#so I just got to this part in the shadow rising and if they don't include it in the show then we riot

[folatefangirl]

Elayne, to Thom Merrilin in Tanchico:

[witherby]

What would happen if Mouse got sick? Like super, probably at deaths door kind of sick? ok maybe that last part was exaggerating it a bit...But like almost 39 degrees fever, coughing to the point of gagging and vomiting, runny nose, fatigue, no appetite for anything, etc. Based off my own experiences when I get sick. I wanna know what they would do and who would panic the most. Who would lose the little sleep they already have even more. Who would think that the babeh is at deaths door. And who would be the most relieved when Mouse is better a few days later with the help of a paediatric approved medication

-🍨

I like this prompt a lot so I'm gonna do it. Hope u reaaaally like angst tho.

The Littlest Wayne: Sick Bed, part 1

Masterlist is Here!

⚠️ Spoiler/content warning: Young sick child, fever, depiction of seizure ⚠️

It starts with a cough.

"Hey, careful," Jason says, patting your back. The water you'd been sipping sprays across the table as you choke. Tim reaches over to right the glass and Alfred goes and collects a rag to mop up the mess. "You okay?"

"Mhmm," you mutter, wiping your mouth with a napkin. "Sorry...I can clean it, grandpa Alfie."

"It's quite alright, Flittermouse." Alfred gently runs a hand through your hair. "Oh, my, you're quite warm. Why don't you head up to your room and I'll have someone bring a tray to you with soup and crackers?"

"Okay." You push your chair away from the table and duck underneath it, allowing the shadow of the furniture to swallow you up. Bruce watches the dark blob you've become slide out of the dining room and towards the stairs with less energy than usual.

"I'll take it, Alfred," Dick says before anyone else can volunteer, rising from his seat. He sets his leftovers in front of Jason as he passes, helping the butler prepare a tray for you. "Do we have any Tylenol for little kids? If not, I can just crush up a half-pill for them."

"Child-friendly medications will be found in the young master's en-suite bathroom cabinet," Alfred says. "It will just be a few minutes for the soup, Master Dick. I'd recommend you head upstairs and measure out a small dose for your sibling before it's ready."

"Kay, sure," he nods, excusing himself.

Dick hops up the stairs two at a time and enters the family wing of the manor, trailing his hand along the walls and door frames until he finds yours. He knocks lightly and rapidly, a silly little sequence to let you know which brother it is, then opens the door to let himself in.

Your bedroom is almost pitch black. Since the development of your powers, your space has changed to reflect your needs overtime, which means the overhead lightbulbs have been removed and the sheer, pastel blinds over your window have been replaced with thick blackout curtains. For your family who require some form of illumination to see, you have several night lights you pick and choose from; you currently have a round projector plugged in that casts aurora borealis across the ceiling (a gift from Tim) and you've activated the touch sensors installed in the floor that briefly light up everywhere Dick walks, leaving his footprints behind for several seconds until they fade away.

The furniture you originally had, designed in warm, woody colors with bright accents, have also been replaced with black hardware and dark materials. Your bed frame is a dip-dyed wood with silver accents, your mattress and sheets are black, and your dressers, nightstand, and closet have all been painted to match.

At first glance, the large bedroom looks like every goth kid's biggest dream, but the light from the hallway spills briefly into your space when Dick walks inside, showing the bright, colorful books sitting on your black bookshelves, the even more colorful clothes in your wardrobe, your vast collection of toys, and a litany of pictures and photos on all the walls. There is a vibrant, beautiful life in the darkness, which encapsulates you perfectly in his opinion.

"Hi, Flitty," he greets, moving slowly as his eyes adjust to the light. "Alfred's working on your soup, so big bro Dicky's here to do medicine time. Holler at me so I don't accidentally step on you in here."

"Okay," you say from his left. Dick turns and squints, spotting a lump on your bed. He smiles.

"There you are. Lemme see if there's any of the gummies in your med cabinet. Those ones don't taste all gross."

He steps into your bathroom and turns the fairy lights on, bathing the area in a soft glow, and rifles through your cabinet for a minute. Then he makes his way to your bed, sitting on the edge of it with some chewables and a glass of water.

"C'mere," he says, and you comply, shuffling across the bed to give him a quick hug. "Alright. Can you show me you're a big kid and take this for me? Then you'll get a nice bowl of soup and maybe some juice."

You comply without fuss. Dick hears more than he sees you take the medication in the low light, and you go back to hugging him when you're done. Dick wraps his arms around you and lies down, propping you mostly on his chest.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Yeah. Just sleepy," you reply. "And my throat hurts kinda, from when I spit my water."

"Aw, I'm sorry. You only need to stay awake long enough to take a couple bites and then you can rest as long as you want."

"Okay...stay?"

Dick hums, running his fingers gently through your hair. He was supposed to go back to Blüdhaven this afternoon, but...

"Yeah, Flitty. I'll stay."

--

It turns into a fever.

"I'm sorry to turn you away when you've already come by, Delilah," Bruce says, meeting your private tutor in the vestibule. "Mouse came down with something yesterday, and I don't think they'll be up for lessons for the next few days. I forgot to tell you."

"Oh, that's absolutely no problem, mister Wayne," the tutor smiles, shaking her head. "I wish them a speedy recovery! Let me know if there's anything you need."

"I will, thank you. Take care!"

Bruce closes the door after seeing her out, the Charming Socialite mask slipping off his face as he heads for the stairs. He meets Alfred at the top with a nod, stepping past him and walking up to your bedroom door.

He gently knocks three times against the glossy wood, calling your name. "Can I come in?"

After a moment, he watches it click open, and you squint up at him in the doorway.

"Hi, daddy," you croak, voice dry and harsh from the progression of your flu. Bruce tuts and scoops your clammy body into his arms, carrying you back to your bed.

"Honey, you didn't have to come greet me," he says, "manners get thrown out the window when you're sick, remember? Let's get you tucked in."

You don't fuss or complain, which makes the worry flare up in Bruce's mind. He pushes it back, refusing to catastrophize a cold. All of his children get sick, it's not unheard of. A little fever is fine, and so is your lack of excitable energy. It's normal and expected.

"How do you feel?" He asks, pulling the blankets up to your chest. You squirm a bit, kicking them down.

"Hot," you say, "sleepy."

Bruce compromises by tucking the blanket around your tummy instead. You don't push it down any further. He pulls out a thermometer from his pocket and scans your forehead.

"Yeah, you are running a bit hot," he admits. An even one hundred degrees. Should be easy enough to control with careful attention. "Alfred says you refused breakfast this morning. Do you want to try eating something small for lunch? More soup?"

You shake your head. "Not hungry."

"I know you're not hungry, pumpkin," Bruce says, gently squeezing your hand. "But you don't wanna starve, either. Then you'll shrink up like a raisin! How am I supposed to snuggle a raisin?"

You smile a bit and give a wheezy huff of laughter. Bruce smiles back.

"So, will you try? You can have anything you want. I just need to see you take a few bites of something."

"Okay, daddy. Want...um... I want more soup please."

"You can have more soup," Bruce promises, running a hand through your sweatslick hair. He reminds himself to run you a bath in a couple hours. Maybe after a nap. "Do you want anything else?"

"Mmmyeah. Bedtime story?"

"Yeah," he says. "Any story you want, after we get some soup in you."

You smile again. It eases the knot of dread in Bruce's chest.

--

It gets worse.

Three days into it, your fever spikes in the middle of the night. You completely refuse any sort of food or drink all day, despite the angry growling of your stomach, and the family unanimously decides to bring you to the hospital in the morning to get looked at. Dinner without you is full of worry and tense glances toward the family wing, and it seems like not a lot of sleep is going to be had before they find out the total extent of your illness.

When tossing and turning in bed for a few hours doesn't lead him anywhere, Damian decides to give in to the nagging in the back of his head and pop in your room to check on you. He rushes to your bed when he sees you seizing and gasping for breath. Your temperature's shot up to a hundred and six and you don't react when he tries to shake you awake.

Fearful and, for once, feeling every bit the child he still is, he clutches your body to his chest and screams.

"BABAA!!"

The door slams open in seconds, though to him it feels like an eternity. Hal and Jason are coaxing Damian to let go of you and Bruce climbs on the bed to roll you onto your side, carefully wiping the foam and drool away from your mouth while he checks your vitals. Tim is in the hallway calling 9-1-1 and texting Dick to let him know what's happening.

"Dami, you gotta move," Jason says, placing his hands overtop his brother's. Damian's grip on your arm is so tight it's bruising. "Let go, they're okay. Let go."

"I'm tracking their pulse, you dumb bastard!" Damian snaps. "Release me!"

"You're hurting them, Dames," Hal says in his ear, wrapping his arms around Damian's waist. "Bruce has them, now. You have to let go and get out of the way for the paramedics."

Green eyes snap to your arm. He seems to finally take stock of what he's doing and eases off, letting Hal pick him up and pass him off to Jason, who carries him into the hallway.

"Stay out here," Jason says. "It's our job to keep out of the way for now."

"Who's going to let the paramedics in?" Damian asks, trying to pry himself out of Jason's grip. As much as he tries to crane his neck, Jason's standing too far away from your door to let him see how you're doing, and his iron grip is unyielding.

"Alfred's by the gate controls, he'll let them inside."

Tim gets off the phone with the emergency dispatcher and glances at your door with a frown. Every hitching gasp and choke you make can be heard from the hall, along with Bruce and Hal's barely-concealed, panicked murmuring, and he crosses his arms tightly and shuffles over to Jason now that his task is done.

"Can we wait downstairs?" He mutters. Jason keeps one arm wrapped around Damian and slings the other around Tim's shoulders, guiding them to the staircase.

"I want to stay!" Damian insists, pulling against Jason, who ends up needing to sling the little assassin over his shoulder to get him to move. "Todd!!"

"Robin," Jason snaps in his best Batman impersonation. It's a damn good one, because Damian quiets immediately, stiffening in his arms and ceasing his struggling without further protest. Tim freezes beside him, but Jason just pats his back and keeps guiding him down the stairs.

The trio is quiet as they file into the main living room. Jason and Tim sit on the couch and Damian gets propped up in his brother's lap. Try as he might, he can't wiggle out of Jason's arms.

"This is asinine," he hisses. "I should be up there."

"Doin' what?" Jason asks. "Bruce and Hal are both in there with Mousey. Alfred's about to guide the EMTs inside. Tim called 911 and then told Dick the situation. You were the one that first found 'em and got help."

Jason gives Damian a squeeze, propping his chin on top of his head.

"You saved their life, Damian. Ya don't need to do more than that right now. Let the grown-ups take the reins for a while."

"But I —"

"You've done more than enough," Jason insists, not unkindly. His tone has been uncharacteristically soft the whole time, Damian realizes belatedly. "I'm sure they'll thank you when they come out the other side of this."

Damian didn't do it for your thanks. He did it because he loves you. Despite you quickly approaching the age where Bruce might offer you the Robin mantle soon, which has filled him with more anxiety and anger than he's had in a long time, he loves you dearly and doesn't want anything to befall you.

In spite of everything, he's your big brother and he loves you just as much as he can't stand you.

"They will be fine," he mutters firmly. "There's no alternative."

"Right," Tim speaks up. He sounds like he needs the reassurance just as much as Damian. "M is gonna be okay."

The three of them turn their heads when several pairs of footsteps enter the vestibule. Four paramedics rush in with a stretcher and duffel bags of medical equipment. Alfred orders them in the direction of your bedroom with simple, firm instructions, and they head off.

The butler then turns, spotting them out of his periphery, and he clears his throat and adjusts the belt around his robe. He's still in his sleepwear, having rushed out of bed to help prep for the emergency like everyone else.

"I've had my fair share of exciting nights," he comments, "but I must say, they never become more enjoyable. Why don't you all join me in the kitchen and I'll prepare some drinks? Hot chocolate should suffice on a chilly evening."

"Sounds fantastic," Jason says, hopping to his feet. He lifts Damian up with him, denying him the chance to refuse, and with a glance and jerk of his chin, coaxes Tim to get up and follow after.

"Put me down," Damian says, reaching up to tug on Jason's night shirt. "I won't run back upstairs. I swear."

"Yeah? You double-swear? Don't make me chase you, kid, I really do not have the patience."

"On Father's life," he insists.

Jason sets him on the floor. Damian follows them into the kitchen and takes a seat at the island, cupping his hands around a warm mug of hot cocoa when Alfred hands it to him a couple minutes later. He watches the wisps of steam curl up into the air and dissipate, unable to stop thinking about your writhing body in bed. Your eyes had rolled back and your limbs had locked up, jerking uncontrollably. And the noises you were making...

The mug gives a foreboding creak under his grip. Alfred gently places his hand on Damian's back and gives it several soft pats.

"Do not fret, master Damian," he says, "our little Flittermouse is very resilient. An illness turning poorly won't keep them down for long."

"I know," he says. Alfred nods, and with a final brush against his shoulder, tends to Tim next to ensure he's also doing okay. When Damian looks at Jason, he sees him calmly drinking from his mug without so much as a furrow in his brow. But there's an almost imperceptible ricketing noise that means he's bouncing his leg nervously. It makes his stomach twist almost painfully, to know he's just as scared as everybody else.

Damian takes a deep breath. He sips his coco. He thinks of the froth pouring out of your mouth when Bruce rolled you into the recovery position. He puts the mug down.

He knows you'll be okay. You have to, because he just can't live with the alternative.

[pellucid-constellations]

Trial and Error (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Very small mention of blood

a/n: I am lovinggg writing this and I can't stop so don't ask me to 🏃‍♀️

Read part one | part two | part four

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

Azriel had been by the apothecary four times since his first visit. That wasn’t an unusual number by any means, but it was alarming that he was supposedly going through his headache tonic so quickly. You would give him a week’s worth and he would return for more within three days. 

Melanie had begun to expect him and had taken to examining his wings each time he walked through the door. She would run and stand atop the counter—much to your dismay—and Azriel would unfurl them from his back just a hair so she could get a better look. Her comfortability with him scared you. You’d spoken to your daughter about stranger danger and had emphasized it a million times, but with Azriel, she held no reproach. 

Azriel didn’t seem to mind. You had apologized countless times for Melanie’s staring and her invasive questions, but Azriel would only wave you off with a glint in his eye. He always chalked it up to being an uncle, but you’d had an uncle and he was nothing like Azriel. 

None of your family was like anyone you’d met in Velaris. 

Still, there was a lingering pit in your stomach each time Azriel would ask you a question about yourself or smile at your daughter. It didn’t feel safe to make too many friends, and Azriel was a particularly unsafe friend to have. 

The Shadowsinger. 

You’d learned of his position within the Night Court’s inner circle after Melanie had asked yet another question about Azriel and his shadows. 

“I’m a Shadowsinger,” he had explained, your daughter spinning in circles around him, tugging his shadows along with her. A small smile graced his face as he spoke. “My shadows tell me secrets so I can ensure everything is going okay in Velaris.” 

A cold sweat broke out along your skin as he spoke the words, but you only continued to smile and focused on keeping your breath even. 

He would be the one to find you out—there was no doubt about it. 

But something told you the closeness could be a good thing. Perhaps, if he knew you, he would take pity on you when he found out. Perhaps, if he knew you, he wouldn’t feel the need to dig into your history and ask questions. 

At least, that’s what you were hoping for because Azriel didn’t show any sign of staying away from you or Melanie—a truth made even more apparent at Melanie’s open house. 

“Melanie does so wonderfully in all her subjects,” her teacher gushed, a clipboard held tightly at her chest. “She especially loved our cooking unit. She loved the burners and heating things up.” 

You raised your brows and grinned. “I’m so happy to hear that. She talks about school so often. I’m glad her enthusiasm is reflected in her work.” 

An obvious avoidance—an attempt to curtail the subject away from your daughter’s affinity for flames. 

