#ive been laughing about this all morning help

[ellecdc]

hi! ive been reading for a while and i looked at the prompt list you posted, maybe you could do grumpy!reader with sirius and the prompt "don't worry, i won't tell anyone that my big bad partner/roomate/xyz is afraid of a little thunder."

hehehe, thank you for the prompt!

Sirius Black x roommate!reader who's apparently afraid of thunder [813 words]

CW: grumpy!roommate, reader's gender is not specified, fluff

Sirius swore to all that was holy he could actually feel his heart in his throat. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

“With me?” You hissed; your usual venom dimmed on account of a tightness in your throat Sirius couldn’t place. “How the fuck are you sleeping right now!?”

“Uhm, because it’s sodding three in the morning?” He all but sneered back at you - his cantankerous roommate - as you stood right in front of him like a creepy little ghoul that crawled out of the TV to haunt him. 

He never did get to hear your volleying quip, though, when Sirius’ bedroom was illuminated by a white, bright flash before the two of you were plummeted back into darkness, a menacing BOOM following it that saw you actually squeaking in fear.

“Oh shit, is there a storm?” He deduced as he rubbed sleep from his eyes, hearing you scoff derisively. 

“‘Is there a storm’ he asks,” you muttered, “how could you sleep through all of that?” 

“I’m like one of those horses that people had to ‘break’,” he explained breezily, “I’ve been thoroughly desensitised to loud noises.” 

Even in the low light, Sirius thought he could see your brows furrow, but they hiked right back up when a strike of lightning lit the room up in anticipation for the upcoming crack of thunder.

“Oh my god!” Sirius nearly squealed with delight, laughing when you violently flinched at the boom. “Are you afraid of storms!?” 

“This is not sodding funny, Black.” You barked, though the end of your sentence dragged out into a pitiful moan. 

 James had long been telling Sirius to kick you out for your rather poor attitude and lack of personability, but though that might have been a dealbreaker for someone as perpetually lovely as James, Sirius found you were sort of the ideal roommate. You were clean, you were quiet, you rarely had friends over, you paid your bills on time, and you (hardly) ever complained when Sirius helped himself to some of your leftovers. 

“Okay, okay, sorry. You’re right, you shaking like a leaf over the sound of air expanding and contracting rapidly is absolutely not funny.” He deadpanned. “What would you like me to do about it, though? I can’t exactly tell the sky to sod off?”

You stared at him for a few moments; your blanket wrapped tightly around yourself as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other before coming to some decision.

“Budge over.”

“I beg your pardon?” Sirius asked incredulously, though you were already lifting the corner of his duvet; goosebumps rising on his skin as the cool air hit his bare chest.

“It’s either you let me in, or you tell the sky to sod off.” You offered then, the two of you staring each other down before Sirius let out a sigh and moved over to accommodate you.

The two of you were quiet as you settled into Sirius’ bed; your own blanket still wrapped tightly around you and Sirius’ blanket draped on top, though he could still feel you wince with every flash of lightning and subsequent roll of thunder.

“For fuck’s- come here.” He grumbled, roughly grabbing a fistful of your blanket in one hand and your wrist in the other and all but wrestling you into a little spoon position.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Giving either of us a fighting chance at actually getting sleep; you’re shifting the bed halfway across the room every time you jump out of your skin.” Sirius muttered into your hair; you smelled warm and sweet. It felt like an oxy-moron to think that about you. 

“I am not shifting the bed, nor am I jumping out of my skin.” You argued rather petulantly after a beat of silence, though Sirius noticed your body relax against his.

“Are too; now you’re going to know I don’t hoover under my bed often enough.”

You snorted. “I already know you don’t hoover under your bed enough; when was the last time you hoovered your room?”

Sirius remained silent.

“Where do we store the hoover?” You continued, and Sirius could actually hear the shit-eating grin on your face.

“Listen, if you’re only in here to take the piss, you can go wait out the storm in your own room.” He grumbled, and though he felt a laugh vibrate through your body, you did relent on your teasing. 

“And don’t worry,” Sirius added with a shit eating grin of his own, “I won’t tell anyone that my big bad roommate is afraid of a little thunder.” 

“I know where you sleep, Black.” You muttered, Sirius hummed hungrily.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, gorgeous.”

“Git.”

“Scaredy cat.”

“I’ll show you where the hoover is tomorrow.” You declared then, and the last sound between the two of you was Sirius’ bark of laughter.

[ryuuseini]

Reiji: I'm trans(gender)

Kaz: cool, you're trans(continental)

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: TOJI

A/N: You’re booked. Busy. Filled to the brim with board meetings. Then your car decides to stop functioning. There’s one mechanic shop open and somehow they seem to only hire God’s sweetest eye candy. One of which keeps getting stuck in the back of your throat. Uh—I mean—

S/N: Toji Mother-Fucking (literally) Fushiguro. Idk why it took me so long to feature this green-eyed monster but I am foaming at the mouth for this AU, him, and his lil vampy co-worker. Toji girlies, can’t WAIT to rush Toji Tau Sigma this fall 🙂‍↕️

C/W: ….he’s his own CW. Mature, 18+. MDNI. 

Art credit: yashaliart_01 on insta

Music: for the love of God if you don’t listen to Obsessed x Mariah Carey I’m calling the coast guard. Reader wants to pretend Toji is not her newest vice so BAD. Ive never laughed so hard and been so painfully turned on writing a piece. SOMEONE tell me not to make this a series RN.

“Can I get a little help here?”

Toji grabs the rag nestled in the back pocket of his heavy work cargos. Charcoal ink stains the fabric. 

Bugatti engines are such a bitch. And make a mess like one too. 

“Hello? Am I talking to a wall or..?”

And just like that, you’ve earned yourself a few more seconds of silence. 

The mechanic’s Evergreen gaze and satisfied smirk peer back at him in the mirror. Not even a second passes before you ensnare him in your fiery scrutiny. 

Ahh, yes. Just his type. 

You are mean. 

With a sexy fucking silhouette. An angry merlot painted on those beautiful, pouted lips. A fresh manicure and keys to your Benz dig into hips that have definitely stopped traffic. 

The mirror image isn’t enough of a bite. Toji needs a real taste, so he turns around to lock eyes with his new favorite unsatisfied customer. 

“Mornin, doll.” 

“Nice of you to grace me with your presence! I was starting to think no one worked here.” 

Melodramatic, the way you narrow your gaze to bring his name tag into focus. It’s hot, though. All this sarcasm and irritation. 

“—Toji? Is it?” You hiss venom. Clearly there’s a point you’re in a hurry to make. 

But..

it’s 7:13 AM on a lovely Monday morning.  Birds are singing. The Red Bull he just downed was particularly delicious. Life is good, right now. 

Toji has all the time in the world. 

He’s in no rush. Especially when a stunning, uptight, bratty little thing — sorry, career woman — like you woke up and chose him to be your personal punching bag. 

And he’s built to take hits. From fists much, much larger than yours, gorgeous.  

“Toji, it is. What can I do for you, darlin?” 

And he knew that sweet, innocent pet name would dump diesel fuel all over those pretty flames. 

You ramble off your full name as if he is going to use it. By the time he’s through with you, you won’t have any use for it either. 

His name, though. You’ll have plenty use for his name. 

“…and when the stupid thing turns on this morning, the dash light won’t turn off.” 

Toji lands on earth just in time to clasp the car keys shoved into his chest. You’re gawking at him. Expecting a fury of motion and urgency. Because your charming little fingers demand it. 

So accustomed to time stopping and starting on your watch, aren’t you? 

“You’re so pretty.” Toji responds with a shit eating grin. 

Just for the huffing and puffing you’re currently displaying. Sputtering about how unprofessional he is. And how much work you have to get done. 

Adorable. 

Toji slips past your disdain and makes his way to the front door. Matte black G-Wagon with a champagne interior. The vision of you behind the wheel, scowling at traffic, in your tailored dress and stilettos makes his cock twitch. 

“She’s a beauty.” He calls from the driver seat. 

“That’s why I bought it. Can you please pick up the pace a little?”

Both arms are folded across your chest, eyes rolling at his wasted breath stating the obvious. 

You’re going to look phenomenal when he has those defiant arms pinned above your head. He’ll diminish those daggers in your eyes to tears. And make those puffy lips whimper for mercy. 

Toji will have you begging him to pick up the pace in no time. Your snarky comment was just a test run. 

The mechanic lets out a low chuckle, his eyes scan the dash for the source of your apparent distress. 

The tire pressure gauge. 

Really, gorgeous? This is why you’re screwed so tightly this morning? 

It should take approximately 3 minutes to fix. But there’s no way Toji is letting you slip away from his skilled fingers so easily. Not when you need to be unwound.

Unraveled bit by bit until you’re a warm, sweet, puddle of manners and gratitude. 

“Alright, babydoll—“

“My name is—“

“I’ll have my guys get to workin on it, sweetheart.” 

He can play this game all day. You scoff. Temporarily placated by his promise of a fix. 

“It’s an all day job, though.” Toji’s right hand man comes into view. 

The only other guy in the shop (on the planet) to get as much play as he does without meaning to. 

Women are insane about his stupid, empty-headed, love-drunk stare. And the purple rings around his eyes like the last time he got sleep was in his mother’s womb. Always giggling and asking about “the hot one with the pigtails” and “the pretty one with the tattoo on his nose.”

If he were a less confident man, Toji would’ve called someone else over. But the kid gets his antics. 

And today is going to be stuffed with them. 

“Choso! Can you take this beauty to the back for repair?” 

Dracula’s first born is sporting his hair down today. Already a bit damp from work. He gives you a once over, then offers a smile that evaporates underwear off of women. 

“Happy to. Which beauty am I taking to the back?”

“Ha, quit your lover boy shit.” Toji teases, and you sneer at his hypocrisy. 

“The car, big guy. Have it ready by 5:00, yeah?”

“5:00 pm?” You do a thing with your hands eventually landing on your hips. And Toji’s dick leaks like a virgin. 

“Well, there must be a courtesy rental. My first meeting starts in an hour.”

“I’m so sorry, miss. We don’t have that.” 

Kamo, you slick fuck. 

Choso apologizes with his signature puppy-eyes and half open mouth. Even you, made of sharp words and soft curves. Goddess of Fire and Ice, you melt under his gaze. 

Toji snickers to himself, while you stutter to a shockingly patient understanding. 

Something about the boy looking half asleep and like he can’t string letters together to spell his own name always does the trick. Leaving you wide open for the kill. 

“Tell you what, sweetheart.” Toji moves in with an assassin’s expertise. 

“Consider me your courtesy rental.”

“I’m sorry—what?” You flicker between the two smiles, rightfully suspicious. 

“I’ll get you from point A to point B, safe and sound.” The mechanic offers again with a broad smile, dangling his own car keys in his hand. 

Pensive eyes drop down to your watch. Board meetings start soon and he is offering a courtesy ride. 

“Fine.” Finally, a little submission. 

“It’s a 10 minute drive. The high rise on the corner of Koen and Mitake street.” 

The financial district. No wonder why you’re so tightly wound. 

“I know exactly, where we are going.” Toji beams. Beating your slender fingers to the passenger door. You barely mutter a ‘thanks’ before settling into the seat. 

You in your heels. And suit jacket. And handbag that costs enough to feed a large family for 6 months. Nestled so perfectly into his passenger seat. Toji can’t help but acknowledge how hard his dick is right now. 

The career woman clearly doesn’t approve of how fast he is hurling down corner streets. But you should understand, no? Places to be, and all that jazz?

“Uh, I’m sorry, where exactly are you taking me?” You perk up. Darting those beautiful warm eyes at the very short building in front of you. 

Not the corner of Koen and Mitake street, but Toji’s favorite coffee shop about 3 blocks over. The only place in the city that can get an Americano right - La Parisian. 

Toji grins maniacally. Pulling his sports car into a front row spot. 

“Point A, darlin.”

“Look, I don’t know what kind of game you are playing but I swear—“

“C’monnn. Lighten up.” He turns to face your incredulous expression. You wear it well, by the way.

“People stand when you walk in a room.” He continues. “They’ll still stand if you’re 5 minutes late and properly caffeinated.” 

Silence. Two huffs. A bitten lower lip. And one long, drawn out sigh.

“Fine. 5 minutes, max. Then I’ve got to get going I have—“

“Meetings baby, I know.” Toji finishes you off. 

He steps out of the driver’s seat fast enough to be at your door before your fingers touch the handle. 

The two of you walk in stride (in Toji’s mind) to the cafe. It’s adorable how you beeline towards the pastry display. Salivating over the various treats. Doing the thing women do, badgering the person manning the register about nutritional details. 

As if your figure wouldn’t make any living red-blooded human being fall to their knees. 

“What can I get started for you?” The barista probes. 

“I’ll have a soy London Fog latte, please.” You flicker over to the dessert you think you’re leaving behind. 

“And?” Toji probes. He taps the glass in front of the vanilla macaroon.

Another crack in the shield. You flash him a genuine smile for 0.04 seconds before turning back to the register.

“…and a vanilla macaroon, please.” You’re cute when you’re sheepish. 

“And I’ll have the largest iced Americano you can make, thanks.” 

Toji closes out the transaction and you two mosey over to a small table by a window. Your shoulders relax with the first sip of coffee. 

A satisfied grin tugs on your chauffeur’s lips. He knew what you needed the second he laid eyes on you. 

Much to your chagrin, and Toji’s delight — conversation flows like a bottomless well between you. The second something warm and another thing sweet landed on your tongue — the shield crumbled down. 

You’re an account executive. 

You work 80+ hour weeks. 

Live in an uppity neighborhood with a Doberman named Rocky. You got him because you like walking around at night to clear your mind. Having a dog taller than you on its hind legs and probably twice your size has eased your anxiety about that. 

You have a mean sweet tooth. 

And you’re single. Have been for the last year or so. 

“And not looking to change that anytime soon.” You reiterate, tossing him a look. 

Toji holds his hands up in feigned defeat. “I wasn’t plannin’ on it, sweetheart.” 

You’ve warmed up to his pet names, albeit against your will. But you’re there. The both of you harmonize light-hearted laughter. Fitting together like missing puzzle pieces.

“Your eyes are so green.” 

A rather obvious observation of your own, after a few moments of comfortable silence. 

As if your eyes don’t bend time. 

Toji catches his breath before responding. 

“They are…your kids could have ‘em too, if you want.” 

You burst into another fit of giggles. Unknowingly driveling rogue pastry on your chin. Babbling on and on about how ridiculous he is. And how cheesy his pick up lines are.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there all high powered and intelligent. With a smile that makes him want to be a better man than he is. 

…and pastry all over your chin. 

Yeah. 

He’s going to marry you one day. 

Toji reaches over and swipes the macaroon off your chin. A sharp gasp tumbles from your lips, staring at his fingers. Which Toji slips into his mouth. 

He’s a betting man and would put money down on the fact that the dessert tastes exponentially better off of your skin. 

“Toji!!” 

“What else can I do for you?” Each word more smug than the last. 

“You could’ve told me I had food on my face!” Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you frown and Toji’s cock throbs to life. 

“Why?” The mechanic shrugs. “I wanted to lick it off instead.” 

The choppy inhale is music to Toji’s ears. You avoid him. Like the plague. Peeling your gaze away and planting it on the side window. Under the guise of people watching. 

But Toji knows better. 

He doesn’t miss the way you struggle to swallow your last bite. Or your thighs coming together so aggressively beneath the small table, rip tides break the surface of his Americano. 

“I felt that, baby.” Toji leans in. Shameless about the way he scans your face. 

Your lips should be outlawed.

The bottom one is marginally fuller than the top, so it naturally hangs a bit open. Inviting the most vile thoughts from his cock. Toji’s rational mind went to sleep the second you climbed into his passenger seat, princess. 

“What?” You sputter, gulping down the rest of your U.K. cloudy cappuccino, or whatever. 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Your voice is steady, but the fidgeting and cagey eye contact hold the truth. 

Oh, really? 

“You’re squirming in your seat.” Toji counters, unblinking. Filling as much of your personal space as he can without tipping over. 

“Quick to cross your legs—“

“Toji!” 

Is your underwear as sticky as your face is flushed? Saliva pools in one direction, warm pre-cum pools in the other. 

“You are so out of—“

“All that talkin’ and you haven’t denied it once, doll.”

Toji’s palm digs into his crotch underneath the table. You are fucking his brain smooth with the raspberry blush along your nose and high cheeks. Sure, the sarcasm and ball-busting is hot, but this? 

The Career Woman suddenly so flustered and shy? 

You’re already thawed out. All he needs to do is dive in. 

Toji blinks back to reality when you rocket up from the table at warped speed. Your fingers clumsily fondle the zipper of your purse. 

“Excuse me for a minute.” You’re halfway to the restroom stalls by the end of your sentence.

The mechanic lasers down to the serpentine curve of your hips. Your plump, perky ass is just begging to be handled. It’s a felony, the way your work dress hugs your body. 

Is he really going to do this?

Heat slams into his groin. Wave after wave of lust slowly chipping at his teetering self-control. 

You might slap him. 

Call him a goddamn pervert. 

…and just the thought of either of those things makes his dick beat against his zipper. 

Fuck it. 

Toji is slick, how he maneuvers his way over to the restrooms. Both single-use stalls occupied, he walks up to you muttering some kind of pep talk to yourself. 

“Get your shit together.” You spit out. 

Amused, Toji leans against the wall behind you. Curious about where this cute little speech is going to go. 

“He’s a rando you met at a mechanic shop. For fuck sake, are you that horny?”

“Sounds like it, baby.” Toji takes the liberty to answer. You whip your head around and crawl out of your skin. 

Eyes wider than a newborn kitten. Mouth gaping as if you’re trying to show off how much you can handle. Toji swallows a groan. He can’t lose control. Not a chance. He has to savor his first taste of you like this. And every taste after that. 

Because, the weather in Hell is a balmy 0 degrees Fahrenheit and you are his, now. 

“I—uh, I—“ Your eyes dart over to the poor soul opening the bathroom door in slow motion. 

You think you’ve found an out, gorgeous?

Toji is faster and bigger than you are. Gripping the handle of the open door, ushering you into his new lair. Still choking on the shock of him catching your admission, you look to your left and right before diving into the empty bathroom. 

“Toji I…” 

Your back hits the wall and eyes settle on your hands. Shifty and nervous. Toji palms himself at the sight of you caged in like this. 

He’s disgusting, he knows that. 

And normally, he would ask permission. Being a gentleman and all. 

But there’s something too alluring about the way you’re trembling right now. The obvious conflict written all over your face, and heaving chest…and tense thighs…

His cock can’t take another second. 

