#just read the words ‘faded just another into part of the background noise’

[dirty-bear-rick-sanchez]

I know I always talk about how much I hate editing my fics on here but if you saw how many basic mistakes I make with missing words, words in the wrong order, muddled tenses, you would understand

[ro-is-struggling]

Safer In His Arms || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon

Summary: Since you were little you always dreamed of meeting a noble and brave knight, falling in love and marrying him to rule your kingdom together until the end of your days. But as you looked around at the men that had come to the banquet to ask for your hand in marriage, it was clear that those dreams were nothing more than a fantasy. Or at least that's what you thought until fate crossed your path with Geralt of Rivia. The witcher, with his hard expression and cold stare, was the last person anyone would describe as warm or chivalrous. But not you. From the moment you met him, you saw nothing but kindness in his eyes. And when he managed to rescue you from the hands of bandits, you knew that maybe there was still some hope that your fantasy could come true —just maybe not in the way you had always imagined. 

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of sexual assault (nothing happens but if it’s triggering for you I wouldn’t read it), protective!geralt, SMUT MINORS DNI, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, loss of virginity (not accurate this is just porn!), dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, aftercare, fluff

English is not my first language

Word count: 13500 (not even sorry)

Notes: I don't know why I keep giving every princess I write a sad/tragic story, sorry about that. Also this ended up being way more smutty than I anticipated, sorry about that too (not really). It was supposed to be a fun little hurt/comfort fic about Geralt saving the reader but it developed a mind of its own and ended up being another excuse to write more smut. I tried to make the smut a bit more fluffy than normal since it's supposed to be the reader's first time, but I didn't want it to be too fluffy given that they technically barely know each other, so there's no actual love between them (if that makes sense?). So, sorry if it's a bit all over the place!

The cold breeze of the summer night hit your skin the moment you set foot outside, reminding you that you should have taken a coat. While the days tended to be hot this time of year, once the sun set over the horizon a cool breeze embraced the entire kingdom, courtesy of the ocean forces that surrounded the borders of the land. It was quite peaceful. On a quiet night you loved to sit in the courtyard listening to the waves crashing against the rocks and smelling the scent of the salty water that was carried by the winds and mingled with the sweet perfume of the garden flowers. It seemed to always bring peace to your troubled mind, and that was exactly what you needed right now.

You could still hear the noise coming from inside the castle, though it was slowly getting lost in the sound of the sea. The laughter, the chatter, the joyful music, it all faded into the background as you plopped down on one of the seats in the courtyard, allowing yourself a moment to take a deep breath and let the beauty of your kingdom impart some of the wisdom you so desperately needed. All the guests were there for you —to talk and dance with you, to make unattainable but romantic promises in exchange for your hand in marriage— and yet all you wanted to do was disappear. You were tired of the politics, the diplomacy, tired of feeling the pressure of having to decide the future of your life and your kingdom in one night. The choice of a husband was very important to your parents, to your people and it should be to you too, but all you wanted was for the day to be over.

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only one feeling overwhelmed in there." A deep voice startled you. 

Looking up you were met with a tall man leaning against one of the stone pillars supporting the roof of the covered section of the courtyard. His arms were crossed over his chest, muscles showing through the fabric of his clothes. His white hair hid part of his face, though you could still make out his hard expression and defined jaw. But what caught your attention the most was not the size of his muscles or the fact that the clothes he was wearing seemed too elegant for someone like him. No, what caught your attention the most were the amber eyes that watched you, admiring you from a distance, hiding behind a few rebellious strands of hair. You had never seen such beautiful eyes before. They were piercing, and yet there was a softness in them. Like the sun on a summer afternoon, they shone with an intensity that would have blinded anyone. But you were mesmerized by them, unable to look away. 

"Though I must admit I did not expect to find you here, your highness, given that you are the center of the party."

"I needed some fresh air." You managed to say, forcing yourself to look away from his eyes. "I lost count of the number of men I danced with tonight...I just needed a break."

"That bad, huh?" His lips curved upward slightly, giving his hard expression a softer look. "I suppose if any of them had made a good impression at least you would remember their name."

"It wouldn't matter anyways. My parents have a very strong opinion about the one I should choose." You let out a bitter chuckle. "This banquet is just a formality, a contingency plan.... Give everyone a false sense of hope so they won't attack us for feeling left out."

"I'm sure you still have some sort of control over the whole thing. You're the one getting married after all."

"Since when does a woman's opinion matter when there's wealth and power involved? I'm just a pawn in their political game." Your gaze dropped, focusing on the embroidered details of your dress to avoid facing the intense gaze of the man in front of you. "When I was a girl I used to dream of growing up, meeting a brave and honorable prince and falling in love with him... now I know that feelings come after marriage, if they come at all."

Geralt watched you walk arround the courtyard, your fingers tracing the petals of the flowers that decorated the place without paying much attention to your movements. You had a blank stare and a sad expression adorned your delicate face. He was not a big lover of royalty —he didn't care about politics and didn't like the arrogant tone with which most of them used to speak—, but you were different. When he looked at you he didn't see a spoiled, arrogant princess or a manipulative political figure capable of anything to get their way. He only saw a sad and disillusioned young woman, confused about her future and the responsibility that fell on her shoulders. 

Geralt felt bad for you and had an inexplicable urge to hug you, though he restrained himself. He opted to move closer to you, just took a couple of steps forward and he was already able to breathe in the scent of your perfume. His nostrils were pleasantly assaulted by the sweet scent emanating from your skin and hair. It was special, a blend of jasmine, vanilla and a hint of sea water. It was like nothing he had ever smelled before and he was sure that your scent would linger in his memory for a long time.

"It is still your life." He spoke behind your back and you turned to look at him. He seemed much bigger now that he was closer to you. His figure towered over you imposingly, yet his eyes were soft. "You can always take back your control over it." Your lips curved upward slightly and Geralt thought the smile suited you much better than the grimace of sadness. 

You appreciated his effort to improve your mood. He was a complete stranger who had no reason to listen to your complaints about a life that many considered privileged. And though his words were simple, they accomplished their purpose. You felt so helpless and trapped that you were unable to see that things didn't end there. Yes, you were forced to marry someone you did not love for the sake of your kingdom, but that was not the same as giving up your life, your control and power over it. There was still hope.

"Thank you..." you trailed off, realizing at that moment that you had opened yourself so sincerely to a man whose name you didn't even know. 

But before he could introduce himself, a voice in the distance interrupted you, answering for him.

"Geralt! There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you. You are supposed to protect me, you know."

Geralt let out an irritated sigh as the man you recognized as one of the many musicians hired by your parents to play at the banquet approached you. You had to stifle a chuckle as you realized that rather than escaping the noise of the party, he had come there to get a break from his friend's vibrant and cheerful personality. They were an odd pair, but you had no doubt that there had to be trust between them from the way the bard addresses him.

“I’ve been doing the impossible to hide from Lord Kaius for ages! What the hell were you doing out her–” The artist's complaints were cut short when his eyes finally rested on your figure. "Your highness." He gave a subtle bow, the tone of his voice changing to a lower, more subtle one from one second to the next.

"I'm afraid it's my fault. I was preoccupying your friend with the problems that afflict my mind on this fine evening and he was too kind to interrupt me. He was a great help, but you can take him back now. You clearly need him more than I do."

"Won't you come inside, your highness? You wouldn't want to miss your own party." The bard asked and you smiled at him. 

"In a moment. I'd like to enjoy the peace and fresh air for a while longer."

Geralt didn't know why, but his eyes kept searching for you in the crowd of people dancing and eating like there was no tomorrow. After Jaskier dragged him back to the banquet hall —and after saving him from the fury of the man whose daughter had lost her innocence in the hands of the bard—, he kept his eyes on the big dark wooden doors, waiting to see you enter. But the minutes passed and there was no sign of you anywhere. He hadn't seen you come through the door and he couldn't find you in the crowd of people or see you at the royal table sitting next to your parents. You had disappeared and some people were beginning to notice.

For a moment, Geralt wondered if perhaps his words had encouraged certain behaviors in you. Maybe your way of taking control of your life was to run away from there, leaving your parents, your suitors and your responsibilities behind and start from scratch. He was wondering if perhaps he should go out to look for you, when his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden entrance of a man running towards the king and queen waving a paper in his raised right hand.

"The princess has been kidnapped." He announced loudly, causing the entire room to fall into a deep silence. 

The musicians stopped playing, the people dancing stood motionless in the middle of the room and the queen almost fainted at that very moment. There was a collective sigh and then nothing. Pure silence while the king read the note that had been left behind by the bandits, establishing a payment for the recovery of the princess.

However, the silence did not last long. It was a room full of princes, knights and lords who were there to win the heart of the princess —or at least, the political interest of her parents— so chaos was bound to break out at a time like that. Lord Einar, the one who had found the note in the courtyard, was the first to offer his services to save the princess. His bravery set off a chain reaction of man after man appearing before the king to justify why they were the best suited for the task and not their competitors. And as they fought among themselves, Geralt decided to take matters into his own hands. 

He finally felt comfortable as he inspected the courtyard and its surroundings for some sort of clue as to your whereabouts. For the first time since he had arrived at the castle he felt as if he actually had something to do there. Banquets and politics weren't his thing, but tracking down and hunting evil was. And while his area of expertise was monsters, he was willing to make an exception —anything to find an excuse to get him out of the political mess unfolding in the banquet hall.

His senses enhanced by the mutation allowed Geralt to follow the path that your scent had left in the air. He only had to take a couple of deep breaths and he immediately caught the fragrance of jasmine and vanilla that he had smelled on your skin. It stood out above any other scent near him, almost as if he had you in front of him once again. All he had to do was follow it to the outskirts of the castle, where his tracking skills allowed him to form a clearer picture of the situation.

They were heading north, away from the ocean and into the forest. The four pairs of footprints in the dirt indicated the presence of three heavy men who were accompanied by a fourth subject that was not so pleased to be there. The footprints were more shallow and imperfect. They belonged to a person of smaller build who was being dragged by those men. Geralt found no blood on the path, so he felt optimistic. You were conscious and had no serious wounds that would leave traces of your blood on the road, so there was a high chance that he would arrive in time to save you.

Following the path became a little more complicated the deeper he went into the woods, but fortunately for him the vegetation was not so lush and the bandits had not hidden very far away. Soon he was able to hear their angry mutterings in the distance. The night wind carried your sobs with it and Geralt followed them as if it were a map straight to your whereabouts. 

You were being held captive in what appeared to be abandoned land. There was a dirty old shack and behind it, in the distance, Geralt could make out a barn that he had no doubt was in the same condition. A dim light was escaping through the half-open wooden door, so he knew that was where he had to go. 

Two of the bandits scattered around the property to control the perimeter while one remained inside with you. Geralt was able to slip past them unseen with ease. Clearly, they were not men of great intellect and wisdom. Only a fool would kidnap a princess on the one night she was surrounded by strong and capable noble knights looking to prove themselves to her. Although glancing around, he was the only one there, so perhaps the bandits had a point.

Geralt was very careful with his movements, seeking to stay in the shadows as long as possible to assess the situation. He knew he could take out those men without breaking a sweat, even if they attacked him all three at once. But he had to consider that you were in the middle and any mistake he made could end badly for you. So he took his time, stealing a glimpse of the barn through the cracked door. His vision was limited by the odd angle from which he was forced to observe the scene, as well as the dim light that illuminated the room. Geralt was considering going in with his sword held high and end it all, when a sudden movement forced him to retreat so as not to be found.

Still, he got to see the way the man was mistreating you, pushing you violently against a pile of hay while you cried and begged for your life. And he got to hear the string of degenerate words he spat at you, enjoying the fear in your voice as you struggled to keep your distance from him. It made Geralt angry. Very angry.

The next sequence of actions happened so quickly that it was hard for you to process it. Although, to be honest, your mind wasn't quite there either. A part of you was completely missing, preparing to face the worst. When your captor lunged at you, effectively imprisoning you against the hay and almost completely restricting your movements, your mind transported you to another place. You could still hear his voice in the distance, smell his unpleasant odor and feel his weight on your body, but it all felt distant, muffled by the sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the rocks and the smell of salt water. Your body was still struggling to break free and tears were still streaming down your cheeks, but your mind was preparing to face the horror you knew was coming.

"You can cry all you want, no one is coming to save you." The man clicked his tongue, an evil smile forming on his lips. "A castle full of people and not a single man in sight, what a shame! But don't worry, princess, the time has come for you to know what a real man is." He moved his hands to the buttons of his pants, his leering gaze roaming over your body. You felt like screaming, crying and vomiting all at the same time, but you remained immobile, not knowing how to react. You simply closed your eyes, concentrating on the images of the sea you loved so much, waiting for the moment to pass.

But instead of feeling the weight of your captor's body on you again, you felt the splatter of warm liquid on your skin. Droplets rolled down your cheeks, mixing with your tears, and streams fell on your clothes. When you opened your eyes you found the sharp point of a sword poking out of your captor's pierced stomach. It was his blood that drenched your body, his blood that stained your clothes. It poured down on you from the wound in his stomach and from the cut in his throat that prevented him from producing more than broken cries as he drowned in his own blood.

It took you a few seconds to understand what was happening. Your confused mind, on high alert for new dangers, was not able to comprehend that the death of your captor was something positive for you. You only saw blood in quantities you had never seen before and could not help but scream as you watched in horror as the sword disappeared inside the bandit's body —splashing a few more drops of blood on its way out.

In the blink of an eye, the dying body of your captor was removed from above you and was replaced by a hand that pressed over your mouth to silence you. You struggled against it, your own hands snapping out of their state of shock to clutch at the arm of the new danger in an attempt to separate it from you. But then your eyes focused on the man leaning over you, the one who had saved you and who was desperately asking you to keep quiet.

A surge of calm ran through your body as you made contact with those golden eyes that intrigued you so much. You knew then that you were no longer in danger for Geralt had come to your rescue. Your heart was still beating almost inhumanly fast, pumping adrenaline throughout your body, and your breathing was still rapid, but you were able to calm your whimpers of protest under his hand. You stopped fighting him, trusting that you would be safe under his care.

"There are more-" You tried to warn him as he removed his hand from your mouth, but Geralt shushed you.

"I know, they're outside. That's why I need you to stay quiet and hide while I deal with them. Can you do that, your highness?" You nodded slowly, letting Geralt lead you to the back of the barn. He settled you behind a pile of hay that was large enough to hide your crouched figure, asking you to stay there until he came back for you, no matter what you heard outside.

"Wait! Don't leave me!" you panicked as he took a step away from you. Your hand flew to his arm, clinging to his clothes in an attempt to keep him from leaving. You knew what he had to do, but the thought of being alone again terrified you.

"Everything will be fine." Geralt tried to calm you, his voice a soft whisper. "I promise I will come back for you." 

He gave you a moment before trying to leave once again, waiting for you to let go of his arm willingly rather than forcibly push you away. Geralt knew you were terrified and needed support, and he was more than willing to give it, but first he had to take care of the bandits that were still on the loose. And it would not be wise to fight them while you were present. It would only distress you further and put you in unnecessary danger. So, with a slight nod, he left you in the barn once more, disappearing into the night to finish what he had started.

You curled up in your place, listening to the distant sounds of the fight as you let another wave of tears roll down your cheeks. The smell of blood and dirt surrounded you. You were covered in it —in dirt, from being pushed back and forth around the place; in your captor's sweat, after he threw his body over yours; and in his blood, thanks to Geralt's fierce but effective attack. It made you want to vomit. The reality of the situation was starting to sink in, and your mind was slowly beginning to understand the great danger you were in and how lucky you were that Geralt showed up when he did.

“Princess?” 

His voice brought you back to reality. He was kneeling beside you, looking at you with concern in those beautiful yellow eyes. The skin on his face was stained with a few drops of blood, as you imagined yours to be, but that did not lessen the softness of his expression. You threw yourself into his arms without a second thought, hiding your face in his neck as you sobbed in relief to know that the danger was over.

"It's okay, you're safe. I'm here, it's going to be okay." Geralt muttered against your hair, pulling you into his arms hoping that would be enough to help ease your nerves. 

He held you against his body for as long as you needed him to, stroking your back with his hand in a slow, delicate way to inspire some sense of calm in you. He didn't move for a moment, not even when your sobs began to fade and your breathing became regular. No, Geralt waited for you to make the first move, breaking away from him when you were ready to do so. 

"It's all right. You're fine. Just breathe with me. In...and out...in...and out. All right." 

You let the soft but deep tone of his voice slowly wash away the paralyzing fear and nerves that plagued you. You focused on the warmth of his body and the way his arms wrapped around you, making you feel safe. You mimicked the rhythm of his breathing, letting him slowly guide you back to normal. 

When you opened your eyes again the world around you was no longer spinning. Your vision was still a little blurry from the tears, but you could make out perfectly the yellow eyes, bright as the summer sun, watching you carefully.

"There you are!" Geralt gave you a small smile. "Did they hurt you?" You shook your head. Most of the blood on you at that moment wasn't yours, thankfully. Beyond a couple of bruises on your wrists from the bindings, and a split lip from a slap, you weren't injured. Your head hurt and you had twisted your ankle in an attempt to escape but it was nothing you couldn't handle.

"Who were they?" You asked in a shaky voice as you tried to stand up. You winced in pain as you put weight on your injured foot, but Geralt caught you in his arms before you lost your balance.

"Trust me, you're not going to like the answer to that."

A collective sigh was heard as you and Geralt entered the war room, where the king and queen were coordinating a rescue party with some soldiers and half of the suitors present at the banquet. It was a sigh of surprise rather than relief. It was clear that no one expected to see you there, much less with the disheveled appearance you had. 

Your mother was the first to react, running up to you with tears in her eyes. Although she couldn't bring herself to hug you, the blood that stained your ball gown was still fresh, so she settled for holding your cheeks in her hands while repeating over and over again how happy she was that you were safe. Your father reacted by sending the guards to arrest Geralt as his worried mind believed that the witcher somehow had something to do with your kidnapping. You had to stand between them, taking your savior's hand in yours to make your position clear. 

"What you imply is ridiculous! He saved me, father. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him." you stated firmly, keeping your head held high and holding back tears in your eyes. 

"He very well could still be behind all this. He's a witcher who wasn't officially invited to the festivities and conveniently vanished in the middle of the night without a word. No one can attest to him but that bard..."

"No offense, your majesty, but I just felt as though the situation was not being treated with the necessary urgency." Geralt interjected, speaking in a calm and slightly defiant tone. "I knew for a fact that she couldn't be far away and that time was of the essence, but everyone at that feast seemed more interested in proving themselves worthy of glory and respect than saving your daughter's life. I just did what had to be done."

"How dare you speak that way about these noble men, witcher! Any one of them would be more than willing to give his life for my daughter!"

"He is right, father. If you want to find a culprit, you should direct your gaze to Lord Einar."

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him. But his gaze was focused on you, staring at you with a fury you didn't know if the others were able to detect. He took a step forward and you tightened your grip on Geralt's hand, instinctively seeking his support. He stuck to your side, silently letting you know that he was ready to come between him and you if necessary —though he seriously doubted that Einar would be stupid enough to try to hurt you in front of the king.

"This is absurd!" Lord Einar complained with exaggerated outrage. "I will not allow myself to be disrespected in this way! I was invited to this feast to formalize my interest in the princess, which is greater than that of anyone in this room, if I may add. Have you forgotten that it was I who noticed the princess's strange disappearance? If I had not gone out to look for her, perhaps the news of her disappearance would have come too late. And may I remind you, your majesty, that it was I who first offered my services to bring her back safe and sound."

"That was the plan, wasn't it?" Geralt spoke through gritted teeth. "To pay some coins to a bunch of desperate bastards to take her so that you could rescue her and thus win her and the king's heart."

"I will not allow this... thing to disrespect me like this!"

"Your scent was on their clothes. Your name was the last thing they uttered before I slit their throats. You knew you didn't stand a chance with her, so you found a way to force your name to the top of the list."

Intimidated by Geralt's cold, hard stare, Lord Einar turned to look at the king. "These are nothing more than baseless accusations made by someone who clearly wants to distract us from his own guilt and involvement." he said, keeping his head held high as he lied through his teeth. "I beg you, my king, to consider punishment for this insolent witcher."

"Is this proof enough for you?" you snapped, tossing an object on the table. 

After the bandits were dead, Geralt had searched their bodies for some kind of proof that their words were true. That's how he had found a ring in the pocket of one of them that clearly didn't belong to them. It was made of a fine metal and in the center, engraved in gold, was the seal of a noble family: the Blakesley family.

The ring rolled against the dark wood, exposing Lord Einar's lies with each flick of the ring before the gaze of all present. There was nothing he could say to avoid the punishment that was coming, so when your father gave the order and the guards took him by force, he decided to take his rage out on you. His voice echoed through the corridors as he was escorted to the dungeon, shouting a string of insults at you. He questioned your honor and your ability as a ruler, claiming that he only wanted to marry you to ensure that the kingdom would not perish when your father died. 

Those were nothing more than the words of an unstable man who was filled with spite, angered by your rejection. You knew it meant nothing, but you still couldn't help but feel humiliated as he shouted all those things in front of so many people. Your eyes filled with tears and you clung to Geralt almost instinctively, hiding your face in his neck so no one would see you cry. He wrapped his arms around you, ignoring the very unfriendly looks that several of the men in the room gave him. 

Your mother ordered the room to be emptied, realizing that the crowd was doing nothing to help your condition. The last thing you needed at that moment was to feel watched and judged by a bunch of people, so she personally closed the doors behind the last guard to leave the room.

"You should take a long bath, my love. I'll send someone to prepare the tub and clean clothes for you. That will certainly make you feel better." Your mother spoke in a soft voice, placing a hand on your back. "And you, witcher, are more than welcome to stay tonight. I'll have a room prepared for you and bring you some clean clothes. We can talk more in the morning."

You gave your mother a smile as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, trying to convince her that you were fine. She knew you weren't, but she also knew you well enough not to push you at that moment. So she left the room without adding anything else, leaving you alone with Geralt once again.

"Thank you... for everything." Your voice broke the silence, your eyes traveling from the door to Geralt's face. "I just realized I didn't thank you yet." 

"You don't have to." He didn't need to hear it from your mouth, he could see in your eyes how grateful you were. Your expression hadn't changed much since he had found you, even though you tried hard to hide it, there were still traces of fear and distress in your eyes.

"Of course I have to! You have saved me from a terrible fate, not only at the hands of those bandits, but also at the hands of that... man." There were other words with which you would have liked to describe him, but you decided it was not appropriate for you to utter them. He didn't even deserve that from you. "I'm glad you were dragged here... I don't know what would have become of me without you tonight, Geralt."

The room fell silent as you looked into each other's eyes. You lost yourself in the amber that surrounded his pupils —which seemed to be more dilated, although it could well be an effect of the light, you thought—, trying to discover the secrets hidden in his eyes. Geralt was not easy to read, no matter how hard you tried, you had no idea of the things that could be going through his head at that moment. And yet, there was something in his eyes that calmed you. When he looked back at you, there was a softness in them that invited you to continue to admire them forever. It was a connection unlike anything you had ever felt before. It piqued your curiosity and some other things you didn't quite know how to explain. 

Your hand was still intertwined with Geralt's and you weren't entirely sure for how long. Although you weren't complaining, you found the warmth of his skin against yours extremely comforting. It made you feel less alone, less vulnerable. You trusted him with your life, you knew that as long as he was around nothing bad could happen to you. And boy did you need that at that moment. You were still quite affected by everything that had happened and the idea of being alone terrified you. You needed company, but not just anyone. You needed his company.

"Would you mind escorting me to my chambers?" you broke the silence, clearing your throat to make sure your voice sounded firm. "My foot still hurts a little and I wouldn't want to fall down the stairs."

It was a foolish excuse. You knew it. Geralt knew it. The twisted foot you got while struggling with your captors was not a cause for concern. It hurt a little, yes, but you could still walk normally. All you wanted was an excuse not to be separated from Geralt and luckily for you, he played along. He allowed you to take his arm for stability and walked with you to your quarters. You appreciated his proximity, enjoying the feel of his body pressed against yours as his warmth enveloped you. But unfortunately it only seemed to aggravate his absence when he pulled away from you, willing to leave you alone so you could rest.

Your hand closed around his arm almost as an unwilling reflex. Your body craved his closeness. Your mind needed his company to be at ease. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't let Geralt leave. Not tonight at least. His eyes lingered on your hand, admiring how small it appeared when compared to his arm, before he looked up into your eyes, searching your expression for an explanation.

"Stay, please." Your voice was almost a whisper. Your eyes had trouble making eye contact with him for the first time since you had met. Geralt knew then that you were embarrassed of uttering those words. "I need you. I... I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Are you sure?" He said after a few seconds of silence, his expression firm but gentle. You nodded, looking at him with pleading eyes as you released his arm from your grip. Geralt sighed and finally crossed the threshold of the door, closing it behind him. 

Geralt allowed you to guide him across the room to a door that hid a large private bathtub on the other side. It was already filled with water and salts, ready for you to use it. Everything smelled of you, of that delicious combination of jasmine and vanilla that Geralt found so special. It was intoxicating, like he was breathing in your scent straight from the source. 

"Would you mind helping me with the lace?" Your voice brought him back to reality. Geralt watched as you turned around, gathering your hair over one of your shoulders to expose your back to him so he could unfasten your dress. He knew it was inappropriate and that he was probably breaking some rule —not to mention, taking advantage of the king's hospitality—, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Not when you were offering yourself to him like that.

Geralt's hands caressed your back first, his fingers slowly tracing a path from your shoulders to where the lacing of your dress ended. You closed your eyes, holding your breath as you felt him slowly loosen your dress. You could feel his imposing figure towering over you. He was so close that you could hear his breathing and feel the heat radiating from his body. You liked the proximity, probably more than you should.

When Geralt finished his work and your dress began to slide down your shoulders, you knew you should have been embarrassed. You were used to being naked in front of servants, but they were always women you trusted, handmaidens who had taken care of you since you were little and helped you dress or bathe. You had never been so exposed in front of a man before and you should definitely feel ashamed, but you were not. You simply let the dress fall to your feet and stepped into the tub as if there was no man present.

The water was warm and the tub was deep enough to hide your modesty if you sat in the right position. The dim candlelight also helped, though ultimately you really didn't mind feeling Geralt's gaze on your body.

"Join me, please. The water's nice and there's room enough for both of us."

Your curious eyes unashamedly traced the muscles of his arms and torso as he revealed himself to you. You noticed the scars that marked his skin, some smaller and some larger, and you couldn't help but wonder what the stories behind them were. Geralt was an exceptional man, unlike anyone you had ever met in your life. He was so rigid and reserved, and yet he had shown nothing but kindness and gentleness in your presence. He was a mystery and you wanted nothing more than to discover what he hid behind those beautiful amber eyes.

Out of respect —and some embarrassment—, you looked away as his hands undid the buttons of his pants. You focused your attention on the jasmine petals floating in the water, feeling your cheeks grow warm as a small voice in your head encouraged you to look up. 

Geralt settled next to you in the tub, avoiding being too close or sitting in front of you so that you wouldn't feel uncomfortable or self-conscious in his presence. However, you needed his closeness, so you shortened the distance as much as you could, pressing your arm against his. When he didn't complain, you went a step further and rested your head on his shoulder. Geralt stood still for a moment, debating once again whether his actions were appropriate, but in the end he relaxed. 

He put his arm around your shoulders, effectively pulling you closer to him. A smile formed on your lips as you adjusted yourself in the new position, hiding your face in his neck. Geralt's fingers traced soft lines on the skin of your arm, a caress that both relaxed and excited you. That kind of intimacy was something new to you. Feeling his naked skin against yours, inhaling that musky scent mixed with something you couldn't describe as anything but his own essence, feeling the soft caresses of his calloused fingers, everything made you feel a certain way inside. You didn't have the exact words to describe it. It was like a flame, a warmth spreading through you that was both comforting and exciting. Ultimately, you didn't care about being able to put a name to what you felt. You just wanted to stay close to Geralt for as long as you were allowed.

Without even realizing it, your hand traveled up to his chest, your curious fingers tracing the jagged lines that marked his skin. You used the scars as a map to his body, letting them guide your path as you explored his chest with your touch. And as your fingers moved, you imagined the heroic stories behind each one, wondering what kind of monsters had inflicted them and if there were any that were human-made.

"I wonder how many princesses you've saved to end up like this." You broke the silence, your voice soft as you got lost in thought. It was mostly a joke, but there was some genuine curiosity hidden in it. 

"Surprisingly, less than you're probably imagining."

You didn't quite know why, but hearing Geralt say that put a smile on your lips. It made you feel special, in a way. He hadn't been hired to save you —technically he hadn't even been invited to the party—, he had no obligation to you or your family, and yet he had risked his life to help you. There was something in you that awakened in him his noblest instincts.

"I'm sure that's what you tell everyone." You laughed, looking up at him from your position on his shoulder. You could admire his profile, his sharp jawline and the way his lips curved upward slightly as he let out a huff.

"Often delicate young women like you find my methods to be too... grotesque. They don't see me as being much different from the monsters I kill." Geralt spoke honestly, remembering the horrified expressions on the faces of the maidens he had sought to save from danger in his past, when he had little experience as a witcher. He was young and naive at the time and believed he could use his skills for more than just hunting monsters. After all, evil came in all shapes and sizes, even in humans. It didn't take him long to understand that humans didn't see a knight of noble spirit when he intervened in such situations, only a mutant designed to kill.

