#so many thoughts but alas i should sleep

[cordsycords]

ok uh, hella spoilers (I guess) for good omens s02e06

So like, yes I am going Insane about that final episode, but Mostly about the few minutes between when we see the Metatron in the coffee shop to when Maggie and Nina come in to talk to Crowley. Because the Metatron comes in, and nobody recognizes him on sight, not even the Archangels who, implied by the meetings we see between, actually keep in contact with him. Aziraphale doesn't recognize him either, even though he talked to him directly only a few years ago.

The only one who recognizes him on site, is Crowley.

"Last time you were a big floating head, man."

Invoking the imagery we saw of the Metatron whenever we've seen him before. But, of course, we know Crowley wasn't there with Aziraphale.

And then, AND THEN, AZIRAPHALE LEAVES WITH THE METATRON.

And Crowley is like, noticeably grumpy about it. He's very short with Muriel and gets them out as soon as possible, he wants the two of them alone. He mentions taking Aziraphale to his favorite restaurant after they're done and getting drunk and as soon as Muriel leaves he's cleaning up the bookshop and putting the chair in just the right place to have Some Sort of Conversation (not the love confession, however, he is only convinced to do that after Meggie and Nina talk to him)

So like, he totally thought that Aziraphale was about to Fall right? Then and There? Aziraphale, who just spent the last 6 episodes doing what his side would consider the Wrong Thing because he believes in his big angelic heart that it was Right, was, in Crowley's mind, twenty seconds away from Falling. You cannot convince me otherwise. He was the only one to recognize the Metatron on sight because he was there when Crowley Fell.

And he was setting up, cleaning up the bookshop, making sure the other angel had left, so that he could be there for him? And he was being so grumpy about it because he knew this was going to be just The Worst thing, especially for Aziraphale, for whom Being An Angel is such an integral part of his identity.

Which, I mean, makes the conversation afterwards all the more devastating, because for Crowley it goes from "I'm sorry that this has been done to you but I love you and I will be here with you every step of the way, and we'll go to the Ritz and get drunk together and everything will be the same as it ever was and we'll be together" to... Not That.

[dubacheryking]

It seems like you really like the IT book( it 1986), so do you remember Eddie Corcoran’s story from chapter 6. Because like his chapter is for real one of the most heartbreaking chapters in the whole book and he’s like so underrated for no reason. Soooo like what’s your opinions on him and other little interesting thing like that lol.

:)

oh my GOG tbh i think eddie corcoran's death is straight up the most horrifying part of the book. like if u put a gun to my head and said "what part of IT 86 do u find the most stomach churning" THATS IT RIGHT THERE. no one ever really talks abt it by 90% of the fandom on here is movie based and they dont FUCKING include it for some godawful reason (i can understand the 1990 ver not including it specifically for censorship reasons, since it was the 90s and also made for tv and ALSO cut to 3hrs lol) but like. the fact that it wasnt in the movies is criminal tbh.

but i digress.

as for opinions and such regarding the corcoran boy.... i mean, we get next to nothing abt him. what we know is a) his stepdad is an abusive piece of shit b) he had a younger brother that he seemingly cared about deeply (SOBS) c) his pos stepdad killed his baby brother (LIKE ACTUAL BABY. A 4YO???? FR????) d) his death was horrific. theres a little bit more but but but i havent reread that chapter recently so some of it is certainly escaping me. i wish there was more about him as an actual person, but i also understand that w the book already being a billion pages long there is only so much small details that could actually be included, and the history of derry and main story obvs will trump this specific smaller story--but like, fr, i want to know more abt eddie. we know he was terrified of the thing from the black lagoon (fair) and obvs holds a lot of fear and anger and guilt regarding dorsey's death, we know hes abused, we know how he dies. its a weird paradox of being very close to this character (in terms of his pov at the time, being in his head and all just like w any of the main losers) and being extremely removed (we know nothing abt his internal life beyond what his abuse brings out). which. frankly it's somewhat genius bc, yeah, abuse DOES tend to stifle the actual personality/interests of the person being abused and DOES like literally fuck w the brain chemistry and processessing of a child (source: happened to me lolololol), but its also heartbreaking that all we know him as is One of The Missing. he can never be more. its fucked.

soooo . this got away from me. sorry if it makes little to no sense ill just do a small bit on my thoughts summarized HERE:

i wholeheartedly agree that eddie corcoran's death is like. the worst part of the story. listening to it makes me legit sick to my stomach in a way NO OTHER PART OF THE BOOK DOES. LEGIT. and i think the main reason for that is while cosmic horror space clown spider thing is fake, duh, and more obviously used as a stand in for trauma and specifically for childhood trauma and the lasting effects that it has on our psyche, eddie's death is REAL. dorsey's death is REAL. we see, in grusome, up close detail, the actual consequences of abuse and how it destroys people's lives--specifically children's. we see how the complacency of those around such families (eddie's mom, the teachers, the principal, the town of derry at large) contributes to the horrific mistreatment of the most vulnerable, and how NONE OF THEM suffer any consequences for their lack of action. the section ends with eddie's mother getting access to his savings, which amount to less than 20$. to do so, she has to have him legally declared dead, EVEN THOUGH THEY DO NOT HAVE A BODY. AND THAT'S FUCKED. SHE DOESN'T EVEN WANT TO MAKE SURE HE'S FUCKING DEAD BEFORE SHE DOES THIS, DOESN'T WANT THE CLOSURE, DOESN'T WANT TO LAY HIM TO REST, DOESN'T WANT A PLACE TO VISIT. I CAN'T. like obviously we see themes of abuse and neglect in the whole book, that's the whole point, but eddie's story is different. there is no winning. there is no escape. you can't spin it into a better life.

he's a kid, just like any of the losers, but to the universe, he's not 'special,' so his death doesn't matter. he could have been swapped in with any of the other characters--fuck, he literally shares the name of one of them!! and yet he's not, and because of that, he doesn't matter. his death effects no one. the only positive is that it reopens dorsey's case, and even then, the reopening of his brother's death almost entirely sweeps eddie under the rug. the town of derry turns away, and when the truth of dorsey corcoran's death is revealed, the shrug, go so very sad, and wipe their hands of it. just another child death at the hands of an adult monster, just another day.

[euclydya]

I have brought the two halves of Spacehead back together. I now await my significant other to join me with glitter glue.

[padfootastic]

mom help it’s an ungodly time of night, i’ve to wake up in 5 hours, and i’ve somehow gotten onto the anti-prongsfoot but mwpp fan side of tumblr and i don’t know how to crawl out of this cursed hellhole 😭😭

[tofuxtea]

𝟏:𝟓𝟓 𝐚𝐦 | 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐬

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — art the clown x gn!reader

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 — fluff, art meets someone who isn’t scared of him, art goes to kill u but alas you are … autistic!reader, nonverbal!reader, lowkey a projection of me and how i regress/how art makes me regress lol, also a little theory as to how art gains strength/why he kills so relentlessly as a demon, not proofread!

a demon must feed off of fear. it’s how it gains strength and power. art was no different.

it was his luck that his appearance alone usually struck the fear of god into people. tall but lean in a black and white clown suit, sometimes stained with a strange red substance. face painted white, black outlining an eerily smiling mouth and wide blue eyes. at least, sometimes they were blue.

when he was knee deep into brutally slaughtering people, his eyes would go pitch black from excitement and because his strength was slowly doubling.

everyone who had the misfortune of knowing of his presence feared even his name. all except one.

he’d encountered many who feigned tolerance towards him, some even daring to embrace him before meeting the same fate as everybody else. because they reeked of the same fear as the rest. he could tell in the way they tried to steady their shaking hands, the way their eyes glazed over as they realized they had lost the fight.

but you. you.

you were different. he’d tracked you down after watching you walk home from a little neighborhood party, and he observed you for a couple of days. you lived alone, hardly touched your phone, typed and typed away on your computer with your glasses hanging onto the edge of your nose. completely indifferent to the rest of the world outside.

nobody would miss you. nobody even turned their heads towards your house as they walked by it.

so obviously nobody noticed when he slipped into your house that night. the inside was drab. nicely decorated but it still felt empty. perhaps you’d just moved in not too long ago.

when he found you in your bedroom, comfortably sleeping, he found that wasn’t quite the case. all of the decor, if you could call it that, was stuffed up in here. merchandise from several franchises were nailed, taped, displayed on every surface of your bedroom. sonic, ninja turtles, spiderman.

art stared at it. then at you. you were swarmed by stuffed animals, arms wrapped tightly around a particularly huge fuzzy stuffed sonic plush. the side of your face squished into it and you hummed in your sleep.

he set the garbage bag he had slung over his shoulder down and began searching for something to dismantle you with. the metallic clinks echoed in the room and seemed to wake you up when your muffled grunts became clearer and you began to stretch out your curled limbs.

it took you a while to notice him, but when you did you only blinked. art figured it was a shock response and gave you a taunting smile, baring ugly teeth. your eyebrows knitted together while you sat up, but still you said nothing. not even a scream.

art rose to his feet, towering over you even on your hip-high mattress. in his hand, he had a hefty tool that glinted in the moonlight. fear should have been radiating off of you by now, but that rush he was expecting never came. perhaps you thought you were dreaming.

but as your eyes scanned him from top to bottom, you seemed to accept it as reality. even as you reached out and gingerly tapped his bloodied, gloved hand with the tip of your finger. you didn’t question it.

art hesitated. but only because he doubted he would be strong enough to take your head off with one clean swipe. he wasn’t even close to half of his full strength yet. why was this taking so long?

you turned to the side, searching for something in the sea of stuffies you were haloed with just moments earlier. plucking a smaller one out of the heap, you offered it to the mysterious clown at the side of your bed. it was one of your lesser favorites because you didn’t want him to get it dirty with his white-stained-red gloves. a little fuzzy bee you got from a museum years back.

art pointed at himself, and you nodded with a gentle smile. you half thought that was what he wanted. some strange stuffed animal reaper.

he reached for it, and the cleaver in his hand hit the ground with a thud that made you flinch and cover your ears. almost instinctively, you leaned towards him.

you weren’t scared of the knife itself but the loud noise. art was baffled that somebody could look to him for protection. had you any idea who he was? the miles county clown, was the name every tv within a 50 mile radius was echoing daily because of him.

well, you probably actually didn’t. in the days he watched you, you neglected to turn on the news or scroll through social media. was that why you weren’t scared of him?

either way, his palm found the top of your head, awkwardly patting it with a force that told you he was also trying to push you away. you peered up at him with a straight lipped smile, and gently grabbed the wrist of the hand on your head. he tensed, shocked, but allowed you to flip his palm upwards, watching as you ran your finger over his red stained glove.

you spelled out your name, letter by letter, and pointed to yourself. you also couldn’t speak. or you couldn’t at the moment.

art could only tilt his head at you, genuinely frowning because his presence wasn’t scaring you shitless. he was more confused than anything else.

you gestured towards him and handed him your own palm. he was to etch his name onto your skin.

it took him a second to do it, letting his hand cradle yours while he dragged his finger across your palm. A-R-T.

registering the name, you nodded up at him. it was quite fitting for him, you thought.

the clown grinned and waved your own stuffed animal in front of your face before booping your nose with it. he found he liked the sound of your giggle, which brought him both comfort and unease.

you were sad when he left so quickly, dropping your stuffed bee into your lap and grabbing his garbage bag. he put a finger to his lips and wagged his fingers at you before retreating back into your hallway. the sound of your comforter shuffling made him pause and he found you bent over, picking his cleaver up off of your floor.

you sheepishly held the heavy handle out to him.

you were quite tall. still significantly shorter than him, but taller than he was expecting. wearing a slim fitting tank top and some athletic shorts. you even had some tattoos on your arms and on your thighs. things he hadn’t seen past your sweaters and jeans.

he took the cleaver and prepared to take his leave, but was stunned when you suddenly wrapped your arms around him. for a moment, he was the scared one. but he soon realized that you were only hugging him.