And apparently neither can you. 

Because the second his fingers cup the back of your neck and his breath grazes your mouth you crash into him. Slotting your puffy lips into his, taking him by surprise for a millisecond. 

“Oh, T-toji.” You whine into his mouth. Grasping at his shoulders that are far too wide, far too muscular for your dainty grip.

Fucking, christ. 

Hearing his name like that. 

The gorgeous, high-pitched, pathetic plea trails down his ears to his aching sex and jerks it. If his cargos were any lighter you would’ve seen the pre-pubescent mess he’s making in his pants right now. 

But they aren’t. And you don’t. 

You mewl at how Toji nips at your bottom lip. Sinking it underneath his teeth until its swells to his liking. Melting beneath his large grasp, currently riding the dizzying lines of your hips and ass. 

“You taste fucking good, baby.” Toji mumbles into your warm cavern. Licking along the warm, soft ridges. 

“Ah-T..god.” You pull away and dive into his neck. Attempting to hide your utterly fucked out daze, but he won’t let you. 

Toji palms your ass with a tenth of his strength. You yelp and jump into his arms. He takes advantage of the momentum and lifts you high on his waist. Temporarily forcing you to look down on him.

Glassy eyed. Kiss abused lips. Panting and heaving. Cupping his face like your hands were made to. 

And something tight clenches in Toji’s chest. It takes a moment for him to shake it off, but it existed.

He’ll revisit that later.

“You look good up there, babydoll.” He pants, before setting you down on the sink ledge. He catches your chin in his hand before you turn away. Rooting you in place. 

“I…Toji.” 

Moaning his name like you’re begging for him to start and stop all at once. 

Your eyes descend to his lips. Watching the smirk blossoming across his face. Distracted enough not to notice his free hand shove up your dress in one swift motion. 

Your thighs recognize his authority and melt wide open for him. He kisses your tiny whimpers while nestling between them. 

“Mmmgh g-god please.” 

“This why you were so bratty this mornin baby?” 

Toji’s index and long fingers stroke your soaked, clothed core. Thin lace panties plastered to your warm sex. You wind your hips into his fingers. Batting your eyelashes up at him as if he’s going to give you what you want so easily.

He hovers his lips over yours. Pulling away each time you lunge forward for a kiss. Pouty and frustrated, you dig your nails into his neck and grind along his stationary fingers. 

“T-Toji, please…I’m so..ahh.”

“Needy cunt just wanted some attention, mm?” 

His fingers slip past your opening, and you offer up a soprano moan that shatters to stardust. 

Hedonistic noises fill the spaces between both of your punched out gasps. You’re fucking tight. Gummy, slick walls clamp down around his knuckles when he curves up to pet your pleasure spot. 

The steel pipe between his legs throbs against his thigh. Demanding friction. But one hand is cupping your chin and the other is so pussy drunk an army couldn’t pry his fingers away. 

“T..I—I’m oh fuck I—“

Toji bites down on your bottom lip. And you clench around him. Gushing more of your sweet arousal into his palm. And he damn near laps it up with his greedy tongue. 

“Shhh baby,” he coos against your jaw. 

“Can’t have everyone hearing the Executive getting fucked open by some mechanic’s hands can you?” 

There is a delicious irony in you treating him like a punching bag no more than an hour ago and now bucking your hips on his fingers, chasing an ever elusive high.

Sandpaper lines Toji’s throat. 

He wants nothing more than to bounce you on his cock in this bathroom. Fill you up with his cum and send you to your meetings full of him. 

But you haven’t learned your lesson yet.

“What did I promise baby?” Toji strains in your ear. His hand migrates from your chin to your neck, while his fingers ‘pick up the pace a little.’

His pretty little powerhouse. 

You babble a chorus of nothing. Unable to breathe, unable to think. Only drip. And leak. And squelch around his digits. Toji tightens the grip around your pulse point. Lulling your mouth open.  

“Talk to me, princess. What did I promise you?” He probes again, stealing air from your lungs. 

Tha—y-you would…p—point A.” Barely audible syllables tumble out of you. Ascending in pitch. Your hips reflexively try to pull away from your threatened orgasm.

“Keep going, I’m listenin.” 

“Oh fuck T..Toji?! I-Im c-im gonna—”

“I know, baby.” He smears wet kisses along your jawline. “ I can hear how messy your precious little pussy is. But I didn’t give you permission to stop. Keep going.”

Your walls spasm at his command. Followed by an angelic pitiful little whine. You’re close. So close. 

“P-P-point A to—“

“Point B.” 

Toji finishes your sentence as you reach nirvana. Full body convulsions. He slots his arms around the small of your waist. And it fits like it was molded for him. Like you were sculpted for him.

And he, for you.

The mechanic burns his gaze into your skin. Riding each choppy wave of your ecstasy. Such tiny, sexy sounds. Staccato breaths fanning his lips, his chin, his neck when you try to hide from his scrutiny. 

You are a goddamn dream. 

And his future wife.

Toji guessed it when the macaroon balanced on your chin for a full 30 seconds before he swiped it away and you accused him of defamation of character. 

But now? 

Watching you saddle this stallion of an orgasm. Clawing at his back with all the desperation of a pretty little damsel in distress. 

Distress at just his fingers, alone. 

What intoxicating melody will he unlock when he laps up the honey straight from your core? How will you gasp and moan and squirm when he single-handedly re-shapes your cunt to accommodate his size? 

He has no clue. 

But Toji will spend forever figuring you out. And mastering you.

The back of your neck fits beautifully into his grasp as he coaxes you from hiding. Pupils blown out. Cheeks flushed and warm. Tendrils matted along your forehead. Before he can speak, you beat him to the punch.

Of course you do. 

“I’ve decided,” You pant. The baseline spice returning to your grin. 

“That you might just be obsessed with me, Toji.” 

Both of you share a hushed laugh. Exchanging cotton candy breaths. But then his lips accidentally brush yours and Toji can’t help but dive in for a kiss. Fucking the warm cavern of your mouth with his tongue. 

You pull away before he’s ready, with a look on your face that makes him feel like a God. 

“I might be.” Toji whispers, partially against his will. His lips find the corner of your mouth. Careful to avoid falling victim to your pout again.

“Let’s get you to the other point B, baby.” 

The car ride to your office could make anyone queasy. 

Constant banter back and forth. Full bodied laughs. You mindlessly stroking his forearm with those angelic fingers riling his cock up as if it just now discovered women. 

You let out a small sigh, with slightly dropped shoulders when your office building comes into view. Toji doesn’t know how to interpret it. But for him? Reality is coming too quickly.

“So,” You start once the both of you are out of the car. Pretty face tilting up and Toji’s dick strains against its confines.

“What do I owe you, Mr. Fushiguro?” 

The way you say his name.

It takes the will of God for Toji to bite back his original response.

“Nothin, doll.” He’s wearing the same, dumb, love-struck face Choso wears on a daily basis. Shockingly, Toji couldn’t care less. 

“The tires just needed air. Choso will drop it off in an hour.” 

He would do it himself. But the urge to park in an empty lot and abuse the fuck out of his cock until a shred of clarity re-settles in his mind is a tad bit overwhelming, sweetheart.

Then your mouth drops in an incredulous ‘Oh’ and all Toji can picture is ruining the back of your throat. How pretty you are going to be wretching around his girth. Gasping for air. Choking on his cum. 

“Toji. Fushiguro.” You like using his name, don’t you?

“You held me hostage for a whole morning for some air—“

Toji kisses the rest of your complaints off your tongue. And you whine. Slot open for him with no resistance. Because under all that irritation and sarcasm, buried within the Trojan Horse, lays your supple, delectable submission. 

And he will take every opportunity to taste it. 

“I had a great time on our first date, babydoll.” Toji rasps against your swollen lips. 

The raging erection is threatening to embarrass him. There’s not enough restraint in the world to be around you any longer. Toji nestles your voice in his back pocket. The two of you watch each other with wordless, taken aback smiles as he takes slow steps toward his sports car.

Before the mechanic sinks into the driver’s seat, he makes a promise.

“Can’t wait for our second date, Mrs. Fushiguro!”

[letorip]

crimson & clover

“now i don't hardly know her, but i think i could love her"

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x mute!reader

summary: people fear that which they do not understand. it makes sense then, why you and wednesday fall in love and help each other

warnings: erm you killed a lot of people on accident, angsty in the middle there, threats of violence, descriptions of violence

word count: 5.1k

A/N: heavily inspired by black bolt, who i really do think is one of my favourite heroes. there will likely be a part 2 or 3 to this but for rn my attention is on kiss with a fist. THERE WILL ALSO BE A PART [IV] OF SOMETHIN' STUPID

KISS WITH A FIST [IV] WILL BE UP NEXT SUNDAY

===+++===

===+++===

There were certain things you couldn’t have, when one had the ability to do incredible damage, if they just opened their mouth.

When you did so, on a random Saturday morning at 10 years old, and your house burst apart, it took your parents and a chunk of the neighbourhood with it in a fiery tempest that stabbed you right through the heart. You learned then, that maybe you weren't meant to have a family.

At age 12, when the kids at the Home for Outcast Children strung you up from the monkey bars by your ankles, and you couldn’t hold in a laugh from how the world looked funny when the sky looked like the floor, you learned you weren’t meant to have friends, sitting silently in the dirty crater where the playground used to be with your head tucked into your knees.

You had thought it would be implied then, that you would never have a lover, either. But then again, there was Wednesday Addams.

It was still a mystery, why she chose you. You had assumed she would want nothing to do with you just like she didn’t want anything to do with most people, and you couldn’t have been more wrong.

The both of you met about a week after she arrived at Nevermore, in the dead of night on one of the walks you always took when everyone else had gone to bed and there was no one to watch you, no one to murmur as you went past. You didn't pose a danger to anyone, then, and it was liberating and also deeply melancholic.

That was when you were most at peace. Your thoughts, even though well-reasoned, could not be expressed. You wrote often, in a leather-bound notebook you’d let no one see, but the power was given to writing through reading it, and there was no one you could have close enough to do so. It made you tired, to be around people you couldn’t communicate with. Few people wanted to wait for you to write something out on a notebook and even fewer wanted to learn sign language.

Kinbott had a dry-erase whiteboard in her office that was just meant for you and the only deaf person in Jericho, though the old man had gone missing a few months ago, without a trace. It was humiliating, at first, and you used to write two-word sentences, curt responses doing the bare minimum, often out of anger— whether it was anger from your situation or anger at being a teenager, you didn’t know— but now you could fill it with paragraphs and kept a notebook for when communication was especially necessary.

That night itself was peaceful, with gentle, twinkling stars that were only lightly polluted by the quad’s towering lamps. You could still see their faint outlines above you, with casting shadows down the lawn from the roof’s spires, and it smelled as if it were going to rain soon.

When you heard the scuttling of something on the floor, you jumped, startled, eyes shooting down to where you were certain you had felt someone’s fingers grip at your leg. Your eyes widened in surprise at the disembodied hand, racing up the uneven cobblestones and then up the leg of someone at the far end of the quad, landing finally on her shoulder.

Wednesday with her arms crossed, looking at you with a comically large bag slung over her shoulder that must've contained all of her belongings, like a runaway in the night.

Oh. That's what she was.

You blankly stared back at her, blinking at her figure. She took a menacing step forward, her grip on the bag tightening. "Are you following me?" she asked, tone icy. When you kept looking at her without so much as opening your mouth, her apathetic eyes narrowed. "If you tell anyone you saw me, they will never find your body. Don't say a word."

It was intended to be a threat, and if it had been anyone else, it probably would've made their blood run ice over just from how cold her gaze was. But you just raised your eyebrows at her, unable to stop the amusement from tugging at the corners of your lips. The irony was very far from lost on you, and the more serious she seemed the more funny the blunder was.

"What?" she snipped. "Is something amusing to you?"

Again, you could not say. You silently shook your head, tilting it then out of curiosity, and gently pointing towards the hand on her shoulder. It sat up at your attention, sending a friendly wave in your direction. Your eyes widened, waving before Wednesday could clear her throat and pull your eyes back up to hers.

Her eyes in question were dark and intense, but beautiful, even under the dim lighting, and you had to swallow what felt like a lump in your throat, in order to regain your composure. "Why are you silent?" she asked, narrowing them at you. You were under her microscope, and she scanned you, looking for anything that would impair your immediate voice.

You raised up a hand as if to say ‘hold on,’ before tugging your notebook out from your overcoat, flipping it open and pulling out your pen. With a click, you were scribbling down on the paper, and Wednesday narrowed her eyes at you again, scanning you in suspicion.

When you were done, you flipped it around, holding it up to her eyes with a gentle smile. 'Trust me, I don't think you'll need to worry about me telling anyone anything, anytime soon.'

Her eyes combed over the words, then glanced back down to you. "Why is—" she opened her mouth out of curiosity, but a heavy door slammed shut down the hall, and she whipped around before she could finish the question.

You both could hear the footsteps coming closer, and Wednesday straightened up, grip tightening on the bag over her shoulder. "You didn't see me, and you won't ever again," she said, coldly.

You nodded, not that you believed she'd make it out. You yourself had tried to run away for the first month and a half, and after long enough, one just gave up. Nevermore was hard to escape; you doubted she had readied a good enough plan in just a few days of being there. Still, you wished her luck. The forest was dangerous, and especially now.

With a final nod in your direction, she hastily walked off, down the corridor the opposite way. You watched her go, calmly sitting near the fountain. A few moments after she disappeared down a different hallway, a very tired looking Weems came down the stairs in her nightgown, holding onto a rusted lantern.

When she saw you, she sighed. "What did I say about those nighttime walks of yours, (Y/n)?"

You smiled, tilting your head to the side and shrugging at her. Weems huffed at your attempt at cluelessness, shaking her head fondly. "Just make sure you get yourself to bed soon, alright?"

You nodded, leaning back on the fountain edge and tracing the grout lines with your thumbs. Weems turned back to the hallway Wednesday went down. "I guess Miss Addams is planning to escape tonight?" But you didn't write anything down, raising your eyebrows at her as if to say 'duh.' Weems adjusted the hem of her nightgown from where it had dragged gently on the steps. "Thank you, (Y/n). I'll see you tomorrow."

She began to follow down the path Wednesday had taken, letting the lantern lead her through the dim corridor, and you silently yawned, picking up your notebook and figuring you had enough adventure for the night.

===+++===

That was your first unofficial meeting, at least. You almost forgot it had happened the following morning, except for when Wednesday showed up in class the next day looking more displeased and unhappy to be there than normal.

It was amusing how frustrated she was, mouth drawn into an annoyed line and eyes looking especially dark. When she caught your eye as she went to take her seat, you averted your gaze back down to your notebook to hide your cheeky smile, resuming your doodle in the margin and running a nervous hand through your hair.

She kept staring throughout the lecture, as if silently daring you to mention her failure, not that you could aloud. You weren’t willing to look back, but you could see her dark eyes shift up and across the round of tables towards you from the corner of your eye, which you made sure to keep on Thornhill.

After long enough, Xavier noticed too. He whispered something to her and then glanced up at you with a look that was far from friendly. He hadn't liked you one bit, but neither did any of the other kids, when they found out. You couldn't exactly blame them, either. The school was full of monsters, but you were a monster among monsters.

"Wednesday, Xavier," Thornhill called out, crossing her arms. She wasn't angry, though. More playful. "Is something more important than our study of carnivorous plants?"

Xavier began to shake his head, starting an apology, but Wednesday cut him off, blankly staring back at Thornhill as it left her mouth. "Yes."

At the challenge, the whole class seemed to let out a comically loud gasp. Thornhill's previously teasing smile dropped to a displeased frown, and she shoved her hands into the pockets of her overalls, motioning to the large glass enclosure on the table behind her. "I don't suppose you can tell me what this is, then?" At the question, you can see Bianca smirk and raise her own hand, eager to steal it away, "I haven't said the name out loud yet, and it will be on your test next—"

"—Dendrophylax lindenii." The interruption came swift from her lips, but Wednesday's eyes are still steeled over and unimpressed by Thornhill's attempt to be put on the spot.

You have to hide your amusement again, at the shocked look on Bianca's face, but she rushes to make up for it by adding something of her own. "It's also known as the Ghost Orchid—”

"—First discovered on the Isle of Wight in 1852," Wednesday adds, and once more she's won. Or, she would have. You can't help the shake your head does, or the cheeky smile on your face that Wednesday locks onto, like a heatseeking missile. Her eyes are like daggers, stabbing you through and through. "Is something funny?"

She says it across the entire classroom and everyone goes silent, less focused on the plants now and more the fact that she's acknowledging your presence. You shrug, trying to diffuse the situation, but it only makes her glare at you harder. "No, go on," Wednesday demands, her tone just as icy as she had been the night before. "Tell us, what was so funny?"

"Wednesday," Thornhill warns her, sending you a sympathetic look, but she ignores her and so do you.

"Or are you still at a loss for words," she draws out, and in doing so, the rest of the class fills with 'ooh's and 'woah's. You stare at her for a moment, then silently, your hand goes to your notebook.

The moment you begin writing in it, the classroom tenses again, waiting for you to finish. You make them as big as possible, large enough that she'll be able to clearly read them across the room. When you're done, you flip it around and hold it up like a sign, face blank.

discovered 1854, not 1852

idiot.

You've circled it several times in messy pen, to make sure she really sees. The room roars even louder in surprise, and however bad Wednesday's stare was before, the new one she gives you is infinitely worse. Her face is still deadpan, but her eyes flick away down to her notebook. It’s the only time you’ve seen her approach something resembling embarrassment or fury. You're sure the 'idiot' bit didn't help, but you were far too annoyed by her poking of you to not have poked her right back.

"Well...," Thornhill tries, "It seems the Ghost Orchid isn't the only carnivorous plant in here, today." But the class is too far gone to focus up again, sending you wary glances. They don't like Wednesday, but they like you even less, so it's confusing who they should root for.

You hold her gaze until the bell rings, finally breaking it to gather your things and leave as soon as possible. Her eyes are still on you as you go, and just before you exit the room, you can hear someone mutter "freak," under their breath. You tuck your books under your arm, and duck out into the hall.

===+++===

Fall was always your favourite time of year; for once, Jericho wasn't entirely unbearable. The leaves turned a warm orange and red, falling from the trees in abundant piles on the ground, and the air fermented into something crisp and especially breathable. You let it fill your nose as much as possible.

