#so any bit of wind makes it make slamming sounds even when it's closed

[daz4i]

man i can't wait to move out so i can. like. sleep

[astrxq]

Girlie, the fact that your stories aren’t famous yet is CRIMINAL

Ugh I just read your Cregan x northern!reader, my heart cracked, literally shattered, that shit made me feel things I didn’t even know a person could feel. My view on writing has forever changed, in the best way possible 💜💜

Could you maybe do a somewhat silly one, or just a fluffy one? I was in a buss crash a while ago, and I couldn’t really move my shoulder for a few days (don’t worry I’m fine now :>) and it kinda got me thinking, how would Cregan react to reader falling off their dragon (at a somewhat low altitude) but still like being kinda injured? Not that bad tho just a good ol’ bonk

oops… i took a bit to write this but! thank you soooo much anon <33 husband!cregan would feel so sick at the thought of you hurt but i also feel like he’d try to lecture you

You hadn't meant to fall.

The wind had been particularly strong that day, whipping across the volcanic plains of Dragonstone with an unusual ferocity. Your dragon, a magnificent beast of deep emerald scales, had been fighting against the currents all morning. Despite your years of experience riding, sometimes nature had other plans.

It happened in a heartbeat. A sudden gust caught your dragon's wing at precisely the wrong angle, and for a split second, the world tilted. Your fingers, that had been wrapped tightly around the saddle's leather straps, slipped.

The fall wasn't particularly high – perhaps thirty feet at most – but time seemed to stretch endlessly as you plummeted. You had just enough presence of mind to try to position yourself for the impact, as years of training had taught you.

The landing was still brutal.

Pain exploded through your right side as you hit the ground and rolled, your momentum carrying you across the rough terrain. When you finally came to a stop, every breath sent sharp daggers through your ribs. Your dragon's distressed roar echoed overhead, but it was another sound that caught your attention – the thundering of hooves approaching at a breakneck pace.

The world was in and out of focus as gentle hands lifted you onto a horse. Voices buzzed around you like angry bees, but you couldn't make out the words through the ringing in your ears. The journey to the castle passed in a blur of grey stone and concerned faces.

The maesters' chamber was warm and dimly lit when they brought you in. You drifted in and out of consciousness as they examined your injuries, their chains clinking softly as they moved around you. The pain in your ribs had settled into a dull throb, thanks to the milk of the poppy they'd given you upon arrival.

It could have been minutes or hours later when the heavy wooden door burst open with such force that it slammed against the stone wall. The sudden noise made you wince, but you'd know those footsteps anywhere – quick, purposeful, yet slightly uneven from an old injury. Cregan.

"Where is she?" His voice was rough with barely contained emotion. "Seven hells, why wasn't I informed immediately?"

"My lord," one of the maesters began, "we needed to assess–"

"Out," Cregan commanded, though his voice had dropped to a dangerous whisper. "All of you. Out."

The maesters filed out quietly, and for a moment, there was only silence. You kept your eyes closed, knowing what was coming – the lecture about being more careful, about taking unnecessary risks. But it didn't come.

Instead, you felt the gentlest touch on your cheek, so light it might have been your imagination. Then Cregan's breath hitched, a sound so soft and vulnerable it made your heart ache.

"You impossible woman," he whispered, and his voice shook ever so slightly. "Do you have any idea what it did to me, hearing you'd fallen? Seeing your dragon circling without you?"

You opened your eyes then, finding his face just inches from yours. The mighty Lord of Winterfell, the Wolf of the North, looked utterly wrecked. His dark hair was windswept, as if he'd run all the way from wherever he'd been when he got the news. There were lines of worry etched around his eyes that you'd never seen before.

"Well," you managed a weak smile, trying to lighten the mood, "at least I landed somewhat gracefully."

His expression didn't change, remaining serious and intense. You'd seen this look before – in council meetings, during war discussions – but never directed at you with such raw emotion. Just as you were about to apologize again, the corners of his mouth twitched, and slowly, like dawn breaking over the winter landscape, a smile spread across his face.

You shifted, trying to move over in the bed, but the sheets seemed determined to trap you. Your fingers fumbled with the thick blankets, each movement sending little sparks of pain through your bruised body.

Cregan was at your side in an instant. "What are you doing?" he asked, his hands hovering over you uncertainly.

"Make room for you," you murmured, still struggling with the stubborn bedding. "Help me?"

His expression softened impossibly further. Without a word, he gently untangled the sheets, his movements careful and deliberate. You watched as he shrugged off his heavy coat, the fur-lined garment falling to the floor with a soft thud. He bent to remove his boots, and you couldn't help but notice how his hands shook slightly – the only outward sign of how shaken he still was.

When he finally slid into bed beside you, it was with the utmost care, as if you were made of the finest Myrish glass. He settled on his side, propped up on one elbow, his other hand finding yours atop the blankets. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

You couldn't quite suppress the small whimper that escaped your lips. "Bruise," you explained at his alarmed look, "I think I'm collecting quite a few of them."

"Tell me where it doesn't hurt," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that you could feel in your chest. His free hand hovered over you, waiting for direction.

You considered for a moment, taking stock of your battered body. "My left pinky," you said with a hint of mischief, "seems to have escaped unscathed."

Cregan's laugh was quiet but genuine, warm breath ghosting across your skin. He lifted your left hand with exaggerated care and pressed a feather-light kiss to your smallest finger. "Anywhere else?"

"Mmm," you hummed thoughtfully, "the tip of my nose?"

He obliged, brushing his lips over the bridge of your nose with such tenderness that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. When he pulled back, his grey eyes were soft with an emotion that made your heart flutter.

"I should be cross with you," he murmured, his fingers trailing carefully along your jawline, avoiding the visible bruises. "I had plans today, you know. Important meetings with the bannermen about winter preparations."

"And instead you're playing nursemaid to your reckless wife," you finished for him, trying to shift into a more comfortable position. A sharp intake of breath betrayed your discomfort, and immediately his hand was at your back, supporting you.

"Easy," he whispered, helping you settle.

His eyes searched your face for a moment before his lips quirked up in a small smile. "And what of your lips?" he asked softly. "Are they among the casualties?"

"A little sore," you admitted, but even as you said it, you were already tilting your chin up slightly, an invitation in the gesture. "Though I might be willing to risk it."

"Careful now," he murmured, even as he began to lean down. "I won't have you adding to your injuries."

You puckered up in response.

He smiled against your mouth before capturing your lips in the gentlest of kisses. It was barely more than a whisper of contact, but it held all the words he couldn't say – his fear, his relief, his love. His hand cradled the back of your head, fingers threading carefully through your hair, mindful of any hidden bumps or bruises.

When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with emotion. You could see the struggle in them – the desire to pull you closer warring with his fear of causing you pain. Always so careful with you, your warrior lord, even when his own heart was racing with need.

"I should let you rest," he said, though he made no move to leave.

"Stay," you whispered, your fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. "Please. I'll rest better with you here."

He studied your face for a long moment before nodding. "As my lady commands," he said softly, settling back beside you. "Though you must promise to tell me if anything hurts."

"I promise," you murmured, already feeling the pull of sleep. The milk of the poppy was making your thoughts fuzzy around the edges, but you fought against it for a moment longer. "Cregan?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you," you managed through a yawn. "Even if I did ruin your important meetings."

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. "The bannermen can wait," he said, pressing another kiss to your temple, careful to avoid the bruise this time. "You, my love, cannot. Now sleep. I'll be here when you wake."

As you drifted off, you felt him draw the blankets up higher around your shoulders. Your fingers remained fisted in his tunic, the fabric warm and solid beneath your touch. He didn’t try to pry them away, letting you hold onto him as though he was your lifeline – which, in many ways, he was. His thumb traced slow, soothing circles along your arm, the touch so gentle it was like a balm against the dull ache spreading through your body.

You were dimly aware of his other hand moving to stroke your hair, the callouses on his fingers surprisingly soft as they combed through the tangled strands. He whispered to you, voice low and steady, his words a mixture of reassurances and murmured promises that blurred together into a comforting hum.

“I think you just wanted an excuse to see if I’d come running.” he joked. His fingers traced the curve of your arm, each touch deliberate yet playful.

Your lips twitched into a faint smile, though your eyes stayed closed. “Mmm… not quite,” you murmured, your voice heavy with exhaustion but still carrying a trace of amusement.

You huffed a soft laugh, your fingers tightening in his tunic as if to refute him without words.

“I knew it,” he continued, his grin evident even in his voice. “All that trouble just so I’d come galloping in like some lovesick fool. You do realize, don’t you, that I would’ve come without you risking life and limb?”

His fingers moved to gently brush the hair from your face, and you could feel the tenderness in his touch despite the mock seriousness of his words.

“You’re insufferable,” you whispered, though the faint smile tugging at your lips betrayed the warmth blooming in your chest.

Cregan chuckled softly at your words, the sound low and warm, like a hearth fire in the dead of winter. His arm tightened around you, drawing you closer as though to prove a point – or perhaps to reassure himself that you were truly here, alive and safe. His lips found your temple, pressing one, two, three soft kisses there, each one slower and more deliberate than the last.

“You’ll be the death of me, woman,” he murmured against your skin, though his voice was laced with fondness. “But I think I’d welcome it.”

Your fingers loosened slightly in his tunic as the exhaustion finally overtook you. He felt the exact moment your breathing evened out, the tension melting from your body as sleep claimed you. Yet, even then, he didn’t let go.

Cregan stayed exactly as he was, holding you as though the act itself could shield you from harm. His fingers resumed their gentle tracing along your arm, and he pressed one last kiss to your hairline, his breath stirring the strands.

[leaentries]

Red | jack hughes

backstory - next

summary: when jack meets a bombshell of a girl, his life is bound to change.

warnings: swearing, lil bit of arrogant jack

wc: 2k+

a/n: welcome to my new series! this will follow jack and red as they navigate through the ins and outs of new love. if you have any requests or thoughts regarding jack and red, please send them in!

His world was flipped the second he met her. His Red.

Live chattering filled the dimly lit bar, as a certain chill settled in the cracks of the wooden walls. Winter did not come to play this time of year. The howling wind could still be heard over the loud voices in the room. With every creak of the front door, more frigid air rushed in, gripping whoever was near. 

Bright noses and ears scattered about the patrons, who eagerly down their alcohol in an attempt to warm up the frosted bones beneath. The old dinky clock on the back wall lamely rang as the time hit the hour. It was officially the next day, yet Jack and his team still swarmed the back left corner of the room. 

Joy was very evident to whoever gazed upon the mass of hockey players, or anyone who paid any attention to the TVs in the room. The New Jersey Devils had just won their best game thus far, winning by a complete shutout against their rivals. To say they were pumped would be an understatement. 

Strong bodies and their accompanied ladies made their way to the dance floor, leaving behind the select bachelors of the bunch. Although adrenaline still coursed through his veins and he was still riding the high of winning, Jack couldn’t help but watch as his teammates celebrated with their partners. 

The lowly sound of Nico and Dawson’s conversation echoed in and out of Jack’s ears. Now, Jack knew, regardless of how shallow it seemed, that he could easily have his choice of bunny to dance with. Truth be told, he had begun to grow tired of hooking up with random girls every weekend. 

Jack craved something deeper. He craved something real. So, there he sat, in the back booth with a beer in his hand, secretly wishing he had his own girl by his side. 

❥.

Another hour or so had passed, the clock now reading 1:15 a.m., yet the team seemed to have every intention of shutting the place down. Another round of shots was brought to the table, courtesy of Erik, causing a new rise of cheers to be heard. Jack jumped slightly, as Dawson shoved a small glass of brown liquid into his hand. 

“C’mon, man! What’s up with you?” Dawson questioned as he noticed Jack staring into the glass. Jack was quick to plaster a small, but convincing smile on his face. 

“Nothing. I’m all good, just a bit tired after the game, that’s all.” Dawson looked skeptical and opened his mouth to say something, but was quickly cut off as Jack swiftly drank the potent liquid. 

“Atta boy, JackJack!” Dawson’s attention moved away from Jack as Luke showed him something on his phone. 

A deep sigh left Jack’s throat, easing the burning sensation. His eyes traveled around the bar, this time noting that they seemed to be the last ones left. He wanted to go home, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave as he saw how happy his team looked. 

Jack excused himself from the table, opting to go recoup in the bathroom for a few peaceful moments. Making his way towards the other side of the bar proved to be more difficult when he had drunk hockey players flinging themselves as he passed. Jack continued his way through, ignoring all of the concerned looks he got as he pushed his friends off.

He picked up his pace, practically slamming the bathroom door closed once he was inside. He let his hands rest on the sink as he attempted to even out his breathing. Jack wasn’t even completely sure why he was freaking out in the first place. It’s not like he has to be single, he has lines of women at his beck and call. 

But, there is something different about the emptiness in his chest that he just can’t seem to shake tonight. Jack turned on the faucet, gently patting his face with some cool water to help dissipate the redness covering his cheeks and neck. 

He reached over to grab a paper towel when the door slammed open. Jack turned around abruptly, clearly startled by the sudden intrusion. But what caught him off guard the most was, not the interruption, but the fact that it was a girl. In the men's bathroom. 

“Excuse me?” Jack exclaimed, visibly irritated by the girl. The girl's eyes widened, before stepping back to look at the sign on the door.

“Oh shit!” She met Jack’s eyes with an awkward laugh, “Apparently this isn’t the women's bathroom.” 

Jack rolled his eyes, “Great observation there, genius.” 

The girl raised her eyebrows in surprise at his snappy tone. She understood her mistake, but that did not give him a reason to be rude. Before saying anything, she took into account who he was. Not that it mattered, but she did not want to start beef with Jack Hughes. 

She remained silent, her lack of response egging Jack on. 

“Look, I get it. You’re a fan, but I’m trying to have some privacy. The least you could do is respect that. You didn’t have to barge into the bathroom just to see me.” 

Oh hell no. 

