#limping has become my second nature

[dailytelegraphtoheaven]

After 2 weeks of pinky toe injury, I've forgotten how to walk properly. so now I'm practicing to walk like a normal human being.

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Guard dog (modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

synopsis: What is supposed to be a fun night at a concert devolves into an even more fun night.

warnings: smut, (public) sex, dry humping, Aemond coming in his pants, bathroom sex, p in v, afab reader

word count: 2.4k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1 @legitalicat

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by me

“Give that here, let me do it.” You take the eyeliner from Aemond´s hand and swing a leg over his lap to straddle him. Deafeningly loud metal sounds through the apartment, forcing your heart to beat along with it. You straddle his lap without a second thought, turning his head until he is almost smothered between your breasts. Not that the implications are any less lost on you, but after years close touch had also become quite normal for. Never was it this bad though.

“I could have done that myself, you know?” Aemond claims. Of course he does.

“I know. It's just prettier that way.” You release your lower lip while teasing, not even realizing you had bitten it in concentration.

“Prettier? Is that so?” He asks with a wide smile spreading his rosy lips.

“It is.” You shrug lightly, but right when you shift to stand back up, Aemond grabs you by the hips. Promptly you get pulled back into his lap and while you try to get some breath back into your lungs, he already begins to drive his fingers into your sides until you are toppled over in his lap. There is less air traveling back into your lungs than there is coming out, taking away all of the strength you need to pull away from him.

“No… stop… please Aemond…” The words are pressed painfully forward from your throat.

“I’ll never stop.” Aemond only warns you.

Of course he doesn't let up. If growing up with Aegon and Daeron taught him anything is not to give up easily. He tickles you no matter how often you weakly push at his arms and try to get away. No matter how often you say you can't breathe. That is until your body grows so limp, that you are everywhere. Your body loosely wraps around Aemond and fills his nostrils with a scent that has him intoxicated immediately.

Suddenly Aemond stops what he is doing entirely. Awkwardly he lets go of you and helps you stand back up. There is a beat of silence between the two of you, before things return back to the way they were, letting the two of you get ready

“So? What do you think?” You exclaim once you are done.

Putting on your boots, you even give Aemond a small twirl to present your entire outfit, making the jewellery jingle and you giggle with it. The answer you get is Aemond laying a finger to his chin in thought as he looks you up and down. Silently he prays to the seven that you don't notice the flush spreading on his pale cheeks.

“Are you sure about that skirt?” He inquires then. “It's kinda short.”

“Yes, I am. I didn't buy it to be ignored after all.” You smooth the admittedly very short leather skirt over. He was right, your outfit left very little to imagination, but fuck what people are going to say.

“Just saying. If there will be guys ogling you I won't be a happy camper.” He defensively raises his hands.

“When are you ever a happy camper?” The question is as light-hearted as can be, but it is met with a serious look.

“I mean it. If someone so much as whistles at you, there will be problems.”

“Awww my own guard dog.” You go to playfully pinch his perfect cheeks only to get your hand swatted away by his own. “I´ll be careful… mom.”

Aemond clicks his tongue, but nevertheless the two of you leave for the concert that has your stomach flutter with butterflies at the thought of how long you had waited for it. All the way until you stand in your place.

As if by second nature, you lean your back against his chest and lean your head back to give him a small, happy smile. Aemond’s thumbs rub gentle circles into your hips and as a sign of thanks, you run your nails over his arms just barely enough to send a tingle over the skin. Everywhere around you people are wrapped up in their own little conversations, giving you a moment that feels private. Despite the mass of humans squeezed into the venue.

The supporting act is nice, but not even it can move you from Aemond's arms. You only get disturbed when his chest rumbles against your back in the small break before the band comes on.

“What are you growling at?” You inquire softly, looking at the stage, while trying to calm Aemond by once more running your nails over his body.

"Nobody." He murmurs, sighing and calming instantly at the affection. If only you knew the effect you had on him. “Are you trying to give me chills?”

“Is it working?” You smirk up at him.

Aemond doesn't need to answer verbally for you to know that something is working. The blood in his body rushes south and presses against your lower back. At the same time his hands on your waist tighten noticeably before flexing and then returning to their relaxed state.

“So, what did you actually growl at?” The way you turn your body around, however, rubs your back perfectly against Aemond's front.

“Just some guy looking at you weird.” Aemond swallows hard around the sentence in concentration.

“See, you are like my guard dog. I knew it.” You clap and laugh up at him.

This time as you lean up to playfully pat Aemond’s cheek, he lets you. He has no choice but to as the touch of your palm to his face makes your bodies rub together in just the right way.

“Don't say things like that.” He bows his head, but the breathy voice gives away how he feels about your words.

“It makes me very happy to have such a good boy though…” The way his excitement grows even harder and twitches against your back makes you bite your lip.

His pupil looks darker than usual and unfocused. “Please don´t tease like this.”

“Is my good boy gonna come in his pants if I don´t?” It´s a rhetorical question.

By now Aemond´s hips had set into a steady rhythm, snapping against your back for every bit of friction he could get.

“Gods… don´t say things like that. I´m serious, don´t you dare…”

“Why I'd never joke about something so… incredibly hot.” The fake pout and cute eyelash flutter is met by a bitten lip, tightly knitted together eyebrows and a glowy forehead.

“You´re not… You´re just saying that to get me flustered.” The breathless accusation is met with a light-hearted shrug and the band beginning to play. Even though the music is background noise in your own little bubble.

“If you keep this up… something’s going to happen.”

“Good.” You slowly trail a finger up his chest until it rests under his chin.

His eye flutters close in response. “You gotta stop. I mean it.”

“It's so much fun though.” Your thumb pulls Aemond’s lower lip from between his teeth and runs over it.

It's a simple action, yet one that has his mind reeling with the thought of how your hand would feel around other parts of his body.

“If you keep touching me like this… If you do…” Aemond stutters and lays his forehead on your shoulder as strength starts to leave him.

“Come for me then. Be my good boy and come in your pants for me.” It is a soft command whispered hotly against his ear.

“It's too public.”

“No one is looking at us.” With the way Aemond rested against you, your teeth graze the shell of his ear as you whisper into it.

It doesn't take much longer for Aemond to come undone. Leaning more against your shoulder and biting into your neck ever so slightly. The sharp teeth against the skin are almost enough to get you lost in him and miss the strange sensation of his cum staining his pants against your back.

“I can't believe you did that.” Aemond looks at you with an incredulous gaze that quickly changes to one of mischief. “I might have to get revenge now.”

Before you can read the plan from his eye though, Aemond pushes through the crowd. Once you reach the amps, your back hits the wall. That alone though isn´t enough to shut you up.

“Yeah, you might want to.” You show him a confident wink, but with Aemond´s own confidence rising so does the fluttering anticipation between your leg.

Aemond can tell you are trying to get a rise out of him with the playfulness and it´s working all too well. He is already rock hard again.

“I'd planned to have you on your bed the first time, but that’s too far away. I want you. Hands braced against the wall and open your legs.”

You do as he commands, glad for the privacy given by the amps.

“I want you too. Need to feel you.” You grunt as Aemond pulls your head back by the hair.

The other hand sneaks below the short skirt to teasingly wander along the already wet slit or rather the damp fabric covering it once.

“Fuck…” You can't hold back the swear as your knees buckle under his touch.

“You want to feel me there?” He breathes against your ear.

“Yeah.” You nod eagerly.

Aemond leads you away from your hiding spot and into the bathroom. The second the sound of the lock sounds through the room, you are able to breathe a little better from the stuffy atmosphere. In the same second you are also caged in between the arms of Aemond Targaryen and a cold, metal door. The air that just entered your lungs, leaves just as fast from the force of it. Aemond's hands trail his fingers over the tears in your tights, teasing the hem of your skirt multiple times, before finally pulling it up. Your own hands come down to his belt loops to pull him closer to your body. You lean up on your tiptoes to steal a kiss, however Aemond leans away for a moment first. Revelling in your sweet, confused whine at his actions with a smirk. Only when he has savoured it enough, Aemond leans down to seal your soft lips with his own. The way in which your bodies move against each other is purely animalistic to the point the air is so thick with your ravenous hunger, that you are sure it would be easier to breathe in the main concert hall.

Growing more heated by the second, your hands wander so desperately over each other's bodies to commit every bit to mind. After a while one of Aemond's hands pushes you back against the door by the neck. Your fast breath intermingles and as your eyes flutter open, they almost roll back at the way his kiss swollen lips shimmer in the flickering light.

Hastily your hands fly up to open the zipper on your leather vest at the same time as Aemond pushes down his pants and boxers just enough to free his cock. While you are still stunned by the sight of his excitement, his hands land on your hips again, ripping your tights at the apex of your thighs. Then he lifts you off the ground and pushes you back holding you up with one hand at the thigh.

Your legs wrap around his middle tightly, letting your head fall back when he pushes your bra out of the way to toy with one of your breasts, pulling and pinching the sensitive peaks between nimble fingers. Through the pleasure you barely feel him align himself with your wet entrance. And just as Aemond buries his hard length inside of you fully, his lips wrap around your other breast to suck at the sensitive bud. Pulling strangled moans from both of your lungs in the process.

“Oh gods… Fuck, you´re tight.” He sucks in a sharp breath as the words fall out.

At his words and sudden entry, your inner walls flutter around his length even further. Having a hard time adjusting to his deep strokes when he starts to thrust into you. The movement of your meeting hips is nothing short of bold, frenzied, determined to bring the other to climax as soon and if given the chance, as often as possible. “Your touch feels heavenly.” You praise the warm hands holding up and caressing your body.

“You have no idea what you do to me by just clinging to me like this.” Aemond praises you right back. Shivers running down your spine from it. The onslaught of kisses and nibbles to your neck that follows as he keeps driving his cock into you. The rising body heat and heavy breathing fogging up the mirror on the wall. On one of the strokes however, your bodies seem to shift ever so slightly, giving Aemond a new angle inside of your dripping walls, black dots beginning to dance in your vision as your nails dig into Aemond's shoulders.

“Do that again-” You gasp. “Shit, just like that, right there.”

“Fuck I love how reactive you are, princess.” His carnal voice pierces through the cotton that filled your brain in the pleasure addled state from his relentless pounding.

Your stomach tightens along with your walls around him, the knot inside it almost reaching its breaking point when Aemond carries you over to the sink, placing you just on its edge to more comfortably reach for your clit. Rubbing tight winded circles with dexterous movements.

“I'm so close… Wanna come with you, please” You huff in-between moans and cries of pleasure.

“I´m right behind you, just hold on a bit longer.” He swallows around the words, as overtaken by the incursion as you are.

You nod eagerly and try to take a deep, trembling breath to hopefully hold off your climax just a bit longer, a low hum escaping your throat as you let it out.

But in the end, there is nothing to be helped. You reach the height of pleasure and as the knot in your stomach snaps so does the climax wash over you. One last whine escapes your lips that easily could have been mistaken for a sob and as your shaking body calms and your eyes relax from rolling into the back of your head, Aemond follows you over the edge, groaning huskily from deep down in his chest. The smooth skin transports the rumble perfectly to the pads of your fingertips. His hand remains on your lower back to stabilize while the two of you recover, yet still your body sways back and forth ever so slightly. By the time you leave the bathroom, a queue had formed in front of it, but the dirty looks are easy to ignore when both of you have only one thing in mind. To get home as fast as possible.

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 6: Silver linings

genre: FINALLY JUST SOME PURE COMFORT FLUFFFFF

word count: 6151

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: weeks pass you by without much happening and you need to remind yourself: you believe in silver linings.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

author's note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEE! It took me so long to feel like they were ready for this but oh my god, the wait was so worth itttttt! what are you excited about with this chapter? Let me know in the comments! <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments! also, I would love to dedicate this chapter to the lovely @donttrustlove who reads and comments on every chapter I post <3

“We have a few emails coming in for the manager position, do you want to check them out?”

You two are sitting on his kitchen counter like this is the most natural thing to do at two in the morning. Spencer has work the next morning but still insists that it’s fine and that he wants to keep you company. You think he still feels guilty about the fact that, if not for him and his weird connection to Cat, you would have never been put into this tricky of a position. So he makes up for it where he can– he brings dinner whenever he knows he’ll be home late because he knows you’ll be waiting for him to eat; he makes a mean cereal bowl in the morning whenever he has time; he leaves books he knows you are yet to read by the small table next to your armchair because that is now your armchair and he would never steal that away from you. 

In your own efforts, you also try to make him feel a bit more comfortable with the reality of everything, and you don’t bug him much to go outside, anymore. You don’t call him all panicked and gasping for air whenever he goes on work trips either, instead choosing to spend those lonely days in the endless company of Penelope. Officer Kaper has gotten better and been cleared to work again, and having him with you whenever Spencer isn’t brings you some sort of comfort and guilt. This man had become a target thanks to you and suddenly, you don’t quite read the fantastical stories of princesses and their faithful knights. The way your stomach weights down whenever they eventually get hurt to protect the fairest lady of the land does not sit right with you anymore– you refuse to believe that romance is hurt and pain for one and comfort and safety for the other. 

At this point two weeks had gone by without you even noticing. Suddenly, you jumped from day 9 to day 23 and with the month mark approaching, so is your need for answers. Cat has been silent ever since the attack on Officer Kaper’s house, and so is her partner. For a second, it’s almost like she’s teasing you, like she’s throwing a taste of freedom in your face only to later pull the carpet from right under your feet. Spencer must feel like this too, considering how jittery he has been lately. At this point, you know how to recognise the different gestures of those pretty hands, and the way he fidgets with his fingers while reading War and Peace yet again tells you that he is not, in fact, reading the book, but trying to read himself. You don’t quite understand him fully yet, and that is okay; Spencer has shown you that even if it takes time, he is worth waiting for. 

You still don’t know what happened to him, weeks ago, when you two were discussing Josh. You still don’t know what made him choke on his own words or what had his body limp and stripped of energy in your arms, but the truth is that you don’t really care what it was. Not yet. For now, you are just happy that Spencer showed you a side of himself that you had never seen before, and that he has been less… overbearing about your job. Actually, he had been the one that told you to check your emails for applications, suggesting stating the interview process so that you can make a schedule to possibly go back to the store. “Are you serious?” You whispered to him, eyes wide and waiting for Derek to pop out from the kitchen shouting ha! Gotcha! 

“Of course,” He smiled and nodded and the rest is history. 

The chairs are so close together that your legs brushes against his every time you lean forward to squint at the computer, but at this point, you two don’t even notice it. Cuddling on the couch after a mentally taxing conversation had unlocked new heights for you two, and though he does miss the way your cheeks flushed red whenever your fingers brushed, he prefers how now you just smile, honest and bright, whenever he’s closer than he should be. You don’t know that, but Spencer thinks your spoiling him rotten with these smiles. In your defence, however, smiling at him is just the easiest thing in the world. “Okay, what do we think of this one? His name is–“

“No.” 

Your head whips to look at him, eyes wide behind your glasses. “But I didn’t even finish my sentence!”

“There is a weird gap in his resume,” Spence points out with a smug smile. He likes showing off to you, you’ve noticed. 

“I can ask him about it during the interview process! Spence, he used to work at–“

“Next.” 

You know he won’t budge when he gives you that tight-lipped, dimples-showing smile of his. “My god, you are hard to please,” You grumble and poke him in the stomach with your elbow, already scrolling to the next email. 

When you feel his arm falling onto the back of your chair, you lean back a little into his touch, humming to keep yourself awake. “I am not hard to please,” He says easily. “I just won’t accept you hiring mediocre men to do the job you’ve been doing flawlessly.” 

The way he emphasises men makes you chuckle. “But a mediocre woman is okay?”

“A bit better,” He admits gruffly, and you laugh. “This one seems promising!”

“Give me time to read, Spencer!” You groan, leaning forward again and nodding while your eyes scan through each line. “Okay, she seems good, Mr. Picky. Studied English Literature, so she’ll obviously have some literary background, has previous experience managing bookshops and cafes, has dealt with stock and suppliers before…” The list goes on and on, and you write her name down on the notebook to your right. That’s where the names Penelope will be running a background check on go, per Spencer’s insistence. 

“Wait a second,” Something about the name, so visual and palpable in your little notebook previously filled with facts and memories of Spencer, makes you frown. Why does it sound so familiar? 

Abigail Harrison. 

“What is it?” He hums, chin once again finding perch on your shoulder. Little by little, you start to think that that is where he belongs, leaning on you, relying on you. “Who is Abigail Harrison?” 

“I don’t–“ But then you see it, the address on top of the resume and you hold your breath. “Abigail.” 

“Abi– Wait, the new neighbour? That Abigail?” His arms go around you, and now you’re in an awkward angle, half falling off the chair, half leaning on him, but you don’t mind. What you do mind is the uncomfortable, suspicious feeling in your gut. “Oh. That’s fine.” 

“You don’t think it’s a weird coincidence?” Turning to look at him, you bit your lip in unsureness. 

“Not really– if anything, I think it’s a very logical series of events,” He shrugs and you feel it in your own body. “She clearly has the experience and is obviously looking for a job, so why not one that fits her as an employee and is just a five minute walk across the street?” 

As if sensing your worries, Spencer moves, yet again doing the unpredictable and dropping a gentle kiss on your shoulder. Having one thing to worry about it not enough, apparently, so he gives you another one, and now you know for a fact you won’t be able to sleep any time soon. He’s been doing things like this lately, and you think it’s because he’s finally getting used to your presence next to him at almost all hours of the day. His phobia of germs seems to be pushed aside when it comes to your skin, and if he washes his hand right after letting you go, you don’t take it to heart; it’s just who he is. But with cheek kisses and forehead kisses starting a list, this is yet another one for you to tally up– shoulder kisses. All five stars, ten-out-of-ten-would-do-it-again, though you don’t really ask him for them. You just wait. Living with Spencer has taught you patience, amongst many other things, and for him you don’t mind exercising it to its fullest, excited for your list to grow even longer. 

“Garcia already ran her name through the database,” He whispers in your ear, hands going up and down your arms in a gesture that tells you he knows you’re nervous. “She’s clean, sweetheart.” 

This is new too. 

Letting out a strangled noise at the changes that kept on coming, you nod, mind completely shifting focus. “Yeah, okay,” You breathe out, eyes slowly fighting to stay open and not because of the time. “I uh, I’ll reply to her and ask her to come in to the shop for an interview…”

“That sounds great, but it also sounds like it can be done tomorrow when you’re not almost falling asleep,” Oh, sweet, innocent Spencer. Before you can even protest, he shakes his head, smiling like he’s trying to hold it back. “We’re going to bed, Y/N. I have work tomorrow and now, so do you.” 

Any and all protests fall disappear from your lips– the prospect of getting to go to work after only being able to keep the store’s website open actually has you excited enough to make you sleepy. The contradictory emotions will surely bit you in the ass when you actually lay down next to Spencer, but you don’t care. You get to open up the shop again and that alone is enough to make you squeak in glee, naked feet thumping through the wooden floor. He always bugs you to put on socks, afraid that you’ll get sick with the cold breeze that manages to push its way in despite the windows being shut, but you like feeling the cold on your soles. It always sends a little zap of life up your body and you enjoy it the same way kids enjoy hopping in the mud despite the mess– it makes you feel alive. 

There is a rhythmic routine to how you and Spencer get ready for bed. He brushes his teeth behind you, and you usually wash your face first, so that while he does it, you can braid your hair ready for the night. At first, you didn’t really worry about that because you two did your best to stay in your respective corner of the bed. You tried putting a pillow between you too but after the first time you kicked it off of the bed, you never bring it to the room with you again. Then you tried just paying attention, but that made you lose a significant amount of sleep and you ended up cranky for days. Giving up and accepting that, like it or not, you will end up waking up in Spencer’s arms, legs tangled with his and mouth drooling a little on his shirt, had been the best thing to do to move forward. Now, you two don’t pretend that anything else will happen, and before you’re even asleep, he opens his arms with a grunt, your signal to scoot closer and enjoy your very own space heater of man. “Alright, alright, I’m here,” You mumbled, happy with the way your body is warm but your feet are cold. So cold, in fact, that the moment one brushes up against his, Spencer yelps. 

“What the hell was that?” He gasps, eyes going wide in shock. 

“What?” You ask, smiling mischievously. 

It would be unfair to say that the fear from early in the days has disappeared. It hasn’t– you’re still scared. Sometimes, it tackles you like a football player, abruptly and with so much force that you’re left breathless and immobile for a few minutes. Other times, it creeps up behind you, and you have time to prepare yourself. Despite the sudden appearances, however, your fear has lost that constantness that it had before. It’s duller, to the point that at times it’s just not there at all. And you quite like it, everything considered… it gives you space to breathe. It also gives you space to be– not be anything specific, but just be. And the more you can be, the more your personality starts to come back, peeking through the curtains you had set between yourself and the world. 

Spencer always knew you were a playful woman, but this just confirmed it. “Y/N, don’t you–AH! Oh my god, these are death machines! Put some socks on!”

“Never!” You shout before fully pushing your feet against his legs. 