You sat on the lawn, listening to the birds flit about and the wind brush under the branches and hem of your jumper with a book in your lap and a frown on your face. It wasn't a good book- something the internet had said was incredible but had firmly left a bad taste in your mouth, and part of you wanted to put it down and turn to something more useful. But another part of you wanted to keep reading, like being unable to look away from a car accident.

The book was so engrossing in its awfulness that you didn't notice her watching you from afar or, more so, aiming in your direction. That was, until you turned the page, and her throwing knife whizzed past your ear and lodged itself into the tree you had been sitting against.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the noise, and you turned your head to the side, looking at the shiny, reflective silver. The letters W. A. stared back at you, engraved just below the knife's spine. You frowned, and when you looked back, she was standing over you, arms crossed and expression as deadpan as always.

You raised a questioning eyebrow, looking over at the knife and then back to her as if saying, 'What was that for?'

"Your attention was required," she replied dryly.

You rolled your eyes, dog-eared the page of your book, and placed it down next to you, pulling out your notebook and your pen. You wrote a single word.

dangerous.

"Believe me, if I wanted to hit you, I am entirely capable of aiming to kill," Wednesday said. Then, after a brief look around Nevermore's green, her eyes flicked back down to you. "I'm here on business."

You search her face for a moment, narrowing your eyes. They locked in on the small bandage on her forehead, and you nodded up at it, asking her what happened with the look on your face. Her frown deepened.

"I'm in the process of crushing a bee... and almost getting crushed by a gargoyle." You blinked, but Wednesday continued. "But I won't have to do either if you agree to my request."

It's hard to deny that her words massively pique your interest. Wednesday in general massively piques your interest, and you write down the thing you really want to know.

people say you eat human flesh...

You turn the page back to her, and Wednesday seems to process the words for a moment. She looks over at you, unimpressed by the allegation. "I don't eat it. My menagerie of pets do. And even then, that's nothing close to what Enid's said about you."

You stare up at her, then scribble a couple of words on the paper.

and what's that?

"That you're dangerous. That you’re somehow infinitely worse than I am, which I'm doubtful of," Wednesday says without missing a beat. "Enid won't say anything more, and neither will Xavier." She looks around again, over the green. There's a picnic of sirens by the lake, and a few of the werewolves are playing with a frisbee. She looks back at you. "I've been warned to stay away, and your propensity for being obnoxious has made that task fairly easy so far." You begin to write again.

so why are you here

"Because," she states like it's obvious, "I want to break out of here. And you're somehow the person to have gotten the closest."

and yet

i'm still here

You turn the page to her and jab the bottom bit several times with your pointer finger.

"Well then," she says, "help me succeed."

===+++===

“And how do you think that made you feel?” Kinbott asks, eyeing her various pages of notes to the left of you. Some of the other patients in Kinbott’s care had small, yellow folders, but you had a larger red one, with your name in highlighted block letters on the front. It looked like it should’ve had a top secret sticker in the corner, not that you weren’t appreciative about your records being sealed.

You erased the board, writing a single word.

seen

Then, underneath it.

idk, like i was really there?

Kinbott nodded. “You’ve said people often ignore you a lot. Why do you think that is?”

they’re scared. they think i’ll hurt them because they heard rumours about what i did.

i can’t blame them, really

She frowned, wrapping her hands around her knee. “But that’s not really fair, is it? When was the last time you’ve caused damage with your ability, (Y/n)?”

You shrug, thinking for a moment.

about four years

“And you haven’t made any sort of mistakes, right?”

well, no

“Then why should they be afraid of you?” Kinbott asks. She’s leaning forward, looking at you with her eyes softened. “You’ve trained yourself to silently yawn, you don’t cough, you don’t sneeze, you don’t snore. I think you need to trust yourself a little more, (Y/n).”

You shrug again, but don’t write anything down, so Kinbott sighs and sits back in her chair. “Principal Weems says that she has another little Harry Houdini on her hands?”

You write down Wednesday on your board. She nods. “I’m seeing her in a little while, actually.” It makes your eyebrows raise in surprise.

why?

Kinbott shakes her head. “You know I can’t share that. Therapy is private. It seems she doesn’t plan on staying, though. Wednesday has already tried to escape.”

i know.

she asked me to help her

Her eyes scan over the words and then look back up to you, warily. “You know better than to help her, right? Nevermore could be good for Wednesday. And I thought you were actually starting to like it here.”

You nod.

i already said no

it’s too dangerous, in the woods right now. with the attacks and stuff.

“Good. And please, tell Principal Weems if you learn of any plans in the future.” You nod again, much less committed, and Kinbott looks down at her watch. “I’m afraid our time is over, (Y/n),” she says with a smile. “I’ll see you next week.”

You write a quick thank you down and stand, shoving your socks back into your shoes and tugging on your jumper, tucking it underneath the collar of your shirt and fixing your Nevermore tie. Purple stripes was never your pattern, and Weems had long since given up on trying to make you wear the coat. She figured it probably made you less likely to run away.

Wednesday is sitting in the lobby when you get down the stairs, with a bored-looking Weems come to babysit. You send her a glance, and then give Weems a nod of your head in acknowledgment.

She beams back at you. “Ah, (Y/n). We’re here for Miss Addams’ session. If you want to wander around Jericho, we can take you back to the school when we're done, if you’d like.”

You send another look at Wednesday, whose face is just as deadpan and unhappy as before, and shake your head. You point at yourself and then mime walking with your two fingers. Principal Weems frowns, but gives you and okay, and you turn around to leave.

You can feel Wednesday’s eyes on you as you head for the school. You know she's annoyed by your refusal to help her, but you can't exactly tell her why you're refusing either, especially since you're lacking any evidence for your theory. So you just told her no.

===+++===

Even from deep inside the forest, you can hear the carnival. There's a Ferris wheel towering over the trees in front of you, and circus music blasts from a few speakers so that you can faintly hear it amongst the windy branches, leaves blowing along the ground and caressing your shoes from time to time as you walk through the dark.

You're looking for something, anything, indicating someone would've been there. Sheriff Galpin had found all sorts of hikers, recently, all almost unidentifiable, with how bloodied they were, but they had yet to find anyone with a hearing aid, so you were unsatisfied. It was believed he was on vacation, but you knew the old man went to his therapy appointments every single week. He hadn't missed a single day, so you failed to believe that theory. You didn't even know his name, really.

On a tree not too far from you, there was a claw mark sunk deep into the bark, and you looked towards it, at the pattern. The idea a bear was responsible for all the deaths wasn't exactly convincing, and looking at the claws, your doubts only amplified. You pulled out your camera, aiming it towards the mark, ready to snap a shot, when you heard footsteps pounding past you.

"Rowan!" called a voice behind you, and you froze, putting the camera down and flicking your flashlight off. The last thing you needed was word getting out that you were lurking in the woods. People thought you were scary enough.

But the words weren't directed at you. You listened intently, and then you heard the faint but panicked voice again. "Rowan," Wednesday says again, and the moment you realise it's her voice, you take off running towards it.

You find Rowan with his hand held up, crushing Wednesday against a tree, and before you can stop to think, you're rushing forward, shoving him in the back and pushing him into the dirt, where he struggles to catch his breath. The moment his hand splays out in front of him, Wednesday is dropped to the forest floor. You run to her, checking her over quickly for injuries, making sure she can run. When you find none, you grab her arm, hoisting her to her feet. You send a wary look over at Rowan, who's already trying to right himself and take Wednesday's hand in yours, pulling her deeper into the forest.

It isn't long before you hear him calling out. "Wednesday!" he yells, and you freeze, grabbing her by the arm and tugging her behind a tree. You push her flush against the bark and cover her mouth with your hand, getting as close as possible so that you hide better against the trunk. She seems too scared to comment on the touch, eyes wide and chest heaving from the running. You raise your other hand and press your finger to your lips.

"Wednesday, I'm doing Nevermore a favour," he tries again. "One massive favour. You're dangerous. My mother's seen it. I can see it. Anyone who knows you can see it."

Your eyes flicker to Wednesday's in confusion, processing his words. She's staring up at you, eyes dark and full of worry, begging for him not to find you. Any idea you had about her not getting scared goes out the window. She's just as human as you are. You send her a comforting nod, peeking around the tree trunk. Rowan's a few trees away, with his back turned, scouring the area.

You begin to back away from Wednesday, gesturing over your shoulder. If you both can sneak off and go back to the carnival without Rowan noticing, you can ensure safety. She gives a curt nod, letting you take her hand in yours again. You're faster than her, she knows that. You slowly pull her with you, quietly stepping away and towards the fair.

You only make it a few steps, until Wednesday steps on a branch.

The small twig cracks under her boot, and within an instant, Rowan whips his head around to you both, staring back at him like a pair of deer in headlights. He takes a few menacing steps forward. "There you are," he draws out in between wheezy breaths. His hand comes up, ready to crush her, but before he can use his ability, a large, hulking creature grabs him by the leg, whipping him around and down onto the ground.

You and Wednesday watch in horror as Rowan screams, and the creature rears up on its hind legs, coming down and smashing Rowan with its fists. You can hear the crunching of his bones and then the tearing of flesh as the creature's claws dig into the boy's skin. Wednesday's hand is still in yours, and she squeezes it harshly, small black fingernails digging into the back of your hand, pulling you down to the ground with her and then scooting back.

The attack is short but brutal, and you see bits of Rowan's chest go flying and pure red maw. The creature whips around to you when Rowan goes silent, staring at Wednesday with intensity in its big eyes. Then it scrambles off, tearing through the woods and into the darkness.

As soon as it's gone, Wednesday rushes forward in the leaves, going to Rowan's side. You clamber to your feet, watching the direction the creature went with wide eyes. When you turn back to Wednesday, you catch her shoving something in her pocket. You don't ask what it is, but you make a mental note to ask later.

"Please," she says, a bit panicked. Her fingers are coated in Rowan's blood. "Go get Weems."

===+++===

Another not-too-awful thing about Nevermore was the breakfast. You sat at an abandoned picnic table in the corner of the quad, finishing your eggs, when Wednesday slammed her hands down on the wood with a loud thunk. You jumped in your seat, startled by the noise, dropping your egg back onto your plate.

"What exactly did you see last night?" she demanded, glaring.

Your eyes widened at her tone. It was harsher than normal, and she wore her frustration on her sleeve. A few students at nearby tables sent you suspicious and wary glances. Over Wednesday's shoulder, you could see her roommate, Enid, staring at you.

Most important was Weems, who looked down at you from the balcony above. You composed yourself and looked back down to Wednesday, shrugging nonchalantly, as if to say you didn't know.

Wednesday gritted her teeth harder. "But you do know. We saw Rowan get eviscerated by that creature. You were there. So why did you tell Weems you didn't see anything?!"

You furrowed your eyebrows, shaking your head at her, doubling down. This was no place to get into it. No place to tell the truth. You slid your notebook towards her.

i saw him this morning.

She huffed, stomping off. You knew exactly why you saw him that morning, actually. Weems had shown you her powers a time or two, and you knew that 'Rowan' was just her in disguise. But you also didn't know if it was something you wanted to share yet. You, too, had been a bit miffed at seeing Weems pretend to be Rowan, but you also knew Weems' powers gave her an advantage, and you were too loyal to take that away from her. You owed her too much.

The question of why still rang in your mind, though. Why was she so eager to cover it up? She had never at least lied to you, so this lie seemed out of left field.

You saw the fake Rowan several times throughout the day. Each time you did your best to let Weems know you knew, and she seemed wary of you, avoiding you at every intersection. You spent the night thinking, wandering around Nevermore, stopping in the library and pulling out several books.

Wednesday had shoved something in her pocket, something that Rowan had. Something about her dooming Nevermore, about being dangerous. You raked through all the books about prophecies, not finding anything of interest and giving up at around one in the morning. No books were missing a piece of paper, and no books mentioned Wednesday's name. You could find a few references to someone named Goody, but she seemed unimportant among the other Addams ancestors, having been dead for hundreds of years. You made another mental bookmark to look more into it, later.

You trudged back to your dorm, already regretting your choices, considering you had an 8 am class in the morning. The school was peaceful again, and as you climbed the stairs, you could hear the trickle of the fountain.

But the moment your shoe placed itself upon the landing, you froze. Your door hung open slightly, just cracked, and right in the way was the same hand you had seen on your first night. You straightened up, feeling more awake, and more annoyed, now.

You pushed your own door open, knocking loudly on the wood like it wasn't your own room, illustrating your frustration. Wednesday turned towards you, unimpressed. She had your journal in her hands, the other one not meant for your communication but for your theories.

It was open to the photo you had just taken, of the claw mark. Right above it you had put the photo of the deaf old man, and right on the photo of the claw mark, you had 'Rowan' written in red sharpie and underlined several times.

You crossed your arms, glowering at her. The hand scuttled towards her, stopping halfway. "So you were hiding something," Wednesday says. "You know that Rowan isn't Rowan. You know he's dead."

You silently swallow, crossing the room until you are right in front of her. Wednesday's eye contact is intense, and you look down at your own notebook, feeling her watching you as you take it from her hands. You can feel her breath fanning against your face, and she smells like pomegranate and fresh petrichor. You turn the page to the drawing you've made of the creature. It's a little off; some of the details are fuzzy regarding last night. But it's the creature as best as you can remember it, and Wednesday nods.

"That's what I saw, too. That's what I want to find," she says. "That's what you're going to help me find."

This time, you can't find it in yourself to refuse.

===+++===

this was the first episode and a bit of episode 2. i really liked doing the mute reader but boy is it hard to write communication without dialogue. it does so much heavy lifting for characterisation. can't wait to see where this one goes, and it'll probably take me two or three parts to get through the whole season, is my hope.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Kiss It Better

Curly (mouthwashing) x reader

AN: No one asked for this but CURLY DESERVED BETTER-!

Sum: You were taking care of Curly, your partner, when you just had to ask him a question that was burning you as much alive as the cockpit burned him. Did he actually crash the ship?

Warnings: 18+, gore, medical situations, Jimmy, violence, just mouthwashing in general, ablism, lots of medical stuff (from someone that knows way to much about medical shit because of being in and out of the hospital all her life)

“Morning honey.” You would force yourself to smile. You had to. You had to for him. To give him hope like he always gave you. To be a little bit of real sunshine through the day. Just wanted to take care of him. Give Anya some kind of break.

A wheeze was your greeting.

Wasn’t like it was his fault. He couldn’t really speak right now. You wondered if he would ever speak again. You would miss his voice but it’s worth it for him to live. He will live, you knew he would. You would make sure of it.

“Let’s have a look at you.” You would grab the clipboard that Anya left for you and took a look over. The small little list to help you understand how to care for his issues. When to wash him, what time his medications were, whatever routine was needed for that day. Was your Bible so to speak. You followed it to the last ink splotch.

“Your bandages don’t look to need to be changed yet, your IV bag needs to be changed, I’ll check your catheter, and yada yada yada. Wanna try and swallow today? Maybe if you can swallow some water I can grind up the pain pills into powder for you. Wanna try?”

He gave two distinct blinks for yes.

“Wonderful. Let me do this routine, so you can mentally prepare.” You would explain, as you went to slip on the latex gloves. Didn’t want to risk transferring some kind of infection. He’s already fighting for his life as it is. No need to make it harder.

You would first change out his IV bag, since he needed to stay as hydrated and fed nutrients as possible, before working on the awkward catheter. Luckily Anya made it very easy to use. She had opted for a condom catheter since she didn’t want to put himself at anymore risk to infections, and pain, as possible. Seemed the trauma made it rather impossible to control his bowls anyway so it worked out. All you had to do was drain the bag, wash it, and reattach it to the side of the table. Wasn’t like he was going to be moving around much anyway.

“So Daisuke was showing me his gameboy. Teaching me about how the lore works and all that. I really had no idea what he was talking about, but it’s better than Swansea snoring.” You laughed, and did your best to keep yourself peppy. To help Curly feel somewhat involved with society. To not just be trapped in the med bay alone. Daisuke and Swansea would visit, and Anya did what she could medically, but sometimes you just need someone to talk to.

“Think it’s a rouge like game. That’s nice. Helps keep you entertained with wanting to break through more and more dungeons in one session.” You rambled, before reattaching the bag. Had you sigh in relief to see you didn’t mess up the chord. Some urine had already started to fill the bag. Must have been triggered by the new IV. Good good. Everything was correct.

“You ready?” You asked, as this was always the hardest part. Getting medication in him. Anya would do her best but you couldn’t blame her for struggling. It’s such a mental tax to try and take care of someone but it results in more pain. You were willing to take that burden. You were his partner after all. You felt it’s only fair you take care of him. Gave Anya some breathing room to actually care for herself. She deserved to take care of herself to.

With two clear blinks you would get to work.

You would slip your hand under his back, and forced him to sit up. He groaned in pain, and tried his best to keep his head upright, as you two tried to work together. To survive this. To try and fight through.

“You are doing so well.” You reassured, as your brought the water bottle up to his open mouth. He was able to let his head hang back, and did what he could to open his throat. Was awkward, but he managed to do it. He took a proper swallow of water. You could hardly hide your excitement.

“You did it! Oh my god you did it!” You couldn’t help but kiss his cheek. It hurt, of course, but he very much felt it was worth it. He had his own pride in being able to do some kind of basic human function again.

You would lay him back down, and was quick to grind up medication to put in the water bottle. You couldn’t wait to tell Anya his progress. You were positive the rest of the crew would be happy to hear the progress.

Well…..Most of the crew.

You used your anger towards Jimmy to help you grind the pain killers into powder. Oh how you hated him. You knew deep down he was responsible for the crash. You knew he was. You weren’t sure why he would be, but you just knew that Curly would never. If he had to, for whatever reason, he would have come on to the intercom to inform everyone to prepare for a crash. He would have done something. Anything.

What purpose would there be in crashing the ship?

Jimmy was his copilot. He would be the only other person to have access to the cockpit. He had to have been involved somehow. There had to have been something going on. You just knew it.

You just wish you had proof.

You sighed, as you would shake up the powder in the bottle. Made sure it was fully dissolved to avoid any issues with it going down his throat.

You just couldn’t understand.

Why would Jimmy crash the ship?

You would return back to curly, and do the same routine again. Slow, and small, drips into his throat. Would take a while, and would make your arm beg for death, but this would make life easier for Curly. That’s all that mattered. A arm cramp is worth it to help Curly survive.

“Curly…..Since you are more lucid now I….I just gotta ask something.”

The way his eye darted towards you said he knew what you were going to ask. Knew that it’ll be asked. He knew, and he couldn’t help but try and look towards the door. As if afraid someone would walk in.

That had you very concerned.

“…..Jimmy crashed the ship, didn’t he?” You whispered. Tried to be as hush as possible, in case someone did overhear. Was just the slow drips of the water into his dry mouth, and you.