It occurred in that moment, that she no longer cared who he was. The arrogance melted in waves off of him and she needed to snuff that out real fast.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you’re talking to, but it sure ain’t me.”

Jack was taken aback by her rebuttal, not failing to note the southern twang in her voice. He then realized how insanely attractive the fuming girl was. Her flaming ginger hair fell in waves down her back, which provided a stark contrast to her bright green eyes. They were big and round, yet held so much fire. Her nose was small, yet curved up slightly, creating a slope. Jack found himself wanting to trace his fingers down it. 

He was snapped back into reality as her vibrant red lips opened once more. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I know who you are, Jack Hughes,” She mimicked, “But If I wanted to see your dick that bad, I’d have no problem getting you in my bed.” 

Jack scoffed, “Oh is that so?”

She took a few steps forward.

“It’s no secret you get around Jack,” She brought her hands around his shoulders, “Your dick is more famous than you at this point.” 

Jack would be lying if he denied the jolt that his cock made at her comment.

“You know, Red, you shouldn’t talk about my dick if you don’t plan on giving it attention.” Jack wasn’t sure what changed his mood, possibly the most sexy woman he had ever seen talking about his cock. Maybe a hookup wouldn’t be the worst thing to come of the night.

A wicked grin found its way to her full lips as she brought them to his right ear. Her body pressed against his deliciously. With a low whisper, she replied, “Like hell.” 

She pulled away quickly stepping back. Jack frowned at the loss of her warm body. His eyes gleamed longingly at the door as she made her way out without a second glance at him. 

Jack was left by himself once more, this time with a painful hard-on and thoughts of his mystery girl. 

❥.

Once he calmed himself down, Jack left the bathroom and began to make his way back to his team. He was about halfway through the building when a streak of red hair caught the corner of his eye. He turned to see her sitting at a bartop, engrossed in her laptop that sat in front of her. 

Jack acted on a whim and decided he wanted, no needed, to figure this girl out. He walked up to the bartop, sliding into the seat beside her. 

She didn’t even bother to look up, “Look Bubba, go find somewhere else to sit. I am very clearly busy.” She barked. Jack chuckled at her response. 

“Wow, Red, you’re very feisty this evening.” The girl snapped her head up, meeting Jack’s icy blue ones. She let out a huff, shaking her head slightly. 

“What? You decided to grace the common folk with your godly presence, Jacky?” She gave him a pointed look before continuing, “Also, don’t call me Red. I have a name, you know.”

“You haven’t given it.”

“You haven’t asked.”

Jack smiled. The way she manages to challenge everything he says is addicting and he wants more.

“Alright then, what’s your name?” Jack questioned, quirking his head to the side. Boy, was he more than happy to play her game. 

“Y/n.” 

“Nah, I still prefer Red.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes, opting to turn her focus back to her computer. Jack’s eyebrows furrowed at the lack of attention she gave. 

“Am I not entertaining enough for you, Red?” 

She looked back up from her project, turning to him. “Look, Jacky, I already told you in the bathroom, I’m not looking to hook up with you. Nor do I want to,” She sucked in a breath, “Now if you don’t mind, I’m trying to focus on my article.”

Jack did not like the idea of giving up, so he let his curiosity get the better of him. He turned her laptop towards him, provoking protest from the red-haired girl. He was taken by surprise at the title:

A backtrack on the Devil's season: Did Jack Hughes save the team?

Jack couldn’t help but smirk, his ego rising a few notches. 

“Writing articles about me, huh? I gotta be honest with ya, Red. With the way you’ve been arguing all night, I never would have guessed you were my biggest fan.”

Y/n scoffed, a bewildered look on her face. “Ha! That’s rich.” She tugged her laptop back, “I was given this assignment, I would never write about you willingly. You’re a good player Jacky, but some of your other teammates deserve the hype too. All the major networks are too busy fawning over you, that they miss what contributions are being made by the other players. Last time I checked, it’s not just Jack Hughes on the ice.” 

Even though she was complaining about him, he couldn’t help but cling to her every word. It was captivating, how passionate she got. Especially over something that Jack’s life revolved around. 

She continued, but was cut off by Jack, “I agree with you.” 

Y/n cocked her head, “You…agree with me?” Baffled would be an understatement. She assumed Jack would be flying, boasting about being the number one topic in the NHL right now. 

“Yes, I agree. My team is just as important, we wouldn’t be winning with just me. It’s a team effort and I think more people should be writing about that. Everyone on that ice is crucial to the game, so I appreciate you seeing that.”

Everything he said was true. He truly did believe that he would be nowhere without his team, they were his family. Y/n could see the tenderness in his eyes. Against her better wishes, she found it attractive how he cared for his team.

She shook away those thoughts, “Anyways, Jacky, I am super busy finishing this article, so…” She trailed off, hoping he would get the subtle hint. She would never let on that she was enjoying their conversation. 

Jack wasn’t blind to her attempts to get him to leave but refused to go without assuring him he’d see her again. 

“I could help you,” He offered. She gave him a questioning look.

“I mean, you seem to be struggling to come up with what to write about me. So, I can help you. You can ask me any questions you want…” 

She raised an eyebrow, sensing his wanting tone, “What’s the catch?” 

“Go on a date with me.” 

She almost immediately said no, but considered what this article could do for her career. Everyone in her network wanted to write about Jack Hughes, yet somehow she was the one who managed to get stuck with the assignment. Was she willing to put up with an entire date just for the chance to get new intel no one else had? 

Y/n had hoped not, but alas, she knew what she needed to do. 

“Fine,” Jack’s eyes lit up at her compliance, “Only one date, after that we split and never talk again.”

“You got it, Red.”

[em-ontv]

One for the Other

Pairing: James Potter x fem!Gryffindor!reader

Summary: a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, the golden snitch within James’s reach, but he had to let it go…

Warnings: brief mentions of injuries, some uses of offensive language?, uses of y/n.

Author’s note: sooo I searched it up bc I was confused on James’s position in Quidditch (chaser in books, seeker in movies), so for this piece I just wrote him as a seeker. There’s some foul play from the Slytherin players, I did not write it in means of bashing on how Slytherins are EVIL and WICKED, it’s just there for the plot :)). Anyways, enjoy, English is not my first language so there should be mistakes, apologies beforehand.

Word count: 834

———————————————————————————

The sun was shining high in the sky, a golden ray over the Quidditch pitch as players wearing red and green scattered among the pitch, zooming through the air as the Quaffle was thrown from place to place. The stands were filled with students and staff, cheering. The tension was palpable, the scores were so close.

You were a chaser on the team, flying high on your broom, trying to keep an eye on the Quaffle. Your movements were sharp and precise, ready to intercept any Slytherin chasers from making passes.

James whooshed through the air, catching a glimpse of the golden snitch that he, as the seeker, was supposed to catch. But it wasn’t long before the Slytherin seeker saw him and went out for the snitch too.

Your eyes followed James, and in the span of a few seconds being distracted, a Bludger had slammed into your side with a sickening THUD, knocking the wind out of you and sending you tumbling off of your broom.

The world seemed to turn black as you fell from such height, the crowd’s cheers had disappeared, and you felt a blinding pain radiating from your side. Your body was just about to meet the ground, but before you could hit it, you felt a pair of arms wrap you, cushioning your fall…

James had seen everything, he was inches away from catching the golden snitch, barely able to graze it with his fingertips. Victory for Gryffindor was within his grasp, but when he heard the impact of a Bludger, followed by the sight of your fall, he abandoned his chase without a second thought. He dove towards you, pushing his broom to its limits to reach you in time.

His arms had wrapped around you, guiding the both of you to a somewhat controlled crash onto the grass below. A quiet grunt leaving his lips as the sharp sound of a whistle rang throughout the pitch, the game came to a halt.

“Are you alright, y/n?” James tried shaking you, but you were unconscious. His face inches away from yours as he examined you for any injuries – of course there were injuries.

“Hey, y/n– y/n?” his eyes were wide with worry as he held you, a tense frown on his face.

Some of the staff had hurriedly made their way to the pitch, so did your teammates. The Gryffindor team gathered around both you and James, their faces filled with concern. Even the Slytherin players seemed taken aback, though one of their beaters looked more smug than worried.

“We’ll need to escort her to the Hospital wing, Mr Potter.” Professor McGonagall said, while a few teammates pulled a stubborn James aside as he refused to leave you.

And so you were ushered into the Hospital wing on a stretcher.

The rest of the match was canceled, leaving many of the Slytherin players to murmur in discontent.

A day or two later, when Madam Pomfrey finally let James in, he was carrying a few things; a chocolate frog in his hand, and a few bruises and a broken nose. He sniffled a few times at the discomfort of the bandage on his nose before making his way to your bedside, sitting down.

“Hey, y/n, brought you something,” he handed the chocolate frog to you, his eyes scanning over the bandages on your abdomen, a frown inevitably forming on his face.

“And you also brought wounds. What happened, James?” you asked, with your usual bits of sarcasm that brought a light laugh out of him.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” he insisted, shaking his head, though he pursed his lips nervously when you shot him a glare. “Alright, alright, it’s not nothing, ‘kay? I got into a fight with Avery.”

“The Slytherin team’s beater?”

“No, the Slytherin team’s beater who gave you some bloody broken ribs.” he grumbled.

“Idiot, fighting with him won’t do anything,” you scolded, albeit gently because your ribs were too sore to allow you to start shouting at him or sit up on the bed.

“That twat deserved it,”

“And you also got hurt,”

“He got more hurt than I did!” James exasperated, his hand subconsciously rubbing his broken nose.

The two of you stayed silent for a few seconds before he spoke up again. “Guess what?” A grin made its way up his face, his fingers drumming on the Hospital wing bed.

“What?” you sighed, rubbing a hand down the side of your face.

“They’ve rescheduled a rematch for next month. So when you’re all healed up and good to go, we can beat them again.” he wiggled his eyebrows, earning him a smack on the chest from you. “Ow?” he groaned.

“You better not give up the snitch next time,” you scoffed, but a chuckle left your lips, unable to be held in. “Stupid.”

A look of mock-offense spread across his face at that, his lips parting into an ‘o’ in disbelief, but he was rendered speechless, watching you as you unboxed the chocolate frog and took a bite.

[peachy-panic]

Shared Sessions: Week 1, Part 1

Grayson & Elijah cautiously give this group therapy idea a shot.

WARNINGS: Therapy setting, anxiety, past captivity

Grayson was the first to arrive at Dr. Collins’s office. Years of learned punctuality were not to be undone by a spiraling downfall to rock bottom, it turned out. 

A week out of the hospital, he was still struggling to find his footing. He only left the house for his mandatory therapy sessions, and even then, it was only under the guardianship of his parents. He wasn’t sure if it was because they could sense his anxiety about going outside, or if they expected him to steer his car into the first big tree he came across. He didn’t plan on asking. 

Today, though, a chaperone was a necessity. Grayson wasn’t sure his shaking hands would have had the dexterity to so much as start his car, let alone make the drive to Dr. Collins’s office on his own.

Grayson’s mother had even had the good grace to keep her opinions to herself on the drive over. Not that he didn’t know them anyway. Not that she and his father hadn’t made themselves abundantly clear leading up to the appointment on how poor an idea they thought it was for Grayson to share a joint session with “that boy.”

It was one of the first times Grayson Dawning ever raised his voice at his parents. He had left their stunned faces in the dim lighting of the dining room and slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, wishing grimly for the lock that had been removed during his hospital stay. 

They hadn’t brought the session, or Elijah, up again after that.

A few minutes before the top of the hour, Grayson sat in his usual corner of the couch in the office, hands twisting in his lap. If his more-than-normal nerves or lack of sleep were apparent to Dr. Collins, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he settled into the armchair across from him, crossing one leg over his knee. 

“How are you feeling about today?” he asked.  

A couple weeks ago, Grayson might have tried to conceal his vulnerability behind a mask. Recent events had left him too tired for pretending. 

“Scared,” he replied. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Is there any specific element of today that frightens you most? Something that stands out?”

Oh, sure. The possibility that Elijah bails and never speaks to him again. The possibility that he shows up and confirms Grayson’s worst fears: that he does, in fact, hate him for every part he played in his torment. Hearing Myles Voss’s name spoken between them for the first time since they returned. Addressing Grayson's attempt. Bringing up what happened on—

“Grayson?” Dr. Collins pulled him out of his spiral. He was using his firm voice—the one he used when Grayson was starting to fall too deep inside his own head.

Grayson blinked a few times, curling his fingers into the fabric of his sweatshirt. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” his doctor said. 

He nodded, relieved to have been spared from answering, but the reprieve was short-lived. A hesitant knock on the door turned him to stone where he sat. 

Dr. Collins rose gracefully and crossed the room in a few short steps. Grayson heard, rather than saw, the door latch release, a slight squeal in the hinges. 

“Elijah,” Dr. Collins greeted through an audible smile. “Welcome. It’s good to see you again.”

“Sorry I’m late,” was the first thing Elijah said. The sound of his voice—a bit winded, faint—unlocked Grayson’s muscles enough to glance up at the clock on the wall. It was only two minutes after. “I, uh. My mom had to take the car to work, and the bus was running behind.”

Grayson winced. He remembered, in the hospital, how Elijah flinched away when the nurses and staff brushed too closely, on guard against every potential touch. He couldn’t imagine how difficult public transit might have been.  

“It’s no problem at all,” Dr. Collins said warmly. “We were only just sitting down. You can hang your jacket here, if you’d like.”

Grayson willed himself, at last, to look in Elijah direction’s. 

Elijah pushed back a rain-speckled hood, freeing the few damp tendrils that escaped the bundle of hair at the nape of his neck, and shrugged out of the sleeves. Grayson took in the sight of him: black jeans that fit more loosely than they probably should have and a zip-up sweatshirt with thumbholes cut out of the sleeves. His fingers moved in quick, fidgeting movements that mirrored Grayson’s own anxiety. When Elijah  turned from the coat rack to face the room, their eyes met.

In a blink, it was as if every inch of progress they had carved inside the hospital walls had existed in a vacuum. The half-lucid hugs and promises, the familiarity of company and the attempt at shared humor—all of it swept away like ashes in the clarity of the outside world. 

In the hospital, Grayson had felt so sure that talking with Elijah, that airing out the festering wound between them, was the way to move forward. Now, in the light of day, doubt ate away at his optimism, a hungry, gnarled beast in the pit of his stomach. 

What if he had made a mistake that they would both now pay for? He had hoped his days of hurting Elijah were behind him. 

This was a bad idea bad idea bad idea—

“Hey,” Elijah spoke first. 

Grayson swallowed a lump that felt a lot like the start of a scream. “Hi.”

Dr. Collins let a few seconds of quiet play out between them, then cleared his throat. “Please, make yourself comfortable, Elijah. Can I get you anything? Water, tea, coffee?”

Elijah shook his head. “No. Um, thanks. Is here okay?” he asked, pointing to the far end of the sofa from Grayson. 

“There is fine. Wherever you’d like.”

There weren’t many other options for sitting in the small room—had the room always felt quite so small?—other than the plush carpet beneath the couch, but Grayson didn’t think they would get off to a very good start if he sat on the couch while Elijah sat on the floor, at his feet. If, though, for some reason he was more comfortable on the floor, Grayson could offer to sit down there with him, keeping enough space to—

Elijah’s weight sank into the cushion on the far side, leaving one space between them and putting Grayson’s internal spiral to rest. 

Get it together. Keep it together.

“Thank you both for being here today,” Dr. Collins said, taking his seat once more. “I understand this year has not been an easy road, and I can only imagine that agreeing to meet in this setting was not a decision either of you took lightly. I want to remind you that the two of you are in charge of what happens inside this room. Anything you say will be strictly confidential.” 

The doctor looked to Elijah, and Grayson could see the way he shifted under the attention in his periphery. 

“Elijah, I understand that you’ve been seeing someone on your own. I will not share anything from this session with your doctor without your explicit request.”

“Okay.” Elijah’s voice cracked on the first attempt, so he repeated it, slightly stronger.

“Okay,” Dr. Collins echoed with a smile. “Let’s begin.”

TBC

****

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[kyber-kisses]

Here In The Dark

Captain Rex x Jedi!Reader

Summary: while on a scouting mission the Reader and Rex are forced to find shelter when an unexpected blizzard hits.

Warnings: minor injuries, mutual pining😈, Rex being his socially awkward self-

A/N: this is purely self indulgent and it’s probably crap but enjoy!

“Yep it’s decided. I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna kill Anakin.”

“Little dramatic dont you think?”

Shifting in the knee deep snow, you turned to give Rex and icy stare that rivaled the weather around you. “No. All I think is that when we make it back to base camp I’m gonna force throw him into the nearest sun.”

It was supposed to be a simple scouting mission across the northern ridge line. Blue skies and warm weather the whole time. Nothing to worry about.

At least that’s what Anakin had told you.

And what a fool you were to think he was right.

Because now the sun had long since set and a horrific blizzard was bearing down and you and the captain as the both of you struggled through the almost waist deep snow. Your comma had long since lost contact with base camp now leaving you and Rex completely alone on the darkened mountain side as sheets of heavy snow slammed into you with even stronger winds.

The only positive was that at least you were with Rex. If you were with anyone else you probably would have buried them in the snow somewhere. For example: Anakin.

If Anakin were here you would have buried him the the powder a good few miles back.

“You know stomping around all bitterly isn’t gonna help the situation.” Rexs voice cut through the wind slightly as he trudged besides you.

“Says the one with the helmet on that protects his face from the wind and the cold.” You grumbled, feeling snowflakes stick to your eyelashes as you blinked. “Can you hand me your nightscope?”

“Sure thing.” Once the device had been procured to halted in your tracks, ignoring the way the wind and snow whipped your hair around your face as you looked through the night vision scope.

You had hoped for better quality but with the heavy falling snow and winds the screen was a mess of fuzz for the most part. You were still practically stumbling around blind.

“Let me have a try.” Extending his hand once more, you dropped the scope back into Rexs possession watching through squinted eyes as he surveyed the land with the scope.

“Anything?”

“Two clicks to the east.” The captain spoke, pointing his finger into the dark before passing the scope back to you.

It wasn’t much but it was something. Through the fuzzy landscape you could just barely make out a dark blotch against the side of the ridge. “Cave maybe?”

“Here’s to hoping. We don’t really have any other options.” Rex shrugged, clipping the scope back onto his belt before moving forward with you in tow.

You and Rex stuck as close to eachother as you could in fear of losing one another in the white-out conditions. Cold bit at every inch of your body wether it was exposed or not, it seeped into the cradles of your boots and made its way in the fabric of your gloves. No part of you was safe.

“Commander, here.” At the sound of Rexs out of breath voice you picked your eyes up from where they had been focusing on the ground, only to find he had stopped, extending his hand to help you up the steeper incline. You took it graciously, allowing him to keep the two of you tethered the remainder of the way.

The two of you were practically in the cave before you knew you had even reached it. One moment you were at the mouth and the next you were sliding through it. The cave led ever so slightly downward a few feet before flattening out completely, Rex assisting you down as the two of you moved away from the howling winds and ice pellets that battered the mountain side.

Before you could even reach for your own flashlight, Rex was clicking his on, a bright beam of cold white light cutting through the darkness as he scanned the inside of the cave, his hand hovering over his blaster.

“No one’s here Rex. I can feel it.”

All you could feel in the force was you and Rex, along with the dull vibrations of the rock and dirt beneath you. There were no other life forms. As the beam danced across the cave walls you made sure to make note of everything. It was small, the cave ceiling on three or four feet above your head and it’s entire size couldn’t have been bigger than your quarters aboard the Resolute.

Shrugging off the survival pack that had been on your back you dropped it to the floor, fingers still too cold to do anything that mattered.

“I’ll get a fire going.” Digging into the bag himself, the captain pulled out a cinder kit.

“I can help.”

Kneeling down on the cave floor next to Rex, you helped set up the small device. Normally all it would take was one small click of the button but of course said button was broken.

“You’re lucky you got stuck out here with a Jedi with my abilities.” Musing lightly you cupped your hands and brought them to your lips, warming them up in whatever way you could before rubbing them together. When you finally got a small spark you let out a sigh of relief before sharply snapping your fingers together to produce a small flame. “Aha still got it!”

“When we’re you gonna tell me you could do that?” Besides you, Rex watched the tiny flame dance across the top of your finger tip in wonder.

Shrugging slightly, you brought the flame down to the cinder box and a moment later a much larger flame leapt forth, brightening the cavern exponentially. “Right now.”

“Can all Jedi do that?”

“No unfortunately. It’s a skill only a handful of us possess.”

“Well nice work Commander.”

A small smile tugged on your lips. “Thank you.”

If someone had told you this morning that you would be spending the night holed up in a cavern on the side of some mountain int he middle of a blizzard with Rex you would have laughed. . . Yet here you were.

And honestly there were worse places you could be.

“You doing alright commander?” Standing up from where he had been knelt on the floor, Rex wiped off his gloves before giving you a concerned look.

“I’m fine all things considered. You?”

“Never better.”

As the heat of the fire filled the cavern you peeled off your boots, your socks following suit as you laid them out next to the dancing flame. The fire would do l it take to help you if you were sitting around in soaking wet clothes.

And at that thought you began peeling of the layers of your Jedi robes, oblivious to the fact that Rex had flushed a deep red before averting his gaze from you. When you were done all the remained on your body was the solid black undergarment you wore. It was once peace and didn’t have any sleeves but it went down to your mid thighs in a way that made it look sort of like a unitard. It was the only dry piece of clothing you had left.

You were half way through pulling out both of the therma-blankets from the pack when you realized Rexs back was turned to you, his hand awkwardly on his hip as he face the mouth of the cave.

“Rex? Are you alright?”

His posture straightened ever so slightly at his name. “Of course commander! Just wanted- just wanted to give you some privacy that’s all.”

His words hit you suddenly as you looked down at your much more exposed body, now understanding. “Oh.”

You hadn’t even thought about how Rex might react to that. You had been friends with him for so long you didn’t even think twice.

Wrapping one of the reflective therma blankets around your shoulders, you padded across the floor of the cave, reaching out to gently grab his shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about that. I don’t mind. Just be glad I’m not walking around full on nude.” You joked lightly, once more unaware of the deepening red creeping up Rex’s face.

When he didn’t say anything you felt a slight frown slip across your features. He was acting weird. Very weird.

“You should get out of that armor. This type wasn’t meant for the cold climates such as this.” You waved your hands, gesturing to the weather beyond the mouth of the cave. “Add that to the list of reasons on why I’m gonna kill Anakin when we get back. He should of had us prepare better.”

At that you got a light chuckle out of Rex, the clone captain turning slightly to look over his shoulder at you.

“I’ll be fine commander.”

You sent him a warning stare. “As both your superior and friend I’m telling you if you don’t get out of that armor right now I will start peeling it off you. You need to stay warm and this?” You knocked your hand against the plastoid armor, your teeth chattering slightly as you spoke, giving away the fact that you were still cold. “This isn’t gonna help you.”

At your words the captain let a heavy sigh before raising his hands to undo the clasps of his chest plate which you took gently from him before sitting it against the wall next to the pack. You repeated the action several more times until all his armor was stacked neatly to the side.

“See? I bet you’re warmer already?” You mused, looking up at him with a small smile as you gently rested your hand against his chest momentarily.

Beneath your touch Rex shivered, the feeling foreign to him enough to elicit a physical response. If you had felt it you didn’t say anything.

In truth, you had Rex wrapped around your finger. (Not that you knew). From the moment you joined the 501st as its other Jedi- commander you had Rexs complete loyalty and respect. You came walking on the bridge with your kinda smile and even kinder eyes and Rex swore he melted.

And now here he was in some cave with a half naked you.

Force, he had a way of always ending up in weird and awkward situations.

“You hungry? I know there’s like a weeks worth of ration bars int he front ouch of the pack?”

“I’m alright commander, but thank you.” Moving past you, Rex lowered himself to the ground in front of the fire, leaning back against the cave wall behind him with a heavy sigh.

Beneath his gloves he squeezed his fingers into a fist, repeating the action several times before it caught your attention.

“Your hands are cold aren’t they?”

“Nothing I can’t deal with commander. I’ve been through worse.”

At his words you rolled your eyes before sitting down in front of him and tucking your knees to your chest. “Why must you clones all be so stubborn?”

“I am not stubb—“

Rexs words felt flat as he suddenly felt your hands gently taking his. Turning his head he watched once more with a sudden blush on his cheeks as you carefully removed his gloves and tossed them to the floor.

Your fingers danced over the calloused skin of his palms as if memorizing every bump and scar before you cupped his hands and brought them to your lips before breathing a gentle plume of hot air into them. Curious brown eyes watched you as you placed a gentle kiss to his finger tips before shifting to grip his hands fully in your own.

“And it’s Y/N by the way.”

Rexs brain seemed to have short circuited because he had no clue as to what you were talking about. “. . . What?”

“Back on base it’s Commander this and Commander that. Here? I’m just Y/N. No need for the formalities. I call you Rex don’t I?”

“I mean, yeah I guess?”

You nodded slowly, dropping Rex’s hands as you moved to adjust the blanket around your shoulders when a shiver ran through your body.

“Still cold?”

“A bit. These therma- blankets only do so much.” You explained, look down at the reflective material that you currently had wrapped around you.

“ I can agree with you on that.” Rex sent you a small grin as he paused. “We should stay close together though. It will help contain our body heat.”

It took everything in the poor captain to not stumble over his words at the thought of staying so close to each other.

“Good call.” You nodded before standing back up and walking across the cave floor to grab the other therma-blanket at the two compact bed rolls that you had also carried with you.

The only problem was you couldn’t get the damn packaging opening. Though your own hands had warmed exponentially your fingers were still shaky as you tried to break to wrapping on the sleeping pads. After a moment you let out a string of curses.

“Kriffing hell, who in the force packed these damn th-“

“Here, let me try.” An arm suddenly reached over your shoulder, taking the package from your hands.

Letting out a defeated sigh you nodded as you turned. “Thank you, Re-“

If there were any other words you were supposed to say they no longer existed as you came face to face with Rex’s bare chest. The clone pausing in his action when he saw you had turned, almost instantly the red returned to his cheeks.

“My Uh- my shirt was still wet. Thought it would be best to let it dry with everything else—“ he stuttered slightly, apparently oblivious to the pink that had now graced your cheeks as well.

Another shiver went up your body along with a small choked sound departing your lips.

At that Rex frowned, suddenly kneeling down to grab the other therma-blanket and wrap it snuggly around you. “Still cold?”

Oh. Oh your sweet, awkward, oblivious captain thought the shiver was from you being cold. Kriff, he was gonna be the end of you.

You went sure if it was how tired you were or whatever was happening in front of you but out of nowhere your knees buckled and you went down. . . Or you would have if Rex hadn’t reached out and caught you, warm study arms securing you safely to his chest as he lowered you softly to the ground.

“Oops.”

“Comman- Y/N? Are you alright?”

“Just a little case of jelly legs.” You laughed awkwardly, Rex looking at you with a concerned gaze.

“Stay here.”

Humming a response you settled onto your butt ont he floor of the cave, watching as Rex peeled the sleeping pads out of their packaging, the pads instantly beginning to inflate.

You didn’t even get a chance to move once they were full before Rex was suddenly picking you up yet again and settling you down on one and securely tucking the therma-blankets around you.

“That better?”

You hummed a response, watching Rex with a new type of wonder as you did.

“Get some sleep. I’ll take watch tonight and we can head out at first light once the storm has moved passed.” He explained, standing up to move away.

You could see goosebumps prickling his skin as he moved away and before he could get any further you had gotten up from your sleeping pad and quickly gone after him. He had barely turned around before you were wrapping him in a hug, the warmth of his skin flush against your own as you did.

At this point Rex had lost track of the amount of times you had gotten him to blush, the sudden contact of you against his body making his goosebumps more apparent.

“You need to stay warm too.” You spoke softly, pulling off one of the blankets as you did before moving to wrap it snugly around his broad shoulders. Once that was done you grabbed his hand once more and tugged him back across the cavern, onto pausing once to nudge the two sleeping pads together with your foot.

“What are you-“

Collapsing onto the first one, you parted at the vacant spot next to you. “C’mon. Don’t worry about keeping watch tonight. Nothings out here. . . Except us.”

Rex gave a concerned glance towards the mouth of the cave. He didn’t like the idea of no one standing guard. . . But at the same time he was cold and tired and he wanted nothing more than to fall onto that sleeping mat next to you.

The captain let out a sigh of defeat as he did just that, a sort of shy smile crossing his lips as he did. With his back resting against the smooth stone of the cave wall, he settled onto the sleeping mat, inhaling deeply when you moved closer to him to the point in which the skin of your arms were flush against eachother.

“You’re like a walking furnace you know that?” Letting out a relaxed sigh, you rested your head against Rex’s shoulder, curling up closer to him as you did.

“Heh, I don’t really feel like it.”

Everything in Rexs body wanted to shiver at the contact of your skin against his, but he belt fast. Instead trying to focus his attention on the firelight dancing across the caves walls.

There was a few good minutes of long silence which allowed Rex to believe you had fallen asleep, but after another moment you spoke up.

“Rex?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

“You ask me weird questions all the time.”

You let out a tired laugh, picking up your head to look at him. “Have you ever been kissed before?”

At that Rex fell silent, glancing awkwardly around the room. “No offense but that not what I was expecting.”

Sitting up properly you fiddled with your fingers. You could face down Sith Lords and swarms of droids and remain unfazed. . . But this? This was the thing that was making you awkward. Funny how the universe worked.

“I just, I really wanna kiss you l. I know we’ve been friends for years but how could I not get feelings for you because your so kind and patient and caring and loyal and I just- you’re brilliant in every way imaginable and here we are in this cave in the middle of nowhere and I don’t know if I’ll get a chance lie or his again and I think maybe you feel the same about me and I-“ you paused, look over at the bewildered look on Rexs face. “I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“I- Uh. . . Yeah maybe a little-“Rex spoke slowly, clearly showing he was trying to wrap his head around everything that had just come out of your mouth.

“See, and now I’ve made everything awkward!” You wailed, your face falling into your hands as you did.

“No! No-“ sitting up besides you, the captain reached towards you, pulling your hands away from your face before awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “I just- I’ve never really kissed anyone. I don’t want to do it wrong or anything-“

This time both of your were blushing, red cheeks inches from each-other as you looked at Rex with wide eyes.

“That doesn’t matter to me. You’re just so brilliant and amazing and the force feels warmer when I’m around you and-“

Neither of you had realized how you had both slowly begun navigating towards each-other, your nose Alamo touching as you looked at each-other, eyes wide and curious.

“Y/N.” Rexs voice was soft. Softer than you had ever heard it, but it captured you all the same.

You didn’t know how he did it, but Rex had reached into a place deep inside you and brought something forth you had yet to think about. A realization in a way.

“I have so many names now that I think about it.” You whispered, almost as if he had put you in a trance. “Padawan, Knight, commander Y/L/N, Y/N— but here?” You voice grew quieter. “Here in the dark, with you? I have no name. I am just me. Entirely me.”

Both set of eyes flickered downwards and you and Rex closed the gap between you as equals. It was a shy kiss but when Rex slowly deepened it you couldn’t help the small gasp of surprise that escaped you before you melted further into him. His hands were warm now and they cradled your face so delicately and beneath your palm his chest radiated heat. He was like being wrapped in pure sunlight.

He pulled back slowly after a moment, looking downward somewhat shyly. “Was that ok?”

“Everything you do is always more than ok-“ it was as if you had been put into a dazed state by his lips, your body settling against his as you sunk lower onto your mat, your head against Rex’s chest. Beneath your ear his heartbeat thumped rhythmically and for the first time that night you both felt warm.

Maybe you wouldn’t kill Anakin when you got back to base.

[penumbra-mayhem]

Barely Breathing at All - Sam/Darlin' Fic

"Their heart was pounding so hard their chest ached. The car wasn't moving. Why weren't they moving?"

This is partly inspired by Hozier's song "Abstract (Psychopomp)". It takes place a few months after Sam teaches Darlin' to heal that little sapling. Also, I hc that Darlin' has a stutter, more on that here.

TW: car crash, light gore, PTSD/flashback

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Let’s take the long way home, yeah?” Sam asked, gripping his mate’s hand as they walked to his car after a long-winded pack meeting.

Darlin’ glanced up at him with heavy lids and gave a small hum in agreement. Over the past week, they had been struggling to sleep more than usual. Sam hoped a car ride would help.

He was right. With the windows down and old folk songs playing quietly, Darlin’ was slumped in their seat within ten minutes. Sam didn’t even need to glance over; he could tell they were asleep just by listening to their breathing. The balmy summer night saturated Sam's senses with a chorus of frogs and the scent of pine. It was a leisurely winding drive on the outskirts of Dahlia. Sam's core thrummed with satisfaction as he drove.

—

Darlin's eyes shot open as their body lurched forward, their seatbelt locking up to prevent them from crashing into the dashboard.

Their head whipped back, slamming into their headrest.

They blinked rapidly.

Their heart was pounding so hard their chest ached.

The car wasn't moving.

Why weren't they moving?

Darlin' looked frantically through the windshield to see what they'd hit.

Nothing. Just empty road.

They looked to their left.

Sam was frozen in his seat, his hands locked around the steering wheel. His breathing was fast—too fast. And shallow, like he was barely breathing at all.

"S-S-Sam," Darlin' croaked as they tried to push through their own disorientation, "Wh-wh-wh...h-h-h-h.....y-y-y-y-you h-h-h-hurt?"

"I uh.....I'm...." Sam mumbled.

With fumbling hands, Darlin' unlocked their seatbelt and clambered over to Sam. They started scanning his body, checking for any signs of blood or broken bones.

"I'm fine," Sam whispered, but his eyes weren't really seeing Darlin' and his chest was still moving too quickly.

"Wh-wh-wh-wh-what h-h-h-h-happened?" Darlin' asked, holding Sam's tense shoulders. When he didn't reply, they tried again, "Sam?"

"...deer...I tried...tried not to..."

Darlin' turned to look back out the window, just in time to see something jerk up and then fall back down out of view. They slid back into their seat, opened their door, and stepped out. Just a foot or two in front of the car was a deer, bleating weakly in distress as it moved to stand and then fell again.

Darlin' crept forward, trying to keep their own breathing under control. Once the deer was in full view, they could see that its right hind leg was broken, the bone jutting through the skin in two places.

"S-Sam," Darlin' called out. The deer grew louder as they approached and knelt next to it. They tried again, a bit louder, "Sam!"

Nothing.

Darlin' looked up. He was still frozen, his gaze distant and panicked.

"Sam I-I-I c-c-can't.......I d-don't kn-kn-kn-know how...."

They looked down at the deer. It stared back in abject fear.

"Fuck," they whispered.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

"Okay..." Darlin' muttered, ".....okay....I c-c-c-can d-d-do this."

First the deer. Then Sam.

Touch does make it easier.

They placed their hands gently on the deer's mangled leg, wincing when it bleated in pain and tried to pull away.

Close your eyes. It helps.

They squeezed their eyes shut.

Now we just breathe for a bit.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Take a little bit to tune into the rhythm of your magic.

Darlin' focused on their core—felt it tremble. They tried to steady it, tried to strengthen it with each breath.

...reach just that little bit outside of you...it's just a little stretch...you just have to guide it...

Darlin' could hear something. The sound of movement. A car door opening. But they couldn't focus on that now. They were so close.

It doesn't need shape. It doesn't need form. It just needs to flow....it just needs your intention.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale...

Darlin' felt their magic rush from their hands into the deer. They felt the bone meld and the skin knit itself back together. Their eyes shot open. They quickly moved back, just in time as the deer scrambled up and raced off. Nausea washed over Darlin' as they sat there for one breathless moment, staring into the dark woods.

"Darlin'?"

They jumped, causing their head to spin. Sam was standing outside of the car, gazing at them. Darlin' rose on shaky legs before heading towards their mate.

"Sam, are y-y-y-you..." they trailed off as they scanned him again, worried they missed something in their initial search.

"...I'm alright...just...just..." he mumbled, body trembling.

Touch does make it easier.

Darlin' held his hands. "Y-you're safe. I-I-I'm r-right here."

Close your eyes. It helps.

"C-close y-your eyes. F-f-focus on m-my voice, y-yeah?"

Sam's eyes shut. His breathing was still too quick, too shallow.

Now we just breathe for a bit.

"C-c-c-can y-you m-match my-my b-breathing?"

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

"G-good. Y-y-you're d-d-doing s-so good, l-love."

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale...

The frogs started their chorus again. The scent of pine flooded Sam's lungs with each inhale. Everything began to settle, the spinning and trembling dying down like embers. Darlin' wasn't sure how long they were standing there. They would have stood there forever if they needed to.

Eventually, Sam pressed his forehead against Darlin's.

"You healed the deer."

"I....I d-did."

"Thank you."

[unfortunatelysage]

Must’ve Been the Wind

Like a rodent, the tiny scampers along the wall, silently running underneath tables and countertops to avoid detection. There’s no time to gain awareness of their surroundings, not in such an active living space. It was their mistake to sneak in and scope out this space at this hour, since any normal human would be awake in broad daylight like this.

Not like they had much choice. The tiny winces at the crash of a branch slamming against a nearby window. Some of the worst wind they’ve ever experienced, its consequences sending shockwaves through the empty room.

Well, empty for now. Subconsciously, the tiny’s breath hitches at the all-too-familiar tremors of footsteps approaching the room they’re in. Figures. At least they’re already hidden. One less thing to worry about.

Hinges squeak ever so slightly as the giant of the hour walks into the room, clicking the door closed behind them. They have a smaller stride. Short… by giant standards. The sudden sound of flowing water alerts the tiny to the presence of a sink in this room.

Unsatisfied with their current placement, the tiny takes advantage of the present sound and slowly and silently shuffles sideways, plastering themselves against the wall as they move away from the door and toward the sink, hidden well beneath a table occupying the space next to it.

The water stops, and the massive feet in front of the tiny step back away from the sink as the giant indulges in a drink. Chills are sent up the tiny’s spine before they can even process what happens next.

“I don’t want to tell you what to do,” the giant speaks, seemingly to no one.

“And it doesn’t bother me that you’re here,” they continue. Oh no.

“But I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least warn you.”

The giant walks slightly to the side, the tiny tracking their every movement. They stop once their feet are positioned in front of the tiny’s hiding spot. “I know my housemates well. And I know tinies well. You would regret running into one of them.”

The color drains from the tiny’s face as the larger-than-life being bends down, making effortless eye contact with the now horrified intruder. “And you aren’t as great at hiding as you think you are.”

The giant sets down their water cup on its side, allowing the last bit of water to slide down toward the lip of the barrel-sized container. “Drink up,” they tell the tiny. “What you do after that is up to you.” The titan stands up once again, exiting the room and closing the door behind them as they had when they walked in.

The tiny’s mouth and throat go dry as they stare at the supply of water just gifted to them. Nonetheless, they’re unable to move.

[lewkwoodnco]

Hii I wanted to request Anthony Lockwood×fem!reader with the song London Boy. Where the reader is from Europe, and she just moved to London to become a better ghost hunter, but she gets rejected at Fittes and other agencies. Then she finds out about Lockwood&Co. and goes to a job interview and gets hired. Since she's from Europe, she has an accent, and like she doesn't always pronounce words right, Lockwood loves it and finds it adorable. As she lives with all of them, they start becoming closer. She and Lucy become like best friends. And from the whole start, when she met Anthony, she was crushing on him and he would often call her darling and love, because for him it's normal, but she would literally be running laps in her head. Lucy notices all of this and teases them about it. Happy ending with them confessing and kissing? As always, you can change it so it suits the song more, I really love your writing, and it never disappoints!!

Lockwood x Reader - London Boy

A/N: While I was researching possible words to mispronounce whyy did I find out that I was pronouncing one of them wrong this wholeee time AHHH also why was it so hard to find a gif where he's smiling. Netflix pls renew the series to give him more screentime where he doesn't look like he wants to dies plzzz. also this starts with a letter written by the reader to her sister a week after moving to London, 3.1k, enjoy!!

Dear Elizabeth,

I hope things are fine over there. London is...interesting. It's very cold and wet, for one. I always feel like I'm one gust of wind away from catching a cold, but a friend took me shopping a few days back, and I've got a much warmer coat now. You'd love Lucy, she's got your sense of humour and everything.

Things didn't work out so well at Fittes. Or Rotwell. Or any of the other agencies I had shortlisted. I'm at a small independent, Lockwood & Co. There's only four of us and Mr. Lockwood's only a year older than me (a misnomer if I ever saw one, I thought he'd be closer to eighty than eighteen), but they get by just fine and I'm learning loads.

Part of me still wonders if I made the right choice by leaving. I wish I was home; warm, dry and safe. I miss the fields, the bonfires, the cheap juice boxes... miss you and mum to bits. Give her all my love.

"Writing a letter?"

She slammed a hand over her postcard with an aggressiveness that shocked her as much as him. She was sitting at the kitchen table, opting for a change of scenery while she drafter her note. It was morning, and from the shuffling sounds outside, George and Lucy seemed to also be awake, but only Lockwood was in the kitchen with her. And the thing about Lockwood was - well, he made her a little skittish.

She panicked at his slightly taken aback expression, rushing to make amends. "No! I mean, yes, I am writing a letter. It's for my sister, Elizabeth."

"I'm sorry I startled you, I don't mean to pry."

"You weren't." God, did she completely forget how to hold a normal conversation? It was mind-numbingly difficult to generate coherent words or even thoughts with his buttery smooth posh accent washing over her. "I just - we keep odd hours and with the time zone difference I haven't had the time to talk to them on the phone."

"I didn't know you had a sister."

She looked down into her tea, suddenly shy. Keeping eye contact with him was difficult enough when they were all in the room, but his undivided attention was simply unbearable. There was something so intentional in his gaze that made her too nervous to think too much about it. So that just left a knot in her chest that would throb and set her ablaze any time he got too close. That, coupled with their extremely embarrassing first meeting, made her especially prone to stuttering or leaving the room whenever Lockwood was around.

Ironically, he was away handling a mild Type One case in Sidcup, for which the prestigious clientele warranted the inconvenient travel, during her interview. Which was just as well, because she was sure she wouldn't have been able to force anything out with him watching her as closely as George had. She had seen the newspaper clippings on the wall, but the dates had been cut off, so it hadn't been immediately obvious to her that he was a teenager like the rest of them. Besides, who had heard of an agency run by three teenagers and no adults?

Which was why she nearly fell out of her armchair the following morning when the front door opened to the sound of unfamiliar yet boyish laughter. The briefcase carelessly left by the entry way to the living room caught her eye first, followed by his crisp suit, his straight tie, and finally, the man himself.

She wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight, but as he grinned with his dimples mischievously winking at her, she felt that if anyone could change her mind, it just might be him. She felt the palms resting on her book grow clammy as her heart thudded dangerously, And this was all before he had even spoken or looked at her. As soon he opened his mouth, she was a goner.

"You guys have to read this: 'Lockwood & Co. - the answer to the Problem? For an independent agency with less resources yet arguably more success than the big two, could they be the key to ridding our world of visitors? Read more on pa-' Page six? So much of that trouble, all for a page six?"

"Now look what you've done, Lockwood. You've scared our newest member mute with that demented laugh of yours."

"How could I forget? Y/N L/N, the one agent with enough talent to, and I quote, 'somewhat-kind-of satisfy' George Karim. I was positively racing home to meet you. Forgive my, hmm, associates. I hope they didn’t give you too rough of a time."

"You make it sound like we're degenerates!"

"They can be quite bothersome when they want to be. I'm Anthony Lockwood, of Lockwood & Co."

He stuck out a hand, and she blinked at him. She felt a bubble of nervous laughter lodged in her throat, almost half-inclined to believe that this was all a bit; he really was that ridiculously attractive. His dazzling smile faltered, morphing into one of concern, until Lucy knocked enough sense back into her to respond. She shook his hand, embarrassed, mumbling a greeting. He walked away, loosening his tie, and she buried her nose deeper into the paper, wishing it would just swallow her whole.

They had been terribly busy the past week, and during the day she would mostly tag along with Lucy, so their paths rarely crossed. There was this one time when he had just been coming down the stairs as she and Lucy were returning from their shopping trip. She froze halfway in the motion of taking her coat off, then shrugged it back on. He looked mildly confused. She was desperately confused. She didn't appreciate Lucy's snicker.

"New coat."

"Yeah. It's real warm."

"I can see that." Her coat looked not all that much bulkier than Lucy's, but she could still hear the smile in his voice as she pulled her gloves off. Somehow, she managed to coordinate her limbs enough to take the coat off and hang it like a normal person, before briskly walking up to the attic, the side of her face burning from when she passed Lockwood.

"It's real warm." Lucy wasted no time teasing her as soon as they were in the attic. She groaned.

"What else was I supposed to say?"

"You were really excited about the pockets at the shop."

"They're-"

"Faux fur-lined, yes, you've told me a thousand times." She gave a knowing half-smile. "Couldn't manage telling him once?"

"He'd think they were stupid. He'd think I was stupid." Even more stupid that he already thinks, she wanted to say. But who could blame him? For all he knew, she didn't have enough brain cells to string three coherent words together.

Their cases were tiring, but the routine was still so new that more often than not, she would be too wired to peacefully knock out in the attic with Lucy after their cases. She'd open the door to the attic just a crack, and listen to the soothing sounds of paperwork rustling in the library, watching the barely visible soft shadows of Lockwood moving about. She could glean that they were a little burdened by the absence of a pair of hands, and she had tried to offer her help, but all she got was distracted pats on the forehead as her words went in one ear and out the other. She couldn't blame them; they really did look stretched thin, which made her especially thankful for Lucy's company even at their busiest.

Still, that didn't stop her from carrying her blankets down to the door to the attic in the dead of the night, leaning her head against the banister. If she were lucky, she'd catch a faint strain of Lockwood humming. As cheery and disarming as he was, picturing him humming felt too intimate. The little that she could hear reverberated through her skull, the notes knocking into her other drifting thoughts about him, his British smile and his stormy London eyes. But the Lockwood she curiously dreamt of at night never reconciled with the Lockwood she saw walking and talking during the day, and so their relationship had come to a sort of standstill, where he would smile at her and she would take the first socially-acceptable chance to flee the room. Only, it was a bit harder to escape early in the morning when they were the only ones in the kitchen.

Fortunately, the others soon came, and the tension eased. Lucy came in, sleepily trying to scrounge up some tea while George went off on Lockwood about his sleep schedule, or lack thereof, while Lockwood tried to stuff his face and busy himself in gathering his documents to keep from answering. She took advantage of the bustle to discreetly sift through the drawers. Lucy had mentioned that they had a postage drawer somewhere, but she didn't want to be too much of a burden by asking again.

"George, lay off me, I've got to get to DEPRAC. Luce and I will meet you at the Archives and - oh, darling, we keep the stamps here." Lockwood paused his hunt for some brown, non-descript envelope to pull open a drawer between the two of them. She could feel her face starting to warm, but only because of the embarrassment, not the nickname. "Mailman should be coming around soon, so you might want to hurry. Luce, yesterday's client should be coming around near 5 and you promised Holly you'd do the invoices while she was away. Oh, what now George?" She ducked her head, muttering some thanks that went unheard as George tried to force out how many hours Lockwood had slept, practically chasing him out of the house. Lucy raised her eyebrows suggestively, which she pointedly ignored.

That day was the most dull one yet, where she rolled around the house like a lost penny, trying to occupy herself. A letter arrived some time in the late morning, and she took the liberty of starting its case report file. Lockwood was the first one free, arriving home a little after lunch. She told him as soon as she saw him, while he was still taking his coat off, forcing the words out before she lost her nerve.

"We got a new case while you were gone. I started its file."

"Wonderful. Thanks, love." He rolled up his sleeves, putting on the kettle, while she surreptitiously leaned against the wall for support, trying not to think about how effortlessly pet names dripped off his tongue, like honey, before she got too shaky in the knees. She pressed on.

"It was from a Lew-tenant Smith."

"Who?"

"Lew-tenant Smi..." her voice trailed off. No, that didn't sound right. She couldn't imagine any of them saying it like that. Lockwood briefly leaned over her shoulder, a faint smell of soap lingering around him, before his eyebrows unfurrowed and he returned to his tea.

"Oh, I see. We pronounce it as 'left-tenant.' Now, where's he staying?"

Oh dear. She wasn't entirely sure. "Erm, Ald-wykh?"

"Ald-wich, we call it."

"Ah." Some part of her wanted to apologise, but he was looking at her with a strange twist to his lips and a certain fondness was shining in her eyes that, once again, she was rendered speechless. A silence followed, and for once, she willed herself to bear it.

"You haven't been stuck at home all day, have you? Have you been outside during the day any time this week?"

"I, er-"

"Luce, what kind of a friend are you?" Lockwood spun around to accost Lucy, who had wandered into the living room to see the commotion, bleary-eyed from whatever lair she had retired to to iron out the paperwork. "Y/N must be feeling cooped up. We should make a day trip of it. We'll get a break one of these days, and we'll take you around London, do all of it: high tea, the West End, go to a pub, watch some rugby- how are you with heights? Interested in the London Eye?"

Lucy groaned, stealing Lockwood's tea. "I don't know how Holly does it."

"Well, for one, I don't think she lets it pile up like you do."

Lucy shot Lockwood a dirty look, taking his biscuit too before turning back apologetically. "I'm sorry, Y/N, but how about next week?"

She laughed, pulling a weak smile from Lucy. "Don't sweat it. Hopefully, I'll still be around then." Lucy waved goodbye, retiring to her mountains of paperwork.

"Well, there goes my tea. Would you like some...?"

"Tea? Oh, um, sure."

"Brilliant. See you outside in five minutes." With that, he left the kitchen. Once she had caught up to what had just happened, she slipped her coat on, joining him outside just as he hailed a cab.

Surprisingly, he hadn't been exaggerating: Lockwood was fully prepared to take her to each and every one of those attractions, no matter how long it took. In the end, they narrowed it down to a rainy cab ride to a play at the West End, with high tea afterwards, though they did get around to the rest in the coming weeks. Oddly enough, they never planned it beforehand. The occasional lull in cases would sneak up on them, Lockwood would wander into the living room where she would be fused to an armchair, and suddenly it would be time for yet another trip around London.

But now they were at high tea, tucking in to the fading sunlight and excitedly discussing the play. A wind blew through one of the open windows, and she shivered.

"Everything okay, love?"

"I'm fine. It's just a little draughty, don't you think?"

"A little what?"

"Dra - erm, like, it's windy?"

"Drafty."

"Oh, come now, that sounds nothing like how it's spelt. How was I supposed to know that?" He chuckled, shaking his head slightly, as he polished off his food. But she was feeling bold enough to not let it drop this time.

"You keep doing that! You smile and turn away or you laugh and it makes me feel like I've put my foot in something - "

"No, no, dear god, no." There he was, laughing again. She hoped he would choke; but not too hard, just enough to shock some sense into him. "You don't - it's not your fault; believe me, I'm just an awful person. It's just...you really try your very best at...everything, really." His eyes fixed on hers and she found herself wanting to never look away. "It's...endearing."

"I’m sorry. I know my accent isn’t the clearest-"

“No, it’s fine. I like it. It’s very unique, and…beautiful. I’d pick your voice out of a crowd.” She felt this warmth wash over, and then chills run down her spine. He made her all nervous and giggly on the inside in a way that made her want to lounge around London, indulging herself in useless thoughts of ridiculous London boys with addictive smiles and silver tongues.

But like all good things, their excursion came to an end. She found herself dragging her feet to the front door with a boy with whom she was too scared to be alone with just 12 hours ago.

"I hope you had fun today. Not feeling too homesick, are you?"

She thought back to the green meadows and lightning bugs that she had dreamed about in the early hours of that morning. That life still seemed so precious, so sacred, but now it was oddly distant, no longer something she yearned for.

"I don't think so. You know what they say, 'home is where the heart is,'" she looked up at him, unable to resist the smile tugging at her lips, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But I think the English aren't half-bad either."

"Not half-bad?" They were so close now, she could feel his breath tickling her forehead. Her heart stuttered. "I took you out to the West End, and you call it 'not half-bad.'"

"Well, there are certain exceptions."

"Like what?"

Her stomach threatened to explode with giddiness. She was having a hard time regulating her breathing and looking at him at the same time. God, she was never beating the 'stupid' allegations. "I don't know," she fibbed in a flimsy attempt to seem cool. "Like...like you."

In the end, it was his eyes that pulled her in, pulled her under, because one moment she was teetering on the precipice of something new and terrifying, and the next there was soft skin brushing her frozen face, warm lips on her chapped ones. He tasted like summer in this cold, dead winter, breathing life and wonder back into her. It was dizzying, exhilarating, heart-palpitations-inducing...it was Lockwood, surrounding and consuming all her senses.

He pulled away, and all she stared at him blankly, as if he had stolen the words at the tip of her tongue. He gave a half-smile, and she grinned at him. He opened the door for her, murmuring in her ear in a way that filled her brain with pleasant static. "After you, darling." She rolled her eyes reflexively as a defense mechanism, but still her heart fluttered. They walked in to find George sorting the mail, mildly peeved, mildly concerned.

"Ah, so you two finally decide to show up. You could've been dead in a ditch for all we know. Your dinner's gone cold, you know."

Lucy had skipped down the stairs once the front door opened, a little too immediately for her liking and now her eyes narrowed teasingly. All of a sudden, she had the embarrassing realisation how visible the front porch was from the attic. There was colour in Lucy's cheeks, which probably meant that she had somehow managed to work through all that paperwork. Drat. "I dunno. I think Mr. and Mrs. 'Darling' are- "

"Luce! Have I...told you about my coat pockets?"

Lucy rolled her eyes, heading back to the attic, while George shook his head and handed her a postcard. Lockwood's fingers lingered briefly on her wrist as he walked away, leaving her and her mind all topsy-turvy. With a start, she pulled herself away from delicious thoughts of Lockwood to the postcard in her hand. She scanned it eagerly, lips twitching as she reached the end of it. Her sister could be just as ridiculous and delusional as her sometimes, and she wasn't even in the same country.

Y/N -

Can't say much, haven't got the time. All's well here and we miss you dearly too. The house is just too quiet, but mum seems to be adjusting. We saw a picture of your boss in the paper the other day.

London boys truly are a different breed, aren't they?

Love, Lizzie.

[jobean12-blog]

When We Let Go

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Word Count: 829

Summary: Joel shows up back in town after too long. 

Author’s Note: I can’t stay away and I love a bit of “I’m mad at you but I can’t resist you,” type of trope thingy :) Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by my lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweets!🥰 There are no spoilers here, just some tiny nods to episode 6. 

Warnings: little angsty at first then sexy, fingering (18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!)

GIF NOT MINE: Credit goes to @a7estrellas​ thank you so much lovely 🥰

Joel Miller Masterlist

His large hands smooth along the polished wood of the bar and he smiles wryly.

“Been too long,” he drawls.

Ignorning his remark, you meet his eyes and lean back against the countertop.

“Are you just gonna stare or do you want a drink?”

Joel makes no indication he’s affected by your sassy words as he keeps his gaze trained on you.

You turn away and proceed to repeatedly stab the large block of ice in the cooler before dropping some into a glass and filling it with whiskey.

His favorite.

You slide it down the bar without a word.

“Thanks darlin’,” he murmurs, lifting the glass to his lips and watching you over the rim.

He finishes it in one long and slow sip. He raises his eyebrows and licks his lips, holding the glass out for more.

“Good, isn’t it,” you say as you give him a refill.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, swirling the glass on the bar top as his eyes drift languidly down your body.

With an exhale you round the bar, taking the bottle of whiskey with you and stopping by his stool.

“Yea well, it’s been too long,” you say, throwing his words from earlier back at him as you slam the bottle down near his glass.

Your steps are rushed as you make your way toward the door and push it open with a bang, heading back to your house down the street.

The cold wind whips around your face and you shiver, wincing when the drops of rain start to fall. You pick up the pace, unaware that Joel is not far behind.

You get inside and stomp up the steps, already working open the buttons of your wet shirt so you can change.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t hear him come in the house and when you turn and see him standing in the doorway of your bedroom you jump with a start and clutch your hand to your chest.

He gives you an apologetic and lopsided smile and you try to calm your racing heart, trying to ignore the real reason for it’s frantic beat.

“Guess I’m not the only one going deaf,” he huffs, his smile falling when you glower at him.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

He steps closer, his gaze melting into heat as his eyes drop to your open shirt.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, “I really have.”

“Joel…”

His gaze lingers on the sliver of your exposed skin, his steps tentative as he closes the distance between you.

You try to move around him but before you can he has your back pushed against the dresser. Your hands land on his chest.

“Joel,” you warn, but even you can hear how pitiful it sounds.

His intense stare wanders over your face before it drops lower. The muscle in his jaw flexes and he slowly lifts a trembling hand, his fingertips grazing the open side of your shirt and his knuckles brushing your skin.

Your breath hitches at his touch and it sends a shiver skittering down your spine.

“Too cold be in wet clothes darlin’,” he says softly.

You want to tell him to stop but the truth is you’ve missed him too and you’re forever craving his touch.

His eyes returns to yours.

“I’m sorry” he whispers as his other hand slides behind your neck to curl tightly around your nape so he can yank you hard against him.

“Joel,” you breathe out in a whisper along his lips.

“Fuck, I missed how good you feel,” he murmurs, his fingers biting into you.

He pushes your shirt from your shoulders and moves his hands over your bare skin, everything about his movements turning desperate the more of you he feels.

His touch silences any rational thoughts or fighting words you have left and you’re overwhelmed by desire. You feel his hand between your legs and let his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants until he’s pressing his thumb against you.

“Nothing feels better than this,” he pants, his eyes never leaving yours as he pushes a finger inside you.

You lift your hand to trace his jaw, your lips parted with your heavy breathing, and you tug him closer for a kiss.

That’s all it takes for him to lose control and he leaves your mouth to trail kisses down your throat, his grip bruising as he holds you in place with his free hand, his other still buried between your legs as his fingers push harder and deeper.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling your moans and frantic pleas for more.

He growls low and deep, the action making you clench around his fingers, and he slides the hand at your neck across your cheek, grasping your chin between his fingers.

His thumb pulls your lip free of your teeth, his stare predatory.

“Let me listen to you come darlin’.”

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

Next Up: You. |Prologue|

The sight laid across the room nearly caused you to vomit as you pulled the door open--but you forced it down and hurriedly looked away from the sight.

Against the wall, Spring Bonnie laid, the rabbit's body rather limp in the moment. Their green eyes, originally being focused down on the floor, had already been rather wide.

They only seemed to widen further--if that were even possible--when meeting your own pair of eyes. Spring Bonnie's head raised, ears twitching every so often.

William himself, in the other corner, didn't seem to notice the sudden arrival yet. You didn't want to look in that direction again--it was horrifying--but he seemed to be cleaning up.

Frantically, the animatronics mouth opened and closed--seemingly trying to tell you something without actually making any noise, and alerting the man.

Unfortunately, with how limited the movements were, it wasn't like you could read the rabbit's lips. But raising a hand, and pointing towards the door? That was enough of a hint.

I got this. I got this. It will be okay... Sucking in what you hoped was a silent enough breath, you began to back away, not bothering to check around yourself.

I'll get out of here without him seeing, and... and then... You bumped into a rather sharp corner, and the grunt forced its way out of your lips before you realized that it had been forming.

William spun around almost instantly. his eyes narrowed. At the same time, Spring Bonnie flinched, before beginning to glance between the both of you.

"You..." Abandoning that area of the room, William slowly began to approach, a little hum escaping from his lips.

Without the stress of having to worry about potentially alerting the man, Spring Bonnie spoke up--saying something that you were already planning on doing--but it was nice, either way.

"Run!"

For only the briefest of moments, William turned to stare at the yellow rabbit--but when he turned back around, you had taken off running, slamming the door.

The building itself felt far more cramped than usual, and you were trying your best to keep running, and not potentially slip, or trip over anything--including the air.

Come on, come on... A bit behind you, the door slammed back open, and footsteps immediately followed. "Get back here. You know, this could be easy..."

It wasn't like the area happened to be a maze, or that it was crowded--in fact, it only felt like it happened to be the two of you, and a single animatronic rabbit. It made sense that he hadn't lost you.

You weren't exactly an incredible runner, either. But it didn't even sound like William was walking--from what was being heard, it sounded like, as of right now, he was only walking.

William chuckled. "I figured you might have been like a few of the others."

He seemed to keep talking, but you simply chose to ignore his words--focusing on getting out of the restaurant, and even farther away--still trying your best as to not trip.

Pushing past the doors, wind hit your face, and the pace was immediately quickened to reach your car--one of the only few still there at this time.

William's footsteps seemed to have stopped, but you chose against looking back.

Soon enough, you found yourself hopping into the car, closing the door, starting it up, and driving off. You didn't bother with the seatbelt.

Oh... what am I going to do?

@mcfries123

[stardustjmk]

Tears For Fears | J.T.K

Summary: in which spending some time with your friends sounds like a fun time, until alchohol gets involved.

Warnings: angst, alcoholic parent, alcohol consumption.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader | Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, friends to lovers | Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: one thing about me is i’m gonna write self indulgent fics. i’m also sure there’s someone else out there who needs this, and even if you may not relate, i hope it brings you some joy and comfort, because who doesn’t love a good, fluffy jake fic? also, i apologize if there are any errors, it’s been so long since i’ve written anything. oh, and this fic has nothing to do with the duo tears for fears i just rocked with the name LMAO

You knew alchohol was bound to be involved. After all, you’d spent almost a decade with the four boys, so their habits weren’t something you we’re oblivious to. Regardless, you accepted, reminding yourself that even when damn near shit-faced, they never acted like your mother. In fact, the last time you’d been around the group while they were drinking, you felt comfortable enough to relax, and even have a drink of your own. It was only a wine cooler, but it was a step farther than you’d normally go, and the fact that you felt comfortable doing it was a big deal to you.

So, going into the little getaway, you figured it would be like that again, but that wasn’t the case. At the time you accepted the offer, you were in a good mood, almost entirely unbothered by the idea of alchohol being present. In fact, having a few drinks of your own sounded nice, but now, as you pad down the stairs and hear the unmistakable popping sound, your heart sinks.

You were all to familiar with it, and when you rounded the corner to then be hit with the smell of whiskey, you swear your stomach flipped, and your head began to spin. You’d taken a deep breath, trying to not let it bother you, but then came the sound of ice clinking as it hits the glass, with the crackling sound of the liquid being poured over it a moment later. For a second, you felt like your younger self again, the dread you felt then coming back to you in this very moment. For your sake and everyone else’s, you decided that a breath of fresh air would do you some good, and made your way to the back door.

You step onto the back porch and pull the door closed behind you, being ever so gentle with it. For whatever reason, if you used even a little bit too much pressure, the door would slam shut, and you remember Karen jokingly scolding you for it the first time you’d been here. The memory brings a small smile to your face, despite the anxiety that manifests in your chest. You suck in a sharp breath, the cool air filling your lungs as you do so. It’s refreshing and grounding, your breath swirling in front of you as you exhale.

You release the door knob and fold your arms in front of yourself as a gust of wind travels through the Michigan night, and your body shudders involuntarily. You scan the porch, and the scenery surrounding it, taking in the nostalgic view. Then, you remember the boys mentioning that they’d put up fairy lights the last time they were here, and sure enough, the string lights lined the roof of the porch. You scanned the floor, searching for where you could plug in the lights, and did just that as you found it.

It lights up the porch, casting a gentle, warm glow over everything. The light only travels a few feet out from the porch, leaving the rest of the yard to only be lit up by the bright moon. You sigh, then walk to the steps that lead to the grass, and take a seat on the top one. The wooden floor of the porch is cold, on your thighs, making you shudder again. It’s quiet, aside from the muffled chatter coming from inside of the cabin. Then, the whole reason you’re sitting here dawns on you again, and inevitably, your mind wanders to an unpleasant place.

Jake is the only one who knows about your past. In depth, at least. He found out years ago, when you both were still teenagers. It was common for you to flea to the Kiszka home to get away from your mom, but usually, you would disguise it as something else. Fortunately, they were always welcoming you with open arms, happy to have you no matter the circumstance. Normally, you’d be able to leave your house before it got bad, until one night where you’d pushed things too far.

You were fed up with your moms habits, and for the first time, tried to stand up for yourself. You simply tried to stop her from getting another drink, doing your best to be calm, but of course she, in her intoxicated state, blew up on you. Normally, you wouldn’t fight. You’d disassociate as she scolded you, telling you that you’re too young to understand, and that you should wait until you’re her age, having to soak up everyone’s bullshit, and then you can ask about how many drinks she’s had.

That time, though, you fought back. You argued with her for at least an hour, and by the end of it, were in shambles. She’d told you off in a way that you’d never been told off before, essentially calling you a disappointment and a burden. You managed to text Jake before she took your phone - for no reason, might you add - and when you told her that you were leaving, she said “Go cry to the Kiszka’s like you always do.” with a venom dripping from her words unlike any you’d heard before. To this day, you remember that vividly.

You held off your tears long enough to get past Karen, as the last thing you wanted to do was worry her, certain that she had enough on her plate with her own kids. Despite being able to tell you were upset, she could also read that you didn’t necessarily want to talk about it, so she dismissed you. You’d been to their house enough to know who’s room was where, so it wasn’t hard to get to Jakes- the twins’ room. You were relieved to find that Jake was the only one in the room when you walked in. Not that Josh being there would have been a problem, - in fact, in most cases, you’d gone to Josh for comfort, as he was always the perfect balance of silly and comforting - but this time, you longed for Jake.

Before you could determine why that was, you’d broken into tears. Jake immediately jumped up from his bed and took you in his arms, hugging you tightly. You buried your face into his neck, wrapping your arms around him twice as tightly as he did you. He was taken aback and remained silent, just letting you sob in his hold. He carefully brought you to the bed, where he continued hugging you. Unsure of what exactly to do, he wearily rubbed your back. You missed it in the moment, just Josh had come into the room, and before he could say anything, Jake shooed him away.

Josh closed the door and left, knowing that wasn’t the time to be snarky.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to guess?” Jake said, his tone somehow a mix of playful, concern, and comfort. You drew in a shaky breath and ended up explaining everything to him. You told him how it happened, what your mom had said, and even traveled back to past experiences. Jake was at a loss for words, but his touch delivered a comfort that surpassed anything he could have said, and you spent at least an hour clinging to him.

Later that night, your mom called, having sobered up. At that point, everyone except you and the twins had gone to bed. Josh was the one who picked up the phone, and you ended up taking over. You’d been too exhausted to fight with her, and simply went along with her suddenly apologetic acts. She didn’t put up a fight when you said you’d be staying at Jake’s place, but you knew she’d be on your ass about it the next day. However, as Jake looked at you from the couch with worried eyes, you couldn’t be bothered. This was your home - he was your home, and in that moment, you were sure of it.

In the midst of recalling the bittersweet memory, the back door opens and brings you back to reality. You look over your shoulder, relieved to see Jake standing there. “Hi,” you say softly, your voice strained slightly. “Hi,” he hums in response, shutting the door in the same manner you had done when you came out a few minutes ago. “You okay?” he asks, the soft rasp of his voice making you slightly giddy. “Yeah,” you say, but he knows all too well that something has to be bothering you at least a little bit.

He remains silent, standing near the back door, his gaze lingering on your backside. It’s quiet for a few moments, before he speaks. “Is it the alcohol?” he asks, and you should have known that he’d be able to easily detect the issue, but a part of you is still shocked that he was able to figure it out in such a short amount of time. Reluctantly, you nod your head. Guilt begins to pool in the pit of your stomach, as you hate the idea that your own issues might affect their fun, but unbeknownst to you, that’s the last thing Jake is worried about.

He takes a few steps forward and leans on the railing of the porch, forearms resting on the wood. He glances down at you, then looks out in the distance, following your own gaze. “Do you want me to tell them to put it away?” he asks, and you sigh. It’s frustrating, in a way. The fact that you can’t seem to get past it, that you can’t just let loose and trust yourself, and your friends, all because of a bottle of alchohol. “No,” you respond flatly. You can feel Jake’s eyes on you, and you try your hardest to stop your bottom lip from quivering as you get the urge to cry, but you can’t help it.

Fortunately, Jake doesnt overreact. He takes slow steps behind you, his signature chelsea boots thudding on the floor with each step. He plops down beside you, his thigh pressed against yours. It’s a subtle move of comfort, one that works, and only does so when Jake does it.

Your relationship with him, at this point in time, is hard to explain. You’re not just friends, you both know it, and so do the boys…hell, even his parents have probably caught onto it. That being said, you’re not officially dating either. Neither of you are oblivious to the chemistry you share, and you suppose that’s why you never felt the need to bring it up. However, as time goes on, a part of you wants to push the line of friends, to see what could become of your relationship if you were to bring attention to the aforementioned chemistry you have.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Jake asks, his eyes practically staring into your soul as you make eye contact with him. Your heart leaps at his words, and you swallow harshly. “I don’t even know,” you mutter, chuckling softly. It makes him smile; your brief amusement. “I guess i’m just frustrated,” you say, eyes flickering down to his lips as they purse. “Elaborate,” he says simply. Now, he’s turned his full body towards you, and rests his arm over your lap, his hand cupping the outer side of your thigh. Again, your heart leaps in your chest, and your stomach flips.

You avoid his gaze, looking off into the distance once again. You press your lips together for a moment, thinking about how to word your thoughts. “I feel bad…like, I hate that I can’t just relax and let you guys have fun.” Jake hums, “We are having fun,” he says, making you roll your eyes subtly. “You know what I mean,” you finally return your eyes to his, and every part of you wants to lean in and kiss him, especially given how cute he looks in these moments. He’s staring at you with big, brown eyes, ones that are too often hidden behind dark sunglasses, and the way he looks at you makes your head spin.

“Sure, but we don’t have to drink to have fun,” he explains, pressing his point further. You eye him, shoulders slumping with defeat. “I know, but,” you pause. It’s always conflicting; the half of you that wants to join in on the drinking, to just goof off and enjoy the tingly feeling of alchohol in your system, versus the other half of you that wishes it would cease to exist. “But what?” Jake asks, his voice impossibly softer. Your brows furrow, “Do you do that on purpose?” you ask, and his expression mirrors yours, with his brows knitting together in confusion. “Do what?” he asks.

You aren’t even sure how to explain it to him. If only you could put him in your shoes right now. “I don’t know, Jake, you just,” you’re getting flustered now, almost regretting that you even said anything. He waists, and you swear he’s batting his eyelashes at you. Your breath catches in your throat, and it takes every fiber of your being to remain still. “You just have this way of…being, I suppose,” you say, and you know it sounds stupid, but it’s almost worth it when Jake smiles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs, looking away, and a part of you is almost frustrated with him, but it doesn’t last for long.

“Come on, talk to me,” Jake says after a few moments of silence. “About what?” you ask. “Either the drinking situation, or whatever my way of…’being’ is,” he uses air quotes when he says ‘being’, playfully mocking you. You huff, “I guess i’m just scared,” you say, then clarify, “of drinking, I mean.” He nods, “What are you afraid of?” he asks, and your mind goes right back to where it was earlier, when you’d seen Josh pop open the very whiskey your mom used to drink - you weren’t upset with Josh, or any of the boys. They didn’t know, and even if they did, you wouldn’t have been upset.

“Well I mean, for starters, it doesn’t even feel that great to drink-“ Jake stops you. “No, what are you afraid of?” he repeats, making you swallow. You stay quiet, pressing your lips together. You’re searching for any comfort you can get, and Jake delivers it as he takes your hand in both of his, his thumbs soothing over your skin.

“I’ve seen what it does to some people, Jake,” you mutter, and he leans in to ensure he hears you. He nods, thinking back to the night where you told him everything.

He felt so helpless, it hurt. He remembers it almost as vividly as you do, and certainly remembers the way his chest ached as you cried into his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He also felt angry, knowing that you’d have to go home and deal with your mom again, but he knew better than to try and do anything - at the end of the day, all he could do was hold you, be there for you, and even if he wasn’t sure how to do that, he internally promised himself to do his best.

“I don’t want to be the way my mom was-is…she stopped for a while, just drinking wine here and there, but she’s picked up whiskey again,” you explain. Jake had yet to learn that, and that tells him all he needs to know. “I’m so sorry,” he says, and the sheer gentleness of his words makes you want to dissolve into a puddle of tears. “It’s okay,” you respond, voice barely above a whisper. “We don’t have to drink, but I want you to know that you will never be like your mom, okay?” He says, and you can feel a lump forming in your throat. You choose to nod rather than speak, not trusting that your voice wouldn’t fail you. He lifts a hand to your cheek just in time for a tear to fall from your eyes, and he swipes it away gently.

“Come here,” he says sweetly, cradling your head to his chest as he embraces you. It’s nostalgic, this moment, and how similar it is to that night you spent with him, sobbing in his arms. Fortunately, this time, you’re much more calm, even if the tears are still falling. “Jakey,” you hadn’t intended to use the nickname, but sometimes, it finds it way out almost instinctively. “Yes?” he responds, rubbing your back. You nuzzle into him, taking a moment to relish in his hold.

“Do you want a drink?” you ask. He didn’t know exactly what to expect, but that wasn’t it. Between the overwhelming urge to confess to him right now, and your desire to finally overcome your own fear, you’re warming up to the thought of a shot or two.

“Yn, sweetheart, I already told you that I don’t care. I don’t need to drink to have f-“ you’re the one to cut him off this time. “I know, but do you want to have a drink? Because I think a drink sounds kind of nice,” you say. Jake sighs, not a frustrated sigh, but rather a…disappointed sigh? He’s unsure of what exactly he was sighing for, but the possibility that you were going to confess to him flashes through his mind, and he knows deep down that’s the reason for it. Suddenly, he’s on par with a drink as well, but remains mindful as you lead him back inside.

Youre half expecting to be bombarded by the other boys, but you find sam sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep, with Josh and danny in the middle of some intense conversation, one that they don’t pull away from. “Probably talking about music,” Jake mutters, shutting the back door. You glance at Jake, then look at Josh. His hands mimick Danny’s when he’s drumming, and what Jake said makes sense. “Seems like it,” you respond, then follow Jake into the kitchen.

“Please tell me you bought something other than whiskey,” you say, grimacing at the sight of the half empty bottle. “Honestly, I don’t know, I didn’t buy anything,” he says as he starts rummaging through the cabinets, and the idea that he refrained from buying anything because of you warms your heart. You watch as he scans the cabinets, and eventually, he finds the stash of drinks, listing them to you. You take your pick, grabbing two glasses as Jake opens the bottle. He pours a small amount into both glasses, and you don’t miss the way he takes a second to put the whiskey out of your view.

He turns his attention to you as he grabs his glass. “Thank you, Jakey,” you say softly, and he smiles, clinking his glass against yours. “Your welcome,“ he says softly, and you both down the shot, almost in sync as you place your glasses on the counter. You stand in a comfortable silence for a few moments, and given how rare it is for you to drink, it’s not long before you feel the subtle affects of the alcohol taking place.

“D’you wanna tell me about my way of being, now?”Jake asks suddenly, eyeing you. You know that, unless you seriously didn’t want to, he’s going to press you until you expound. Now, you’re even more unsure of how to explain it. “I don’t know how to explain it,” you mumble, looking at him. Your eyes meet, and he waits patiently for you to continue. “You just…” you bite your lip, hesitant to tell him the truth. He steps forward, closing some of the distance between you both. “Talk to me, baby,” he says, and it takes everything in you to keep your composure.

The amount of love you feel for him is overwhelming, and right now, between the very slight buzz you’re experiencing, his closeness to you, and the nickname, you’re almost dizzy. “Nobody makes me feel the way you do, Jake,”

you finally give him a peak into your mind, and even though you can’t tell, his heart is rapidly beating against his rib cage. He nods, encouraging you to continue. “Like, everything you do is so…you bring me so much comfort and peace, just by existing,” you explain, and despite trying to fight it, tears well in your eyes.

“You just mean so much to me, Jake and…I don’t know what i’d do without you, and especially nights like these, I can’t hardly stand just being your friend,” you know you’re jumping around a little bit, but you figure your point is getting across just fine.

“Then, what do you want us to be?” he asks softly. He’s not trying to be flirtatious, or teasing, he’s genuinely asking, and with the way he steps even closer, making you feel like he’s the only person in the world, you feel so comfortable giving him an answer. “Everything,” you respond. “I like what we have, I dont want to lose it…but I also want more, I suppose,” you say, eyes unable to break away from his. “I want to wake up to you, to go to sleep with you, to go everywhere with you, to just-“ you pause, choosing to save him the long explanation. “I love you, Jake.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you talk again just as he opens his mouth to speak. “And that’s not the alcohol talking,” you assure him. He laughs, shaking his head. “Baby, you had maybe an ounce or two, I know it isn’t the alchohol,” he hums. If it weren’t for the pet name, you’d likely have been annoyed at his teasing, but instead, you feel like you’re melting under his gaze. He takes one more step, your body’s almost touching. He slowly leans down, cupping your cheek as he does so. You lean into the warmth of his palm, eyes fluttering shut. They open only for a moment, and close when his lips land on yours. It’s a soft, but passionate kiss. One of your hands finds its place on his chest, the other gripping his wrist to keep his hand on your cheek as you fervently kiss him. When he pulls away, you’re both giddy.

“I love you too, yn,” he says honestly, and even if the way he just kissed you should have been enough to tell you that, hearing him say it lifts any doubts you had. “…And that’s not the alcohol talking,” he playfully mocks you, laughing as you gently smack his chest.

[luvyurself]

rainstorm

a/n : first post of flufftober and it’s sun and moon 🫶🏼‼️ will forever love these two I just want to slam them against the wall

flufftober masterlist

c/w : she/her pronouns , sun and moon are separate animatronics , ooc maybe , moon calls u “naughty girl” non sexually gooners , they are scared shitless of storms , pls help them

______

a snap of thunder echoed across her apartment, and the hold on her arm and leg tighten as she felt the silicone hands on both body parts.

the power went out with the storm, leaving them in the dark in her bed. she heard the click of the animatronics sun rays next to her, twitching nervously as he curled into her.

“oh….whywhywhy is it so loud?” his voice sounded strained, his eyes glued to the bed as his fingers twitched on her arm.

his lunar counterpart was near her legs, his optics never moving from the window as the wind and rain assaulted the glass. he was quiet, which wasn’t unusual, but this was unnervingly quiet for him.

this was their first time seeing a thunderstorm, the daycare at the pizzaplex never had any windows to see outside or even hear anything from beyond the mall.

it always piped their interest when they see children come in with raincoats and their little rain boots that would be caked with mud.

they always wondered how it would be like to watch the rain.

and now they know. and so far they are not fans of it at all.

she had one hand on suns shoulder, and the other on moons hand. she remembers being terrified of storms like these, running to her parents room to hide under their blankets.

another flash of light, and suns faceplate nuzzled against her cheek, preparing for the thunder clap that would come next.

once the booming loud thunder came, moon visibly tensed up and slowly began crawling up next to her, gripping her other arm tightly.

“…..loud.” he hissed, his faceplate rotating a bit.

the thunder lasted for a few more seconds before it finally dissipated.

she sighed softly, feeling her arms going a bit numb from the tight grip they both had on her. she reached up to grab both their hands, rubbing her thumb across the long silicone fingers of each of them.

“you know….there might be a way to help you both calm down.” she whispered, watching as they moved their faceplates to look at her.

suns nervous voice spoke first, “I-I don’t think singing ‘rain rain go away’ will help us, sunshine.” he gave a nervous chuckle, gripping her hand a bit.

gravely static came from moons voice box on her other side, “make it go away.” he spoke, still looking at the window like a scared cat ready to pounce.

she let out an amused huff, “I would have done that if I could, nightlight.” she tutted, moving to sit up straighter.

“there’s this….way you could track the storm. every time you see lightning, you start to count-“ she stopped to find the words, “…between the flash of lightning and thunder.”

they are both silent, processing her words. she bit her lip, waiting for the next strike of lightning to approach.

she hummed as a flash lit up her room, the two next to her tense up once more as she began counting. “one…two-“ the sound of the thunder cracked right after.

hearing sun’s whimper and moon’s disgruntled groan made her heart hurt, she wanted nothing to do but to just hold them tightly through the storm.

“okay…so the storm is still close.” she spoke in a low tone, squeezing both their hands. “the longer you count after the flash….the farther the storm is moving away.” she explained, nudging sun a bit, “your turn, sunny.”

a flash of light came through, and reluctantly, he began to count. “one…two…three…four…five-“

a thunder clap, she gave a small smile. “see? the storms moving away.” she spoke, her tone getting lighter as she felt each of their grips loosening a bit.

moon shifted a bit, sitting straighter as he waited for the next flash of lightning.

a flash.

“one….two….three….four….five….six-“

a clap of thunder.

sun let out a small gasp, his voice lightening up a bit. “ohohohoh! it’s-it’s moving away!” he softly exclaimed as he waits for the next one.

for a few minutes, they counted each flash of lightning and would see who would get it the longest. it turned into a fun little game, with both of the animatronics getting more relaxed as the time went on.

the last clap of thunder echoed far away, leaving behind the pitter patter of the rain against her roof. it was lighter than before, but still wasn’t going away any time soon.

the three of them laid in her bed, sun and moon preparing to power down for the night and hopefully have enough charge for tomorrow morning.

she yawned as she snuggled under the warm blankets, being spooned by sun from behind while she faced moon, his fingers tracing her face.

he poked at her forehead, “past your bedtime….naughty girl.” his voice had scolding in it, it was more playful and low. she hummed, using one hand to rest on top of one of suns wrapped around her waist, and the other to pull moon close to her.

“I’m-“ she cut herself off with another yawn. “….I’m getting to it…” she sleepily spoke, closing her eyes.

she heard a little giggle behind her as sun pressed his mouth against her shoulder, hearing his fans kick up as he spoke, “goodnight sunshine…and thank you for being here with us.”

she then felt moon wrap his arms around her torso, feeling his face plate against her forehead, “and we’ll be with you all night, starlight.”

as they both shut down, she let a tired smile spread across her face as she drifted off to sleep.

she loved stormy nights better than ever now.

[skellseerwriting]

My Beautiful Goddess

Girlfriend!Uliana x Gn!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Content & Warnings: Hurt/comfort, crying, LOTS of crying, bullying (via Ursula) (though it’s off-page), insecurity over appearance, you’d think an upset Uli would be a warning but no she just needs comfort, reader practically worships Uliana near the end (as we should)

Summary: Your girlfriend Uliana comes to you after having an upsetting encounter with her older sister

This was a lovely request

“I hate her!”