Laying there, feeling Spencer squirm underneath you and then going off on some random fact about why it is important to keep your feet warm, is when you remember. 

You are a believer in silver linings. 

And you believe Spencer might just be yours. 

————————————

The shop looked exactly like you had left it, which made you happy and sad at the same time. Took you almost an hour to leave the house that morning, Spencer practically having to drag you away from the mirror with promises that “You look beautiful, Y/N.” Officer Kaper is waiting for you by the door when Spencer drops you off with a kiss to your cheek and hurried steps down the street. 

From then on, it’s a frenzy of cleaning. You try to convince Officer Kaper– or Mike, as he told you to call him– that he should sit down and guard the door, but he’s having none of it and instead, carries the not so heavy boxes of brand new books that you ordered as soon as you got news you’d be coming back to work. This is exciting to you, this return to normal, but it also makes you somewhat anxious. Once all of this is resolved– and you’ve taken to thinking about it with the mindset that it is not if it will be resolved, but once it is resolved– what will happen to you and Spencer? Living with him has its perks and the biggest one is that you get to actually see him with some sort of frequency. You get to experience having him in your life instead of just someone who comes and goes as they want. If you go back home, even if just across the street, right above your store he visits everyday… will you still feel this connection you do right now? Will you still get forehead kisses, and sneaky touches of his hand, and his pinky hooking with yours when you pass by?

None of that matters, though, when you hear the bell ringing through the shop. A customer. “Hello!” You call out from the shelves, making your way to the front. A buzz of anxiousness runs through you, though you quickly put it out; there is a literal police office standing guard by the door. You are safe. 

You are even safer when you see it’s Abigail, the downstairs neighbour. 

“Hi! I’m a little early, I hope that’s alright?” 

Oh god. With all the cleaning and organising, you lost track of time. “Oh gosh, yeah, of course!” You say, pulling your hair down from the mess on top of your hair and smoothing it down. 

You want to make a good impression on her. Out of all four interviews you have today, you hate to admit that Abigail seems the most fit for the position. Her experience is almost immaculate and her immediate availability is almost too good to be true. In fact, Abigail as a whole, with her warm smile and welcoming aura, seems too good to be true. As much as you believe in silver linings, she just seems like a straight up miracle. 

“Please, sit,” Pointing to the foldable chair by the corner of the counter, you smile. “We don’t really have a sitting area yet, but I’m working on it.”

“Oh don’t worry about it!” Abigail’s voice is bright and peppy, and you should like her. You do like her, actually, but even so, you can’t quite ignore the nagging feeling in your gut. “I also brought a copy of my resume in case you didn’t have mine readily available–“

“I have it here, but thank you!” So far she has been nothing but delightful, and to be honest, it’s almost like she is a missing puzzle. The way she fits in the store is almost weird, and maybe is the way she is dressed so similarly to you, or how she looks like someone who would manage a bookshop, all plaid and cardigans and pretty smiles. 

Pretty.

Abigail is pretty and that’s when it downs on you that you feel a little jealous. You are not ugly by any means, but the idea that Spencer will go to your store only to look at another woman– a younger, prettier woman– has you holding your breath. 

“Y/N? Are you alright?” 

Snapping out of it, you blush in embarrassment. You’re being crazy and you know it. “Yeah! Sorry, my mind went somewhere else for a second. So uh, why don’t we start with you just telling me a little bit about yourself and what do you want to work here, I guess.” You sound as unsure as you feel, and you suddenly regret saying no to the list of questions Spencer offered to make you. 

“Well, we’ve met briefly when I was moving into the building,” She giggles. “But my name is Abigail Harrison, recently moved to Washington D.C. from New York City–“

“I’m from New York!” You exclaim, big smile spreading as you finally place the familiar intonation in her voice. 

“No way! Where? I was born and raised in Brooklyn!” And suddenly it all makes sense– her cool nerdiness, her extroverted nature, her ease to fit in. This girl is definitely from Williamsburg.

“Oh, I was raised in the West Village but then moved to uh, Upper East Side,” The memory of moving in with Joshua is an uncomfortable one and makes you immediately change the course of the conversation. Throughout this interaction, you have to remember to be nice, but also serious. You don’t want to give her the impression that this will be an easy job, specially not with how reluctant you already were with hiring someone. “So, why do you want to work here? Besides the close proximity, of course.”

“To be honest, I–“ And there is a pause. It’s not long nor weird, it just sounds like she’s thinking, but Spencer likes to point out your own pauses whenever you try to lie to him about your strategy during nightly backgammon, and it’s become a sort of a bad habit you’ve gotten from him. Squinting, you let her continue. “I just really like the store. I know this sounds a bit ridiculous, but I walk past here every morning, and every morning, I prayed that it would be open. Everything inside looked so… homey. So familiar. And I’ve worked with books my entire life, you know? I thought… it was fate.” 

There is a redness in her cheeks that makes you squirm in your seat, nape of your neck suddenly feeling a little clammy. “Fate…” You mumble, nodding while looking down at the blank notebook on your lap. Right now, you are torn– you are trying to understand what is it about Abigail that makes you so hesitant while also fighting against your gut simply because the more she talks about her experience, the more you know she has to be the one. 

“…and after almost five years as a manager, I’ve found that I have a really good method of keeping things in order,” She finishes, nodding eagerly for you to show her any reaction. 

“That is really good to hear,” You gulp, getting your head back in place. “So just to reiterate, this would be a full time, part time position, of sorts. I would still come in some days in the week, and you would be acting manager whenever I am not here to oversee things. Whenever I am here though, you would be a very welcomed extra pair of hands and company. Believe it or not, we tend to get quite busy during lunch time and it was getting a bit too much to be here by myself.”

“So we’d still work together some days, right?” Her excitement is so clear in her voice that even Officer Kaper turns to pay more attention to you two. “Like, we’d still get to be a uh, a team?”

“Of course,” You say, nodding stiffly and looking at the clock. “I love working in a collaborative environment and I wouldn’t leave you alone in a new job straight away. We’ll start with training days and go from there.”

“That sounds incredible!”

“Yeah…” Looking at Mike– you are doing your best to abide by his wishes and call him by his first name– he gives you a little nod of recognition. “Anyways, do you have any questions for me?” When she shakes her head, you get up and offer her a hand to shake. “I’ll be making a decision by today end of day. I have a couple of other people to interview, but I’ll let you know either way.” 

Is it just you or is her hand lingering a little? 

“If you don’t call me, I know where to find you,” She says, her little laughter giving out the fact that this is supposed to be a joke. But you don’t laugh. And neither does the armed policeman by your door. 

“Ha ha,” You say, trying your best to be nice regardless. “That you do!”

“Your boyfriend is lucky to have you, I bet he gets lots of books for free,” Abigail is a chatterbox, that much is clear, and with every try for a conversation, the more you feel like she’s just digging for gossip. For a minute, you actually think you are back in high school. 

“Wha–“

“Or is that not your boyfriend?” 

You don’t really know what to do, and it shows. Which is why you’re not surprised at all when Officer Kaper, your one and only hero, steps in. “Sorry to ask, ma’am, I should’ve said something before, but would you mind me checking your ID? We are conducting a security check system for the businesses in this area, there has been a rise in robberies lately and this is just for precaution.” 

“Oh my! Of course,” After that, it doesn’t take long for her leave. 

There is not even a minute of silence until a customer walks in and you have to slap that fake smile in your face again. The hair on the back of your neck is standing up in a way that makes you a bit too aware of everything, and that, in turn, makes your heart skip a beat. Nervously glancing at Mike, you keep trying to remind yourself that you are safe, that you have someone to protect you. It’s hard to focus on your work when Spencer’s voice echoes in your head making up a list of everything that could go wrong. Your job is very open to the general public. People can easily see inside. You don’t know what they have in their bags. His habit of mouthing off whatever comes to mind is not coming back to bite you in the ass. 

“You have a boyfriend?” Officer Kaper’s questions snaps you back to reality.

“Huh? Oh! No!” Shaking your head, you awkwardly lean over the counter to try and ignore the sure blush on your cheeks. “She’s talking about Spencer.” 

“She knows Doctor Reid?” It’s clear from his tone that this arises some suspicion in him. 

“She just moved into the building and we met her when we were coming out for a second,” You shrug. You don’t want to feed your panic and you also don’t want to leave the man who got injured because of you on edge and scared. Abigail is just a bit taller than you and definitely stronger, with the body of someone who seems to care about her healthy appearance, while you… well, you prefer sitting on your armchair all afternoon with a cup of coffee and a book in your hands. A bit of a cliche, yes, but your life overall was a bit of a cliche, if you think too hard about it. “Spence thought it was better to let her believe whatever.” 

“Hm, I’m sure he did,” Mike said with a dramatic wink, wiggling his brows in that suggestive way that makes you chuckle so desperately that he has a hard time not laughing at your reaction. “You know, I think Doctor Reid has a crush on you.” 

“Ex-Excuse me?” You sputter out, eyes wide at how easy it is for this man to voice something that has been swimming in your head so insistently. 

Spencer having a crush on you is not that wild of a thought, when you think about it objectively. It’s the Proximity Principle. You read about it once back when you were in college and it’s kind of stuck– people are more likely to form close relationships with other people they spend significant amount of time with. Unfortunately, though, you also know that crushes are also dependant on a certain fantastical factor, something that allows humans to project a lot of their needs onto the one that holds their affections. Predicting Spencer’s needs is actually not hard either, and the more he tells you about himself, the more your heart break for the boy that lives inside that man; the one that is afraid of being abandoned, the one that misses his mother dearly, the one sees a family in the coworkers he spends so much time with. You see how you can fulfil this role for him, you’re not blind nor stupid. His smile gives him away, to be very honest, with how bright and big it gets when he notices you waiting for him to get home, sitting in your armchair, reading the book he left for you next to it. Or how he tries to hold it back, that gorgeous, beautiful smile, when he hears you calling his name, all whiny and shy at the same time, to ask him something so ridiculous and out of pocket that he can’t do anything but laugh. 

You are the sense of belonging he never had. 

The same way that he is the sense of consistency you’ve always craved. Though in your case, you know that he is so much more than that. 

In his… well, you will never know until you ask. 

And my god, you’re not ready to ask.

“Yeah, a crush,” Officer Kaper shrugs, walking to the counter and smiling like a kid saying something naughty. “He used to talk about you all the time, before all this. The pretty bookseller.” 

“Now you’re just enjoying making me squirm,” You say, squinting at him despite how his words make your heart race. 

“Maybe I am,” He jokes. “But I’m serious! You two are obviously into each other… right?” 

“Officer–“

“Mike, please!”

“Mike,” You sigh with an attitude, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “Are you trying to profile me?” 

His silence is enough of an answer to make you gasp. 

“It’s not like that–“

“Mike, do you want to be a BAU profiler?!” The way you whisper makes all of this feel like a big secret ever. Your body is leaning over to try and get closer to him, and you’re so excited about knowing this that it makes you bounce a little in your feet. “Why didn’t you say something before? I’m sure Spence would help! You can ask him all the questions and–“

“I already too the FBI entrance exam once and didn’t get in,” He interrupts you with such abruptness that something in the air shifts. This is not fun anymore. It’s tense. “It’s fine. I’m happy doing my part here with the MPD.” 

“You are,” You nod. “You really are. Thank you.” 

That is the last of the small talk for the day, the next interviewee coming in before you can say another peep. 

————————————

“Did you have a good time at the store today?” 

This is the first time that you are not the one doing the waiting. Or the cooking. Or– “Did you clean?” You ask, a bit shocked with how spotless the entire place looks even though the air smells like tomato sauce and… something else? 

“Why do you say this as something so hard to believe?” Spencer is baffled at your expression, laughing incredulously. “I live here! This is my apartment! I’ve been living by myself since I was 18!”

“I just never seen you clean!” You defend yourself with a lighthearted laughter.

“I’m thirty years old!”

“That just means you’re old,” And you two fall back to the usual teasings while you walk around the living room, dropping your coat and bag on the couch, and moving into the kitchen to help with whatever you can. “Oh my! And you even cooked! Careful Spence, you’re spoiling me… I might just want you to make me dinner everyday from now on.” 

Spencer just shrugs with that little shy smile playing on his lips. “I could get used to spoiling you…” 

���I could get used to being spoiled,” You mumble, eyes unwavering from his. Letting the tension of the moment grow, you push your hair behind your ears. “Can I help with anything?” 

“Not really, I made sure to start it really so it would be ready when you came home,” He says and turns into a ball of excitement that is all limbs and fast words. You love him like this and so you listen, like you’ve been yearning to do all day. He tells you that this is a recipe that Rossi taught him a while ago, and the wine is the exact same one he recommended back then, and just as he says, when you look closely to the busy workspace on the kitchen isle, there they are– two glasses half-full. In a very Spence fashion, he goes on and on about the exactness of the ingredients and how the whole idea that cooking is about ‘feeling it’ is kind of stupid, but the more he talks, the more breathless you find yourself. 

There is wine. 

There are entrees, and it looks like Spencer did his due diligence, buying your favourite crackers from the deli nearby. 

There are main dishes, sides, dessert; and you guess it is some sort of a tiramisu, catching the smudges of chocolate powder and coffee by the sink. 

And then there is Spencer. There is Spencer back home early. Spencer wearing his favourite purple sweater. Spencer with his combed hair. Spencer without his phone? Now you are suspicious, looking around with a confused frown on your face.  

“Is everything okay?” 

“Where is your phone?” His satchel is also not where he usually leaves it, gone from it’s perch by the door. 

“My phone?” He asks, sounding as confused as you. “Why do you need my phone?” 

“I don’t, I just never seen you without it.” 

“Oh,” That makes him laugh. “I don’t need it today.”

“Why not?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, Y/N,” Spencer catches you by the shoulder and brings you back to the set dinner. “Just sit down and enjoy this. We finally have some time to spend together.” 

“You would never let anything kill me,” You say so easily that it can’t be anything else other than the truth. “Why don’t you need your phone?” 

He snorts and turns to mix something in one of his many pans. “Because Hotch and Rossi forbade the team to call me tonight. Derek said he’d be on call instead.” 

“That’s awfully nice of Mister Muscles,” You comment offhandedly and there is something about the way you notice Spencer tensing a little that makes your smirk.

“He has a girlfriend, you know.”

“Oh, I know– I heard it all from his baby girl, who is not his girlfriend, but is a big fan of that couple,” You say, happily smiling while munching on a cracker. “Why?”

“Just checking if you knew. A lot of girls are usually… taken… by Derek’s looks and charms, but he’s off the market now. I think Savannah is here to stay.” 

Crinkling your nose at the though of dating Agent Derek Morgan, you quickly shake your head. “God, no, I’m not– No. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he is objectively handsome, but he’s not my type.” 

“Are we talking about the same Derek Morgan?” He scoffs without turning to you. “He is everyone’s type…”

“Not mine,” You repeat, silently getting up from where you sway your feet. With muted steps, you walk around the kitchen isle to stand behind him, fidgeting with your hands in a moment of unsureness. 

Maybe you are reading this wrong. Not every man that does a nice gesture is interested in you, you know that mainly because you never really believe people are interested in you at all, but it’s getting progressively hard to not look at everything he had done for you and not think it is a date. 

Before you can overthink this, Spencer is moving backwards. “Oh? What is your type, then– oh fuck!” Your arms go around his waist as soon as he bumps into you, and you don’t let him squirm away, even though he tries. “Y/N, wha-what are you doing…?”

Gently, you let your head fall onto his back, forehead pressing close to his nape. Silence reigns until you are ready to speak, but Spencer waits, tense and oh so patient. “Spencer,” You whisper with your broken voice, nerves getting the best of you and making you shake like a chihuahua. “Spencer, is this–“ 

Sweet as ever, his hand moves from the counter, where his knuckles are white with how hard he grips it, to a slow touch to your hand. Brushing his fingers overs your skin, he whispers back. “Is this what?”

“Spencer is this a…” Why can’t you bring yourself to say it? 

Around you, there is noise. You hear the neighbours upstairs, the click-clack of their shoes echoing until they are gone. You hear the heater pipes reading themselves to work through the night once again. You hear the food in front of you two bubbling and sizzling. And my god, do you hear him… you hear his heart, beating, racing, so strong and fast, that you smile to yourself. This is all Spencer– every noise, every shake, every thump and thud of that amazing, loving heart of his.

“It is.” 

Your arms squeeze around him in shock. “I didn’t even say it.”

“By now, you should know you don’t have to,” The soft cadence of his perfect pronunciation tells you that he is feeling confident and calm, and you bask in it for a second or two. Until he hits you with the million dollar question. “If Morgan is not your type, who is?”

“I want to say it, though.”

“Who is your type?”

It’s a weird battle of stubbornness between you two, but you don’t mind. You would fight this war forever, if it meant this– feeling him alive and breathing and laughing. “Let me say it,” You ask, smiling coyly even though he can’t see it. “Please.” His adorable little laughter sends a wave of ripples down his back and you press your face closer to feel it. “Say it then.”

“Spencer Reid, is this a date?” 

“I was hoping it would be,” He says and pauses. “Y/N Y/L/N, am I your type?” 

“I don’t really have a type,” You say slowly, pulling back a little to nudge him to turn around. You only smile when you see his eyes– those curious, curious eyes– that constantly look for answers for his questions. Sometimes, you don’t have answers, but he looks for them anyways. First in one, then the other. Spencer looks at you carefully, slowly, like you are something worth committing to that memory of his by the detail. Like he wants to remember you even when he closes his eyes. You see it, how you make him feel like he belongs, with your open smiles and blinking eyes. But you also see, for the first time, how you are also so much more. “But if I did, it would be you.” 

You are a believer in silver linings. 

And yes, Spencer might just be yours… specially with the way his lips feel against yours. 

---------------------------------------

Taglist:

@fanfic-viewer

@mysticpeachobject

@donttrustlove  

@r-3dlips 

@lolitsbuckybarnes 

@lilrios-world 

@iniyalovesall 

@beabfleab

@dojacatismywife 

@queenofshinigamis

@beersangel

@catchthewindd

@charismatic-writer

@freaky-dcaky

@scarlettoh

@drreidslove

@spicyytomatoyay

@kitty-kei

@sapphirecobalt-1

@jebesovovise

@cultish-corner

@areiofhope

@candid-confetti

@godilovetoomuch

@redros3y 

@gibson-g1rl

@bunnylov-3-r

@yokaimoon 

@glorioussunrise13

@idkimheretoreadonethibgofpsencdd

@pleasantwitchgarden

@issy25

@ilovechanyeol16

@gghostwriter

@stanswifties

@chicaconfundidaycuriosa

@dragon03138

@tbsloneely

@bloodredrubyrose

@rossemayme

@jackchampiongf13

@prentissmybeloved

@danielle-munya

@eliscannotdance

@keira-fitzsimmons

@jamieeboulos

@starofthedawn

@alikpo

@writingforoursouls

@marauder--harder

@spencers-love

[hopingforrainydays]

birth of the bone-breaker | general kirigan

pairing: general kirigan x fem!reader

warnings: descriptions of blood and gore

word count: 2.3k

summary: soft times with the darkling as he comforts a traumatized grisha; in other words, a story in which a healer becomes something else and finds solace in the shadow summoner

author’s note: so so excited for shadow and bone season two. this one has been sitting in my drafts for a long time, and i’m happy to finally share it with y’all!

requests are open!

--

You were dragged through the palace gates at Os Alta, your limp form tugged forward--and held up--by the red-clad Grisha on either side of you. You barely registered their forceful motions, keeping your chin tucked into your chest. It was sodden with dirt, blood, and what could only be assumed to be some other form of bodily matter. But that wasn’t a bother. You barely registered that either.

It had been a long enough journey, but you had not fought the Grisha hauling you by horse, carriage, and on foot. You weren’t a fighter by nature, and even so, any of the adrenaline that flowed through your veins had ebbed away. Besides, you deserved whatever they had planned for you. The iron grip of the Corporalniks prevented any attempt of a struggle. The black detailing of their keftas marked them as Heartrenders; they could take the air from your lungs or crush your heart in a matter of moments.

But you could do the same, couldn’t you?

The shadow of the Little Palace loomed over you, and yet your gaze did not falter from its focus on your muddied feet. It was the only thing grounding you to this moment, no matter how you wished to glance upon the palace one last time. Once inside, you found small purchase on the smooth marble floors, the tips of your toes tripping at the quick pace set by your companions. A part you, deep inside, was apologetic of the mess you were bound to leave behind: muddy, bloodied footprints.

It wouldn’t be your first mess.

The First Army soldiers flanking the grounds had kept their hands on the trigger of their rifles and any Grisha that now flock through the halls followed your every movement, hands clasped in front of them. The dark forms of the oprichniki walked ahead, leading you to your doom. A strategic hold on your arms forced your hands to be kept apart.

You understood, in part, their caution. It still pained you. The presumption that the Grisha--your family--looked at you as though you were a monster clogged your eyes with tears.

Saints, you deserved whatever awaited you.