You noticed his thoughtful expression, his eyes looking straight ahead as if his mind was transporting him to another place. You wondered what kind of memories he might have swirling around in his head at that moment, outraged to think that someone could treat him badly after he saved their life. You admitted that he had quite an imposing figure and that his expression wasn't very friendly most of the time, but you still couldn't understand how anyone could be afraid of him. Even before he saved you —when he was just a stranger who took the time to listen to your problems— you saw nothing threatening in him. His beautiful yellow eyes inspired nothing but trust in you from the first moment you made contact with them.

“Then they were all fools." You sat up straight, one hand resting on Geralt's cheek to force him to look at you. "I don't understand how anyone could look at you and see danger in you. Even covered in blood, all I see is... safety and comfort." You gave him a small smile as your finger carefully wiped a small spot of blood from his cheek.

"Or maybe you're being naively nice."

Geralt took a cloth that rested on the edge of the tub and dipped it in the warm water. Then one of his hands cupped your chin, tilting your face slightly so he could get a better look at you in the candlelight. The flames danced in the air, creating shadows on your delicate skin. But even in the dim light he could still see the splashes of blood that stained your beautiful face. They made such a contrast that it was impossible to ignore them. The implication of such a violent act had no place on the delicate face of a princess like you. He hated to see the scratch on your lip, the dirt on your cheeks, the dried blood on your skin. You should not have been subjected to such horrors and he wanted to do everything in his power to erase the evidence from your body. So Geralt took the trouble to wipe the blood away, carefully running the wet cloth over your skin until it was all gone.

You remained silent as he worked on you, completely immobile while you watched him closely. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, but his expression was gentle. His hands moved delicately over your skin, as if he was afraid of breaking you if he wasn't careful. You could barely feel the cloth brushing against your cheek from how slow and gentle Geralt was being. But his fingers... his fingers were another story.

They were warm against your skin, caressing every little spot the cloth passed through to soothe any possible irritation the fabric might arouse. They awakened a tingling sensation as they traveled down your face. When they reached your neck, you knew that Geralt could feel the accelerated pulsing of your heart against his fingertips. It was impossible that he couldn't when you could hear the beating in your ears yourself. His hands felt so big against your neck. If he wanted to hurt you, he could probably do it with just one hand. That should have scared you, considering he was a man you barely knew, but it didn't. You knew he wasn't going to hurt you, not when he caressed the sensitive skin of your neck and collarbones with such gentleness.

"Maybe I'm naive," you broke the silence, your voice barely more audible than a whisper. "But I honestly don't think a mutant designed to kill, as you say, would go to the trouble of caring for me the way you are doing."

Geralt's eyes looked up at you, that intriguing yellow you loved so much capturing you in a transe. They were calling you, daring you to dive into the ocean of honey and mystery that was his gaze. And you obeyed without the slightest resistance, letting your heart take the reins of your body. You leaned towards him, slowly. His hands were still on your neck, but he didn't use them to stop you. On the contrary, he leaned towards you too and when your lips finally collided, he used his grip on your jaw to deepen the kiss.

The kiss started slow, a quick brush of your lips as you finally let yourselves indulge in your deepest desires. But as you became more comfortable in each other's arms, the kiss intensified. You let Geralt guide you, knowing that he would undoubtedly have more experience than you. You surrendered to his lips and the caresses of his tongue, giving yourself to him completely as you struggled to keep up with him. 

That wasn't your first kiss, however, it was the first kiss that felt like this, so... intense, passionate. You barely remembered the boy who had given you your first kiss, but you knew you would remember Geralt for the rest of your life. You didn't know how he did it, but the simple touch of his lips and the strokes of his fingers on your skin turned you to mush between his hands. You had never felt anything like it before and you didn't want to stop. But despite your protests, Geralt suddenly pulled away from you.

"What are you doing?" He didn't sound annoyed or confused, more concerned. 

"I'm taking control of my life." You leaned into him once more and Geralt accepted your kiss, his desperate lips demonstrating his true intentions. He let his desires consume him for a moment before regaining control over his body and pulling away from you again.

"Are you sure?" It wasn't that he wanted to stop, but the voice of morality in the back of his mind compelled him to make sure you wanted the same. He needed to know that he wasn't taking advantage of you, that you weren't throwing yourself into his arms as a result of your vulnerable state after the attack.

"For as long as I can remember, I have always dreamed of meeting a noble prince who would protect me from danger. We would fall in love and live a long and happy life together after our marriage. Now I know that is impossible. I cannot choose who I marry. I cannot choose to marry for love. There's nothing I can do to change it, that's just the way things work." You paused, your hands reaching for Geralt's to entwine your fingers. "But I can still choose who to give myself to, body and soul, for the first time... and you're the closest thing I have to that fantasy."

There was a sadness in your eyes that made Geralt feel bad for you. He didn't know you very well, but he knew you deserved better than a future you didn't want. The inability to choose your own path in life was something that seemed to affect you greatly, and if he was able to bring you some peace he was willing to do so. But the tub full of dirty water was not the place for it, much less considering it would be your first experience of something like that. 

"Speak freely." You said after a few seconds of unbearable silence. "If you don't want to be with me because you don't like me I'll understand. But please don't turn me down just because you think you're guarding my honor or something. I want this... I want you."

Those last words seemed to do the trick, because Geralt's lips joined yours once again. Only this time the kiss was different, much slower and more sensual, though just as desperate. His lips moved in time with yours, tongues intertwined in a sinful dance as Geralt allowed his hands to slowly explore your body. His fingers ignited flames on your skin in their path, pleasure and anticipation building inside you. 

The water in the tub swirled violently as Geralt lifted you into his arms, moving you to sit on his lap as if you weighed nothing. You clung to his shoulders for support, feeling his fingers dig into the sensitive skin of your hips. But it didn't hurt, at least not in a bad way. It was a pleasant ache that made you feel alive. Just like his kisses, which trailed down your jaw to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin. 

Geralt's kisses continued their way down and you couldn't help but buck your hips against his when his lips closed over your nipple. You pushed your chest into him instinctively, giving yourself to him as one of your hands got lost in his hair. Pure pleasure traveled through your veins as his tongue played with your breasts, giving attention to one before moving on to the other. He held you tightly against his body, one strong arm stretched across your back while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his growing erection. 

You both moaned as your cunt made contact with his cock. The sensation you felt when the tip brushed against your little bundle of nerves was unlike anything you had ever felt before. The pleasure was much more intense, much more raw. You could feel it spreading through your body and into your bones. So, naturally, you sought it again, creating a rhythm that had you panting in no time. 

You were forced to stop when Geralt suddenly stood up, carrying you in his arms. Your moan of pleasure turned into a cry of surprise, the water in the tub moving violently, flooding the room as he moved towards the exit. You clung to his shoulders, afraid of falling, as you asked him what he was doing.

"We can't do it here. It has to be done properly, in a bed where you’ll be comfortable, and not in a bathtub full of filthy water."

You couldn't help but smile to yourself as you understood the meaning of his words. Once again, Geralt was looking after you, worrying about you and your well-being more than any other man in your life had ever done. He wanted to make things right, to make sure that your first sexual encounter was a positive experience. And while he wasn't exactly the man you had imagined doing it with, he was quite close to it. Every thing he said, every gesture he made to you, made you feel more confident in your decision.

Geralt carefully laid you down on the bed, making sure you were comfortable before continuing his assault on your body. He kissed you again and, as you let his tongue explore your mouth, you couldn't help but think how much bigger he felt now that he was leaning over you. He had one arm on either side of your head, holding himself up so he wouldn't crush you with his weight. One of his toned legs rested in between yours, keeping you open and exposed to him. You were essentially trapped under his body, completely at his mercy, and you liked it.

The pleasure building up inside you was starting to feel too overwhelming. As much as you enjoyed Geralt's wet kisses, you needed more. You needed relief. So you pushed your hips into him once more, seeking that intoxicating pleasure you'd felt in the bathtub. Your wet pussy slid easily up his thigh and a wave of pleasure coursed through your body. 

"Fuck!" Geralt moaned as he felt your wetness trickling down his leg. You looked so sensual moving your hips against him with adoring desperation, struggling to find some relief. The little moans that fell from your lips in between ragged breaths drove him crazy, making it difficult for him to control his instincts. He had to be gentle with you, it was your first time and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't pin you down and fuck you until your legs shook.

"Tell me, princess, have you ever touched yourself?" Geralt spoke against your skin as his lips continued their path of wet kisses down your body. "Perhaps when you were alone at night, hidden in the darkness of your chambers."

It took you a few seconds to process Geralt's words, your mind distracted with the way his kisses slowly trailed down your chest, barely pausing on your breasts before continuing to travel down. It made your body tremble with anticipation, wondering what he was up to. He was watching you from his position on your abdomen, lips barely pulling away from your skin so he could observe your face more comfortably, waiting for an answer. The color of his eyes had darkened, the yellow glowing like the flames of the candles that lit the room. There was hunger in them. Geralt was looking at you like a wolf at its prey. You couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, managing to answer him with a simple negative shake of your head. 

"So you don't know what real pleasure feels like, huh?" You weren't sure if it was a question for you, but you shook your head again anyway. You felt Geralt's lips curving into a smile against the sensitive skin of your lower belly and a shiver ran down your spine when you heard his next words. "I'm going to change that."

Despite the firmness in his voice, Geralt was slow and gentle with each movement he made next. He was careful to position himself between your legs, pushing them open and revealing your most secret part to his hungry gaze. He noticed almost immediately the way you tensed with embarrassment, feeling vulnerable, so he was quick to spread sweet kisses on your right thigh, while gently caressing the skin of your left. He could smell the scent of your arousal with every breath he took. It was intoxicating, the sweet nectar he had been waiting to taste all this time. But first he had to make sure you were comfortable. He was there to pleasure you, nothing mattered if you didn't enjoy it.

"It's okay, my sweet. You don't have to be ashamed, you're beautiful." He spoke against your skin, his voice a raspy, sensual, whisper. "I have to get you ready for my cock, all right? This will feel so good, I promise. But if it doesn't, I want you to tell me, can you do that?" You nodded, but that wasn't enough for him. "I need you to use your words."

"Yes, Geralt, I will."

"Good."

Geralt gave you a few seconds to relax before diving into your cunt, spreading wet kisses down your inner thighs as he got closer and closer to the place where you needed him most. When his tongue finally made contact with the sweet nectar trickling down your folds, he let out a sound that vibrated in his chest with force. All hint of self-control disappeared then, buried under the primal desire that the taste of your arousal awakened in him.

He ate you like a starving man, his tongue exploring your most intimate place with expert skill. Your hips jolted as his lips closed over your small bundle of nerves, your whole body convulsing as you felt pleasure like you had never felt before. It was so intense it was almost too much. It scared you in a way, as it felt like your own body didn't respond to you —like it didn't belong to you. It belonged to Geralt now, and only responded to the stimulation he gave your body.  You were torn between the need to pull away from his entrancing lips —which were no doubt uttering some spell to claim ownership of your innocence— and your body's carnal desire to surrender to his clever tricks in order to continue to feel such pure pleasure.

"Does it feel good, princess?" Geralt spoke between your legs, his warm breath crashing against your pussy and sending shivers down your spine. 

"Yes! So good... please don't stop." You didn't recognize your own voice as you spoke. It sounded raspy from all the moaning, and there was a hint of desperation you'd never heard in yourself before. It wasn't the first time you had begged someone for something you wanted, but it was the first time you actually meant it.

"I won't, I promise. I'm here to make you feel good." Geralt assured between slow, long licks, focusing his attention on your clit before continuing. "But if you're going to take my cock, I'll need to stretch your tight hole." You tensed again and once more he used his strategy of stroking and kissing your thighs to calm you down. You knew that penetration was an important part of the whole thing and you were ready to face it, but still, the unknown scared you a little. "I'm going to insert a finger inside you, is that all right my sweet? It might feel a little uncomfortable at first, but I promise it will feel great afterwards. But first I have to know that you still want this."

"Yes, Geralt, I want this. I trust you, please." You gave him a shy smile, looking at him with complete admiration. He saw the desire in your eyes, mixed with anticipation and a hint of fear. But you were confident in your decision, so he continued.

"Relax, I'm going to take care of you." He murmured against your skin, his kisses slowly moving closer to your wet cunt. "Just focus on the pleasure."

Geralt's voice echoed in your mind, your body obeying his commands as if he had cast a spell over you that left you with no other choice. You focused on the fire burning inside you, on the skillful way he flicked his tongue against your abused bundle of nerves and on the knot in your stomach that tightened with each passing second. You tried not to tense up as you felt Geralt's finger press against your entrance, biting your lip and taking deep breaths to calm your nerves. His tongue was doing a good job of distracting you, but you could still feel the slightly painful drag of his finger inside you. 

"You're doing so well for me." Geralt complimented you, keeping his finger still inside you to give you time to get used to the new sensation. You couldn't hide how much it pleased you to hear those words, because your walls clenched around his finger, revealing your deepest desires. Geralt grunted against your pussy, fantasizing about how good your tight hole would feel around his cock. 

It took you a moment to get used to the strange sensation of his intrusion. It wasn't painful exactly, mostly uncomfortable since your walls weren't used to stretching like that. But eventually the discomfort faded into pleasure, bringing new sensations as he slowly began to move his finger inside you. 

Your moans became uncontrollable, increasing in volume with each of Geralt's caresses. If you weren't so wrapped up in your own pleasure, you would have worried about the possibility of being overheard by some servant or guard walking down the corridor. You knew it might potentially ruin your reputation, but you couldn't focus on anything other than the way Geralt's long, thick finger stretched you, making you feel full in the most pleasurable way possible. 

"Geralt I-" You tried to speak, but the air caught in your throat as you felt the knot in your stomach becoming incredibly tight, threatening to snap.

"I know, my sweet, I know." Geralt interrupted you as he noticed your trouble forming coherent sentences. He could sense you were getting close to relief in the way your walls tightened around his finger, your juices dripping down your legs and soaking his hand. "Just let yourself go. I've got you."

Geralt added another finger inside you, stretching your walls even further. He was careful, his movements slow and precise as he both prepared you for his cock and brought you closer to the edge. His mouth focused on your clit, his lips closing around your sensitive pearl as his fingers explored your insides, reaching that spongy place deep inside you and rubbing it until your whole body shuddered with your orgasm.

It felt like your insides exploded, the tension that had been building in your core suddenly snapping as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body. Your mind went blank, eyes rolling back as Geralt did his best to hold back the violent spasms of your muscles. 

And then your body fell limp on the sheets. You could barely hear the world around you over your racing heartbeat that throbbed in your ears. You knew Geralt was muttering things against your skin as he kissed his way back up, but your mind was too lost in the pleasure to make sense of his words. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, your body desperate for oxygen as it struggled to regain control.

"There you are!" Geralt gave you a soft smile as you opened your eyes, his face slowly coming into focus on your clouded vision. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine! That was..." you paused, searching for the words to describe it. Although explaining your feelings proved to be more difficult than you expected. You were convinced that there were no words in any language you knew to describe what he had made you feel. So you let out an airy laugh, hiding your face in his neck and spreading small kisses over his skin.

"Do you still want to go through with this?" Geralt asked you, pulling away from you a little so he could look into your eyes. You kissed him back, tasting the sweet flavor of your arousal on his tongue. It was strangely erotic for you to feel your own essence on him, like a mark that, though temporary, showed to whom his lips belonged. It sent a rush of desire and confidence through your body, igniting the fire inside you once more.

The pressure of his cock was nothing like his fingers. While the stretching sensation was not completely foreign to you, Geralt's cock was much longer and thicker than his fingers so it hurt a lot more when he began to push it into you. The mixture of your arousal and his saliva helped his member slide more easily through your walls, but you still couldn't hold back the whine of pain, which vibrated against Geralt's lips. 

"It's all right... you're all right. Just a little more." He crooned as he rested his forehead against yours. His fingers caressed the skin of your hip, giving you comfort as you clung to his shoulders. "You're doing so good for me, my sweet." His voice was soft, but erratic, laced with the clear pleasure that sliding so torturously slow inside your tight walls brought him. 

Geralt remained immobile once he bottomed out, spreading kisses all over your face and neck as he gave you time to adjust to his size. It was the hardest task he had ever had to do in his life. Facing any monster was easier than staying still when your warm, wet walls wrapped around him so well. He was desperate to move, pull out of you almost completely only to slam back in, thrusting his hips against yours as he pinned you against the bed. But it was your first time, so he had to be gentle with you. You weren't ready for that kind of rough loving, so Geralt pushed his dark desires aside and waited for you to give him the signal to move. 

After a while, your moans of discomfort turned into whimpers of protest, not from pain, but from the growing fire inside you that wasn't being tended to. You experimentally moved your hips against Geralt's, just to see what it would feel like. It was a small movement, but it was enough to push his cock deeper inside you, sparking a pleasurable tingling sensation that spread throughout your body. So you did it again, moving with more confidence this time. And again, only this time, Geralt met you halfway, grinding his hips against yours.

Your walls tightened around his cock and the growl that escaped his lips was so deep and primal that it almost pushed you over the edge once more. Something about knowing that you were the cause of those moans, that your body, your pussy, your caresses, were responsible for such reactions was so arousing. Knowing that even though you were inexperienced you were able to elicit such pleasure in him made you feel more comfortable and confident. You were turning his world upside down as much as he was turning yours.

"You look so beautiful like this." Geralt said as he slightly increased the rhythm of his hips. "So small and fragile underneath me, eyes filled with lust as you try your best to take me in your tight hole." 

You moaned into his mouth, desperately searching his lips for something to keep you grounded as pleasure took over your body and mind. Your cunt clenched at his words, finding the mix of softness and roughness in his action incredibly arousing. His hips moved against yours in a consistent and deep, yet slow and sensual rhythm. His calloused fingers roamed over your body, caressing you in such a subtle way that it gave you goosebumps. His filthy words perfectly balanced flattery and roughness, awakening feelings you didn't know you had. It was all a dangerous, overwhelming mix, slowly getting to you close to the edge.

"Does it feel good? Do you like feeling me deep inside you?" You could only moan incoherently in response, hiding your face in the crook of Geralt's neck as your nails dug into his back. "I like it too. You feel so good wrapped around me, my perfect princess."

"Yes, I'm yours! I'm all yours, please..." You begged, for what, you weren't sure. But that didn't really matter, you just wanted Geralt to do whatever he wanted with you. You knew there was no future in your relationship, but this was no time to think about tomorrow. At that moment you were giving yourself body and soul to him, allowing him permission to use and explore your body as he wished.

"Yes you are, but not just for tonight." Geralt moaned in your ear, his voice a deep hoarse whisper. He sucked a mark just below your earlobe, nibbling the sensitive area playfully before continuing to speak. "You will always remember this night and think of me when your future husband takes you to bed on your wedding night. He's not going to compare to me... to how good I'm making you feel. But that's fine, because at least you had a chance to know what it feels like to be adored like you truly deserve, my princess."

"Fuck, Geralt! I'm-" Your warning was interrupted by a moan as you felt him sink his teeth into the sensitive skin of your neck at the same time he pushed his member incredibly deep inside you.

"I know, I can feel you squeezing me so tight. It's alright, just let go for me, my sweet. I want to feel you as you come undone on my cock." 

His hand traveled south, calloused fingers pressing against your abused bundle of nerves, drawing circles over it. The way your pussy clenched around his cock made it hard to focus, his own orgasm approaching with alarming speed. But he kept a steady rhythm, his hips moving in a slow, sensual way to make sure his cock brushed that special place inside you without causing you any pain.

"That's it, keep making those pretty notices for me. You're doing so good for me, my beautiful, perfect, princess. Just let go, I've got you. You're safe with me, just let go."

It was the softness in his husky voice that finally pushed you over the edge, your whole body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. Geralt's name was the last thing you uttered before the world around you disappeared behind the waves of pleasure. It was a pathetic whimper, a plea for mercy as you felt frightened by the sheer intensity of your orgasm. Geralt was sure he had never heard a more sensual melody. The way you had uttered his name just before the pleasure exploded inside you was something he was never going to forget.

"That's it, my sweet. You did such a good job for me." He complimented you, slowing down the rhythm of his hips to give you time to recover. "You're alright. I'm here, I've got you. Just breathe... that's it." 

Geralt's voice helped you refocus on the real world, his sweet kisses slowly lifting the fog that clouded your mind. You could still feel him inside you, his cock throbbing desperate for relief. The shallow thrusts weren't enough and you needed to feel him falling apart inside you. You needed to know what it felt like to have a man —and especially him— come inside you. And you knew it was safe with him since witchers were incapable of fathering children as a result of their mutations.

"Geralt, please... I want to feel you." You managed to say between gasps, locking your legs around his hips to keep him in place, pressed inside you. He let out a deep growl as he understood the meaning behind your words, his eyes darkening with lust. You were definitely going to be the death of him.

"Of course, my sweet, how could I deny you anything?" He murmurs against your lips, slowly increasing the rhythm of his hips. "You want to feel my seed deep inside you, is that it? You want me to fill you up, leave a part of me inside you so you won't miss me so much when I'm gone?"

His words alone were enough to ignite that flame inside you again. Your body was tired, but still screamed for more. Geralt's thrusts became erratic with each passing second, desperate to reach his own relief. And in the search for his pleasure he was taking you with him to a new limit. 

"I will give it to you, my princess. I will give you all of me. I could never deny you anything, my sweet, beautiful girl."

His sweet words contrasted with the harshness of his movements, hips crashing against yours in desperate thrusts. He was getting closer to his relief and he could feel in the way your cunt clenched around his cock that you were too. His thumb focused on your clit once more, one, two, three strokes accompanied by his thrusts and you were crying his name again. But he didn't get to enjoy much of the way you tightened around him, because he came seconds later, shooting his load deep inside you.

Geralt collapsed on top of you, his body crushing you against the bed as you both tried to catch your breath. But even though he was much bigger than you, it wasn't an uncomfortable position. The weight of his body felt comforting against yours. You liked the way he hid his face in your neck, breathing heavily against your sweaty skin. It gave you the opportunity to stroke his back and run your fingers through his hair. It felt intimate, in a completely different way than the sex you'd just had. 

You whined in protest as he rolled to the side, feeling the mixture of your arousal and his sliding down your legs now that his cock had left you. It was a strange sensation to feel empty without him inside you. You didn't know such a feeling was possible, for you that used to be normal, the only way to feel. But now that you had had Geralt buried deep inside you, that you had felt his seed filling you to the brim, you would always be aware of that strange emptiness between your legs.

"How are you feeling?" you heard him say and you struggled to open your eyes, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion. He was standing at the foot of the bed, a cloth in his hand, and you wondered when he had moved from your side without you noticing.

"Great! That was... great." You mumbled, still unable to find an adequate word to describe how good he had made you feel.

Geralt gave you a small smile before lowering his face to your legs, placing small kisses on your skin as he moved closer and closer to your center. "Open up for me, my princess. I need to clean you." 

You reluctantly complied, feeling much more exposed and vulnerable now that the deed was done. However, he was gentle with you, moving carefully as he cleaned you so as not to irritate your sensitive, abused cunt. And when he was done, he kissed his way down your face, caressing your skin with his lips, culminating his journey in your mouth.

"What about you?" you tried to sound casual as you spoke, though you failed miserably. "Was it... good for you too?" You immediately regretted your choice of words, worrying that you had ruined the moment.

"I thought I had been quite clear if not with my words, with my actions at least." Geralt let out an airy laugh and you followed suit, feeling a little more relieved. 

Then the room fell into silence. It wasn't an awkward or uncomfortable one, but a peaceful one. You got lost in Geralt's eyes, admiring the yellow glow that was much softer now, though just as captivating. The candlelight reflected in them in a special way, highlighting their unique beauty. You could stare at them for hours if it weren't for the tiredness that was slowly beginning to take hold of you. 

You didn't realize you had closed your eyes until you felt Geralt move beside you. You stopped feeling the weight of his body on the bed, so you opened your eyes immediately. Your hand flew to his arm, fingers closing around his wrist. "Please don't go," you begged as you saw that he had sat up in bed. "I want you to stay with me tonight."

Geralt smiled, the corners of his lip curving slightly upward as he reached out with his free arm to grab the blanket that had been left forgotten at the foot of the bed. His eyes lowered to your hand and his expression turned hard as he noticed the ligature marks on your skin. He hated to know the horrible treatment that someone as delicate and beautiful as you had to go through at the hands of those bandits. Even though he had rescued you before something even worse happened to you, as he looked at the marks on your wrists he feared he had not been quick enough.

Noticing the change in his expression, your eyes followed Geralt's gaze with curiosity. You felt embarrassed when you realized what he was looking at with such intensity and released his grip on his arm, seeking to hide your injured wrist. But he didn't let you. Geralt intertwined his fingers with yours and brought your hand to his lips. His eyes didn't break contact with you as he scattered delicate kisses over the irritated area of your wrist, showing you that you had nothing to be ashamed of with him.

"I'm not going anywhere if you don't want me to, my princess. I'm here to serve you tonight." Geralt said as he lay down next to you once again, covering you both with the blanket.

You took advantage of his words and his desire to please you by curling up against him, resting your head on his chest. Geralt wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you even tighter against his body as he let his fingers trace invisible patterns on your skin. It was extremely relaxing, his gentle touch and the warmth of his body enveloping you was exactly what your tired mind needed to rest. All the fear, the terrifying memories of your attackers and the feeling of danger completely disappeared as he held you in his arms. 

"Good, because I feel safer when I'm in your arms." You mumbled as you closed your eyes, feeling sleep slowly overcome you.

It was hard to say goodbye to Geralt when the time came for him to leave. He had only stayed at the castle for a couple of days at your father's insistence, but that had been more than enough for you to grow fond of him. He was not a very talkative person, but that only made your conversations more interesting. He was intriguing, a closed book that only opened with the pronunciation of the right words. You had fun unraveling some of his history, hearing about his adventures and the monsters he had faced. He was definitely the most interesting man you had ever met - far more interesting and noble than most of the men who were competing for your hand in marriage. And now you had to see him go.

You always knew that your days were numbered, that Geralt would eventually leave and you would have to go back to reality. You thought you could do it, enjoy his company and the illusion of freedom you had created with him and then say goodbye as if nothing happened, but you would be lying if you said you weren't a little sad about his departure. Especially because you didn't know if you would ever see him again. Maybe on your wedding day, if you invited Jaskier to play at the festivities he would bring him as security again. Or perhaps, if the kingdom was haunted by some evil creature he would find his way back to you. But nothing was certain and that made you feel quite sad.

"I guess this is our goodbye." You watched Geralt settle his horse's saddle, tucking away his swords and clutching his bag as he prepared to leave. You tried to hide the grimace of sadness that wanted to form on your face, but the disappointment in your voice betrayed you. "I'll never see you again, will I?"

Geralt stopped what he was doing to look you in the eyes. You could have sworn you saw a glint of sadness in the golden fire of his irises, though it disappeared as he blinked. "It'll probably be a while, yeah." He sighed. "But nothing is set in stone. Maybe the search for a job will bring me back down these roads."

You smiled. Even moments before he left, he was still making an effort to make you feel good. "I'd like that." You took a couple of steps closer to him, taking his hand in yours to feel his skin against yours one last time. "The gates of this castle will always be open to you, Geralt of Rivia. And as long as I am alive, you will always find safe passage through these lands."

"Thank you, your highness. It is an honor." He bowed slightly even though he knew it was not necessary. Formalities had been forgotten between you since your night together. Then, he took your hand and brought it to his mouth. His lips caressed your skin gently, planting a soft kiss of farewell. "Until we meet again."

You held back the urge you had to taste the flavor of his lips one last time, knowing that there were too many eyes around you that would deem such behavior inappropriate. And perhaps they were right, after all, a respectable maiden like you, in search of a husband to marry and rule with, could not be seen kissing anybody. You knew you would probably regret it for the rest of your life —especially if Geralt never stopped by again—, but it was the right thing to do. Your days of freedom were over, now you had to resume your responsibilities as a princess and that meant holding back the urge you had to run after Geralt, get on his horse and let him take you wherever he wanted. So you just watched him leave, seeing how his figure became smaller and smaller on the horizon while you wished with all your soul that fate would cross your path again.

[castiwls]

gulity as sin? - d.w

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt; 'Without ever touchin' his skin. How can I be guilty as sin?'

Requested;@lailawinchesterr & anon

Notes;i love dean and i love this song so I fear I got a bit carried away🫢 also lowkey maybe the spiciest thing I've written here

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

The sound of the motel room door clicking shut pulled your attention from the article you’d been slowly reading. “Hey.” Dean nodded before placing a bag down on the small table. “They didn’t have much but I managed to get enough for the next few days.” he sat down on the edge of the bed reaching for the remote as you hummed quietly in response. 

After a moment you returned your attention to the article on your laptop the quiet hum of the TV fading into the background. Dean mindlessly flipped through channels for a while before letting out a sigh of defeat and placing the remote down. Turning to face you a small smile grew on his lips. Your brows were furrowed in concentration as you stared at your screen. 

He watched you for a moment, his hands itching to reach out and touch you. Your relationship over the last few months was something you weren't sure how to describe. Whenever you were alone he was almost always all over you. It wasn’t often you were both alone for a long period of time before he was pulling you away from whatever you were doing with only a few words.

However, when you were in public he acted as if nothing had ever happened. Yet you’d noticed the looks he’d send over men at bars. The way he would shift slightly closer, placing a hand on your thigh almost in a silent act of claiming what he saw as his.

