#longest skid

[spookberry]

No context OC doodles

[yourlowkeyidiot3]

I can't even begin to explain HOW MUCH I HATE THIS DUDES HAIRCUT

WHY THE FUCK DOES IT LOOK LIKE THAT

HOW DOES ONE EVEN ACHIEVE SUCH HAIRCUT

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS MY GUY, WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL WAS GOING THROUGH YOUR HEAD WHEN GETTING THIS HAIRCUT "Oh I'd look so good with this" ????? NO YOU DON'T YOU LOOK GOOFY AS FUCK. WHAT WAS THE THOUGHT PROCESS??? WHY DID YOU AGREE TO THIS???? WHAT MADE YOU THINK IT'D BE A GOOD IDEA?????? WHAT THE HELL DID LILA EVEN SAW IN THIS GOOFY ASS HAIRCUT??????

If he was born with this I feel bad for you, I can't imagine what it must be like having to live while your hair looks like this. Thank fucks he died so he wouldn't have to continue going this goddamn torture anymore. Yes. Having to live with this cut is fucking torture to me.

I swear to God if he doesn't get his hair changed by the end of ep10 I'll become his biggest hater JUST because of his hair. I don't care if he ends up being an interesting character, good villain, with good lore I'd still hate him if he doesn't change that God forsaken haircut. Yes I hate it that much.

Being forgiven for starting a cult, being a cult leader, child kidnapping & murder and possible manipulation would be easier than being forgiven for this haircut dude. If he somehow dies again then he'd deserve it for daring to come back while his hair looks like this. Seriously let him die so I won't have to look at his fucking hair, let me kill him even.

BEING BALD IS FUCKING BETTER THAN HAVING THIS MONSTROSITY

[punkshort]

Love at First Sight

A drabble from A Deeper Purpose/A Deeper Meaning universe, takes place between the two.

A/N: Dedicated to @brigcally - wishing you a flawless delivery ❤️

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel helps you through your delivery.

Warnings: child birth, descriptions of pain/fear, anxiety, blood (only a little), language, fluff, allusion to prior smut but nothing explicit, breastfeeding

WC: 2.6K

It was a beautiful day.

The morning was crisp, the afternoon warm, but not stifling. For once, Joel didn't finish his patrol shift feeling like he had to bathe for an hour after to scrub off the layers of sweat and grime.

He was feeling good. His back didn't hurt so much that day and he was in a remarkable mood. It probably had something to do with the night before. The last trimester of your pregnancy had made you absolutely insatiable for him and he was more than happy to oblige. That even included nights like the previous night when you woke him up with your hand already snaked down his pants and your lips leaving feverish kisses all over his bare chest.

It was a shock he wasn't more tired.

But it turned out that was a bigger blessing than he originally thought because he was about to have one of the longest days of his life.

The moment he entered the gates and slid down from his horse, reins in hand as he began to lead his mare into the stable, Tommy came racing up to him from down the street with a frantic look in his eye.

Joel's heart plummeted and he dropped the reins, horse long forgotten.

"Is she okay?" he asked, pulling his gloves off and tossing them on the ground before breaking out into a sprint towards his house.

Tommy skid to a stop so he could change directions, jogging after him.

"Yeah, she's fine," Tommy called, causing Joel to slow down, but only just a little. "She's at the clinic, doc says she's in labor-"

"Tommy, what the fuck?" Joel yelled as he resumed his running.

"She's fine!" Tommy yelled after him with a dry laugh. "She's hours away from anythin', only a little dilated, slow the hell down!"

But of course, he didn't. You needed him.

He ran the entire way to the clinic, bursting through the door, gasping for air with his head swiveling this way and that, looking for any sign of you. One of the nurses looked up from her desk and stood.

"Joel, she's fine," she began to say calmly, but Joel just shook his head, chest heaving and shaky finger pointing to the back room.

"Where?"

The nurse led him to the room where you were laying in bed with a book, as if nothing were happening whatsoever.

"W-what's goin' on?" Joel stammered, looking around the room as if he were missing something. You looked up from your book and smiled.

"You're back early."

Joel huffed and shrugged his coat off. "Tommy said you're in labor. The hell's goin' on? Where's the doc?"

"I'm only three centimeters," you said, picking your book back up and flipping the page. "It's gonna be a while."

Joel just stood there, heart still thundering in his chest as he struggled to shift out of panic mode. He had expected to come into the room where you were screaming and crying in pain, scared and wondering where he was, but everything seemed perfectly... normal.

Slowly, he sunk down into the chair next to your bed and raked his fingers through his hair.

"Scared the shit outta me," he muttered. "Do you need anythin'?"

You shook your head, still focused on your book. "Nope. I'm all good."

He sat there, completely bewildered and desperate for something to do to help.

"Water?"

You held up the bottle you had tucked at your side and shook your head.

"Pillows?"

You grinned. "Three's plenty."

He couldn't just sit there. He had to make himself useful and burn off some of that nervous energy. So he began to pace around the room, squinting at the tiny printer next to your bed that tracked the baby's heart rate and your contractions, as if he understood what he was reading. Then he peered out into the hallway, looking for any sign from the medical staff.

"Where's the doc?" he asked again after about twenty fitful minutes. "Shouldn't he be checkin' on you? I'll go find him."

"Joel!" you exclaimed with a laugh. He turned around, expression so worried that it melted your heart on the spot. "Joel, come sit down. I don't need the doctor right now."

His fingers fidgeted at his side when he glanced between you and the open door as if he were deciding which way to go, then eventually caved and went back to your side.

"I gotta do somethin'," he explained, sitting back down and taking your outstretched hand.

"I think you did enough," you joked, pointing at your rounded belly. He gave you an obligatory laugh but his nerves wouldn't settle for the life of him. "We're going to be here for a long time. There's no use getting worked up about it, okay?" you said softly, thumb stroking his rough knuckles.

He glanced down at the floor for a moment, then took a deep breath before replying. "With Sarah, it happened so fast," he told you. You remained perfectly quiet while he spoke. He didn't like to talk about Sarah much and you never pressured him, but whenever he brought her up, you always hung on his every word. "Her mom - her water broke in the middle of the night and by mornin', I was holdin' Sarah in my arms. I guess I just thought..." he trailed off and sniffed a bit, gaze still pinned to the floor.

"Everyone's experience is different," you told him gently when it became apparent he was done talking. "Sometimes it happens fast, sometimes it takes days."

"Days?" he repeated, looking up at you with surprise.

"Yeah, let's hope that's not going to happen to me because you'll really have your work cut out for you, Miller."

He laughed, and that time you could tell it was his real laugh. He was finally beginning to relax.

"How are you so calm 'bout this, darlin'?" he asked, sitting back in his chair to look at you with admiration in his eyes.

"Because I'm so happy, Joel," you told him simply with a little shrug. "And I know no matter what, as long as I have you and our baby, it'll all work out."

His eyes grew misty and he quickly slid his gaze elsewhere, but you caught it and smiled.

"Well," he finally said, clearing his throat. "You need anythin' at all, you just gotta ask, alright?"

You nodded, pleased that he was finally settling down, then went to pick up your book. When you reached forward, you hissed and grabbed your stomach, a sudden searing pain ripping across your lower belly and spreading down your spine.

"Fuck!" you seethed. Joel was on his feet in an instant.

"What is it?"

"Contraction," you gritted out, grabbing onto his hand to hold on to something while you rode out the pain. Joel's face instantly filled with worry again.

"Lemme get the doc, maybe he can give you somethin'."

"No!" you shouted, then took a deep, shuddering breath before relaxing back into your pillows. "No," you whispered as your grip on his hand loosened. "Oh, wow," you breathed, exhaling slowly as the pain faded away. "That was a lot more intense than the other ones."

"Alright, there's stuff the doc can give you -"

"What do you think he's got, Joel?" you asked him. "It's the end of the damn world, there's no pain management he can give me that won't hurt the baby."

Joel propped his hands on his hips and shifted his weight anxiously as he tried to think of a solution.

"What 'bout a hot water bottle?"

You considered it for a moment before nodding.

"I'll ask the doctor if I can use it on my stomach but at the very least it'll help my goddamn tailbone."

Joel clapped his hands together once and quickly ran out of the room, thrilled to finally have something he could do to help. He was gone fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. When he stepped back into your room, rubber water bottle sloshing under his arm, you were in the midst of another contraction, and this time the doctor was at your side studying the monitor next to your bed while you cried and writhed around in pain.

"Shit! Baby, I'm sorry," Joel said, rushing to your side to grab your hand. You held onto him like a lifeline, forehead and neck slick with sweat and cheeks stained with tears as you tried to fight through the worst part of the contraction.

Joel had had enough of seeing you in pain.

"Can't you do somethin'?" he barked at the doctor, an elderly man who, to his credit, was rather unshakable. He just sighed and peered at Joel over his glasses.

"Only thing that'll help is gettin' that baby out," he said gruffly. When your contraction finally subsided and your muscles relaxed into the mattress, your sheets already looking soaked with sweat, the doctor tapped your knees and kneeled at the foot of the bed. Joel watched, slightly horrified, as the man shoved two gloved fingers inside you. Your jaw clenched and your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to breathe through it, but Joel could tell you were in more pain than you were letting on.

"Comin' along nicely," he remarked when he finally removed his fingers. He snapped the gloves off and tossed them into the ever growing pile of garbage in the basket next to the door. "You might just have a baby before end of the day. You're at six centimeters."

"Six!?" Joel exclaimed. "An hour ago you were three!"

"And she might stay at six for hours til there's any more movement," the doctor said. When he saw the look on your face at the thought of being in that much pain for that long, he quickly followed up with, "Or you'll continue to dilate quickly and in a few hours you'll have a beautiful baby."

Tears filled your eyes once the doctor left and you buried your face in your hands.

"C'mon, baby, don't cry, it's alright," Joel soothed. Then he remembered the water bottle, so he slipped a pillow case around it and pressed it up against your back.

"Oh," you breathed, head lifting up and eyes fluttering open. "Oh, that feels good."

"Yeah?" Joel asked, mindlessly rubbing your upper back. He watched you take a few deep breaths, then your tears slowed and you leaned back with a deep sigh.

"Thank you," you whispered, "this feels so much better."

"You're welcome," he replied just as softly. "I won't leave your side again."

The remainder of the afternoon was more of the same. Contractions came quicker and grew more intense with each hour, but thankfully every time the doctor checked, you were steadily progressing. Joel kept your water bottle warm and would massage your back and shoulders whenever you grew too tense. And even though the pain was getting worse, you were doing just fine because you knew each jolt of pain was bringing you closer and closer to meeting your baby.

It was around nine in the evening when the doctor announced you were ten centimeters.

"You ready to push?" he asked, giving you a comforting wink. You nodded and looked up at Joel, your fingers laced together anxiously. His expression was a mix of fear and excitement while he murmured praise and comfort in your ear. One of the nurses elevated your bed and padded the sides and another was laying out all sorts of sterilized instruments on a small table at the foot of the bed. Joel caught you eyeballing at a particularly scary looking scalpel and he leaned down.

"You don't look down there, you look right at me," he told you firmly. You nodded and squeezed his hand before taking a deep breath.

"I can do this."

Joel grinned and gave you a quick kiss.

"Fuck yeah, you can."

And you did. You really fucking did.

It took less than an hour but it felt like a whole lifetime, and just as you promised, you didn't look away from Joel once. With every push, he stared you right in the eye and clutched your hand and told you how strong you were, how he hoped your baby would be just like you and how he couldn't wait to meet them.

And finally, with one last push that took every ounce of energy you had, you felt it: relief. The pressure in your lower stomach was gone, the pain in your back and tailbone disappeared and for one ridiculous moment you thought you had somehow transcended what it was to feel pain until you heard a sharp wail pierce the air.

Tears flooded your eyes and your heart was racing so fast, the monitor next to your bed started beeping angrily. Then the doctor held up your baby from above the drop cloth that separated your lower half and for the first time in your life, you knew what it was to truly love someone. You loved Joel and your friends, but this was entirely different. This was a unique, pure kind of love that existed exclusively between a mother and her child, a kind of love that settled deep in your chest without any convincing at all.

"She's beautiful," you sobbed, reaching out for your baby.

"How'd you -" Joel began, but the doctor ushered him over to cut the umbilical cord so they could clean her up.

"She's right, it's a girl," he told Joel once he sliced the pinkish grey cord. Blood and clear fluid splashed onto the floor and it felt like marking the beginning of something. Somehow with that simple motion, Joel felt that feeling he never thought he would feel again. That unwavering urge to love and protect and provide flared like heat inside of him to the point where he had to hold himself back from letting the nurses whisk his daughter away.

"We did it," you whimpered, collapsing weakly into bed with tears streaming from your eyes while the doctor got to work cleaning and sewing you back up.

"You did it," Joel corrected before pressing a kiss against your forehead, then another to your lips, lingering for just one second longer before pulling back and swiping away tears of his own.

The two of you stayed like that, enjoying your little bubble for five minutes longer, knowing full well when the nurses brought your baby back into the room, it would no longer be just the two of you ever again.

And when they did, oh, when they did bring her back in, all red faced and angry with the world already, you couldn't have been happier. But when she latched onto your breast, even though that first time was clumsy and awkward, she finally quieted down and looked up at you. She had deep brown eyes just like Joel and she gave you a look that said, I know you. You just laughed and carefully stroked her perfect little cheek while Joel leaned over the bed, smile permanently plastered across his face as he watched his girls officially meet for the first time.

"She's so perfect," you whispered, watching as milk trickled from the corner of her mouth.

"You did so good, mama," Joel murmured in your ear before kissing the side of your head. "What should we name her?"

You couldn't look away from her, and she couldn't get enough of the two of you. Her eyes darted back and forth, probably wondering what the hell was going on and why her mom and dad wouldn't stop staring at her. And before you even had a chance to think it over, you answered.

"Emma," you said, grinning when her eyes found yours again. "Her name's Emma."

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

[cheriladycl01]

Against the clock - Pierre Gasly x Driver! Reader

Plot: You realize going into turn 12 of the Shanghai Circuit that your brakes aren't working that well. So what happens when they fully break going down the longest straight into a hairpin?

Y/N Radio: Y/N- Breaks are feeling loose Engineer- Copy that we are checking them now. Engineer- All seems fine, push it down the straight Y/N and you have a chance at a podium Y/N- And the car is okay? Engineer- Data says ...

Before anyone can react warning signals come all up around the car, your breaks had fully locked up and you were currently going over 200 mph down the straight of the Shanghai Circuit.

Y/N Radio: Y/N- Guys i cant do anything. I cant stop the car. I'm so sorry i...

And with that they heard and saw the crash of you skidding over the edging and your car flipping over into the bumpers. The sound of the crash was horrific and your engineer was panicked as he heard your grunt and whimper on impact.

Y/N Radio: Engineer- Y/N can you hear me? Are you okay? Engineer- Y/N Please are you okay? YN? Engineer- She's unresponsive! Horner in the Background- Keep trying to reach out to her while the medic gets there.

You were laying unresponsive in the car, half out of your seat and your head dangling down to the floor on your tilted car. However, the front half had snapped of and the engine was now leaking the racing fuel all down your suit. One spark from your car and you'd be toast.

Piastri Radio: Oscar- Was that Max or Y/N? Engineer- Y/N Oscar- Is she okay? It looks really bad! Engineer- Red Flag Oscar that's a Red Flag

You started to come too, you look around confused as to the position you were currently in. You grunted a strangled cry coming from you as you tried to move from the sheer pain coursing through your body. Tears come out your eyes in frustration of the situation.

You still couldn't breathe properly it was so labored and the balaclava and helmet weren't helping.

Gasly Radio: Pierre- Karel, is that Y/N in the Red Bull? Engineer- Red Flag Pierre Red Flag Pierre- Is it Y/N? Engineer- Come back to the pits Pierre- Fuck

You eventually had got yourself out of the car by crawling, under and around the halo. Someone reached in and helped grab you hand.

"Y/N are you okay?" the medic asks as he sat you upright on the floor and a shake of you head. You couldn't actually speak right now. Your hands shakily came up to try take your helmet off to help you breath better but your hands were numb and as your tried to peel the helmet off your hands refused to function.

"Help" you said in the quietest voice, what you didn't know what that there was a mic on the medic to pick up everything immediately to the ambulance that was on its way.

It was also going to the paddocks so everyone who could hear's hearts were currently breaking.

The medic pulled the helmet off her, the first thing he saw was the tears lining her face. But after inspecting further he could see red coming from the slit in her balaclava. He ripped it off the hair sticking to her wet and sweaty forehead.

Everyone could see from the pits and everyone was holding a breath as they watched a spaced out Y/N start to fall to the floor. Luckily the medic grabbed her in time holding her up. He inspected the place where her visor had cracked on her helmet and cut her across the cheek.

"Y/N Hey come on, wake up. Medic car is nearly here!" he says to you but your body had become dead weight.

In the pits each garage was as worried as the other.

In RedBull Max was beside himself, he saw you as a little sister and the fact that the crash was as bad as it was had him stood with Christian Horner rubbing his hands together. His headphones were around his neck.