The Grisha soldiers brought you to the end of the hall. Ornate double-doors pushed open, and you were marched to the center of the large room. The bruising hold on your biceps ceased, causing you to fall to the ground in an ungraceful heap. You caught yourself against the ground, eyes trained on your bloodied fingertips. Your fingers folded into tight fists, the jagged edge of your fingernails cutting into your palms. You winced at the throbbing pain, but dug your fingertips further into the soft flesh. In the wild panic that rose in your throat, in the unsurety of the future, and in the potential meeting of your gruesome fate, you found that it was the one thing that reassured you.

“What is this?” The voice came from in front of you. It was cold and calculating, and one that you faintly recognized from your years spent training at the Little palace. General Kirigan.

“Forgive us, moi soverennyi. It’s a matter of grave importance,” said one of the Heartrenders. From what you could tell, they were stood not far behind you. Ready, in case you were to attack. 

There was a shuffle of feet behind you. One of the Grisha, a Squaller, stepped forward. Her voice cracked as she said, “We were meant to deliver a few supplies to the Second Army regiment posted outside Chernast. When we arrived, they were–” she paused, taking in a shaky breath. She whispered, more to herself than anyone else, “Saints, they were all dead.”

“Except for them,” the other Heartrender spat. There was a sharp tug to your hair, yanking your head back. You let out a yelp, wild eyes meeting the cool stare of your general. “We found this one near the Fjerdan border, not far from the rest.”

“Release her.”

“General, you should know it was a massacre.”

“Release her.”

The hand in your hair released. Your head slumped forward, a throbbing pain forming at the back. General Kirigan stepped toward you, his finger reaching out to lift your chin. You flinched. He hesitated, the finger hanging in the air for a moment before retracting entirely. Instead, he crouched, his eyes now level with your own.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice softer now than when he spoke to his soldiers.

“Our best guess is drüskelle-”

“I wasn’t asking you,” the general snapped at the Heartrender. He turned his attention back to you, waiting patiently for your response.

You shook your head back and forth, frantic. The memories of the attack had plagued your mind throughout your journey from Chernast to Os Alta, but you were always quick to shove them away. You didn’t want to remember.

The general’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. His dark eyes roamed your indiscernible features, watching as your eyes darted to look at the Grisha beside you. With a frown, he rose to his feet.

“Leave us.”

One of the Corporalniks made a noise of disagreement, but with one look from their general, quieted. The remaining Grisha left the room in slow, hesitant movements, as if they thought General Kirigan would change his mind. With a final bow, the Squaller closed the door behind her.

There was a tense silence as you remained on the floor and the general leant back against the round table. You were afraid to move, though most of the stress in your muscles had eased at the near-isolation.

“Can you stand on your own?”

You didn’t respond.

“Are you injured? I’ll send for a Healer.”

“No,” you were quick to dismiss the idea. The voice that left you did not feel like your own; it was rough as sandpaper, and a lot louder than you intended. Noticing the general’s taken-aback-expression, you were quick to whisper an explanation. “The blood isn’t mine.”

With a sigh, he moved towards you. He reached his hand out in front of you, mindful to keep his movements slow and stay a respectful distance away. You eyed his hand before placing your palm into his own.

He turned it over, brushing his thumb over the deep crescent marks left by your fingernails. A trail of blood ran from them down to your wrist. The look he gave you had your face burning in childish embarrassment, as if you were getting scolded by a parent.

“You’ll visit the infirmary later. I’ll have a servant come to clean you up, lest you’re hiding anymore injuries.”

You wanted to scoff at his choice of words. A small mark of self-mutilation was hardly an injury, and would never compare to the harm you brought to those in Chernast. Instead, you settled on a frown. He hoisted you to your feet and set you straight. As he moved to leave, you caught his arm.

“Wait,” you said. He looked at you expectantly, and you found yourself at a loss for words. You weren’t sure where you were going with this, but the idea of being left alone terrified you. The idea of being left alone with one of the servants terrified you even more. You wanted to believe it was because of the looks the other Grisha had given you upon your arrival--distrust, discomfort, and horror. You would never admit it, but you knew the true reason: you weren’t afraid of what they’d do to you, but of what you’d do to them. “Stay.”

After a beat of silence, you cleared your throat, pulling away from the powerful man. It was foolish, you were foolish. You leaned against the table, propping yourself up with both arms. The strength it took to hold yourself up became too much, though, and your arms trembled with exertion. 

General Kirigan reached out to catch you, balancing your weight on his forearms. He didn’t say anything, didn’t react to your request, or reprimand you for being so forward. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your back, supporting a majority of your weight as you leaned into his side.

He mumbled encouragements as he led you to a side room, resting you against the cool surface of a sink. You observed the new environment, the realization that he had brought you into his washroom dawning on you. The room was large enough, with a tub seated in the center. General Kirigan was beside it, turning the handle to allow water to pour from the faucet. As the tub filled to a level of his liking, he set out a variety of soaps and sponges off to a table on the side.

He took a few tentative steps in your direction, as though he were approaching a wild animal. Maybe he was. He gestured to the door you had entered through. “I’ll be in the other room.”

With a flustered expression, he shut the door behind him. It took you a while to get the motivation to move, to make any progress toward the bath. The ruined garments decorating your body would not budge under your trembling fingertips, so you eased into the tub fully-clothed. The water was scorching hot against the exposed parts of skin, but as you adjusted, you found that you preferred it. The bitter cold of the Fjerdan border still bit into your skin, so you welcomed the hot pain.

Cold. Chernast. Pain. Burn. The connection formed before you could stop it, and you were plagued by the memories from days before. You whimpered, curling into a fetal position. You remembered your weak attempts at healing the fatal injuries that littered the bodies of your fallen friends; the Fjerdan warriors charging you, axes raised to cut you down; the burning rage as your hands moved in ways they never had before; Fjerdan blood mixing with Grisha as it splattered into the snow.

The rap of knuckles against the door startled you out of your trance. The general’s voice sounded from the other side, “Is it okay to come in?”

You froze. Had it really been that long?

The door creaked open. He stepped into the room, his eyes finding yours. He let out an exasperated sigh at your state: curled in the tub, clothed, the water barely warm, and skin still dirty. His figure disappeared into the other room, bringing back with him a wooden chair.

He took a seat by the tub, reaching forward. His hands rested on your shoulders, smoothing over the fabric as his fingers moved to work at the buttons of your ruined kefta. The general was close enough now for you to smell him. A whirl of musk and spice filtered through your nose. You inhaled deeply, the scent strangely calming you.

The rest of your layers were stripped from your skin, and he folded the garments--Saints know why; they were beyond the help of any Fabrickator. You were left in a loose shirt and pants. The muck and grime caking your skin itched, and it took everything in you not to scrape it off. Your fingernails dug into the fat of your calves, jabbing through the thin material of your pants. You curled further into yourself, head rested against your knees. The pain brought you to the present, and it was all you could do to focus on that.

“What did this to you?” the general asked, rolling up his sleeves. He rubbed a bar of soap against a damp towel until the suds grew to his liking. He pressed the cloth to the skin of your hands, gently rubbing away the grime.

It was a different way of asking what happened, with an implication that you were not the cause. If only he knew that you were. “I don’t know. I don’t want to know.”

“You’re a Heartrender, no? You must remember the attack.”

“I’m a Healer.”

The confession stalled his movements. His grip on your wrist loosened, but he continued his work in the silence that followed.

“I do,” you whispered, after a moment. “I do remember.”

Kirigan didn’t say anything. He glared at the bruises marking your arms from the Heartrenders’ grip.

“Fjerdan warriors attacked in the night. We never saw them coming. There was so much blood, so many bodies.”

“But you weren’t one of them.”

“No. I was trying to help those still alive. Heal them, if I could. Saints, at that point I was saving them just for them to die again.” You swallowed, thick and teary-eyed. “One of them found me, in the midst of it all. He pinned me to the ground. I saw the axe raise. And I just…panicked.”

By now, Kirigan had moved to cleaning your face. He dabbed carefully at your forehead.

“My hands were on his chest, and I felt every bone in his body break.”

You were disgusted with yourself. You were a Healer, not a Heartrender. It was your chosen specialization because you could not stand the thought of causing another person pain–you wanted to help. And yet here you were, one massacre later.

His finger smoothed the crease of your brows. “That sounds like self defense to me.”

“It could’ve been. If I hadn’t hunted down every warrior after that.” He gestured for you to stand. A fluffy towel wrapped around your shoulders, soaking in the sopping wet material of your clothes. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” he asked as you stepped from the tub.

“Taking care of me.”

“Someone needed to.”

“You didn’t have to.”

A pregnant pause. You thought you may have overstepped or offended him. He pulled you close by the towel on your shoulders, fingers gripping the sides of your jaw. His thumb rubbed against your cheek. “I did. I know what it’s like to feel like the monster.”

“General–”

“Kirigan. Just Kirigan.”

“Kirigan.” You smiled, if only a small one, for the first time in weeks. “Thank you.”

--

buy me a coffee

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ AW, FUN’S OVER.❞

—minors dni, implied creampie, poly! satosugu x afab!reader, sub! gojo, dom! reader + geto, overstim, pegging, hickeys/biting, slight dacryphilia? kind of proofread

⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ ummmmm. idk where this came from. anyway i wanna breed this man’s ass, sawry for my sins (not rlly 🤷🏽‍♀️)

his chest is heaving, stuttered moans crawling from within his throat, and satoru’s hazy blue eyes struggle to blink back a fresh wave of tears. there’s a vibrant red over his cheeks, ears, his face entirely, matching the shade of his erect cock drooling strings of sticky precum down to his abdomen.

“fuck, i’m spent.” suguru heaves out a breath, pulling his softening cock from satoru’s insides. “need a break. y/n, you ready?”

an arm is bent to cover your eyes, but you adjust it just a bit to peek at your boyfriends. satoru seems exhausted—all dumb and mindless from round after round after round with both of you tag-teaming whenever the other gets tired. he has an iron grip with fingers laced between yours, squeezing even harder whenever he’s close to another orgasm. or what would be another, at this point he’s just shooting blanks, begging for even five minutes to recover, but that’s just no fun, is it?

“y-y/n–!” he tries to bargain with you as you situate between his mark-riddled thighs, the result of you and suguru’s love on his skin. they catch your eye and don’t let go, inflate your ego for a bit and it’s no wonder satoru likes to do it so much.

“you two, please—,” his whiny plea is cut off, muffled by suguru’s lips on his. a hand tugs at sleek, black strands, prompting a moan from geto, and your pussy flutters at the kinky display; even more so as suguru’s hand wanders down to fist satoru’s bobbing cock.

flicking a button, the small vibrator within the harness begins buzzing against your swollen nub, and you let out a moan as your hips thrust forward, breaching satoru’s entrance and sending a shiver up his spine. through lust-filled vision, you see suguru’s cum gush out around the faux dick, a natural lubricant that makes it easy to plunge deeper inside. his nails sink into suguru’s shoulders to leave more red, angry marks, back arching as your hips finally meet his ass.

“bein’ such a good boy, satoru.” suguru pulls back for a second, and you can see the pout on your white-haired partner’s face. his throat has long went hoarse, insults and comebacks since becoming nonexistent, though you can still see hints of that rebelliousness within the blue of his eyes.

“so pretty when you’re filled with my cock, aren’t ya?” he gives a needy whine in reply. “so. fucking. pretty.” and you rip broken moans from his lips when you punctuate each word with a hard thrust. satoru’s desperate cries grow louder, other hand clutching at the sheets as his head plummets into the comfort of plush pillows.

“is my ba–by gonna make another mess?,” your words are slurred, vibrations on your clit tightening the coil in your tummy—a rapidly approaching release forces your hips forward in eager ruts against satoru’s ass. “cum all over himself again?”

“or try to, anyway.” suguru teases your overstimulated boyfriend, pressing a kiss to his tear-streaked cheek. “i think we emptied him out a while ago.”

said man huffs, barely finding his words through a flurry of whimpers and groans. “you— you guys are, ah!, so f–fuck—ing, oh, shit!”

you lean forward, over suguru’s arm still pumping at satoru’s stiffened cock, tossing one of his trembling legs over your shoulder to almost fold him in half. “so what, sweetheart? can’t get your words out anymore, either? fucked you too dumb?

his white brows downturn in a glare. “sh-shut u–“ another hard thrust, fat tip of the strap ramming into his prostrate. “pl–ease, ah!”

a tremble rolls throughout his body, cock twitching in suguru’s hold, before satoru’s body goes limp. the stuttered heaves of his chest fade into deep, even breathes, lids fluttering shut, and he lets out a last, gentle sigh before succumbing to exhaustion.

you and suguru look to eachother, before he taps a finger to satoru’s cheek, whispering ‘you okay, love?’—you’re both content when his head turns away, brows knit together and mumbling an unintelligible complaint, before falling back into a state of unconsciousness.

both of you then get up to fetch towels, water, other aftercare supplies for your passed-out lover; suguru presses a loving kiss to your temple before you part ways for different areas of the house. “aw, fun’s over.”

tagz: @anthoosies @staryukis 🚊choo choo !

[mrpenguinpants]

Pale Blue Slumber [ Commissioned ]

[ Hello hello hellooooo, I was wondering if you could do hcs for Ayato x reader where the reader is constantly sleepy/sleep deprived and has a habit of falling asleep whenever, whether that be while standing up in the middle of a date or just straight up in the middle of battle ]

Word Count: 1.7k

Alhaitham Ver: Green Slumber  [Masterlist]

I nearly missed this if kofi didn't spam you with 10 emails. But thank you so much for the commission! I looked at it and almost didn't believe my eyes lol. Please let me know if I accidentally went under the word count.

If you see a sleeping figure slouched in the middle of the hallway, don't approach them and alert Lord Kamisato immediately. It's a saying that's been instilled into the estate and something every worker is told on their first day. Although the language used makes it sound like there's a dark secret that the Kamisato family is trying to hide. Perhaps a dangerous yokai or evil curse has been placed, and they don't want anyone to know? It would explain why Ayato has managed to rise and maintain his position as the Yahiro Commissioner despite being so young. Whispers and rumors bounce between the paper walls as people speculate just what this mysterious "sleeping figure" is and why Ayato alone can deal with the situation. Yet the answer is lackluster when they find out that it's just his lover who, once again, has fallen asleep standing up.

The image of the Yashiro Commissioner carrying a limp body in his arms is slowly becoming a regular occurrence and less of a cause for concern. The first couple of times, people rushed with medical supplies only to be met with a sharp eye and an equally scary smile for them to please quiet down lest they wake up the sleeping figure in his arms. Now people will quiet down once they recognize your hair and that it's you Ayato is carrying, and he offers them a nod of thanks. That's not to say the whispers stop because as soon as they see Ayato turns the corner, they're back to gossiping and gushing over how cute the image looks. The graceful and refined Yashiro Commissioner becomes a soft and kind family man as he cradles you back into a quiet room to sleep in. It doesn't matter how busy or stressed Ayato is, when someone alerts him that the "sleeping figure" has "returned", he'll politely excuse himself and leave. Any complaints are ignored that it would have to take the Shogun herself to make Ayato sit for a second longer. But only for a second.

You can't explain why you're constantly sleepy or why you will suddenly fall asleep whenever no matter the circumstances. Ayato likes to compare your sleepy nature to Sayu, but he does try his best to accommodate you despite his busy schedule. He knows that you get a bit insecure about your habit, so he tries not to draw too much attention to it when the moments happen. He remembers the early days when you and he were just acquaintances, and you fell asleep on him mid-sentence. The young Ayato has no idea what to do with someone who just fell asleep in the middle of a serious conversation that he thought you died from the pressure. It caused quite a commotion that Ayato still likes to bring up just to see you get embarrassed. But now, if you fall asleep mid-step, he'll easily scoop you up in his arms and carry on as if nothing has happened. If you happen to fall asleep mid-sentence, he'll gently lean you against his shoulder and continue your sentence. If anyone tries to ask why you've suddenly fallen asleep, he'll pretend that he has no idea what they're talking about. The person nestled into his side? What do you mean they fell asleep in the middle of eating? You must be mistaken because they've been asleep the entire time.

Due to your sleepy nature, you're constantly in a drowsy state. While Ayato finds you adorable, it also means you have absolutely no filter. Sometimes he thinks you do it on purpose because of how easily you can write off your mumbles as the aftermath of dreams. Saying the first thing that comes to mind only to pass out the next second and leaving him to deal with the embarrassing consequences. It doesn't help that Ayato is usually the first thing you see when you wake up, and regardless of how your eyelids droop halfway, he's pretty. Really pretty. It takes a clumsy hand to reach up, cup his cheek to pull him into a soft kiss, a remark that he's the prettiest person you've ever seen, before promptly passing out again. You aren't awake for the aftermath of a pink-faced Ayato desperately trying to reign in his racing heartbeat and Yae Miko snickering at him.

On the rare occasions that you're more awake and energized, you'll seek Ayato out yourself. It's always an endearing sight to see Ayato's usually calm demeanor turn elated when it's you that pops your head through the sliding door. Shyly asking if he wants to go out for lunch as if he'll say no to you of all people. Although Ayato is a person that does not like to show his face in public often, that doesn't mean he won't find any opportunity to take you out on these special days. Any concerns about his overbearing work are easily brushed aside. His work will be there when he returns. You, on the other hand, might not even be conscious enough to see the papers. He gets a huffy scoff and a gentle swat on the arm before you take his hand and pull your teasing man along. He ensures he has an arm wrapped around your waist, gently squeezing you into his side while you prattle on about how cute Taroumaru has gotten.

While Ayato and the staff have gotten used to your habits, that can't be said for everyone else. When you suddenly slump forward, quickly caught by Ayato's hand so you don't fall face-first into your food, Kiminami nearly passes out in fright that she might have accidentally killed Lord Kamisato's lover with her food. She has no idea if Ayato's smile and wave are a sign of reckoning and that is a signal that he's going to send someone to kill her later. It takes an hour, and even Thoma arrives to calm the poor girl that no, she didn't accidentally food poison anyone, and yes, this is a regular occurrence so please stop crying-

That's not to say every instance is funny. You are his lover and if there were numerous assassinations against him in the past and present, that means they'll eventually turn to you. Regardless if you're aware or not, he has his men trail after you silently to ensure your safety. So when Sayu nearly barrels into him to report that there's been a fight and you're in the middle of it, he can feel his blood turn cold as he rushes to the scene. His hand itching against the hilt of his sword as he follows Sayu into a clearing. Only to find you propped up against a spear, passed out in the aftermath of a battle unharmed. Like your body auto-piloted your slumbering self and parked itself directly in the middle of battle just to give him a heart attack. It takes a nudge at his leg from Sayu to snap him out of his stupor before he lets out a sigh that sounds older than him before he walks and collects you back into his arms. The comforting weight and warm body against his settle his heart just enough that he can think properly over his heartbeat. If his work doesn't kill him, you sure will.

Ayato stays behind the scenes for a reason. He knows your body can fall asleep at a drop of a hat regardless if your mind actually wants you to. There's a reason why you're not allowed in the kitchen regardless if Thoma is there with you. There's a reason why Ayato is the only one allowed to carry you back regardless if Ayaka finds you first. There is a reason why there is a rule set in place for no one to approach you. On one busy occasion, a stranger spotted you leaning against a wooden beam with papers for the Iradori festival in your hands. It made for a bit of a funny sight with how you managed to support yourself upright while also clutching flimsy papers was a mystery. But no one seemed to be waking you up and you were standing in the middle of the street. The stranger tries to call out to you but receives no reaction so he does the logical thing and reaches out to shake you awake. Too many things happen within the span of a few seconds. A male voice yells out for them to not touch you, the stranger's fingertips barely brushing against your shoulders before they're pushed to the ground.

When you first wake up, there are a couple of expectations you expect to see. Whether it be a ceiling, blankets, or the side of your pillow. It's always something constant that grounds you back into reality. Unfortunately the habit of falling asleep whenever your body feels like it has you waking up in unfamiliar places that your flight or fight instincts kick in before your mind even has time to see properly. So in order to combat this, Ayato has now become your constant. When you wake up to pale blue, you know you are safe. Yet when you wake up this time, it's too noisy and there's a stranger in front of you. So you do the first thing your mind registers and it's to run. Run to someone who has pale skin, light purple eyes, and pale blue hair. Thoma tries to call after you but when you don't turn around at his familiar voice, he lightly curses under his breath before turning towards the Kamisato estate.

It doesn't take long for Ayato to find you. He always seems to know where you are and he's always the first one you see. Pale blue hair contrasts the purple background with a kind smile to ease your heart back down to its regular pace. He can tell you're exhausted, more so than usual, as he tenderly brushes your hair out of your face. Fingers brushing aside the leaves and dirt that got tangled into the strands before dipping to rub circles into your back. Another hand comes under your knees and carefully lifts you up, tucking you under his chin as Ayato makes the trek back to the estate. The quiet command to sleep makes your eyelids droop again before finally closing peacefully. Your mind finally accepts it's safe again to sleep against pale blue.