The thought alone left you feeling giddy. It left you with the type of excitement you’d get over your high school crush brushing against you in the corridor. The small glimmer of hope that maybe whatever was happening behind closed doors wasn’t just in your head.

But a small part of your brain kept nagging that you were imagining it. That you were simply making this up in your head and that his actions meant nothing and he was simply protecting you from drunken men. He didn’t see you in that way. 

So why did he seem so different when it was just you both?

Kicking off his shoes Dean quietly turned around to sit fully on the bed. Too engrossed in your laptop your failed to notice the way his hand slowly moved a few inches until it made contact with your outstretched leg.

A small noise of surprise escaped you at the touch and you finally looked away from your laptop. Dean didn’t say anything as he silently drew shapes with his finger on your leg.

Your laptop now forgotten you stared down at him, your breath caught in your throat as you felt his hand slowly move up your leg. Quietly you pushed your laptop away causing him to finally look up from his hand.

His expression was unreadable as he watched you for a moment before he made his way up the bed towards you. This was far from the first time you’d been in this situation with him and part of you knew you should walk away now.

Stop him before he managed to pull you under his spell again. No matter how many times you and Dean did this song and dance it always played out the same. 

Your breath hitched as he placed an arm besides your head, the other now on your thigh. He leaned in slightly causing you to slowly slip down the bed until you felt your head hit the firm pillows of the motel.

His hand slipped down from the headboard to beside your head as he quietly leaned over you. “You’re so beautiful.” His voice was quiet as he moved one of his legs over your body, nudging your own apart with his foot. 

His leg landed in between yours allowing him to lie parallel to you, His nose brushing your’s for a moment. “Dean…” His name was a whisper on your lips as you stared up at him. A million thoughts ran through your head as you felt one of his hands gently brush down your body.

He shushed you quietly placing a small kiss on your jaw before placing another on your cheek. Moments like this fed that small glimmer of hope that whatever this was between you two was real.

The feeling of his lips on your face reminded you that he was real. That this wasn’t in your head. “Stop thinking so hard.” His lips brushed your ear as he leaned up slightly. “I can practically see the cogs turning in your head.” He shook his head fondly before smiling. 

“You know you can turn your brain off sometimes right?” He leaned slightly closer his smile slowly slipping into a smirk. “How do you suggest I do that?” You whispered feeling butterflies erupt in your stomach. 

His eyes fell to your lips for a moment before he met your gaze again. “It’s not something you can do.” You frowned in slight confusion, ready to snap back at him. Your retort seemed to die on your lips as he whispered. “But I can.” Before pressing his lips to yours.

It was almost like your world exploded as he became the centre of your universe. His lips moulded perfectly against yours as one of your hands slipped onto his shoulder.

The world seemed to cease to exist around you as your mind caught up with your actions. He’d never kissed you before. Sure you’d been close before but never this close.

After a long moment, he pulled back placing his forehead against yours. You barely had time to catch your breath before he was leaning in again and stealing it from you.

You weren’t entirely sure what this meant for you both but you did know it meant one thing. You were completely and utterly in love.

[bouncybongfairy]

All Around Me

Void Stiles x Fem Reader

Summary: After having a bit too much fun at a friend's birthday party, you go home and wind down with a bath and a Teen Wolf marathon. You start reading a steamy fanfic about Void Stiles, which causes you to have an acid-induced trip about hooking up with him.

Word Count: 2.5k+

(!This is a smut fanfic, proceed with caution!)

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It took you a couple of times to put the key in the door but you got there eventually. You were coming home from your friend’s birthday. It was almost 3am and you were cross-faded, starving and your heels were killing your feet. After dropping your purse on the kitchen island you started drunkenly wrestling the heels off your feet. The fridge was your next stop, pulling out leftover whatever and sticking it in the microwave. As you waited you pulled your food out of the microwave and headed to your bedroom. It was kind of nice having the entire house to yourself. Your parents were gone, visiting your aunt who’d just given birth. You sat on your mother’s bed and started shoving the leftovers into your mouth. The nightstand starts vibrating, prompting you to check your phone. 

Heyy, glad ur home safe <3 just reminding u we dropped acid like 30 mins before u ubered home just be careful! (we should have listened to Ashley when she said no more lmao)

You completely forgot about that, at first it made your heart drop but then you realized you would probably be asleep before the effects really kicked in. Your parent’s room was so luxurious and you always looked forward to stealing it when they left. The buzz from being drunk was still there but wasn’t as intense as before. You ran the warm water and started filling the bathtub, it was huge and made you feel so fancy. Bring your hand above the bath, you feel the steam coming off the water. The feeling of washing the makeup off your face was euphoric. It was like the hot water was loosening all your joints and muscles. You kept one of your hands dry to be able to hit your pen and change the music coming from the speaker. After enjoying the bath for a while, you got out and wrapped a towel around yourself. Out of nowhere, your heart starts racing. At first you thought it was from being in the steamy bathroom. You fought through it and did your nightly routine. By the time you made it to your room, you were rolling. You turned on Teen Wolf as background noise, the silence was starting to feel too heavy on your ears. You changed into a big tshirt but didn’t have much mental focus for anything else. 

You looked at the T.V and watched Void Stiles take the screen. You began to cry thinking about how sad this part of the plot was. The tears were flooding and you were feeling high off emotion. You pulled out your phone and started to read Void Stiles fanfics. The combination of hearing him through the TV and reading about him was making you feel a combination of scared and excitement. You weren’t really sure if you fell asleep or dissociated but you scared yourself awake. Your eyes immediately flew to what looked like a figure standing in the doorway. It scared the shit out of you, making you jolt and sit up. Your chest was rising and falling at an alarming rate. Its head tilted to the side in an ominous way. Part of you thought you were still drunk and high and that you were hallucinating this appreciation. You threw one of the pillows at it and when the figure turned his head to look at where it landed you gasped and began crying. 

“Why are you acting scared?” the man's voice asked. Your hand flew over your mouth and you brought your knees to your chest. 

He began walking closer, slowly yet confidently. When he stepped closer, he stopped where the moonlight was coming in from the window. It was Void Stile, part of you felt relief because you figured this had to be a dream. Another part of you was even more freaked out because what the fuck is happening. His skin was pale and had dark red bags underneath his eyes. His hair was disheveled, sticking up and out in several ways. Wearing all black which made him look so much more intimidating. He was walking closer but still had his head tilted to the side. At this point, he was sitting at the foot of the bed, staring you down. 

“I asked why are you acting so scared?” he asked again. 

“Because you’re scaring me,” you choked out, barely having the ability to form words. It was like your entire body was submerged in ice water, paralyzing you and taking your breath away. 

“Oh no, I know you don’t believe that. You were just reading about me. Imagining me doing unspeakable things to you. So again, why are you scared?” he asked again but in a rhetorical way. He stood up so fast that you flinched, he walked over to your desk and picked up the framed picture of your boyfriend. 

“Is this your little boyfriend?” he asked while full-on laughing, you could reply verbally and instead shook your head yes. 

“Why are you with him if he’s not satisfying you?” he asked. 

“He can sat-” you were interrupted by Void grabbing you by the jaw, not painfully but forcefully. 

“Why do you keep lying?” he growled. 

“H-how would you know if..” you couldn’t even finish your sentence because you were full-on sobbing. 

“Do you know what the four things the human brain naturally craves?” he asked. As you shook your head no, he brought his hands up and wiped the tears off your face with his thumb, then licked the tear off his finger.

“Food, water, sleep and sex. Somewhere in the deepest part of your mind, you’re craving sexual gratification that the little boys in your life clearly can’t give you. I mean, why else would you have manifested me? Searched for the most ravid and lascivious versions of me on the internet to gratify your needs? They’re scared to cross a line but that’s what’s different about them to me. I can’t be satisfied until I’ve crossed it,” he was now standing again, towering over you. He was so close that his torso almost touched your nose. You squinted your eyes and turn away without moving your body.

Your ears were burning and you were starting to feel faint. Part of you felt like you couldn’t hear everything he was saying because your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears. He walked over to your dresser, opened the second drawer and grabbed the unopened bottle of Everclear that you were saving for a party coming up. He then walked over to your purse and pulled out a joint, without missing a beat he then walked over to a pair of jeans on the ground and pulled out a lighter. The fact that he knew exactly where everything was truly shook you to your core. You were becoming paranoid, convinced that he could hear your thoughts. He came back on the bed and lit the joint, blowing the smoke right in your face. 

“You need to relax, take a drag,” he said, extending his arm and offering the joint. You tried to speak, even though you weren’t quite sure what to say. It was like your mouth physically couldn’t let the words out. He angrily ripped the blanket off your body and threw it across the room with such force it made a thump sound when hitting the wall. 

“Do you really want me to forcibly blow the smoke into your mouth? I wouldn’t be surprised but you can just ask,” he said mocking yet angrily. When you reached out to grab it your arms and hands were shaking so badly that you were struggling to get a hold of it. 

“You know..” he started as he sat down and brought the joint to your lips because your hands were too shaky to do so for yourself, “your fear is different than other people, there’s a purity to it, almost like an innocence. So much so that  I can almost taste its sweetness on my tongue. The havoc and panic that is radiating off your body because part of you knows that I’ll have you but is so confused and scared by my presence,” he said, taking a swig out of the bottle.

He wedged himself between your back and the headboard of the bed. His legs were long, when they were bent his knees were significantly higher than yours. At this point you felt completely drained, still scared but it was like the adrenaline high was coming down a bit. You pulled at one of the strings on the ripped part of his jeans and took the joint from his hand. At this point, you were high enough to convince yourself this was some weird dream because you fell asleep crossfaded. You looked up at the T.V and saw void Stiles, in the scene when he stabbed Scott. You looked back so that you could face him, almost like you were checking if he was still there. His eyes were black, similar to how they looked on stuffed animals. The bags under his eyes were so red that they looked like they might hurt when touched. He was just staring at you, smirking with his head tilted. You leaned back and melded your back to his front, as you did this he slid his hands up your bare thighs. His lips were now pressed against the back of your ear, your pulse quickened when you felt his steady breathing against your skin. The hands on his skin were rough from biting at his nail beds. His breath was slow and steady, you tried to match his pace with his but couldn’t slow your heart rate down. He moved his hands to your arms, running his fingertips from your shoulders to your hands. That was when you realized you’d been subconsciously gripping the towel that you fell asleep in. Unexpectedly he grabbed your wrists and ripped them away from your body causing your towel to fall. At first, you tried to fight against his grip but then realized you didn’t really want to. You moved your hands up slowly until they were at the sides of his head. Running your fingers through his hair gently and cautiously. He let go of your wrists and moved his hands to the sides of your hips. He pulled you against him causing your bare ass to rub against his erection under his jeans. He pressed his lips against your shoulder and let out a groan. He swiftly slides out from behind you and props himself up with his shoulders on top of you. Now on your back, you used your feet trying to push his jeans off. He dropped his head a bit on your shoulder so hard it took your breath away. You gasped and squirmed in pain and in reaction Void pressed his hips into you, keeping you from squirming away. 

“How are you ever gonna explain this to whatever the fuck this C stands for,” he said referring to the necklace you had around your neck. He tightens the grip on it and rips it off your neck, crushing it and letting the mangled piece of metal fall to the ground. This caused a change in the atmosphere, it was like the snap of the chain symbolized the breaking of your self-control. He sat up and pulled his pants and boxers down, they were barely past his thighs when you grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him to you. Connecting your lips for the first time, the kiss was more rough than sloppy. His shaft was now pressed against your clit, moving his hips back and forth against you as the kiss deepened. You moaned into his mouth and rocked your hips up to meet his bucks. He moves his elbows so that they are right next to your ears. His fingers running through your hair and gripping onto the strands tightly. He pulled his hips back and thrust himself into you, he moaned and dropped his forehead onto your shoulder. He kept himself still while you fully engulfed him in your heat. Continuously tightening and loosening the grip he had on the fists full of your hair. You were in pure pleasure, purposely tightening and loosening your walls, admiring the feeling of fullness. You knew he was into it because his head was still buried in your shoulder. His mouth open and his bottom lip pressed against your skin as he groaned and growled, a bit of saliva dripping onto your chest. Becoming impatient, you start trusting your hips upward. He jerks his head up so that you’re looking at each other face to face. 

“Your eyes are so glossed over, enjoying yourself I see,” he growled as he began rocking his hips back and forth. 

“Holy fucking shit,” you moaned out going to tilt your head back but being stopped by the grip he had on your hair. 

“Oh no, I wanna see your face. I like watching the raw reactions you have to me,” he snarled as he sped up. Your core felt like it was on fire, burning in a way you’d never felt before. You raked your fingernails down his back, digging in as hard as you can. Instead of wincing like most guys did, he moaned while smirking slightly. He was pounding into you so hard that his hip bones were starting to pierce you with every thrust. The burning feeling inside your stomach was building to a level, your blood felt like fire in the best possible way as you began to cum. 

“You have no idea how fucking good it feels to have you spasming around my cock,” he said swiving his hips in circles as he pressed himself as deep as he could into you, 

“Fuck I can’t get any closer,” he said while bucking and cumming into you. He was grunting and moaning to your neck, catching his breath for a second or two before continuing. As he started his thrusts up again you started to feel how sensitive you were. After you both had orgasmed there was a slickness that allowed Void to move faster and deeper into you. He took one of your nipples into his mouth and circled his tongue around the peak before biting down. 

“Void I’m- it feels so ahh- sensitive,” you said, running your fingers through his hair and bringing him closer but he pulled away so that he was sitting up on his knees. You moaned as he pulled his length out and started massaging your clit with his tip. 

“Should I stop? I mean if you’re too sensitive then maybe I shouldn’t make you cum again. Maybe feeling my cock pulse inside you while your wall spasm around me will be too much for you,” he said repeatedly sticking his tip in and out of your slit. You reacted by wrapping your legs around his waist and trying to bring him closer to you which made him chuckle. 

“Yeah that’s what I fucking thought,” he said dropping back on top of you and started furiously pounding away at you. You were yelping from pleasure after every thrust, pulling on his hair tightly. You were biting down on your lip so hard that you began to taste blood. When Void noticed, he grabbed you by the jaw and kissed you deeply while maintaining the same pace. Groaning and grunting into your mouth, you could tell he was getting close because his thrusts were becoming more sporadic and sloppy. You could no longer hold your second orgasm back and arched your back while practically screaming. Seeing you in complete ecstasy and submission caused Void to cum, the look in his eyes was feral and completely mesmerized you. It made you feel powerful to see him so tired and drained because of you. He pulled out and laid next to you, propping his head up with his elbow. A couple tears ran down your face simply because of how overstimulating the second orgasm was. He used his finger to wipe away the tears and gave you a kiss on each eyelid. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” you whispered, already half asleep.

“Rest now,” and as quickly as he said it, your eyes shot open to your fully lit bedroom. The room looked completely undisturbed which caused you to shoot up. You ran over to your dresser and started throwing the underwear everywhere. When you pulled out the still-sealed bottle of Everclear, you knew it must have been a dream. You sat on your bed and took a minute to think about how real and vivid the entire ordeal felt. After grabbing your pen from your purse, you plop down on your bed to check your socials. As you bring the pen to your lips, it drops out of your hand. You sigh in frustration and go to grab the pen from the ground without looking but end up feeling some type of necklace against your fingertips. When you take a better look at it and realize it’s the crushed necklace from last night.

[say-al0e]

Body Electric

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Steve has never lived in a home full of noise but he likes to think he'd enjoy spending the rest of his life in one. (AKA Steve Harrington is soft and proposes.) | Ft. Anon Request: "Is that my shirt?" + "We should get married." "Funny." "I'm not joking." (Listen, when I took the requests, I intended to stick to them, even if it's been like two years.) Warnings: Mentions of the Upside Down, some anxiety. Nothing too graphic or heavy. Pairing: Steve x fem!Reader (I think it might actually be GN!Reader) Word Count: 2.7k

Faint sounds of life - rain pattering against the windows, falling in sheets; a car starting in the parking lot; music, pouring from a neighbor’s stereo and bleeding through the thin walls; a laugh track, the theme tune to some primetime television show from the apartment next door - never left much room for silence in the small apartment Steve shared with you.

If you listened, waited a few moments with bated breath, you could hear the sounds of a dozen lives being lived without ever leaving the comfort of your own home. It was strange, especially for him, as he’d spent much of his life living in silence.

There were stretches of his memory, days at a time he could recount passing without hearing even the faintest sound of life from another being. Now, nearly every moment was filled with some kind of sound; the noise of neighbors, the noise of the city, the noise of you.

It was new, completely and utterly foreign, but in no way unwelcome.

Steve noticed it before you did. You grew up in a house full of noise; parents who cut on the radio first thing in the morning, just to hear the news, and siblings whose vocabulary lacked the word quiet. He found it harder to allow it all to fade into the background and still startled at the occasional slamming door. Whereas you adjusted quickly, Steve still heard every minute noise just as clearly as he had that first night.

A small part of him - that same part that hoped he never got used to the giddy feeling that still bubbled in the pit of his stomach every time you smiled at him, eyes glittering with a soft fondness he’d never tire of - hoped he would never adjust.

In addition to the noise of your neighbors, the world carrying on around you, Steve could clearly hear you.

The quiet humming in the morning as you dressed for class or work, usually some tune that only existed in your head; the clink of dishes as you made coffee for the both of you, his just the way he’d always liked; the sound of your voice, echoing over the shower as you danced in the bathroom; your soft breathing, quiet hums of content with each plot twist; the rustle of paper, pages flipping as you spent your night reading.

Steve was able to hear each sound you made, no matter how quiet, and reveled in the noise.

Every moment that he spent with you, in the small apartment surrounded by a dozen other lives, was one he was grateful for. And though the television played low in the background, volume never raising much higher out of respect for your neighbors - something he’d never had to consider before, something that secretly made him smile - he couldn’t remember what he’d wanted to watch. There’d been a reason he wanted it on, but you were more interesting, anyway.

He rested with his head on your lap, cradled by the plush of your thighs, and watched as you flipped through the yellowed pages of a book you’d picked up earlier in the week. He couldn’t read the title - it was upside down and the spine was cracked, the perks of choosing well-loved secondhand books - but you were enamored and that was enough for him. It would soon be added to the little shelf in the corner of the living room, already overflowing with titles you devoured steadily, but the realization only made him smile as your lips pursed in concentration.

There were moments Steve hated interrupting, blissful seconds where the weight of the world no longer rested on your shoulders. Others, however, he just couldn’t help himself. As happy as he was for you both to exist in your own worlds, there were moments he was desperate to recapture your attention and remind yourself that you were his.

As such, he felt little guilt as he shifted and turned his full attention to you.

Soft fingers gripped the hem of your shirt, rubbed at the worn cotton idly, and Steve’s warm brown eyes met yours when you spared him a moment of attention. “Is that my shirt?”

“Our shirt.” Steve laughed, easily amused by the same reply you’d been giving him for years, any time he pointed out you wearing his clothes. “I think I’m allowed to wear it. We both graduated from Hawkins High,” you reminded him - as if he needed it. He regularly regretted not meeting you sooner, not paying attention to you when you both roamed the halls of Hawkins High.

Either way, he was glad that he managed to find his way to you in the end.

“Sure,” he agreed easily, happily. “But you could wear your own. I saw another gym shirt in the dresser. What’re you reading?”

“Not as soft as yours,” you reasoned, as if it made perfect sense. And who was he to argue? He would’ve happily given up his shirts if it meant seeing you like this - soft, relaxed, content. Before he could even consider mentioning that, making the moment sappy, you hummed. “I Sing the Body Electric!. It’s a bunch of short stories,” you explained, dropping one hand to card through his hair, tough light as you worked your fingers through the freshly washed strands. “There’s one, the same title as the book, that was a Twilight Zone episode. I think you’d like it.”

Steve’s nose wrinkled. He’d never much cared for science fiction, despite your love for it, and always felt a little left out when you and Eddie began your deep dives into the meaning of episodes. He’d never managed to make it all the way through an episode and was skeptical as he asked, “What makes you think that?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, “it’s just nice. It’s about a family. After the mom dies, they build this robot grandma. The daughter hates her, hates everyone because she thinks her mom left her, and refuses to love her. Then, the grandma saves her. It seems like she’s dead but she comes back and the little girl realizes she can’t leave her so she starts loving again.”

“Nice?” Steve tipped his head to get a better look at you, brows furrowed. “Jesus, babe, that sounds kind of awful. Like, horror movie stuff.” His face scrunched as he attempted to think, considering the few horror movies he’d seen and managed to retain. “Oh, like that one with the guy who puts people in his basement,” he exclaimed.

“There’s a bunch of horror movies where a guy puts people in his basement.” When Steve raised his brows, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “Point made,” you conceded. “But, still. It’s a bad description, maybe. It’s, like,” you paused for a moment, thumb marking your place in the book as you considered. “You go through a lot of shit and build up these walls because you’ve been hurt. Then someone comes in, goes through it all with you, and starts to chip away at the walls. Then, they get hurt and you start to realize what they mean to you. And when they come back to you, it makes you realize that you don’t want to deal with life without them. It’s, like, poetic, or something.”

“Poetic,” Steve mumbled, agreeable. His entire body warmed at the sentiment, even as he teasingly asked, “Are you reading into it?”

“I could be.” Your fingers continued to card through his hair, touch gentle as his gaze grew softer. “We’ve been through a lot of shit together, Harrington,” you reminded him, though there was no need. He remembered every moment vividly. “You didn’t believe in love anymore and I didn’t like you very much until you saved me from becoming demodog food. Guess it’s nice to think that even with all the shit we went through, something good came of it.”

Steve knew that nostalgia wan’t the right word, not when considering the hell Hawkins put you through. But he fond himself grateful for it, just the same. When he considered his life, where he might be if he’d never stumbled upon scenes out of his worst nightmares, he wondered if he’d have the life loved so much without the hell you both went through.

As much as you teased him for being a secret romantic, he liked to think he would. In any universe, in any timeline, he liked to think he would’ve found you. Eventually, anyway.

That was a declaration he’d made before, under the cover of darkness after a nightmare or two, and he knew you felt the same. He also knew that the moment wasn’t right, not when you were looking down with a soft smile reserved just for him.

So, instead of declaring that you were the best thing he’d ever been lucky enough to find, he softly urged, “Read to me.”

Despite your rumination on why he’d enjoy the book, you knew Steve. Science fiction wasn’t his favorite and he’d likely be out in a matter of moments. He could see the surprise, your brows winging up, as you asked, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he encouraged as he brushed his fingers over your exposed thigh. “There’s nothing good on,” he teased, though you both knew he’d settled onto the couch with the intention of watching something or other. “Might as well.”

Whatever it was he’d planned on watching was completely lost, entirely out of mind - and he knew he’d only remember what it was when someone inevitably asked him what he thought of it. There wasn’t a single moment of hesitation as he turned off the television, plunging the apartment into the only sort of quiet you could get, and glanced up at you expectantly.

As you’d done a hundred times before, you picked a page and started to read. The story itself was never very important. Steve was used to being dropped into the middle of your favorite books, just because he wanted to hear your voice. 

There were nights where you read him Tolkien, Bradbury, Orwell, and a plethora of others he could never name. There was science fiction and fantasy, romance and mystery, fiction and non. He’d heard at least a portion of nearly every book on the shelf because on the nights when there was nothing on, when the anxiety you both learned to live with settled a little too heavy on his chest, when he just wanted to be selfish and drown himself in your attention, you read to him. Your voice filled the apartment, soft and warm as you read from another short story.

Steve tried to pay attention to the words. He wanted to be able to discuss it with you, to have the kinds of conversations you had with Robin or with Eddie about symbolism and meaning, but he found his attention drifting.

It wasn’t that he had no interest. Though he couldn’t discuss relevant social themes in The Twilight Zone or which horror franchise was better, he wanted nothing more than to hear your opinion on the matter. He’d never read Bradbury on his own but usually found himself enthralled when you read it to him. 

All he wanted was to live in that moment forever. To lie there, in the safety and comfort of your shared apartment with your voice washing over him; he was certain that there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

The thought had plagued him for month - years, really, as he’d known you were the one the moment you followed him into the depths of hell to protect a ragtag group of children - but marriage was always a fantasy. The moment hadn’t been right. He’d rehearsed the speech a dozen times, pictured what the ring might look like, where he might take you to pop the question.

It was almost agonizing, wondering when the perfect moment might strike, when you would both be ready to step into the future. But he realized that there was nothing technically “perfect” in your lives. From the moment you met, life was chaos and that was part of the appeal.

There would never be a perfect moment but he knew that nothing would feel as right as that moment, lying on the couch, with your fingers tangled in his hair as you lounged in his stolen gym shirt.

Without allowing himself to think too hard, he hummed, “We should get married.”

The words were spoken casually, as if he were commenting on the weather or the story you were reading to him. It was easy, completely concealed the heavy thud of his heart and the overwhelming noise blaring in his mind - the little voice yelling that he should’ve waited, he should’ve made it perfect. 

For a brief moment, your fingers stilled in his hair. It wasn’t the first time Steve broached the subject, however, it was the first time he phrased it that way. Like he was looking for an answer, a reply, a decision.

Then, you continued carding through the soft strands as you hummed. “Funny.”

“I’m not joking.” He lifted a hand, carefully removed yours from his hair, before he sat up and turned to face you. The look on your face was nearly unreadable, though Steve had spent years practicing. He could see a slight apprehension - not at the idea; he knew you would marry him in a heartbeat, that you’d happily spend the rest of your life with him - and a hint of glimmering excitement, though it was overshadowed by an emotion he couldn’t place. Still, he carried on. “I’ve thought about it for a long time.”

“Steve.” The sigh of his name was soft, breathless, and in it he could detect the emotion that darkened your eyes. It was nerves, a residual unease - fear that life was going to well, anything more might leave you both scrambling from long-gone monsters once more.

“I know,” he assured you, voice just as soft as your own - mindful, of your feelings and of the privacy you no longer had. This was a moment for you, to be shared only between the inhabitants of the small apartment, and he was careful to keep quiet as he shifted closer and reached for your hand. “It’s weird,” he began, smiling as he met your eyes. “Some days, I wake up and I wait a few minutes, just to be sure I’m not still in Hawkins. I’m afraid that the last few years have been a dream, that I’m going to get a call any minute that the kids found something completely insane and we’re going to be running for our lives again. But I’m not. It’s over. We’re here and it’s totally scary, thinking that we could be happy, but we could. We could elope,” he offered, smile growing a touch wider when you exhaled and squeezed his hand tight.

“You don’t want a big wedding?” You’d never talked details, only agreed under the cover of soft moonlight that you wanted to be married, that your futures were thoroughly intertwined. “Wear a fancy tux, eat stupidly expensive cake, dance all night?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t really care about any of that,” he admitted. “The important thing is that it’s us. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I’ve known that for a long time. We could go to the courthouse,” he offered, grinning when you laughed. “Robin and Eddie are in this building, the kids have been begging for an excuse to come visit. Us and them, that’s all that matters, right?”

The ragtag family the pair of you had created, a lifelong bond built on a difficult experience, was, indeed, all you needed. Neither of you wanted much more than to spend the rest of your lives together, to be happy and content and enjoy the life you built, so you nodded.

“Yeah,” you agreed, smile mirroring his own as you squeezed his hand. “You’re right. Let’s get married.”

Years ago, neither of you could’ve imagined your future with any degree of accuracy. Living in a small apartment, far from Hawkins and surrounded by the noise of life carrying on, was not something either of you expected. Even less expected was falling in love with one another.

But now that you’d made it, a proposal sealed with a soft kiss and a giddy excitement to look for rings the very next day - after making the call to rally the troops - neither of you could imagine a more perfect future.

________________________________________________________

Author's Note: I almost got stuck in an elevator today. As someone afraid of elevators, it was pretty terrifying. 0/10, do not recommend.

Taglist: @x-avantgarde-x, @thisisparadisemylove, @eddiesprincess, @slvdsjjk, @munsonlover, @tasmbestspdrman, @urofficial-cyberslut, @jxngwhore, @hopelesslylosttheway, @meaganjm, @lazuli-leenabride, @deiondraaa, @piscesmesss, @glowyskiess, @kiszkathecook, @missryerye, @solarrexplosion, @ofherscarlettwitchways, @lovedandleft-haunted, @trappedinlimbo15, @sweetiekitten, @bookfrog242, @gwendolynmary, @sage-bun, @zealouslibrariesparadiselight, @castiels-lilass, @tojis-little-brat, @emmah787, @theworldsendxx, @asuperconfusedgirl, @flores-and-sunshine, @passi0np1t, @laurathefahrradsattel, @hellf1reclub, @slut4yourmom, @niko-04, @hannirose-loves-you, @mrs-eddie-munson, @screambabe, @vllowe, @ryswritingrecord, @cheriebondy, @ryswritingrecord, @thewitchofthewilds140, @bootlegmothman420, @maruushkka, @honeymoonpython, @keenesbeans, @jess-bonn, @sammysinger04, @khaoticken21, @denkis-slut, @spiderman-berries, @lotus-es, @amortiff, @stardust-galaxies, @ure-a-sunflower, @1-800-ch3rry, @ladybeewritethings, @ynbutbetter, @hunnybunimdun, @breathinfive, @s-u-t, @s4ntacarlal0stk1d, @rae-iin, @pennamesgame, @stefans-wife, @voldieshorts, @frankie-mercury, @bbymochi1, @serendiipty, @saturnsworld01, @eddiemunson1sstuff​, @valthevalkyrie-main​, @crying-caro​, @inglourious-imagines​

[sunnie-angel]

Part 4: The Plan

part 3 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: one step back, one step forward in this dance with jason’s warring desires for intimacy and distance

tags: swearing, UST, light angst

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.7k

a/n: i’ve never experienced an american thanksgiving so all of my knowledge of it comes from pop culture. this is basically the last of my ‘set up’ chapters, so plot + relationship development is going to really hit their strides starting from here.

