#not whenever my body decides to flare up

[perfectfuckups]

Self inflicted pain >>> Chronic Pain

[screampied]

imagine the jjk mens reaction when readers giving them a bj and when they say swallow she decides to be a lil brat & spits it out 🫣🫣

GOING DOWN ON THEM ☆ JJK MEN

sukuna, toji, choso, geto, gojo. their reaction to you being a brat when they tell you to swallow

☆ total wc. 1.8k+

☆ warnings. afab!reader, oral (m), degradation, hair pulling, brat taming, facefucking, praise, messy.

☆ an. this is so filthy i loveeee.

TOJI ☆ FUSHIGURO.

toji’s got a firm rough grip on your head—your strands interlock within his as he stares at you putting your mouth to good use. his nostrils flare at the sight of how messy you were, strands of your own spit pouring down your mouth and he grunts out a cursed, “f-fuckin' shit.”

your knees feel benumbed as it sunk into the depths of the carpet floor. bobbling your head up and down, up and down, a repetitive motion that’s got his beefy thigh clenching.

“gettin' close, girl. ‘s good, keep using that slutty tongue,”

and his voice shudders a bit. using as much stimulation as you could with your tongue. toji grunts once he finishes inside your mouth. it's a lot, it’s warm and it coats your tongue freely. the mere mutter taste of it has you squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment before toji grips your chin. “swallow it now, baby. like ya promised.”

you stare up at toji before with a “pft,” you end up spitting it out with a huge grin—it lands on his lap and you watch his facial expressions change completely, he gives you that stare that’s practically just enough to get you moist.

“did you just spit it out…?” he grumbles, taking a glance at his shorts—using a thumb to swipe some excess of his cum from the side of your lips.

“sorry.” you snickered, and toji’s visibly pissed. for some reason, whatever it was just seeing his jaw slightly clench at your brattiness was sexy, deeply attractive. him being all stern because of your change of behavior.

toji glares. “you ain’t sorry,” and you gasp, watching him press your lips together with two fingers—intently giving you a mean serious stare. “since y’er apologizing, think you should make it up by cleaning my lap with your tongue, whore. get to it.”

CHOSO ☆ KAMO.

he’s so vocal whenever you’re sucking him off, the way your tongue polishes and flicks against his sensitive frenulum—it gives him shivers all over his body.

swallowing a lump in his throat, choso fails to maintain eye contact with you because he can’t stand to see your pretty face getting ruined.

“baby, y-you’re gonna make me cum too quick again,” he’d whine, his abs flex together as he’s trying to focus on his breathing. each time his plump tip reaches the roof of your throat, you gag and he always pauses to ask if you’re okay. he can’t help it—you’d give him a reassuring smile saying that’s supposed to happen, and he gets relieved, only to forget and ask and check on you again. “princess, you always k-know how to do it so well.”

choso massages your scalp with the edges of his soft fingertips, softly helping you pull yourself up his shaft and his right thigh is just bouncing.

he’s feeling everything build up and his moans were just so loud, slutty even.

“b-baby, 'm gonna shoot 'n your mouth,” he’d hiccup—his own voice becoming strained, you’re so sloppy with your throat it has his mind racing constantly, biting down on his lip he ends up releasing right inside to where it paints all on your tongue.

he’s catching his breath—a hand combing through his air as he’s feeling himself get a tad bit woozy from your tongue, yet hears you spit out his cum and he moans. “you’re so hot,” he whimpers, his voice was more of a murmur. “did i give you too much…?” and choso's voice lowers a bit, although it’s still cute and whiney—he grabs onto your chin and makes you nod. “…yeah? i’m sorry baby.”

but choso can’t help but lightly slap his tip against your dampened lips, opening his mouth before another moan escapes—shaking his head from left to right with a needy scoff. “actually, n-no i’m not. i’m really f-fuckin' not.”

SUKUNA ☆ RYŌMEN.

sukuna's just an asshole.

an even bigger one once you decide to be bratty, he can’t stand brats more than anything. so for you to even try to spit out his precious cum..

he’d be in manspread, pulling the thin fabric of his kimono to the side out of your way every few seconds—he grunts at the sloppy sounds you make, you’re bringing all your focus towards his base with your tongue, then towards his tip.

“good girl. no talkin' just take it,” he sighs, dragging you against his cock, a sinister grin pressed on his lips once he watches you stare up at him with glossed eyes, pretty lashes fluttering throughout each moment you blinked. your mascara was pretty much ruined by now. “got so much to give you.”

he feels hot, the tension arising within him makes him lightly pierce his fangs into his teeth—and once he came, he groans, feeling it trickle into your mouth in tiny spurts. a thick amount flows inside, and it’s so much it makes your cheeks appear big and its cute. “ya know what to do with it. swa-”

“…pff,” you’d spat, strings of his own seed running down your chin—such a mess. as soon as sukuna witnesses that and the frisky grin on your face, he narrows his eyes at you.

“now, little girl. i didn’t say spit, i said swallow,” he glares, sukuna’s voice pitched into a deep rasp.

a left hand of his that’s dug into the roots of your hair is fully attached—his claws softly graze against your scalp as he tugs on your hair. a slight yank to where you’re facing him. “diso-fuckin'-bediant little thing you are huh…lose the smile. better yet open your mouth. since you wanna do that, let me spit in your mouth 'n see how you’d like that, whore.”

GOJO ☆ SATORU.

gojo’s more on the dirty side—actually, he’s as filthy as it comes to you.

he doesn’t mind you swallowing just as much as if you don’t, but once you tell him that you’ll swallow he grows ecstatic.

“s-shit, eyes up here, babe,” he swiftly taps his thumb against your chin and you look up at him. gojo moans a awkward, “oh hey…” and he’s just about reaching his limit—you’re making him feel so good, he unoccupied hand gropes onto his thigh and he swipes a tongue across his lips. “fuck…your tongue’s gonna make me cum again.”

you’re making sure to use as much saliva, flickering your tongue and allowing it to roam everywhere—your gag reflex stimulates for a second the moment gojo’s dick tickles against the very back of your throat.

you run your wet lips against his mushroom-tip, using a free hand to play without yourself since you were already soaking as is, gojo shivers once he feels you start to plant soft kisses against the crown of his cock before seconds later—he ends up shooting a long stringy rope of cum down your throat. he swallows whatever pride he had left, and he feels a bit lightheaded as he slouches in his chair.

huffing and puffing out a whimpering, “love that nasty mouth of yours s-s’much.”

he stares at you, a needy impatient pout forming as he waits for it. waits for you to swallow, but you let it spill down past your lips, spitting it out and he dramatically gasps with a slight pout. “are you crazy? don't you know how much my cum is worth?”

he’s obviously joking, then again it’s…gojo. he leans down and brings you up towards him and wraps a hand around your throat.

“baby…gimme a kiss so it doesn’t go to waste,” and his voice sounds so pathetically sweet, he brings his shaky lips up to yours, stealing a long deep kiss. he doesn’t even care he’s licking his own cum from your lips—surprisingly it doesn’t faze him, he moans in your mouth like a slut, and that’s when you feel him reach a hand down your laced panties to feel how wet you were for him from before. “so sweet,” he murmurs, breaking away the kiss, his own strings of his cum departing as he licks your bottom lip. “wanna taste you more.”

SUGURU ☆ GETŌ

finds it attractive once you spit his cum out, because geto’s the type of man to find it amusing whenever you’re being a brat towards him.

he’s never really been one to put you in his place so to speak—but whenever he does, it’s heavily attractive. “all the way down, gorgeous, yeah…”

and he’s guiding your head slightly with a big hand over your head, up and down. his long hair’s messily tied back into a ponytail—his own hair tickles near his neck as he grunts from your tongue dancing and gliding against his tip. “you’re so messy. drooling all down your mouth. full enough?”

you shake your head, moaning from his words and he smiles, ruffling the top of your head before groaning. “i know, pretty thing like you…‘s never satisfied yet.”

his cock nearly created a bulge in your throat and he gets smug a bit seeing at how good you’re taking him—especially because of his size. his dick was pretty and lengthy, well trimmed with just a few specks of black hair decorating near his base. “fuck,” he’d swallow, and his voice gets high a bit—you stare at geto throwing his head back slowly, and his adams apple made an appearance as he bit his lip. “swallow every drop, princess. can you do that for me…?”

you gave him a subtle nod, and he flashes a cutesy awkward smile—caught off guard from how slightly vulnerable he was in this state, seeing you like this from having your mouth stuffed full always got him off. “f-fuck, take it baby. spit all over it. get nasty for me, yeah.”

once he came, it comes out a lot—velvety with a. sweet yet somewhat bitter taste as expected, your tongue swirls around his tip for a final time before you spit it out with a sly smile on your face.

“you little minx,” he groans, cupping a hand over your chin—gathering up a strand of his own seed and it coats his fingers before he pries your mouth open.

“i gotta baby you, is that it?” and your eyelids became low, moaning once you start to suck on his fingers that was coated with him cum and strings of your own spit. “aw. that’s it, just suck it like that baby,” only for geto to exhale deeply, stroking your chin before bringing his dick back towards your pretty plump lips. “open for me again, sweetheart. wanna ruin this throat some more. of course, if you’d let me.”

[loonylupinblack3]

Heyy! I absolutely adore your work and I was wondering if I could make a request? A Logan x reader fic where they’re out at a bar and the reader is on the shy side, so when Logan steps aside and a sleazy man tries to get handsy with her, she doesn’t really know what to do. Logan steps in though, protective and fuming. Hope this makes sense!

If not, no worries at all and I hope you have a wonderful day, love!! 💗💗

My Hero

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: sleazy man being sleazy, the blatant ignorance of consent, small amount of violence, swearing

Word count: 2k

A/N: hope you enjoy anon <3

You hated big social events. They were your worst nightmare. You hated the amount of people everywhere and the talking and the strangers and all of it. You much preferred one on one, with people you knew and trusted. 

Social events just made you uncomfortable. You couldn’t act like other people could. You weren’t easy to talk to or excited to meet strangers. You were awkward and your words came out stilted. You needed a script to follow when speaking to people, and any straying from that script left you vulnerable, confused and scared.

So safe to say these social outings the X men insisted on having weren’t your thing. They claimed it would improve team relationships by completing fun activities together, yet everyone had decided getting drunk at a club was the best fun activity.

You were strongly opposed but it was mandatory, so with incredible reluctance you let your boyfriend drag you to the club, promising to spend the whole night with you and not have a single drink.

Knowing Logan, that was a big promise, and also knowing him as your boyfriend, you knew he’d keep his word. He knew how uncomfortable you got in big groups of people, and he enjoyed the idea of helping you, of being the reason you could bear it.

When you arrived a feeling of dread washed over you, thudding music coming from the warehouse-looking building, and fractures of bright light escaping through the cracks of the door. Logan put his arm around your waist, pulling you close, and you revelled in the safety you felt from it, sticking close as you entered the club.

Loud noise immediately assaulted your senses, and you scrunched up your face as your ears screamed in protest. The music was blaring through speakers dotted all over the room, blasting you to near deafness.

You moved closer to Logan, the man tightening his grip on you. “You alright?”

His voice, barely heard over the loud music, was still a huge relief to you, your beating heart easing slightly. You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m not dying.”

He laughed at your words, his body shaking in the process. You smiled, as you always did whenever you made Logan smile or laugh, a small sense of pride flaring inside you. The good feeling helped you push forward, finding a seat at the bar. Logan sat right next to you as he said he would, and when the bartender inquired what drinks you both wanted he settled for soft drinks for both of you.

You smiled into your hands, feeling slightly giddy that he kept his word even though you knew he was going to. It was something about him deciding not to drink on one of his only nights out because it would better comfort you that made you so delighted.

Logan gently pried your hands away from your face with a smirk. “If I’m not drinking tonight you may as well let me reap the rewards for it. I wanna see that pretty smile of yours.”

Of course those words only made your smile widened, heat rushing to your cheeks at the compliment, and Logan stared with unwavering focus, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“You’re insufferable,” you mumbled, looking away.

Logan chuckled, hands snaking to your waist. “You know you love me.”

Unable to resist you turned to look at him, eyes gazing at his features, memorising every blemish on his skin. “Yeah, I do.”

Logan grinned widely at your confession, though you’ve said those words many times before. He just seemed to get a sense of satisfaction every time you spoke them, a reminder that you really did love him, and that you were his.

The sounds of commotion took your attention away, and you heard Scott’s raised voice but couldn’t spot him through the crowd, nor decipher what he was saying. Logan’s brows creased in concern and he looked like he wanted to go check it out, but loyalty to you and his promise to stay by your side stilled his restless body.

“Go,” you urged him, knowing he wanted to check up on his friend. “I’ll be fine here for a few minutes.”

He hesitated still, loyalty to two different people warring inside him. At your sincere expression, however, he leaned in close, pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering a promise of returning soon before he disappeared into the crowd.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, turning back to the bar and staring at your brightly coloured fizzy drink, though you didn’t take a sip. You hoped Logan would be back soon, for though all your talk of being able to handle yourself you still felt vulnerable and alone, even in a room packed full of people.

“All alone there Missy?”

Your head whipped to the side to the source of the question, finding a man much older than you leaning on the bar, eyeing you appreciatively. 

You shifted about nervously, swallowing thickly. You hated talking to strangers. “Um, no, I have a few friends here.”

The man raised his eyebrows, making a show of looking around the bar before zeroing back on you. “So then where are they?”

You felt uncomfortable that he was still talking to you and pathetically shrugged your shoulders. “They said they’d be back soon.”

The man nodded, humming slightly before sidling closer to you. As you were seated you couldn’t very well move away, but you longed to when you smelt the alcoholic tang on the man’s breath.

“The name’s Hiram,” he spoke, using a hand to ruffle his hair slightly.

You thought he looked ridiculous.

“Y/n,” you murmured quietly instead, because you weren’t sure what else to say.

The man, Hiram, seemed to take that as an invitation to move closer, his breath in your face and hand on your shoulder. You tried to lightly shake it off but he had a vice grip, fingers uncomfortably digging into your skin.

“Why don’t we leave this place Y/n?” he offered, hand trailing to your lower back.

You were extremely uncomfortable as of this moment and was grasping for something to say to make the man leave you alone.

“Please let go of me,” was your meek response, feeling both foolish and defenceless.

The man scoffed, hand moving to hold your arm in a tight grip. “Listen Y/n, let’s just have some fun ‘kay? You don’t need to make it a big deal.”

You ignored him, tugging your arm out of his hand and sliding off the stool, intending to search for Logan. The man was fast though, his slimy arm wrapping around your waist and jerking you towards him. 

An icky, sickly feeling overtook you, the overwhelming sense of fear flooding your senses. You didn’t want this grimy man’s hands on you and certainly didn’t want his revolting breath in your face. You wanted to be home curled up on your bed with a book in hand, your boyfriend’s arms wrapped around you and his chin resting gently on your head as he read over your shoulder.

This was not what you wanted, but you’d told him that and he’d ignored it so you didn’t know what you were supposed to do now.

“Please, leave me alone-” you pleaded, desperately trying to tug yourself away from him.

He groaned like you were the one being difficult, tightening his grip on your waist to the point it was painful. “It won’t even be for that long-”

“She said leave her alone.”

Relief bloomed in your chest, even with the dirty man’s fingers still digging into your flesh. Hiram turned to look over his shoulder, eyes widened slightly at the sight of Logan towering over him, a white fury in his eyes.

He didn’t bow out immediately, however, which took guts, because a lesser man would have taken one glance at the fuming look on Logan’s face and bolted.

“C’mon man, just having some fun,” Hiram laughed, hand sliding lower down your waist.

Logan noted the movement, his jaw clicking as he stared at Hiram like he was his next meal. “You get the fuck away from her or I’ll make you.”

The man scoffed, taking a step forward, and then suddenly was on the floor, a cry of pain coming from his lips as he cradled his now broken nose. Logan moved forward, stepping on the man’s fingers as he did so, a sickening crack accompanying the action, before he was in front of you and wrapping you up in his arms.

“M’so sorry Bub,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

You shook your head but was grateful he was here, burrowing your head into his chest in an attempt to escape it all. “Can we go home?”

Logan was already leading you to the exit. “Of course. The others’ll understand.”

You were grateful as Logan drove you home, but you couldn’t get the feeling of the man’s grimy hands off you. You felt dirty, tainted, like he’d wiped mud on you and you needed to clean it off. Logan noticed your unease as you entered your shared room, and inquired gently as to what the matter was.

When you confessed your feelings, describing the awful ickiness crawling up your arms, and the phantom touch of the man’s hands imprinted upon your skin, Logan gently took your hand and led you to the bathroom, where he started filling the bathtub full of warm water, adding the strawberry essence you liked so much. He beckoned you to get into the tub and you did gently, taking each piece of clothing off and feeling the man’s hold more deeply, like he was still touching you beneath your clothes. 

It made you want to cry as you sat in the tub, knees to your chest. That was until you felt Logan’s hands, marred from centuries of violence, rub your skin with the softest touch, soap coating his fingers. The realisation that he was washing you, delicately cleaning every spot of your skin with his hands, was too much to bear and the tears started falling, but Logan just kissed them all away as he continued cleaning you.

Bit by bit he cleaned you off, making sure no part of you was untouched, wiping the man away from your body. You felt relief and an undying amount of love and gratitude for the man before you. It was hard to imagine him as the formidable Wolverine, because right now he was caring for you with such gentleness you were putty in his hands.

Fully cleaned off, the man’s hold a distant memory, Logan dried you off and dressed you in one of his shirts, knowing you felt safe with your body swamped in his clothes. He then gently carried you bridal style into your bedroom, holding you with a softness you hadn’t known he possessed.

He tucked you in the sheets, made sure you were the utmost comfortable before sliding in beside you, immediately pulling you to him, your back to his chest, and just holding you. You couldn’t have asked for a better moment, and gratefully melted into his embrace, feeling the safest you had all night.

“I love you Sweatheart,” he murmured into your hair, pressing a kiss to prove his words.

A delightful shiver ran down your spine at the action and you sighed in contentment, moving further into his embrace. Things were now as they should be, the two of you wrapped up in each other as the night slowly crept by. In the morning you’d wake up to your head in the crook of Logan’s neck like it always ended up, your limbs tangled together and breathing in sync.

For now though you let your eyes droop, a smile on your lips as you whispered, “I love you too.”

Logan held you a bit tighter after the words, a desperate feeling of love and awe overcoming him, and gently brushed your hair as you fell asleep, before he eventually followed suit, with you in his arms like you were supposed to be.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Bike

Magdalena Eriksson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first riding lesson with Magda

After that day on the ice with Sam and the others, Magda decides that if anyone is going to teach you to ride a bike, it's going to be her.

The first thing she does is make sure the stabilisers are attached properly, sitting down in the middle of the park with a screwdriver to make sure they're secure.

Then, she tightens your elbow and knee pads.

Next, she makes sure your helmet fits you properly.

Then and only then, are you allowed on your bike.

"I know how to ride, Morsa," You tell her as she shows you where the peddles are," Sam and Erin and Guro and Millie taught me."

Magda scoffs. "They didn't teach you. They took advantage of a hill. Riding a bike is all about power in your legs."

You rolls your eyes. "This is boring."

"I'm trying to teach you here!"

You move your handlebars, a disgruntled look on your face as Magda waffles on about random things that you don't really care about.

It's quite early in the morning, on a random day off where you'd rather crawl into the Big Bed and have cuddles with Momma. You think Momma must miss your cuddles because she was still asleep when Morsa got you up and out of the house.

It wasn't a long walk to the park but Morsa didn't say anything until you got there.

"Can I got yet?"

Magda sighs, breaking off mid sentence. "Yeah, alright. Let me give you a little push."

She holds the back of your bike, lightly pushing you so you can start pedalling.

You've got a lot of power in your little legs, despite having only been out on your bike once before and Magda still holds it, if only to give herself some peace of mind.

"Morsa! I'm doing it!"

"Yes, you are!"

Magda doesn't really want to let go but she can remember being a bit older than you, at her own local park in Sweden. Her father had taught her to ride.

It was an old bike, bought second-hand at a car boot sale. The chain was half broken and the pedals stuck a bit but Magda had loved that bike.

Her father had taught her, standing behind her and giving a little push. He held her bike for a bit before finally letting her go.

At the time, the lack of stabilisers hadn't bothered Magda. It had made her feel grown up but, now, as a parent herself, she can't imagine your bike not having stabilisers.

She also can't believe that her father had ever let her go.

Especially now as she rocks your body as you sob.

The first little crash had been expected, your front wheel getting caught on a bump in the road. Magda had managed to grab you by the back of the shirt before you went head over handlebars.

If anything, you thought that crash was a little funny, consumed by a round of giggles as Magda tried to calm her beating heart.

The second crash was bigger, where you'd gotten too much speed and you went through that same pit in the path and gone skittering across the path.

It was a mistake, in hindsight, to let you go out riding in your Sweden shorts because the impact of your slide has horrifically grazed your leg like some horrific version of road rash.

"Morsa, my leg!" You sob and Magda adjusts you.

There's no chance of you walking right now so Magda switches you onto her back, letting you link your hands together around her neck. Magda wheels your bike back home.

"It's okay," She says," It's alright. We're nearly home. We'll clean it off and get you some plasters."

"My bike's mean," You tell her," Don't let go next time, Morsa."

"You still want to practice?"

"Yes, Morsa," You say and Magda can imagine the eye roll going on behind her back," Because I have to learn at some point and Momma will get annoyed with having me on the back of hers forever."

Whenever you, Magda and Pernille go out for a bike ride, you get put into a little seat that's attached to the end of Pernille's. It's fun but what you really want is to be on your own bike next to them.

You sniffle though, a flare of pain going down your leg as Morsa moves.

Magda places you on the sofa as soon as you get home, grabbing the first aid kit so she can clean off your graze.

"We will wait though, right?" You ask, wincing as Magda wipes off all the dirt," Until I'm better?"

"Of course," Magda says," I think we should stay at home for a bit and we can remember where the brakes are."

You purse your lips. "I know where the brakes are, Morsa."

Magda smiles at you. "Do you? Because you really should learn to use them."

You stick your tongue out at her. "I'm telling Momma you're teasing me again!"

[barcaatthemoon]

attention whore || alexia putellas x reader ||

minors dni, 18 +, smut ahead.

alexia punishes you after act like a brat to get her attention.

alexia's grip was tight on your hips as she led you away from the hotel bar. many of the girls were watching the two of you. frido and sandra had been sat with alexia earlier in the night, the three of them deciding not to indulge with everybody else. you may have all just won a big match, but there was still a lot more work to do. you understood that, but you also wanted to cut loose and have some fun.

"don't try to look back, just keep going," alexia said with a sharp pinch to your thigh. she didn't seem to care at the little noise you made from the pain. it had been a long time since you had done something to get alexia like that.

"ale," you whined. she placed her hand on the back of your neck as the two of you got into the elevator together. she forced you to turn and look at her. all you saw was the angry flare of jealousy in her eyes. "ale, i'm sorry."

"no, you're not," alexia laughed. it was dangerous whenever she got like that. you knew that you'd be punished, but the longevity of it was unknown to you. alexia could get over it within a couple of minutes or she could decide to drag things out and torture you for weeks on end. "if you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes."

"i wasn't playing any games, i swear. all i was doing was talking to another player," you tried to plead your case with her, but it was no use. alexia wasn't going to buy any of your excuses, not that you blamed her. alexia hadn't been giving you her attention, so you tried to seek it elsewhere.

"don't lie to me, it will only make things worse for you," alexia warned you. she knew what you were doing because you had done it before. you were a very needy person, and alexia had a lot of practice dealing with that. she had been getting used to it before the two of you had even gotten together. "god, i don't even know if i want to look at you right now."

"ale, please." you weren't sure if pouting and playing up your neediness for her was the right move. your question seemed to be answered once alexia got you back into the hotel room. she seemed hellbent on turning your desire for attention back on you. it was attention that you wanted, so alexia was going to give you everything that you could handle and then some.

"strip and get on the bed for me with your legs spread. don't you dare lay a finger on yourself, understood? tonight, your body is mine, and only mine," alexia told you. you followed her instructions, undressing yourself quickly before you scrambled up onto the bed. alexia watched you lay there with your legs spread for her as she poured herself a drink from the mini bar.

you started to squirm beneath her gaze as she pulled a chair up across from where you were laying. alexia smirked as she sipped on her drink. there wasn't a single hint of a movement to touch you just yet. alexia seemed to be content to watch you squirm and suffer under her gaze. and the worst part was that you couldn't do anything to cover yourself up without warranting a worse punishment from her.

"are you going to sit there all night ale?" you asked her.

"be patient, let me finish my drink bebita. you're getting what you wanted, i'm paying attention to you," alexia said. she leaned forward a little, just enough to place one of her hands on your ankle. alexia noticed the way that your eyes flicked down to her hand on your skin and tsked. "eyes up here. i want us to both enjoy this moment."

"sorry," you mumbled out an apology. alexia leaned down and pressed a kiss to your calf. you struggled to keep your eyes on her as she finished her drink. alexia finished her drink, and for a moment, you got excited about the idea of her getting in bed with you. "what are you doing?"

"getting myself another drink. you're so fucking hot that i feel absolutely parched," alexia answered smugly. you hated the look on her face, even if it was one that you usually loved. alexia raked her eyes up and down your body as she poured herself a second drink. this time, she sat down on the bed in between your legs. foolishly, you sat up a little, only to be shoved right back down.

"ale," you whined.

"(y/n)," alexia mocked. you pouted and looked away from her, rolling your eyes as you did. alexia grabbed onto your jaw, forcing you to look at her. she leaned in until your lips were almost touching and told you, "if you look away from me again, i swear i'll stop. and trust me, i can go a lot longer without fucking you than you can handle."

"i'm sorry," you apologized. alexia let go of your jaw, allowing for that hand to go straight between your legs. "tell me what you want from me."

"i want you to lay back and let me have my fun," alexia told you. it was difficult not to sit up and move with her, but alexia wasn't giving you that option. you knew that if she stopped again, she'd make you beg for her to touch you again later. you were getting past the point of even wanting to be bratty with alexia. she was finally touching you, working away at the tension that had been building up inside of you.

you wanted to close your eyes as her fingers toyed with your clit. alexia knew just how to touch you in order to distract you. she knew exactly what she was doing, but you held strong. you forced yourself not to let go, even as alexia pushed two fingers inside of you. she was moving with the intention of roughly fucking you, something that alexia knew would have you looking away from her before you came.

"ale, please," you whimpered. you reached down and grabbed her wrist, slowing her movements down just a bit. "i can't do this much longer. ale, don't make me, i'm sorry. i'm so sorry."

"you haven't even cum yet. don't you want me to make you cum?" alexia asked as she curled her fingers inside of you. she watched as your brows furrowed and a small string of curse words left your lips. "i thought that this was what you wanted from me."

"i wanted you, that was all. i just wanted your attention, but not like this. i'll behave, just please, let me close my eyes," you pleaded with her. alexia shifted, spreading your legs a little wider as she pushed her hips against yours. "ale, please."

"since you've been asking so nicely, i guess that i will, under one condition. i want you to tell me how much you love me," alexia said. she stilled her fingers inside of you, but kept her thumb rubbing lazy circles around your clit.

"fuck! i love you so much alexia, i swear. i love you so fucking much, i don't think i've ever loved anybody like i love you. i love you on the pitch, i love you at home, and i love you right here between my legs fucking me. i love you when i'm staring at you, and i love you when i can't see you," you rambled. alexia's features softened as she leaned down and kissed you. her fingers started up again, and this time, you couldn't hold yourself back. alexia didn't seem to mind as she felt you clenching around her fingers.

"hey," alexia said softly as she pulled her fingers out of you.

"what?" you asked weakly. alexia laid down next to you, staring at you as she propped herself up on her elbows.

"i love you too." alexia leaned in and kissed your cheek.

"do you love me enough to get me some comfy clothes?" you asked her. alexia nodded and rolled out of bed. you watched as she grabbed some clothes for you to wear before changing out of her outfit from the bar.

alexia was a little extra cuddly once she got back into bed with you. she could tease you in the bedroom all she wanted about you wanting her attention, but she wanted yours just as badly. the only difference was her method of grabbing your attention. however, both of you almost always seemed to cling to each other the same way once you got a little bit of acknowledgement.

[senualothbrok]

Hello my friend!! Regarding your amazing “Tight Fit” fic from @daisyofwaterdeep’s 10/10 scenario, I’m obsessed with how Gale would act around Tav after the whole debacle:

Just adorably a mess. Shy, flustered. Stumbling over words.

Trying not to mention it in conversation. Trying to act normal. Occasionally failing on both counts with verbal flubs: “I wholeheartedly support whatever Tav decides. Our leader knows breast—BEST! I mean best!” etc. etc.

Praying Tav doesn’t hate him. Trying not to get aroused every time Tav smiles at him.

Going out of his way to be extra kind to Tav while simultaneously trying to avoid her.

Forcing himself not to daydream about it during the day, thinking about it literally every night. Reimagining every detail while in his bedroll. Instantly so hard he has to finish himself off or he won’t be able to sleep.

Climaxing so hard he’s legitimately concerned about his orb.

Berating himself internally, reminding himself he needs to learn some damned self-control…but then recalling Tav’s breath on his neck, the feeling of her fingers eagerly stroking him, and any hope of self-control is instantly lost

Would love to hear your and/or @daisyofwaterdeep’s thoughts 💖

Hello my dear friend! I 1000% agree with your thoughts on this and I have written something to describe how I think it might go. Hopefully this is enjoyable!

A Generous Portion

Summary: Gale is a flustered mess after you are locked in a room together. Sequel to A Tight Fit.

Set in early Act 1. Featuring matchmakers Karlach and Astarion, gentleman hero Wyll, I've-had-it-up-to-here Shadowheart, and oblivious Lae'zel.

Word count: 1.7k

AO3 link

Disclaimers: Non-18+. Blushy, flustered, awkward Gale. Sexual tension.

****

“Gale.” Wyll's voice is warm with delight. “You've outdone yourself.”

Gale beams as he passes a steaming plate to Wyll. The stew Gale ladles out is thick and rich, and your stomach rumbles at its buttery fragrance. He grins as he hands out generous portions to a nodding Shadowheart, a grunting Lae'zel. 

“It’s not every day that we cross paths with a butcher.” He bobs his head. “A good cook makes the most of every opportunity.”

You see none of the uneasy stiffness of the past few days, none of the squirming mania that has possessed Gale whenever your eyes have met. Karlach claps before she takes her plate from him, and he gives a playful half bow that makes you smile.

“Besides, a hearty meal is the best cure for a weary body and mind. And as far as hearty meals go–”

Since the last time you were alone, Gale has been avoiding you. He has fled from every look and conversation, as though it were a matter of survival. And yet, you have often felt his attention on you, stripping you bare. You feel it now, as his focus flits over your outstretched hand, as he serves you.

“–There’s nothing like some good Waterdhavian sausage.”

His eyes meet yours. Panic flares in his face. He jerks his head, a grimace clenching his features as he flinches away. You settle back in your seat next to Astarion, feeling strangely guilty. Astarion's smirk does not escape you. Nor does the bright flash of Karlach's eyes.

For an eternity, there is only the scraping of plates, the soft stirring of bodies. The sizzle and hiss of the campfire, punctuated by little hums of satisfied chewing. The stew is exquisite, and you almost forget the crackling tension around you as you devour it. It spills from your lips, trickling down your chin in your haste. You wipe it away with your fingers, sucking them clean, wasting nothing. 

When you look up, Gale is staring at you. He spins away, clearing his throat as he examines his stew with obsessive intensity. The flush of his cheeks makes your core swell with memory. The ghost of his hardness twitches against your fingers. You shift awkwardly.

When Wyll breaks the silence, you look at him with a newfound appreciation. 

“This is delicious, Gale,” Wyll says politely. “Truly delicious.” 

Relief surges in Gale’s frame. “It's my pleasure.” 

“We're spoiled to have you cooking for us.” 

You have never been so grateful for Wyll's courtly upbringing, his natural tact. You send out a missive of frantic admiration with your eyes. Wyll’s gaze flickers to yours for the briefest instant before returning to Gale.

Gale is chewing his lip, composing himself. His furrowed brow eases. He waves his hand in an approximation of dismissal.  

“I try my breast.”

You drop your spoon. Astarion bursts into laughter. Shadowheart buries her face in her hands.

“Best!” Gale is fully crimson now, his pitch higher than you have ever heard it. “I try my best!”

“I can't watch anymore,” Shadowheart murmurs under her breath. Karlach jostles her quiet. There is an excruciating pause. You glance at Wyll, pleading.

Wyll's jaw feathers as he leans forward, his smile tight and wide. 

“And tell us, Gale, where did you learn to cook?”

Gale combs frenzied fingers through his hair. His gaze darts around like a fish evading a net. 

“I learned from the best.” His words are slow and strained at first, snowballing as he recovers. “My formidable mother. A master cook, who could work miracles with modest and extravagant ingredients alike. She taught me everything I know.”

Wyll hums approvingly, patiently. You are beyond thankful to see Gale’s breaths levelling, his voice lowering to its usual timbre.

“In fact,” he draws himself up, “the last time I made her a meal, she said my food might even match hers.” 

Wyll lets out a courteous titter. “Well-deserved praise.”

“Your food is pleasant even to a Githyanki palate,” Lae’zel remarks matter of factly. She seems oblivious to tonight’s disasters - or perhaps indifferent to them.

“Awesome grub, mate.” Karlach gives an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Can't get enough.”

With each affirmation, Gale’s body uncoils a little. The alarming scarlet of his skin is fading to its usual golden bronze. You are desperate to give him relief. You nod furiously. 

“I love your food. I’d eat anything of yours.”

All heads turn to you – vistas of disbelief, delight, despair. Karlach lets out a guffaw as Astarion snickers. Shadowheart and Wyll press their hands to their temples. Lae'zel stares at Gale with disdain as he begins to cough, clutching his chest. He hacks and heaves, until you are genuinely concerned that he is choking.

“Are you alright, Gale?” 

“Fine!” he gasps, his hands whipping around him in frenetic arcs. “Absolutely fine!”

Anxiety seizes you as a flash of lavender peeks through the opening above his chest. Hurriedly, you pour him a glass of wine, moving forward to kneel beside him. 

“Well.” Astarion springs up, gesturing to Karlach pointedly. “This is as good a time as any for that thing you mentioned, Karlach.”

For a second, Karlach looks just as confused as you feel, her brow scrunched as she considers. The recognition that blooms on her face is like victory. She leaps up to join him.

“Right! That thing! That I wanted to show you. And Shadowheart. And Wyll. And Lae'zel. Right now! Somewhere else!”

She pulls them up in turn. You stare at each of them, bewildered, imploring. Gale wheezes beside you. 

“What are you–”

“Must dash!” Astarion calls out, grabbing and jostling at arms and elbows. “Places to go, people to be!”

You glare at your companions’ retreating backs. When Gale takes the glass from your hand, his fingers brush against yours. He looks away as he throws the wine down with a groan.

*****

“Are you sure you don't need anything?”

“Yes, I'm fine, thank you.”

“Because if you need anything, I can–”

“No, I'm quite alright, Tav. Thank you very much for your kindness.”

The politeness between you is painful. Gale’s hands jolt from his lap to his sides, his fingers rippling and fisting. You suddenly realise how close you are, your face an arm’s length from his knee, your eye line parallel to the crook of his…

You lurch back, perching on the log opposite him. Gale’s features writhe as he fumbles at his robe. He looks absolutely miserable. You cannot help but feel stung. Your friendship and affection for him had come so easily. You cannot say you do not miss it, and the promise of what it might become.

“Would you rather I left?” you ask finally. “If I'm bothering you, I can go.”

Is it shock in his widened eyes? Disbelief? You cannot tell. He shakes his head with surprising force. 

“No, Tav. You never bother me. You could never...”

He trails off, gaze fixed on the campfire with a fervour like fear. You sigh. You cannot skirt around the edges of it any longer.

“Gale, have I done something wrong?” 

He looks up then. His eyes quiver, sunlight on a brown sea. 

“Have I upset you in some way? Because if I have, I apologise. I never meant to cause you any distress, or any kind of offence–”

He winces, as though you have struck him. 

“Of course not,” he exclaims, a little too loudly. He bites his lip. A stray strand of silver falls over his eye. You ignore your urge to brush it away.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You could never do anything to upset me. You're...”

Something in his tone simmers beneath your skin. It is breathy and hoarse, and you are reminded of the way he had moaned over your parted mouth as you grasped the bulge rising between you. Your skin throbs as your gaze drifts over the fullness of his cupid’s bow, the hard curves of his chest, the shadowed dip between his legs. You swallow.

He whirls away from you, as if he can read your thoughts. It is your turn to clear your throat now, to stare into the campfire as your face burns and you battle against the images that flood you. When, without warning, he jumps up and bounds away, you do not have words. Rudeness is a trait you did not think Gale possessed. You sit, stunned, wondering what to do with yourself.

You are taken aback when he returns from his tent. He stoops and stumbles slightly as he takes a seat beside you, close enough that his scent of sandalwood and sweat sends your head spinning. With gentle deliberation, he places a basket in your lap. You marvel at the peaches that fill it, sunset-blushed and plump, ripe to bursting. 

“Gale,” you breathe. “What is this?”

He rubs at the back of his neck. “Forgive me… but I couldn’t help but overhear you and Lae'zel the other day.” His throat bobs, his crow’s feet crinkling. “You were telling her about the food you love most, so when I saw these peaches at the market, I couldn’t help but…”

It takes all of your self control not to throw your arms around him. You press a peach to your nose and close your eyes, breathing deeply, savouring its fragrance, sweeter than the sweetest wine. The tickle of its down, the feel of its flesh, firm and soft at the same time. A little gasp of joy escapes you.

When you open your eyes, he is smiling - beaming - at you. He looks away quickly.

“Thank you, Gale,” you manage. “This is incredibly generous. How can I ever repay you?”

He dips his head. There is the hint of an arched eyebrow, a sideways curl of his lips, as his dark eyes flicker back to yours.

“Your pleasure… is all I desire.”

For a while, you simply look at him, speechless from relief, beauty, gratitude, yearning. The air around you is taut to snapping, the space between your bodies at once too much and too little. You open your mouth and sink your teeth into the peach in your hand. It bursts into a spurt of nectar, coating your lips and chin and fingers, sticky and smooth on your skin. You let out a small moan.

He trembles. A purple haze flares as your tongue follows the trail of juice winding down your fingers, catching the drips on your wrist. You lick your lips as he watches, still and rapt. Laid bare.

You hold the bitten peach out to him, an unspoken offering. He hesitates for an eternal moment before he leans forward, bathing you in his indigo glow. 

He holds your gaze as he bites down.

*****

Liked this fic? Check out my other work

[sinkovia]

Yes, Lieutenant: II

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Angst.

Yes, Lieutenant Masterlist

In the days that followed, Ghost's demeanor shifted drastically. He became distant, avoiding you at every opportunity and responding with curt, dismissive remarks whenever you attempted to broach the subject of what happened between you two.

A nagging question gnawed at your mind, consuming your thoughts with doubt and insecurity.

Had the kiss been a mistake?

Was there something lacking in your body that made you unworthy of his affection?

Days turned into weeks, and he refused to acknowledged your presence. The icy silence that had settled between you two gnawed at your soul. Frustration bubbled within you. 

Why was he avoiding you? Why was he being so dismissive? You needed answers, and you decided it was time to confront him.

Summoning every ounce of courage you had, you approached Ghost, your voice a mix of anger and hurt as you demanded an explanation for his behavior.

“Ghost why the hell are you avoiding me? You can't just kiss me like that and then act like I don't exist."

His eyes flared with irritation, and he raised his voice, venting his pent-up frustration. "Maybe it never crossed your mind that I just don't like you that way," he snapped, his words cutting through you like a knife.

"You're not my type. You're always following me around like a lost puppy, always watching my every move and it's annoying as hell"

His words pierced your heart like a dagger. You had hoped for an explanation, but his brutal honesty cut deeper than you had ever anticipated. Ghost's rejection stung, and the realization that you were simply not his type of woman crushed your spirit.

As tears welled up in your eyes, you turned away, the weight of Ghost's words heavy on your heart. With each step back to your room, regret washed over him like an unyielding tide. He watched your retreating figure, a sense of guilt tightening his chest and an acute pang of loss gripping his heart as the door closed behind you.

None of the words he had spoken were true, and he knew it deep down. In reality, he had harbored feelings for you for a long time.

Your presence had been a beacon of light in the darkness of his military life, your kindness and warmth offering him solace in the midst of chaos. But the fear of tarnishing someone as pure and genuine as you had held him back.

As he stood there, consumed by remorse, Ghost realized the depth of his mistake. He had pushed away the one person who had meant more to him than he dared to admit. And now, as he grappled with the consequences of his actions.

When Ghost first noticed the way you looked at him in the community showers, a connection that had left him utterly captivated.

The moment he kissed you and saw the innocence in your eyes afterward, he couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of responsibility that washed over him. He believed deep down that you deserved someone better, someone who could shield you from the darkness that clouded his own life.

Now, as the door clicked shut behind you, Ghost was left alone with his remorse, the weight of his actions heavy upon him.

The room felt emptier than it ever had before, the absence of your presence leaving a void in his heart. He cursed himself for allowing fear to dictate his actions, for pushing away the one person who had managed to bring light into his shadowed world – the love he had developed for you.

Regret gnawed at him as he replayed the moments he had shared with you in his mind, wishing he had been brave enough to embrace the connection between them instead of pushing you away.

Ghost couldn't help but fear that he had lost the most precious thing he had ever known – the possibility of love with you.

[daycourtofficial]

Loving parents, harmless fun

Pairing: Modern!Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 950 | warnings: none

Summary: slice of life gingerfucker where Eris takes his family on a roadtrip and is only slightly annoyed at his son’s choice of car game

Note: this is a part of my gingerfucker series and is for AU day for @erisweekofficial ❤️

“That’s my cow.”

Atlas’s voice rang through the car, a high pitch of excitement to his words as his finger pointed out the window, Leif’s eyes tracking the movement. Eris paid no attention to either of his sons, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Those are my chickens.”

It was a four hour drive to his in-laws house, to see his wife’s brother and his family. He counted down from ten in his head, trying to remind himself that holidays are supposed to be fun. The car was silent as he leaned his head back, his fingers curling around the steering wheel. The soft sounds of Bon Iver came from the speakers, an album that reminds him of cold, dark drives he took in the winters of his youth. It was a rare occasion - no one was begging for him to play Alvin and the Chipmunks or songs about ducks.

There was enough daylight for them to arrive at their destination before sunset, which gave him hope that maybe Atlas wouldn’t stay up too late tonight. Leif had a strict internal clock - he did most things at the exact same time each day. But his oldest, Atlas, was a mystery, his body having no internal clock for him to follow, leaving Eris clueless as to when he would fall asleep or wake up.

Eris maneuvered their vehicle through the curves of the road, taking in how beautiful the pastures around him were. It was the end of autumn when the vibrance of the leaves are going, occasional glimpses of the red and orange hues that he loved seeing so much. Atlas’s excited yell disrupted the too short peace. “That’s my cow!”

“If I have to hear him decide farm animals are his one more time,” Eris trailed off, his annoyance bubbling, his voice low so only you could hear.

“It was your brother who taught him the game.”

Eris didn’t turn to see the smirk on your face, he could tell by your voice that you were amused by Lucien’s never-ending knowledge of what buttons to push to annoy Eris.

It was a simple game - you see a cow, you claim it. It was cute when they were in the city - Atlas would see cows in billboards and claim them. Out in the country where the cows outnumbered the people - less fun.

“I don’t think he should be allowed near children ever again.”

“Oh yeah? Because he’s like every other uncle the kids have and likes to pay attention to them before teaching them annoying games?”

“My thoughts exactly. He’s also annoying so it means I’d see him less.”

“My cows.”

Atlas broke up your conversation, The quip Eris was sure you had ready dying on the tip of your tongue as his anger flared.

“Where are we - cow country?”

“Yes. You insisted we take back roads so the kids would have more sights. And to delay us getting to Rhysand’s.”

Eris should be surprised you saw through his reasoning for adding forty-five minutes to the drive, but he should know better than to think his wife doesn’t see to the root of all of his actions. The main reason you all were driving instead of flying to Rhysand’s home was simple - he wanted an easy escape. If you were flying, flights are planned and you have to wait for the plane. But if you have your car, you can just leave whenever Eris grows frustrated at his annoying in-laws. Or he can make an excuse for a reason to leave.

“My cows.” Leif’s first cows. You cooed, a soft “good job, Leif” whispered to him. Eris could see the tips of his hair from the rearview mirror, but he knew Leif was glowing in the praise from you.

“Why are we visiting again?”

“Because Feyre had their new baby.”

“Oh, that.” He practically deflated in his seat at how good the reason was for going, hoping that somehow the reason had changed and you could all turn around.

“Eris don’t act like you don’t love Nyx.”

He felt the eyeroll before it happened, slowly coming up on a red light. His wife was right - Nyx was an adorable kid who was very good, despite being half Rhysand and spending a good portion of his time with his uncle Cassian.

“My bird.”

Eris sighed through his nose. The car moved past a cemetery and Eris pointed out the window, “look, all of your cows are dead.”

Gasps were heard from all around him as if he just announced something outlandish. You slapped his arm, causing him to wince. “Eris,” his name was a hiss from your mouth, your eyes focused on him and not looking back at your sons. “They’re sensitive about that.”

Your words were mumbled, the sound having to work past your closed jaw to make it to Eris so the boys wouldn’t hear you.

“They’re fine,” he mouthed back to you, trying his best not to coddle them. It was a tricky line - one he needed frequent help navigating. Having a shitty father isn’t really the best role model for a man. A deep insecurity of his - was he being a regular dad or was he being too harsh? His train of thought was interrupted by Atlas’s hands hitting the car window, desperate for everyone’s attention.

“A hospital! My cows are alive again!”

Eris rolled the car to a stop at the red light, his forehead hitting the steering wheel.

“I thought I had won.”

A hand reached out to rub his back for a moment before he lifted his head, waiting for the light to change to green. The car moved forward, a family undeterred.

“My cow.”

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @panther-girl-124

[lilac-5ky]

The one where he refuses to shower (Toji xFem!Reader)

A/N: Decided to launch a series of domestic drabbles for Toji and his wife to practice writing smaller fics and fleshing out my headcanons. All parts can be read separately and in random order.

tags: Toji's naked, but it's fluff.

Series Masterlist

“Nononono, mister.” You quickly hog all four corners of the bed like a starfish stretching its limbs. “You’re not getting in bed in these clothes.”

Toji’s knee is balanced on the edge of the covers, his cream-colored pants looking muddier and bloodier than ever. His green eyes are remarkably harsh while he watches you dog-ear the page of your book and toss it on the nightstand, bracing yourself for the grand face-off between you; the man who makes a living out of dirty business and the woman who cleans after his dirty laundry free of charge.

“Why not?” He has the audacity to ask as if the Bigfoot-sized footprints leading to your bedroom’s door were left by a stranger.

“Because you stink.” Your voice sounds cartoonish as you exaggerate the smell by pinching your nose bridge between two fingers. “Go change or shower—even better.”

Seeing that glint of sheer stubbornness flaring in your eyes, Toji knows you won’t give up. He knows that, and he still finds a way to defy you as he sheds his clothes off and hurries in the opposite direction of the bathroom.

“Go away, Stinky-man!” You whine along with the bedsprings, finding yourself trapped underneath this smug boulder of a man. You flap your hands against his biceps to push him off, but it’s pointless. Toji has you right where he wants you, the scent of his 3-day absence rubbing on every cell of your body.

“Y’are the one who told me to get naked.” He argues, nuzzling his face into the dip of your neck. The light stubble on his chin prickles your skin while he peppers you with kisses that feel more like deep inhales.

“Told you to change and—ugh—shower!” Your legs arch only to fall back onto the bedsheets, unable to make a difference in your brawl.

“Can’t do either without getting naked first, dumbass.”

To your annoyance, he has a point there, and the smell, as bad as you claim it was, is mostly reassuring to you, who worries whether he’ll make it back alive every time the door closes.

You flail a bit longer for the sake of keeping up appearances, your smacks lacking the malice of your words, until Toji rolls off your body and pulls you onto his chest. This is much better. At least you can now breathe without feeling like your lungs are going to collapse inside your ribs.

“You also stink now.” He grins victoriously.

Your husband squeezes you tight in his arms, his body wide enough to use as a second bed. You are the one who nuzzles to him this time, comfortably fitting your head below his chin. His grip relaxes. You can leave whenever you want, but you don’t. You don’t want to.

“You’re the worst.” Your voice reflects your pout.

His fingers comb through your hair. “Must have done something good to be with the best.”

“Now undress.”

[mariahcarreyyy]

congrats on 2k!!! you deserve it and so so much more <3

can i request being overprotective of them in front of prospective partners with max ofc thank u very much -cait/@leclerced

# prompt no.10, being overprotective of them in front of prospective partners

mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post

It was embarrassing.

Watching two grown men argue over who would drive you home from the lively, neon-lit bar led to a bashful flush, warming your body amidst the crisp darkness of the night.

Only minutes prior, Max had taken one look at you and decided home was where you should be. You didn't make any protests because he's right; you wonder if you looked like a book to Max—pages crinkled, broken spines, and easily read words in his favorite font.

"I can take my fucking girlfriend home, Max," your boyfriend, Scotty, seethes through gritted teeth, an ugly vein bursting on his forehead.

Scotty evidently did not like the idea of Max driving you home for a reason you had no idea of. You and Max had been friends for years, so if even an ounce of your yearning and want was reciprocated, he would've done something by now.

That thought did little to dwindle the stubborn 'what if's from gnawing at your soul, the twinge in your heart whenever you see Max with anyone but yourself.

And also the slight guilt at thinking of another man when you have a perfectly fine one waiting at home for you each night but. Whatever.

"I swear to fucking God if you get into that car with her--"

Eyes widening, you place a calming hand on Max's shoulder and ignore the daggers your boyfriend is glaring at your touch. "Okay, how 'bout we all relax, yeah?"

Max cranes his neck to look at you, his harsh facade melting when he catches sight of the worry etched on your face. Once his heaving turned into steady breathing, your face ducking shyly to look away from his gaze, your boyfriend cleared his throat loudly.

You hastily drop your hand like the Dutch had burned you, and Max lets out a disapproving noise at the loss of your contact. Yeah, Scotty did not look impressed. The murderous glint in his eyes did nothing to quell the uncomfortable atmosphere, his jaw flexing like he's capable of murder, of tearing Max's limbs off and letting the blood spill on the pavement.

"Scotty...to be fair, you did drink, and I don't really feel like dying tonight."

A hand creeps around Max's waist, your fingertips pinching the flesh after you hear him snort. A barely concealed yelp from the driver has Scotty scrunching his nose up in distaste, nostrils flared, and betrayal painted across his face.