“thank you,” you whispered, so softly and shakily he almost missed it over the buzz of your electric fan. still, you held no fear of him.

you smiled when his arms briefly closed around you.

and then he was gone.

i love him sm 😞😞

[buckets-and-trees]

EVERY MINUTE OF IT

Characters/Pairings: Alpha!Bucky x Female!Omega!Reader Word Count: 4k Summary: Claimed unequivocally by Alpha Bucky Barnes, leader of the growing HYDRA faction, that's not the end of it. But what exactly is in store for you? What will it mean to be his Omega?

Content/Warnings: omegaverse; reluctant attraction; power dynamics; mild manipulation; threats; dirty talk; explicit smut: spanking, vaginal fingering, biting, rough sex, choking, edging, orgasm denial, slapping, spitting, oral (male and female receiving), unprotected vaginal intercourse and insemination, dacryphilia, overstimulation, erotic picture taking

Author Notes: Part three to what I never planned on being a series - the Alpha Bucky April drabble was only 500 words, the next part hit 1.5k, but this... well, let's just say this Bucky absolutely had his way with both me and my muse. This one will be a make up to tick orgasm delay/denail for MARCH of @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ; and the dialogue, alpha, and pet prompts for the second week of Hot Bucky Summer (thought this was going to be a short little thing I was going to whip out before week two had finished, but alas hahaha).

A/N 2: We've seen only a bit of his rough side up to this pont, but in this part we will truly see mean Alpha Bucky. Don't say I didn't warn you - here and with the actual content warning list.

A/N 3: I tried not to write any plot with this porn, but a minimal amount forced its way in.

He had made good on his threat, using your body for pleasure and for show under the full moon until there was no one left to watch, but you were not sure he had been keeping close track, instead merely taking you over and over until they grey hours of dawn. You had been too exhausted to register anything much after that – being carried away, a car ride, being tucked into a bed.

You had woken up in the afternoon alone.

Alone for the first time in three days.

On hearing you make your way to the bathroom someone had brought in water and left an impressive spread of food that lasted you through the afternoon and evening. You grazed and slept.

Your body and mind had been pushed beyond all previous limits, and so the sleep and rest had been most of those first few days after the full moon and the conqueror’s bonding ritual.

But now, a week on, you are tired, restless, and impatient.

You were in a spacious penthouse, you had been offered many luxuries, well fed by a personal chef, attended to by an assistant, your only restrictions being denied access to a phone or internet and barred from leaving the premises.

Should you have chosen an unplugged retreat or vacation, it would be perfect.

After contemplating and debating internally all morning, at lunch you make your decision. You finish yet another delicious meal, wipe your mouth with the beautiful linen napkin, and then set it down next to the bone china and plated gold utensils. The staff begins to move around you, and your assistant approaches.

Before she can say anything else, you take a deep breath and say, “I need to see him.”

There’s no question of who you mean.

She nods. “I’ll make the request.”

Whether pet or prisoner and left alone for more than seven days, you do not believe your request will be seen as any sort of priority, so when you see the more formal dining table set for two for dinner, your mouth drops open for a moment, and you stop in your tracks.

You turn to your assistant – even though she tries to afford you most of your privacy, she is ever on the edge of your presence. She looks as surprised as you. “I was given no response other than that they’d take the request under consideration.”

You nod, then pace, padding barefoot across the hardwood floor in front of floor-to-ceiling windows, until you finally hear the rustle and then commotion of activity that announces his arrival.

Your heart races, but it’s only a few more moments before the large and imposing alpha, Bucky Barnes, appears in front of you.

“Omega,” he says with a mere nod of his head, no pretense.

Your eyes narrow a fraction, wary of his seemingly easy demeanor. “Alpha.”

“Shall we?” he asks, and motions to the table.

You nod and take a seat as he does.

Within seconds, the meal is brought in by two attendants and the chef, and Bucky thanks and praises them very simply.

He occasionally looks at you, regarding you, but does not speak.

Before long, you huff, and he looks up sharply, pinning you with his steel blue eyes, harsher than at any point since he’d arrived. “What?” he demands.

“What is all of this?” you start, gesturing your hand to indicate the penthouse. “And where have you been?”

He sets down his knife and fork and straightens a little more. “Is it not to suited to your liking? You can change anything you want. This is your place.”

“My place?” you ask.

“Yes, your place. It is not far from the place I’ve taken up residence.”

The revelation is not surprising, but somehow more irritating. “And what? You’ve had me and now you’re discarding me?”

“I should have thought you’d want your own place.”

Maybe you should want your own place, away from him. And yet…

“I should be wherever you are.”

“What?” he scoffs. “So you can be embroiled in my affairs and bring me down? ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?’”

The accusation wounds you, though you know it’s only logical – and you know what you’re thinking and feeling isn’t logical. You have determined to put off thinking about it.

“I’m not your friend,” you state, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. “but I’m not your enemy either.”

“What should I call you then?” he challenges.

You raise your chin a fraction. “I’m your Omega.”

He doesn’t speak or move immediately. Instead, his eyes somehow fix you even more intently. There’s a burning in your chest under his scrutiny, but you remain still.

Finally, he stands and moves toward you, the two of you never taking your eyes off the other.

“You are my Omega.”

He comes to stand behind your chair, and you remain unmoving. He takes your chin in his left hand and tilts your head to expose your neck to him. He leans down and noses along your jaw, inhaling your scent and putting your body on alert. You feel the curling tendrils of want stir in your core, already awakening for him. He tilts your head even more and draws his teeth along the side of your throat, causing a shiver you can’t suppress, and he chuckles darkly and licks at the fresher of the two bonding marks he gave you. His hot tongue, insistently pressing at the bite elicits a small noise from you, and your right hand shoots up to card into his hair. Your full omega side wants him, has started to slicken your pussy for him already, you can feel it. You know your alpha can smell it.

He bites over the mark, but not roughly enough to break the skin, and you arch up for more, but he pushes himself back up, away from you and the crook of your neck.

“So needy,” he remarks, “I like this.”

The first few days you’d spent with him, he’d kept you full of his cock, tortured with pleasure, overwhelmed, exhausted by him and the recipient of a seemingly insatiable lust unleashed on you.

This feels like the predator is going to play with his prey, and you bite your lip. He pushes your head, tilted to the left, to the right to drop into his other hand, clearly testing your compliance. It’s gentle, but it’s dominant. Back to the left, then to the right, and then he dips to nip at your ear, and you gasp.

Bucky releases your head from between his large hands then pulls your chair away from the table. “Up.”

You stand. He puts one hand on your hip and ushers you around the edge of the table and to the side, in the middle, and turns you to face the wide expanse of mahogany and its centerpiece of fresh flowers – white peonies, white roses, white hydrangeas.

“Put your hands on the table,” he instructs.

You press the palms of your hands onto the smooth, dark wood. Your omega side is ready – even eager – to comply, but with your own long game to play, you know you must play out whatever game he desires now.

“Arch your back,” is his next direction.

Keeping your breathing even, you do, hips jutting away from the table, on display for him.

The back of his hand lands at the nape of your neck, and he drags his knuckles slowly down your spine. Your body rocks back, seeking more, as he reaches the small of your back, and he hums in self-satisfaction.

While his vibranium hand plants itself on your hip, he moves the other around to skim slowly over your stomach, then up your rib cage, and to your breast. He gropes the round flesh through your shirt and bra, but the fabric does nothing to quell how the pressure stokes the fire growing in you.

You feel the heat of him press up your back as his hand moves now up your neck, turning your head to kiss him. You push back against him, and he ruts his bulge slightly into your ass. Your lips are hungry in the kiss, but it’s like he only provided his lips for you to kiss him, receiving what your lips want to give. He moves his hand back down to your chest, but this time slipping beneath the neckline and going flesh to flesh to palm your breast. He kneads diligently, almost methodically, and you know all of this is designed to warm you up, tease you, get you burning for him. He’s still largely a stranger to you, but you also know you can’t resist him. He’s spent so much time already playing with your body. He knows where and how to touch you to make you respond to him after those first days and nights spent naked with him.

Bucky moves again, ending the kiss, drawing away from your back and removing the hand from your breast. You whine, but that hand goes to the small of your back again, the vibranium hand squeezing your hip as he forces you spine to resume the curving posture for him once more.

“We’re only getting started, Omega. Be patient.”

You huff, and he laughs.

The fingers of both his hands slip into the top of your waistband. He slowly pulls your pants and underwear down over your hips, and down your legs to mid-thigh. It restricts your bottom extremities, and that plays into the mental game he’s clearly playing with you. His hands move up the back of your naked thighs, and then palms your ass with both hands. He squeezes both cheeks, goes back to palming them again, then withdraws his right hand and slaps that cheek harshly. You jump and yelp, but he merely goes back to palming and squeezing, soothing the smacked flesh. Then another slap, and you hiss at the sting over the first sting. His vibranium hand continues groping your round flesh, but instead of soothing the second smack, his flesh hand dips down to your dripping hole, where he inserts two fingers, then quickly adds a third.

“Alpha,” you moan, and your head falls back, eyes closed both to hold back a couple of tears and to soak in the barrage of sensations.

He doesn’t answer, but his fingers continue dipping in and out, slow and shallow.

He delivers another harsh slap, immediately returns to the maddening fingering until you’re keening and trying to hump his hand.

Abruptly he grips your hips with both hands and turns you around to face him. The cool metal hand grips you by the neck, tilting your face up helplessly to him, and this kiss is messy, demanding, teeth nipping at your lips. You kiss him back as well as you can as he is in full control of your head and holds you where he wants you. Both your hands hold tightly to his forearm, and you squeeze.

His other hand goes to the cut of you again below, but there’s more fervor there this time. He plunders your mouth and plunders your pussy, and you’re losing your breath, but you have no wish for him to relent as you feel the powerful orgasm you crave building and barreling towards you. His fingers curl against the spongy spot on your inner wall, this thumb is demanding against your pulsing clit, and his tongue is licking dominantly into your mouth. You’re trembling and clutching at him, moaning, only when your breath hitches, inches away from bliss, he pulls back.