Jason is learning to live with the thousand pangs of guilt that go hand in hand with his determination to be your friend and only your friend. Guilt churns his stomach so often that it fades to just another background distraction. Every time you stiffen up when he pulls back, every time you try to catch your face before the disappointment can shine through, he sees it all. He should keep his distance, stop reeling you in close before drawing back unexpectedly, but he can’t quite manage it.

A more recent encounter is still seared into his brain. It plays behind his eyelids as he swims laps around the pool with Rei.

The two of you had been heading to the dinner two blocks off of campus after Duvall’s class, the fiery light of the sunset colouring the worn paths across the quad. Class had been predictably… painful. Reading it for his own purposes or for a group of students to discuss, Frankenstein has always struck a raw nerve. I am thy creature and I will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king, if thou wilt also perform thy part, which thou owest me. Seen and made raw by a woman and her monster years in the past, and isn’t that just the rub? The world spins, new generations live and die and live again to be just as disappointing to the men that created them. Jason’s heart had ached behind his sternum and even the usual balm of your chatter had taunted him with everything he denies himself. He’d made all the right noises, kept his head down and hands jammed into his pockets as the two of you had finally made it to the diner.

“God I almost lost it when what’s-his-name in business started talking.” You’d snorted as you’d opened up your menu, plastic pages clinging together. “Like is it really so hard to have an ounce of empathy? We should start a list of worst takes because that had to be a top five. Jay?” Jason must not have been playing his part well enough because now you’re looking at him, too silent, too caught up on the long stale nickname. “What are you thinking Jay, because I’m thinking pancakes for dinner.” All he could think of is the one and only Dick took him out for pancakes. Begrudgingly. And how it had ended with Dick storming out, suddenly excited about hanging out with the Titans, only to come back disappointed when he had realized he was Jason’s only ride.

“Don’t.” It had come out low and mean, lobbed through gritted teeth like something hot and vicious. Jason had watched it hit you, the way you’d leaned back from the table and hunched your shoulders closer. “Just don’t call me that, yeah?” It had taken concentrated effort on his part to breathe, mimic loosening the tension in his body, to look smaller and non-threatening.

“Oh. Okay, Jason.” Silence had stretched out between the two of you, an almost tangible distance. The words to explain, to apologize and smooth things over had stuck in his throat. The fading light had caught your face for a moment, your face crumpling in hurt before shuttering closed. Your blank face was burned into his mind’s eye just as clearly as all the ways he had not repaired things between you.

Jason surfaces, water sluicing off of his shoulders, before going back under for another stroke. His body takes over the pattern of striking and breathing while his mind returns to the diner. There’s a small animal part at the back of his mind that’s wary of the water. Keeps a small part of him on the look out for any tinges of green to the liquid in the irrational fear that he might also come out of this body of water changed. Actually taking Rei up on his offer to go swimming was in some ways a punishment for Jason, adrenaline thrumming through his veins until his muscles flagged from exhaustion.

Rei is waiting for him at the entrance to the gym, water bottle half empty and lid still unscrewed. His glasses keep sliding down his still damp face but he grins at Jason anyway.

“You sure you’re not looking for a spot on the swim team? Because I’m sure the team captain would get the coaches to make an exception for you.”

Re-shouldering his duffel, Jason asks, “Now why would he do that?”

“I’d do it because I want one last trophy for the relay team.” Rei says wryly.

“No shit?”

“Yeah, I don’t really advertise it because I’ve been doing it for so long that I keep forgetting new people don’t already know I swim. But if you want a spot you’re in. You lapped me like what, four times?”

“Five,” Jason says sheepishly. “Not much of a team player, so I’m gonna have to turn you down.”

“Fair enough,” Rei shrugs. “But I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You probably dodged a bullet though, the coaches are hard asses about not drinking before meets.”

“Yeah, speakin’ of drinkin’, what the hell was in those drinks you made the first night.”

Rei laughs and the conversation takes a more lighthearted turn as they head across campus to the student union. It doesn’t take much to keep the conversation going so Jason has time to turn over Rei’s invitation over in his head. Jason would never have been able to accept — spackling over his extensive scarring for even just today had been a pain — but it had given him hope that maybe even after all his mishaps with you, that he might still be achieving ‘normal’.

Wednesday comes by and Jason makes up his mind to show up the weekly study session. With the Thanksgiving weekend coming up he’s got less work than ever but an even stronger desire not to be alone. Campus has emptied out in anticipation of the long weekend, the student union almost echoingly empty. Lina and Rei are already taking up a bench, sickeningly affectionate and dodging the balled up paper scraps Danika is tossing at them. You sit next to her, rolling your eyes at her antics then egging her on whenever Lina swoops in to leave another lipstick stain on Rei’s cheeks. He hesitates before committing to the seat at the end of the table nearest to you. The fresh loukoumades burning a hole in his bag will have to be shield and apology enough.

He’s nearly there, three feet out from his target, when the sound of a chair getting angrily out of the way diverts his attention. Will is dragging his bike through the field of chairs, cursing up a storm that has even Jason with all of his years in Gotham taken aback. Quite possibly its the most words Jason’s heard Will say out loud in the scarce months he’s known the man. The incongruity of the scene with who Will generally is as a person sends most of table into nervous half laughter.

“Will? Will what’s wrong? The biking parking finally full or something?” You ask, disbelieving.

“What the fuck does it look like?” He snarls, before throwing the bike to the ground in frustration.

“Hey—“

“Will, what happened?” Lina cuts Jason off, uncurling herself from around Rei and leaning forward. Her eyes are wide and searching, and in Jason’s opinion, not suspicious enough for the uncharacteristic rage on Will’s face.

“Some motherfucking cock sucking moron nearly ran me off the sidewalk in their piece of shit gas guzzler. That’s what happened.” He goes to throw himself into the seat next to you but Jason beats him to it, larger frame boxing him out. Throwing Jason an annoyed glance, Will slouches into the only seat left. He brandishes his coat clad arm in front of Lina and Rei, still thrumming with pent up energy.

“Look what they did!” He exclaims.

“I don’t think any of the bandaids in my bag are big enough for that scrape.” Rei says regretfully.

“What— never mind the scrape, look what they did to my coat!” He pulls the fabric tight across his wrist, shoving it under their noses. Rei and Lina give each other confused looks over Will’s head.

“There’s a lose thread?” Questions Danika.

“Yes! Thank you, yes! That idiotic jackass made me scrape up my Loro Piana jacket, do you know how much this costs?!”

“So,” Danika interjects, “won’t your family just buy you a new one and write this off for taxes or something?”

“That’s not— okay that piece of shit not only destroyed my jacket and put my life at risk but he’s also polluting with his mid-life crisis pollutant puker. You know there’s a reason Gotham ranks worst in pollution for cities in New Jersey? It’s thanks to people like that who don’t care that their cars are leaking oil and going knocking people — who are just trying to be nice to the environment — off of their bikes when they were just minding their own—“

“Report it to the police or campus security then.” Jason interrupts, before Will can get into the rant he’s building up steam for. “You got close enough to see the oil leaking, you probably saw the license plate too.” Jason pulls the loukoumades out of his bag and slides them over to you, keeping eye contact with Will the whole while. Will breaks eye contact first, pulling his perfectly intact black wool coat tighter around him before shoving his hands deep in the pockets. You’ve cracked open the container and let out a hum of delight. Will’s eyes dart to the table.

“Didn’t get it. How was I supposed to know that one minute I’d be riding along, and then the next I’d be traumatized for life by some inconsiderate brute?” He sulks. And oh, yeah, not everyone had grown up with B and all of his lessons on paying attention to your environment for evidence.

“Yeah, speaking of trauma, who’s got plans for thanksgiving yet?” Danika asks, mirth and humour her weapon against the atmosphere.

A sharp elbow knocks once into Jason’s ribs. He turns to look down at you, hoping your bid for attention won’t turn out to be disappointing. You meet his gaze with cheeks stuffed full of fried dough and honeyed syrup, eyes narrowed and considering.

“They’re not pancakes, but I thought you’d like ‘em anyway.” Jason says.

You swallow, before beginning to speak in a low voice, letting the flow of conversation continue around the two of you undisturbed. “If this is an apology, there better be more from where that came from.” Your small lopsided smile is sincere, but it doesn’t quite erase the image of your blank face from the dinner from his memory. Nodding, he goes to pull out the second Tupperware container that he’d had the foresight to prepare and you begin to lick the leftover syrup from your fingers. Jason’s vision narrows down to your thumb and forefinger, glistening in the fluorescent lights. He could swear his heart skips a beat when your pink tongue flicks out, his breathing certifiably irregular when you start to suck on your fingers. The image of your lips shiny from syrup will probably be engraved on his second headstone as the cause of death.

“—son, Jason.” Danika’s voice, high pitched and insistent, breaks the moment. He’d be embarrassed at tuning out his situational awareness if he wasn’t also scrambling to answer her half-heard question.

“No plans for me. My family and I aren’t really in a ‘gatherings and gratitude’ place right now.”

“Whoops, we’ll add your family to the off-limits list. What do you usually do then?”

Your phone starts buzzing, and you swear under your breath as you navigate sticky fingers and tight jean pockets.

“I just make a fancier meal than normal, watch the parade on the tv. Not much to it.” He replies off-handedly. He doesn’t mention the extra patrols he’ll do, in anticipation of one of the Rogues deciding to make a splash across holiday headlines.

“Sorry, I’ve got to answer this.” And already you’re trying to climb over Jason to get out from the booth and away from the table. It brings your face closer to his than it’s ever been and Jason would be trying to pin a name to the exact shade of your eyes if it wasn’t for the worry on your face. The nearly empty building means that you don’t wander far from the group. You pace as you listen to whoever is on the phone and play with the charm on your necklace. Will catches on to Jason’s line of sight and rolls his eyes, still sulking in his chair.

“So there’s a whole list, yeah? Things you don’t talk about?” Jason asks, trying to distract himself.

“Oh I wouldn’t call it anything so official.” Lina dismisses.

“No but we totally should!” Fires back Danika. “It would make things sooo much less awkward if Jason knew not to bring up just how much money Will’s rolling in, or the fact that Rei hates talking about the team right before a swim meet, or that when she,” and here Danika lowers her voice and nods in your direction, “plays with her necklace on a phone call fifty bucks says it’s someone from her family.”

“Got it, no askin’ her about the secret phone calls.” Jason says with a tight smile.

“Oh it’s nothing super secret.” Danika leans back into the corner and waves a lazy hand. “Just that most of them were dead set against her doing English instead of some ‘useful degree’ like pre-med or engineering. Don’t know why though, I don’t think’ I’ve ever met anyone that hates calculus more.”

But Jason, Jason thinks he does know why. Puts together the little pieces of your past you’d entrusted to his scarred hands and looks to the shared weft of your past. Looks at a girl whose family had scraped and fought to make a life untouched by poverty in a city that doesn’t easily forgive, and knows that it took luck and bone wearying effort to make it out of the Alley’s clutches. He looks at the girl who is used to being told her opinions don’t matter and yet believing in them anyway, who has put together a path leading right to her dreams even if the detours take her back to the place her family was happy to leave behind. Jason looks around the table at these fresh faced kids in their $6000 jackets and knows that none of them understand the constant, cavernous fear that all of the little luxuries they take for granted will suddenly disappear like morning fog. Jason knows the kind of courage it takes to push past that dogged fear and refuse the path your family pushes you down in order to achieve loftier goals.

The conversation has moved past him now, wrapped in his reverie. Rei and Danika have devolved into the kind of hardline negotiation Jason would have expected to see between seasoned lawyers rather than undergrads.

“C’mon Danika, I know you want a Pinterest worthy friends-giving but it’s just not going to work out this year.” Rei chides. “There’s just no time that’s gonna work for all of us.”

“Yes but it’s our last year when we’re all for sure going to be in the same place for the holiday weekend!”

“Look, we should all be free the Friday after the long weekend. We’ll do another night out, me and Lina will host the pre, and it’ll be our version of friends-giving. I’ll even make turkey themed cocktails if you want.”

“Gross! Fine, fine.” Danika most definitely does not whine. “But make them pumpkin pie themed cocktails instead.”

Jason’s got half an ear on the conversation, but continues to study you as long as his input isn’t needed. You sigh and seem to deflate as your call ends.

“So boys, are you ready to see the damage Rei can do when he’s got his full bar cart with him?” Lina asks, coy as anything. “I’m sure he’ll be able to make something that will even get you dancing, Jason.”

You shuffle around Jason, trying to squirm back into your bench seat. For a brief moment, your thighs bracket his.

“If that’s the plan,” Jason breathes out shakily.

Part 5

[hyptrance1]

Temporary Dumb Jock Induction

So I suppose I am making another induction. Probably one more up my alley, at least in my interests as of late. What can I say, lots of dumb jocks are DMing me and I need to capitalize on the current interest. So the premise of the induction is to give you a post hypnotic suggestion to act like a stereotypical dumb jock for 30 minutes after going under to this induction. So not a lot of thoughts in your head, a lot of bro-ish language, and wanting to flex, show off, and grow your muscles. Additionally, You’ll leave a comment about being a dumb jock if you do go under. Pretty simple stuff. If the post hypnotic suggestion doesn’t interest you or you dont want it to happen please don’t read it. Additionally, if you aren’t able to be a dumb jock for that time then also don’t read it or wait until you’re able to. And with that pretty straightforward address let’s begin. 

Let’s begin by just letting yourself get comfortable. Find a nice spot to settle into. Allow yourself to have your arms, legs, and every other part of your body settle into the place that they will be sinking into soon enough. Give yourself time to feel the parts of your body, your muscles, to slow down and stay where they are as you begin focus on reading this. And with reading this, allow your mind to focus on just the words in front of you, taking the time to go from one word to the next so that each sinks into your head. With this way of focusing and reading, your mind should shift, allowing for all other distractions to float away into the background. Every little noise becoming muted, every small breeze not being registered, allowing it all to fade into the background as you focus on these words in front of you, one after another as you continue to read. 

Now let’s focus on those muscles of yours, since as a soon to be jock that will be the only thing that you care about anyways. With each word you read I want you to imagine that a little jolt of pleasure  filling your muscles. Just a tingling of pleasure as each drop of pleasure from the words drips down into your muscles, filling up your body. Allow yourself a moment to take in how the pleasure flows from your head once you read a word, down into the muscle of its choice. You might be feeling the pleasure drip down into your pecs, or your biceps, your abs, or even your glutes. But when the jolt finally hits your muscles it’s electric, just awakening that muscle while also relaxing it. Causing this growing feeling of contentment and happiness filling your mind as your body is being rained on by the pleasure of my words. 

And while your body is being bombarded by pleasure, allow your mind to begin dropping thoughts. Its to hard to focus on thinking when my words bring you so much pleasure anyways. Cause what were you thinking about? Can you hold onto a thought? You may remember thinking something but then you read another word and another jolt of pleasure flows into your muscle and doesn’t that just take you out of your head and focus on how good those muscles feel now. But again, trying to think, to remember a thought, yet thinking is to hard, and what would you even have to think about while you’re focusing on the words in front of you and your body is feeling this good. Fuck, another word just filling your head, dripping pleasure down into your muscles as your thoughts poof out of existence. You? Thoughts? That doesn’t sound right. Jocks dont need to think, they need to focus on their muscles. 

And you will be focusing on your muscles, while the rest of your mind poofs its thoughts out of existence. Let your thoughts disappear more and more till they’re completely gone as I count down from 10. 

10

Your thoughts leaving faster now

9

The pleasure in your muscles feeling so good

8

Just a shower filling your body with jolts of comfort

7

You can’t think with this feeling, can you

6

But wait

5

Jocks dont think

4

And you’re a jock

3

Such a jock

Look at you focused on your muscles

2

No thoughts in that head

1

Totally empty headed

0 

And nicely hypnotized. Feeling great as your brain just lets that rain of pleasure fill it as well as your muscles. And at this point you know that you’re under, happy that you’re under. But not for long, because soon enough you’ll be back awake, and as the post hypnotic suggestion stated, you’ll feel like a normal dumb jock. Which you know how a dumb jock acts, behaves, talks. You know how they speak, you know how focused on their muscles they are. So when you wake up, and only for 30 minutes after coming out of trance, you’ll feel like the dumb jock of your dreams. 

Once those 30 minutes are done though, you’ll return to normal, feeling nice and relaxed as your thoughts return to you and the dumb jock suggestion leaves you totally. You will subconsciously know that the time has passed, and will return to normal once 30 minutes has passed. 

Lastly, once you’re awake, you will comment “It’s dumb jock time”. Feel that post hypnotic suggestion sinking in and…

1

Thoughts returning to you

2

Waking up

And 3

Wide awake

Wide wide awake. 

So surprise surprise, a new induction. Hope you enjoy and let me know how you like it. 

[nekrosdolly]

albert whiskers (fluff)

after umbrella disposes of him, albert finds himself in a shelter for abandoned hybrids. lucky for him, he's exactly what you're looking for + extra lil bit at the end!

a/n; another option on the 100 followers special poll- i just rlly wanted to write all of these i'm sorry guys... also i do not have energy to write sex now that i'm working more sorry!!! no sex in this one

tags; @whiskers-my-beloved

the fan whirs overhead, another noise that fades into the background with pathetic barks, meows, and clucking from the other hybrids in the shelter. being older, more people passed by his kennel in favor of other, younger hybrids. he's been here for at least a few years, and the pattern is always the same. new people flood in, walk right past him, and leave with a younger, sweeter hybrid that has more energy and can give them more love.

you're just looking for a pet. someone to love and adore, but not tire you out with endless wishes to play. you've always had older animals growing up, so why would a hybrid be any different?

walking through the path between multiple cages, many younger hybrids try to garner your attention, but none of them really piques your interest. as you reach the back end, you notice that there's not as many hybrids back here, and if there are, they're older and somewhat sad. you assume they've been here for a while, which rings true based on the acceptance dates on the information plagues hanging off their cage doors. most of them don't look at you, though the occasional one raises their head in curiosity and mild hope. it really just breaks your heart.

at the last cage, you stop to read the plaque as you've done with the other older hybrids in the more dim half of the room.

"albert whiskers..? how cute," you murmur, smiling softly. you peer inside the cage to find said albert whiskers and find him sitting in the corner of his cage. he looks up at you through (what you assume to be) prescription sunglasses, his tail flicking curiously. he's handsome, his platinum blonde ears twitching as he sniffs you out from afar. his tail matches his messily slickbacked hair, his pupils widening. he wasn't expecting to see someone both young ang cute in front of his cage, not since he was thrown here. of course, he doesn't get his hopes up quite yet, but his tail and ears betray him.

"well hello there," you say, placing a hand on the cage door, "i take it you're mr. whiskers?"

he stares at you for a few moments more, wondering whether or not he should engage you. it's your subtle head tilt at the end of your question that gets him to do it.

"…yes, that would be me." he says coolly, trying to appear a bit more cold. it doesn't work all that well, and you find his voice to be nice.

"you've been here quite a while, huh?" you sit down in front of his cage, placing your hands on your knees.

"i have," he resists the urge to scoot closer, "a few years."

oh, how your heart bleeds for him.

"well, can i take you home?"

"are you not looking for a more… youthful companion?" his ear twitches with interest.

you shake your head softly.

"no, i wouldn't be able to care for a younger hybrid. i work too much for that. i was hoping to find someone older."

he's silent as he figures out your true motives, if you're really trying to get his hopes up only to leave the moment he agrees.

"if it helps," you add, "i live alone. it's just me and myself, no other animals or people, i'm pretty quiet, i won't force you to cuddle, and i'm just tired of being alone in my home."

albert nods softly, rubbing his wrist as he considers what you've said. your words are tempting, and truthfully, it sounds as though you could provide him with what he needs- stability. not to mention how cute you are. your eyes are so sweet and part of him aches to just lie down in front of you and let you pet him all over.

"… alright. i suppose that will do just fine."

and like that, you take him home. he adjusts after a few weeks of overly cautious behavior. the two of you fall into a routine- you work while he busies himself doing menial tasks around the house, and when you come home, he's there to listen. he's replaced the role of a boyfriend for you, honestly.

so when you come home from work tired, and as usual, albert greets you at the door. he moves to hug you, but you brush him off.

"hi, alby." you mutter, walking right past him in favor of your bed. he follows you with hesitance.

"dear," he says, watching you crawl into bed without so much as changing out of your work clothes.

"hm?" you don't look up from the comfort of your sheets.

he walks over to the bed and climbs in bed beside you, his ears flat against his head.

"are you upset with me?" he asks quietly, unable to help the slight desperation in his voice. he'd been missing you all day and really, all he wanted was to cuddle with you even if he won't say it outright. instead, he reaches out and places a clawed hand on your shoulder, trying his hardest to avoid kneading you should you end up kicking him out.

"no, honey. i'm just tired, alright?" you say, gently brushing his hand away. clearly, something's wrong, but he doesn't press. he just lies beside you, his tail curled anxiously on the bed.

you can feel the anxiety he exudes rolling off of him in cold waves, and despite you being tired, you roll over to face him.

"just come here…" you sigh and push the sheets off of you, patting your chest. reluctant and still somewhat hurt by your initial dismissive rejection, he scoots close and presses his face into your chest. once your hand tangles in his hair, he's purring and nuzzling closer. the softness of his hair and the fur on his ears isn't lost on you. he's so happy to be with you after a full day of being alone. he's not used to such solitude without you around. even before, when he was working at umbrella, he wasn't alone.

though he feels silly about snuggling up to you like some needy pet, he can't help it. he's become somewhat dependent on you since his arrival, though he wouldn't admit that to anyone, not even you.

the calm silence is familiar and soothing, nothing but the sound of your breathing filling the air. his tail flicks happily, his ears perked up as well.

evenings like these weren't unusual. after a few moments more of lying in bed, you finally sit up and press a kiss to his forehead.

"i missed you, kitty. sorry for being mean." you mutter, stroking his hair still as you look into his hazel eyes. his heart flutters, slitted pupils turning round within seconds.

"it's alright, dear. i only missed you is all," he takes your hand and kisses the back of it, keeping his eyes locked on yours, "it's too quiet without you somedays."

the blush that dusts your cheeks is unmistakable. his free hand creeps up your arm to cup your head and pull you in for a soft kiss, one he'd been looking forward to all day. you reciprocate it with love, his gentleness only something you can coax out of him. his lips are soft and honey-sweet, his whiskers tickling your face. you pull away giggling at the feeling.

"let's get you out of those clothes, hm?" he mutters, rolling the both of you over so he's on top. you blush more and nod softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"it's time for me to take care of my owner. you've been so good to me." he starts kissing down your jaw, his whiskers brushing against your skin.

-

extra!

it's the weekend and you've been out for too long, something albert's grown suspicious of. you're never out this long without explanation or good reason. he waits on the couch, tail swishing with irritation. his ears twitch when he hears footsteps approach the front door, yours accompanied by a pair he's unfamiliar with.

you open the door soon enough and he doesn't bother to greet you, pissed off at you for taking so long. not to mention, that nasty smell you've brought in, it almost smells like-

"albert, i got you a friend! come here, honey!" you call, holding chris's leash loosely. you shut the door with your hip.

his ears perk up and he quickly gets out of his seat, turning around to see chris redfield standing by your side, glaring at him.

"chris!"

[koji-haru]

Turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths.

[One last thing for Halloween, I think. Unless anyone has any other ideas!]

Adam was gone.

Those three words kept echoing inside of Michael’s head like some sort of mockery. He kept seated still, eyes blankly staring at nothing trying to process the fact as a cacophony of panicked shouting and yelling sprung around him in the meeting room. 

Secrets. 

Exterminations.

Hell. 

The angels gathered around the table raised their newfound worries about secrets hidden away from them, genocide excused for their supposed safety, and the news of their apparent mortality. However, none of those currently mattered to Michael. None. At. All. But his Adam did, and now– now he was gone. Not dead and in the afterlife like most mortal souls, but gone. His soul erased and unrecoverable. Adam was… was… 

Michael felt the world spinning around him, his vision in a blinding swirl as all he heard were white noise in the background. Then, out of nowhere, he slammed his hands on the table, silencing every angel in the room before storming out without another word. He simply couldn’t stand to be there for any second longer. 

Behind him were quiet echoes between the surprised angels left in the room.

That’s not a good sign. 

Michael slammed the door to his room before flopping unceremoniously face forward onto his bed. His now far too spacious bed. Adam’s scent from this morning still lingered on his side of the bed; his vague outline still present as he obviously didn’t make the bed before leaving. Michael’s hand ghosted over Adam’s side of the bed, remembering the warmth it had. It felt cool now, but wouldn’t get warm again. Finally tears flowed freely from his eyes and onto the sheets as the silence finally allowed him to digest everything. He gripped the sheets as if holding onto Adam’s robe, and begged him to stay, to not leave him alone. But Adam, of course, couldn’t answer. 

—-

The days following the news were hell for Michael. They apparently had to keep every information they were told close to themselves only as they also figured out how to solve this predicament. It was all so bureaucratic. He had only found out about the exterminations, and now they expected him to work with them and keep it all under wraps still, at least for a while. Quite ironic considering he would never have approved of the exterminations in the first place. He really would never… It was a joke. He never meant it… An overwhelming wave of guilt washed over him; he wasn’t part of this, never was, he reminded himself. He tried to shift his thoughts onto something else. Something like, the way that Sera and others who knew about the exterminations merely focused on the repercussions upon themselves, but glossed over the fact that they had lost the first mortal soul in Heaven. No feelings of personal sadness, no mourning, heck, they barely even acknowledged the loss save for times when they needed someone to blame. It was as if Adam was just another disposable tool for them. 

Michael walked into his office, letting anger overshadow the sorrow he felt deep within him. He could deal with anger, he knew how to control himself in anger, but sorrow… he didn’t know what to do with it. Adam had helped him with it before when Lucifer had to be banished to hell, but now, he had no one to go through with it. The papers on his desk had multiplied at least 3-fold since the news, stacked like the ivory towers that littered the cities of Heaven. At least he had something he could keep himself busy with – to keep his mind off of unpleasant thoughts that seemed unwilling to simply fade away.

Day in and day out, he did the same things over and over again – reading, signing and filing hundreds of documents until the clock in his office told him that it was time to go home. But that was the part he dreaded the most: to come to a barren house and sit quietly doing little to nothing, simply experiencing the emptiness of the place as he waited again for the clock to call him to bed, a chilly, too wide bed. 

Tonight was one of the worst nights; he didn’t have work the following morning. Initially, he still came in even during his days off, but others had begun to take notice and their ‘concerns’ had led him to this: forced to take a ‘resting day’. Though, it would be more like a ‘haunting day’ for him. Michael tossed uneasily on the bed, the first rays of the day wouldn’t come out for a few more hours, and yet, he could already feel the day’s weight on him as he laid on his side of the bed, staring blankly at the empty space beside him. He tried to remember what it used to look like; the way the mattress dipped in, how the sheets wrinkled, the blankets looking so warm and cosy…

A sudden loud knocking sound from downstairs burst Michael out of his nostalgia. The sky was still a dark blue, the air was still in eerie silence, no divine soul wandered about. Michael tore his eyes off the empty side of the bed and onto the clock on the wall facing the bed. It was 3 in the morning. Who would visit him at this time of the night? Slowly, Michael dragged himself out of bed, maybe there was an emergency and they needed him to come into work today after all. That would be nice. 

The stairs creaked loudly under each step he took, the stillness of the night amplifying its pitched cries. Finally, he stood by the house’s door, unlatching the locks and opening the door, expecting a tired angel to greet him. Instead, no one greeted him. The cold night air brushed past his face and the dark sky met his eyes, but no living presence stood in front of him. Just as he was about to shut the door again in disappointment, a small package by his doorstep caught his eye. It was neatly wrapped in a cloth, tied tightly with a string. Michael picked it up, curious about the package. It had some weight to it and it was covered in dust as if it had been waiting by his door for some time now. 

Michael brought the package inside, shutting the door behind him before turning on the living room lights. He sat by the couch, dusting the package with his fingers before unravelling the string that tied the cloth close; then, carefully, he unfolded the old, dusty cloth revealing an ancient looking leather bound book with no title nor name engraved on it. And so, Michael flipped the cover over and onto the book’s first page. The page was yellowed and thin as if it could crumble easily if any force were placed on it. It was written in a language he had barely heard of; to the point he wasn’t even sure where he had first seen it – was before the flood? Or just after it? Maybe even before Eden… Regardless, he could surprisingly still read and understand most of it. No. That wasn’t right. Michael watched the words on the page shift slowly into a language he could finally understand. Suddenly, he looked up from the book, carefully scanning the room he was in. It almost felt like there were eyes on him. With a tired sigh, he closed the book shut, leaving it on the coffee table. He was too tired; he’d look more into the book tomorrow, maybe bring it to Uriel to examine. 