The scream shot into your dorm room as the door burst open; slamming against the wall then shut closed with a tentacle while your girlfriend stormed in.

“I hate her I hate her Ihateher!”

You immediately jumped up from your seat. Uliana got upset over Bridget all the time, but you had never seen her so worked up before. She sounded hurt.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You said soothingly, approaching her and loosely wrapping your arms around her. There were fat tears in her eyes and running down her face; ruining her makeup.

“Ursula.” She croaked, gulping down a sob. Your heart broke at the look on her face.

Guiding her to your previous seating, you sat down in your cushiony love chair and patted the small space next to you. Uliana quickly sat down as well; half on your leg and hip as she buried her face into your neck.

She started screaming, but it was muffled. Still, it was enough to reach your ear harshly and did a great job punctuating the sharp nails in your scalp.

Wincing, you clamped your teeth down as you rubbed a hand up and down her back. It was best to just let her get it all out. Plus, your neck was soaked with tears already.

Eventually, her vocal cords died down into sobbing. If you heart had broken before at just seeing her face, it was surely shattered now. The sound wracked your soul and made you ache in her pain. All you wanted was to make her feel better.

Fiddling with the roots of her dreads, you gently moved them around and away from her face. Then, you were running the backs of your fingers down her temple and cheek; repeating the action until her cries became barely audible.

“What happened, my darling witch?” You asked softly, noticing how her grip around you loosened as soon as the pet name left your tongue.

Loudly sniffling, Uliana lifted her face away from your neck, revealing eyes even blearier than before. Some makeup ran down; dark and smeared. As she continued to sniffle, you leaned away from her to grab some tissues from the mini side table.

Uliana let you wipe it against her face. You were gentle as could be, and she trusted you to try and clean the makeup off her. As you took the opportunity to study her face, a bit of startled fear ran through you as you remembered her tentacles.

Where did they go?

Glancing around her back, you saw them tightly winding into each other; squirming uncomfortably like a tangled rat king. You looked back up at Uli, who was wiping some more tears away with her hand and not noticing the confusion on your features.

Her tentacles were always wild. Whenever she experienced any sort of extreme emotion (especially anger) they lashed out in all directions; at anything and everyone. They had done so when she entered your room, so why were they all bound up like that?

“Hey,” you whispered, noticing the troubled look on her face growing again. “It’s okay. I’m here now.”

Her lower lip quivered and almost resembled a pout.

“You can let them down. They need to rest.” You told her, referring to her extra extremities.

Blinking rapidly, she shook her head no. The tentacles sounded like they were squeezing tighter. Your eyebrows knit together in concern. You carefully placed a hand on the front of her arm.

“Uli, what’s wrong? You don’t have to tell me what happened, but I don’t want to see you hurting yourself.”

On the verge of tears again, her face scrunched up as she tried to leave the chair. You held her in place, but did so weakly enough that she could leave you if she really wanted to.

“I-“ her voice broke. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Pain flooded your chest as you brought your hands to her face.

“Uli, I know you would never hurt me.”

“But I might.” She cried. “I feel so out of control right now. If they lash out at you, that’s the worst thing that could happen right now.”

She tried to pry your hands away as you attempted to wipe her tears, so you grabbed her wrists tenderly, and she let you.

“Uli I have never been afraid of you hurting me, and I know that if you ever do, it’s not your fault. You would never intentionally do that to me. So please,” you pleaded with her. “Let me help you. Let them down.”

Taking in a large, shuddering breath, she finally nodded.

Struggling to keep her cries in, Uliana’s tentacles slowly untwisted themselves. One by one they laid themselves down onto the floor. They were trembling a bit, but other than that, they were still.

Rubbing her arm up and down in support, you grabbed another tissue and she blew her nose into it.

“What did Ursula do, my dear?”

Uli tossed the snotty tissue towards the trash-bin. It missed.

“She barged into the Black Lagoon.” She began, beautiful voice a complete wreck. You wrapped your arm behind her back and urged her into lounging position. She curled her legs sideways over yours; resting her head on your shoulder.

Staring absently at the empty wall in front of you, you just listened as you traced light patterns into her arm. With your other hand, you interlocked your fingers with hers.

“I think she was looking for something she left behind back when she went to school here. I started yelling at her to get out of my lagoon, but then she started on ‘it was my lagoon first’-” Uliana mockingly mimed her with a high tone and talking hand, and it made you smile that a little bit of her usual meanness was shining through. “And- and she started picking on me and telling me I wasn’t good enough and-“ she started crying again. You let out a soothing “shhh” as you caressed the side of her waist.

“And she-“ Uliana tried to get out between the sobs. “She said I’m ugly and that no one could ever love me...”

“I love you.” You said without missing a beat. Uli inhaled noisily in a way that seemed painfully dismissive.

“That still doesn’t change how I look.” She croaked, and your chest ached.

“Hey, look at me.” You said, urging her to sit up and turn towards you again. She complied wearily; face not quite angled your way. You brought her hand to your lips, kissing her knuckles as you looked up at her. “You, my divinely cruel goddess,” you began slowly, letting a smile slip through. “are the most beautiful, captivating, and breath-taking thing I have ever had the pleasure to witness.” Uli hiccuped. “My eyes are blessed to be able to bask in your visage as you torment others in your wickedly wile ways.” You wiped a tear from her cheek with your thumb and she finally turned to look at you with wide, teary eyes, placing her hand over yours. “I would rather suffer a thousand cruel fates than be in a world that doesn’t have you in it.” You wholeheartedly declared, then leaned towards her with a sarcastic whisper. “And if your sister says otherwise about your looks, then she ought to get a new pair of eyes along with that tongue.”

Uli laughed a little; resting her forehead against yours. It filled you with a sense of peace. Seeing her ease up and relax flooded you with great joy at being able to comfort her sorrows.

“Thank you.” She said quietly, voice strained. Her arms were now wrapped around your neck, face so close you could count her eyelashes.

“Of course.” You whispered back, tucking a dread behind her ear. Then, she closed the distance.

“My beautiful goddess.” You murmured into the kiss, trying to imbue the statement into her mind as fact. Trying to let her know how wonderfully perfect she was.

In response to the title, she kissed you a little harder, then parted from you to look you in the eyes. Her hand rested at the top of your chest, just over your heart; feeling the pumping of the blood that flowed throughout your body just for her.

“For as long as you’ll have me.” She said, sounding the clearest and happiest she had been all day.

You clenched your hand over hers.

“Undoubtedly.”

Taglist:

@lesbpotmurdocklokistan @mushroomdemon9 @brokenmilkcrates @little-teacupss

@eretsupremacy89 @leoisbabygirl @yokolesbianism

[thesightstoshowyou]

maybe a snippet of the times asa/cricket had sex without cricket bleeding 👀👀👀

👀👀👀👀👀

Good choice.

I also got this one so I think they go together well:

~~

“Shhh. Slower.” The hushed words ghost across quivering lips. Teeth snap together to trap the pitiful sounds threatening to spill past them. Toes curl and thighs seize in an effort to slow the urgent rolling of hips.

Asa adjusts his grip and cups his hand tightly around Cricket’s jaw. His other hand grasps both her wrists firmly together before her, as though in prayer. The pressure reminds her to keep her mouth shut, lest the people working on the other side of Asa’s office door catch wind of what’s happening within.

Cricket knows to keep her hands right where they are when Asa releases her wrists to hike her dress further up on her hips. The callouses on his palm scrape against the flesh of her ass when he possessively squeezes a handful. With his new grip, he urges her to gradually raise herself up before sliding back down his length. The methodical, controlled movements keep the squelch of her leaking cunt a secret only they can hear.

“A-Asa…” she utters in a choked whisper. Her legs shake with the demand of the measured bounce. Quietly, Asa chuckles, though the sound is a bit strained as it leaves his throat. He knows if he gives into the nearly unbearable urge to hammer up into her, she will shriek and alert the entire campus of their activities.

Leaning closer, Asa brushes his lips, feather light, against her own and murmurs, “That’s my good, little Cricket. Are they going to hear if I make it hurt?”

Her answering squeak gets caught in her throat. Hastily, she shakes her head and whispers a tremulous, “N-No, Sir.”

“Do you need my help to stay quiet?” The corner of his mouth curls up in a knowing smirk. Cricket meets his heated gaze, her own eyes watering, her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink. She pleads with her eyes, uncertainty in her expression, ‘Yes Sir, No Sir, please Sir, don’t, but do….’ Asa can see it all, plain as day. She doesn’t even have to speak it aloud.

Finally, she nods. A single, overwhelmed tear slips past down her cheek as she mutters, “Yes, Sir.” The hand on her jaw slips down to her neck and squeezes. Strong fingers cut off air, circulation, and her ability to scream.

Asa plants his feet on the floor and slams his hips up, up, up. Cricket’s jaw falls open, but any sound remains trapped by his palm. The chair in which they sit squeaks noisily, but neither of them notice over the mind-numbing crush of climax.

Cricket’s eyes roll back and close when her slick walls clamp down on the cock brutalizing them. Asa hisses through his teeth as glorious, tight warmth milks him of all that agonizing pressure. His hand goes slack and Cricket splutters and inhales like she just broke through the surface of a lake.

“Good girl,” comes his hushed praise, his voice a deep rasp.

“T-Thank you, Sir—

A knock at the door interrupts her shaky reply. Cricket jolts, eyes growing wide as saucers as she scrambles off his lap.

Asa clears his throat. “One moment,” he calls, voice now astoundingly even. Briskly, Asa rights his clothing and opens the window above the file cabinet. Cricket bites her lip and buries her burning face in her palms, which pulls an amused chortle from him as he crosses the room.

The door creaks as it’s swung open halfway, hiding Cricket from view of the student hovering on the other side.

“Professor Emory, I’m sorry, I know it’s not office hours, but I just had a quick question about one of the examples from Thursday’s lecture….”

[storiesaplenty]

Bridgerton: Christmas 2024

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy though.

Warnings: none. Just fluff

WC: 904

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

"You are the most annoying man I have ever met Benedict Bridgerton." I said to him as I walked past him after I slammed the door closed behind me.

"That isn't very lady like, now is?" He leaned against the wall, smirking as he watched me take off my winter jacket.

"Because of you, we missed the final carriage to church, and now there is too much snow for us to walk in."

"Are you seriously that upset about us missing church? They do the same play every year." Benedict said, as he sat down in my favourite chair.

"Yes, because Penelope's son was playing the baby Jesus, and I told her I would be there. But because you insisted we talk just as we were to leave, the last carriage went off without us."

"How was I supposed to know that they wouldn't wait?" He asked me as I sat down across from him.

"What did you need anyways?" I asked him.

Benedict and I have never gotten along. Even as children, when I first met him after my cousins moved in across him and his family.

For some reason, he has always got on my nerves.

"And us being alone together, with no chaperone is going to deter any potential suitors." I didn't see the way how his jaw ticked at that.

"I won't tell anyone that we were left alone together. I will leave once I tell you why I came."

I looked outside as I heard the wind pick up and saw that there was even more snow.

"Even though you live across the way, I can not allow you to leave. It is much to dangerous. The snow was almost up to my waist. You can wait it out."

"Thank you. To answer your first question, I came here to put aside our differences for the holiday season."

"Did your mother put you up to this?" I knew how Violet was.

"That is besides the point. We are both adults, it is time we start acting like it." Benedict said, his voice sounding tense.

"Fine, I will agree to this truce. Maybe this will give me a chance to find myself a husband."

I grabbed a shawl and put it around my shoulders, as I am feeling a bit cold.

The wind was blowing furiously outside, and the fire was warm, but the cold seemed to be getting in.

"I have never stopped you from finding a husband." Benedict said, looking away.

"Really? I saw you at the Berring Ball. Any eligible man who signed my dance card, somehow ended up not being available. I was humiliated." I refused to cry in front of him as I stood up and walked to the window.

The room was silent as I watched the snow come down.

I could barely make out thr Bridgerton home across the way.

Maybe I should ask him to leave. See if he actually makes it home or hear about if he froze to death or not.

I heard his footsteps until he was beside me. Benedict was facing me as I continued to stare outside.

"You are right."

"Did the Benedict Bridgerton actually admit I was right?" My snapped at him as he huffed and cleared his throat.

"Before we kill one another, I must confess that I have always liked you."

"You must be joking?" I asked him as I turned to face him, and at that moment I realized how close he was standing to me.

"Why would I joke about this?" He seemed hurt, which tugged at my heart.

"From the day I met you, you have been nothing but rude to me. All I did was visit my cousins, and Penelope was so excited to introduce me to Eloise, but then you tripped me."

"That was by accident. " He defended.

"You could of helped me up, but you just stared at me."

"I didn't help you because I was enthralled by your beauty. That night, I drew you."

"Some way of showing you liked me Benedict. You picked on me each and every time I came here."

"I didn't know how to show you my feelings. I still don't, so I tell those men that you have been spoken for, because to me, you are."

"While you trope all over the ton, women and men falling over themselves. I am left alone, getting older each season until I will be considered no longer eligible." I am now poking his chest with my finger. The pokes getting harder and harder each time.

"Then marry me!" He exclaimed.

"Pardon me?" I looked him up and down.

"Marry me. I truly came over here, wanting to properly ask you to court."

"But Benedict, all we do is fight."

"We fight because we hide our true feelings for one another."

"I would like for us to properly court. No need for another fast wedding between our two families." I said.

"I agree. Now, may I please kiss you?"

I could only nod before he cupped my face and gently kissed my lips.

My first kiss with the man who has driven me insane since we were children.

The same man who I knew I loved, but always pushed my feelings aside, not wanting to be hurt by him.

As he and I kissed, the snow storm started to let up, only soft, fluffy snowflakes falling.

Lord Alfred Debling