---

[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@letthewindlead @kluvr0 @k1y0kosdiary @genshins1mpact @creatorofstars @xoneaboveallx @timmyitsmeeee @raingoesboomboom @duhsies @thegayrubberducky @isa-solasun @afoxesgreed @yuuki4646 @angel-luv-04 @inlovewithwaffles @maddymints09 @moonssandstars @ieathairs @crypticbibliophile @cumbermovels  @totallynotaraidensimp @yurika1016

[verysmolnerd]

You know what? Frik it!!! Some characters are getting booped!! By you!! 🐾🐾🐾

Otto Octavius:

He wasn’t expecting it one bit. He was hard at work and this attack came out of nowhere!

You had caught him overworking so many times, you’ve lost count at this point!

So, when it comes to dragging him away from the desk, you’ve gotten more creative.

There are times where you have lured him away by using your newlywed charm, and then there are times when it’s absolutely bonkers.

You’ve pulled him away with his spinny chair, you’ve even pulled it out from under him.

It gets a laugh out of him every time. Why? Because it shows him how much you care. When he loses track of time, you’re there to remind him.

He sometimes gets excited when he notices what time it is. Because it’s time for your mischief again.

You walked up to his chair and rested a hand on his broad shoulder.

“Hello, my dear. How are-“

You booped him right on his crooked nose. 🐾

What was once a look of adoration turned to one of shock. His eyes are wide and mouths agape; he couldn’t make heads or tails of it!

In fact, the piece of machinery that was in his hand fell to the table.

With the power of the boop, You powered off Otto. Cute and absolutely priceless.

Doc Ock:

How many times must he bolt the entrances down?! It seems like you’re always finding ways in here!!

He seems to close off one exit, and then he turns around to see you -his loving partner who’s more stubborn than they should be- arms open ready to embrace him.

You love him far too much, and he can’t take it at times. He’s no longer in control of his body, his free will is gone. He’s a slave to his own creation.

And yet.. you’re still there, for kisses, for comfort… it’s amazing, gobsmacking even. To have someone who will show him the light when he’s stuck in the darkest pits.

Regardless, he’s working nonstop: welding, wiring, or stealing; Doctor Octopus has been always working. Never resting.

He was placing another one of the components for his containment chamber when he heard a crashing noise.

He huffs when he sees that you had fallen out of the air vents. Scabs, dust, and dirt littered your face; but still a smile grazes your features.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you are quick to rise to your feet.

“For the last time. Get out-“

Boop attack!! 🐾🐾

The arms stop whatever they are doing and fall to the ground, limp.

They soon rise up and become docile for a brief moment. Chirping, nearing you.

And Otto? He’s in shock.

He looks at you with an aghast smile appearing on his face as you both discovered a way to fight the actuator’s influences.

The power of the boop. In the palm of your hand.

Maxim Horvath:

You were practicing alongside him. As per usual, he’s showing that tough love you’re so “ever” fond of.

It’s not like you hate training, it’s just that it gets tedious at times and there’s no banter between the two of you.

When you preform a spell correctly, you hear his huff of approval. Yep. That’s your indication.

When it’s time for a break you sit across from him in the fanciest chairs known to man. He has style, you’ll give him that.

He has a critical eye, reading a person is almost second nature to him. He’s been a live for a thousand years, after all.

Nothing seems to catch him off guard anymore, well, you don’t think anything ever did… until later in the evening.

It’s your turn to cook, despite his protests…. So when he took back the stove using magic, you weren’t surprised.

So, you had your own trick up your sleeve as you slowly approach him.

“Whatever you’re trying, I suggest you stop. It’s not going to work-“

Beep bap! Boop attack! 🐾🐾

You laugh at his shocked expression…. But then you start running when the furniture starts floating and is launched at you.

Snidley Whiplash:

With all the criminals piling into the bank, you would think that you’d be shaking in your boots… you’re not.

It’s Snidely and his hang you can see the top hat set atop his proud head as his incompetent criminals part like the sea.

“Give us your money and all of your gold.”

You roll your eyes despite the shouting you’re getting from your boss.

“Or what? You’ll drop an anvil on me?”

An array of clicks could be heard from all the pistols.

“Or we’ll shoot you!”

You can’t even count how many gun muzzles are pointed directly at your head.

Snidely looms over the counter, while you swat away your boss. Silently urging them to call the police. They run away, covering the ulterior motive by saying, “You’re on your own!”

“Hoo hoo,” you almost laugh from his stupid cackle. So you decide to lean forward, challenging him instead.

Snidely starts to lean back, unsure of what you’re planning.

“You think you can oppose, Snidely k Whiplash. Well, thing agai-“

You’ve been hit by🐾🐾 you’ve been struck by🐾🐾a boop criminal!

A blush adorns his face, as does the blinding police sirens outside.

He has heart eyes locked on you while he’s being pushed inside the squad car.

Hugh Weldon:

He had taken you star gazing. A common date, but a lovely one nonetheless.

You happily sit on the blanket while he excitedly tells you everything about the constellations he could see.

You felt like you could be his best student if you weren’t dating. Seeing him smile feels like your lifelong mission… and who are you to deny him of such happiness?

He had draped his coat over your shoulders, smiling with how it essentially swallowed you.

But now, you find that his ways of showing affection are short and sweet while dates are long and romantic. Cute.

He kissed you right before he went to view the stars, leaving you wanting more. So you swore for revenge.

So when he sat next to you, the trap was set.

When he opened his mouth, you got ready to strike.

“I think I saw the Orion constellation-“

He just triggered a boop attack!! 🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

He laughs and allows you to attack him with kisses as well.

You got him back, in the best way.

Comte de Reynaud:

The spring festival is in full swing, and you couldn’t help but notice that the Comte was watching from afar.

You don’t know why it s a shock to you considering that he’s there every single year after his wife left him.

He always looks so gloomy or cold and calculating. Always looking out for his people, never for himself.

Well, it’s about time someone looked out for him.

You made your way over to him, and you find that his demeanor is a tad bit different. He looks uplifting, like he had a sudden change of heart.

And you’re especially shocked when he asks, “May I have this dance?”

He’s not light on his feet, however, when the music slows…. That’s a different story.

He holds you like a man deeply in love and you couldn’t help, but wonder what caused this change.

When the songs softly decrescendo to an end, he pulls you closer.

“I believe that I-“ he stops himself.

Oh hell no! Boop for answers! 🐾🐾

His eyes flutter as he finishes his sentence, “I love you.”

That passionate look in his eyes was the last thing you saw before he claimed your lips…. And your heart.

Kostya:

The landowner makes frequent visits to your humble shop. You find that he does a lot of the manual work himself alongside others.

You know he likes you, by the way he gazes at you from across your shop. Some of the people who work here as well can see the adoration in his eyes. It’s as clear as day.

However, the shy landowner is famously known for holding his own words. Dying with his own verbal desires.

So, if you wanted anything to do with him, it would be on your own accord. You’d make the first move.

It seems like all the patrons are rooting for you as well, as you tap your fingers on your counter; thinking on what to do.

So when he enters the shop the same time he always does, you’re quick to accompany him; offering your help.

Rather than wanting anything, he takes the opportunity to talk to you. He’s very flustered when he admits it.

Honestly, he’s just a flustered mess to begin with.

“I’m sorry, I-“

Take that! Boop attack! 🐾🐾

His mouth is agape and it seems his flushed expression spread to you.

He quickly composes himself and asks you out on a date. That was his plan after all.

The boops brought him out of his shell.

Armand Gamache:

Reading together in the evenings is a common occurrence between you two.

You sit on his lap while he’s facing the fireplace. Three Pines is a cold and grueling place, but when you’re together, the freezing temperatures don’t appear to be all that bitter.

You’re cuddled right up next to him as he reads the page, pausing for you to read as well.

He had chosen another book about escapism. You’ve read so many with him that you don’t remember the names of the books, just the plot.

You don’t mind at all, you wouldn’t trade these moments for anything. Because normally, it ends up being a de-stressor for the both of you.

However, you were feeling a bit of mischief tonight. You’re always antsy when you’re plotting a scheme, he knows it all too well.

“What are you planning?”

And it was at that moment… he got booped. 🐾

He arches a brow, not sure what to make of this at first.

But then he marks the page he left off in and tightened his embrace on you. Peppering you with kisses until you couldn’t breathe.

Then he boops you as well, making you burst out in laughter.

It seems he has a few tricks of his sleeve as well.

[thescarletnargacuga]

Hey there! I just wanna start by saying that I absolutely adore your work! You always know how to pull a reader right in, and I always get excited when you post something new (especially the Showtime stuff, but I'm biased on that front).

Anyway, to keep the train rolling, I've got a Harlequin request for you:

Pomni is out on patrol duty, with a plucky little Cade in tow. Suddenly, they encounter a group of rogue marionettes that somehow snuck their way into the occupied part of the city. Naturally, Pomni's protective instincts kick in, and she engages them.

Cade has never seen his mom in combat before, and he's pretty excited at first, but when he witnesses the level of brutality she displays, he becomes rather frightened…

(It's my first time making a request like this, so I'm really really nervous. I hope this prompt isn't too weird or anything)

A/N: Anon, Anon, come here. Come closer. I won't bite. THIS IS PERFECT! This situation gives a chance for mother/son bonding and growth. While the world they live in has improved, it's still very dangerous. Thank you for this!