You cry out as he looms over you. His smirk is cruel, and his eyes spark with fire.

“Alpha!”

He licks his one of his fingers, just one.

“Alpha, please,” you groan.

“My well-mannered Omega,” he coos. “We’ll make a mess of you yet,” he says. You’re unsure whether it’s a threat or a promise, but you have no space or time to think as he moves you again, hoisting and pushing you by the grip on your chin around and away from the table until your back is flush against the wall.

Bucky pushes you down to your knees, pinches your mouth open, then spits on your tongue. "Swallow it."

You don’t think, just swallow as his eyes bore into yours as he towers over you.

He strokes his thumb over your cheek – nearly a caress, and you can’t help leaning ever so slightly into his touch. Then his thumb moves from your cheek to your lips, tracing them before pressing down to open your mouth again. He inserts two of the fingers that had been in your cunt into your mouth, and you close your mouth and begin to suck without him having to say so. The look on his face shows his approval. As you suck, there’s something so soothing about, the weight of his fingers pressing down on your tongue, the stead rhythm, that it that lulls you even further into a state of submission for him. Your eyes begin to droop.

He chuckles and withdraws his fingers, wiping them on your face. “Don’t want that so soon in our evening.”

He begins to unbuckle his belt, and you reach for the button and zipper, but he bats your hands away and slaps your cheek.

You look up sharply at him, reaching to soothe your cheek.

“Ask nicely for your Alpha’s cock, Omega.”

His first nights with you were about physical domination. This is the other half, yielding, submission.

You think best how to ask, before saying, “Please let me put my lips around your cock, Alpha.”

He unbuttons his trousers but keeps his eyes on yours. “Tell me how you want me to use your mouth, Omega,”

“I…” you bite your lip. You aren’t a stranger to sex, but speaking so directly about it isn’t something you’ve done with any of your partners in the past.

Bucky lowers the zipper. He pushes the band of his boxers down far enough to free his cock, and you whimper. He fists his arousal slowly. “You want it, then tell me what you want exactly. You’ve already let me use your body in so many ways, we both know you want more. What are you craving?”

You wait only another beat before answering, “Want you to fuck my throat.”

You are impressed at the evenness of your own tone in that moment, and his lips tick up as well.

Bucky widens his stance, then leans down to wrap his left arm around your head, holding it – almost cradling it – in the crook of his elbow. The he pushes his cock to your lips, you open for him, he pushes in, and starts truly fucking your mouth. The first few thrusts are slow, but insistent. He fills your mouth with more of him with each of those first thrusts. Then the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. He thrusts out and in again, again, again. His other hand strokes your cheek. Then he slaps it, and you groan around his cock.

“Mmmm, fuck you feel good,” he echoes your groan. “Gonna take all of your alpha’s cock down this pretty throat,” he says, and his hand moves down to your neck, feeling himself push in there.

Your eyes are tearing up, and the tears quickly start to spill over as he continues to use your throat, never removing himself completely now that he’s overtaken your mouth. He slaps your cheek twice in quick succession and you sob around his cock as you can manage. It’s hard to breathe, and your chest heaves. You brace yourself against his thighs, and he straightens and pulls out of you.

Bucky moves quickly, taking you by the shoulders and tossing you into the middle of the floor – rough but not violent.

“Clothes off,” he barks, but it’s he didn’t need to employ an alpha command to get you to comply. You barely have enough time to discard your pants and underwear the rest of the way, and only manage to get your shirt over your head in the time it takes him to get naked.

He’s on you the next instant, covering your body with his. With his chest pressed down against yours, you feel how his breathing is just as heavy as your own, glad he’s not as unaffected as he’s tried to play this encounter.

You hitch your thighs up around his torso and squeeze your knees around him.

But he doesn’t give you what you’re most anxious for yet, instead pausing to study your face.

“Such a pretty mess,” he admires.

Heat pulses through your body, his praise undeniable to your omega side.

He dips his head to lap up the salt of some of your tears, tongue dragging slowly up your cheek. When he draws back again, he merely looks at you. His eyes seem to be looking for something, but you don’t know what. You try not to give him anything outside of this moment.

His pelvis is lodged between your hips, so you squirm beneath him, hoping your hot, dripping cunt will call him back to your pressing needs. He groans and drops his forehead to yours, another sign he’s not as cool and detached as he was at the outset.

“Please, please fuck me, Alpha,” you beg.

“Fill you up with my cock? With my seed?”

“Yes, Alpha!”

He draws his hips back and you reach down and help line up his cock with your hole. He spears in with no mercy, and you don’t need or want it. You groan together as he fills you completely.

Your mouths meet again, and it’s a combination of rough messy kisses, nipping and bites, licking, mingled heavy breaths. It’s primal and unhinged, and there’s no thought to it as he continues to fuck you.

The pace at which he thrusts is relentless and just what you need, but also not enough.

You want more and you whimper and beg through kissing for it.

Bucky continues fucking you and pulls away from your lips, but in no way is he done overwhelming you. Leaning heavily onto his vibranium arm planted next to your head, he moves his other arm and presses his inner wrist up and down your neck insistently. The sound that escapes your mouth is broken and needy as the flooding of his scent directly In and around you engulfs your senses. Then he’s also sucking on your original bonding mark until you are a heaving, panting, crying mess, clawing at his back, unable to even put coherent words together to beg for him.

His shifts just enough that his pubic bone grinds down against your clit as he pounds into your pussy. You are practically vibrating with the impending orgasm, and as your alpha can undoubtedly sense that through the bond, he bites down on your mark, and you scream and fly into your release. Your walls clench hard around him, and he growls through two more powerful thrusts before he shouts, and you feel the heat of his seed star to fill you up. He pumps and pumps until he’s left every drop he can inside of you, then collapses on top of you.

He doesn’t move, pressing you down with all his weight as you both recover from the ecstasy you’ve just experienced. You almost move to stroke your fingers up and down his spine, but you quell that impulse. You do allow yourself to keep your hands on his back though – still, but connected to this man, your alpha, who dealt you such rough but undeniable pleasure.

Finally, Bucky pushes up off you, but surprises you when he scoops you up and carries you away bridal style, heading toward your bedroom.

“Alpha?”

“You really want to live under the same roof?” he asks.

 “Yes,” you answer simply.

He glances down at your face, brows furrowed, then looks back ahead as he heads down the hallway.

“Okay then.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” he affirms, entering your room.

He tosses you onto the bed, and crawls up over you again. He reaches beneath your back to unclasp your bra, and you let him pull it from your shoulders and toss it off to the side. Closing the gap between your bodies, you relish the feeling of his bare chest against yours, his chest hair teasing your nipples. He grips your chin yet again, this time with his vibranium hand, and looks into your eyes with a steely, cold stare.

“If you’re anything other than the good omega I require, I will send you back here, but it won’t be like this last week has been. You will be in absolute exile. Don’t test me – there will be no chances.”

You give a single nod of your head.

He pushes up and leans back then, kneeling above you.

“But you don’t want to jeopardize or risk that, do you?”

“No, Bucky.”

It’s the first time you’ve called him anything other than alpha and he clocks that, you see the flash of acknowledgement in his eyes.

“You want to be with your alpha, you want the limited freedom you know I can give you if I choose to, but you also have your own agenda”

It wasn’t a question, and you know you can’t fool him – you know he is too smart for that, and you know he knows you are intelligent in your own right. He made it clear when he closed in on your people’s territory that’s why your compliance and claiming you as his omega was part of the deal of surrender to spare any more bloodshed.

“Cross me and your future will only be visitations when I require you to service my ruts.”

You don’t doubt his threat.

“Do we have an accord, Omega?”

“Yes, Alpha.”

The words you two exchanged the fateful night of that initial surrender.

He nods.

“It seems fitting to seal it by kiss.”

You sit up and then kneel before him on the bed, he bends his head down to kiss you. It’s fervent, solemn, but he cuts it off before it develops into anything more.

“Stay here,” he orders, sliding off the bed.

That was an alpha command – wholly unnecessary except to remind you of his power.

You scowl at his retreating form, then huff once he’s out of the room.

He’s quick, and when he comes back in the room, he is slowly stroking his cock with one hand, and holds his phone in the other. He steps up to the edge of the bed.

“A kiss here, as well,” he says, pushing his hips forward.

You crawl to him, lower your head, and kiss his cock. He nods at you, indicating he expects more. You take the tip of his semi-hard cock into your mouth, lave your tongue around the tip, and then suck, looking up at him. He takes a few photos, moaning at your ministrations.

“Fuck you couldn’t look more pretty and more ruined,” he whispers. He tosses the phone down, then pushes you off him and back onto the bed, manhandling your hips to get you planted in the center of the mattress with your thighs splayed open obscenely.

“Only fair for me to finish sealing the agreement and kiss these lips as well.”

He dives in like a man starved, despite the rounds you’ve just finished. He pulls your next orgasm quickly from your fluttering pussy. You would be surprised, only you’ve come to accept that he has already acquired a dangerous – and delicious – knowledge of your body.

He looks up at you and grins and then goes in immediately for another.

You try and push him away and close your legs, feeling overstimulated, but he growls and roughly forces your thighs open again.

“Your one chance of being my good omega is already begun. So, you’re going to let me eat the pussy that belongs to me until you’re a sobbing overstimulated mess and think you can’t possibly take any more, but you will. And since this should be the last night we ever spend in this bed, when I’ve had my fill of lapping at your sweet, dripping cunt, I’m going to see if I can’t fuck you hard and long enough to break the bed.”

You can only hope your gamble to deal with the devil of HYDRA will not be your undoing.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest full Fine Line Collection

Everyone check your pulse, please. Mine is gone.

I'm not saying this is officially a series, but I think we HAVE fallen into a collection territory... Unless y'all are through with this Alpha Bucky...

[aliferous-ly]

A ghost haunted season 10. Certainly not a malicious one, if a bit mischievous - and one had to keep a careful eye out to catch him.

Jevin heard him first, deep underground. He was hunting iron, early in the season, and he was having the worst luck. He even looked up where iron should be, to make sure the updates hadn't changed anything! Alas, the iron evaded him. Jevin might have to resort to begging and then jump straight to a farm.

And he kept hearing these crackly, faint snickers. At first he thought he'd been on a voice channel accidentally, but, no, his comm wasn't connected. Then, just to make sure, he disconnected it entirely - but the laughter prevailed. Jevin chalked it up to too many sleepless nights, and went to find an overachieving hermit already building an iron farm.

Stress heard him next, but as someone who heard murmuring monsters on a good day, she didn't give it a second thought. Clear as day she heard an, "oh, bugger." She thought, you and me both, monster, before going along with her day.

Then it was Xisuma, though he didn't hear anyone, he saw. It was a mere glimmer out of the corner of his eye. White hair, stout, pickaxe slung lovingly over a shoulder. When he looked back there was nothing. He resolved to run diagnostics on his helmet, because something was clearly haywire.