Morning arrived much faster than Michael had expected. The sun’s light felt more intense on his pale skin than usual. He cracked his eyes open, still heavy from sleep, and landed on the clock in front of him. It read 11 am. Sleep was quickly kicked out from his system by the surprise he felt at waking up so late. It had been a while since he slept for so long, and oddly enough, he actually felt rather rested this time. He made his way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, washing his face, and all that morning routine. The bathroom mirror reflected a pale face with golden waves of hair, dark blue eyes adorned by little golden stars - it was still him, the archangel Michael, though his shine had dulled a little. 

Eventually, Michael made his way downstairs, making himself a quick breakfast - some toast, eggs and sausages accompanied with tea. He got his serving on a plate then grabbed the other plate for– He placed the plate back down on the countertop. He made too much. Again. 

Heaven’s light filtered through the thin curtains bathing everything in the dining area in a beautiful golden glow. So many chairs around the table, yet Michael sat alone, unable to share and enjoy such a quiet little moment with his beloved. He put his fork back down on his plate, sighing loudly to himself in the quietness of the room. He hated this. The quietness, how everything seemed to have become more spacious yet empty, how everything around him seemed dull. Was he supposed to simply continue like this? He wasn’t sure if it was possible, at least for him anyway.

Michael already had his hand on the door’s handle, ready to take a walk and breathe some fresh air to clear his mind as others had recommended him when he took notice of the odd book he left on top of the coffee table last night. Right. He had planned to take it to Uriel to be examined. He went over to the table to grab the book, but instead of putting it in a bag then making his way to Uriel, he simply stood there holding it in his hand. The book had an odd feel to it; emanating an unusual air around it that was simply irresistible to one’s curiosity. Michael opened the book again as he sat back down on the couch. It didn’t appear to contain anything particularly interesting, just a comprehensive knowledge of various plants accompanied by detailed sketches of it, though some of them Michael had never even heard of, but then he wasn’t particularly well versed in botany, that was Adam’s specialty… 

He kept flipping through the pages, eyes idly scanning through the paragraphs of words until the title of the next page he flipped onto stopped him dead in his tracks. Not believing what he read, he flipped the page back, then went back to it, blinking and even rubbing his eyes just to make sure he was seeing right. Around a quarter into the book, in a large print, a title read: ‘Resurrection’. Michael slammed the book shut. That would be blasphemy, an unforgivable offence to his Father. His hand lingered on the book’s cover for a moment before he decided that some fresh air was something he currently needed and quickly left his house, leaving the book on the table. 

—-

Michael didn’t dare even look in the direction of the book. It remained atop the coffee table, and every time he came home, he simply turned his gaze away and walked quickly past the entire living room. He could feel it calling to him; its wicked tendrils trying to pull at his curiosity and desire towards it. Everyday, its grip became tighter, its pull stronger, slowly but surely eroding Michael’s already cracked will. Though it had already seeped into him ever since he had decided to keep the book and hadn’t sent it to Uriel.

Until one day when Michael opened the door, instead of simply rushing past the book, he remained standing by the door, his gaze slowly turning towards the book that sat on the table. It wouldn’t be wrong to simply read it, right? 

With uncertain steps, Michael made his way back towards the book. The old leather felt both new and ancient in his hands, whispering blissful promises in his ear. He made his way back towards that page and held it between stiff fingers. What laid beyond this? Would it actually contain what he desired? Or would it simply discuss its impossibility and how it went against the law that his Father had set at the beginning of time? He wanted, no, he needed to know. And so, he flipped the page.

—-

Lately, Michael had been trying to get as much work done as quickly as possible so that he could go home as early as possible. This appeared to be an improvement in the eyes of the other angels, it seemed that the archangel had gotten his drive back, though he still wasn’t spending much time with the others. Still, progress was progress, right? 

Today too, Michael had finished work early, Sera had noticed. She wouldn’t say he had regained his shine, but at the very least, he seemed to have regained his determination, though it appeared to be a little excessive at times. Sera tried to stop the archangel for a brief conversation, but all she got was a glance, a quick apology, and something about being busy and needing to go. She sighed; maybe next time.

Michael slammed the door shut behind him. The curtains in his house had remained closed ever since he had decided to continue reading the book. He couldn’t risk anyone seeing what he had been doing at home. The coffee table had been moved to the corner of the room, and the floor where it used to stand was now marked with odd, seemingly incomprehensible patterns and words. And on the side, was his slowly growing collection of oddities from all places, including Hell and Purgatory. Apparently, he needed those.

He was just about to fuse one of the items he had collected together using the spell he had drawn onto the floor when he caught a shadowy tall figure standing by the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. His eyes quickly snapped towards the figure, but the only thing he saw was an empty doorway. A cold breeze blew his way, sending an unnerving shiver throughout his being. 

Dinner was the same as usual, Michael sat alone, not knowing what to do with the excess he had made yet again. The only new thing was that the lamb tasted a bit odd. Did he make a mistake? Perhaps he added something that didn’t go well with it and he simply hadn’t realised? He was pretty sure he made it the same way Adam had taught him before. Unless… Michael clenched tightly both the fork and knife in his hands; he couldn’t have forgotten already, could he? No. No, he was simply never good at cooking, that was it.

No matter how many nights had passed, the bed never seemed to have shrunk; always too spacious, too empty, and too cold. Michael stared blankly at the ceiling, unmoving as he waited for sleep to come to collect him for the night. 

“Do you think this fixes anything?”

His eyes snapped open. The room was still dark, the night still quiet. When had he fallen asleep? He turned to his side and his heart froze. 

“Adam?,” he whispered in the dark. 

In the corner of the room stood Adam simply staring at him. 

“Adam..!,” Michael called out, this time louder, as he quickly sat up ready to run towards his husband. But when he looked back up, the corner of the bedroom was empty again, leaving Michael alone in the spacious room once more.

Morning arrived and yet Michael felt like he hadn’t slept at all. He stood by the sink, throwing cold water on his face to quickly wake him up and get him ready for the day – he had much to do. After drying his face with a towel, he looked again in the mirror, just to make sure he looked presentable enough for the day, and huh…did his hair get darker? He looked closer in the mirror; it was still golden though he could see a hint of copper in it. Had he simply not noticed before? Well, it didn’t matter, he had other more important things to worry about.

—-

When Michael arrived home today, he found Adam sitting on the couch, seemingly waiting for him. He looked exactly as he did the last time Michael had seen him; in a dark blue, gold and white robe adorned with spikes. He sat there looking at Michael with dulled golden eyes. 

“What have you been up to?”

Was he seeing right? Was he hearing right? The sun hadn’t set yet, and Michael was still very much awake and not that tired. He hadn’t even properly started the ritual yet. 

“Well?,” Adam asked again, gesturing at the mess around the living room. 

“I– uh,” Michael stammered. What could he say? This was so sudden. “Adam, how..?”

As soon as he took a shaky step forward, however, ‘Adam’ began to appear translucent, his image fading away slowly. 

“Adam, wait!” Michael rushed towards Adam’s figure, hoping to stop him from fading away, but ended up arriving to an empty couch regardless. “...no…please stay with me…,” he whimpered. 

“Then be faster.” Adam’s voice echoed in the air.

He was close. Michael wasn’t so sure before, but after today, he was confident he could do it. The book could help him bring his Adam back, he was sure of it now, and he was more determined than ever. 

It tasted odd. Again, Michael was well aware of his lack of culinary skills, but how did he manage to turn a freshly made soup taste sour? It wasn’t supposed to taste sour, at least not when it was made with mushrooms and chicken… Maybe this was a sign for him to simply give it up. He was never good at cooking anyway.

Michael laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling as per his nightly ritual. If he kept going, who knows what could happen to him? The thing that he was trying to achieve, it was forbidden – a cardinal sin. It could set his very soul aflame, or maybe even worse. The thought itself spread dread throughout his system, grasping, almost crushing, his heart in freezing fear. However, the idea of being with Adam again gave him the strength he needed to be able to wade through the dense swamp of dread and alarm in his head. It would be worth it.

Light arrived once more, illuminating the skies, signalling the start of the day, and Michael was once more getting in the bathroom. He stood there in the mirror, looking a little concerned. At first, he thought it was simply the lighting in the bathroom, but after turning the lights on and off, switching the light’s colours, and even using the light from outside, he knew that wasn’t the case at all. He leaned closer towards the mirror. His hair had gotten a little darker again, but more worrying was his skin. His pale-white complexion seemed to have become tinged with grey. He wasn’t simply pale anymore, he looked as if he had been drained of blood not dissimilar to the sickly forms of mortals before they moved on to the afterlife. 

He placed a careful hand on his cheek. His skin felt the same as before, maybe a little cooler, and he didn’t feel sick in any capacity at all. He just looked…slightly off. Maybe it wouldn’t be noticeable to others. He hoped it wasn’t noticeable.

Sera noticed. 

The woman, observant as ever, stopped Michael on his way back to his office, just after the lunch break, by simply standing in his way. Her imposing height, a sufficient enough barrier to prevent Michael from going any further. 

“Michael, you…,” she trailed off, not knowing how to describe what the archangel looked like to her without appearing rude. “Your complexion…doesn’t seem to be quite well.”

Michael didn’t dare look her in the eyes, afraid that she might see into his soul and notice how it had darkened. “Yes, I, uh, haven’t been feeling well as of late. So, if you could just let me pass, I’d like to finish my work as soon as possible.”

Luckily for Michael, Sera moved aside without questioning him, allowing him to finally continue his way to his office.

“Try not to overexert yourself. Go home and rest up if you need to,” Sera said before walking away.

Michael let go of the handle of the door to his office. He had essentially just been excused to go home for the rest of the day. That meant he could go home even earlier, and that meant he could have more time to spend continuing his progress with the ritual. Perfect. The sooner he could bring Adam back, the better. 

—-

Today, Michael had brought back with him the blood of a three horned lamb from Hell, and placed the jar that contained it in the centre of the markings he had made on the floor. This should supply Adam with vitality for when he would finally return back to him. He arranged all the components he needed to bring Adam back in their respective places around the markings as the book had instructed. Soon. He would be done soon.

A chuckle from behind gave him pause at what he was doing. There, just behind him barely out of reach, was Adam sitting on the couch, watching the mess that Michael was in. 

“What are you doing?,” Adam asked, his tone mocking. “Are you even trying?” Then he stood up, his gaze looking down at Michael who remained seated on the floor. He walked over and around the mess, his eyes flitting between the components carefully placed around the markings. He stopped at the centre where the jar of blood sat, tapping it lightly with his shoe. 

“You can’t do it,” he stated as his cold golden gaze met with Michael’s lost blues. 

“What do you mean?,” Michael asked back. 

Adam simply turned around, unwilling to meet his eyes anymore. “Which attempt is this?”

…

Silence. 

Adam scoffed, “Exactly.” Then he started to walk away, fading slowly into the air until he was gone once again.

Michael didn’t understand what Adam meant. He hadn’t even tried properly yet. Still glued to the floor, Michael looked at his surroundings, the couches and shelves pushed to the very sides, soil spilt on the floor as the plants’ roots desperately searched for something to hold onto, discarded tools thrown aside, torn and crumpled pieces of paper with odd writing in them, splotches of a dark liquid scattered about. This was his first go at it, right?

This time Michael had simply bought food on his way back home; he just needed to heat it up and then it would be ready. There was no way for him to mess it up. And so, he sat at the dining table, alone as per usual, staring down at the heated up food in front of him. He took one, then two, and then at the third bite, he gave up. It smelled good, it looked good, but it tasted terribly. It was bitter on his tongue, its texture warmly viscous as it stuck around his throat when he tried to swallow the ‘food’ down. It was putrid almost like consuming his own vomit back down. 

He ended up throwing the rest of dinner into the bin. That was alright. He wasn’t particularly hungry tonight anyway. 

The bedroom felt a little warmer tonight, though of course, the bed itself remained cold in its own way. Michael was sprawled all over the bed, still participating in his nightly ritual of blankly staring at the empty ceiling, waiting for the night to end. 

He didn’t have a presence, but somehow, every night in the bedroom, Michael could tell if he had come to visit again before the day ended. Michael turned his head to the side and towards the corner of the room where he first saw him. 

“Adam.”

This ‘Adam’ who visited him every night in the bedroom, was different from the Adam who talked to him in the living room. This ‘Adam’ always appeared at the same corner at the same time every night, simply watching Michael rot on the bed without a word. Michael had tried to call out to him a few times, getting up to touch him, but this Adam never responded and never let him ever get close enough. 

Michael extended his arm towards Adam, pleadingly reaching out for him, a silent plea for reciprocation. He wanted, no, he needed to know if this Adam was real, otherwise… 

But as usual, no response. No movement, and not even a sound. This Adam simply faded back into the shadows as soon as the night had ended and it was time for Michael to wake back up and face the new day. 

Michael held onto the bathroom sink for balance. He hadn’t slept well last night, perhaps not even having slept at all, he wasn’t sure. Lacking sleep wasn’t a new thing for the archangel, there were a couple of times in his very long life where he simply had too much work to do and had to skip sleep. Sometimes, he even went weeks without sleep. And while that did drain him mentally, sleep wasn’t really a physical necessity for Heaven born angels. So it was a little odd, for him to feel so lightheaded while simultaneously feeling like his body was chained heavily to the ground. He didn’t think he could even bring himself to fly today. 

Michael tilted his head back up to face the mirror. His hair had gotten darker again, but that wasn’t anything new at this point; his skin was still a little grey, though his hands appeared to have become darker, nails a little sharper – nothing some gloves couldn’t hide. What else? He looked closer in the mirror. His star markings looked faded and…melted? It looked like it had been misshapen by some sort of heat, as its edges looked a little more liquid than before. His fingers grazed at his face markings; it didn’t feel liquid and it was just as warm as the rest of his body. This wasn’t something he could cover up. He would simply have to avoid everyone for the day, he was good at that. 

Sera had barely seen Michael lately. Sure, ever since the news of the failed extermination, the archangel had become even more reclusive, but lately it was as if he had disappeared altogether. However, she knew that wasn’t the case, his work being done daily was proof of that. Still, Sera was concerned. 

And so, today she decided to keep an eye on his office. She must have already missed him this morning, so she was going to wait for him to leave for lunch; she won’t miss him then. 

Lunch break had arrived, and lunch break had ended – both times the door to Michael’s office hadn’t opened even once. Sera should really be heading back to her own office by now, but if Michael’s office hadn’t opened once, then that meant he was inside, right? She didn’t want to disturb him if he was busy enough not to leave his office, but this was her chance to simply check on the archangel. Right. She would simply make sure everything was fine and then head back. It would be quick. 

Sera knocked on the door; once, twice, thrice. The office remained eerily quiet for a moment, then some rushed movements before the door clicked open. Odd. Michael didn’t usually lock the door to his office. 

“Oh, Sera.” 

In front of her stood Michael, looking more than just haggard. In fact, he looked…off. 

“Um, what brings you here?,” he asked a little nervously. 

“I just wanted to…” She eyed him up and down, taking in his appearance carefully. “...check up on you.” Did he look even duller than the last she had seen him? His skin looked so grey, his hair had an odd red tinge to it, and while she couldn’t get a clear look of his face, she could tell he looked weary. In short, it was as if death had him in its grasp. 

“Oh, well, now you have. There’s really nothing–,” he replied as he inched the door close, ready to leave the conversation. 

“Michael, what’s wrong?,” Sera asked abruptly as one hand held the door open, stopping Michael from shutting her out. “You don’t look well.”

That seemed to have ticked Michael off. He chuckled bitterly, “What isn’t wrong?” This time, he looked Sera directly in the eye, all of his resentment that he kept under cover bubbling up to the surface. The exterminations, the bureaucracy, their callous disregard to the angels they had lost, how they placed all of the blame on Adam. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to calm down. 

“Nothing has been right since then, since I’ve lost my Adam. Please just leave me alone.” 

Then he shut the door on Sera, not giving her a chance to reply. He didn’t want to hear it.

—-

The heart of a leviathan was not something easy to sneak into Heaven. Travelling all the way to Purgatory without being seen was effort enough, but doing so with a stubborn headache made it even worse. Throughout the entire day, a sharp headache around the side of his head had been plaguing him. But he powered through it and got the last thing he needed in Purgatory. Though, oddly enough the forests of Purgatory were already bloody and littered with countless dead leviathans when he got there. Still, he paid it no mind, he got what he needed, there was no need to look further into it. 

Michael arrived back home, slamming the door shut behind him, looking worse for wear than the days before. He headed straight towards the markings on the floor, unwrapping the massive heart, then placed it in the centre just beside the jar of blood. This was the last thing he needed. Now, all he needed to do was recite the incantations and then Adam would be back. 

Today again, Adam was sitting on the couch, arms crossed as he waited for him. His dull gold eyes bore straight to his core, judging him in icy silence. This Adam had been becoming decreasingly talkative, and today, it seemed to stop talking altogether. 

That was fine. That just meant that Michael could work undistracted. The faster he could do this, the better; he just couldn’t mess it up this time. Michael stood in front of the markings, the book in his hand as he flipped to the page he needed and began to read the spell aloud. 

Shadows swallowed the room, encasing it in total darkness. Fast shrieking winds froze everything that dared cross its path. An ominous presence lingered in the room, laying its sharp claws over Michael’s soul, threatening to rip it apart. The floor wept and trembled as the markings glowed a bright red, the components needed for the spell burning and evaporating from within. The blood in the jar increased in volume, overflowing and spilling into the monster’s heart in front of it, setting it back to a wild beating. The heart beating echoed loudly in the room, shaking the walls, causing things to fall apart. Then, there was a thunder-like rumble and everything went dark. 

Michael found himself sprawled on the bed. He wasn’t in his sleepwear. He was still wearing his suit, both sticky and crusty from the blood that splattered on him. What was he doing again? Memories of his attempts flashed before his eyes. He looked to the side, the bed remained cool and empty. Did he fail? He looked back up towards the ceiling, his vision becoming blurry with withheld tears. That might have been his last chance…

Then he felt a dip in the bed. He turned back to the side, and he wasn’t sure if he was willing to believe it. There, in front of him, was Adam sitting on the bed, looking down at Michael. 

“A-Adam..?,” he asked, his voice as brittle as his soul. He reached out, wanting to feel his beloved, but Adam simply moved away, his expression unsmiling. 

“What have you done, Michael?,” Adam asked. “First, you suggest erasing evil, and now you’re bringing evil into your very home. What are you hoping to achieve?”

“I– No, I never meant it that way Adam,” Michael sobbed. “I didn’t mean it. It was a horrible, mistimed joke. Please, I just want you back.”

“You said it would be like a new purpose, to atone for my sins,” continued Adam, his eyes a molten gold that burned through Michael’s being into his soul. 

“I’m so sorry, Adam. I was wrong. I should’ve been more careful–” Michael tried and begged and pleaded just to reach Adam, but the first man simply kept moving away from him, never letting ever get close. Always, always leaving a frozen gap between the two of them.

“How will you atone for this sin?,” Adam asked. 

The room around him shifted, scalding air whipping past him flaying Heaven’s glow off him as it seeped into his soul, burning it slowly. His head felt heavy like there was a new weight to it, his entire body felt broken and everywhere stung. It hurt to breathe as if every breath he took set his lungs ablaze. Then Michael finally opened his dark eyes. The bedroom ceiling wasn’t there anymore. There was no serene darkness that kissed everyone goodnight. 

Instead, there were screams and explosions around him as he stared at a burning red sky.

[matcha-milkies]

OCTOBER 14, 1977

Summary: Gravity Falls is a backwards town in more ways than one.

Alternatively: A twenty-something Ford has to listen to the ramblings of two homophobic diner patrons and it is not improving his already questionable emotional wellbeing.

Content Warnings: Homophobia

Tags: Young Ford Pines, Gay Ford Pines, Pre-Portal Incident, Greasy’s Diner, 1970s, Gay Rights, Anger, Loneliness, Estrangement, Ford Pines Has Issues, Ford Pines Needs A Hug, Emotional Constipation

Word Count: 1,013

Link to AO3: Here

A/N: Gay pride is over. Time for gay wrath

Ford is bent over a newspaper at a booth at Greasy’s Diner, hand in his hair, pretending to be focused on the crossword. He taps his pen against the table. If he were actually paying attention he would be done with this “puzzle” in the time it takes to write the answers, but his mind is elsewhere. He picks up his coffee and sips at it tepidly, while the two truckers at the counter rattle off complaints about the state of the country around stacks of pancakes and smiley-face eggs and bacon. Every so often, words like “unbelievable” and “indecent” waft across the space. None of these are the words he needs.

5 across, four letters, unflattering rumors.

Mother. Jobs. School. Children.

5 across, four letters, unflattering rumors.

Right. Wrong. Trees. Fruits.

5 across, four letters, un…

Ford sees the waitress coming his way and flags her down. “Excuse me. Could I get…” A thought occurs to him that almost makes his mouth pull back in a guffaw. He taps his pen a little faster, reconsidering. “…do you have any banana cream pie?”

She doesn’t read the news. She takes the request at face value. “Sure thing! I’ll have it right out.” Hefting a stack of empty plates from another table, she saunters around the counter. Ford watches her leave without really watching her, head perched glumly in his hand. His mouth pulls taut again, and this time it’s in a thin, fleeting frown. The truck drivers are washing their breakfast down with a couple of glasses of orange juice. Ford fixates on the color, his mind beginning to wander as their conversation finally, finally fades to blissful background noise. He sips his coffee.

5 across…

He remembers when his father used to sit him down and explain certain universal truths about the nature of humanity. To watch out for people who would try to tell him lies. Ford had believed so wholeheartedly back then. And how easy it had been, how good it had felt, to be on the right side. The good side.

Maybe he should call his mother. Maybe there are things that she should know. Maybe if he explained them to her, and she explained them to Dad… 

He closes the newspaper. On the front page is a picture that’s supposed to be indecent. Stanley would probably find it funny. Wouldn’t he? Ford thinks about writing in the margins with a Sharpie and looking up Stanley’s address and mailing the paper to him. “Look at this. Look what happened. Isn’t this just hysterical?” That was absurd, they hadn’t spoken in years, why would he send this to Stanley?

The corner of the newspaper is pinched between his fingers and he realizes they’re trembling. Too much coffee. He stows his hands in his lap and waits for his banana cream pie. Unfortunately, somehow, this brings the truckers’ conversation back into full focus, and God, they just will not shut up. Ford has a very active imagination. In his mind’s eye he shoots out of his chair and waves the newspaper around in a half-crazed tirade and starts shouting them down with logic and common sense. He does what he knows he will also do in the shower next week and gets into a full-blown argument with himself, acting out some imaginary scene where he plays all the parts. He tenses in his seat and his fingers curl against his thighs and—

A plate clatters onto the table next to his coffee.

“One slice of banana cream pie!” the waitress chirps. “Can I get anything else for ya?”

“Uh,” Ford says, blinking. “No. Um. No. Thank you.”

“Alright then, enjoy!” She smiles and walks away again. He picks up his fork and just stares at the thing, like he’s going to somehow consume it with his eyeballs. That’s an odd mental image.

It’s a very tasty-looking pie. The white cream on top looks light as a cloud, the crust is golden and crumbly. He can’t remember the last time he treated himself to something like this. Of course, one cannot have the thing and eat it too. He frowns, side-eying the truckers not for the first time. They’re laughing and nudging each other, maybe at someone else’s expense.

He gets up from the cushioned seat, plate in hand. He realizes his hand is still shaking. Too much coffee. Is he really about to do this? His feet move without his permission, one after the other, oh my god I’m actually doing this. He slips into the seat right next to the truckers, an odd smile on his lips. He leans over like one of them is about to tell a joke and he wants to hear it. The two of them stutter and eye him with mostly confusion. The plate lifts in Ford’s hand, heavy at first and then suddenly weightless as momentum builds. He pushes it into the nearest truck driver’s face, and it smears white chunks all over from his dark eyebrows down to his beard.

“Hey!” shouts the other one, shooting up from his seat and knocking the stool over in the process. Ford somehow can’t bring himself to care. He’s doubled over laughing, and he can’t stop, clutching his sides, giving himself stitches, practically suffocating. The first trucker, the one who got hit, is in shock, picking sugary bits of pie out of his beard, more confusion than confection smeared across his face.

Ford wakes from the daydream. He’s still seated at his booth, his pie still sitting neatly in front of him. The truckers are still blabbing on, although they’ve moved on from talk of the press conference. Maybe they did a long time ago. The moment passes. He doesn’t want to get banned from the diner is all.

Still, Stanley would have done it.

What an absurd thought to have. Stanley would never be here.

Ford stabs his fork into his pie and eats it, and to be fair, he does enjoy it very much, although maybe he would’ve enjoyed having it a little more.

A/N: I wrote this to work out some frustration I’ve been feeling lately with gay acceptance, which is better than it used to be but I still encounter people online comparing it to alcoholism which almost makes ME want to dive headfirst into alcoholism so

It was either this or smash mailboxes with a baseball bat

[mokkadere]

❝ Those Silken Strings ❞ | Chapter One

a/n: there aren't enough dollmaker stories out there so I decided to take matters into my own hands. enjoy~

synopsis: yandere!dollmaker makes a living doll to fill the void left in his life after his darling's death. that way, they can be together forever ‹𝟥

this story contains the following themes: death, isolation, manipulation, psychological distress, obsession, control, implied emotional abuse

word count: 5k

As the seasons quietly changed from summer to fall, time marched on tirelessly, with no pity for those who thought they could elude the mandatory participation of life. Yet tucked away in a small house just outside a village too insignificant to be granted life’s first gift - a name, in a world defined by shelves lined with fabric, wood, paint, and the various tools needed for doll-making, Erin believed he’d succeeded in building his escapist reality.

The quiet ticking of the wall clock had turned into white noise a long time ago, just another kind of silence adding to the mute soundtrack that accompanied his daily work. Sunsets merely meant that he had to continue by candlelight, and the sunrise simply meant that, after all those sleepless hours, his eyes had to slowly adjust to the daylight breaking in.

How could he peel his attention off what mattered just to sacrifice it for sleep? How could he stop and pay any mind to the wilting flowers that had once been in full bloom because of her constant care, to the now gone animals that had once happily come to her for food, to the currently rotting wooden swing that had once gently swayed in the wind while she read and basked in the sun? 

Although she’d been by no means one to halt her excitingly dynamic life, she had loved to jokingly echo Erin’s genuine advice to „stop and smell the roses.“ But he couldn’t, not anymore. The roses had been dead since the day he got rid of them to bury her underneath, her final resting place now replacing the roots of her beloved flowerbeds. Back then, she had nurtured them for him to feel inspired by, as she knew he loved the beautiful things in life - the nature, the animals, simply life by itself in all of its simplicity. But it wasn’t like he needed any extra inspiration to ignite his creativity; she had been his muse, not this fragile idyllic backdrop she'd created for him that would now fade into the background as it got ensnared by kudzu.

His hands worked methodically as he painted the final touches of his life project's face with forced steadiness. Doll-making was his calling, which was why he couldn’t help but pour his entire being into each doll time and time again. He needed them to be exactly perfect for the little girls who would eventually hold and fill their childhood days with them. Dolls were a beautiful part of the permanence that lined one’s childhood days. They didn’t age, didn’t die, didn’t want to transcend their purpose; they simply stayed by your side and loyally accompanied you through the countless narratives you wanted to experience with them as your blissful days of carefree wonder stretched on.

Grace used to be his doll. But unlike his actual dolls, she couldn’t sit still for more than a minute, with the only exception being her reading time, her rare sleeping time, and the moments that she spent holding Erin tightly well into the night, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear that lulled him into sleep. He loved her vitality, as in his eyes, that was just her way of permanence - always demanding novel things from life was just as much of a constant as his lack of demand for anything new. She added dynamic into his static life in a way that felt, admittedly, invigorating. He wasn’t bored with his life, far from it. He loved the stability and the predictability of it all, but the way she’d encouraged him to at least vary his trusted routine just a tiny bit filled him with the sort of satisfaction one might feel after realising they’ve just truly experienced life.

She made him feel complete, providing him with just the right amount of change that complemented the permanence he cherished.

Erin smiled as he observed his finalised creation, casting his gentlest look - one that was only reserved for his Grace. He let his hand graze against her cold porcelain cheeks before running his hand through the artificial strands he’d spent hours styling into an intricate updo. „You are so beautiful…“ he murmured to himself, letting out a shaky exhale as he delicately brushed away a few stray locks away from her flawless face, painfully careful not to disturb the fragile perfection he’d managed to replicate.

„Please, just wake up for me again…“

His trembling fingers, itching to have someone to hold and caress, no longer forced themselves to keep still when he reached out to the back of her neck with a bated breath. His heart hammered hard against his chest both in expectation and in anxiety. He begged for her to work, for her to finally be reunited with him again as she should - with all her constant moving about, all her joie-de-vivre and boundless love for him. Erin often shivered, him being naturally nervous like that, but for once, those electrifying jolts of shivers overran his body for a reason different from his crippling social anxiety. The thought of finally reclaiming the part of himself that he had lost that day fuelled him with this overpowering excitement that almost felt intoxicating. Finally, he pressed the small button at the back of her neck before stepping away, readying himself to welcome his Grace home, just like in old times. This expedition she’d been on had been two years too long, but just like always, no matter how much she strayed, she always returned to his arms.