One blink.

Two blinks.

“I fucking knew it.” You gritted your teeth, as you felt stupid to ever even have the slightest doubt that any possible reality there would be that Curly would do such a thing.

“I wish I could ask you why. Do…Do you know why?” You had to ask. You just needed to know. Know if Jimmy was as dangerous as you thought.

One blink.

T-

“How’s the captain doing?”

You would turn your head sharply, and saw Jimmy. Just standing there. God you were terrified how long he had been there. Did he hear what you asked? Didn’t seem so. Jimmy was a very aggressive person. He snapped at the slightest tone shift. If he heard you ask a question like that you wouldn’t be talking now.

“He’s….Alive.” You were caught rather off guard. You didn’t know what to say. You were scared of him. You had to be brave, though. You had a better chance at defending yourself. Curly couldn’t.

You would hear his heavy foot steps come closer, and out right feel his body heat against yours. Just looking over your shoulder. Was like this burning shadow over you. Made you feel like you’ll be squashed like a bug.

“Has he been able to talk yet?”

That’s a weird question to ask. Why not ask how he’s feeling, what progress he’s made, how his vitals are. Why is him talking on the front of his mind?

Because Curly knew something he shouldn’t.

“No. I think he’s lost his voice for good. I don’t think he’s ever going to speak again.” You lied, as you finished the test of the bottle. Returned your partner back on the table, and spun around. Nose to chest to the man. Had you terrified, but you must be brave. For Curly.

“Damn. Rough for him. No more barking orders, huh?” Jimmy tried to joke, but you could only give an awkward laugh at. Mostly to keep from pissing him off.

If he’s willing to crash a ship what else is he willing to do?

“Did you need something?” You managed to force out, as you grabbed the clipboard. Just trying to find an excuse to not look directly at Jimmy. To have a motive as to why you would stay in the med bay longer than most. Just anything to get Jimmy to leave you two alone.

“Hey, I give a shit to about him. Is it criminal to care about my friend?” He snapped at you, and it made you grab your clipboard tighter. You swore he seemed to smirk at seeing you so startled. Like he got off to the idea that he got the captains sweetheart scared.

That he’s the new boss.

“Never said that. You are the co pilot and new captain. You-“ “Pilot now. As if he’s ever going to steer a ship again. Not even a wheelchair with those stumps.” He snorted, as you wanted to smack him across the face.

“Yes….As the new Pilot and Captain I would figure you would be swamped in work. Like finding a way for us to contact help. Kinda the biggest priority after Curly. Anya and I are busy with him. You, Daisuke, and Swansea can handle the rest.”

You noticed how he seemed to roll his eyes about Anya. As if he couldn’t care less about the woman. Made you curious on what kind of beef he would have with her. She’s Anya! Who hated her?

“Yeah. Guess you are right there.” He muttered, as if it was never on his mind. Never an option that they could escape. Oh how you were getting chills.

“Keep on trucken then. Take care of our Captain Cripple. His ass needs all the help his stumpy limbs can get.” He would give him a once over, before looking at you. You made sure to keep your eyes to the clipboard instead. All you did was nod in acknowledgment, before he left.

“What are we going to do, Curly?” You sighed, as you would just lay next to him in defeat. What can you do? You had no idea. Curly was always such a good captain. Made you regret never paying more attention to how he worked the cock pit. Maybe if you did you could be more useful.

As you were full of worry and regret, Curly would weakly try and turn his head. Naked teeth were against his cheek. A attempt to kiss your cheek the best he could.

You smiled at the gesture, and made sure to be careful with snuggling your face into his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, and you got me. We can do this. I know it.” You reassured you both, as you closed your eyes. There to wait until his pain medication kicked in, so he could sleep.

As you relaxed, you couldn’t help but swear something was strange about his breathing.

It was like….He was saying words.

You would focus as hard as you could on your ears, as he would drift in and out of his buzzed state. Fighting to stay awake, but sleep coming for him.

“A….a…n…ya…..Kn….ows……”

[andypantsx3]

𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 : 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: 1.7k of unedited alien prince shouto thoughts based on this post from the other day! sfw, gender neutral reader. several elements of this universe were borrowed from my fave sci-fi novel; see end notes for deets!

he's beautiful—the todoroki prince. tall and strong in his high-collared uniform, strapped with lean muscle and handsomely humanoid. he's the first thing that snares your gaze as your party is guided into the hall of the sun—the reception dome that overlooks the rise of the star yuuei in the morning sky, used by the ruling family to receive visiting dignitaries.

it is morning, in endeavorian planetary time, and the sun has begun to rise. its light is weaker than you remember from back home—almost watery, pooling like quicksilver in the panes of the dome's ceiling.

up at the front of the hall, it catches in the strands of the white half of the prince's hair. from what izuku has told you, it's the half that indicates he's part of the himura bloodline. the himura dynasty has ruled the yuuei system from its capital planet of endeavor iv for tens of thousands of earth-years. it's the second longest line of unbroken rulers in mapped galactic history, an impressive feat.

the other half of the prince's hair is a fiery red, like that of the man who stands next to him—todoroki enji, the general of intergalactic renown, who donated half of prince shouto's genome as well as his clan name. each time a himuran royal from the main line marries, izuku had explained, talking at lightspeed in the podship, they take a branch name, typically sourced from the primary gene-donator. it helps keep inheritance lines clear.

prince shouto looks like he's inherited empress rei and todoroki enji's genes in exactly half—his coloring split down the middle, though his features are perfectly, almost hauntingly symmetrical. he wears a pin of flint at his collar that symbolizes his gender—one of yuuei's thirteen official designations. from what you understand from izuku, it most closely aligns with earth designation "man".

it's embarrassing how much you notice about the prince as you file into the hall, stationing yourself right at the gap between izuku and tenya's shoulders, so you can still see todoroki shouto.

"you don't think they'll reject the treaty and kill us all, do you?" denki mumurs nervously as he presses in behind you.

"no, i don't think so," izuku's gentle voice drifts back to you. he's a three-star ethnologist, studying for a command ethnology post. subsequently he's the most informed of any of the cadets that have been sent along with the treatise party. you and denki are just mechanics, sent along in case anything goes wrong.

"the alliance would be too much trouble for the yuuei," izuku explains. "they have good relations with the surrounding galaxies and tight control over a lot of resources. but the alliance is really large now, compared to the last time they approached the yuuei. they'll likely want to accept at least a loose federation with the allies."

up on the platform at the front of the hall, prince shouto blinks long and slow, like an earth cat. you realize with a start it's the first time you've seen him blink at all, and the subtle reminder that he is not just an extraordinarily handsome human man but the prince of an alien species makes your skin prickle.

"don't you think it's weird they are all this pretty?" denki asks. "it's weird, right?"

"definitely weird," you laugh, your eyes trailing over prince shouto's blade-straight nose, his pert, perfect mouth. "possibly illegal under intergalatic law."

prince shouto stills all of a sudden, and there is the tiniest tilt of his head. two heterochromatic eyes flick over your way, and you are completely embarrassed by the way your stomach swoops in response. you just manage not to grab onto tenya's uniform to steady yourself.

one of the prince's eyebrow arches almost imperceptibly, and you wonder if he's heard you from this distance—but no, that would be insane.

denki picks up his commentary, emboldened by your playing along. you think the prince's eyes linger just a little too long on the gap between izuku and tenya's shoulders, but then you're distracted by the reception beginning.

the alliance treaty officer strides forward, flanked by a few of the other officials your crew had ferried here. she performs an elaborate bow, as do the other officials. from izuku's muttering you gather it's some sort of ritualistic greeting, and empress rei at least looks pleased with it, waving a gentle hand to gesture the party forward.

there is some shuffling as various aides set up a table and a series of holo-tablets, along with various inks, a leathery roll of endeavorian traditional parchment, and—

"is that a knife?" you ask, peering at the long obsidian blade placed on the table in front of the officials.

izuku's fluffy head of green curls inclines. "treaties are sealed twice. once in the alliance fashion and then again in the local custom, to make it binding per both systems. blood pacts have been used in yuuei for millennia."

the brush of something over your face has your gaze turning back to the prince—to find him staring straight at you, those unblinking eyes boring into you.

"izuku, weird question. can the yuuei hear across rooms?" you ask, suddenly self-conscious.

a green eye peers back at you. "only in the event of their pair bonds—the yuuei are documented hearing their matepair across approximately ten earth-kilometers. i think we're safe over here though. why?"

matepair. the world settles strangely under your skin, as the prince's eyes brush across it.

"uh, matepair?" you echo.

tenya gives both you and izuku a quelling look, but it's not enough to deter izuku from ducking down to explain in slightly quieter tones. "the yuuei look human but they pair differently. they form a parapsychic bond with only a single partner, which they maintain and uphold for life. it's not just cultural—it's like a physical compulsion. they cannot take another pair, and they cannot be separated for long periods or they grow sick."

prince shouto is still staring straight at you, and it's not quite comforting enough to know that he cannot possibly hear you.

it's only his role in the ceremony that seems to eventually break the prince's weird focus in your direction. he steps forward to perform his duty as empress rei's chosen heir. you almost flinch as the knife draws across the pale skin of his palm, and he adds several drips of silvery blood to the parchment, symbolizing yuuei's intent to uphold the treaty across future monarchs.

the flesh of his palm knits itself back together in seconds, and another little shiver goes up your spine. those mismatched eyes flash back your way as he steps back, and the various aides and officials once again converge on the documents.

there is a brief flurry of activity, various bows and oaths, some stilted endeavorian verse. the chief treaty officer looks relieved when it's all over, and the royal family steps down from the dais to greet the rest of the visiting party, as is the customary honor granted to allies to the yuuei. tenya ushers you into the queue near the back with denki, a symbol of your lower status as mechanics.

you don't mind, as the thought of reaching prince shouto has your stomach doing what feel like backflips in your gut. the longer the delay the better.

izuku had walked everyone through the appropriate greetings on the podship, a few murmured words and a hand touch at chest-level—extremely hard to mess up, even for you. but nevertheless your pulse kicks up the closer you draw to the royal family.

there's a long line of them you greet first. offshoot branch members, then general todoroki enji, whose enormous palm burns hot against yours and who looks he'd rather take your party's hands off than touch them. then rei's unchosen heirs—the princess fuyumi, prince natsuo—and a gap where prince touya would have stood, were he not offworld.

and then you're standing in front of prince shouto, your pulse pounding in your ears. he's extremely tall up close, clearing six feet easily, broad across the shoulders and handsome in a way that almost makes your teeth ache. the yuuei look deceptively human, but this near you can see the tiny details that separate them from you—the slight double-point to their ears, the silvery undertone to their skin, the prolonged space between their breaths and their blinks.

and of course their inhuman beauty. they don't quite look like regular people, and it sparks a tiny note of wariness in the primeval part of your human hindbrain.

prince shouto's mismatched eyes pin you, silver and blue, as a sudden, silvery flush creeps across his face. you hold your hand out in greeting, trying not to wonder if you've somehow managed to offend him already—but instead of pressing his palm against yours, his long fingers suddenly grasp yours, clasping tightly.

beyond him, empress rei freezes too. all at once you can feel every single himuran noble turn to look at you, hundreds of eyes pinning on you.

reflexively, words tumble out of you. "shit did i—what did i do? were you supposed to get a different hand thingy?"

you can hear the treaty officer's horrified inhale at the terms shit and hand thingy, deployed in crass galactic standard in front of a literal prince. you immediately wish you could take them back, but from the look on the prince's face, he's already heard them.

something at the corner of his mouth twitches, like he's trying not to smile.

"y/n," he says, in a deep tone. it's crisply accented and just as beautiful as the rest of him.

it takes you a second to realize prince shouto has used your name, which he could not possibly know considering the uniform you'd been issued for the yuuei visit has no unique identifiers on it. you glance down at yourself, then back up at him, befuddled.

"how did you—? where did you—?" you garble out. "did denki put you up to this? how do you know me?"

prince shouto's fingers smooth over yours, delightfully warm, calloused and sure. "i would know you in any universe," he says, voice soft. behind you, you hear princess fuyumi make a tiny sound of delight.

you blink. "universe? what—uh, what universe? how would you—?"

but shouto leans in, tugging you closer with those deceptively strong fingers. he's so very warm up close, and so beautiful it makes your brain short circuit, especially as he lowers his face to yours. a shiver rolls down your spine as his other hand takes you gently by the chin.

and then he murmurs a single word before pressing his mouth to yours—

"matepair."

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: credits where they are due!! the idea of a space general dna donator, an overarching space alliance pursuing a treaty, & the flint pin denoting gender were taken from my fave sci-fi novel winter's orbit by everina maxwell! (if you love heartfelt gay love stories in space i am actually begging you to read it).

[targaryenluvs]

— A WHOLE NEW WORLD

pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

summary: in which you and percy navigate a whole other world, and encounter trials in the way.

warnings: angst, bullying mentions, teasing, physical violence courtesy of clarisse my bae, drowning, confessions, fluff, hugs, smooches, percy n you are a comedic duo i swear, basically a self insert, not proof read

wordcount: 5.7k

a/n: i’m insane, this is the longest thing ive ever written. so please reblog and interact <3

you’d grown up with the same stories percy had. the greek gods and goddesses, their lives and tales, their failures and secrets. what you didn’t expect was to be the child of one.

you, percy and grover were currently on a field trip, and you couldn’t have been happier. all around you was history, and you were fascinated by it all. breaking away from them, you viewed the tallest of statues and the intricate, taking your phone out secretly and snapping a photo to show your mother later.

you were dragged out of your fairytale by laughter, and percy’s scowl evident on his face as you made your way over. “i don’t know if you have a miserable home life or just enjoy being a bitch but this trip would be much more enjoyable without your annoying voice.” you sneered before shining a fake smile her way. percy’s laugh in your ear made you join in, but the reprimand afterwards dulled your mood.

you weren’t a big fan of bullies, especially when they targeted your friends. for some reason you obtained a boost of confidence and a need to protect your own friends from such people yet you couldn’t defend yourself on your best day.

the trio of you sat, eating your lunches, you were inhaling your favourite food much to the amusement of grover and percy. “i don’t think your food is running off y/n.” grover teased as you shoved his arm, “i know, but i’ve been waiting for so long, i didn’t eat anything this morning, i was too excited.” percy turned his head towards you, “you were excited?” you nodded, “for a museum?” you waved him off, returning to your food.

but not before nancy launched a sandwich percy’s way, you’d had enough, and so had he. the two of you got up despite grover’s protests, and somehow she ended up in the fountain, even though percy hadn’t touched her. you’d been lost in the crowd around the fountain and once you’d broken out you found percy on the ground.

“perce! percy are you okay?” you tried to shake him awake to no avail, so you did the next best thing, slapping him awake. twice should do it. his eyes opened, focusing in on you, “i’m here, i’m fine, i know you care about me.” relieved, yet annoyed you hit his shoulder before you and grover helped him up.

and when he did wake up he spoke about what he saw. on the walk to your hearing percy went into detail. and you couldn’t help but feel scared, what the hell was going on?

and the two of you stuck with the story of nancy throughout, feeling betrayed when grover went against you. your own parents were out of town and you were freshly kicked out of school, percy’s home was also your own. you prepared yourself before the two of you entered the apartment, gabe wasn’t exactly a sight for sore eyes.

and soon enough yourself, percy and his mother were headed for montauk. you’d left over twenty four messages for your parents but it seemed none of them had made their way through.

“so all the stories, they’re all true?” percy was fast asleep in the front seat, and the book in your hands wasn’t all that interesting. sally nodded, “i know it’s all a lot for the two of you to take in,” if percy was a demigod, then were you too? “what am i? who’s my parent then? are my parents my parents? am i adopted?” sally stopped at the intersection abruptly, turning towards you with a sad smile, “sweetheart, it doesn’t matter. your parents love you no matter what, i know it. you’ll learn everything with time, i’ll tell you more when we’re all inside okay?”

the water droplets on the window were plentiful, some big, some small, some new and others falling. the storm outside was looming, loud and dark, but it seemed to bring you comfort in all honesty, you loved the rain. and as you sat and drove all you could think of was your future, and what it had in store for you.

you’d been in the kitchen whilst listening into sally explain to percy about his parentage, the gods and goddesses. you were sure if you heard anymore you’d pass out. percy’s outburst led you back to them.

“well i’m not a baby! i know there’s no such thing as monsters, i know there’s no such thing as gods and i know for certain that there’s no such thing as demigods.” the hand on percy’s shoulder brought him back down, “percy, why would your mother lie to you? no one on this earth loves you more than her, i think we should listen.” his face was riddled with confusion, “you’re telling me you believe this crap?”

before the conversation could get heated, grover’s appearance interrupted. “what the hell are you doing here? how did you get here?” grover sighed, as much as he wanted to explain he needed you all to get moving, “i promise i’ll explain everything but somethings coming,” percy and yourself took a step back, “grover.”

“and i know that sounds really bad,”

“grover?” he brushed the two of you off, continuing to ramble at sally.

“but the important thing is not to panic—”

“i’m not panicking.” sally rested her hands on her hip, “great! i’m also definitely not panicking. i feel very good about how we’re doing so far—” you closed your eyes, maybe when you opened them it’d go away. “grover!” you and percy shouted out at the same time, “what?”

you pointed towards his legs as percy spoke up, “why is there half a goat in your pants?” his legs were bare, mist not around.

as if the day couldn’t have gotten any crazier or exhausting for you and percy grover all of a sudden showed up and you were all on the move. sally was punching the accelerator, whilst grover continued to explain, “what are you?” grover turned to face you, “i’m a satyr. and i’m your protector. i was assigned to you but we didn’t know that y/n was special like you, so i guess i’m sort of protecting you both.”

“you’re my protector? and what y/n doesn’t get one?” you laughed, “no offence but i think i’m alright perce. if you’re our protector than shouldnt you have protected us at school? against nancy?”

“i protect you against actual evil,” you snorted, “the only evil is nancy’s personality, that should count.” percy managed a smile at your words. “if i hadn’t gotten you kicked out of school, you’d have never survived the night. and what’s chasing us now would have found you there easily.” it was like a truckload of information all at once, you felt like you were in a movie.

“the mist. it’s the veil that hides the magical world from the human world. my legs. dodds’ wings. even dodds’ absence, but it isn’t supposed to hide things from me. that never happens. something powerful is at work here. the sooner we get you two to camp, the better off you’re… you told them about camp, right?” grover looked towards sally for an answer as you moved his hand away from your face. grover tended to move them around when talking about something he was passionate about.