And in Joel's defense, he was both exhausted and brand new to hermitcraft. It wasn't like people had nametags on, they were a group of friends! So when an old man grumbled by, lost as could be within the shopping district, Joel furrowed his brows but ultimately was too tired to ruminate. He overheard the man saying something about shroomlights and called out, "Tango has the permit, but he doesn't have a shop up yet!"

The man startled, muttered something about "permits?" before scuttling off like a spooked horse. Joel shrugged. It was called hermitcraft, after all. There had to be loads of people he hadn't met yet.

Small instances added up. Scar fell asleep making a tree, hidden amongst the branches, and was spooked awake by the sound of a player dying. But when he checked his comm, nothing showed up. A dream, he thought uneasily.

I just need sleep, Tango thought.

Wow, someone's wearing a sick costume, Skizz thought. Too bad I'm too busy to go chat right now!

Who's messing with my hourglass now? Doc thought. Only, there wasn't anyone else on the server at the time. Probably an armor stand prank.

It all came to head when Hypno stumbled across his fifth stripmine in one mining session. He rolled his eyes, because of course Wels had created tunnels beneath Hypno's place just to be a nuisance. Except when he pointed it out to Wels, who was on call with Hypno but was busy caving, Wels expressed confusion.

"I've only made one or two strip mines. And they're not near you," Wels said.

Hypno saw a wisp of white hair turning a corner. "Haha, very funny, Wels. Come on out."

"I'm not joking?" Wels said in confusion. In the same beat he got the achievement for sneaking successfully past a shrieker for the first time and Hypno was far too high up to be near an ancient city.

"Maybe it's someone else?" Hypno murmured, checking who was online. Grian and Joel, who were having their own shenanigans blowing up the comms (it involved TNT, so the blowing up was quite literal). Impulse had just left. Etho, who could be a contender if Hypno didn't know he'd fallen asleep at the post office three hours ago. Plus, what sort of prank would this be, from Etho?

He explored the endless strip mines and got so lost that he had to dig his way up. When he mentioned the strangeness to Keralis, the man lit up and exclaimed that he'd found the same thing, how weird was that, huh?

Hypno investigated. If there was a bug in the world he'd need to know.

"You know, it might not be a bug," Cleo said meaningfully. They fidgeted with a tear in their clothes.

"What else would it be?" Hypno asked, mystified.

"Maybe it's a player. You know. Someone we never removed from the whitelist."

Cleo raised an eyebrow. It wasn't in their nature to beat around the bush, but at the same time they didn't want to act crass. Not for this.

Tentative realization trickled through Hypno. He nodded and abruptly left, unsure how to feel.

The information spread slowly through the rest of the server. Joe took to leaving boxes of torches and iron pickaxes about, and every so often would have to refill them. He didn't ask, but everyone swore they hadn't been stealing. Who would need an iron pickaxe at this point, anyway?

One night, Cub let off a slew of fireworks that were spherical and solid green. He heard a faint chuckle on the breeze, and raised a drink in quiet salute.

So, yes. A ghost haunted season 10. But ghost haunting had such a negative connotation, didn't it? The hermits, if they spoke about him at all, much preferred to call him the True Hermit who never left.

[lokis-army-77]

The Princess and her Bodyguard

Orc!Eddie Munson x Princess!female reader

Word Count: 2318

When the princess (reader) can't sleep, she calls on her orc bodyguard for some help.

Warning: 18+ unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, p in v, breeding kink, multiple orgasms,

Masterlist

The castle air was stuffy as I lay in the strange bed. Although it was a nice room it smelt of dust and general disuse. The bed was also not as luxurious as the one in my own palace, the lumps were starting to annoy me to no end. You would think that if you knew the royal princess was coming for a visit, you would air out her rooms and find a suitable, non-lumpy, mattress for her to sleep on, but alas, not even the highest of the nobles had the best of the best. 

Sighing in annoyance, I threw the blankets from my form and padded my way to the two double doors which marked the entrance to the rooms. Slowly I opened the creaky door and poked my head out. A small smile adorned my lips when I saw my guard standing next to the door. 

“Eddie,” I whispered, catching his attention more than I already had with he opening of the door. 

His tall form loomed over me as he craned his head down to look at me. The light of the torches turned his normally dull green skin into a more yellow hue. Most people would be scared of him, a tall broad orc, charged with guarding the princess, but not I. I had never thought of him as anything but attractive, much to the befuddlement and disgust of my closest friends and two younger sisters too whom I had told of my attraction. 

I looked around the door quickly before grasping his larger hand in mine and pulling him into my room. He came with no protest other than a short grunt in what I could tell was amusement even if his face stayed as stoic as ever. 

“Princess, you should be sleeping. It’s nearly the witching hour.” He spoke out as I continued to pull him towards my bed. 

“But I can’t sleep, I may need tiring out,” I smirked. 

“Ah, but don’t you recall us saying we were going to stop that? You are to be married to one of these noblemen or their sons by the end of this tour.” He spoke, ever the voice of reason. 

“Oh screw letting me choose who I am forced to marry, I’d rather be with you.” I trailed my fingers lightly over the leather brace tied around his forearm. I pulled on the ties and tossed the brace to the floor. “Come on, just one more time,” I pleased, knowing full well that would not be the last time I asked.

He groaned as he continued to follow me, his large hands holding onto my hips as he eventually tossed me onto the bed gently. “You are my weakness, you know that?” He mused while he began to untie the many leather articles of protection. 

I just laid back in my silk nightgown waiting for him to pounce and ravage me as he had so many times before. His tongue darted out over his lips and the two long tusks protruding from his bottom jaw, the left one adorned with a metal ring around the circumference. 

I couldn’t help the giggle which left me when his large hands smoothed over my legs, pushing up the light cloth of my gown to my hips, tickling my skin. He then grasped my hips and pulled me to the edge of the bed, my legs dangled there before he knelt down and placed them over his shoulders. 

“And I thought I was the eager one.” I chuckled, only for my words to catch in my throat when he leaned his face between my legs. A long sigh passed my lips as I felt him kiss the soft flesh of my inner thigh. My hands quickly knot themselves in his long hair which had been braided back away from his face. “Please,” I whimpered. 

“Please what?” He asked. My body shivered at the feeling of his tusks rooting at my leg, drawing him ever nearer to where I wanted him. 

“Please touch me, wanna feel your mouth on my cunt.” I bucked my hips up without thought. 

He grinned and placed a hand over my abdomen, holding me still. “You still need to learn patience, Princess.”

“You have tried before, I will never learn,” I smirked, fingers pulling on his hair just slightly, eliciting a low groan. 

“We shall see.” He pulled his head away and my fingers slipped from his hair, coming to rest on the hand he had set across me. With his other, he began to massage the delicate skin of my thighs, and there they met at the apex between them but never once did his fingers slip past the slit of my cunt and into the wetness. 

My head flings back as I whimper. He felt so good but not as good as it would feel if he were touching me where I wanted. My body was vibrating as need and want grew with each simple push of his fingers. 

Minutes felt like hours as his fingers continued to tease me. I could feel the wetness growing and I was sure that soon it would be seeping down my ass and onto the bed. I was a mess of whimpers and short pleas of need, Eddie simply ignored them all in favor of placing his whole hand over my pussy mound and rubbing circles. I could feel the faintest pressure on my clit and tears of frustration began to well up in my eyes. 

“Please, please, touch me. I need you to touch me.” I begin to beg, not being able to take any more teasing.

“I am touching you.” He states, voice mocking. 

“Need more. Please, Eddie.” I try and buck my hips only to be pushed back down.

“I don’t know if such an impatient princess needs more. I don’t think you deserve it.” His fingers leave my body and he's now looking up at me, grinning. 

“I do deserve it, please. I’ll be good, I’ll be patient.” 

“Are you sure?” 

I nod desperately and breathe a sigh when his large middle finger slips over my slit and then pushes past, collecting wetness and pushing it to my slit. A moan leaves me as well, my body elated to be touched. 

His finger rubs into the swollen nub, back and forth, back and forth. He started slowly at first then the movement became faster and faster. I couldn’t help but clench around nothing as he toyed with me. 

“More.” I pleaded with him, trying hard not to let my hips move. 

“Oh, you want more? Are you not content with what I’m giving you?” He hums. “Sounds to me like you need to be taught a lesson on being greedy.” 

I cried out to him, back arching off the bed, “No please, I’m not trying to be greedy.” 

“You aren’t? It sounds like you are.” His finger keeps flicking past my clit. 

“Please, I’m begging you, just  a little bit more, that’s all I need.” My own fingers gripped his arm tightly as I shook in his hold, so close to coming but not quite there.” 

He shook his head as he sighed, relenting to my pleas. Moving his finger from my clit, he began to circle my entrance. My breathing stuck in my chest when I felt the digit push inside. It was long and thick around, stretching my walls out. I cried into the humid air of the room. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” My cunt squeezed him tightly as I whimpered. 

The sounds of him thrusting into my wet pussy were loud. It sounded as though there was someone sloshing around a bucket of water. Eddie’s other hand moved from pinning my hips down to having his thumb circling my clit. 

A long deep mewl flew from my lips at the stimulation. I was coming to the edge and he knew it if his unrelenting movements were something to go by. 

“Don’t- Ah! Don’t stop. Gonna cum!” I cried, tears running down my face no longer from frustration but pleasure. 

He began to move his finger and thumb at an almost unrelenting pace. I could barely make out the praises he spoke over the sounds of my own moaning. 

“That’s it, Princess. Let it all go.” He coaxed. 

It took only a few more thrusts into me and I was coming. A rapture of intense feelings came over me as I writhed, back arching even more, hip bucking wildly.

“You always look so pretty when you cum.” He coos up to me as he takes his fingers away, pushing them into his mouth to taste them. “Taste good too.”

I have no time to catch my breath before he is atop me, large green hands pushing my thighs together and back so the tops of them touch my stomach. His own thighs press snugly to my ass. I moaned at the feeling of his long hard cock resting against my cunt. 

“Gonna give you what you really wanted now.” He grins, taking one of his hands and giving his cock a few rough tugs. 

He gives no warning when he pushes my thighs back more, causing my lower back to lift off the bed, and placing his cock at the entrance to my wanting cunt. The head pushes in, taking my breath away at how big it is, and stretches me out even more than his finger had. My hand flies to my mouth to keep my loud sobs from being heard outside of my room. 

Eddie pushes in slowly only to pull back and then push in again. He begins to fuck only his thick head into my cunt. The position he has me in gives me no leeway to movies I am stuck lamenting over how I can feel every excruciating bump and ridge of the first inch of his cock being constantly thrust into the tight rim of my cunt. 

With each advance of his cock, wet arousal seeped from our junction. I could feel it as it slowly flowed down my round ass, to my back, then finally onto the sheets below soaking them. I was at a loss for words as he fucked me, his cock, like always, had reduced me to a needy, horny mess. 