~

THE WAY OF THE COMBAT HARLEQUIN

A HARLEQUIN AU ONESHOT

Harlequin AU credit: @tadc-harlequin-au @iamespecter

WARNING: intense violence, mechanical gore, trauma, hurt/comfort

~~~

Cade had accompanied his mother on her patrols before but they've always been in the inner city. The worst thing she usually dealt with was a neighborly dispute. It was mostly an excuse to get her son out of the house and have him run his energy out.

Now that he was ten, Pomni figured he was ready for a more outer patrol. While not leaving the bounds of the occupation, they were further out from the main population and therefore there was a higher risk of seeing something that wasn't a puppet.

"Do you think we'll see a seeker!?" Cade asked as he swung an old piece of pipe like a sword. He hadn't received any combat training yet, but it's been promised to him. It's a necessary skill to survive. He's heard the stories of his mother's exploits and he's no stranger to dangerous situations himself. "I'd like another chance to take down one of those mechanical mutts!"

Pomni smiled at her son's enthusiasm, seeing so much of herself in him, but her motherly instinct overrides her combat harlequin pride. "I doubt it. The border patrols can handle more than a single seeker, and besides, you're not ready for-"

A group of panicked puppets ran towards them. Pomni grabbed Cade out of the way of the stampeding crowd. Cade dropped what he was holding out of surprise and held to his mother.

Before Pomni could ask what was happening, a tall humanoid marionette vaulted itself over a pile of crates and landed on a puppet. It stabbed the puppet in the chest with it's right hand, sharp digits pierced the puppet's heart and pulled out the core in one swift motion. The puppet's body immediately went limp on the ground as the D.I.E was encapsulated in the marionette's grasp and stored in the forearm.

Pomni's body geared for battle, this was worse than any seeker. She drew her sword. "Extractor!! Cade, run!" She pushed him away from her, motioning him to go with the fleeing puppets. She didn't take her eyes off the marionette, these things were fast and looking away for even a second could be deadly.

Cade hesitated to leave, completely overwhelmed by what was happening. "But mo-"

"GO!!" Pomni rushed the extractor as it made a move to chase another puppet. She deflected it's attacking reach, stopping the extractor in it's tracks. She stood between it and the innocent lives that depended on her for protection.

Cade took a few steps away but instead of fleeing, he hid. He's never seen his mother in full combat mode. He shrank further into his hiding spot as he took in the imposing form of the extractor. It had no face, only a smooth yet rusted mannequin like appearance. It was much taller than his mother, with long limbs that flexed in unnatural directions.

"I don't know how you got this far, but this is where it ends for you!" Pomni lashed out at the extractor. It dodged and counter attacked, reaching for Pomni's heart.

Pomni spun out of the way and brought her sword down on the extractor's arm, right in the elbow joint. She twisted her sword, breaking the joint, and kicked the marionette away from her. She continued her assault with a lunge at the extractor's power source.

The extractor caught it's balance and side stepped Pomni's attack. It grabbed her by the neck and slammed her to the side of a building. It would have gone for her heart, but it's broken arm hung uselessly. The marionette recalculated it's strategy. It threw Pomni into a stack of barrels, making them collapse on her and knocking her off her feet.

Cade gasped. His mother was unbeatable in his eyes, but her being on the ground for more than half a second was enough for him to run out from his hiding spot and get between his mother and the extractor. "Leave her alone!!" He stood bravely but seeing the extractor up close made his whole body feel cold with fear.

The extractor moved its head down to look at the small puppet. Detecting a D.I.E within reach, it's remaining good hand rushed to extract it. It's pointed fingers didn't get close.

Pomni exploded from the barrel pile. Sword and eye blazing with bright yellow energy. She speared the extractor in the gut, pushing it away from Cade. It's feet dug into the earth but the strength of the smaller harlequin forced it back.

"DON'T!" Pomni carved her glowing sword up the extractor's torso.

"TOUCH!" She tore her sword out it's side.

"MY!" She jumped and brought her sword down with both hands.

"SON!" She stabbed the extractor in the top of its chest, driving her sword down through the power source.

The extractor fell to its knees. A mechanical whirring screech emanated from it. Sparks showered the ground as it struggled to move. As it's systems we're failing, it sent out a call for reinforcements.

Pomni ripped out her sword and decapitated the extractor. The head rolled as the body collapsed. She breathed heavily through her teeth, out of both anger and fear. Before she could address Cade, more fast approaching danger made her flare up more with energy.

Two more extractors and an even larger, tank like marionette rushed Pomni's position. Now she knew how they got past the border patrols. Pulverizers were huge, heavily armored, and had arms that touched the ground, making their movement more akin to gorillas than anything human.

Pomni transformed her mechanical arm and sprinted towards the incoming attackers. She shot at one extractor, it leapt onto a wall and climbed to the roof. She shot at the other extractor, it was hit in the leg and it tumbled before getting back to it's feet. She aimed everything she had left at the charging pulverizer. Rusted armor flew off the marionette but it didn't slow down.

Cade covered his head from the percussive shots, it was louder than he ever thought it would be. The noise scared him back into hiding. He stayed out of sight as his mother warcried.

When all five shots were spent, Pomni focused her energy in her sword and waited until the pulverizer raised its arms to attack. When it did, she slid under it and hacked off one of its back feet. The pulverizer stumbled and crashed into a building, momentarily stalling it.

Cade flinched when the pulverizer hit the wall. It's face and shoulder were torn open, it's old frame falling apart from ages of lack of upkeep. He looked back to his mom as she roared at the marionettes.

"PREPARE TO DIE, MOTHERFUCKERS!!" Pomni was confronted and flanked by the two extractors, who attacked simultaneously. The one on the roof tried to come down on her head, but she rolled away and slashed the second. The extractors collided, giving her a chance to charge her sword and cast a flying razor light wave at them both.

The light cut through the marionettes as though they were paper, cleaving them both in two as the pulverizer came charging back. Pomni gritted her teeth and focused energy into her gun. Yellow light gathered at the end of the barrel as she aimed it at the pulverizer's head.

"DIE!!!!!!" A harsh beam of light blasted from her gun, vaporizing the pulverizer's head and most of it's chest. It fell, sliding to Pomni's feet. She continued to yell as she stabbed and slashed at the remnants of all the marionettes until they were nothing but magled scrap.

Cade was horrified. His mother had never spoken like this in front of him, even at her most angry. He didn't recognize her as she angrily tore apart the remains. He stayed where he chose to hide long after she finally calmed down.

Pomni punted the head of one of the extractors into the distance. "AND STAY DEAD!!!" She huffed, her eyes still glowing with mother bear fury. How dare these things choose today of all days to break through to what is supposed to be a safe zone. Cade could've been killed!!

Her mind slowly cleared from the combat hyperfocus. "Cade!?" She looked around for him, hoping he was still safe. She didn't see anymore enemies, but what if he had been hit by debris? She spotted him peeking out at her, but he quickly ducked away.

"Cade?? Are you hurt!?" She rushed over, kneeling next to his hiding spot. What greeted her wasn't relief or gratitude....but fear in her son's eyes. "Cade?" The light in her eye faded, she appeared as herself again, despite the fact that she was covered in marionette oil splatter. "It's okay, they're gone. You're not in danger anymore." She reached for him, but he flinched away from her.

A flash of blue light announced Caine's arrival. "Pomni!? I just heard- oh, you already took care of it." He looked over the carnage, taking how overkilled the marionettes looked.

"DAD!!" Cade bolted from his hiding spot, and hid behind Caine.

Caine kneeled down to his son's level. "Hey champ, you okay? I'm sorry you had to see those things up close, but it's a good thing mom was here. She took care of the bad guys."

Cade fearfully side-eyed Pomni and hid in Caine's arms. "I want to go home." He mumbled.

Caine protectively held Cade close and lifted him up. "We can go home."

Pomni felt hurt that Cade didn't want comfort from her. She tried to get close to Caine but Cade whimpered when she did. She could see him shaking and kept back. "I...I need to search the extractors for D.I.Es and check the outer patrols. Make sure there aren't more of those things lurking around. I'll catch up with you later." Pomni sheathed her sword and held a stoic expression as she passed Caine.

"Alright...?" Caine watched Pomni walk away. She was never this stiff after battle. "Stay safe." He wished her before blinking away with Cade.

~

Pomni couldn't get Cade's fearful expression out of her mind. Did seeing those things really frighten him that much..? No, he tried to face one, despite being defenseless. Then what was he so afraid-......oh.

Pomni stopped what she was doing, feeling like an extractor's claw was around her heart. Her own son saw her fight with all her strength against enemies that didn't warrant it. She's handled far worse with less. She tore them apart to protect her son. That didn't make her a bad person, right?

She reflected on every battle. Every boss. Every rat that ever had the misfortune of crossing her path. She killed...for fun. Her bloodlust was never satisfied. When she couldn't find something to fight, Caine would take up the mantle of spar partner to curb her hunger, but she always craved more.

Pomni looked at herself in the reflection of a rain barrel, really looked at herself. Her soul felt warm in it's chamber, like it was trying to comfort her. "Am I a monster...?"

~

Cade stayed in his room the rest of the day, not telling Caine much about what happened. He hid in his favorite box in the closet. He felt safest there outside of his father's arms. His room door quietly opened and shut. Someone walked across the room and sat outside his open closet. He stayed quiet.

"Cade..." Pomni gently called to him.

Cade didn't respond. While he didn't truly believe his mother would hurt him, but now that he knew what she was capable of, he stayed in his box.

"Cade, I hope...I hope you know that what I did today was for your sake. Those marionettes are very dangerous. They could have killed you and so many others. I had to..." Pomni trailed off, her voice failed her as she wanted nothing more than to hold her son. "I only ever want to keep you safe, but the world we live in is stupidly not safe." She gave a sad chuckle, fighting tears. "I'm sorry today was so much...you weren't ready...maybe you never will be. Maybe that's what I'm afraid of..."

Cade peeked out from his box. "You're...afraid?"

Pomni quickly wiped her eyes. "Yes, I'm terrified. That one day, I won't be there...when it really matters... Please...don't be afraid of me...I would never...I could never..." Tears forced their way out, streaming down her face.

Cade's never seen his mother this vulnerable either. All of this was so new for him. She was always so strong. Unbreakable. Unshakable. Today he thought she was too strong and now...she pleaded with him as though he held her heart in his hand. "Dad said you kill bad guys. They were pretty bad."

"They were. Very bad. I'm sorry I got carried away in front of you, I just...needed to make sure they would never hurt you or anyone else again. It's what I was made for, Cade."

"To protect?"

"To protect this city. And you are part of my directive too, have been since the day you were born. I would fight the world for you, Cade, because I love you."

Cade climbed out of his box and hugged his mother. Pomni pulled him into her lap and nearly broke down with relief. Cade felt safe so close to his mother's heart again. Their soul energy greeted each other so warmly. "...it was kinda cool how you cut those two extractors in half without actually touching them with your sword. How did you do that?"

Pomni took a steadying breath. "It's very advanced soul magic. It'll be awhile before you learn how to use it. A long while. For now, I just need you to do something for me." She adjusted him in her lap so she could look him square in the eyes. She needed to make sure she had his full attention. "When something like this happens, and it will likely happen again, when I say run, you run. Understand?"

Cade nodded. "Yes, momma. I don't want to stick around those things again, not until I know how to swing a sword like you. Then I can help you fight the bad guys."

"I'm hoping one day you get to live in a world without them, but...you are a harlequin. We're specialized puppets, and you have the greatest advantage over all who came before you."

"What's that, momma?"

"You can write your own directive. No human will ever do it for you. You can choose your own path from day one. I know you'll figure life out because you're smart, like your father..."

"And strong like you, momma. I'll be the bestest harlequin ever!"

Pomni smiled. "Yes, you will be, and I'm already so proud of you."

Cade and Pomni sat together in the young puppet's room for hours talking about what the future could hold, and the plan for his future training. He needed to be ready. The world wasn't going to wait for him to grow up before it threw it's worst.

[kewpikayo]

Hi guys!! Happy Halloween to you all!! I am so excited to have been a part of this event! I have literally had a blast writing for this and getting to make friends with everyone involved. Just to hold witness to their skill, drive and dedication to their chosen craft is breathtaking and I count myself honored to know such moving, beautiful people. I am thankful, from the bottom of my heart, for you all and I can't wait to binge read every single one of your fics and feast upon every art piece made! I dedicate this first chapter to the lovely @dewdropdinosaur, the amazing @xalygatorx, and the magnificent @chefskjssart. I also want to mention all of the lovely people I have met due to this event and everyone from the Helluva Watchparty server! Thank you so very much @fraugwinska and @macabr3-barbi3 for coming up with and hosting this event!! Also a HUGE shout out to @fraugwinska for creating my banner for my story and for creating the gorgeous poster for the event!!! You are amazing~! With that being said, I do hope you all enjoy the story! You're in for a ride for a couple of chapters haha. Have fun and stay tuned~! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Your at Chapter 1: Team Player: WC: 4,077

Chapter 2: Left Hanging

Chapter 3: Burning Alive

Summery: Two strangers, good with their hands, one with machines and the other with knives, are desperate to escape the Entity's grasp. You need Alastor more than he thinks he needs you. When you propose a deal, however, it is an opportunity the radio host can't seem to pass up. Maybe with a promising partnership, the two of you might just make it out of the trial alive. Only time will tell if teaming up will have been a useful endeavor... Or not at all...

"Partners...?" Human Alastor x reader

Warnings & Tags: Reader is a survivor, no use of Y/N, Reader has a nickname, Alastor is a little shit, Asexual Alastor, Violence, Blood and Violence, Injury. minor character death.

Improvisation was a necessary skill and was considered, by the general public, a practiced talent that so few possessed; let alone could master. For a radio host, it was a skill that was often expected and anticipated. Having the ability to breeze through topics of discussion and flight of the audience’s fancy with simplicity and ease was envied. 

To be expected, it was an ability that Alastor was exceedingly proficient in. However, he was never one to appreciate improvising with the absence of his favorite tinkering tools…

With great irritation and a brief, sharp snap of bone, Alastor’s second target that evening had become his most recent victim; the body lifeless within seconds of his bold hands clutching around the poor brute’s throat. As dust returns to dust, so too did the corpse of his target fall limp; greeting the mud below with a dense, subdued thud. 

Never before had he been so disappointed in acquiring a kill in all of his existence.

It was honestly such a bore, and terribly anticlimactic in nature, that it had the demon yawning. Barely any exertion was needed on his part as he dropped down on one knee and pilfered around the belongings of the newly deceased. With a sigh he noted the absence of blood his kill had presented him with an ample amount of dismay. The pitiful fight his victim had given him was easily comparable to the emptiness of the broken vessel’s pockets: sad, sparse and leaving much to be desired. Such a waste.

What a forgettable experience…

Finding no object of his desires within the austere expanse of the other male’s personal inventory; Alastor resumed his previous posture and continued his merry way through the muck dredging up underneath his hunter’s boots. 

At least this strange place, the darkest marsh he had ever had the privilege to traverse, had allowed him the luxury of supplying him with comfortable, familiar footwear. The kind Alastor wore in life, that is. The custom red and black oxfords he usually sported would do him no good in these wet conditions.

Interested in procuring a blade for himself, Alastor carried on with his measly hunt. His cream colored shirt sleeves were rolled up pristinely to his elbows to fight the humidity in the air. His tan skin was the only part of his body covered in nakedness. 

The radio host proudly, but cautiously stalked amongst the cat tails, fluff from the plants clinging to his jeans. Complaints and curses alike were softly hissed beneath the confines of his practiced grin as he wiped sweat from his brow. He peeled the plant based affections from his clothing; tremendously irritated that his search so far had not been fruitful.

As Alastor sauntered forward, the occasional chirping of  crickets and birdsong died away; producing an extreme sense of urgency into his bloodstream. The feeling clawed its way up his spine, delicate shivers dancing on his dark skin; but for the life of him he could not understand why.

However, he received his answer for the foreign feeling  upon hearing a chorus of feminine terror.  The continued abrasive treatment of his low vocal range and vocabulary immediately ceased at the sound. The echoes on the wind brought the sweet melody to him;  music that was slowly drowned out by curses and shouts of the resistant sort.

Making his way towards the source of the cadence he enjoyed, Alastor was met with quite the sight. A cloaked fellow with a peculiar mask had a scrawny looking female hung from his shoulder; fighting every second she was in the other individual's grasp. 

The voice belonging to you, a captive little lady, bloomed into yet another tantalizing scream as you were lifted up and  placed onto a hook like contraption. Metal violently tore into flesh, ripping sinews and muscles apart to conform to the shape of your body as you were left to dangle helplessly. Crimson torrentially dripped from your fresh wound amidst panicked cries. 

The fresh blood produced by your harrowing experience awoke the  tell-tale signs of Alastor’s hunger, his growling stomach sharpening his senses to the utmost degree. 

Of course, now was not the time to be thinking of breakfast. Curse his human guise and its continuous need for sustenance…

Alas, although very much entertaining, the show given to him was not what had insnared his focus. Surprisingly, the reflection of the blade held within Alastor’s target’s grasp had him pleasantly distracted. His mind ran in circles, plotting to procure the tool the other was using for himself.

Noticing your screams had silenced themselves to nothing but faded, pained whimpers; you had finally managed to acknowledge his presence amongst the cattails and behind miscellaneous boxes and crates. 

He put a finger to his upturned lips in silence as his eyes bore holes into your skull with just his stare alone; willing you to cease your current noisiness. He was pleased when you returned his gesture with a subtle, inconspicuous nod and looked down, feigning defeat. Good. You and your sweet, but damnable, chirping would not spoil his fun. With certainty, he would not allow his hunt to be ruined. 

With meticulous effort, Alastor’s stealth was successful as his hands made purchase around his victim’s throat once his prize was within reach. In a graceful, dramatic flourish to show off for his lovely audience, the individual’s neck was snapped in twain before much of a fight could be had. The fool was ignorant of his demise as the cloaked, masked killer slumped to the earth, lifeless and growing cold. The poor bastard didn’t know what hit him.

After his show was finished and a third kill was acquired that evening, Alastor kneeled down to inspect the object of his covetous obsession.

The blade he had desired ever since waking up on that deserted, modern steamboat was finally within his careful grasp; dripping fresh scarlet into his palm as he inspected it closer. No doubt the liquid belonged to you, the lovely lady of the hour he ignored, who still dangled precariously from the iron hook above his head.

Alastor continued his efforts in silence, standing to his usual impeccable posture as he cleaned the pilfered knife on his jeans. He brushed the blade against his trousers until it gleamed brightly under the nearest lanterns hanging from the power lines overhead. It was still terribly dark to be considered mid-morning; but at least the faint mist from the swamp gathering around his ankles was able to provide ample cover.

Seeking to return to the shadows, Alastor secured the blade in its sheath along his belt before taking a few steps away. His attempts were met with quite a bit of resistance. An  incredulous sigh left you only to be followed by grumbles of frustration. 

“Um…Hello? Still very, very stuck here…I, um…I could use a little help…”

Right. You were still present.

Alastor paused to turn his head and peer at you over his shoulder. Despite his permanent grin, the look he granted you was one of absolute disinterest. He calmly observed you, making no attempt to retrieve you from your painful perch.

The two of you continued your tacit stare down until you shook your head and looked away. With an irritated huff, you spoke through gritted teeth as you immediately rescinded your request for assistance 

“You know what? Fuck you…I’ll just do it myself…”

Alastor turns to face you fully as he folded his arms, intrigued by the colorful vernacular you decided to spat his way. Rude as you were, it was rather interesting to watch you fumble around on that hook. It was very much akin to a caught fish longing for the relief the river could provide.

A surplus of other vibrant curses and varied complaints tumbled from your lips as you reached up to grasp the hook. You paused to catch your breath; your teeth gritted in preparation for the agony to follow.

With zero amount of finesse and a great deal of clamor in your voice, you proceeded with your attempts in dislodging the hook from your shoulder.

However interesting and delicious the bloody spectacle was, it was painful to watch. It was terribly irritating to see how many times you struggled. Several minutes passed by before you managed to successfully set yourself free with a deafening yelp and an unharmonious fumble. Blood painted the wet earth deep maroon in your burdensome descent.

“So… Do you actually ever…Y’know… Help anybody? Or do you just…’Tend to ignore everyone who addresses you?”

Breathless and struggling to take in air, you were hunched over on your knees. You hadn’t moved from where you had fallen as you looked up at him with exhaustion and a furrow of your brow. Your free hand clutched to the gaping, bleeding wound in your shoulder.

What a sight. Still, your defiant tone was something he didn’t appreciate. 

The radio host adjusted his red suspenders that had fallen from his shoulders as he looked over to you. His grin was a sneer as his subtle dark curls obscured one of his amber eyes. Would he even attempt to humor you with a response or rebuttal?

…Perhaps this once.

“…Only if it’s worth my time.”

Alastor watched as you instantly became mute, obviously processing the offense his words supplied you. Your nose scrunched up in frustration as you chewed the inside of your cheek. You reached for your forgotten, dingy baseball cap on the ground and donned it with a huff. There was a pause before any more words greeted him.

“Well, my life, as well as what I have to say, is certainly worth more than a few measly minutes of your time… I have a plan that you might be the type to appreciate. That is if you can manage to pull your head out of your ass long enough to actually listen…! ”

Alastor’s eye twitched. Who did you think you were to address him with such hostility? Where did you get the audacity? Hadn’t he saved you enough from nearly being killed regardless? The thought only made Alastor’s blood boil. He gripped the blade in his grasp tighter. Such an ungrateful little soul…

“…I think I shall be the judge of that.”

The magnitude of his sneer was heightened as the radio host regarded you. An incredulous chuckle escaped the confines of his strained smile.

“Besides, why would I ever wish to associate with a rude little hussy such as yourself, hm? You’ve already proved to be quite the nuisance, especially with your failed attempts at escaping harm's way. Anything you are willing to offer me I might as well do myself. At least then I’ll be guaranteed a sufficient chance of succeeding… ”

Surprisingly, his statement was met with a defeated sigh, your head hanging to the side in an attempt at composure. With your spiteful countenance before, he didn’t think you would give in so easily. Perhaps your words were a means of deception, proving yourself braver than you truly were. What remained in front of him was the lingering, fighting spirit of a terrified, broken girl.

 Interesting.

“Shit…look. I’m not…I’m not good with apologies…and I’m sorry I cursed at you…So I guess… un-fuck you or whatever…? Also, I guess you do have a right to be an asshole…You don’t know me or owe me nothin’…”

When he didn’t give you the satisfaction of seeing his expression change, you sighed yet again. 

“…And I realize that a lot of tha time my mouth moves before my brain... But I promise…You're gonna want to hear my offer…”

With desperation drenching your features,  you tilted your head in a last attempt to get into Alastor’s good graces as you gestured towards his knife.

“...Just with seein’ ya hold that blade, I assume y’know your way around a weapon like that…And ya look like you're good with your hands. Well, I’m pretty good with mine too, so… We can, y’know… Work together to make it outta here..? Maybe…?”

So far, your attempts at persuasion were failing epically, but he would continue to listen to whatever useless drivel that fell from your maw. He always did love a good show, and the expression you were making both intrigued him and bettered his mood.

“...That is, uh…That is what ya want, right? To go home?”

A quick, dry laugh escaped Alastor’s strained smile as he admired the way your face fell at the sound. 

The only home he ever truly desired would be in the arms of a soul far out of his reach. His mother would not be found anywhere near his usual place of inhabitance. It was a moot point to ponder. There was no undoing what had been done…What he wanted he would not be able to obtain, nor was it something you could provide.

Alastor was right to ignore you before. Your words were meaningless and a waste of his time.

With no other response from him, an exasperated sigh left you.

“Look, I’m gonna level with you…The only other way outta here is by takin’ a permanent dirt nap and I, well.. I don’t plan on dyin’ today and I assume you feel the same…Sooo teamwork’s our best bet…”