In Mercedes, George and Lewis stood together talking, tears in George's eyes wondering if you were okay. Where you were close to Alex you would also hang out with George and you'd become close with him.

Next was the Ferrari Garage with both Carlos and Charles rewatching the crash with hands over their mouths, and similar vibes came from McLaren.

Pierre was sat down on the edge of his car, head in his hands while trying to listen to his engineer who came next to him.

"Tracks been cleared race is about to restart. Y/N has been taken to the nearest hospital"

"Okay" he says sadly getting back in the car.

All the fans could tell that everyone's minds were elsewhere, the reporters stuttering more as they continued commentating even through private live updates on you condition, and the mechanics were constantly checking their phones.

The race had finished and Pierre had come P4 just wanting the race to be over. Max had come P1 with Lando close behind him and George in P3.

He didn't wait around for the podiums, he went straight to you in the hospital. He saw your parents stood outside the room, they had clearly been crying and you mother was shaking her head at the doctor thanking him. She turned to her husband and cried into his chest.

Pierre however didn't know if this was from sadness or relief.

"Erm hello" Pierre says politely, walking up to them sheepishly.

"Oh Pierre, come here" you mother said pulling him into a hug. He accepted having know your family for a very long time, and he'd only got closer to them since you had started dating.

"Is she okay?" Pierre asks looking over your mothers shoulder to double check.

"Yes, she will be I don't think she'll be racing in Miami but she'll be back for Imola. When they brought her here they thought it was a lot worse, but you know what she's like" she smiles.

"Can i see her please" he asks.

"Of course hun, we'll wait here"

He walks into your room, seeing you sat there doing tests with the doctor where he was shining a torch in you eyes to check your responses.

"Y/N?"

"Pierre! Oh I'm so glad you here! How did the race finish they refuse to tell me! Did Max win!" you ask sitting up straighter seeing your boyfriend.

"Red Bull through and through" he shakes his head chuckling at you coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

"What do you mean baby?"

"You dont care where you boyfriend ended up?" he laughs looking at you in shock before you slam your hand up to your mouth.

"Look, I'm gonna blame the pain meds they've put me on. That shit is fire" you exclaim looking at the doctor who is looking between you and Pierre who is trying his hardest not to laugh.

"Well, Max came P1, Lando came P2 and Lewis P3. I came behind Lewis in P4" he smiles, thinking that despite the circumstances this was his best drive of the season.

"God, I'm going to have to crash more if your getting P4!" you laugh and he looks up shocked shaking his head vigorously.

"No way. I never want you getting in a crash again ma cherie. We were all so worried" he answers, pulling you in a little placing a light kisses on your head.

"I love you, P but I'm really sleepy" you admit, the meds starting to take affect and make you drowsy.

"I love you too"

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc

[callsign-rogueone]

keep her safe - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x Marked!Pacifist!Reader  This one is for my fellow tired, chronic pain girls who just want their suffering to serve some purpose, and those who trust everyone they meet, even if they shouldn’t. wc: 4.7k -- the longest work I've ever put on this blog! second chapter is here! 🏷: spoilers for both Fourth Wing books (I’m currently 500 pages into Iron Flame, and y’all... 😭) people refer to you with she/her pronouns, canon-typical violence and torture, mentions of canon character death / death of a family member, bad coping mechanisms, Dain and his memory reading (I tried to make him more tolerable), one (1) reference to sex, I gave you a last name (Avan) and Garrick calls you angel as a pet name, because I refuse to use y/n. Your dragon's name is Tab.

Your stomach drops as your name is called for a challenge. “No weapons today.” Emeterrio adds. “I want you to work on your hand-to-hand.”

The pair of you unsheath nearly a dozen knives apiece, you handing yours to Bodhi. Disarmed, you extend a hand to the boy, as is the Tyrrish tradition before a friendly spar, but he doesn’t take it. No unmarked ones ever have.

He charges first, tangles a hand in your hair and pulls, jerking your head back, and the crowd of freshmen gasp, but you plant your feet and move with him, twisting your spine with practiced ease.

That gives you enough distance to kick a leg out at his right knee, hitting him squarely in the back of it. He releases you. Another swift kick to his legs has them sweeping out from under him. You dig a thumb into his collarbone, finding just the right spot, and he crumples, giving you a split second to wrap your arm around his throat.

He claws at your elbow with blunt nails, wasting breath as he attempts to rise to his feet, but you keep him pinned with your body weight, bearing down as hard as you can. He bucks, and your left boot skids against the mat. 

You bend your knee to brace yourself in a lunge. Your arm is starting to falter, he can feel the muscle straining around his jaw, but he’s tiring too — running out of air. If neither of you moves, he’s going to die.

“Enough,” Emeterrio commands.

You release him, extending a hand to pull him up, but he smacks it away and dives straight at you, clearly not done. “I’m not letting you off that easily, traitor.” 

You squeak in surprise, your back hitting the mat with a thud, and he lands another blow to your jaw. You struggle to take control back, gasping for breath from how hard you’d hit the floor.

He gathers your wrists into one hand easily, the other closing around your throat.

“You are going to die on this mat if you don’t do something, now. Use the failsafe.” 

There’s one dagger you hadn’t removed, that you’d won from Garrick in combat your first year, that he’d let you win, really, and promptly ordered that you never remove it from your reach, for situations like this.

He doesn’t have your legs pinned, so you kick out, catching him in the thigh, and his grip falters. You manage to wiggle one arm free to pull the blade from the inside of your jacket, rolling onto your side and holding the point millimeters away from his chest. “Yield,” you order, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You won’t kill me,” He snarls. “Everyone knows you’re all bark and no bite. That’s why you keep him around.”

You drag it down, just enough to tear his shirt. “Yield, or you’ll meet Malek today and you can explain to him what a cheating coward you are.” The words surprise you, but you fight to maintain the hardened look on your face, trying to convince him you’re serious. 

“Fine,” he spits, “I yield.”

Heart still pounding, you move to lean against the wall with the other marked ones, Bodhi handing you back your arsenal blade by blade. 

“She cheated!” Jason protests as soon as he’s standing again.

“She did what was necessary after you defied a direct order from a superior officer,” Emeterrio says narrowly.

Jason glowers, but returns to his friends without further argument. The rest of the pack takes note of their faces; they’re likely as conniving as him, and as liable to try to kill you, too.

“I’m gonna end that motherfucker,” Garrick mutters, checking you over for injuries as subtly as he can. He hands you a scrap of cloth and you wipe the blood from your nose, wincing, but grateful it isn’t broken.

“He’s been at this for months. One of these days, he’s going to kill you.” Bodhi says quietly, his gaze not moving from the next sparring pair.

“Why not kill him first?” Imogen asks. “You had a knife to his gut, you should have used it.”

“No.” You say firmly. “To kill anyone unmarked, especially an officer’s son, would confirm what everyone else in this army believes about Tyrs; that we are bloodthirsty animals.”

“Let them believe that,” she scoffs. “They’ll never change their mind.”

You sigh. Maybe she’s right.

You don’t see your friends for the next ten hours, when you’re finally excused for dinner.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bodhi asks. 

“Medical wing,” you rasp, sliding into a seat at the end of the bench. “Mending infantry with Carr.” 

“You should eat,” Liam says softly, pushing a plate toward you, but you shake your head no, every muscle in your body screaming. 

You look like your head is going to hit the table, your neck no longer able to hold it up. Bodhi pulls you into his side and you slump against him, boneless. “Her signet isn’t fully developed yet,” you hear him explain to Violet and Liam. “She’ll be okay. She just needs to rest.”

When you wake, it’s dark out, the room nearly pitch black, but you can tell it’s not yours — the furniture is arranged differently.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, gentle one,” Tab greets as soon as you’re cognizant. He can only be this dry about it because he knew you’d pull through. “If he makes you do that again, I’ll eat him.”

You laugh, wincing at the pain in your ribs. Your entire body aches. There’s no way you got up the three flights of stairs here yourself — you didn’t even have it in you to chew food at dinner.

There’s a comforting scent to the room — all the soap and detergent everyone uses is standard issue, but something about the sheets smells like Garrick. Your theory is confirmed when he walks through the door, the hallway light illuminating the hilts of the two swords strapped to his back. “If you want me in your bed, Gare, you just need to ask,” you say in greeting.

He laughs dryly, waving a hand to activate a small mage light. “The damage can’t be too bad if you’re already cracking jokes.”

“I missed physics, didn’t I? Did you carry me up here?”

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about. You can copy Violet’s notes, they’re way better than mine.” He strips some of the weapons off, shedding his flight jacket along with them. It’s something you’ve seen many times before, but it never fails to make your heart flutter.

He sits on the edge of the bed, a gentle hand moving up to lay against your cheek. “And I did carry you. I’d do anything for you, angel. It scares me sometimes.”

He brushes a piece of hair from your face. You’d been freezing cold when you fell asleep, so he’d draped you with every blanket he owned before leaving, and it seems to have worked — your skin is pleasantly warm against his hand.

“Anything, hm?” You ask, a lazy smile on your face. 

His eyes sparkle at the mischief in your tone, but he’s responsible enough to think before he acts. “Not until you’ve recovered,” he says sternly. 

You yawn. “D’you have section leader stuff to do tonight?”

“That’s what executive officers are for.”

You crack an eye to look at him in disapproval. “Gare, you can’t skip duty. Melgren will have your head.”

He sighs. “Fine. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t. Your bed is more comfortable than mine anyway.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, tugging the jacket back on and strapping in the swords.

/////////

Someone is standing in front of your yoga mat. Dain. “No bodyguard today?” He asks.

You’re silent, your gaze flickering between him and the longsword by your side, the one Garrick had insisted you take with you everywhere when he wasn’t there to protect you.

“You may find this hard to believe, but I don’t want to kill you.” He says with a sigh. “I just need to-”

“Quit talking and join me, or leave.” You interrupt, settling into a deeper stretch, eyes closing as you gesture to the floor next to you with an open hand. By the grace of Amari, Carr had given you enough time off to recover, but he’ll likely be making you work another shift in the infirmary today. This will be your only pocket of calm for the next twelve hours. You aren’t going to skip it for Dain, of all people.

He chooses the first option, surprising you as he drags a mat over beside yours, attempting to copy your movements. “Do you really do this every day?” He asks, uncomfortable.

“Even a soldier must take time to be at peace. Clear your mind. Whatever you’re thinking about is so loud it’s distracting.”

He startles, his foot slipping on the mat.

“No, my signet is not mind-reading.” You say, eyes still closed, though there’s an amused look on your face. “Relax. You’re killing the air in here with that nervous energy.”

For the next five minutes, you both stretch in total silence. “Now,” you decide, bringing your arms back to your body, focusing on your breathing, “what was so important that you needed to find me here?”

He cuts straight to it. “Varrish wants me to… practice on you. He thinks you’re hiding something, that all of you are.” He doesn’t need to specify who he means by you. 

You don’t seem to react to the information, instead looking at him with curiosity. “How do you feel about your signet?” 

He blinks. Nobody’s ever asked him that before. “I don’t know.” He says quietly. You shift again, but he doesn’t follow you, folding his legs underneath him instead. Your silence presses him to speak, needing to fill the air. “I used to think it was cool, but now… now I’m wondering if it’s really a gift at all.”

“What do you see when you view a memory like that? Are you living it through their eyes, or from above, watching it unfold? How far back can you see?”

“Through their eyes.” He answers, throat dry. Why is he telling you this? “A day, maybe two. It depends. Varrish wants me to learn to push it farther.”

You weigh the consequences. If he’s being honest, he won’t see anything confidential — at worst, a gathering of more than three marked ones to exercise, but is he really petty enough to tell Varrish about that, when he’s giving you a warning in the first place?

“Okay.” You say, opening your eyes. Better it be you than one of the kids who can’t shield their memories yet, or Garrick or Bodhi, who would rip him limb from limb if he tried to touch them.

“What?”

“I’m going to go about my day now as if this conversation never happened,” you say, looking him in the eye, unflinching, “and you’re going to do what you have to do to satisfy Varrish’s demands — with me and only me. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” he stammers, shocked that you’re letting him do this.

“Good.” You pick up the longsword, strapping it back in along your spine. “Dain?” You call over your shoulder. “I won’t make it easy for you.” You say, and he knows that’s a promise.

“That was an incredibly stupid decision, gentle one. A noble decision, but stupid nonetheless.” Tab speaks into your mind on the way back up to your room. “You cannot always assume everyone has good intentions. It would have been your downfall by now, if not for your mate’s protection.”

“Stop calling Garrick my mate. That’s weird.” You deflect, not wanting to unpack his earlier words.

“Forgive me. Dragons do not have a word for a relationship as trivial as a boyfriend.”

You build up a mental wall like Xaden had taught you, ending the argument. 

When Varrish calls you into his office that afternoon, you already know what it’s for. “Take a seat,” he says with a smile that you know isn’t meant to be friendly.

He sees the way your eyes immediately narrow at the sight of Dain — everyone knows how the quadrant’s golden boy feels about marked ones, and how you feel about him. You’re going to be doing some very good acting today.

The door closes and locks behind you, and your stomach flips as you feel the sound shield form and press up against the office walls. There’s no escape, and no screaming for help, but you know what you’ve walked into. You signed up for it this morning.

“To what do I owe this meeting, Major?” You ask respectfully, lowering yourself into the chair beside Dain.

“Professor Carr has made me aware that both of your signets have been slow to develop. We’re going to spend your leisure time today practicing, in hopes that you will finally improve.” A very convincing lie, you’ll admit. If Dain hadn’t come to you this morning, you might have believed it. “No objections?” He asks, waiting for you to protest.

“No, sir.” You say calmly, Dain answering the same a beat behind you.

“Good. Aetos, you first.”

It takes every ounce of self control not to squirm as Dain stands, stepping toward you. You lift your chin, closing your eyes -- a gesture of consent small enough to fly under the Vice Commandant’s radar.

You may be letting him try, but you’d told him this wouldn’t be easy. You block him out completely, raising your mental shield and barring the gates.

“What do you see?” Varrish asks.

Dain doesn’t answer. He does not push, does not attempt to kick the door down or dig below the foundation. He stands outside, waiting for you to give him something. 

The crack of his nose breaking has your eyes flying open, the coppery scent of blood starting to fill the room immediately as he staggers back into his chair.

“Your turn, Avan."

You stand, laying a gentle hand on Dain’s jaw to tilt it up, stopping the blood from pouring down his shirt. 

He looks up at you, stunned, but lets you touch the broken cartilage with your fingertips, and moments later it feels like nothing ever happened. It’s mind-bending.

“Very good. Aetos, try again. What was she doing this morning?”

Dain stands, angling his body between yours and Varrish’s so that the Major can’t see the apology he mouths before his hands touch your forehead. Whether he can see his conversation with you in the gym is unclear. He lies through his teeth either way. “She was alone,” he answers, “on a run to the flight field and back.” 

“And then?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes not leaving yours. “A shower, breakfast. Eggs. An apple. Toast. She sat with Tavis and two other marked ones.” He leaves out Violet from the group, not wanting to implicate her. Interesting. 

That much is true, but it’s part of your everyday routine — he could have easily gleaned that from watching you across the mess hall. Is he still locked out?

Varrish stands, rounding the corner of his desk. “Let’s make this a little harder, shall we?”

Dain screams as a dagger pierces his arm, thrashing in his chair. Varrish twists the blade as he pulls it out, letting Dain’s blood drip to the floor. This is why he needed the sound shield.

Your eyes widen, and the adrenaline has you leaping to your feet to fix it. You press a hand into the wound, apologizing when he winces. It takes you longer than it should for the muscle to repair itself.

“You care more about him than I thought.” Varrish muses.

You turn to him, anger flickering in your chest. “It is my moral obligation to help the wounded.”

He tuts. “You would have made an excellent healer, had your parents not committed high treason. Aetos, again. Find something older.”

Dain trembles as he stands, and you take pity on him. You push an older memory forward, a happy one, remembering it as vividly as you can.

You watch together as you sprint through the forest, stopping dead in your tracks as you see two cadets fighting. The one losing is a smaller girl in your class whose name Dain can’t remember, a tall, muscled boy towering over her, sword ready to strike.

You spring forward, catching him by surprise and effectively disarming him, and he chooses to abandon the sword and run rather than fight the both of you. You extend a hand to pull the girl to her feet and her eyes widen further, staring up not at you, but behind you.

You feel a burst of heat against your back — not hot enough to be fire. Steam. You bow your head in deference, turning slowly to give the girl time to run… And the dragon bows back. What the fuck?

“You did not kill the boy.” It says directly into your mind.

“I did not.” You answer aloud, not sure if humans can do that.

“Have you ever killed before, gentle one?”

“I haven’t.” Should you be embarrassed? Dragons are violent, surely they would see this as a sign of weakness.

“Not all of us.”

“Holy shit, you can read my mind.”

The girl laughs in disbelief, and you realize you’ve just bonded a dragon.

“In time you’ll learn to control that. But your friend needs to get moving, and so do we.”

You wish her luck before scaling the leg of your dragon and taking a seat.

“Hold on.”

You shriek in happiness like a child as he jumps up, and seconds later you’re thousands of feet in the air, looking down at Basgiath and the valley below. When you return to the flight field, you find Garrick there with a giant brown Scorpiontail, bloodied but happy as he stands next to Xaden and the biggest blue daggertail you’ve ever seen. You pull them both into a hug, just grateful they’re alive.

“Careful, angel,” Garrick warns, grinning into your hair, “we just might make it out of here.”

You cut Dain off there, yanking back the memory before slamming your shields back up. He can have that moment, but only that moment.

“Threshing,” Dain says. Thank the gods. “She helped another cadet who was being attacked. That’s why Tab chose her, for her kindness.”

You both look at Varrish for further instruction. Your shields have been weakening with every injury you repair, but so have Dain’s abilities. You don’t know how many more rounds either of you can take. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” He says, sounding pleased. “I’ll see you again on Wednesday morning, to check your progress. You’re dismissed.”

The sound shield dissipates, the door unlocking. The only evidence is Dain’s blood, smeared across his face and arms, drying on the floor and under your nails. You commit the sight to memory, tucking it into the same folder that holds the death of your parents, and slam the drawer shut.

It takes you five minutes to scrub the blood out of the cracks in your palms and from under your nails. Your fingertips are wrinkled when you step into the gym.

“Why did Tab tell Chradh that you were called into Varrish’s office with Aetos?” Garrick asks, remarkably calm as he toys with one of his smaller daggers.

“Because he’s a meddling mother hen.” You answer, avoiding the question.

“Watch it.”  Tab warns. “Tell him the truth, or we will.”

You know he’s not bluffing. “He wanted us to practice our signets on each other.”

“Dain practiced his signet, his memory-reading signet, on you?” He asks, already simmering with anger.

“This morning, he came to me to warn me about Varrish’s plan, and I told him it was okay. I used my shields, and I only showed him what I wanted to. We’re supposed to do it again Wednesday.”

Your eyes communicate something else you won’t say aloud, not in front of everyone, and not when you know Dain might be able to see this conversation in two days. I did this to take the heat off of the others. You know I was the safest choice.

Garrick sighs. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I’d like to state for the record that I hate this plan. Literally everything about it. Except for Aetos being stabbed, maybe.” Of course Chradh told him about that. He’d have been delighted by the news, despising both him and Cath.

You give him a look.

“Okay, fine. I take that back.”

He doesn’t. 

By Wednesday, the pain in the bridge of your nose is gone, but your arm is still tender where Dain had been stabbed. Bodhi joins you in the gym, stretching with you for a few minutes before he settles into a plank at your side, his eyes never leaving the door.

Dain does not make an appearance at breakfast, notably absent from the leadership table.

Garrick excuses himself as soon as he sees you stand with your tray, catching you by the doors. “Remember that you’re stronger than both of them in all the ways that matter,” he says quietly. ���I’ll find you as soon as you’re done.” You both tap your chest twice before parting ways, as has been your tradition for years -- a reminder that even though you’re leaving, you still hold the other in your heart.

Each step up to Varrish’s office is another reminder of what’s to come when you reach the top. “Cadet Avan,” he greets with another sickening smile. “Just in time. We were beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

Your jaw drops at the sight of Dain slumped into the same chair as last time, bloodied and exhausted.

“Nothing fatal,” Varrish reassures. “Not if you act quickly. Go ahead, get started.”

The Vice Commandant’s words have you on edge as you assess him, looking for gaping wounds or broken bones. Dain winces as your hands move over his ribs, and you whisper an apology, pressing in deeper. When your chest starts to ache, you know it’s time to move on. You mend two broken ribs, dissolve a purple bruise on his arm, and fix a split lip, but Dain still hasn’t woken up.

You turn back to Varrish. “One left,” he says. “Use your head.”

Oh, gods. He’d given Dain a concussion, because he knows the migraine it’ll give you will make it harder to shield. You cradle the second-year’s head in your hands, breathing out deeply as you transfer the pain from his body to yours, healing the bruised tissue. Dain blinks himself awake as you stumble, the room suddenly spinning.

“Well done. Aetos?”

You fumble for the arms of your chair, vision blurring at the edges, but you manage to sit back down.

“Say the word, and I get your mate,” Tab offers. He can probably feel your disorientation, concerned you won’t be able to block Dain out in this state.

“No,” you rasp back. “If he shows up, Varrish will have us practice on him instead.”

 You need to pick another memory to satisfy Varrish, something older, but your brain isn’t firing on all cylinders. Dain gives you a moment to gather yourself, a small gesture of mercy.

“A moment of pure happiness,” Tab suggests. “Something with the wingleader and your mate.”

You flip back in the book of your life, nearly all the way to the beginning, opening it to the right page to give to Dain and slipping it under the gate with a nod of your head — you’re ready.

Dain’s hands are warm against your freezing cheeks. A boy no older than five that he recognizes as Garrick crouches under a desk across the room, holding a finger to his lips. 

“Wherever could those children possibly be?” Someone muses aloud, and you fight laughter as the voice grows closer, thinking it amusing that this adult has no idea you’re hiding in the curtains.

Footsteps retreat, and Garrick signals for you to move. You make it down the hallway before you see someone searching — presumably whatever parent you’d convinced to play with you. Small hands tug you both behind a plush velvet couch. Xaden. 

You press yourselves up against it, trying to be as quiet as possible, watching as a shadow forms on the wall in front of you, then a head peers over the back of the couch — that must be your father. He looks just like you, has the same warm smile.

“One more, and then I need to get back to work,” He says, already moving to cover his eyes and starting to count to one hundred. You each run off in a different direction, and the scene fades there.

“A childhood memory,” Dain says. “Playing hide and seek in her father’s office with Riorson and Tavis.”

Not good enough for Varrish. “Give me something I can use,” he snarls, a Freudian slip, but nothing either of you hadn’t known already. 

You flip forward in the book, settling on a page you never look at, that you can’t bear to, but that Varrish will revel in. You rip it out, sliding it under the gate. “Bad,” you whisper, the only warning you can manage.

Dain nods in permission, ready to watch whatever memory you’ve pushed forward.

Someone presses a small stone into your hand, an intricate overlap of shapes and lines engraved on one side, the other perfectly smooth.

“Do not put it down, even for a moment,” your father says. He’s aged between now and the last memory, starting to go gray at his temples. “Keep it in your hand until the end. It will protect you when we can’t.”

He looks next to Garrick. “She is everything good about the world.” He says quietly. “Take care of her.”

Garrick promises he will, and your father pulls you into one last embrace before he leaves. Tears blur your vision, Garrick pulling you close. “It’ll be okay,” he soothes. “They’ll come back.”

Hours pass that Dain can’t see, because you don’t remember them. 

There’s an ache in your palm from clutching the stone so hard, the rounded corners digging into your skin. Garrick takes your free hand in his, interlocking your fingers. Then there’s only screaming and fire and rage, heat burning up your arm as it’s marked with inky swirls. Until the end, your father had said. This must have been what he meant.

“Her parents’ execution,” Dain says, a note of genuine hurt in his voice. “They gave each child a runestone before they left, as protection.”

Varrish’s eyes rake over to you. He leans forward, yanking on the leather cord that disappears into the neck of your shirt hard enough to pull your body with it. “A runestone like this one?”

“Yes,” you answer before Dain can, saving him the lie. You shut your eyes, wincing as the cold edge of a knife brushes against your neck and the cord breaks, a single drop of warm blood running down your collarbone. You don’t protest, you can’t, your mind still hazy and eyes wet with tears from reliving the memory with Dain.

“That will be all.” Varrish dismisses. He doesn’t make an appointment for you to come back. He has what he needs.

You stand, relying on your knowledge of the office’s layout to navigate your way forward until the door closes behind you.

“I’m so sorry,” Dain breathes once you’re down the hall far enough to avoid being heard. “If I had known,”

“It’s okay. The rune is long dead, and he has no idea how to recreate it. I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you again.” You blink, trying to clear your head. How are you going to get down all these stairs? You can hardly see.

“Here,” he says quietly, extending a hand. You take it, letting him loop an arm over his shoulders — your right, the one that Varrish hadn’t bruised black and blue on Dain — and lead you one step at a time.

You’re halfway down when you hear heavy footsteps running up the stairs. Garrick. He’d promised he’d find you when you were done. He doesn’t spare a glance at Dain, gathering you into his arms and apologizing when he puts pressure on your not-broken ribs.

Dain watches as the older boy carries you down the rest of the stairs, murmuring reassurances to you all the while. Your father’s words echo in his mind. “Take care of her.”

Garrick Tavis is a man of his word.

[mandowifey]

i just read your miguel o’hara fic and it’s beautiful.

so i found out that when he bites his prey, his fangs have paralyzing venom and i was thinking about him being obsessed with reader who tries to ignore him, but eventually he becomes impatient and uses his venom on them and all they can do is moan and take him (with a sprinkle of breeding kink🤭).

sorry if this is too much and makes you uncomfy

WAH, thank you so much! ❤️

(Breeding kink is my fave kink, Id never be uncomfy) I've wanted to write this for him since learning about it, it's so...hot, HAHA.

P.s: this turned into arguably the longest Miguel x reader fic I have ever done 💀

× × ×

Dominion

Miguel O'hara x Fem!Reader

This is part of a nonlinear storyline.

Warnings; NSFW, extreme noncon/dubcon (reader is paralyzed from Miguel's bite), dark!Miguel, stalker!Miguel, PiV sex, unsafe sex, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, praise, taunting, general bad themes. Reader is a virgin in this.

× × ×

When Spider-man saved a bus full of children on a collapsing bridge, the world cheered. What the news outlets and fanatics fail to see are the people who are not rescued. Your family had been on the bi-monthly trip down state when the bridge had been attacked. They were one of the cars that went down with the initial rubble. There was no big heroic moment, no surprise rescue, or hero swooping in the last minute to save them all. On that day, you lost everyone you ever cared about and came to hate Spider-man.

Miguel O'hara understood a lot of things about this world. In fact, he understood a lot of things about a lot of worlds. There was synchronicity between the universes, such as Spider-man being the hero and getting the girl. What he failed to understand was how he couldn't get you.

It was a Thursday evening, and he was fighting Rhino in the open street. As the leader of the Spider-Society, Miguel didn't often get to run around and handle crime. Seeing an opportunity to release some frustration and get some air, he'd left Jess in charge to patrol the city. Cue, the bad guy showing up and their all-out, property destroying brawl. During the back and forth with his opponent, Rhino had picked up a small car above his head and chucked it. When Miguel dodged, the car hit the road, rolled, then skidded into a light pole as the engine burst into flames.

As he turned to lunge, he heard you.

Screaming, inside that car.

Duty to civilians was more important than apprehending a criminal. Still, he hesitated before, inevitably snarling and prowling towards the car. With his strength, Miguel lifted and shoved the pole to the side before he walked around to the front. Inside the glass was you. Small compared to him, bloodied from the glass and impact but still shouting. What confused him was the way your fearful expression twisted into a look of pure disdain once you two spotted each other. Regardless, he'd broken the windshield and pulled you out.

"You alright?"

Nothing.

Not a word.

As you wipe glass from your clothes, the masked crusader lingered in your presence, perturbed. Miguel did not do this for 'thank yous' and pats on the back for a job well done. He did it because, as a hero, it was the right thing to do. Certainly enough, people in the world hated him, and he could accept that. When you looked up at him finally, blood had run trails down your forehead and cheeks, painting you like some warrior of the macabre. The man wonders if the head injury had affected your brain.

"Go sit down, an ambulance is sure to be here."

Silence.

Miguel catches your eyes as they glint beneath flickering street lamps. There is something about the way you look at him that unsettles him. You stare at him as though you are judging his soul, like you could possibly know the wrongs he's done and lives he's lost. Anger blossoms within his chest, and he feels his muscles tense. This was not something he experienced around most citizens. After what feels like a decade passes between you, your eyes lower, and you turn away. Standing and watching, Miguel observes your limp as you hobble towards the sidewalk and sit.

Left to stand amidst the ruins of his run-in with Rhino, O'hara draws in a steady breath. Lyla pings, showing him the location of the villain, and he sets off to track him down. He found himself distracted by thoughts of you that night. Those burning, scornful eyes and those lips that pressed so tightly together.

The thoughts of you did not stop there.

Days of obsessing turned into weeks. Miguel had pulled your information from the local PD database and had started stalking you shortly after. He had learned your routines, your job, and where you liked to go out to eat with friends. You weren't busy during the work week and usually spent the weekends catching up on chores or TV shows. His favorite was perching in your fire escape and watching you do laundry. You were beautiful, oblivious too, and he liked that.

You two had a close call when he decided to get brave.

It was a late Saturday, and you had run out to the store last minute for some missing ingredients. Miguel had been watching your evening unfold and followed not far behind, even going as far as to track you inside the grocery. Mask-less, he loitered around shelves just in view and watched as you hurried around to grab eggs and flour. An older woman had pulled his attention, asking him if he could retrieve something from a high shelf for her. Though reluctant, he'd obliged, which had cost him his line of sight on you.

Urgently rounding a corner to attempt to locate you, Miguel hadn't been paying attention. Fate made you turn the same isle, and if not for his inhuman reflexes, you two would have collided. He stops himself just before impact and steps back while you gasp and touch your chest from being startled. "Sorry," you mutter, not bringing your eyes up to look at him. Miguel doesn't say anything as you skirt around him in a rush. He was frozen, having been so close to you and nearly caught in the act. You hadn't realized who he was and what he was doing, and that thrilled him.

After that day, Miguel decided he could wait no longer.

The next Friday, you were returning home from a late night at work. Clothes disheveled and eyes heavy, you fumbled to get your door unlocked and stepped into the dark. Before your fingers could brush the light switch, something hit you from the side and clapped over your mouth. You're aware of being attacked, and while your screams are muffled, you flail and kick and thrash, throwing your weight around to try and make it difficult for your assailant. His grip is like iron, and you hear him laugh, his breath fanning your neck. A drag of something warm and wet along your throat made you tense, and you scream suddenly as your flesh is punctured by teeth.

Miguel moans at the burst of blood across his tongue. You taste sweeter than he could have imagined, and he relishes your flavor. Closing his eyes, he releases his venom into your body while holding you into him. Your thrashing continued, even while the paralyzing agent pumped through your veins. He knew it wouldn't take long and indulged himself by withdrawing his teeth and sucking at the puncture holes they left. Blood smears across his lips, and he groans again, lapping at you like a starving animal. Miguel had imagined what you'd taste like, and this exceeded all expectations.

As you fell limp, Miguel licked his lips clean and scooped you into his strong arms. He'd been inside your home before, while you were asleep or away with work. Carrying you to the bedroom, he nudged the door open with his foot and placed you on top of your bed. Your eyes were closed, having fallen unconscious not long after he injected you. The man takes his time, propping your head up and removing your clothes until you are left in nothing but a tank top and underwear. Admiring his work, Miguel smiles to himself and steps away to give you time to wake up. He wanted you conscious for this.

When you woke, you were aware immediately that something was wrong. Your eyes stared across your room, darting around in your skull as the memory of being attacked came back to you. As you tried to sit up, you found that you couldn't. You utter a soft whimper, trying once again to raise your arms, but they only twitched and remained flat on the bed. Heart starting to pound, you look around and try to rationalize. This had to have been a bad dream, and you were stuck in some sort of sleep paralysis. Your eyes closed, and you drew in a shaking breath, telling yourself that if you fell asleep, it would be okay.

Everything was dark, save for the stripes of moonlight that stretched across your bedroom. Your door, wide open like a gaping, black mouth, and your closet door sealed shut. You felt unease build as you forced your eyes to the bedroom door again, then gasped. Red dots hovered six feet off the ground in the hallway. Transfixed, you didn't dare blink as the dots grew in size, coming towards you.

This had to be a dream.

This could not be real.

Slowly, a man emerges from the doorway and stops at the edge of your bed. His eyes red like coals, shoulders broad, and hips tapered. He was tall, brooding, and looked very real. The two of you stare at one another, unblinking. After a moment, his eyes lose their color, and his stoic demeanor breaks. Miguel was giddy. He couldn't deny it. A perfectly healthy young woman with a scent that told him you two were a perfect match genetically. He couldn't have been luckier.

A sound builds in your chest. You would be screaming if your mouth could move. The man before you raises his brows and smiles. "I wouldn't try it," He hums, "You're going to be like this for another couple hours. There is no need to panic. It will wear off and you'll be just fine." Lifting his large hands, he brings them to his chest. "I must say I'm a little offended. I knew certain folks didn't like me, but it appears you might even hate me." Miguel smirks into his words, giving you a glimpse of his fangs.

"I went through your phone." He tacked on. "I know it's rude, but I wanted to know you a little better. Y/N, works downtown, lost your family in a tragic incident where I couldn't save the day." His clothes rippled with light and slowly peeled away until he stood only in boxer shorts.

Horror seeps into your bones, and you cry. Tears dribble down your temples as you lay there at his mercy. Lips quivering, you try again to speak, but no words come. It slowly dawned on you that he had told you indirectly who he was. What happened to Spider-Man being the good guy? Nausea creeps inside your guts, a cold rush of dread rising under your skin. It shouldn't be possible, it shouldn't be real, but there he was.

Miguel wore a smile. He could observe the gears churning in your brain while you fought your own body. The smell of your feel was palpable to him, causing his other instincts to shudder. It had taken every ounce of strength not to feed on you, and now, with you limp and pliant, he could feel that familiar itch prickling up his spine. Luckily for you, he'd taken his injection not long before arriving in your home. With the other half tempered, Miguel had all the time in the world.

“Of all the people to be in their car that night, it just had to be you.”

Your fingers twitch as your brain screams. No matter how hard you tried or how loud your voice was in your head, your body was not listening. Helplessly watching him climb onto the bed above you, you close your eyes. Miguel sits back on his legs and places a large, warm hand on your shin.

“I guess fate always has a way of working out.” he prompted, pushing his fingers over your knee and gradually along your thigh. Your skin crawls, itching under his touch. You wanted nothing more than to break away and kick him for touching you. Miguel can sense it, his lips twitching in an impish smile. He could tell from your scent alone how afraid you were.

“I’m sure this isn’t how every girl imagines their first time going,” He continues, and your eyes fly open. Staring up at him, the color drains from your face and your heart begins to quicken. “Yeah, I figured.” Miguel hums impassively as his other hand touches your opposite leg and pushes it open. His dark eyes focused on the apex of your thighs. “But don’t worry, above all else I am still a gentleman.” Flashing his teeth, Miguel curls his fingers under your knees and folds you in half. The sudden movement makes you grunt and whine. “I’m going to take good care of you, princess.” You catch him as he winks before dropping his head down.

Miguel draws a slow breath above your cunt, savoring the heady aroma of your sex. As his mouth watered, he places a soft kiss at the tip of your crease over your panties. He hums and licks a slow stripe over you, drooling into the fabric as he caught the faintest taste of your pussy. “Just as I’d hoped,” he purrs.

You were revulsed, your eyes blurry with tears as you lay helplessly below him. Your body was betraying you now, and you could feel your clit engorging with blood from arousal and knew you were beginning to leak. Miguel knew too, and he places a series of firm kisses over your covered folds before turning his head and nipping at the fat of your inner thigh.

“Just relax and enjoy yourself. Most guys I know don’t even bother with this part.”

You can feel the fabric being pulled, then torn. It was an effortless motion on his behalf, using his claws to assist in shredding the unnecessary material. With your soft cunt now exposed, Miguel sighs, his breath fanning over you. He mumbles praise in Spanish, something you don’t recognize, before he delves in. Pushing the thick tip of his tongue forward, he prods your opening before shoving inside.

A cry smothered in your chest, feeling heat rising in your face. You hated him. You hated this, but your body wasn’t cooperating with you. Miguel moans, fucking the appendage inside your heat before suddenly lapping up your cunt in quick, successive motions. The flat of his tongue drags over your swollen clit and makes you squeak.

As you crumble, he latches his mouth around the sensitive bud at the peak of your folds and begins to suck gently. His attention to detail and willingness to make you feel good had you rising against your will. Your chest heaves again, another pitiful mewl trickling from your lips as he assaults your virgin cunt. Miguel was grinding against your blankets now, the bulge in his boxers painful.

Your scent had his blood pumping and desire growing. The fact that he would be laying claim to you first thrilled him enough to bring him to leak. As eager as he was, he kept his patience with working your body, wanting to see you fall apart under him knowing the man you spent years hating had made you cum.

Soft puling cries wept from your parted lips, your eyes closed in denial. You were being pushed closer towards the edge. The suction from his lips around your clit was perfect and he pulsed gentle sucks against it. Occasionally, you’d feel the press of his tongue on the underside of it, applying light pressure while his mouth continued to suckle you. Your clit was fully engorged now, and while you couldn’t move your thighs trembled as you grew closer. It was sick, degrading even, that you would ever cum from something like this. Miguel hears you gasp quietly, and he withdraws his lips to instead lap firmly at you with the flat of his tongue. Fast, firm licks that slipped over the sensitive bud that sent jolts through your abdomen and up your spine.

The venom rendered your mind in a haze, forcing you to live consciously aware of every grueling moment. Each lash of his tongue or rumble from his throat sending you hurtling towards your peak. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, yet your body paid your mind no heed. When his tongue rolled over your engorged clit, and was followed by a gentle suck, you fell. Even with the intensity of your orgasm, the most your body could do was tense its muscles. A cry squeaks out, along with a series of sharp, mewling gasps as you tremble and seize under him. Miguel laps you lazily now, vermillion eyes staring up at you between your legs. He had done it.

Now certain he had done his part in satisfying you, Miguel lifts and crawls up your body, peppering swift kisses to your skin as he goes. He hesitated, tugging your bra down your ribs to expose you to him. The words ‘please stop’ built in your throat, yet died on your tongue. You can only watch as his eyes grow heavy and his head drops to your breast. His tongue rolls over your nipples, causing them to pebble. Miguel’s spit goes from warm, to cold, shocking your skin and making you whine again. The worst part of it all was how good he managed to make you feel. You were aghast at the fact you had just cum for this lunatic, and hated the fact he acted like he knew your body, able to apply licks and kisses in places you weren’t aware that you liked.

After he satisfied his desire for your breasts, he kisses your collar and up your throat. Miguel is going slow on purpose; you know that now. He was relishing in the control he had over you, knowing that you wanted nothing more than to tell him to go to hell. Now hovering over your own, Miguel ghosts his lips against yours. “You’ve been such a good girl for me.” He purrs. “You sound so pretty when you cum, princess.” The smile that follows his filth tugs your stomach and fills you with embarrassment. Noticing your tears, Miguel tuts and kisses your forehead. “No need to cry, this part is easy. I’ll make sure to start slow.” The way you whimpered made the devil in him purr.

Miguel takes your legs and parts them as he sits back against his own. He enjoys the view of your spread form while he removes his boxers and tosses them on the floor. From the angle, you can see the spring of his cock. Fear makes you go cold at the sight. He was long, thick, bigger than anything you’d seen before. For a moment, you wonder if it were going to fit at all. Miguel closes a fist around his base and strokes himself twice as he lines up against you. “Big breath, kiddo.”

You realized too late that his venom that left you paralyzed had also weakened your muscles. When you tried to clench and fight his insertion, your body did nothing more than twitch. Smiling, Miguel nudges the fat, weeping tip of his cock into you and he grunts. “Dios-“he sighs, biting his lip while he trained his eyes in the spot you two connected.

“Look at you, taking me so well.” There is a flash of teeth as he edges himself inside. The stretch is excruciating, especially for your first time. Miguel’s cock was relentlessly thick, filling you to a capacity you didn’t know you had. Hearing the curling whimpers in your chest, he stops and looks down at you thoughtfully. “Almost there, you’re doing great.” You feel revulsed when he winks at you.

The venom kept your body relaxed, making it easier for him to violate you. As he eases inside, you see stars as he presses somewhere deep within you. Miguel’s pubic bone pushes against your swollen clit as he bottoms out, groaning salaciously at the squeeze of your cunt around him. His large hands find their way onto the back of your knees, and he guides one of your legs over his broad shoulder.

“I bet you thought it wouldn’t fit,” he taunts, smiling and biting his lip as he begins to slowly draw back. Miguel’s cock grinds every nerve in your canal, setting fireworks off beneath your skin and making you shriek and grunt in the back of your throat. You hated how full he made you feel.

With a firm jut of his hips, Miguel sinks inside of you and groans as your pelvises collide. He curses again, repeating the motion before lowering himself to cage your body under his own. “Take it,” He gasps, his head dropping to your neck. His breath pants across your skin, warming you further as he drives his cock home. The man begins to rabbit himself inside of you, using your pussy as he saw fit and throwing any concern for your lack of experience to the wind. It didn’t matter that you hadn’t had time to properly stretch, you were his now and meant to be taken. “G-good girl,” he pants, licking over the bruising bite mark he left on the nape of your neck. “S-so s-shocking good.” He laughs dryly, biting you once more without penetrating your skin. Pain blooms in your shoulder and you whine, your eyes closing as you see spots.

Miguel’s pace is relentless. He pounds into you with reckless abandon, bouncing your smaller body repeatedly up the bed and making your shitty mattress creak noisily. It felt as though the air was being forcefully shoved from your lungs, his cock spearing inside with such strength you think he may break your pelvis. The worst was the way he praised you, rumbling as you took him, calling you his good girl over and over. You were rising again, once more against your will as your attacker defiled you.

“That’s it, t-that’s it.” He gasps. Miguel was coming closer to the edge with each thrust, knowing he’d never be the same after this night; after finding you. He whimpers against your throat, the sound pathetic for a man with his strength. You see stars as he ruts sloppily, his thrusts uneven as he came apart above you. Ramming his cock to the root, the man shudders and growls, his muscle rippling as his cock throbbed and began to empty. The hot, heavy spurts of cum impacting and oozing against your cervix, coating your insides. While he slowed, his stomach pressed and ground just right against your clit, making you whimper much quieter this time. You throb, your eyes rolling back in your skull as you flutter and squeeze weakly around him. Miguel grunts again, then smiles impishly against your throat.

“Not so bad for a first time, huh?”

Sitting up, Miguel pecks a kiss to your lips before sitting back on his legs and casting his attention downwards. He watched as he began to withdraw from you, his cock coated in your joined fluids. There was a deeply sickening tremor of satisfaction as he watched his cum begin to dribble out. A part of him hoped his seed would take; he was certain you’d be just as beautiful with your belly swollen. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see his face. At least, you reason, it was over, and he would leave, and you could try to pick the pieces of yourself back up.

Miguel hummed, slipping off the bed and pulling on his boxers as he steals a look around your room. Once dressed, his suit reformed around his body in a glimmer of hard light. All but his mask. “Alright, let’s get you dressed and ready for the trip home.” Ice floods your veins and the nausea returned. Your eyes open and try to focus on him as the room begins to spin. “What? You thought this was just some random encounter?” His lips stretch into a smile as he holds his hands out. “First of all, I’m hurt, secondly, I’m going to try really hard to pack you some of your favorite stuff, I’ll supplement anything else you need.” Miguel hums as he walks to your closet in search of luggage containers.

Tears streak from your eyes and obscure your vision again. Your chest was so tight you felt certain you were going to break. He packs things for you while you panic, wanting to sob and beg him to leave, to apologize and tell him you were wrong about Spiderman. A sob escapes you as your chest shakes, your eyes closing again as you weep. Your body was sore, filled to the brim with this man’s fluids, and you knew you’d never be clean or safe again. Miguel glances at you from over his shoulder and smiles anyways.

You would learn to love him.

He just knew it.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Fuck Up Chapter 2

Summary:  Bucky fucked up.  A few times.  Will his best friend ever be able to forgive him?

Warnings: language, smut, mentions of war, injury, pregnancy

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Bucky didn’t hear from Y/N again for two weeks, the longest they’d ever gone without talking. He tried to reach out to her, texting, calling, video chatting, he even rode his motorcycle over to her apartment, knowing she would be home but she wouldn’t answer the door. He had sent in the re-enlistment papers. As much as he knew Y/N was right, he had made a promise. He would be fine, he knew he would.

Bucky received his orders a month later. Back to Baghdad with his military friend, Steve Rogers, assigned to his same group again. He was to ship out in another month. Y/N refused to talk to him, and he was becoming more desperate by the day just to talk to her before he left. As he was out grabbing some snacks the day before he was supposed to leave he saw her in the store, almost running up to her.

“Y/N!” He could see her visibly freeze at the sound of his voice and it hurt him. “Honey, please,” Bucky rounded her to look at her. She sighed heavily before meeting his gaze.

“Hey Buck,” Y/N said quietly.

“That’s it? Hey Buck?” he asked incredulously.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” she said, her voice still quiet but firm.

“Honey—”

“Stop calling me that!” she hissed, throwing the food she grabbed into her cart and walking away quickly.

“Why?” Bucky followed her. “Please just talk to me. We can go to your apartment and watch The Great British Bake Off again. I’ll give you one of those massages you love. Please just—”

Y/N stopped suddenly, making him skid to a stop. “What do you want me to say?” she asked, looking at him sadly. “You broke your promise to me. You re-enlisted. Becca told me.” Bucky hung his head, swallowing harshly. “I can’t keep watching you leave, Bucky. I can’t keep waiting to hear back from you and praying that you don’t die. I won’t do it anymore.”

“This is the last time, I promise,” he breathed, stepping closer to her.

“You said that last time,” Y/N said. “You lied.”

“I know, I fucked up,” Bucky said, taking another step closer until he could reach out and cup her cheeks in his hands. “I made two promises that I knew I couldn’t keep. But this is the last time. And I’ll come home. I always come home.”

“You almost didn’t,” Y/N whispered.

“But I will. I always do. Nothing can stop me from coming home to you,” Bucky whispered back, his eyes boring into hers. Y/N closed her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t…I can’t leave without us being good, honey.”

Y/N opened her eyes and looked at him again. Those big blue eyes were too much for her, she could never say no to him. She sighed again and pulled his hands away from her face but held his fingers. “Fine, you can come over, but just for a bit.”

Bucky smiled. “Great, I’ll meet you there.” He squeezed her fingers then went to buy the snacks he had. He hopped on his motorcycle and drove to her apartment, meeting her there and helping her bring her groceries into her apartment for her. They got comfortable, turning on the show and Bucky moving so he was behind her, rubbing her shoulders and neck. After watching the show for a while the tension started to lift between them.

“Why do they do that?” Bucky griped as he watched the bakers struggle with the proving times of bread. “They know it’s going to take forever, it’s fucking bread! They need to double the time for proving. But no, it has to look pretty!”

Y/N giggled at his complaining. “Says the man who can barely make himself anything.”

“Hey I try!” Bucky said, tickling her neck, making her squeal. “I made you that pasta thing and you liked it.”

“I did,” Y/N conceded. “And then you never made it again.”

Bucky laughed, pulling her back against him and looping his arms around her shoulders. He hugged her, his face nestling into the crook of her neck, breathing her in. They had always had a close relationship, which is why people thought they were dating all the time. He knew that his feelings towards her always had some kind of romantic undertone, but he had never wanted to push her towards anything she wasn’t ready or comfortable with, and the time had just never felt right to pursue anything. He had missed her these past few weeks, and he was going to miss her during this last tour. Y/N laid her head on his shoulder, making them almost cheek to cheek as she continued watching.

“You leave tomorrow?” Y/N asked quietly, a slight tremble in her voice.

Bucky shut his eyes, nuzzling her neck some more. “Yes,” he mumbled.

“Hm,” Y/N hummed. Her hands reached up and grabbed his arms around her, giving them a squeeze. “How long?”

“It’s a short one. Ten months,” Bucky said, his voice soft.

She hummed again, taking a deep breath. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you,” Bucky replied, his own voice starting to tremble. Y/N turned to him, looking into his wet eyes.

“Buck,” she whispered, then moved in his arms until she sat in his lap, hugging him around the neck as he held her. “Please come back.”

“I will,” he said, his hands rubbing up and down her back. “I told you, nothing can stop me coming back home to you.” He kissed her cheek, rubbing his face against hers. He couldn’t seem to get close enough to her today.

“I love you,” Y/N said, her breath tickling his neck.

“I love you,” Bucky breathed. She kissed his neck and it made him stiffen and quietly gasp. He had always kissed her in their friendship, on the cheek, the head, sometimes her hands, but she had never kissed him, until now. Y/N pulled away and cupped his face in her hands. She stared at him, like she was memorizing every part of his face. Her thumbs softly caressed his cheeks, the tips of her other fingers scratching his beard lightly. Bucky watched her carefully, shifting himself so his face was closer to hers. She didn’t try to move away and he took that as a good sign. His eyes darted from her eyes to her lips and back. “Y/N, can I ask you something?” Y/N nodded. “I know we’ve never…but could I just ask for one…kiss?”

Y/N’s eyes slightly widened as she inhaled a shaky breath. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea Buck,” she muttered.

“It’s probably not,” he agreed. “But…please?”

Y/N stared at him for another minute, her eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips. She licked her lips and nodded slowly. Bucky smiled and let her move on her own time. She moved forward, her nose bumping against his lightly, her eyes looking between his eyes and lips over and over again. She angled her head and softly pressed her lips against his.

Bucky tried not to react too quickly so as not to scare her off. He softly moved his lips against hers, his hands pulling her towards him firmly. Y/N breathed heavily against him, deepening the kiss as her hands moved from his jaw to the back of his neck, holding him to her mouth. Something about the kiss seemed to break down a wall between them, the fears and worries about this kind of intimacy between them crumbling.

The kiss became passionate, Bucky’s hands moving Y/N so she was straddling his lap and he kneaded her thighs and hips. Y/N ran her fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands as she opened her mouth and licked along his lips until he opened them and tasted her back. He moaned, his mind reeling at the fact that he was doing this, having this moment with her. Y/N whimpered at the noise he made and chased it with her tongue. Bucky’s hands moved to her ass, feeling her and pulling her more onto his crotch. She responded by grinding her hips against him, her hands traveling down his chest and stomach until she could lift his shirt. He helped her shrug it off of him and she scratched down his chest.

There were no words spoken between them as Bucky stood and they stripped each other of their clothes as they clumsily walked toward her bedroom. They were never far apart as they climbed onto the bed and he kissed every inch of skin he could reach. He wondered why they had never done this before. It felt so natural, so right with her, like breathing as he drove her to her first orgasm with his mouth, as she gripped his cock so perfectly, as he entered her and it felt like she was made for him. Every sound she made was like his own symphony, and he committed each thing about this moment to memory.

Y/N screamed as she came, sending Bucky into his climax as her pussy constricted around him. They laid together, panting breaths against each other's faces, Bucky rubbing his nose along her face and down her neck, not wanting the moment to end just yet. They still didn’t say anything as Bucky pulled out of her then pulled her into a hug as he lay next to her. His eyes drooped as he listened to her breathing even out, his fingers tickling her back slowly as he drifted off to sleep.

[equallyshaw]

call your mom | q. hughes. ↠ based off the song by noah kahan! ↠ best friend duo! sunny is her nickname! ↠ warnings: talks of anxiety, depression and an attempt. (not shown) also, some grammatical errors ! ↠ word count: 2k

quinn knew it all, and had known about it since their first frat party they attended when she ended up drunk which resulted in an anxiety attack; during their freshman year at michigan. yet, he never let that get in the way of their budding friendship and hadn't let it over the past almost 7 years of knowing one another. the longest friendship, she'd had outside her other best friend sadie. he would pick up at every 3 am call she'd make to him, he would call her when the ghosting she did began or would figure out where she was when he'd come home during the summer & she wouldn't come to the lake house while not letting him know. or most importantly he wanted to say everything he felt too, when all the times he would catch her telling her true feelings for him, but then she would make a sarcastic and dark-humored joke about it, before changing the subject.

she was his best friend, throughout all of his shit too. she'd go above and beyond for him, and quinn felt less than at times about it. how much compensation she'd do for him when she was hurting and in need of a hug or a pep talk. when she needed warmth and safety. so when she proposed staying in detroit after four years at michigan, for a business degree, he jumped at the prospect. selfishly, at least a little part for quinn, was that he'd know that she was safe at all times- albeit his brothers, their shared groups of friends from michigan, or his parents. to which she'd made a joke of it, "how do its feel to be behind mama hughes on my emergency contact list?"

❂

Oh, you're spiralin' again The moment right before it ends, you're most afraid of But, don't you cancel any plans 'Cause I won't let you get the chance to never make them

❂

it was a rainy, torrential downpour, july friday evening in the detroit - ann arbor area. it was around 9 pm when she'd just gotten out work due to a project that blew up in her and her colleague's faces- so the five of them were stuck there until it was done. she knew that this was her breaking point, and it seemed like once a quarter she'd simply lose it. start ghosting everybody she loved, canceling plans or not even bothering to show up to them without a word. so now here she was, sitting in her townhouse garage and sobbing. she'd been denying each and every call that quinn had been making, the duration of the drive home. she'd promised to call him after she got out to discuss her flight in the morning, to toronto where he was with his brothers and a few friends and girlfriends. she couldn't pull herself to bring herself inside after shutting her car off. she couldn't pull herself together to shower, to eat or to even finish packing for her flight. she couldn't even pull herself to wipe her cheeks that were molten red and drenched with salty tears.

all the way in toronto, quinn was panicking. freaking out outside of the restaurant they were all at. why wasn't she picking up? his mind ran with soulless ideas and thoughts, one's that made him think the worst and on the verge of throwing up. after the 20th call (i know) he called his mom, who said she hadn't heard from her since the previous sunday when they went to brunch, despite her telling his mom that she'd text her something that week. and then once ellen had said that it had been pouring the whole day and hadn't let up, his anxiety surged. what if she slid into a ditch? what if she skidded into another car? lost her vision through the windshield? a million thoughts echoed throughout his mind, as he tried to calm himself down. "if you cannot get ahold of her before 12, i will go over there to make sure she is ok." ellen offered, and that made quinn breathe a bit. that was the first thing he thought of when she said she'd be staying in detroit, that his mom would be nearby at all times. as selfishly as that was, quinn thought.

❂

Don't let this darkness fool you All lights turned off can be turned on I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom

❂

she pushed her garage door open into the mud room, sliding her purse and shoes off. she slowly made her way towards the kitchen, grabbing the water canister from the fridge and pouring herself a tall glass. her phone continued to buzz with messages from quinn, and now luke and jack, who were overly concerned for the one person they saw as an older sister. she peered down at it, and saw a text from quinn stating: please text, call, anything please. im gonna drive home tonight - rn. she sighed, pulling her phone into her hands and typing, "don't." and quinn pressed his head down on the restaurant table, he had just sat back down at. she pressed the button to call him and he picked up on the second ring, "don't do that quinn, im fine." she lied through gritted teeth. he shook his head, heading back outside. "sunny...please." he begged, as his voice broke. a thick crack with emotion bubbling underneath. "i promise, im ok." she lied again, and now her body was betraying her. "sunny?" he asked softly, and then he heard her sobs. "sunny?" he questioned again, as her sobs got heavier. "im sorry. im sorry quinine.....god, i wish-" she paused as she realized what she was gonna say, something she'd wanted to say for years when he'd be there to comfort her. "i wish i'd never met you quinnie, you have never deserved any of this and do not deserve it." she sobbed, breaking quinn's heart in the process. "no! you don't get to say that, or believe that. because i sure as hell don't." he argued and she shook her head. "no, you don't deserve a friend that doesn't see the good in the world. who doesn't look towards tomorrow with a mindset of, that things are gonna be better. tomorrow's a new day. you don't deserve that, your family, my family- nobody deserves it." she croaked, wiping her tears roughly off of her cheeks.

quinn's heart broke, "i promise sunny- this time its gonna be different. we will get you better help, ill take you wherever we need to go to get you the help you need. were not giving up, ok? im not nor ever going to give up. you're my best friend sunny, we will work through this. there's so much good about you and the way you treat everybody around you. everything is gonna be ok sunny, ok?" he pleaded, and she heard her sniffles. "i promise that everything will be made new, sunny. let me - let me drive home right now, ill call your mom- ill call my mom, everything will be ok!" he said more so to trick himself into thinking it, but he was terrified. she shook her head, "no its quinnie, im just gonna go to sleep." she said before hanging up.

❂

Waiting room, no place to stand His greatest fears and wringing hands and the loudest silence If you could see yourself like this If you could see yourself like this, you'd have never tried it

❂

as quinn was just getting his bags together from the hotel room, and waiting on the delivery of a rental car - he got the call from his mom. he was with his brothers when he got it. he called her after sunny had hung up, asking her to go be with her until he could get there. about 2 hours later because of flooding and how bad the vision was that evening, ellen had made it to her townhouse right outside of detroit. and the moment she got off the phone with 911, she called quinn. whose world was rightfully, broken in half.

_

quinn stood in the waiting room after driving back with his brothers, and so the three of them stood there silently. ellen was the only one with sunny at that moment, now - 6 am. ellen had been with sunny since 1 am, that morning after her and jim drove to check on her. jack called sunny's mom, who lived in Indianapolis with her step father, who instantly got in the car and drove up to detroit. who were nearing their arrival any minute. all three of the boy's minds ran wild with thoughts and feelings, but quinns. his were lethal at this point, and filled with guilt, more than anything. quinn's head whipped up when he saw jim walking from the elevator and nodded towards quinn, and then his two other sons. "come with me." jim said before he took them with him upstairs. she'd been taken to the psych floor after she had arrived.

"she is ok quinn." jim said placing a hand on his shoulder to try to comfort him. quinn nodded softly, the look on his face of somebody who was mentally gone. jim and the three boys, stepped out and towards her room. ellen turned her head when the door opened, "your dad and i are gonna head downstairs to wait for her parents, we will be downstairs." ellen said standing up and quinn nodded, "we'll go with you." jack said referring to him and luke, who nodded as well. "let us know if you need anything q." ellen said comfortingly and he nodded, still looking towards sunny. the family walked out, leaving quinn who sat down next to the girl. she was sleeping peacefully and soundly, not flinching or stirring the dark haired girl after he grabbed her hands softly. his hands eclipsed hers, as he did so. he brought their hands to his lips, as he sat forward with his elbows on knees. "fucking a sunny." he mumbled to himself, "i thought i'd lost you for good this time." he added as silent tears poured out thinking about the last time, this almost happened.

_

Stayed on the line with you the entire night 'Til you told me that you had to go

_

"i dont want to do it anymore quinnie." she sobbed. her final semester of senior year was getting to her, and she was stressed beyond the max with work, her internship and life in general. and what made it harder, was that quinn was in vancouver while she was in ann arbor.

"what can i do for you, sunny? please tell me what i can do."

"you can't do anything q, there's nothing stopping me or in my way anymore." she cried.

quinn shook his head, "dont say that. you know that isn't true. you've got your mom, sister, brother, sadie, my family and, and me. and you're whole future ahead of you." he said through a scratchy voice.

"sunny, please stay on the line with me until you fall asleep. i don't care how late it is." he said - no pleaded.

"i gotta go quinnie. ill call you tomorrow morning." she said before hanging up, before heading over to the hughes' residence.

❂

Oh, dear, don't be discouraged I've been exactly where you are

❂

sure, quinn could not totally relate to sunny. but he had had his moments. when his first season ended, the off season between the 2022-2023 season and 2023-2024. where the team had been god awful. he'd had moments of unclarity, throughout their friendship. but certainly, never on the level of her's. but there were moments where the two could bond on a different level, and where the two could feel exactly how the other felt.

he'd come out on the other side every single time, and did not let it discourage him. he knew it was a part of life, and the career that he chose. he hoped at some point, before it was too late, that she'd come out on top on the other side.

that she'd finally be able to get some peace in life.

she woke up around 7:30 am, with her parents in the hallway with ellen and jim, talking quietly over everything. quinn sat next to her, while his brothers went to go get coffee and small breakfast items for everybody. when the girl awoke, she did not expect to be there in the hospital. she didn't expect to see quinn beside her, looking past her out the window. she didn't expect to be alive, to be quite honest. she shifted a little bit as tears formed in her eyes, as she felt guilt wash over her. and a bit of frustration, that it hadn't worked.

"sunny.." quinn began trailing off, as he felt her hand pull from his and saw her shift in the bed. she looked at him with the biggest puppy eyes he'd ever seen, and then her lips began to quiver. he quickly hopped into the hospital bed, pulling her into him as she began to sob. her throat dry and scratchy as she began to speak, "why?" she begged. "why me?" she added, as quinn kissed her head. "why am i so broken?" she sobbed into the warmth of his chest, as he began to cry with her. "i don't deserve you quinnie, i don't. i never have and never will." she croaked, and he frowned. he pulled back a bit and brought his hands to her cheeks, to make her look at him. he shook his head, "i don't deserve you my sunny." he began, before swallowing. "from the moment i met you, in that god awful english course, you showed me that a person can be relentlessly kind, incredibly unselfish, and even if you don't realize it - you find the good in everything and everyone." he paused, "and now you need to find that goodness in yourself. because it is there." he finished, his brown eyes pouring into hers.

both of their eyes filled with tears, and their bodies full of nerves.

she nodded softly, "and if you couldn't tell through that thick skull of yours- that's my way of telling you i love you." he quickly diffused the situation, "and how much love i have for you." he added quickly. she smiled softly, "i love you too, quinnie. thankyou for pointing out my thick skull." she hummed, before leaning into his left hand.

❂

Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason Don't wanna drive another mile wonderin' if you're breathin' So, won't you stay, won't you stay, won't you stay with me?

❂

it was now early august, and between therapy and time away from work- the girl was finally beginning to understand what quinn had meant when the two spoke that early morning at the hospital. he'd been there every day with her since then, making sure she got the appropriate help alongside her mom. he'd made sure he kept her schedule in order, making sure she went to her in-person therapy sessions, made sure that she was eating enough, drinking enough water, and made sure to take her mind off of it all. this was one of their final full weeks together, and quinn wanted to make the most of it.

he drove the two from ann arbor down to new buffalo michigan, on lake michigan about two in a half hours outside of chicago. he rented the two a small beach house on a private beach for the getaway. this morning the girl rose around 5:04 am, right before sunrise. she quickly got out of the shared bed (which wasn't a shared bed in the beginning, but after a night staying up to talk it naturally became one.) and headed out towards the beach that was a foot off of the back deck. she made her way down the beach, after slipping on a one piece and submerged herself quickly into the lukewarm water.

she dunked herself underneath the water, before swimming back to the surface. she hadn't realized that quinn had followed her out, after feeling the bed shift and then a cold spot in her wake. she turned behind her after quinn had snapped a pic, and she smiled. "morning q." she smiled, now swimming on her back. he smiled, sitting down on the deck and putting his legs in the water.

"will I be subject to a pep talk today?" she teased with a grin, as quinn chuckled. he shrugged, "maybe." he mused. "let me guess its gonna include punching somebody, giving myself a reason to do things and possible falling in love? two topics of which haven't been talked about?" she quipped, pulling herself up the deck to sit next to him on it. she leaned her head that was soaked on his shoulder, and he smiled softly resting his on hers.

"why dont you come back to vancouver with me?" he questioned out loudly, a few minutes later. she felt her breathe hitch in her throat, before removing her head from his. "you don't have to say yes right now but...i don't know if i can go without seeing you. i don't think i can handle you ghosting me and shutting the world out. after that night, i don't want to wake up and fear that you arent breathing anymore. but ofcourse, if you won't come with me- ill stay here. ill take some time off, and we can work on things." he offered and she shook her head. "you you cant do that for me." she pleaded and he now shook his head, "id do anything for you sunny, don't you understand that?" he paused to gauge her reaction, "id do everything in my power and simply - my existence for you. you have been such a light in my life despite everything, since the moment you walked into it. and i frankly, am never letting you walk out of it." he said as she began to feel overwhelmed. she'd never thought about how quinn felt about her, through everything. especially through the short term girlfriend he'd had and the talking stages that went nowhere with girls.

"dont say what it is i think you're going to say." she begged, as she began to cry. more so, happy tears. he wiped them quickly, looking into her eyes. "i love you, and have always loved you. even from the sidelines and through my own shit i have loved you from that first damn and god-awful frat party, and from the moment you said hi." he said rubbing his thumbs across her cheeks. she clasped her eyes shut and shook her head, "look at me pretty girl." he whispered and she reopened them. "back in the hospital room, you said it then, why did you try to run it back? why did you try to neutralize it?" she questioned, "because you didn't deserve it in that moment. you deserved better." he answered. she nodded, "i would have said it back quinnie. i would have said it if you hadn't shut up." she said with a small grin. his head cocked to the side just a bit. "i love you quinn, and i have always. i've loved you through everything. your dedication to never giving up on me, has shown me some of the greatest love in life. and in turn, has made me fall so deeply in love with you." she confessed and quinn smiled. he smiled widely before leaning in slowly, but it was too slow for the girl. she connected the two's lips and melted into his body.

she pulled away, "oh and before we move on for the day, id love to come to come to van with you. i miss brock." she teased before he pulled the girl up and towards the lake house.

and now here we are !!!! i hope you enjoyed, especially if you made it to this point🫶🏻

[syscultureis]

System culture is:

*alter comes out of dormancy*

"WHEN THE HELL DID WE GROW UP!?"

It's me. I'm that alter. It's been 8 years. Holy shit, I didn't get to see the host grow up and I'm pissed about it./hj

Our longest so far has been Skid Drift, he went dormant when we were about 6 or 7, came out when we were 18ish

He's very concerned about climate change because "this shit is not normal"

[niphredil-14]

Imagine 2012 Donnie with a partner who just doesn’t get math at all, not even science and it’s just him tutoring them and sleeping over at their place

I was gonna write a study date for this, but then I got my results for the HiSET math test and found out that I am, in fact, getting my high school equivalency, so I'm gonna write Don celebrating that instead. Hope you don't mind lol

Test Kisses

Words: 850

The first four tests had been a breeze, As and high Bs across the board. But then, there was math, and in the fortnight leading up to the test, Don had gone over to her house almost every night, the two of them pulling all-nighters every other, until the night before the test. Don had indeed gone over that night, but insisted that studies had shown that cramming the night before a big test would actually be detrimental. He had only allowed her to read through her notes for half an hour before helping her through her bedtime routine, and cuddling up next to her, until she fell asleep. Upon awakening, the sun was shining through the fluttering blinds of her open window, and she found a note written in Donnie's messy handwriting on her bedside table.

Sorry I couldn't stay, but you know I can't risk being seen, and Leo would've nagged my shell off. I wish you lots of luck on your test today, though I know you won't need it. You've worked so hard, and have been tutored by the smartest turtle around, so I know that you can do this!! You're a whole lot smarter than you give yourself credit for! ^w^

Love, Donatello <3

Actually taking the test was super stressful, and she finished with only two minutes remaining. It had taken forever for the test results to come. All of the other test results had been posted exactly a week after she took the test, but this was not the case for math. She had to call the testing company three times over the course of a week before the finally opened an investigation, and throughout the whole process, she had whined and complained endlessly to Donnie. After what felt like an eternity, she was finally notified that the results were posted. She didn't hesitate to grab her laptop and sprint out of her apartment, racing to the nearest sewer cap. Don had installed a special button in the alleyway, so that she could get to the lair whenever she wanted without having to struggle to move the hubcap. Practically sliding down the ladder with practiced ease, she hit the ground hard and began sprinting towards the lair. Upon entering the lair's living room, she skidded to a halt, and all but shouted at Leo.

"Where's Don?!" The words escaped her as if being thrown from her throat in all one breath, and the words,

"In the lab?" had barely left Leo's lips before she had taken off at full speed once more. She ran into the lab, and Don barely had time to spin around in his chair to face her before she was in the air, jumping towards him. He scrambled to catch her, and was almost unsuccessful. After regaining his stability, he looked at her with confusion rampant in his eyes. Before being able to ask her what had brought her so frantically to his lab, she shoved her laptop into his hands, and screeched.

"The results are up!!" She jumped from his lap and began pacing, anxiety written across all of her features and scribbled throughout all of her movements, from the longest of her strides, to the smallest twitch of her muscles.

"That's great!" Donnie replied. "Did you pass?" She whipped her head around to him, looking at him as if he had grown a second head.

"I don't know!"

"You haven't checked yet?" He asked.

"No! I came straight here. I'm too nervous!" She exclaimed, her pacing gaining speed. "Will you read them to me?" He gave her a soft, wide smile, and agreed, lifting the top of her laptop open and entering her email and password to the test company's website. Clicking to the right tab, he pulled up the score report, with her anxious, quick steps serving as a background beat.

"Oh, Sweetie." He said, unreadable emotion in his voice. She stopped in her track and turned to him.

"What?! What is it?!" Don smiled wide at her.

"18/20. You passed! You got 70% on Numbers and Operations on Numbers, 77% on Algebra, 50% on probability, statistics, and data analysis, and 25% on measurements and geometry. You're graduating!" She squealed, jumping up and down, before charging at Donnie and tackling him in a hug, sending them both to the ground that time. She lifted just far enough away from him to gaze into his eyes, overjoyed, before beginning to cover every inch of his face in kisses.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!" She exclaimed. "I love you so much! I never could have done this without you!" He placed his hands on her shoulders, pushing her back for a moment, still embracing her.

"Hey, as happy as I am that I was helpful to you, I need you to know that it was you and your hard work that did this, not me. You did this, you earned this, and I am so proud of you, you deserve this." He said, seriously, and then smiled, pressing his lips to hers in a deep, loving kiss.

[notscarsafe]

I love you late night Decked Out crew. I love you random silly conversations in the lobby, I love you Pictionary in the daycare center and deaths in the ravager backrooms. I love you diversions into TCG or Blue River raceway between runs. I love you wheeling and dealing for cards, for shards, lurking like an addict waiting for the shop to refresh. I love you Zelda tribute keydrop noise, tinkly warden noise machine, haunting drones in the burning dark. I love you goofy ravager names, warden names, silly nicknames for the different zones. I love you Easter eggs, puzzles, and deathtraps. I love you crouching and hiding in the chain trap, I love you nail bitingly vaulting past the vex at max clank, skidding into the shop at half a heart. I love you sound of submitting an artefact, of buying a card, the sudden silence of waking up back in the lobby after death. I love you pick of shame. I love you Rusty, I love you Willy, I love you Pumpkin. I love you "slain by nothing, they survived Decked Out".

I love you, Decked Out 2. I love you Tango. I love you Hermitcraft ensemble in the longest, craziest, most overachieving and awesome season ever.

Decked out 2 ends tonight, December 10th at 1AM EST, and all the signs are pointing to the season ending with the new year.

I love you Hermitcraft, thank you for being comfort, joy, and company.

[fairydarlings]

A Court of Fallen Stardust

Read more on AO3! ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ Read Chapter Three on Tumblr!

Azriel’s hands were trembling.

Those supposed brothers of his had thrown him back into his cell after taking turns to see who could keep bruises on his skin the longest. When they grew bored and their arms weakened, they hauled his suffering body back on the ground, where he lay there for what could have been hours. They, of course, sent him off without food. 

Azriel had gone days without food before. But he hadn’t had a meal since he saw his mother last. Between his gnawing stomach and dead hands, he couldn’t even push himself off the ground.

Pathetic. 

That was his stepmother’s word of the month. She liked to call him that as he struggled to keep the bristle brush steady as he cleaned her floors. 

Pathetic was how he was feeling now, the word was finally comprehended in his brain.

He never should have told his mother about the shadows. Someone was always listening in. And if not, someone would’ve beat the information out of her.

Stupid.

That had been a word of the month from some time ago. But Azriel knew he embodied that word, too. Even if we wanted to trust his caring mother, it was pointless. Someone was always listening in. It was better to stay silent to keep everyone at least a fraction safe.

He felt a cool wisp run along his ugly hands, circling his wrist. The sensation calmed him slightly. A small smile came across his face, draining more energy out of him. More shadows followed in delight as they helped push him up to kneeling. 

When they first appeared, he was suspicious of them. He had been lying down, imagining the next chapter of the story he had been working on for months. In the darkness, they had acted it out for him. He blinked at them, believing he had finally cracked into the madness. When they touched him, he knew it was something more than imagination.

Naturally, he didn’t trust them. Maybe this was a trick of his brother’s. Or an ugly familial gene he did not wish to possess. But when they did not follow him out of the cell, nor did his brothers ever bring them up, his suspicion dimmed, little by little. After weeks of watching, it was apparent no one in his family had shadows chasing after them.

This was something entirely Azriel’s.

Nothing had ever been his before. He never had friends before, and that’s what the shadows slowly became. They didn’t once follow him out of his cell. He had pleaded with them to stay, afraid his stepmother might take them from him. 

But he had gone and messed it up now. His shadows could have roamed the manor now if they wanted—his father knew about them. 

All Azriel had said was that he had made friends with the shadows. He wanted his mother to be proud of him—he had finally made friends. 

He should’ve known better. He should’ve expected the guards to drag him back into his cell, the haunting look on his mother’s face making him scream. They hadn’t shut the door in time as he watched a guard hit her cheek with the round edge of his sword. 

He banged his damaged hands on the door, pleading that she didn’t do anything wrong. The wounds re-opened and blood trickled down his wrists. It was his fault—they should punish him, not her. 

He hadn’t talked to the shadows since, even when they tried to understand what happened. When they tried to help soothe his hands. Reached out to dry his tears.

It’s why now they jumped around him. He had acknowledged them again finally. It wasn’t their fault he had been stupid, just like his stepmother said. 

Pathetic. Useless. Scum.

She hit the mark each month.

It had taken some time, but he eventually pulled himself onto the rotted mattress, leaning against the wall as he tried to steady his breath. 

He had watched the shadows dance around him for hours when the door suddenly slid open. He immediately clenched up, shadows skidding off. 

But it was only his mother, which didn’t make him relax more.

She was not allowed here. The only other time she had dared to find him was after the incident. He had wept into her arms for hours as she did her best to heal his hands, doing his best to keep quiet. That was years ago. If she was here, it only meant trouble. 

He went to speak but she quieted him instead, the ball of faelight in her hand hurting his eyes. 

“I know you think yourself at fault for telling me about the shadows but this might be a good thing, Azriel.” She sat next to him. From beside her, he could make out a faint bruise on her eye. “You have a gift, my son. A gift you should be very proud of.” 

Azriel said nothing.

“Can I see them—your friends?”

He liked that she called them that. Because they were his friends. He wanted them to be hers, too. They swarmed up her arms, causing her to gasp and laugh quietly. She watched as they danced like they had done earlier for him. 

“I think they’re sending you away.”

Azriel blinked in cold fury. He couldn’t leave her alone with these people. 

“Do you remember the place I told you about, the place I grew up?” She grabbed his scarred hand and sent waves of warmth running through him. He nodded. “I sent a letter to someone when I heard them whispering. She has some power these days. I’m hoping she’ll take you in—be the mother I can’t be for you.”

He wanted to protest. She was an incredible mother. Azriel instead, said nothing.

Footsteps loomed down the hall. His mother needed some place to hide, the both of them started to panic. But the shadows beat them to it. 

They circled her, coaxing her into the corner, blowing out her bead of light. She was completely hidden by the time the guard came to open his door, telling him to shut up. 

When the guard left, they were looking at each other in surprise. He had no idea they could do that. Azriel reached out to thank them. 

His mother kissed his forehead before she silently left. He should’ve held her tighter. Asked her to stay just a little longer.

Azriel would not see his mother again for twenty-two years. 

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Azriel awoke from being dragged from his cell and brought in front of his father. He could feel his stepmother lurking behind him. His brothers were in the next room.

As he blinked away the spots in his eyes as they adjusted to the light, his stepmother began addressing him. She was the one to always talk—he had barely heard his father say ten words in his lifetime. Azriel could tell his stepmother ruled everything, hiding behind the gender of his father to get her way. 

The guards weren’t as discreet as they thought. He had heard them tell stories of how his father was afraid of her. How he let her do as she pleased in hopes she might spare him.

Like father like son. 

“Well,” she began, her voice sneering at him. “It appears your secret has been discovered.” She looked at the shadow circling his neck. “How you managed to trick these things into doing your bidding is beyond me. But, a camp lord has heard of your thievery and wishes to see you trained.”

Azriel couldn’t believe it. His mother had warned him but he hadn’t believed it. No one ever wanted anything from Azriel—except to be used as a punching bag or a slave. 

His stepmother kept on talking, his father staying perfectly still, but Azriel could only focus on the other presence that had joined the manor. His shadows were whispering in his ear that an angry female was marching down the corridor. 

He did not jump like everyone else when she slammed open the doors.

His stepmother whirled on the intruder and then stopped. Azriel had never seen her so shocked—gapping like a fish out of water. 

The new female had long dark hair and tan skin, signs she was Illyrian like him. Her wings were spread wide in a way that Azriel only wished he could ever achieve. He had yet to extend his wings fully in his life—his cell had never been big enough and his brother’s certainly never allowed it. Aches and spasms often woke him in the middle of the night.

The intruder took one long look at Azriel as cold dread came over him. She began yelling, pointing her finger at his stepmother as Azriel awaited a punch to be thrown his way. 

Only, it seemed… the female was mad for him. 

“This is how you treat your kin?” Her wrath was growing by the minute. “You lock him in a cell and beat him for pleasure? What kind of Lord does that make you, Atreus?”

“That bitch had no right to send—”

Bitch was a new word. Azriel doubted by the tone of his father’s voice that his mother was not a bitch. 

“You watch that mouth of yours,” the Illyrian intruder said quietly. “Don’t think I won’t strip you of your title in a second.”

A silence filled the room, sans his stepmother’s heaving breaths. She looked fit to burst.

Azriel was jealous of this female—of her confidence, of her ability to speak and defend people. That feeling quickly changed into alarm as she looked him over. Azriel hadn’t properly seen what he looked like—only sometimes in the wonky reflection of soapy water. He could tell from the grim coating him that it wasn’t attractive.

The female’s eyes softened as she walked towards him. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” He could only stare at her, unsure of what she wanted and why she was addressing him. As he continued to blink at her, it occurred to him that everyone was expecting him to answer. 

He coughed awkwardly. “Azri—”

His voice caught in his throat. He hadn’t spoken in weeks. Rusted piped had replaced his vocal cords. He coughed again. “Azriel.”

She reached him, bending down slightly to meet his eye. “And how old are you, Azriel?”

He blinked again. He had no idea. Time blurred together when you stared into darkness all day. Her eyes flicked up to his father. “Eleven.”

The lady hummed. “I have two sons, Azriel. They’re about your age. Would you like to train with them?”

His cold eyes remained unchanged. He didn’t know what training entailed but he doubted he’d be any good. Azriel didn’t respond. If he said yes, this could be a trap. 

Training was not allowed in his hour-a-day outing. Even when his hands ached to hold the swords hung on the wall, or when his wings cried out to fly, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t tell this stranger he wished to participate in something he knew he was not allowed to. She could deal with his silence.

The lady sighed when he did not respond. “I’m taking him with me. Don’t try and find him, you’ve done enough harm.” She reached out for his hand.

Azriel internally jumped. She hadn’t seen them yet. How they puckered and cracked in rivers down his hands. She would know that he was pathetic. 

A gasp escaped her when Azriel reached out and he immediately drew them back in. But she caught them before he could hide. Her warm thumb traced across his sensitive skin and he jumped at the feeling.

Anger rippled across her face as she stared down his father and stepmother. “You bring the Illyrian’s shame.”

She wrapped a warm arm around his shoulder, ushering him out of the room. Azriel struggled to keep up. Should he be leaving? Is this another test? Will his mother be punished for his exit? Thoughts raced around his head like the shadows raced around his ankles.

“Can you fly, sweetheart?” Azriel hadn’t realized they had reached the exit. The sunlight was blinding as he looked out to see tall rocks piled on top of each other. They were covered in a color he had never seen before. As he stood there, blinking in confusion, the lady patiently waited for him to respond.

Heat bloomed to his cheeks as he shook his head no. He ducked his head so she couldn’t see. The shadows circled his neck to help hide him.

“That’s okay, Azriel. We’ll teach you.” And then she was scooping him close and lifting off into the air. Azriel kept frozen in her arms. No one but his mother hugged him close like this. Her arms felt different than his mother’s, but not in the bad way he expected. 

And flying was definitely not like he expected. The wind pushed his hair back as the chilled air filled his lungs. For the first time in his life, his thoughts went silent. 

He could breathe up here. Azriel felt free.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

They landed softly on the front steps of her home. Or what Azriel assumed was her home.

It sat on the edge of the camp and from the front steps, he could see rows of tents with black smoke coming from the fires placed sporadically around. He could hear the sounds of life, of people grunting, of swords clanging. 

The sound of metal reminded him of the way his stepbrothers used to throw him into the swords on the walls. His wings twitched at the memory. They had been cut once by an out-of-place sword—Azriel still had the scar.

“This is Windhaven, Azriel,” the female, whose name he still did not know, was crouching beside him now. “And I’m Devanna, the Lady of the Night Court.” 

Azriel stared at her now. This had to be a test. Even with the limited education his mother whispered into his ear, he knew who her husband was. How powerful her husband is.

“I’m sure you’ve felt a lot of instincts in your life to fight, to fly, to kill. I’m sorry if you were made to believe those were wrong or that you weren’t worthy. More importantly, I’m sorry you weren’t given the chance to train and harness them, to make them into something.”

No one had ever talked to Azriel like this before. He couldn’t bring himself to believe the words she said—that he was worthy of anything.

“But here, you will learn. This is who our people are.”

They stared out at the camp for a while longer until Devanna ushered him inside. A new, tingling sensation hit Azriel as he stepped inside—like ice melting. The only other time he felt like this was when he briefly stood in front of his stepmother’s fireplace, cleaning around the mantle. 

He realized it was because of the large blaze in the wall, coating the room with a tingling sensation. It felt nice. Until he looked at the flames too long and all he could see was his hands. 

When he glanced down at them, he thought he saw a flicker come to life over them. But they were snuffed out as the female led him upstairs into the bathing room.

The tub had already been filled, unknown sweet scents swirled in the air like the steam billowing from the water. Devanna smiled down at him before leaving and quietly closing the door. 

Azriel stood in the middle of the room, staring at the wooden panels. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next. Remaining in place, afraid to make a wrong move, he stood there until the door opened again and her head peaked in.

Confusion swam across her features as she opened the door fully and stepped into the room “Why aren’t you in the bath yet, Azriel?” 

Fear panged his heart. He had done something wrong. Already he had screwed up his stay.

Her hand came towards his face. The slap he expected never came, instead she gently brushed his cheek. 

“Have you ever done this before?” Her eyes gently looked into his. 

Shadows swirled his neck as he shook his head no in embarrassment. She let out a sigh, stroking his hair. “Why don’t we start with your wings?”

More shadows swirled around him. Azriel wanted to crawl into the corner and never be seen again. She shifted towards him slowly, asking if it was alright to touch them. Unsure of how to respond, he just turned around, back facing her now.

It was about as good as a yes. 

As gently as she could, Devanna reached out to open them. He hadn’t expanded them in years and grim and dirt had begun to stick them together. When she peeled one off the other, a gasp escaped his lips as he fell forward. 

Pain was shooting through his body as she let out soft apologies behind him. Between falling onto his hands and his trembling wings, Azriel couldn’t stop a tear streaking down his face.

He hated himself. He was weak. What kind of Illyrian couldn’t spread their wings?

Azriel realized he was panting in pain as the female set his wings properly on his back. They felt weird—out of place. Even though she told him this is where they should spend most of their time. In eleven years, they had never once been there, always folded closely behind his back. Unless his stepbrothers found some new way to abuse them, but even then, they found their way back to the only position he knew.

As he crouched on the floor, trying to steady his breathing, he heard the female rustling around behind him. He watched as she poured bath water into a bucket and grabbed a sponge. Warm water brushed over his wings. She explained to him how to clean himself so that he could do it later but all he could focus on was how much water she was dripping onto the floor. 

How she would surely expect him to clean the suds off the ground, even with him in such a weak and painful state. His stepmother made him clean in worse states.

An aching sob escaped and more tears flowed. Shame coursed through his veins but he couldn’t stop the salty tears that poured down his cheeks. Devanna’s warm arms wrapped around his body and it reminded him so much of his mother that he only cried harder. 

He missed her already. He feared for her life. And truly, what was he doing here? Who was this female? Yes, she was the Lady of the Night Court but why was she doing this? Letting him into her home, showing him how to bathe, offering him a chance to train?

How would Azriel ever repay her? 

At some point, he stopped blubbering and she left him alone to hopefully bathe himself. He stepped into the tub, immediately freezing at the sensation.

It was so… pleasant. For a while, he just stood in the center of the tub. Testing his wings again, since she was no longer in the room, they extended slowly outwards. The water was helping to ease the pain. His whole body shook and they only stayed out for a moment but he had done it.

It felt good to have them out like that. But he was exhausted. 

He remembered Devanna saying there was a seat for him to use so he could scrub himself. Using the same sponge, he dipped it into the water and used the same circular motions he practiced on the floor of the manor. The dirt polluted the water. 

Azriel scrubbed until his skin was red and hurt to touch. He needed the filth of his family off. Their scent would no longer haunt him. 

He found a soft pair of black pants and a shirt waiting for him. They, too, were warm like his mother’s hugs. His shadows helped push the clothing onto his sore body and Devanna stepped into the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

“You look much better,” she said, sitting on the bed. “Would you like to join us for dinner or would you rather go to sleep?” 

His eyes widened. He had a choice? Or was this a test?

Azriel briefly glanced at the bed. Food could wait, he wasn’t overly hungry anyway. 

Devanna smiled softly. “Smart choice.” She got off the mattress, pulled back the sheets, and gestured to him.

He actually stepped backward, balking at her. No way was this bed his—no way was this massive room his. It was too large, too uncomfortable for him. He couldn’t accept something this grand. 

“This is all yours, Azriel,” she smoothed out his wet hair. He didn’t move an inch. Neither did she. They stared at each other until finally, Azriel shifted awkwardly under the covers. He had never had a pillow before. This was much more comfortable than his mattress, even if it was unfamiliar. 

The lady bid him goodnight, clicking the door shut. His shadows whispered two people were waiting for her outside. Boys his age, they said.

One of them spoke, voice muffled by the door. “Why isn’t he coming to dinner, mam?”

“He’s tired Rhysand, you will meet him when he’s ready.”

Twin groans came in unison. 

Azriel didn’t fall asleep for a while after she left. He was too scared someone was going to barge him and declare it was all a prank, then drag him back to the manor. 

It was only until the shadows whispered everyone was sleeping, the one boy snoring, that he shut his eyes and fluttered into his dreams—warm and comfortable for the first time in his life.

[disturbedbeautywrites]

Cardigan - Rafe Cameron Imagine

Word count: 4.5 k (Longest fic I've ever written!!!)

Warnings: Illusions to smut, a lot of angst and heartbreak, and swearing. 18+ only Minors DNI

The italics are flash backs, so I hope this isn't too confusing to read!

Vintage tee, brand new phone High heels on cobblestones When you are young, they assume you know nothing Sequined smile, black lipstick Sensual politics When you are young, they assume you know nothing

Life in outer banks was paradise, or at least it was supposed to be. Growing up, you had been blessed enough to be the rich side of the island and known as a kook. Your parents were pretty well off and you grew up next door to the Cameron’s. You had a good relationship with both of the kids, or you did anyways. You were never as high up on the popularity chain of politics at school as they were, but that didn’t keep you from fittings in with them.

Summer had just started; which meant that the first party of the year was creeping up that night. “What should I wear?” You were standing in your closet, eyes scanning the choices you had. You could wear an old band tee and a pair of jeans, or you could dress up a bit. But, that wasn’t really your style, it never had been. “Just wear your old nirvana tee, I love how that looks on you.” Your friends voice cemented your choice as you changed into the clothes, putting your makeup on. You were almost ready when you heard a gasp, your eyes lingering on your best friend as you waited for her to get on with the dramatics.

“Rafe is coming tonight.” The words hung in the air as you just clicked your tongue and tried not to think about what those words meant. “Do you still wanna go?” Reminders of the heart break the boy brought on filled your head as you swallowed thickly, thinking of if you wanted to deal with the feelings coming back. However, that slowly slipped out of your control as you skidded back into the recesses of your mind that had been taken up by the Cameron boy.

He ran a hand through his hair as he gnawed on his bottom lip. He wasn’t expecting you to act this way. “Come on, her and I were just having fun. You have no right to act like this.” His words infuriated you as you shook your head and laughed under your breath, of course he was that clueless. “Actually, I do. Fuck you. You can’t have us both like this.” And with that you stormed off, leaving him standing stunned and alone in the middle of the crowded party.

"(Y/N), come on. Do you still wanna go or not?" Your friend stood in front of you, her keys dangling off her finger as she tried to get your attention. You didn't realize you had zoned out until she snapped you out of it, an embarrassed blush taking over your face as you nodded. "Yeah, sure. I deserve to get out for a bit."

But I knew you Dancin' in your Levi's Drunk under a streetlight, I I knew you Hand under my sweatshirt Baby, kiss it better, I

As soon as you agreed, your friend could be heard cheering and taking your hand. She pulled you down to her car and quickly got in, driving towards the party.

She drug you inside, the sounds of kids cheering and music that was way too loud immediately filled your ears. The smell of weed and alcohol was impossible to ignore as the two of you made your way to the kitchen to grab a drink, the two of you leaning against the counter to people watch. You saw some of your old friends and went over to talk to them, laughing and smiling.

Time felt like it was flying as you enjoyed yourself, your body moving to the music with your friends. You hadn't felt this free in what felt like ever and it was a refreshing feeling. "Oh, shit. Excuse me." You felt someone run into you and you turned to look at who it was, meeting an all too familiar pair of steely blue eyes. Your mouth opened to say something before it closed again, your eyes now landing on the girl standing next to Rafe. Sofia, of course. You just gave a small, tight lipped smile as you saw a flash of sadness in the boys eyes.

You pretended to ignore it as you turned to your friends, telling them you would be right back. You walked outside and sat by the pool at the party, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you heard your name being called from behind you. Why did he have to be here? Why? Why why why? The questions kept piling up in your mind as you let yourself remember when everything was simple and easy; when you were the girl attached to his hip. When you were the girl he pulled along with him at parties and showed off.

“Rafe, come on.” Your words were drug out as you tried to pull the man up off the couch, his Levi’s feeling scratchy against your bare legs. He just sat back, an amused smile on his lips as he let you continue to try and pry him off the couch. “Come on, sweetheart. Gotta try harder than that.” The smugness in his voice was all but aggravating as you threw your arms over your chest, crossing them in frustration.

The boy in front of you finally took the hint and got up, his hands finding yours with one as his other slid around your waist. He held you close, humming softly as he spun you around the kitchen. The two of you were best friends, or were you more? You didn’t know. The two of you just always acted like this and no one asked anything about it and you never had any doubts. He leaned his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he leaned in.

Just before he kissed you, his phone started ringing and it caused the both of you to jump apart. “Hey, Top.” He put the phone up to his ear and listened to the other boy, nodding and glancing at you as he chewed on his bottom lip. “Yeah, man. (Y/N) and I will be there.” He said goodbye and looked at you, a smirk on his lips. “Come to the bar with the guys and I.” You knew you didn’t have a choice, nodding as you ran to go change.

After the excitement of the night wore off you stood next to Rafe outside the bar, his arm thrown around your waist as he talked to Kelce. The alcohol was pumping through both of your veins, your eyes moving from the boy towering above you and the streetlight you were standing under. “Well, I gotta go. It was good to see you guys.” Kelce gave you a nod and a smile before he left, leaving you and Rafe to your own devices.

You leaned against the streetlight, a love drunk smile on your lips as you looked up at the boy who was now leaning against you. “What?” Your words were innocent and quiet as you felt Rafe’s hand slide up on your waist, his cold fingers on your waist as he leaned in to attach his lips to yours. He tasted like bourbon and cigarettes, the taste intoxicating as you reached up and tangled your fingers in his hair.

That was the first time you guys kissed, but it definitely wasn’t the last.

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan Under someone's bed You put me on and said I was your favorite

“Rafe, do you wanna come home with me?” The girls words rang out in your head as you stood next to him at the party, a crushing feeling starting in the pit of your stomach and in your chest. You were right next to him. Didn’t she see you? Or did she just not care?

Your eyes ran over the girl, feeling a bit insecure. She clearly was higher up on the pyramid than your family when it came to money, her flashy jewelry and clothes making that obvious. She was pretty, very pretty in fact. But, Rafe didn’t seem bothered. He just shook her off and pulled you closer, smiling down at you as he leaned and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

You didn’t know what you were to Rafe. You didn’t know if the two of you were just best friends still, friends with benefits, or dating. You didn’t know. But, you knew he made you feel special. He made you feel important. “You’re all I ever need.”

A friend to all is a friend to none Chase two girls, lose the one When you are young, they assume you know nothing

Rafe was a player, you knew that from a best friend stand point and from the standpoint of just having a pair of eyes. He did not like to every commit to just one girl. "It's too boring." The conversation was one the two of you had a lot; especially when his hookups came whining to you about what was happening. It always slightly broke you, and you weren't sure if it was jealously or just seeing the sheer heartbreak these girls went through at the fingertips of someone you knew that well.

"I'm just playing the field until I find someone I want to really settle down with." His explanations always were an attempt at getting away with it. And for a while, you let them work. You would just apologize to the girls and go about your life. After all, you weren't his mom. You couldn't control him.

But, the game seemed to change once you got wrapped up in it. It didn't seem so fair anymore and guilt ate at your stomach; wondering who else was getting the same treatment you were. But, hey. He wouldn't do that to you, would he? Surely not.

But I knew you Playing hide-and-seek and Giving me your weekends, I I knew you Your heartbeat on the High Line Once in twenty lifetimes, I

Rafe sung in the shower, that was a tid-bit that you knew that not many other people did. But, as you sat on his bed and listened to his voice carrying out of the bathroom, the angelic tone mixing with the falling of the water, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

You got to see all of his quirks that he hid from the world because they didn't seem to be manly enough. For instance, anytime he took medicine he almost always gagged and he didn't like the feeling of scratchy sweaters. He was human, but it often got lost in the perfection act that he had to put on for everyone.

But, as the water stopped you got a maniacal idea and decided to try and scare your beloved best friend. You scampered out of bed and went to hide behind the door to his bathroom, praying that he didn't accidentally slam it on you as he walked past. "(Y/N)?" His voice was softer now that he was out of the shower and it wasn't vibrating off the walls, his blue eyes scanning his room for you.

You stood in your place, hand over your mouth to hide your giggles. However, it was fruitless and soon you were being pulled into his tight chest. His arms wound around your waist as he twirled you around, both of your laughter filling the room. "Put me down! You're getting me soaked!" You instantly regretted the words as soon as Rafe let out a signature chuckle and winked at you, setting you down on the floor. Your bare feet felt soft against the hardwood floor as you landed softly, his eyes meeting yours. "Oh, I can show you soaked." And with that, you were shoving his chest away with a huff. "You're so perverted."

That was your friendship with him. It was everything good and innocent until it wasn't. "Come with me to the bar this weekend." After he had gotten dressed the two of you were now laying in his bed, your head in his lap as he scanned through text messages. His eyes would dart down to you every once in a while, his eyebrows raising in a half question and half statement as you considered it. "Maybe I want you to suffer without me." It was a joke, and you both knew it. But, it was fun to push his buttons. A scoff left his pretty lips before a pout overtook it, blue irises boring into your soul. "Oh, come on. You can't possibly leave me with Kelce and Topper. You know how much of a vibe killer they are."

The words elicited a laugh from your lips as you nodded in a shared understanding, though you had love for all three of the boys, Rafe wasn't wrong. The weekends were usually spent with Topper whining about Sarah and Kelce whining about the new girl who he struck out with. You really needed to give them some pointers, but it always fell on deaf ears. They never believed any of your tips. "I'll only go if you say please." You moved to sit up, looking at him with a raised brow as you put the ball in his court. "You know that word is like poison. You're evil." Your shoulders shrugged as you crossed your arms over your chest. You weren't kidding, and he knew it. "Fine. Please come with me oh lovely (Y/N). I will simply die without your presence." His dramatics made you laugh and nod as you leaned in to kiss his lips, taking solace in the warmth and giddiness they provided.

To kiss in cars and downtown bars Was all we needed You drew stars around my scars But now I'm bleedin'

The weekend came and you kept your promise of accompanying Rafe to the bar downtown with the boys. But, you hardly even paid attention to what was happening with the other two. You and Rafe were lost in your own little world, his lips almost always at the shell of your ear as he whispered drunk nothings into it.

"You make me so damn happy." The words caused goosebumps to run along your entire body, your eyes daring to peak up into his. His pupils were blown, no doubt the cause of the liquor that he had been drinking since you had walked into the packed bar. But, there was an ounce of truth there that was so raw and so Rafe. He could be tough, he could be scary, but around you he was raw and real. Or, so you thought.

"Any man would be incredibly lucky to have you." His words were beginning to slur as he pulled you into a kiss, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer. The kiss got deeper and more passionate, your hands tangling in his hair and yanking slightly. This was perfect. It was everything you ever needed. "Let's go out to your truck." Your words were breathy and quiet as he gave you a knowing smirk. He took your hand and told Kelce and Topper he would be back; which earned a whistle and a wink from the other two. "Use a condom! We don't need anymore of you two." Oh, Kelce. Always the PTA mom when it came to you.

You brushed the two of them off as you walked out to the truck and Rafe helped you inside, the kisses shared enough to make your head spin. "I've never done this before." The words were a quiet and shameful confession as the kisses got more heated and the lines between friends and more started to blur. "I got you. Don't worry." His words were whispered into your neck as you felt euphoria start to take over. You had never felt anything like what Rafe was showing you right now. "You're so beautiful."

That was the night that Rafe took everything from you and you willingly let it happen. You let the lines blur, you let the alcohol and the pleasure take over your every instinct that was yelling at you this was dangerous. You knew he was a player, but maybe he was changing. Maybe he would want more after this. Maybe. Maybe..

'Cause I knew you Steppin' on the last train Marked me like a bloodstain, I I knew you Tried to change the ending Peter losing Wendy, I I knew you Leavin' like a father Running like water, I And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

Boy, you could not have been more wrong. After Rafe took your virginity that night, it seemed as if something clicked in his brain that you guys went too far. He was more distant and unavailable.

That was until Sofia came to town and Rafe fell for her hook line and sinker. He met her at a party and lit up like a little kid on Christmas. You had been standing with him, his arm against your waist as he kept his eyes trained on her. She was moving to the beat in a way that you couldn’t, her eyes locking with Rafe’s. She motioned him over; your stomach dropping as he pushed off the wall and seemed to happily oblige to her request.

His body molded into hers immediately, his lips finding hers as they swayed to the tone of the music together. It was sickening for you to watch, bile rising up in your throat as you decided to walk outside. However, he called after you and pulled the new girl over. "(Y/N), wait!" His voice stopped you in your tracks as you gave a fake smile, looking at him expectantly. "This is my best friend, (Y/N). We’ve been best friends since we were practically in diapers." Best friend. The words stung as you recalled the feel of his lips, the taste of his tongue, the feeling of his arms around you. How was that just something best friends did? You knew it wasn't and you all but held back a sob.

"It's so nice to meet you! I'm Sofia." She held her hand out for you and you took it, giving the most awkward hand shake you had ever given. You gave the best fake smile that you could muster up before you excused yourself to go back to your friends.

Throughout the night you could feel his eyes on you as you danced with other guys, having fun despite the circumstances. “What do you think you’re doing?” You heard the all too familiar voice behind you as he pressed a kiss to your neck, his arms snaking around your waist. “I’m dancing and having fun. Where’s Sofia?” The words had a bite to it that you weren’t expecting, but as Rafe’s hips stilled you could tell you caught him off guard.

He licked his lips and turned you towards him, his eyes locking on yours. “She left. What’s with the attitude?” His eyebrows went up and knitted together as he looked you over and tried to read you like a book. He knew you like the back of his hand, or so he thought. He could tell you were upset, but he didn’t realize it was with him. He thought you were just a little buzzed and the alcohol was making you act weird. But, unfortunately for him he was reading the words on the page wrong and it would come back to bite him in the ass. “You we’re just hanging all over her and now you’re here hanging all over me. Is this a joke to you?” Your words exposed your hurt as you glared at the boy that you knew better than anyone, his eyes flashing with confusion.

He ran a hand through his hair as he gnawed on his bottom lip. He wasn’t expecting you to act this way. “Come on, her and I were just having fun. You have no right to act like this.” His words infuriated you as you shook your head and laughed under your breath, of course he was that clueless. “Actually, I do. Fuck you. You can’t have us both like this.” And with that you stormed off, leaving him standing stunned and alone in the middle of the crowded party.

You left, sobbing as you shrunk down against your car outside. This was an absolute nightmare and it was affecting you deep to your core. This was a boy you’ve known for as long as you could remember. He was the one who wiped your tears when you fell. He was always there. "Friends forever." The words echoed in your head as you leaned your head back in frustration, cursing the words the two of you had sworn on as children.

That was the last time you had spoken to him, and now the wound was just as wide open as it was that day.

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs The smell of smoke would hang around this long 'Cause I knew everything when I was young I knew I'd curse you for the longest time Chasin' shadows in the grocery line I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired And you'd be standin' in my front porch light And I knew you'd come back to me You'd come back to me And you'd come back to me And you'd come back

The sounds of the party had faded into the distance as you sat outside, head in your hands. Everything felt like it was a bad dream and you prayed that you could wake up from it. You wished you and Rafe had never started to get physical because that was when things got confusing. That was when feelings erupted and burst through the surface on your end. But, what if things had worked out? What if he had felt the same way about you?

The feeling of his lips still haunted your memory, a ghastly reminder of the impact the boy had on your life and your body. He was in your life for so long and then he was just gone, a faint memory of good times etched into your memory. It was like the faint smell of fire after a kegger, it lingered on your clothes and in your hair until you washed it off. But, it still always felt like it was there.

"He's an idiot for doing that to you. He'll be back once he realizes what he's missing out on." The talk you had with Sarah was resonating in your mind as you stared up at the stars of the backyard, their twinkling bringing a small sense of comfort as you let out a breath you did not realize you were holding.

"Hey." You swore you were hallucinating his voice and you actually prayed that you were. You didn't want to face him. You didn't want to see his pretty eyes, or see his shit eating grin that could light up the entirety of a room in an instant. No, that was your kryponite. That was the absolute thing that could make you break no matter what else was going on in your life. But, as you turned around and saw that exact sight, you knew you were in trouble.

"Shouldn't you be inside with your new girlfriend?" The words were pointed like a spear and you hoped it would wound him and cut deep. But, you knew he would never outwardly show if you did. However, the clearing of his throat was enough to show that they had at least pierced through the surface. "She's not my- That isn't important right now." You rolled your eyes as you stood up, looking up at his towering figure in front of you.

"Really, Rafe? Because she seemed pretty damn important when you completely forgot about me for her." Your voice was rising and you felt tears prickling at the waterline of your eyes, the big droplets falling down your cheeks. He was only back because he was bored of Sofia, you knew it. That had to be it. "She was a damn distraction." He was getting stressed, he was rubbing the palms of his hands against his jeans in a way that he thought you wouldn't see. But, unfortunately for him you did. "A distraction from what?" You hated how you took the bait and you also hated how he was walking closer.

His movements were slow and cautious as his hand moved under your chin, tilting your head up to his. "You." The single word answer was not what you were expecting, confusion crossing your face as you tried to read his reaction. "I fucking fell for you and I was afraid of fucking it up." His voice was saying all the things you ever wanted to hear, and yet you couldn't take them at face value. He had taken your virginity and dipped. He had abandoned you. He had left, after everything he had told you. And, you weren't ready to forgive him. You didn't think you could do that yet.

You just chuckled and shook your head, taking a step back. "I chased the ghost of our friendship around a graveyard of memories for the last month, Rafe. I'm not ready to forgive you just because you come spewing words about falling for me. For all I know, it could be a lie." Your words were not what he was expecting, that was obvious by the look in his eyes.

"What can I do to make it up to you?" His words were almost laughable at the rate of desperation that they were bred out of. It was a scared look, it was a flashback to growing up together, it was the feeling in his chest whenever you were around. It was the happiness that your laugh brought him, the bottle of your perfume he always kept in his car, the clothes of yours he kept in his dresser drawer. It was everything, you were the sun and the moon and all the stars. You were the entirety of his universe and now you were pushing everything into a black hole because he fucked up. That, in itself was enough to feel like death to him and he hated the fact that he messed up this bad.

"I don't know, Rafe. I'll let you know if I ever figure it out. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a party to get back too." And with that he watched you walk away, your head high and proud and your tears no longer falling for the boy and what could have been. You knew this would be better. You knew you deserved more than feeling like second best. You deserved the world, and you weren't going to have it given to you on someone else's time.

[muichirosboba]

Sparking Our Inferno | First Date with Kyojuro Rengoku (Rengoku x Y/n)

Warnings: none, just fluff, "friends to lovers" dynamic

Y/n's prounouns: (they/them) nonbinary!reader

AN: Hi, I would just like to say that this will be my first "Y/n x (character)" fic so please forgive me if it's not good. Happy reading!

---------------------------------❤️❤️❤️-----------------------------------

You and Kyojuro had been best friends for quite some time, and at some point you began to like him just a little more.

However, he never said anything to acknowledge your feelings, so you buried your attraction deep down and continued to be his friend.

That's why you were so surprised when he took your hands in his after finishing a mission you had been assigned to with him.

"Y/n." And that was all he said for a beat, his figure seeming to almost glow in the moonlight as those flaming eyes hooked onto yours, rendering you unable to look away.

When he spoke again, his voice was soft and carried a hint of gentle warmth that brought heat to your cheeks.

"Y/n... I've been meaning to tell you for the longest time."

You held your breath, knowing he would probably want to tell you that you had to come over and train with him at his estate again, but some stubborn part of your brain refused to stop hoping he would say something else.

"I think that you are an amazing, hardworking individual, with talent and great potential to be better than you already are. I enjoy spending each day I get by your side, and we work well together. I simply cannot deny it anymore..."

"Y/n... I have fallen for you."

If your cheeks were burning earlier, it was nothing compared to now.

You sucked in a gasp, thoughts racing frantically through your head wondering whether or not this was a joke.

But the sincere look in his eyes made everything else around you slow. They were so... clear. You could see exactly how he felt.

And he was telling the truth.

With a shaky breath, you managed, "I love you too."

His tender smile turned into a beaming grin as soon as the words left your mouth.

He found every single thing you did endearing.

He wrapped you in a tight, but comfy and warm bear hug and chuckled, "It sure took us a while, didn't it?"

You felt almost dizzy from the relief and whispered into his shoulder, "It was all worth it in the end though..."

---------------------------------❤️❤️❤️------------------------------------

A bit into the next week, it was the day scheduled for your first date.

You were a bundle of nerves, fidgety and anxious.

You had already swapped the clothes you were to wear five times, and were resisting the urge to go change once again.

"After all," you tried to assure yourself, standing in front of the large mirror in your room, "we're just going to have some tea together."

It was a favorite of Kyojuro's, a small tea joint which was actually quite good. It was famous in this little town, and people from all over came just to taste their stellar matcha.

You took a minute to sit down and wait for Kyojuro, thinking.

"How long has he loved me? Does he really love me?"

"No, Y/n," you said aloud, snapping yourself out of it. "Don't doubt him. You saw how he looked at you."

You sat there in silence for another three minutes before a knock at the door made you jump.

"Y/n!" Kyojuro's familiar voice could be heard from behind the painted wood. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, give me a minute!" You called, scrambling to grab your shoes and put them on, before skidding into the bathroom and adjusting a few stray strands of hair and checking your reflection one last time.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door.

And there he was.

Blazing hair flowing onto his shoulders as usual, that smile like the sun on his face. And...

"His clothes," You thought, all the air once again drained from your lungs.

He was dressed impeccably, in a way that showcased both his casual and formal side at once. It made you feel like you should go change for the sixth time.

But that feeling melted away as he looked you over in polite awe.

"Y/n! You look stunning!"

"It's because this is your first time seeing me out of my Corps uniform...", you muttered, embarrassed, as you shut the door behind you and joined him on the steps outside.

---------------------------------❤️❤️❤️------------------------------------

He insisted on carrying you, so you arrived at the slightly busy restaurant ten minutes later in his comfortable arms.

You could see everyone else's eyes on you as he gently set you down.

And hear the whispers.

But unlike what you originally thought would happen, people seemed happy for you two.

"Look! It's Rengoku-san and somebody... I think it's his date. They look good!"

"Oh my, what a cute couple!"

"Wow, Rengoku-san's really lucky!"

"Is that Y/n? And Ren- wait... AWW~!"

Well, either it was just you or the place was rapidly getting warmer....

Kyojuro settled you down at a small cedar table set for two before taking a seat himself, looking around. He had a huge grin on his face as he leaned in and murmured to you.

"You seem to be stealing everyone's attention, hmm? Just like how you stole mine."

You were busy looking out the window at the bustling town, your back to him, but heard his words.

And he knew too, by the red coating the tops of your ears.

Before he could continue, a waitress arrived.

"Hello!" she chirped cheerfully, "What can I get you two today?"

You turned. "Can we get two cups of your specialty matcha? I've heard it's the best around."

She wrote it down with a smile and a nod, confirming the rumor. "Anything else, or will that be all?"

Kyojuro cut in. "And one vanilla taiyaki. Thank you!"

She put in the dessert on her notepad and waved as she left to go serve another table.

The food arrived quickly. In the span of five minutes, in fact.

And that was when you discovered the pure bliss of eating with the person you loved.

Kyojuro had graciously split the taiyaki in half, and it was delicious.

The mix of vanilla and matcha was giving your taste buds something to celebrate as you savored every bite/sip.

He watched your face, feeling your joy himself as you two chatted and ate.

---------------------------------❤️❤️❤️-----------------------------------

Thirty minutes had passed and you were stuffed to the brim.

After six extra steaming cups of matcha and four more taiyaki, you refused any more food, clutching your stomach.

Kyojuro himself had eaten two times what you had and miraculously looked even better than before.

After you said thank you to the owner and headed out, he motioned for you to sit next to him on a bench.

You didn't hesitate to sit close to him and asked, "Why did you eat so much? Won't your stomach hurt tomorrow?"

He laughed, "It's my gratitude to the owner. So he makes more money and stays in business with his spectacular food for a long time. If even it's just a little, I want to help."

What a perfect man.

But... "You should have let me pay!"

"Absolutely not. Y/n, this was our first date. Of course I had to pay. And, like I just told you, I want to help. One should never take another's money if they are capable of paying themselves."

You just couldn't hold back your sigh.

"What?" He asked, surprised. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, quite the opposite. You said exactly the right thing. I sighed because it's impressive how much you do for others", you said simply.

"Oh trust me, Y/n, just wait. I do even more for the people I love."

---------------------------------❤️❤️❤️-----------------------------------

End!

How did you like it?

I might post a Giyu x Y/n fic if you all liked this and want me to.

TELL ME IF YOU LIKED IT PLEASE!

CREDS:

Kyojuro Rengoku - Koyoharu Gotouge, Demon Slayer

Y/n - literally every fanfic writer

Inspo - @risingscorchingsuns I thought of you while writing this

Date setting - Google

Vanilla taiyaki - @nothingtoseehere1-2-3

Exhaustion - three days of staying up to write this

Irritation - autocorrect

Emotional support - @nothingtoseehere1-2-3 @knyinfinity @tor-the-tortilla

Bye! Thanks for reading!

[moodymisty]

hi !! congrats on your milestone, you deserve it!! :D 💜

I saw the "accidentally saying a pet name" and I was immediately intrigued how that would go with Crosshair and Hunter if you're willing? :0 or just with Cross if it's to 1 character, I'm sorry if I confused smth HDJAHKF

SFW if possible? i just need smth cute atm aa

again congrats and I hope you're doing okay !💜💜

��� Milestone prompts list ❀

Author's Note: Awww thank you so much!! I don't know if I deserve it, but I'm so happy that people enjoy my stuff! And no you didn't get anything confused, lets give Hunter and Crossy some love.

Relationships: Hunter/Fem!Reader, Crosshair/Fem!Reader

Warnings: None, Both pre-order 66

✦ Hunter ✦

You don't know why out of every thing you've done- Every hill you've climbed, stairs ascended and rocky path treaded, this one goddamn seam on the gangplank of the Marauder always manages to get you.

It's made you trip up multiple times, once so even ending up face planted in the dirt right in front of everyone else. Up or down it never fails to catch the toe of your boot, the moment you don't consciously remember to lift your feet up higher to avoid it.

"Are you all coming anytime soon?"

Wrecker groans, rolling his eyes when he realizes everyone isn't right behind him. He complains about feeling like he's starving, Crosshair and Tech both telling him to can it as they join him outside. That just leaves you and Hunter for last, having taken the longest to get ready.

The two of you walk out of the ship mostly side by side, and in your excitement to get some food, you fail to once again remember that little lip of metal that always trips you up. It catches the toe of your shoe and sends you flying forward, attempting to stumble and catch yourself.

Hunter jolts forward and grabs you at the waist, skidding forward slightly after catching you. Your hands are partly held outwards and you'd been prepared to catch your own fall, but Hunter's strong grip stops you halfway down.

"Woah, easy there sweetheart," He says the moment you have your feet under your center of gravity again. His hands grip your stomach and waist, the fabric of your top bunching and pulling awkwardly.

However you can feel the moment he realizes what surprisingly intimate word has slipped from his lips, removing his arms from you the second you have your bearings about you. He lets out a small cough.

"I, Uh..."

His eyes glance away from you, but when they look back, you're smiling.

"Thanks for the save, Hunter." He can feel his brothers eyes on him, even as he nods at you and attempts to hide the way his face feels a little hot.

✦ Crosshair ✦

If there is one thing consistent about Crosshair, it's that he always loves to call you names. Things like 'princess', illuding to your demands for specific things. Like wishing they'd pick up after themselves, or for the Marauder to not smell like bottled, concentrated 'man'.

But it's all laced with sarcasm and his overall brand of incorrigible ass, so you've never taken any of it seriously.

Afterall it seems as if he can barely stand your very being in the same vicinity as him, why would you let his words get to you? It's all just him being a jerk or at best, just teasing. Though at least most of the time he seems to barely stand you- other times he's far more talkative than you'd ever expect of him.

The pilot's seat creaks a bit as you lean back into it a bit more, pulling your legs up to tuck them beside you.

Crosshair is confusing; You can't ever seem to get a solid read on him or how he really feels about you.

"How long you been in here?"

Well now, speak of the devil.

You look to your side and see Crosshair standing between the pilot and co-pilot seat, looking out of the viewport at the stars and planets streaking past. He glances down at you for a moment, face still forward.

"I've been here since a bit before Tech left. Finally managed to get him to leave."

You manage to mostly hold back a yawn, but it still forces you to make a small noise in your throat. It's been awhile, and watching the ship in hyperspace is more than a little boring. If anything, the lull of the engines, bumping of metal on metal, and the soft glow of the safely lights on the floor have only served as your new favorite lullaby since you had made the Marauder your home away from home.

"I'll take over." His voice is curt, and steady. You look up and shake your head.

"It's fine, Crosshair. I'm not that tired." And you don't want the others to think that you shirked out on your duty, as much as they'd never think it.

Crosshair simply takes a step closer and put his hand on the headrest of the seat. He notices the way your eyes seem heavy, your body slouched.

"Go sleep, doll. I'll cover for you."

You're used to ignoring his words but, the softness of these ones strike you. When you look up at him in surprise however, he's already patched up the tiny little crack in his exterior he let crumble.

"Cross? What di-" He jerks his head in the direction of the bunks.

"Go." He leaves no room for argument, and so you get up and move to slip past him.

His face noticeably turns away from you, waiting until you're safely out of sight before he mouths insult after insult at himself for letting that slip, and almost embarrassing himself.

[searchingforserendipity25]

i just want it to be known. for the record. i think sansa should survive all that and grow to be a competent ruler and to stretch the limitations of benevolent feudalism (no such thing) and to forcibly skid to a halt in its face.

no i don't want the starks to find democracy. that's not the point. the point is that sansa has a very intimate understanding of what absolute power does (corrupts absolutely). i want her to have a taste of it, and to feel the rot climbing up her every choice, and to have 'when i am queen, i will make them love me' come true, wholly true.

they do love her, sansa stark, who opens the castle walls and feeds all that she can feed, and finds work for orphans and consolation to mothers orphaned of their children. and of course it is not enough, being loved, when the metric for love is desperation and control. sansa knows that.

she braids her hair in the northern fashion, and her face in the mirror is her mother's, her father's, robb's. but her hands are folded as she leads the court is cersei's. what can she do. of course there is always a choice, and measures and measures of autocracy, and she is loved, she does her best - through the longest winter, the greatest terror.

it's not enough. the thing about being queen is, you do not get to ever be a person worthy of being loved. you do not get to be a person.

that is a terror, too - she trusts no one, not truly, not ever again. only herself, and that is a ruthless thing, a faith invented a hundred times over. she has to be all that she appears to be, and more, to get men to raise up her standards, call out her name in battle. to survive - to live. and if she does ill she must believe it is for good; and if it is not good, it must be bourne, and made into a pretty lie.

she lies prettily. she gives the north hope, and the north survives - lives, a meager portion of it.

the girl who thought she could do better is dead; the woman wears the crown, and has minstrels brought to her court, northern bards from the mountains, to sing in her halls and go to through the land, in the spring, to sing of her kindness, her beauty, her grace and wisdom.

when she dies, they will burn her to keep her from rising up again, beautiful and terrible and dead, and close winterfell's crypts forevermore. good queen sansa, they sing, and no one will ever know how she had to grit her teeth to stare herself in the mirror, how her nails dug into her palms every day of her rule.

she sends men to die in the name of her house, and feeds their widows on the fruits grown in the winter gardens. for generations, maybe - no kingdom is ever complete without violence, or the threat of it.

when sansa stark dies, there will be songs. she makes sure of it.