Moments later he stopped only fucking the head inside and began to plunge into me all the way. I bit my lip to keep from screaming out into the open air. I could practically feel him hitting my cervix, bruising my insides as he moved like a beast built for battle. 

I loved every painfully pleasurable minute of it. My body eventually went ridged beneath him, and my skin became clammy as a sweat broke out all over. I was on the verge of another orgasm. 

“God, I’m gonna fill you so full of my cum, have you nice and bred.” He begins to grunt. 

I nod my head frantically. “ Yes, yes, please. Want it so- ah- bad!” His words made a flash of heat erupt through my body. Never had he mentioned breading before but now that he had said it, it was all I could think about and it was bringing me so so close to the precipice.

“How would you explain that to your father, the King? Hum? How will you explain all the little half-orcs running around when you’re supposed to be marrying one of these Noble lords?” His thrusts become wild and without rhythm. “Such a fucking whore aren’t you?  Letting an orc fuck you over and over.” 

I grunt and groan at his words, nodding my head along with him. “Don’t want them,” I speak breathlessly. “Only want you.” 

Then, like the snapping of a rope, I am cumming again. My muscles seize up, and My cunt contracts and spasms around Eddie’s cock as he also cums. Greedily I take everything he gives me. 

We both ride out our respective highs together before he leaves me, hands uncurling my aching body, massaging my skin where the joints ache. 

My eyes are half closed, overcome with exhaustion, and now ready to sleep. I can feel Eddie climbing up my body, placing soft kisses along my naked frame before he nestles me into his chest. 

“I’m sorry. I should not have let myself release inside of you.” He mummers into my now frizzy hair. 

I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it.” 

He moves some of my hair from my face and leans down for a short kiss. “I do have to worry about it. I am supposed to protect you, nothing good will come of you being with child, especially from me.” 

“Then maybe we can run away together. I never wanted to rule in my father's place anyway. I’m more of an adventurer at heart.” I joked, eyes now fully closed, head resting on his chest. 

He shakes his head and lowers it to the bed, resting. 

“If I am pregnant, we can work that out when it comes to it. We don’t know for certain, and even if I am, there will be a few months before anything will show.” 

It’s quiet for a long time, I assume he has just fallen asleep like I am about to but then his voice rings out next to me. 

“Would you really run away from all of this? A life of luxury and safety for one of near poverty where we would be looked down upon? No one likes the thought of an orc and human together.” 

“Yes,” I confess. “But only if it were with you.” 

“Then it is decided. If you being to show, we will leave and never return.” 

I hum in response.

"It seems you are now tired out." Eddie laughed and it is the last thing I hear before I am finally falling asleep.

[fluff-n-cookies]

Hello! Could you write an platonic yandere father Aizawa in which her daughter is being bullied? Like one day she arrives home crying and maybe with some bruises (only if you feel comftable with it) and ask him to get transfered to another school and when he ask her why, she admits that a group of guys had been messing with her. So then he helps her with the whole situation.

Thankss

Heyyy no problem, I hope I captured what you wanted here, and I hope to see you in my inbox again soon!

TW: Yandere shit, fem reader as always, BE CAREFUL. my writing is pretty shit though but still there's murder here!

The heat of the Japanese afternoon sun was nothing in comparison to the fury in Aizawa's heart.

For when your daughter, your daughter, comes home broken and bruised, asking to never go back to school, crying out globs of tears, cheeks puffy and stinging.

The only logical solution running through your mind should be Death.

But alas, leaving a crying child with injuries in exchange for beating 8 year olds to death is frowned upon in many cultures and so,

and so,

He'll patch you up, care laced through his touch as he placed little pink bandages on your knees, letting you cry your little heart out on his shoulder as he does.

on the other side, thoughts of homicide, true homicide, the blood stain across the pavement as he tears apart their skin inch by inch, are tempting.

very tempting.

but he needs to be patient, he needs details on which little boy had the audacity not only to make his perfect sweetness of a child cry those ugly tears of agony but dare blemish her perfect skin.

how dare they.

"Kitten?"

oh don't look up at him with those pinkish eyes weary from crying, nor don't tighten your grip on his pajamas and let your lip quiver, you're breaking his heart!

"D-dad?"

Darling no! don't speak like that, don't let your once cheery voice become raspy with pain as you speak.

don't speak like that.

through a breaking heart and the fury of a bull he'll say.

"tell me, what happened?"

don't tell him, don't tell him, don't tell him the truth for their homes won't be safe tonight, don't tell him about the boy who forced you to kiss him, when you retaliated he gripped your wrist a tad bit too hard, his friends pushed you around too much, screamed in your face a little too loud.

don't tell your murderous father that some boys dared to hurt you and make you cry.

don't tell him, please.

"Kitten? tell daddy what happened?"

oh.

blood is going to be shed tonight.

you needn't worry about it though, he'll let you pick out your favorite snacks and he'll watch your favorite cartoon with you, he'll let you cuddle up in freshly heated blankets and sleep with a couple night lights on.

he'll dry your tears, dear, don't worry about it.

but in the dead of night, when you've long gone to sleep.

screams flood the empty roads.

his hands meet bloody horrors once again.

you needn't worry though.

he'll keep you safe.

[freakyfrye]

ᝰ. perfect stranger

requested: stolas x gn! swan reader, what if stolas never met blitzø at the ‘not divorce’ party

type: oneshot

content: no mention of pronouns (just “you”), slow burn, wholesome & vulnerable fluff, love at first sight (for Stolas maybe, up to interpretation), flustered & subtlety turned on stolas (not too much tho stolas), down to earth reader

note: for the record, I don’t hate stella (i actually like her character, villains have a soft place in my heart always), y’all idk about this—this is trash 🚮 I hate how I wrote it, imposter syndrome is heavy with this one but I don’t want to rewrite it and make you wait longer! I know I said I’ll wait until I wrote all my wips but I need this out my drafts neow!

Anyone who could be considered important, on some level but no more than she, knew that Stella Goetia just adored throwing parties once in a blood moon. In her fancy mansion, she’s the face, the main character, and she plays her role as host so well that people tend to overlook every other bad quality she has among the very few pros. Or perhaps, they would rather not have bad blood with someone of her caliber.

You, on the other hand, couldn't care less—about the parties, the fancy mansion, or Stella herself, frankly. Parties were never your first choice for outings; they were the most energy-draining events, with all the overcrowding and having to pretend to enjoy the company of ill-minded individuals.

But alas, you begrudgingly attend this one, and many others, as a representative of your family name. You're not silent in your disagreement, always voicing how they couldn't have picked a worse member for the job—if your frown, ever present since entering the oh-so-lovely and homey residency of the royal family, was anything to go by.

Doing your due diligence, you converse with a few guests as you make your way through the herd of people, keeping it curt and unseasoned. Finally, you reach the woman of the hour. Locating her wasn’t difficult; her boisterous, obnoxious laughter, reminiscent of a terribly played violin, rang through the room.

Exactly what you’d expect from her. Respectfully but quickly, you greet her, say a few false words of endearment about living a long life, and then scurry off back into the sea of snobby kiss asses. To her and anyone around her, it might look like you were scared, tucking your tail between your legs. In truth, you were trying to keep your big mouth shut in case she couldn’t keep her nasty comments to herself.

The party continues uneventfully. The music, more like a lullaby, would have lured you to sleep if you hadn’t downed a few cocktails to prevent it. The partygoers, annoying as they are, fail to read the room and approach you regardless of your many excuses to avoid meaningless conversation. They just want insight on why a (surname) is at a party alone, much less why you of all people are here.

By evening, you were running out of excuses until you grow hungry—using the lack of vegetarian options as a way to escape their gossip. Now standing beside a gigantic window, you contentedly munch on some leafy greens, finding interest in staring outside. The view is much more impressive than the building itself—isolated enough from Imp City yet overlooking it enough to make a grand statement. It is truly beautiful at night, the lights like little twinkling stars rivaling the sky.

Your head snaps in the direction of a crash, eyebrows raised in disbelief at the sight of wine dribbling down the glass of the window beside the one you stand near, shards scattered on the ground. To your surprise, or perhaps not, the vandal is Stella, who now leaves the scene in a fit of laughter, two idiots in tow beside her.

Why in hell would she do that to her own home? The thought Interest you some. She should know the potential damage that could have caused, let alone to one of her guests who could have been injured. Stella looked back, a sinister grin spreading across her face as she shot a rude remark past you towards someone. It made you realize she didn’t really care—neither about the mansion nor how it made her look.

Your lips form a tight line when you realize her comment was directed at her husband, who retorts with a low, irritated chirp. It seems this wasn’t much of a homey residence after all. Sighing, you place your drink onto the tray of a passing imp, heading over to the stained glass, each step revealing more of the prince hiding behind a column.

There wasn’t a memory with him that you could recall as you took out a handkerchief, wiping the window clean. You knew he attended all parties, cursed with the duty of family, but you never interacted with him. As you bent down, picking up the shards piece by piece, you considered whether you should approach him.

There were plenty of reasons why you didn’t want to or shouldn’t, like the vibe he was giving off as he shamelessly gulping down a bottle of absinthe. But it was your duty to greet all hosts, and even though he wasn’t mingling like his wife, he still counted. It was better to get it over with.

Hurriedly, you call over a wait staff, dropping the shards on their tray with a fleeting explanation, “Have that area swept thoroughly,” while gesturing towards it before brushing past them towards the prince. Stolas grew in size as the distance closed, standing a few feet taller than you. It would be only slightly intimidating if not for him choking on his drink after you suddenly appeared before him.

Sending him an apologetic smile, you bow, “Evening, Your Highness. Hope I didn’t frighten you.”

He managed to squeeze out, “I’m fine,” in the middle of coughing before fixing his posture and smoothing down his vest, handing the bottle to a imp beside him. “It’s quite alright. I just wasn’t expecting company…” he trails off, eyes flickering up and down, clearly confused as to who you are or why you were talking to him of all people in the room.

“I’m glad. I would hate to be the reason the prince falls ill. That would not bode well for my family,” you admit, half-jokingly, before addressing the second half of his statement. “You’re in a room full of like-minded people; surely someone besides me has come to talk with you.”

Right? Because that makes sense. He is the prince.

He blinks owlishly at you before stuttering, “Well—” He clears his throat, placing a hand on his abdomen before continuing, feigning nonchalance, “Why, of course. It’s only appropriate in this setting. I presume that’s your current agenda?”

“Yes,” you answer truthfully, finally glancing up and pausing. A giant banner hangs loosely above his head that reads “NOT DIVORCED!” in bold lettering. Usually the observant type, how in the world did you miss this? “However, if I’m honest, that’s part of the reason,” you add, curiously. You didn't realize it was that kind of party. Maybe you should start paying more attention to the invitations.

“Oh?” Stolas tilts his head slightly, eyes widening. He leans in closer, his voice a mix of confusion and genuine interest, “And what, pray tell, is the other half of the reason?”