“not yet, no.” sally shook her head as you smiled, “you’re early remember?”

“camp is a sanctuary for half-bloods.” great now you were going to a summer camp. the more he divulged the more you began to understand. you’d always been told you were special, percy especially. you should’ve known you were meant for more. demi gods were never safe, that was obvious by the huge monster behind the car.

“is that the minotaur?”

“once the attacks start, they never let up. okay? dodds was just the beginning.” you twisted your body to get another look at it, “okay well if we’re being chased than maybe less talking and more runnin, driving, whatever just go!” you shouted out, your heart was ramming against your chest, your hands felt warm and jittery. you needed to move, to do something, you hated just sitting and relying on a car. you zoned out in time for percy’s regular jokes.

“he is still wearing underpants.” you giggled at him, “i wonder what size.”

“the mythomagic cards were training. everything has been training for what’s still ahead of you, and i know wherever percy goes, you go.” you rolled your eyes, “i always hated those stupid cards, guess i should’ve played huh?” percy cocked his head, “what’s ahead of me? of us?”

“kids,” you all turned to sally, her knuckles were turning pale white, an unrelenting grip on the wheel, “hold on, please.” you clutched on to the seatbelt and seats as you all were jolted around, dodging a car and attempting to evade the minotaur, which wasn’t exactly all that easy as he rammed into the car, horns penetrating sallys window.

she fought for control, her foot pressing down on the accelerator before you all ended up crashing.

the ground was wet and mushy, you felt dirt gather underneath your fingertips as you crawled out of the car. you could see sally helping percy out as grover made his way out. your leg was aching, a shard of glass caused a gash in your thigh and dragging it along the floor hurt like a bitch, “ah, shit!” you rolled over onto your back.

percy’s eyes darted towards you the second you cried out, “y/n!” he dashed towards you, sally and grover in tow. “are you okay? what happened? where does it hurt?” his eyes were frantic and his hands unsure, the sight of you hurt was more than enough to worry him. “i’m fine, i just, if we take the shard out and tie something around then it’ll stop the bleeding right?”

percy shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head, hoping it would clear it out, the whole situation was already stressful but his best friend injured? an absolute nightmare. “i— i don’t know! mom! what do we do?” he shouted as sally grabbed your jumper from inside, “move aside percy, let me help.” he didn’t want to, percy wanted to stay right by your side, but he knew she could help you where he couldn’t.

the make shift tourniquet did the job thankfully, but you were in and out from the loss of blood, the last thing you recall was sally jackson in the hands of the minotaur, and suddenly, gone.

your voice was stuck, trapped in your throat. your eyes stung immensely, waterline flooded. she was family to you, one of the sweetest people, supportive. and just like that, erased, just dust. your eyes searched your surroundings for percy, to see him, to help him, but all you could view was darkness as it took you far away.

the last thing you’d heard was grover yelling out for the two of you, “stay awake! please!” his pleads were unmet, as you were whisked away to a world of sleep.

the light was harsh on your eyes having just woken up, at least your bed was comfortable. but you still had no clue where you were. your body was stiff, needing to move around. as you shuffled to sit a voice called out for you.

“y/n!” you turned to see percy peering through the window, a large smile on his face as he promptly ran inside to you. “percy.” his arms wrapped tightly around you, squeezing hardly. “you’re killing me here.” you croaked out as he let go, taking a step back.

“i’m sorry. do you need something? are you hungry?”

“that i am, where are we?”

“camp half-blood, welcome y/n l/n.” an older boy spoke up from the doorway with his arms crossed, leaning on the frame. “luke.” percy recognised the boy, which made you feel at ease, “hi luke.” he smiled, “hey, how are you feeling?” you sighed lifting the blanket up and resting your feet on the floor, attempting to rise from the bed. “like i need to walk a bunch, is there food around?”

luke nodded his head before signalling you to follow, “is your leg okay?” the pain had lessened since the initial hit but it was still sore, “i think i’ll be okay, might have a limp. i can be a zombie for halloween maybe.” percy was glad you were making jokes, seemingly back to normal.

the camp was everything you could have dreamed of. straight out of the pages of a book or out of a movie, amazing scenery, nice enough people, and insane skills amongst them. you had no clue how you’d fit in. you’d settled into hermes’ cabin, your bag and bed next to percy’s.

“so, how long have you been awake?” you were pushing down on your mattress with your hands, testing the springs. the bed wasn’t as soft as you’d have liked it to be but you couldn’t exactly buy a new one.

“let’s go outside and talk.” percy muttered, leading the way. you were sat down behind the cabin now, percy slowly sliding down the wall to be next to you.

“i only woke up a few minutes before you, i saw chiron he’s a—something. and i met the camp director mr d, dionysus by the way. they wouldn’t let me go back into the infirmary until we finished talking.”

“why’d you want to come back so quickly?”

“your bracelet was missing, i didn’t know where it was so i was freaking out. anyways i saw the camp a little, and i came back for it and you were awake. i got, i got scared before.” percy couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye, he felt nervous admitting it, his worry for you. your smile was wide as you recalled his own worry for the bracelet you’d made him.

“what? why?” he exhaled, his hands playing with his shirt, “i— i thought you wouldn’t wake up maybe.” you grabbed his hand, “i’m right here, there’s nothing to worry about perce. how are you feeling?” your voice was barely above a whisper, filled with sympathy and sorrow, you still hadn’t spoken about his mother.

“don’t.” he shook his head whilst averting his gaze, staring down at his hands. “don’t what? i’m not going to force you to talk about i promise, i just want to make sure you’re okay.” percy closed his eyes, “i can’t just,” percy breathed in, working up the courage to meet your eye, he hated the pity on your face, “just forget it, her.” you rested your hand on his neck, bringing him in, “no one’s asking you to percy, if there’s anything you need from me, or if you just want to sit and die of diabetes with every blue food in the world, i’ll be right there.”

“thank you.” his voice came out muffled against your shoulder. you tried your best to comfort him with a hand in his hair, you pulled him back to take a look at him. his eyes were glossy, a few tears had fallen free. using your sleeve you wiped them away, “now what demigod has the time for tears, percy jackson?”

you loved percy best like this, with a grin plastered on his face.

“yknow what we could use?” percy pulled you up from the ground, before you walked back to the cabin. “and what exactly is that m’lady?” you rolled your eyes, “first of all i despise your british accent and second, a nap!”

percy was sweating profusely, his nightmare having jolted him up from his bed. his jittery movements concerned you, book in your hands forgotten as you surged forwards, “perce? you okay?” his eyes were blown and chest heaving, but at the sight of you he relaxed, “yeah, yeah i’m fine.”

“you okay?” luke stood infront of the two of you, arms crossed, “super.” percy snipped back as you swatted his arm, “be nice.” your voice was firm, and you knew how percy was, you’d say sarcasm was probably his middle name if you hadn’t already known it.

“we all have them, you know.” luke clicked his tongue, taking a step closer. “intense, recurring nightmares. that’s normal here.” his words were surprising to you, knowing that yourself and percy rarely fit in.

“and the daydreams, and the ADHD, and dyslexia. demigods just process reality differently, than humans do. for the first time in your life, you’re just like everyone else.” you let out a sigh, whether of relief or sadness you didn’t know. did you want to fit in? be the same as everyone else? nothing special?

“so are you also… do you not know who your—“ lukes lips pressed into a thin line, knowing what percy insinuated, “am i… unclaimed?” the two of you nodded in unison, “no, hermes is my father. that doesn’t matter, we’re all on the same team here.”

percy’s agitation was obvious, as well as reasonable and it was exactly how you felt. “each kid is brought here and made to wait around until their parent decides to pick up the phone? pick up— whatever. how is that fair?“ percy nodded along, “she’s right, why is that okay? why do they get to bring us here to just ignore some of us?” you did feel bad for luke, you felt as if the two of you were bombarding him with questions and expecting him to hold all of life’s answers.

“spend too much time trying to figure out why the gods do whatever it is they do, you’ll drive yourself crazy. sooner you stop worrying about that, the sooner you can enjoy what this place actually does offer.”

percy’s interest piqued, “and what’s that?”

“glory.”

you’d spent hours trying different things. percy almost hit a bunch of campers with an arrow, whilst you’d hit the bullseye, much to your elation. the both of you were absolutely horrendous at welding, which you figured. the only thing that had stuck with you through out the day was the idea of offerings. and you knew percy was thinking the same thing.

the smell of fire invaded your senses as percy threw in the thing that meant most, whilst you sat by him and wondered if it would actually work, would she be able to hear you? you’d zoned out for a bit, feeling as if you were intruding whilst he talked.

“i hope you’re sitting down, but… i think… i’ve made some friends here. like, real friends. y/n and i, we might actually fit in for once.” you beamed at the thought, yet not wanting to interrupt so you settled for nudging his shoulder to which he smiled at you, “i think they might really like me. imagine that. he isn’t here. my father, he just… didn’t show. i mean, ignoring me is one thing, but he doesn’t get to ignore you. i’m gonna make him come down here. i’m gonna make him see me, i’m gonna make him see us both.” and with that he blew out the fire, a small flicker of hope ignited inside.

“we’re going to get her back percy, i swear.”

and that was the end of your pleasant night, the reign of terror, clarisse and others were infront of your cabin. and that’s where your night went haywire.

you and percy were thrown to the floor roughly, landing on your bad thigh caused you to shout in pain. “aw, does someone have a scratch? where’d you get it from? the minotaur?” the girl was blonde, and you had no clue who she was but her mocking tone made you want to punch her in the face.

“do you think you’re special? better than everyone else?”

“no.”

“tell me you made it all up about the minotaur, and I’ll let you go. maybe to impress your friend here? you practically have heart eyes when you look at her.” clarisse approached you, “don’t touch her!” percy shouted as clarisse chuckled, “why not? you gonna stop me?”

“he didn’t make anything up.” you responded to her question since percy hadn’t, with her harsh glare you prayed for the earth to swallow you whole. “she’s right, i didn’t make anything up.” clarisse was hoping for truthfulness from percy, she couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or happy, she could teach him a lesson.

“some kids gotta learn the hard way.” the two other girls charged towards percy before abruptly walking around him, dragging you up by the elbows. “hey! if you’re mad at me then hurt me! don’t touch her! let her go!” clarisse held percy back as the girls forced you to your knees, “guys i appreciate the sentiment but i’m not all that thirsty.” please tell me this wasn’t used recently.

percy thrashed around in her grip, desperate to save you, “you really like her don’t you? not a single ounce of fight in you when it’s your ass on the line but for her,” his chest heaved, and his hands clenched, he wasn’t commonly violent, but a beat down on clarisse seemed amazing right about now.

“get off her! y/n!” your eyes were clenched shut in an attempt to prepare yourself, holding your breath, yet nothing happened. when you peeled your eyes open you were met with an empty toilet bowl.

“please tell me you guys didn’t drink it yourselves.” if it wasn’t already an indication of her irritation based on the scowl on her face the second-grade ‘you stole my swing’ type of pull at your hair dragged you back to younger self. but what really awakened you were the three tentacle like forms of water, “what the hell?” the harsh collision of your back on the wall saved you from the attack. the girls all staggered around, careful of the water before scurrying out.

percy rushed over to you, hands cradling your face, “are you okay? did they hurt you? you didn’t touch the water did you?” you raised your hand to cut off percy’s rambling, “i’m fine, but what the hell was that?” he shook his head, “not a single idea in my head.” percy slumped opposite of you, “there’s not much in your head either way.” percy placed his hand on his heart, feigning shock and hurt, “how dare you!” your giggles rejuvenated percy, your smile was all he needed to be happy again.

the figure of someone at the door caused you to shoot up, careful of the water, you saw annabeth come into view. crap.

“we can explain.” you both held up your hands, caught at the scene of the crime and afraid of the consequences. “no, you can’t.” percy nodded in agreement, “okay,” the girls face resonated with percy, eyebrows knitting together in confusion as he tried to recall how, “wait, I know you.”

annabeth shrugged her shoulders, “no, you don’t.” percy stepped forwards infront of you, directly inline with her, “yeah, but you were there. that night in the infirmary.” you couldn’t recall seeing her there when you woke up, “i don’t think she was, i don’t remember seeing you.” anabeth peered down at her shoes before returning to the conversation.

“yes. i’m annabeth.” she introduced herself, you’d heard of her a bit from other campers, daughter of athena.

“are you stalking us, annabeth?”

“yes.” her bluntness was something you didn’t expect. “okay. why?” you inquired further, “well, i’ve been waiting to see if something like this would happen. “so i’d know if you can help me.”

“you’ve been waiting for me to get my head in a toilet and for percy to be manhandled? well, girlhandled.” percy was confused, “help you do what?”

“win capture the flag.”

the helmets weren’t exactly the most comfortable but you figured keeping your brain in your skull was more crucial.

you walked next to luke with percy on the left of him, “you’re gonna love this. campwide mock warfare, all glory to the victors. annabeth’s the head counselor of the athena cabin. she’s led our team to three straight wins. been a long time since anyone’s won a fourth.”

“she was there in the bathroom, she said she’d been waiting for it to happen.”

“annabeth sees the world differently. always six steps ahead of everyone else. you should cut her a break.” you scoffed, “cut her a break for what? her life seems perfectly fine.” luke shook his head, “not everything’s as it seems y/n.”

“whose side are you on, anyway?”

luke stopped and turned towards percy, “oh, hers, always. she’s my little sister. maybe I should back up.” you nodded, “i think we should sit down if we’re going to be getting an origin story here.”

luke’s entire story of how he and annabeth got to camp made you regret your earlier comments of an easy life. she’d been fighting since she was a child, it’s all she’s known. “she’s been watching us since we got here. why?”

“annabeth is the strongest warrior in camp, the only way left to prove herself is to go on a quest.”

“and what does this have to do with us?”

“chiron’s been promising her for years. one day, a demigod would arrive who was fated to go on a quest that even chiron couldn’t prevent. and when that happened, she could join it. every new arrival, or, arrivals in your case, annabeth watches, looking for a sign they’re the one. usually, she gives up after a day or two, but she’s still watching you two.”

“can you ask her to knock it off?” as much as you hated to admit it, she did kind of freak you out, “i agree, we’re not going on some magical quest any time soon.”

“yeah, sure. but you never know, what if she’s right?” the conch shell blowing in the distance alerted you all.

it was battle time.

as you walked behind luke you couldn’t help your nervousness, which percy always noticed. ���hey,” his voice was soft and reassuring, a hand on your shoulder, “we’re gonna be fine, it’s just a friendly game. we’ve won three times and we’re going to get a fourth since they have us brilliant additions of course.” percy literally bowed in front of you as if being applauded for a performance as you chuckled, “oh please, you cant win with idiocy percy.”

“that is extremely offensive! how many times have i beaten you in monopoly?”

“ohh, you want to talk about monopoly mr bank robber? do you honestly think no one noticed when you randomly turn in broken change and grab even more bigger notes? or the fact that three houses does not make a hotel!” clarisse watched the two of you fool around from afar, she was going to make you pay.

the pebble you’d thrown clattered against percy’s armour, “hey! what was that for?” you groaned out loud, your head lolling back, meeting the log. “if you keep flossing i’m going to push you myself perce. you need to take this more serious—” the girls surrounded you from every angle, swords in hand as you rose from the floor, your own sword clutched tightly.

“flags that way, it’s not here.” clarisse smirked, “we know. yeah, glory’s fine. revenge is more fun.” her spear crackled as they all surged forwards, time to fight, it’s now or never.

clarisse’s scream was deafening. “so much for friendly huh?” percy shook his head, “not now! you can tell me how wrong i was when we’re out of here.” for some reason once they’d begun their attack, you’d never felt more alive. as if you were born for this, to fight. every sword and hit that came your way was met with double the force, hurling people backwards as you tried to make your way to percy’s side. one of the girls was sly, managing to corner you on the boardwalk near by.

her knee, she’s weak in the knees.

the voice echoed through your head, as if compelled you followed up on it as the girl went down almost immediately. thank you very much random voice! the sound of cheers floated through the air as you saw luke plant the flag in the ground.

4 — 0.

perhaps you’d been distracted by the people, or maybe it was percy being held by his armour courtesy of clarisse. either way you didn’t notice the girl lunging your way, not until the cold water engulfed your body.

you’d never learnt to properly swim.

percy’s footsteps drummed through the air, each step heavy and weighed down with purpose. he had to get to you, now. the second you’d hit the water he was on the ground running. it had only been about five seconds at most yet percy was already at your previous spot, diving in head first.

act now, think later.

your eyesight was blurry as the two of you resurfaced, the first thing you spotted the crowd on the shoreline, they waited with bated breath, your team cheering once the two of you were back up. “i’m so sorry, i said i would protect you but clarisse— i was so scared when i saw you get pushed, i think i froze up. i should’ve listened to you, i should’ve taken it more seriously. this is all my fault.” he was holding onto your face for dear life, afraid to let go.

percy had dived head first into the water for you, no hesitation. he put himself at risk for you. he always knew what to say and what to do. percy was your person. you’d been an idiot, why’d it take so long for you to realise what you knew deep down?

you love percy jackson. and not in a friend way, in a love way. in the best way.

your lips were pressed on his in seconds, you weren’t in a hurry, not desperate, not messy. just passionate and deep, as if you were trying to convey your feelings through it. you were simultaneously trying your hardest to remember this moment. percy’s cold hands on your cheeks, both of you sopping wet, nothing else mattered to you, until he kissed back. percy on the other hand was desperate, he’d been waiting for so long, settling for the title of best friend. he had you in his arms, he’d already lost his own mother, he wasn’t going to lose his other half.

his hair tousled, curls sticking to his face, yours dripping wet, hands on your neck as you clutched his. “what are we percy?” he grinned, “whatever we want to be.” the pair of you may have forgotten the fact that you were currently surrounded by campers, but the deafening cheers and shouts of support warmed your heart. surely a kiss didn’t elicit such a reaction? yes it did, but also the fact that a trident loomed over percy’s head.

percy jackson, son of poseidon.

the two of you walked with a literal army of people, friends, even. for once you both felt as if you belonged.

luke was unbearable, taking any chance he could to tease the two of you, “my little campers, all grown up.” he fake-cried, wiping false tears from his eyes as you poked him, “now if we can find someone then where’s your partner pal?” percy laughed, “please never say pal again.” you turned his way, scrunching your nose, “doesn’t work does it?” he shook his head as the three of you chuckled.