Just seconds later, his creation drew her first breath. Her chest rose and fell on its own as her eyes fluttered open, revealing those verdant orbs he used to lose himself in. The world slowly revealed itself to her in its entirety as her painted eyes, at first pinned on the peeling ceiling, wandered on their own accord to the shelves lining the walls and carefully registering every wondrous object she saw until her gaze finally fell on Erin. Her lips were ever so slightly agape, mirroring her childlike wonder stemming from all the things that she was perceiving for the first time. 

„Welcome home, Grace,“ Erin whispered, daring to break the silence. He really wanted to upkeep the fragility of this intimate moment, to let his beloved experience her birth in serene tranquility, but he couldn’t help himself. He longed to hear her talk. He would’ve forgotten her melodic voice a long time ago if it weren’t for those tapes that he had of her exclaiming, „Stop recording me, Erin!“ through giggles. But that voice had been confined to just those four words… and now he could have her say more things to him, different things. „Please say something, Grace…“ The doll blinked at him before moving her hand ever-so-slightly towards him. She hesitated as if he would disappear if she dared to move too suddenly, which was ironic since she was the one who always disappeared. He always stayed.

When her small, lifeless fingers touched his cheek and poked it for good measure, he allowed himself to needily lean into her touch, earning himself a small exclaim from his doll. „W-Who… who are you?“ She stammered, looking at him with a mix of fear and curiosity.

Erin’s heart melted at the sound of her voice. Finally, oh god, finally, a new sound permeated his silence. That mute soundtrack that used to accompany his last two years came to a staggering halt at last. „I’m Erin.“, he replied simply as his hand, still trembling, took hold of hers. Her eyes followed his every move. „And you’re Grace.“ 

The doll tilted her head slightly, and Erin couldn’t help but feel disappointed when she started pulling her hand away from his, once again focusing on his face, poking at him as if she wasn’t quite sure if he was real. Erin let her patiently explore, understanding that everything was thrillingly unfamiliar to her.

He’d programmed her in a way that would leave her as clueless as a child, allowing him to teach her about the world himself. It was fitting, really, as Grace used to harbour this insatiable childlike curiosity, causing her to always run around and try out as much as she could, to take on the world and all it had to offer. Needless to say, that hunger to feel alive sometimes led her to attempt some reckless things, which, more often than not, earned her a stern scolding from Erin. 

Recognising that he had the chance to give Grace the world himself, he wanted to make it count. This time, he wanted her to see everything his way while keeping her in the safety of his world. He’ll spoon-feed her the necessary knowledge and keep away any bad thoughts that could bring her harm. He’ll protect her in a way that he was never able to before. With her being too wild - too uncontainable, Erin always had a hard time reasoning with her, no matter how much he tried to argue in her interest. Grace just loved her freedom too much, and knowing that she had the option to explore the world drove her to pursue that very thing. But this doll version of her didn’t have to know that exploring the outside world was an option - simply because it wasn’t. She was his creation, and therefore, she was his to hold, his to love, and his to limit however he wanted - all in their shared interest, of course.

The doll slowly tried to sit up on the work table, weakly struggling against the leather straps that he had put around her small frame to prevent her from somehow sliding off the work table and getting damaged before he had the chance to turn her on. „There you go, darling.“ Erin carefully released Grace from her shackles, formally letting her step into the small cocoon that she’ll be inhabiting with him and him only for the rest of their blissful time together. 

„W-Where… are we? Where is this?“ she asked, still unsure of herself or any of the things happening around her.

„This is my workshop. It''s part of your new home, Grace. Would you like to explore it?“ The doll nodded shyly, making Erin’s chest swell with warmth at how adorably she acted. She was just like his love, so adorably shy sometimes, it hurt. He clutched his heart, feeling this warmth transform into a painful hurt that intensified the more he looked at his creation and the way she nervously shifted about, bursting with energy within her that she desperately needed to exhaust. He loved it; she was already healing him.

Erin’s gaze was of such intensity that Grace felt mildly unsettled by it. This desperate love he was radiating was something she couldn’t quite comprehend, and that inevitably scared her. Humans, too, were afraid of what they didn’t understand, so it was natural she’d feel the same. After all, Erin had put more than his entire being into this project just to make her as human as possible. But his lovesickness acted more like a deterrent than like an incentive. Somehow, this person in front of her, her creator… he didn’t feel safe in her eyes. She stared at him as her gaze searched his for something that could help the code running in her computer of a brain determine if he was good or not.

„Come here,“ he coaxed, pulling her towards him with tender touches at the lack of a reaction from her. It was fine if she acted stunned or slow in the beginning. She was brand new, and she didn’t understand how to act. He’ll teach her everything soon enough. Right now, he just revelled in the feeling of this intimate togetherness he had the honour of experiencing with her. While the urge to simply embrace Grace as tightly as he could exponentially increased, yearning to unite their bodies as one just like he used to in the past, he could tell by her lingering hesitance that the miniature gears in her mind were still turning. 

The thought of his own doll having to assess him and not trusting him in a heartbeat wounded him slightly. Hadn’t he been nothing but sweet and patient towards her? He didn’t understand. But once again, he brushed it off, accounting it to her not knowing much about anything yet. Please let me in, Grace… I need you so badly.

As Erin lightly pulled Grace along, she stumbled and tripped. He wasn’t too surprised, however, as mild clumsiness was to be expected. She was quite literally taking her first steps in this world, after all, plus her joints were new and stiff. „Careful now, you might trip in the beginning, so take it slow, love. You wouldn’t want to end up hurting yourself, now, would you?“

At that, the doll went wide-eyed and hurried to wrap one hand tightly around the fabric of his shirt and the other around his hand before she took her first steps. They were a bit awkward and slow and not at all resemblant of the grace that her name implied, but Erin knew that that was going to change soon.

However, seeing that walking wasn’t scary at all, Grace soon made her first attempt at peeling off of his protective hold and eagerly went to explore on her own, stumbling from one corner to the other. Erin’s smile faltered. While her actions seemed innocent enough, the anxious voices that had begun to inhabit Erin’s mind since Grace’s loss screamed at him to hold her. She shouldn’t try to distance herself, she was his, and she was to be by his side.

„Where are you going, love?“ he asked as he hurried to follow her, but his question fell on deaf ears, the doll too engrossed in this new reality she was finally getting to be privy to.

Clueless to Erin’s rising anxiety, Grace slowly let her fingers trace all sorts of jars that were on display on the workshop’s shelves, eager to feel any and every new texture at every opportunity that presented itself. Her eyes flittered over the dozens of paint bottles as she quietly mumbled words of amazement to herself before finally working up the courage to raise her voice ever so slightly and ask: 

„W-What… is all this?“ she pointed at the paint like a child. As she came to a halt next to his paint shelf, he too did, following her like a shadow. 

„Oh, it’s just paint, love. I use it to draw the faces of my dolls. In fact, I drew your face with it too.“

„My face too? Can I see?“ she asked, excited at the prospect of seeing herself.

At that, Erin chuckled, gladly handing her a small pocket mirror. Grace looked at herself with utter awe, poking and prodding at her face, her fingers tracing over the softness of her rosy cheeks and her plump, red lips. She didn’t quite notice when Erin moved behind her to pull her back flush against his chest. 

„You’re beautiful, darling. Do you like yourself?“ he purred in her ear, wanting to coax some praise out of her. He just wanted to hear her talk and talk… praising him, saying that she wanted him, anything to satisfy his love-deprived heart. Say something, Grace. Anything. I haven’t heard your sweet voice in so long. It’s making me insane.

He himself just wanted to praise her for her existence. The need to drown her with all this pent-up affection made his entire body twitch with what Erin believed to be the same kind of energy that drove his original Grace to jump from one adventure to the next. He couldn’t even wait for the doll’s response. Instead, he buried his head in her hair, nuzzling her, desperate to get high on her delicious scent. He’d worked so hard to replicate it. 

„I d-do. Thank you… for making me.“ she stumbled over her words, finally throwing him a small crumb. When you’ve been so numb from starvation, even the smallest crumbs can re-ignite this desperate greed for satiation. 

Her voice was lined with hesitance, growing smaller by the second at his increasing affection. To her de-facto newborn mind, his yearning was nothing but an overwhelming input that didn’t quite match any of the few commands he’d programmed into her code. She stiffened further at his advances, trying to pull away once more, as her program urged her to leave this uncertain situation and seek safety. 

But Erin couldn’t have that, the lovesick expression morphing into one of betrayal and hurt. „Don’t…“ Erin breathed out - a desperate plea. „Please.“ His grip tightened around her, his arms moving away from her waist and instead snaking over her arms, rendering her helplessly trapped in what should’ve been an innocent hug. „Stay close, Grace. You mean so much to me, you have no idea. I’ve been waiting to hold you for so long. It used to be so lonely without you. Please stay...“

Grace didn’t dare to even attempt to push him away. „I’m confused…“ she admitted, her voice laced with the sort of vulnerability that filled Erin with a need to protect her. Instinctively, his hands sprung into action, slowly caressing the top of her head. 

„What’s making you feel confused, love?“

„I don’t understand what you’re doing…“ Confessing that instigated a sense of what one would call fear within her binary mind. She didn’t quite understand this pang of pain in her chest, but something told her that she'd just let this man down. „Why are you so close? Aren’t we strangers to each other?“

That feeling of hers was instantly validated by the way Erin paused his affections to pull away and look at her. „What do you mean ‚strangers‘, Grace? I made you. I created you,“ he pressed his lips into a thin line as his eyes searched hers for any semblance of deception. Surely, that’s not what you’re truly thinking.

„B-But I don’t know who you are.“, Grace replied. And she didn’t want to upset him; she just needed to be honest with him. Everyone deserved honesty. Yet what she clearly couldn’t understand was that Erin wasn’t in the right headspace to appreciate her honesty. Her entire existence was just him lying to himself that he could simply live on with his deceased love.

He tried to gather himself as best as he could.

„That’s okay.“, he assured her with forced gentleness when it was anything but okay. „I know who you are. And soon enough, you’ll learn to know me too.“ As he tried to ignore this gaping hole of momentary clarity aching in his chest, he went on in a different direction. „Didn’t you want to explore a little? ...If you’d like, you could. Just be careful. My workshop is filled with all sorts of tools that you could end up hurting yourself with, so please don’t try to touch everything and don’t stray too far. Alright?“ He gave her a small smile to silently encourage her.

Grace’s gaze fell as guilt washed over her before she reluctantly went on to scan the room for anything to interact with, trying to look past this first dent in their relationship. With newfound interest, she shifted towards the window. This silvery orb in the sky left her in awe with the way it plunged the outside landscape into soft light. Seeing how captivated Grace was by such a simple thing he smiled softly.

„Pretty, isn’t it? It’s the moon. It’s something that you’ll often see in the sky.“

Grace nodded with amazement. „I like how it plunges the world in this silvery glow… It’s so serene.“

„I know.“ His Grace had always been a night person. She came to life when the rest of the world slept, just like the moon. Perhaps she truly lives on in this doll…

„Its light is so soft. I want to feel it—“ If she were alive, her hands would’ve left handprints all over the window with the way she tried to touch the moon. „Everything looks like a painting… I wish I could be a part of it…“

„I know.“, he repeats once more, casting her with a soft gaze. For a second, he contemplated opening the window for her so that she could feel the chilly night air and the soft moonlight for herself, but that thought quickly died.

„Maybe tomorrow, alright?“

He felt a pang of pain in his chest at the sight of her eyes beginning to sparkle in glee at the promise. Technically, he didn’t promise, but she thought he did, and now he was forced to go through with it. He sighed.

And so, for tonight, Grace directed her full attention to the rest of the workshop, slowly picking up the pace at which she got to know this odd new place. She didn’t really heed his early warning not to touch his tools, eagerly darting from one corner to the other to see and feel and maybe even taste (although Erin stopped her before she tried to taste the paint) everything there was to see, feel, and taste. She pricked her fingers and cut herself at least six times until it stuck that, yes, sharp objects indeed hurt if you play with them.

„Be careful—,“ Erin cautioned every time he saw her aiming to poke at something she shouldn’t and inevitably squeaking from the superficial pain. In the end, Erin just grabbed her by the hand - that was one less hand to worry about. 

„No— I was just looking!“ Grace whined as he pulled her away from his sewing machine as she was seconds away from sewing a thread into her hand.

„You weren’t, don’t pretend now,“ Erin scolded with a firm yet gentle tone. „Here, hold onto me. I can show you things that feel nice to the touch and are safe.“ With excitement of his own, he went on to show her his collection of shimmering, expensive fabrics that he used to make the clothing for his dolls. Inside a large wooden closet, he stored smooth, luxurious silk, soft velvet, crinkly cheviot, and supple linen - it was a sensation galore for his doll that craved to interact with her surroundings.

He couldn’t help but feel emotional as he saw her innocent marvel at the ornate beauty of the fabrics and her bubbling enthusiasm for his craft. It’s just like old times, it’s finally like before, Erin thought to himself. He wanted to cry of relief right then and there.

The more Grace interacted with her surroundings, the more her fear and apprehension began to dissipate. It was fun to run around and be shown all these unknown tools. It was fun to have someone show her around, even if that someone radiated this odd energy. She didn’t mind it as much anymore. Sure, Erin still made her feel strange, but he didn’t try to hurt her, he seemed to care for her.

The more he showed her care and mildness, the more she naively believed that he was a safe human, just one with a few quirks. At the end of the day, he still was her creator, the person who made her from nothing...

Her eyes flickered over all the lifeless dolls displayed in crystal vitrines. She must’ve been just like them, but he had gifted her a life, an option to exist with him and she couldn’t help but feel grateful for that blessing.

„Does it hurt?“ Erin asked as he examined Grace’s dislocated hand. It was bent at an unnatural angle, with the joint sticking out in a way that made Erin wince. These past few days, she had been taking full advantage of the freedom Erin had granted her within the bounds of his workshop and she was already in need of repair.

„No… I don’t think so. It felt odd. Like something inside me was wrong for a moment.“ She kicked her legs impatiently. „Can I move now, Erin?“

„Just a second, don’t fidget too much.“ With studied precision, Erin fixed her hand within minutes. „Alright, you. You’re good to go now… how did this even happen?“ Grace shrugged. She was indifferent to her own pain. It’s not like she felt anything. Her code told her to react accordingly whenever she did something to her body that went against what Erin had originally defined as her ‚natural construction’.

„I wanted to see how far I can bend my hand. It’s pretty far. Very flexible.“

„How did you even get to that idea— okay, no, never mind.“, Erin sighed as he put his tools back where they belonged. These days, he couldn’t allow any type of disarray in his workshop. Not before Grace’s phase of needing to touch everything was over. „Just be careful.“, he urged as he caressed her cheek lovingly, his eyes searching hers. „You could hurt yourself badly. You still don’t know the limits of your own body.“

„But that’s exactly why I need to figure out what they are.“, she argued stubbornly, mirroring the original perfectly. „It’s testing new things. Seeing how far I can bend, or seeing how close is too close to the fireplace—“

„Please don’t remind me of that. You gave me a heart attack…“

Grace’s enthusiasm dulled at that. „I’m sorry.“, she mumbled. „It’s just that something deep inside me tells me to go and try everything out, even if it could be dangerous.“ She didn’t want to worry him; it’s just that she wanted to learn! She wanted to know her limits, and she wanted to know how things around her worked. And it’s not like she was fragile. She was strong!

Erin had gifted his doll Grace’s fierce need for independence and love for exploration in the hopes of replicating her personality exactly, but now he was beginning to fear he’d done too good of a job. She was so innocent, unperturbed of the pains of life, and unaware of the dangers lurking around her that all of her decisions were rash and not thought through. While he loved to watch her constant fidgeting, he felt like everything was now a potential danger. The thought of her being ripped away from him due to her infinite curiosity terrified him.

„You’re not alone, though. You have me by your side, darling,“ he reminded her softly. He just wanted her to need him the same way he needed her. „I can show you everything safely without the need of you getting hurt. You don’t have to rush.“

„But I want to rush- There’s so much out there! I just… I can’t explain it.“ There it was again, that need of hers to leave. Erin stiffened at the bare thought of her leaving the safe nest that he had provided her with, the anxiety he often felt when the situation was spinning out of control loomed over him.

„It’s like I’m missing something—,“ she went on with the same enthusiasm. „—a small piece of me, and it’s out there, I just have to find it!“ She sounded like she was convinced something out there was beckoning her to come out and embark on some sort of special mission that she was specifically designed for. Erin struggled to contain his bubbling desperation. Why wouldn’t she understand?

The only thing she was designed for was for loving. She was meant to love him and crave him, to stay close to him, not to crave the unknown. This sinking feeling of deja vu made his skin crawl, and suddenly, he felt his body growing hot and clammy, making his vision spin. He felt sick, physically ill at this point. As he acutely felt his heart pounding against his ribcage, it clearly trying to escape its confines, he put his hand on Grace’s shoulder to steady himself.

„Are you okay?“ Grace asked, casting away her excitement. He saw how her brows furrowed and how worry set in her previously determined expression, and that… that meant everything to him. He loved to see her worried for him, to see her pause her current train of thought and make him the centre of her attention. It was everything he wanted, everything that he desired from her. To just stop those fleeting thoughts and ideas that distanced her from him and to just stay. „E-Erin?“ she asked once more, snapping him out of his thoughts. He ran his hand through her locks, petting her.

„Somethings are better left unexplored, Grace.“, he settled on saying. „Stay here with me. I can guide you. I can give you all the knowledge you crave without you having to go out at all— I’ll teach you everything I know. Doesn’t that sound nice?“ He slowly closed the gap between them, pulling her closer to him and tucking her in his embrace. She didn’t fight it; she was already used to the way he sought her out whenever he needed to ground himself. 

„It does, but—“

„I could show you how to make dolls of your own, or how to bake, or how to draw. We could make so many new clothes for you together. Doesn’t that sound great?“ he breathed into her ear as if trying to channel his own shaky excitement for the idea into her. „Y-Yes, it does,“ she stammered, finally relenting.

„Right? There we go, it does sound great, doesn’t it?“ He nodded to himself, feeling proud of having suggested such good ideas. The voices in his mind that urged him on to keep this compelling for her gradually began to quieten the more he went on. „And don’t worry about getting to see the outside. I promise that when you’re ready, the two of us will go out and explore that too! I can show you the most exciting of hiking routes. I’m sure you’ll love them. But for now… let’s stick to the house, darling. There is so much for you to see here, you just have to give it a chance.“ When she fell silent and instead buried her head deeper into his chest, he exhaled. He didn’t even realise that he’d been holding his breath this entire time.

[josiewinters1999]

Normal (p2)

L Lawliet x Chubby!Reader

Part 1

Summary: L longs for a sense of normalcy in his current depression. The burdens of the case begin to weigh him down. His heart longs for something or someone far away... If only she were with him now...

Words: ~4k

Contains: Established relationships, angst, depressed L, mentions of low self esteem, mentions of marriage, hurt/comfort, takes place before yotsuba arc

A/N: Thank you everyone to read and enjoyed part 1!! I apologize for the wait on part 2, I thought I would have it done long before now but life gets in the way lol. I really enjoyed writing this and I hope I captured L's character well. I just feel sad sometimes bc the poor guy just wants friends and stuff like everyone else :/ so this is my way of giving him something special ToT hope you guys enjoy!!!

***

Watari could barely stand it anymore. Watching L stagnate like this was killing him, and not to mention, severely hindering the progress of the investigation. The past few days, he barely ate, only picked at his cakes and cookies. He requested cannolis once, and Watari immediately knew what was wrong… he missed her. 

The night he watched through the security cameras as L called her, his suspicion was only confirmed. His left hand never left his pocket, the pocket that always carried her photo. The longing in his voice was soft yet deep, and the bags under his eyes were just that much darker. 

The great detective’s mood seemed to sour even greater every time he watched Misa interact with Light. Every flirtatious comment, every touch, every hug, had L shrinking into his chair just a bit more. Watari was afraid he’d break his spine the way he curled so tightly into his knees. 

Even Light was beginning to make comments about L’s slight shift in behavior. He would try to include L on findings in the case, and even tried to offer to take him out for a tennis match. L would have none of it, it seemed nothing would lift his spirits… nothing except one thing. 

L would be furious if Watari did what he was tempted to do, beyond furious actually. It was an incredibly reckless and risky thing to do given the nature of this case. However, the case was suffering, Kira was no closer to being caught, and its lead investigator had a case of a broken heart. Watari was quickly running out of time and options. What else was he supposed to do? 

With a heavy sigh, Watari picks up the nearest phone and dials a New York cannoli shop. 

***

Flipping through the same stack of papers that have been on his desk for the past three days, L scans the words over and over again, as if the reports would change in real time. He could feel his mind wandering, see the words blurring, and hear the noise in the background fade and distort. HIs was losing his edge, and with it he felt, his sanity. 

“What do you think of this report, Ryuzaki?” Light politely asks, handing him a document from a stack he’s already read ten times over. Gently taking it in hand, L reads of an incident of Kira enacting his justice on a convicted mobster, guilty of killing business owners who refused to pay his protection fee. Just like how we met. 

L hums, trying once again to put on the facade that nothing was wrong with him, that his heart was still even in this case at all. “I’m not quite sure, Light,” he answers, “While this type of criminal most definitely meets Kira’s typical profile for a ‘deserved killing’… it almost seems too much like Kira. I think that…” he pauses for a moment, “oh nevermind. I believe that made much more sense inside my head.” He hunches over the drink on his desk before whispering under his breath, “I just keep saying ridiculous things…”

He sighs, taking another sip of his barely sweetened coffee. L didn’t even have the energy or will to turn his drinks into pure sugar water anymore. Everything sweet reminded him of her. After all, her lips tasted just like fresh, tangy, sweet, rasp-

“Ryuzaki?” Watari’s voice pulls him from his stupor only for a moment, that voice being his only comfort in these hard times. Not daring to look up from the swirling, murky, coffee in his cup, he only hums, “Yes, what is it Watari?” The sound of his cart rolling across the floor becomes louder and louder as it approaches L’s desk, yet Watari’s voice stays exactly where it is, “I have something rather special here for you today.” 

When the cart stops, a delicate, feminine, hand places a small plate in front of the detective. A perfectly fresh, puffy, and practically overstuffed cannoli sits right in L’s line of sight. The bright pink cream falls in puddles on the plate, beckoning him to have a taste. 

With certain caution, L takes a hesitant finger into the cream, bringing it to his lips. “Raspberry…” he mumbles around his index finger. Pulling his hand slowly from his mouth, he carefully turns his head to the side, finding a set of wide, soft, hips standing next to him. He follows the figure with his eyes, tracing every familiar curve with a disbelieving look. 

Finally reaching the face of the not-so-mystery woman, L’s jaw practically falls to the floor. The woman only chuckles, like a sweet song, and gives an equally sweet wave, “Hi, cream puff. It’s been a while hasn’t it?” 

L springs from his chair like a Jack in the box, nearly dragging Light to the floor by his wrist. His eyes widen, and he, for once in his life, is left completely speechless. “I-I…” he stutters, “What are you doing here?” The plump woman only twiddles her hands in front of her, a guilty blush beginning to consume her face. “Well…” 

Watari interrupts the exchange by clearing his throat and taking a few steps forward. All three heads in the room turn towards him, though only two of them understand what is even being said. “I summoned her here of my own accord,” Watari explains, “I felt the case needed some extra moral support, and after a thorough call, she seemed very eager to assist. Isn’t that right Miyuki?” 

Of course he would give her an alias that means “beautiful happiness.”

‘Miyuki’ nods eagerly at Watari’s confession, “Yes, he explained everything on the phone and well… I knew that I had to come.” She tilts her head and gives L a soft, sad, smile, “He said you weren’t doing so well, cream puff. If I had the chance to help, I couldn’t just let it slip me by.” 

Despite the flutter in his heart and the urge to suddenly reach out to touch her, L’s logical side fumes in anger. Shooting a glare to Watari and then back at Miyuki, he sets his jaw, “Do you have any idea just how dangerous it is for you to be here right now? Our lives are on the line in this case, and the last thing I want right now, is for yours to be at risk as well.” 

His scolding has her lowering her head in shame while Watari stands still as ever. “I’m sorry,” she mutters, “I just… Watari said it would help you relax to have me around and well,” she raises her head, “I wanna help you any way I can, no matter what it takes. My life included.” 

Looking into her eyes, L could tell she meant that with her entire being. She wasn’t there for any other reason than to make him happy. He had two choices now; shatter her heart and send her back to New York, or put her life at stake to keep her here. They both were incredibly risky paths to take, each could result in losing her for good. 

His silence only raised her anxiety and Miyuki’s eyes begin to water slightly, “I… I thought you’d be glad to see me. It’s been almost two years since you last saw me in person. Do you… not want me here?” 

Now he really was on the spot, he needed to think quickly before this escalated more. Could he really tell a lie to that sweet, puffy, soft face that cared so much for his well being? Would it even be worth it to do so? Swallowing a lump in his throat L finally musters the courage to answer her question. “No,” he begins, “I am very glad to see you. I trust that you being here now means Watari took all the proper precautions to bring you to Japan,” she nods in confirmation before he continues, “If that’s the case…” he smiles slightly, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to keep you around for a few days or so.” 

Miyuki’s face lights up in a smile and she lunges forward, wrapping her arms around L’s neck. “Oh thank you!” she exclaims, “I’ll make sure you never run out of raspberry cannolis again, cream puff.” Returning her embrace, L snakes his arms around her waist. A waist that, it seems, has grown. His girlfriend had put on a bit of weight since he last saw her, and if he was being completely honest with himself, he loved it. Holding her felt like biting into a fresh donut; warm, soft, and like home. 

L would have continued to hold her against himself for as long as time permitted, but unfortunately, she stepped away, a red embarrassed flush on her cheeks. Looking back at the dumbfounded and clueless Japanese boy handcuffed to her boyfriend, Miyuki wrings her hands, “I don’t suppose I could have a moment with you in private? If that’s too much to ask, I guess we could talk with… whoever that is, here.” 

“Ah,” L hums, looking back over his shoulder at his companion beside him, “That would be Light Yagami, completely harmless… for now. It would take too long to explain why he’s currently attached to me but…” he trails off, tracing his thumb on his lip as he looks at the massive monitor full of surveillance camera feeds. If he uncuffed himself from Light, he would still be watched 24/7 by Watari and the others, right? Surely it wouldn’t do any harm to the investigation to give himself a one hour break from his experiment. 

Looking back to Miyuki, L smirks, “I believe I could arrange a private moment for us. Light has someone else in this facility waiting to spend some alone time with him as well. He’s been behaving well enough I don’t think it would be too horrible to allow him that. I’ll meet you on the 18th floor… once I find the key for these handcuffs.”

***

A quiet, yet peaceful silence hung in the air as L squatted on the couch across the coffee table from Miyuki. It was strange the way their relationship played out, their phone calls were always filled to the brim with conversation, almost never allowing for a moment of quiet, yet these moments, the ones where each occupied the same room together, were always so silent. Both were so content to bask in each other’s presence. 

L watched her with nearly glossed over eyes, curled in on himself as he studied her every shift and movement on the couch, trying his hardest to commit every part of her to memory, especially since she’d changed so much. The tension in the air that had lingered in the tower for the past week seemed to finally evaporate just by having her here. Right now L felt… relaxed. 

“What are you laughing about?” Miyuki inquires, and L hadn’t even noticed the chuckles coming out of his mouth. She had a way of drawing out the childish joy in him that even he seemed to forget existed. Hugging his knees, he shakes his head, “It’s nothing, I’m simply enamored with you. You have brought a light with you I feared had diminished inside me.” 

Blushing like mad, Miyuki smiles brightly, shining like a thousand stars, “I’m glad. Watari said you’d been missing me lately. You’ve had a lot on your plate and he figured that having me around might give you some peace of mind and focus.” 

“I believe he was correct,” L agrees, “I’d say my sense of peace has risen by at least 60%, and my focus even more so. Though I must admit… my focus is most certainly not on the investigation at the moment. Rather, it’s on someone else entirely.” 

She waves a hand in dismissal, her smile still cheek to cheek. L can barely help the smile on his own face as he stares her down from his hunched position across from her. He could stare at her for hours, there was just something about her that drew his attention like nothing else. If asked 5 years ago, L would say he didn’t believe in love at first sight, but the moment he met (Y/N), that all changed in an instant. 

In an attempt to make some sort of small talk, L hums, “I’d ask how your family is, but your father made it evident on the phone he still hates me.” Miyuki sighs, her smile only diminishing slightly, “Well, you know how papa is, after all that stuff that happened with my uncle getting killed that summer we met, he’s been extra protective of me.” 

“I think it’s only natural for him to feel that way, given everything that’s happened,” L remarks. 

Miyuki shrugs, “I suppose, I just wish he would be more accepting of you.” She pauses for a moment before laughing softly, “You know, my grandma keeps telling me that I should dump you if you aren’t going to propose soon.” Raising her finger she does a poor impression of a scolding elderly woman, “‘It’s been five years and there’s no ring on your finger, you’d be better off finding someone who actually wants to make an honest woman of you.’”

L freezes in his seat, his shoulders tensing and his thumb stopping all motions against his lips. With eyes slightly widened, he nervously asks, “You… don’t plan on taking that advice, do you?”

Noticing the way he was gripping his knees, Miyuki suddenly stops laughing. “Of course not, cream puff,” she assures vehemently. Getting up from her seat, she walks across the space between the two couches to sit next to L. Turning towards him, she puts her hands on the cushions close to his leg. “I told you at the end of that summer that I would wait for you, always.”