Alastor tilted his head in curiosity. However trifling you were, he thought it perdinant to at least hear you out. He was being overly gracious, and if yet another phrase that displeased him came from your mouth you were as good as dead. Despite his smile’s presentation of interest, there was a deadly edge at the end of his next utterance.

“…What do you propose?”

“Well…I’m good with wires. My old man was a mechanic, so I got a lotta practice growin’ up…I digress, but it’s kinda hard to fix generators if I keep gettin’ attacked or hooked…”

Grunting, you willed yourself to a standing position, dusting off excess dirt from your mud soaked jeans. 

“...So what I’d need from you is the assurance you’ll keep everyone away from me so I can fix at least five of those gen’s. We ain’t gettin’ nowhere without them workin’ properly…”

Once again clutching your injured shoulder, you winced as you made your way over to where the demon stood. Your anguish was audible, enough to make Alastor’s mouth water despite his current dissatisfaction with your presence. He took a step back from you. You had gotten too close for his liking.

“I think we could be useful to one another..And after tonight you can rest assured you won’t have to deal with me no more…But until then, if you can just, y’know…Do what you did before with Ghostface and pick off the others, then we may actually have a shot at makin’ it outta this shit hole alive…”

You hold out your hand; a brighter, hopeful expression present under the blood and grime attuned to your visage.

“So? We got a deal, or whatever? Scratch my back and I scratch yours?”

Your gesture was met with amber eyes being narrowed as Alastor looked down at your bloody offered hand. He was quite within his rights to deny your request and be on his merry way. If he was of a better mind, Alastor might have already left you in the dust.

Still, he pondered more on your words as thoughts of freedom flooded his mind’s eye. You stated the impossibility of liberty without fixing five of the machines that were no doubt spread across the premises, so repairs were necessary. He was used to such when it came to his line of work, making his radios function like new or maintaining the upkeep of his other preferred equipment.

Still, by the appearance of your denim jacket and ripped jeans,  he surmised he had found himself in the middle of the modern era; which could only insinuate that modern technology had a hand in creating the essential items of escape. Alastor stifled a growl. Of course machinations resemblant of his arch nemesis would have a play in his supposed capture. The thought was infuriating and made his skin crawl with hatred and disgust.

Alastor had absolutely no interest in operating or learning to associate with such devices. Loathe as he was to say it, he would have to permit your continued presence. At least until freedom was achieved.

Vexing as you were, perhaps you would prove yourself useful as the night went on. Perhaps your assistance would prove an ample enough apology for the offense your prior verbiage caused. 

“Usually, I’m not one to appreciate company in my efforts. I prefer working solo, but…”

The radio host’s eyes narrowed as he bit his tongue. The shameful lowering of his pride to admit you were needed sent an unpleasant taste to the back of his pallet. The feeling made him immediately want to throw up.

“...You do have a point. Fine…I shall aid you if only for the sake of escape…”

The moments between his words and your own fueled more interesting unspoken prospects. Though sensical and practical, it was rather curious that you requested him to kill the others. It was a task he had no qualms with, but having another acknowledge his prowess with his chosen craft elevated his ego. Begrudgingly enough, your plan was brilliant and would surely succeed if he was the one behind the task.

He hoped  his little slaughter spree, now that his weapon of choice was acquired, would go smoothly and supply an efficient means of entertainment that evening…

“So… Whatdya say? Ya wanna make this official, then?...Partners?”

You gesticulated your offered hand in earnest, eager to ascertain some sort of plan for escape. Alastor quirked a brow. You must be desperate for protection if you felt the need to acquire an agreement of such without asking for the name of the fellow you were doing business with. Perhaps you just weren’t the type for much small talk, however necessary the information. Still, it was a hilarious oversight on your part. He would fix it. Promptly.

“My, you certainly are an eager beaver…But you aren’t going to ask for the name of the gentleman you are conducting negotiations with? Quite the questionable set of business practices you have there, doll…”

You rolled your eyes as you struggled to bring your other hand to prop up the elbow of the arm remaining outstretched, your shoulder exhibiting its horrendously mangled and deformed shape in your efforts. It was as if you had been to the nearest butcher and had requested to be placed on the chopping block.

“What's your name, then?”

“Why, I’m so glad you asked! The name’s Alastor. It is a real pleasure to be meeting you.”

“Yeah. Nice to meet you too, I guess…Now can we shake on it? My arm’s gettin’ tired.”

Alastor chuckled. You were certainly such a feisty little lady. Quite the character, indeed. 

At least you weren’t boring.

“I suppose you have a deal then. Partner’s it is…I can’t wait to become a team player, my dear…”

Leaning down to meet your short stature, Alastor kept his impeccable posture as he bent at the waist. Lifting his hand, he teasingly flicked your baseball cap down over your eyes with a chuckle before offering you a dark gloved hand.

You moved your hand up to lift your cap, revealing the grumpy furrow of your brows as you accepted the other’s extended palm. He could hear the audible annoyance in your voice, the sound reverting to a low grumble. It was very much resemblant of the incessantly adorable noises alleycats would make. While alive, his mother insisted on feeding the disgruntled beasts, assuring more of their presence outside of their townhouse. 

The two of you participated in a single, firm shake before wordlessly parting. When you glanced down to search for something within the confines of your pocket, he takes the chance to wipe whatever remained of your blood off of his glove and onto his button up, painting the cream fabric a bright crimson.

“I suppose, however, if we plan to continue with business, might I also have the pleasure of your name? It would be beneficial to know who I am referring to should you feel the need to scream that you require further assistance…”

Unfolding a piece of rolled up parchment, you spared him but a glance as your hands made light work of their task. In your hands rested a ripped, dusty map. It looked as if it had weathered far worse conditions, but had somehow still remained intact.

“…Scout. It’s not my name, but it's what my folks call me the majority of the time. Feel free to call me that too, I guess…”

Alastor made a mental note of the interesting nickname and pondered how it was acquired while he watched you peer back down at the damaged paper in your hands. Your bloody index finger pointed at a location.

“It says here that we’re in “Blackwater Swamp”. Huh…The name’s just as bleak as the location…figures. Anyways, uhh… There's supposed to be a big boat, The Pale Rose…? Down that way…? That's where I, and most likely you, woke up…”

Glancing back up at your partner, you pointed in the opposite direction from where the two of you were facing as you jostled the map in your hands to smooth out the curling parchment. The sound your actions caused had you glancing up and over your shoulder in apprehension.

 Silly thing. There was no need for you to worry for your protection as long as he was in your vicinity. You had made a bargain, after all, and Alastor always completed his end of a deal one way or another. You were safe. 

For now.

Finally feeling more relieved there was no active threat nearby, you glanced back down at the map.

“And, if I'm readin’ this right, this map also shows where all the generators are and also the exit…Yeah, right here. Have a look.”

Pointing at the intended spot, you double tapped the page before looking up at your colleague in crime and turning the map around so that he could have a gander.

“Interesting. Who knew you had such a useful commodity in your possession. Where did you find such a thing?”

“It was just in a random box I opened when I woke up. There’s tons of that kinda shit around here. Just gotta look…”

Turning the page back to face you, you observed the guide in your hands more intently than before;  speaking with assurance of the plan forming in your mind.

“Once we’re both done with our respective jobs, we’ll meet back up at the exit and get the hell outta here. Sound good?”

The demon stood back up to his usual height as he gifted you a genuinely amused expression. With the promise of his assistance, you were certainly set in your ideals that you would make it through the night.

Alastor’s wicked grin grew in delicious splendor. How unfortunate it would be if that wasn’t the case…

“It seems we have a plan in place…”

“Yeah. Looks like it.”

Wrapping up the map and shoving it into your back pants pocket, you looked over your non injuried shoulder to address him with an urgentness in your tone, the sound intreating him to listen intently.

“Well, we best get started. Stay safe out there…Don’t do anything stupid and try not to die…Alright?”

A chuckle rumbled in the radio host’s throat at the concern igniting your expression. You were worried? For him? How absurd and endearing a spectacle. 

So the radio host was right. Your crude and classless persona was indeed the facade of a frightened girl. You should’ve been more concerned with yourself considering your current situation.  Already  you were sufficiently injured and still profusely bleeding beautiful shades of scarlet.

Alastor was certain you wouldn’t last the night. Not without his assistance.

“Oh, I can assure you that won’t be a problem; but you do the same…”

Pleased with his reply, you silently nodded as you did your best to cautiously duck and hobble behind the surplus of plywood from the deserted paddle steamer nearby. Your free hand graced the splintery surface of a broken pallet for support as you stepped over a plethora of weeds.

Just the pitiful sight of you retreating had the curvature of Alastor’s lips upturned. Things had indeed proved to be rather intriguing…

[stellar-skyy]

MECHANICAL HEART - Platonic Ei & reader

i. SUMMARY: After she discarded her first prototype, Ei created a second. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Dehumanization (is it dehumanization if they aren't technically human?), mentions of abandonment, implied emotional neglect. Ei isn't the best parent in this one tbh. iii. NOTES: Platonic, angst, puppet!reader, gn!reader, 0.8k words. iv. A/N: ok i said i wasn't gonna write this week cause i'm busy but in my defense i've been procrastinating a lot and this is the result.

When Ei sought to create a body to withstand eternity, she didn’t plan to create two prototypes. She only needed one vessel, and any excess was unwelcomed. What she didn’t account for was failing miserably at her first attempt, and having to redesign her plan entirely.

You were the stronger one, if only by a small fraction. You had stared up at her, wide and unblinking, and something changed behind her eyes. She brought you close into her arms—gently, for any more pressure and you might have cracked into two.

It wasn’t quite love. She cared for you the way an inventor cared for their creations, all out of a sense of duty and a desire to preserve what has been so carefully built. There wasn’t a single ounce of maternal affection behind it.

She looked after you of course, like any good inventor would. She’d repair the cracks across your arms and legs, and test each one of your joints to make sure they were in working order. Her hands would trace around your wrists, feeling exactly where the ball-and-socket connected with an unabashed sort of curiosity. You were a source of fascination for her, a wonder of her own invention. How could it be that she created something like you from parts of her inhuman self: eyes glistening with tears that felt real, staring at her with such childish innocence.  

You were so human—perhaps even more so than herself—and yet you were completely synthetic.

She didn’t love you. But she held you in her arms and pressed gentle kisses to your forehead when you cried, and was that not close enough? You could forget how cold her lips were on your skin, and try to ignore how limp her hold was, if it allowed you another moment of believing she cared for you.

It was a sort of care, you reasoned. An emotion so raw and tender, one might mistake it for love if they were desperate enough. Deep down, you knew better. You knew that all the love Ei had to share died with her sister. If there was any left, she would have taken pity on the other prototype—your brother.

He was a soft one. Round face, long lashes, hair falling down his back in waves of indigo. His sobs spilled freely from the moment he was created, covering his cheeks in tears. An emotional creature, Ei had called him. Too fragile to rule a nation, too weak to be used as a reference for her final vessel like you had become. Almost as quickly as he’d been created, he was whisked away and out of sight.

“Safekeeping.” She said. She didn’t tell you what that meant, or which corner your brother had been tucked away into.

But even gone, his presence never truly left you; he was always there as a cautionary tale for what could happen if you failed to live up to Ei’s expectations. He was the example, the proof that if you weren’t enough, you would be discarded like the simple puppet you were.

There wasn’t any love in her eyes when she looked at you, but she still spent time at your side. She’d sit with you for hours in the Plane of Euthymia—whether it be out of some misplaced sort of parental instinct, or a deeply rooted guilt at creating you in the first place, you wouldn’t know—not saying much, but content for you to exist within the same space as her.

The entire occurrence felt a touch too normal to feel natural. You were just two inhuman creatures, masquerading as mortals for each other’s sake. She kept the visits brief, and always dismissed you first.

(And if she embraced you as you left, a suspicious glossiness over her eyes, you didn’t comment on it.)

It was observing the humans themselves that made you realize how unlike them you truly were.

They lived so carelessly, talking loudly amongst themselves and living blissfully without the crushing weight of the world on their shoulders. Women would walk with children balanced on their hip or clinging to their hands. They’d ruffle their hair and laugh at their antics, and there was a distinct feeling that you couldn’t quite place. No heart lay in your chest, but there was a phantom heartbeat thrumming in your ears.

Wouldn’t it be nice to be treated with such… what was it, love? You had never experienced such a thing, not from the person who acted as your ‘mother’. She could do the exact same things they did, but you would be able to tell there was no emotion behind it.

You were her puppet, her creation. You were born from parts of herself, cobbled together into something resembling a person. And no matter how tightly she held you, no matter how many times she looked at you with an unreadable look across her face, you wouldn’t truly be her child.

It wasn’t love. She made sure you didn’t get it mixed up, telling you bluntly that there wasn’t room for love in eternity.

That didn’t matter. As long as she still took care of you, you could pretend.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[razorblade180]

Feast of Pursuit pt2

[Day 5]

It was a massacre. There had been abyss domains throughout the adventures of Aether and his friends that had brought them all to their knees outside the portal. This however, might be the first time an event brought such hopeless.

Countless pyro, hell, numerous support and multiple captains of teams laid along the ground utterly battered and bruised. Even Aether himself got a glimpse of what terror was on day 5.

Aether:That turtle has to fucking die.

Tighnari:HOW!? We can have the power but lack the defense! We can gain the defense but lack the power!

Yanfei:Can anyone explain to me how hydro is completely ineffective against an electric shield, but not the other way around!? It’s limiting so much options!

Klee:I don’t wanna play anymore…

Emilie:It struck me from across the field.

Dehya:It tore through my defenses.

Kokomi:It tore through my health! My health! I don’t want to brag but I’m pretty sturdy.

Zhongli:It broke my shield in seconds. Aether, I don’t this one is possible.

Yoimiya:I can’t feel my fingers. Hehe, training with the Raiden Shogun doesn’t feel this electrifying.

Lyney:I don’t want to be that person, but I can think of one person who probably would’ve made this a little easier.

Hu Tao:*sits up*….Aether, I have permission to go ask anyone for help, right?

Aether:Yep. If it’s possible.

Hu Tao:Time to go back to older days.

xxxxx

Hu Tao:*opens door* Hello my old partner in crime. I require your assistance!

Jean:…*closes book* You must be desperate. Is it an Electro Lector?

Hu Tao:It’s much worse. You have to keep everyone alive this time. It might take multiple attempts and you might even want to give up halfway through but-

Jean:Let’s go. You never ask for a healer, so I know this means a lot to you. *walks off* How out of the box is the plan?

Hu Tao:You’re familiar with the setup.

xxxxx

As a funeral director with sacred rites passed down, the essence of death was more familiar to Hu Tao than most people. Even so, rarely was it ever pushed to the limit for too long.

What attempt was this? Five? Fifteen? She lost track. In fact, she wasn’t really keeping track of anything anymore. Movements had become second nature, a torturous yet necessary muscle memory. Lightning called for her demise, but wind pushed away from the brink. Flames ate het vitality while granting her strength and renewing vigor to be eaten away yet again for the sake of power. Again and again, her body was guided by butterflies through the numbing chaos until…

Jean:HU TAO!

A strong shake jolted her out of the flow state she found. The funeral director looked over her shoulder to see Jean gripping Homa to prevent another swing. She was utterly exhausted to the point her hair was undone. The arms of Bennet and Furina held her body tightly in place; both of them were drenched in sweat and elemental energy just like she was from the attacks. Hu Tao finally looked ahead to see the turtle completely limp.

Hu Tao:Oh…it’s dead.*drops to knees* Thank goodness.

Time- 2 minutes and 28 seconds.

xxxxxx

Hu Tao:*face down* Lyney? My humble magician?

Lyney:Yes?

Hu Tao:I say this with respect; you never need to wish your Father was around when you can rely on me.

Lyney:You did this to prove a point!?

Hu Tao: I tend not to take these things too seriously, but Aether and so many others put their time into making me feel strong and dependable. I’m never going to betray those acts of kindness. Crowns aren’t just for show.

Chongyun:And every day you earn yours. *pats head* Good hustle.

Hu Tao:It was a team effort. When in doubt, Sunfire it out. Not to mention a very dedicated actress who knows how to fill a role.

Furina:I want a vacation!! I could sleep forever!

[Day 6]

Aether:Hey. How’s-

Ei:I can kill it.

Aether:….

Ei:We’ve had our ups and downs in the past, but Aether, I can kill this fungal beast. The Terrashroom barely hangs on but I know my strikes will find its mark. My chosen companions have no flaws that k can’t cover; all we need is a bit more power. I am not one to beg or plead, but I am asking you to put your faith in my blade. Let me strike down our enemies.

Aether:…It’s been a long time coming. I believe you. *pulls out crown* Give them hell.

xxxxx

Perfection is impossible, yet if there’s anyone who could get close, it’s the Raiden Shogun. Before fanfare could die, luck could run out, or music could end, Ei’s blade called for another seamless rotation to prolong the battles’s perfomance until it was the enemy that could no longer go on. Ei, feeling the mental fatigue, sighed as she put away her blade.

Time- 2 minutes and 28 seconds

Ei:Well done everyone. A flawless show of our abilities.

Yelan:I think I might hate this event.

Furina:*on her hands and knees* You and I both. There’s such thing as being too popular!

Xilonen:The three of us make a pretty decent core apparently. *sits down* Can’t say I don’t like it, but yeah, this attention sure is demanding.

Ei:I apologize. This formation was easily the most efficient to deal with this enemy.

Xilonen:Oh don’t apologize. Happy to help. *lays down* Ugh, I need a nap.

xxxxx

Aether:Good job everyone. The Teapot has freshly prepared food and the hot springs are in full effect. You should all feel proud. May we continue to get stronger as a team and individuals! *pumps fist*

Everyone:*pumps fist* To progress!

[Day 4, revisited]

Time- 2 minutes and 29 seconds

Xilonen:How did I let you talk me back into this?

Furina:Navia was really bummed out. I can’t say no to her requests. Even if she herself isn’t quite up for the challenge, she at least wanted to see it was achievable. Isn’t helping friends part of the job?

Yelan:Just admit you have a crush. It’s more admirable. It’s settled, I’m requesting time off. I don’t our ambitious leader has a problem with that.

Hu Tao:Zzzzz

Xilonen:This girl is kinda nuts. Not the strongest person I’ve met, but she comes out swinging faster and harder than most.

Yelan:Yep. Raw power is kinda her thing. It’s consistent and consistently reckless. You get used to it.

Xilonen:…So who’s Arlecchino.

Hu Tao:*sits up* Don’t worry about it. *lays back down* Zzzzz

Yelan:She woke up just for that!?

Furina:I respect it deeply.

[st4rsinthenight]

Hey there! I think you're still doing requests! (i hope you are-) Could you do a oneshot with Leo and an overachiever reader? a reader that would go above and beyond for their grades and won multiple competitions, known for their smarts that often burns themselves out and pull all-nighters and all that jazz?

Take your time, eat, drink, etc! -MysticMidnight

|★| A/N: Hiya hey, uuuh- just to let you know, this is a bit of a slow burn and it's also quite long. The reader is gender natural, by the way. I feel like this could use part two so yeaaah.. we see If I make it. I hope you enjoy. By the way, this is my first ever one shot, so I hope you enjoy <3

|☆| TW: mentions of burnout, mentions of (reader) pulling all nighters

|★| Other warnings: long oneshot ahead, Leo may be occ.

|☆| Tropes: romantic, angst-y

|★| Request: Leo with an overachiever reader

Another message notification pops up onto their phone, which is followed by the short, familiar, high pitched ringing that reminds them that someone just texted them. It's the seventh time today, well, the seventh time in half an hour to be exact, almost as if the messenger is eager for them to reply, however, their attention remains on the note book that's placed on their desk. (Reader's) gaze is locked on the page, the half of the sheet is filled and scribbled with multiple assignments and notes that they finished, looking at the freshly written letters and numbers on the worn piece of paper with a proud, yet tired look on their face. Their hand lets loose off of the pen, setting it aside for a moment to take a small breather before they move on to the next piece of homework that they have. Although the assignments felt never ending, that didn't stop (Reader) from getting them done and even if they didn't have anything to do in terms of homework, they would make up an assignment of their own, all for the sake of learning and learning, in order to achieve more in life.

Sometimes, they would set aside stuff like hang outs, friends, and most importantly their own health- as well rest and taking breaks, even if they are short ones. The most of a hangout they would do is if they study, or go to a competition with someone, in order for their friends to see them thrive at their victory. And the most of a break that they would allow themselves to take was to just take a deep breath, to mentally prepare themselves for the next thing. And at the moment, it felt like the time to catch that break.

With their chest slowly rising upwards, their breathing is soon tagged along with a yawn that's about to spill from their mouth, a yawn which they try to repress by locking their lips shut- before sliding their hand up to their face in order to keep it from coming out. They feel the muscles in their sore collarbones stretch as their shoulders rise, their head sliding upwards a bit, their gaze shifting from the notebook to the ceiling in a matter of seconds. That proud little smile that played on their lips just a moment ago vanishes off of their face.

They can't deny that they feel a little dozed off at the moment, although, they have more work to do, and they shall get it done.

They force their body to relax once more, feeling a little limp from the lack of movement. They've been sitting down at their desk for a couple of hours now, refraining themselves from getting up until they've finished everything they have and want to get done.

Shaking off their dizziness, replacing it with determination to finish more assignments, they hang their head down low to stare at the notebook, blinking a little in order to get rid of their hazy vision. The letters and sentences on the page become a little distorted at first glance, however- (Reader), has already memorized what they wrote down, along with what they needed to do. Their fingers stretch forward onto their desk, reaching for their pen- their hand feeling a little limp as they do so. Their eyebrows narrow a little at this, their fading gaze locking onto their hand, glaring at it for a brief second.

It's almost as if they are mentally scolding themselves that it's silly of them to stop working, just because of a little fatigue.. Well, fatigue that's slowly taking over their body that is.

Despite that, (Reader) pushes the tired feeling away, attempting to battle it with a want for pride, knowledge and satisfaction, therefore pushing themselves further as well, to finish their homework. Normally, whenever they are in need of motivation, they would lock their eyes at the multiple medals and trophies from both past, and recent competitions, prizes and rewards sit proudly on their shelf above the TV set in their room, but at the moment, they feel as if they can't bring themselves to strife their attention away. As their hand begins to pull the pen towards them, shifting in their fingers in order to get a good grip on it, the faint- and this time, somewhat distorted sound of the message notification that emits from their phone, passes through their ears once more, followed by screen flashing automatically. The bright glow of their phone is one of the few things at the moment that successfully captures their attention, although their brain- is telling them to not allow themselves to look or do anything that could wipe away their focus. Nonetheless, they snap their head at the glowing device, the light that contrasts through the dim room sends a small stab of pain towards their head, making them shut their eyes closed for a couple of moments, their eyelids feeling as if they are glued.

They slowly open their eyes, trying to adjust their vision to the environment around them Secretly and silently, they prayed that their eyes would remain closed- however, that prayer was short lived, as it was eliminated by yet another fast, strict scold of their brain, therefore opening their eyes so that they can at least get a glimpse of who is messaging them at this hour.

And once they do so, their eyes are met, or more likely re-introduced, to the vibrating, and bright device, along with the name of the eager messenger.

'That Dorky Jupiter Jim Loving Slider'

Their fatigued mind does a little equation in order to remember who..

oh... Leo.

(Reader's) eyes widen a little at the realisation. The person who was messaging them was their partner. He was messaging them for at least half an hour and they didn't even spare a glimpse at his messages. They felt a small pang of guilt hit their mind, almost like waves to the shore. It drowns away their determination, though, it's just for a moment. Their hand shivers a little as it abandons the pen, their fingers being a little stained with the blue ink that was meant to help them complete their assignments and it's now instead, inching closer to their phone to unlock the screen, and enter the messaging app. Squinting their eyes at the white screen, trying to make out the texts of their partner with a fuzzy vision, they sense another yawn coming their way. Their hands twitch a little, lips sewing themselves shut in an attempt to contain their energy.