“but seriously, you two are made for each other, i’m happy for you.” as you reached the cabin you couldn’t help yourself as you hugged luke by surprise, “thank you. we’ll be in soon, we just have a bit to talk about.” luke made his way inside as the two of you turned to walk away but not before hearing him call out, “keep your hands to yourself percy!” percy rolled his eyes as you smiled.

the two of you sat at the boardwalk again, feet dangling off. you’d been discussing the quest, as well as the fact that it was only undertaken by three.

“so, you, me, anabeth and grover. percy i know school sucks but if you could count those names on your fingers for me please.” percy groaned as you laughed at your own joke, “i know, i know. but i figure four heads are better than three.” your legs swung back and forth as you shrugged your shoulders, “we could fold grover into a box and take him with us secretly.” percy suggested.

“yeah, maybe.” your voice was quieter than before, eliciting concern from percy, “hey? you okay?” you were fidgeting again, this time with the black bracelet you’d made for him. he met your eyes with a smile as he lifted your head by the chin.

“i promise, i’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” and for once you could feel how serious he was, “thank you perce, you— have been apart of my life since i was little. i don’t think there’s a single person i trust more on this planet than you. i’m sorry, for everything you’ve gone through. i swear, we’re going to make it out of this. we’re going to find your mother, we’re going to find the lighting bolt, and everything can return to normal. well, besides the fact that we’re all demigods and all.” the laughter was bittersweet, a moment of peace before you embarked on the quest.

“you’re beautiful you know that?” he whispered to you, as if he was afraid for others to hear. you grinned at his words, leaning in towards him as he followed, “i know, you make it a point to tell me at least once a day. but you, percy, are as gorgeous as the calm seas.”

you wiggled your finger in his face as he swatted it away, “if i had known my girlfriend was a poet i would’ve had every word of yours written down.” you felt fuzzy, warm. with percy you felt a million ways, all of them good.

as cheesy as he was you loved him.

“look at us, exploring a whole new world.”

“did you just aladdin me?”

“yup, do you think they have a flying carpet here?”

“why so zeus can strike it down when he’s angry? i feel like the gods are all little kids throwing temper tantrums.” percy shushed you, “they might be listening.” he joked as you punched him.

“i hope they are. so they know, we’re coming for them.”

“holy shit that was a badass line.”

“perce?”

“yeah?”

“you’re ruining it.”

[nurse-floyd]

Let me set the scene:

It's the Vegas Grand Prix, 2023. Lando has his crash, is high as a bloody kite in the hospital. Lando sees his nurse and I'd convinced he's dead bc 'why else would there be a legit angel?'

This is super short and silly but I absolutely adore this request! Thank you <3

P.S. I also love this and it is possibly one of my favourite photos of him! Boy is high as balls.

The red emergency phone rang, signaling an incoming ambulance, and you answered it with a sigh. "Mercy General Emergency Department," you answered as you clicked your pen and got the handover sheet ready to write down the patient information.

"Male…24…high-speed crash into a wall," you repeated back to dispatch that alerted you to the incoming patient, hating that you’d be spending what was left of your shift dealing with someone’s drunken antics or stupidity that had crashed them into a wall.

"How fast was he going?" you asked, not expecting the answer.

"180."

"Come again? 180mph and he’s still alive?" you repeated, not being able to hide the shock. "Do we need blood? X-Ray? Trauma surgeons and blood on standby? No one has called ahead." You suddenly woke up from the usual lull you felt around this time during your shift, your mind suddenly in full trauma mode.

"No, just precautionary checks. Patient is a Formula One driver and has been cleared by track medics, but they want a second opinion at the hospital and some scans in case."

Then it hit you…you followed F1 and had done for a few years. You’d been following the race on your phone during your breaks and knew Lando had crashed out during turn 14.

"Okay. Thank you, have you got an ETA?"

Dispatch relayed the time of arrival that gave you enough time to announce it over the tannoy and for your team to gather in one of the trauma rooms. You also called in security because you knew the press would be vultures all over this.

With the trauma room ready, you all waited for the arrival of your VIP patient. If you were being truthful, you were a little nervous at meeting one of your celebrity crushes but also knew you needed to keep it professional. What you didn’t expect was the goofy look on Lando’s face as he was wheeled on a stretcher into the room.

As soon as the paramedic crew had handed over and you’d transferred him over to the bed, you began attaching him to monitors and got your list of investigations and tests you’d need to perform from the doctor in charge.

The paramedics had clearly dosed him up with the good meds as he stirred in and out of consciousness, his eyes glassy and the goofy smile still plastered on his face every time his eyes met yours.

You woke him up once again, ready to check his pupils and GCS once more when he was a little more alert than he’d been since he arrived.

"Woah…am I dead?" his voice came out slightly slurred.

"The heart monitor beeping next to you would say otherwise," you laughed in reply.

"Are you sure, because why else would an actual angel be standing in front of me right now?"

You couldn’t help another laugh that escaped your lips as you watched him try to focus on you.

"And that would be the morphine," you fiddled with his IV and checked the fluids running before you input a few more things on his chart.

“I don’t think it is…” he slurred once more, “I know an angel when I see one.”

You were about to reply when you looked up from his chart and saw he’d fallen asleep, his head against his chest. You got up from your seat and adjusted his pillows so his neck wouldn’t be even more painful in the morning.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

You looked up from the cot you were changing the bedding on to see Daryl stepping into the clinic. Your brow furrowed. "Please don't tell me you're feeling sick too," you said.

He shook his head and you breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. That's good," you sighed. You continued frantically cleaning up the area around you and stuffed the dirty bedding into a nearby basket. You were about to go and retrieve clean sheets but Daryl was suddenly there holding them out to you. "Thanks," you murmured, grabbing them and getting back to work hurriedly.

He watched you flitting from task to task like a hummingbird. "How many is it so far?" he asked.

"Fifteen," you said, your face tightening. You pulled off your gloves and tossed them into the bin. "But it's only a matter of time before another walks in.

Daryl nodded grimly. He watched you pause for only a moment and you seemed to waver on your feet, passing a hand over your eyes. "Hey—why dun ya sit down. Ya look dead on your feet," he drawled.

You shook your head and glanced at the clock hanging high on the wall. "I don't have time. I need to check on Mr. and Mrs. Johnson again and sanitize more of the IV lines and containers and—"

Daryl gently grabbed your elbow and led you over to a chair. "Sit down. Ya ain't gonna be any good to anybody if ya run yerself into the ground. Have ya eaten anythin' today?"

You sank back into the chair and shook your head. As soon as you were off your feet, you noticed them aching. "No... the first wave came in at 4:30 this morning and—I don't think I've stopped since then."

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip. "Right... Sit here and dun move," he said firmly. "Drink some water. I'mma go fix ya somethin' to eat."

You made to stand up. "You don't have to do that. I can go to the pantry and—"

"Wasn't a question," he said gently but resolutely. "Ya gotta rest while ya can. I'll go grab some more people to help ya in here. Ya shouldn'ta been doin' this by yerself all day."

"I wasn't, but I sent Siddiq to get some rest," you said.

Daryl smiled and let out a dry laugh. "Course ya did. Anybody can sterilize and clean. I'll round some more people up and then I'll come back and help ya myself. And yer gonna eat."

You could see that there was no arguing and so you sank back down, letting the exhaustion settle over you heavily. "Okay. Thank you, Daryl. I mean it."

He nodded. "S'nothin'."

But it wasn't. You knew this was Daryl's way of telling you just how much he cared.

Prompt: "Have you eaten anything today?"

[erwinsvow]

please do bsf rafe flirting with reader while he’s drunk and she’s trying to put him to bed but he just cuddles her and tells her how much he has feelings for her

this with kook trio readerrr omg <3 in my head, rafe's version of admitting feelings is being aggressively posessive. when they finally start dating shes like why didnt you say something sooner? and hes like wym ive been claiming you since the start

you were so used to rafe taking care of you—bringing you home to tannyhill with him, making sure you took a tylenol before you fell asleep on his bed, a clean frat shirt of his waiting for you in the bathroom.

he was such a good friend to you. when times like this came along, you tried your best to repay the favor.

you think rafe's got it easier, though. he alway manhandles you into position, can carry you up the stairs when you're stumbling and force the pill and water down your throat when you're resisting. you're usually too drunk to remember rafe's hand on your jaw, opening your mouth for you and trying to coax you into taking it, telling you repeatedly you'll be grateful he did it in the morning.

"you are such a dick," you mutter, staring at the bottle of tylenol in your hand and the empty cup of water on the nightstand. he's just spilled the water all over his floor in a drunken stupor, and you suddenly hate that he ever made you feel bad about how much he has to take care of you when you're the drunk one.

rafe is ten times worse than you could ever be.

"thinkin 'bout my dick, are'ya?" he slurs back at you, and then laughs at his own joke. he's laying flat on his bed now, still in the same clothes he wore to the party, shoes and watch still on. getting him into the house and up the stairs was hard enough, even with top and kelce's help, but they'd jumped ship the second you got rafe into bed.

"all yours now, princess," kelce said, grabbing the keys to his car.

"yeah, good luck. i've never seen him so drunk," top adds.

"you're both just leaving me with him?" you cry out, but the hallway is empty when you finally get your wrist out of rafe's grip. rafe had mumbled something from his position, but you hadn't heard it.

twenty minutes later, you still hadn't gotten rafe to drink any water or change his clothes. all his energy seemed to be focused on getting you to curl up next to him.

"c'mon! just get into bed, m'fuckin tired-" he grumbles again, latching onto your arm while you try to at least get his shoes off.

"you can't sleep with your sneakers on, rafe-"

"who cares? i like my sneakers-"

"that's great, but your sheets-"

"but not as much as i like you. hah. that's fuckin' cheesy." you turn to look at your drunken best friend, his flushed cheeks and the way his eyes are closed while talking to you. you laugh, unable to hold it back.

"thanks, rafe. i like you too. enough to get your shoes off because you will so regret this tomorrow morning."

"don't regret anything." his eyes open, staring at you while you stare at his shoes. "shit. you're pretty."

you don't even address his comment—he's drunk beyond belief and you know you're pretty. after you untie his laces for him, he kicks off his shoes. you sigh a breath of relief.

"okay, rafe, do you want to sleep in these clothes or should i find pajamas?"

"how 'bout we sleep naked? there's an idea."

"stop being a perv. otherwise i'm gonna go cuddle with kelce instead." you laugh to yourself—the whole thing is a joke. you and rafe don't cuddle, at least not on purpose. you go to bed facing him but somehow always wake up with your limbs tangled and your hair in his face.

"sure. if you want me to kill kelce."

"oh my god, dramatic much?" you turn back to rafe to see if he's laughing, but he's not, looking right at you and sitting up.

"m'not kidding. don't joke about that. you're fuckin' mine, don't forget it."

he lays back down. you pause, eyebrows knitting while you think about the sentence rafe just said. he's drunk, so he must be joking. right?

"c'mon wanna sleep. get into bed." he grumbles again, and you comply, still a little shellshocked. you turn off the lamp and get into bed, and you don't even feel surprised when rafe pulls you in. you rest your head against his chest, and you don't stop thinking about what he said until you fall asleep.

[reiincarnatiion]

shadows of destiny | azriel x reader | part three

summary: azriel jealous and yearning for Y/N

🧚‍♀️

a/n: sorry guys for the long assss wait, ive been on exchange in the uk so i have been busy living life hehe, still here and loving it!! hope you guys like this one, love you all cuties <33 also this isnt proof read so sorry for any mistakes! let me know what you think, i love all of your sweet messages !! eeeeeee

read : [part one] [part two]

-----🩷🧚‍♀️💗------

You woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache and a parched mouth, confused as to how you had made it to your bed from last night. The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting a hazy glow over your room.

Groaning loudly, you cursed as you shifted your weight around, consequently turning your head to come face to face with Lucien's chiseled features, peacefully sleeping next to you. It took you a second to realize he was shirtless as well.

You screamed, "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

His mechanical eye swirled open, followed by his other. "Tell me we didn't."

"DID what," Lucien murmured, a small smirk gracing his features as he stared up at the ceiling. Amusement danced in his eyes as he stretched languidly against the sheets. His morning rasp tingled inside you and nicked at you annoyingly. This could not have happened. The headache of whatever liquids and maybe even other substances you had consumed yesterday hit you hard, and you fell back to face the ceiling as well, nausea threatening to overwhelm you.

"You little slut, you know what I meant," you groaned, rolling onto your front in a feeble attempt to quell the oncoming headache and urge to vomit.

You felt Lucien shift next to you as well, attempting to detangle himself from the crisp black sheets of your bed. "We must have done it."

"NO Lucien."

"YES."

"NO, I CAN'T-"

"…why not," Lucien breathed out. His demeanor had changed since you last saw him sober; something had happened last night, and you could not remember, but he was acting differently.

"All I am saying is that last night made me realize things about you, Y/N…" he continued, rising from the sheets. You raised your eyes in horror, ready to scream because you did not want to get flashed by fiery dick-

-a pair of orange breeches came into view.

"Oh."

"Upset that we didn't actually sleep together, Y/N?"

An unknown feeling of red-hotness spread throughout your face, turning your cheeks pink. "I hate you, Lucien," you hummed.

"What did you realize, Lucien?"

"That I pretend to not care the way Azriel and Elain make heart eyes at each other, but on the inside, it's like a knife twisting inside me," he deadpanned, and you couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"What???" he groaned, falling down next to you. "Nothing, Luc, I just feel sorry for us, that's all.

~

Azriel sat at the dining table, swirling the black coffee mindlessly. It was 2 pm, and his shadows had begun reporting how the others had finally begun stirring awake after their long night. They had gotten back at 5 am, the sun slowly beginning to peek through the trees and buildings of Velaris, and he had watched from afar as Lucien carried Y/N to her room.

He had not come out afterwards. His shadows had been in an unfamiliar frenzy, yelling to slip through and see what was happening in that bedroom, to investigate how good he gave it to her because Azriel just knew. He knew he could give it to her better.

He clenched his fists at the picture his shadows had painted for him of the events which probably had unfolded in her room. What was it with his sexual urges with Y/N all of a sudden? She was just his friend. She had always just been his friend. Maybe he had had a little crush on her before. Maybe when she would walk into a room and his palms would sweat, he would chastise himself for wearing too many layers. Or how when she used to make his heart beat irregularly, he would tell Rhys about anxiety. It was easier to let them think he had a disorder rather than admit feelings. Because maybe, just maybe he had had slight feelings towards her for centuries. But there was Elain now.

He liked Elain.

"Good Morning Azriel!" a sweet voice chirped, as Elain entered the dining room, a sweet tea held in her perfectly manicured hands. Even after a night out, she looked perfect. Her hair looked freshly blow-dried, and her lips tinted pink, looking fresh and kissable. He smiled gently, and her eyes brightened as she took a seat next to him, murmuring things about last night and how odd it was to see Lucien with Y/N.

"I just don't think he should have danced like that with her, what do you think?" she whispered, her eyes shining.

"I know it was disrespectful to you," Azriel nodded back, looking into her glassy doe eyes. Out of the corner of his eyes, he felt a sudden burst of movement from his shadows, but the warning wasn't quick enough as two figures walked into the room.

God, she looked horrible.

Elain let out a comical gasp, and the corner of his mouth lifted as Y/N walked into the room, her hair messy and disturbed, like someone had pulled on it, ran their hands through it. Her presence snatched on his gaze, it pulled it towards him, and Azriel found himself unable to look away.

Her eyes lazily dragged over Azriel, raking up his body, and never before had he felt so hot. But he did not break eye contact with her either, he maintained it, willing and daring her to break it first.

Their eyes met in a silent battle of wills, a tension simmering beneath the surface as they sized each other up. It was a fleeting moment, but it spoke volumes, leaving Azriel reeling in its wake.

"Lucien, can we talk?" Elain broke the silence.

Everyone blinked and looked at the innocent girl sitting down. Azriel watched as she looked into Lucien’s eyes, with her innocent look, and he mentally chuckled. She was doing damage control, and it was working because his shadows were reporting the increase in Lucien’s heartbeat.

“Of course,” Lucien whispered and pushed past Y/N, whisking Elain away out of the room.

Charged silence followed. Azriel went back to nursing his coffee which had gone cold now. He felt Y/N scoff and mutter something under her breath which sounded a whole lot like "bitch," as she moved around the place, into the connecting kitchen, trying to will the House to make her a cup of its strongest coffee. They didn’t say a word to each other, but Azriel could feel the tension in the air. He didn’t know where it had formed from, what abyss it had risen from, he just knew there was something that needed to be addressed between them before his head and his heart exploded.

“What was that from last night?” he let out a breath finally, his shadows jittering around the place. He looked up from his swirling black coffee to see Y/N cease her movements in the corner of the kitchen. Her short night dress, barely covering her ass, had ridden up as she had been bent over the kitchen bench. Azriel felt himself stiffen, so he looked away quickly, adjusting himself.

“What do you mean,” she replied, turning around with a neutral expression on her face, guarding her emotions. She carefully padded her way to the table, setting the coffee down and placing herself directly in front of him. Her scent wafted over him, and his jaw ticked, but he didnt show any emotion. His dark eyes bore into hers, his shadows fought to sift over her, wanting to know her thoughts, her feelings, her emotions. Alas, she showed nothing.

“You and Lucien…” he drawled out, pretending to ask nonchalantly.

“We just danced to Azriel, I was really drunk,” she whispered softly, placing her hands together on her lap.

“You emerged from the same room,” he replied calmly.

As she cocked her head to the side, her hair falling onto her face, time seemed to slow down. Her long eyelashes were stunning, and her deep eyes looked at Azriel with something so unsaid, that the raw intensity sent shivers down his spine.

Azriel knew at that moment that he could no longer leave these unanswered feelings of his left hanging. He wasn't a dumb male; if his body was responding to Y/N like this for so long, there was clearly a reason. And it was not a dumb crush.

He had forced himself to believe for so long, that Elain should belong to him. Three brothers for three sisters, that is what he would tell himself.

Yet something had shifted between them two, a subtle undercurrent that left Azriel reeling. It was something deeper, something undeniable. And as he met Y/N's gaze, he knew that he could no longer ignore the pull that drew him to her, the pull of something real, something worth fighting for.