You open your mouth, ready to speak what’s on your mind. You've never been one to hide how you feel—superior or not—otherwise, it would consume you. But then you close it, pursing your lips in thought. Perhaps that would be too rude, too personal off the jump, too far outside your jurisdiction to ask him about his marriage at his “not divorced” party, which his wicked wife obviously threw just to spite him.

Damn, you wish more than anything that you could have continued the party without ever seeing that sign or witnessing Stella’s public display. You didn’t care for gossip, but you were a curious individual by nature. He’s standing there, waiting on you to say something—anything, or you’ll risk looking like a fool.

“Do you want to get out of here?” you blurt out after a pregnant pause, cursing yourself inwardly for what you were getting yourself into. Anything would be better than what had came out of your lips.

His body recoils in apparent disgust at what you dare ask him, a prince. You can’t say you blame him; you’d be creeped out if a random nobody asked that too. “Wait, what?” he replies, dumbfounded at your boldness. Was this a joke? He scans around the room, as if searching for something but finds nothing before returning his gaze to you, a faint blush dusting his face. “Could you repeat that?”

You've made your bed, might as well lie in it. Besides, you never wanted to be at this party in the first place, and it's becoming painfully dull. Ideally, you'd slip away alone after greeting him—but this could work out—satisfying your curiosity before the night is over, it could potentially end badly but who knows when you'll cross paths again. Probably at another miserable gathering, actually.

"Ditch the party with me?" You casually rephrase, keeping your head high, silently hoping you don't come off as too much of an idiot. “Or not. Either way, I’m bored stiff here, and it doesn’t look like you’re having a blast either.”

Stolas blinks a few times, processing your proposition. “You’re suggesting leaving the party together?” he repeats, confirming what you’ve just asked, though you’d already clarified it. His lips curl into a hesitant smile, betraying a hint of nervousness at the unexpected proposal.

“And where would we go?” There’s a playful gleam in his eyes, signaling his curiosity and a willingness to entertain the idea of breaking away from the formalities of the event.

You hum in thought, not having planned that far ahead, before shrugging and tilting your head with a genuine smile. "What about the garden? There seem to be a lot of plants around the palace. Someone must really care for them. I bet it’s beautiful," you suggest, recalling the impressive variety of plants, including the carnivorous ones, on the way to the ballroom.

His feathers ruffle as he lets out a low, excited squeal, his smile growing more confident as he leans down to your height. "You have an interest in plants?" he asks, almost unable to believe it, his hands clasped together. Everyone he's ever come across has called his interests boring. He never had a friend who was.

You nod, your posture relaxing after seeing his genuine reaction. "It's a bonding activity between my mother and me that started in childhood. I take it by your reaction that you handle their care?" Perhaps he could be good company after all.

His comical blush returns when he remembers that your suggestion came with a compliment. “Yes, I do. I’m surprised you noticed. Not everyone cares for botany…” He gestures toward the exit, silently saying ‘after you’ before adding, “I would be delighted to accompany you to the garden. I can show you the new species of carnivorous plant I acquired...if you’d like?”

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, you nod and reply, “I’d love that.” You head toward the door, with Stolas quickly falling into step beside you, his hands interlocking behind his back. There’s a respectable distance between you both, ensuring you don’t draw unnecessary attention as you discreetly leave together.

Stolas takes the lead after exiting the ballroom, and a comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the sound of your footsteps. You notice how he occasionally glances at you, curiosity and excitement in his eyes, as the distance between you subtly closes. You don't voice your observation, letting him assume he's being sneaky when he's not.

"You know," he begins softly, eyes now trained forward, "I never caught your name." A stifled snicker escapes you, causing him to snap his eyes towards you, filled with confusion and a tad bit of worry. "Did I say something amusing?" he asks, tilting his head slightly.

Shaking your head, you respond, "No, it's just... It's a silly thought to think that you might know who I am." you tease.

A flustered noise escapes him, his shoulders stiffening as his mouth drops open and then snaps shut. He stops abruptly, turning his whole body toward you as he stutters, “That’s not... well, the reason...” He struggles to find his words before speaking honestly, “I don’t have a real reason, but if I had met you before, I wouldn’t forget you.” As if he could, you were the first creature in a long while to spark his interest so effortlessly.

Sighing softly, you gesture for him to continue walking. "Actually, it's refreshing not to be noticed immediately upon entering a room," you admit with a slight smile.

Finally reaching the garden, he opens the door and holds it for you, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “I understand how you might feel,” he sympathizes softly, closing the door behind him as he follows you inside. He watches with pride as your eyes widen in awe at the lush, vibrant space filled with an array of plants.

Taking your hand lightly, he guides you to a particular section of the garden where an unusual, striking plant catches your eye. “This is it,” he says, reluctantly letting go of your hand. “My newest addition. Isn’t it fascinating?”

You glance between him and the plant, chuckling in disbelief. "You’re kidding, right?" Your eyebrows shoot up at his confused expression. "Satan, I don’t know what I was expecting, but this—this wasn’t it. How in hell did you get an earth plant to thrive?"

He hums, glancing at the plant lovingly. "A bit of nurturing, a touch of magic, and voilà—a thriving earth plant."

"That simple, huh?" you ask, stepping up to touch the plant. It's soft under your touch and bends with ease—it's real. He wasn’t joking, but then again, why would he with all these other live plants around? It’s just a little hard to believe, is all. “Simple but significant.” you add, remember an affirmation your mother used to say.

Smiling, you let go of the leaf, your eyes following a path that leads deeper into the garden. You start walking, momentarily forgetting your original agenda: why throw a 'not divorce party'? Why not a normal party like normal couples do? But then again, was anything ever normal when you’re raised in the royal family?

Chances are they were arranged before they could even walk. Everyone who grew up in the scene knew that love wasn’t always part of those kinds of marriages. But you thought that wasn’t the case with those two. They hid it so well.

You become so engrossed in the scenery that you jump slightly when Stolas starts to speak, forgetting that you are in his home and not a museum. “Earlier… you said greeting me was only part of your agenda.” He raises his arms in a gesture of harmlessness noticing your jitteriness before continuing, “I’m purely curious… inviting me to escape with you wasn’t the other half, was it?”

"You’re more observant than I gave you credit for," you tease lightly. "You’re right. I still think it’s a touchy subject for you, but I can’t help myself. It’s like an itch in my brain that needs to be satisfied."

“There’s a lot you’d come to find out about me. I’m quite attentive toward things or people who interest me. Plants, my darling Octavia…” Stolas trails off, leaving his lost words hanging tensely in the air, but his gentle eyes on you have you forcing your brain to stop misinterpreting him. He shakes his head, as if to dismiss his own thoughts, "You can ask, as long as I get to ask you one in return. A fair exchange, yes?"

“Fair enough,” you agree, still hesitant and unsure of how he would take it but blurting out your question anyway. “It’s not hard to see that there’s some tension between you and your wife… almost painfully obvious.” You sigh, recalling the earlier events. “So my question is, why are you together, throwing a ‘not divorce’ party when it so clearly should be the opposite?”

There’s a long, pregnant pause between you two. Stolas stares at you, blinking as he processes your question, truly not expecting that to be what was on your mind. You were right—it was a rather personal question, one that really wasn’t any of your business. The nerve of you to be so crass as to ask him that of all questions, and yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to dismiss you.

Instead, he thought of all the reasons why he should answer—someone cares, someone’s listening… the list goes on and he checks them all off. The results are in and it’s still unclear if he should, even though his heart wants him to. Eventually, he expresses himself candidly, laying himself bare for a stranger who unexpectedly stepped inside his world.

Stolas sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair as he looks down at the ground. For a moment, he seems lost in thought, grappling with the complexity of his situation.

"It's... complicated. Stella and I, we've grown apart, to say the least. Our marriage was never really based on love or mutual respect, but more on the idea of strengthening our family's influence and securing alliances."

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his eyes haunted by a deep sadness.

"But to leave her... it's not that simple. Divorce is rare and scandalous in Goetia. It would be a massive blow to my reputation, and I'm not sure I'm ready to face that kind of backlash just yet."

He shrugs, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as exhaustion settles on his face. The facade he’s been building crumbles in the wake of vulnerability. Now you feel slightly guilty for asking, but you know you had to—not because you were nosy anymore, but partly because he needs to know that there is an alternate ending, one where he could be happy. That it was possible, you were proof.

“I understand the expectations of royals as much as you do. However, I refused to give up that part of my life to my duties. I saw how taxing it could be from the outside looking in. Sometimes it works, other times it doesn’t. I couldn’t leave that up to chance, and I believe you shouldn’t have to either. So what if the royal family judges you? They’re going to do that regardless. If they are, why not live for yourself? You don’t have much to gain from the marriage anymore. Your daughter’s nearing adulthood, right?”

Stolas numbly nods, hanging onto every word. “Then set yourself free before you drive yourself mad trying to keep up with appearances.”

Stolas is at a loss for words. No one has ever cared enough about him to offer such kind words of support. Not his father, not his wife, not even those with whom he sought intimacy. Yet here you are, a stranger, offering him hope. He feels himself choking up with emotion, but he expertly covers it with a cough and a polite smile behind his hand.

However, you can see just how much your words have affected him when you look into his glossed-over eyes. It's like looking at freshly polished rubies. You fear if you confess that the tears he hasn’t shed will flow. Heavens when did you become so soft…

His hand moves from his lips to rest over his heart, which beats so aggressively against his ribcage that he might be concerned if he weren't immortal. You are dangerous for his health, he thinks, when you tilt your head cutely, causing his heart to flutter momentarily before finding its appropriate rhythm again. His throat tightens as he tries to swallow with a dry mouth.

“That might be the kindest and most genuine advice anyone has given me… thank you,” he mutters, afraid to speak louder than a whisper for this conversation. Stolas's face grows hot as he confesses his next words, a hint of longing in his voice, “I wish I had stood up for myself then. Maybe things would have been different…”

“It’s never too late to do what’s right by you.” you reply without a beat, nodding in all seriousness.

“You’re right!” Stolas steps closer to you, moving his hand closer to yours. “It’s time to live for myself. I think I deserve that much. You’ve given me much to think about.” His hand hesitantly brushes against yours. “But I do believe it’s my turn for a question.”

You perk a brow at his change in tone, noticing it drop an octave but it doesn’t match the coy smile he sends you. “I said it before: it’s only fair after the little discomfort I caused you,” you remind him, side-eyeing him, standing rigid and unsure of the sudden change in atmosphere.

He chuckles softly, finally taking your hand in his, “The only discomfort I felt was at that stuffy party, which was soothed by your presence,” he replies, before dipping down to place a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. “Can we do this again? Going out, I mean.” Rising back up but not letting go of your hand, he continues, “I enjoy your company, and your honesty is a breath of fresh air compared to everyone sugar-coating. You’re the first person I’ve met who shares my interests too. It would be a shame, on my part, to leave it at this.”

