubbling between you both, the electricity coursing through the space between you both again as you kissed so sweetly. Your eyes snapped open to find his eyes meeting yours, gently pulling back from one another. Mate. Mate. Mate.

“YN- you’re my-”

“-Mate” you breathed while looking at him with such unadulterated love. Azriel burst into laughter with you following suit.

“Now you really can’t leave me”

“How convenient” you smiled, running your hands through your hair, Azriel tracing the bitemark's outline with his heated gaze.

“Care for some stress relief YN?” Azriels hands went straight for your hips, the feeling of the small calluses meeting your soft sides sent pulses down you both. He met your neck, the same place he had last night, cupping his hands beneath your lower legs and lifting you from the ground, your legs wrapped around his waist

“Why can't I keep away from you?” You breathed, the hairs on Azriel’s neck standing on their end.

“Why does that make me so happy?” Was all he could manage before reconnecting to your neck. Azriel carried you to the bed before throwing you down and closely following in pursuit. You knotted your fingers through his hair and forced down the moan trying to escape at the pleasure of having him nip you. You tugged his hair until he pulled from you to face you.

“I want all of you”

Azriel cautiously lowered his mouth to yours until they met again. Much like the first time electricity coursed through both of you but unlike the last time, neither pulled away, only growing hungrier.

You could feel him hardening against your thigh, no longer able to fight the little victory you were going to give him, you moaned gently. He smirked hard into the kiss before it became more feverish. Your hand ran across him beneath the fabric of his trousers, his turn to groan.

“You're wearing too many clothes” he rasped as you smirked and pulled your shirt from over your head, he gently caught your jaw as he kissed along it. 

“I want revenge for these” you smirked, wrapping your leg into his side to flip him so you straddled him on top. Your teeth grazed his neck with heat as he sat up in the bed with you on his lap. He pulled his shirt from over his head, his hands replacing on your hips to support you, his groaning encouraging you on.

“Enough teasing YN, I need you” he said darkly, flipping you onto your back and yanking your trousers free from your legs to discard them. Azriel kissed you sweetly before moving down the shape of your body, peppering kisses along the trail to your entrance. You felt your legs begin to tremble under his touch, begging for more as his fingers began to play with your clit, your hands tangling in his hair with a moan. 

“You’re so ready for me YN, its intoxicating” he began to kiss around you and slowly his fingers began to move in and out while he sucked your clit. You felt the tension build in your abdomen, the greatest realess you ever had just a few movements away until he stopped entirely. You looked down between your legs to meet his eyes as he moved to hover above you again, discarding his own trousers in the process. 

“You’re so beautiful YNN” Your hand met the side of his face softly before pulling him back down into a searing kiss. Your fingers began to drag up and down his bear back before tracing the spines of his wings as they began to splay in their relaxed state. 

“Is that okay Azriel?” you whispered watching his eyes close with the building pleasure. 

“Nothing has ever been more okay” he leaned his head towards your hand, taking the waves of pleasure in his stride before lowering back down to meet you sweetly. 

Azriel slowly then began to enter you, you both almost meeting your release at the feeling. He slowly began to drag in and out as the sensation grew with its addictive nature, he increased his speed, spurred on by your hitching breath. The pressure growing and growing and growing, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your back arched until the band snapped sending you into overdrive as every nerve in your body stood to attention and then exploded. You practically screamed his name sending him over the edge, returning the sentiment by moaning your name, collapsing next to you while riding out his high. 

“I had no idea how much I needed to hear you say my name like that YN” Azriel finally found some composure to rasp out, his arm wrapping around you, pulling you in. You tried not to cringe in embarrassment as you buried a laugh into his chest. 

“Don’t go shy on me now” he laughed, kissing the top of your head. You rolled onto your elbows to look into his eyes as they lit up for you. You hauled the duvet up around you, leaving a small corner for Azriel to tug at.

“Why must I be mated to a blanket thief?”

“Why must I be mated to a pain in the ass?”

-------------------------------------------------

Whatcha think friends!

[bookished]

( a collection of fun and adventurous dialogue prompts. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post <𝟑 if you like, please consider supporting me through tips, it's highly appreciated.

"Want to try sneaking into the movie theater?"

"There's this exclusive sky bar on the top floor. I bet if we act confident enough, we could just walk right in. Ready to blend in with the high rollers?"

"You know the 'Staff Only' areas in aquariums always look so intriguing. I've got an idea involving lab coats and clipboards. Interested?"

"There's a secret passage in this art gallery that leads to a hidden exhibit. I overheard the curator talking about it. Shall we go exploring?"

"I've always wanted to see a movie from the theater's projection room. I've got a friend who works here – you get what I mean?"

"So, that exclusive restaurant is fully booked for months, but I may have 'borrowed' a couple of names from the reservation list. Feeling adventurous?"

"The old amusement park's been closed for years, but I know a way in. Imagine having all those rides to ourselves under the moonlight."

"I heard there's an underground speakeasy in this library. Apparently, you need to whisper a password to the librarian. Wanna try our luck?"

"Remember that fancy pool party we weren't invited to? I've got two waiter uniforms and a brilliant plan. You in?"

"There's a secret rooftop garden on top of that skyscraper. I bet we could talk our way past security if we pretend to be lost interns."

"I know this sounds crazy, but I found a hidden door behind the museum. Want to see where it leads after closing time?"

"The local TV station does live broadcasts from that studio. I bet with the right timing, we could sneak onto a set during a commercial break. Ready for your 15 seconds of fame?"

"I discovered a hidden hot spring in the woods just outside town. It's a bit of a hike, but imagine a midnight dip under the stars."

"There's a secret room in the library that's usually locked. I copied the key while volunteering. Want to see what forbidden books they're hiding?"

"Remember that fancy cooking class that was full? Well, I may have found a way for us to observe from the kitchen's back entrance. Hungry for some culinary espionage?"

"I know how to get onto the roof of the tallest building downtown. The view of the sunset from up there is incredible. Shall we?"

"There's a masquerade ball at the governor's mansion tonight. I've got two masks and a wild idea. Care to crash a high-society party?"

"My friend works at the zoo and says we could help feed the penguins after closing time. Interested in a secret animal encounter?"

"I heard this old theater is supposedly haunted. Want to sneak in after hours and do some ghost hunting?"

"There's a secret beach hidden behind those cliffs. The catch? We'll have to climb down a rope ladder to reach it. You up for it?"

"I found an old map of the city's underground tunnels. Fancy a subterranean adventure date?"