You should probably side with your boyfriend, but. But the cool breeze makes the tiny hairs on your arms stand up, teeth chattering; you wrap the thin, barely-there jacket Max gave you at the beginning of the night and roll your eyes, walking to Max's car.

Fondly, Max observes the impatient tapping of your foot and flush on your face—from the cold, he tells himself, not for the same reasons as himself. He raises his brows tauntingly at Scotty before advancing towards your shaky frame.

"Fuckin' bitch," Scotty mutters into the air, lips pursed into a scowl and vodka overriding his senses.

Your ears don't quite grasp the words, but Max's do. So, when the world champion's fist paves the way for the colorful hues of a bruise to bloom on the bridge of your boyfriend's nose, you can't help but choke on a gasp.

authors note. anddddd scotty makes a comeback!!!! tbf in the og fic he was actually portrayed as a good bf. max & reader r js bad ppl. now i dont have to feel bd tho cus he's terrible in this🥰

[sukioyakio]

thought

Cowboys!Sukuna who is the most handsome and fearsome cowboy in the west,Who’s is ever western girl crush,every time he out girls were always talking his ear off or trying everything in the book to get in his pants (I would to-WHAT WHO SAID THAT🫢).His large muscular body was a dream to have wrapped around your body,while he fuc-.He Was always challenging other cowboys to a race,he always have that smirk that made girls dream things about.(he always in my head and it not even in dreams anymore)

Cowboy!Sukuna who originally said that he wouldn’t go out with you aka his best friend but somehow finds himself going to. Cowboy!Sukuna who is surprised that you decided to not wear any of your Adam slander outfits;the ones you always wear whenever your on the barnyard or field but instead to wear a something decent.(Flare jeans and a cute cropped top with gloves and boots on)

Cowboy!Sukuna who has been staring glancing at you for a bit now,watching you goof around the dance floor,with that same breath taking smile you always have on.And he takes notice of the other cowboys in the bar looking at the dance floor and even looking at you. (What a good man,he already look like a walking candy bar who just waiting to be eate-Woah woah I’m gonna stop) Cowboy!Sukuna who was getting quite irritated by multiple girls that were trying to get into his pants,and constantly flirting with him.As he just glares them off or just start off say that he’ll never fuck a whore like them.As he gets another drink to get him through the hours.

Cowboy!Sukuna who walks towards you on the dance floor because he was getting annoyed of those others cowboys staring bored he said to you and you made jokes about how he such a Lone Wolf,and he nudged you on the shoulder and you laugh while nudge him back.

Cowboy!Sukuna who hears you say that your going back to the bar to get a drink and then go back to the dance floor,but that was ten minutes ago and he was starting to get a bit annoyed.Now walking down to the bar he see you talking to a Low Ass Cowboy.More like the cowboy mouth just spitting out his ass.He just leans over the wall where he wouldn’t be seen.

He says that it wasn’t his business to tell you to go away from those Ass talkers.

Cowboy!Sukuna,who saw what cross his mind,and completely charged toward your direction,as If he couldn’t stand the thought of you going to get fucked by some small dick prick and did something he knew he shouldn’t have. He put his own hat on your head (it a rule of the cowboy,basically saying if a cowboy put or you put there hat on,it their way of saying that your there’s).

Sukuna knew that you don’t even know what he was doing,and he knew immediately when your confused eyes looked up at him with your doe eyes lance with confidence and challenge the same eyes he had dreams about.

The same girl he said to himself that he would get over,but he could never do.Your face,your eyes, those soft lips, your curves that somehow make him feel like your the one who intoxicates him with your existence.He never mind when you wear your little Adam slanders fits,to be honest he enjoys it more then you trying to fit in more with others whores.

Don’t know should I continue this or ACTUALLY focus on part two of usemehuh

Please be more then happy to leave comments or your opinion in the comments.

[bad268]

Hi I was wondering if you're comfortable with writing one for Andrea kimi antonelli with a chronically ill reader? (I have pots so preferably something similar or about that) but just a kinda fluff/comfort where the reader is having a bad flare up day? Only if you're comfortable but tysm if u do write it I love your writing! (I'm also a writer)

- em

At Least 75% (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (I FEEL LIKE HE'D BE SO SOFT FOR YOU) (Also, thank you so much Em <3 Send me some of your stuff if you're comfortable with that, I'd love to read your stories <3)

Warnings:  Chronically ill reader (not explicitly stated what illness)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1181

Summary: Flare-ups and hot tracks are not fun.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Maybe he would understand if you missed one day. Just one day this weekend was all you needed. You woke up this morning and felt like hell. Your mind was foggy and you felt like throwing up. Honestly, you really did not feel up to walking around period, let alone walking around a crowded paddock in the heat. Still, you knew that you wanted to support Kimi this weekend, and you would do everything in your power to do so even if it meant you would suffer for the day.

You looked to the other side of the bed, seeing Kimi’s side empty. He had an important meeting with Mercedes this morning and told you he would meet you in the Prema garage whenever you got to the track. Groaning, you moved to sit up in bed, almost immediately stopping to lay back down as you were hit with a dizzy spell.

You waited a few extra minutes, taking some deep breaths to slow your rapid heartbeat. When you finally felt it slow to a normal rate, you gradually sat up on the bed. You waited again before swinging your legs over the side and standing up slowly, holding for a minute as you regained your balance. It did not take as long as it normally did, so you decided that was a sign to go about the day as normal.

Well, that was a mistake.

It did not take long after getting to the track for you to feel the wrath of your body. The heat was unforgiving, your head was pounding, your heart was starting to race, and you just wanted to hide away in Kimi’s arms. Thankfully, you were able to hitch a ride from a passing golf cart, but the closest they could get you was the start of the pitlane. Unfortunately for you, the Prema garage was in the middle.

You groaned to yourself, not wanting to walk that far, so you took a seat on a nearby stack of tyres. You pulled out your phone, and just as you were about to text Kimi, he showed up, standing in front of you.

“I was just about to text you,” You chuckled as you weakly wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned against his chest.

“I had a feeling,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as his hand held your head to his chest. “How are you feeling? Is the heat too much? Please be honest.”

“I don’t think I can walk to the garage, mio vita (my life),” You sighed in defeat as your shoulders sagged, but Kimi held you tighter to his chest when he felt you sink. “It’s been a bad day, and it’s only just started.”

“Why didn’t you stay in the hotel?” Kimi consoled as he rubbed up and down your back to calm you down. “Your health will always come first.” 

“I wanted to support you,” You wined, pulling back a little to look up at him, resting your chin against his chest. “It’s a big weekend for you, and you know I’d never miss qualifying.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” He mumbled as he left a few kisses around your face. You began laughing, but you cut yourself short when a wave of nausea hit you. You hid your face in his chest once again as you breathed in his scent. Even he could feel your heart rate rising from just sitting there, and it did not help that SkySports had spotted you. They looked like they were going to make their way over, so Kimi tried to pull away slowly, He turned around and gestured for you to hold around his neck. “Hold on. I’ll carry you to the garage, and we can lay down before quali.”

“Can we get food or smoothies first? I haven't eaten all day and I know I probably should,” You whispered into his ear as you laid your head on his shoulder, and he held your legs tightly around his waist.

“I’ll go get you a smoothie after I drop you off in the garage,” Kimi compromised with a small smile as he started down the pitlane. “Look at you remembering to eat! I’m proud.”

“I knew you would like that,” You chuckled to yourself. You almost fell asleep, but you reached the Prema garage before you could. Kimi carried you into the back room where the driver’s room was set up and set you down on the massage table. Kimi pulled off his Mercedes jacket and laid it over your legs before leaning down to leave a kiss on your forehead. As he pulled away, you reached out to grab his hand before he could get too far. “You leaving to get food now?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back in a few,” He sighed with a loving smile as he leaned down to be at eye level with you. He lifted your entwined hands to leave a kiss on your knuckles. “Your usual?”

“You’re too good to me,” You replied dreamily as you closed your eyes again. “What would I do without you?”

“Starve.”

~

After qualifying (front row!!) and after the debrief, you and Kimi were free to head back to the hotel for the night. Despite wanting to suck it up and celebrate Kimi’s pole position, he knew you better than that. He knew as soon as he saw you sway in the garage after he pulled the car in that he was not letting you lift a finger that night. And true to his internal promise, he did not let you even walk.

“You know, it’s not that hot. I’m okay to walk,” You chuckled as he swept you into his arms and carried you through the paddock. Interviewers and fans that remained got a few pictures that you would be seeing later, but the gesture from Kimi made you happy nonetheless. “Are we going to dinner with the team?”

“Nope,” He quipped back as he popped the ‘p’ as he walked out of the gate and toward the car that Rene was pulling forward since they carpooled. “We are going back to the hotel, ordering room service, watching whatever you want to watch, and relaxing. I need your health at least at 75 percent tomorrow. I know your 100 percent is hard to come by, so I’ll settle for 75.”

You could not stop yourself from laughing. Even after hearing this joke many times, it never failed to put a smile on your face. “Can we make a fort?”

“By we, you mean me?” He joked, looking down at you just as Rene pulled up. Kimi helped you stand on your feet momentarily, so he could open the door. Then, he helped you sit down. Even going as far as to buckle your seatbelt for you. Once he clicked it in, he moved his head, so he could leave a small kiss on your lips. He pulled away slightly before whispering, “If you want a blanket fort, I will happily make you one.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[castiwls]

"your my brother till the end of times. even after that"

Being anakin skywalker’s younger sister...

Note; this is incredibly long and goes through all the prequels. my requests are open

You’re two years younger than him meaning you both grew up veryyy close.

He would teach you how to build and fix things whenever the shop was quieter. He let you help with building threpio.

“The blue one goes here, see.” Your brother turned his head to grin at you. You nodded at him from over his shoulder. “Soooo the red one goes there?” You questioned pointing to another spot on the torso. Your brother smiled brightly at you and nodded. “Yeah, see not so hard.”

Over time you got better and better until you were almost just as good as your brother at fixing things.

You were 7 when a strange man showed up asking for parts to fix his ship. While your brother seemed intrigued by the girl who was with him, you were very much intrigued by the tall man with the strange accent.

When he told you he was a Jedi you were almost star-struck. Your mother had told you stories about them but to actually meet one was amongst your wildest dreams.

You were even more starstruck when one night he found that not just your brother but you also were force-sensitive. This led to your brother winning yours and his freedoms in the race.

Though this meant you had to leave your mom :( 

You still had your brother though.

Your first time in space was something you’d never forget. You spent most of the trip back to Coruscant planted in front of one of the windows.

Halfway through the trip the other Jedi who Qui-Gon had introduced you to as Obi-Wan joined you by the window. 

He told you about the order and about Coursant.

“What is it like?” You turned your attention from the window to look at the man beside you. “What is what like?” Obi-Wan asked looking down at you. “Coursant,” You frowned thinking for a moment. “I heard a smuggler say it was like a concrete jungle. I’ve never seen a jungle though.” The Jedi let out a small laugh. “Well there are lots of buildings but I'm not sure about the jungle part.”

You decided you liked him pretty quickly and stuck by his side for the rest of the trip. 

(time skip)

After Qui-Gon’s death, both you and your brother were slightly worried about your future with the Jedi. While Obi-wan took on your brother another Jedi stepped forward to take you.

You and Anakin stayed close over your time in the order. You noticed the way your brother's temper could flare at times but put it down to stress.

You were off planet when Anakin told you he was going back to Tatooine to see your mom. You decided to follow him.

Finding out she had remarried was a shock but you were glad that she had gotten out of slavery.

Anakin confided in both you and Padme that he’d killed the Tuskans after finding your mother. 

“You killed them?” You stared at your brother, a slight feeling of horror running through you. You could feel his anger through the force, it sent chills through your body. Anakin nodded his face hard as he looked between you and Padme. He’d killed them out of anger yes but fear also. What if they came after you? 

You were concerned but due to your mom's death being so raw you kept your mouth shut about what Anakin had done. You didn't wanna risk losing him. 

After your mom's death, Anakin seemed to hang around you more, even more so when he was knighted.

Obi-wan noticed your brother’s change in behaviour when it came to you. Anakin would try and take you off solo missions or force himself onto your missions once you were knighted and given your own battalion in the war.

He eventually questioned you but you simply brushed it off as him just being nervous.

“He’s not used to me doing things alone.” You shrugged looking over to the man who was walking beside you. “You're not alone though, you have a battalion with you. Your brother needs to let go of this fear, it's not healthy.”

Because of Anakins behaviour, you started to get put on more missions with him and Obi-Wan. You didn’t mind though.

You were the only person aware of Anakin and Padme’s marriage and as a result her pregnancy. You were ecstatic that you were gonna be an aunt.

You helped with the naming process for the baby(s). 

During this time you noticed Anakin was spending more time with the Chancellor, something which raised a few red flags. Padme confided in you about his behaviour change, she’d noticed him becoming more on edge with each passing day.

You tried to talk to him but he just brushed you off claiming it was just the stress from the war.

“You're acting different. You can talk to me you know, im your sister.” You bumped his shoulder smiling slightly. Anakins smile in return was weak. He took a breath. “I keep having these dreams. Dreams where Padme dies in childbirth.” He looked down at you, his eyes desperate. “I can’t let that happen. I can’t lose her.”

After that conversation, you kept a closer eye on him. You could see his stress levels rising with his dream and the council not granting him the rank of Master.

Things seemed to calm down for a small while until things changed. When order 66 was called you’d been in the temple doing reports.

The sounds of blasters pulled you from your data pad. Your eyebrows furrowed as the door to the archives flew open. “Anakin?” Your brother's face was hard as he pulled you from your chair. He said nothing as he led you down the hallway towards his quarters. You watched in horror as blaster fire rang out around you but he refused to stop. Finally reaching his quarters the door flew open. “Stay here. I’ll come back when it’s safe.”

You were slightly scared and very confused as you tried to make sense of what you’d seen. The clones had turned but why?

You also realised very quickly that your brother had locked you in his room:)))

Luckily you had your comn and managed to make contact with Obi-Wan. After awhile he and Yoda deemed it safe enough to go back to the temple.

At this point, he’d seen your brother pledge his allegiance to Palpatine but had no idea how to break the news. 

When he did tell you it was as if your whole world crashed down. He locked you in his quarters to keep you away while he killed the Jedi in the temple.

You chose not to go to Mustafar and instead stayed with Bail. He explained to you Padme’s plan to start a rebellion against the chancellor and offered you a space if you wanted. You agreed.

“She was right. This was his plan all along.” Your head rested on your hand as you sniffled slightly. “He was always gonna overthrow the republic.” Bail nodded rubbing a hand on your shoulder. “If the council didn’t see it how were you supposed to.” He let out a sigh pushing the data pad closer. “But we don’t have to sit and watch.”

You freaked when Obi-Wan and Padme came back without Anakin. You gathered what had happened to your brother simply from the look Obi-wan gave you as he carried Padme off the ship.

Having to watch her die without being able to hold her children. You were able to barely keep it together while the droids checked the babies over.

“They were both so excited.” You smiled sadly down at the baby in your arms. Luke grabbed at your thumb making a small noise. “There never gonna get the chance to raise their kids.” Obi-wan let out a sigh reaching over to pull you into a hug. At this, you finally broke down. All the emotions that you’d been hiding broke free as you sobbed.

They decided to give you the final say on where the twins ended up. You knew Bail would take care of Leia and while you wanted to keep Luke you knew it wasn’t practical. 

You ended up going with Bail back to Alderaan where you both began building the foundations for the rebellion. 

[xoxoskai]

MAYAILYA AND EVERY WHAT IF

Welcome to delusionworld, may I take your coat?

Maya first meets Ilya and recognizes him as one of the "scums" who tried to hurt Nikolai. Stomps her six-inch heel into his foot before flipping her hair and walking away.

"No, Jeremy. I don't care that he's your guard."

Notices Ilya around Cecily on Jeremy's orders and asks him if he'd bark just because Jeremy tells him to.

"Loyal dog, this one." She tells Cecily.

Ilya smirks at her, threatening and malicious before sucking in a breath and howling. Grins wider at her gritted teeth as Cecy laughs.

Maya, flustered? Since, uh, when?

Ilya is a professional Maya-ignorer first, human second.

What do you mean he can't take his eyes off her when she's in the room? He is very proficient at ignoring her.

Watches as she back pedals out of the kitchen at the Heathens mansion when she notices him there. As if remembering herself, she struts back inside and pours herself a glass of a green protein shake that exists in the refrigerator only for her.

Passes him by as he quietly eats his food before reversing her steps, sweeping the saltshaker off the tray, opening the lid and dumping it all into his pasta.

"Oops" She smiles, all teeth and no remorse.

Ilya, without breaking eye contact, digs into his pasta and takes a large bite.

Maya sucks in a sharp breath through her nose, glaring as she leaves, her glass of protein shake forgotten next to his plate.

The next time she pours herself a glass of protein shake, the Heathens are having dinner. Ilya is speaking to Jeremy inside the kitchen but watches eagerly as Maya's face blanches at the copious amounts of sugar he's added to her beverage as retaliation.

Maya glares at him, nostrils flaring, and he looks on with a face of complete innocence before focusing back on Jeremy.

She'd punch him but she is annoyed at the thought of a bruise on his pretty face.

His face is not pretty, she reminds herself.

The next time he sees Maya, she's riling Annika up.

"We'll be sisters-in-law! And we can shop together and get our nails done and grab lunch whenever! Oh, and you can be my maid-of-honor!"

Annika looks about ready to rip her hair off, but Ilya intervenes and shakes his head at her.

"You're better than this, Annika" He tells her "Don't stoop to her level. Which is lower than the basement level, by the way."

Annika giggles and Maya's back to gritting her jaw.

He watches as her gaze roves over his entire face, momentarily snagging on his white-blond hair before she smiles, feline-like

"Don't be jealous, you can be the flower boy. We have roles for everyone, even the-"

But Ilya has already turned his back to her, effectively ignoring her as he tells Annika that Jeremy is looking for her.

Annika glares at Maya once again before taking off in the other direction. Ilya waits for a moment, also deciding to leave but Maya grabs his sleeve.

"I was still talking!"

He doesn't say anything, watches her in a way that expresses his boredom and irritation at having to stand there in her presence.

It's like a punch to the gut. Maya hates that people would beg for an ounce for her attention, but Ilya always manages to make her feel like she's a speck of dirt that ought to be stepped on.

She turns around and leaves without saying anything else.

When the Heathens mansion catches fire, Maya is stuck in one of the bathrooms where the door is jammed.

Hair sticking to her back, eyes watering and body trembling, she's trying to pick the lock like her father taught her but she's too disoriented.

She is screaming for help while alternating between trying to use a hairpin to pick the lock and slam on the door for help.

When the hairpin slips from between her fingers and goes under the door, she lets out a wail and uses both fists to slam on the door and wrench the doorknob, inhaling more and more smoke, coughing violently. 

The doorknob falls to the ground and the door flings open, letting in more smoke and a frantic Ilya whose face is first drenched in relief and then in rage.

"You weren't supposed to be here today!"

"The house is on fire and now you wanna talk?!"

"God help me, Maya. If we make it out of this alive, I'm gonna fucking strangle you."

He's already putting a mask over her face, but Maya pulls back, going further inside the bathroom.

"I swear to fuck-"

She sprays him with water.

"Your shirt is on fire; do you not feel anything?!"

There's a giant hole in his back, the burn on the skin registering much later. If he hadn't been distracted by how she had been trembling and crying when he found her, he would have paid attention sooner.

Instead of saying anything else, he grabs her wrist, throws her over his shoulder and starts running.

Once out, he deposits her in one of the ambulances before taking her mask off, getting ready to leave when one of the nurses starts bandaging her arm.

"Where are you going?"

She's grabbing his arm again and before he can register the feel of her skin against his, she's taken it back, her guards back up.

"Whatever" She is picking at her cuticles "I don't care."

"Jeremy is still inside" he tells her anyway, not because he was stalling- she was family with the Heathens, she deserved to know the entire story. "Nikolai, Killian and Gareth made it out safely."

She doesn't say anything, quiet while the nurse finishes bandaging her arm and moves to the cut from a splinter on her thigh.

Maya doesn't react, doesn't even flinch when the nurse cleans the wound. It makes Ilya smile. The mafia princess was a lot tougher than she looked.

He's leaving when her quiet voice gives him pause.

"You should find Niko. He can clear a path till Jeremy."

Ilya gives no indication that he heard her.

He goes looking for Niko.

They are putting Jeremy in one of the ambulances when Ilya reveals that Maya was inside when the mansion caught fire.

Niko is already halfway to the mansion when Ilya catches up and finishes the rest of his sentence.

"I got her out. She's in that ambulance, unharmed"

The oldest Sokolov is leaving to check on his sister when he stops and makes his way back to Jeremy's guard.

"I owe you one. Next time any of my sisters are in danger, they are your first priority. Just like Annika"

Ilya didn't need him spelling out who his first priority was. Ilya was well aware.

"The next time you "accidentally" touch her, she's going to sever your hand from your body before ripping out your favorite organ and chopping it in biteable sizes for dogs."

Ilya does a double take when he hears the bored voice with which Maya is delivering gruesome threats.

He pokes his head around the corner at university when he notices a furious Mia signing at God-speed as Maya translates what she's saying.

Noticing that the guy is one of the Serpents, Ilya is making his way toward the trio when Maya snaps her fingers in front of the guy's face.

"My eyes are up here, asshole."

"They are not nearly as pretty as what's down here" The Serpent replies without missing a beat, openly ogling her breasts from the deep V-neck blouse she was wearing.

Fists clenched; Ilya is about to drive one of his fists into his face, but Maya is quicker.

Knee-raised, she brings his face down by tugging at his collar and gets him right in the nose, a satisfying crunch following.

The guy drops to his knees, clutching his nose and wailing as the Sokolov twins stand over him, undeterred.

Mia notices him first, paused in the act of approaching them and she waves at him, grabbing Maya's attention as well.

She crosses her arms, unaware that she's pushing her breasts up even further, making Ilya close his eyes and pray for strength from greater forces.

Mia signs something at him and turns to Maya for translation but Maya keeps studying her nails, making no attempt to do so. 

When Mia signs more furiously, Maya lets out an exasperated sigh before turning her irritated look at Ilya.

“She’s asking when are you going to drop off the face of the Earth?” 

Mia swats her sister’s arm before moving toward Ilya, pulling out her phone and typing in it. Her text reads,

Heard about last night. Are you okay?

Ilya decides he now knows which Sokolov twin he likes better. He nods.

“I’m good, thanks.” 

While Mia types more, Ilya slants a look toward her twin who is already scrolling through her phone. Her blouse was long-sleeved, and she was wearing skinny jeans and boots for a change. To hide all the bandages, he was sure.

Thank you for helping Maya yesterday. We owe you one.

Ilya smiles at her “She can thank me herself” is on the tip of his tongue when he looks at Maya and she’s glaring now. 

If her eyes could kill, she’d have stabbed him a hundred times-no, a thousand times by now.

“Mia, I have class” she says before turning and leaving. 

“You hang around Brandon King too much.”

Nikolai is telling Mia that same afternoon while Ilya supervises Annika’s cooking, who has been on house arrest since the fire.

“This much salt?” 

Ilya internally cringes as Annika holds up a tablespoon of salt before shaking his head and finding a teaspoon for her. 

When he returns his attention back toward the Sokolov siblings, they are engaged in a heated, glaring contest. 

It reminds him of the Sokolov who is missing. 

She remains AWOL for a while after that. 

He only catches glimpses of her at university in passing and she’s always standing too far from him. 

In every scenario. 

Not like it should matter though, right? 

When he finally finds her in the Heathens mansion, she’s at the door, talking to Gareth. 

“I’ll RSVP for the party but tell Uncle Asher I can’t guarantee that Niko will make it.” 

Ilya is on his way inside and deliberately slows down. He can’t remember how long it has been since he’s heard her voice in person. 

“Jeremy is out with Niko.”

Gareth, who notices Ilya first, informs him while successfully bringing the attention of his cousin toward the outsider. 

Of course, Ilya knows Jeremy is out with Niko. But he’s been making excuses to drop by more and more. Stopping by the mansion to inform Jeremy of things he could tell him over a phone call. Volunteering to teach Annika how to cook (because unlike her family, he didn’t know he couldn’t reveal that cooking wasn’t her strongest suit and openly balked when he first tasted it). Following Niko on his bike reads. Learning the basics of sign language for Mia. 

Maya has already turned away and focused her attention back on Gareth. She’s touching his sleeve in a familiar manner and Ilya has to remind himself they’re cousins and grew up together. 

“I’ll see you later” she’s saying, descending the steps, her plaid skirt swishing. 

He’s watching her go and he wants to say something but he’s not sure what. 

He’s not sure why. 

Her birthday comes around and of course the Heathens are throwing a full-fledged party.

Jeremy assigns Ilya to buy an appropriate gift for the twins because he’s obliged to give one, not that he particularly cares. 

Ilya shows his displeasure by buying atrocious matching little Bo Peep costumes that make Nikolai and Killian’s eyes water from laughing too hard when they catch Ilya gift wrapping them and writing-

I took lots of time to handpick these,

Jeremy

-on the card. 

Ilya gets Mia a tiny plant that is easy to grow and doesn’t require a lot of watering. 

Maya watches him give it to her, her eyes pinging between the gift, Mia’s reaction to it as she thanked him, and he signed back “Welcome” and finally at Ilya himself who she pinned in place with a blank look before she moved on and opened her own gifts.

If she’s disappointed that he didn’t get her anything, she surely doesn’t show it. 

She stopped showing her displeasure a while back and Ilya is not aware of what changed. Earlier she used to deliberately mess with him or pick fights but now she’d removed herself completely and started to make him feel exactly what she used to call him. 

A dog. Begging for attention from an owner who didn’t care. 

He watches from afar as she sits in the middle of all her friends, looking lonely despite all the 200 odd people who’d shown up for her.

Maya hates her birthday. The only way to get through it, she realized long ago, was pretending she loves it.

She notices Ilya detaching himself from Jeremy’s side for the first time since the night began and making his way upstairs and she is glaring at his back. 

She didn’t care if anyone saw. Did the infuriating man not know it was her birthday too? 

She was so furious that he’d bought such a thoughtful gift only for Mia that she almost- almost dug her heel into his foot again. 

Screw it, she had a bone to pick with him. Coming to a birthday party without a gift for the birthday girl should certainly be considered blasphemy- she decided as she stomped upstairs to look for him. 

After fifteen minutes of fruitless snooping through all the Heathens’ rooms, she’s about to leave when she takes on toward the east wing on a whim. 

Most of the repair work is still ongoing and Maya is about to check in Jeremy’s old room when she passes by the bathroom, she was stuck in. 

The doorknob is missing, and she realizes she never found out how Ilya knew she was in there or how he even got the door to open.

She pushes the door open and sure enough, Ilya is sitting on the counter twirling a very familiar hairpin between his fingers. 

“What do you want, Princess?” 

Maya stubbornly keeps her mouth shut, remembering that this man didn’t care about what she wanted at all. He cared about everyone but her. He cared about her freaking sister more. 

A sister he had smiled at. 

Maya had only ever been the recipient of his glares, but it had taken one conversation with Mia for him to smile at her like they were long lost best friends. 

“My hairpin” 

Ilya laughs when she even holds her hand out, gaze fixated on the pin caught between two of his fingers. 

God, those fingers. 

“Give it” she says when he makes no further move. 

“Why?” He asks, resuming twirling the hairpin between his fingers, taunting her with it and watching her face turn more and more irritated. 

“Because it was gifted it to me and it’s of a lot of value to me.” 

Partly, it was true. Her father had gifted it to her, but Maya had a million of such hairpins. She hadn’t even remembered losing this one until a minute ago.

“Bad girls who tell lies don’t get birthday presents.” 

Sure enough, he procured a tiny box out of his jacket that barely fit into his hand and was wrapped in floral wrapping paper. 

He had gotten her a gift too. 

No, she wasn’t sure she was the one he meant. He was going to pull the rug off her feet and laugh as she fell.

“Oh good, Mia is safe then.”

Refusing to see him agree with her, she starts checking her nails, but his silence made her look back at him. 

He looked…angry.

What right did he have to be angry?

“Do you really not know that your sister fancies Landon King or are you really that ignorant?” 

Maya forces herself not to snarl and instead smile at him, sickly sweet and fake.

“Why would I care? I’m gonna marry Jeremy, make Nika my maid-of-honor and you can be the ring-bearer. It’s trendy to have the dog trail down the aisle with the rings these days.” 

Eyes ablaze, Ilya tells her in a deathly calm,

“Get out, Maya” 

“Or what, you’re gonna hurt your master’s future wife?” 

“I’m gonna fuck her in her wedding dress and then she’ll walk down the aisle with my cum dried between her legs and take her vows knowing her husband wasn’t the one who fucked her on their wedding day.” 

Ilya catches the exact moment his words settle deep into her bones because she sucks in a breath and turns to leave but he’s faster, banging the door closed above her head when she attempts to open it. 

“No more wedding plans to make?” 

“Let me go, Ilya.” 

He’s so close, her hair is tickling his nose, and he can smell her shampoo. Roses and vanilla. She even smells like his darkest temptation. 

“Didn’t you want me to get out? I’m going” 

“Open your present first.” 

“I don’t want it.” 

“Take it or I won’t wait till your wedding day to make good on my promise.” 

Maya takes the present. 

She turns toward him, glaring at him and the stupid height advantage he has over her, but Ilya remains standing close, hand still above her head. 

Aware that commenting on his closeness will only make him cockier, Maya focuses on ripping off the delicately wrapped box, trying to showcase how much she didn’t care.

She opens the velvet box and, on the cushion, lies a delicate piece with tiny sapphires embedded into gold. 

Maya thinks it’s one of the most beautiful pieces she’s ever laid eyes on. Not too gaudy and flashy, just the right amount.

Unclasping it, she begins putting it on around her wrist seeing as it is too small to be a necklace or even a choker, but Ilya tuts, takes it away from her and leads her toward the counter he had been sitting on. 

He lays his jacket down and before she can even comprehend what his next move is, he’s already lifting her onto the counter, settling her down on his jacket so she doesn’t dirty her white birthday dress. 

Maya bites back her thanks even though she feels a little overwhelmed at the prospect of him doing this knowing she’s a germaphobe and not out of the goodness of his heart.

“It’s not a bracelet” He tells her, stepping back before grabbing her stiletto pumps and slowly raising her foot “It’s an anklet.” 

“Oh” 

He’s smirking while she waits with bated breath as he sets her heel on his stomach, clasping the anklet around it. He doesn’t make contact with her skin a single time except lightly brushing her ankle with his knuckles before pulling his hands away. Maya almost mourns their loss. 

She’s aware he’s waiting for her to drop her leg but she’s thinking of a different scenario with lesser clothes and more skin. 

Ilya can tell. 

“It’s pretty” She finally says.

“Yes” He agrees “It is.” 

But he’s looking at her and Maya can’t look away. 

Before anything transpires, Maya snaps out of her reverie first.

“I should g-”

“Why are you avoiding me?” 

His question doesn’t catch her off-guard. The fact that he noticed she’s been going out of her way to avoid him does. 

“We always avoid each other” 

His brows draw together “Not this way..we don’t.” 

“We’re not friends, Ilya.”

“I know. I’m a dog” 

Maya is rolling her eyes when he smirks at her.

“And you’re a bitch.”

She swats his shoulder “I may be a bitch, but I do have manners, I’ll return the favor on your birthday.” 

“Do you even know when my birthday is?” 

“14th February” At his raised eyebrows, she’s smiling “What, you think you’re the only one who knows everything?” 

“No” He's stroking her calf now, making her breath hitch “I didn't get you this-” He hooks his pinky finger into the anklet “-just so you could return the favor. I had ulterior motives.” 

“Like what?” 

He's not saying anything, watching her in that contemplative manner that puts her on the spot “Like what?” She repeats and this time he grabs her foot and pulls her forward till she is half hanging off the counter. 

Leaning one hand on the counter near her, his mouth is directly above her when he reveals his real purpose. 

“When I saw it in the store, I couldn't stop picturing what it would look like around your ankle when it's dangling off my shoulder.”

[soli-nepenthe]

Searing Touch (rewrite/divergent)

characters: Sylus/fem!MC (though can also be read as GN. 2nd per. POV)

genre: angst/comfort/slightest hints of fluff/vague ptsd?

warnings: angst, mild use of profanity, injury, slight religious reference./ minor allusion to No Way Out story.

word count: ~ 2600!

author's note: This is just my self-indulgent take on how the story could have gone as I felt MC and the banter in the original was disjointed and disappointing. After Sylus's sacrifice, he deserved better treatment than what he got. Hopefully, I amended some of those faults with this attempt. I hope you all enjoy reading!

Somewhere in the Northern District, Linkon City.

Sylus’s Apartment.

It was 3:00 AM by the time you decided to give up on sleep.

What should have been an infernally tedious Monday night had haphazardly turned sideways.

In theory, it had been a simple surveillance and retrieval mission – nothing outside of your hunter’s repertoire. According to your team’s intel, it was a clean smuggling setup with two main parties…. 

Hours later, you sat in the dimly lit living room of one of Sylus’s secure hideouts, still fretting over the small details of how you mishandled the evening. Sleep evaded you now, as it sometimes did, whenever you felt overwhelmed. If the mission wasn’t an outright failure–it was due to his interference. And the reason you could still mull over it—well, that was also because of him. 

Closing your eyes, you recalled the terrible impressions shard by broken shard – the oppressiveness of the white smoke from the stunning device as it blotted out your surroundings to the staccato of gunfire from different directions, and then the weight of his body rolling over yours as he shielded you from further harm. 

You knew the reasons why he waved off your concern of going to the hospital, but still, you worried for him. Without question, he had gambled his life for yours. And you felt miserable and thankful all at the same time. Of course, the life of a hunter straddled the border of life and death on any given day, but this was the first time a routine mission without Wanderers would have cost you greatly.

You recognized that your thoughts were starting to take a dangerous turn….

There was no comfort in a “what if”.

Rising from the couch, you went to look for where he might be.

All three bedrooms turned out to be finely furnished but devoid of his presence. 

The sound of running water behind a closed door soon drew your attention. Getting no response from knocking, you ventured to turn the knob anyway.

He had his back to you when you entered, the steam curling away to reveal bloodied rags and gauze littered about him as he blindly struggled to clean his wounds. 

Another anvil settled heavily on your heart at the desperate sight.

You blinked back the stinging sensation building behind your eyes and clawing up your throat, trying to find that sangfroid you had always prided yourself on. Turning to find a light switch on the wall, you pressed it, where it automatically raised the blinds to the only window in the bathroom.

Cool, silvery moonlight poured in, bathing half of his naked torso, his pale body now emulating the appearance of sculpted marble. The only difference, of course, were the scars and open wounds–your own personal Saint Sebastian.

“Sylus…let me help you.”

“Ah, kitten. I…I had a feeling…. you would come around.”

His voice sounded strained though you could tell he was trying to be jovial, perhaps for your benefit. 

The lights above the vanity flared brighter once you found the right switch.

“Tell me, what can I do to help?”

He fumbled with the gauze in his hand, dropping the roll into the sink. 

“Think….ugh…you can help me…take out this shrapnel?”

Out of habit, you nodded, knowing that he couldn’t possibly make out your gesture of assent. Taking the tweezers carefully from his hand, you guided him to sit on the edge of the tub while you made a quick assessment of the items you would need from the open first aid box.

Your knowledge of wound care was rudimentary at best, but you decided that you would do all that you could if it would ease the deep furrow of his brow or erase the grimace he tried to disguise as a cavalier smile. 

After rinsing your hands and prepping the tweezers, you resolved to keep in mind Zayne’s advice regarding situations like these— a level head will serve you better; try to always be calm.

“Stay as still as you can. And move only when I tell you to. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Very well.” he rasped, uncharacteristically obedient. “Wish I could…appreciate the sight of you as my personal nurse, heh.”

Apart from his pained but steady breaths, removing the pieces of shrapnel and cleaning and bandaging the wounds was slow, silent work. You half-expected him to playfully chide you for being so grave and meticulous in your ministrations, but sensing the seriousness of your intent, he did nothing to break the fragile stillness that encompassed you both. 

You only hoped that your efforts would help him self-heal faster. 

It was almost the same that time too…

Your hands had almost faltered on the last wound—a particularly nasty one–but despite how nervous you felt in suturing the gash, he encouraged you instead of pushing you away. Though you shared a small history together from varied run-ins these past few months, no one could deny that you both had been through quite a lot together. The vulnerability he showed you now was worlds apart from before. 

As you finished cleaning up, you tried to regain some sense of equanimity back, if only to string together a few commonplace words.

“All done. You…should be fine. I hope.” 

Without meaning to, you stumbled backwards in the direction of the sink, but he reached for you with his good arm before your back could hit it. He pulled you to the safety of his warm body. 

“Kitten, you’re shaking.”

He was looking down at you, his expression twisted in concern for you. 

“I’m sorry. Maybe…maybe things are starting to catch up to me now.”

“Come with me then.”

You weren’t sure if it was just muscle memory or if his sight had returned to normal, but he led you with little difficulty to his bedroom. He sat you on his bed. 

“I’ll get you some water.”

“Are your eyes better now?”

“I can make out shapes in the shadows, more or less. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

As you waited, you took note of the twinkling city lights from his bedroom window where they suffused the room with a weak, ghostly light. The moon was hidden now by dark wisps of cloud. From up here, it was hard to believe that such a beautiful view could hide a sinister web of greed and lawlessness…

Once he returned, you took long sips of water from an ornate glass meant to hold liquor. 

When you were done, you set it on the nightstand next to the bed.

“How are you feeling?” The kindness in his voice had tears welling up in your eyes.

That honest question alone had always been and would always be your undoing, no matter who asked it.

“Ahem, well…less thirsty,” he sat close to you, extending his good arm to rub small but comforting circles on your back, “but mostly repentant. And thankful, of course.”

You rubbed away the tears that had annoyingly come in full force now, despite your wish to hold back the deluge of emotions.

“I’ve told you this already,” he reached out with his wounded hand to catch your tears, “...don’t ever feel ashamed to be yourself in front of me. Cry all you want. You need to.”

“I don’t know…how….how can you be so…?”

You paused, failing to hold in another sob. 

You understood his point about catharsis. But logically, it made no sense to you how the person meant to comfort was now being comforted. There were so many things that you had wanted to say, things that he needed to hear from you, but something inside held you captive from uttering a word.

Unsure of why, he seemed to you like a bright flame amidst the shadowy dark. A lifeline you could hold on to. For a long moment, you pressed a hand against the solidity and heat of his form before tracking a path from his throat all the way down the palimpsest of his body. Each barely-visible scar that marred his skin was a memory. Your fingers traced over the faint lines and uneven contours of wounds that didn’t smoothly heal. No doubt there was pain and fear for each trial he lived through…and he faced each one alone, hadn’t he? 

He did nothing to impede your movements, his even breathing hitching a little as your hand drifted up, finding the surge of blood fluttering rapidly under your palm. There was no scar here. No marker that indicated this place where you had hurt him once, albeit unwillingly. 

Funny thing.

Your vision blurred with hot tears as you clung to him, finally allowing yourself to have a good long cry.

He was enduringly patient with you.

“I’m…I’m  so sorry, Sylus.”

The solemnity of your name falling from his lips emboldened you to say more. 

“I truly am grateful. Not just for tonight. But to have you in my life. I mean it.”

You felt his body tense slightly against yours before pulling you closer in a half-embrace, a moan-like sigh escaping his lips. He settled his chin atop your head, breathing in your scent.

His voice was above a hushed whisper when he decided to break the silence.

“Rest now. I’ll stay for as long as you need.” 

He moved the both of you near the headboard, entwining your fingers with his as you settled into a more comfortable position against him. In the wakeful hours where insomnia would normally be a torment for you–nothing of the kind happened this time around. A mysterious feeling of peace seemed to quell all your worries and doubts when he held you in the shelter of his embrace. 

You were safe. You were both safe. And more importantly, alive.

In no time at all, you drifted into the blessing of a dreamless sleep.

Somewhere in the Northern District. Linkon City. 

Tuesday. 1:15 PM.

The sensation of something golden and warm brushed against your eyelids, stirring you from sleep. A chink of sunlight had managed to slip through the now drawn curtains. You awoke to find your companion had long since left the bed, but not without propping your head with a pillow and covering you with a knitted blanket that smelled faintly of vanilla. Checking your hunter’s watch, you noted the time and the voicemails that awaited your attention–they were all from Captain Jenna. 

Fuck. Of course. Headquarters would want a full report concerning all the details of the botched transaction. Your vigilance had faltered. Pride before the fall, indeed. You raked a hand through your disheveled hair.

With a heavy sigh, you steeled yourself for the unpleasant conversations that would follow.

Unlucky missions like last night, though few and far between, truthfully made you question whether your purpose had been misplaced. And yet, there was no room to entertain self-doubt, not when you had duties to attend to. Once you tied up these loose ends, you would check in with Sylus, and not merely for an update on the smuggled goods that he assured you his people would take care of.

There was something heartening in finding him preparing a late breakfast –more like brunch– for the two of you in the open kitchen, seemingly back to his old self. He was humming a pleasant melody when you walked in. You inwardly prayed he had gotten some form of rest.

“Morning…er, Good afternoon, I mean.” 

He slowly turned to face you, his lips crooking into an easy smile. A real one. You much preferred him like this. 

“I take it that you’re okay now?” 

The lilt in your voice was hopeful as you followed him to the café-style breakfast nook where he plated Belgian-style waffles, an assortment of fruit and cream, honey and jam, along with a pot of steaming coffee and an assortment of teas. The gold trimming on the china glinted in a welcoming way as it caught the afternoon light.

“As good as new, thanks to you.”

He even turned around so that you could appraise him, his motions free from any semblance of stiffness or pain.

“I’m so glad.” 

His garnet eyes twinkled with mirth as they beheld yours.

“Actually, I have.… something for you–” he gestured to a black suitcase on the coffee table in the living room, “it should help you neatly wrap up your investigation. I hope.”

It dawned on you yet again how much you owed him for his help. More than likely Luke and Kieran were also involved; you would have to make it up to them as well. As if reading your mind, he stifled the apology that was on your lips.

“If anything, I bear some of the blame for not being honest the moment I contacted you…”

“What do you mean?” 

Your hands grasped the back of the chair in a small attempt to brace yourself.

“Last night was an ambush. My sources confirmed that. Unfortunately, misinformation can have its consequences. And I was worried…so worried that I couldn’t let other people deal with it.”

The notion that you were fed tampered information or that you were made to believe that the assignment was nothing more than standard fare as far as protocore smuggling was concerned had not even crossed your mind. As the leader of Onychinus, his information network had to be extensive, and as such, it was easier for him to ascertain traps….including the one meant for the Hunter’s Association last night.

His unexpected presence was far from being the nuisance you deemed it was the moment you heard the husky notes of his voice through your earpiece. An illicit deal in the cover of night in the hinterland of Linkon’s borders (yet across the river from the N109 zone’s jurisdiction) was beneath his notice. And yet, he came, for you.

Just for you.

Your hands gripped the back of your chair harder, your gaze locked on his own.

“I’m selfish. I’d rather risk exposing my weaknesses when I protect you than see you injured.”

“Sylus…”

“It’s not enough to make amends, but will you stay a little longer, and share a meal with me before you go?”

He offered you his hand in earnest supplication. 

Somehow gathering enough composure to walk up to him, you cradled his hand in your smaller ones. 

“Of course. I can make some time for you.” 

He bent forward to press a soft kiss on your forehead, letting his lips linger there before reluctantly pulling away. 

“Wonderful. Shall we?”

While the food he prepared smelled sweet and enticing, making your stomach gnaw in actual hunger, all you could do was stare at him, quietly reflecting on the significance of all the small details. It wasn’t surprising when he finally noted the intensity of your steady gaze, elegantly setting down his cup of coffee on the table. Maybe he did have some kind of otherworldly presentient ability in that protocore eye of his, because at the moment you thought it, he extended his right hand across the table. 

Without hesitating, you delicately weaved your fingers with his. Despite the desire to be mindful of his bandages, he flexed his fingers about yours, as if testing the give of your hand against his. There was no feeling equal to it; all you knew was that your heart felt lighter than it had in a very long time. 

Normally, you would have considered your current actions as reckless and unprofessional, but in your view, trading away this rare fragment of time with him would have felt more than just criminal. 

Whatever the fallout might be, you would handle it in some way or another, like you always did.

For now, all that mattered was the present, and the things that passed between you as you enjoyed each other’s company on a not-so-everyday Tuesday afternoon.

END.

author's final notes:

There are probably a thousand directions this could have gone, but I hope no one minds the heavy dose of angst and comfort combination. This is just how it seemed to unfold for me as I wrote this. It's just a little sad that MC treats him better as a cat butler in the event than in this story....

Once again, to reiterate, this was very self-indulgent take.

Anyway, thank you so very much for reading! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed it! Have a lovely day!

(NB: * Please don't feed my work into AI. )

[topazy]

Teen spirit

Pairing: Carl Grimes × reader, Maggie Greene × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence

Chapter: 6.06

Groaning, you start sitting up by yourself but struggle, feeling an ache in your side. As soon as Glenn sees you’re awake, he is immediately by your side, helping you sit up and adding an extra pillow behind you. On the other side of the bed, you notice Carl sleeping in a chair; he looks exhausted with heavy dark circles underneath his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Glenn asks.

“Like I’ve been stabbed.”

He shakes his head and smiles, “You had us worried; Maggie will be so relieved you’re awake. She’s gone home to change her clothes.”

Your community didn’t have a real hospital, so the doctors used one of the homes as a makeshift medical facility. It felt strange laying in one of the beds; the last person who slept in the one you were in was Carl when he lost his eye.

Quietly you ask, “Where’s Eugene?”

“The bullet only grazed him; he’s fine.”

“That’s good.” Sighing, you lean back into the pillow, “Did they bring Denise back?”

Glenn looks down at his feet, “Not at first, but Daryl and Rosita went back and got her. They brought her home.”

Tears of relief roll down your cheeks; the fear of her body being left outside for the elements, walkers, or animals to destroy was in the back of your mind. “Good. Those men... they came out of nowhere,” you muffle a sob with the back of your hand. “How bad is it?”

“The knife missed anything major, thank God. Carol was able to stitch up the wound, but you will have one hell of a scar.”

“It will be some story to tell my future niece or nephew.”

Glenn kisses your forehead. “I’m going to let Maggie know you’re awake.”

Once Glenn leaves, your eyes start to close over; despite just waking up, you were still exhausted. You hear the sound of a chair moving, then feel a warm hand against your own. Feeling yourself start to fall asleep, you link your fingers with Carl’s.

—

Carl was pissed, and you couldn’t blame him. His dad and Morgan had left Alexandria to go find Carol, who had decided to leave without saying goodbye to anyone in person. Daryl had left to look for Dwight and his men, and Glenn, Michonne, and Rosita had gone after him. Seven of the best fighters in your group had left base, leaving only Maggie, Abraham, Sasha, and Carl to defend your community if someone attacked.

Biting down on your lip, you sit down on Carl’s bed. He had moved the bed next to the window since the view looked out into the woods.

“I went to the armory and got you a few things.”

He places a black holdall on the floor, and your eyes widen when he zips the bag open. “Oh lord, those are more than a few things,” you say quietly. “It won’t take Aaron long to notice they are gone.”

“Then I’ll just tell him the truth; I took them.”

He pulls a flare out the bag and sits it on the window ledge. “If you see anything, use this, and I’ll come right back. I promise.”

“Thanks.”

“Y/N, it's okay to be afraid after what happened.”

“I'm not afraid,” you say defensively.

So much weight was landing on Carl’s shoulders; it wasn’t fair. Every kid had been forced to grow up too quickly since the world went to hell, but the burdens that fell on Carl always seemed to be extremely unfair.

“I just wish I could help more.”

“Keeping an eye out for those assholes is helpful.”

“Suppose,” you pick up the binoculars and look outside. “I can’t even pick Judith up; I’m just worried I’m going to be useless if they attack.”

“You won’t be,” Carl leans down and kisses you. “I’m gonna go get Judith from Olivia; I’ll be back soon.”

—

Maggie leans against the doorframe in the kitchen; her tone reminds you of the one your mom would use whenever she was frustrated. “You should be resting in bed.”

“I’m not doing anything strenuous; I’m just making lunch.”

“For how many people?”

Your shrug, “Whoever is hungry, I was falling asleep sitting by the window, and everyone needs to eat at some point.”

Sitting around was making you feel guilty; you just wanted to help. The sandwiches and plate of carrot sticks on offer were nothing in comparison compared to the meals Carol could make.

Maggie leans her arms against the counter. “How are you feeling anyway?”

“My side feels tight where the stitches are, but it should be me fussing over you. You look exhausted.”

“Thanks,” she snorts.

“You need to rest, Maggie, even for a couple of hours.”

“No can do. We are short of bodies as it is. We need all hands on deck.”

Enid knocks on the doorframe lightly and steps into the room. “I didn’t mean to listen in, but I can cover Maggie’s shift for a few hours.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Maggie raises her brows, “Who’s in charge here?”

“You need to rest.”

“I really don’t mind,” Enid says. “You should be putting your feet up and eating ice cream or whatever else you’re craving.”

“It’s sorted then.”

“Fine,” Maggie raises her hands in defeat before laughing and taking one of the sandwiches, “but only because the two of you are ganging up on me.”

—

“I could see myself living by the seaside.” Carl runs his fingers through your hair. “There would always be a good supply of food like fish, crabs, and frogs.”

“Frogs?” You chuckle, “I don’t imagine they would be easy to catch.”

The look on his face is solemn. “One person needs to go into the water and splash around, and the other catches them in a bucket when they try to get away.”

Rick returned not long ago, and you had hoped Carl would be less stressed, but he still seems upset, and you didn’t want to push him to talk until he was ready.

“I’d love to live on a farm again one day.”

Carl rests his head against your shoulder. The two of you were sitting in the living room while Enid cut your sister's hair. Enid had taken the ends off your hair already, and you were just waiting to clean up once she was done. It’s only when you look at the length Carl’s hair has got that you remember him saying the only person he let cut his hair was his mom.

Hearing a groaning sound coming from the kitchen, you jolt up, “Maggie? Maggie!”

When you don’t get a response, Carl rushes into the kitchen, with you close behind him. Enid is in shock watching as Maggie doubles over in pain, clutching at her stomach.

The baby.

“Oh my god, what happened?”

Frightens, Enid shakes her head. “I don’t know, she was fine one minute, and then the pain came out of nowhere.”

When Carl helps Maggie stand up, you go to the opposite side of her.

“Enid, go get Rick! We need to take Maggie to the doctor in Hilltop.”