Your purse your lips, brows furrowed. Since attending this party, nothing has gone right. Instead of leaving alone, you ended up escaping with the prince, and now he wants to see you again. It wouldn’t be an issue if it weren’t for the subtle hints he been giving since you’ve met. Let’s not forget that he is still married.

Despite how shitty a marriage it may be, he was taken. Not that it was your intention to steal him away in the first place. This could only end badly if people were to take your sudden friendship the wrong way. Now getting out of an arranged marriage with someone else was one thing, but having a situationship with the prince of Hell was another.

How were you going to spin this? You avert your eyes from his, filled with anticipation and hope, ignoring the gentle squeeze of his hand in yours. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, your highness.”

Stolas coaxingly coos gently, drawing your attention to your hands, which he interlocks. "Oh, please? We could have it at your place this time if it'll make you more comfortable."

"Oh fuck me," you groan, closing your eyes and rubbing the back of your neck with your free hand, missing the way Stolas bites his lip as a shiver slithers through his body. You reluctantly agree, opening your eyes, "Alright... You have to give me time to get everything up to par for a prince."

"Not need! For company like yours, I’m fine anywhere."

rules, masterlist

[misguidedasgardian]

Wild Cats (part V)

V. The need

MASTERLIST

Summary: Even though you just escaped death, you couldn’t count yourselves as saved yet

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injures, cannibalism, reader eats a squirrel (after they cooked it of course), you know what this is about.

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: Carol gets in the mean machine a bit

You guarded them, Rick, Carl, Michonne, Tyrell, Carol, Maggie, Glenn, Sasha, Bob, Tyresse and Daryl, you kept watch as you heard them make a list of everyone that was in the prison, and everyone that was accounted for, or you guessed, didn’t make it and they saw it go down

Apparently, as Carl had told you, they had been living in a prison for half a year, it was the perfect place against the new world, you’d think, as you could easily protect it, but some psycho tried to take it over with a tank, attacking the prison, destroying it in the process, and vanishing Rick’s community from there. At some point there were like forty people living in it, and in front of you is what was left.

A haunting thought

They were seeing if there was any chance someone else might still be out there, and they got to the conclusion there wasn’t, well, except for… Beth

She was Maggie’s younger sister and she was taken, when she was Daryl before you met him, before the thing with the claimers.

“New here too, right?”, asked Tara, you smiled and nodded, “I just met Rick, MIchonne and Carl a couple of days ago, after they escaped the prison, how about you?”, you asked her

“I was part of the group that took the prison”, she said with a horrid expression on her face. 

“Oh”, you didn’t know what to say

“Our leader lied to us, made us do it”, she said shortly. One thing you’d learn in the apocalypse, is that is was like it was in prison, you heard very few stories, and shorter ones, nobody liked to talk about “before”

You also had a good story to tell, but… alas… nobody asked you either.

“We should get going”, said Rick

“Where are we going?”, you asked softly. He looked back at you, he didn’t have a plan, neither of you did.

“For now we keep walking until we can find someone to lay low, regroup, replenish our strength”, he said, and you nodded, that sounded like a great plan, you only hoped this place existed.

You noticed something else too, Daryl was always hanging back, measuring, watching, his crossbow always ready to release. He often walked away from the group in thought, just to come back a few hours later while you walked. 

The night came quicker than you expected and to your surprise, Daryl came in with dead squirrels for dinner.

You had never eaten squirrels before.

It was… tasty, tasted like chicken. After he set a fire and cooked them himself. You always felt his eyes on you, when you looked back he seemed to be analyzing you, testing you, as you tried the squirrel and then ate it.

“Good enough for ya’?”, he asked as he munched on his

“it’s great”, you said, of course at first you were not convinced.

You couldn’t hunt for shit, and in that period when you were alone you saw some gray days, but you always managed. You had eaten so many expired canned things you were pleasantly surprised that you haven't gotten poisoned yet.

You took turns to sleep, there were fifteen of you, so you took turns. You realized that in the -adult- close circle, those being Michone, Rick, Carol, Daryl, Maggie and Glenn divided themselves into the five groups to take guards, they didn’t trust you, or the trio, or Tara more, but you understood it.

You were just almost eaten by humans who promised you sanctuary 

Daryl kept watch with you like at three AM, and also Abraham, who wouldn’t let Eugene do anything of substance.

“What did you both do before all of this?”, he asked, which wasn’t fair, it was clear what he did. You looked at Daryl who didn’t answer

“Does it really matter?”, you asked

“Hell yeah”

“What I can tell you is that I didn’t do anything special”, you said simply, “nothing that could have helped me survive this anyways”, you said quietly, but you still felt both gazes on to you, “I’m a designer mayor”, you concluded, “just finished my masters when the crap hit the fan”

“You don’t sound like you’re from around here”, he said

“I’m not”, you said, but you were not willing to answer anymore and he seemed to understand it. 

“And what about you?”, he asked Daryl in turn, you looked back at him expectantly, but he only mumbled something under his breath

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?”, you asked, “we are all different people now, and it’s not like we need CV’s”, you said softly. 

“We are going to fix this”, he said, all convinced

“That’s just bullshit man”, muttered Daryl. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, you really didn’t. A scientist that could stop this? on their way to DC with these militars? that sounded so, so strange, but again, this had become a strange world

“I can use some people like you in the team”, he said, looking at you both. Daryl just shook his head

“You said you are going to DC?”, you asked, he nodded, “how do you know someone is there still?”, finding people that had a similar plan to yours was… endearing, maybe you weren’t so wrong after all.

“Well, we did lose contact a few weeks back, but there were still people there”, he said, “the last ones standing”. Someone created this virus, you were sure of it, and as easier someone could change this back, this was a virus, you really did hope there was a way back.

Although things were irreparable now. But at least, people didn’t have to keep coming back to life as flesh-eating monsters, and furthermore, people didn’t have to keep being eaten. 

“You too”, encouraged Abraham, you raised your eyes from the fire to look at him

“Why me?”, you asked him

“I saw you wielding that ax”, he said nodding proudly, you weren’t better with an ax that Daryl was with a bow, “you both should be there when we save the world”, Daryl only chuckled, mockingly, and then stood up to go for a walk around the camp. You both joined him, because you didn’t want to have another “claimers” situation, one where the group sneaked past your round, so you went in all different directions. 

“You’re with me”, muttered Daryl, you just walked towards him silently, and submerged yourself into the woods. 

The moon helped you, also, the sky was clear so you could see once you adjusted your eyesight. You watched where you were going, last time you tripped he snapped at you, when you were slow he also snapped at you.

You got it, he was this tough, tracker, hunter guy, but still, he seemed to be always looming over you,watching your every move

You didn’t care, something made you want to please him, to prove yourself worthy to him, you didn’t know what it was.

You are focused so much in your “quickness” and being fast that you didn’t watched much when you were going, especially since it was pitch black, you tripped and fell on your face, and you would have been embarrassed, if it wasn’t because you didn’t trip because of a branch or something, something grabbed you. 

You heard the growls and you knew you were fucked, truly fucked 

“Ah!”, you screamed when you kicked and hit the walker in its face, you turned around and you could barely see the silhouette. You grabbed your ax but you were so afraid to hit yourself, it lodged in what it seemed to be it’s shoulder

You saw and heard its mouth snapping open, he was going to get you, his boney body over your other leg, not allowing you to kick him

And then, an arrow lodged itself in the middle of its forehead, stopping his movements at once.

“It’s a wonder you haven’t been killed ye”, he mumbled, coming to you, grabbing the arrow from its head, and grabbing you, getting you on your feet, “did he get ya?”, you grabbed onto him, shaking your head

“Thank you”, you said, trying to hold on into his thick arm, as you took foot on solid ground

“Be more careful will ya?”, he asked and walked away from you, releasing his hold on you. 

“Sorry”, you said, catching up to him, “thank you I thought it was gonna get me”, you were shaken up, you felt your heart thundering. He didn’t say anything as he kept walking forwards, you walked stuck to his side, creeped out of your mind. Soon your round was over and you came back to the bonfire.

You didn’t understand why Daryl was so angry at you all the time. And furthermore you didn’t understand why he was hovering over you, as he sat right by your side, and slept right by you too. He wouldn’t stop checking where you were or what you were doing, you didn’t understand at all. You stole a glance at him and saw him staring into the fire. He had some beautiful eyes… the bastard, and underneath all that wild hair… he was sort of handsome, in a… special, wild way.

He caught you staring so you looked away quickly, and soon, you woke the others up and it was your time to rest. 

. . .

The next night found you in the church of the priest you saved from three walkers. He gave you the creeps. You believed yourself to be a good judge of character and you did not like him at all, but you needed sanctuary, food, water and a plan, so you should be fine there for a couple of weeks. If Rick trusted him, so could you, besides, there was fifteen of you, and one of him.

There you had more time to get acquainted with the rest of the group. You’d learn that baby Judith was a badass, and super quiet for a baby. She was such a cute little baby. 

You’d learned so many things from the rest of the group, how Tyresse was certainly the most intimidating-looking but a gentle giant, Bob was… odd. Carol was very reserved and if Daryl gave you judging looks he’s got nothing on her. She barely even talked to you.

Eugene was a bit of a weirdo, he was, he tried to “came onto you” multiple times and you’d reject his lewd advances quickly, and Abraham and Rosita would laugh at him. It was sort of comical, he was lacking very esencial social skills. But Abraham, Eugene and a couple of more were hellbent on fixing a broken church bus to get them to DC, and the rest of you were just trying to get supplies to keep going, or figure out what to do next.

You were not impressed by the town or its surroundings, but you were asked by Rick to stay near the church with Carl, baby Judith and the others, and you did, happily.

As you had a time for yourself, you sat in one of the church’s benches and peeked at a map you had of Georgia and the surrounding states, of the plan you had made when you got out of Atlanta, of the island…

Rick sat by your side and peeked, you looked at him, he had baby Judith in his arms

“This would have come handy before”, he chided gently

“I forgot I had it, I thought it was in my backpack, but it was in one of the zippers in my jacket”, you explained softly, there was some scribbles in it, Rick read them

“What was this?”, he pointed at your “plan V”

“Plan Vacation Village”, you said, he chuckled, “it’s an island on Lake Lanier”, you said softly, he looked at you wide-eyed, “I thought to go seek refuge there, an island right? easy to protect”

“What happened?”, he asked

“Never found out”, you said sadly, “never got to”, he looked at you funny 

“This could work”, he said, “we should be close enough”

“I’m sure I’m not the only one who came to the same conclusion”, you said surely, “that islands were the safest way… it could backfire, there could be walkers trapped in there…besides, it’s big, very…”

“Maybe…”, he said. He looked ahead, at the group getting ready for dinner, “why won’t you go find Daryl and Carol? we can discuss this at dinner”, he said softly, you nodded. He treated you like you were a little girl sometimes, but… Carol and Daryl were in the watch team, they preferred it so. You walked outside and realized it was already night, pitch dark, you were going to tell Rick to fetch them yourself, you didn’t want to go at night, but there it was again, the need to prove yourself, so you went out there anyways.