The tension in his body loosens at her proximity, but he hangs his head slightly, thinking as he resumes rubbing his lip. He sighs, his shaggy hair hiding his dejected face, “But perhaps… you shouldn’t. I fear your grandmother makes an excellent point, dear. It’s foolish for you to continue ‘throwing your life away’ as your father would put it.” 

Miyuki shakes her head, “What are you talking about? Why would you even say that?” 

With a huff, L unfurls himself from his seat, placing his bare feet on the carpet below him. Resting his elbows on his knees, he studies the patterned floor, tracing each shape with his eyes as he talks, “It’s just that… we have been in a relationship for half a decade now, and in all that time, we’ve spent a total of exactly 164 days, 13 hours, and 37- no, 38 minutes, physically together. This job of mine… it hardly allows for a social life of any kind, let alone a relationship of this nature.” He lifts and turns his head slightly, looking at her from beneath his overgrown bangs, “I simply feel that… you deserve an ordinary life. A life that only an ordinary man can give you… a man that is nothing like me.” 

“There is nothing wrong with you,” Miyuki argues, “You’re just as ‘normal’ as any other man. You’re strong, and handsome, and-” 

“Darling,” he interrupts, “please don’t lie to me. You know just as well as I do that this life I live is far from typical. I never had a normal childhood, never had real friends, and I became a professional detective at a time when I should have still been in grade school.” A pale hand reaches out to hold Miyuki’s thigh, “I care about you… immensely. I want you to have everything you desire in this life, but unfortunately… it may not be something that I can give you, despite my very deep desire to do so.”

Enveloping L’s hand, Miyuki grabs hold of him, tears welling in her eyes, “I don’t care about any of that,” she assures. “At the end of that summer, before you left for your next case, I told you I would wait for you, always,” she scoots just a hair closer, “I meant that then and I still mean it now. I wouldn’t have come all this way behind my family’s back to be here if I didn’t. L… I love you. I don’t care if that means I only get bits and pieces you manage to spare from your hectic life. I’ll take whatever I can have if it means I get to be yours.”

The detective studies her face with a full heart, his tired eyes watching every twitch and shift of her features. She truly meant every word she just said. She is in love with him, and she would do anything to stay in his life… no matter what sacrifices that entailed. For a moment, he thinks of Light Yagami. He may have Misa’s adoration, but L… L has (Y/N)’s devotion. He had half a mind to kiss her right then. 

Miyuki swallows the lump in her throat as her boyfriend continues to stare her down, his eyes flicking between her own and their hands clasped between them. He seemed so far off yet close at the same time, and she knew this meant he was busy thinking about something. His eyes usually glaze over in a certain way when he is lost deep in his thoughts. 

When he continues to stay silent for more than she is comfortable, she squeezes his hand to ground him. “Uh, cream puff?” she nervously chuckles, “Are you okay? Did I… did I say something wrong?”

L blinks, refocusing his attention on the woman at his side. “What? Oh I’m sorry, I just trailed off for a moment.” He releases her hand, repositioning himself on the couch in his typical pose, this time turned to face her completely. As he rubs his thumb against his mouth once more, he begins mumbling to himself, “There’s no way she would refuse… it’s the only way…” 

With increasing concern in her voice, Miyuki bites her lip, “L? Is… everything okay?” 

He ignores her question and instead asks her one of his own, leaning forward ever so slightly to closely observe her reaction. “You love me, correct? So much that you hang by the phone everyday just to hear my voice? That you would wait for months on end just to spend a long weekend with me?” 

Almost offended by the question, Miyuki blinks rapidly, “Of course I love you. I’d do anything for you.” 

“Even upset your own family?” he further questions, “They never have liked me, and I’m sure they’ve tried many times to convince you to end things with me. Perhaps they’ve even set you up with other men your age to get you to forget about me.” 

“Well… yes, they have,” she sheepishly admits, “but I always turned those guys away. I don’t need them, I have the best guy in the world.” 

L smirks at that last comment, “And I always appreciate your flattery, dear.” He tilts his head before continuing his questioning, “If there were a way that we could stay together full time, travel together, and see one another every day, you would want to do that, correct?” 

“Absolutely,” she answers with no hesitation. “But you just said we can’t… because of your work.” 

“Yes I did say that,” he nods, “However, I believe I’ve come up with a solution that would not only benefit you and I, but would perhaps appease your family as well. Or at the very least, give your grandmother one less thing to complain about…” he trails off again for a moment, biting his thumb before raising an eyebrow, “You would say yes if I asked you, right?” 

“Asked me what?” Miyuki questions, thinking there’s no way he could possibly be talking about what she thinks he is. 

“I suppose there’s only one way to find out…” he mutters to himself. Getting up off the couch, L takes the plump hand of his girlfriend before kneeling beside her on the carpet. Looking up at her blushing face, his equally nervous, red, features quiver as he utters the question that has been weighing on his heart for many years, “Would you marry me?”

Her eyes shoot open, nearly wide enough to pop out of her head, “Cream puff… do you really mean it?” 

Swallowing, he grips her hand a hair tighter, “Why would I have any reason to lie to you? I have been deeply in love with you since I was a teenager, and despite the constant distance and secrecy between us, you’ve stayed loyal and faithful to me. If I were to take you as my wife, you would never have to be without me again. You could travel with me for work, I could finally shower you in all the gifts and affection you deserve, and I could sleep easier at night knowing I wouldn’t have to wait even a day to see you once more. I could even tell you my real name after all this time.” 

Miyuki is speechless, her eyes pooling with tears, blurring her vision of the man on the floor in front of her. Shoulders sinking, he loosens his hold on her hand, “But… perhaps that is too much to ask of you. It would be selfish of me to wish to take you away from your family, to want to tie you to me forever,” he goes to stand up, “Forgive me, I should have never-” 

“No,” Miyuki shouts, grabbing his hand and yanking him back down, “I would, I’d do it. I’d do whatever I had to to be with you.” 

“Are you sure?” he asks, a self deprecating sadness glinting in his eyes. “If you want to, we can continue on the way we are. I just… thought that might be a possibility you’d like to consider… I can’t deny it’s a fantasy I’ve indulged in during some of my more restless nights. Thinking of you… it gives me a clarity I can’t find anywhere else.” 

Fantasy. That’s the word he used. He truly felt it was a fantasy to even think that she would want to be with him forever. Yet, after that confession, how could she possibly even think to say no? Under his seemingly aloof and calculating exterior, L was still a man, a man with a heart that yearned to be with the woman he loved. 

“I’m sure, L,” Miyuki mumbles through the tears streaming down her soft cheeks, “I love you so much. I…” she starts crying even more, unable to hold in the emotions filling her heart, “I wanna be your wife… more than anything.”

“So… you will marry me?” he asks once more, just to clarify. 

She simply nods with a resounding, “Yes.” A smile spreads across his lips as relief washes through him. L had solved some of the most dangerous, high profile criminal cases on this planet, but proposing to his girlfriend just now had been the single most terrifying experience of his life. 

It almost comforted him to feel so normal at that moment. He was just a man, in love, promising to spend his life with the one person who meant more to him than anything, as so many ordinary people do every day. He could quickly feel his heart filling up, nearly fit to burst. 

Taking him by the collar of his shirt, Miyuki pulls L to her lips, kissing him with all the ferocity and love she could muster. The first time she would ever kiss her fiance. 

Pulling away, she leans her forehead on his, “I love you, L.” With a smile on his kiss swollen, perfectly pink, lips he reaches up to hold her hair, gently rubbing the back of her head, “And I love you… until death do we part.”

[madameminor]

In More Ways Than One, Part 9 - Bad Batch x F!Reader - Wrecked

Summary: Everything seems perfect the morning after - until Wrecker starts acting strange.

Tags: 18+ smutty mcsmutterson, porn with plot, basically, all the good stuff

Warnings: Dom drop, aftercare, breeding kink, shiny's being jerks.

Notes: I'm experimenting writing more with less, since sometimes I get too caught up in the words - I may or may not like it. Regardless, please enjoy Wrecker being a sweet boy.

Word Count: 5k+

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part 4 Part 4.5 Part 5 Part 5.5 Part 6 Part 6.5 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8.5 Part 9 Part 9.5 Part 10

The bliss of a truly rested sleep is really second to none. Waking slowly from the comforting embrace of peace, you feel the necessary rest down to your soul.

That is - until you shift to stretch - and feel the full effects of yesterdays ‘punishments’.

Your stretching squeal becomes a mournful moan as you ache in places you’ve never ached before - and are met with a soft chuckle and a gentle hand on your cheek.

“Mmhmm. The lesson continues,” Crosshair smirks, kissing your nose from where he stands by his bed. You squint open your eyes and pout at him before turning your back to him, showing your disdain for his teasing. He chuckles again and gently spanks you, making you turn to pout at him again as he scoots in behind you. 

“Don’t be like that. It’s your own fault anyway,” he murmurs into your neck, kissing gently as his hand gently rubs over your hip, your thigh. 

“Hmph,” you pout away from him, too sleepy to think of a comeback.

He lightly nips along where Hunter bit you the night before, making you gasp at the light pull of memory. 

“Nnnn Crosshair, don’t get me going this early I’m so SORE.”

He smirks in your ear. “You want to stay here then?”

“Mmhmm…”

“Hmph, alright. We’re going to the mess for whatever serves as breakfast out here. You want us to bring you back something?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod in affirmation, eyes still closed, voice sleepy. “Y’s please.”

Another chuckle by your ear. “Its a good thing you’re cute.”

“M’super cute.”

“You are. We’ll be back.”

The rest is like hazy background noise as you drift in the peaceful stream of ‘sleepy’.

“So she is staying?” Tech, quietly.

“Mmhmm.” The sound of a toothpick between teeth. 

“Hmph. Can’t say I’m surprised.” Hunter, smirking. Various armors being put on. Echo’s chuckle, the sound of blasters finding holsters, its all starting to fade as you slip back into-

“Wrecker.”

Hunter’s voice is just above a whisper.

 “Hey Wrecker,” a little louder, trying not to disturb you, but obviously working to get attention. “Come on, we’re headed to the mess. Grub time.”

You don’t hear any movement, just a voice, facing towards a wall - just above a whisper, and very, very guilty.

“U-uh you guys go ahead, I-I’m not really hungry.”

Everything stops.

You’re up and by his bed before you know you’ve thought about it, pulling his shoulder towards you to make him look up, the scanner you whisked from your pack blinking readings as you draw it down his face.

He freezes like a porg in headlights as you finish your scan. You set it down in confusion, hand to his forehead. 

Hunter is just over your shoulder.

“What’s wrong with him?”

You scan again for anything, anything. “His vitals are fine. There’s no fever.”

“None of the side effects from the inoculations mentioned lack of appetite?” Tech muses quietly.

“Even if it did, Wrecker always has an appetite. He defies the odds,” Echo says firmly.

A small spark of worry in your chest has you on your feet. “I’ll take him to the infirmary and do some more tests to see if it’s anything -”

A hand grabs your wrist as you turn to get dressed. You look to where Wrecker waits, his eyes panicked instead of surprised.

“NO, no, I’m fine, really. Just… just not hungry, ok? I don’t need to… uh, go with them to the mess.” He looks down and away from his brothers.

Oh.

You almost kick yourself.

OH.

You turn to the others, “Alright my dears, I’ll take it from here. Out.” You shoo them towards the door, ignoring the fact that you’re giving orders while completely naked.

Hunter raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure-”

“BIP bip bip bip, go. Out. Bring back food for two, please. Don’t hurry back.”

The door whisks closed so fast it almost catches Echo’s kama.

You turn back to Wrecker, sitting on the bed beside him. “They’ve gone, honey.”

He looks over at you, briefly meeting your eyes before looking off to the side- he opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. His eyes meet yours again, pleading for help with whatever he needs to say. Your heart melts a bit for him - your gentle giant, in unknown territory. You scoot closer to him, putting your head to his, your hand on his cheek.

“I’m right here, I’m listening. Take your time.”

He sighs in relief, closing his eyes and breathing with you. He wraps his arms around you and rolls onto his side, pulling you over him so you’re the closest to the bulk head. He buries his face in your neck - aw, he’s hiding. You stroke his bald head to soothe him, letting him find the words he needs.

You don’t have to wait long. “Are you….ok?” 

Something in his tone sets off your mental alarm bells.

“I’m wonderful. A little sore, but its a good sore. Why, honey?”

“I didn’t… hurt you, right? You aren’t… mad at me?”

…shit.

“Oh darling, no,” you say, fully turning to face him, your hand cupping his face. He leans into it, still avoiding your eyes. “No no no. I’m so grateful to you. I loved last night. I feel so lucky that all of you gave to me like that. I’m the happiest woman alive this morning.”

He finally looks up at you, still looking guilty. “Really?” 

“Yes yes yes, a thousand times yes,” you say quietly, smiling. “All the things we did last night were things I’d talked to Crosshair and Hunter about enjoying - I may have seemed like I was upset, but it's what I wanted.”

“So I’m… I’m not a bad person for liking it?”

“No,” you say firmly, still staying quiet so it doesn’t sound like a reprimand. “I like those things being done to me. And you can like doing those things to me because I’m saying yes. If you liked those things and I was screaming my safe word, that would not be ok, but that’s what a safe word is for - to tell you when I’m not ok.”

“I… w’ll, I know that. But I still feel like what I did was wrong. I don’t understand, I liked it at the time, but… I started thinking about it, and now…Whats wrong with me?”

“Nothing, babe, nothing at all. This happens sometimes, and it means you care about me, and you would never hurt me if I asked you to stop. This proves you’re a good person, not a bad one. This happens, a lot of people in your position can feel like this after they do some of what we did last night. It even has a name. It’s called ‘dom drop��.”

“It… it is?” Understanding and relief start to show on his face. You start to breathe again.

“Mmhmm.”

He’s relaxing, slowly, but steadily. “Did the others feel like this?”

You trace along his face scar. “I don’t know. They may have at some point, either last night or before, but if this isn’t their first time they probably have ways to care for themselves.” He nods, thinking. You stroke the side of his face, being sure to meet his eyes. “Babe, I’m sorry. There are things to watch out for, and I didn’t think of you in the moment at all. It was your first time, I should have checked in with you. I’m so sorry, and I’ll work to communicate with you so much more, starting right now.”

He looks at you, still hesitant, but nods before burying his head into your shoulder again.

You mentally kick yourself, feeling the gravity of your responsibility settle on you - this is the second time you left him in the dust. If you were going to make this work with all five of them, you needed to up your game - to make sure you took care of those who needed you at those junctures. And Wrecker needed you to pay more attention to guiding him - he was new to all of this.

No use beating yourself up. You didn’t know who would need what before, but now you do.

Time to make it right.

You kiss his head, willing his worries away. “What do you need right now, darling? Snuggles? Kisses? Closeness?” He nods, snuggling closer. You smile, settling into the security of his strength around you.

The silence is peaceful. You feel him breathing, heart slowing. You stroke his head, trailing kisses every few strokes. You feel him relax against you, tension releasing… but there’s still a sadness. Something isn’t quite right yet. You let your mind wander over what past lovers have liked, have asked for in their care.

 “Do you want to hear about what I liked last night?”

He looks up again in surprise - and nods. Good.

You smile, settling into him and the pillow while thinking back. “Hmm…I liked having you in my mouth while the other two were inside me.” He grins. 

You continue. “I liked when you spanked me - it felt so good to have you so big in me and spanking me at the same time. I want to do that again, if you do.” His eyes spark in interest, and you can feel something near your pelvis firm. 

Heeheehee.

“I like hearing you lose yourself and go hard with me - using me to cum like that. I liked how you didn’t let me cum, but you really wanted to. I always love feeling you cum inside of me, and what you said about wanting to push so far inside of me was SO hot.”

He gets bashful again. Interesting. “Yeah?”

You prop yourself up on one elbow, fingers tracing along his shoulders. “What did you like about last night?”

He swallows. “How hot you looked tied up like that. It was really… kriffing hot.”

You giggle in response. He smiles.

“When you choked on me because Echo fucked you so hard. That felt so good.”

“Oooo, I remember that. The look on your face was very attractive.”

He smiles. “I’m glad the boys made me wait, cause I really wanted to feel you cum, but then watching you cum so hard was really hot.” 

He pauses, then glances away while finding the words, rubbing the back of his neck.

“A-Also, uh… there was…uh… there was a moment where I thought something kind of weird, but it was really hot to think about?”

“OOooo, tell me,” you smile, shifting closer.

He keeps rubbing the back of his head. “It…um…”

He’s so kriffing cute. “I’m listening, darling, I want to hear about all the things that you like.”

He swallows, still not meeting your eyes. “I uh… I wanted to cum so hard in you that you… got pregnant.”

Your core tenses in excitement. Oh, say it isn’t so. “Oh really?”

“Y-yeah…” he looks back at you, words suddenly spilling out in a rush. “I’d never do that, I know you have, like, that thing that stops you from having babies, but the thought just popped into my head and it was really hot at the time and-”

Ooooh the Gods are good. “I think so, too.”

He blinks. “You do? It’s not weird?”

Your smile is coy. “No, it's something a fair amount of people like. Including me, at times.”

He gulps again - you feel the firm grow firmer. His voice sounds mildly strained. “But you can’t have babies right now.”

“That’s true,” you flirt, a finger tracing along his collar bone, “but we can pretend. You can fill me up so full and imagine what I look like when I have your baby growing in me. A cute little wrecking ball.”

Firmer still. You can feel his heart thumping in his chest. “Babe… thats…”

You smile, leaning in closer to him. “Do you want to try now? Want to try and cum in me so hard that you get me pregnant?”

He reflexively grips your hips, where his hand rests, bucking involuntarily. “Kriff yeah…"

His fingers trail down, pulling your leg up over his hip before moving behind your leg to trace over your slit, groaning as his fingers come away wet and sticky.

“Babe…”

Your breath catches at the need in his eyes. “See how much I like the idea?”

He groans again, bucking up, fingers eagerly returning to push inside your entrance.

You wince at the sudden intrusion. “Gently, love, You all worked me over really well last night.”

He lightens up immediately. He slides one finger inside your slippery slit, thick and firm, curling against your walls, stroking your g-spot delicately. You clench around him, savoring the feeling of his loving care in your pleasure. He groans as he pulls his finger out again.

“FUCK babe… I’m sliding in so easily.” He pumps again, watching your face fastidiously. “Can you… take another?”

“Yes, oh yes.” Your hips buck, begging for more of him inside of you, thoughts running through your head of what you’re about to do. You start to ride his fingers while he moves inside you, meeting each other with each thrust. You hold behind his neck for support, eyes meeting his, begging him not to stop.

That sets something off in him, moving forward to latch his mouth onto where neck meets shoulder. “Kriff, that’s right mesh’la, ride my fingers. Want you so ready to take my cock. You want it so bad, don’t you?”

You whimper out a cry, riding his fingers as he pumps them into you. “Can’t wait to feel you fill me…”

He involuntarily bucks against your leg. “Fuck I’m going to cum so far into you. Can’t wait to fill you up till you’re leaking, make sure it takes.”

Fuck it’s so hot to hear him say that. “O-One more, Wrecker, I c-can take another.”

He slides in a third finger, finally giving you the same girth as he is, sliding himself down to suck pulses into your clit. 

“WRECker…” Your eyes fall back into your head, your head falls back between your propped arms, and you fuck along him for all your worth, riding the wave of the pleasure cresting from his pulses. 

“Oh babe I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming!”

“That’s right babe, cum for me, cum for me real good.” 

You feel yourself start to seize, riding his tongue as he pushes you through, eagerly licking up everything you’re releasing like its frickin’ candy.

You’re left panting - but still craving him. You whine a bit, bucking as he pulls his fingers away. You want so much more. You want what he said he’d give you.

Wrecker starts running your slick on his fingers over his hard length, already weeping precum. He bites back a groan, looking down at you with need, with… worry? Aww, the darling is checking in. Your heart swells.

“Babe, can I…”

You reach up to cup his cheek.“Yes, please yes. But kiss me when you push in? I’m afraid I’ll moan too loud…”

He kisses you deeply, sliding in so gently, both of you swallowing the other’s groans. HIs head falls to your chest as he breathes through the moment. 

“So kriffing tight. Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight.”

“It's cause I want your cum, babe. I want it so bad.”

He groans, hips stuttering into yours, making you gasp, eyes rolling back.

“Can’t wait to give it to you,” he says, slowly starting to fuck into you. He puts his head to yours, one hand coming up to cup the side of your face. “Fill you up so good with my cum. Want to get you so big for me, kiss your belly, talk to our strong baby while you bounce on my cock. Tell them how beautiful their mom is.”

“Oh Wrecker…”Your voice comes out a moan, unable to think around his giant cock fucking into you.

His head falls to your shoulder, hips moving faster. “NNNnn I’m gonna cum, mesh’la. You ready for me? You ready for me to fill you up?”

You can barely form a thought, but the words just flow out of you. “Yes Wrecker, please. Please. Pump your cum inside me, honey, I want it so bad.”

He grips under your shoulder, holds your thigh against his hip, driving his full length inside your throbbing hole. “KRIFF. Take it then. Take it all. Nnn... NNN.”

He growls a groan as his hips stutter, releasing his seed what seems like an unnatural amount of times deep inside you, using his leverage to push in as far as he can.

He doesn’t stop, even as you feel him start to soften.

He groans. “Fuck, babe. FUCK. I want to keep going so bad, I don’t want to stop I’m still so horny.” 

You’re so on fire with need that you don’t skip a beat.“Then come here, big boy, and let me help you with that.”

He moves up the bed, offering you his slowly softening cock. Karking hell, you’re so hungry and desperate for more, you immediately take him as far as you can with one swift move. He cries out a swear - he’s so sensitive, but he wants it so bad, SO BAD. He fucks your mouth gently, watching his cock disappear down your throat. 

“Fuck, babe. That’s it. Just like that, getting me so hard again. I wanna fill you up more. So much more. Gonna make you cum this time too, so you strangle all my cum out of my cock, fill you up so good.”

You look up at him, watching him take you in, his eyes transfixed where your lips wrap around his cock.

“NNnnn could cum down your throat, fill you up from both ends,” he murmurs, almost to himself. You moan around him at the thought, making his hips stutter with a groan. “You’d like that, huh?”

You purposefully moan a yes, smirking internally as his eyes roll back.

“B-But I wanna make you cum too, feel you cum around my cock. Kriff, fuck I need to feel you cum on my cock.” He pulls out and away, clamping around the base for a moment while he breathes. As you sit up, wiping spit from your mouth, he picks you up and places you so your head is towards the other end of the bed, hooking your legs up with his elbows. He pushes into you hungrily, ravenous to feel you around him again, moaning along with your feverish cry. He starts to slowly fuck into you.

“WRECKer! Oh honey you feel so good.” You bring your hand down to play with your clit. “Wanna cum. Wanna cum while you’re fucking a baby into me.”

His hips speed up, spurred on by your rapturous cries. “That’s right mesh’la. Kriff. Milk me dry. Gonna be so full I put TWO babies in there. Gonna see you get so big. So big cause of me…”

Stars, you can FEEL how aroused he is, he’s so hard, so needy in his thrusts. “I’m so close, Wrecker, I’m so close. Fill me up while I cum for you. Give it to me, please.”

“Whatever you want, babe, anything you want.” His voice is desperate, his eyes feverish with need and arousal. “Fuck I’m gonna cum again. Take it all. Cum for me while you take it all. Kriff, kriff, KRIFF.”

You swear he pushes in so far he’s in your cervix. You feel each spurt of his spend coat your walls, fill your womb, leaving you sated and full, wishing, on some level, that this was real.

Wrecker falls to one elbow, panting, still propping himself up so as not to crush you, still shivering every few seconds as his orgasm racks him anew.

“B…Babe… that was… that was so…”

You put your head to his, your hand to his cheek, panting from the intensity of your orgasm. You feel your breath slow, leaning in and kissing him slowly, sensually, bringing him down on top of you. Your hands rove over his bald head, feeling the smooth skin under your fingertips. You pull back after a moment, laying back to look up at him while your fingers continue along his scar.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” He sighs in relief, head dropping to your shoulder as you giggle. “I’m gonna pull out, ok?”

“Ok.” You gasp a little as he gently pulls out, leaving you emptier than you were - but not by much. He turns towards the bathroom, presumably to get a towel - you gently grab his hand before he can.

“Wait. Don’t you want to see how full I am first?” You can’t help the mischievous smile dancing across your face.

He looks back at you, confused.

“Look,” you smile, laying back along the sheets, spreading your legs, hand trailing down to your lower lips - and parting them.

His widening eyes tell you he’s watching his seed brimming at your entrance, slowly trickling out of you. You clench, partly to emphasize the flow, partly because its so hot, watching him watch you like this.

He gulps, eyes glued to your pussy. “Babe, can I… do somethin’?”

“Yes,” you lilt, pulling your fingers away from your entrance.

He slides his thumb carefully over your slit, gathering some of the slick between your thighs. Eyes alight, he leans over you - and holds his thumb up to your lips. 

You smile at him, propping yourself up on your elbows, and without taking your eyes from his, you take his thumb into your mouth, tasting your combined juices, sucking him clean.

“You’re gonna get me hard again,” he groans, almost reluctantly.

You release his thumb with a smile.

“Good,” you purr, nuzzling against his hand, “because I think you promised to cum down my throat next? ‘Fill me up from both sides’?”

You see the shiver run through him.

“Kriff, babe. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groans - right before climbing back on to his bed. 

__________________________________________________________________________

A half hour later finds Wrecker between your thighs with a damp cloth, cleaning up the substantial mess he’s made after cumming twice more. He can’t bring himself to look, he really shouldn’t look, he’ll just get going again - and hes not sure he could take another round before his brothers come back, and they’d been nice enough to leave them alone this long. There would be - he shivers - more chances another time.

Besides, he wanted to hold you after that. 

Throwing the rag toward the end of his bed, he finds you snuggling extra close into his chest, filling him with warmth as he wraps his arms around you. Yeah, this was what he wanted.

“Mmmmm… that was everything.” You look up at him. “How are you, babe? How did you like that?”

“Great,” he grins - before his face falls into uncertainty. “Though I, uh, didn’t expect that to happen, you know…”

“I know, but I just loved the idea soooo much…” you nuzzle against his nose, his grin returning. Kriff, you made him feel like a cadet again, getting his first detonator. “Did that feel like what you needed?”

“Uh…” he thinks for a moment, trying to remember where he started. “Yeah… I think I… I just wanted to know you weren’t mad, or hurt or… somethin’ else. I liked feeling… like feeling close to you.” He (very) lightly squeezes you. “I like this.”

“Then lets do this if we try something intense like we did last night. I’ll make sure to come be close to you, and tell you how happy I am. Yes?”

He kisses the top of your head, feeling a knot unclench in his chest. “Yeah. I like the sound of that.”

He’s silent for a moment, taking it all in, thinking about last night, this morning, just now… comparing it to every other moment of comfort in his life. Were there any?

He looks down to where you’re snuggled against him. “Babe?”

He can feel your answering hum through his chest. “Hm?”

“Thanks… for taking care of me.”

You look up at him with those beautiful eyes and beautiful smile, the greatest gifts of all.

“Of course, honey,” you say quietly, kissing his chin. “It’s my pleasure.”

________________________________________________________________________

“Do you ever think about it? Having kids?”

The question seemed to come out of nowhere - you had spent the time waiting for the squad cuddling and talking about what other things you wanted to try together or with the others, making sure to listen for his wants and needs. A comfortable silence followed, each of you breathing in the other, until…

“Sometimes. Not a lot, since there’s no call for it right now, but I’ve thought about it.” You look up at him. “Why? Have you?”

“W’ll. Not, uh… not til now. But I… I really liked the idea of having a kid with you.” He won’t meet your eyes, he’s so bashful. Such a sweetheart. “Never thought of anything other than hanging with my brothers, but the thought was kinda… I dunno, nice.”

You smile up at him and kiss his nose, about to answer - and are suddenly overtaken by a huge yawn, your body relaxing into the warmth surrounding you. 

He grins. “Tired, huh?”

You grimace in embarrassment as you finish your yawn. “Mmm… yes. You aren’t?”

“Naw, too hungry. You go ahead and sleep, mesh’la.” He strokes your head and kisses your crown. “I’ll take care of you.”

You can’t help but smile into his chest, enjoying the warmth blooming in yours, letting your heavy eyelids close. “Wrecker…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really happy.” You breathe him in and sigh out relief.

His hands pause midstroke, but his body stays relaxed.

“... me too, babe.” You can hear the beaming smile in his voice. “I’m really happy too.” He continues his stroking, gentle fingers lulling you to sleep…

-until the door slides open.

“Are you two done?”

Crosshair’s slithery voice is as sardonic as ever. You smirk, your eyes staying closed.

You feel a shift next to you as Wrecker twists to whisper over his shoulder. “Shhhh - yup. Feelin’ much better.”

“Good.” Tech’s voice is, of course, matter of fact, even while quiet. “We have brought food. There is a fair amount-”

“AlRIGHT.” Wrecker whispers in joy, jumps up out of bed, doubles back to pull the blankets over you and kiss you on the head, making you giggle, then heads to the table. “I’m STARVING!”

Hunter’s whisper is sharp. “You di’kut, put on some clothes before you eat.”

You slip off into sleep with a smile, listening to your boys doing what they do best, your heart full of gratitude for every single one.

Yours to care for, as long as you have them.

__________________________________________________________________________

Earlier - The Mess Hall

“So where’s your medic?”