If managing to stay awake after pulling four all nighters in one week was a competition, they would unfortunately lose, despite the many wins that they've had so far.

And it's a competition that they, like many others, have to win. But the few things that could help them win are their stubborn mindset, the glow of their phone and the muffled knocking coming from behind their window.

Wait, knocking from the window..? Their head spins at the direction of the noise. It falters for a second, going quite for a short period of time. Soon enough, that sound was substituted by their phone vibrating in their hand. That little notion was followed by the sudden sound of chirping sounds, that came from the same device. (Reader) didn't even have to look to understand who was calling them, they recognised the caller by the sound of the off the ringtone. A sound that they understand when their mutant partner is calling them, the sound of red eared slider turtle chirping.

Despite knowing who it was, the sound surprised them and jolted them awake, for a short period of time that is. With a heavy heart, and a hitched sigh, they leave behind their wants for knowledge, just for a couple of moments to go and either greet him, or to try and explain to him to leave alone them with their homework, their body shivers a little from exhaustion as they pull themselves away from the chair, their feet struggling to stabilize them.

They felt a small groan rip from their hoarse throat, which reminds them that they have to drink water, although- they brush off that thought. With their hand squeezing the vibrating device and their body practically slumping, (Reader) forces themselves to straighten their posture as they walk, or more likely stomp closer to the window. As they slumped closer to it, the shadowy- although recognisable silhouette of the blue cladded terrapin waiting at their window fills their vision, a sight that would usually surprise them in a positive manner, however at the moment- they saw it as a distraction. But they couldn't bring themselves to protest against it, not at the moment at least.

After reaching the window of their room, they raise their arm upwards to knock back to him, the cool and smooth surface of the thick glass making contact with their soft skin, the light pressure of their knuckles creating a couple of quick tapping sounds which immediately grasp the turtle's attention, who whips his head to look at them through the thick glass. Once his focus is locked onto them, (Reader) catches a glimpse of a little grin appearing on his face, which gives them the message that he is happy to see them. However, they don't open the window immediately like they would usually do, therefore not allowing him to enter.

This causes his smile to falter a tiny bit, an undertone of concern could be briefly seen on his face. The slider's mouth opens, mouthing something at them- his faint voice slips away from both (Reader's) ears, and mind. Nonetheless, they still notice his concern and they decide to not waste any more by just letting out their partner in the cold. With quick, yet forced movements, they began unlocking the window, putting their hands on its smooth sill, pulling it in order to get it open.

It was normally a swift motion, however, they struggled to get it open, as their arms started to feel weak as well, but they managed- and once they did, their legs thumped backwards so that they can make room for the mutant to come in, which he swiftly did- in almost excited pace. A cold gust of the fresh, midnight wind tagged along with Leonardo's entrance, bringing a rather pleasant contrast to the damp atmosphere of (Reader's) room. Letting fresh air in their room is, as well, one of the things that they forget to do whenever they study for long periods of time.

They can't argue with the fact it's pleasant having Leonardo over, however- there are more pleasant things in life, like gaining knowledge and fixing up their grades.

"Oh, man- that felt like forever.." The blue clad complained in a somewhat playful manner, his voice rang around his partner's room, filling the silence that they were so used to these past couple days. However, there's a worried undertone creeping up on his words.. one that's familiar with them.

"Yeah, uh.." They can hear their own voice straining a little as they start speaking, that same hoarse tone finding its way in their words. It makes them want to grimace, and the dryness that is stuck in their throat as they try to clear it is not any help either.

God, they really need to get some water, and they are not the only one who thinks that. (Reader) shudders a small breath, trying to recollect their energy that abandoned them just a few minutes ago.

"Leo- listen, about the messages, I'm sorry but-" Once more, they start speaking, feeling as if they own their partner an apology. They try to make their voice a little more audible to both their and the sliders ears, as it sounds a bit scratchy for comfort. Despite their attempts at soothing their discomforting tone, it's all in vain- and it's not long before they are cut out by the slider.

"Woahwoahwoah! I've- I've got a question.." He quickly shushes them up, the little smile he had on his face begins to fade away into an expression of worry as he takes a mental note of their state. Their slumping, their tired looking state. It was a worrysome sight to look at, but the mutant should have expected something like this to happen. He can also guess the reasoning behind their lack of responses for the past hour..

Okay, the past days If we are being literate. (Reader) can as well sense, what he is going to ask-

"Oooh- Is that medal new??" ..Only for their prediction to go out of the window as they now hear the distracted and rather amazed tone of voice of their partner, his focus doing a whole 180 as his eyes lock on the shelf that holds all the rewards that they've earned. Upon seeing him get so thrilled over their achievement, (Reader) lets a mental sigh of relief to cross over their hazy mind, as well as feeling a stinge on pride pinching at the corners of their brain. In these types of cases, they would happily explain to him the effort they put into gaining their prize, sharing fun facts about the things that went down at the competition as well, although now, it didn't feel like the best time for explanations, no matter how much they would like like to talk. So, to keep things short, they just give a quick nod- a tired smile forming onto lips as they do so.

Their head then shifts directions, eyes now glueing at the notebook on their desk. At this point, they can barely recognise the containments on it, despite the fact that it's used as a reminder for them to get their homework done. The longer they look at it, the more Leo's compliments and positive comments begin to spill out of their brain, soon, completely missing his distracted rambling.

Those assignments. They have to get them done. They have to finish them. They need to-

"(Reader)? Hey-! The earth and the galaxies are all calling to (Reader)!" It's not long before the slider snaps them back to reality, the motion of his gloved palm running up and down their face, just inches away from touching them. The quick motions block whatever sight they once had with the scribbled sheet. It resulted in a small yelp to rip from their throat, therefore startling both themselves and the blue clad. They almost forgot he was in their room for a moment. Hitching a sigh, before relaxing their body-they make one last attempt to clear their throat, rapidly fluttering their eyes so that they can fix their poor eyesight. However, their slumping state is bringing great worry to their partner and before they could even get a word out, he cuts them off.

"Eeggh.. Yeesh, you don't look- you don't look so good."

He looks at their face. It appears to be a little hollow, exhausted even, there are dark bags that surround their eyes as well.

He thought about making a little joke, asking what kind of brand those bags are- a joking question that he usually makes to Donnie. However, he acknowledges that this might not be the moment for such jokes.

A grimace takes place scrunches up on his face, it's not particularly a look of disgust, but rather a look of solicitude. A look in which, despite their fuzzy vision, is noticed by (Reader). They know that he is right, they know it.

|★| NOTES: ..Theres way more that i want to add, so I feel like i have to make a part two. Also I am sorry for any potential grammar mistakes sbsjs. Also, the ending might feel a bit rushed-

[watsittoyah]

Before The Snow, Came The Flame…

Young!Coriolanus snow x blk fem!reader

Theme: Morally gray themes, talks of suicide, heavy sexual content. Possessive/Obsessive behavior. This is pure fiction and should only be consumed as such…

Chapter 00 Just Say Yes…

(Sexual Act 1- Oral sex, and breathe play )

Evangeline-

I’ve always hated the snow, because when snow comes, that means death to nature. The pretty flowers wither away, the warm air turns cold and crisp, and the animals become scarce. But the one thing I hate the most about snow is when it falls it brings death to the living.

“Do you think they’ll find out about us still existing? The Capital, I mean.” Johnathan my half-brother asks me as we trek across the frosted ground. “It’s been what ten years? I highly doubt anyone other than Nana-Bee remembers. Besides don’t you think they would’ve came for us by now?” I tell him as I lift a thick branch, letting him pass. I soon after follow and I see some pine cones. I gather them and hear Johnathan give a sigh.

“I guess you’re right. And it is for the best that no one knows. It’s already sad that we can’t walk around without people staring. But you’re lucky Evangeline. Your eyes are only yellow sometimes. I wish I could do that.” I ruffle his curly hair and give a laugh. “Nana-Bee taught me. I’m sure she’ll teach you when you’re older.” He rolls his golden eyes at me and as I’m sure he’s about to give me some snarky remark on why our great-great grandmama won’t be teaching him color changing, we hear a loud-

Snap!

We immediately freeze in place. I sign to him to hide but he shakes his head and signs back that he’s not leaving me.

As much as I love this kid, I’m sure he’s going to get me killed one day. I go to sign something else but I see something in the distance and I yank Jonathan down just in time to feel something whiz past my ear. The tree explodes into small splinters.

“Suis-moi.” I order him. He follows me without hesitation as we stay low.

I feel my heart pounding in my throat all because our father had warned us to keep watch for outsiders. Whether they were Peace Keepers or just people from surround districts. If they see us, they will take us and sell us to the capital.

Even though our existence is close to a secret now, there are still older people who remember us. Children of fire, is what they’d call us now, which is a better name than being called Morningstar children.

Another bullet whizzes past my head but unluckily for Johnathan it hits him in the shoulder.

I go to help him but he pushes me back and hisses for me to hide. “N-“ A gun sounds off and I just throw myself up into a near by tree. I use the leaves to keep me hidden and watch over Jonathan as he writhes in pain.

“It’s not a deer! It’s a…kid?” A large lunk of a man looks at my brother and he knees down. “Geez sorry kid, but wait wasn’t there two of you?” The man looks up into the trees and Johnathan bites the man on the ankle.

He lets out a yelp and he takes the butt of his gun and hits my brother in his face which makes the flames in my fingertips ignite.

I leap out of the tree and when I land, I push him hard into the ground and I grab at his face. He yells as I start to dig my nails into his eyes. “Evangeline, let him go.” I hear Jonathan hiss as he yanks at my blouse. “I’ll go when he’s dead!” I snap at him.

“You crazy bitch!” The man yells and with a swift punch I hit in his nose. He goes limp for a second and I get up feeling my hands getting hot.

“Evangeline calm down, please. We need to go.” He yanks at me again and as we start to run, a strong grip yanks me down. “Eva-” I push Jonathan forward and yell for him to run. I see the hesitation for a split second but he doesn’t what he’s told. He has an injury he needs to take care of.

The man yanks me down and I hit the ground hard. He looks down at me with such hate in his eyes and I smirk at him. “Fuck y-” I feel his boot hit the side of my head hard and I soon feel the darkness take over.

Coriolanus-

“Hey! I got something!” Bugs and I turn back around and head towards Duke, who had a body slung over his shoulder. Which was odd because he said that he was chasing after a deer.

He has turned and we saw that it was a woman. Her black locs were long and covering her face. However there was a long white stripe in the tangled mass of black.

“Why do you have an unconscious girl with you?” Bugs asks as Duke puts the passed out girl down and cuffs her wrists as well as put a blind fold over her eyes.

“At first I thought her and that fucking kid she was with were animals just by how they were moving. But that’s my fault from the stories my great grandparents told me, I should have known they were Morningstar children.” I give Bugs a look and he shrugs. “I don’t know Coryo.”

Duke throws his hands in the air in frustration. “Don’t tell me you never heard of Morningstar children.”

“No, what the hell are you talking about?” I ask feeling annoyed as I eyed the unconscious girl. “My great grandparents told me about these people. They’re demons in human form. They can set a flame to anything even ash. However if you were to capture one them, they can grant you the key to heaven. So that even if you were the greatest sinner, when you die you will still make it to the pearly gates. But you have to make them give their loyalty to you or else they will turn on you like a rabid dog.”

“Wait, how is she…a demon in human form she looks like a regular girl to me.” Bugs asks as he kneels close to her. Duke yanks him away from her.

“There are a few signs, if it’s a woman, they have a bewitching scent that makes men turn lustful.”

“That sounds like shit.” I interrupt. Duke just waves me off. “But all of them, they have this hair as black as night and a singular while strand of hair. It’s like their birthmark. But the number one thing that gives them away are the various color of yellow in their eyes. They say when you look at them you can see the pits of hell in them.” I look over at the girl and notice her breathing is steady.

To the untrained you’d think she was sleeping but I know better. She’s pretending. I use to do that as a child when I didn’t want to go to bed but my parents had checked to make sure I was asleep. I keep my eyes trained on her as I hear Duke and Bugs bickering.

“It all sounds like a bunch of bullshit. Besides this girl has a family that’s going to come looking for her. Just let her go and we can pretend that we never seen her.” Bugs says as he walks over towards the girl.

Duke side steps him, blocking his path. “Do you not understand what we have here? We have the key to damnation. I know someone in the capital would pay big bucks for her. I’m not giving her back.”

“Duke you sound so idiotic. Coryo, please talk some sense into him. This girl needs to go hom-” I raise a hand and see the girl stir.

“What’s wrong?” Bugs asks as he walks over. Instead of answering I reach over her but Duke yanks my arm back. I send a glare his way and his grip loosens on my arm. I then remove the blindfold from her face and I lock onto a pair a dark brown eyes. They looked wild, angry and beautiful all at the same time.

When she locked her eyes onto me I kneeled there in front of her frozen. Because I was captivated by her. If she had a proper bath and clothes, she’d be more beautiful than any rose I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

When she speaks, I can hear an accent that I can’t quite place. “Please let me go, I didn’t do anything.” The girl pleads to us.

“I’m letting her go, her eyes aren’t yellow, she’s just scared.” Bugs went to take the cuff off of her but Duke moved in and grabbed the girl by her face and pinned her to the tree behind her.

“Hey!” Bugs and I both yell in unison. “I know what I saw, and I know what you did. Stop lying! And how did you change the color of your eyes? I saw hell in them! Tell me how, before I snap your neck! Don’t make me look like a liar!” He yelled as his hand squeezes around her throat.

I quickly pick up my gun and I aim it at Duke. Feeling that if I don’t threaten him he might just break her. “Let the girl go or I will make a mess out of you.” I say calmly as I cock the gun. He gives me a glance and smirks.

“I don’t know what witch craft she’s pulling but I’m not letting this golden goose out of my sight. I’ll let her go but she comes with us.”

“Hey if you can prove she’s a Morningstar child or whatever then we will figure something out later but if she’s not one then we need to find her people and give her back. Deal?” Bugs comments trying to de-escalate the whole situation.

Duke lets her throat go and she sucks in a mouth full of air as she collapses onto the ground. “Fine, but I know what I saw.” Duke snaps as he moves back.

I don’t lower the gun until he’s several feet from her. When I see it’s somewhat safe for her, I kneel down in front of her and she jerks back from me. I move the gun and raise my hands to let her know I’m not going to hurt her. “You’re safe, I promise.” She glares past me and I know she’s glaring at Duke.

“What’s your name?” I ask her so she can focus on me. “Evangeline.” She answers as she keeps her eyes on Duke. “Evangeline, hey I will do my best to take care of you while you’re in my care. Duke won’t touch you again. You have my word.” She slowly puts her brown eyes on me and I see a flicker of something.

Gold? Maybe an amber color? The flicker leaves her eyes and all I see is brown.

“I want to go home.” She tells me as her brown eyes stare deep into mine. “You’ll go home soon.” I tell her as I find my hand moving closer to her small brown face.

I move the long white loc out of her eyes and right there in that moment, I knew she was going to be my little rose. She had thorns, that was clear to see but past the danger, there was something more. Something I wanted to…possess.

Evangeline-

Several days later…

The smell of snow was in the air and it was foul. People will tell you it doesn’t have a smell, but they’re lying. It smells overly sweet and it smells like death.

I wonder if Nana-Bee and Papa know that I’m here. Maybe Jonathan told them…

I hope his wounds are healing.

When I get the chance, I’m going to beat Duke’s skull until the bone marrow is not longer recognizable.

I smirk at the thought as I swirl my finger around the ice in my cup. “I wonder if his body will twitch when I do it?” I mutter as I place the cup down and stare at the iron bars of my cell.

I duck my head down as I hear footsteps approaching. “Are you hungry?” I hear a voice call out to me. I lift my head up and my eyes meet a pair of baby blue diamonds. “All depends, can I take that meal to go?” I answer him as I stand on my feet and walk close to the bars. He gives me a gentle smile.

“You know I would let you go in a heartbeat but-”

“But the people here are convinced that I am a peculiar woman. I’ve proven that I’m not. I’ve touched these iron bars, and my skin hasn’t burned. I’ve let my feet touch salt and my soul hasn’t been damned. I’m innocent and you know that Coriolanus.” I tell him. He gives me a stern sigh.

“Duke still isn’t convinced. He still thinks you’re lying.” I throw my hands in the air. “Because of my eyes? My not yellow but boring brown eyes?”

“I don’t think your eyes are boring.” Coriolanus comments making me narrow my eyes at him. “Are you flirting with me, Coriolanus?” He shakes his head and gives me a smirk. “Why would I flirt with a devilish woman such as yourself?”

There it is, the electricity in the air between us. I don’t know when this flirtatious banter had started, maybe on the second day? But I’ve notice the special attention Coriolanus gives me.

He always gives me extra food. He makes sure I get to some time to stretch my legs when no one is looking. To anyone else he would seem endearing.

But his blue eyes hold something cold in them. So I play this game, I let him flirt with me because I do get benefits and it helps that he was cuter than Bugs and way more attractive than Duke.

Funny enough I always like to test my limits with him. Just to see how far he’ll let me go with this little dance.

“How about you let me out of here and I can simply show you what this devilish woman can do.” I say as I trail a finger across my swollen bosom.

His eyes drop down for a second too long and when his eyes travel back to my face he leans in. “How do I know you won’t escape?” He asks in a husky whisper as he reaches up and twirls one of my locs between his fingers.

“You’ll never know until you let me out of this cage.” The corner of his lip quips up and he cocks his head to the side. “I quite like you in the cage. You remind me of this golden flower that my Grandma’am would keep in a vase. It was a beauty but if she lift the glass vase from it, the golden rose would wither away in minutes.”

“So you see me as a weak flower?” He shakes his head. “On the contrary I see you as something precious that needs to be preserved.” I nod and pluck my loc from his touch.

“Funny I just think you like to look at me in this cell so that you know where I am at all times.”

“That is not true. Besides watching someone in a cell is quite boring and reminds me of the games.” He retorts. “I think it wouldn’t be boring to watch me if you had something worth watching.” I say as I take a few steps back and sit down on the stone bench. He studies me as I let a smile dance across my lips.

“Maybe if you got to watch me…satisfy myself.” I tease as I lift my skirt. His gaze was trained on my every move as I raise the skirt past my brown thighs. I run my fingers against my inner thighs and let out a soft moan.

“Am I worth watching now, Coriolanus, darling?” I moan out to him. I watch him lick his bottom lip and see a tent starting to form in his pants.

He leans in closer towards thebars and looks behind himself to make sure no one was there. “You’re going to get me in trouble Evangeline.” He says as he cups himself as he looks back at me. “Then stop watching me. Or try to stay quiet, because I’m going to give you a show.” I slide a two fingers under my panties and I hear him groan as I move my fingers away and show him how slick my fingers are.

“I guess I was wetter than I thought.” I tease as I flick my tongue against my fingers. I can see he wants nothing more than to taste me.

Hell I’m sure if I told him to unlock the cell he would do it without hesitation.

I spread my legs wider and I slide the two digits inside of me, watching him rub himself. “You know you’ll only get in trouble if you get caught in here with me, but I’m sure you wouldn’t care about the punishment as long as you’d get to taste me. Am I right Coriolanus?”

“I would want nothing more than to taste every inch of your body, Evangeline. From head to toe.” I watch him rub himself harder and I close my eyes to enjoy my self pleasure but Coriolanus clears his throat.

“Don’t close those pretty brown eyes. I want them on me when you pleasure yourself. I want to be the only thing you look at when you reach ecstasy.” I let out a groan as I work my fingers on my clit.

He reaches into his pants pocket, surely to get out the keys when we both hear footsteps approaching. I quickly stop and smooth my skirt back down.

Someone clears their throat behind Coriolanus but he doesn’t turn to them. “What?” He says in a tone a little too calm for my liking. “You’re needed in the bunks, Coryo.” They tell him. “I’ll be there. You can go.” The foot steps leave and I give him a sly smile.

“Sorry for interrupting your duties. I’ll behave next time.” He doesn’t return the smile. He just stares at me for a pregnant pause.

“Don’t be sorry, I chose to be here. And I don’t regret it one bit. But I must apologize for the interruption. I have to go. Maybe we can continue this later.” He goes to walk away but I clear my throat, stopping him in his tracks.

“If I’m going to be here for a while, I do hope we get to have some private time together, Coriolanus. There are some…talents I do want to show you, without interruptions.” My eyes flicker to the bugle in his pants and when I look back up I see his blue eyes darken with want.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we have more time when I come to visit you again.” He leaves and I watch him go feeling a bit light headed. I close my eyes for a few minutes and when I open them I let out a breathe. “Evangeline what are you doing?” I ask myself in pure wonder as I look down at my cup of water.

It was after supper time and I was looking at the potato soup as if it were a bomb that would go off at any second. “Nana-Bee’s sunflower stew sounds good about now.” I mutter as I push the bowl away. I nibble on the hard roll and see Sinder, a sweet older lady who was assigned to bring me to the mess room, come right on time.

“Ready?” She asks as she motions me to come to her. I give a slight nod and I go to her, making sure I don’t spook her as she unlocks my cell. “To take a bath like regular folks? Always, Sin.” I give her a kind smile and she returns one back as she escorts me out. As we head down the hall I take a chilled breathe.

“How’s the baby coming along?” I ask Sinder as she leads me further down. She touches her swollen belly then. “He’s coming along nicely. Due in December, so he’ll be a winter baby.”

“That’s nice, make sure when he’s born you bathe him in warm milk so he’ll have warm skin. My Nana-Bee, says it’s nothing worse than having a baby in winter. If they catch the frost they’ll cry and get colic.” I tell her.

“I’ll do just that. Thank you, Evangeline. You know, I don’t believe what they say about you, you’re just different is all.”

I like Sinder, she’s sweet and she makes me feel as if she could be my sister if circumstances were different.

She brings me to the baths and she turns around to give me some privacy as I strip off my clothes and ease my body into the luke warm water. “Evangeline, can I ask something of you?” Sinder asks as she picks up my clothes and folds them for me. “Anything, you know it’s rude to deny a woman with child.” I tell her.

She gives a soft smile. “I have to check in with my sisters, can I trust that you’ll be fine without me for a few minutes?” I nod like an obedient child. “I’ll be here, I won’t run. Besides there’s chill in the air, I’d catch my death if I leave like this.” She nods and she quietly leaves me alone.

I rub the cheap soap against my brown skin and let out a soft sigh. I let myself duck underneath the water and let the silence surround me.

Maybe it would be easy if I just drowned in this bathtub. Then these people can find my body and feel guilty for taking me away from my family. However I wouldn’t want Sinder to be the one to find me.

As the morbid thoughts seep through my brain I feel a burn in my lungs. My body twitches under the water and I break the surface and take in a mouth full of air.

Something in the air was off, almost as if someone’s presence was near. I swirl my fingers in the water and stare at the door. “Seems awfully rude of you to watch a lady while she’s having an intimidate moment.” I call out as I feel someone watching me.

I stare harder at the door and feel annoyed that whomever is behind it thinks I’m an idiot. “Might as well come out.” I call out once more. The door slowly opens and behind it was Coriolanus. The scowl on my face disappears and I sit up as he steps into the room and closes the door behind him. “I went to your cell and I didn’t see you there.” Coriolanus confesses with a tinge of red in his cheeks.

I give a dramatic pout and lean on the side of the bath, not caring that my breasts were on full display to him. “Awe, and you thought I ran away? Careful people might think you care about me, Coriolanus.” I say as I watch his eyes roam over parts of my naked flesh.

“And what if I do care? What’s the harm in that?”His eyes lock onto mine and I feel as if I’m in the room with the beast.

That’s a ridiculous thought, this is just Coriolanus, the same Coriolanus that treats me well and has a liking for me.

“All depends, do you care about my wellbeing or just my body?” I ask as I lean back looking at him carefully. His eyes look down and when they look back up they seem to darken a shade darker. He takes a step further into the room which makes me want to back away from him but I make my body stand still.

What is going on here?

