#please come save him from the awful nightmares.

[stomach-rental]

Louis found a toy someone's been sleeping with...how's that line go? Something something, you're my only hope?

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 2: A Million Shades of Red ✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m so excited to bring you chapter two! I’ve been working long and hard on this, so I hope you do enjoy it. As always, I LOVE to hear your thoughts so comments and reblogs really make my day 🩷 I loved getting to write the last half of this in Joel’s POV. No beta for this one. Happy reading! I have reached my max number of tags for this, so please go follow my updates blog if you'd like to be notified for future updates @mermaidgirl30-updates

Summary: Trying to figure out your way through grief is hard, but Joel seems to give you that first flicker of hope that you need.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 12.7k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused, angst, soft and protective Joel, violence, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, switching POVs

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The next day you don’t leave your room, can barely stand to get out of bed. So, you don’t. You just stay curled up in a ball between the twisted sheets, listening to the soft drizzle of rain and the howling wind that taps at the glass window. You tossed and turned the entire night while nightmares tore their way through your worn body, reminding you that your life was ripped from your hands more than a year and a half ago. 

   You’re not hungry, can barely even choke down a glass of water. But Joel goes out of his way to make sure you get something down, even going as far as helping you hold the glass, encouraging you the entire time. You never asked him to; he just does it.

   He brings you food to your bed. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And even when you can’t stomach anything, he leaves the plate next to your bed in case you change your mind. He checks on you every hour of the day, even if that’s just him walking by and peeking his head in the doorway to make sure you’re still breathing, alive. 

   You don’t feel alive, but maybe one day you will. Maybe one day you won’t wake up and immediately feel like dying.

   One day. It’s only been one single fucking day since you’ve been pulled from the reins of Angela and all her grimy men, saved by the hands of Joel Miller. And you still don’t understand why he picked you. Of all the girls he could’ve saved, he chose to save you…

   He saved you. And you’re eternally, forever grateful. Even if you can’t express that. Joel Miller is your hero. And even though you don’t exactly trust him yet, maybe one day you will. For now, this is enough. 

   Take it one step at a time. That’s what he keeps telling you. And you just swallow it down and stomach the pain like hot wire scalding your skin. 

   One day at a time. 

   When the night comes around, so do the nightmares. They leave you soaked in sweat, hair sticking to your damp forehead, eyes wide when they drag you from sleep. Blood curdling screams leave your lips, the raspy wails choking you as the tears pour like raindrops down your face. 

   And then there’s Joel slamming the door open, watching you with those sad brown eyes locked on yours, his soft voice calming you down from the brutal memories of the past that try to drag you back to the awful, pain-filled house. You’ll never go back. Not ever again.

   Again, he doesn’t leave until you’ve calmed down enough. He asks if you want him to stay, sit in that same chair he sat in the entire night the evening before. But you shake your head and tell him you’ll be okay. But you’re not okay. You’re far from okay. And when he nods and walks out of the room and closes his bedroom door, you let the tears soak the sheets until you’re dragged back down into darkness. 

   That’s exactly how the next three days go. You stay in bed, only dragging yourself from the cool sheets to crawl to the bathroom. You have no strength, no will to do anything. So you stay in the safety of your room and just sleep, praying the nightmares will leave you alone for just one fucking day, but they don’t. They come like creatures in the night, swallowing you whole with their sharp fangs and feasting on your misery. They bleed you dry just like all those men did. 

   And then there’s Joel and those sad doe eyes… He scares away the nightmares sometimes. But you don’t dare tell him that. You just stay silent, letting him stalk the halls day and night until you’re pulled down to sleep. 

   It’s a repeated cycle that you can’t break: wake up, get a teeth clenching migraine, cry, fall back to sleep, wake up with nightmares clouding your mind, cry, let Joel talk you back to sleep, cry. But you can’t stop, can’t shake it. It’s like it’s ingrained deep in your mind, becoming a part of your new identity. 

   You’re completely hopeless.

   And still Joel doesn’t push you, doesn’t make you do anything you don’t want to. He’s just a crutch that he’d gladly let you use, if only you’d touch him. But you don’t. You stay far far away from his tanned skin, his rough hands. You don’t want to be touched, and he doesn’t dare go there. He just stays like a lingering shadow in the hall, making sure you’re still here. Alive. He wants you alive, breathing. And you don’t know why…

   When the fourth day comes around, you make it your goal to get up. You have to try; you can’t stay in bed forever, even if your weak body is completely revolting against any sort of movement. You ignore the blinding pain of your aching bones and push yourself out of bed. And that in itself is a step in the right direction. 

   With messy hair, sweatpants, and a purple hoodie, you take a deep breath and make your way out of the room, praying you can make it all the way downstairs. Every step feels like sharp glass shards cutting the bottom of your heels, but you fight the burning pain and walk on. You have to make it downstairs. You just have to.

   Take it one step at a time. Joel’s soothing voice floats through your mind, and that alone is enough to get you down the steps and into the kitchen. 

   When you turn the corner and see him slumped against the counter, one elbow leaning against it and his other hand skimming the newspaper intently, you freeze in place. He must’ve not heard you tiptoe in because his eyes are locked tight on the folded black and white paper.

   He’s focused, jaw tense as he reaches for his cup of coffee. It’s black. No cream, no sugar. Just black. And you can smell the fresh brew lingering in the air. His green flannel hugs his broad shoulders, the rolled up sleeves leaving his tanned forearms exposed to the light. His eyes have dark shadows underneath them, and he looks like he’s gotten just as much sleep as you have these past few days. Basically none at all.

   Your eyes avert to the floor, your fingers nervously twisting into the soft fabric of the hoodie. You don’t know what to say, so you just take one more step into the lit up kitchen and clear your closed-up throat. 

   Joel’s eyes snap up, and he immediately drops the newspaper, pushing back his sturdy mug of black coffee. “Oh, hey. You’re up.” A ghost of a smile meets his lips and then those soft doe eyes appear. 

   He needs to stop looking at you like that, like you’re a lost puppy. But you won’t lie, they do make you feel a little safer. 

   Nodding your head, you push your hands inside the pockets of the hoodie, twiddling your thumbs mindlessly because you don’t know how else to act when anxiety and fright sit tucked away in the back of your mind.

   “You hungry?” he asks, tilting his head as he studies you with soft eyes. 

   Those soft brown eyes… 

   Your stomach rumbles at the thought of food. You’ve barely eaten the past few days, unable to stomach anything under than choking water down and only able to tolerate a couple pieces of toast. Anything else was left untouched, and all Joel would do was sigh when he kept seeing the full plates of food left on your nightstand. But again, he didn’t force you to eat anything, only encouraged you while he asked if you felt okay. 

   He was… too good. Why on earth did he choose to save you…

   “Mhm,” is all you can hum out. 

   ���Okay then. Why don’t you sit down, sweetheart. I can fix you somethin’ up real quick,” he answers from across the lavish kitchen, pulling out various ingredients from the refrigerator. 

   You slip into one of the barstools at the kitchen island and lean your elbows against the white quartz that reflect against the bright lights displayed high in the room. Your back is as stiff as a board, and your fingers knot together like you don’t know how to act when you’re in the presence of Joel. He won’t hurt you, yet in the back of your mind there’s always that little alarm that says you can’t trust anyone. 

   You can trust him. He’s safe.

   “Apples or blueberries?” he calls out behind the open refrigerator door. 

   “What?” you ask confused as your eyes flick back up to him.

   He leans his head out and smiles softly. “Which one do you like more, sweetheart? Apples or blueberries?”

   You take a second to think on the question. He’s asking which you like more. He’s giving you a choice. Something you haven’t had in almost two years. Do you even remember how to choose anything for yourself? You doubt it.

   “Oh, ummm,” you sputter out, fingers locked tight around each other. You almost think they’ll break with how hard you have them knotted together. “Blueberries,” is what you finally decide on through your racing mind.

   He nods his head and grabs a container of fresh blueberries and sits them on the counter, pulling out other ingredients like butter and syrup. You sit there motionless while he gathers a couple of pans and glass plates out of the cabinet. And you just don’t know what to think about any of this. 

   After a couple minutes of just listening to him bustle around the kitchen, he breaks the silence. “You want some coffee? Just made a fresh batch a few minutes ago.”

   Coffee. You don’t remember the taste of it anymore or how you even liked it. “Oh, okay. Yeah, I could take some coffee,” you say shyly with your hands still shoved deep in your pockets. 

   He wastes no time and pours you a cup, sliding a spoon in as warm steam escapes from the black liquid. “How do you like it? Black, sweet, lots of creamer?”

   Your lips mold together in a tight line as you try hard to remember how you used to make it. You can’t recall anything you used to like before you were taken, and it makes you want to beat your fists on the countertop and spill the tears you’re trying so very hard to hold back. 

   “I don’t—I don’t remember how I like it,” you whisper, eyes dropped to the shiny island, legs trembling beneath you. 

   Joel takes a step in your direction and sets the steamy cup of coffee down in front of you. You can feel his body looming across the island, his large hands leaning against the quartz material, and those eyes. You feel how soft and sad and intently he’s looking at you, like he understands your pain.

   “Sweetheart, can you look at me a second?” he asks quietly, his deep voice a staccato in the heavy air. When you lift your eyes, he gently encourages you by saying, “There ya go. Attagirl.” And for some reason, that makes you want to cry even more. 

   “S’alright, sweetheart. How ‘bout I leave out the cream and sugar, and you can make it sweeter if you don’t like it plain. That alright with you?” he asks softly, his gentle brown eyes locked on yours. You sniffle out a yes, and he gives you a small smile as he turns to grab the creamer and sugar. 

   You drag the coffee cup closer to you and tap your nails against the ceramic material, thinking long and hard about everything you’ve lost. What did you even like doing anymore? You can barely remember what you liked before the last couple of years were snatched away from you. You can’t even remember your favorite color…

   When he returns and sets the bottle of creamer and a shaker of sugar down in front of you, you crack. A tear slips down your cheek, and you look up at him through glassy eyes. “I can’t remember what I loved to do before they—before they took me. My hobbies, my passions, my likes. I just don’t remember…” Your voice is barely audible as it shakes beneath your broken stature. 

   God, you’re so broken. 

   His jaw flexes and his knuckles tighten into closed fists. He seems angry, but those sad brown eyes tell a different story. He’s not mad at you; he’s furious about the ones that took your life away. The murders that tainted and destroyed your life, your mind, your heart. They took everything from you, and Joel knows this. He hates it as much as you do. 

   He takes a deep breath and relaxes his fingers against the cold material of the kitchen island, his brown eyes focused directly on you. His bottom lip twitches, and then he sighs as he speaks. “It’s gonna take a while, sweetheart. Gonna take time and work to remember what it was you loved before, what you lost. But I have no doubt that you’ll get ‘em back. You’re gonna discover new loves, new passions, new hobbies. And trust me when I say that you will thrive. One day, you’re gonna be soarin’, and all this pain and sufferin’ will be gone. Maybe not completely, but you’re gonna fly, sweetheart. Wings and all.”

   Another tear escapes your lash line, and you nod up at him slowly. “Thank you…” is all you can muster out of your highly emotional state. Thoughts are hard after he just painted a masterpiece with his words. 

   You’re gonna fly, sweetheart. The words stay sealed in a safe space deep inside your mind. No one can take what he just said away from you. Words that were spoken straight from your savior. Words meant just for you. Wings and all.

   “Why don’t you take a sip of your coffee? See how you like it.” He encourages you to try while he stands back and watches. 

   You bring the curve of the cup to your lips and take a small sip. As the warm liquid washes down your throat, your nose instantly crinkles up. Joel’s laugh floats around the room, bouncing off the stained cabinets and right back to you. You almost want to laugh back because his laugh is so infectious and light, but you don’t. 

   “Take it you’re not jus’ a plain cup of coffee type of girl,” he chuckles as he pushes back his sandy tousled hair, a couple strands of silver flashing beneath the bright lights. 

   “Guess not,” you reply as you reach for the sugar next. When you pour a large spoonful in and mix it up, you take another sip. It’s closer to your liking, but there’s still ingredients missing that you can’t recall. 

   “Not sweet enough for you yet?” he grins, taking a sip from his own coffee cup, watching you struggle with finding just the right mix. 

   “Not yet,” you sigh, annoyed with your own self from not knowing how to make your coffee anymore. 

   “S’alright. Try the creamer next. Maybe that’ll do it.” 

   As you start to pour the thick creamer into the warm liquid, he sets a shaker of cinnamon in front of you. And again, he just watches you with those warm milky-brown eyes. 

   You look at him all gawking and wordless, speechless because he’s trying to strike your memory, make you remember what you liked. He just stands there and smiles, watching you pour some cinnamon in next, like that’s what you needed. You don’t know why, but it makes your heart race just a beat faster.

   “In case that’s what you were lookin’ for,” he replies, flicking his soft eyes down to the brown cinnamon atop the now lighter-colored coffee.

   When he turns back around, a hint of a smile curls against your pink lips. In case that’s what you were looking for. He’s so… kind. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve him.

   You take a sip of your creamy, sugared-up coffee and hum at the sweet taste. Almost there, almost how you want it. You toss in some more cinnamon, mixing it into the almost white liquid. And when the delicious flavor meets your tastebuds, you freeze. 

   Caramel. That’s the ingredient you’re missing. It’s like a lock clicked right into place. A lost piece that was missing, and Joel helped you find that piece of yourself again. 

   “Joel?” you call. His body whips around, and then those soft brown eyes are on you. Those doe-colored irises that make your mouth run dry. 

   “Yeah, sweetheart?” he asks, like he’s right at your beck and call. 

   “Do you by chance have any caramel?”

   His eyes light up at that request, and he smiles warmly. “As a matter of fact, I do,” he grins. 

   He walks over to the refrigerator and pulls it open effortlessly, digging around until a small bottle of caramel materializes and lands in front of you, his fingers brushing past your coffee cup as he takes a step back. 

   “Hope you found what you were lookin’ for.” The way his deep timbre and the meaning of his words leaves you smiling behind the hand that’s leaning against your mouth. 

   “I think I did,” you say shyly up at him.

   He chuckles and nods, knowing exactly what that means. “I’ll make sure to always have caramel stocked in the fridge from now on. Jus’ for you.”

   Just for you.

   A smile ghosts over your lips, and another tear leaks when you realize what just happened. You actually smiled. You smiled. Even just a small one is progress. Joel made that progress happen. He made you smile…

   After pouring in a glob of syrup and stirring the sugary goodness with your spoon, you almost moan from the way the savory coffee hits you like you just swallowed the best piece of cake in the world. This is how you liked your coffee. Caramel, sugar, lots of creamer, cinnamon, warm. You just unlocked a forgotten piece in your mind, and it’s all because of Joel…

   The way he’s looking at you, soft doe eyes and a big smile curled against his plush lips, makes you give him a small nod. And in that moment, you see a ghost of a tear in his clear brown eyes. He knows you just found another lost part of yourself, and he loves to see you discover it once again. 

   He ends up making you blueberry pancakes drenched in butter and syrup, and you have to admit that these are the best pancakes you’ve had in your entire life. While you indulge in the sticky, syrupy plate, Joel joins you at the kitchen island after a few minutes. He’s careful to sit one barstool away from you, knowing very well that you need your space. And that’s exactly what he does. Gives you space while also being close, present, in the moment. And you appreciate that about him. He’s respectful of your boundaries when no one else has ever been before.

   He gives you a smile every once in a while as he sips his black coffee, barely touching his own pancakes. You think he just likes watching you eat, for whatever reason that may be. You know damn well you don’t look pretty shoveling a huge forkful of pancakes in your mouth, but you let him watch anyway. Maybe it’s because you aren’t used to being fed like this, only used to being starved to death. He’s trying to give you the freedom and enjoyment back in your life, you think. And that alone almost brings tears to your eyes. 

   Another couple of minutes goes by, and that’s when you decide to break the silence. Maybe he could answer some questions that’ve been crawling under your skin since the moment you stepped foot into this house. “Joel?”

   “Hmm?” he hums, taking one more sip of his coffee and setting the mug down on the quartz island. 

   You take a second to breathe, tapping the fork nervously against the glass plate, gathering your words together. And then you ask the question that’s been eating you alive at night. “What were you doing at the auction, really?”

   He taps his thumb against the brim of his coffee cup and stares off into the blue silently, his jaw slightly clenched. “I was there for business.”

   “Business?”

   “Yes,” he answers blatantly.

   “Seems like you’ve done it more than once. Been at auctions, I mean.” You drag your fork over the syrup-filled plate, wondering what he’ll say next.

   “That’s ‘cause I have,” he says as he swallows a sip of coffee, setting it back down carefully. Like he might break the glass if he’s too loud. 

   That doesn’t answer your question, so you grit your teeth together and ask again. “Why were you there, Joel?”

   He sighs and runs his fingers back through his tousled curls, making it messy and disheveled as thick lines map across his tanned forehead. “Was tryin’ to find someone. A girl named Rebecca. Her family, they reached out. Told ‘em I would find her and bring her back home.”

   Words get lodged in the back of your throat, your mouth suddenly dry as a desert. He was looking for someone but instead found you. He could’ve left you to the awful blonde man. The nameless face that still haunts your nightmares, depriving you of adequate sleep.

   “Oh. I see…” you say quietly. “But you found me instead?”

   He nods slowly. “S’right, sweetheart. Found you instead. Got you out jus’ in time, too. Glad I did.”

   Your bottom lip quivers as tears prick the back of your eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. He should’ve left you there to die. You already feel dead, so why does he want to bring you back to life? 

   “You could’ve just left me there. You could’ve just—” Your words are smeared with guilt because he shouldn’t have wasted his time and money and efforts on you. But he did, and you still don’t think you deserved it. His kindness. Just everything he’s done for you. You don’t deserve any of it.

   “Whoa. Hold on there, sweetheart,” he says as he halts you from finishing your sentence. “I wasn’t gonna jus’ leave you. So don’t for a second think I would’ve.”

   His sad brown eyes don’t help your trembling, but you just nod and brush away any trace of tears with the sleeve of your hoodie.

   “Okay,” you choke out. 

   His fingertips brush against the edge of the kitchen island and after another minute of silence, you ask the next question that you’ve been wondering. “What exactly is it that you do for work?”

   He blows out a deep breath and answers. “I was a former CIA agent. After Sarah was taken, I did everything I could to find her and get her back. Turns out when I found her, I found ten other girls that were missin’. I decided then what my line of work was gonna be. Opened up my own private business that focuses on huntin’ down sex traffickers, shuttin’ down auctions, findin’ missing girls. A lot of families hire me to help bring their daughters home, and that’s what I do.”

   Your eyes widen as you take in the information. Joel does this sort of thing on a weekly basis? “So, you’re kind of like a bounty hunter?”

   “Something like that, I suppose,” he chuckles. “It’s almost like I never left my former position sometimes. But this seemed more important. After Sarah was taken, I made it my life’s mission to take down as many traffickers as I could. And trust me when I say I will find every single fucker that ever laid their filthy hands on you, and I will destroy them.”

   You swallow back a lump in your throat and gawk at what he just said. “I don’t know what to say, Joel. That’s uhh—that’s…”

   “Don’t gotta say anything, sweetheart. That’s a lot of information to take in.”

   “You kill people?” you ask quietly, dropping your fork as it clatters against the glass plate. You’ve suddenly lost your appetite. 

   “Unfortunately, yes,” he sighs, dragging his palm down his patchy beard in deep thought.

   “A lot?”

   He nods. “I’ve killed a lot of bad men, sweetheart. Both for the CIA and for my own business. After knowing what most of ‘em have done, that’s the only thing you can do sometimes. ‘Cause if they go to prison, they’ll jus’ get bailed out and do it all over again. I’ve witnessed it happen quite a lot, unfortunately. So, the only way is to get rid of ‘em for good.” 

   “I see…” you whisper, twiddling your thumbs together mindlessly as your eyebrows knit together in concentration.

   He kills people. Bad people.  

   “Look, if you’re uncomfortable with this topic we can—”

   You stop him right there by shaking your head, your eyes snapping up to look him intently in the eyes. “No. No, I just—that’s gotta be heavy, Joel. What you do.”

   He groans under his breath and nods, his brown eyes heavy with years of dealing with traffickers. “It is, sweetheart. But I do it to make a difference. Seein’ those girls go back to their families, watchin’ ‘em get back to living their lives is truly worth the long nights and heartache of this job.”

   Your eyes get a little foggy as you look at him like a lost puppy, admiration and sadness swirling through your irises. You don’t have a family to go back to. You don’t have anyone. But you don’t see Joel rushing to kick you out. In fact, he hasn’t even said anything on the topic yet. You don’t even know where you’d go, what you’d do. 

   How can a person get by in life if they don’t even know who they are anymore? You’d probably just wither away into burnt ashes if it wasn’t for Joel…

   After a beat of silence, Joel digs around in the pocket of his denim jeans and takes something out. “Oh, and this is for you.” A new iPhone appears on the clean counter, and then he slides it over to you. 

   Your mouth drops open as you unlock the screen, your index finger flicking through the different pages.“You really got me a phone?” you ask with disbelief in your voice.

   “Sure did, sweetheart. It’s got my contact information in there, and I put Sarah’s in there for ya. In case you wanna reach out. Or I could do it. Whatever you’re comfortable with. And Tess’s number is in there. Whenever you’re ready to talk to her, she’ll be there. Jus’ don’t push yourself. Only when you’re ready. You’ll know it when you are.”

   Your lips tremble as you swallow back fresh tears. He’s already done more than you deserve. “Thank you, Joel. This is… this is more than I could’ve asked for. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

   He holds up a palm to stop you, scoffing at the last sentence. “‘S’not necessary, sweetheart. You don’t owe me a dime.”

   “But I—.”

   “Hey, listen to me. You don’t owe me anything ever, sweetheart. Not a damn thing. The only thing you could possibly give me is the chance to see you healing from all this trauma. Learning to love life again is all I wanna see. Understand?”

   He wants to see you enjoy life again. He wants to see you healing…

   “Oh. I uhh—okay,” you stammer out quietly.

   “Go on and finish your pancakes. You want some more coffee? I could—”

   Before Joel can finish his sentence, the front door opens with a bang, and you jump in your seat, your fork going flying to the ground.

   “Joel! Hey, Joel. We need to talk. I…”

   Your eyes widen in fright as you see a tall man with slicked back dark, greasy hair standing in the hallway. The breath gets knocked from your lungs like you’ve been kicked in the chest, and adrenaline courses through your veins like lightning. Fear sets you on edge, and all you can think is that this man is here to take you away or worse, hurt you. 

   No, no, no. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening! 

   “Jesus Christ,” Joel growls as he slips off his barstool, stalking toward the man with a matching pair of dark brown eyes. But they’re much darker than Joel’s.

   “Joel, I—Oh.” The man freezes as Joel stands over him, clearly upset that he appeared out of thin air. 

   Your body tells you to run, to hide. So you slide off your stool and start to move quickly. Before you can get out of the kitchen, Joel stops you in your tracks. 

   “Hey, s’alright. He’s not gonna—” Joel coos, trying to calm you down, one arm outstretched like he’s reaching for you. 

   Your hands lock around the edge of the wall, trying to grip onto something that’ll ground you into place. 

   Calm down. He won’t hurt you. But you don’t know that. You don’t know this man. And you can’t trust any of them. Can you even fully trust Joel? You don’t know now.

   “Tommy, I told you to call first. Don’t jus’ show up. You knew she was here! The hell’s the matter with you?” Joel growls, shoving him hard in the shoulder.

   “Shit, Joel. I wasn’t even thinkin’. Sorry, I just assumed you talked to her already,” he apologizes, brushing off the spot on his leather jacket that Joel moved out of place. 

   You watch the banter between them, not knowing what to do or where to run. 

   “Well, I was ‘bout to. I said four in the afternoon, Tommy. Not the fuckin’ mornin’. Christ,” he scoffs, hands on his hips while his lips form into a tight line. “Now you apologize to her.”

   “Darlin’, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Tommy sighs, taking a step forward in your direction.

   “Stay back,” you warn, trying your best to sound brave, but you’re anything but that. 

   “Hey, s’alright, sweetheart. He’s not gonna hurt ya,” Joel soothes slowly, stepping forward as his brown eyes soften when he looks at you. “This is Tommy. He’s my brother. He works with me. Actually helped me the night I got you out.”

   Your eyes flick quickly between the two of them. Your mouth feels like sandpaper when you realize what he just said. He was there too? “He… helped you?”

   Joel nods, keeping his distance to make you feel more comfortable. “S’right, sweetheart. Helped me get you out safely.”

   “What…” you whisper, your eyes wide as you look at Tommy. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do right now as he stands between you and Joel, trying to figure out if he’s too close.

   “It’s true, darlin’.” Tommy has the same mannerisms and Southern drawl as Joel. They really must be brothers. 

   “Th—thank you,” you say directly at Tommy, your hand dropping from the wall as your guard drops.

   He smiles and stuffs his hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Don’t mention it, darlin’. Glad you were able to get out of that hell hole.”

   “Me too…” you answer back in a whisper.

   “Joel, I need to speak with you for a minute.” Tommy nods his head toward the living room, and Joel looks between you and his brother, brows furrowed together undecidedly. He obviously knows how uncomfortable and uncertain you are with a strange man in the house. But this isn’t your house. It’s Joel’s.

   “Is it alright if he comes in, sweetheart?” Joel looks over at you with soft brown eyes. And God, those fucking eyes will be the death of you.

   “Why are you asking me? It’s your house. Why are you—.”

   He rakes a palm down his thick beard and sighs. “‘Cause I don’t want you scared, sweetheart.”

   You just stand there like an idiot looking between him and Tommy, deciding how this will go. Your body screams for him to leave, but half of you trusts Joel. And if he says he won’t hurt you then you know he’s not lying. 

   “It’s okay, Joel. He can come in,” you say hesitantly, your fingers curling in, making half crescent moons against your skin.

   Tommy smiles while you just stand there silently, watching like a hawk. “Thank you, darlin’. You know you’re a brave girl, don’t you?”

   You give Tommy a bewildered look and just shake your head while Joel watches the interactions between the two of you. “I don’t feel like one,” you half whisper out. 

   “Well, ya are,” he confirms.

   Again, you stand and stare. Fingernails embedded into your palms. You might as well be drawing blood now.

   “C’mon, Tommy.” Joel leads him into the living room, leaving you to an empty kitchen with half-eaten pancakes on the countertop. But your appetite has sailed away. And suddenly, you can’t even catch your breath.

   You make your way over to the barstool, knocking the knife to the floor with a loud clatter. There you go again making messes. When will you ever learn? 

   You twirl a piece of hair anxiously, awaiting whatever the conversation is to be over. You don’t like not knowing what’s being said, especially when it’s two large men that could take you down in a matter of seconds. 

   Joel would never. At least you don’t think. It’s weird, the thing between you two. He saved you, continuously tries to comfort you in a way that you’ll accept, tries to take care of you. And you haven’t even been here a fucking week yet. 

   He’s… different. He wouldn’t hurt you. Not ever. At least that’s what you keep telling yourself. But his actions match his words. And he feels safe. But are you ever really safe anymore? Your body thinks not, and it makes you sick to your stomach. 

   You saunter over to the edge of the kitchen, leaning your ear against the edge of the wall, hoping to get a glimpse into their conversation. You have to know what’s being discussed. For your safety and the comfort of your mind. They could be discussing anything.

   Leaning a little closer, you get a drift of their conversation.

   “You sure, Tommy?”

   “Positive. We got ‘em, brother. We found ‘em. And they’re not gettin’ away this time.”

   Blood pumps like a fountain through your ears, and your nails dig in deeper into the painted wall. Who did they possibly find?

   “You found ‘em. Shit.”

   “That’s right. Now it’s time to give them what they deserve.”

   You whip around the corner in a whirl and stomp into the room, arms crossed and on guard. Joel and Tommy snap their heads up, and Joel meets your eyes that are swirled with a look of desperation. A plea for him to trust you enough with whatever this is.

   “You found who?” Your bottom lip trembles and your hands shake. You’re so fucking worked up over nothing. 

   “Oh—uhh.” Tommy looks from you and back to Joel, not able to make a decision. 

   “Tell me.” It isn’t a question but a demand. Not like you’re in a place to be demanding answers, but you deserve them. All the secrets Angela and her men kept left you vulnerable and in a dark place. And for fuck’s sake, you deserve to be told things. 

   Joel steps in and saves Tommy from the decision. “S’okay, Tommy. She has a right to know.” His dark eyes flick over Tommy and then back up at you, and they look a little softer when he’s specifically looking at you. “Some of the buyers. Tommy was able to track ‘em down. He was able to help shut down another auction last night, and some of the same men that were at yours were there.”

   You stand there stunned and wide-eyed like you’re frozen to the wooden floor. Even… the blonde one?

   Before you can ask, Tommy steps in. “Wasn’t jus’ me. My brother here helped. And some of our other men.”

   Joel helped. But he was here? How could he…

   “What umm—what happened?” you choke out. You can barely speak. Too stunned to barely even blink.

   “Was able to take some of ‘em into custody. Got some of our other workers watchin’ ‘em. Makin’ sure they don’t see daylight again. Not until Joel—well, steps in.”

   You drag your tongue gut wrenchingly slow over your bottom teeth and just stare with a locked jaw ahead at Joel. His eyes are the color of honey, fluorescent onyx swirling in those stormy eyes. But they’re still so fucking soft. Even though his jaw is clenched and his dark eyebrows are knit together. 

   He always looks at you so fucking soft. It’s hard not to just sink to the floor even though your heart is in your throat thinking about those filthy men.

   “What guys exactly?” you grind out through your teeth.

   Joel’s jaw clenches, his broad body becoming stiff and upright in the leather chair, palm raking heavily over his mouth. His dark, sad eyes tell you enough. He doesn’t even have to say anything for you to know who exactly he’s talking about. But you hold your breath nonetheless.

   “The blonde…” he whispers out, his deep voice barely making a sound. But you hear it like a loud, booming crash of thunder as he nearly knocks you back two steps. 

   The blonde… the man that couldn’t fucking keep his hands off you. And those piercing blue eyes that dragged scars down your body. 

   Fright. Pain. Memories. You feel everything all at once. Suddenly, you don’t feel brave at all.

   And then there’s Joel who’s looking at you like the lost kitten that you are. 

   “What about Angela or Garrett?” you spit out quickly, your hands trembling as every syllable scratches the surface. Their names feel like fire on the tip of your tongue.

   “Haven’t been able to track ‘em down yet, sweetheart,” Joel sighs, his palm skimming over his patchy beard, brown eyes in a far away place.

   “You mean they’re still out there somewhere…” you mutter, tears pricking at the back of your eyes just threatening to spill.

   “S’alright. We’re gonna find ‘em. And when we do, you’ll be the first to know,” Joel confirms; Tommy nods beside him.

   You and Joel continue watching each other, eyes never leaving one another. He looks like someone just stole the last piece of pizza from a box and tossed his dog out in the street. He looks just as wrecked as you do. 

   Lost. Abandoned. Betrayed.

   You can’t seem to keep your footing, so you grab onto the railing of the staircase to keep yourself up. “I’m just—I’m going to go lay back down again.”

   Joel gives you a nod, understanding hitting his dark brown eyes. He doesn’t want you to go back up just yet. “You gonna finish your pancakes?”

   “Lost my appetite,” you shrug, your grip tightening against the smooth railing so you don’t fall back and crumble to the floor.

   He looks at you for a good five seconds and nods, his jaw flexing slightly like he wants to reach out, but he doesn’t. “Alright, sweetheart. Let me know if you need anything.”

   “Okay,” you shutter as you start to climb the marble steps.

   “It was nice to meet you, darlin’. Take care now,” Tommy yells, but you don’t even stop to say goodbye to him because the tears come swimming in your vision.

   By the time you get to your room, your eyes are heavy and blurry as tears stream down, tunneling your vision. You throw yourself against the sheets and get lost in the memories all over again. 

   There you are like a pretty diamond on display, men drooling and catcalling you as you cross the polished stage. And then the blonde’s hands are on you, his hot breath blowing down your breasts, hand sliding up the skirt of your dress, dipping underneath your lace. But Joel stopped him before he could go any further. 

   Joel stopped him. 

   You cry all over again from the night of the auction, the past hundreds of days you’ve been trafficked from state to state, not even knowing where you were most of the time. And then there was that house. That fucking rundown house where you were used and abused with the rest of the girls. Some didn’t even make it out alive…

   You stay in the room the rest of the day. Mostly in bed. Except when you drag yourself up and force yourself to brush your teeth, wash your face, run the brush through your messy tangles. You need to do something other than rot in that big, comfy bed but for now, that’s exactly what you’ll do.

   When 9:00 p.m. rolls around and the full moon is high in the sky, twinkling lights shining through the open window, Joel materializes in your doorway. Blue flannel buttoned up, hands deep in the pockets of his denim jeans, his greying curls disheveled, a concerned look on his tanned face. But the thing you notice is the jangle of keys in his pocket.

   Why does it look like he’s leaving?

   “Joel?” You yawn, rubbing the sleep from your tired eyes as you sit up. 

   “Hey, sweetheart. You still up?” Joel leans against the doorway, biceps flexing beneath his flannel, the black Rolex on his left wrist glistening under the dim hall lights. 

   “Mhm. Still up. Barely.” You yawn and push yourself up to where you’re leaning against the intricate headboard with gold flecks splashed into the dark wood.

   “Listen, there’s somethin’ I gotta take care of tonight. Should only be gone for a few hours but—”

   You flinch at his words and swallow the lump that’s forming in the back of your throat. He can’t just leave. Not in the state you’re in. “You’re leaving me here? All alone? What if—”

   He shifts his weight and takes a step forward, barely breaching inside your room. “S’alright. Maria, Tommy’s wife, is gonna come over while I’m gone. Didn’t think you’d be comfortable bein’ alone, and she was my next best thing. If you’re okay with that.”

   You sit there tumbling his words over again in your head, repeating what he said. He’s not leaving you alone with a man but a woman. He thought you’d be more comfortable that way. Even though you don’t know her, Tommy was nice enough, or so it seemed. And if Joel trusts Tommy enough to be around you, then you think you’d be okay with Maria.

   “I think so,” you muster out.

   His chocolate eyes soften, and the crow’s feet pull tighter as a small smile spreads across his mouth. “Good. That’s good.”

   “Where are you going?” you ask, cocking your head to the side as you watch him stiffen up at the question. 

   “Jus’ ‘bout forty minutes south of here. Shouldn’t take me too long.” He doesn’t answer specifically what he’s doing, but you have a feeling that it involves the blonde man that haunts your dreams.

   “Is it dangerous?” You shift in the sheets and pull the velvety blanket tighter under your chin.

   “Not tonight it ain’t.” He hesitates a little, and that makes you wonder if he’s not telling you everything because he doesn’t want to set you off again.

   “Only a few hours?” you ask softer, voice low as your stomach twists and turns. 

   “Only a few,” he confirms.

   “Okay.”

   He hooks his thumb around one of his belt loops and pushes his other hand through his tousled curls, his brown eyes never leaving yours. There’s something heavy in his stare, but you can’t quite place what it is.

   “Well, go on and get some rest, sweetheart. Shouldn’t be much longer until Maria gets here. I’ll introduce you before I leave for the night. But for now, I’ll let you sleep.”

   You sink back under the sheets and get comfortable, the nightlight plugged into the wall the only thing glowing except the dim lights in the hall. As he turns to walk out, you stop him. “Joel?”

   “Yeah?” He turns and smiles, and you can’t help but to feel a little flutter in your heart. He really has a beautiful smile. 

   “Promise me you’ll come back.” Your eyebrows thread together in concern, fingers curled firmly under the sheets. 

   “I promise,” he nods, flashing you another smile. There’s no lie in those brown eyes of his.

   “Okay.” You give him a tight-lipped grin and let out another yawn, sleep about to take hold of you once again.

   “Goodnight, sweetheart.” He pulls the door closed and when it shuts with a soft click, you call out goodnight too.

   In another half hour Maria gets to the house, and you get a brief introduction with her. But sleep is all you can think about, except for Joel leaving. You don’t want to think about that, so you fall back into bed and force yourself to succumb to the darkness. Maybe when you wake up then Joel will be back home.

   Please, come back. 

   Joel makes his way into the private warehouse, one that’s small and tucked away north of Austin. No one ever lurks around these parts. If they did, Joel would know instantly because there’s cameras all around the perimeters.

   The metal door slams closed as he stalks in, pushing past empty boxes and wooden crates that sit scattered next to dusty shelves. He pushes himself forward deep into the warehouse, close to the back where he knows the fucker is at. He’s going to fucking rip his icy blonde hair from the scalp and kill him for what he did to you and every other girl he’s gotten his filthy hands on. 

   Blood boils like lava in his veins and his hands are fisted at his sides, ready to finish what he should’ve that night of the auction. One punch wasn’t enough. Not when he was defiling you like a dog. 

   Joel hates him and everything he stands for. But tonight, Carter Williams wouldn’t get away with what he’s done. No. Joel would end him. 

   The dim lights overhead pop and flicker, anger brimming in his blood-red eyes. When’s the last time he got a full night’s rest? Not since he rescued you. No. He’s been too worried sick over you. 

   God. He’s never going to get the memory of how absolutely terrified you looked that first night. Won’t ever get the image of your pretty eyes filled with tears, blood running down your soft skin all because he wouldn’t call you a whore and wouldn’t dare ask you to get on your knees. 

   Goddamn it. He won’t ever forget that. He wants to strangle every single fucking person that ever gave you that mindset. Wants to completely ruin them for making you feel like all you were worth was for getting used and abused by disgusting men. 

   You’re not any of those things they made you believe. You’re a beautiful, broken woman that needs time to heal and fall in love with life again. He’ll help you get there as much as he can. He thinks he’d do just about anything for you and those big doe eyes. 

   Fuck. He’s going to break every single one of them. Starting with Carter.

   As Joel rounds the corner and kicks a metal pole forcefully, he comes face to face with Carter. The fucker that’s going to die tonight. 

   His hands sit bound behind him tightly. Wrists, ankles, and chest restrained around the cold metal chair with sharp-edged rope. Blonde hair is slicked back with a tinge of blood perspiring down his sweat-drenched forehead. His stormy eyes widen when he sees Joel appear before him like a dark shadow. 

   “You!” Carter accuses, glowering at Joel who lives a double life night after night. “You were the one at the auction!”

   Joel crosses his arms across his broad chest and smirks, eyes darkening as he focuses on the man that caused you pain. It makes his fingers twitch from anger. “I was.”

   “Let me go, man! I didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve got the wrong guy,” Carter shouts, twisting in his confines, thinking he can escape his restraints. He’s not getting that lucky tonight. 

   “Didn’t do anything wrong, huh?” Joel asks, raking his fingers slowly through his patchy beard, trying to hold on for just one more second before he explodes with rage. He chuckles and shakes his head in unbelief, and then he throws a punch against Carter’s jaw. Blood spews from his mouth and lands across Joel’s button-up, but he could care less at the moment.

   “Shit! What was that for?” Carter chokes out, a purplish, red tinge bruising his now swollen face. 

   “That’s for touchin’ what doesn’t belong to you,” he scowls, jaw locked tight like a hidden safe. 

   “Oh, I see. This is about that bitch you bought,” Carter spits.

   Joel jumps as fast as lightning and grabs Carter by the throat, his hold firm as he squeezes just enough to get his point across. “Call her that one more time and see what happens,” he warns, glaring at the pathetic man who got caught. 

   Carter gasps for air the second Joel releases his hold and howls out a raspy laugh that sounds like poison to Joel’s ears. When he finds his voice again, he smirks like the bad guy that he is. “Go on then. Do your worst. I’ve already seen her on video. Legs spread, tight pussy being fucked by some—”

   Joel takes the back of his hand and smacks him across the cheek so hard that blood spews from his mouth. “I said shut the fuck up!” he screams, his angry words echoing around the walls of the stuffy warehouse. 

   He’s going to fucking kill Carter. One more word and he’ll end it with the snap of his finger. He just needs that tiny push over the edge. One more revolting comment about you and his life is over. 

   Hell, it is already over. 

   Joel paces back and forth uncontrollably in front of the man whose face looks like it’s been through a bar fight. His hands clenched into tight fists at his side, jaw locked, narrowed eyes that could kill with a single stare. He’s livid, way over the edge of being angry. He could kill a whole goddamn room of traffickers and buyers at this rate. If more were here, they’d be finished.

   Carter rudely interrupts Joel’s chaotic thoughts and murmurs lowly. “Is she really worth the trouble, man? What? You gonna beat me to death because of her? She’s not worth it.”

   “She’s worth everything!” he shouts, his deep growl echoing around the room. He can almost feel his blood boiling beneath him like he’s already on fucking fire. 

   “So, this is what it’s about? You want to ruin me because I tried ruining her,” he chuckles darkly, like he has no remorse in any stiff bone in his body. 

   Fucking bastard. 

   “It’s part of it,” Joel says with a clipped tone, his fingernails digging into the denim of his pockets like he’s about to rip them clear off. 

   He needs to calm down, but he can’t. Not when he’s in the presence of a beast who tried to dig his claws into your delicate skin. So, he won’t be calm. He’ll be chaotic instead.

   “Don’t act like you know me,” Carter shakes his head, tendrils of smeared red strands falling over his cloudy eyes. 

   “Oh, I fuckin’ know you alright. Read up on your filthy past,” he growls. “How many women have you taken? How many have you kidnapped, raped, murdered? How many did you fuckin’ wreck? More than ten, you son of a bitch,” he storms, kicking over an empty bucket and cursing under his breath when he walks off the pain that spreads like wildfire through his foot.

   “Was worth it, and I’d do it all over again,” Carter replies with a smirk.

   That does it. Something snaps inside Joel. Hard. A feral growl leaves his throat and then he’s jumping in front of Carter, his hand wrapping tightly around his neck until he sees red flash in Carter’s dead eyes.

   “You sick fuck. You know what I do to men like you?” he screams, wrath swirling off his tongue and making his fingers curl extremely tight around Carter’s pale skin.

   Carter hacks violently under Joel’s grip. He’s only able to get dry coughs and garbled words out until Joel backs off just enough to where he can speak. “What, kill them? Go ahead. Fucking kill me. It won’t make a goddamn difference because there’s one of me all over these states. And the trafficking isn’t going to stop with me. The buying isn’t going to stop. It’ll keep happening over and over and over again.”

   Joel fists Carter’s short locks until he’s cringing in pain, snarling a pit bull glare into his piercing blue eyes that are laced with pain. 

   “Well, it ain’t gonna hurt when you’re dead and buried six feet under the ground!” Joel says with bared teeth, blowing hot air into Carter’s clenched face.

   “You can’t save all of them, you know. You can’t save her.”

   That strikes a nerve in Joel, a sharp ache stabbing him directly in the middle of the chest. He drops his tight hold on Carter and takes a step back, eyes blown wide with guilt. 

   He couldn’t save them all. He didn’t… he couldn’t. He couldn’t save her. But through all the pain that’s flaring in his body, all the lost souls that he’ll never be able to avenge, one thing still rings clear. He saved you… when he couldn’t even save himself. But he still saved you.

   He takes a deep breath and lets out a long sigh, holding back tears he refuses to shed. He’s not a weak man, but he’s so weak for you. 

   “I have to try…” he whispers, his voice broken and muddled against the slight echo and dripping sounds from the leak in the ceiling.

   For a moment it’s silent, only the screaming voices in his head breaking the stillness. He almost forgets that Carter’s there, until he hears his choppy voice gritting against his eardrums.

   “You’re going to fail, you know,” Carter whispers, taunting him again with the rasp of his throat.

   “What did you say?” Joel asks, whipping around to face the blue eyes of a killer. A killer he’ll surely strangle to death.

   “You’re going to fail her. You’re going to fail her so hard that she goes running when you try to fix her. She’s beyond repair, and you know it,” he spits out, smirking like a madman who’s lying through his bloody teeth.

   “No, she ain’t,” Joel snaps, eyes narrowed and fists clenched at his sides.

   “Yeah, she fucking is. You know how many men fucked and abused her? Do you know what her handlers put her through? Do you know how many women she’s seen murdered right in front of her eyes?”

   “I fuckin’ know enough! So jus’ stop! Jus’ shut your fuckin’ mouth!” He’s way past angry. He feels feral with the need to choke this man out just to silence him enough to where he won’t hear how broken you really are. Joel knows this. He knows the unimaginable pain you’ve been through. The abuse, the torture. They tried to fucking destroy you, and this fucker was one of them. 

   “I was going to give her a nice home, you know. Yeah. Was going to treat her real nice. Like a brand new dog. Maybe teach her some table manners. Bitches always get on their knees before their meal is served,” Carter chortles with wicked eyes. Eyes that could burn icy flames out of those hellish blue pits. But Joel would burn them out first. Maybe jab a knife through his skull. He wasn’t about to let Carter win this war. 

   “Fuckin’ stop,” Joel warns with a deep scowl, teeth clenched as he fists the front of Carter’s blood-soaked shirt.

   He slips the semi-automatic handgun from the back pocket of his jeans and triggers the safety off. His arm darts out as he shoves the barrel of the gun to Carter’s sweat-soaked forehead, daring him to say one more goddamn thing about you. He swears he’ll shoot. He won’t even flinch. Not when it comes to protecting you. 

   He only needs one fucking reason to blow Carter’s head off, but he has more than enough reasons now. “I swear to God if you don’t stop—.”

   Carter gives Joel a devious smirk as he watches Joel’s finger hover over the trigger. He knows Joel won’t hesitate. He’s just pushing him to the edge until he snaps. 

   “You want me to stop? Not until you hear all the filthy ways I was going to fuck—”

   “I said enough!” Joel seethes, anger taking over every single nerve ending in his body until he completely snaps. He pulls the trigger and watches the bullet fly through Carter’s forehead, spewing blood all over the front of Joel’s button-up, sloshing droplets of crimson on his wrinkled forehead. He’s too worked up and furious to even care. 

   He’s fucking wrecked. 

   He steps away from the pool of blood at his feet, teeth bared as he clicks the safety on, sliding the gun into his back pocket once again. But this time, blood is smeared across the metal barrel, reminding him of the mess he just made. 

   His head is fuzzy, shapes foggy, and he’s got a raging migraine that could take him to his knees in an instant. He needs sleep, needs to wash off the blood of the day, bask in the darkness where he lingers most sleepless nights. He needs to get a handle on this grief that eats him alive night after night. But he can’t. And ever since he took one look at you, his mind has barely thought of anything else.

   Scared. You were so fucking scared. The way you walked sheepishly across that stage, high heels dragging while you held back muted tears. And in that moment, he wanted to kill every goddamn man in that room of sinners. 

   Isn’t that what he’s doing now? Avenging you and every other girl those vile men did unspeakable things to. He’s going to fucking…

   “Joel?” 

   Joel’s name pulls him out of the fog just long enough to realize Jimmy, one of his workers, was calling his name.

   “Clean up this mess. I can’t be here right now. Gotta get home,” Joel replies quickly, voice strained as he clenches his jaw tight.

   “Sir, you good?” Jimmy tries again, dark eyes trying to read Joel.

   “I’m fine. Call me when you’re done here. Make sure no trace is left.” He walks out of the room, passing a few of his other workers until he’s making his way out of the stuffy building, letting the door slam behind him with a bang. 

   Once he’s in his truck and turning the key in the ignition, he slams on the gas and makes a run for it, leaving behind the giant mess he just caused. Carter was going to end up dead either way. Joel just decided he couldn’t stand another fucking word out of that bastard’s mouth. 

   He clenches the leather steering wheel so tightly that he leaves claw marks in the black material. A hand rakes slowly down his patchy beard, trying his best to alleviate some of the rage, but nothing helps. Maybe seeing that you’re sleeping peacefully tonight might help him calm down a bit. Maybe just maybe you’d be the cure to his never-ending suffering. 

   When he pulls up in the long driveway and kills the gas, he hops out and rushes to the front door, barely stopping at the bottom of the stairs to even say hi to Maria. Right now he just needs to see you. Needs to make sure you’re still breathing, still in one piece, still alive. 

   “Whoa there. Everything go okay?” Maria asks as she shoots off the leather couch and paces toward Joel, a look of worry flashing across her wide eyes.

   “As good as it could’ve,” Joel rasps, wiping the dried blood from his forehead. 

   Maria looks him up and down, taking in the stained flannel and tendrils of messy curls that stick to his sweaty skin. “By the looks of your shirt and your face, guess you got him.”

   He nods, letting the ice settle deep in his bones. “I got the son of a bitch alright,” he growls.

   Maria stares at him with concern swirling in her dark eyes, her body stiff as she folds her arms over her chest to take a good look at him. As if she’s just seen death in his hazy eyes. “Hey. You alright? You look—”

   “Tired? That’s ’cause I am,” he sighs, lacing his fingers back through his dark locks.

   But the wavering stare she gives him makes it seem like tired isn’t the word she was going for. Defeated might’ve been a better word. Because right now that’s exactly how he feels. 

   Destroyed. 

   “I’ll just get out of your hair,” she murmurs, leaving him with a light pat to the back of his shoulder. But before she can grab her keys off the coffee table, he stops her.

   “Maria, wait. Thank you. For watchin’ her for a few hours.” He gives her a tight-lipped smile, and she nods back in return. 

   “It was no trouble, Joel.”

   “How is she?” he asks, letting the stuffy air settle while she shifts her weight on the wooden floor.

   “She’s sleeping. She’s fine,” she confirms with a smile. 

   He lets a puff of air leave his lungs, thankful you’re safe and sleeping.

   “Good. That’s good. Thank you, again. I really appreciate it, Maria. I know it was last minute and all.”

   She presses a palm into his bicep, giving it a light squeeze, letting him know it’s all fine. “It was really no problem, Joel. Whenever you need me to come back over, I won’t even hesitate.” 

   Joel nods in thanks, letting her walk toward the front door. But before she decides to leave, she turns and leaves him with one more thing. “She’s a lovely girl, Joel. Nice, sweet, a little shy. She’s lucky you found her.”

   His spine goes stiff, a lingering sensation crawling up his skin, bubbling its way into his brain. She’s lucky you found her. 

   “Yeah… she is.”

   “Well, goodnight. I’m going to head back home to Tommy. I’ll see you later.” She makes her way out the door, the lock clicking in place once she’s gone. 

   “Night, Maria…” he finally croaks out, throat suddenly tight as he hears the creak of bed springs and a tiny whimper float down the end of the hallway upstairs. 

   He rakes a hand slowly down his patchy beard, sighing as he climbs the marble staircase. He’s prepared for another restless night, knowing you’ve been having nightmares every single night since you’ve been here. Every single time he makes sure to check on you, wake you from your violent nightmares. And every fucking time you wake up with bloodshot and tear-soaked eyes, it makes him want to wrap you in his arms until he can soothe the nightmares away. But he can’t. He just can’t. 

   When he makes it up the staircase and down the hall, his foot hits a particularly creaky spot in the floor, and he curses under his breath when he hears you shift in the bed and stir awake. 

   “Joel?”

   Fuck. He didn’t want to wake you. He didn’t want you to see him like this. Looking just as much of a monster as Carter did. 

   The blood. It’s going to fucking terrify you. And that’s the last thing he wants. You to be scared of him. He doesn’t want you to fear him because he’d never ever hurt you. Never dare lay his fingers on you without your consent. He’d rather chop his own hand off with a dull blade.

   But you’d still be scared either way. Blood or not. 

   He takes a deep breath and spins around, hovering in your open doorway and giving you a strained smile. “Hey, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

   “It’s fine. I was just…” You gasp, eyes wide and wild as you take in his bloodied flannel and disheveled hair. “Your shirt. The blood. Are you hurt?” You look scared, worried, and it makes his heart clench at the sight. You don’t need another thing to worry about. He’ll be fine, even if he doesn’t feel fine.

   “Nah. It’s—not mine,” he stills, fingers clenched around the stained material. 

   You knit your brows together, studying him closely as you analyze the splattered blood stains on his cotton material. “Whose is it then?” 

   He flinches, not wanting to tell you what he did. Even if Carter deserved a thousand deaths, each one worse than the other, he doesn’t know how you’ll respond to this. He doesn’t want you afraid. 

   He takes another deep breath, inhaling as much oxygen as his lungs can take in. Because in the next moment, he might not have any left.

   Carefully, hesitantly he lets his raspy voice choke out. “Oh. It’s ummm. It’s the blonde’s blood…”

   You still, eyes blown wide, mouth dropped open like you’ve just been shocked by lightning. Your body becomes stiff, as stiff as a wooden board, fingers curling nervously against the lavender comforter. You look lost, wading off into the distant sea, waves carrying you far far away until he can’t reach you anymore. Until the sea swallows you whole.

   Damn it. 

   “Oh. Oh… I see,” you whisper out, jaw tight as your eyes travel up to his.

   Jesus. Those fucking sad eyes. It could bring a man to their knees. They’d bring him to his knees.

    “What was his name?” you ask hesitantly.

   “Sweetheart. I don’t think—”

   “Tell me,” you plead adamantly. “Please...” Your voice is a breath of a whisper, just loud enough to stir a hurricane inside his hollow chest. 

   And then he breaks as a wave of grief washes over his slack jaw.

   “His name was Carter,” he finally says, breath shaky as his eyes momentarily fall to the dark wood, until he’s looking right back at you and those fucking eyes that are full of fear and hurt. 

   “So he’s dead?” you ask muffledly, your features frayed as you contemplate his answer.

   “Yes,” he confirms, his blood-stained shirt suddenly feeling too suffocating and tight, like someone is trying to strangle him to death. 

   Another beat of silence falls over the dark room casted in shadows, ghosts of green trees swaying in the moonlight behind the glass window that overlooks the slumbering forest. 

   You lick your bottom lip slowly, fingers twisted against the sheets, your eyes looking vacant and lost as you contemplate. “How many—how many women.”

   He knows exactly what you’re asking. How many women has he hurt, killed, mutilated to shreds.

   “More than a dozen…” he says calmly, his fists tight at his sides as the flash of a bullet and blood invade his thoughts. 

   You slowly nod and curl in on yourself, your knees folding into your chest, blanket tucked up under your chin, your eyes vacant as he sees your trembling form relive the past all over again. 

   He can’t see you like this. Like you’re being tortured all over again. Like there’s not a single thing he can do right at this moment to make you feel better. He wants to wrap you in his arms, tell you it’ll be okay, that no one will ever hurt you again. He wants to take the pain away from you; suck it all out so he can carry the burden instead of you. 

   You… how could they ever hurt you? You’re too… special. They took everything from you. Took every last fucking piece until you were left on the floor like a broken vase, glass shards unrecognizable until all the glitter and shine was scraped off and covered in dirt. They wrecked you, and he fucking hates them for it. 

   Diamonds aren’t supposed to break or lose their shine. They’re meant to be treasured, taken care of, meant to never be broken. But you… you’re so very broken. And all he knows at this moment is that he’d do anything to see you smile again. He’d do anything to put all the shattered pieces together until you’re sparkling like glitter even in the darkness. 

   “Are you… okay?” he asks hesitantly, like he might crack you like the spine of a new book if he talks too loudly.

   “I’m… yeah. I’m okay,” you reply with a muted response, lips quivering, tears licking at the edges of your waterline. You’re not okay. You’re far from okay, but you put on a brave face anyway. Even if you’re lying through your teeth. You want to be okay, so that’s what you say. Maybe if you let the words fall off your quivering lips then you’ll believe them. 

   But he knows the truth. You’re fragmented and defeated. This much he does know. 

   When you look up with tears welling in your eyes, he freezes, jaw clenched as he stares at the face of a woman who had her entire life ripped from her own hands. Hands that were never meant to be ripped open and scarred from filth and grime. Your life was never theirs to take, but they took it anyway. 

   Your big doe eyes sear into him, splitting him in two until he feels pain radiate down his chest, suffocating his insides like oxygen is being stolen from his lungs.

   Stop that. Stop looking at me like you want me to fix you. Like you want me to wrap you up in my arms until all the pain is gone. That’s what he sees when you look at him like that. Like you want him to make it all just stop. Drown the noise out until you can’t hear the world tilt on its axis anymore. Until you just feel peace.

   He wishes you wouldn’t look at him with those beautiful doe eyes, your held back tears making them glitter in the moonlight. God, he’s never seen such big sad eyes. Eyes that could make a grown man crumble into tiny pieces by both heartbreak and awe. 

   He can’t fix you, can’t make the pain stop, can’t wipe your memories from the hell you’ve managed to survive the past almost two years. He can’t even… fuck. He can’t even hold you the way you should be held. Gentle, tender, affectionate. That’s what you deserve. And he can’t fucking do that because you’re so traumatized and fragile that even one light caress would send you into an unbreakable panic attack. 

   He just… cares. He cares a lot. And there’s nothing much he can do except slowly show you how good life can be again. He just wants to see you smile. And that’d be enough. That’s honestly all he wants — you happy again. He knows you can bloom. And one day you will. Just like a pretty sunflower that thrives in the giant Texas fields. 

   One day you’re going to be that sunflower. And he’ll be there to see you blossom and sprout. 

   They might have cut down your stems, ripped out your strong roots, destroyed your green leaves, crushed your beautiful bright petals. Making sure to kill everything that was good inside you, but Joel would replant you. He’d watch you grow until you bloomed into the most lavish garden he’s ever seen in his entire life. 

   You’re going to thrive. One day at a time, you will get your petals back. He’ll put his life on that promise.

   The weight of your heavy stare and the thick fog that hangs in your room makes him dizzy, makes him a little off kilter every time you flash your teary eyes his way. He can’t see you cry. Not right now. Because then he’d want to wrap you so tight in his arms that all your pain would fade away. But he can’t do that, and he knows it. So, he’ll do the only thing he can before he breaks in two himself. 

   Leave. Not the perimeters of the house, just your stifling room.

   “I’m gonna jus’—go lay down. You know where to find me if you need me,” he mutters under his breath, his hand finding the edge of your solid door until your shaky breath stops him cold.

   “Joel?”

   He can barely turn his head, too afraid that if he looks at you one more time tonight that he’ll finally crack. “Yeah?” he chokes out. 

   “Thank you…”

   One more look at your starry doe eyes and he’s gone. 

   His hand finds the cold doorknob while he gives you a tight-lipped smile and gently closes the door behind him. Your wide doe eyes will surely haunt his dreams tonight. If he even gets any sleep. He thinks he won’t, even if his body is screaming at him, wanting to drag him down until he sees nothing but the backs of his dark eyes. 

   When he finally releases his hand from the doorknob, he stops in his tracks, back suddenly rigid when he hears the faint sounds of your voice cracking, finally letting the tears shed from your eyes. The sound nearly takes him to his knees. 

   He slides down to the ground, back flush to the closed door, sinking lower until he’s sitting against the hard floor feeling completely defeated. He feels as if a large anchor got thrown down on him, chaining him to the cold wood, imprisoning him to hear your muffled cries through the cracks in the walls. 

   He’s so fucking weak. Every part of him is telling him to run into your room, take the pad of his thumb and wipe the tears from your eyes, hold you against his firm chest until you’re quiet and calm, until he can rock you to sleep and take every ounce of pain you feel. 

   But instead, he sits there like a fool with his head hanging low between his thighs, elbows resting on his aching knees, fingers lacing roughly through his mess of greying curls. He needs to get a grip on himself, needs to find just one speck of courage to drag himself to his room. But he finds none, letting the grief and despair chain him right against your door. 

   He can’t stay like this forever. Can’t stay glued to this spot where he can hear you cry yourself to sleep. But he just can’t shake how scared and vulnerable you looked the moment he told you about Carter. Or yet, even just the look on your face when he walked over and you asked if he was hurt. 

   He is hurt and he feels a sharp blade slicing straight down his spine, opening him up and cutting out his nerve endings until he can’t feel the weight of those sad fucking doe eyes. 

   Your pain is now his because he feels everything that you keep bottled up inside. Just like spilled perfume, he’ll soak you up until your pain is no more. He’ll swallow all of it like a spoonful of cough syrup until every last drop is gone. 

   After half an hour of sulking on the floor, your cries die out, and then you’re sound asleep, escaping your pain for just a little while. Until the nightmares run rampant. So, he drags himself to his room, doesn’t even bother shedding his clothes, too tired to do anything but sleep. And when he falls into his bed, he instantly passes out and lets the pain swallow him whole. 

   The last words he hears echoing in his head are ear splitting. You can’t save all of them, you know. You can’t save her. 

   But he’ll try. One way or another, he promises to save you. 

Tag List: @clawdee @jellybeanxc @lotusbxtch @thebeldroramscal @laurrrra

@whxtedreams @sawymredfox @sanarsi @mountainsandmayhem @bitchytimetravelqueen

@southernbe @katinasweeney @pixelspunk @amyispxnk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@christinamadsen @aurorawritestoescape @evolnoomym @littlevenicebitch69 @alltheirdamn

@inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @fandomdaydreamer @elliaze

@callmecath1 @kulekehe @yorkshirewench @untamedheart81

@tateypots @stylesispunk @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @mellymbee @pascalsbae

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@papipascaaaal @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler @bambisweethearts @puddles221b

@valkyreally @northennlights

[giorno-plays-piano]

Favors and Debts

Part I

Pairing: fae!Yuji/Sukuna x reader

Warnings: noncon, yandere, murder, captivity, stalking, violence (not towards reader), Sukuna having a purity kink.

Words: 1.6k

Summary: Of all creatures fickle and cruel, the fair folk are the ones inspiring fear and awe alike. You were unlucky enough to save one of them from captivity, and now you must pay for it.

________________

"Please, leave me be," your whisper is so quiet you barely hear yourself speak, but it's enough for the monster to bare his teeth at you in a smile.

"No," he says simply and then charges at you like a wild animal, forcing a scream out of your throat as you run and run and run until you are facing a dead wall blocking your path.

His sharp smile grows wider the closer he steps to you.

Then you wake up with a gasp, face wet with tears and cold sweat as you clench the sheets in your fingers, choking from horror. It's him again. The fae boy you saved years ago, the one who pays you back with fear and pain and nightmares. He doesn't visit you every night, not when you keep taking your sleeping pills religiously, but they are a serious thing, and your stomach keeps hurting more and more over the years, forcing you to take lesser doses. That's when the fae boy strikes, slipping into your dreams like water seeps through a crack of an old, chipped cup.

It's the same dream over and over again: he chases you down the city as you run for your life like a prey followed by predator, blinded by fear while he taunts you, his six long, muscular arms nearly catching you every time. It feels like every night he allows you to escape, but you don't think it's entirely true. Your iron and your mirrors must be keeping you safe: after all this time, he hadn't come for you yet.

You were young back then, so naive, so pure. You finally received a long-awaited recommendation letter from the head pharmacist to be allowed to work in a tiny village down south, nearly at the Drowned Forest border. You were, by far, not a superstitious girl, and the rumors didn't scare you. You were, though, quite worried about being among the simple, rural folk who weren't keen on trusting a young city girl with making their medication: truth be told, women in those places had only ever had one purpose in life, and it had nothing to do with a medical career or any career at all.

And yet, you were welcomed to the place. The villagers were desperate since it took at least several days to drive to the closes town to procure the medication of any serious kind, and they were in great need of someone who'd serve as a doctor and a pharmacist, even if it was just a young girl who had only gotten her recommendation letter.

But it was an unfriendly, cold, half-abandonded sort of place. Likewise, you didn't like its people who were always too crude, too vulgar to your taste, their gazes always lingering too long on you when they thought you didn't see, and you could barely stand the almost-casual touches of men who seemed to think you couldn't see beneath their polite facade. "They're simple folk," the head pharmacist would say, shaking his head after you pleaded with him to give you a letter of recommendation. "You won't appreciate their way of life, and you don't have to. Why do you want to go there so badly if you can continue working as my junior pharmacist? You can make a name for yourself here."

You were stupid back then. You wanted to prove yourself so desperately you thought nothing of his gentle warning, rushing headlong in what you thought your first grown-up adventure that turned out to be a nightmare haunting you to this day.

At first, despite your unease towards the village folk, it all was new and exciting. You were the head pharmacist! The only one for miles and miles. People spoke about you with respect, or so you thought. You were crafting medication day and night, and nearly everyone was coming to your door religiously every couple of days. You enjoyed the welcomed weight of responsibility on your shoulders.

It wasn't until a month passed that the villagers finally let you meet a scrawny pink-haired kid by the name of Yuji, who was some sort of an apprentice. Whose apprentice was he? The men all laughed when you asked them, looking smug as they claimed he was apprenticing for every master in the village.

What an odd thing to say, you thought, furrowing your brows. How could one boy be an apprentice to all of them?

Of course, he wasn't. He was a fae boy they have somehow captured and kept prisoner, making him do all sorts of manual labor because they knew his true name.

At first, you thought it was nothing but a shameful lie to keep a fatherless young man chained to his captors to make their bidding. Yuji was just a boy. He was young and smiley and helpful despite the abuse he had to endure every day, the villagers giving him the thoughest jobs under the pretense of his immense fairy powers. Where was he from? Why had no one tried to stop people from treating him so unfairly? He wasn't a caged animal. Yuji was a human being.

But then the blacksmith once handed him an iron girdle, a wicked smirk on his lips, and you saw the horror and pain reflected on Yuji's face when his fingers touched the metal, his palm immediately growing red as if the iron was still hot. He wailed, dropping the girdle on the ground while the blacksmith laughed at him like it was a joke of some kind, and you, caught off guard by such casual display of cruelty, ran to the boy to have a look at his injured hand.

He was, indeed, a fae. The iron to him was alike acid to humans, burning his flesh at the slightest touch.

The discovery shook you to the core, at one point making you question your sanity, but in that moment you were so preoccupied with the boy's injury you were more focused on helping him alleviate the pain and bandage his poor hand than worry about his fairy nature. Regardless of what villagers said, Yuji was gentle and proper. He didn't deserve such horrible treatment.

With every day, you grew more and more anxious, watching him casually bullied and hurt by the village folk for their own amusement. They made him touch iron, look into the mirrors that somehow brought him immense pain, forced him to work till sunset and even at night, and refused him food from to time. It was unbearable to watch a young boy being treated that way. It was no wonder you developed so much compassion and pity for him, soon sneaking in the hovel where he was allowed to sleep to feed him or bring him medication for his injuries. He was such a lovely boy, so bright and kind and sensitive, that it took you just a couple more weeks to agree to his plea to help him get out of this wicked place.

How could you have known of his true nature? You were but a naive, pure young girl. It was a given you were easy to manipulate, to be taken advantage of. A disaster waiting to happen.

You didn't even believe in the fair folk when you had first arrived in that god-forsaked village, but in a couple of months you took up on a quest to find another fae in the Drowned Forest and bring him to Yuji to set him free. When you think of it now, it's such a miracle you stayed alive. Walking straight into the Drowned Forest... what were you thinking back then? How could you be so stupid? That journey could have cost you your life, but you grew too desperate to protect Yuji against villagers' abuse.

Back then, you weren't sure how you stumbled upon another fae so fast, barely minutes into the charmed forest, but now you know he had been waiting for you. Yuji was biding his time because he knew one day a girl like you would appear and do what she could to free him. He was well-prepared, and you were eager to be deceived.

You didn't know what to expect from that exciting but inherently dangerous affair, and yet you didn't think the fae to just slaughter them all, all the human folk of the village. You heard them scream. Luckily, Yuji locked you in the barn where he used to sleep, and you avoided looking at the bloodshed, but their desperate, horryfying cries have been your constant companions for many years to come. You still hear them sometimes when you sleep.

When the menacing black-haired fae from the Drowned Forest grew in size, the marks on his forehead shining in the dark, claws elongating meyond measure, Yuji forced you into his barn, his usually gentle expression morphing into something sinister. He looked at you with mad glee, his fangs elongating, two arms splitting into six like he was mutating right in front of your very eyes, and as you crawled back, suddenly realizing the villagers were right about him, he cornered you, caging you with his large, muscular body, strange symbols engraved into his skin.

"A woman like you captured me," he whispered softly as you shook violently beneath him. "She was a clever little fox, and I lusted after her like a fool, letting her trick me into submission. All those years I spent like a dog on a chain... But I knew a woman like her would set me free."

________

His hand brushed a lock of your hair away from your face, and with the other one he took you by the chin, forcing you to look up at him, "Seven years I've waited in my cage, little bird. Seven years I'll give you to live your mundane life before I come for you."

Part II

Tags: @minshookie29

[fantasyandshit]

The light and the dark (remake) pt.2

Type:series

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron!reader

Part one

I stomp up the stairs, front door slamming behind me. After failing to get to my lost sister yet again, I had gone to the ring. I won, but the bastard had a blade- illegal in these rings- and got me in my bad shoulder, one that’s bothered me for years. The scars across my face itch as the warm air of the house blasts me.

“I’m home!” It’s right around dinner time so I decide to journey into the dining room where I presume my sisters are. I step through the threshold, eyes still down as I slide my jacket off my body, placing it on the wrack, as I do so, rolling my shoulders with a wince, I speak out loud. “Where’s that first aid kit again? This bastard had a knife, got me right in my shoulder.” I pause, “it’s not to deep which is good though. Plus I won.”

I finally turn around.

And what I see

Makes me freeze.

“Feyre.” Her name is a breath on my lips as I step forward once hesitantly before launching into her cautiously opened arms. “Gods I’ve missed you.” I breathe in her sent, tears welling in my eyes as I pull back just far enough to look at her face.

Feyre was always gorgeous, but she’d somehow gotten even more beautiful than I remember. My eyes trail to her ears- pointed, she’s a fae. My hand comes up before I can stop myself, tracing the delicate tips of them, brushing her hair behind them which causes her eyes to close softly. “Beautiful.” It’s then I notice the tensed stance of the male behind her, but I barely register him as I take in my lost sister.

She chuckles, hands unraveling from me as we step back. “I’ve missed you to little sister.” She smiles down at me, her cheeks fuller, skin less pale and freckles popping along her face.

Now. I notice the three males also present, and my eyes fall to the one who seems most on edge with my sister.

“You.” I seethe and not another second passes before I’m on the fae, he’s knocked to the ground and my hand pummels his face. “You did this.” A mother blow to his jaw, “you took her from me.” This time to his cheek. His eye. His jaw again. And then. I feel something soft wrap around my waist, lifting me from him.

I struggle, fighting the entities that carry me, “Get off of me! Let me get-“

“Yn! Yn! Please calm down.” My sisters voice pulls me from my stoop as I’m set down softly. It’s then I realize what had lifted me, they look like shadows, streamers of darkness and for a moment I stare in awe, snapped back to reality by Feyre speaking again. “Yn. This is Rhysand,” she points to the mail, rubbing his jaw, his violet eyes crinkling as he chuckles slightly at me.

“He didn’t take me. He saved me. And he is my mate.”

Mates. I had heard of them, something fae had, like lovers bound by the mother. Still, I glare at the male in question, “How do I know he didn’t tell you to say that?”

He laughs again, “I can show you. If you’re ok with that. Her memories. I am a daemeti.”

Ah yes I’ve read about them, able to get into one’s mind. I look to Feyre skeptically and she nods softly, nothing “it’s ok.”

Finally, I nod, closing my eyes as I feel claws run down my mental walls which I let down.

When my eyes open again, I turn stunned, poor Feyre. She’d been through hell.

And then, “You! She’s been here before! You knew she was alive, what she was doing?!” My finger is pointed at Nesta now.

“You didn’t need to know.”

“Find need to know? Are you fucking stupid?”

“Do not speak to me that way.”

“No you shut the hell up! Get off your high horse! She’s my sister too. Mine! And you let me continue searching for her, listened to my screams at night! And you knew! You knew she was alive, you know what was going on! You are absolutely unbelievable do you know that?”

I turn to Elaine now, anger still bubbling in my veins. “And you too? You dare betray me like this? How dare you, you listened to my nightmares, patched me from the forest and held me as I cried for her! You still hid this! You are a horrible sister! Both of you!”

“Knock it off Yn! You don’t get to speak to us that war!”

“Oh fuck off Nesta.”

A hand on my shoulder and I whirl around. Feyre, gods Feyre. She’s here. She’s alive and she well and she’s- gods I can’t believe I get to see her again. I finally feel the witness dripping down my cheeks as my head falls onto her shoulder, my body shaking.

“It’s ok. Breathe for me.”

—————

After calming down, I apologize to the three males- two of which I somehow hadn’t noticed until recently. The shadows, I notice swirl around the male with blue siphons. Their huge wings nearly bumping the walls, Illyrians, a warrior race like no other.

“I apologize for the stress and scare we’ve caused you. But I’d like to introduce myself properly.” The fae with violet eyes speaks, Rhysand and the one clad in red siphons snorts lowly. “I am Rhysand, high lord of the Night court.”

After shaking his hand with a small bow, still embarrassed for attacking him earlier no matter how many times he assured me it was fine and ‘quite amusing to see a human try taking a fae.’ I turn to the others.

“Cassian. And might I add that I agree with Rhysand. That was quite the show.” He chuckles as I take his hand, bowing slightly.

“I’m Azriel.” Gods his voice is smooth, like whiskey as he speaks. He takes my hand in his glove clad one, kissing the top of it softly.

“Your a shadowsinger correct? I’ve read about your kind before.”

He seems surprised, clearing his throat before speaking, “Yes. My kind are extremely uncommon. I’m the only of our time that we know of.”

“Incredible. So do you control them?”

A soft chuckle, my cheeks turn red as he begins again, a small smile gracing his feature, “not exactly. They speak to me, and I them, they choose to follow me and my command.”

“That’s amazing.”

“And you, your known as the Lord of Bloodshed correct?” A small huff leaves me? “Now where does a male get a name like that?”

This catches him off guard, before I smirk comes across his face, “I am known by many as that. But I’m just cassian to you darling.” A wink, I roll my eyes at his antics as he continues, “And as to where I get that name. I feel as though it’s fairly obvious.”

Rhysand cuts in, “Yn. You had mental walls built, how? How did you know, how did you learn?”

My eyes widen at the question, my hand coming to the back of my neck, “Well I’ve studied fae for many years, and I felt as though it may be useful if your kind did truly exist. Darmetis I mean.”

“Smart girl. I heard from your sister that you loved history, reading.”

“I-I do.” I don’t know why my face is red but it is.

—————

We eventually end up sitting at the table, dinner is served and Azriel is patching up my shoulder. No matter how much I protested, he insisted until I finally gave in.

“There you go. All done.”

“Thank you. Really.”

We all eat in practical silence, the tension in the room high as I still feel Nesta wondering glare scan over my face every now and again.

“So Yn. How’d you get that scar on your face. It looks badass.”

I freeze at the question, a shiver running up my back, I feel Feyre bristle at the question as well, but I clear my throat, speaking quietly. “Well when Tamlin came, I tried attacking him. He batted me to the side like a fly. His claws caught me in the process and they haven’t exactly healed properly.”

The three males grumble, clearly not fans of the beast either.

—————

I nearly begin crying again as Feyre leaves at the end of the night, begging her to take her with me. In the end I am unable and make her promise I’ll see her again. That we’ll be together again one day, which she agrees to, kissing my forehead softly on last time before disappearing into the night.

[utdrmv-confession-box]

Transcript: Dreamtale story and endings spoilers. I'm 99.99999% sure none of the endings have been published yet but the creator talked about them.

I am in shock. I'm just. Floored. I haven't kept up with apple brothers Dreamtale in forever but yesterday I found out that 1) passive Nightmare is dead for good and Dream can't save him in ANY of Dreamtale's future endings 2) Nim, the twins' own mother, might be or is part of Corrupted Nightmare together with the evil spirit entity that is hunting Dream and the golden apple down (but dream's bro is still dead forever, from what I've seen) and 3) Nim is horrible and petty to the max and not in an entertaining way. She deliberately forced an emotion balance on the Multiverse because she hated mortals. She did not have to do it but she did. So many stories act like the emotion balance is a natural part of the Multiverse and is good for the Multiverse but it's NOT. It's only there because Nim hates everyone. I never liked the emotion balance idea but now I found out the entire Multiverse has to suffer and will die if Dream does because of Nim's pettiness???? Why does no one talk about this? How did I miss this? I. I'm questioning everything I thought I knew about Dreamtale canon. Were these things revealed not long ago? Was Nim not so bad in the preboot?? Did fanon change her character and downplay what she did and it made me forget how horrible she is??? I wouldn't mind if she was treated as morally gray but NO. Where the hockey stick did the "good Guardian and mother Nim" idea come from???? She's up there with XGaster and Handplates Gaster in the AWFUL parent awards.

I'm sorry about the questions but please, if any of this is fanon and not canon or I'm missing important context PLEASE tell me where I'm wrong because I am questioning so much of what I thought I knew about canon Dreamtale as a whole and I''m not going to spend my time looking at an canon I don't like anymore. I can't lie, this makes me hate the balance idea SO MUCH MORE. If it was just Dreamtale, it'd be fine but no, the emotion balance was forced into the Multiverse and changed how it worked to make Dream more special. UGH WHY.

[fatkish]

Hey could i ask for a Aizawa x daughter ( 5-10) who has really bad nightmares and one night has an accident, Aizawa is super sweet and jst make if fluffy 🤍🤍

Aizawa x Daughter Reader Drabble

Night Terrors and Accidents

In this, the reader has a disaster premonition quirk. Basically they foresee disasters in their sleep or when they’re unconscious. These can range from forest fires to cataclysmic events to a small earthquake or a decently damaging villain attack. For you, a child, these visions are terrifying since you don’t understand what’s happening or really, why you’re seeing these awful and scary things. This is why, you run to your dad and he’s always happy to listen (the HPSC takes the information Aizawa gives them from your dreams and they analyze it, record it and give it to heroes and it leads to lives being saved)

Aizawa has known for some time now, about you, his 7 year old daughter, having a precognition quirk and your ‘nightmares’ actually being you foreseeing future events. He doesn’t want to tell you that these are actually real events that you’re seeing as they already scare you enough, so he tells you they’re just scary dreams. Every time you come to him after having one, he asks you about them and records them. He reassures you that you’re safe and that nothing can hurt you so long as he’s here.

One night, you have a particularly bad premonition. In it, a bunch of heroes are fighting a terrifying villain who doesn’t have a face. The villain kills the heroes right in front of you. You immediately wake up and feel that the bed is wet. You run to your dad to wake him up ignoring your wet clothes. When you enter his bedroom you run up to him and start to gently shake his shoulder.

“Daddy, please, please wake up, Daddy I’m scared”

Aizawa groans as he wakes up and sits himself up in bed.

“Another dream?” He asked with his voice groggy and tired.

You nodded your head vigorously “I also wet the bed, I’m really sorry”

Aizawa got up and walked to your room as you followed him from behind.

“It’s fine sweetheart, these things happen, it’s nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about. Now how about you go take a shower and clean up while I change your sheets? Then we can snuggle and talk about it, okay?”

You nodded and grabbed a new pair of underwear and pajamas and went to go take a quick shower. Aizawa stripped the sheets off your bed and put new ones on and placed the previous ones in the washing machine. After that he went to his room and waited for you. Once you got out and got dressed, you climbed into bed beside your dad and snuggled ip to his side with your head resting on his chest as he placed an arm around you.

“Now what was this dream about?”

[kitchenisking]

Day 5

Coffee Storm by splendid_splendont  - (Rating: G, Words: 1,744, sterek)

‘we got caught by this awful storm and now we’re waiting for it to calm under the roof of a café, want to go inside and have a coffee in the meantime?’

so he's got a few flaws by Phnx - (Rating: T, Words: 1,695, sterek)

In short, everything was terrible.

Just Stopped Working For Me by dedougal - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 11,447, sterek)

Stiles never expected to meet Derek Hale. He definitely never expected the movie star to slide into his cab and ask for his help.

For better, for worse by Vendelin - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 13,336, sterek)

Derek and Stiles have been married for six years. Derek loves his job as a successful lawyer, loves his financial security and his large house. It isn’t until Stiles gets shot while working that he starts to understand that maybe Stiles isn’t loving their life as much as Derek is.

Gracious In Defeat by yodasyoyo - (Rating: Mature, Words: 18,136, sterek)

Stiles needs to get away from Beacon Hills after the end of his senior year. Derek offers to let him stay with him in São Paulo, and they finally act on the tension that has always simmered between them. 

The thing is, when it's time to go home- Stiles doesn't want to leave.

Aconitum Bulbus by hazelNuts - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,499, sterek)

xxxAthaelaxxx asked for: "Stiles is underage like 17 and Derek's 23. Stiles got hit by some sex pollen and needs to fuck. Derek's the only single wolf who can do it and refuses to help Stiles since he's underage but if Stiles isn't cured he could die. Virgin!Stiles and Martyr!Derek. Please write in great detail the deflowering."

They'd been having a simple pack picnic, because they did those things now. They’d just finished lunch and had decided on a game of tag. It had all been great until Stiles had tripped and fallen face first into some flowers.

Way Down We Go by Wolfspurr - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 50,131, sterek)

Set during 3B and its aftermath.

The blacklight party at the loft leaves Stiles with more than one revelation playing on his mind. He's losing time, and apparently he might be more than just a little bit interested in Derek Hale.

By the time he's fought off the Nogitsune and somehow lived to tell the tale, the rest of Stiles' sanity might just rest on Derek, the Camaro, and a few hundred miles of Pacific Coast Highway. It's going to be one hell of a road trip.

Savage Beast(s) by TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 9,390, sterek)

In which Stiles gets a werewolf roommate and it only gets better from there

He Gets Me High by talktowater - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 11,562, sterek)

Stiles and Derek act like a couple. But they're not. Seriously! Derek has a boyfriend and Stiles has a girlfriend. They're just friends, overly-attached and possessive friends, but that's it. Right?

You First by alikatastic - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 802, sterek)

Stiles got a text from Chris Argent telling him what was going on, and Stiles dropped everything at work and rushed to Beacon Hills. He needed to find his son, Eli, and his husband, Derek. When he got there, the worst had happened, it was his worst nightmare come true. His magic built and built until he got the chance to save them all.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Number eight with Azriel please!

Hi, love! Here you go. A mishmash of angst, fluff and smut. Hope you enjoy!

Number eight: “I want my mate to tell me where the hell he was. Then he can get his comfort.”

Warnings: Depictions of toxic family relationships. Smut. 🌶️

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“Are you alright?”

A warm hand landed on your arm, the pleasant scent of Mor’s perfume hitting you. The hint of vanilla was a source of comfort, a feeling of home.

Over your shoulder, you offered her a smile that didn’t meet your eyes. Nodded. She saw right through it.

Nobody understood better than she did — what it was like to return to the poison of the Court of Nightmares, where your estranged family lived. It had taken you years to get out of their vitriolic clutches, and the unexpected mating bond between you and the High Lord’s spymaster had been a saving grace; a reason to leave, a place to go. Life had been so colourful and vibrant since he’d taken you to live in Velaris with him; you’d never looked back. 

Until tonight. 

It had been entirely your choice. You knew nobody would have judged you if you’d chosen to stay behind. But a couple of months earlier, you’d grown sick of feeling useless and idle. You’d asked — begged — Rhysand to give you some sort of official role in his court; something for you to do. He’d been more than happy for you to play courtier, to perhaps even strengthen relations between the Night Court and the Court of Nightmares that had become strained over the years. Yes, you’d insisted, you could do it, and take away that sort of pressure from Mor, too. You’d sooner face your family than she have to face hers.

And perhaps you’d been a tad naive about how easily that might come to you. You’d had confidence in yourself, right up until you’d come face-to-face with your father, your brothers. They’d sneered at you at Azriel’s side and sneered at the Night Court attire you were decked head-to-toe in and sneered at your confidence. And sneered and sneered and sneered.

And suddenly you’d found yourself to be that cowering, tongue-tied victim again. You felt like an utter farce, parading around in such clothes and pretending to be confident. You weren’t sure you’d ever really gotten away from them, or ever really would. 

And when your brother had feigned leaning in to kiss your cheek, and had uttered words that had sliced you all over, you’d known — you had failed. 

“Whore.” He’d growled, his lip curling at the form-fitting, revealing dress you’d once felt comfortable in. “Mother would be ashamed of you, whore.”

You didn’t know if anybody else around you had heard. But the way your mate had tensed was indication enough that he was on high alert and ready to strike out if necessary. He remained that way for the entire evening.

You turned to face Mor, now, all of you having returned to the Town House. You didn’t bother to force a convincing tone as you answered, “I’m alright.”

“Let’s open some wine.” Her arm linked through yours, and she tried to pull you towards the doors to the kitchen. You planted your feet.

“Where is Az?”

The beautiful blonde pursed her lips, glancing over at Rhys and Cassian, who had also heard your question. You stared between the three of them, awaiting an answer. Your mate was nowhere to be found; had disappeared after setting you down on the doorstep.

“Where’s Azriel?” You repeated.

“He’s probably gone flying — to let off some steam.” Cassian said, not sounding at all convinced by his own words.

You heaved a sigh. What you needed, right now, was your mate with you. To hold you through the echoes of what had been an awful night. His absence was just another horrible layer. 

“Come.” Mor tried to pull on your arm again.

“I’m really tired.” You slunk back. “I think I’m just going to head to bed.”

Her gaze swept over you for a moment, before she nodded, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Sleep well, then.”

It was as you passed Rhys and Cassian that you stopped, utter exhaustion weighing you down.

“When he gets back,” you said, “tell him to just come to bed. Please.”

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Hours passed. You didn’t sleep. Couldn’t. And still Azriel did not return. 

You’d settled yourself at the glass doors that opened out onto the balcony, noting that you were as cold there as you had been in your empty bed, without a hard, warm body and wings to warm you. You tugged on that golden, glimmering cord of your bond, waiting for some response. But…nothing. Anxiety bloomed in you like nothing you’d ever felt. 

It shaped a little into anger when you finally glimpsed a passing black form and, moments later, heard the front door opening and shutting downstairs. Relief was a weak flame snuffed out by irritation. Perhaps a little bit of hurt. 

You caught the deep tenor of the three male voices below, deliberately lowered to make their words indiscernible. Perhaps it was that which snapped your tether and had you pushing to your feet. If he wasn’t going to come up and speak to you right away, give you some sort of explanation as to why he’d taken off and blocked you out, you would go to him and demand the answer.

You shucked a robe on, practically ripping your bedroom door off its hinges. There was a pause in the murmurs below, and you knew Rhys, Cassian and Azriel had all heard you leave your room and were awaiting your appearance. You hoped your footsteps padding loudly down the stairs were warning enough that you weren’t happy. 

As you appeared in the doorway to the sitting room, all three males looked up. Azriel’s eyes swept over you — your nightgown and robe — and he looked just about ready to jump up and shield you from sight. You held a hand up, cutting that thought off before it could properly form.

“Don’t even start with the territorial male bullshit.” You said coldly. “No one’s staring at my tits.”

Both Cassian and Rhys cleared their throats, very deliberately making sure that their gazes were anywhere but on you. Azriel’s jaw ticked as you turned to him.

“Where have you been?” You demanded.

He said nothing, his eyes boring into yours. You raised an eyebrow in expectation, but it was Cassian who spoke up.

“…it’s been a long, tense night for everyone.” He reasoned. “Visiting the Court of Nightmares is never a pleasant experience. What you both need right now is each other’s comfort. Surely you just want to forget about tonight and—”

“I want my mate to tell me where the hell he was.” You snapped, not tearing your eyes from Azriel. “Then he can get his comfort.”

Cassian slunk back in seat, raising his eyebrows as he lifted his glass to his lips, drained it, and then reached for the bottle. You folded your arms over your chest, waiting.

Finally, Azriel shrugged. “I went back to the Hewn City to have a catch-up with my wonderful brother-in-law.”

You clenched your jaw. “Why.”

“Because he’s a cunt.”

You almost flinched at the utter venom in his tone. He was always soft-spoken, always guarded, precise and measured in the words he used. It wasn’t like him to just…let his anger speak for him.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” You stared at him. “Why would you—”

“Nobody talks to — or about — my mate like that.” He seethed. “Nobody.”

So he’d heard exactly what your brother had said. And he’d bided his time — before striking. 

And of course, a part of you, somewhere beneath the anger, adored him even more for it. But it would just make things worse in the long run. It would make it harder for you to return to the Hewn City and represent the Night Court without your family seeing it as their personal mission to terrorise you whenever they could. You’d left to get away from that. To grow.

“So…what?” You shrugged. “You killed him?”

Azriel stared at you, his eyes molten. “I could have done, you know. The Mother knows, I wanted to. But that kill is yours, should you ever want it. I just took the time to remind him that his death could come a lot sooner if he chooses to disrespect you like that.”

“You had no right, Azriel—”

“He called you a—”

“I know precisely what he called me. What he said.” You spat. “I grew up around it. I’m used to it. But you’ve gone and made it worse.”

Az’s jaw clenched. “How.”

“Do you know what they think?” A lump formed in your throat that you swallowed down hard. “They think me weak and foolish. They think you seduced me away from them. They think that I was brought to the Night Court merely to service you, and Cassian and Rhys.” 

You took a shuddering breath, your eyes pricking with tears. “And those thoughts? I couldn’t care less about them. They’re pathetic, and they mean nothing to me. But I do care that they think I’m weak. I care that they think me too much of a pathetic, cowering female to speak up for myself, because I’m not.”

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I know you’re not.”

“But by dealing with my brother on my behalf, you’ve only confirmed that for them. It’ll only make it ten times worse the next time I visit.”

You could see understanding dawning in his eyes. And a rational part of you knew that he’d acted on the carnal impulse of a male protecting his mate — that he hadn’t stopped to think about any of this. That he loved you.

But you…you couldn’t give over to that rationality right now. Not when you were still so angry, still so shaken by what had happened. You didn’t blame Azriel for wanting to protect you; to act without speaking to you first, however, made you feel as weak as your family thought you to be. 

You wiped your tears away, shaking your head. “I’m going to bed.” 

“I’ll come with you—”

“No.” You turned. “Stay and enjoy your drink.”

The words hit their mark, and you saw the scathing hurt in his eyes as he slumped back. You’d probably regret it later. 

But in that moment, you were too tired to care.

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

Despite your exhaustion, sleep didn’t find you properly. You drifted in and out fitfully, every little noise seeming to jolt you awake. Every single time, you found yourself glancing over to the empty space beside you.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there for, but your anger steadily morphed into loneliness, and trying to sleep without Az curled around you left you feeling as empty and cold as arguing with him had. You hated fighting with him.

And you knew he’d meant well. That he’d just been defending you because he loved you. Already, you were wishing you hadn’t been so hard on him. 

You jerked awake again as you heard the door slowly creak open. You watched through heavy eyes as Azriel filed in, making a conscious effort to be as quiet as possible — before noticing you were awake.

He studied you for just a moment, and then dragged his feet to the end of the bed. He slumped down onto his front, his long body stretching from the foot of the bed, right up to where you lay. You watched, allowing him to slot himself between your legs. He rested his head on your belly.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, pressing a kiss against it. He gazed up at you through thick, dark lashes. “Really sorry.”

You breathed a soft sigh, your hand reaching out to brush strands of hair from his face. “I’m sorry, too.”

“What could you possibly have to be sorry for?”

You shrugged. Your fingers toyed absentmindedly with his hair as you said, “I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. I know you were only defending me.”

“I was blinded by my own rage at your brother, though. I should have thought more about how you felt. You must never, ever think yourself weak. You’re the furthest thing from it.”

A soft smile played on your lips. Az’s chin dug into your lower belly as he peered up at you, his fingers brushing indolent circles on your outer thighs. Your own eyes were hooded as you stared back at him — your mate. You loved him so ferociously. 

He hadn’t even thought twice about defending you, even against a baseless insult. 

“I really am sorry.” He pressed another kiss to the soft skin of your belly, the muscles there contracting at the sensation. “It’s such an honour for me to defend you that I sometimes forget you don’t need me to.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, Az.” You watched him — watched his nose graze the silk of your nightgown. “I love it when you stand up for me. And had that been anyone else, I would have left you to it. But with them, it’s just…complicated. I suppose I still feel like I have something to prove.”

“You don’t. But it’s going to take time for you to realise that.” His tongue poked out, licking the fabric of the indentation where your belly button was. “You know, don’t you? That what your brother said was ridiculous. The only people your mother would feel disappointed in are them.”

Your breath hitched at the sensation of his tongue moving through the fabric. You tried to stay your thoughts, to remain on subject. “I…I know.”

“You’re incredible.” He shifted down, pulling your nightgown up as he did. “Beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to your now-exposed navel. “Strong.”

The cold air of the room brushed over your bare sex, and you jerked as Az nuzzled his face against your fine dusting of hair just above. He grazed his lips there, breathing in your scent. 

“Why don’t you come to bed?” You breathed, brushing his hair back. “It’s late. You must be tired.”

“Mm.” He hummed. “After I’ve apologised.”

You had no objections as he finally dipped his head, levelling his face with the very centre of you. His eyes flicked up momentarily to meet yours, and then he dove in.

Your head fell back, a low moan escaping you as his tongue swiped out and licked a stripe right up you, from your entrance, up, up to your clit. He kissed the area first, his lips a sensuous scrape against the sensitive nub of nerves. Your hips lifted off the bed, and he slid his hand up, pressing them back down. 

“I love you.” He breathed the words onto the damp heat of you — a place he had worshipped time and time before, and would continue to do so as the world and its stories changed around you.

“I love you too.” You breathed, and another moan broke from your throat as his tongue swirled around your clit. “Gods, Az.”

You felt him smile against you, and you utterly melted into the bed as he began his expert worship of your body, always knowing which areas drew which sensations from you, which touches had you moaning the loudest.

His tongue built up its pace, working at your clit as he slipped a hand down, gathering up your wetness on his fingers. He slipped one into you, pumping a few times, curling it inside you, and you gasped.

“Another?” He murmured against you, teeth grazing just slightly.

A small whimper left you. “Yes. Yes.”

And so he slipped a second finger in, and you were happy to give over to every sensation in your body as he began to pump in and out, his fingers moving in tandem with his tongue. Tension coiled low in your stomach, a dull, pleasant ache that was building and building until your legs were trembling. 

“Az.” You groaned, hips lifting again. “Fuck, I’m gonna…”

“Take it.” He lapped at you, lapped and lapped as if he might never get another taste. “Take everything you need. Cum for me.”

Only a few more thrusts of his fingers, a few more strokes of his tongue, and you were tumbling off that precipice into place of weightless elation, stars bursting in your eyes, your ears ringing, your body shaking. Az continued to lick and stroke you through it all, murmuring encouraging, soothing words.

And when the force of your climax subsided, and you were utterly spent, he pulled his fingers out of you. Sucked your wetness from them. And then climbed up the bed to lay beside you.

He was very clearly hard as a rock, the outline of his straining cock visible. You made to reach for him, but he gently took your hand.

“No.” He said softly. “This was about you. We have tomorrow. And the day after that.” He leaned down, kissing your head. “And all the ones after that. But now it’s time for sleep.”

You didn’t protest as he lay properly beside you, tugging you against him and pulling the blankets around you. His fingers laced through yours, both your hands resting on your stomach. 

“I’m so proud of you.” He whispered into the darkness, kissing the nape of your neck. “So fucking proud.”

You smiled, relaxing into him. Closed your eyes.

You were just drifting off as you heard him murmur, beneath his breath: 

“My mate. My entire world.”

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[bohbee]

Genshin Characters when you have a nightmare.

Part 1

Part 2

I don't know when the others will come cause I am tiredd

Characters: Al-Haitham, Cyno, Tighnari, Wanderer, Childe, Ayato, Thoma

Warnings: blood [Al-Haitham, Thoma], strangulation [Childe], death [Al-Haitham, Childe, Cyno, Tighnari, Thoma], Dottore [Childe]

Notes: this was pretty sweet and its not proofread 💀

Masterlist

Al-Haitham

Purple flames incinerated everything around you, Sumeru city was destroyed. A large robot with maniacal laughter crushed bodies and buildings, and your eyes saw what it was holding, making your blood drain. Aether and Nahida.... their bodies bloodied and limp. "No, please wake up, guys." Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as the world started to shake, his crushing steps coming closer and closer.

"(y/n)"

Your ears faintly picked up on the quiet whispering, your light.... your savior. As if on cue, you shot up from your bed, Al-Haithams body slightly hovering over yours. Your terrified eyes met his calm ones, his hand carefully rubbed your shoulder reassuringly. "I'm here," he said softly. He placed your head on his chest and rubbed circles in your back.

"They defeated the false God. There's nothing to worry about." He hummed softly, the vibrations of his chest calming you down.

Your eyelids got Droopy, and you let sleep overwhelm your brain, Al-Haithams strong hold making you feel safe and secure.

Ayato

It wasn't often for you to have nightmares, so when Ayato had walked into his bedroom only to find his beloved crying and shaking in their sleep, he kind of panicked. He was used to taking care of his sisters nightmares as a kid. However, this was a completely different story.

He swiftly knelt on your side of the bed and rubbed your cheek softly. He quietly said your name to slowly wake you. His soft lips pepper kissed your face, causing you to jolt awake.

He quickly embraced you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. "My love, do you wish to speak about it?" He asked softly. You shook your head, causing his to nod, "Alright then, let's get some rest, okay?" He got in the bed and spooned your body. "I'll always be here to save you from those off-putting thoughts"

Childe (Ajax, Tartaglia)

It was dark. The only thing you could see was Childe restraint to a chair. Dottores shoes clicked on the floor behind you, "You see relationships leave room for vulnerability, Tartaglia." The blue-haired male said. Childes eyes widened as he started to thrash around in the chair. "There's no room for vulnerability in the fatui, you know that." The doctors hands grasped your neck tightly, panic searing through your chest as your oxygen slowly cut off.

Childes grunts and screams of agony slowly turned into ringing as your body thrusted forward, trying to breathe. However, Dottores hands never let go. Your vision got spotty before quickly turning to black.

"(Y/N)"

Your name was yelled, startling you from your awful slumber. Childes panicked eyes scanned your body, "archons finally your up." His strong, scarred arms pulled your shaking body tightly in his grasp. "They won't touch you, I'll kill every one of them if they try." His tone was dark but heavily reassuring. You nodded, not being able to trust your own voice.

He softly rocked your body and sang a quiet melody from his hometown. Assisting you back to rest.

Cyno

Dating Cyno meant that he would be gone for many weeks. He was supposed to come back three days ago, but he didn't. You asked everyone you could, but nothing was heard. And so you just had to wait. Each night he was gone, you had a nauseating nightmare of something tragic happening to him. This night wasn't different....

Tignnari rushed you to Gandharva Ville, telling you that something had gone wrong. Your heart raced as you rushed through the clinic, only to see your beloved lying on the table. His body was peaceful, his cheeks slightly sunken in, and you grabbed his hand, trying to shake him up. However, his fingers were ice cold "no no no Cy, please!" You whimpered, shaking his body harder. "Don't leave me here, cy..." You cried harder, praying to every Archon to bring him back.

~Cynos POV~

I sighed heavily as I finally entered my home, I had to prolong my expedition thanks to the sand storm that had hit. Silently, I took off my hat and walked to my bedroom, happily ready to see my spouse.

As I opened the door, my eyes landed on their shaking body. "Cy please" they whimpered, I rushed over to them, "Hey, hey. Wake up love, I'm here" he softly woke his beloved up and wiped their tears.

~(y/n) pov~

"Cy!" You exclaimed and jumped on him, bringing his body down onto yours. He let out a deep chuckle. "Where were you!" You asked, tears of relief streaming down your face.

"I got caught up in a sand storm..... I guess you could say I was Duned..... get it cause doomed and dune-" you cut him off by kissing his lips "never ever do that again, or I will sand you straight to the after life" you joked to him, he shivered slightly but smiled at your now happy demeanor. "You won't have to worry about me leafing you"

Tighnari

You and Nari had set up camp while you were exploring a new part of the woods. Nari decided to stay up first watch, so you laid down and closed your eyes...

It was everywhere, the withering zones had taken your home... your people. You looked at Gandharva Ville only to find the bodies of the ones you called family. Many researchers, watchers, and adventures laid on the ground. However, two of them had specifically caught your eye. The green-haired girl and the male with large ears laid limp on the ground, as if they were peacefully resting. Your throat erupted in a crackled sob as you tried to wrap your head around what was happening.

But a strong smell woke you up from your horrid imagination. Your eyes went wide, and you were met with gorgeous brown and green ones. He removed the herbs from under your nose "hey" he said quietly, his tail sort of hugging your waist. "You were whimpering. Why don't you grab the blanket and lay on my lap while I watch?" He offered. You shook your head and joined him outside. His delicate fingers drew intricate drawings on your back as you closed your eyes.

Thoma

Aether jumped up and grabbed the vision from Raiden. The two of them continued to fight. Thoma still restrained by the guards you watched in fear as your fiance went to go assist his blonde friend. However, in a swift motion, the guards' spear entered his abdomen.

Red painted the floor underneath his body, and you yelled his name as you tumbled to his body. His hand reaching out to you before falling limp.

You gasped, now fully awake from your traumatic dream. You turn to your fiancé who was now looking at you with confused eyes. "Hey, what's going on, my love?" He asked. You pounced on him, hugging his chest tightly, gaining a quiet humph from his chest.

"Please don't leave me," you said as tears dripped from your eyes, his heart panged against his chest. "I would never, ever. I promise to you." He softly kissed your forehead and hugged you close. "Don't let those bad memories flood your brain, I'm here and I'm not leaving."

Wanderer (kuni)

You and Kuni had dated for about 50 years before he turned into the 'wanderer', he was an awful person. But, he always had a spot for you, and so you stayed. So watching the man you love trample to the ground, only to come back again and not know who he was.... in simple terms destroyed you.

Yes he gained his memories back, but it still traumatized you to see that happen....

"Who are you?" The wanderer asked, his head tilting a bit to the side. "Kuni. Don't joke like that." You went to go grab his hand but he pulled away, your heart cracking slightly "I'm not joking..." your heart dropped. 'No' you thought to yourself 'this can't actually be happening'.

Your body shot up, catching the attention of the puppet who was at his desk. He turned around and looked at your body, shaking and crying. Though he didn't understand what was going on, he knew that you were in a place of vulnerability.

"Doll? What happened?" he said sternly, "the same nightmare." Your mumble was weak as you hugged yourself tightly. He sighed and walked over to you, getting into the bed. You hugged his chest tightly, as if he wasn't gonna be there the next day. "I am still your same Kuni, just with a small upgrade." He said softly, slowly rubbing your back. It wasn't often that he would be this affectionate. But he had felt guilty for causing you such turmoil. "Go on back to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up." He said, his words reassuring you. "Promise?" He smiled and nodded "Duh"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I think this was good.

[luveline]

sorry if this is basic- but miguel with reader having nightmares?? Ty! <3

thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader

Miguel's already awake when you stir. Sitting up in bed, a lightweight tablet against his thigh with schematics for a slightly more optimised ADJF (autonomous dimension-jump facilitator) open and burning into his retinas one pixel at a time. 

You sleep badly, sometimes. More than a hundred moons ago, before sharing his bed was the norm for you, before Miguel knew how best to bring you down, something awful happened. A strike against an anomalous Doc Ock turned bad. You got thrown down and concussed, enough wits about you to watch with clarity but no strength to stop it as an octobot culled a civilian two feet in front of you. 

It bothers you often. You tell him less. You can't run from it in your sleep, arms locking up against your chest, your body inching closer to his under the sheets like you're looking for him. 

He puts the tablet frame on the nightstand and turns to you. 

Your elbow digs into his ribs. He frowns and takes your wrist, pulling your hand down to your thigh. "Cariño," he murmurs, laying down next to you to sweep over your face with a fond concern. "Es un mal sueño. Nada más." It's a bad dream. Nothing more. 

You make a sound. Not quite a whimper but a hurting pull of air. Miguel frowns and wraps his arms around you, pulling your sleeping weight onto his chest. 

"Estas bien. Cálmate, mi corazón," he says, his lips barely parted. It's okay. Calm down, my heart. 

He waits for the flinch. It comes every time you have one of these nightmares, like you've missed a step. You wake with a harsh gasp and racing pulse, the heel of your palm pressed to his heart as you jolt, your head nearly slamming into his chin. 

"Miguel?" you ask. 

He hates that you actually sound scared. 

"I'm here," he says. 

"You're here," you say, breathing funny. You inhale too much and exhale too little. 

Miguel isn't confident, but he can act it. He strong arms you, your face to his, your tight shoulders under his hand. He rubs your thumb into the tensed muscles there unapologetically. The pressure is unkind, and it snaps you back into place, so to speak. 

"It was that dream again," you explain unnecessarily. 

"I know."

He pulls you, hoping you'll lay down again, but you stay put. He pulls again. You're a statue, lethargic and lost in your own mind for long, quiet minutes. All he can do is stroke the back of your hand.

You squint at the bleary light slugging in from the window. "Shit, sorry. Did I wake you? It's so early." You stroke his cheek, but your hand is shaking. 

"I was awake. I don't need you to worry about me, I'm worried about you," he confesses, bringing his pinky finger to the corner of your eye and stroking downward. You look at one another. His gaze is patient, unfailing, while yours is wired wrong, tears shiny along your waterline. "Don't look so sad, mi cielo. Please." 

"I keep seeing his face." 

"I know," he says, bringing his second hand up to cup both of your cheeks. "Hey, look at me." 

"I don't want his face to look like yours. Like, I'll start seeing you in my dreams instead of him. Is that– is that selfish? To want it to stay his face?" 

Miguel doesn't know if that's selfish, but he knows you aren't, not at your core. You make mistakes, you give in to temptation often and poke fun at others, but you do what's best for people when it counts. You would've saved the civilian if you could have. You would've died for him. 

"You're not selfish," he says. "You're brave. Now lay down. The sun has some work to do." 

"You don't need to go?" you ask, sighing quietly as his hands trace down your neck, your shoulders. 

He drags you into his chest. One arm curls around your back like an iron bar, corded muscle taut behind you. Miguel can't stop the nightmares and he's awful with words, but the physical is easy. He can hug you and hold you and press barely there kisses to the top of your head while you settle down. He can lay there with you for a few hours while you get some much needed rest. 

[pharawee]

It's been a week already, so here I am with the third part of my Pit Babe novel commentary.

(You can find the first two parts here and here.)

First things first, though. North is an omega. Do with that information what you will. 🤡

Meanwhile, Charlie and Babe are back at it again (because of course they are) and this time they're not taking any prisoners. Poor Way is on the phone with Babe as Charlie does his best to please~ him. In various ways. Way is very confused. All he wants is for Babe to tell him which car he wants him to buy. You know, if this is Way's villain origin story then I'm not even mad.

Charlie mercifully ends the call before things can get a bit too obvious, only for Babe to pick up the phone again to make an x-rated recording of them going at it like bunnies. Keep this in mind for later.

But anyway. It's finally time for Charlie's initiation into Team X-Hunter - that is, if he manages to pass Alan's test: compete against Pit Babe himself. As if Charlie wasn't nervous enough about it already. Naturally, he loses, and he's really upset about it too - not because he failed the test but because he failed his friends. Aw. But no one really expected him to win against Babe anyway, Alan merely wanted to test his determination, and so he's welcomed as the newest member of the team. Competitive racing really is that easy, I guess.

One almost-love confession later (Babe can't quite bring himself to say it but he doesn't need to. Charlie knows.) they're back to actually teaching Charlie how to race. Since Babe is still healing from his injuries, he can only (very stylishly) watch from the sidelines as the other members of X-Hunter take over as Charlie's teachers. Today it's North's turn and remember? He's the only omega on the team. Naturally, Babe is jealous. They (dirty-)talk it out. Charlie can now smell Babe's emotions, while Babe has all but lost his heightened senses. Hm.

Later, in the locker room while Charlie is busy racing, Babe comes across Way. Or is it the other way around? It seems like Way really wants to talk to him - or rather, talk him out of being with Charlie. Something's really fishy about the way he phrases things. Manipulate, mansplain, malewife. Or something. But the thing is? For some strange reason it's working, even on someone as headstrong and stubborn as Babe (and the only reason why Babe isn't immediately giving in to Way's weirdly cruel love confession is because his heart is full of Charlie). All these moments when Way and he seemed so flirty and close? Suddenly they've become very, very creepy. Hmm.

Anyway. It's time for Charlie to pay another visit to his mysterious clients and/or family. He never really says (but we now know better). But, oh no! He's left his wallet! Luckily, he's got the world's best not-quite-boyfriend to try and catch up with him before it's too late.

And here's where things go very, very wrong.

(I'm putting the rest of this post under a cut because of major spoilers and a content warning for SA and grooming. Please take care.💜)

Because that's not a taxi Babe sees Charlie getting into. It's one of his "father's" limousines, along with some of his men. Preparing for the worst, Babe follows.

Meanwhile, Charlie is meeting up with his adopted father. Their coversation goes about as expected, with Charlie refusing to return home and bring Babe with him while he's at it, because they've indeed been adopted by the same man. Charming.

This is the moment when Babe barges into the room, thinking that he's here to save Charlie before very quickly realising the truth: that he's been manipulated and played and lied to.

I need you to realise how much of a nightmare this is for Babe. He's spent over a decade running from an adoptive father who wants to trap and abuse him, and now the only person he trusts (and loves, but we don't talk about that) has led him straight back into that trap.

So basically, Babe's sanity is slowly unravelling at the seams. He immediately takes off, with Charlie following him outside and into the rain (because of course it's raining - it's much more dramatic that way). When Charlie attempts to stop him and explain, Babe (understandably) lashes out. He punches Charlie's glasses right off his face, failing to understand why he's the one who's hurting when it's Charlie who should be feeling guilty.

Oh, and then there's this bit:

"I thought you liked racing…" Babe's voice was trembling and soft, completely different from before, "…I thought you loved me."

I barely survived reading this. I'm here for fun omegaverse shenanigans dammit!!

So, yeah, Babe returns home alone, and even though he doesn't want to, he forces himself to remember what happened with his adoptive father, because as it turns out Charlie's betrayal has the most horrifying of implications:

You see, Babe was adopted because he was an alpha with special abilities. But he wasn't the only one, there were other adopted alpha children with special abilities that Babe was never allowed to meet. Eventually, Babe learned about the existence of enigmas who stand above even alphas and are so strong (and thankfully rare) that they can turn any alpha they have sex with into omegas and impregnate them. Children from these unions have a 99% chance to be alphas with special abilities. See where this is going?

Let me spell it out for you - because clearly this isn't wtf-inducing enough: Babe is essentially the main ingredient in his adoptive father's breeding program.

But wait! It gets even worse! 🤡🤡

Babe, alone and at his lowest, deduces that Charlie must the enigma that was sent to lure him back.

And if that's true, then maybe he's already been changed from an alpha into an omega (because his heightened senses are gone, remember?). Maybe he's already pregnant.

And this is what sends Babe completely over the edge (same here, Babe, same here...) because he is positively traumatised by the thought of having children and fulfilling his adoptive father's sick wishes. He doesn't want children. The very thought makes him sick. He values his autonomy above all else. He never even has sex with omegas because he refuses to get anyone pregnant.

Only now he's about to get a pregnancy test because he was stupid enough to fall for a cute, innocent boy with glasses.

Enter Charlie who of course still knows the code to Babe's condo. Babe barricades himself in his bedroom while Charlie tells him his side of the story. How he was adopted by the same man, and how he was quite content with his life until he learned about his father's plan to get one of his other adoptive children pregnant - by force if necessary. Charlie felt sorry for this older adoptive brother but since he only knew his name - Babe - he bid his time until he heard about a racer named Pit Babe. Charlie started hanging out at the races and in turn fell in love with racing (and with Babe).

Fast forward to now, only of course Babe doesn't believe him because he must be the enigma, right?

Nope, turns out Charlie is an alpha after all, only his special ability is stealing other alphas' special abilities.

And his grand plan? To take away what makes Babe special so their adoptive father will no longer be interested in breeding (ugh...) him.

Which leaves us (and Babe) with one problem: Wtf Charlie, you don't just steal people's abilities without their consent - especially not when you claim to love them.

So yeah, their whole relationship is based on lies and manipulation, and Charlie essentially stole Babe's heightened senses by having sex with him.

Babe starts crying, Charlie starts crying, then they start having hatesex (which usually ends all their arguments). This fixes things for about five minutes until Babe starts sobbing for real. He wants Charlie to leave. He can't even stand to look at him.

And so Charlie leaves and moves in with his other adoptive brother, Jeff. We'd already established that Jeff is an omega. However, he's a special omega (because why else would he have been adopted too?).

Jeff can see the future. 🤡🤡🤡

He was incredibly valuable to their adoptive father until he probably realised what that meant for him, so one day Jeff took a stroll outside and let himself get hit by a car, claiming that this had him lose his abilities. Naturally, he was promptly discarded, but he seems to live a comfortable life protected by Charlie. He's exactly as aloof as Pon plays him in the series. I love Jeff, ok?

Meanwhile, Babe's back to his old habits, trying to chase away his thoughts of Charlie by getting it on with other alphas. Only it doesn't work. He blames their scent, of course, but he's clearly still hung up on Charlie. Drunk and miserable, he rediscovers the spicy video of Charlie and him that he recorded on his phone and promptly starts masturbating (as you do). When Charlie calls him, he picks up out of habit. Babe is angry (and horny) and Charlie is sad (and horny) so they have phone sex (and they're still really into calling each other papa and daddy - which, you know, there might be better pet names considering who's their adoptive father but ok).

Babe still doesn't want to see Charlie, and as Charlie later aptly puts it:

"Because I chose the starting point myself without asking him. So now I have to let him choose the ending he is most comfortable with."

Much, much later, the racing season picks back up again. Turns out the whole race track had to shut down for an investigation into Babe's accident. It's Charlie's first race and there's some kind of qualifying for future rounds. But, surprise! Babe will be racing too. He's too stubborn to let Charlie win the title. To the surprise of absolutely no one (except for Charlie who's worried about Babe's barely-healed injuries) Babe easily wins, with Charlie (who's overwhelmed by his new heightened senses) coming in fourth place. Plot twist (but really actually not...): Babe doesn't need to rely on his senses to win because he has years of experience to draw from.

After the race, Charlie follows Babe into the locker room. They talk it out. This somehow involves a blowjob but I'm not judging. Babe still won't forgive Charlie, saying:

"You think I love you more than I love myself?"

Which is an incredibly powerful thing to say and I hope they keep this for the series.

Later that night, Babe meets up with Way because he doesn't want to be alone. Things with him have been awkward since that day in the locker room when Way basically confessed, but for some reason Babe won't hold it against him. Way is right, after all (Hmmm.). Only, Way won't let things be and somehow, without Babe noticing, they're suddenly kissing.

And then Babe goes motionless and still as Way starts undressing him. He's stopped just in time by a very panicky Charlie. When Babe comes to he doesn't know what's going on until Charlie tells him.

Way is their adoptive brother and he can hypnotise alphas.

Because DUN DUN DUN! Way is the enigma.

To be continued. 🤡🤡🤡🤡

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Will you come when I call? (will you answer when I beg?)

damn your love, damn your lies - series masterlist here

pairing: roy harper x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.7k

genre: hurt/comfort

warnings: ex bf roy harper but they're in looove, it's kinda unspoken that they're getting back together, vague references to bad things that can happen when you're out alone at night, roy's protective best friend jason todd

a/n: wowie it's getting happier folks. also hello how are we I feel like I'm coming out of hibernation

In your defence, the infamous Red Hood lives up to his reputation enough to assure you that you made the right choice in calling him instead of Arsenal. It had been an awful phone call to make, of course - saying that you were walking home late at night you were sure something bad was going to happen. But as bad as it had been to ask for help like that, at least you knew Red Hood would come. Arsenal? That, you weren't so sure of.

Per Hood's instructions, you stand on the sidewalk under the street light, shifting foot to foot and trying not to look back at the unconscious body he'd left in the darkness there. Wait here, he'd said. I'm sure… a friend will be here to pick you up soon. Looking up at the murky night sky, the stillness that the stars can't seem to shine through, you beg whatever's out there that he isn't sending Roy.

It's hard to imagine it, the Jason you'd grown to know as Roy's best friend, the boy who smiled and helped you bring your groceries in and always tried to convince you to let him do the dishes whenever he was over for dinner with the two of you. You'd never seen Roy out and about as Arsenal, but you'd imagined it, of course - how could you not? Glancing back into the din of the alleyway, you suddenly find yourself glad that you'd always remained somewhat unaware. Then, with a stuttering step back, you wonder if you'd ever really known Roy at all. How could you, when you only had half of him to love?

It feels an awful lot like guilt, the feeling rising in your throat. Maybe you understand what he meant when he said you were never really all there, you never really let him in.

Fortunately, the revving of Jason's car is unmistakable, a sound that pulls you from whatever spiral you were heading down as he pulls up beside you, getting out of the car with a scowl on his face just so that he can stomp over and open your door for you. The say he slams it shut once you're in the car is the confirmation you need that you're in for a lecture tonight.

"What were you thinking?" Sure enough, as soon as Jason is in the driver's seat, he's taking off, speeding down the silent streets as he questions you.

"Was the costume change really necessary?" You reply, eyeing his civilian clothes. He shoots you a look.

"Couldn't exactly pick you up on the bike, could I? Hood saving a civilian in distress - sure. Telling you to hop on and giving you a ride home? That'd raise some questions." He sighs. You cross your arms and look out your window.

"I wasn't in distress," you mumble. Jason looks at you like he's never heard you say anything as stupidly petulant as that. You're not sure why - you know you've said worse.

"Why did you call me and not Roy?" He asks finally, his thumb tapping against the steering wheel as he bites his tongue, as he wills himself not to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you.

"Oh please, like he would answer," you scoff. And there's that look again, like you've said something unimaginable and Jason's trying to figure out if he's having some kind of waking nightmare. 

"I didn't realize you think that lowly of him," he says bitterly. You straighten, looking out the front windshield.

"I don't-"

"You do. You do if you think there'd ever be a day when you'd call and he wouldn't answer," Jason says firmly. You shift in your seat. 

"It's not his job to come running every time I need saving anymore," you point out sullenly. Jason barks out a laugh. You have a feeling he doesn't really find it funny.

"You didn't let him do that even when it was his job," he says. You scowl at him.

"I appreciate you doing this tonight, Jason, but I'd love to do it without the commentary."

"That's a shame. I wouldn't," he shrugs, pulling up outside your apartment building. You sigh and rub your temples.

"Don't mention this to him, alright?" You ask.

"You're joking."

"I'm really not," you say dryly. Jason fixes you with a glare. 

"Get inside safely," is all he says, and you're smart enough to know when you've hit a wall. Sighing again, mostly for show (and feeling vindicated when you see Jason's lips twitch into something that almost resembles a smile), you head inside. If you see Jason bring his phone to his ear to call someone, you pretend you don't. It might be easier that way.

Or, as it usually is, it may be a lot more difficult. By the time you're inside, tossing your phone and keys onto the side table and rubbing the back of your neck in a vain attempt to rid yourself of the tension there, there's a figure ripping your balcony door open and tumbling through into your living room.

You'd scream, surely, if you'd had even a moment to think before Arsenal is all over you, crowding you against the wall of your home with his hands cupping your face, going on about how worried he was when Jason called him.

"Roy-" you start.

"Are you ok, baby? Are you alright? He got to you in time, right? Nothing happened - I, god, please tell me nothing happened, - are you hurt, baby? Are-"

"Roy," you say again, putting your hands over his where they still cup your cheeks protectively. His mouth snaps shut, sure, but his eyes flit over your figure, again and again and again, as if to find some sort of damage that he missed the first dozen times. You stare at him, at the wild look behind his mask and the red leather that covers his chest and stretches across his thighs.

"You… look good," you say simply. He blinks, staring at you.

"What?"

"I've never seen you like this before. You look good," you clarify. It's Roy, you know - the man you lived with, shared you bed and your life with for so long. But somehow, the masked figure in front of you feels more like a stranger than you could've anticipated. Maybe knowing Roy but not Arsenal really was a mistake - maybe you really did only ever have half of him.

Arsenal sighs, pulling away from you and stepping back to sit on the arm of your couch, taking his cap off to run a hand through his hair and stare at you. 

"Why didn't you call me?" He asks.

"I didn't know you'd answer." With the way he flinches at that, you suddenly wish you'd lied. Not that he wouldn't have realized. His shoulders drop, his head hanging low as he stands and makes his way back towards your balcony.

"Roy, I -" you start, the words catching in your throat. "I'm sorry." That's enough to make him freeze.

"What?"

"I was wrong."

"What?"

"Oh, fuck off," you scoff, but he doesn't miss the lack of bite in your voice. "It… probably should've been you I called tonight."

"Why didn't you?" He asks again. You think about snapping at him, about saying that you just told him and surely he can't be that stupid and-

"I don't care as much about what Jason thinks of me," is what you say instead. You're not sure who's more surprised. Arsenal steps towards you, settling back down onto the arm of the couch and reaching a hand out to you as if you'll still come when he calls. When you walk forward, standing between his parted legs and letting his hand curl around your waist, you're not sure how it all happened. 

"What do you mean, sunshine?" He coaxes. You grab onto his shoulders with just a bit too much force, as if that anchor will stop you from baring your soul to him the way you should've so long ago.

"I care about what you think of me," you say simply. "I care that you think I can take care of myself… and do this on my own."

"But you don't have to, baby," he says it so softly, gentle in a way that feels new coming from him.

"Well," you clear your throat, stepping away from him and smoothing down your shirt. "I do now, anyway." He doesn't take the bait, doesn't comment on the fact that he left you, decided he couldn't put up with this anymore and walked out. 

"You know I'll always come when you call," is what he says instead.

"I don't think you should have to," you reply. 

"I don't mind," he says, like it's that simple. Like loving and being loved is as easy as the way he sits there, open and waiting for you.

"I don't… think I want to be alone tonight," you say slowly, carefully, like you're teetering on some sort of ledge. Roy smiles, tilting his head a bit as he looks at you.

"I'll stay the night -"

"I want you to sleep on the couch," you say abruptly. He laughs. 

"I can do that sunshine. As many nights as you want."

"You'll get a bad back," you say, and there's a thickness in your voice, a dampness in your eyes that has you clenching your fists at your sides. "Your neck will hurt in the morning."

"I don't mind," Roy says again, like loving you is easy. You scoff and roll your eyes, but it's a small display amidst the haze of vulnerability that's blanketing the two of you.

Stepping forward, you reach slowly to his face, fingers beginning to peel off his mask.  He lets you - and you kick yourself for being so surprised. Of course he would, always so ready to bare the layers of his soul to you. As you smooth a thumb over his now-exposed cheekbone, you wonder what other layers of his there are that he loves you enough to let you peel back. You wonder, in a way that should concern you, how many of your own layers are fraying and thinning underneath his love.