The four batchers look to the end of their table - where two clones with freshly painted armor stand, sneering. 

Tech adjusts his goggles, looking them up and down. “Tending to one of our teammates. He was not feeling well this morning, potentially due to our inoculations yesterday.”

“Why does it matter?” Crosshair’s hiss is sharp, but not quite dangerous. Yet.

The two smirk at each other before looking back to them. 

“Does she happen to be doing that on her back?” asks the one on the left with a mean grin.

All of their heads whip around, Crosshair, Tech, and Hunter tensed. Hunter’s eyes flash in warning. “Care to say that again, trooper?”

The left chuckles. “I think you heard me.”

The right elbows the left, indicating the group with his head. “Probably is. Probably needs it, if she was sniffing around our boys yesterday.” He looks back to the seething squad. “What's the matter? Your squad can’t keep one woman satisfied?”

“That’s enough.”

Echo stands where he is, staring down the other two. In this moment, the others can see his power shine through - this man was an ARC trooper, decorated for his many exemplary missions, a survivor from behind enemy lines, and back out in the field for brothers and Republic. 

And he was irritated.

“I don’t know why you weren’t taught any manners back on Kamino. Maybe you were too distracted by your own insecurities that day.”

The two clones stiffen, slowly bristling- but Echo isn’t done.

“It doesn’t kriffing matter what she does in her private life,” he continues, eyes daring them to interrupt him. “What matters is she’s a trooper, like all of us. She puts her life on the line; fights the same battles we do, without enhanced abilities. She shows up, she works hard, and she cares for a bunch of clones like us, treats us like people,” He punches the table for emphasis, making the regs jump into a defensive stance, “so what else do you really need to know about her?”

The two regs stand, stunned, glancing at each other to think of a comeback- but there isn’t one.

“We all care about her as a member of our squad- so if you’re here to cause her trouble, then we have a problem. Now.” Echo leans forward, hand on the table, his voice getting very low.  “Is there something else you would like to say to us, vode?”

“Oh I think they’ve said enough.” Squad and regs turn to see Captain Case, helmet on, arms crossed. The two reg troopers jump to attention. 

“Mel. Felbourn. Not really showing our battalion in the best light, are ya? I think you owe their medic an apology.” His voice sounds dangerous through the vocoder. “After you finish scrubbing all the public freshers on the ship. Top. To. Bottom.”

“Sir yes sir!” The regs say in unison, stiff as boards.

“Dismissed,” the Captain waves, the two clones hurrying off and away with nary a mumble.

Hunter sits back at the table, turning to face Case. He looks over the Captain with a suspicious gratitude. “You didn’t need to do that.”

They can hear the Captain’s smirk. “I did, actually. They’re my men- and if no one has ‘taught them manners’, well, I’d better start now.”

He takes off his helmet and tucks it under his arm, shaking out his hair a little. “So, did I hear your medic isn’t feeling well?”

“No,” Tech corrects, of course. “Our demolition’s expert was not feeling well, so naturally our medic stayed behind to monitor any potential complications.”

Captain Case winces. “Ah, sorry to hear that. Though I’m not surprised, those inoculations are still new enough. Never know the side effects-”

“Why did you step in?” Crosshair interrupts, voice low and suspicious, glaring over at the reg Captain. “If you’re expecting to get to her through us, you’re wrong.”

Case blinks a few times, then chuckles. “Is that what you think that was?” He shakes his head, saying almost to himself. “You’ve all been hanging around the wrong vode.” 

He looks back up at them, meeting all of their eyes. “Rex and Cody speak highly of you boys, and they don’t do that lightly. Anyone who has earned their respect… well, is definitely worthy of mine.”

He turns to leave. “I’ll leave you to your breakfast. Just know…” he flashes a cheeky grin at them, making eye contact with Hunter. “A girl like that? Make sure to take good care of her.”

Hunter smirks. He supposes he likes this reg after all. 

“You can count on it.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

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[frvnkcastles]

Hello 🥰🥰 I know you are accepting requests and i love the way you write so can you do a Frank x reader where she has had a dog since she was a teenager and is very attached, (when they living together the dog went with them of course) one night they are sleeping and her dog starts crying and then they wake up and they realize something is wrong, she gets desperate and they run to the vet (Frank calming her down the whole time) when they get there he does surgery but unfortunately she doesn't survive and Frank Take her home and comfort her, she say things like "i don't wanna live without him"...

(sorry if its too specific, you don't have to write if you don't want to! ❤️)

be safe 🥰

THE SCARS FROM TOMORROW ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You, Frank and your dog have become a little family and things are perfect, until your dog falls ill.

Warnings: Loss of a pet, very brief suicide ideation, brief mention of animal abuse, hurt/comfort, feminine nicknames

Word count: 3.8k

Author’s note: Okay, this one is heavy!! Read with caution, don’t feel bad if you have to sit this one out. Writing this broke my own heart, I also have a dog and I am definitely not prepared for the day he’s no longer with me. I’m so sorry for your loss anon, I hope this brings at least some comfort for you <3

Your dog had been there for you through thick and thin for years, but more than that, he had been there for every milestone of your and Frank’s relationship. From the night you first met to the day Frank had suggested moving in together, your precious boy was an important part of every step, and just like he had charmed you all those years ago, he had charmed Frank — granted, he didn’t need much convincing with his undeniable soft spot for dogs.

The way you had literally bumped into one another that first night was one of Frank’s favorite stories to tell, even when Curtis and Lieberman had already heard it a million times, he always jumped at the opportunity to go through it again.

It was a cold winter night and you had been a little irritated that your dog had given you the look, the one that meant he needed to go outside badly, when it was getting so late. You were violently shivering from the chilly air nipping at your fingertips and sneaking in through the cracks of your coat while your dog pulled on the leash eagerly, and the sounds of the city were mellow background noise.

And then, your excited dog rushed over to you unprompted, his snowy paws meeting your thighs and making you grunt at the collision. Before you had time to react in any way, he circled you so the leash tightened around your ankles, and you hopelessly tried to untangle the mess you were bound to stumble on.

”Baby, stop it”, you scolded him, but instead of listening to you, he ran in the other direction next. His excitement turned out to be because of a stranger walking towards you, and instead of seeing him as danger, your dog jumped at the man, effectively yanking you off of your feet. With a sharp gasp, you fell forward and you landed against a firm chest with your hand desperately trying to hold onto the leash, and before you could apologize for fumbling, a gravelly voice spoke up from above.

”You okay there, ma’am?” he asked gruffly, his hot breath meeting your freezing nose. Growing nervous, you tried to push yourself off of the man before bringing your gaze up to him. The hood pulled over his head and the beanie beneath it didn't make it easy to figure out his face, but once you did, you gulped loudly — partly because he was certainly a handsome sight, but partly because there was barely any of skin visible from amidst the swollen bruises and stitched wounds. Some of them looked old, just faded memories by now, but you could have sworn he had just walked out of a fight. God, you hoped you weren't accidentally picking one with him yourself.

Only after you had stared for an unreasonable amount of time, you nodded, and looked down simply to find his large hands holding your arms to keep you steady, something he had instantly done to save you from a painful landing onto the slippery, snowy pavement.

”Yeah, I am, sorry. And thank you", you rambled, before stepping back as an attempt to end the humiliation, but you had completely forgotten about the leash around you, and ended up falling behind at that instant.

Luckily, the stranger was quick and stealthy despite his hard, large frame, and before you could stumble backwards, he had grabbed you once again with his eyes blown wide with surprise. Feeling your cheeks heat up, blending in with the blush that the freezing air had already caused, you pursed your lips together to hide the shame spreading out within you like a wildfire. Could you be any more embarrassing? Surely, it couldn't get worse than being pressed flush against a strange man's chest while your dog watched from aside with his literal puppy eyes, as if he hadn't done a damn thing.

"Sorry, it's— uh— the leash—", you stuttered, and immediately, you both looked down and barely avoided bumping heads when you spotted the wire wrapped even tighter around your ankles. In response, the man chuckled lowly, and nodded his head to confirm that it was true — you were still a prisoner of the dog, who was simply following the situation while wagging his tail happily.

"Yeah, how 'bout I hold him, and you solve that?" he offered, and before you could even say anything, he had moved with his plan and gently took your dog by his collar. Mumbling a quiet thank you, you crouched down enough to unhook the leash from the collar and then spin it around yourself until it was all in your hands instead of a mess around your shoes. You were just about to apologize for the inconvenience once again, but you had barely opened your mouth when you noticed the man grinning at your best friend, muttering a "Hi there", as the two of them stared at one another. Only when your hand reached back down to click the leash back on, causing your cold fingers to brush with his calloused ones, the man snapped out of it and looked up at you.

Standing up once again, you both stared at each other in silence, before you blurted out, "Are you okay?", confusing him to a point where the corners of his lips twitched just slightly, but once you had gestured to his beaten features, he swept his tongue over his bottom lip and nodded curtly.

"Yeah, nothin' you gotta worry about, ma'am", he replied simply, and just as he was about to step aside and continue walking with his hands pushed deep into his pockets, you had spoken up yet again, earning his attention when you did.

You introduced yourself, not quite sure why you would, but he turned over to you, dark eyes meeting yours for a moment that felt a lot longer than it was in reality.

"Frank."

You didn’t see each other again for a while after that, but a month later when the snow had begun to melt and the sun stuck around for a little longer, he walked past a flyer that immediately caught his eye. It was a picture of you hugging your dog, declaring that the dog had been lost and you would reward anyone who would help you find him. He tried to walk away, insisting it wasn’t his problem, but he couldn’t get you out of his head, certain that you were completely devastated.

Besides, he knew what kind of crooks lived in the city. He had saved enough animals to know they could fall into the wrong hands, and he didn’t want your dog to be one of them. So, for two days, he relentlessly sought after your baby, not stopping until he was finally on a trail that could lead to something.


With the flyer scrunched in his fist, his other one banged on the neatly painted front door of a house that looked less shitty than most he had seen, his hood pulled over his head to avoid being recognized, but at this point, he was willing to go to great lengths. Hell, he had even asked for Red's help.

When the door was finally opened, he came face to face with a sweet old lady, and he tried his best to make himself look smaller and less intimidating. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am. You haven't seen this dog, have ya?" his rough voice was quickly breaking the silence as he uncoiled the poster in his hand and showed it to the lady, who slowly put on her glasses and inspected the photo. Something in Frank cheered when her eyes lit up and she seemed to recognize the photo, and even more relief kicked in when she proceeded to nod her head.

"Oh, yes! I found him on the street a few nights ago, but I haven't had the time to find the owner yet. Do you know who he belongs to?" the old lady questioned curiously, and as if on cue, a familiar dog waddled from the house to the front door, and cracking a small smile in response, Frank nodded.

"A heartbroken woman, I'm sure. She'll be pretty damn grateful that you saved this guy, ma'am", he answered before kneeling down and lifting his large hands to scratch the dog behind his ears. "Hey there, boy. Been lookin' for ya. Wanna get back to your mom, huh?" he muttered quietly, the dog leaning into his gentle touch approvingly. He was incredibly glad that a sweet woman like this one had taken him in instead of some abusive criminal, and he knew you would be too.

"Well, tell your girlfriend she has a very sweet dog", the old lady fondly poked at the boy one last time, and stifling a smile, Frank nodded and looked down, almost shy.

"I'll, uh, I'll make sure to pass the message", he gave one last look of gratitude to the woman as he backed away from her porch, and after exchanging nods, the lady returned indoors and Frank walked to his truck with the dog in tow. "Let's get you home, huh? Whaddya say?"

In all honesty, you were beginning to lose the last shreds of hope, but the sound of a firm knock on your door snapped you out of your haze. Gulping, you made your way to the front door and cracked it open, and as soon as you saw what was awaiting in the hallway, you let out a trembling breath and broke into tears of joy, your heart filling with love and relief when your dog jumped into your arms from the strong pair that had been steadily carrying him.

"Oh, you're home!" you cried out while holding onto the dog, who licked at your face and whined desperately for more scratches and cuddles and affection. And you were more than happy to give that to him, just over the moon — your dog was alive and well, and there were no words to describe how good it felt to see and hold him again.

Only after you had finally set the squirming dog down so he could go get some water — of course, you had been filling his bowl even if he wasn't there to drink it — you looked up at the doorway to meet the gaze of your savior, and at the realization that none other than Frank had found and returned your missing dog, your heart melted. Or maybe it was the genuine, fond smile that he couldn't wipe from his face as he followed the reunion between you and your baby boy.

"You found him", you breathed out, an overjoyed laugh breaking through your tears as you covered your mouth with your palm and shook your head in disbelief and utter, incredible gratitude. Frank was parting his lips to say something, but he couldn't let out a single word when you had already stumbled forward and wrapped your arms around his muscular body, feeling his rough jacket against your skin as you forced a warm, tight hug onto him. He was caught by surprise, and while it wasn't the first time a relieved damsel in distress had insisted on giving a hug as a thank you, this time, he didn't want to weasel out of it. Instead, he awkwardly lifted his own arms and wrapped them around your shorter body, his heart thudding heavily in his chest as he held onto you for what was only a couple of seconds, but felt like forever.

By clearing his throat eventually, Frank broke the moment and you understood to step back whilst wiping your eyes. "Yeah, well, he don't deserve to get locked up by those assholes that abuse dogs. None of them do. And uh, you don't deserve to go through that, either, so yeah. Tracked the boy down for ya", he gestured towards the dog, who was already rushing back to the two humans at the door, clearly taken a liking to Frank as well — and you agreed, especially when he lifted his heavy boot enough to block the doorway to avoid another run-off.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I don't know what I would've done without him, really. This means so much to me", you sighed deeply, nothing but the truth in your words. Before an awkward silence could land between you, you continued with, "I know my apartment is kind of a mess right now, but would you like to come in for some coffee?”

Frank stared at you for a couple of seconds, silent and careful. At first, he was amused that you thought a little mess would drive him away, but when he let the suggestion sink in, he felt his mouth run dry while his hands did the opposite and proceeded to collect sweat on them. What the hell had gotten into him? And yet, even if he knew he should have said no for the sake of your safety, for the sake of not dragging you down with him and avoiding attachment from the both of you, he ended up smiling.

"Fuck, why not."

You grew closer and closer ever since then, and though it took him a while to get the courage to officially ask you out, your relationship soon evolved. The nervousness of a crush developed into something more serious and before you knew it, you had had your first kiss and your first night together, he introduced you to his best friends and finally, you moved in together. Your dog quickly adjusted to the new normal, incredibly affectionate towards Frank, and vice versa. When he had first met you, he had never thought he’d regain that domestic bliss of a girlfriend and a family pet that he had lost, but he was so happy to have it back.

And for a while, things were perfect.

Your blissful life took a turn one night — you were sound asleep in Frank’s arms, his protective hold of you always easing you into sweet dreams, but you were startled awake when your dog cried out in pain. He wouldn’t stop whining, and you sat up on the bed to find him crying on the floor, clearly hurt somehow. Anxiety rushed into your heart and you shook Frank awake, not sure what else to do.

”Frankie. Frank, something’s wrong”, you whispered, and jolting up in that usual fighting reflex of his, he looked around the room until his stare landed on your worried features. He ran his hand across his face and tried to shake off the restless sleep he had been stuck in, eventually processing your panicked state and the dog’s cries.

He climbed out of bed and went over to the dog to assess, his eyes darting all over his body to make sure there was no external injury. He couldn’t see anything wrong with him, but that only deepened his frown, unsure what could be causing it. For a while, he was crouched down, observing the boy, and you sat on the bed impatiently, but finally, Frank stood up and gave you a serious look.

”Get dressed, sweetheart. We gotta take him to the vet”, he announced, and nodding hastily, you followed him out of the bed and found some clothes. You were terrified and you appreciated that Frank was a man of action, whereas you were fighting the urge to freeze completely.

He took charge, carrying the wincing dog into the truck and buckling you in. Nervous tears streamed down your face, and you feared the worst — your dog was no young boy anymore, and you knew that meant a bigger risk to his well-being. Frank could tell you were falling apart, and he tried his best to calm you down, his hand gripping yours while the other one gripped the wheel.

”It’s gonna be alright, darlin’. The vet will know what to do, yeah? Just breathe. Maybe it’s nothin’, right?” he reassured you, and although you nodded, you found his words difficult to believe. You loved him for his attempts to soothe you, but there was no denying that you were freaking out entirely, the panic only growing worse with the dog howling in your arms.

”I can’t lose him”, you sniffled, and swallowing hard at the thought of the worst case scenario, Frank squeezed your hand.

”I know, sweetheart. I know.” He didn’t try to tell you that you wouldn’t lose him, not wanting to give you false hope in case things would go south, but he was dedicated to being there for you no matter what.

You arrived at the emergency vet and Frank took the dog from your arms to carry him inside. It was like an out-of-body experience, you lost track of time and space and you couldn’t stop crying, even when Frank wiped your tears away from your eyes. The vet took the dog from Frank and took him away for an examination, leaving you in the waiting room with your boyfriend’s hand in your tight grasp.

”I’m so scared”, you admitted shakily, the lump in your throat only worsening, but it was nothing compared to the weight on your chest. You felt like throwing up or fainting, and you knew for a fact that without Frank by your side, you would have already done both.

”Hey, look at me”, Frank requested softly, and with tear-filled eyes, you met his gaze. ”I ain’t leavin’ your side, got that? I’m here, no matter what happens”, he swore, attaching his lips to your forehead in a lingering kiss.

The vet came out soon to inform you that your dog needed surgery, and it immediately made you anxious. Still, you had no choice but to agree, but before the vet took your baby in for the operation, he let you see him for some peace of mind.

Frank stood back, because as much as he had come to love him, he was still your dog and he knew that moment was for you and you alone. He had already been sedated, meaning he was no longer whining in pain, and that brought you a little comfort. Crying quietly, you petted him, scared but still smiling because he was there and he was your everything. Regardless of how the surgery was going to go, you would always have this moment, not to mention all the years you had shared together.

Things happened quickly after that. You and Frank had to retreat into the waiting room, and as 4 AM lurked around the corner, you wept in your boyfriend’s arms. He had you in his tight embrace, not sure what he could possibly say to make you feel better, but determined to at least hold you through it. The surgery lasted a while, but even though you were so, so tired, the anxiety inside your gut wouldn’t let you fall asleep. You sat there, a ball of nerves, and Frank shushed you softly as you cried out of pure fear.

Then, the vet walked into the waiting room and you could tell something was wrong right away. As soon as he opened his mouth and condolences came out, your heart shattered in your chest and you burst into heavy sobs. You couldn’t hold yourself together, couldn’t breathe properly, the heartbreak too overwhelming to endure. Frank let you cry into his chest, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back and his own eyes filling with tears. He felt sucker-punched, too, but for your sake, he tried to be strong and brave.

The vet tried to tell you what had happened and ask you if you wanted to bury him or have him cremated, but you couldn’t process anything he was saying. Frank listened carefully, just so that he’d be able to explain it all to you later, but his priority was holding you through the violent sobs breaking out of you.

”We need a moment outside, that okay?” Frank asked the vet with a heavy heart, and he assured it was alright to take your time. Frank lifted you out of the chair and walked you out for some fresh air, the cool wind whipping against your wet cheeks. You couldn’t stop shaking and it didn’t seem like the pain was going to let go of you anytime soon, but Frank was in no rush — he was going to hold you through it, no matter how long it would take.

”I gotchu, sweetheart, I gotchu. I know it hurts. Let it out, it’s okay”, he spoke gently, trying his very best to give you some kind of hope, even if he knew things seemed bleak right now.

”I can’t do this, Frank. It’s too much. I don’t want to live without him”, you cried, unsure how you would possibly get through this. But Frank wasn’t going to let you sink into that kind of thinking.

”Oh, baby. We’ll get through this together, yeah? It’s gon’ take some time but I’m not lettin’ you deal with this alone, you hear me?” he promised you, cradling your head as he supported your weak body with his strong arms. ”This is fuckin’ heartbreaking. But you’re gon’ make it to the other side of this, I know you will. I’mma hold your hand the whole way”, he went on, unwilling to let you give up. He knew this was going to be hard to get over, but he had endless patience and understanding and he’d do anything to help you carry the weight.

”You’ll stick with me?” you asked through the cries, and nodding vehemently, Frank kissed your temple.

”Course, I will. I ain’t goin’ nowhere, sweetheart. I love you, yeah? More than you know. I promise it’s gon’ hurt a lil less with time. You trust me?” he asked with sincerity, and you gave him a fragile nod.

”I trust you”, you confirmed, and he flashed a faint smile in return.

”That’s my girl. You’re so strong”, he praised you, his gruff voice full of love for you. He had so much faith in you, and even if you didn’t see it yourself yet, he knew you would be able to pull through this loss.

And you knew that without Frank, it would have been much, much worse. Your best friend was gone, but you still had the man of your dreams, and that was going to keep you going.

He was right. It took months, but day by day, the pain inside you grew duller and weaker. It still hurt, but it turned into a longing ache instead of a stabbing agony. Your home still had reminders of your dog, and Frank loved to talk about him with you, meaning that even when he was gone, he really wasn’t.

[girlinlotsoffandoms]

day eight - presumed dead

notes: welcome to day eight of febwhump. This one’s gonna hurt guys, sorry

TW for plane crash

part two will be posted tomorrow!

read on AO3 or below

“Text me your flight information. Maybe we’ll swing by, pick you up in 81,”

Kelly laughed sarcastically. “Oh, the O’Hare arrivals area is going to love that.”

“Fineeee,” Stella drawled, playfully. “Guess you’ll have to Uber like a normal person.”

“The horror.” Kelly’s laugh was genuine this time. “Just sent my flight info. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

… … …

It had been a quiet day for 51, and Stella hoped it stayed that way. A quiet shift meant she’d get off on time and would get to go home to her husband all the sooner.

Kelly had texted her when he made it through security and he texted her a few hours later that they’d be boarding soon. She’d texted back a “see you soon♥" with a smile on her face. Stella couldn’t wait for her husband to get home. It had been a long two weeks and, while it was significantly better than Kelly’s time in Alabama, it was two weeks too long for Stella. Even with constant texts and daily phone calls, she missed her husband something fierce. 

Violet had caught her smirk. “That Severide? He on his way home?”

“Yeah! ATF caught the guy and Kelly was able to wrap up his part of the case. His flight’s boarding in a few and in…” Stella checked the time on her phone. “Four-ish hours he’ll be back in Chicago.”

That had been two hours and a few calls ago and now they were all in the common room relaxing until dinner was ready. The TV had been playing in the background all day, providing a little ambiance and background noise for the room, but no one was really paying attention to whatever was on the screen. 

At least that was until Gibson looked up from the grill and caught sight of the breaking news story scrolling across the screen. “Whoa Mouch, turn up the volume.”

Mouch grabbed the remote and turned up the volume, seeing the BREAKING NEWS banner flash across the screen. The newscaster's voice filled the room.

“If you’re just tuning in, breaking news out of Kansas after an American Airlines flight crash landed into a field just a few miles west of the Eisenhower National Airport where it was attempting to make an emergency landing. American Airlines flight 3804 was traveling to Chicago from Tucson, Arizona and was halfway through the 4 hour flight when the pilots reported a mechanical engine failure. Emergency services are on the scene but there’s no word on the status of the 240 passengers and 8 crew members who were on board. We will continue to update as more information becomes available.”

The rest of the broadcast faded away as the crew of 51 stared at the TV in shock. 

“Tuscon to Chicago?” Ritter asked quietly. “Is that…?”

Stella scrambled to grab her phone and pull up her text conversation with Kelly. She found the flight information he sent her, then double and triple checked the message as if she hadn’t committed it to memory. Stella swallowed hard and her hands began to shake. “That’s Kelly’s flight.”

  … … …

The next hour seemed impossibly long. As soon as the news broke Boden called Headquarters and stood 51 down. Until they knew more information, none of his firefighters were going to be able to focus on the job.

Stella, Cruz, and a few other members of 51 tried calling Kelly, desperately hoping he’d answer their call. At first, Kelly’s phone would ring but it didn’t take long before his phone started going straight to voicemail.

That was the first time Stella cried.

Another news report had come across the TV. The FAA and NTSB had started their investigations into the crash and emergency crews were still searching for survivors though sadly, none had been found yet.

Pictures and footage from the crash site had made their way onto social media and the images were devastating. Surviving a crash like that would’ve taken a miracle.

And oh how the members of Firehouse 51 were desperately hoping for one.

… … …

It was only half an hour later when they realized their miracle wasn’t coming.

Stella’s phone rang, an unknown number from Texas, and she hesitated for just a moment before she answered. On the other end of the line was a frazzled yet sorrowful American Airlines agent who confirmed everyone’s greatest fear—Kelly’s name was on the flight manifest and his boarding pass had been scanned.

A guttural sob bubbled out of Stella and her phone clattered to the floor below. Brett and Violet immediately wrapped her in a hug.

No one needed her to repeat what the caller had said; Stella’s reaction told them all they needed to know.

Kelly Severide was dead.  

There wasn’t a dry eye in the firehouse. Stella was inconsolable and others weren’t that far behind. None of them could believe what had happened; none of them could believe their friend and teammate, their leader, was dead. 

How were they supposed to get through this? How were they supposed to help Stella through this unimaginable loss? Would they get through it?

No one had any answers.

… … …

It took a while, but Stella’s sobs eventually stopped, her sadness and grief gave way to shock. She sat numbly at the table, surrounded by her team, a steady stream of tears rolling down her cheeks.

Brett had offered her a sedative, something light so she could get some rest, but Stella refused. She didn’t need to sleep—she wouldn’t be able to even if she needed to. She had to stay awake and stay by her phone, just in case.

There was still part of her hoping for that miracle.

There was still part of her that didn’t believe Kelly was dead.

She’d know if he was, she’d feel it.

And she was right.

Her phone rang from it’s spot on the table, another unknown number flashing across her screen. She answered on speakerphone, too emotionally spent to pick up the phone. “Hello?”

A familiar voice flitted through the speaker, instantly energizing everyone in the room. “Stella.”

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 12/04/2024

Plasmaseeker

Season 8 No Album Release (Read More)

Ripped by eg_9371

The Season 8 train keeps chugging!! Its honestly been a lot of fun keeping up with the channel in real-time and jotting down rips that I think would be fun to talk about on here. There was Shiny Smily TALE of course, with its connections to a rip made nearly four years prior, and there was Luna, mi Amor, which sold itself as worthy of discussing immediately and only became more interesting the further I dug into it - tons of Season 8's features on here have had some truly fascinating backgrounds to them. But as soon as I heard Plasmaseeker, I didn't need to know anything else - it was LOCKED in. eg_9371 has hit me with yet another terminal banger.

I say another, of course, because eg_9371 has introduced me to a lot of cool music through his absolute truckload of contributions to the channel. kris gaming comes to mind as the main example, but it was also through Jesus of the Underground that I first learned about Jesus of Suburbia to begin with! The guy has his fingers in a lot of pies, and it's as if no matter what part of his circle of interests that he chooses to arrange music from, the result will be a guaranteed banger. I was, of course, mainly drawn to Plasmaseeker for the track it's using, Colress' battle theme from Pokémon Black & White 2. An incredible piece of music, in a game already defined by its crisp and distinct soundscape, heard in rips like Four Ardain ~Roaming the Route~ and Battle! The Trainer Inside Your Head!: in other words, get the reference or not, its hard for me NOT to love Gen 5 Pokémon melodyswaps. Plasmaseeker indeed uses a song I've never heard before in Aegleseeker, originating from the mobile rhythm game Arcaea - but I didn't need to go stumbling down the wiki trenches to realize just how hard the rip, and song, both bang.

What surprised me about listening to the original Aegleseeker for this post, though, was how starkly different it sounds from Colress' battle theme and by extension Plasmaseeker itself. Colress' theme is electronic yet not noisy, sounding like a perfectly-wound machine, a system working without flaw yet electronic in its very nature - by contrast, Aegleseeker's brand of electronic music sounds as if its racing toward the sun, as if its a cluster of information traveling at indescribably speeds through an online web breaking apart at the seams. An intense BPM, fervent percussion, heavy guitars and distorted vocal samples, all paired up with a lead instrument that sounds like a light breaking through the dark, desperate to not fade. The two songs share a thematic baseline yet veer in such harsh opposite directions, that I'm amazed eg_9371 made it work so effectively in the rip itself. It cleans up some of Aegleseeker's noise to have things still sound as if they're feasibly part of a Nintendo DS game, the BPM is obviously sped up from the original battle theme yet still sound just slightly behind in tempo from Aegleseeker, and the elegant synths from Colress' synths punctuate the rip at all of the perfect moments. I can't put my finger on if Battle! (Colress)'s vocal samples slowly counting down from four to zero replace any particular part of Aegleseeker's sound, but they really do help round the piece out, perhaps as a way to echo Aegleseeker's distorted vocal samples.

I could sit here and listen back and fourth and back and fourth to the two, but I think the important part has been conveyed well enough. Season 8 has only just begun, yet has brought me surprises at every turn, be it an entire day dedicated to Justin Bieber with BELIEBERDANSEN or the ongoing frequency with which Stuck Inside rips like Willievan Afton Polkka are still impressing me. But amidst all of those larger-scale hits, one mustn't forget the smaller things. Plasmaseeker may just be one rip, and the combination of Aegleseeker's (relative) obscurity and sheer intensity likely means it won't be showing up much again on the channel going forward - and despite that, eg_9371 gave the song his absolute all and made an absolutely unforgettable rip in the process.