Her teacher did not seem put off. “It is! I know she began in the middle of the school year, but she has caught on so quickly. I can tell she has a lot of support at home. Big family?” 

Perhaps her teacher wasn’t as oblivious as you had hoped. You fought the twitch in your eye, dreading that this woman would know more about you. Five years of careful isolation and suddenly you were thrust into the public eye. 

“No, just the two of us. But my work is quite flexible so she’s never alone. I always have time to help her with school.” 

“That’s so great to hear. I have to ask, just for the sake of my student, her father—”

“Hello, Ms. Fern.”

Azriel’s voice startled you out of the panic rising in your chest. You turned to find him rooted in his spot behind you, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze flicked down to you for a brief moment before settling back on the teacher. 

“Azriel!” Ms. Fern delighted. “I didn’t expect you today. I saw the High Lord and Lady earlier so I assumed it would just be the parents.” 

Azriel hummed. “I wanted to come by and see Nyx’s art. You mentioned he painted the family.” 

“You didn’t need to do that! I know you’re so busy. What a wonderful—“ 

Azriel slowly edged in front of you, hiding you from Ms. Fern’s watchful eye. You felt a slight push against your hip and held in a laugh as Azriel reached behind him and ushered you off without ever looking away from the teacher. You quickly scampered away and made yourself busy examining the art around the room. Upon closer inspection, Nyx had painted a troll—not his family. 

It took about 10 minutes of lingering before Azriel joined you, his shadows giving him away. They slinked around your wrists and traveled up to caress your neck. 

“Apologies for their familiarity,” Azriel said in place of a greeting. “They seem to have grown comfortable with you.” 

“And Melanie,” you added. You rounded a table and meandered out to the hall. Azriel followed. “They love to chase her around the apothecary. Sometimes I wonder if you keep coming by because they’re making you.” 

Azriel bit back a smile but it still formed into a bashful expression. “Perhaps that’s why.” 

In the hall, you found yourself alone with Azriel—utterly and completely alone. Melanie was with one of your neighbors as the teacher made it clear no students were allowed at the open house, and no one else occupied the space. You leaned your back against the wall and looked up at Azriel, a shyness overtaking you. 

You were never really alone with him—Melanie was always right around the corner. 

“That was some maneuver earlier,” you commented, fidgeting with your fingers at your waist. 

“She was prying,” Azriel replied. You watched the way he carefully trailed his gaze down to your fingers. “I certainly wasn’t going to let her know more about you than I do. Not when I’ve put in far more effort.” 

“I thought your shadows were the reason you came,” you teased. 

“Right, my shadows.” 

You pressed your mouth into a line, feeling small under Azriel’s never-ending gaze. His eyes never left yours as silence blanketed the hall. It was as if he saw through you, understood you in a way that didn’t make sense. 

Maybe you could tell him. 

No, that was ridiculous. 

Was it? 

“Where’s Mel?” Azriel asked, startling you out of your internal strife. 

The words didn’t comprehend, the jumbled mess of your mind intensifying as the Shadowsinger knocked his head to the side and asked you questions. 

“What?” 

“Melanie,” he clarified, brows bunching. “I was going to offer to watch her for this but I didn’t want to impose. I know I’m still mostly a stranger, but I don’t know if you have family in the area and I just…” 

He trailed off. You never mentioned any family because that was one of the topics you strayed from each time it was broached. Family, your origins, Melanie’s father; he never brought any of it up directly, but he’d hint at it. And you always changed the subject. 

“I—I don’t,” you revealed. You broke his gaze and stared down at your fingers, picking at the skin around your nails. “Have family here, I mean. But I have neighbors that Melanie likes. They’re watching her.” 

“Do you trust them?” Azriel asked, an edge to his tone. 

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t leave her with anyone I didn’t.” 

“Good,” he grunted out. 

“And I would never ask you to watch Mel. That—I know you’re probably busy and she's kind of a handful..” 

Azriel started speaking before the last word left your mouth. “She’s not. And I would never be too busy for that.”

Another silence fell. You picked harder at your nails.

“Azriel, I—“ 

“I want you to feel safe with me. To trust me.” 

His admittance shocked you into silence. You weren’t actually sure what you were going to say to him, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Everything you had ever thought exited your brain. 

You opened your mouth to speak but no sound escaped. 

“I mean—I just mean that I want to be a person you can trust Melanie with. That you can trust to… to share more with. I don’t know what you’ve been though, or how you ended up here in Velaris, but I want to be something safe for you.”

It felt as if something was pressing against your chest. When Melanie was around, he never looked at you with such intensity—he never said these things with so much devotion to back his words. 

A sharp, hot feeling pricked your fingers. Azriel’s hand immediately covered both of your own, his warm touch pulling your fingers away from each other. You’d drawn blood—a terrible nervous habit. 

With all of the shock you missed the fact that this was the first time Azriel had touched you with such intentionality. 

“It’s like you’re living in survival mode—you and Melanie. I want you both to feel like there’s someone looking out for you.” 

“Why?” you whispered, the word still sounding entirely too loud. “Why us? Why me?” 

Azriel hadn’t removed his hands from yours. He offered a small squeeze to your fingers. “Why not you?” 

Something broke in you. Something pulled. 

You wanted nothing more than to open your mouth and let everything out. You wanted to trust him—to be able to trust anyone—but there was so much danger to that.

You could be forced back home. You could be forced to marry that man. You could lose Melanie. 

But Azriel was looking at you as if he’d place his life before any of those possibilities. His gaze was beseeching, almost desperate, and something was urging you to trust him. Something intrinsic. Something that felt right.

Your lips parted. 

“Rhys, I told you, Azriel isn’t here.” 

“I saw him leave just after us, darling. He came.” 

“He came to Nyx’s open house? What could he possibly have to gain?” 

The conversation down the hall startled you. You yanked your hands from Azriel’s grip and whipped your head to the side in anticipation. 

Rhys, Azriel, Nyx; you knew who was about to enter the hall, and reality came crashing down on you as soon as you made the connection. 

“I have to go,” you rushed out, eyes widening. “I—Thank you, Azriel, but this isn’t—this isn’t safe for Melanie. Not… all of this. I have to—” 

You left, and Azriel stayed. 

You heard your name as you went, heard it echo down the hall, but you still left. 

And Azriel still stayed. 

part four

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

64 / 4.1k / soap soulmate au, final part

...

"You doing okay?"

Hearing Graves’ voice knocks what little breath you had out of your lungs. It's been months, but that's him. Your old boss. You never thought you'd hear his voice again.

"I've been better," you say finally. "Been awhile."

"Yeah, it has," he says. "Wish you'd've called me to catch up sometime, rather than under the circumstances. You don't sound too banged up. They treat you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"I didn't ask how you feel. I asked if they roughed you up."

You feel your own temper shorten in response. "I need you to call KorTac off."

There's a pause. You can imagine his frowning face, the way he's thinking that one over. "I'll take that under advisement," he finally says, but you can tell he's not going to do what you ask of him. "Puttin' me in a predicament here, kid. You're giving those boys a hard time, and here I thought I was helping you out. Paying your bail, so to speak."

"It’s more complicated than that."

"Always is. Let’s just have you dropped off back on base with us. You can clean yourself up and we’ll talk."

He waits for your crisp yes, sir, but it never comes.

He speaks again. "You got somewhere else to be?"

"I can't go back."

"Can't or won't? You got something you ain't tellin me, soldier?"

"I said I can't go back. And I'm not your soldier anymore. You're not my boss. I don't work for you."

"You know Shadows don't leave one of our own behind. Not to rot in some CIA prison cell. So lose the attitude," he says, voice like iron. "This ain't a good time to play games, kid. You're comin' back with me because I spent a pretty penny on you. You owe me. You have your personal business, fine. Come on back to base and let's talk this out face to face before you go makin' any hasty decisions."

You're so frustrated it's hard to form words. You should be grateful. You know that. Graves doesn’t pretend to care about his men. He cares enough to lead from the front. But you met your soulmate, and you can’t act like it didn't change you. You need to make things right. You also can’t exactly tell Graves you kind of sold him out.

"Hey. Focus up." He doesn't raise his voice to a command. Still, the order is in his voice, and you have been long trained to follow your commander's orders. Then he sighs. "What happened to you, kid?"

"You betrayed the 141. You killed innocent people in Las Almas, looking for them."

You can almost hear his jaw working behind his clenched teeth, the muscles in his face tight. He does not allow this kind of disrespect. "You think I like what I had to do? General Shepherd's orders were clear. We followed them. 141 did not." He huffs out a sigh. "I didn't enjoy it. But that's the job. You of all people know that."

You swallow. "You told us they were our brothers. You killed innocent people, Commander. Johnny said he saw you do it--"

"Johnny?" Grave's voice rises. "You on a first name basis with Soap now?"

"We all know what happened in Las Almas," you retort. Your skin goes hot at the way he says Johnny's name. "I won't work for Shepherd anymore after that. I won't fucking do it."

"Don't pull that with me." The warning is written in his voice. This isn't like you. To the Shadows, you’re calm. Cold. You don't lose your temper. You don't talk back. Especially not to Graves. "You think you can walk away at the drop of a hat just because you don't agree with an order? It doesn't work like that. You follow an order, even if you don't like it, even if it pisses you off. You don't get to decide what you think is right or wrong to carry out. When I give you an order, you follow it. That's your job. Your loyalty is with me. Not with the 141."

"I did my job."

"Then act like it," he snaps. "Stop acting like I'm some evil bastard out here. I made the only choice I could. Task Force 141 was not supposed to be there. They knew my orders, and what did they do? They came after my men, went behind my back, screwed us over. We did what we had to. You wanna be pissed at someone? Be pissed at them."

You glare down at the ice, but say nothing.

"You know I'm right." He knows you. He's getting to you. "And you know what else I find interesting? You don't seem a bit surprised to hear me alive." His voice is too casual and sharp as a knife. "Didn't you get the memo? Did no one forward you my obituary, soldier?"

You stiffen. You're not supposed to know he's alive.

"You're an awful liar. Always have been." He pauses for a long moment. "It ain't easy, surviving against the 141 if they want you dead. You know how I managed it, soldier?"

Yes. "No,” you retort. “And stop calling me that. I'm not your soldier. I don't work for you anymore."

"The hell you aren't. Maybe you're not on the payroll anymore, and maybe you're no longer under my command, but once a Shadow, always a Shadow. That makes you my responsibility. And my goddamn headache." Something shuffles on the other end of the line. "You know exactly what I'm willing to do to keep one of my Shadows safe. But if you're so keen on turning yourself in, fine. I'll have you in front of Shepherd's desk first thing tomorrow. Is that what you want? You know Soap and Ghost put Shadows in the ground that night in Las Almas."

"Shadows tried to put Johnny and Ghost in the ground first."

"This isn't about who shot first. This is about you." His voice is dangerously low, but he keeps his temper in check. Then he huffs a laugh. "You keep callin’ him Johnny. Makes my brain itch." Johnny MacTavish. John MacTavish. Yeah, that's it. "I'll be damned," he mutters.

You touch your exposed soulmark compulsively as if to hide it. Most soldiers hide theirs, but yours has always been tough to cover up. He's seen it more than a few times.

"Got you right out from under my fuckin' nose."

Your stomach tightens. You feel too exposed, like suddenly he’s putting the story together--how 141 got in.

"Shoulda known. Shoulda known. You know the military has a registry for this shit. There are rules. What's wrong with you?"

"I made a mistake," you mutter.

That might be the funniest thing he ever heard. And he's heard some good jokes. "You don't make mistakes, kiddo. You never have. That's not how I trained you." He's right, and you know it. "But hey. Guess it's true what they say about it."

"What?"

"Soulbonds. Make you take your best-laid plans and raze ‘em. Full scorched earth.”

“This isn’t about that. I’m making this decision on my own.”

“You think?” He takes a puff on his cigarette. “I don’t. I don't blame you, either. You sure as hell fought it as best you could. Didn't give in to save your own life. If that's not the soulbond making your decision for you, soldier, I don't know what is."

You look up at the sky. For all the time you spent working with Graves, that past version of you might as well be dead. Maybe that’s the grave you’ve been digging. "I can't work for Shepherd anymore. I won't do it."

"You're a good soldier, 86. You were loyal. I still think you're loyal, even if I'm not who you're loyal to," he finally says. His voice is still calm. It doesn't make you feel any better. "You know if you choose to walk away from this, the next time we meet might well be as enemies."

"Then I guess we won't meet again, sir."

He says nothing. Then he lets out a long huff. You really are going to do him dirty. You can hear his scowl. "That's a damn shame, kid. But you have more of a spine than I gave you credit for," he says. There's a tone of reluctant respect to it. That's as close as you're going to get to a compliment from him now. "You're a loose end, then. You'd best stay well out of the way. Mine and Shepherd's. I hope you're not making the wrong choice, 86," he says quietly. "I really hope you're not."

"It’s out of your hands now. And pay KorTac," you add. "Pay my squad. They did their job."

That makes him scoff. "Now why would I do that? You might be a traitor, but you're still my investment. You were worth more on my payroll than theirs, and that’s a fact I intend to maintain."

"You owe me," you remind him.

"Don't push your luck," he warns. "You're an asset. You don’t get the privileges of rank anymore. But, well..." He sighs. You imagine him with his heels kicked back on his desk, cigarette in hand. "I’ll tell you what. I’m in a charitable mood. I'll pay them off. I'm a man of my word when the time comes to pay off my debts. Hell, I’ll even throw in a tip for a job well done." Despite the annoyance in his voice, you don't doubt he'll do just that. "But that doesn’t mean I trust you anymore. I trusted you once, and you went rogue. I let you go now, that means I expect you to keep my secrets. Don't you go singing if Shepherd puts you in a chair. You got that?"

You glance up out of the corner of your eye at Soap, whose hands are still clenched in tight fists at his sides. "If Shepherd puts me in a chair, he's the one who's gonna sing. Not me."

Graves chuckles. "You're a good soldier, 86, but you can't take on an old war dog like Shepherd. Leave that to someone more qualified."

"Like who? You?"

"As I said, you best steer clear. I don't want to hear your name again." His voice hardens, and you hear your old commander again. "Good luck, kid. You'll need it. And give Soap hell."

You toss the phone back to Horangi. He listens to what Graves has to say. Then, eyes meeting yours for a moment, he wordlessly moves out away from the river, leaving you weary with relief. It's over. Finally.

Soap watches him disappear into the trees. Then, he looks back at you, alone and shivering on the ice. You look half-dead, bleeding, and your lips are near blue. He wants to make his way to you, but the ice is scarcely holding you. It won't hold him, too.

"Oi," Soap calls. His voice is rough with anxiety. "Get over here. You're gonnae freeze to death even if you don't fall through."

You blink up at him. Standing in the rising sun the way he is now, he looks like someone’s guardian angel. Yours? You'd like very much to be wrapped in his wings.

You make your way over to the bank, but the rocky ledge up is slippery and icy. Behind you, between the ice where you're standing and the bank, there's a yawning gap. To your left, there's a bridge, but snow has already melted off the surface of the ice, and it looks thin. "There's no way up," you call. "But downriver..."

"No’ a chance in hell I’m going to let you try to cross that," Soap says as he approaches the edge. "You'll be swept away and drown, hen. You're not in any condition to swim, and even if you were, that river's too bloody fast to risk it."

"Then what do you suggest?"

His eyes sweep over the river once more. It's wide; too wide to attempt a jump across. The ice has fallen in, leaving it almost impossible to make it to the bank. It isn't safe. The longer you stand there, the more the ice cracks under you. He admires your guts for putting yourself on the line like that to get back to him, but damn you. His blood pressure has never been higher.

Soap throws off his pack and slings his gear onto the bank. "I'll pull you up."

"But..."

"But nothing." With the adrenaline still pumping through his system, Soap thinks nothing of the risk of the bank collapsing under you both with his added weight. The only thing on his mind is getting you back in one piece. "We both know damn well, if I was the one on the ice now, you'd already be down there trying to help me, so for once, just shut up and let me help you."

Can't argue with that.

He pulls out an ice hook--mountaineering equipment; he was prepared to climb this mission, luckily--and offers it to you.

You toss the grenade as far as you can in the opposite direction. Then you raise your hands to grasp the rope. He's holding the sharp end and giving you the handle. You try to keep hold, but as he lifts, your bloodied hands slip just as the grenade explodes nearby, too close, spiderwebbing the ice with a final crack.

You land hard, break through, and disappear under the freezing water.

Soap has never known panic faster than when he sees you go under.

He dives after you. He has to get you back to the surface before whatever air you had in your lungs gives out. Your survival is his survival.

He finds you in the rushing black abyss when your fingers hook around his sleeve. Wrapping his hands around your arms, Soap anchors you to his chest.

You come to in his arms. You're colder than you ever have been in your life. Your fingertips tingle in pain and numbness. He's carrying you ashore somehow--far downriver, thinner ice--and he ducks into an old cabin with you in his arms.

Soap kicks the door shut behind him and moves into the cabin to set you on the floor, propping your back against the wall. His hands work fast as he pulls out his knife to cut away your soaked thermal clothes and gear. You dip in and out of consciousness until he wads up a fistful of gauze and packs it into your side wound. The sudden pain chokes you. Then a wave of nausea washes over you. You’d like nothing more than to tell him where precisely he can shove that gauze, but you’re too lightheaded.

"You with me, hen?" His gruff voice wavers. "I need you to stay awake."

He gathers you up in his arms and lifts you into his lap. It's a tight fit, wedged underneath the frosty window and between a table and an upturned stool. You register the warmth of his skin on yours and dimly realize he's stripped both of you almost bare, huddling around you to prevent hypothermia.

You soak up Soap’s body heat instantly. He's a furnace, and he needs to be, given the state you're in. He tucks you as close as he can. You're both shivering, but he doesn't care. He can be cold as long as you're warm. His broad body shields you from the drafts leaking into the decrepit cabin.

"No, no, eyes open." He tilts your face up as your eyes flutter. "Don't go passin' out on me."

You gaze up at him in your stupor. Maybe it's the blood loss, but even through your own pain and frustration, he's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen.

"You have really odd eyes," you mutter. "Like blueberry soft serve."

Oh, you're definitely delirious. Maybe concussed.

But he can't deny the look you're giving him right now makes his stomach flip. The sight of you in his lap, your frost-scorched fingers wrapped idly around his ID tag and staring up at him like he's just pulled the moon out of the sky for you... it's the first time he’s seen you with your guard down.

He swallows and keeps you pressed against his skin. There’s a lot of blood. He can’t tell what’s yours and what isn’t. "You're in no shape to flatter me."

You hum, your fingers dabbing idly at a smear of blood on his chest.

He doesn't move to stop you. Instead, his eyes flick down to your hand. Your fingers leave a trail of sparks over everywhere you touch.

With a soft sigh, Soap catches your wrist. "Quit it, hen."

"Quit what?"

"Teasin'. Makin' me wish you'd put those hands to other uses," he says, voice quiet and rough. It's just you and him in the little cabin. The world is far away. His thumb rubs against the inside of your wrist, trying to bring some warmth back into your skin. "You're in no shape to be feelin' me up, either."

Your head lolls against his shoulder. "Maybe it's the perfect time. Maybe we won't get another time."

Hearing you say that twists his insides into knots. He leans down to rest his forehead against yours. "Maybe you just need to shut up and let me take care of you. Don't talk like that." His voice leaves no room for argument. He tightens his grip on you, pressing you closer as if he can somehow press that into your skin by sheer will alone. "There'll be plenty of times for you to get your hands on me."

"Mm." You tuck into him tighter. You'd be mortified with yourself if you weren't half-dead from blood loss. "Sorry."

He exhales into your hair, pressing chaste kisses there.

You're practically in his lap, the two of you tangled into each other from head to foot in the space under the window. He's surrounded by the smell of you. It's a soothing presence in all that surrounds him.

He shouldn't want to touch you, shouldn't want to take advantage of your weakness--but the thought of having you so open and wanting, of you willingly in his arms, makes something in him ache. Makes the selfish parts of him scream.

"You're a pain in my arse," he says. He focuses on taking inventory of your wounds, brushing over your arms with his touch to assess the damage. "You gonnae bleed out on me?"

You shiver a little as he drags you closer by your bare thigh. "Wouldn't be the worst way to go."

"Oi," he snaps in warning. He slides his hand up your side, checking for bleeding. It’s just as much a caress over your bare skin. He has to ignore how his skin tingles every time the curve of your body slides against his in that tantalizing way. Something in his lower belly tightens. "You don't get to tap out after makin' me go through all this trouble for you. You're livin' through tonight or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else." He moves his hand up to the base of your throat, his large, calloused fingers wrapping around your neck and tilting your chin up to look at him. He fixes his blue eyes on yours to take in the dazed expression on your face. "I'll drag your arse out of hell and tan it until you can't sit right."

You're too weary to laugh, but you rest your scuffed cheek on his thumb, and it pushes your lips into a smirk. "All for me?"

"Aye. Hell of a lot more trouble than your pretty face should be worth."

You pull free and rest your head on his shoulder again. "Where do you live?"

"Glasgow," he says. "Not sure I should be tellin' you that."

You trace his chest around the chain of his ID tag. So many muscles. "Probably not."

"And what about you? Do I get to know?"

"No. Maybe. If we get out of here."

"Yeah? Well, you're not goin' anywhere with this wound. Bleedin' out, nearly froze to death, and still mouthin' off. No idea how to shut up and be good." He looks down at the injury, assessing how bad it really is in the dim light of the cabin. "You lost a lot of blood. I bet you feel tired." He brushes your hair off your face. "Stay awake a bit longer. The boys'll be here soon."

"I shouldn't," you mutter.

Soap doesn't miss the slurring of your words. He knew the blood loss would affect you, but he was hoping for more time before he had to really worry. "Shouldn't stay? Too late to get away from me now," he says, trying to keep his tone casual. Your skin is too cold for comfort. The gauze in your wound soaking through with blood can't mean anything good. "I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. Sure as hell not letting you out of my sight. You've got a lot to repay me for."

You try to keep your eyes open. Every blink is more sluggish than the last. "Like what?"

"Runnin' away and makin' me chase after you, for one. Puttin' yourself in the line of fire for me, second. Takin' a swim in a frozen river. Scared me to death." He presses his lips to the crown of your head, a gentle, chaste touch at odds with the possessive, dominating instinct he can feel creeping into his thoughts. You're vulnerable right now, something he should never want, but part of him wonders if he’d ever have caught up with you without this. "Aye, you owe me. First thing we do once you're patched up? We have a long talk. We have a whole hell of a lot we need to say to one another. And you'll answer every question I ask you."

"I dunno if you'll like the stuff I say," you mutter.

"Hardly matters. You’re plenty keen on spittin’ fire at me as it is. No reason you can’t keep tellin’ me everything I don’t want tae hear."

Another shiver wracks your body.

Soap rubs your arms. "You gotta give your word you stay awake for me, aye? Stay here."

His radio beeps nearby. You huff. "Fine."

"Fine." He leans over to grab his radio and tries to keep an arm around your shoulders to keep you warm as he does. He keeps you cradled against his chest as he responds to Price.

"Soap here."

You don't hear the conversation. Instead, you listen to Soap's voice vibrate through his chest. He speaks to Price in hushed tones, talking about your condition and the team's ETA.

Price has a laundry list of questions, but Soap manages to wrangle them into holding off until they have everyone back on base. No sense exhausting you on a mission that's already been a shitshow. Finally, they're done. Soap lets the radio go to focus entirely on you again. "Still with me?"

"How long do we have?"

"Shouldn't be too much longer," he says. He checks your side again. The coldness of the air has soaked into the wet gauze. You shiver again. It makes something in him ache. "ETA's about ten minutes out."

You pull his lips down to yours and kiss him.

He's surprised, but he doesn't pull back--not from you. He lets you kiss him. Your taste seeps into his brain and turns all rational thought to white noise. One hand cups your jaw with a surprising gentleness, and the other slides behind your waist to keep you against his body. He's gentle--you need to be handled with care right now.

He pulls back before he loses himself in the desire to deepen the kiss. His eyes search your face, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot against your lips.

"You're lucky you're injured," he murmurs. "Or you'd be in a very different kind of trouble right now."

You shiver, but not with the cold. Just that one kiss has you feeling much warmer. You touch your name where it's written on his arm. Then you curl your fingers around the back of his neck and pull yourself closer. "Hold onto that thought for later," you murmur. "Give me something to wait for."

Then you kiss him again.

...

← previous part / [part 13] / epilogue →

part 1 / more Soap / masterlist

thank you <3

[servicpop]

✶ ﹑ㅤlate nights ﹏

NOW STARRING : hockey bf Suguru x male!reader

「ㅤNSFWㅤ」ㅤyour boyfriend can't help himself before the big game, he has some sort of jinx!

✙ warnings — thigh fucking, size difference, use of "prince," hand-job

notes ,, tbh I know nothing about hockey i just wanted to make an au with suguru that isn't just the normal jjk plot... / also this was inspired by Jinx manhwa... the sex jinx thing you know

1:00 AM

The room is cloaked in the silence of the night; the soft light of the moon filtered through the half-closed blinds casting gentle shadows across the walls. The air is still, filled with the faint scent of lavender from the nearby candle. On the bed, you and Suguru lay intertwined, your bodies molded together with you as the little spoon, and Suguru as the big spoon. The soft fabric of the sheets cocoones the both of you in warmth as you find solace in each other's embrace. At this point you're already fast asleep, lulled into a deep slumber as you lay in Suguru's arms. However, no matter how hard he tried to push the growing heat beside, he was kept awake from the raging boner he had.

With one arm wrapped around your waist while the other propped his head up, he watched your chest rise and fall steadily. You looked so peaceful. The pale hand placed on your waist snaked down to your thigh, caressing it slowly. "Hey, wake up, prince" He shook you awake gently, not wanting to jolt you awake but his saccharine, honeyed voice was enough to pull you back to sleep. A light hearted chuckle left his chest when he saw your sleepy eyes blink to conciousness, and the way your nose scrunched like a kitty was adorable to him.

Suguru's palm kept massaging your thigh as his breath tickled your neck, "I can't sleep," He whispered, groaning softly when his hips involuntarily grinded against your ass. It was an accident he swears, it wasn't his fault he couldn't sleep because of his erection... it didn't help how you were still half asleep, trying to process what was happening. You realised immediately when you felt something poke your back. "I'm tired..." you mumbled, your words barely reaching Suguru's ears. It was 1am, of course you'd be tired. "How about your thighs? I'll do all the work," you knew Suguru had a thing for your thighs, he would always squeeze and grope them any chance he got. He mentioned something about how it was the warmest and softest part of your body but you never really understood his rambles.

"You have a game tomorrow, Suguru," You scold but don't push away his grabby hands. You know about his "jinx" but to be honest it was most likely just an excuse to fuck you before games; it was probably a way for him to get rid of his stress. "I won't win if I don't feel you," He groaned, his fingers dipping in-between your thighs, trying to hoist them apart. At this point you let him, too overcome by your sleepiness to care.

The noise of fabric shuffling filled the otherwise quiet room as Suguru slots himself in between your thighs, pushing your plush flesh together to secure him. You could tell he enjoyed it as you heard a shaky and breathy moan from behind you. To be honest, you got off on it too, seeing the way his tip would peak out from in-between your thighs. You always knew he was big but it never failed to suprise you each time.

Slowly, Suguru moved his hips in a thrusting motion, drawing them away before pushing back in with a small noise of his skin making contact with yours. His breaths stuttered with each movement and his hands wandered up your shirt, caressing and feeling your stomach underneath his fingertips. Suguru wasn't extremely vocal but with the small grunts and huff he lets out when he's enjoying himself... drives your body insane and you can't help but grow aroused as well.

"You lonely?" Suguru chuckled, his hands moving down to the waistband of your pyjama pants. With a small mumble of 'there we go,' he slips off your pants, tossing them aside carelessly. He continues his thrusting, slipping his dick in-between your thighs rhythmically. With every thrust, you could feel Suguru's cock slip along the underside of yours. It was such a light feeling that it almost tickled. Suguru coos in your ear, whispering sweet nothings that barely register in your sleep-ridden brain. All you can focus on is his warm palm trailing to your cock. His hand clamps around you as he cradles it in his hand for a bit, allowing you to really feel the warmth from his hand. God you were already leaking. "Hah... feels good Sugu'"

"Does it now?" he hums in a sickeningly sweet and innocent tone, but the way his hands pumped your cock was far from innocent. His movements get faster, his hips went from slow and calculated thrusts to slamming his hips against the back of your thighs, chasing his pleasure alongside with your own. Both his hand and his dick sliding in between your thighs made whimpers slip out your lips. Suguru uses his other hand to hold you close to him, pressing his palm flat against your stomach to push you flush against his body.

"Gonna come," he grunts, his voice getting louder and more raspy as he keeps thrusting. The hand wrapped around your cock was still pumping with vigour, like he wanted you to lose yourself with him. Your voice wavers as moans flow out of your throat — Suguru's hands are way too skilled for their own good. You feel a knot forming in your stomach and your cock twitches in Suguru's hand. Your tip is so red its practically begging for him to have mercy but he doesn't stop. He wants to see your pleasure as much as he wants to feel you. Suguru's voice breaks slightly as he groans, white spurting out of his dick and coating your thighs as well as the sheets. He keeps pumping his hand until he feels you pulse and twitch before you come, "Mm... good boy, yeah just like that."

With a few more slow thrusts, Suguru finally stopped. He wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug-like way, letting his face fall into the crook of your neck. He littered kisses all over your cheek and your jawline before speaking, "I'll do well tomorrow, thanks prince," Suguru chuckled softly, letting his eyes close while he settled down with you to catch up on the sleep he missed beforehand.

♡ little gift — X nsfw video that inspired this !!

a/n : this was meant to be an oc fic but decided I wanted it to be suguru...

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Yandere!Sonic Boom!Shadow with a reader who’s already in a relationship? 🫡

A/n: this is short, sorry!!

Yandere!Sonic & Boom!Shadow x Taken!Reader

You always thought dating someone would be a blessing, having someone love you and you live them back? Perfect. And for the most part, it was. Your partner was kind, steady and caring. And you loved every bit of them.

But you had a problem.

Two problems, actually.

One was Sonic the Hedgehog.

The other was Shadow the Hedgehog.

Neither of them seemed to understand that you were in a relationship. Or maybe they just didn't care.

Sonic was always around, always showing up at the most inconvenient times, acting like your partner didn't even exist. Shadow, on the other hand, didn't show up as often, but when he did, he certainly made his presence known. His eyes would bore into yours like he could see past every flimsy excuse you made to keep him at a distance.

And the worst part? The two of them absolutely hated each other.

Sonic:

Sonic had always been friendly with you, but things had shifted ever since you got into a relationship. At first, you thought it was just him being his usual, overly confident self. But then the little things started happening.

Like how he'd coincidentally run into you and your partner whenever you went on dates.

"Oh, hey, fancy seeing you here!" he'd say, flashing that cocky grin as he skidded to a stop beside you. "Didn't think I'd uh... run into you again! What are the odds, huh?"

(They weren't. You knew he was following you.)

Or how he always managed to pull you away from your partner, leaving them baffled as Sonic whisked you off on some 'quick adventure' that lasted hours.

"C’mon Y/N, just one run around town! Just to how you how fast i am."

It didn't matter if you protested, he'd already be grabbing your wrist, his grip just a little too tight, air rushing past your skin as he yanked you away.

And the worst part? He made it seem normal.

Sonic played the "best friend" role so well that your partner never quite caught on to what was really happening. And when you finally tried to set boundaries, he just laughed.

"Aw, don't be like that! You know you love hanging out with me."

And the way he said it, it wasn't a question. It was a statement, one he expected you to accept.

Shadow:

If Sonic was the charming nightmare, Shadow was the storm waiting to strike.

Unlike Sonic, Shadow didn't show up constantly, but when he did, he made sure you knew it.

Your first mistake was assuming he didn't care.

Your second mistake was letting him get close enough to notice your relationship.

At first, he didn't say anything. He just watched.

You'd feel it, the weight of his stare, lingering like an unspoken threat. You'd be walking with your partner, and for a moment, something in the air would shift. The hairs on your neck would rise. And then, you'd see him.

Standing just far enough away to not seem suspicious.

But he was watching.

Always watching.

And when he finally approached you? His tone was sharp and cold.

"What are you doing, Y/N?"

"...I'm spending time with my partner?" you'd say cautiously, trying not to let his intense gaze get to you.

He just narrowed his eyes.

"Hmph. Wasting your time, then."

The first time he said that, you thought it was just Shadow being Shadow, dismissing things that didn't interest him. But then he started getting bolder.

"You don’t actually love them," he muttered one day, voice low and sure. "You're just settling."

You had scoffed at the time, brushing him off. But then your partner started having problems.

Shattered belongings. Disruptions at work. "Accidents" that left them too injured to take you out.

You never saw Shadow do anything, but… the timing was too perfect.

And then came the direct approach.

"You're not theirs" he said one evening when he cornered you outside your own home. The streetlights flickered, casting long shadows around you both. "You never were."

"Shadow, stop. I-"

"No, you stop, you're lying to yourself." His voice was low, almost soothing. "You belong with me."

[sapphicmsmarvel]

azriel crack headcannons!

im alive!

note: use of “tits” instead of “breasts”, i hate that word yall. 

-You love being mushy with him. Complimenting his eyes, his hands, his voice. He gets all blushy and squeaky and it’s so cute. 

-He activated cuteness aggression which confused him at first but he secretly loves how obsessed you are with him. (he’s never had anyone be so obsessed with him) 

-You both give each other flowers. The first time you gave him his own bouquet he was giggling and kicking his feet in private. 

-You have trouble trying new food, so he will let you try a bit of his meal if he gets something new. That way you don't “waste” (even though he has enough money to buy velaris at this point) money. Even if he insists you don't need to worry about money. 

-You like asking him insane questions. 

“How do you feel about me wearing revealing clothes in public?” 

He shrugged. “I can fight and you look beautiful in anything.”

“If i got a new piercing-“

“My love, it’s your body. But if you pierce your nipples i’m going to have so much fun.”

-You got your nipples pierced. You couldn’t decide on what jewelry to get. So you bought two pairs. One, for the healing process that were barbells with blue gems. 

For after, barbells with an ‘A’ on both ends of the jewelry. That man audibly moaned when he saw that specific piece of jewelry. 

-He has loud sneezes. 

-He’s afraid of spiders. 

-You two 100% gossip. 

-You’ll read smutty novels to each other in funny voices. This is the only way Azriel discovered that he can make an incredible high pitched voice. 

-He gets the zoomies at random times. You know it’s brewing when the shadows start to practically vibrate in the air. 

-If you have your hair up, he or his shadows will play with your baby hairs that escape the hairstyle. 

-Speaking of the shadows, they’ll just sit on your waist like a belt and just be part of whatever outfit you have on. Or a necklace (not in a kinky way you dirty birds) 

((but like, that too))

-Speaking of things being taken as kinky. He stretches you out. You have a disability that worsens when you don't do your daily stretches (sciatica nerve damage gang rise up) so he forces you to do them. 

-As in pins you down and forces your body to stretch out the nerve. 

“It’s almost like you like to be in pain.” He admonishes as he pushed on your glute. 

“I’m just lazy.” You admit. 

He smacks your ass, causing you to yelp. “Well, I don't like seeing my love in pain, so stop being lazy.” 

-He may be a stoic warrior, but he’s also a guy. He loves titties. 

-He’ll burrow into them when he’s upset. 

-When your cycle happens, your tits get sore and swollen. So he’ll massage them, suck on them, anything. 

-You wear lip balm a lot. You just have a thing where a tube needs to be on you at all times. He personally prefers when you wear a balm that’s vanilla or like a baked good. The minty balms he really doesn’t like the taste of.  

-Usually, he is the exact opposite of lazy. However, you’ve turned him into a lazy sunday morning man. Or really, any day he wants to sleep in, he does now. You’re just so warm and sweet and sleepy he can’t resist it! 

-You sprawl out in bed. You starfish over the entire bed if he gets up for the bathroom or water in the middle of the night. To get you back to your side, all he has to do is poke your side and you curl in on yourself. 

He giggles (yes, giggles) every single time. 

-He already is a mischievous man, but with you the silliness hits an all time high. 

-Random ass spankings, he bean dips you, when he works out wearing a shirt, he’ll take the shirt off and throw it at you. So you have a musty sweaty ass shirt coming at you. 

-You always call his shadows “little stinkers” and he loves it. 

-They’ll move things to higher shelves to force you to ask Azriel for help getting them.  

The man loves leaning over you, your sweet ass pressed against him as he reaches. 

-Sometimes, you’ll just stare at him and wonder how this beautiful man is yours. 

But that’s okay, because he stares at you the same way. 

[dyingswanpavlova]

Step-Father!Salesman Headcanons

Step-Father!Salesman is never really all too far away. It doesn't matter if he's right there behind you, glancing down at your uni work over your shoulder, creating a trace of goosebumps with the way his hot breath fans over your neck, or if you feel his presence somewhere close-by, not quite daring to look up. You know he's there, watching you. Always.

Step-Father!Salesman doesn't need to take a second glance at you to tell when you're lying to him. Excuses spill over your lips in such a rush and yet he doesn't even need that much of a proof. He can see it in your eyes. The way you avoid looking up at his dark, calculating gaze. He knows. And one day, you'll get punised for it.

Step-Father!Salesman has this infuriating smirk on his lips, the one that never once reaches his eyes. He doesn't pretend to express any mirth - his smirk is there to taunt you, mock you. Control you. Just like everything else he does. He doesn't even need to pretend not to notice you staring at his lips, whenever they're pulled into that irritating smile, rather than his usual scowl. You're just glaring at him, that's what you keep telling yourself. But you can't hide the way his gaze on you makes heat pool in your lower belly. Not forever. And certainly not from him.

Step-Father!Salesman will not comment the way you kiss your boyfriend goodbye in front of the house, before you make your way back inside. Of course you feel his gaze, threatening to consume you, through the window, even in the darkness. And you feel it. The tension in him, the subtle clench of his jaw, the way his smile is just a little tighter than usual. But it's not his place to do something about it, right? You're just his step-daughter.

Step-Father!Salesman who lingers in the shadows of the hallway, every time you make your way from the bathroom back to your room. Clad in only a damp towel and the shimmer of your lotion, you tiptoe your way back, firmly pretending not to notice the looming presence in the corner. But the flush on your skin and the quick rise and fall of your chest gives you away.

Step-Father!Salesman loves to watch you sleep. The way your lips are parted with soft breaths, the way your lashes tickle against your cheeks. The way your chest heaves just a tad bit too quick for you to truly be asleep. He can't keep himself from smirking. Such a bad girl, trying to make her step-father believe she's not there, listening. Feeling. Not yet, he thinks. Not yet. But soon.

Okay, I got a fic coming up for this, thanks to the lovely @koigguki, I just don't know when yet.

So, @koigguki , @andifiwereyourlittlegirl This is for you.✨️🥀

Forever Tag: @kpopsmutty69 🤍

Divider by @saradika-graphics

[moonlightazriel]

Taken /// Azriel X F!Reader X Cassian

Summary: Azriel doesn't notice what he had until he lost it. Inspired by Taken from One Direction.

Warnings: Angst and smut!

Word Count: 3,1K

Notes: I don't plan to write a second part for this and if you want to blame someone for the angst, it's all @fieldofdaisiies fault for encouraging me...

Main Masterlist

For centuries she loved him, what started with a silly crush, developed to love with time. She was always there for him, waiting until he felt what she felt, loved her the way she loved him, but for centuries she waited for crumbs of his attention, he wouldn’t even spare a glance in her direction, barely giving a thought about her.

She learned to live with the constant pain and yearning, nurturing a little spark of hope in the depths of her heart, that maybe, if she showed him enough affection and loved him from afar, something would change and he would finally notice her the way she wanted to. But that never happened. 

He never looked at her with love and admiration, never reached out for her to know how she was doing, never took a liking in her interests and who she was outside her job as a emissary, that was all she was to him and all she ever was going to be, someone invisible, unworthy of his time and attention. 

She knocked on his door, slightly shaking, for some time now the thought of talking to him left her nervous, the comfort she felt whenever she was around him slowly vanishing and leaving the bitter taste of indifference behind. He commanded her in, and as she pushed the  door open, she spotted him on his desk, papers scattered around and a steaming mug of tea on the side. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Az.” She managed to talk past the lump on her throat, feeling that she was disturbing him. He looked at her, dull annoyed eyes, that feeling in the pit of her stomach only intensified. 

“What do you want?” His voice was cold, without the warmth and kindness he reserved for the others in the inner circle. 

“I need to get some papers for Rhys in the city, can you fly me there? No one is home and I can’t go..” She hated it, without wings and the ability to winnow, she was completely dependent on others to help her to get out of the House of Wind.

“I’m busy now, wait for me and I'll take you later.” He said with a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in clear annoyance for her interruption, and she just nodded, whispering a quick thank you and rushing away from him. 

She sat at the library, waiting for him, the clock on the wall changing as the time slowly passed by, ten minutes, half an hour, two hours, five hours, until she was almost sleeping against the arm of the comfortable chair, her book falling from her hands and startling her up with the noise. 

She looked at the clock once again, realising she was waiting for him almost all day, those papers were important and Rhys really needed them, so she got up, fixing her hair in a ponytail and heading for the 10,000 steps that would take her to the city. 

One hour later, she rested her hands against her knees, sweat dripping from the tip of her nose, she tried to catch her breath, her whole body felt rigid and no matter how much she trained, those steps were always cruel to anyone. After recomposing herself, she started her journey towards the small library hidden in Velaris.

Her heart sank when she walked past the street market, in one of the stands, leaning against the counter and clearly flirting with the pretty female on the other side, Azriel. She held her breath, feeling anger rising inside of her, he was already going into town, and he couldn’t even remember her? Was she that insignificant to him?

She didn’t know if he saw her or if his shadows alerted him, all she could see was his wide eyes as they locked with hers, he made a move to walk in her direction but she was quicker, pushing through the bodies and walking away from him.

It didn’t hurt seeing him with her, like it did so many times in the past whenever he flirted with someone in front of her, it hurt how inconsiderate he was. Her heart thrummed in her chest, breaking away the little hope that was left. Nothing, that’s all they would ever be, and for once, that thought didn’t break her, it encouraged her to move forwards. She pushed through the doors with a renewed confidence, she would be okay.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“You don’t plan on climbing those, do you?” A voice startled her as she eyed the steps that would bring her home, she had quickly dropped the papers off, apologising profusely for the delay, to which Rhys just said it was fine. 

“How else am I supposed to go up there?” She turned to Cassian, by the looks of it, it looked like he had just arrived from the week long trip to the Illyrian war camps. 

“Maybe a very strong friend of yours can carry you.” Amusement glinted in those eyes. She smiled at him.

“You must be tired, Cass.” He indeed looked tired, bags underneath his eyes that usually weren’t there, his wings a little slumped and his hair dishevelled. 

“Never too tired to have a pretty female pressed up against me.” He winked at her and she felt her cheeks getting hotter under his gaze, he had always been like this, always flirting and making her flustered, she always took it as a part of his bright personality. 

“Yeah, I could definitely use a ride now.” The thought of climbing all those steps again somehow sounded worse than before.

“Hop on, gorgeous.” He sneaked his arms underneath her legs and supported her back, while she clung to his neck with both arms, feeling the wind on her face as he made the short flight up to the House. 

“Hey, are you hungry?” she asked as the two landed and headed inside. “I made some pie, I saved some pieces before Rhysand and Morrigan ate the whole thing.” She giggled and Cassian nodded.

“I would love to.” He gave a very loud kiss on her temple. “Your food is the best.” He moved towards his room while she went to the kitchen. Searching the fridge for the piece she had saved for Azriel, but he didn’t even bother to eat, he probably wouldn’t care now. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry for today.” His voice sounded behind her, she was bent inside the fridge, snatching the pie and turning to him, he eyed the pie in her hands, remembering her telling something about saving him some. “Oh, I’m not hungry, I ate in the city.”

“This isn’t for you.” She quickly replied in a monotone voice, anger still warming her insides. Azriel flinched at her tone. “And don’t worry, the papers were my problem, not yours, so you didn’t had to do anything.” She barely looked at him, fetching a spoon and heading towards the  exit. 

“Still, it wasn’t nice of me.” She turned to him one last time, glancing him up and down, before placing the plate on the table. 

“When were you ever nice to me anyway?” Her words were heavy with sadness and they weighed on his guts, making his stomach churn. He was going to say something, when a freshly bathed Cassian appeared, sitting in front of the plate. 

“This smells fucking divine.” He took a bite from Azriel’s piece. “As good as I imagined, Thank you sweetheart.” Azriel watched the interaction in silence, how she blushed with the pet name and the adoration in Cassian’s eyes, something didn’t sit right with him watching that, and he would learn too late why he didn’t like it. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel had to watch her over the months, how she didn’t rush to greet him when he came from missions, how now she never went to ask about his day or how he was doing, how whenever she cooked, it wouldn’t have a meal ready waiting for him, how she distanced herself from him, only talking to him when it was extremely necessary, and that made him sad.

Despite everything it felt nice knowing someone cared about him like she did, someone noticed him and paid attention to the details in his life no one else bothered to look at. How she always had the perfect gift for him on solstice, how she always had the right thing to say when he would let his thoughts consume him. 

He watched how she interacted with everyone but him, having wine with Mor, meetings with Rhys and always choosing Cassian at training, her easy smiles that once were almost just for him, were for anyone but him now. He felt her absence deeply, so used to having her like a second shadow, that now he felt alone.  

Today was the day she was leaving, she and Cassian were going to the Summer Court as Emissaries, working with the High Lord to strengthen their alliances. Whenever she was going to a mission, she would leave a gift for him, but today, as she handed a fresh batch of cookies for Rhys and a very expensive bottle of wine to Mor, and left without barely saying goodbye to him, he knew something was wrong between them and once she got back, he would do anything to fix it.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The sun glowed on her skin, the bluest of the oceans surrounded her at the private beach Tarquin invited them to, Cassian couldn’t focus on what the male was saying, failing his duty greatly, but how could he when she was right there? Sparkling brighter than the sun above their heads, with her wet hair glued to her forehead, a big grin as she laughed at something Cresseida said. 

Cassian had always been attracted to her, content to wait for her as long as it would take for her to stop pining for his dumb brother and set her beautiful eyes on him. And he felt that moment approaching, more than ever, and he wasn’t going to let it slide from in between his fingers. He would grasp it and fight whoever dared to try and take her from him.

“There’s something distracting you, Lord Cassian?” Tarquin followed his eyes to his companion exiting the ocean.

“The view is quite beautiful here.” He tried to brush it off to which the High Lord just scoffed.

“Oh yeah, the view is stunning.” Tarquin snorted and Cassian felt his cheeks hot as she set her eyes on him. 

“My lord, this beach is the closest we have of paradise.” She bowed her head a little, sitting down by Cassian’s side and sipping on the cold drink that waited for her. 

“I’m glad you like it, Lady Y/N.” Tarquin smirked her way and Cassian wanted to punch it away from his lips. They sat there for the whole afternoon, discussing court matters and some other business. The High Lord had invited them for dinner with him. 

Cassian escorted her back to her room, her cheeks rosy from the summer heat, they had just arrived from dinner with Tarquin, but she didn’t felt like sleeping yet, so she invited Cassian for a drink, and one become two, and when she noticed, she was on all fours as Cassian pounded into her from behind. 

Her breasts shaking with his rough pace, while she moaned for him to never stop, she hadn't allowed herself to feel this good in a very long time and it felt great to be desired, having someone praising her and worshipping her body the way she deserved to be worshipped. She crumbled apart under his touch, and she moaned his name loudly when he reached for her bundle of nerves, drawing an invisible pattern that had her coming so hard she almost blacked out.

And when he held her later that night, laying her head on his chest, almost asleep, she felt her heart complete for the first time in centuries and she really liked the feeling, it was like everything finally felt right in his arms, and she could only hope that he felt the same way. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“We should go out today.” He had said as the two sat for breakfast at her balcony. They haven’t spoken about last night's events yet, and she felt anxiety cursing through her veins.

“That sounds like a great idea.” She mumbled, and Cassian noticed how her shaking fingers grabbed the juice and poured it into her cup.

“About last night.” He grasped her hand, soothing her nervousness with his warmth. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing. I like you, and I want you to be mine. Azriel never deserved you.” He said and she looked at him, his eyes filled with sincerity. 

“What I felt last night and in these weeks here with you, maybe this is what love really looks like and I really want to try, I deserve better than being invisible.” Cassian smiled at her.

“I always saw you as you are, the stunning and wonderful female with the biggest heart that always took care of everyone but was never taken care of, I intend to change that.” He inclined over the table, capturing her lips in a kiss and she allowed her heart to sink in that feeling of being appreciated, she would be happy now. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“I’m so sorry, my Lord.” She said and Tarquin could see she was being honest. “We just got a little bit carried away, we understand if you never want to see us again, but please, don’t punish our court for our reckless behaviour.” 

“I won’t, but Cassian is banned from my Court, the damage he caused was too big.” She nodded.

“I understand, you can expect money for the repairs and for the inconvenience.” Tarquin nodded. “Thank you for having us here and for your kindness.” The male dismissed her and she marched outside the castle where Cassian waited for her escorted by five guards. 

“Too bad?” He asked sheepishly and she smiled at him.

“You’re banned and I promised money to rebuild.” He nodded.

“Could be worse.” He grabbed her, starting their journey back to the Night Court.

Last night, when they got out, things got a bit out of hand when Cassian took too many drinks, and a guy flirted with her. The two had a big fight that ended up with Cassian throwing the male on the building, damaging the structure and prompting the building to collapse. He was arrested for the night while Y/N tried to talk with Tarquin. 

Rhys already knew what happened and waited for them ready to scold Cassian for being so stupid and threatening their alliance, but Y/N was quick to defend him and guarantee that nothing was ruined and she could fix it over time. Cassian had pulled her to his lap while they talked, resting his chin on her shoulder, knowing that Rhys would never do anything to him out of consideration for her. 

“You’re lucky she’s your girlfriend now, Cass, Rhys won’t scold you anymore cuz he would hate to be on her bad side and miss her weekly cookies.” Mor laughed and they followed her. 

“Girlfriend?” Azriel asked, standing in the doorway, his eyes not believing what he was seeing, Cassian holding her.

“Problems with that brother?” Cassian sneered. “A female like her? Only a fool wouldn’t appreciate it.” Azriel felt his blood boiling in his veins.

He watched them angrily during the whole dinner, how she looked at Cassian, in the way she used to look at him, her orbs glowing and full of love. How he kept a hand on her thigh the whole time. He hated seeing the two together and he wouldn’t go down without a fight. So he waited. 

She always made a mug of tea before sleeping. So he waited for her in the kitchen, she looked surprised to see him there, her body barely covered by the nightgown and he almost threw up at the sight of purplish marks on the vale of her breasts. He hated the thought of her being touched like that by Cassian.

“We need to talk.” He said as she passed by him, starting to boil the water for her tea.

“I have nothing to say to you.” He scoffed and she turned towards him, her eyes cold and devoid of any emotion towards him.

“I do! How can you be with him?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Cassian makes me happy and he’s a good male, why wouldn’t I be with him?” 

“Because you love me and you’re supposed to be mine.” He blurted and hurt flashed across her eyes.

“So you always knew how I felt but only decided to acknowledge it when I'm with someone else. How convenient.” She was hurt and he could feel it.

“Leave him, I’m right here, I love you.” He reached for her hand but she stepped backwards, away from him. 

“You don’t love me, you never did. You only loved the attention, the fact that no matter what I would always be waiting for you like a stupid puppy. I was tired, Azriel.”

“Don’t say that, I know that deep down you still love me.” She laughed humorlessly.

“I LOVED you.” She corrected him. “I fell out of love with you a long time ago.”  His heart cracked in his chest, for the first time, seeing him distressed didn’t make her feel anything, there were no feelings left for him inside of her anymore. 

“I can make you happy, there’s no one else for me if it’s not you.” Tears welled in his eyes but she shook her head. 

“I really hope you find someone you truly love, for the first time my life isn’t about you anymore, let me be happy.” She begged and he could hear the exhaustion in her voice. Loving him and waiting for him was a tiring task, and she wasn’t willing to live like that anymore. 

“Please Y/N, don’t do this to me.” She took a deep breath.

“You never cared about what your behaviour would do to me, not even for a minute, why should I care?” She turned her back to him, finishing her tea. She walked past him. 

“I love you, please.” He was sobbing like a child now, she stared at him blankly. 

“It’ll pass.” She took a sip. “I learned to live with the pain of being in love with you, you’re smart, I know you’re going to learn as well.” She ignored the sound of the furniture breaking behind her as she walked towards Cassian’s room, where a life filled with love waited for her. 

[pomefioredove]

HIYYYAAAA

JUST SAW THE FLRITY PROMPTS EVENT!

What do you say about Lilia with "Don't bite your lip, I want to do that."

I would say hgghh💕💖❤️

summary: "don't bite your lip, I want to do that" type of post: short fic characters: lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is kinda implied to be yuu but doesn't have to be, not proofread, Lilia is shamelessly flirty thank u a part of this event

There are very few things that still manage to catch Lilia by surprise.

At his age, he's simply running out of new experiences; school, politics, even the wonderful world of the internet have started becoming monotonous and boring, leaving him in a slump.

Perhaps, then, that's why he's taken such an interest in you.

Such an intriguing little creature, he thinks, watching you from the shadows of the Diasomnia lounge.

You'd come by to drop something off for Malleus, the sweet thing that you are, and, once again, Lilia finds himself shamelessly staring.

He knows he shouldn't, but, oh, he truly can't help himself!

He inches closer. Lilia can't help but wonder what sort of noise you'll make when he startles you this time. A gasp? A shout, perhaps? Maybe even a cute little squeak... the thought of that is strangely exciting to him.

Only one way to find out.

He drops out of the shadows, blocking you from the exit just as you turn towards it. "Hello!"

And... Nothing.

You smile. "Ah... hello again, Lilia. Did Malleus tell you I was coming?"

His arms fall to his sides with a pout. Nothing? Nothing at all? You look at him like he has something stuck in his teeth.

"He may have mentioned," Lilia sighs. "You're impossible to tease these days. It's quite disappointing, really."

You smile slightly, much to his bemusement. He hates letting you have the upper hand... "Maybe I've started anticipating your pranks. You'll just need to find some new material,"

New material...? He scoffs. You're not even the least bit concerned about him!

"It used to be so easy to get a rise out of you. Humans change far too fast," he laments.

"Now I'll never get to see that flustered look on your face ever again! Or I'll have to come up with something new to tease you with..."

"Orrrr... you could just not tease me at all?"

He chuckles, shaking his head as if you had just said something ridiculous. "With your precious reactions? Impossible!"

You sigh.

Lilia tuts, tapping his chin as if lost in deep thought. He circles you once, twice, then stops in front of you.

"I can't think of anything," he sighs dramatically. "It'll come to me later... Is that uniform new?"

"Oh, uh..." you mutter, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. You turn around yourself in a circle. How cute.

"Well, it's the same uniform, but I got my measurements taken at Pomefiore, and they they got me a better fitting one."

"I can tell,"

He hums pleasantly, dragging his eyes over your body. "They did a wonderful job accentuating your features,"

You huff and look away, much to his delight, clearly taken by surprise by his change in tone.

"...Thank you,"

"Fufufu. Don't mention it," Lilia says, eyes narrowing. "You don't get complimented very much, do you?"

"Not regularly,"

"I could surmise as much. Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're almost flustered by little old me. Is that right?"

Hook, line, and sinker. Your eyes widen as you realize that you've walked right into his trap. "Oh, no, no. I'm not. I'm fine!"

"Really? Don't get shy on me, now. I'm beginning to like this even more than scaring you,"

He takes a step forward, drinking in the sight of you, your body's nervous reactions to his teasing. "How cute,"

"Tease," you say, biting the corner of your lip.

You back yourself against the wall of the lounge, to his absolute delight, and he takes that as an invitation to get closer.

"That I am," Lilia admits without a hint of shame. "But don't bite your lip... I want to do that."

That long sought-after squeak finally escapes you, music to his ears, and he leans closer. For a moment, it seems like he's about to close the distance between you... then, at the last second, he pulls back.

He chuckles. "Oh, what fun! I haven't felt so young in ages. But I do have other business to attend to,"

And so, Lilia leaves you stunned, trembling against the wall as he merrily walks off before you seem to come to your senses.

"Vanrouge, you little shit! Get back here!"

A slight giggle escapes him as he starts off running, with you not far behind. He was right; this is much, much more rewarding than scaring you.

Maybe, if you make another one of those cute noises, he'll even let you catch him.

[kateswallofweird]

EX-BOYFRIEND DICK GRAYSON PT. 2 . . .

dick grayson x reader; cw angst ish fluff ish, second chance at a failed past relationship, attempted mugging with a gun, blood

💭 we don't talk enough about brenton thwaites as dick grayson

PART 1 HERE

it had been nearly three weeks since his message, and dick grayson had only left confusion in his wake and a ghost of himself in your home.

so maybe you were distracted, and that's why you didn't realize the man hiding in the shadows until the feeling of a gun pressed to your back on your way home stopped you in your tracks. then, a slimy demand for all your money and your bag was whispered near your ear. and the alley you found yourself in seemed darker, more sinister as your blood thrummed with a jumpy pulse.

after living in gotham for so long, it almost slipped from you the dangers of the city. you'd grown so accustomed to the filth, the chaos, and the craziness of it all.

"i—"

but you hadn't even the chance to spill out pleas for mercy when the cold metal fell away from you and you heard a sickening crunch followed by a grunt.

you turned around, nerves afire but curiosity winning out, and you stilled at the sight.

it was funny the way life worked—you'd committed yourself to not calling him, and yet when you needed him most, he was there in a flash.

you'd forgotten how good he looked in his uniform—the skin tight blues and black meshing well together and only leaving so much to imagination. he was beautiful, and your heart tugged against your chest with painful familiarity.

"shit, are you okay?" dick was before you in an instant, fingers gentle as he checked you for injuries, staining your clothes red with every motion.

"you've got blood on your hands." it wasn't so much as a complaint as it was an observation while the shock began to subside.

"i've done worse," he said.

your eyes fell to the crumpled figure on the ground doused in traces of himself, gun kicked to the side and bullets amess. dick, it seemed, had forgone his escrima sticks and wingdings in favor of his fists.

and all at once all the emotions you'd stuffed away deep inside you that came from his voice mail and being held at gunpoint and now seeing dick again for the first time in two years came raining down on you. you weren't sure whether to cry or to crash out, but before you knew it, you were taking your bag and smacking your ex-boyfriend with it.

"i was doing well without you," you choked out, unrelenting in your hits. "i was getting over you. you broke my heart and i was gluing it back piece by piece, and—and then you said you missed me. you missed me?" you breathe in too fast and let out a loud huff, feeling your arms burn the more you try to take your bag to his body. "and then you have the fucking audacity to save me."

dick stayed quiet through it all. he didn't bother to block your blows, and if you had looked closer you might have seen the slightest trace of a smile ghosting his face.

"you're mad i took down your mugger?" he asked, amusement evident into his voice.

and you almost launch your bag at his face with half the mind to pull off his stupid domino mask. "are you seriously having fun right now?"

"i'm just happy we're talking."

"i'm going to—"

but dick catches you by the wrist this time, and your bag drops to the floor with an unceremonious thud.

"unhand me."

he does, but neither of you move away. you refuse to meet his gaze, but it's piercing. you're close enough to feel his breath, the rise and fall of his chest and his beating heart.

"i'm sorry." his whisper comes with the weight of heavy memories, the very words he'd uttered when they'd broken up. it was a reminder of all they had amounted to together—one simple apology and two broken hearts.

what's to say things would be different this time?

"take me back," he asks, and it's unlike him to be like this, to plead.

"it's been two years," you reason, though your resolve is weakening as your heart falls into sync with his.

"and i've spent every moment of it planning this conversation. i was young and stupid before, but i've grown now. i know what i want and where i want to be and every road leads me back to you." dick takes your hand into his, careful as he links them. "it's always been you."

you're scared—to fall, to love, to split yourself open to the world again for him to see. to love is to be vulnerable. it's acquainting yourself with the possibility of pain but praying it never comes. it's risk and variable, jumping into the unknown.

but when you finally look, meeting his stare and wading through the electric blue of his eyes, your worries melt away. because to love is also learning to trust (again). it's forgiveness and beginnings. it's change.

"okay."

💭 shitty cheeseball ending i know but happy endings have always been a little difficult for me. that aside i don't think i'll post a part three to this. it just feels right to leave it here like this

[arsonlookers]

Two Worlds Apart

Pirate Aventurine x admirer Mermaid Reader

With your usual mundane routine, you hide yourself in the darkest parts of the ocean and shadows only to look up at those passing ships leaving by, dreaming of one day meeting him again joining the people up above...

the only thing a mermaid like you can do right now is ADMIRE.

You, as a mermaid always love to explore the ocean, and so does the upper land where dangerous humans reside. In your merman folks always warn you about the danger the human monsters always pose to your kind whenever they are discovered how they will be trapped, devoured, tortured, used, abused, killed, mistreated, and lastly never going to be seen in the depths of their beloved ocean again, forever to be trapped on the living land.

it was never a saying but a warning. knowing that some of your kind did get lost on the shores and will never be seen again roaming in the depths of the sea. Even with the warnings from your kind to be always alert and never trust any human words even if it is the sweetest honey of promises and lies.

You only tend to visit the shore at midnight knowing that people are asleep at this time. You are as careful as not to be seen or discovered by any people on your everyday rendezvous.

except for tonight.

You have been following a young sailor lately, and he catches your attention. he has this otherworldly beauty you have never seen any humans have, and his eyes are so captivating that at first, you thought he was not human at all, maybe he is like you a another being disguising himself to hide his true identity. however he was not.

he is just a human, a cunning, captivating, stunning human you have a little crush on. was it because of his eyes? his voice? or his personality? you don't really know.

and here he is right in front of you looking at you curiously yet still having that smile on his face as he greets you

"oh...sorry for interrupting you dear, I was captivated by a beautiful voice here on the shore" Aventurine scans you up and down knowing your true form he is not scared at all in contrast he walks and approaches closer to where you sit.

"don't be scared, I don't mean no harm" he sits beside you still has this distance he puts in between the two of you "Please...continue your song... it was the most beautiful song I have ever heard in my entire life" he said pleadingly looking at you expectantly wishing for you to sing again

You were cautious and yet relaxed because you dont feel any malicious intent from him, so you continued to sing your song.

After one song you look at him and notice him asleep beside you as the shore is the only noise in the background. you cautiously come closer not daring to disturb his sleep, as you come closer you admire his face and how calm he is when he is asleep, unlike the fake smiles you see whenever you see him.

for a while, you stayed but after you decided to leave for the night.

Aventurine wakes up later as the sun rises on the shore, he was expecting you to be there, to see the beauty from last night. But to his disappointment, you are not there, not even a little trace of your existence he thought it was just a dream after all.

"...a dream?" he goes on his day but in the back of his mind all he can think about is you.

Every night he started this little habits of walking on the shores expecting you to show up and sing to him again.

He was sure it was not a dream, he didnt tell anybody about you. A mermaid on the shore rumors might scare you and got you hunted down that's why he never want to even tell people about what he saw.

One night, luckily he waited. On the full moon you show up again sitting on your spot and starts to sing a different song from last time.

he was yet again captivated and waited for you to finish.

"hi, darling" startled you turn around, and looking at him made you feel relieved?

you tilted your head pretending to not understand him

"I'm Aventurine, if you still remember me from a few moons ago" he cautiously comes closer trying to get close to you. You did let him get close but not close enough.

he introduced himself that night, nothing really happened as you decided to go even before he wanted you to stay for a little while longer.

he sighs in disappointment "I didn't even get to know her name, such beauty..."

Night after night he stayed and waited patiently on the shore for you to show up. you did show up a few times and he did get a little closer to you, that's what he thinks to himself. you talked to him a little he did get your name eventually "y/n? That is a fitting name for a beauty like you" he was smitten, he doesn't understand why but he knows you wants to be with you more, longer, just a little bit longer.

"you need to go? can you please stay? even for a little while? how about until sunrise? " Aventurine pleaded holding your hands firmly trying to convince you. but that didn't work at all

you shake your head "That would be dangerous for me, please let go" you say as you pull your wrist and go back to the ocean.

This little meeting was not supposed to last long, you know that but after a while of secretly meeting him, you also started to feel attached to him. You have never seen this side of him, so vulnerable, pleading, and weak. Every time you looked at him secretly in the morning you know him well enough that he was putting a facade even so it still fascinated and attracted you to a dangerous man such as himself.

however every night there he is with his disheveled blond hair and tired eyes, he looks vulnerable so weak yet even knowing that he is a pirate every time you look at him like that it broke your heart that every time he comes you offers a hug.

You now know his past because he told you the story with his own mouth one night, he was so disturbed by his nightmares that he cried in your arms one night until he fell asleep in one of your songs.

As you gave him your usual hug he melted in your warm embrace every time. As he cared for your hair and held you tight it was a different type of hug as he started to kiss your exposed neck.

you didn't stop him after all he had been doing it for a while now you got used to it, every time you tried to stop him he just gave you a pout and a sad look on his face.

"y/n...y/n...i love you" he looked you in the eye one night, and he confessed every time since that night. it becomes a routine a kiss here and a peck there.

he never crossed a line.

"kakavasha" he told you to call him by his name not the other one who he rarely shows you that other side of his. The cunning aventurine.

"hmm?" continues kissing and giving you a hickey "do you want me to stop?"

for the first time, the way he looks at you makes you feel more heated inside as you make the move and connect your lips to his.

a heated kiss happened as both of your tongues clashed with each other, with the desire of devouring each other in mind. You wrap your arms around his neck and he wraps his hands on your waist sensually massaging the spot.

You cant think straight and so does he.

A night of passion was spent between the two of you, you don't understand why you did it but you were happy to do it.

night after night you spend more and more time with kakavasha the more you too fell deeply inlove with the man.

You know he loves you too, and he wants you too, but he has his missions, his goals.

And you know this was forbidden to do, to love a man. a Human at that. You know the consequences...and the difference between the two of you, you know that your kind live much longer than humans... the idea of you living much longer than the man you love makes you feel despair so what you will do is both for the sake of the two worlds. For his.

like the usual night, you spend it with him you sing a song for him you have sex with him and you express more of yourself to the man you will never going to see in person again. at least he won't be able to see you in person again.

"kakavasha, my love?" you called out to him as he wrapped his arms more tightly around you

"yes, darling? is something the matter?" as he held you closely and pecks your head

"I love you" you said it with a small smile

he was shocked, this was the first time you said it. he was ecstatic, so happy even. he hugs you tight "i love you too darling" he was smiling like crazy

As you lean in closer to his ears, you chant a spell to make him pass out. After he passes out and goes limp on the shore you start to chant your spell to make him forget about you, everything about you, and your every night life. After crying while doing the spell all you san say to his unconscious body in front of you is "Sorry...im so sorry darling, i love you kakavasha"

After that night you erase everything that happened and just leave him to the shore alone as you just stare at him far far away hidden in the waves and the rocks waiting for him to wake up.

The only thing you know you can do from now on is live in hidding.

Aventuirne wakes up confused why he is in the shore, sleeping

"huh?...did i sleep here?...did...miss something?" he sits there confused and tired as if he was loss someone or something, he doesn't understand this feeling of loss??

he looks in the ocean he opens his mouth and is about to call out to... "Huh?? who was i about to call out??" confused by his own action he stood up and starts walking away from the shore

the sun has risen yet he feels like he's missing something while he was asleep, he doesn't understand, he's confused yet he also doesnt know why he is confused

"did I just dream?" he yawns and starts walking away from the shore moving back to his travern

....

...

..

it was sad seeing him forget everything as he moves on. But that was the best you can do...for the both of you.

So you stayed and did what you always do in your mundane night routine, to stare upon his ship like always hiding in the darkest part of the ocean and the shadows of his ship, not wanting to be seen by him or any people. only to dream of one day meeting him again and joining the people up above as the two of you dance your heart out. But for now, all you can do is... ADMIRE from afar....

not noticing a pair of eyes looking at you from above and admiring you from below

A/N : im back yiiieee!! well, can you guess who was spying on her? anyway, it's been a really long time since I wrote something so if there are a lot of mistakes, I'm sorry for it I didn't really proofread it hehe. And I feel kinda rusty when writing again after a really long time:) sorry for the really longtime absence hehe. THANK YOU FOR READING AND ENJOYING ‪‪❤︎‪‪❤︎‪‪❤︎

[servndipityz]

i loved the thing you wrote about nam-gyu so much it was amazing 😭 i think it was a lot more realistic to his character, i hate how people write him as some sort of evil monster with no sympathy at all. if you could write a part two or maybe (sorry for the weird request) write a fic where he finds you hurt during the lights out fight and offers to help fix you up that would be great

sorry if this seems demanding or anything. again, love your work, have a great day/night! 💕

a/n ── WHATT!! thank you so much you're so nice😭😭 it isn't a weird request at all, as soon as i read it i got sooo excited. im a sucker for the tending wounds trope tbh i had a field day w this one, i took some liberties lmao. i must say though, i'm not loving how it turned out, i don't think i did it justice😞

BLOODSTAINED

warnings ── blood, injury, general squid game themes

word count ── 2k

it had all happened too fast. the screams had jolted you awake in the middle of the night, but even then, you’d struggled to register where you were, let alone process what was happening around you.

but it hadn’t taken long to figure out—it was a fight. a bad one. a group of players had decided to take matters into their own hands, killing anyone who stood in their way.

you sprung up from your bed, eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light. shadows darted back and forth, figures moving too fast to make sense of. the screams of pain filled the room so completely that they drowned out everything else, and the now-familiar stench of blood was already thick in the air.

frantically, you searched for thanos, se-mi, or even nam-gyu, but they were nowhere to be seen. the chaos, mostly concentrated on the left side of the room, was now spreading in your direction.

some men had started climbing the bunk beds. in the flickering light, you caught the sharp gleam of a broken bottle clutched in one of their hands—just before he drove it into an innocent woman who hadn’t even managed to get out of bed.

you didn't have time to think. you didn't have time to look for anyone—you had to run. hide.

jumping off your mattress, you started leaping from one bed to another. you were pretty sure you were stepping on people, but their screams blended into the others. finally, you made it out of the bed structure, feet hitting the cool floor as you tried to ground yourself.

words crackled through the loudspeakers. the lights flickered on and off. all around you, people were running in every direction. you kept moving, trying to make it to one of the corners where you'd be safer—until you fell.

maybe you’d tripped over your own feet, or maybe over nothing at all, but either way, you hit the ground hard, the air knocked from your lungs.

you gasped, tried to push yourself up, but it was too late. in the brief flash of the lights, you saw him—a man standing over you, gripping what looked like a broken bed frame rod. before you could move, he swung.

but you were fast. you threw up a stumbling arm just in time, blocking the blow before it could slam into your head. still, the jagged edge sliced into your forearm, pain searing through you as the force sent you crashing back against a bed.

you hit the ground again. this time, as you struggled to rise, the man lifted the rod high, ready to deliver the final blow.

it all happened in a matter of seconds. the blow you were expecting never came—a silver bullet tore through the man's head instead, clean and deadly. as he crumpled to the ground, you barely had time to process it before your eyes darted to where the shot had come from. the armed pink guards were flooding into the room, shooting at anything that moved.

soon, the screams were drowned out by gunfire. but before you could be seen, someone grabbed you. an arm yanked you under the nearest bed, a hand locking around your waist as you struggled.

you almost kicked them—until you realized they weren’t trying to hurt you. whoever had pulled you under was keeping you hidden, making sure you weren’t caught in the guards' line of fire.

"stop fucking moving!" the voice hissed.

the moment you recognized it, you might as well have been shot.

your body went limp. "nam-gyu?" you almost shouted.

you couldn’t see him, only feel him—his body pressed behind yours, bigger, solid. his grip still tight on your waist, his breath hot against the back of your neck.

"yeah, who did you think?" he whisper-shouted, like your incredulity somehow annoyed him. but it was strange—he’d shown nothing but disdain toward you in the days prior, constantly pestering you for joining thanos' team. still, something about the way he said it was strange—like he was rattled too. like he hadn't planned on this.

you opened your mouth, but the last gunshot cut you off.

"players must return to their beds now." the friendly voice from the loudspeakers rang out, disturbingly unaffected—like dozens of people hadn’t just died right then and there.

no one moved. the room stayed eerily silent as the guards methodically packed the bodies into those present-shaped caskets and filed out. then, the lights went out again.

you swallowed hard, feeling nam-gyu's chest rise and fall slowly behind you. he hadn't let go. the space between you was barely space at all, just the thin fabric of your tracksuits. his fingers still curled at your waist, like he'd forgotten to release them.

for a moment, everything remained still. then, the quiet shuffling began—people creeping out of their hiding spots, returning to their beds, or to any bed that wasn’t entirely soaked in blood.

"what are you waiting for?" nam-gyu tapped your hip impatiently, and you shifted to crawl out from under the bed. as you pushed yourself up with your arm, a sharp pain shot through you, forcing a wince from your lips.

you glanced down—and that’s when you saw the blood. dark red, running along your forearm, dripping onto the ground. the wound didn’t look deep, but it was long, the skin already turning a sickly purple. worse than how it looked, though, was how much it hurt.

nam-gyu had already stood up, looking down at you.

"you're welcome—" he started, voice laced with sarcasm, but then his eyes landed on your arm.

"shit," you muttered, still staring at the injury.

he huffed before grabbing your good arm and yanking you up onto your feet.

you yelped at the sudden movement, clutching your injured arm. "hey, man! can't you see i'm—"

"sit down." he jerked his chin toward the nearest bed. you hesitated, grimacing. "are you deaf? c’mon."

and when he grabbed the sheets from one of the nearby beds, tearing at the fabric, you finally complied. whatever he had in mind, for once, it didn’t seem like he had bad intentions

you watched as he started ripping the fabric into smaller strips, his lip caught between his teeth in concentration.

you and nam-gyu had had a weird kind of relationship ever since the games started. joining thanos’ team had been both a blessing and a curse. on one hand, you had a group—a good one at that. on the other, you had to deal with nam-gyu, who, for some strange reason, seemed to have it out for you.

he’d pester you all day, only to steal your jacket at night and use it as a blanket when he thought no one was looking. he’d call you every name under the sun, yet still kept you close, casting glances at you during every game. you didn’t think you’d ever understand him. not at all.

and even less now, when he kneeled down to be eye level with you, now sitting on the bed.

"your arm," he said. for a moment, as you looked into his eyes, you almost forgot you were bleeding everywhere. stupidly, you glanced down at your arm before extending it to him.

he raised his hand to hold your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle. the cold of his fingers sent a shiver through you, but his grasp remained steady as he inspected the wound. he tried to maneuver your arm toward him, but his position was awkward, your knees getting in the way.

he glanced at them, then back up at you, his face still serious.

you realized what he wanted.

slowly, reminding yourself that he was just trying to help, you parted your legs slightly, giving him more space.

he shifted between them, your thighs now on either side of him, closer than before. the warmth of him, the press of him—it was impossible to ignore.

finally, he took the strips of fabric he’d torn and carefully began tying them around your arm, trying to stop the bleeding.

the dim light barely reached the corners of the room, but your eyes had adjusted. you could see every freckle on his face, every bead of sweat on his forehead, every curve of his nose.

his breath was steady, but you weren’t sure yours was.

when he tightened a strip a little too hard, you yelped, quickly biting back the sound. last thing you needed was to look weak in front of him.

he stilled, watching you for a moment, his gaze unreadable. you huffed, suddenly feeling small under it.

"you didn't have to do this, you know," you muttered, trying to sound tough.

he shook his head, his eyes still locked on yours. "do you always have to be such a bitch?" his words were sharp, cutting, but his hands remained gentle as he worked, his fingers brushing against your skin as he secured the bandage. "i saved your life twice. you could at least say thank you."

you rolled your eyes, biting back a wince as he tugged at the bandage. "my hero," you muttered. sure, he'd helped you—but saving your life was a stretch. he’d put you in just as much danger in the previous games.

"i should've let you fucking die," he said, more to himself than to you. but his hands never faltered, still wrapping another strip of fabric around your arm. and for some reason, something twisted in your chest—something that wasn't just the pain in your forearm.

finally, you exhaled. "fine. thank you."

he didn't look convinced.

“hey.” you shifted slightly, moving your injured arm just enough to make him look at you. “i said thank you.” you held his gaze, then swallowed. “and… sorry for being an asshole.

for a second, he didn’t move. his fingers, which had been adjusting the bandage, stilled against your skin. his grip firm but not forceful, his thumb barely brushing the inside of your wrist.

the way he looked at you, you'd swear he'd smiled. but just as quickly as it came, it vanished.

"does it hurt?" he asked, just when you thought he wouldn’t speak again.

"no." the answer came out before you even thought about it. he paused, his gaze flickering to your face. that look of his—like he already knew you were lying—got on your nerves. when had he suddenly gotten so good at reading you?

"yeah, kinda," you corrected yourself, looking away.

"happened a lot at the club," he commented, and you remembered him mentioning he used to work at one. you hadn’t thought club promoters had to deal with this kind of thing, but it checked out. "these kinds of injuries. you’ll be fine."

his fingers trailed along your arm as he checked the bandage, slower than before. almost absentminded. “if it doesn’t get infected and you die."

you frowned, but when you looked at him, there was a small smile on his lips. he was joking. you let out an amused chuckle, shaking your head.

he was still holding your arm, but now he moved it toward your chest, pressing it there, his hand brushing against you as he gripped your wrist.

your breath hitched for a moment while looking at him, though you weren’t sure if it was from the sudden pain of your wound being handled or something else. something unfamiliar.

"hold it like this, okay?" his voice was strangely soft as he looked into your eyes. from his position, kneeling between your thighs, he had to tilt his head up slightly, making you see him in a different light.

you nodded, suddenly shy. 

your faces weren’t that far apart—you could feel his breath mix with yours, could see the way his gaze flickered between your eyes. but what struck you most was that there was no hatred behind it. he wasn’t looking at you the way you always thought he did. he didn’t seem so full of disdain after all.

but had he ever? your memory felt hazy. the more you thought about it, the less sure you were.

and the worst part was, he could also tell. your eyes weren’t filled with hatred either. not anymore.

oh god, you must’ve lost a lot of blood to feel the way you were feeling.

"thanks," you muttered at last, smiling.

"it’s fine." he smiled too, just a little. "now stop being nice to me. it’s fucking weird."

© servndipityz 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content without my permission.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Lego

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Jessie Fleming x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: There's Lego in your practice bag

You don't know who packed your Lego in your practice bag but you're very grateful.

Morsa doesn't let you take the Lego out of the house, let alone play with it while she and Momma are busy.

Training is pretty boring today and, after shadowing Zećira for a while, you return to your spot on the side of the pitch and dig through your bag.

That's where you found your Legos - squished between your girl-swan and girl-moose. Usually, you would play with your stuffed animals but the lure of your out-of-place Legos give you pause.

They're in a loose plastic baggy after Momma threw away the actual box they came in. There's all different types of bricks that you aimlessly click into place as the Not-Wolfsburg team practice in the distance.

You reach into your bag again to grab your snack and guzzle down your juice.

You click a brown piece into place on top of a green brick.

You pick up a yellowish brick. It's almost the same colour as your goldfish crackers and you take a moment to study it.

Momma and Morsa always tell you not to stick strange things into your mouth but your Lego isn't strange and you'll only have it in your mouth for a moment - just to find out what it tastes like.

Only you don't have it in your mouth for a little while.

You have it in your mouth for a long time and, when you hurriedly suck in a breath, it doesn't come back out again.

For a moment, you're confused and then panic sets in.

Your Lego won't come out and you can't breath properly.

You try to cough it out, tears blurring your vision, but the only sound that comes out of your mouth is an odd high-pitched whistling. It scares you a lot and you grasp at your throat.

You wish you had listened to Momma and Morsa.

●～●～●～●～

Jessie's running sprints by herself, trying to get herself in the right mindset for shooting practice when she spots you.

You're lying face first in your pile of Lego (which is frankly odd because you are neither the kind of kid to nap so early in the day nor one to play with Lego unsurprised) twitching slightly.

Your little outstretched fingers are flexing ever so slightly and the rise and fall of your chest is shallow, almost like you're in some panicked state of sleep.

Usually, Jessie would leave you be - Pernille was complaining just a moment ago that you got up three times last night - but something about the way you're laying (with Lego bricks digging into your cheeks) doesn't sit right with her.

As she gets closer, she starts to move faster, suddenly aware of the wheezing sounds your little body is making and how each rise of your chest is shaky and stilted.

Jessie grasps a hold of your shoulders and rolls you over onto your back.

Your eyes are barely open, almost slumped completely closed as tears leak from them. Your lips are a horrid purple-blue colour and it doesn't take long for Jessie to work out what's wrong.

"Hey!" She yells, effectively getting the attention of everybody on the pitch," I need medics over here! Now!"

She flips you easily over again, balancing your limp little body on her forearm and your chin rests in the gap between her thumb and first finger, keeping your mouth wide open.

"Quickly!" Jessie yells over her shoulder, noticing the way that Magda and Pernille have begun to sprint over.

She delivers five harsh smacks to the spot between your shoulder blades.

The first four do nothing but the last one causes a saliva-covered Lego brick to tumble out of your mouth and onto the floor.

You suck in a ragged breath, your airway finally free from obstruction, and promptly burst into tears.

Jessie flips you upright again, settling you against her body as you sob, your shaking fingers latching tightly onto her training top.

Magda and Pernille arrive moments later with the medics, who hurriedly place an oxygen mask over your face when your lips remain a soft tinge of blue.

"Oh, princesse," Pernille cries, gently taking you from Jessie as you sob and cry," That was so scary. Was that scary?"

"What happened?" Magda looks wildly between you and Jessie, eyes wide in panic.

"Lego," Jessie replies," She was choking on one. I got it out but...She was already halfway to passing out. Sorry I didn't get there quicker."

"Shut up." Magda pulls Jessie in for a tight hug, squeezing her. "You've probably just saved her life. I can't thank you enough, Jessie. She could have died and you just saved her."

Jessie doesn't want to think about that - about the way that you could have easily died on the side of the pitch without anybody realising, starved of oxygen.

You're still crying, albeit more softly than before, when Magda pulls away, clapping Jessie on the shoulder before moving closer to you.

You're still wearing the oxygen mark but you're regaining colour in your face and your lips are slowly going back to normal.

"Hi, princesse," She says softly, stroking at your cheek," You really scared us earlier. Where'd you get all that Lego?"

"In-In my bag," You wheeze," Was in my bag. Sorry."

"In your bag?" Pernille asks," You don't have to be sorry, princesse. Now you know not to put them in your mouth."

"Scary," You croak out.

"Yeah, I'm sure it was," Magda says as another medic checks your breathing again, giving her a firm nod and removing the mask," Super, duper scary, huh?"

You nod, flexing your fingers against Pernille's top. "Scary," You repeat again. You're pointedly not looking at the baggy of Legos that Jessie is slowly packing up and slipping into your backpack.

"I know," Pernille whispers to you, resting her chin on the top of your head and holding you close," I know, princesse, but it's okay. We're gonna have a little talk with Emma and we'll go home. We're going to get all nice and cosy in our pyjamas and just relax for the rest of the day, alright?"

You nod against her as Morsa hurries off to talk to Coach Emma.

Jessie takes her place, sitting in front of you. She's holding girl-swan and girl-moose, offering them to you.

"Thank you."

She smiles at you. "No problem. I hope you feel better soon."

[xxsycamore]

FEATHER TOUCH

╰┈➤ You had a rough day, and Victor is here to make it all better... even if his techniques of making you laugh are quick to lead to other things.

Victor/f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Feather Play; Tickling; Pillow Fights; Neck Kissing; Teasing; Light Sadism; Slight knifeplay; Begging; Multiple Orgasms; Vaginal Sex; Creampie; Aftercare; Post-sex Cuddles • wordcount: 2,464 • masterlist

a/n: Credits for the idea go to @candied-boys !! Thank you!!

Visions of Temptation 2024/KINKTOBER DAY 6: Feather Play

"So, my darling Robin…Now that I've got you where I want you, all cute and vulnerable underneath me... I think it's about time we indulge in the naughty things I promised you earlier today, don't you think?"

You smile nervously at Victor, nodding in the middle of a shiver as he crawls closer to you on the queen-sized bed. You're already backed against the headboard with no room to escape - not that you're trying to, oh no. It's just that you can't help this quickening heartbeat that makes you feel like a cornered prey about to be devoured. Victor is not unlike a beast. His facade might fool you into forgetting his hunger, but this only heightens the adrenaline of being seconds away from getting under his claws.

With knees pressed to your chest, you feel the cold headboard against your naked back; the luxurious negligee Victor bought for you not caring to cover much of your skin to begin with. Victor had discarded his coat, vest, and shoes by the time he climbed at the end of the bed and started approaching you, with his three uppermost buttons undone and leaving his cleavage exposed to your gaze in his crawling position.

And now his shadow falls on your form, and you close your eyes in anticipation, ready for him to pounce on you, have his way with you, anything he wishes - but instead of his torso, what is being pushed against your chest is-

"A p-pillow?"

"We're having a pillow fight! Yaaay!"

Yay?!

The weapon entrusted to you - now that you recognize the pillow as such - has to act as a shield first, as you barely react fast enough to block an upcoming attack from your eccentric boyfriend.

Now, you might be confused, but that doesn’t mean that you'll just let him beat you at this!

You grab into the pillow you've just successfully prevented from hitting you and throw it right back at Victor. He's moving backward and rising to his feet now, as if that would make him any easier to miss, with that huge build of his. You only get more motivated, taking the risk of standing up to your full height ontop of the bed, carefully grounding yourself in the softness of the mattress while aiming for your opponent. It's nice to be higher than him for once!

"Prepare yourself, Victor!"

Dashing towards the sofa at the other end of the room, Victor sweeps all of the cushions for himself at a fast speed before hiding behind the piece of furniture. You're prepared for his upcoming attack but it still nearly knocks you off balance, so you're quick to crouch down - and grab the rest of what ammunition is left near the headboard.

Victor has a lot of pillows on his bed. It's a bed fit for a king, almost, silky and luxurious all over. Sleeping by his side here greatly improves the quality of your sleep… But that has more to do with the man himself rather than this bed.

And now that you've discovered another way of having fun in said bed, you can't help but enjoy it to the fullest. You don't even know how it got to this, with the rapid change in the mood brought by Victor's deceiving actions, but you don't mind it. It's something to be expected while with him, it's part of why you love him so much.

You get so into it, that once Victor leaves his guard wide open, you throw the pillow so hard at him it ends up bouncing off the sofa it hit instead. You're laughing, and so is Victor.

Suddenly he's ontop of you in a curious change of battle tactics, and you're squealing between laughs, and Victor repeats how he's caught you, in his usual loud tone.

And there are…feathers all around.

Since when did this game turn so rough?! You feel bad for the torn pillow but Victor hates it when you pay attention to such trivial things... so instead you just chuckle with noticeable guilt in your tone that he hurries to address.

"I told you we'd get a little naughty tonight. We made a mess!"

You can't help it, rising up one more time and doing a little spin with the torn pillow still in your embrace. Victor watches you with a joyful smile, opening his arms to welcome you when you come back down to him. The slight bounce-off when you fall down knee-first makes another squeal fall from your mouth, but it's soon muffled by Victor's kiss.

He lays you down and leans over you, blocking the chandelier light with his wide frame. Feathers dance in the air around the bed, and you're hazy with your north and south trading places again, the whole thing looking almost dream-like.

Victor taps your lips with his index finger.

"There's this smile I love to see!"

Warmth fills your chest as you realize how much you've been smiling all this time. After the stressful day you told him all about, with another gruesome mission you shared with Crown's members, Victor must have been dying to put you in a better mood.

Your chest aside, it's your cheeks that are getting hot now. Because you totally assumed he wanted to put you in a better mood by pushing you into his bed and-

"No, no, don't stop smiling now! Or I'll have to use even naughtier methods!"

What is that even supposed to-

Before you can fully identify the unfamiliar sensation at your neck, the reaction of your body is to immediately jump because of...being tickled.

"Ahahahah! Victor, what are you—"

"Cootchie-cootchie-coo! Sing for me more, my Robin!"

You look down to see him manipulating a feather between his long fingers, flickering it across your exposed skin. He moves down to your belly where the gossamer parts in two and leaves you open and vulnerable all the way down to your panties.

The tickling sensation is especially powerful there, and you try to play-protest against the merciless acts, trying to disarm him while tears gather in the corners of your eyes. As if there aren't hundreds of other feathers he can make use of, scattered all around the two of you...

"Ahaha— It's like— It's like you did one of your magic tricks and released a b-bunch of birds in here! Ahahaha!"

Victor chuckles at your joke, but it doesn't break his concentration on finding new targets for his teasing. Up your arms and grazing by your armpits, he ends up at your chest again, and more especially, at your neck.

"Nghh-!"

The feather is lifted off you for a second, and your eyes snap open, realizing that the last noise that Victor plucked out of you wasn't exactly a laugh. He doesn't remain ignorant of it either, judging by the pause in his actions.

A pause that proves to be brief, because in the very next second, he's renewing his attack.

"Ahh— Victor—that's—"

I'm sensitive here, is what you're probably trying to tell him. But of what use is that piece of information when he already seems to know?

"My dear Robin… You'll have to forgive me. Here I had my pure intentions about making that beautiful smile bloom back on your face, but now all I want is to ruin it."

The shiver that runs down your spine suddenly has little to do with the touch of the feather. You search for Victor's jelwel-like eyes, and see them darkened by something dangerous. Something you know way too well.

"To… ruin it?"

You pretend to be clueless, but the way your glistening lips part is not exactly a provocation, not yet. You're genuinely curious to know where this leads.

Victor's large hand moves up your torso - his touch much firmer than the feather's - until he finds and squeezes one of your breasts.

A small gasp leaves your lips, as he takes his time ghosting over your chest before nudging the thin strips of your negligee off your shoulders.

You get the hint and try your best to assist him in your lying position, but then you shudder at the sudden feeling of cold metal on your skin. Does he keep a dagger on his person...?

Before you have a chance to vocalize your reaction, the strips of your negligee are cut by the dagger's sharp edge; followed by the ribbon holding it together in front of your chest.

"I'll buy you another!"

The sing-song tone of his voice is unfit for the obscene act of undressing you by cutting your clothing to shreds. Still, it's those antics that remind you of what he's capable of, never to be underestimated.

Now that your breasts are bared for him, he returns to the feather, much to your dismay.

By the time he brings it in contact with your skin, you're already squirming. He lifts it off, and you still do, and he chuckles at you.

And when he brings it down on your nipple, only then do you understand about the ruining of your cheerful expression. Contrary to before, the feather's touch can't bring laugher to your lips anymore.

They only open to moan and whine. The barely-there touch of the feather still manages to stimulate your nipples into hardened peeks, but it gives little to no pleasure in its wake. Your feet kick at the sheets, at each side of Victor, as he'd settled himself right in between your legs, your panties already discarded with another slash of the dagger.

"Vic—…tor…!

The man above you simply circles and follows the forms of your breasts using the feather, alternatively stroking your pebbled nubs until you throw your head back from frustration.

"Is something the matter, my darling?"

"I want more! Please!!"

"Oh?" Victor exclaims, propping himself up on one arm as the other keeps maneuvering the feather over your heated skin. "You want more of this?"

Your brain screams no, knowing that Victor perfectly well understood what is it that you want more of, with it certainly not being the feather, but nothing comes out of you besides another needy whimper.

"Look down at what I'm doing to you. It's reaaaaly erotic."

Biting onto your bottom lip, you raise your head a tad, focusing your eyes on the same thing Victor is looking at; the tip of the feather slowly makes it down across your stomach again, and then further down, until reaching your pubic mound.

Bracing yourself is futile, as the unfamiliar sensation hits your bundle of nerves at once and makes your whole body squirm again. Victor seems to be enjoying himself. He flicks the tip of the feather on your overly sensitive clit, all swollen and beginning for a firmer touch, and coos at your reactions.

"Aww, my poor Robin! Is that too much already? How am I supposed to play with you when you're begging me to give you everything I've got?"

Arching your chest for Victor's eyes, you can do little more than beg, hearing that the sweet reward for letting yourself be played with is in sight. You need him now.

"Victor, please- Please make love to me— touch me, fuck me, do something! I can't take it anymore!"

The borderline sadistic Queen's Aide smiles sweetly at you. No, you don't want to call him sadistic, not when he's fully capable of sending you straight to the heavens with his touch, to spoil you for hours on. Images of him nestled between your legs serve as tantalizing reminders of his thorough ministrations to pleasure you. But even in those moments, there's a pinprick of relentless teasing that has no other name but pure, addictive sadism…

In a flash, the feather is discarded and completely away from your sight. Victor's hands replace it; a generous payback as they map out and cover every inch of skin it touched. But they're oh-so-much broader, firmer, hotter, everything that the feather failed to provide. So much that your breath quickly grows erratic, and your body stirs again.

Victor domineers over your senses, touching you fully now, just as you wanted.

The shuffle of clothes coming undone is barely audible through the suckling noises of Victor's mouth at your neck, but they give you a rush of excitement that has you tugging at his shirt to get it off of him even faster.

In the next moment, the blunt head of his sizeable hardness nestles between your folds, pressing and rubbing against your clit, and you feel yourself teetering at the edge.

Victor notices this, chuckling and giving you a quick kiss before he resumes the action, this time with purpose. He rubs he head of his cock into your clit, never quite sliding lower, never close to slipping in, until you're left coming undone at the stimulation.

"Ahhh—!! Nghhh- No— I need you inside-!"

Despite your protests, you ride out a very satisfying orgasm that finishes with Victor's tongue prodding at your lips again. You let him in and share a long-drawn kiss with him.

"Who said you won't have me?"

You barely have time to gaze back into those shimmering eyes as Victor thrusts into your seeping wetness, slowly but steadily bottoming out inside you.

"Nghhh!!"

With the preceding teasing, everything that led to this, it makes the feeling downright euphoric. You find it hard to care about the volume of your moans anymore - and Victor has done a meticulous job making you give up on that habit of yours, a long time ago.

It's not long before you sense the pace of his hips getting out of rhythm, and you only sink your nails harder onto his glorious back muscles, daring him to fill you up right now.

And he does; in a single deep thrust that makes you feel him in your guts, warmth explodes deep into your pelvis, wave after wave, as he fulls you up with his virile seed.

Minutes past by as you lazily answer his kisses, getting lost in the chaste touches of your still intertwined limbs. Soon he changes position to spoon you instead, pressing his long limbs against the back of yours cozily.

"Post-sex cuddles time!! Yaay! Oh…I guess all the pillows are on the floor…"

You chuckle at Victor. Then you full-on laugh at him, no feathers being at fault.

"Here. I have an idea."

A simple solution comes to mind, and you maneuver his arm until his bicep is right under your head, allowing you to nestle onto his arm.

"I'll let you use my own body as a pillow later… If I don't fall asleep by then, that's it."

"Ahaha! I tired you off a lot, dear Robin, so that would only be fair!"

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[m2ok]

Golden Salvation Pt.2

pt. 1 Pt.2

cowboy!Ghost x m! reader

A/N: There will be one more part to this just to wrap everything up :)

Your pulse thundered in your ears as the stranger loomed closer, hand gripping lethal iron at his hip. Fight or flight instincts kicked into overdrive - this was no ordinary burglary; you could see it etched in every predatory line of his body.  

This man had come for blood, your blood.  

Slowly, you raised your hands in a gesture of peace even as your mind raced. One wrong move and you’d be pushing up daisies come morn. These were the dark shadows Simon lived in, the enemies he’d made through his notorious work. And now they were coming for him...through you.  

.“Don’t want no trouble, mister,” you said, keeping your tone calm and even like you didn't know why this man was here. As if there could be any other reason for someone to break into a home as dingy as your own. “Just a simple bartender is all – barely got a dollar to my name”  

This snake didn't need to know how deep your bond with Simon went, especially since hiding your relationship was the only way you could see to get out of this situation.  

The man cackled at your words, rolling his eyes as the smile dropped and he stalked closer to the bed, aiming the gun at you as he cocked it back with a sickening crack.  

“ Mhm... as if you weren't all nice and cozied up to him not mere hours ago – ya really think im gonna believe you?” He gave you a mocking grin 

 “No no im not stupid sweetheart. Im not here to collect any of his debts from you – I care more about the eight men o’ mine your Ghostie killed. Those boys were my family, he didnt think twice about that though when he shot em’ dead where they stood. Figure I should make him feel the same hurt I do, hm?”  

“You won’t hurt him none-” You tried to reason “His heart don't belong to me, he won’t spare a second glance past this cabin. Hell, He's probably halfway across the desert by now” Your voice was shaky as you spoke, lies seeping through your lips at the risk of your life. You knew what you meant to Simon, no one else was able to get into his space as you did- at least not if they wanted to walk away with their life.  

The man's smirk dropped, new anger burning in his eyes as the grip on his gun tightened, “I saw the way that mongrel looked at you, you’re his boy and that's clearer than any mountain river” he scoffed, finger moving from the side of the gun to rest on the trigger.  

You closed your eyes, praying in your head, but not to any god. No, your prayers were aiming for Simon's rescue, praying that he would somehow know you were in trouble and come rescue you from it. 

Simon sat astride his horse on a dusty ridge, watching the moon rise silver over the desert wastes. A half-smoked cigarette dangled idly from his lips; he’d been nursing the same thoughts over and over since dusk fell heavy as a shroud across the badlands.  

 Thoughts of you.  

Somewhere deep in his gut, an uneasy feeling roiled. Like an invisible string tugging at his soul, trying to tug him back the way he came. Simon growled low in his throat, frustrated with his own foolish longings. You’d made your stance clear – this life wasn’t for you, not truly. And he had no right to ask you to join him.  

And yet... 

A crack suddenly split the still night air. So faint and far that any lesser man may have missed it entirely, but not Simon.  

In an instant he was vaulting onto his horse’s back, boots pounding twin paths in the dirt as they flew towards the distant lights of your little town. Another shot rang out, louder now, and Simon’s blood turned to ice in his veins.  

He knew that sound – deep in his bones he knew something was horribly wrong.  

Choking the reins in a near stranglehold, Simon rode as if all the demons of hell were nipping at his horse’s hooves. Towards you. Towards salvation or damnation, he did not know. But by God, no son of a bitch was gonna harm one hair on your head if he could still help it.  

Help was coming- you just had to hold on.  

The man fired the gun, a sharp sting hitting your side before it blossomed into agonizing pain. You let out a pained cry, one hand instinctively going to land on your wound while the other covered your mouth to muffle your sobs. Your hand was soon coated in dark crimson, entire body shaking with adrenaline as the man cocked the gun once more.  

“Was gonna just end you, but I figured I should make this painful the same way he did. Should fill you with so many bullets he won’t be able to recognize you” he hissed, aiming the gun at your other side.  

Simon was little more than a blur of dust and primal fury as he crashed through the remains of your splintered front door. For a split second, time seemed to freeze – taking in the scene with a single, piercing gaze.  

You,curled onto the bed clutching a bloody wound. And him. That snake. Gun pressed sickeningly against your body as he spewed his venomous threats. With an almost guttural roar, Simon’s Colt leapt into his hand like it was part of his very being. Two blooming shots rang as one; his aim was true as bible scripture.  

The intruder pitched backwards, scarlets blossoms exploding from where his eyes once were. He was dead before he hit the floor.  

But Simon saw none of it. Already he was at your side, tatty serape ripped and pressed desperately against your weeping injury. Brown eyes wild and scared met your own, and for a moment the steely outlaw facade slipped entirely.  

“Darlin’...” he choked, voice thick. “Talk to me, baby. Stay with me now, ya hear?” Working frantically to stem the flood, Simon tangled scarred fingers gently through your hair, anchoring you to this world with his touch alone. 

“That’s it…keep breathin’, just keep breathin’” His voice dissolved into ragged prayers mere ghosts could hear. Help was still minutes away - but for now, you had Ghost. And he’d be damned before he let the reaper take you from him. 

You were sobbing, your brain mangled with confusion and fear as the adrenaline ran out and the full pain of the bullet lodged in your abdomen had you reeling, 

Red painted everything around you, hands, clothes, and sheets underneath you drenched in it. 

“Simon-” you rasped, breathing labored as you looked around with wide eyes at the gruesome scene in front of you. It was too much, you could feel your head going light- brain fuzzy and ears ringing as you fought not to close your eyes. 

“It hurts” you choked, trying to shove his hand away from where he was pressing down on the wound to stop the torrent of blood flowing out. “Simon I cant-” you said, throat raw from the sobs that came out. 

You wanted so badly to stay with him, to be able to wake up tomorrow with him, but you didn’t know if you’d get that with the way you felt your strength leave your body.

“It hurts- it hurts” You were almost begging, for what you didn’t know. You just wanted the pain to go away. 

You were terrified- not ready to die yet, and especially not like this, not when you had so much left to do. The thought alone sent a new set of tears streaming down your face, hand shaking- clutching the bleeding wound on top of Simon’s own to try and ebb the pain that burrowed deep in your skin. 

Simon felt his world crumbling as your agonized crimes tore through him, sharper than any bullet ever could. Seeing you in such anguish ripped open a fissure in his battered heart, letting the demons of his deepest guilt and self-loathing spill forth in a torrent. 

“I know, baby, I know it hurts…” he choked, pressing you close as if trying in vain to absorb your pain into himself. His own broad shoulders shook with ghosts of rage and grief, tears cutting rivulets through the dirt caked on his cheeks. 

Goddamn it all, he should’ve been here. Should have followed his instincts and never left your side. Now it may be too late to hope for forgiveness, your blood staining his hands a brand of failure he could never outrun. 

“Please, darlin’, please hold on…’ Simon begged, voice breaking as he spoke. His bandana was wrung out and useless now - in desperation he moved to cradle you fully, applying trembling pressure with his bare hands and what remained of his coat. 

Distantly he heard the clatter of the approaching horses, but paid them no heed. You were fading, slipping away before his eyes, and all the strength and guns in the world couldn’t stop it. 

“Don’t ye leave me now…I can’t do this world without ya…” A broken whisper, barely audible above the thunder in his ears. Simon pressed his forehead to yours, sharing the same ragged breaths, two souls more tangled than any root or vine. Hanging on a blade’s edge against the dark. 

You stared up into Simon's eyes, eyebrows cinched in pain and eyes soaked with fear. 

“I don’t wanna die, Simon” you whispered, voice shaky as you clung to him - like he alone could save you from this fate. 

You could feel your heartbeat slowing, breathing ragged as you gasped for air that just wouldn’t enter your lungs….

Soon enough the doctor burst into the room, medical kit in hand as he came barreling over to you. He very carefully took you out of Simon’s arm with some convincing, to lay you back on the bed before he opened up his kit. 

He handed you a flask filled with whiskey “You’re gonna want to drink this - it’ll help ease the pain” He said. 

With shaky hands you drank the bottle, a scream ripping from your lungs as the man began to carefully dig into the wound, grabbing hold of the bullet with sterile tweezers before carefully pulling it free. 

With practiced care he cleaned the wound, a harsh whimper leaving your lips at the sting of pain before the wound was stitched up and bandaged. 

You were shaking, sobbing so hard your throat was raw and your lungs burned - the pain was unbearable and a large part of you wished you could just die to get away from it. 

The doctor had you drink another flask, the alcohol numbing the pain receptors in your brain just enough to allow you to fall into a light sleep. 

Simon sat vigil at your bedside through what felt like hours, not letting go of your limp hand once. Your cries of pain echoing loud and endlessly in his mind, driving spikes of pure anguish deep into his soul.

He watched in heavy silence as the doctor worked, breath caught tight in his chest, hardly daring to hope. But then - your ragged breaths evened out, color returning sluggishly to waxen cheeks. Alive. You were alive. 

It was nearly two hours later when the man was done, wiping his hands on a rag as he stood up on shaky legs. 

“He’s stable” The doctor said simply

Choking back sobs of relief, Simon buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of gratitude-laced kisses amongst salty tears. “That’s it, darlin’...you fight. Got too much left to do in this world.” he’d whisper to you, voice so soft only you could hear

 “Most important thing now is cleaning that wound twice a day lest it get infected. If it does…” The doctor ordered, his words trialing off though his intentions were clear. He put down a set of bandages and cleaning solution on the nightstand for Simon’s use. 

“It’ll take a long time to heal, I reckon” The doctor said “but my work is done here, y’all know where to reach me should he take a turn for the worst” He said, tilting his hat to Simon before he gathered his tools and headed out of the shabby cabin. 

Simon took the doctor's words as gospel, nodding along to every word before the man left. He spent the next few hours cleaning up the mess that was now your little home. He dragged the body out back to deal with fully in the morning, cleaned your sheets and changed you into new clothes, boarded up the broken window, and finished by fixing the door that he had come barging through. 

His own hands were gentle as churches doing their appointed duty, cleansing and dressing the angry wound each time without fail. Whatever it took to coax your stubborn spirit back to the land of the living. 

Days bled into each other without notice. All that mattered to him now was you. And slowly, so slowly - full color seeped back, fever broke its hold. Eyes fluttered open to meet his own once more, full of pain but oh-so-blessedly alive. 

“Hey there, sunshine…” Simon whispered hoarsely, like a parched man dying of thirst at an oasis. Finally, finally, he allowed himself the ghost of a weary smile. 

You were going to be alright. And by God, he’d spend his last days making sure of it. 

You slowly sat up, a soft whine leaving your lips with the movements as you aggravated the still raw wound. “Simon” you mumbled as you held his hand, reaching over to take a swig of the whiskey on the nightstand to ease the searing pain. 

You rested your head back against the pillows with a soft sigh. It had been a few days now, and the pain was still a dull yet constant ache in your side. 

You took the sight around you in, everything was clean and neat including your bedding and clothes. Even the floor had been mopped, the only reminders of your near death being the hole in your side. 

“Simon you did all this?” You asked simply, eyes wide as you gazed up at him. 

Simon huffed a soft, weary laugh at your question, gently squeezing your hand just to make sure you were really here and he wasn’t hallucinating. 

“Course I did, darlin’. Weren’t about to let ya recover in filth,” He replied gruffly. Truth be told, tending to your every need had been the other thing keeping his demons at bay these long days and nights. 

Keeping busy spared him time to think - and thinking led down paths too bleak to tread. Like how terrifyingly close he’d come to losing you forever.

Holding your gaze with quiet intent, Simon softly brushed calloused knuckles along your cheek “Reckon it’s about time i started pullin’ my weight ‘round here proper. Ain’t no safe place for ya out here alone” A question lingered in the subtle quirk of his brow, the hopeful yet wary gleam in tired eyes. After all that had passed between you both, was there still room for him at your side? A Ghost finally ready to lay his soul to rest, if you’d have him. 

You could only hum softly at his words, sleep still filled in your bones. You didn’t answer him, instead you patted the empty side of the bed “Come sleep next to me, Si. You need the sleep” You said, your words a silent confirmation that you still wanted him. 

Simon gave a soft grunt of approval, too weary in body and soul to do anything but obey your gentle prompting. Careful not to jostle your healing injury, he stretched his long limbs out beside you with a satisfied sigh. 

It felt strange but right, sharing your space in such an intimate way after so long living apart. Like the final piece of a puzzle slipped neatly into place. 

Turning his head, Simon watched you watch him through half-lidded eyes, drinking in every beloved feature as if to confirm this wasn’t some whiskey-fueled dream. Reaching out, he lightly touched the graceful curve of your cheek before letting his hand come to rest against the steady rise and fall of your chest. 

“Sweetest sound there is,” he murmured, voice sleep-roughed and thick with meaning. A tousled head tucked itself beneath your chin with a contented sigh, tension seeping from tense muscles. 

Come what may with the light of dawn, for now all was peaceful. You were alive, you were safe. And against all odds, Simon had finally come home to roost. 

You held him close in your arms, gentle fingers carding through thick hair as you let his head rest against your now steady heartbeat. He needed the comfort, you could tell, and you were more than happy to give it to him. 

“Rest now, Si. I'm not going anywhere. Can’t get rid of me that easy” You assured, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

It was a funny thing, holding such a toughened man in your arms, keeping him close and coddled despite the almost laughable size difference. 

SImon made a low sound of gratitude at your soft reassurance, melting bonelessly into your gentle embrace. Your gentle fingers winding through his hair brought forth a wave of lethargy he’d fought to stave off this long week past. But no more - here in your arms, he was finally allowed to let his guard down. 

It still struck him sometimes how two souls so disparate could fit together so seamlessly. But you’d always had a way of easing even his most ragged edges, soothing demons he thought long beyond taming. Lithe as you were in your current state, your strength ran deeper than any show of force ever could - and he found solace there like nowhere else. 

“Missed this…” he mumbled, so soft it was barely audible even in the stillness enclosing your little world. One arm curled protectively around your middle, thumb brushing idle patterns against the slowly healing wound beneath the bandages. 

A prayer of thanks on parched lips, Simon let weary eyes slide shut. Sleep rose like a gentle tide, carrying him off to oblivion sheltered in the piece of heaven he’d begun to call home. You’d brought him back from the brink of darkness once more, anchor in the storm. And for that, he was eternally grateful.