[screechingsandwichtriumph]

Yandere Miles Fairchild-kidnapping

Summary: how Miles would act around the whole kidnapping thingie

Warnings: kidnapping, slight manipulation, physical abuse(not done but mentioned), Miles being so nice that you can't even complain about your kidnapping

Asks are always open<3

Miles would be the type of yandere to kidnap you almost immediately

Most yanders save kidnapping as a last resort solution , if their darling rejects them or is leaving, but for Miles this just isn't true. He would kidnap you with any minor reasoning

He really thinks it's for the best and even expects you to thank him about it sometime in the future

I mean, he has a big home that has everything in it , so you will be the most comfortable there with him, right?('this is your new house' be would say grinning and keep showing you around)

And then you will get to meet Flora a cute young girl that makes you want to protect her. Miles instructs her to talk to you and tell you to stay ' you won't leave too , will you?' her voice is soft and she is giving you the most hurt look she can achieve .

' Everyone leaves us , but I feel it , you're different'

And kidnapping you works in Miles favor in more than one ways

That house is a terrifying old building with floors that creek and doors that shut on their own. The nightmares are inevitable and when they come , Miles is right there to comfort you

' Don't worry y/n , you're ok' he softly sais , hugging you ' here , I will stay with you all night to protect you'

Normally you would have pushed him away , but now you were so petrified and his hugs were warma and his face familiar. So you let him sleep in your bed

Waking up the next morning you find him already awake playing with a lock of your hair. ' I'm sorry for taking you here without your permission.' his expressions seem so genuine that you think he might be honest

' I just love you and didn't want to lose you. Everyone I have ever loved has either died or left me. I just want to protect you'

He guilt trips you in feeling bad for him so you will never ever leave and honestly it works.

All together though, it won't be too awful. Miles is a pretty boy (He would find you staring at him and smile that Miles grin knowing damn well what he is doing). The house is enormous and so are the fields that surround it. He and Fiona will keep you busy and happy enough that you forget you were not here on your free will in the first place

You were frequently taken horse riding. The times that Flora was with you it would be more playful but the ones in which you and Miles are alone? Oh he would be extra flirty , giving you winks , helping you of your horse and kissing your hand, while looking up at you with his pretty smile( 'there is my lady. Careful now we don't wanna hurt ourselfs', 'dont I get a kiss for helping you?')

You would take strolls all around the garden collecting flowers and pretty rocks. Once you even found a hedgehog that you and Flora somehow convinced Miles to take in as a pet('please Miles let us keep him!' Flora begged her brother. 'FINE!' he let out 'keep him, I don't care'. He ended up adoring the little animal)

Exploring the rooms, board games ( in which Miles is unsurprisingly and Flora is surprisingly competitive)and even cooking will fill your days. You have everything you want except of your freedom. As long as you don't ask for that you will be ok.

Also try not to anger Miles too much , since he holds you in his hand. He is usually nice and a gentleman but don't push it. He can take away your things , not allow you to go out or even deprive you from food water or a shower.

He would try not to drug you since he loves your personality just as it is. You could yell at him and even try to hit him and those things he wouldn't mind. But if you ever try to hurt yourself or run away , expect to be a bit drugged for a long time.

He wouldn't easily get physical,('please y/n, I really don't wanna hurt you') but if you act out too much , then he won't hesitate to strike you. If he thinks that in order to stay with him , you have to be completely controlled, then he will brake you and rebuild you as he pleases.

'The house is away from everything else , so please stop screaming. Noone is gonna hear you anyway ,dear'

[shegatsby]

Hi! I dont really now how requests work so I’m so sorry for any mistakes!! I was wondering if u could do a Hannibal x fem(or gn) reader where she gets kidnapped and he finds out and saves her(but she’s injured). Heavy angst to pure fluff!!

PS: I couldn’t find if ur requests r closed or open so if they are closed rn I’m so sorry!!!🌷🌷🌷🌷

A/N; Hi! Thank you for this request i hope you'll like it. Sorry for any typos. Enjoy! Let me know what you think :)

Warnings; Kidnapped reader, injuries etc.

(gif isn't mine)

When she woke up from her nightmare her head was hurting her like a bitch.. only her nightmare was real. She was trapped in a basement, the last thing she remembered was that someone broke into her house and hit hear head, she was cooking dinner when the attacker came, her plan was to have Hannibal over for dinner, to thank him for helping her etc. She wanted to impress him so bad.. but now she was in a dark basement and her hands and feet were tied. She had to take deep breaths to calm herself in order to make logical desicions. The door of the basement was opened and soon her attacker hit the light, it was yellow and hurt her eyes, ''Rise and shine sweetheart.'' a man's voice was heard, ''Why am I here?'' she asked trying her best to not freak put, the man had a mask and he was wearing an expensive suit, he came close to her, holding a knife, obviously trying to scare her, ''You're just a pawn in my game little dove. It's your boyfriend I want.''

''Boyfriend? I don't have one, sorry.'' she rolled her eyes, what was he talking about?!

''Aww you haven't realized? Doctor Lecter is quite smitten by you. Even a blind person could see that.''

Well, she wasn't sure but she had been feeling a strange pull towards him, recently they've been seeing each other, bumping into each other, it was as if Hannibal was just standing where ever she goes... or was it not a coincidence?

When Doctor Hannibal Lecter walked into her apartment the door was wide open, only sound he could hear was the stove cooking something, he silently walked in, didn't close the door just in case if he had to run. Turns out, there was no one except the broken plates, he turned off the stove with his gloved hands and picked up the small piece of paper on the kitchen table.

''Come find us Doctor Lecter...''

This must be about the latest case Hannibal has been helping the FBI with, a murderer was loose, killing young women and dropping them in the forest, his heart skipped an awful beat when he thought of the possibility that his Y/N is being killed... if he alarmed the FBI Y/N most likely would be dead in a couple hours so he had to be alone on this case.

He quickly drove to the place where he had suspicions of, there was an abandoned house close to one of the victim's body, of course the FBI searched but couldn't find anything but Hannibal had to try and find her.

Meanwhile Y/N was on the ground, her right side hurt, ''If you let me go I won't tell anyone... please..'' she had to give..

The tall man with the mask laughed, punched her lower stomach, she coughed up blood. ''Shut up before I cut your face.''

She didn't dare to say anything else.

After a while the masked man went upstairs and she heard some noises, like two people fighting and then a gun shot... she almost jumped from the ground and started to pray to any god that's out there. Her back was turned to the door this time so she couldn't see anyone, but familiar footsteps approached to her.

She looked up to see Hannibal with few bruises on her beautiful face, he left a relieved sigh, ''I was so worried Y/N...'' he knelt to free her hands and feet, they felt numb. Hannibal started to rub her hands quickly, ''Hannibal,'' he wasn't hearing her, ''Hannibal,'' she stopped her, looked with her dove eyes, ''I'm fine.''

''No,'' he lifted her chin to take a good look at her face, ''I should've tortured that man thing before killing her. How dare he?!'' he was actually talking to himself than talking to her but she didn't mind, she was happy that he came to rescue her... for once in her life she had someone who would choose her.

Hannibal lifted her and carried her outside, ''You'll be living with me from now on. Understood?'' he asked with a dominant tone, ''Yes Doctor.'' she said sarcastically and it made them both laugh.

She had a new home and someone to spend her life with.

[presidentlokis-hornyhelmet]

Cockroach!

Pavitr Prabhakar x f!reader

Summary: Reader is scared of roaches and accidentally finds one in the bathroom. Pavitr saves her + fluff <3 [used Google translate for Hindi words, sorry if it's wrong 😅] My boi has so less fics so i decided to do one myself '^_^ A/N: "N/n" means nickname

"Paviiiiiii beta!", Maya auntie calls from the kitchen. "Can you please get the door? I'm busy." 

"I got it, aunite!" 

Pavitr opens the door to none other than his best friend and partner-in-crime, Y/n. 

"Hey, N/n!", he pulls you into an embrace. You smile and return the sentiment, nuzzling his cheek before pulling away. 

You remove your shoes outside and step in, as is custom in India, greeted with a playful pinch to your cheek by Maya auntie herself. You giggle. She was like a mother to you and you loved her as such. 

"My beti, I haven't seen you in a week! How was your vacation?" 

"It wasn't great without you, auntie. We just got home and I came to see you right away!" 

"Suck up, suck up", mutters Pavitr in the background, gaining a playful slap to his head -courtesy of you. 

"Did you do your exams well? I didn't have a chance to ask you before you left." 

"I think I'll get an 'A', thanks to Pavitr's tutoring." 

You watch him perk up out of the corner of your eyes as your praise.

The boy in question puffs out his chest, showing off his biceps from where he's leaning on the kitchen door frame. "Have no fear, Pavitr is here!"

You cup your mouth, laughing at his antics as Maya auntie playfully shakes her head in exasperation. 

"Pavu can be like that sometimes", she chuckles, leaning into your ear in a stage whisper, "He missed you a lot, you know. Never shuts up about you. And, you know, beti, I keep asking him to already tell you but-" 

"AUNTIE!" 

You both blush as Pavitr hushes the old woman. She just winks at you. Of course, she knows. 

The awkwardness is too much and Pavitr takes your hand, leading you into his room. 

"Okay okay, enough talk, ladies. Y/n and I have some work to do -for a project!", he adds quickly when Maya auntie smirks at him. "I.. that-..auntie!" 

She just giggles and ruffles his hair before walking back to the kitchen, leaving you both standing awkwardly next to each other, flustered. 

Pavitr clears his throat. "She.. she was just kidding, I didn't-" 

"It's okay", you say shyly. 

You have feelings for him too but both of you are just too timid and would rather take it to your grave than admit it out loud. 

He falls onto his bed and crosses one leg over the other, resting his head on his elbows as you sit next to him. 

"So, what has my favourite person been upto in the meantime, leaving me all alone in this big, big city?" 

You playfully roll your eyes. Dramatic little shit. 

"You? Alone? Liar, the whole city is your friend." 

He pouts, trying to look offended, but gives in and laughs. 

You discuss about your project and he shows you some beta models of his brilliant ideas. You stare in awe at the young genius before you, playing with his "toys" as he explains them patiently. 

"Hey, can I use your bathroom for a sec?", you ask when he finishes. 

"Sure. Make yourself at home, N/n! I'll go sneak us some snacks", he winks, peeking from outside his door. 

You shake your head, smiling. It's not that Maya auntie would refuse you snacks, but Pavitr convinced you there was a thrill in food-stealing and you couldn't deny it. 

You shut the door, switch on the light and turn to the sink to wash your face when there it is -the thing that you most fear, the monster of your nightmares -a cockroach! 

You scream bloody murder and run out of the bathroom, colliding into a hard wall. You look up realising it's actually Pavitr. 

"You okay, N/n?" 

"R-roach! Roach!", you point at the bathroom door frantically. 

You stay in the corner as he goes in and stomps it dead, washing his hands before he comes to hug you. 

"Deep breaths, deep breaths.. now exhale.. that's it.." 

You cling onto him and follow his orders, grip loosing as your breathing slows down. His hand circle your waist, holding you firm and secure. You rest your head on his chest, calming down at the rhythmic beat of his heart. 

You only belatedly realize it: you're hugging him, your chests touching each other's. 

He seems to realizes it at the same time too, but instead of letting you go -like every other time- his hands tighten around your waist. 

Pavitr catches your eyes with his own mesmerizing brown eyes; yours unable to leave him, entranced by his orbs as he slowly, gently leans in. Without noticing, you lean in too. 

The gentle touch of soft lips spark fireworks in your body, your nerves tingling with the new feeling of his lips on yours. You could get used to this. 

You panick a little it registers what you're doing, but Pavitr chases your lips, pressing against them firmly and you instantly calm down. He cups your face, cradling your neck as he brings your lips closer. It's his way of reassuring that you have nothing to fear. 

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything." 

You guys jump back as if burned when the door suddenly flies open. Maya auntie is standing there with a guiless face and a bright smile. 

"I brought chai for you kids!", she says cheerfully and sets down the cups. "Did you hear that scream earlier? Where did it come from?" 

"It, uh, it was me, auntie", you say, quite embarresed, running a hand through your matted up hair. "There was a cockroach in the bathroom and I got scared." 

"Aww, poor child." 

Pavitr looks away, blush blooming on his cheeks yet not obvious due to his skin tone. He rocks on his heels, running a hand through his hair. You know he too can still feel your lips on his from the way his eyes never leave you. 

Maya auntie's eyes sparkle mischievously as she smiles and goes into the bathroom, finding the toy roach and throwing it into the trash can.

She smirks under her breath and washes her hands, sighing as she mutters in amusement. 

"Oh, the things an old lady gotta do.."

_________

Reblogs and comments feed my fic dragon <3

[solomons-poison]

Obey Me request (if you're accepting rn)

Do you do Headcanons? Side characters comforting MC that had a cockroach fly on their face

If not then just Barbatos comforting MC with that same scenario?

If you don't like that scenario then maybe with something you're okay with?

Comforting S/O After a Cockroach Attack

A/N: Hi! I was accepting headcanon requests (closed upon posting this). This gave me the shivers, I cannot stand bugs touching me and especially not on my face, so I can only hope my loves would save me :( I went with side characters as I couldn't really come up with enough content or ideas for just one character for a headcanon ask, I'm sorry, but I hope you enjoy these sweet short headcanons

Featuring: GN reader || Diavolo x reader, Barbatos x reader, Simeon x reader, Solomon x reader, Mephisto x reader, Thirteen x reader, Raphael x reader

Warnings: mentions of bugs/cockroaches; relationship with suitor not specified, up for interpretation

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Regular human world cockroaches are awful enough to deal with. But being in the Devildom, you often come across some truly monstrous equivalents of animals and bugs, some you've grown used to and even liked. But some of them were truly terrifying, and unfortunately, your worst nightmares came true when you had one of those monstrous Devildom cockroaches flying down at you. It took what felt like hours to escape the damned thing, and your shaking form immediately sought out the comfort of your closest confidante...

Diavolo

When you go to Diavolo and tell him what happened, he may laugh a little at first, but don't be angry. He's just always delighted to see all the different reactions you have. It's especially fascinating to him to see how unfazed you are when handling a multitude of demons, especially the likes of the Seven Avatars, but the likes of a bug scares you instead. But he's reminded of a certain butler who also has a certain, unexpected fear...

He'll offer to protect you from them in the future and comfort you for now by cuddling with you. He may even make some dumb jokes to try to distract you and help calm you down, or have you sit beside him while he's working. And if you'd like, he'll also share with you about something that he can't stand, as well (so long as you promise not to tell anyone else, including Barbatos).

Barbatos

When you come running to Barbatos, he's convinced there's a war going on with how worried and freaked out you seem. But once you get the chance to tell him what happened, he's thankfully understanding. He knows too well about dealing with attacks from.. unwanted creatures, and can only imagine how he'd freeze up if he dealt with a rat.

He takes you to his room and makes you some soothing tea or other hot drink to help calm you down. He might invite you to a little baking date to get your mind off of what happened, both by making yourself busy and getting the reward of a delicious treat at the end.

He'll also be sure to educate you on how to prevent and treat bug infestations. After all, he's very familiar with dealing with unwanted pests, so he wants to be sure you're prepared to deal with them in the future in case he's not around to protect you.

Simeon

Simeon, the sweetheart that he is, deeply sympathizes with your fear and is very very sweet about it. He'll provide you hugs, back pats, or even just lend an ear if you want to tell him about what happened. His empathetic self will even shiver after hearing about the bug's description, truly feeling for you and the ordeal you went through.

He may also offer to handle the bug for you, but please don't take him up on it 😬 He might get just as freaked out as you, and then both of you are screaming and running away, which only stresses Luke out. Instead, it's best to let him recruit someone else to handle the bug and perhaps settle down in his room while he reads you some poetry or maybe even TSL.

Solomon

Solomon may laugh a little, like Diavolo, when you tell him what happened, but he'll be quick to apologize if it makes you angry. He's lived a long time and been to so many places, he's so used to all manner of creatures and is completely unfazed by the things found in the Devildom. Once you've calmed down some, he'd be happy to teach you about other crazy creatures commonly found in the Devildom, hoping maybe some prior knowledge will help you at least a little bit in future encounters.

If you'd like, he'll happily teach you a spell to destroy the bug the next time one attacks you, or he may even offer to find and take care of the one that had come after you. Once that's taken care of, he'll be sure to take you on an outing to somewhere fun so you can forget about what happened. At worst, he may try to cheer you up with baking something for you, in which some distractions might be needed. But maybe you can give his cooking to the cockroach...?

Mephistopheles

Mephisto won't make it known to you, but just the mention of a cockroach is enough to get goosebumps on his skin. He sympathizes with you about dealing with such disgusting creatures, and immediately takes you out of there to somewhere perhaps with open air, particularly if its the gardens or a park, somewhere that has a more peaceful feeling to it.

He may be a little mean though and tease you about getting scared by a bug when you're surrounded by demons. But it's easy to see he's just doing that to distract you and make you feel at ease rather than actually insult you, if the gentle look in his eyes is anything to go by. He'll take on a big brother role that he's used to and be your protector for the day.

Thirteen

Thirteen is also loathe to admit it to you, but she hates those cockroaches as well. Anything that flies at her face is a big NO. But luckily, she has her trusty inventions to deal with those pests, all manner of fly swatters, just general melee weapon-looking tools, or traps.

If you ask her nicely or feed her ego a little, she'll help you bug hunt to get rid of the gross things. After all, she doesn't mind the idea of you owing her a favor for her heroic efforts. But really, she's a sucker for you and will hunt down anything that threatens you or your wellbeing.

Raphael

... What do you want him to do about it? I'm kidding. Raphael is a little underwhelming in regards to how comforting he is, but it's mostly because of his stony facial expressions. His eyes show that secret gentleness he has, and although he's not great about verbally comforting you, he'll provide a brief but sweet hug.

If you'd like him to, he's willing to hunt that cockroach down with his spears, although the idea sounds a little nasty to him. But if you don't want to go the murderous route, then he'll just provide you pleasant albeit quiet company until you've calmed down. He's not great at small talk, and he'll be very awkward about it, but he'll try to find things to distract you with and get your mind off them, like puzzles or telling you stories about working with Michael.