“Why do you do that?” He asks, the question catching me off guard. “Do what?” I ask innocently. “Tease and tempt me? I could take advantage of you right now and no one would know.” I swallow before answering.

“I would know, and maybe I want you to take advantage of me a little. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you stare at me, Coriolanus. Like how your eyes linger on my tongue when I lick my silverware clean after my meals. Or how when you cuff me, your hands brush against my skin longer than it should. I fascinate you, and I probably haunt your dreams.” I say as I cup water in my hands and slash it over my face.

“You do haunt my dreams, and my nightmares I’m afraid. But if I could sleep and see your beauty then may I never awaken again.” I blush hearing that compliment and it let a bit of my guard down. “You really know how to lay on the charm.” I comment as I reach for the sponge to wash myself. I wasn’t fast enough because he had plucked the sponge out of my reach. “Please allow me.” He says as he walks behind me.

I go to tell him that it wasn’t necessary but he was already rubbing small circles against my shoulder blades. Which were stiff from sleeping on the hard cot in my cell. I relax and let him work my muscles.

“You’re quite tense, especially here.” He reaches lower and I keep my moans to myself. “That feels nice, really nice. You are talented with your hands, Coriolanus.” I tell him as he lathers up the sponge and goes to rub my lower back.

“It’s a talent among many that I possess.” He comments. I turn to him then and look up at his face. “You know, you are quite beautiful for a man, Coriolanus.” He blushes and looks away. “Thank you, though I don’t think men want to be called beautiful.” I give a shrug. “There are beautiful men and there are handsome women. That’s just how the world is.”

“I like the way you look at the world, you seem to have a fresh perspective on it.” He comments as I study his face. “Mmm, can I ask you something? And you have to answer me honestly.”

“Of course.”

“Does your lover ever get jealous that you spend time with me?” He stops and looks at me puzzled. “I don’t have a lover.” It shouldn’t come as a shock by the way he flirts, but it was a big puzzling to know that he didn’t have a lover. He is quite a looker and his eyes were just gorgeous.

“You don’t? Well that’s quite sad.” He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Besides if it’s so sad, why don’t you be my lover?” I expected him to ask me that question.

“I don’t think you’ll want me after a while, I am quite the wild card.” He leans in close and move my hair behind my shoulder. “I think I’d want to keep your forever. Would you let me? Keep you that is.”

“I don’t know, give me a good reason I should be kept by you.” I tease. He nods slightly and he places the sponge down. “Not only do you haunt me, but I crave you. I crave to know your taste on my tongue. I crave to feel your body pressed against mine. If there is one thing I want it’s to keep you for all of eternity.” He lets his hands touch my chin and I feel him tug at my lower lip, releasing it from my teeth.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask as I feel him pull me closer. “So you’ll say yes. Say yes and be mine, Evangeline. Be my little rose.” He leans in and fight hard to not fall for his charm. “I don’t think I will.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “I suppose I have to use stronger measures then.” With a swift skill, he takes me out of the bathtub and sits me on the edge. “What are you-“ He interrupts me by trailing his fingers down my slit. “You know I’ve been thinking about this little pretty pussy all day. When I had some alone time, I touched myself and thought about you on your knees, taking this down your throat.” He places my hand on his bulge and I let a moan escape my lips.

“Do you know how badly I want this inside of you? In every hole that you’ll allow me to have access too, Evangeline? But first I need to be a gentleman and show you that I will adore the very ground you walk on.” I watch as he lowers himself on his knees and parts my legs.

I wants as he leans in and he inhales my scent deeply. I bite my lip as I see his blue eyes look up at me. “Those moans you were making earlier, I want you to only make those sounds for me. You see, Evangeline. I am a jealous lover and I don’t like sharing what’s mine. So you can’t moan for any other man but for me. Do you understand?” He asks as he massages my inner thighs.

“I think so.” I whimper as I feel my cunt move towards his mouth. “No thinking, say yes, to me my little rose.”

“What if someone catches us?” I ask my mind slowly caring less about Sinder and more about Coriolanus’ mouth. “Don’t worry about that, just focus on me.”

He kisses my pussy lips which cause a slight shiver down my core. The kiss deepens and I feel him use his tongue to part my lips.

I feel my head loll back but his hand finds my throat and I know without words, he wants me to watch. He wants me to watch him devour me.

His fingers tighten a bit but the action was more for pleasure than for pain. I bite my lip, as I continue to watch as he assaults my pussy with his long tongue. His name seems to sing off of my lips as I find a blissful rhythm with my hips.

I reach down and place both of my hands on the sides of his head as I push his face deeper. God his tongue was working wonders on my little throbbing clit.

His eyes flutter closed and I move my hips faster. I feel the balls of my feet press into his thighs as I try to keep balance but I almost lose it when I feel his tongue flick against the hood of my clit faster.

I let out a sharp whimper as he uses his free hand and pressed my left thigh further apart. He then takes his middle and ring finger and does a come here motion inside of me. Massaging my g-spot as well as giving long and salacious licks to my now tightening clit.

“Oh god..” I cry out as I buck my hips harder against his now swollen lips and tongue. His eyes glare up at me as if to dare me to lose control and give him what he desires.

He wants me to say yes.

Shit I can almost taste the word on the tip of my tongue.

I feel his grip on my neck tighten as well as the muscles in my lower stomach. I hook him closer to me as if I want him buried into my skin as I fuck his mouth.

Not caring that we could get caught. No longer caring that he is slowly cutting off my air supply. I want him to make me come, I want to give him the very thing he wants. “Yes…Coriolanus..” Is all I can manage to say before I have tunnel vision. I feel light headed as I come against his tongue. I hear him moan and suck as he releases my throat from his dangerous hand.

I suck in air as he grips my hips and he drinks in all of me. My body shivers but not from the chill in the air. But from the heat that he was giving off of his body. When he looks up at me, he has a very pleased look on his face. He flicks his tongue one more time and I shiver from the action.

When Coriolanus stands up I feel my body wanting to lean in to him, as if he’s a magnet and I’m just a scrap of metal being pulled in his direction. I still my body to keep from falling into him.

His pupils blow out, causing the blue in his eyes to almost disappear. He then licks his bottom lip and reaches out to me. I lean into his touch and he smiles. “My loving little rose.” He whispers to me as he lifts my white loc and twirls it between his fingers.

I say nothing and just look up at him. Something isn’t right, I feel as if I just gave him a piece of my soul and now I’m going to be damned for eternity.

When I finally go to speak we hear a gasp. I turn slightly to see Sinder with a shocked expression on her face. “You’re not allowed in here.” She tells Coriolanus.

“I came in here to check on our guest. And to my surprise I see she was left all alone. What would’ve happened had she had drowned? Then you’d be the one having to be punished. I’ll let it slide this one time. But if it happens again you’ll be the one who will be chosen for the next Reaping and I’ll be sure of it.” Coriolanus says in a frosted tone.

He looks back at me and I see a ghost of a smile on his lips. “We’ll talk later, Evangeline.” He sends a soft kiss against my temple and leaves the both of us in the mess room.

When the coast is clear, Sinder walks over to me with a towel and she starts apologizing profusely. “I am so sorry Evangeline, I was only gone for a moment. He didn’t hurt you did he?”

“No, I don’t think he would’ve anyways.” I say as I dry off my body and get dressed. But also not feeling sure that I believe what I just told her. “I would be mindful of that particular Peace Keeper. He’s charming but I’ve heard rumors, that when he takes interests in one of the girls, he likes to play with them until they break.”

She brings me back to my cell and I tell her good night as she gives me one more apology.

It falls to silence and I take my cup and I swirl what liquid I had left in it. “I hope he knows fire can be a bit difficult to break.” With those whispered words, I stare into the cup and dip my fingers into the liquid. As I raise my fingers into the moon light I see flames slowly licking my finger tips. I flick my tongue against them and I smile in the dark corner of my cell.

“Well when you play with fire, you tend to get burned…”

Next

[urobsessivegirlfriend]

Corrupting a religious sheltered girl is such a dream come true.

Getting her to be obsessed with you, Constantly flirting with her and teasing her in a light degrading way. Making her have internal conflict with her feelings for not only having dirty thoughts about you but having romantic feelings for another girl even though it’s “wrong”.

I’ll lure her deeper into me, taking her to the next town over for a fun light hearted date. Letting her cling to me and spoiling her telling her “this is how a boyfriend should treat you, you know?. This could be your practice for when you actually get one.” But I know I’m a jealous bitch that has no intentions in letting my cute sheltered puppy out of my sights.

After our lil “practice date” I’ll park the car in a dark secluded area so that we can listen to music and chat.

I’ll pull out a blunt asking her if she’s ever tried smoking before.

She looks a bit scared while shaking her head. I’ll make sure to reassure her that it’s okay that I won’t force her to do anything. However, she wants to impress me and asks me to show her how to. Cute.

I’ll tell her “there’s a first time for everything.” Clearly Insinuating something deeper.

I’ll teach her how to light it and instruct her to only take a small drag but the cute idiot takes a bigger hit and ends up choking and becoming extremely high with just one hit.

“One hit wonder.” I’ll tease.

As it goes on we’ll sit in the back seat

“the music sounds better back here doesn’t it ?”. She’s too high and limp to really reply, she’s too busy clinging onto my arm with her legs on my lap. She’ll keep repeating how nice I am and how much she likes being around me, how pretty my hair is.

Well get on the topic of how she’s never done anything with anyone not a simple kiss or even hand holding, poor girl.

“I can teach you that too you know.”

“Teach me what?.”

“How to kiss.”

She’ll look hesitant. The thc getting to her better judgement as she looks between my eyes and my lips. She agrees with a cute red face. I’ll take it slow at first giving her small gentle pecks. Then I’ll pull away telling her to open her mouth a bit and just like the good girl she is, she obeys.

I’ll deepen the kiss, swallowing up her cute needy voice. She’s clumsy and inexperienced but that’s okay I think it’s adorable. I’ll stroke her legs slowly creeping my hand up between her thighs, teasing her and slightly pushing them apart. Shes too high and occupied with our deep kisses to notice how Im corrupting her.

I’ll touch her soaked underwear pulling away from our kiss to laugh at her.

“What’s this ?.” I’ll tease.

She’ll cry from embarrassment, whimpering apologies and saying that this is wrong that she wants to go home. I’ll comfort her telling her that it’s natural and that it’s okay that I won’t tell anyone about this.

She calms down and I keep my hand on her panties, gently rubbing her wet clothed pussy. Teasing her that the little noises she’s trying to hold in, are cute and that she should let me hear them.

I’ll push her skirt up just so I can get a better view of my sweet girl’s cute underwear, pushing them to the side and gently touching her pussy, feeling the heat and the wetness on my cold fingers. I’ll smile at her tears of embarrassment and give her a sweet kiss as I rub her needy clit.

I can tell by the way she’s gripping onto my arm and her red face that she’s feeling a little too good. Especially when I stop rubbing her clit for a second and she gives me a confused pleading look, obviously upset that I stopped.

“It’s okay puppy I’m not stopping.” I’ll slip a finger into her tight hole, loving the way she gasps and whimpers as a second finger slips in. I’ll be gentle at first. Praising her, kissing her, shushing her sweetly when she starts babbling like an idiot.

My thrusts start getting rougher as she nears and I’ll grip her hair when she gets too loud telling me it’s too much.

“Take it like a good girl.” I’ll tell her.

[foolish-clown]

Clairvoyance

A/N: Guess who got into Aespa in the space of 2 days 

Warnings: Violence, blood, deaths, threats, injury and cursing

Word Count: 2.1k 

Her eyes pierce through your defenses, everything that you are laid bare for her to view for her own pleasure and amusement. 

The demon sits upon her throne, and somehow you find yourself at her side. 

Mafia-Boss!Winter

Frigid air forces white puffs to exit passed your lips, their existence lasting but a few seconds before they evade your vision.

The scar on your arm itches.

The cathedral was empty upon your arrival - the stone walls doing very little to contain any heat from the carefully placed candles. All in rows of three.

This was by no means new to you, because while the building was used for its intended purpose, it was all a farce. A cover-up.

Sin and debauchery lay just below the surface, away from watchful eyes and curious ears.

The first time you had timidly stepped through the threshold, you had almost expected God himself to smite you down, and force you to repent for any and all sins that you have committed in the short amount of time you had been on this world.

You wore sin like a silk scarf, greeted it like the long-time friend it has always been.

After all, it was the reason you had forced tensed limbs passed the sturdy wooden doors that belonged to this particular place of worship, arms clutching a package with some very questionable words written upon its surface.

You had entered with nothing but a goal and a name.

Kim Winter.

Back then she had been a means to an end; you needed something she could provide, and in turn you would place your life and loyalty in her hands.

A desperate cry, perhaps, but in a city such as this one each sunrise you got to witness was nothing but pure luck.

Gangs ravaged each corner, deals of all kinds conducted with hushed whispers and stacks of green.

Never in your wildest dreams would you have expected things to turn out the way they did.

- - - - - - - - - - ☆ - - - - - - - - - -  

Your grip on the package tightens once you enter the main space, eyes taking in the rows of pews.

It was cold, uncomfortably so.

A shuffle has your wired muscles bouncing; fight and flight response activated as you turn to whatever made the noise.

Jihyo raises an amused eyebrow at your response, the corner of her lips twitching for the briefest moment before she continues her approach.

“So, you took my advice?”

A strained breath causes a dull ache to shoot up your sides, shoulders very much still tense. “I can’t afford to take my time.”

She nods her head once in understanding, “Winter is in her office. To the left,” she points at a single wooden door hidden away. Your heart seems to pick up with the knowledge.

Strange.

Jihyo turns back to you, then, and you can feel any blood exit your face at the expression she dominates you with. “If, at any point, you become a threat to her, your death will be slow and torturous. You will be begging me to end you, do you understand?”

Threatened promises cause your tongue to fall limp where it lies in your mouth; a nod is all you can give.

Your relationship with Jihyo had been nothing but friendly banter till now, but even you know that means little if you make one wrong move.

Once at the door, you juggle the package into one hand, shaky fingers raising until timid knuckles can tap against the frame.

“Enter.”

With one last breath, you take hold of the handle and twist, wincing with the slight creek once you begin to push.

Before you even have the chance to see the inside of the office, the temperature makes a sudden and heavy drop. Bumps immediately erupt along your arms and invoke a full-body shiver.

You say nothing as you slip your way in, the natural habit of not wanting to get in the way making you appear small as you all but cower once inside.

Your gaze is slow to pull itself from the floor, but once you manage the difficult feat you are left stranded alone and enraptured.

Sitting hunched on a large leather seat, Winter regards you for a tense moment, hands neatly folded for her chin to be placed upon.

Her eyes meet your own, daring you to make a move before they drop for the briefest of moments. So quickly, in fact, that you are pretty certain that it was all in your head, especially as she takes a stand.

Her expression gives away nothing as she makes her way closer, each step calm and calculated. This was her domain, her territory, and she was making that very clear during this moment.

You fail to hold in the stuttered breath when her eyebrow twitches in what you can only assume to be amusement, her eyes continuing to force their way passed your already diminished defenses and look deep into your soul.

“It would seem you need something from me,” she says, nonchalance dripping from her fangs.

“You better not be wasting my time.”

- - - - - - - - - - ☆ - - - - - - - - - -  

It was safe to say your first impression of Winter Kim was as memorable as it was terrifying. Something she holds over you even to this day.

She loves holding the power, thrives from it. Authority practically drips from each syllable whenever she speaks.

You had gotten used to it after joining her operation, to the point where you sometimes find it difficult to reach the same level of terror you held after the first day.

Winter was as enigmatic as she was contradictive, and it makes you wonder why you find yourself paying such rapt attention to every little thing she does.

There was a need, deep and primal, to prove your worth for her eyes to feast on. To have you be someone she could rely on for tasks she wouldn’t be able to entrust with just anyone.  

Ryujin says you’re like a lost puppy.

You purposely ignore her.

It doesn’t help that you have already made mistakes, stupid little things that could have very easily been avoided if you had just thought about it.

And then there are those moments, little cracks in time and space where her smile is genuine in nature, her words holding just a tinge of softness.

They leave you weak and obsessed, always craving for more.

She’s become an expert on giving you just enough to catch your attention, to gain your interest before the mask of indifference is placed firmly back on and she’s telling you to get back to work.

You fail to notice Jihyo’s Chesire grin whenever you stumble out of Winter's office, confusion clear on your face, before you straighten out your blazer and head back to your post.

It continues like that, weeks coming and going, before an attack on the cathedral changes everything.

- - - - - - - - - - ☆ - - - - - - - - - -  

Business has been running slow all day, the yawns forcing open your jaw becoming more and more frequent with each hour that passes.

You would have loved nothing more than to track down Jihyo or Ryujin, to tease and banter, anything to pass the time. But both of them had jobs outside of the cathedral for the night, which meant you were left to suffer the prospect of boredom all alone.

There is a small tug within your chest, working together alongside the scar on your arm, reminding you that Winter was in her office.

You lift up the white sleeve of your dress shirt to look at the discolored skin.

A sign of your loyalty.

Everyone that works for her had one, brought forth due to a burn.

Unconventional perhaps, after all the other gangs had tattoos and the like to discern them from others, but there’s a part of you that prefers this.

Growing up without a home, the scar made you feel like you belonged in some dark, twisted way.

Pushing your sleeve back down, you were just about to go and find something to hold your attention when an explosion rocks the stone walls, some of the stained windows smashing in the process.

Confusion forces your brain to close up shop, but your capacity to work in sync with your instinct means you’ve already begun to move.

Bullets come raining through the doors as you begin passing the rows of pews, and tight muscles propel you behind one before sharp metal can imbed itself into soft flesh.

Reaching into your blazer, you automatically reach for the set of knives, your preferred weapon, before taking out the pistol instead.

You sigh, listening, waiting for a break before you’re once again on the move.

A bullet from you strikes true into one of the assailants, leaving no time for yourself to gloat as you’ve crossed the walkway to the pews on the other side, crouching for cover as you go.

The need for your own life and safety is non-existent during that moment, everything, every desire coursing through your body urges you to get to her, to Winter, and make sure no harm comes her way.

The hinges of the door almost snap with the force you use to open it, the darkened end of your demise greeting you once you turn.

Winter’s hardened eyes widen when she realizes it’s you, and she quickly lowers the gun she had pointed to your face.

“Hello to you too,” you grin, quickly regretting your choice of words when it looks like she’s going to raise the gun again. “Sorry! I can’t help it. Stress brings out my inner comedian.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” she huffs. “But how about we leave that for when we get out.”

You salute despite yourself, “Aye, aye boss.”

Even when staring death in the face, you could never take things seriously.

With a tighter grip on your own weapon, you instinctively reach out with your free hand, fingers greeted with Winter’s unnaturally cold touch as you bring her hand into your own.

A deep breath in, and on the count of 3, you charge.

- - - - - - - - - - ☆ - - - - - - - - - -  

“Fuc- ow!”

You flinch away more due to the unimpressed glare Winter shoots you rather than the stinging pain in your abdomen.

Situated in her home, on her couch, you were stripped of your blazer and shirt so she could tend to the only would you had managed to obtain from your escape.

“Shut up before I give you something to whine over,” she threatens, but her words are empty, even you and your lack of social skills could tell.

However, when she leans in once again, you pull back, heat coursing through your veins. This was doing little to calm your already overworked heart.

With the slightest hint of a growl she reaches out, forcing you close with one arm as the other continues to tend to your injury.

While still embarrassed from the proximity, you comply with her orders, watching intently as her furrowed brow seems to deepen as she works. The way the hardened line of her lips seems to be fighting off a… pout?

Perhaps you hit your head without even knowing?

Too enraptured, you don’t even process when she moves, bringing both hands up to your face and daring your gaze to pull away from the fire raging deep within her own.

“You’re an idiot.”

“H-huh?”

Lips meet your own, and you’re left floundering for even a shred of sanity you know you don’t have.

She pulls back, hands still on your cheeks, “What am I supposed to do if you die?”

You blink once, twice, eyes fluttering in confusion when you see the hint of tears laying just against her eyes.

“I’m… sorry?”

Your mind is a whirlwind, so many things raging havoc at once that you don’t even know where to begin.

She pulls you in again, and this time your body reacts before your mind short circuits once more. Your heart at odds with so many different emotions trying to take control of the strained muscle.

She places her forehead against your own, and with one puff of cold air from her lips, you feel yourself take control for the first time that night.

“You were never subtle about things, you know,” she whispers, and you can feel your face flush with the knowledge that she had been aware of your feelings for the entire time.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

A smirk is slow to spread against her lips, and you attempt to push down the shiver it evokes. “Because I wanted to see if you actually ask me.”

“Well,” you clear your throat when your words come out strained, “would it be weird if I asked now?”

She pulls back, and you watch as the demon before you teases and beckons, “I don’t know.” She says, looking away in an attempt to appear as if she was pondering. Her eyes alight like wildfire when she turns back to you.

“There is only one way to find out.”

[sitp-recs]

Hi, any Recs for slutty and unhinged Draco or Harry?

Oh I do love myself some unhinged smut, we like our men slutty and unbalanced here 🤌🏼 I went for a bit of everything here, from light humor to dark angst. Enjoy!

Return to Sender: Harry J. Potter by @vukovich (E, 2.5k)

The first time Draco slides into bed, smelling of another man, the only glass left intact at 12 Grimmauld is a pair of spectacles. The sixth time, it's the flash-bang mushroom cloud realization that this isn't the sixth time by a long shot. The last time, it's 10 PM, and it's dittany, camphor, wormwood, valerian root, and the Healers' platitudes.

Options by @mintawasalreadytaken (E, 2.6k)

Harry's looking for company; Draco fits the bill.

Mens Rea by @lqtraintracks (E, 3k)

Mens Rea: the mental element of a person's intention to commit a crime; or knowledge that one's action or lack of action would cause a crime to be committed. “Draco Malfoy, how do you plead?” “I’m super fucking guilty.”

Luckiest Fucking Size Queen Alive by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (E, 6k)

Potter escorts me home, presses me into my front door and kisses me with a ferocity that’s exhilarating. And then Potter asks me, in a growl that makes my cock throw a wet tantrum in my pants, how many more dates I would deem mandatory before I let him fuck me. I drag Potter to bed.

What’s My Age Again? by @lazywonderlvnd (E, 12k)

Harry Potter has had enough of pleasing the public, and his reckless tendencies are finally getting out of hand. The Quidditch World Cup is only a week away; as Captain of the English National Team, Hermione has assured him that his immaturity won’t be tolerated by the Ministry.

you look so fine by michi_thekiller (E, 16k)

In which Draco is a Veela and Harry is his mate. Dark!Humor or Crack!Horror, you decide.

Famous by @fw00shy (E, 24k)

It's a couple of years after the war, and Harry's bored of models now, the same way he's bored of Ron's constant nagging, bored of his Weasley monogram knitwear, bored of the same fucking grin that greets him when he hands his fire-truck red Bugatti over to the valet every night. He wants to find—well, he isn't sure what he wants. Anything but models.

The Good Guys by Frayach (E, 26k)

The Second Voldemort War is limping into its fourth year, and the Forces of Shining Light are slowly turning into the Forces of Expedient Grey. When Draco Malfoy is captured red-handed trying to sell an illegal potion to a clerk at Borgin & Burkes, he is handed over to the Department of Essential and Necessary Truth’s newest interrogator.

Fearful Trill by @vukovich (E, 29k)

Harry should have come out and met someone when he was younger. He should have seen a doctor about the pain in his hip while youth was still on his side. Now, he's made his peace with dying young, but maybe not with dying alone.

He Who Must Not Be Normal by lettered (E, 41k)

Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life. Which makes you think this story has something exciting like body-swapping, but it doesn’t.

Harry Potter Gives a Shit by talithan (E, 59k)

“Where are you headed?” “No place special,” Draco fumbled, and flushed further. But then: “I can change that,” said Harry Potter.

Super Rich Kids by trishjames (E, 81k)

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of thieving cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels.