#mass effect x female reader

[that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main]

The Initiative Project| Javik

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Reader: female | pre-established relationship

Warnings: Detailed Smut is very much not present but very much eluded too

Notes: Hi, Im on spring break. Enjoy me being back for like a week :)

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"Hey."

"What?"

"Damn, who pissed in your cereal?" Y/n laughed, hands in her pockets as she casually mosied along the high arc of the Citadel with one hand tucked away in her pocket, the other holding a flashlight, neither were meant to be up there, "Garrus recommended you this place?"

"Yes," Javik answered, Y/n smiling small as she took a spot next to him.

"Light generator's busted," Y/n responded, standing next to the Prothean, turning off her flashlight "One hell of a view."

Light pollution usually took such a view away; but now? With the light gone, and nothing but natural light from candles, the beauty of the dark took over, the sky showing its true colors, star dust glowed and burned bright purples and blues, reds and oranges at the center.

"I am positive Andormena will likely be the same." Was his only response, causing Y/n to roll her shoulders.

"Yeah...maybe," Y/n chuckled, "I think we all deserve a long nap after what we've been through; but six hundred years...what will you do?"

"What I have always done," Javik answered.

"Survive?"

"Precisely."

Y/n nodded, "Good plan..."

"Then...I will take my leave." Javik spoke, turning himself to leave.

"You don't have to you know," Y/n told, stopping the Prothean in his tracks; "I...It's..."

"What?"

"Please?" Y/n asked, "Just...for a little while more?"

Even in the dark, it was easy to see he didn't want to be there, yet he stayed, and stood, facing the Citdeals opening which framed the galaxy in front of them.

"Look I'm sorry-"

"Sorry? You do not get to be, sorry," He snapped, his footsteps coming closer till she realized he was clearly in her face, "You do not get to apologize, to be sorry, to be remorseful, you have no remorse, you have no sympathy, you have no mercy. You are selfish."

"Selfish?" Y/n defended, offended by such a remark, "Tell me what selfish, you're clearly the higher being, aren't you? You understand all and every primitive, then understand me."

"Running off to another galaxy! Six hundred years in stasis via cryo! Six hundred years dead!" Javik argued: "All so you can run away from your problems-"

"Problems?" Y/n questioned, "What problems- I have to have people to have problems; You just don't get it? My family in the world I helped survive which I come from does not want me! The family in that world? Does not want me! Thane- the only father I ever had- not even of my own blood dead- the closest thing I had to a brother? Kolyat!? Blames me! Mordin is dead! Miranda is dead! Shepard is dead! My best friend Leigon is dead! Garus and James? Dead! So is it so bad that I ask for one thing; one damn thing that guess what?"

Y/n backing up, already starting to leave; "Ends up being me doing shit for others though anyway! Welcome to our fucking cycle your majesty!"

Y/n turned the flashlight back on, leaving the Prothean alone; alone like he was before her, and alone like he'd be after.

"I need a fucking cigarette." He heard her argue to herself her boots clanking against the metal arch of the Citadel.

Sometime soon, the lights would turn back on, people rejoicing in the artical light, the artificual light that posioned the dark of space.

Y/n got her cigratte, shoved away in the back of Liam's apartments in the Initiative base.

"Let's slow down on the cigs, eh?" He spoke, grabbing the tin from in front of Y/n: "He stressed you out that bad love? I haven't seen you smoke in a few years, you know- since I almost arrested you for underaged smoking, then-"

He paused, Garrus had gotten her out of the situation, promising that if she stopped, he wouldn't rat to Thane or Kolyat.

"Yeah...."Y/n sighed, leaning back, half a lit cigratte in between her fingers.

"Sorry..." he apologized, Y/n nodded.

"It's cool." Y/n told.

She looked out the window in silence.

"you know," Liam started up, "what always gets me up when I'm down-"

"Beans on toast."

"Beans on toast!" Liam cheered, "Want to go get some?"

"Yeah sure why the fuck not, my relationship's ruined, why not ruin my stomach," Y/n responded getting up walking towards the door.

"Hey! It doesn't have to be beans on toast!" Liam laughed in his defense following Y/n into the hall quickly, "Could be avacado."

"We're leaving the galaxy in a what? Week and a half and you wanna eat beans and avacado on toast as your last meals?" Y/n spoke.

"Well, not together." He told, "What's better than toast with beans?"

"Litterally anything." Y/n told as they walked through the halls, "Mini wheats for one."

He gaged as they continued out of Initiative headquarters and to a food court, continuing to go back and forth between food choices. Liam grew up in Earth's British city of London, with the citadel sprinkled in for vast periods of time. Y/n, though born on Earth, never seen a damn day of it: her life was a duct rat: how she met Thane after all, no parents to claim her, so, in a way: Thane claimed her as his; felt responsible, one needed the other after all. Thane got his information, Y/n got her payment, usually settled in Diner food. After some time, it became a weekly thing, the drala'fa and the assassin at a diner, eating whatever was being served: breakfast lunch, or dinner.

It's how she joined the Normandy in the first place, she had gone missing; Thane had practically begged for assistance in finding her; she had disappeared with no trace; she had been caught, grabbed by smugglers and slavers, free product with high profit with no strings attached was ideal. With enough luck, and treats they found the cargo ship and Y/n within. At the crisp age of nineteen turning twenty within her first week there, she was on the Normandy; ready to fight, not to mention she gained an unofficial family. Kolyat had even joined the group for a small time: Y/n and him enjoying each other's company. Kolyat...right, in a fit of anger; perhaps resentment or just sadness he blamed her; it was her fault, it was her doing; she was there she could of stopped Cerberus; it was just one person, it was just one assassin, she knew better, she could of handled it.

"Hello! Citadel to Y/n!" A hand waved in front of her face.

"What?" Y/n asked.

"You were talking then you stop," Scott told.

"I was?"

"Yeah." Sara told, "You forget there was a salad in front of you too?"

Y/n looked down at her food before rubbing over her eyes with a groan.

"Are you good dude?" Scott questioned.

"I'm fine," Y/n told them.

"She's goin threw it; her 50k-year-old boyfriend just fucked her in the ass and left," Liam commented.

"Really Liam?"

"It's true, got her smokin' and everything," Liam told the Ryder twins.

"Damn that's gotta be rough," Sara started, "Sorry..."

"I don't get it." Scott spoke up, "You're 21 dating an old man, look at you; you could have anyone and you date a Prothean you helped unfreeze when the reapers attacked."

"Scott." Sara scolded hitting her twin in the chest.

"What? I'm being honest! Why him in the first place even?" He questioned; "he's an asshole! We all know it!"

"he's not an asshole."

"Right. He's a dick." Scott corrected himself.

"He's rough around the edges sometimes." Y/n defended, "I am leaving and never coming back, I just feel like maybe I should stay-"

"You're kidding me?" Sara asked.

"What?"

"After all you've done, and at your age: you wanna do something for someone else? Again?" Sara argued; "What has he done for you to make you stay?"

"Well-"

"Fucking you does not count," Sara defended.

Y/n was silent for a moment, what did Javik do for her?

Javik had her back, for better rather than worse; usually. After Thane's death, he was her vent mate; her rooms vent connecting right into his, the night crying he claimed was annoying; useless even.

'Crying will not bring back the dead.' He argued, sat on his cot.

'Sorry your royal fuck face that my dad just fucking died.' She snaped back.

'Rage was always one thing you humans got right,' He commented, 'I believing it's one of your...greatest inspirations, it is what has kept your people alive for so long."

'I'm not angry,' Y/n defended; 'I have to keep a cool head, I am not angry. It'll just get more people killed.'

'Not angry?" he laughed, 'Is that what the drell taught you? anger gets people killed? Anger fuels life. It is the chaos that keeps peace in balance, You're anger is not what gets people killed. it's the ignorance that is contained within your anger.'

Y/n was silent for a moment as she laid down on her cot, wipping her face with her sleeve.

'How do you know?' Y/n asked looking up at the ceiling.

'Its one damn thing I have learned in this cycle,' he told, 'I have also learned you're saying Ignorance is bliss, is quiet idiotic. It is what breeds your ignorant behavior in anger."

"He's had my back." Y/n spoke in Javik's defense, "More than once."

'You could have protected him!" Kolyat shouted, 'Why didn't you protect him!'

"I-"

'What?! You tried!?' Kolyat shouted, 'Tried isn't good enough! You're so busy fucking around that you couldn't even do what your fucking here for!'

'You will not talk to her in such a tone!' Javik shouted, pushing Kolyat back and out of her face, 'Speak to her on such a tone again, and it will entail a problem between me and you.'

Kolyat glared at him, 'Do I make myself clear?' Javik argued.

'Fuck you.' Kolyat snapped pushing passed Javik and walked away from the two of you.

'Kolyat-' y/n spoke, but he was already gone, 'Kolyat, please...'

'He will not bother you-'

Y/n had already crumbled, crying into her hands in the middle of the room he walking up to her.

'Do not waste tears on some so ignorant. You primatives-'

She hugged him in desperation, freezing Javik in place as she held onto him.

"Yeah. He's had my back." Y/n nodded to the group, "Just rough around the edges is all. Trust me."

"What we mean is." Liam spoke up, "We want you to be happy, live for you. You know? What do you want to do? For you? You've done a lot for others."

"I don't know what I want anymore." Y/n answer honestly.

"Well..." Liam spoke, "How do you want to feel?."

Y/n looked down at her food, "I don't know."

"Thats thw good thing about stoves." Liam told with a smile. "Things can go on the back burner to simmer."

Think about it. Just think, it didn't have to be immedate, just, think. Take time, and think.

"I feel full."

"You barely ate."

"Yeah I'll take it with me." Y/n told picking herself up and the container, leaving the group.

Gone from sight, she decided going to her initiative quaters was best, and on the way, she would drop her untouched meal off in front of a duct where it would be grabbed up quickly by one of the kids.

Maybe a nap would be best.

Making it to the halls of doors, each leading to onrs own room and office, she saw Javik leaning up against the wall, clearly waiting. She'd have to deal with it sooner rather than later.

"Hey."

He glanced her way, "Hello."

"You're...here..." Y/n spoke.

"I am."

Y/n looked towards the door, "Did you-"

"Here."

Y/n looked at the small bunch of flowers wrapped in paper and a string.

"Oh. Marigolds." She spoke, "my favorite."

"They were annoying me. Every time I passed that old human woman."

"So...you got them for me?"

"They annoyed me because they reminded me of you."

Y/n took them carefully, "thanks. Appreciate it..."

"The Krogan offered me work."

"Oh. Wrex?" Y/n spoke, looking down at the flowers," bounty work?"

"Land Work," Javik commented, "a farm."

Y/n looked up, "he offered you work as a farmer?"

"Amongst other opportunities."

"And farming? It? Caught one of your eyes or? Six?" She questioned.

"All of them." He commented: clearly not getting the joke.

Y/n chuckled under her breathe, "why uh. Why farm work?"

Javik was silent as Y/n looked at him awaiting his answer.

"You." Was his final answer, "I had discussed with Wrex while we were still together on the Normandy. You had...talked about it a lot with the fields."

"...the corn fields we saw in that colony," Y/n told him Javik nodded, "You remember that?"

"My memory may not be as sharp as a Drells, but it's still better than humans."

Y/n chuckled in response gently rubbing one of the leaves on the marigold's stem to keep her mind busy, hoping not to give away her bashfulness; "Thanks uh again for the flowers,"

Javik gave a curt nod as she smiled back, "I should get to filing some stuff then..."

With a put of a button, the door opened allowing Y/n to go through she sent him a small wave of the hand as she did. The door closed as she stood there, looking at the flowers in hand, before setting them on a shelf in an old ration can she had used for a vase. She looked at them sitting all pretty in an old can. A finger came up to her mouth as she chewed on the nail in debate. Y/n was quick to backtrack, opening the door once again; Javik still standing there seemingly having a debate himself as Y/n quickly kissed him, he quick to kiss back; hands grabbing her arms as he backed her up into her office, Y/n quickly flailed her hand around for the control panel to press the lock button, uncertain if she got it, she was already pushed back into the desk, being lifted up to sit ontop it.

"I don't think she's going with us," Sarah argued.

"She's going." Liam defended, "Trust me."

[strawberrykidneystone]

i was gone for two seconds

garrus vakarian x fem! shepard

summary: in purgatory, shepard steps away from garrus for a second and her stool was taken

a/n: if it sounds like that one scene from victorious you're right and you should say it #mybad

tags: tooth rotting fluff, set in ME3, catty comments (sorry i’ve been rewatching dance moms), garrus being oblivious as always, shepard being rightfully pissed (smh), species hostility kinda???, reassurance, lovey dovery gross stuff, ooc bc garrus says ily (LMAO), busy couple making time for each other ):

ao3 version

shepard was sat at the bar in purgatory with her legs crossed in a little black dress and heels, nursing a purple drink that she had already forgotten the name of. she was waiting for garrus to arrive to have some semblance of a proper date for the two of them. however, knowing him, he most likely got caught up with calibrating the weapons in the normandy for the umpteenth time, but she didn’t blame him nor was she mad. in fact, she had arrived later than their decided time as well since she got caught up in her own paperwork.

suddenly, she felt a tap on her right shoulder. she looked over, but saw no one. she turned her head to the left and saw the face of her favorite turian with a nervous smile on his face.

“sorry for running late shepard, the primarch needed help with-”

shepard leaned in and cut him off with a kiss, pulling back and patting his chest with a smile, “garrus i barely got here, you’re fine big guy, i get it.”

garrus’ shoulders relaxed and a sigh of relief left his mouth, settling into the stool next to her, “thank you sweetie, i can’t promise that it won’t happen again, but i can promise i’ll always make up for it.”

he had been holding a hand behind his back, bringing it forward to show to her with a blue blush creeping up his neck. shepard looked down at his hand and gasped, picking up the gift and examining it, “a thermal scope! i’ve been wanting to try one of these babies out forever!”

shepard grinned like a kid on christmas and threw her arms around garrus’ neck, kissing his cheek with an emphasized “mwah”. garrus wrapped his arms around shepard’s waist and purred with her in his arms, looking at her with love in his eyes.

“i’m glad you like it.”

“like it? i love it.”

“more than you love me?”

“know your limits vakarian.”

the two laughed together and shepard let go of the embrace, garrus’ hand remaining on her thigh with her hand over it. he waved the bartender over and ordered a drink. the two of them chatted for a while about anything and everything, talking to each other as if they were the only ones in the room. shepard excused herself to go "powder her nose", aka she's had to pee for the last 10 minutes and couldn't stand it anymore.

when she returned, she was met with a surprise.

a female turian was sitting on the stool that she had occupied not long ago, talking to garrus a little too enthusiastically for her liking. as shepard approached, she was able to hear their conversation.

"why don't you stick to your own species? that little human has nothing on a real turian woman."

garrus looked appalled and opened his mouth to say something, but shepard cleared her throat before he got the chance. her hands rested squarely on her hips, her eyebrows raised with her jaw tightened. the turian woman looked her up and down, then rolled her eyes, "speak of the devil."

"that's commander devil to you."

garrus laughed at that and covered it with a cough, letting shepard take the lead.

shepard plastered on the fakest smile she could and tilted her head, "sorry, but this little human couldn't help but notice that you took my seat. i’d like it back now."

the turian scoffed and slid out of the seat, shoulder-checking shepard as she passed her, "he's all yours, who wants a man with a damaged mandible anyways."

shepard balled her hands into fists before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, letting her fists go before walking up to garrus.

"shepard i'm so sorry, we were talking about the newest black widow that was released onto the market yesterday and then suddenly she changed the subject-" shepard cut off his rambling by taking his mandibles in her hands and kissing his lip plates, kissing all around his face before pulling back to look into his eyes, searching for any semblance of doubt in them. when she found none, she smiled reassuringly to him and rubbed her thumbs against mandibles.

garrus reached up and wrapped his hands around hers, turning his head to kiss her right palm before nuzzling his cheek against it. she knew he was being genuine, and even if she was blatantly flirting with him, shepard knew he would never pick up on it, that's for sure.

"for the record, i am one of those women who find scars attractive."

garrus laughed by letting a puff of air out of his nose and kissed her other palm, "for the record, i love my commanders a little devilish." shepard snorted and plopped down into her seat again. she leaned her elbow against the bar and resting her hand against her cheek.

"i love you vakarian."

"I love you too shepard."

"why don't we go back to the normandy and i can show you just how devilish i am," shepard said with an impish grin on her face.

"i wouldn't mind a little demonstration. i am a physical learner," garrus flirted back before quickly downing his drink.

shepard giggled before finishing the rest of her drink, standing up and grabbing his hand before leading him back to the Normandy. she glanced back just before they left purgatory and made eye contact with the turian woman from before, sticking her tongue out childishly as she led the love of her life back to their own home away from home.

notes: i'm actually happier with this piece than i thought i would be!! pls leave a comment if you want a part 12 with smut 👀 if i made any spelling or grammatical error pls lmk too

[acradelius]

KINKTOBER '24 IDEAS

I've decided that I'm going to try and participate in this year's Kinktober event to try and get some motivation back for writing. I might not do a piece for every day, maybe every other day or three, in order to not overwhelm and burn myself out.

Here's some ideas that I've come up with by far :) Once again, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

I. "One Of Your Wives"

Inspired by "One of Your Girls" by The Weeknd

FANDOM - The Walking Dead

PAIRING: Negan Smith x Female! Reader

SUMMARY - Reader is taken by Negan as a result of a compromised trade. Expecting to be rescued not too long later, Reader rejects Negan's offer of becoming one of his wives. Yet, as time continues passing by without any attempts of being rescued, becoming one of Negan's wives is becoming more appeasing by the day, not that Reader would admit it.

II. "Video Message Incoming"

FANDOM - Call of Duty: Modern Warfare (2019-2023)

PAIRING - Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Female! Reader, Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female! Reader, (Essentially) Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Female! Reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley

SUMMARY - While having some downtime on a mission Soap proceeds to check his phone, seeing that he has some incoming video messages from his best friend, Simon, who's on a break from missions. Let's just say that Simon's been taking good care of Johnny's woman while he's been away.

III. "Rattlesnake Trail Bridge"

FANDOM - Far Cry 5

PAIRING - Jacob Seed x Female! "Rook"! Reader

SUMMARY - Rattlesnake Trail Bridge. It's the place where Jacob Seed goes to indulge in a drink or two whenever the stress of Eden's Gate becomes too much. A nice, quiet place, solely for him. That's till one night he comes upon Reader, Hope County's Junior Deputy, in his spot with a drink as well.

IV. "Extended, Deleted Scenes"

FANDOM - Fallout (TV Series)

PAIRING - Actor! Cooper Howard x Actress! Co-Star! Female! Reader

SUMMARY - Cooper Howard's career has definitely gone downhill since doing those advertisements for Vault Tec, making him somewhat desperate and taking on whatever roles and scenes that he can. When offered a chance to make extended scenes for "A Man from Deadhorse", Cooper agrees, but soon finds out that it's definitely not what he thought, especially with his favorite co-worker involved as well.

V. "Strobing Lights, Snorting Lines"

FANDOM - Mass Effect (Mass Effect 2, Specifically)

PAIRING - Thane Krios x Female! Engineer! Reader

SUMMARY - Thane's been tasked with locating and bringing back Reader to the Normandy in order to retire for the night to continue on with the next part of the mission to fight the Reapers the following day. Managing to locate them amongst the crowd of intoxicated partygoers, Thane comes to discover that his crew mate isn't as innocent as he had believed. Yet, with a little bit of convincing, he finds himself not only indulging with a piece of the clubbing experience, but also in Reader as well.

[skinnyazn]

Masterlists :)

MY ART

INPRINT: Shop Prints of My Art!

(thank you!)

All art is tagged under #my art MASS EFFECT TAROT ART MASTERLIST Working through the Major Arcana cards

MY FICS AO3

All fics tagged under #my fic

Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader (Jaguar) Jaguar's Dossier Contact (PG) Jaguar's first intro to Task Force 141 and a rocky start to her relationship with Ghost In the Bleak Midwinter (E) Simon and Jag's first mission together; he comes to collect on your secret The Masks We Wear (E) Jag has a new mission in Italy during Carnivale; a beautiful phantom makes an appearance Dead of Night (PG) Ghost inhaling Jag's cigarette smoke drabble Something Like That (E) Ghost comes to terms for his feelings for Jag Lick Your Wounds (E) Jag get's injured and Ghost goes feral I Will Not Ask and Neither Should You (M) Jag can't escape her past and neither can Ghost Mirrored (E) Ghost makes you watch as he takes you in front of a mirror Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader (Jaguar) x Johnny Soap MacTavish Texas Sun (E) Standalone fic where Ghost, Jag, and Soap have a shower threeway Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader Tennessee Whiskey (PG) Slow-dancing in a dive bar with your lieutenant

Liara T'Soni x Femshep Making Up for Lost Time (E) Liara visits Shepard in her cabin after the Shadow Broker mission; they makeup for lost time Mistletoe (PG) Liara learns about some Earth traditions (Christmas drabble) Just One More Question... (PG) Four hundred years later and Liara still loves Shepard (drabble) Like Tears in the Rain (M) Shepard shares a final, tearful kiss with Liara as she pushes toward the bleak end (narration of the final mission in ME3) Kaidan Alenko x FemShep (Amidala Shepard) The Heat of a Cold Night (E) Shepard runs into Kaidan on a solo mission; things fall apart in the shuttle as the star-crossed lovers make up for lost time Priority Mars (E) AU where Kaidan doesn't get injured after the Mars Mission; hate sex followed by makeup sex Autumn, Then Spring (PG) After the war, Kaidan finally asks the question he's been meaning to all these years Garrus Vakarian x Femshep An All-Consuming Path (E) Garrus kills Sidonis but doesn't feel any better; Shepard comforts him and true feelings come out

[nicsnort]

After Party

NSFW 18+ male minotaur x female reader

Contains: drug use (sort of), overstimulation, talk of breeding, size difference

Word Count: 4603

Lore/World-building prompt

After your company Yuletide party, you head out to the mixed species club. Even though it is not your usual scene you wind up going back to a minotaur's apartment for the night. A minotaur's cum is said to have euphoric magical effects and you are about to have a first-hand experience.

~

The walls of the club throbbed slightly offbeat with the flashing red and green lights. On the dance floor, bodies writhed to the pulsing beat of the music, so loud that they felt the tone vibrate their bodies to a rap version of Jingle Bells. You watched the moving mass from a stool on the edge near the bar. Some work acquaintances had invited you out with them after the company Yule party, but this was not your usual scene. Perhaps that is why you ended up as the designated sober person and drink watcher. Perhaps your acquaintances had planned it that way, but you’d rather not think about it at the moment.

Your eyes swept over the crowd, picking out two of the three people you had come with. Yet, you could not help but be drawn to the sight of the others on the floor. The monsters. Many of the monsters stood out against the crowd of humans. Larger in size or with noticeable horns or tails. Mixed species bars and clubs were becoming more common ever since the tension with the monsters from the other side of the Rift had given way to peaceful acceptance.

You saw a naga dancing with a woman, her long snake lower half undulating around her partner sensually. A werewolf ground against the rear of his dance partner, advertising the goods under his pants. Dancing with one of your co-workers was a faun, his hairy hands roaming over their lean body suggestively.

Your legs rubbed together with desire. There had always been something about monsters for you. They were just better, more alluring, than humans. Maybe it was the forbidden aspect, how those relationships still broke boundaries even in this peaceful age. Not to mention how fascinating their cultures were, and their biology and magic were outstanding in your eyes. Such variety. Not that you had ever experienced anything with a monster beyond a short kiss with the siren dimensional exchange student in high school during Spin-the-Bottle.

Across the dance floor, your eyes made contact with a massive bull minotaur. The air left your lungs, and your core clenched with want at the sight of him. He was leaning against one of the small tables with a drink in his hand, an orc and an elf were next to him, surveying the stock of potential partners in the club. All three were wearing Santa hats and modified business clothes. They must have come here after a work function, too.

“What is a beautiful thing like you doing sitting over here,” a voice asked, a body suddenly pressing against the space beside you.

Glancing over, you saw what had to be a Hollywood cutout of a human pick-up artist leaning against the wall. One of his arms was above his head to take up more space and allow him to lean into you. With that one move, he successfully trapped you between him and the small table on which your and your acquaintances’ drinks sat. It was so intentionally casual that he had to have practiced it. Lame.

“Not interested,” you immediately told him, returning your gaze across the club. The minotaur you had locked eyes with was gone.

“Hey, hey, don’t be like that, babe,” the man said, reaching across your field of view to set his drink on the table. “Come on. Are you feeling self-conscious? That shirt may make you look fat, but the color really brings out your gorgeous eyes.”

You gave the man a look of disgust. “Did you really just try to neg me?! Go away.”

“Don’t be a bitch, that was a compliment.” He went to grab you, but suddenly, a large, meaty hand covered in short black fur wrapped around his wrist. The minotaur from across the club.

“Pretty sure the kyría told you to go away.” His voice was low and deep, almost lost among the throbbing bass of the music, but its edge was just threatening enough to reach their ears.

“Let go of me, animal,” the pick-up artist hissed, struggling vainly against the minotaur’s grip.

“What is in your hand,” the minotaurs asked, not even acknowledging the man’s words. Forcing his hand open, the minotaur pulled out a small bottle of white liquid. Taking it from him, the minotaur sniffed the half-empty bottle. “Really, you spiked her drink with this fake minotaur essence bullcrap?”

“What,” you exclaimed, outraged. “You were trying to drug me?!” Without thinking your foot shot out and nailed the desperate pick-up artist in the stomach. “Get the fuck out of here before I call the Wardens!”

The minotaur released the human as he clutched his stomach in pain. “Fucking cow deserves a beast,” he muttered just loud enough for them to hear as he scurried away.

The minotaur snorted, his hoof scraping the ground, causing the pick-up artist to run all the faster. You flipped off the human before your attention returned to the minotaur towering before you. “Thanks.”

“Minotaurs are guardians,” he said as if that explained everything.

“I thought that was just a stereotype.”

The minotaur smirked, lowering his head, and he spoke into your ear. His low voice resonated in your bones even more than the music. “True for our mates.”

Your face went brick red, your core clenching with desire at his suggestive words.

“Oh,” you managed to squeak out, the noise lost amongst the music. Your face was red hot. In an attempt to cover your sudden inability to speak and cool your face, you reached for your drink.

Then the minotaur’s large, callused hand covered yours. “Hold on, ómorfi̱ kyría; the bastard spiked that.”

“Right,” you replied, your brain still trying to catch up with the attraction and swirl of emotions you were feeling from being flirted with by such a prime specimen of beef. “With the fake, uh, minotaur essence.”

“Exactly, a low move. A woman like you deserves the authentic stuff straight from the source.” He chuckled and leaned in to speak into your ear. “So, can I get you a drink?”

Your mind went blank. No one had ever been so smoothly direct with you before. You weren’t completely sure how you responded, but you felt your mouth move. The minotaur grinned and tugged at your hand, leading you through the press of people. The next thing you knew, the cool night air hit your face, the city night blessedly silent compared to the pounding music of the club. The winter air helped to clear your head.

“My apartment is not far if that is alright with you,” the minotaur suggested as you walked. His low voice stood out even more without the pulse of the music.

“I…that’s fine…”

“There is no pressure, kyría. We can get a hotel room if that is more comfortable for you.” He gestured down the street where a few hourly hotels were set up for people leaving the clubs.

“No, it is fine…I’ve just never done this before.”

“Have sex with a monster or just a minotaur?”

“Well, yes to both, honestly, but more gone home with a stranger from a club. I typically don’t go out to clubs at all…” As you confessed, you felt even more awkward. What were you doing? This was silly. You didn’t even know his name.

He gave a nod. “You are not obliged. I would have stopped that man without wanting you as well. You are beautiful, but you do not owe me.”

A smile came to your face that was sweet of him, something that many humans could not grasp. “Thank you. I-I would like to continue, though. I am simply outside of my usual comfort zone. I am sure once we start, I will feel far different.”

The minotaur nodded again. “Do not be afraid to speak up if you feel uncomfortable. Despite what people say, we are not mindless rutting beasts…unless you want me to be.” He winked. The blush you had felt in the club reentered your cheeks.

As you walked, a crowd of drunken people approached, forcing you to move closer to the minotaur. His hand stretched out and wrapped around you, his strong hand gripping your hips as he pulled you close. A snort left him, steam billowing from his nostrils, the sight causing the drunks to back up and hurry along. Even when the group was long gone, his hand did not remove itself from your body but settled on your waist. Its heavy weight was titillating, reinvigorating your blushing desire. Under the pretense of keeping warm, you pressed against him further.

It was not long before you arrived at his apartment. At most, it was a ten-minute walk from the club and one of the apartment buildings recently renovated to accommodate the needs of monsters. Even so, he still had to duck to enter the elevator or risk catching his horns. As the elevator rose, the massive hand on your waist began to roam. His thick fingers ran along the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath it to tease your skin. The palm of his hand slid down and cupped your ass cheek with a gentle squeeze.

You bit your lower lip but couldn’t suppress the soft squeak of pleasure from your throat. He massaged your ass, his thumb rubbing circles around the end of your spine. While you were still a bit nervous, the arousal you were feeling started to override it. Glancing over at him, you slid your hand up his strong arm, feeling the powerful muscles underneath his short, bristly fur.

“You like that kyría,” he asked, pulling you closer to him. Two of his fingers slipped between your legs and rubbed your quickly swelling lips through the cloth of your pants.

“Yes,” you groaned, grinding against his fingers lightly. Glancing down, you saw the bulge in his pants growing. You were about to fuck a monster. A minotaur. Anticipation mixed in with the nervous arousal.

A smirk graced his snout, his ears flickering with delight. If a bull could purr he did so, “Good.” 

The ding of the elevator barely registered in your head, but the minotaur dragged you down the hall to his apartment. For his size, the apartment looked small, though that could have been due to the larger-than-normal furniture taking up more space. But you weren’t allowed more than that cursory glance around before his hands were on you again. His hands rubbed against your body before lifting you up. He put your ass on the high kitchen table as he spoke low in your ear. “You said you had never been with a minotaur before. You might struggle to articulate things after catching a whiff of my essence. What are your boundaries?”

It took a moment for your mind to recognize what he was asking. Plucking the Santa hat from his head, you tossed it to the side as you answered. “No butt stuff. Not too rough.”

“Dirty talk, alright? Talk of breeding?” He squeezed your clothed breasts, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples, which were already rock hard.

“Nothing degrading, but yes to both otherwise.” You ran your hands across his broad chest, feeling his strong pectoral muscles flexing under your touch. Many beastfolk, like minotaurs, had a breeding kink (though perhaps it was simply vanilla for them), and you wouldn’t deny the appeal of that language either.

“Inside or outside?”

“What,” you asked, pulling back a bit confused.

“Inside,” he dipped his hand in between your legs, “or outside?” He drew his hand up and splayed it across your stomach.

His cum. Where did you want his cum? Your face went deep red again. Taking a long breath to steady yourself, you managed to get your reply out without too much difficulty. “I’ll take some night tea. So, don’t just talk about breeding me; actually do it.”

A low bellow of want released from him, his nostrils flaring. “Careful, kyría, words like those really will turn me into a rutting beast.”

You were about to formulate a reply when he lifted you from the table. Your legs wrapped around him as he carried you to the bed. Oh, it was a studio apartment that made sense with his horns - fewer doorways. Setting you on the bed, his large fingers fumbled with the small buttons of your shirt.

“Let me,” you told him, quickly unbuttoning your shirt and pants. He watched you remove all but your underpants, his ear twitching and tail swaying with interest. The red of embarrassment began to grow once again under his desired gaze.

“You know,” he said, removing his shirt and revealing his thick, muscled form. “I love how shy humans get about sex. It is cute seeing your face go red.”

He kneeled on the bed, his large, heavy body pressing you down. A wet nose brushed against your cheek. “Now, I will turn the rest of your body red by breeding you all night.”

Your shy nerves hit a tipping point, not to where you withdrew but where the reality crashed upon you. This was happening; this was truly happening. You were going to fuck a minotaur. An excited grin came to your face. 

Lifting your hand, you touched the side of his face and pulled his snout to your mouth for a kiss. His broad tongue plunged into your mouth, overwhelming you quickly. Your tiny tongue could barely fight against him, but you managed to rub it back and forth against the underside of his tongue. He pulled back from the kiss just as you ran out of air. A thick strand of saliva connecting your mouths together broke, landing against your chest. The minotaur huffed, his ears twitching with excitement.

His large hands gripped your body, one holding your thigh, massaging the generous flesh, and the other engulfing your breast. “Mmm, look at these. Your tits are so lovely. I could suckle at them for hours.”

Lowering his head, he took your other breast in his mouth. His lips pulled on your nipple, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. His fingers rolled your other nipple between them, tugging occasionally. He settled into a rhythmic sucking as if he was trying to milk you.

Under his touch, your body writhed, hips rolling underneath him as your pussy swelled with need. Your dripping core brushed against the large member straining in his pants, providing delicious friction.

With a pop, he released your breast from his mouth. The viscous saliva tingling in the cool air of his apartment. “Beautiful.”

He cupped both of them in his hands, massaging the globes, his thumbs circling your nipples. “But just imagine them full of milk. Heavy and swollen. Leaking. I’d hand-milk you every morning while slowly filling you with my cock.”

You moaned at the thought. His hands slid down to your hips. Sliding his thumbs under your panties, he lifted your hips into the air as he pulled them off. Your legs settled around his neck—your slick, swollen core inches from his snout. His broad tongue swept out in a long lick that touched every part of your dripping lower lips. A huff of hot air rushed over your aching clit as he snorted with pleasure.

“Damn, you taste sweet.” His tongue dove back in. Long, slow, broad licks that savored your taste. It felt so good but wasn’t quite enough to make you come. Then you felt his tongue press inside of you. That muscle alone stretched your inner walls; it was as big as most human male members itself. With the same deliberation, he fucked your dripping hole with his tongue. The tip of his tongue pressed against that perfect spot within you, and your vision went white as you came hard across his tongue.

The minotaur pulled back, licking his lips with satisfaction. “Delicious.”

“I--I thought you were going to breed me,” you said with panting breath as you came down from your orgasmic high.

“Oh, that is next. But a woman like you deserves the effort of making you orgasm without the influence of my cum.” Carefully, he lifted your legs off of his shoulders and set your ass on the bed. Standing, his gaze fixed you in place as he pulled the ties of his pants. He was not wearing anything underneath.

His jet-black fur went all the way down his body, covering the heavy ballsack between his furred legs. Jutting out of its sheath was the only bare skin - his meaty cock dripping with precum. The scent of the precum reached your nose. The musky aroma immediately entranced you. Your body was already flushed with arousal, sensitive from orgasm, but you shuddered with pleasure at the mere scent. What would it be like to consume it? 

Eyes dilating, you focused on the magnificent source of the musk. Reaching out, your fingers touched the searing heat of his thick member. You couldn’t even wrap your hand all the way around. Before you could lower your head and press your lips to the flared head of his member, the minotaur’s hand cupped your chin and forced you to look at him.

“Last chance to back out, kyria,” he warned, “trust me. Once you have a taste, the essence will take full effect.”

Blinking, you realized that, indeed, you had so quickly succumbed to his musk that tasting his cum would put you in a state unable to express yourself except in pleasure. “You’re sweet,” you told him with a smile, “and I intend to take you up on that offer of a drink from the source. You’ll have enough to breed me afterward, right?”

The minotaur grinned and released your chin. “I guarantee you will be thoroughly bred.”

Still smiling, you lowered your head to his weeping member. White beads of his manly minotaur essence drew your eye. Leaning forward, you pressed a gentle kiss against his glands. The scent was overwhelming, and you had to taste it. Opening your mouth, you notice that the creamy precum washed over your tongue. It was salty yet had a rich flavor you found hard to describe. 

Even more indescribable was the sensation of the essence taking hold on you. Almost like breathing in peppermint a tingling sensation coursed through your head, energizing you. Yet, like hot chocolate, the whole round flavor washed over you like soaking in a hot bath as your muscles relaxed. The combined sensation was a lethargic yet ever-present need for the succulent thing in front of you - cock. You needed cock.

With slow movements, as if in awe of the member before you, you began to lick and suck at his cock. You had to get more of that wonderful essence within you. You needed it within you, on you. Your body craved his cum.

Your hands pumped along his length as you tried to work his cock into your mouth. The essence leaking from his tip worked its magical effects. Relaxing your jaw and tongue but also allowing them to stretch past their usual boundaries. Soon, you were bobbing your head. There were still physical limitations, even with his essence easing the way, but you managed to work a good third of his cock into your mouth and down your throat. Usually, you’d choke on something this big, but with the magic of his essence, your throat had become an accommodating zone of pleasure - for both him and you.

His large hand gripped the back of your head, guiding your motions. A snorting grunt of pleasure escaped him. “By Asterion, your mouth is magic kyria. ”

Your hands continued to pump the rest of his length. His was hot and pulsing under your fingers. He forced your head back and forth faster, fucking your throat. Suddenly, his searing essence poured down your throat straight into your stomach. You moaned around his cock, your hands continuing to pump him, as you were rewarded with three more spurts of his creamy cum.

With a pop, the minotaur removed the still-hard cock from your mouth. It felt like you were floating. Drunk on his cock. High from his cum. You reached for his cock once more. You wanted to worship it. You could spend hours sucking him off until his cum bloated your stomach. Yet, he pulled you away and up into his arms, your needy pussy spread wide as your legs were situated on either side of his body.

“No, no more in your mouth. I am going to breed you now, kyria. Your pussy will be overflowing with my cum.”

Oh. That did sound better. Your aching pussy filled to the brim. Cum in its proper place.

His thick cock rubbed along your pussy. You ground against it, the remainder of his cum spreading across your slick folds, starting its magic to make him fit inside of you.

“What an eager mate,” he commented, letting you cover his member with your needy juices. “Look at your beautiful body flushed red for me.”

“P-peas,” you grounded unable to pronounce your plea correctly with how far your mind was gone.

“You can still speak? I’ll have to fix that.” With a grin, he stopped your hips’ grinding.

Dragging your body up, he positioned the wide head of his cock against your dripping hole. Achingly slow, he pressed inside of you. His wide cock stretched every part of you. A deep, throaty moan left you as the thick rod hit your cervix. He was barely halfway in you. The minotaur pulled back his cock, scraping your insides. 

“Nooo,” you moaned as the wonderful fullness left you. He stopped with his flared tip, just barely inside of you. Then with a swift motion, he forced you down onto his cock. 

Your mind went blank from the pleasure. Everything else faded from your awareness. All there was, was the minotaur holding you and the hot cock within you. 

Your inner walls pulsed with orgasm, but he continued to move your hips up and down his length. His essence was slowly opening your needy pussy to his huge cock, but the remnants from your blowjob weren’t enough. You needed more in order to take him all. And he was all too happy to provide.

With a bellow, he forced your hips down as far as they could go as he dumped another round of cum into you. The searing hot cum filled your hole, prompting another orgasm from you. A wordless scream of pleasure left your throat. Your naked body pressed against his fur-covered chest, your fingers gripping his hard muscles.

Yet, even as you came for the third time that night, you wanted more. You tried to beg for that. Plea for more. But as he had promised, words were wiped from your mind. As your lips formed the “mm” all that followed was a long, deep moan. “Mmoooo!”

“There we go, kyria. Give in to the pleasure.” His member was still rock hard inside of you. Shifting your body, he laid you on the bed, his cock never leaving your pussy, so his cum was sealed inside of you, working its magic.

“This is why I love humans. Shy at first. Watching breaking you down until you give into your true nature.” As he spoke, the minotaur maneuvered your legs and hips until he was holding you down in a mating press, his hand holding your arms down so all you could do was receive him.

You tried to beg again, but all that came out was another moo-like moan. He chuckled, the vibration coursing through you, causing a whimper. Leaning over you, he pulled your ecstasy-addled face to his, dominating you with a kiss. “Pleasure-drunk, breeding cows.”

His cock pressed further into you as the cum worked its magical effect. Deliberate, unyielding pressure let his thick, meaty rod sink into your body. Half his cock. Three-quarters. Seven-eighths. He pulled back to the tip. Then with a mighty thrust, his cock hilted in your pussy, his cum squirting out.

The minotaur jack-hammered into you. His balls, heavy with thick cum even after two orgasms, slapped against you. All of it. You wanted all of his cum. He was right. This was your true nature. This is what you wanted all along. To be a pleasure-drunk breeding cow for a minotaur. With breasts swollen with milk for your calves. Your bull filling you with his cock as he milked you.

“Fuck, kyria, your cunt is sweeter than a purebred Bova. I’ve never had a human take me this well.” His hips stuttered as he came once more. You screamed as you came along with him. Your eager walls milking the cum from his cock.

He let your cream-filled pussy rest as he sat on his hooves, his eyes staring at the cum bubbling from your hole. You stared at the ceiling, your chest heaving with effort. Your body limp from both pleasure and the cum’s magic. Slowly you were able to lower your legs, causing a stream of cum to pour out of you. With shaking hands, you reached down and stroked your swollen abused lips spreading his cum around. Once your fingers were covered in the sticky cream, you lifted them to your mouth.

Tongue lolling out of your mouth, you greedily sucked your fingers clean. The minotaur grunted with amusement. Managing to glance at him, you saw his cock half deflated but now regrowing to full size. Grabbing your ankle, he turned you on your hands and knees. Without prelude, he slammed himself into your pussy once more.

“You have turned me into a rutting beast, kyria,” he told you between thrusts. His huge hands reached around you to hold your breasts. His powerful fingers twisting and tugging on your engorged nipples.

“If this were the old days, I would whisk you away. Guard your fertile body to ensure you only carried my calves. My own personal breeding cow. Milk you when our calf was weaned to keep the milk in you, then breed you over and over. Start a herd.”

You were helpless beneath him. All you could do was moan and pant underneath him. All you could do was receive his cock and cum with ecstatic joy.

Several orgasms and about an hour later, even the mighty virile minotaur was spent. You were filled with his cum, but the effects of it were beginning to fade as you laid on top of him in the bed. His powerful arms were wrapped around your waist possessively. Your hands mindlessly stroked his fur as his chest rose and fell beneath you.

“Are you alright, kyria,” he asked, his massive chest rumbling under you. “I didn’t go too hard, did I?”

“No,” you replied, nuzzling into him, too tired to elaborate at all. You were still processing the intense experience.

“Good, good…so, I am not sure how much you remember, but I was just caught up in the moment saying I’d turn you into a breeding cow…that being said…I don’t suppose you’d be open to seeing each other again?”

Shakily, you managed to lift yourself up to look into his deep brown eyes. You released a tired chuckle.

“What,” he asked, his hands tightening a tad nervously on your waist.

“I just realized,” you told him with another chuckle, “I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh,” he chuckled now as well, “I’m Tyrus. Pleasured to meet you…um…”

You chuckled once more and told him your name. “It has been a pleasure, Tyrus, and I would love to see you again.”

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Other Department of Monster Affairs works

Werewolf bites and bodily fluids - worldbuilding/lore prompt for Hello Neighbor

Hello Neighbor - m!werewolf x f!reader, teratophilia, knotting, heat. One-shot.

For other works see my masterlist

[t-horn-n]

— waterstrider

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader (female) 

genre: fluff ?

summary: watching you and ghost become you and ghost.

word count: 1 158

There is a certain inconsistency with you that Ghost is able to sense but not quite place when you first join the task force.  You’re the sort that wears her heart upon her sleeve.  You like to fill the room with your jokes and anecdotes and quips.  You spill your guts to the point that Ghost knows more about you and your idiot brother and how your parents have just retired) in the first six months following your arrival than he knew about the Captain in the first three years of knowing him.  On the internet, they would call you one of those people who can’t be mysterious because you yap too much.

Still, there is something that sets you apart from just any old civi.  And it is not simply that you’re good at staying calm in stressful situations, nor that you’re not half bad at military strategy.  Rather, it’s that you’ve compartmentalised yourself into the part that you offer to people (your brother, your parents’ retirement) and the part that you keep tucked into your chest, hidden beneath your ribs.  It’s an illusion, you see, that sense of complete transparency that you project.  

It was years ago, now.   When the scent of high school still clung to you and you were marginally more stupid than you are now.  You got yourself ensnared with the wrong, mean, borderline sociopathic sort of people so quickly that it was a real life example of the snowball effect.  Initially, it was just one time you brushed off your last period class to go around town with these guys you met at the convenience store to get back at your brother who, at the time, had a habit of being overprotective.  

Long story short, the whole situation ended with fingerprints around your neck and your head held down in the river behind the grocery mart that everyone was sure was a mafia front.  You remember being hauled out of that river with astonishing accuracy.  You remember the temperature of the water and the exact thoughts that raced through your mind.

Of course, over the years you recovered, squeezed the silty water from your lungs and learned some common sense.  But events like that are somewhat sticky.  

One of your motivations to join the military was to find the self-confidence to never feel like you did coughing up water and dirt, after all.  

You were wary—cat-like—when you first joined Ghost and the rest of the 141, but that’s just how it is in the military most of the time.  And after a few weeks you were bantering with them like you had known them for years.  Truly, it seemed as though you were the most normal one out of them.

What they don’t know is that you don’t like showers.  Or at least, you don’t like the sensation of the water beating on your face.  It feels like you’ll just forget how to breathe and the water will fill your lungs again.  So instead you’ll stand at the edge of the shower, wetting a soapy washcloth every evening after training.  

You’ll never go swimming, of course.   You won’t take the chance.  Even when you can see the bottom, an irrational, bone-deep paralysis traps you in this space where your thoughts are very loud and your body feels very far away.  It’s fine, though.   There isn't a great deal of demand for aquatic soldiers.  

You don’t like sleeping under a lot of covers either, but you’re a cold sleeper and you don’t have control over the temperature on base, so you layer hoodie over hoodie at night.  Inevitably, you look like a mass of sentient fabric if you ever  encounter one of your  peers in the kitchen late at night.  

Talking is how your little dance with Ghost started, though, late night encounters aside.  Sometimes, you would open with a joke on the way back to base from the training grounds and he would reply with his own and you would both feel a special sense of connection that is a little different than that most often found in  military task forces.  It wasn’t brotherhood, like what linked Ghost to Soap and Price and Gaz.  

On other occasions, you all would be at a bar on the weekend, making the cheap beer taste better with each other’s company.  You and Ghost would be perched on your barstools and he would be telling you about some stunt Soap pulled years ago while the other three men kept each other entertained.  You two would still be there after Price, Soap, and Gaz sobered up in the late night air on the way to the bus stop that took them back to the base.  You would blink and then it was midnight and you were on the bus with all of the other witching hour vagrants that got on after spending too much time staring at the bottom of a glass, but you wouldn’t even see them because you were too busy listening to Simon and his wonderfully deep, tired voice.  You would be pressed shoulder to shoulder, each staring at your feet or your hands.  

There are very special times, too.  The kind that you will remember the sensation of—the moment’s taste, its colors, its imprint on your mind—even after you’ve forgotten the time and place and the words said.  Like when Ghost becomes Simon.  Like when he tells you about his mother and the man she was married to.  Like when he presses his lips to your neck and instead of feeling cold and wet and gross like you expect it to, he just sighs, warmly, in a way that makes you feel like you’ve been filled with helium.

Then, when that dance you were doing becomes more confident, when you start pulling and twisting each other about the dance floor rather than just hoping you’ll brush the other’s hand as you glide aimlessly around, those compartments that you have successfully preserved for the last decade shift, somewhat.  They don’t break, by any means.  Simply, they are rearranged.

Simon runs hot.  Especially when he sleeps, which means that when he crashes in your quarters you de-layer and tuck your cold feet between his calves.  Simon is also a big man, though.  So when he rolls over on to your chest in the middle of the night, you are startled awake.  You remember the pressure as the air in your lungs was replaced by something denser.  While he sleeps—deeply, as he always does in your quarters—you stare at the ceiling, watching the fuzzy darkness undulate over and around itself.

Eventually, you will tell him why you can’t tolerate your face being covered while you sleep.  You’ll divulge the contents of your nightmares.  Someday, his past and yours will be murmured into existence whether on a late-night bus back from town or in his bathroom as you brush your teeth together on some random Thursday night.

— m. list

[oatmealwrites]

Catch Kira, NOT Feelings! Ch. 3

L x Fem!Reader

Previous Part | Next -> coming soon

Word Count: 7k (hehe)

Tags: slow burn, oblivious, colleagues to lovers?, jealous! L, mentions of arousal, Lawliet POV at end, phone sex?, male erection, masturbation [male receiving], mentioning of female anatomy, MDNI, 18+

Synopsis: You continue the meeting as planed and can't help but wonder how you feel about Ryuzaki. With a brief time skip and another meeting ending in an argument, L can't help the strange feeling that's growing in his chest... and in his pants ;)

Masterlist

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The meeting continues as planned, this time with Light in attendance, and the group discusses the remaining entries in the ‘Second Kira’s Notebook’. Avoiding Aoyama for the time being, Ryuzaki shifts the attention to the Tokyo Dome game mentioned within the page and proposes for Watari to cancel the event and let the police investigate. 

  You sit on the couch uncomfortably, unsure if it’s the strange feeling brewing in your chest from your encounter with Ryuzaki or simply a side effect of chasing down a mass murderer who might just be your friend. Light at your side, you keep your attention on the TV as best as you can given the circumstances.

  “In this note we can see the Second Kira mentioning Shinigami at the Tokyo Dome…”

  Mogi points to the note on the screen and the group nods in agreement, reviewing their own papers and documents for the upcoming events at the arena. Shifting slightly, you resolve to reach forward and grab one of the to-go coffee cups, deciding caffeine might be what you need at this moment. 

  “Here, let me–” Light leans forward before you can reach the table and picks up two sugar packets as well, “–you’ve had a long day of classes.”

  You watch him for a moment before sighing, “So have you though..”

“I guess that’s true… Just let me do this, okay?”

  Light laughs gently at how quickly you sit back and let him make your coffee; remembering the way you always drink it with two sugars. Deftly popping off the lid and pouring in the contents of the packets, Light lets steam emit from the cup before gently passing it to you. 

  “Careful, ok? Wouldn’t want our newest recruit getting out of the task force from some coffee burns.”

“Shut up..” you nudge Light gently enough to not spill the contents and lean down to whisper, “asshole” just out of earshot of his father. 

  Taking the cup and hovering your lips just above the paper rim, you blow the steam back a few times before taking a sip. Throughout the whole exchange Mogi and Matsuda have been conversing about the Tokyo Dome events schedule while Mr. Yagami and Aizawa discuss alerting the arena security and increasing the police presence in the area. Ryuzaki sits watching all three interactions taking place but his eyes linger on the way Light holds himself around you. 

  It makes rational sense, the both of you being well acquainted through years of working for his father, though the interaction leaves L shifting in his seat. The smile on Light’s face is natural, with creases in his eyes as he leans in to make another snarky remark in your ear; the simplicity of it all is what leaves such a sour taste he’s unable to recall in Ryuzaki’s mouth. 

  “Maybe now you won’t look half asleep during the meeting.”

  You take a long sip of coffee and gently kick Light’s shin from next to you on the hotel couch, eyes narrowed at his hushed joke.

  “I’m not tired.”

“Hmm? Then why do you look like that?”

  Like what?

  You move the cup from your lips and shiver as the warm beverage slides down your throat, eyebrows furrowed at Light in confusion before your gaze locks onto Ryuzaki’s. It’s a short connection before you break away feeling as ice had been dumped down your back; from the corner of your eyes you can tell he’s been staring and will continue to.

  “Let’s focus, ok?”

  Mr. Yagami stands and pats Mogi’s shoulder, taking control of the remote and now playing the entire diary’s image once more.

  “This,” he points to the Tokyo Dome phrase once more. “A shinigami? I believe this may be an important reference we cannot overlook. It’s obviously an omen regarding death.. But can we be certain Tokyo Dome is the target for this? Both districts of Aoyama and Shibuya were mentioned in this..”

  The group looks amongst themselves and you turn back to L, watching as he bites the edge of a hangnail on his index finger in thought. Aoyama and the notebooks weren’t supposed to be mentioned for the time being, not until Ryuzaki had deemed it absolutely necessary to inform the rest of the task force of the plan. 

  “For now, yes.” L sits forward and now reaches for a small plate covered in bite-sized fruit tarts “Watari, send a message to the head of the arena’s security to inform them of a potential terrorist attack.”

  Light sits up from the sofa and turns to the man “Shouldn’t we be investigating all of these claims, Ryuzaki? I agree the Tokyo Dome one is important, but it’s way too obvious… we can’t miss this opportunity to catch the Second Kira.”

  His tone is chill and sobering, and you lock eyes with L once more to confirm you were going to keep silent for the time being. 

  “I agree. If we let the Second Kira slip through our fingers and decimate an entire district it would be catastrophic.” Ryuzaki sits back and looks at the entire group, scanning each face. “We’re going to publish this diary on Sakura TV.”

  “What?” Mr. Yagami steps forward with an incredulous shock on his face, “If we publish this, people will react with pandemonium. They’ll live with fear!”

“No– it’s to give each of the local police departments enough time to increase their presence in their respective neighborhoods. Not to mention, give us enough liability to install additional measures.”

  Aizawa stares at L in suspicion. “Additional measures? What do you mean?”

“We can’t install additional CCTV without approval and reasonable suspicion of a threat,” L says, pointing to the television with a crumby index finger. “This is more than enough to justify that. No?”

  Matsuda ‘wows’ in awe at the reasoning while Light remains motionless on the couch thinking everything through. His demeanor is cold and isolated, radiating an energy that makes you subconsciously lean into Mogi who is sitting on the other side of you on the couch. 

  ��That’s going to take a lot of manpower, Ryuzaki. Are we equipped to do all of that in such a short time?”

“We don’t have a choice,” you chime in, placing the coffee cup on the table. “If you’d like, I can try and reach out to some old internship colleagues working in Shibuya. Try and see if any additional detectives and officers can cover districts we find more at threat?”

  Mogi nods and begins mentally reviewing the list of people he knows who could also cover any gaps. “I agree. The faster we act on this, the better chance we have of catching them.”

  The group nods in agreement and breaks off into smaller teams in charge of alerting local police, contacting Sakura TV to run the diary, and relaying information back to the NPA about the current plan. Mr. Yagami steps out to a connecting room to make a few phone calls while Matsuda assists Mogi in creating a copy of the diary to send to the station. 

  “Shouldn’t we send someone to investigate these ourselves?”

  Light walks to where you and Ryuzaki have sorted all possible events at the Tokyo Dome, Aoyama, and Shibuya on the respective dates mentioned. You turn to L as do the other members, silently wondering the same thing.

  “Yes, I plan on asking one or two of you to go out and attend one of these events listed…” He continues, looking steadfast at Light, “I haven’t made up my mind quite yet though. Let’s work on the current task for the time being.”

  Light seems relatively unhappy with the response but doesn't push further; he walks back over to Aizawa and assists in drafting messages to different police quarters. You watch him work for a moment before turning back to Ryuzaki who continues sorting event paperwork next to you. 

  The proximity is nearly as close as you both were earlier in the evening, and there’s a slight tremble in your fingers at the increased heart rate in your ribs. He deftly moves and sorts papers back and forth with you, occasionally skimming your fingers with his own; the action is enough to make your ears hot. 

   This is ridiculous. I need to get out this weekend, have a drink, or something. He’s just L… he’s just a guy.

  “I’m going to need you to keep quiet for a bit longer if that’s ok.”

“Hmm? Oh, of course.”

  Continuing to work as naturally as possible, your voices are barely above a whisper to avoid unnecessary attention. The fresh scent of his laundry detergent invades your senses and is so intoxicating you nearly lean in closer to get a larger inhale. 

  Despite being able to work seamlessly with Light, working alongside Ryuzaki isn’t nearly as difficult as people had always alluded to. At nearly every NPA meeting and early police briefings in the Kira case, every detective you worked with scoffed at his name. ‘Unable to work with others’, ‘selfish and conceited’, ‘coldhearted and stoic’ were used more times than you can remember in regard to the man at your side.

  “Here, these may need to be corroborated with the Second Kira’s tapes for syntax.” Ryuzaki gently offers you a section from the diary and transcript from the tapes. “Are you able to complete that within a few days? Or is your course schedule going to get in the way…?”

  “No, I can complete it.”

  You take the evidence and organize it into a pile, admiring the man just inches away from you. Not an ounce of condescenion in his voice, he gives you tasks that genuinely need to be completed and he’s decided to trust you with; taking into account your class schedule, each assignment is neither tedious nor grueling. 

  This is nothing like the stories you had heard, and it’s enough to make you wonder if maybe those overworked detectives at previous meetings had been complaining about someone else. The L at your side is meticulous and competitive, but the way his eyes linger on your lips when waiting for confirmation is gentle and patient.

  “I’ll try and have it done in about two days. Is that ok Ryuzaki?”

“Yes,” he says, peeling his eyes up from your lips and blinking a few times before turning his attention to the documents in his own hands. “Yes, that should be perfect.”

  *******

Two weeks go by seamlessly and you fall into an easy routine between classes and Kira meetings. During lunch breaks, about twice a week, you meet with Light to discuss not only topics regarding the case, but also regular life as students and 20-something-year-olds. It’s as simple as you remember it being when you first started working with his father. The settings are friendly and casual, though less intimate and honest as you remember them being; taking note every time he begins to change his behavior and what exactly was the topic that seemed to be the trigger.

  Working with L has also gotten much easier over the days; Watari picks you up prior to the meeting nearly every day and Ryuzaki has memorized your schedule to call as soon as your seminar finishes to inquire about updates. You report nearly every move, answering when you’ve left home and returned, along with giving him updates on how your paperwork and investigation of Light have been progressing.

  On days when classes end early and you’re at home for lunch, you find yourself stopping by the bakery near your apartment and picking up a dozen earl gray cookies on the way to meetings; remembering the way Ryuzaki seems to perk up when he sees the familiar packaging.  

  It almost feels inappropriate how casual you both have begun to talk to each other; frequent texting that begins to stray just a bit further than completely work related, though they never become too personal. The texts and phone calls that vibrate from the phone L had given you come everyday like clockwork, even on the days where you weren’t scheduled to meet with Light. 

  The routine this Tuesday afternoon is the same as the past two weeks have been: calling Ryuzaki after your evening class has ended and casually relaying a brief update if you had bumped into Light. The wind is cooler today than it has been in months; gripping your jacket tighter, you balance the cardboard wrapping of the biscuits with one finger as you huddle into yourself for warmth. 

  Cars pass by in varying directions as you nod to the steady beat of music playing in your headphones, waiting at the intersection for the familiar black Mercedes to pull up. The leather briefcase slung over your shoulder makes an uncomfortable weight push into the muscle, but the feeling is numbed by another gust of wind and hair being pushed into your face.

  Before you can adjust the flyaways, a familiar car turns at the intersection and flicks on it’s fourway signals before pulling right up to where you stand. The window cracks. “Y/N, I’m here to escort you to headquarters.”

  You giggle at the same line Watari always repeats and slide off your headphones before opening the passenger door and sliding inside. The seat warmers already on, you gently place the box of cookies on the console and sling the heavy bag off your shoulder and onto the floor at your feet.

  “More cookies Y/N? You’re going to have a sweet tooth as large as Ryuzaki.”

“Nah,” you giggle and look out the window at the city lights that have flickered on being to blur by. “I don’t anyone could tie him for that.”

  ******

  “I’m just saying if Sakura TV wants to air that ‘pro-kira’ talk show, they should at least–” Matsuda stands with his arms out to Mogi as if his companion were the one he needed to convince to get his opinion delivered, before turning to you. “Oh– Y/N!”

  You slide your bag at your unspoken offical spot next to the sofa and place the small box of cookies on the table before shimmying out of your coat and smiling at the man. Watari helps you glide it off your other arm before retrieving a hanger and placing it in the small coat closet next to the door as you greet everyone in the room. 

  Ryuzaki is already sitting in his usual spot and watches you intently as you make your rounds before plopping onto the couch in between Mogi and Light; his gaze lingers on the small box of tea-flavor cookies. 

  “Did you ever take ‘Intro to Criminal Psyche’ in undergrad?”

  You turn to Light and raise an eyebrow. “Yea, why?”

“Mmm, I’ve been thinking of missing a few classes to work on the task force assignments a bit more. If you have the notes from when you took it, I’m sure that would suffice to replace the material I miss.”

  You laugh and nudge him, “Wow, ditching class? The number-one student I know has a rebellious side to him after all.”

  Light laughs, though the sound is partially empty of genuine humor. “Of course~, though if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll just have to actually attend.”

“Let me check my files,” you said, looking over at his dad, who is shaking his head with a sigh from the conversation, “If I still have them saved, you’re more than welcome.”

  The moment Light puts his hand on your shoulder in gratitude, the unfamiliar ugly feeling inside Ryuzaki’s gut begins to grow again. His chest is tight with a frustration he couldn’t quite pinpoint, as if the scene in front of him was wrong; similar to a movie spinoff of a book that wasn’t following the plot correctly. 

  Ryuzaki takes a breath, it doesn’t bother him, it shouldn’t bother him, before turning to the now total members present at the meeting. “Alright, now that Y/N is here, we can continue.”

  The group quiets down and Aizawa stands up, holding a variety of documents and reading through them in summary. “Well the DNA procurement is experiencing some delays; with nearly every available agent and officer dispatched to the Second Kira diary locations, the lab is running on a time lag.”

  You hum and turn to Watari to take a coffee from the tray he brings around, not bothering to reach for sugar as he’s been preparing it to the exact sweetness you prefer for nearly two weeks now. 

  “There’s also the issue of Shibuya and Aoyama.” Aizawa flips through to another page and  sighs, “We’ve been able to dispatch any colleagues Y/N knows around the Shibuya main entry points, but Aoyama is still more understaffed than I think it should be.”

  “Even if we agreed Tokyo Dome was the priority?” Matsuda questions.

  “Mr. Yagami, have all the CCTV we’ve requested been installed within the district's limits already?”

  Mr. Yagami turns to Ryuzaki and scans through a few documents before nodding, “Yes, they’ve been successfully placed in all the main access points and intersections you’ve requested. Local police also confirm increased presence there on the days leading up to and following our recommendation.”

  You turn to Ryuzaki and wonder the same question everyone has been considering for the past few weeks: who was he going to choose to send? Keeping quiet over the past two weeks wasn’t exactly easy, nearly every meeting contained Light protesting the decision to focus too heavily on the Tokyo Dome and pushing back even more when L refused to further explain his decision. 

  Ryuzaki takes a long moment to consider, idly placing sugar cube after sugar cube into his tea cup and not bothering to look up. A gentle breeze from the open windows pushes his hair to tickle his cheekbones and you instinctively shiver at the drop in temperature. Opening the window for fresh air was a common recurrence, but you couldn’t help but tense at the chill air that always nipped at your skin. Before Light can glance over and offer you his jacket, Watari walks over to the hotel linen closet to retrieve a throw blanket and passes it to you.

  Additional stocked bedding wasn’t unusual considering the amount of times members have spent the night in the suite, but the smaller plush throw blankets that seemed to perfectly warm you back up seemed to appear only about a week ago. 

  “I’ve made a decision on who I want to attend Aoyama, and I want it known that if either party feels too uncomfortable, we can renegotiate.”

  You lean in, similar to the rest of the members and hang on to every word. “Light, I’d like you to walk the streets of Aoyama on the date we’ve previously decided. Matsuda, please accompany him.”

  What?

  You stay frozen in confusion at Ryuzaki’s announcement while Mr. Yagami immediately stands up in protest.

  “I’m not sending my son to the front lines! First you accuse him of being Kira and now you want him to be killed by the Second one?”

“Dad–!” Light stands up to argue with his father, “You don’t get to make that decision for me.”

  I’m not going?

  You look up to look at Ryuzaki who was glancing over at the two men arguing and making no effort to make eye contact with you. He sips his tea and stares indifferently at the spectacle in front of him, occasionally reaching down to grab a cookie you brought.

  Despite working with him on the Aoyama plan during meeting breaks in secret, confirming through texts that Light was still unaware of said plan, and even staying later nights to work out any kinks…. he didn’t pick you. 

  A pang of hurt and nearly anger washes over you as the decision sinks in. The two men arguing over the coffee table now a million worlds away, an ugly feeling tightens in your chest. Had you not proven you were skilled enough to take on a challenge like this? Was all he saw in you was an errand-girl who could watch Light on campus so he didn’t have to?

  You look up at Matsuda who was now trying to calm down the chief, and furrow your eyebrows into a sharp ‘V’ formation. No, even the role of babysitting Light was forfeited from you. It’s impossible to focus and the atmosphere is nearly suffocating as jealousy courses hot through your veins.

  “Alright, I’d like to further explain the plan before you two go any further,” says Ryuzaki, standing up and placing one foot on the coffee table for balance to grab the remote and flip to the details of Aoyama.

  “The diary entry in this event mentions meeting with friends on the streets of Aoyama, a needle in a haystack considering the population density.” He tilts his head to side and continues flipping. “However, there’s a strong chance it’ll come down to just two people: Kira and the Second Kira. At least one of which, we will assume is student age; high school or higher education.”

  “So this is another example of accusing Light? Because he fits the age group demographic?”

“Mr. Yagami, please hold all your questions until I’ve finished.”

  Ryuzaki takes a metal teaspoon between his lips while he talks, “Aoyama is a wealthy neighborhood and a fashion hotspot, most likely a place to be recommended by a young woman. Please keep this in mind while observing pairs of people.”

  Still annoyed by the plan you helped decide on, you can’t help but notice the strange thin smile on Light’s lips as he watches the presentation unfold. Despite his father trying his hardest to prove his innocence, Light doesn’t seem the least bit stressed by the accusation; he’s nearly humming with excitement while you sulk on the sofa. 

  “Alright Light! Just you and me doing some fieldwork, sounds like it’ll be fun!”

Aizawa smacks Matsuda on the side of the head. “This isn’t a field trip to go shopping and eat at cafes! Both you and Light are placing your lives on the line.”

  Matsuda deflates back onto the mirroring couch in defeat while Mr. Yagami remains staring between his son and Ryuzaki.

  “Are you sure about this? Light– I don't want him to make you look more guilty when you’re not.”

“Then let me go! If I can find the Second Kira– it’ll only help me clear my name.”

  Light’s tone is demanding despite pleading with his father for approval in attending the mission. Even while slightly pissed off, you recognize it to be the same uncomfortable aura from your first lunch ‘date’ a few weeks ago. 

  No notebooks…?

  Remembering the aspect of ‘notebooks’ being an important aspect of revealing the Second Kira, you turn to Ryuzaki who has now finally returned eye contact. Scrunching your brows in confusion at his lack of complete clarity, L gives a short nod ‘no’ before returning his attention back to the father-son duo.

“Is this plan alright with everyone? Anyone not going to Aoyama will have different monitoring tasks during these events so please ensure your availability.”

  Mogi and Aizawa nod as Mr. Yagami sits back down in defeat and Light gives a solid statement of his own approval. Matsuda hums in excitement across from you and you sit on the couch with arms crossed and scowling into the space of the corner of the room. 

  “Alright then, let’s continue with some specifics for how this will all play out.”

  *********

  A sour taste remains in your mouth for the rest of the meeting as you listen to the plan you helped come up with be delegated to other members. Aizawa and you will be in charge of monitoring CCTV at the headquarters alongside Ryuzaki while Mogi and Mr. Yagami are on standby duty at Sakura TV in case of a break through.

  At the usual late hour, the meeting is concluded and you take your time packing up your things as members slowly trickle home. Matsuda stretches and holds the door open for the Yagamis before exiting and leaving you in the room with L and Watari.

  “Ryuzaki… can I speak with you?”

  L looks up from handing Watari his empty teacup and nods once, “I assumed you wanted to speak, you usually pack up much quicker most evenings.”

  Any other time the comment might’ve made your heart rate pick up at his attentiveness to your habits, but this time your heart remains heavy in your chest. Following him into the bedroom as usual, when the door clicks shut the only thing you can do is stand awkwardly in silence.

  Hands wet with sweat, you tug at the straps of your briefcase bag and wondering where to even begin.

  “Something is bothering you. I can tell.”

  Ryuzaki leans against the side of the bedframe casually and stares at your face patiently, showing no signs of fatigue despite the late hour. 

  You sigh once and take a step forward. “Why didn’t you choose me for Aoyama?”

  L watches you for an additional second and closes his eyes for a moment. “I figured that's what you were gonna ask.”

“So… why didn’t you?”

  Ryuzaki shrugs and looks off to the messy desk at the side of the room, twitching once as the analog clock on the wall ticks away in the deafening silence.

  “I figured Light and Matsuda were the best for the task. That’s it.”

  That’s it?

  You grip your bag tighter, sinking your nails into the leather, and can feel the anger from earlier beginning to seep out, “What do you mean? Haven’t I worked hard to prove you can trust me? That I would be great for this position?”

“Of course I trust you, but that has nothing to do with this.”

  You furrow your brows, growing impatient as he speaks to you as if it were obvious. “What do you mean? I’ve been helping you come up with this plan and been watching Light this whole time… so why is it different?”

“Did you feel entitled to it? Is that why you’re upset?”

  You wince and take a step back, embarrassment mixing into the defensive that began building.

  Ryuzaki watches your expression and continues, “Matsuda will do just fine watching Light, I’ve already spoken to him privately about it. The other members on this task force are accomplished and determined. Just because you’ve been a great help in conducting this plan doesn’t mean you’re the best person to execute it.”

  Your throat feels tight as his words, and humiliation begins to sink in as he speaks. 

  Of course, other members are veterans at this and you’re still under the position of an ‘intern’ for Mr. Yagami. It’s fucking embarrassing how worked up I’ve become…

  “You could’ve let me know ahead of time…when we were planning this earlier…”

  Ryuzaki turns back to you, an awkward feeling forming in chest at seeing your dejected face turn away from him.

  “Maybe it’s foolish that I was already planning on going but–”

“-- you would’ve thrown the same fit you threw earlier. Announcement of my decision doesn’t mean anything.”

  The words are harsh. Harsher than Ryuzaki means for them to come out as he internally struggles with this uncomfortable feeling and he regrets it the moment they leave his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of anger, rejection, and embarrassment; the way you scoff hurts him deeply considering the array of ugly emotions are directed at him. 

  “Right. Whatever..” you spin on your heel and open the door to finish the conversation. “Thanks for the clarification.”

  The words are spit with venom through gritted teeth and you don’t bother turning around to say goodbye. Watari watches the anger seethe off you and makes no effort to create conversation as he follows you out the hotel door and down the lobby to the parking lot. 

  If you weren’t getting chauffeured by Ryuzaki’s right hand man, hot angry tears would have escaped your eyes, an aggravated scream would leave your lips, and a few punches to an empty car seat cushion may have taken place. 

  As the car pulls out of the lot, you look out the glass and notice the silhouette of Ryuzaki peering from behind the hotel window curtain before you turn your head the other way. Watari makes no effort to speak and doesn’t protest when you dig your headphones out of your bag and blast music in your ears. 

**************

4am - 4 hours after the meeting ended.

Ryuzaki POV

  He should’ve worded that differently. He knows, she knows, Watari even knows it judging on the somber and judgmental look he shot Ryuzaki after returning from dropping you home. It’s not like he wanted to come off as an asshole, he usually did to most people, but the fact he came off that way to you was what made this guilt so uncomfortable in his gut. 

  Ryuzaki lets out a long sigh and leans back in the office chair at the desk in the hotel bedroom, not bothering to sleep. One more shade of purple under his eyes won’t be noticed and L takes this moment to bite at his cuticles in thought.

  Why hadn’t he just given you the task for Aoyama?

  You had proved yourself more useful than half the people he’s had the displeasure of working with. Patient with his awkward attitude, intelligent with great deductive skills, loyal to his recommendation despite making you observe your ‘friend’ for signs of being Kira, and absolutely beauti-

  Ryuzaki snaps his head to the side and rejects the thought before it forms. On a professional level it should’ve been you. You’ve already done so much to help in the Aoyama plan, more so than he could casually give you praise for, and your ability to follow Light and intuition with his behavior made you the perfect candidate. So why didn’t he?

  L stands up from the desk and begins to walk aimlessly around his room in the moonlight that seeped in from the windows. Instead of giving you the chance to apply yourself and excel with a perfect opportunity, he has you scheduled to sit in a dark room with him and another colleague watching CCTV for hours on end. 

  The nasty and ugly part of him was glad when he had made that decision, keeping you away from the front line despite going to school with his number one suspect— this time you could be far away from Light. Safe… with him. Why did he even want that?

  Ryuzaki sits on the edge of his hotel bed and shakes his head before looking around the room for a plate of desserts that might be lingering. Of course he knew why he didn’t personally want you prancing the streets of Aoyama with Light. The fact it meant you would be at risk of being killed by the Second Kira, who may not need a name to murder, OR the fact it meant you would be spending the whole day walking around cute cafes and boutiques with Light while Ryuzaki was forced to watch it all on CCTV in multiple angles for multiple hours. He wasn’t sure which option was worse.

  Pushing those thoughts back down again, completely inappropriate given the situation, he pulls out his cell phone and runs his fingers down the sides in thought. He should apologize. He knows it, and he also knows you would pretend to be fine during the meeting tomorrow despite actually being pissed off at him. Rightfully so.

  Letting out a sigh of defeat, Ryuzaki powers it on and open up your contact and waiting a beat before clicking the dial button and leaning further onto the edge of the bed.

  He’s not sure you’re even going to answer until the line rings for a fourth time and a half asleep “huhhh?” rings out from the other end. 

  Ryuzaki pauses immediately at the tone, not quite a groan but a light and airy moan escapes your lips into the receiver at your sleepy state. L stands motionless at the tone and immediately begins to regret calling at this late hour when his body begins to react against every logical will his brain offers.

  “Hello?”

  Shit. He realizes he’s taking too long to answer and resolves to issuing a short apology.

  “Y/N? It’s L... I’m sorry to wake you.”

“Ohhhh Ryuzakiii”

  L swallows hard at the airy tone you use, knowing you have no idea what you actually sound like considering it’s nearly 4:30 in the morning. His breath is labored as he clenches the phone in his hand, nearly forgetting the whole reason he was calling anyways. 

  “Yes, I’d like to apologize for my words earlier this evening. Though we can discuss this.. Tomorrow.”

“Hmm” There’s the sound of you shuffling on the other end before you continue and yawn in between every other word, “Ohhhh please don’t be mad.. I didn’t.. Mean to be.. A bitch…please– Ryuzaki”

  Fuck. FUCK.

  Even the sound of his fake name leaving your lips in that tone was enough to make him wince at the familiar feeling growing in his jeans. He needed to end this call. Now. 

  “No, I’m not mad. Please get some sleep and I apologize again… for calling this late.”

  Ryuzaki ends the call and throws the phone on the bed as if the metal had been burning his hand the entire time. 

  This feeling was wrong, so. Fucking. Wrong.

  He doesn’t need to look down to know what’s happening, being a young man in 20s he’s quite familiar with the feeling, but he peers down anyway. The fabric around the fly of his baggy jeans was uncomfortably tight and his cock pushed against the confines of his boxers and denim, throbbing slightly in arousal. 

  Ryuzaki lets out a shaky breath and thinks a million different thoughts at once, a majority of them full of self loathing and frustration. He was your boss for fuck’s sake. You both had admitted your trust in one another and he would hate himself for the rest of his life if you thought the only reason he kept you around was to sexually gratify him.

  He had been around countless female agents and detectives who had been bullied or pulled out of the workforce because of menial relationships. Even Naomi had left the FBI upon getting married. If you ever found out that he was hard at just the sound of your sleepy and disheveled voice, you would probably be disgusted and offended and leave the task force; the very prospect of that being the last thing he wants considering your talent.

  A wince escapes his lips when his cock throbs at the image of you now present in his head, and every rational brain cell within his skull is screaming at him to change his thoughts and let himself get soft. But he can’t. Not with the way your lips, coated in that honey flavored chapstick, or maybe lip gloss, you always apply, is painted clearly in his head. The way those very same lips would look around the base of his co-

  NO.

  Ryuzaki grips the comforter beneath him and folds into himself slightly as his erection painfully begs for some sort of friction to satisfy it. ‘It’s an abuse of a position of power’ is what the world famous detective portion of his brain is saying, while the 20-something-year-old portion of his brain is remembering what the swell of your ass looks like when you bend over the couch armrest to pick up fallen documents. 

  Shit… 

  He can feel all logical rationale seeping out of him when twitching fingers move to undo the button of his jeans and let down the zipper of his fly to just apply a little relief. Realistically, you might be interested too.

  The thought makes Ryuzaki bite his lip in disgust while his hands betray his brain and move to shimmy the fabric of his jeans to his mid thigh and let his erection stand up in his boxers. The constant replies to all his messages, working late evenings with him, and brushing fingertips more times than a casual explanation could allow, even bringing him those delicious cookies when you realized how much he liked them. 

   You never did that for Light.

  “Shit..”

  Ryuzaki sighs in a partially drunk state while he stares at the patch of pre cum seeping through the flimsy fabric of his boxers, his cock aching for relief. The image of you with Light feeds the ugly part of him he didn’t even know had existed; despite knowing you for around a month, the idea of you being close with Light brings an unexplainable frustration to his mind.

  While being able to imagine Light’s smug face is nearly enough to soften his erection, the sound of your voice airily moaning his fake name comes to mind once more, and the idea of what it would sound like to hear you say ‘Lawliet’ in that same tone, makes his cock ache even more than he thought possible.

  Ryuzaki’s had erections before during your time at the task force, ones that occurred when he happened to fall sleep and woke up with some light morning wood. But this was different. Fingertips pinching the elastic of his waistband, he tugs the fabric down to join his jeans at his mid thigh; a wince escapes his lips at the change in temperature on his dick. 

  A slight happy trail going down his navel that extended into a full bush from lack of need to trim for anybody, his cock hovers upright with the angry dark pink tip leaking pre-cum profusely. This wasn’t a casual boner he was popping, it was an ugly carnal desire L had written off from having due to his career and work life. Yet sitting on the edge of the bed, all rationale finally seeps out of him.

  It must due to be the lack of blood flow to his brain that makes Ryuzaki bring his palm to his mouth to spit into the flesh a few times before coating his shaft in a mix of pre-cum and saliva. The sensation causes a slight groan to escape and his eyebrows to furrow in focus as he spends an extra second massaging the tip. 

  Giving a few extra pumps to warm up, he begins to slide his hand up and down the shaft with just the amount of tension he likes. The feeling pairs nicely with the image of you in his head, would you jerk him off like this? Or would you want to put those pretty lips to use on his cock while your hands worked on his shaft?

  Balls tightening at the mere image, his hips jerk forward into his hand as his body betrayed his brain and grew hornier at the thoughts. What color bra did you always wear? A week ago you accidentally wore a pretty light blue one under your white shirt… did you know he could see it? What did your tits look like when you take it off?

  “Nngh… oh f-fuck..”

  L swallows thickly and quickens the pace before using his other hand to lift his shirt so he could lean over and spit on his cock once more before taking the fabric in his teeth. His fingers massage the tip before tugging on the skin of his shaft and applying pressure to the enlarged vein that ran on the underside of cock, causing a few groans to leave his mouth.

  And what if you did want him back? Would you let him sit under your pretty pussy while you rode his face? Let him eat you out like he had been thinking about… if you tasted even sweeter than he was imagining.

  Hips shuddering and balls aching with a heavy feeling, that recognizable coil begins to grow in his abdomen as he increases the speed. Sweat dripping down his brow, he nearly coughs when the image of you letting him fuck you crosses his vision. 

  Splayed out all pretty and moaning his name. His real name. Or maybe riding him in this very bed while he sucks bruises only he will be able to see onto those perfect pretty tits of yours.

  “Fuck.. Y/N… gonna..”

  He increases the speed of his hand and can see the image now in a thousand different ways. Him cumming in your mouth, on your face, on your tits, in your hand, in your cunt and then watching it leak out…

  FUCK

  Ryuzaki tugs a few extra times and exhales sharply when hot ropes of semen begin to pour down his hand and even escape on the carpet below. Rubbing his cock through his orgasm, he lays back on the bed with an exasperating feeling as he catches his breath. 

  Hot cum on his hand, thighs, and now floor, the post-nut clarity is a disgusting feeling that washes over him. All the images and ways he’s tried so damn hard not to see you in, make him feel no better than a dog with no respect when that’s all you’ve shown him.

  Of course it’s more than your body that L is attracted to, but the physical and creepy nature of masturbating to you makes him shiver uncomfortably as a line that shouldn’t have been crossed now has. With one more sigh and mentally shelving the images his brain had conjured up, Ryuzaki sits up and reaches for a couple of tissues on the nightstand.

  Sopping up all the remnant cum on his hands, thighs, and carpet, he tosses the tissues into the trash and tucks himself back into his boxers and jeans. 

  Tomorrow…

  Ryuzaki doesn’t want to even begin to consider how he would face you tomorrow, so he decides not to think about it. It was a one time thing, and now that it’s out of his system he should be free from the hypnotic spell you seem to have placed him under. With a sigh, he decides to head into the ensuite bathroom to wash away the physical evidence of his perverted actions and clear his head before facing you in yet another meeting tomorrow. One where you would be fully awake, and he could properly apologize.

part 3 is doneeee

ty so much for your patience with this series! holidays and exams are crazy but im so excited to keep writing this (hehe more nsfw to come, but defrosting methodical L into a horny pining man takes some time)

likes/comments/reblogs are appreciated & let me know if you wanna be on the taglist

-oatmeal ╰(´︶`)╯♡

Tags: @lechatparle24 @irissfoot @iheteeaifs

[adhd-fandom-hyperfocus]

✧₊⁺ Dessert ✧₊⁺

Pairing: Titus x Reader(f)

Arthur's Note: It wrote this for the fat Titus lovers. It's not long, truth be told, I am not comfortable writing smut ;_; and panic every time I write it. So here we are. My small humble offering for the kinky masses. Implied reader is female. Proofread? Never heard of her

Warnings: feederism stuff, breeding kink just at the end, but very light. It's pron without plot y'all.

18+ Minors DNI

★。------ ＼｜／------。★

The bed groaned as he sat down. You had told him to go and relax while you cleaned up the dishes. His large frame resting on the bed, larger now thanks to you. If he weren't a smarter man, a man resistant to warp influence he might think you an agent of the power excess here to slow him down and leave him helpless in doing his duty. But you were not that. Just a simple woman with desire to care for him. And care you did.

Titus smiled as he rubbed the sides of his full middle. It was too easy to just gorge himself when you cooked. Eat like he was some starving baseline. But then again once he was called for duty it could be months before he could taste you and your food again. So yes, he was being gluttonous. He could hear your walk in, smell you too. He licked his lips and smiled, suddenly very hungry again, but for something sweeter...juicer. Oh yes, you had an ulterior motive, but what it was he didn't know, and he willingly let himself be consumed by it.

“You know I am starting to think you are trying to fatten me up on purpose.” Titus moaned as he tried to soothe his stomach with ginger strokes with his calloused hand.

“Trying?” you echo, delicate fingers tracing the curves of his belly, the effects of her work, “I think I have succeeded My Lord.”

The impish smile at your words, the scent of your sweet sex filling his nose, your delicate touch. He was drunk on it all, consumed. His tongue still dancing over his lips, angry it still did not have what it craved. You have ruined him, and he let it. Regretted none of it. He was yours. You lean close to his ear, “I am. Show everyone who you belong to, and make sure you understand no one can sate you like me. No one can sate your hunger like me.”

You lick and nip at his ear, smiling as he groans at your words. He was so close, right where you wanted him, but dessert was never given without a proper beg. You grin as he gasps your name, and you pull back so you can go back to rubbing his belly, “Tell me. Is my beloved full already?” you tease, knowing the answer.

A soft whimper, so soft for a man of his size and power, “Please...no, just a little more. Something sweeter.”

Despite how many times this has happened, Titus always got a little sheepish at this part. Perhaps it was the Astartes conditioning that always made begging, asking like this, uncomfortable.

“Oh, a little dessert for eating all of dinner?” you coo climbing onto the bed, and straddling his round middle. Your weight made him gasp and bark out a needy moan. He could easily take what he wanted. Do what he wanted, but he loved this; feeling weak and out of control. A nice chance of pace, and you were so kind to play your part. Maybe a too well.

You rock on his middle and Titus fights to keep his thoughts from scattering so he can get what he wants, “Yes.” was all he could muster, his hands gripping your thighs as he fights to not just jerk you on his face.

There was fire in his belly and burned down to his raging erection. He wanted to be in you, he wanted to devour you; he wanted it all at once. It was maddening. You lean forward still grinding on him, your beautiful hands tracing those beautiful lips. How he instinctively kissed and licked those fingers, craving you.

“Say, please. My Lord.” you say so sweetly.

“Please!” his normally deep raspy voice cracked with need.

That was all you needed, with a kiss on his chest and a nod from you Titus pulled you onto his face and started to devour you. Your cries filled the room as the man feasted like a starved madman. His tongue plunged so deep into your core you almost felt he might consume you, desperate to taste and have you.

He doesn't even stop for air, mouth, and tongue merciless in his hunger for you. Your body shakes as he feasts like the king he is to you. Because like you said now he knows none would satisfy him the same way. Care for him like you do. The tension and boiling stimulation inside reaches a fever pitch and before you can catch your breath from him licking up his reward for being such a gluttonous lover, you are pushed onto your back. Titus is grinning down at you licking his wet lips.

“I just had the most delicious idea my love,” he croons getting close to your ear, nibbling on it and kissing down your neck, “I think I would like to make sure all know you belong to me now. For when I am gone, yes?”

You feel his cock press against your still raw folds, “The milk you will produce for out child will be so sweet, I just know it,” he continued pushing himself inside you. You gasp as he starts to plunge himself to the hilt inside you.

You smile dreamily, completely and utterly yours. What a gluttonous husband you've made.

[scarlovebot]

RECHARGE

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Summary: Natasha guides you to slumber

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

parties and events occurred every fortnight, you soon lost interested in their reasonings just acknowledging that an appearance was necessary, instructed by Tony Stark.

your outfit deemed as nothing special just a casual black, figure hugging pantsuit paired with stiletto heels.

dragging your heels from group to group, discussing topics which only edged the boredom inside even further, you think back to remember the thrill and euphoric feelings when being given an invitation, that’s when it felt like you had finally made a solidified group of friends who have become family.

the clock had just surpassed your bedtime of 10pm, knowing of this as the once composed posture of yours had gone slump, eyelids fluttering with sleep and the clothes feeling rather uncomfortable.

it would be rude to leave at such and early hour so you made the challenge to yourself that you must remain as one of the few still standing when the party dissolves.

finding shelter at the bar your order of a double vodka lemonade, hoping that the strength of the alcohol has the same effects of an overly dosed cup of coffee. sat idly with your beverage a soft hand strokes against your upper back, a shiver evident to the eyes of the culprit. The lips of the individual make contact with your neck, leaving a soft puckered kiss causing an internal moan, Natasha.

looking to your side met with piercing green orbs and a smirk plastered with admiration and ambition. breaking the silence she speaks up “детка, I’ve hardly seen you tonight, where have you been?” Natasha questions with love and slight worry. Looking at her, you give her a faint smile “I’m just tired nat, I didn’t want to bother you when your having a good time” making eye contact with the ground, you say in a low tone, the fatigue and slight guilt evident in your voice.

Delicate fingers grip loosely onto your chin, she tilts your face upwards towards her creating an atmosphere that can only be described as intimidating, though this is due to the affect Natasha has on you.

The women feels nothing but love towards you, upon your first interaction she was head over heels, intrigued by your goofy personality and nurturing atmosphere around you.

“I would be having a better time with you in my clutch, now what do you say if we head up to bed?” She rubs her thumb softly over your chin, causing you to melt even more into her touch, nodding your head as a response to the question you had been hoping to hear ever since stepping out of your room.

hand in hand you stand up next to Natasha, holding a firm grip onto your girlfriend to ensure her that your not leaving, nor is she.

she leads you through the crowds of people, nodding to her teammates as indication that she was done for to the night. their eyes travelled to the person next to her, they all knew why Natasha had left so soon and didn’t expect any different.

The explanation being that within the daytime your energy level’s surpassed the normal individual, causing an extreme downfall as evening begun. It was almost routine at this point that the red head would take care and control, whispering loving words and ushering you to bed. she really didn’t mind, her social battery rarely drained but seeing you in desperate need for a recharge had Natasha wrapped up in your little finger.

The sensation against your hand dropped, slight panic set into your chest at the loss of the person keeping you afloat, but that quickly passed as the same pair of adoring hands found placement on your waist.

Her vibrations sparked within you, it was something you had never felt before, totally besotted by Natasha Romanoff.

everything blurred together, one minute you were being guided through the mass amounts of attendees, next sat in your underwear on your bed.

Natasha took dominance, once away from the main area and in the elevator she picked you up taking all pressure of your feet, heels were not for the weak. carrying you to the shared room and beginning the process of settling in for the night. the layers that once felt unbearable on your skin had been taken off with care, with every item Natasha slightly massaged your limbs, loosing up all tension.

it must have been the feeling of ease that awoke you, though still in a haze.

Crawling under the covers you expect to feel her, yet you’re met with coldness. your breath hitches, where is Natasha? you begin to worry. you were sure she was with you.

in a blink of an eye she was there, hair braided with precision and skin that glowed even through the darkness. a hand touches your waist, travelling beneath you bottoms to hold a firm grip on your backside “дорогой I’m right here, Natasha’s here” she says.

She holds tighter and drags your tired self towards her, squeezing her hand at the area that was labelled only for her. A giggle escapes your mouth, and just before finally switching off for the night and fall into deep slumber, you send a Thankyou to Natasha.

Your lips fixate on her, a soft moan can be heard from the red head. Your tongue latching onto the roof of her mouth, deepening the kiss before slowly breaking away.

Resting your head onto her bare chest, “Thankyou nat” you murmur, burying yourself as far as possible into the delicate cage that surrounded you.

“goodnight тигр, sweet dreams”

Natasha treasured these moments, the ones behind closed doors where she could let go of the stone cold persona held up for everyone, except you.

[atombombkaytee]

My Echo, My Shadow and Me

Summary: Hancock and I retire to The Third Rail after a long day to find that it’s particularly busy. Still, we manage to find a quiet spot to indulge in heavy flirting, booze and chems. However, I notice a shadowy figure across the room - somehow, neither Hancock or I recognise the stranger (another ghoul). Hancock is keen to introduce himself but the sheer amount of intoxicants we’ve consumed could have the potential to lead to a very interesting evening.

Pairings: Hancock x Female OC/Reader, Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Female OC/Reader

Warnings: (This first part is largely PG but we will see - in future parts - all of the following) Heavy alcohol/drug use, public groping, smut, MMF threesome, anal.

Part 1.

Occasionally, The Third Rail became so lively that you could easily delude yourself into believing that the bombs had never plummeted from the skies all those years ago. It is only when you're completely sober that you can discern that virtually every person in the vicinity disfigured by the enduring effects of radiation.

Nevertheless, the bustling crowds of sweaty bodies (dancing, laughing, and clinking their glasses without a care in the world) were surely reminiscent of what it was like pre-war. I couldn’t be sure. I was born into this shithole of a world. What would I know about living pre-bombs?  

I grunt a sarcastic chuckle into my pint glass, fogging the edges with my breath. I'm sure it was warmer in pre-war bars than it is here. Being underground in an old railway tunnel helps retain some heat, but there's a subtle yet constant breeze coming from somewhere.

Still, the alcohol helps. As do the masses of bodies. Alcohol helps with a lot of things. Even now, many still use it as a respite from the horrors of daily life. A beautiful dissociative escape, where the only thing that matters is the moment.

Unfortunately, I'm the only sober one tonight. Well, almost. I’ve managed to get one mixer deep, tucked in tight against the bar, waiting for Hancock to join me for a celebration. Today ended much later than we anticipated when a large group of Supermutants seeking revolution entered Boston Common. We dealt with them, of course, but it significantly cut into our relaxation time - something both Hancock and I equally hated. 

The dancing crowd swells behind me, swaying in time to Magnolia’s silky voice. Occasionally, someone brushes against my back. I'm desperate to feel more drunk. I tend to get irritable far more quickly when I'm sober, much like Hancock... maybe that's one of the reasons we've always gotten along. Feeling overstimulated, I swill back the ends of my glass and signal Charlie for another.

Lucky for me, no human could possibly serve booze as fast as that robot. It’s mere seconds before another full pint glass is in my hand and I greedily neck it back. I smile to myself, sensing the warmth in my belly spread into a pleasant haziness behind my eyes. These quadruple shots are certainly doing the trick.

An immense wave of gratitude washes over me as I perceive a hand between my shoulder blades. It unmistakably belongs to someone familiar, amidst the numerous inebriated strangers who have been using me as a prop for the last thirty minutes.

“Hey, dollface… how you holding up?”

He angles his head downwards, drawing himself nearer to me, enabling me to still take in his words amongst the competing sounds of music. In response, I offer a smile, albeit tinged with irony, and he promptly detects the subtle distress reflected in my eyes.

“Oh… well, why the hell are you sitting up here then?”  

With a light-hearted chuckle, he shifts his focus from me to locate Charlie. His hand instinctively wraps around the nape of my neck and delivers a playful squeeze, firm enough to hurt, yet, ultimately, conveying a sense of comfort and protection.

“Charlie - do this ol’ ghoul a favor and hand me that great, big bottle of whiskey - oh - and two glasses, if you’d be so kind?”

I can't help but watch him adoringly as he swoops in to solve all of my problems, like always. I've only spent a little over four months working alongside him, but I'm pretty sure that I'm falling for him. He's courageous yet gentle, sweet yet just, violent yet empathetic. I've come to realize that he's a very intricate person... well, ghoul. And, boy, does he know how to make me feel good.

Ignoring our rather large age gap - human/ghoul relationships aren’t uncommon in the wasteland, although they are generally disapproved of in most settlements. Except here. Here, in Goodneighbor, things are different. Here, Hancock and I can openly celebrate our relationship and relax in public without any judgment. As the Mayor, Hancock receives special privileges that he graciously extends to me. Moreover, the majority of the residents in Goodneighbor are ghouls themselves, and those who are human are generally open-minded outcasts who have found a welcoming home here. It's an ideal situation.

“Follow me…” He murmurs intimately next to my ear. With his palm placed reassuringly on the small of my back, he guides me smoothly through the mass of people - most of whom acknowledge their mayor with a rowdy toast of their glasses.

Once we’re out of the thickest part of the crowd, he grabs hold of my hand and leads me to a dimly lit table for two at the very back of the room. Both the noise level and the number of people are much more bearable here. I plonk myself down on the torn couch - enjoying the coolness of the leather seat against the back of my tired thighs.

“Jesus… thanks for rescuing me, yet again…” I snigger, holding my glass in place while Hancock pours a generous serving of whiskey. The liquid fills the vessel with a rich, golden hue.

“Why the hell is it so busy in here tonight!?”

Hancock puts the whiskey bottle back on the metal table between us with a thud, causing several small white flecks of paint to flutter to the ground. He leans back comfortably against the sofa, draping his spare arm around my shoulder while he surveys the room.

“You tell me, sunshine! Could be since we cleared up those raider gangs last week? Could just be a few more people traveling through.”  

His black eyes glisten and gleam like polished onyx under the sporadic beams of the spotlights that intermittently flash across his face. The aura of pride he exudes is palpable, adding even more charm to his demeanor. Seeking refuge in his presence, I nuzzle closer to the comforting warmth emanating from his body, finding solace as I press my cheek against his faded scarlet duster coat. Meanwhile, I continue to take measured sips from my glass of whiskey, relishing its smooth taste.

The mist brought on by alcohol is steadily encroaching upon my senses. I have firm intentions of becoming extremely drunk, and with Hancock already pouring himself another drink, it seems obvious that he shares that inclination.

(Part 2)

(Part 3)

(Part 4)

[sixxteenbullets]

hi!! if ur requests were open, if not thats fine!! i was possibly wondering if u could possibly write a henry bowers x masc reader? basically where the reader recently gets diagnosed with autism, and some assholes make fun of them for it, henry finds them crying in the bathroom and comforts them? if not that's fine!! thank u!!

DIFFERENT

PAIRING- HENRY BOWERS X MASC!FEM!READER

SUMMARY- Y/n was used to being made fun of for being different. She didn't dress like the other girls in her school, nor did she really act like them either. But when people find out about her diagnosis with autism and decide to poke fun at that? It certainly hit a nerve. Not only did this bother her, but it apparently bothers the biggest bully in the school and even brings out a softer side of him. BLURB.

WARNINGS- SWEARING, VIOLENCE, BULLYING, SLIGHT BEVERLY SLANDER (purely for plot, I love her)

A/N- Requests are always open, I just might not get to them very quick or even at all if the plot isn't what I'm comfortable with. Also, if you wanted a male reader, I'm sorry but I don't write that right now (maybe once I get more into writing I'll try)so the reader is female, just masculine. I also chose to stay pretty in character for Henry, take that how you will.

She didn't know why her dressing differently struck such a nerve in the guys at her school. It's not like she wore anything offensive. Why did it matter if she didn't wear skirts as tiny as Gretta's or shirts as right as Beverly. It wasn't effecting anyone.

Y/n got used to the picking though. She knew what it meant to be different in her time and eventually grew indifferent to the harmful words or physical actions.

What she wasn't used to, however, was a particularly bad group of boys going through her medical records at the drug store and finding that only says before, she was diagnosed with autism. That's when it really got bad.

The news spread around so fast, the morning of the day after, everyone in school knew about it. All day she had paper balls and pencils thrown at her head, words she'd never heard directed at her, and she'd even been shoved into her locker more times than she cares to remember.

It was only until the fifth period, after lunch, did she realise that it affected her more than what she led herself to believe. This realization grounded her in the girls bathroom, cigarette loosely hanging from her lips.

Y/n never smoked much, only when she was trying to seem cool or trying to piss off people around her, but the moment seemed worthy. The unfamiliar mass of smoke going in and out of her lungs was welcomed. Every puff that has the back of her throat aching and her tongue dry was her method of distraction from the tears burning her eyes and the reoccurring urge to puke in her belly.

Every word said to her replayed in her mind as every bruise on her body ached. The pain was just as appreciated as the tears. It was as if she deserved it. Overall, she knew she shouldn't feel bad about it, it wasn't like there was anything wrong with it, but insults can only be ignored so much.

These thoughts distracted her from the creaking door of the bathroom, which opened and closed with unneeded force. She only looked up when the sound of footsteps clicked in her mind. Her head shot up, tears unwillingly falling, and she was met with the strange sight of Henry Bowers. Henry fucking Bowers.

She panicked, immediately thinking that he was there to fuck with her. He had always kept his pack of boys at bay when it came to her, but she knew of the horrors he'd done.

When she expected him to begin his bullying, he didn't. Instead, he trotted over to where she sat down and leaned back against the wall. Crossing his arms and sighing deeply.

Y/n watched him wearily through teary eyes. Every movement of his alarmed her. What the fuck was he going to do? It appeared like he was working up the nerve to do something, maybe spew more insults, bang her head against the wall and ditch.

Then, finally, he broke the tension filled silence. "Ya' know, who gives a fuck,"

The words spiked a confusion in her, making her draw her brows together and stare as he went on.

"So fucking what you dress different, fuck those assholes. Why don't you fight back?"

It took a while for her to reply due to the shock that dominated her mind. "S' not that easy for me."

It wasn't. She had barely any friends, none who would defend her, and she couldn't fight anyone herself. And let's be honest, that's how everything is fixed now. Fight for it or let it happen, that's just how it was.

"Just because you don't dress like some of those sluts." Was she dreaming? Or was Henry Bowers comforting her? If so, he wasn't very good at it. Though, she didn't really expect that he would be. "Or are fucking different."

"Are... You comforting me?"

His head shot to her and he has a look on his face that made it seem like he was offended at the accusation. Once he took in her disheveled state, his eyes softened slightly. When his response never came, she asked something different.

"Why?" Her voice was so quiet, as if she was scared to ask.

To be honest, he didn't really know why he was being so nice. It wasn't often in his nature to be nice, not right away, anyways. If he did happen to choose kindness, it was someone he trusted, but he only knew the basics about Y/n.

The soft feeling within him was foreign, but not unwelcome, as much as it alarmed him to let his guard down. He sunk down next to her, stretching his long legs out. "Shut up."

As unneeded as the rudeness was, she wasn't mad. In fact, a small giggle left her lips. He was being nice to her and he was horrible at it. She didn't know what his home life was like, but she knew it was bad, so there was no reason to be upset with his poor ways of comforting.

The tears left her eyes red and cheeks damp, but they were gone. Her head rolled to the side and she looked at him. Did he always have such a cute nose? As these types of questions arose in her brain, other things came up as well. Things that never stuck out to her were now as clear as day. Faint bruises at the base of his neck, a jagged scar peeing out from his hairline, a sort of wildness in his eyes as he glanced around the empty bathroom.

As if a puzzle came together, she realised the rumors were true. Henry's dad wasn't only drunk, but he was a damn abuser.

"I'm sorry about your dad." It wasn't necessary in her nature to be comforting either, but he sure as hell needed something.

"Sorry about those kids sticken' their nose in your business."

"Thank you." Very, very slowly and very, very hesitantly, hee pinky overlapped his, which was resting on the floor between them.

While he did nothing to egg it on, he did nothing to oppose her affection.

"Fuck them." He muttered one last time.

"Fuck them." She agreed.

----------

Choppy, messy, ooc, late. I have new writer syndrome.

I think I'm depressed.

[sirowsky-stories]

The Old Prince

Part 10

Author's Note: I had hoped to post this on Friday, but a pesky work-weekend got in the way. Also, this was one of those chapters that never wanted to end! Which is why it's easily the biggest one yet.

Description: Your confrontation with Simon reveals some very big obstacles. (Sorry, it's a bit short, I don't wanna spoil anything.)

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, AU fic, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses. Smut. And a kinda weird situation occurring in relation to the smut. Word Count: 9862 Author's Masterlist

   He reacts to the name as if he too remembers it, and somewhere deep within him, a rumbling which could rival even the toughest thunder starts to build.    It’s so immense that the very air vibrates with it, and when he opens his jaws to release it, you can hardly believe what you’re seeing when actual lightning accompanies the flame of magmatic intensity, destroying trees and unnatural creatures alike everywhere it goes.

   Then, just as your hope rekindles with the apparent shift of odds into your favor, the dying flames reveal that the spirits have finally arrived. But the reason for their tardiness becomes painfully obvious when you realize they’ve all been corrupted.    No longer the lightly glowing figures of mystical energies, they now appear to be solid, straining under their own weight, looking as though something’s tried to rip them apart, leaving strangely thick black smoke pluming out of their open wounds.

   Positioning themselves in a circle around the two of you, their new master commands them to destroy, and as if they’ve become puppets on strings, they obey without hesitation.    The polar bear, Ursa, is supposed to be able to freeze things at will, but her powers have also been mutated, so when she tries to create frozen spikes, like spears out of the ground, what happens instead is that she cleaves the ground, creating massive crevasses from which more roots and evil beings spring.

   Lupus normally channels the power of the earth to make things grow, and she still does, except there’s only darkness to feed. Only the destructive and malicious beings brought to life by the Darkling are aided by her efforts, doubling in size in mere seconds.    Meanwhile, Caelum is generating multiple twisters where she would ordinarily only manage to spark sudden microbursts for a few minutes at a time. The butterfly is somehow creating toxic spores where she would usually just be able to pollinate anything that grows.

   How Octopus is managing on land you have no idea, but she’s covering everything she touches with some kind of corrosive grey slime, which is especially bad considering the area she can affect with her size and the reach of her tentacles.    The bat’s normal power is giving sight to those who wander in the dark, but she’s now creating clouds made of soot, removing all visibility wherever she flies. Although she’s struggling so badly against the forces of gravity, usually not able to affect her much at all, that she’s barely able to get off the ground.

   Scarabaeus is supposed to be able to move through any solid structures, but her corrupted form is instead incapable of remaining solid at all, changing from liquid to gaseous form at random, which also has the very disturbing effect of leaving anything she passes through, completely disemboweled.    As for the deer, Cervus, who’s original power is the absorption of both energy and matter, she seems to be in a state of continuous implosion, like a star perpetually about to collapse, sucking everything into its core to be crushed.

   In your human form, you’ve never met the spirit of summer before, although you do know her from your other life. She’s easily the largest of the land-living spirits, rivalling Oberyn’s green dragon, although her current mass is much more concentrated than his was.    Also, she wouldn’t normally have much mass at all. But tonight, her might has been transformed from a benign gigantic horse, capable of bringing warmth even to the coldest of places, into a burning demon, seemingly made of oil.

   They attack without any coordination, or pre-determined plan of any kind, it seems, coming at Tyrannus from all angles at once. His size puts them at a disadvantage since only the flying ones can reach further up his body than his legs, but they’re unfortunately also highly tolerant to his flame, even with the lightning.    His scales are thick, though, shielding him from their mutated powers, leaving him mostly concerned with keeping you out of their reach.

   You know that even Lux has never witnessed all the spirits succumb to the dark one’s power before, because it’s never been allowed to get this far. But Simon’s clever deceit must’ve blinded them until it was already too late. Which begs the question:    Why are you not turning dark as well?    If the Darkling can have such a crippling effect on all the others, how is it you’re not feeling so much as a tingle in your fingertips?

   It could be your connection to Oberyn, since love is still more powerful than anything, but the more you think about it, the more it seems like it’s your human form which shields you from his influence.    Strangely, it makes a lot of sense. Because ordinary humans can’t see or be directly harmed by spirits, so logically, your alter ego should be impervious to his manipulation.

   However, your body might not be safe from his powers or the spirits’ ability to cause you serious physical harm.    You have demonstrated that you’re capable of incredible healing, but you don’t know how far that reaches. Even Oberyn isn’t completely immortal, so it stands to reason you might have a few limitations as well.

   He moves incredibly fast despite his size, having lost none of his usual agility since his body is still the same snakelike shape. So, even though his enemies are repeatedly attacking him from all sides, he manages to evade them while striking both punches and flames at them, slowing them down if not seriously damaging them.    Until Caelum manages to slip past his limbs and teeth, using one of her twisters as camouflage.

   Staying in your blind spot, she sinks her claws into your back before you’ve had a chance to notice her, and aside from the fact that having your skin ripped open is always terribly painful, it seems that the black oily stuff which covers them all is also either poisonous or acidic when it enters your blood. Because holy fuck, does it sting.    You’re already laying down as flat over the base of the dragon’s neck as you can manage, but the sharp, lasting pain makes you lose your grip just as Oberyn turns sharply to the left.

   “Kaivalya!” you hear a thunderous roar exclaim while you’re falling through the air, which confuses you.

   He can’t speak. Not as himself or as Tyrannus, his mouth and throat are incapable of forming words, so how did that just happen?

   It doesn’t matter much anymore when you realize you’re falling much further than what should be ground level, which must mean you’re careering into one of the many crevasses Ursa’s made in her attempts to unbalance the dragon.    Your front is facing up, so you can see the darkened sky as you continue to fall, until you drop far enough that the edges of the abyss come into view, crawling with roots and other malicious things, feeding off the conflict and the violence above.

   Then suddenly, a bright white tail is breaking through the increasing darkness around you. It effortlessly breaks through the meager defenses put up by the wormlike appendages of this evil Earth, reaching you with such speed and forcefulness that it sends you hurtling upwards instead, as though you were a tennis ball and his tail the racket.    And once you’re back above ground, easily reaching a thousand feet height at the crescent before you begin to fall back down, all three of the flying spirits are converging on you.

   A twister forms right beside you, sucking you in and then spitting you out even higher up, before Vespertilio sends a cloud of absolute darkness around you.    You know you’re far enough up that Oberyn has to fly to reach you, and if he was, his wings would create a thunderous sound as they beat against the air and the atmosphere, and you can’t hear anything like that.    But you can hear the rapid, strained flaps of the bat’s wings as it struggles to get to you.

   The darkness is so thick you can’t see your hands in front of your face, but you can feel that you’re once again falling and without seeing, you have no way of knowing how long it’ll take before you hit the ground.    Can you survive a broken neck? You don’t know. Just like you don’t know what happens if you get torn to pieces by the spirits. You might simply revert to your spirit form, but then that would likely make you corruptible again.    And maybe that’s exactly what Simon is after. Maybe all this is just about darkening you, because if he can do that, then there won’t be any more hope for the world.

   A sound reaches you from somewhere below, and then a strong huff of warm air disperses the cloud underneath you, letting you see that you’re still hundreds of feet from the ground. But you also see a pair of bright blue eyes, which then quickly disappear from your view when the largest jaws ever to exist on this planet are opened wide, right beneath you.

   “Trust me,” the same rumbling voice as before sounds, even though his mouth hasn’t moved.

   But it’s him. Either inside your head or somehow speaking to you through the ether, but you know without a doubt it’s your Oberyn.    And you do trust him. Which is why you let yourself fall forwards, straightening your arms out in front of you, turning your body into a spear so you’ll fall quicker.    It’s not without fear you pass his rows of giant teeth, falling paralleled to his tongue and heading right for his throat, held perfectly straight to facilitate your journey into his stomach, but he must have a plan.

   He closes his jaws in the same moment you reach the bottom of his mouth, and everything becomes pitch black.    You can feel your body continue to fall, even as the walls of his throat begin to close around you, slowing your descent surprisingly gently. And before you know it, you’re at the bottom. Although, it’s not how you might’ve imagined a dragon’s stomach might look, if you’d ever had the crazy idea to imagine being swallowed by one.

   There’s no fluid in there at all, to help break down your components and extract the nutrients from your body. And it’s anything but dark.    Just like with humans, his stomach sits adjacent to his lungs, so when the fire is sparked, his entire torso is lit up internally.    You can only see the shine, nothing of what else is actually inside of him, but it’s kinda beautiful.

   There’s an intricate and very symmetrical network of veins within the lining of the stomach, and when the fire illuminates them, the heat within his blood makes them glow. And yet, the temperature inside remains unchanged. Probably around forty degrees Celsius, feverishly warm for a human, which is how Oberyn has always seemed to you.    However, the sounds he makes are even louder in here, so when he suddenly roars, you’re instantly on your knees and doing your best to cover your ears, hoping your eardrums haven’t already burst.

   “Stop!” you try to yell when it never seems to end, but you can’t even hear yourself over the deafening vibrations.

   Apparently though, he can, because he immediately goes quiet, and then that deep voice finds you again.

   “Are you alright, my lady?”

   You must be hearing him inside your mind somehow, because even if you haven’t already gone deaf, your ears can’t possibly have recovered enough for you to hear normally yet.

   “No!” you half-shriek, confirming at least partial damage to your auditory system because you can hardly hear your own voice. “Keep it down, you just blew my ears out!”

   “Oh… My apologies. In my defense, I have never done this before.”

   “No shit…”

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   He knows you will be safe within him as this much older dragon ate only stone and magma to support his being when there was no other life on this world yet. It has no means of digesting human tissues and bones, nor the need for it.    From the beginning of this battle, the spirits have aimed almost exclusively at you, leading him to the conclusion that Simon has no interest in him, merely in acquiring the last free spirit and completing the Darkling curse.

   If this happens, the entire planet will become as the North American continent in a matter of minutes. All of it consumed by death, darkness and despair, with no hope or end in sight. And without Lux to bring back the sun, it will likely remain so for thousands of years.    Tyrannus is too powerful even for all of them combined to vanquish, but Oberyn is equally unable to annihilate Simon while the spirits fight for him, so until the two of you can discover how to liberate The Decem from the dark one’s sickening grasp, the best he can do is keep you safe.

   Gambling on the notion that these debased beings all seem unwilling to stray too far away from the group, he remains airborne after swallowing you, intent on leaving the scene as quickly as he can.    Of course, Caelum, Vespertilio and Papilio do not approve of this plan, and follow as he departs due east, back towards the coast.

   Their perverted powers are thrown recklessly in his path, the desperation to not disappoint their master now the single goal of their altered reality.    But their quarry is not only much larger than before. He is also armored with scales so thick not even the pressure and heat of the planet’s core could undo him, leaving their mediocre displays of strength little more than an irritation to his ascent.

   His theory about their tendency to remain with the group prove accurate when the three flying spirits veer off and return to the blackened landscape before he’s even left the American continent. This thought, however, offers him no peace. For they are stronger as a group, and the longer they remain so, they will fuel and feed the growing energies of hate and depravity until it eventually transforms them completely.

   They are still only darkened versions of their original selves, but if Simon has his claws embedded within them for long enough, he will turn their hearts to stone, and then they shall truly become the monstrosities of men’s most feared nightmares.    If this comes to pass, they will never again be returned to their former glory, no matter how much light you might shine upon them. And without them, the world will never truly recover.

   He heads northeast across the Atlantic, flying fast and very high now that you are travelling safely hidden from the extreme temperatures and lack of oxygen. The sky is remarkably clear once he leaves the ashes and unnatural darkness of America behind, and he wishes that you could see the beauty of the world from the thermosphere, nine kilometers above the surface.    As Lux, you probably have, but as a human, you never could.

   And there is something truly beautiful within such fragility.

   It doesn’t take long once he returns to the more familiar troposphere, before he is joined by yet more man-made flying machines, although this time, they wisely keep their distance and merely follow his journey, rather than attempt another confrontation.    Oberyn is glad for this, because aside from the fact that he does not wish to harm them, they may also become most important to the survival of the world, as even their relatively small firepower could prove crucial within the larger picture of this war.

   So, he makes no attempt to frighten them, flying calmly even as they dare a closer look.    Despite their oxygen masks, he can see their eyes quite clearly, and when one of the pilots pulls up alongside him, he can see how she tries to measure him from nose-tip to tail-end, raising her eyebrows in disbelief at whatever number she settles on.    He estimates roughly five hundred yards himself.

   These are British RAF fighters, which must mean that word of his existence has spread since his latest encounter with such crafts. Although, they all probably think there are two dragons at this point, as there is little resemblance between Tyrannus and his comparably puny longtime green alter ego.

   Whatever they believe is irrelevant. So long as he must not fight both humans and dark souls the world’s armies may create their own explanations for his presence. He requires only that they act to protect their lands, as even a small grenade lobbed at the spreading weeds of death will slow their advancement somewhat.    For now, the darkness is contained on the North American continent, unable to spread further until the air and the oceans have also been sufficiently infected. But it is only a matter of time.

   As he crosses over the British Isles, a warm updraft fills his wings, allowing him to soar effortlessly. Which is good since just one flap of his enormous wings will displace enough air to potentially create massive wind-shifts on the ground below.    The warm air sits lower in the atmosphere, however, leaving him quite visible to anyone who happens to look high enough, and given the sudden changes in the sounds he can hear from down there, at least some people do spot him.

   To that end, the fighter planes are no help, as their noisy engines easily draw people’s eyes upwards, but again, this is largely irrelevant.    Unless the two of you can discover how to defeat Simon, these people will know of worse things than dragons soon enough.    Dodging numerous commercial jets at various altitudes as he crosses directly above Manchester, Oberyn then leaves Great Britain behind, heading for the quieter skies of the Nordic countries.

   The RAF apparently are not cleared to continue following him into Norwegian airspace, veering off well before he crosses over land again.    For a moment, he amuses himself by imagining the communication between these pilots and Norwegian air traffic control, because he could picture how it must have sounded if they requested permission to continue following a dragon into Norway’s domain.

   Once certain he is alone, he finds a nice large mountaintop with a solid flat surface and sets down as gently as he can to avoid kicking off a rockslide.    You have been quiet since he accidentally broke your eardrums, and he hopes you will have healed already, but he worries that the injury might have nothing to do with your lack of interaction.

   “Valya?” he prods, keeping his volume low, and he can feel how you begin to move inside of him.

   “Yeah?” you reply, and you sound mostly tired.

   “We are safe for now. Would you like to come out?”

   “That depends… Would I be going back up, or continuing further down?”

   “Up, of course, my dear.”

   “Okay, just tell me what to do,” you sigh, but it is clear from your tone that you were only asking about the direction as a way of relieving tension.

   “I would prefer not to regurgitate you, but if I lay my head down and keep my body standing, you should be able to crawl out on your own.”

   “Alright, give it a try.”

   He does as he has suggested, and then experience the peculiar sensation of what a human might compare to an ant trying to crawl out of their throat.    It tickles, but not enough to cause him discomfort, and before long he can feel your footsteps pattering over his tongue and then climbing past the row of teeth on his lower jaw, before a muted thud lets him know you have hit the ground.    Closing his mouth and raising his head enough that he can see the ground directly before him, he finds you brushing snow off your pants, and you appear unharmed.

   “How are your ears?” he asks, and you stop moving to meet his eyes.

   “Better. But how am I hearing you? Is this some kind of telepathy?”

   “No, not quite. As I understand it, this is only possible between the two of us, and only because of the unique bond we now share.”

   “Right. Which bond, though? I can think of at least two.”

   “Love and Tyrannus?” he guesses, to which you nod, so he elaborates. “All these years, you’ve carried the white dragon within you, unknowingly becoming one with it, so familiar with its energy that you didn’t even realize it when you began to feed it to me. Because to your heart, there is no distinction. We are the beings you love, and we love you equally.”

   “Do you feel different? I mean, like there’s two of you in there?”

   “Tyrannus has not been alive for eons. He is only energy now. But I do feel some things so deeply engraved into his soul they cannot be erased. His anger… and his hope. Mere echoes now, and yet, so undeniably clear.    He was truly mighty.”

   “So are you, Oberyn,” you say softly, smiling slightly as you admire his new form, before you seem to will yourself to return to darker matters. “Unfortunately, we have less pleasant things to talk about, starting with where we are.”

   “I believe it’s called the Scandes. The mountain range between Norway and Sweden.”

   “Okay. And why are we here?”

   “Because we need to think, and this place is quiet. This far north there’s hardly any air traffic and aside from the occasional hiker, not a lot of people. This time of year, it is a bit cold, but nothing I cannot shield you from.    I have wandered these hills and mountains many times in my life, and they have always helped to soothe my worries.”

   “I believe you. I feel calmer already. And it does seem prudent to steer clear of the States until we at least have a plan.”

   You cross your arms over your waist but then remember that you are still wearing the same torn clothes as before, and this seems to deflate your energy somehow.

   “So, can you still change back, or will all that,” you gesture to his general enormity, “not fit within the human form anymore?”

   “It will. Although I am hesitant to leave us so vulnerable. My human form is still the weakest part of me.”

   “And who’s gonna come after us here?”

   “It is the threats one doesn’t see coming that are the most dangerous.    But I see your point.”

   Strangely, it feels exactly the same to return to this shape despite the extreme change he has undergone. The dragon folds away as fluently and easily as it always has.    But it does throw him for a moment, to suddenly lose the higher perspective, and he hadn’t considered just how much better Tyrannus’ senses are. He feels almost blind at first, even though his own senses are still far superior to ordinary humans.

   “Are you alright?” you ask, noticing his disorientation.

   “Yes. Just slightly jarred. The difference in size is a bit befuddling at first.”

   “I’m sure it is, but at least I can hug you now,” you say while closing the distance between you and wrapping your arms around him in a firm embrace.

   “Oh, I have missed this,” he admits while he mirrors you, breathing in your scent once more and relishing in the feeling of your body pressed against his.

   In that regard, there is no comparison. Nothing ever feels as good as your skin against his own, no matter how incredible the dragon’s senses are.

   “It’s hard to believe it was still just this morning that we woke up together in your bed. I mean, we’ve been jumping between time zones, so the actual hours might be more, but it’s still the same date.”

   “Indeed. How strange that everything seemed so simple then,” he observes, recalling the hours he spent watching you sleep, thinking of nothing but you and how you make him feel.

   His entire world had fit into that bed in those precious, serene hours.

   “Fucking Simon…” you growl after a minute, pulling away from him as your stress once again increases. “I can’t believe he manipulated all the spirits. I mean, I know they’re emotionally driven, but aren’t they supposed to have better instincts than to be fooled by a Darkling?”

   “Well, no, actually,” he replies simply, to which you seem quite perplexed, so he continues. “The only way for any spirit to discern the presence of a Darkling is by the effect it has on the world. To find the being itself, only its capacity to see and interact with them is what provides them a definitive answer.    They can immediately sense if darkness is tainting the world, and where, but they rely on evil to reveal itself, as it always does.”

   “Wait… that would mean Simon must’ve understood more about them from the start than any other dark one before him, to let him use their blind spots against them like that.    But I don’t get it. He said he’d been practicing, using his powers, honing them for a long time. How could he do that without them reacting to it, at some point?”

   “How he knew about his powers I cannot fathom. No Darkling is born with this understanding. However, if he discovered a way to use them without allowing them to infect anything, then it is possible The Decem were unable to detect it.”

   “Not even Caelum? She can’t just sense darkness in the air somehow?” you wonder, getting frustrated enough to start pacing around him, but remaining close since his warmth is all that shields you from the Nordic winter chill.

   “No. Only if that power manages to dilute the air, as it now has over the American continent,” he answers, and you throw your arms out to the sides in a gesture which he interprets to be burgeoning anger at Simon’s apparent advantages.

   He understands your feelings, especially since you cannot recall any of the details surrounding the spirits and their capabilities, but unfortunately, your foe is the very worst this world has to offer.    As much as he wishes to shield you, he must also make sure you realize exactly what it is you are up against.

   “I don’t know if you noticed, but the clouds there are no longer clouds, just dead spores and ashes, remnants of nature now reduced to particles of death. And once he gathers enough of them, he can send those clouds across the seas to infect other parts of the world.    In time, his evil will turn all oceans into vast fields of mud and oil, impossible to travel over or through, filled with the same mutated monstrosities we saw over there. And eventually, the air will be so thick with these ashes that no sunlight will reach us anymore, at which point… salvation will no longer be possible.”

   You stop pacing then, once more wrapping your arms around yourself as if the winds have sent a chill through you, despite the heat he radiates towards you.    There is fear in your eyes as you are probably imagining the world his words are painting for you, but you bite it back, determined to find a solution.

   “So, what can we do? How do we stop him? Because I doubt we can save the spirits without first freeing them from his darkness.”

   “You are correct. Only the destruction of the Darkling will end his reign.    Unfortunately, aside from the spirits, I know of nothing which can kill him,” he admits, but you are undeterred by this.

   “You were there when they killed the last one, right?” you recall, to which he merely nods since he can guess where you are going with this. “So, how did they do it?”

   Oberyn has avoided visiting the details of this memory for a very long time, but you are right to ask this question, as even though the spirits are not going to be able to help you this time, their methods might reveal some useful information.

   “It happened nearly four millennia ago. He was a simple farmer, a good man by all accounts. Until a conflict in their settlement broke out and his wife and two children became the victims of circumstance.”

   “The Darkling had a family?” you skeptically question.

   “Unlike Simon, they are usually unaware of the evil within until something happens to them which is so painful that their souls are torn apart. This unleashes the darkness and forever destroys the person they once were.    This man went from a loving husband and father to a vicious beast, holding nothing back and sparing no one from his rage. He turned the lands upon which he had lived from a jungle teeming with life, into a pit of death into which countless thousands of people and animals were pulled and tortured to death. He had no wish to corrupt them or turn them into evil beings, he merely wished for all things to die as painfully as anything can.    Today, the place is known as the Lonar crater of southern India, but it was neither made by a meteor strike, nor as long ago as science estimates.”

   “His evil created a crater?”

   “When living things rooted to the ground are tainted with darkness, they spread it through the bedrock in search of other things to infect, which can lead to the collapse of entire mountains, given enough time.”

   “How much time?” you ask, and he can see in your eyes that you are worried about how long it might take before Simon’s evil will create eternal scars upon the Earth.

   “This Darkling reigned for three centuries before The Decem was able to stop him. And at that point, the entire European, Asian and African continents were covered in darkness.”

   He gives you a minute with that, because it seems to affect you most severely, but the story is not yet over.

   “I had no intention of joining the fight, as I could simply fly away from it, not wanting to realize that as it continued to spread, there would eventually be nowhere left to go.    But in the end, it was not the understanding that the world was ending which convinced me to go back, but simply the thought that I would not be the worst monster among such things. That in their midst, I might actually appear… beautiful.”

   You step closer to him then, unfolding your arms to place a gentle hand over his cheek. A silent reminder of how you see him, regardless of his form, and he takes a moment to lean into your touch.

   “I was late to the party, however,” he continues then. “For a mere fortnight I battled the darkened vegetation at the heart of its outbreak, trying to carve a path to the man responsible, unaware that I was closely monitored by the spirits.    At this point, only four of them had avoided getting caught by the darkness. Ursa, Papilio, Cervus and Equus.”

   “The elements,” you observe. “Are they somehow stronger than the others?”

   “Not stronger, but perhaps more resilient against corruption. Although, I don’t know why.    In any case, my efforts eventually led them to the Darkling, and once they had access to him, he never stood a chance.    He couldn’t see them coming, so when they all charged him together, he was immediately overpowered.    Ursa impaled him with her icicles, and then each of them took one limb and one direction, pulling him apart, not at the joints, but at the weakened area at the center of his chest where the spears of ice had already broken his spine and sternum.”

   “And that was it?”

   “No, he was still alive afterwards, bleeding black goop into the soil which seemed to superpower the mutated vegetation. Roots the size of redwoods erupted from the ground, all aiming for the spirits, because so long as he was still alive, the Darkling could reassemble himself.    But the elementals knew better. They had already abandoned the severed pieces, locating his heart instead. Not a lump of red flesh, but rather a small grey stone covered in coiled up vines.”

   “So, his heart has to be destroyed before he’ll ever really be dead? How predictable.”

   “Indeed. Had Scarabaeus been able to, she would’ve been the one to do it by simply passing through the stone, turning solid in the middle of it. But as she was already dead, Equus was the one who delivered the final blow,” Oberyn finishes, recalling the quaking bedrock in the aftermath of the horse’s powerful stomp.

   He closes his eyes for a few seconds then, hoping you have not detected the sorrow which plagues him at the memory, for he knows not how to explain it.    As much as he wishes to ensure you will be well informed of all aspects of your foe, he is leaving out one detail of this gruesome story. Which is that the man, the grieving human, had reemerged once his body had been broken and the darkness within him begun to pour out.    In those final moments before his life had truly been ended, he was just a devastated father, as tortured and tormented as those whom he had killed.

   Simon might be different, but he was not born with malicious intent. At some point, something must have happened to him to make him aware of his own darkness, and rather than fear it, he chose to embrace it. But before this, he was likely a normal human boy, with normal human feelings.    Which means if you succeed in stopping him, he might revert to that being in the moments before his end, and if this should happen, you will be forced to watch that boy die in agony.

   “Okay, dumb question maybe, but it still needs to be asked,” you sigh, while attempting to massage your own neck. “Can’t we just drop a small mountain on top of him, then? I mean, if all we need to do is crack his dead heart to pieces.”

   “Unfortunately, that won’t work, because even if his body is damaged, he can heal it so long as his heart is intact.”

   “And, let me guess: because it’s made of stone, the vines around it are enough to make it nearly indestructible from the outside?”

   You read the answer in his eyes without him even changing his expression, and you let your head hang low for a minute while you try to think.

   “You said that the other Darkling couldn’t detect the spirits. Is the same true for Simon?”

   “Yes. But since you’re human, he will be able to detect you.”

   “God damned it. Can’t we just catch one fucking break!” you end on a scream, turned away from him, sending your voice out over the mountain range where it echoes around for much longer than your ears can hear.

   He steps closer and wraps his arms around your waist from behind, feeling you relax into his chest almost as if unaware of it yourself.

   “How do we stand a chance without the spirits?” you ask, and in your voice, he can hear such pain.

   Not for fear that you will suffer, if he knows you as well as he believes to, but for fear of how much the world will suffer in each moment you stand idle, unable to act because of the staggering lack of options.

   “As Oberyn, I was able to carve a path for them through the death-lands. As Tyrannus, I am certain I can do the same for you, however powerful our foe might be.    The question we face is not how to reach him, but how to get close enough to rip his heart out when he is protected by the mighty nine.”

   For a long while, you stand silent within his embrace, although he feels certain he might be able to hear how hard you are thinking if he should focus well enough.    Then, something moves through you. He can feel it, not because you actually move, but through a sudden and very distinct shift in your energy.    No longer somber and despondent, you whirl around and take his hands, abruptly confident, as you appear to have uncovered something workable.

   “I might be human, but I’m also light itself. And if there’s any reason I can think of to keep me separate from the other spirits, it must be because I’m their protector.    My place in all this isn’t to fight the Darkling, it’s just to save them. That’s my purpose,” you animatedly explain, your eyes alight with understanding, while he remains uncertain.

   “But… how can you? They are no longer spirits at all; their very essences have been destroyed.”

   “No, I don’t believe that. Because if it was true, their mystical powers would’ve disappeared completely, but they haven’t, they’re just corrupted. I can bring them back, Oberyn.    Don’t you see? My light heals me because that’s what it was always meant to do: heal spirits.”

   Suddenly your confidence becomes infectious, as he realizes how much this all sounds true and right.    There must be a reason for your detachment to the others, a reason behind the fact that not even the protectors of this world can recognize you, and this might well be it.    But his hope is still stunted by one stubbornly persistent problem.

   “Alright. Then I suppose all you need to do is figure out how to use it,” he says, and sees the optimism disappear from your frame as if an arctic wind has swept by and stolen it.

   He takes a deep breath to re-center himself, reaching the conclusion that none of this is going to be solved right here and now. The world suffers while solutions evade you, but there is nothing to be done about that. If you rush in without a plan, one that actually has a fighting chance, you may well doom the earth to eternal darkness.

   “Come, my love. You need new clothes, food and a night’s rest. There’s a village close by; we will go there to recover for now.”

   You are not happy with this suggestion. He can see protests wanting to escape your mouth in the way you repeatedly search for the right words to voice your complaints. But in the end, you find none, allowing his reasoning to stand unchallenged.    Backing away, he brings forth the ancient beast, once again slightly offset by the extreme shifts in perspectives and sensory input. You look so small as he offers you his front paw and then lifts you up to his shoulder.

   Not wanting to scare people with a dramatic entrance, he decides to walk down the mountain, surprisingly well camouflaged against the snow and protruding rocks in the dark. But this does not prevent him from being spotted by a couple apparently living on the damned mountainside, where no one should have been able to build anything.    Slightly shocked to suddenly hear voices beneath him, he stops, finding their house perched on an outcrop, seemingly without any road or lift leading up to it.    How do they even get to the village for supplies?

   They are understandably equally shocked to see him, merely standing paralyzed as he observes them for a few moments.

   “Norwegians are unusual people,” he says to you in his mind, to which you chuckle.

   “The Vikings wouldn’t have been nearly as successful in their conquests if they’d allowed terrain to stand in their way.”

   He does not argue this point, as he has seen Vikings for himself and knows firsthand just how hardy and resilient they were.    You are still several miles from the village at this point, so the couple will likely not cause any widespread panic. He leaves their home untouched, walking carefully past it so as not to trigger any avalanches, and when he reaches the little town down by the fjord, it looks perfectly calm and still.

   Creeping as close as he dares, he doesn’t change back until he is just a few hundred yards from the closest houses, to keep the distance you will have to walk as short as possible since it takes so much more time. But no one seems to notice.    It’s late, but the tourist center should still be open, and they often have emergency supplies for unfortunate travelers, such as clothes, in the event someone’s luggage is lost, and stores are closed.    It is easy to find, sporting large flags on top of the single-story building, and it is still open.

   “Hei, vhordan kan jeg hjelpe deg?” a tall blonde woman behind the reception greets when you approach her desk.

   “Hi, we’re American,” you start, and the woman immediately repeats her greeting in English, which you politely thank her for before continuing. “As you can see, I’m in dire need of some new clothes. You wouldn’t happen to have some sweaters and jackets for sale, would you?”

   “Certainly, follow me and I’ll show you where,” the receptionist smiles while getting up to assist you. “May I ask what happened?”

   “Oh, that’s a long story and I’m very tired. Do you know if any hotel in town might have a room available?”

   “There’s only one hotel here, but last I heard they weren’t fully booked for this week. It’s easy to find, just head down to the water and follow the road, you’ll see the signs.”

   “Thank you,” you reply as you arrive in the gift shop area of the center, where there is an entire section devoted to equipping both humans and common pets to survive arctic weather.

   You know your size and pick a thinner sweater along with a thicker jacket, to give you more options based on where in the world you and Oberyn might end up next. But as you are beginning to move back towards the receptionist’s desk, where the items must be paid, you lean closer to him and whisper.

   “Uh, I’m assuming you have some way of paying for this, because I don’t.”

   “Not to worry, darling. I never go anywhere without this,” he says, while pulling out a blank card from a concealed pocket in the side of his coat.

   It connects to a bank account in the name of one Christopher Wilkins, who does not exist except on paper, but has a few million dollars all the same. Oberyn has twenty of these identities, all of which have similar accounts at dozens of different banks around the world, which all together adds up to over one billion dollars.    He offers the card for payment and the purchase goes through without difficulty.    You get changed in the bathroom before you leave the tourist center, walking towards the hotel hand in hand, when northern lights suddenly appear above you.

   “Are you doing this, Valya?” he asks with a smile, knowing he is probably wrong but wanting to believe it could be true.

   “If I am, it’s not by choice,” you sigh, looking up at the dancing green spectacle with awe. “I wish it were, though.”

   The hotel is as easy to locate as the receptionist suggested, and you arrive to find the doors open despite the clock on the wall next to it reading nearly 11 pm.    Only half of the thirty rooms are occupied, so he pays for a night in a larger suite even though the two of you do not require so much space. He just wants you to be comfortable, and the suite has a bathtub, which he feels might be needed to get you to relax.

   The hotel uses old-fashioned keys for the rooms, so once inside, he drops them into a plastic bowl on a sideboard in the hall, and then immediately begins to work on the buttons of his coat.    You hang up your new jacket, kick off your snowy wet boots, and head straight for the double bed to lay down.

   “I feel like I could sleep for a week. But you’re probably not even tired.”

   “Not like you, but I could do with a few hours. Adjusting to Tyrannus has taken a bit more effort than my usual transformation. Plus, we don’t know when we might get the chance to rest again.”

   Shrugging off the coat, he hangs it up in the hallway closet and sits down on a stool helpfully placed beside the closet, to unlace his shoes.

   “And what about food?” you inquire, turning your head towards him as you have undoubtedly not forgotten the green dragon’s appetite and likely draw the conclusion that the much larger white one must require much more.

   “Strange though it may seem, aside from a rather unusual craving for pistachios, both my alter ego and I are perfectly fine,” he explains, momentarily wondering if the hotel restaurant might be open, and if he should go in search of some nuts.

   However, once the moment passes, he feels only confused by his own hankering.

   “But you haven’t eaten anything all day, and you’ve been fighting a lot.”

   “Actually, I did eat some unfortunate bystanders in Detroit,” he recalls, which prompts you to sit up on the edge of the bed.

   “Detroit was horrible. In every way. All those emergency responders… they died horrifically, and I just stood there,” you remember, and tears form in your eyes at the images which must be burning the insides of them. “I couldn’t do anything.”

   “No, you could not have helped them. Those creatures may have been alone, untethered to the greater darkness, but that is also what made them so erratic and unpredictable, though still just as deadly.”

   “Yeah…” you agree, turning your gaze down to your own hands, but then something seems to occur to you, as a crease bothers your brows. “But I made one of them stop.”

   This surprises Oberyn, who is just about to stand having finished with his shoes, and instead remain still as he waits for you to elaborate.

   “I yelled at it to stop, and it did. Just for a moment, and right before you came barreling onto the same street, but it stopped. And it looked angry about it.”

   “As if it had been halted against its will?”

   “That’s what it felt like, but I can’t be sure. Do you think I could’ve managed to command it somehow? Is that something Lux could do?”

   “Possibly. The true power of Day is her ability to spread hope. If you were desperate enough, it is conceivable that you could have forced this creature to stop by using the sunlight as a physical barrier.”

   “I can do that?”

   “I should think so. You created an entire human being with it, I’d say you could definitely stop one little monster if you set your mind to it,” he winks at you, before getting up and moving towards the bathroom.

   “If only I knew how the hell I do these things,” you say as he disappears into the tiled space and turns on the tap for the tub.

   “You’ll figure it out, I have no doubts about that,” he replies while checking the temperature of the water, returning to the bedroom before he continues. “On a more positive note, the innocents I killed in Detroit will be the last innocents ever to fall victim to my beast. Nothing like that will ever happen again, because this dragon doesn’t need food of any kind.”

   You have your head resting in your hands when he emerges from the bathroom, but you straighten out as you hear his words, and quietly trace his path over to the bed where he takes a seat beside you.

   “Really? How can you be certain? You’ve only had it in you for a few hours.”

   “Did you not notice the complete lack of stomach acid in there.”

   “I did, but I figured maybe you had another stomach somewhere and I just wasn’t far enough through the system to be at any risk of digestion.”

   “No there’s only one stomach, but this dragon stopped eating long before Lux changed him. And even when he did eat, it was at a time before organic life had evolved into actual creatures, so he fed only on magma and rocks. It’s what made him grow to such a size and develop those incredibly thick scales.”

   “Yeah, I’ll bet. Who needs protein when you’ve got minerals.”

   He smiles at you then, even though you are not trying to be amusing, delivering the phrase with sarcasm rather than joviality. You are too tired to enjoy yourself now, so instead of contesting your mildly snarky attitude, he sweeps you off the bed and into his arms in a swift and soft movement, returning to the bathroom where he puts you down in front of the just filled up tub.

   “Are you trying to tell me I’m dirty without using any words?” you ask, still presenting the same general irritation, which is why he merely continues to smile warmly while he undresses you.

   It takes only minutes for the hot water to begin relaxing you, while Oberyn gently helps you wash your back and shoulders, then your feet, before leaving you to just soak and warm your battered muscles while he steps over to the shower and rinses himself off.    He is surprised to find that he has neglected to notice you leaving the tub, when your hands are suddenly returning the favor, rubbing liquid soap into his back. But he loves the feeling, having never experienced such care from a partner before, and remains still to let you work.

   Before long, you are both clean from head to toe, which is when the caring touches change character, becoming craving instead.    He brings you back to the bed without bothering to grab a towel on the way, abruptly needing you so badly he cannot wait long enough even for you to squeeze the bulk of the water from your hair.

   Last night had been soft and tender, but when he enters you tonight, it is with fervency, perhaps even a streak of frenzy, giving you hardly any time to adjust before he is already working up a strong rhythm with firm snaps of his hips, making you jolt with each one.    He feels strangely uncontrolled. Fully aware that such treatment could hurt you, but utterly unable to stop himself. Something drives his body which is not so simple a thing as lust. There is a deeper purpose at work, one he cannot discern, but remains a slave to for now.

   You seem only pleased with him, though, showing no indication of distress or discomfort, meeting his forceful movements with an equally firm resistance, as if under the same spell he is.    The need drives him so relentlessly that he reaches his peak in mere minutes, coming hard within the depths of your being, where he is so warmly received.    But you do not follow.

   As he stills above you, your body remains unsatisfied, which gives him a sickly feeling to his stomach, because however much he seeks his own pleasure, yours is the real price. But this entire copulation has felt off, which intensifies his disappointment with himself, so when he pulls back, seeking your eyes so that he might beg your forgiveness, he is more than ashamed of himself. He feels rotten.

   The feeling leaps away, however, when shock takes its place as he sees your face.    Your eyes are frozen, staring at nothing, and the tension in your body has given way to complete relaxation. Too complete.

   “Valya?” he whispers, unable to bring any strength to his voice because what he sees within your eyes now is not life.

   “Lux?” he tries, even weaker now, hoping merely your human form is lost to him, while the spirit remains.

   Your own alter ego taking over, much as the dragon has done to him in the past.    But there is no response from you. No breath. No pulse.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   You feel wonderful. Even when he pounds into you, all you experience is pleasure, wanting more no matter how good he makes you feel. The pressure builds and shifts, flowing through you at different intensities depending on your breaths, which muscles are tense and which nerves are most directly affected.    It feels like flying through clouds of pure pleasure, devoid of thoughts or intentions.

   And then it just… stops.    You feel how he comes, and you’re just one moment away from following up with the best orgasm of your life when everything suddenly goes quiet and still. Not just around you, but in you. No more pleasure, no more heat or sweat or even the cold sensation of the sticky fabric underneath your head, drenched by the water from your hair.

   Opening your eyes, you find yourself elsewhere. There’s no Oberyn, no bed, no hotel room. You’re not even sure there’s an Earth.    But there is a presence.    Nothing around you is identifiable, the best you can come up with is that it looks like something Jackson Pollock might’ve painted if someone had asked him what life on a gas-giant might look like. And yet, something here is familiar.

   It’s neither light nor dark, and at the same time it’s both, but it’s almost like your eyes and brain aren’t designed to interpret what they’re seeing, so all you get is a colorful mess with the appearance of a flashlight slowly spinning around in the middle of it.    Then you seem to blink, and suddenly you’re staring at yourself, as if there was a mirror in front of you. Only your reflection doesn’t move with you.

   “Hello?” you try to say, but no sound comes out, leaving you wondering if you even have a mouth here.

 �� That’s when you realize you aren’t breathing either, so wherever you are, this is a place outside of normal space.    You wonder if it could be some form of heaven, although you don’t believe in that, but it also doesn’t seem like it would be.    No, in your heart you know this is something else. Important to you, specifically.

   Your reflection doesn’t move, but you feel certain it holds answers for you, so you try walking towards it. Your legs don’t seem to move at all, but you still glide closer to the other you, so perhaps all you need to do is think of the movement.    When you get closer, her chest starts to glow, as if there’s a shining gem halfway between her throat and her breasts. Then she raises her hands to show you how they’ve started shining as well, right in the centers of the palms, getting brighter with each passing moment.

   Eventually, the light becomes so bright you can’t see anything anymore, but your eyes remain open, unbothered by the complete whiteness.    And that’s when you suddenly understand what this is.    Why it happened in the middle of a moment of passion, you have no fucking clue, but given how important it is, you don’t linger on the inexplicable, taking the win instead.

   Because you’ve finally found Lux. Somewhere within yourself, she connects you to this other place. Her world. Outside all other aspects of reality, by the looks of it, but clearly also able to interact with everything, everywhere.    She made you, but at the same time, she is you, and here in her world, you’re able to see things the way she does. You understand the power of light and the ways in which you can bend it to your will, as if you’d done nothing else your whole life.

   And once everything is clear to you, once you’ve unlocked all this knowledge she put in you from the start, the whiteness turns to dark, gravity returns, your lungs expand on reflex as oxygen once again exists, and you open your eyes to find that the darkness was just the insides of your own eyelids.

   Surprisingly, though, it isn’t Oberyn’s face you look up at, but rather two very shocked paramedics, who despite their training, freeze when you come to.    Apparently, you’ve been “dead” for a while.

   “Oh… Well, this is awkward,” you say to try and relieve the tension, and then there’s a loud racket before Oberyn appears beside you, having risen so quickly his chair fell over.

   He doesn’t speak, but his eyes scream of the pain he’s suffered in however long a time you’ve been unresponsive, so to ease his worries, you ignore the urgings of the medical staff for you to remain still, and sit up to hug him. He trembles like a leaf in your arms, holding you very tightly, before he reaches down behind you to pull the covers up over your bare shoulders. You hadn’t even reflected on the fact that you’re naked.

   “What happened?” he finally asks, his voice sore with how hard he must’ve cried.

   But you smile in return, so filled with hope now that not even his sorrow can dampen your spirits.

   “You brought me to the light, honey,” you tell him, and his sadness gives way to confusion.

   There’s no quick or easy way to explain what you’ve just experienced, so you settle for the most important part, which can’t be seen, only felt.    You reach out and place one hand on the shoulder of the paramedic closest to you, locating the darkness in her heart without effort.

   “Don’t worry about your father, Nora. He’s not going to hurt himself, he just needs you to stop and listen to his pain,” you say, feeling her father’s agony through the bond of love between them. “You always want to fix everything that hurts, but sometimes pain has a purpose. Let him tell you about it, and I promise you, he will be alright.”

   The middle-aged woman looks at you as if you’ve just reached into her heart and given it a good twist, which in truth, you sort of have.

   “H-… How do you kn-…?” she tries, but then sorrow rocks through her, stealing her voice.

   To answer her, you let the hand at her shoulder channel the light from your own heart, and it glows for just a second as you pour hope into her being.    Her sorrow immediately lessens, brightening her eyes and smoothing the tense lines around her mouth.    You smile softly at her, and she nods in gratitude, even though she doesn’t understand what’s just happened, before starting to pack up their gear. Her colleague looks like one giant question mark, but apparently decides not to argue.

   They leave a minute later, and Oberyn places a hand at your jaw, drawing your gaze back to him.

   “I do not pretend to understand anything of what has just transpired here, but… you are ready now. Aren’t you? To fight.”

   “I am,” you confirm. “I know what we need to do.”

   “Does that mean we’re going back to America?”

   “No,” you firmly state, finally without a shred of doubt within you. “It means we’re going everywhere else.”

Part 11

The Ten Spirits of the World Air - Forest - Water - Stone - Night - Autumn - Winter - Spring - Summer.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! If you wish to be notified when this story is updated, follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications, or just ask nicely, and I'll tag you.

@harriedandharassed @kittenlittle24 @joelswritingmistress @pedrostories

[strawberrykidneystone]

Interspecies Liason

garrus vakarian x female shepard fluff

summary: after being gone on Omega on a solo mission away from the crew to help aria, shepard needed a break. luckily, the 7 foot turian she was thinking about was waiting for her in her cabin.

a/n: i literally tried to romance someone else the second time i played mass effect but i just ended up with garrus again LMAO

tags: fluff, shepard is tired, ooc bc garrus says i love you before the end, cuddling

ao3 version

after dealing with cerberus and resisting shooting petrovsky in the head for the bullshit he was spewing about them someday being friends, shepard needed a distraction before they headed back out to save the galaxy again. she boarded the Normandy again and nodded tiredly to traynor as she hastily made her way into the elevator. she pulled off her headpiece and started peeling off her armor as the lift rose up to her cabin, leaving her in a tank top and armored bottoms as she held the discarded attire in her arms. the elevator dinged and she crossed the small corridor, the weight of her shoulders dropping slightly as the door opened up to the familiar space that she had made her own.

but there was an "intruder" in her room.

fortunately, it was just the turian she wanted to see.

he had his back to her as he was adjusting her bedding, it looked like he had changed her sheets and comforter cover while she was off on her mission. her shoulders relaxed as a warm smile tugged on her lips. garrus wasn't always good with his words, but he knew how to show that he cared for her through other means. he brought extra pillows from his own bed, he rarely slept in his room anymore and shepard was more than happy to have him in her cabin. he wasn't in his usual armor, instead, he was wearing his green and blue loungewear over his plates.

shepard quietly walked up to him from behind and wrapped her arms around his torso, nuzzling her cheek into his soft shirt, "hey there big guy."

her thumbs ran up and down his sides as he chuckled, his chest humming happily. he rested his arms over hers and his blunt talons brushed against her skin, "you're back."

he turned around in her arms to face her and cupped her face with his hands, his eyes quickly darting over her to make sure that she wasn't injured. as his eyes ran over her body, he saw that she was already in the process of getting undressed. his mandibles quirked up with an expression that she had come to know as a teasing one, "couldn't even wait until you were in the room to get undressed for me? how unbecoming of you commander."

shepard groaned and shook her head, leaning her forehead against his chest, "we finally got all the gangs on our side, i know the backstreets of omega a little too well for my liking."

garrus placed his hand on back of her head and petted her hair softly, his other hand rested on her hip. "you did good shepard, now it's time to get some rest."

"but-"

"no buts, the galaxy can wait a bit. even the great commander shepard needs rest."

shepard sighed in defeat and nodded, looking up at him. garrus leaned his head down and pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes in contentment. his hand moved from her hip and started rubbing her back, his thumb moving in circles every so often. shepard's posture softened as she hugged his waist, pulling him as close to her as possible while still keeping his forehead against hers, reveling in the turian's traditional kiss.

"come on, lets get you to bed sweetheart," garrus leaned down and pressed his lip plates against shepard's soft lips. she smiled into the kiss and pulled away, stripping down her armored pants which left her in her tank top and underwear.

garrus pulled her to their shared bed by her hand, falling back and pulling her on top of him. she quickly clung to him and closed her eyes, letting herself relax. shepard tried to forget about the reapers, the galaxy relying on her, the alliances she still needed to make, and all the lives lost, god it was all just too much sometimes.

but then, she looked up at garrus and it all seemed to melt away. he was here with her at this moment and that was enough. he was her world, everything else didn't matter while she was safe in his arms.

"i love you vakarian."

"i love you too shepard."

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Unwanted animal | part 6

Summary: Because that unwanted animal wants nothing more than to get out.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1283

a/n: bit of a shorter chapter, but still important

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @strangegardentaco @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

All parts: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

“You can’t go on this mission, Y/N.” Steve sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“Oh, come on!” She groans, slumping on her seat. The team is in a conference room, gathering intel for today’s mission. “It’s been days since the incident and I feel completely normal. I can do this.”

“No, that’s final. We need to make sure the gas didn’t leave any lasting effects, besides, you need to rest.”

Natasha sets her hand on Y/N’s thigh, “Steve is right, honey.” The team knows of their relationship. “I’m going to stay here with you, so you don’t need to be out of the loop by yourself.” She grins, making Y/N smile too.

“Fine, but I’m not happy about it.”

“We don’t expect you to be.” Steve gathers the files on one pile with a small smile on his face. He likes to see Natasha happy, she’s one his closest friends after all. “Do something fun, we’ll be gone the whole day.”

“But remember to wear protection!” Tony comments with a smirk.

Natasha and Y/N decide to take a long walk together. First, they walked through a park, stopping at a lake to feed some ducks seeds they bought from the corner store. Then they decided to visit the library and get Y/N a library card, as she has never read books for fun.

After this, they go to a busy shopping street and look at the things on the windows. “I’m sorry you couldn’t go on the mission.” Natasha says, holding onto Y/N’s hand so they wouldn’t lose each other to the mass of people around them.

“It’s okay,” Y/N looks around the street, “at least I get to spend time with you.”

Smiling, Natasha squeezes her hand. They walk past multiple different stores, stopping in front of interesting looking windows. There are jewelries, clothes, home decor, alcohol and so on.

The stop in front of a antique store. “Do you want to v-“ Natasha turns to her side, but she stops talking once she notices Y/N isn’t beside her anymore. “Y/N?”

Frowning, she starts looking around her, pushing people out of her way to see better. She can’t see Y/N anywhere and she’s starting to panic, worried something bad has happened.

“Y/N!” She starts shouting. Her usually very calm demeanor during distress has completely disappeared. It’s almost like she’s not able to think rationally when it comes to her girlfriend. All she feels is instant worry and panic. This isn’t how she’s supposed to act. She picks up her phone and starts looking for Y/N’s number, but before she can click it, someone taps on her shoulder. She lets out a sigh of relief as she turns around, Y/N is standing there, smiling like nothing is wrong.

“Wow!” Y/N laughs as Natasha practically launches herself into her. “What’s wrong?”

“Where the hell were you? You just disappeared.” Natasha holds Y/N at arms length, her hands on her shoulders. “I was so worried.”

“Nowhere,” there’s a small smile on her face, “I was just window shopping at the store around the corner, didn’t notice you already moved on.”

“Oh.” Her hands drop. “Okay.”

“Come on, I want to see the rest of the street.” Y/N grabs Natasha’s hand and starts pulling her along. Natasha is still frowning, but she follows along, not wanting to dwell too much on it.

The microwave hums as it heats Wanda’s leftovers for dinner to Y/N and Natasha, the latter waiting in front of it for them to get ready. Y/N is nowhere to be seen, but this time she did tell Natasha she’d be gone for a moment.

She opens the microwave door once it starts beeping and portions equal amounts of food to two different plates. The smell of the food is out of this world. Natasha still doesn’t understand how Wanda is such a good cook, when she can barely make a cup of instant noodles.

Bringing the two plates to the common room, she sits down to the couch and waits for Y/N to come back so they could start watching a movie together. It takes a few minutes before Natasha can hear footsteps coming towards the room. Y/N walks into the room with a wide smile on her face, and her hands behind her back. “I got you a gift.” She sits down next to her, and gives her a box with a satin coating.

Natasha opens the box and gasps. There’s a gold necklace with a red teardrop pendant on it. “This is why you disappeared earlier today?” She turns around so Y/N can put the necklace on her. The chain is short, the pendant lays right between Natasha’s collarbones. She twirls it between her two fingers, smiling. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Y/N rubs her arm, “do you like it?”

“I love it.” She moves her hand behind Y/N’s neck and pulls her into a deep kiss.

She smiles into the kiss, pushing in to kiss her again before pulling away. “I wanted to get you something, to show you, that I love you too.” Natasha’s eyes widen. “I remember you saying that you love me after the gas, but I wasn’t in the right state of mind to say it back, so, I’m saying it now. I love you.”

Natasha’s eyes are starting to get wet as tears gather into them, “I love you too. I really do.”

“Besides, I wanted to tell you that, you might think that you’ll never be able to wipe away the red from your ledger,” Y/N holds onto Natasha’s hands, who is listening intently, “but that’s okay, because it shows how much you’ve grown and changed. You’re a good person and your past cannot take that away from you. No matter how much you want to forget, the Red Room is a part of you, an important part, but you wouldn’t be here without it.”

“Thank you.” Natasha has the most sincere smile as she could have. She can’t fathom what she has done in her life to get this lucky, to have someone like Y/N with her. “I’m glad I’m here, with you.”

Y/N sets one of her hands on Natasha’s cheek, rubbing it with her thumb. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here, because this is exactly where I’m meant to be.” She tilts her head, smiling as they hold eye contact with each other.

“I hope I get to be with you for the rest of my life.” Natasha whispers.

“You will, I’m not going anywhere.”

The two kiss before cuddling together on the couch, laying under a blanket. Natasha puts the movie on, and they lay there watching it until they fall asleep.

The cool air hitting Y/N’s face makes her smile. Her elbows are resting on the windowsill in her room as she looks at the bustling street below her. Anyone could get lost out there.

She has had all the privileges for a long while now, but she never opened her window before, mostly because she has been spending most of her time in Natasha’s room. But at this moment, being all alone in her room with an open window, she almost regrets not doing this more often.

The crisp air has made her nose cold, but she doesn’t mind. It reminds her of all the missions she used to be on in the rural parts of the world. She breathes in the freshness, and breathes out everything else on her mind. This moment alone makes her certain everything will turn out okay.

Everything is perfect.

[ageless-aislynn]

Nobody asked me any of these but, honestly, I wanted to know the answers to some of them myself, so... I'm answering what I want anyway! 🤷‍♀️😉

ao3 wrapped [writers edition]

How many words have you written this year?

I'm counting this as how many words in something that I posted, which is 14,819. A lot more than I expected, honestly, but most of it came from me doing several chapters of "15 Minutes" early in the year. 😉

How many works did you publish this year?

9 chapters in all, but only 4 individual works.

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

"Sentence Starters Short Fic Collection" (Soap and Ghost, Call of Duty, Kaidan x Shepard, Mass Effect and Kai and Vannak, Halo the series) Yeah, they're all suuuuuper short but I'm always proud of myself whenever I write anything at all for fandoms/characters I've never attempted before. 😎👍

What work of yours has the most hits?

Definitely "15 Minutes" (John x female Reader, Halo the series). I'll never have anything else that will get this sort of response and I'm going to miss it when it's over. But I AM finishing it. Someway. Some how.

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

"15 Minutes," yet again. It was meant to be a one-shot and then people liked it and asked for more.

Favorite title you used

"It's All Coming Along" (Master Chief, Halo/Halo the series) Never post things you wrote while in the middle of a bad insomnia bout, kids. You'll think something is funny and everybody else will probably not. I've debated removing this one but finally thought, eh, so it's dumb, that doesn't mean that one day, somebody might get a laugh from my puns. If not, then welp, I'm woman enough to have a total dud in my collection.🤷‍♀️😂

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

Didn't use song lyrics this year but I have in the past. I honestly just use whatever artist or song fits the story or theme. I have a really eclectic bunch of artists that I like, so you never know what'll pop up.

Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

John x female Reader, since "15 Minutes" had so many chapters and "It's All Coming Along" is technically a John x Reader as well. "Recreation" is Kai x male Reader and the Sentence Starters I've already mentioned above. 😉

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

It's actually the female OC/Frank West from my Dead Rising AU titled "Turn Back." They're the only ones I can consistently sit down and just bang out blocks of hundreds of words. I dunno why. 🤷‍♀️

What work was the quickest to write?

"It's All Coming Along" took literally two hours from "Hey, wouldn't it be funny if...?" to me hitting post. Don't do that, kids. Have a nap first if you haven't slept in, like 40 hours. Don't commit fiction, lol. 😆😴

What work took you the longest to write?

"15 Minutes" which was started 2 years ago along with "Recreation" probably deserves that "honor" for more than one reason, lol.

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

In addition to finishing "15 Minutes" and "Recreation," I have 6 others: "Untitled Fluffy Vannak fic" (Halo the series), "Choices" (Noble Team choose your own Spartan adventure, Halo: Reach), "The Price" (Caitlin Frost/Hunter Zolomon, The Flash), "Guardian Angel" (Time Wraith!Caitlin Snow/Eobard Thawne, The Flash), "Split" (Caitlin Snow/Eobard Thawne, The Flash) and "Try" (TomCav!Eobard Thawne/Caitlin Snow/Mattobard!Eobard Thawne, The Flash).

What’s your longest work of the year?

"15 Minutes" chapters 7 - 11 totaled 12,064 words on their own.

What’s your shortest work of the year?

"It's All Coming Along" at 106 words

What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

I'm dragging all 8 of them with me, lol.

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

I'm terrible at tagging so most of my tags are just pairings or the occasional warning I feel might be needed.

Your favorite character to write this year?

I'll always love writing for Master Chief John-117, my beloved. I also really love writing Cortana.

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

All of them. Writer's block suuuuuucks. 😭

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

Honestly, once I finish my WIPs I feel like I'm done. I'll probably keep writing things like my Dead Rising AU and my handful of Mass Effect: Andromeda fics but they're all totally just for me, not to be posted. If something pops to mind, I'll write it but, for the most part, I don't think fandom in general needs me anymore, lol.

Which work of yours have you reread the most?

"15 Minutes" because I'm trying to make sure I keep things consistent and wrap up any loose ends.

How many kudos in total did you get this year?

I can't really tell because there's no way to sort out the kudos that "15 Minutes" and "Recreation" already had on them. Excluding them, though, 21.

Which work has the most comments?

"15 Minutes."

Did you do any collaborative works this year?

No, I could barely work with myself this year, lol. I'm lousy at collabs, unfortunately.

Did you write any gifts this year?

No.

Did you receive any gifts this year?

No.

What’s your most common category?

I guess I technically write (hopefully) humorous romance?

What do you listen to while writing?

My inner editor screaming NO1CURRS and that I'm wasting my time even trying to finish my WIPs. I try to drown her out with various playlists. Here's one.

Favorite work you wrote this year?

Again, it's probably the "Turn Back" Dead Rising AU or "The Best Mistake" (Gil x OC, Mass Effect: Andromeda AU). Of my posted stuff, though, "15 Minutes."

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

"Look, it's not my fault that that penguin documentary was kinda lame and—"

"IT WAS NOT!" Vannak bellowed back and took a swing at her that would've definitely put a marine in the infirmary for a month, if not in the ground, permanently. For Kai, it would've at the very least mussed her hair. "Those penguins are adorable and—"

"Lame. Laaaaaame," she singsonged, ducking a flurry of punches, then doing a very impressive parkour run up the wall into a backflip that sent her soaring over the enraged Spartan's head.

"THEY'RE NOT LAME, YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"

"Sentence Starters Short Fic Collection" Chapter 3, Kai and Vannak, Halo the series. For some reason, I absolutely LOVE the idea they're arguing over whether penguins are adorable or not, lol!

Biggest surprise while writing this year?

That I haven't totally given up. It's been verrrrrry close, friends. But every time I've thought, "Eh, why keep trying?" a comment will pop up, thanking me for writing something that gave them a laugh or the like and that'll give me the strength to keep in the fight. If there's even one person left who wants to read how these end or who'll check out the ones I haven't started posting yet, then I want to finish them.

Here's the original post if you'd like to reblog it for yourself or hey, if you'd like to just go ahead and answer it, no asks require, lol!

[peachy-skies-writings]

Headcanon Requests are Open!

Hey everyone,

I've decided to try out requests by opening them for headcanons only. If it goes well, I might open up my requests for fics.

Currently, I only write fluff or angst. I'm building my way up to writing smut (I'm nervous). These will be x reader (pls specify if you want male or female. If you don't, I'll just do GN!)

I'll write them asap but I work and study full time so might have a lil delay on them.

Please see below a list of people I'll do headcanons for below the cut :D If there's anything you're not sure of, please ask.

Stardew Valley

Bachelors

Bachelorettes

Voltron Legendary Defender

Shiro

Keith

Lance

Hunk

Allura

Coran

Lotor

Mass Effect

Garrus

Kaiden

Miranda

Tali

Liara

Thane

Dragon Age

Alistair

Fenris

Anders

Isabella

Solas

Cullen

Sera

Cassandra

Baldur's Gate 3

Astarion

Gale

Wyll

Karlach

Shadowheart

Lae'Zel

Halsin

Stranger Things

Steve

Eddie

Robin