--

taglist : @allyjoe755 @impossibelle @t0uch-starved-h0e @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @marina468 @cassan1306 @mich0731 @bubybubsters @azzydaddy @sunnym1nd @lupinswolfsbanes @tcris2020 @kazbrkker @hungryforbatboys @f4iry-bell @menaosama @kennedy-brooke @dudssebm @written-in-the-stars06 @lahoete @hereticdance @ultrakawaiinerd @nyotamalfoy @topaz125 @fae-glamour-petrichorus @rachelnicolee @wannabewolf @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @dressed-in-prada @5moremin @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @lesliemurillo @feyres-fireheart @positivewitch @quackitysdrugdealer @saltedcoffeescotch @kalulakunundrum @mirandasidefics @crazylokonugget @isa1b2h3 @girl-who-writes-stuff @hayrunnwr @acourtofmoonlightandstars @lucky7rosie @mokanesa

[woso-dreamzzz]

Gone IV

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your toys are gone

Girl-swan gets juice spilt on her. Girl-moose is dropped in a puddle.

Both of them are filthy, covered in all the dirt that usually gets scrubbed off of you during bathtime.

Magda looks at them both with a raised brow, pinching girl-moose’s tail and girl-swan’s wing. She doesn’t want to really touch them with how dirty they are. She can’t really believe that you want to keep touching them when girl-swan’s wings are literally turning grey from how dirty she is.

She sighs deeply before throwing them into the washing machine, loading it up with washing powder and fabric softener and fiddling with the knobs until it’s on the most intense setting possible. Anything to get all the dirt and germs out.

She glances around before turning it on, spotting your baby blanket lying forgotten on the sofa.

You and Pernille are in your room, getting you dressed for another day at Chelsea training. You must have forgotten to bring it with you.

Magda picks it up. It doesn’t look outwardly dirty but she touches a wet patch and recoils. She brings it to her nose to smell it and relaxes slightly when all she smells is the milk you’ve spilled from breakfast.

She sighs though. It’s still dirty and she chucks it in the wash too, turning on the machine and leaving it to run. It should be finished by the time training finishes so all Magda needs to do is stick it in the dryer and it’ll all be fresh and warm for bedtime.

“We need to go!” She yells up the stairs,” Shoes and coats on please!”

You come barrelling down the stairs holding the gloves Zećira got you for your birthday. You’re wearing one of her full-sized Rosengård jerseys as well. It’s been rolled up as much as possible and tucked into your trackie bottoms and Magda kneels down to help you put on your shoes and coat.

You grab your usual training bag from where it’s sitting on the back of the dinner table chair, struggling to get it over both shoulders until Pernille helps you.

“Come on, come on!” You say,” Zećira’s teaching me penalties today!”

Pernille laughs at how quickly you try to get them out of the house but allows herself to be dragged along.

You have a lot of fun with Zećira at training and she does teach you about penalties. She shows you that you need to anticipate what way the penalty taker will move and you need to be quick enough to stop them.

(One day, you’ll be the most feared keeper to take a penalty against).

You’re happy for most of training until lunch.

Your food is sitting in front of you but you’ve not touched it. You keep digging through your bag. You look through it once then stop. You look through it again, your face getting more and more distressed the longer you search through it.

You practically look distraught by the time Magda arrives with her own food. Pernille’s still in the line but you’re sitting with Niamh, who looks worried over what she’s supposed to do.

Magda’s just sitting down when you burst into tears.

The scraping of cutlery and the chatter of voices dims as you sob.

“Lost!” You cry and Magda gently takes your bag from you. “They’re lost!”

Magda’s confused. Everything she packed in your bag this morning is still there and she rummages to the bottom of the bag and pulls out your keeper glove triumphantly.

“Not lost,” She assures you,” See, they’re right here!”

You look hopeful for a moment before you notice what’s in her hands. “No!” You cry,” Not my gloves!”

“Everything’s here,” Magda assures you,” Nothing’s lost. Nothing at all!”

“They are!” You insist.

“What’s lost?”

“My blankie!”

Magda feels a little bad.

“And my girl-swan and girl-moose!”

Magda suddenly feels a lot worse.

“They’re not lost!” She says quickly,” They’re not lost at all.”

“They are!” You cry, tugging your bag back so you keep empty it all over the table. “Not here!”

“They’re at home!” Magda explains before you start screeching,” They’re just in the wash.”

You take a break from crying to take in Magda’s words. Your bottom lip is still trembling but Magda thinks she’s done a good job at deescalating the situation…

Until you start crying again.

“You’re drowning them! Bad, Morsa! You’re drowning my friends!”

Yeah, Magda’s feeling horrible now.

She tries to pick you up but you refuse her touch, leaning away and clambering into a shell shocked Niamh’s lap, who has no idea what to do but bounce you on her knee.

“What’s going on?” Pernille asks. She’s hurried through the line quickly and places her plate down on the table. “What’s with the tears?”

You point an accusing finger at Magda. “My friends are gone! Morsa’s drowning them!”

“I put her swan, moose and blankie in the washing machine,” Magda explains.

“They’re drowning!” You insist, fat tears running down your cheeks,” They are! They are!”

Pernille sighs, picking you up before placing you on her lap as she slips into your seat. “They’re not drowning,” She says,” Your toys can swim.”

You sniffle. “Promise?”

“I promise. They can definitely swim.”

You wipe away your tears, flopping until you’re resting your ear against Pernille’s chest.

Magda feels terrible. She should have told you that your toys would be taking a little dip. You probably would have whined and made them late for training but that’s definitely a better alternative to this.

You remain morose and depressed all through training and it’s only when you get home that you perk up.

The washing machine is finished and you wrench it open.

Magda grabs your toys and blankie before you can.

“I’m sorry, Princesse,” She says to you,” But they’re still wet. They have to go to the dryer.”

“The dryer’s hot!” You shriek, looking close to tears all over again,” They’ll burn.”

Pernille picks you up, walking you up to your room to get you changed. “It’s just like the hairdryer,” She explains as you go,” And you don’t get burnt on the hairdryer, do you?”

“No, Momma.”

“Then your things won’t burn in the dryer.”

[heartmix]

Beard Burn - John Price

Pairing: John Price x wife!reader

Word Count: 1.1k+

Warning: allude to s*x, going commando, beard burn (as you can tell by the title)

A/N: originally a jamie benn fic but captain john price 🥰

Masterlist / cod masterlist

Your favorite physical features of John's was hands down his beard. He took a lot of pride into keeping it looking good, often taking hours to line it up and trim it. Often you reminded the captain of how much you loved it and how handsome it made him look. His beard was one of the things you first noticed about him. To say it was an obsession on how much you loved it wouldn't be that far fetched. 

It was a blessing and a curse. As much as you admired it, his beard tended not to be so nice on your skin. During make out sessions or another intimate activity your skin would hate you and get all read and itchy. John noticed the redness afterwards but didn't bother too much since there wasn't much complaining on your end. No way were you going to complain about it.

"Why are you walking like that?" Brandy, your best friend asked as you made your way to the backyard.

You and price decided to hold a little barbecue to celebrate the boys coming back from a four month long mission. He always took care of his team and made sure that they took the time off of work to actually relax. This was one of the ways he could make sure they are doing just that.

"Um, beard burn." a quick mumble was let out as you straighten your pose seeing as she noticed something was up. It wasn't the first time you had to deal with it, but it was the first time you had to play host with it still fresh. 

"You nasty people, someone was excited to be coming home." She teased to which you rolled your eyes at. It was honestly no secret that John couldn't keep his hands off of you especially when he came back from deployment. Your best friend being the only person who knew the dirty details, courtesy of her barging into your house one morning.

"It's fresh from this morning and burns like hell."

"Then why are you wearing jeans? You ain't letting any airflow." She was saying what you already knew. Normally in a situation like this you would go commando and wear the silkiest shorts you own but it didn't feel appropriate for the occasion. 

"This was the first thing i found. The only laundry ive been able to wash is John's and thats not an easy task."

"Come on lets go find something more comfortable, we have time before the rest of your guest come." 

"You going to change lovie?" John asked seemingly hearing what Brandy said as he started up the grill. 

"Yeah, want to change into something more comfortable." You smiled up at him to which he returned. If only he knew the real reason why you were going to change. 

"Don't be long." He said leaning down to place a kiss on your lips.

"Let go of her you leach. Don't burn my steak." Brandy's voice broke your kiss making you both laugh before she was pulling you back in the house. 

Navigating through the mess that was your closest you managed to find a clean dress that was tossed all the way in the back. A simple blue sundress that looked modest enough for the night. Thankfully there was no wind and you were able to go commando without the risk of a Marilyn Monroe moment. 

By the time you and Brandy reached downstairs everyone seemed to be here already. A few of your friends were in the house while Price and his boys were out by the grill in the backyard. Looks like you took longer to change then you would have liked. 

"Go play host while i get us some drinks." Brandy said nudging you to your living room as she headed off to the kitchen. 

As you made your way throughout the house greeting people you couldn't help, but be glad at the suggestion to change. Relieve came immediately when you stepped outside to the crisp fall air. The pain wasn't fully gone but it wasn't as irritating as it was when wearing jeans. A smile graced your face while you made your way up to the boys.

"Theres the Missus!" Exclaimed Gaz making everyone look up at you.

"Looking beautiful as always." Soap smiled making you giggle at the compliments. 

"Thank you, you boys enjoying yourselves?"

"Making sure your husband doesn't burn the food." Ghost spoke up earning an eye roll from John. 

"You look beautiful lovie." John said as he pulled you beside him placing a kiss on your lips.

The rest of the night went on great. Much to Ghost and Brandy's doubt John didn't burn the food. Everyone enjoyed themselves which was all worth the last minute planning. As you both settled into bed John was wondering what made you decide to wear a dress. Sure maybe Brandy somehow convinced you, but it was unlikely you would stop your hosting duties just to go and change. 

"You looked comfortable tonight." John hummed as he came out of the shower seeing you in a night gown all ready to go to bed.

"Yeah I was. Cold air felt nice tonight." 

"No other reason?" He asked settling in bed next to you. 

"I kind of got uncomfortable from the activities this morning." Shyly you admitted making a smirk appear on your husbands face. 

"Was I too rough?"

"No not that, um your beard." John was now confused. What did his beard have anything to do with your comfortableness? "Beard burn." You clarified seeing his confused expression. Might as well rip off the bandage while were here.

"You have beard burn from me eating you out?"

"Yeah, Was burning at bit earlier, but got better when i was wearing just the dress."

"So you're telling me you weren't wearing anything under that little thing all night?" The smirk was back up on his face as his big hands slowly moved up and down your bare leg. 

"Just because i said it's better now doesn't mean that i want a repeat of this morning." You playfully slapped his hand away but it had no affect, his hand was back on you. 

"I'll shave." He said with all seriousness in his tone. John was going to do anything to make you happy and feel good. If the beard had to go so be it. 

"Don't you dare John Price." You scolded seeing how serious he was being. As much pain as the hair on his face caused you there was no way in hell you were parting with it just for a night of sex. 

"It's cock blocking me!" With all seriousness in his tone which you couldn't help but laugh at. 

"Well your cock blocker is what turns me on so it stays. You can go one night without sex old man."

[vampiricgf]

Musings of a Fool in Love

leon kennedy x reader

wc: 1k+

warnings: none, sfw, just a sweet moment of both seriously and not seriously discussing marriage, thinking about what it means to exist in perpetuity with another person

I wanted to do something sweet especially after all the angst ive been inflicting on everyone <3 so here's a lil thing inspired by the old love songs I was listening to this morning. (i also didn't have a specific iteration of him in mind for this so it can be interpreted with whichever one you want) if there's mistakes I simply pretend i do not see lol

Soft chords of music fill the apartment, the last dregs of daylight washing you both in hues of honey gold and peach tinged pink, catching in his softly focused blue eyes like those novelty crystals that sit on their tiny, LED powered pedestals refracting the manmade light an infinite number of times. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, the hand lightly holding yours giving a gentle squeeze while the other remains restfully perched on your hip as you bodies move slowly with the melody. 

You don’t speak immediately, relishing in how he looks at this moment and contemplating dodging the question. It’s silly, nonsensical but just serious enough that it could shatter this dreamlike moment, leaving it as insubstantial as the last twinges of a dream that cling to the mind like a mist. But you decide against subterfuge, willing to risk cracking the tranquility apart. 

“I was thinking about what it would be like to get married.”

There’s no dramatic pause, he doesn’t bring your combined motion to a halt; that doesn’t stop his expression from changing although not into what you expected. Leon gives you a soft smile, hesitant, but seemingly chooses to indulge your line of thought.

“What about getting married?” His tone is hushed, like you’re two children whispering secrets and it makes you giggly, nervousness bubbling in your throat like a bird flapping it’s wings against it’s cage. 

“Just… What it would be like.” You shrug, shyness wrapping around your body like spectral hands. The wine you’d indulge in at dinner encouraging heat the spread lazily beneath your skin.

“What do you think it would be like?”

You could hold his gaze forever, you think. Maybe forever does exist that way: two people who live in one anothers faces, and you think again of those childhood crystals with their dazzling displays of endless light frozen inside. 

“Hm, something like this, I think.” 

“No specifics?” He teases you, extending the hand that holds yours to make room for you to lightly spin, laughing a little bit louder now. 

“You’d hate them,” You say through more glittering peels of laughter.

“Mm, try me.”

“I’m picturing something like a courthouse, nothing as imposing as a cathedral or a big church.”

“How romantic,” He gives you a faux roll of his eyes, still smiling. 

“Do you want a cathedral, a church?” You ask, genuinely curious now. 

“It doesn’t really matter to me, I guess all that would matter is that you’re there.”

“Now who’s the sappy romantic?” It’s your turn to tease him and he takes it in stride, drawing you in and placing a wet, exaggerated kiss on your cheek that makes you dissolve into yet more unbridled giggles. 

“And what else?” He encourages, the hand on your hip traveling to rest comfortably, solidly against your lower back. 

You pretend to eye him critically before continuing. “I could wear some gaudy dress shaped like a puff pastery.”

That makes him laugh, a full body, bone deep laugh, the kind that makes satisfaction ooze through your own form, warm and sticky as maple syrup and you can’t help but resume your own silvery laughter. The sounds of your mingled gasps for air against the rush of joy mixes with the song, a unique sound that is wholly, unequivocally yours. 

“You’d be the most beautiful puff pastry.”

And despite the absurdity of that sentence you can’t help the swell of adoration in your chest, can’t help but press kiss after kiss against his lips until you’ve both stopped moving, his eyes roaming your face in soft attentiveness as your fingertips brush against his jaw and the sound of music is drowned out by your mingled breaths. 

He brings your hand to his lips, leaving a trail of kisses so chaste, so sweet they make your teeth ache as he makes his way from your knuckles to your inner wrist. His breath fanning across your skin grips you in a sudden lightheadedness and your heart pounds so hard you think there’s no way he can’t also hear its reckless rhythm. 

“If I asked you right now, would you say yes?” 

And all is quiet. Gone is the overpowering sound of your heart, the soft twinkle of music, the sound of breath leaving body. The question hangs frozen, suspended in the air between you two like a single perfect, encapsulated snowflake. 

“I would always say yes to you,’’ Your voice breaks, just the tiniest fraction of a crack and he huffs out another low breath of laughter, pressing your wrist to his lips with more firmness, more intensity present than before. Slowly he lowers your arm, holding your hand once more and resting his forehead against yours, searching for something in your wide eyed gaze. 

The quiet that descends on you doesn’t do so as a threat, not with speed nor discomforting awkwardness. It’s the quiet of two lovers, content to rest in the moment with one another before moving to the next. 

“There’s no rush,” You whisper, your voice a tender, furtive thing not unlike a newly hatched little bird hesitantly peeking into the sunlight for the first time. 

And your words bleed out around the tiny little living room, like dye dropped into water, spreading and curling into even the farthest corners of your apartment as your eyes close and you tuck your neck against his chest, neither of you moving and it’s wholly possible that you could stay that way for an eternity, ivy growing thick and wild as it winds around your legs, drips down your fingertips, takes the place of your hair. 

Maybe eternity only exists in the fleetest, most foolish of moments. 

“You’re right. And it would be disappointing, getting proposed to with no ring.”

“You could give me one of those candy ones,” you say without moving from his chest and you feel more than hear the light chuckle it earns you.

“We’ve gotta work on your taste.”

“Are you saying I have bad taste?”

“I mean, look at your choice of man.”

At that you laugh again and the motion of your bodies resumes along with the music, in the lamplight glow of evening now, that perfect glimpse of eternity resting in the cradle of your memory. 

[0cta9on]

Can you do a fluffy smut fic of IVE's Wonyoung? In the fic, she is madly in love with her older manager whom has been by her side since her trainee days and loved her like his own little sister. Then she heard about his decision to transfer to another agency and began to panic. She begged him not to leave and confessed to him. However, OC rejected her due to the fear of destroying their close bond. WY eventually succeed in reassuring him of her love and both of them ended up making out.(OC is 5-6 years older than WY, hence the brother-sister dynamic relationship)

For the past three years, you served as the manager for the girl group sensation IVE, and you’ve loved every single second of it. The girls are cute and almost immediately started treating you like an older brother, which you gladly accepted. You’ve been a shoulder for them to cry on when things get tough and thanks to the pretty decent Starship Entertainment check, you often bought them little treats to tide them over in between schedules. They were like your little family - six little sisters that you love like they’re your own blood. Unfortunately, you might be saying bye to your little family soon.

Your footsteps echo along the corridor of Starship’s building as you pace nervously back and forth. As your contract with the company runs out, others have been reaching out and offering manager positions to you. Nothing has interested you so far, mainly just offers from small companies looking for an experienced manager to take care of their rookie groups. That is, until this morning, when you received a ludicrous offer from a larger company that would set you up for the rest of your life. You would be a fool not to take it - but that would also mean leaving behind the girls you have cared for all these years. 

A sudden jab to the side of the ribs makes you jump. “Jesus Christ, what th-” You turn around to face the perpetrator, only to see Wonyoung laughing at you.

“You should see your face oppa, that was hilarious!” She exclaims. Normally, you would laugh along and scold her playfully, but the thought of having to break the news about your potential departure fills you with an overwhelming sense of dread.

“What’s wrong, oppa?” Wonyoung asks, noticing your uncharacteristically serious expression.

Out of all the girls, Wonyoung is the one you’ve known the longest. You first met her when she was preparing for Produce 48, and you watched her grow and mature ever since. To outsiders, she is the epitome of success, but you know better than anyone just how much pain she’s experienced to get to this level. With how strong your bond is, you can’t even imagine how much it would crush her to tell her that you’re leaving.

You relinquish a heavy sigh deep within your lungs. “L-look, I-” The words struggle to make themselves known, writhing inside your gut as you stare deep into Wonyoung’s concerned eyes. Without another thought, you pull her into a tight embrace, more for yourself than for her.

“Hey, it’s okay, oppa,” she soothes, rubbing your back. “You can tell me.”

You instinctively tighten your grip on her, afraid that this’ll be the last time you get to hold her like this. “I got an offer this morning… from another company. The salary they’re offering would help me out a lot, so I-”

“You’re leaving?!” Wonyoung pulls away slightly to look you in the eyes. It feels like a knife stabs you in the heart as you stare back at her teary gaze.

“Y-yeah, I am…” You utter regretfully. She fights back a sob as she hits your chest, hurting your soul more than it does your actual body.

“B-but you can’t leave!”

“I’m sorry, Wonyoung, but Starship-”

“Screw Starship! What about IVE? What about me?” Tears begin to flow uncontrollably down her cheeks. All those years of consoling her and being by her side, yet the one time she needs you the most is when you’re about to leave her. Being the cause of her tears hurts you more than you’ll ever know.

“Wonyoung, I-”

“I love you!” She exclaims, glaring through her misty eyes.

“I love you guys too, but-”

“NO!” Her voice echoes loudly through the corridor, pushing you back a few steps. Always the epitome of prim and proper, you have never seen Wonyoung scream like this. A deep, unspoken ache reflects in her eyes as you start putting the pieces together. 

“I-I… I love you… Like, really love you… I want to be with you a-and hold you tightly… I want to kiss you and feel like I’m the only woman for you… I-I just… I love you so, so much… You can’t leave me like this…”

You freeze in disbelief, unsure of what to think or feel about her sudden confession. You always made sure not to develop any feelings for the girls as that could end up badly for the both of you. However, you can’t deny that you’ve been seeing Wonyoung differently as of late. The way she carries herself with such professionalism and confidence, how hard she words behind the scenes for herself and for the rest of IVE, you can truly see just how beautiful of a person she is, both inside and out. Taking this job would be the chance of a lifetime, but a person like Wonyoung only comes around once in a lifetime. You would be a fool to let her go.

You gently cup her cheeks, wiping away her tears with your thumbs. “It’s okay, Wonyoung. I’m not going anywhere.” She breaks down and begins sobbing into your chest. Your mind suddenly feels lighter now that you’ve made up your mind. In fact, you almost feel ridiculous for almost choosing money over the family that you found three years ago.

“You’re really not going to leave?” Wonyoung asks you after calming down a bit. You shake your head, a hopeful smile growing on your face, before she wraps her arms around your head, pressing her lips against yours. Subconsciously, you have been waiting for this kiss for years and you aren’t about to let it go so easily. The scent of her strawberry shampoo combined with her soft, marshmallow lips brings you to a new high you’ve never experienced before.

As you break the kiss, the heartbroken girl is swiftly replaced by the bright and lovely Wonyoung that you’re used to. She giggles as you kiss her cheeks, getting rid of any leftover tears. Suddenly, Wonyoung takes your hand, a mischievous twinge in her eye further emphasized by an alluring bite in her lip.

“Since you’re not leaving anymore, I think we should celebrate. Come with me,” she says before dragging you along the corridor. She peeks through one of the doors before pulling you inside, locking the door behind her. As you look around the small room, you notice a bunch of foam padding lining the walls, along with a piano and a couple chairs.

“This is one of the solo vocal practice rooms,” she explains. “No one outside will be able to hear us, no matter how loud we are.” A lightbulb goes off in your head as you turn to her, both shocked and turned on. Wonyoung’s cheeks turn a light pink as you look her up and down.

“I-I mean, we don’t have to do it if you don’t want-” You stop her, bringing a finger to her lips.

“I want to do it. I want you,” you assure her. She smiles brightly as she pulls you in for another kiss, this one much steamier than the other. Your hands snake around her petite waist, bringing her as close as you physically can. Her gentle breath starts to get heavier, gracing your cheeks, and the warmth in your chest continues to grow until it threatens to burst from your skeleton. You want nothing more than to love this girl as much and as hard as you can, pushing her into the padded wall with the fervor of a new sun on an early morning.

Wonyoung strokes your cock over your jeans, teasing you with her fingertips. You respond in kind by grazing her thigh with your fingernails, causing her body to shiver beneath you. You break the kiss and rest your forehead against hers to catch your breath, the final look before the leap. She gazes at you with fondness and desire, and you feel lucky knowing you’re the only man that will ever receive that look from her. Tentatively, she unzips your pants, audibly gasping as she looks upon your cock for the first time, unintentionally inflating your ego. You watch with bated breath as Wonyoung kneels in front of you, slowly stroking you with her soft hands and placing gentle kisses along your length, staining it with her lip gloss.

“Does that feel good, oppa?” She asks, searching for approval.

“Yes, that feels so good, baby,” you moan, brushing your hands through her silky hair.

“Mmm, I like it when you call me baby. Keep saying it.” Wonyoung flashes you a smile before taking you into her mouth, making you shiver like the first time you step into a cold pool. Her thick, glossy lips eagerly sucking your cock combined with her big, round eyes looking up at you brings you to all new heights of arousal.

“Holy shit baby, you’re amazing,” you compliment. In response, Wonyoung plants her hands on your thighs, attempting to take your entire length down her throat at once, her gags filling the entire room. You almost feel bad for the people walking by who don’t get to hear this beautiful chorus reserved for you.

Eventually, Wonyoung stumbles backwards, choking for air as saliva drips down her chin. She reaches for your hand, and you gladly help her up, anticipating what will happen next. With a wink, she plants her hands against the wall, sticking her ass out towards you. Her warm yet seductive gaze pulls you in, promising a moment you’ll never forget.

“I’ve waited for this moment for so long,” she says, biting her lip. You flip up her skirt, revealing her cute ass for the first time, and peel off her damp panties. The scent of her dripping sex fills your brain, drawing you towards her even more. As you slowly insert yourself into her, you gauge Wonyoung’s reaction, making sure you’re not hurting her.

“Is that okay, baby?” You whisper into her ear. She nods, wincing slightly.

“S-so good, keep going.”

You hold onto her waist for support, eventually bottoming out inside of her. Her warm walls grasp you tightly, still adjusting to your size. After a moment, Wonyoung nods, prompting you to start thrusting into her. Slow yet firm at first, as her moans begin to escalate, you increase the power of your thrusts until it devolves into pure, unbridled pounding.

“A-ah! Yes! F-feels so g-good!” She groans in pleasure. “K-kiss me!”

You do as she says, capturing her lips into a sloppy kiss as you continue fucking her from behind. You exchange breaths, warming up each other’s skin, filling your nostrils with each other’s pheromones. In your mind, nothing else matters except making love to the woman before you. You want to spend the rest of your life loving her in every way you can, and when you’ve done it all, you want to invent new ways of loving just so you can show her how much she means to you. A familiar pressure begins to build up in your stomach as you gaze into Wonyoung’s eyes, half-lidded as she succumbs to your passion. You take her lips a final time before shooting your seed deep into her womb, cementing your bond forever. She follows soon after, nearly collapsing as her orgasm renders her legs into jelly.

“O-oh my god… That was better than I imagined,” she says. The two of you share a gentle laugh, holding onto her with no intention of letting her go ever again.

[perlelune]

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | iv.

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: NON-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

A smile blooms on your lips as you watch Tilly play hopscotch with her friend near the street. Snow’s melted enough this morning to be able to draw chalk patterns on the cobblestones. The young girl woke up excited to enjoy the day. And while you’re nowhere as thrilled, seeing the joy and life return to her gaze is more than enough for you. 

The little girls’ buoyant laughs fill the street and you let yourself bask in the moment. It’s rare that you get time to yourself lately.  Your shifts at the factory take up most of your time. And you’ve been spreading yourself thin, hoping to keep concerns at bay by remaining busy. White wisps surround you as you blow a long breath. You readjust your scarf and rub your gloved hands. Cold air seeps through the tiny holes in your gloves. You’ll need to stay after hours on your next shift to mend them. Perhaps you could even purloin enough throwaway remnants of wool to make Tilly a new pair. She’ll soon outgrow hers.

Besides, her health might have improved for now, but you never stop worrying about her catching another cold, one that might be deadlier than the last.

Lost in contemplation, you draw a sharp breath when an object drops from the sky onto your lap. Your eyes widen as you lower them. A pair of knitted gloves rests in your lap. They’re clearly brand new and the wool quality is unlike anything you’ve ever laid eyes on. You can tell from the thickness and vibrancy of the twining threads. You’re tempted to give it a brush with your fingertips, revel in the warmth oozing from the fabric. But you refrain.

“I don’t want that,” you snap, whipping your head up.

A towering, lanky frame clad in the peacekeeper’s signature blue uniform fills your sight. 

You toss the gloves at him and he catches them with a deep sigh. He sits near you on the steps. The hairs on the back of your neck bristle with his proximity, his broad shoulder grazing yours as he turns to study you.

You shiver as his gaze runs along your frame. You don’t look at him. You don’t want to. You’ve done your best to forget about him these last few weeks, even if his ever-lurking presence is hard to ignore. Whatever you do, wherever you are, he’s never hovering too far away.

He seizes your hands, forcefully slipping the gloves on your frostbitten fingers.

“Come on, you’re freezing,” he says. Your lips tighten as you meekly comply. Arguing with the peacekeeper has never worked in your favor. So why even try? You let him put the gloves on you, cursing the comfort you feel when the warm fabric hugs your fingers. An absent thought drifts in your head as you admire the wool. You never owned anything this nice. The quality evokes the clothes that usually head straight to the Capitol.

All the nice things go to them first while District dwellers beg for scraps.

Coriolanus leans back, his large hands spreading over his knees. His stance is far too relaxed for your taste and you shrink further on your side of the narrow stairs. 

As his icy blue orbs settle on your cousin and her friend, you tense.

“She seems to be doing well. I’m assuming the medicine helped,” he notes, smugness oozing from his words. His attention scorches your skin as you pointedly evade his stare. You loathe the satisfaction he draws from this. More leverage to use against you. More opportunities to make you feel small, helpless.

“What are you doing here?” you curtly ask.

His small chuckle makes your stomach coil.

“Is this any way to greet a friend?” His tone becomes light, playful. “Especially one that comes bearing gifts?” 

Your brows knit. “Friends…”

Hot air tickles your earshell as he bends over you, whispering, “The closest of friends.”

Your heart skips a beat.

He grabs your chin, angling your face towards his. A shuddered breath leaves your lips as stark blue eyes drink you in. “Really birdie, not even a smile? Come now.”

You nudge a tremulous smile onto your lips. 

His thumb grazes your trembling bottom lip as his mouth twists skyward. “Better,’ he praises quietly.

A winning glint sways in his eyes and your stomach lurches. 

“Hi!”

Tilly’s cheerful voice shatters the moment. Coriolanus releases you and relief billows inside your chest. 

He beams at the young girl, replying in a similar tone, “Hi.”

Your young cousin bounces on her feet, excitement rounding her gaze as she admires  the peacekeeper. Your frown deepens at the exchange.

“I’m Tilly,” she announces solemnly, offering her hand to shake.

Coriolanus laughs as he takes it, mirth lighting up his handsome face.

“I know. I know all about you.” A mix of shock and awe decorates the young girl’s features with that information, as if the peacekeeper knowing anything about her was the most extraordinary thing in the world. “I’m a friend of your cousin. My name’s Coriolanus.”

“Coriolanus,” she repeats, as if mesmerized by the sound of his name alone.

“Here. I have something for you,” he says. 

He reaches inside the pocket of his uniform and pulls out a bag. Your cousin jumps, her eyes sparkling with joy when he hands it to her.

“Candy!” she exclaims. 

Your face pinches at the sight of the colorful sweets in the bag. These aren’t easy to acquire. 

“Tilly…”

“What?”

The young girl’s expression is dejected as she looks at you, almost like she can sense your disapproval and is preparing to return the gift. Your shoulder sag. You don’t have it in you to refuse her this small sliver of delight. 

You shake your head and smile.

“Nothing.” You hunker in front of her. “We should go back inside.”

“But I want to play…” she pouts.

“You have chores. And Coriolanus…” Your eyes lift to him. Amusement hasn’t left his expression. “is very busy.”

He doesn’t say anything as you shove your cousin inside the house. He lingers by the door and you fidget beneath his heavy stare.

“I’m guessing you have…somewhere to be.”

His gaze drags over you as a small smile dances on his lips.

“Yes, I hear I’m very busy,” he teases. Shock fills you when he leans to brush his mouth against your cool cheek. “See you soon, birdie,” he mumbles, his deep voice making your stomach flutter.

You’re relieved when he finally leaves. You chase away the peculiar sensation his closeness sparked as you shut the door.

You don’t get time to collect yourself,  your little cousin immediately asking, “Is he your boyfriend?”

The pitch of your voice goes high with shock. 

“What? Are you crazy?”

Tilly frowns. “But I saw him kissing you.”

Heat nestles in your cheeks. Maybe from an outsider’s perspective, Coriolanus’ closeness could be misinterpreted, the peacekeeper perpetually crowding your space despite your reluctance. Still, you can’t believe it’s what the little girl thinks from looking at the two of you. 

It couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Every fiber of your being burns with hatred for him.

“No, we weren’t. It wasn’t…” you sputter, your embarrassment cresting as the excitement in your cousin’s eyes doesn’t dwindle. “He wasn’t kissing me. We were just talking.”

“About girlfriend and boyfriend stuff,” she insists. 

You sigh. You approach her and grip her shoulders. 

“Tilly, I need you to promise me something.”

She blinks up at you. “Yes?”

You crouch before her so you’re at eye level. 

“You need to stay away from peacekeepers.”

She purses her mouth, glancing down at the bag of candy.

“Yes, but Coriolanus…he was nice to me.”

Your stomach sinks.

“Well, Coriolanus isn’t like the others.”

She nods in understanding. You’re glad she doesn’t ask any further questions. You wouldn’t know how to begin to explain your relationship with him.

Not in any way that makes sense at least.

For a fortnight, you don’t see much of him. You bask in the tranquility of your usual routine, going back and forth, from home to work, and preparing to celebrate the end of the year with your cousin. It won’t be lavish, of course, but you’re hoping to save up enough from your wages to get Tilly a teddy and perhaps even a toy this year.

While most of your family has passed away, you want to cherish the things you still have. Perhaps you can even create new memories for your cousin, happier memories. She has been bedridden for months now and it’ll be the first holiday she’ll get to truly enjoy as a healthy, normal child. 

He appears again as you’re working your usual shift, casually switching places with another guard. While you pointedly avoid looking in his direction, you feel the weight of his unwavering eyes, watching you as always.

Still, you diligently weave the silk on your loom. Your attention cannot stray. One mistake and the fabric will be ruined. 

“Your shadow’s there,” Yara notes from her station right next to yours.

Your eyes flick upward briefly as you nod.

“Yeah.”

Silence hangs in the air a while before your friend speaks again.

“It doesn’t seem to bother you that much.”

You shrug. “I’m getting used to it.”

Her eyes land on the gloves peeking from the pocket of your long skirt.

“By the way, I meant to ask…Is that from him?”

You hesitate a little before begrudgingly admitting, “Yes.”

She moves her head in acknowledgement. 

“I see, gifts now.”

Stepping on the treadle to slow down the motion of your loom, you snap your head to Yara.

There was something in her tone just then, an implication you didn’t like.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She shakes her head and scoffs, “It’s just interesting, is all.”

“My hands were cold,” you defend.

“You could have thrown them away. I made my own. It’s what we do every year. Make our own.” Her gaze locks with yours. Licking her lips, she seems to mull over something before she asks,  “Is there something going on between you two? I mean other than what I already know.”

Your face grows hot.

“There is nothing.”

She studies you for a few minutes before turning her focus back to her loom.

��Right,” she says.

Your annoyance mounting, you give the treadle a vigorous push and start weaving faster.

You let your friend’s prickly comments fade somewhere in the back of your mind. You have no desire to explore this dangerous line of thought any further. 

There is indeed nothing going on between you and the peacekeeper. You keep repeating it to yourself as your fingers assemble the threads as if your life depended on it. 

It helps you ignore the way your blood races in your veins.

Relief fills you when your shift ends. Tension built in your body and firmly remained since Yara began questioning you. You can still feel it in the stiffness in your limbs, the heaviness in your chest. You make haste as you dart across the hallways, eager to return home.

Your escape is halted by a pair of strong arms pulling you in a dark corner of the factory. 

You look up at him through wide eyes. That teasing smile you’ve grown all too familiar with decorates his lips.

“Why the rush, sweet bird?”

“Coriolanus…” You step back from him. “Can’t you just leave me be, just once?”

He approaches you, forcing you to shrink against the wall. He cages you, his hands on each side of you as he drinks you in. You dip your head, overwhelmed with the scent of roses washing over you. 

“I can’t actually.” Warmth swirls in your belly as his tone lowers. “Look at me.” He puts two fingers below your chin to angle it upward. His eyes narrow. “You’re upset.”

“Just had a long day,” you elude with a shrug. 

He scrutinizes you. Your mouth quakes, his silence unnerving you. 

After some time, he finally announces, “I’m getting discharged soon.”

“Oh, where?”

“I’m getting sent back to the Capitol.”

You gape at him. That’s not what you expected to hear. Though you surmise it makes sense, with him being around less. A strange mix of feelings surges inside your chest. But mostly, relief, freedom. You’ll be able to breathe properly again, without the uneasy attention of the peacekeeper tailing you everywhere you go. 

Though you try not to let your emotions show. You give a tilted smile.

“Isn’t that a good thing? You get to go home, return to your life.”

His knuckles sweep over the apple of your cheek. 

“Well…I’ll miss some things about District 8.”

You clear your throat. “I should get back home.”

“Meet me tonight,” he says bluntly. 

“What for?”

His eyes darken, running over your trembling frame. His thumb skims over your bottom lip.

“I’m leaving. We should celebrate, just the two of us.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. You truly hoped to avoid…colliding with the peacekeeper again, in any way, but you suppose it was inevitable. One way or another, he’d have asked for more of you, simply because he could. Your fate is in his hands after all. He could easily make your life here hell just by whispering in the right ears.

Still, you can’t help voicing a feeble protest.

“Is that necessary?”

His eyes flare with danger. Your breath snags as he grips your jaw, his fingers digging painfully into your cheeks. Your pulse thrums beneath his palm.

“I don’t want to be mean to you right now, so don’t make me.” Though his tone is soft, his expression is harsh and inflexible. “Just do as I say.”

You give a shaky nod.

“S-See you tonight.”

He releases your face and you take a deep breath. His crooked smile is wide and victorious as he hops away from you.

“I look forward to it, sweet bird.”

You put a hand on your chest as he disappears, willing your thundering heart to slow down. You find comfort in a single thought. At least, after tonight, you will finally be rid of the peacekeeper.