You seemed to catch a glimpse of Daryl out there, so, you followed him, you didn’t want to call out for him, so you tried to move quickly. you ended up a few yards away from the church when you catched him, he was with Carol. 

“... you seemed pretty cozy with her last night… the new girl”, said Carol teasingly

“She is just another dead girl”

“Rick wants us for dinner”, you said, they both froze and looked back at you, and you cursed yourself because your voice broke in the last second

They looked back at you wide-eyed

“I walk pretty stealthy for a dead girl”, you said bitterly

They were going to answer, but the three of you almost ducked when you heard an engine, a car, it passed right by you, it was black, Daryl went out of his way to catch a glimpse of it, and when he did, he was quick to grab the bow and smashed the back lights of the car they were preparing

“What are you doing!?”, asked Carol 

“That’s the car that took Beth!”, he said quickly, “get in! Both of you!”, he said, and wouldn’t take no for an answer 

“What?”, you asked, but they both jumped in, and rather than being out here alone, with a sigh, you jumped into the car too. 

Damn you and your need to prove yourself. 

[thefanficmonster]

Piss off your parents pt.1

PART 2

PART 3

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: You just wanted to rebel a little, how did it get to this?

"Y/N, you're fucking insane." Colby grumbles, struggling as he unbuckles one of his best friends out of the backseat of his car. She, however, seems completely unbothered by him maneuvering her into an upright position. She's giggling, actually, a direct contrast to her mascara streaked cheeks. She's drunk, wasted. Three sheets to the wind, if you will.

He already had to put two other drunk messes to bed tonight, Y/N's his third. He should be getting paid per person and per difficulty. Nate was the easiest to subdue, followed by Sam who put up a brief 'I'm not even drunk, dudeeee' kind of fight. And now her.

The party was at Sam's house so the previous two didn't require any special treatment other than being dunked into Sam's bed. Y/N however...

She'd pleaded with Colby, the most sober one of the bunch, to just let her be. Let loose, get drunk, flirt around a bit. That being said, four hours later - two hours past her curfew - when he tried prying her away from the drink table she put up one hell of a fight.

"You have the balance of a newborn giraffe! You're done! I'm cutting you off!" He'd yelled over the music, hearing his own parents' scolding in his tone but he ignored it. He had to take on the parenting role with his friends, it was his turn after all. He knows they'd do the same - they've done the same - when he was plastered. He owed them the same curtesy. Especially Y/N.

She's usually on parenting duty, not really on the heavy drinker side. But after the fight with her parents she told him about earlier, he can't blame her for wanting to drown it out with a few extra shots.

A few too many extra shots.

He was planning on just safely storing her in one of the guestrooms for the night and playing nurse the following morning when all three would undoubtedly have a hangover. But that's when Y/N's cognitive thought kicked in.

"My parents are gonna kill me if I don't make it home tonight! I can't sleep here!" She was - and still is - heavily slurring her words but the thought of further pissing off her folks drove her into an almost sobering panic. "Call me an Uber while I find my shoes. What time is it?"

Colby had carefully dodged around answering that question, knowing it would send her into a full blown heart attack knowing she was running so late. He tried telling her on time but she'd blown him off, saying she didn't care about the stupid curfew or at least that's how much he'd caught from her string of slurred rambles.

"You're not getting an Uber at this hour. Come on, I'll drive you." He'd said reassuringly as he picked up one of her stray shoes.

They soon found the second one and her missing purse and within fifteen minutes they'd gotten in his car and were gliding down the road with the speed of a tortoise. At this point in time Colby was neither drunk nor tipsy but that didn't stop him from sweating bullets as he operated the vehicle.

"I don't wanna go to Barton!" He'd believed she was asleep after the long stretch of silence following their departure so her sudden exclamation was quite startling.

"You won't, Y/N. You're coming with us to LA, remember?" He believed in that lie as much as she did, but he needed to soothe her somehow.

"Not according to mom! I'm gonna be stuck here in Kansas all my life!" Her anger was now engulfed by sobs Colby gently offered tissues for.

He stayed quiet and let her ramble, only partially listening to the words spilling directly from her heart. He especially tried drowning out the part where she went on a whole rant abut her massive crush on Nate.

But, alas, he wasn't successful, seeing as how he was white-knuckle-gripping the steering wheel more than half the way to her house.

That's how they've ended up here - one a giggly and mascara stained drunken mess and the other a bitter and regretfully sober babysitter. Well, babysitter, Uber driver and therapist all in one. He really should start charging for his services.

He wraps one of Y/N's arms around his shoulders, securing it there by holding her hand while his other arm fixates itself around her waist to keep her upright and at least semi steady on her feet.

With a silent prayer, he tries pushing the front door open with zero luck. It's locked.

He's cycling through all the stages of grief as he comes to terms with the fact that he will, unfortunately, have to ring the bell and alert Y/N's parents of their arrival.

He does just that, although quite begrudgingly, sighing heavily when he sees a light turn on through one of the windows. The sound of oncoming footsteps follows.

His eyes are soon met with the unpleasant glare of Y/N's mom who - as he's picked up on from their handful of interactions - already isn't very fond of him.

Just him!

She's lovely to Sam and Nate, but he's not extended the same curtesy. You can visibly see the air around her get colder when she approaches him whereas she's always been so kind and welcoming to the other two people in their friend group. He hasn't been able to figure out why. Bringing it up to Y/N proved futile as she just shrugged and shook her head.

"No clue, Colbs. But don't take it personally. She's just like that." She had said, but it didn't sit right with Colby. It made no sense. And it continues to bother him.

And unnerve him, specifically now as he's being stared down by her icy gaze.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Y/L/N....just bringing Y/N home. She had a little too much to drink." There's no way in hell he could've concealed her drunkenness. She's hanging off of him with her head bowed, her hair forming a curtain over her face. He wouldn't be surprised if he were to find her already asleep.

"You know where her room is." There's an edge to her scoff that could slit a man's throat, but Colby chooses not to dwell on it. Truly, he can't, seeing as how she's already moving away from the doorway and down the hall into the living room, leaving him to deal with the mess she thinks he caused.

He can't find it in himself to be offended right now, although he probably will be later. He has bigger fish to fry.

And so, with his options limited, he opts to pick her up bridal style so he can easily carry her up the stairs. He hopes to God her parents don't see this and get the wrong idea.

Oh if he only knew what's to come...

As carefully as he can, he settles his unconscious best friend on her bed, tucking her in. He's murmuring reassuring words under his breath as he does so, not sure if they're meant for her or him but in the end it all works out.

"Night, Y/N." With that whispered in the darkness of the room and a gentle kiss on her temple, he makes his exit, briefly stopping at the bottom of the stairs to peek into the living room, "Good night, Mrs. Y/L/N."

"It's almost morning." Her reply is on-par with most of their interactions so he just pushes past it, shaking his head slightly before leaving out the front door.

As he does so, he notices the sky has taken on a brighter shade of blue, signaling Y/N's mom really wasn't exaggerating. With a sigh, he gets back behind the wheel, heading to Sam's house to check on his other two patients.

* * * * *

Her head is pounding but you'd never be able to tell from the giant grin on her face as she sprints through the neighborhood, skipping through backyards and hopping the occasional fence to cut the trip short. The strap of a duffle bag is slung over her shoulder, she's clutching onto it tightly. It has all her belongings in it, after all. It's of upmost importance she doesn't lose it.

That's be rather unfortunate right after spontaneously moving out, wouldn't it?

She wouldn't say she got kicked out of the house per-se. That would indicate that she was thrown out against her will. Quite the contrary actually. She was more than happy to leave. Had she known those were the magic words, she would've said them so much sooner.

She catches herself before she can make a face-first collision with Sam's front door, stopping to catch her breath and knock a couple of times. And a couple more times. And a few more times.

It's safe to say she's impatient. But with the news she has, you can't blame her.

"Stop! Stop!" A disheveled Sam finally opens the door, one hand partially covering his pale face, "Too loud..."

Y/N gives herself a moment to feel guilty and hug him apologetically before dashing inside. "Colby's here, right?"

"Yeah!" She hears his voice coming from the kitchen and immediately makes a beeline in his direction, dropping her bag in the foyer.

Upon entry, she finds Colby and Nate sitting by the kitchen island, both in different stages of 'the morning after'. Despite the crippling headache, however, the latter finds it in him to give her a genuine smile, sliding off the stool to envelop her in a hug.

"Aww, is someone hungover?" She mocks Nate, sneaking a sip from his Gatorade.

"Hey!" He complains, reaching over to snatch the bottle from her, "Give it back! I need it way more than you do."

Colby, unable to stomach their interaction - for reasons he doesn't want to get into right now - busies himself by looking down at his phone.

He's known of Y/N's little crush on Nate for months now. At first it was only speculation based off her demeanor around him. And then it was more like a punch to the gut when she tipsily confirmed it one night.

"Colbs?" Her voice snaps him out of his brief bitter spiral, forcing him to look up, "Can I borrow you outside for a sec?"

He's struggled with saying 'no' to her since the day they met. Not that he wants to turn her down, he just wishes he could.

And wishes she didn't. Without even knowing it. Turn him down, that is.

With a nod, he follows her out to the patio where the sun isn't kind to either of them, adding gasoline to the fire of their raging hangovers.

"Sup?" Try as he might, he has never been good at feigning nonchalance around her.

It's surprising to see her nervous. For once, he believes their playing field to be even. "So...I've got good news wrapped up in bad news."

Her words would panic him a lot more had she not come in like a force of nature with a gleaming smile adorning her face. Still, it's not at the top of the list of things he wants to hear on a Saturday morning. So, with an exaggerated sigh, he signals for her to continue, "I'm all ears. The last twenty four hours can't get much worse."

He watches her face twist as she cringes, well aware she's about to prove him wrong, "Well...." With a deep breath, she finally spits it out, "The good news is, I'm coming with you guys to LA."

Colby doesn't spare a second, momentarily forgetting the bad news she'd mentioned as he scoops her up in a hug, "No fucking way! Hell yeah! I fucking told you!" He can't describe the immense joy and relief he's feeling right now. "Kiss that Barton College shit goodbye!"

Giggling, Y/N kicks her feet, looking for solid ground beneath them. Not that she's in a rush to be set back down. In fact, for a split second, she wishes this moment could last forever.

But, she's aware it's impossible.

Suddenly, she feels guilt creeping in for even letting that thought run loose in her head. She doesn't even know how or why it popped up.

She just knows she's about to ruin it all.

"One problem..." It's actually far more than one, but they'll dissect that later on. She just has to get the main one out the way, "You see, how that came to be...."

"You have no shame! You get wasted at parties, break rules, come home past curfew." Mrs. Y/L/N's voice is shaking the house, echoing twice as loudly in Y/N's head as she's just trying to eat a bowl of cereal. "Random people are bringing you home at dawn!"

She has the gull to argue back, "Colby is not just some random person, mom!"

"Oh yeah, he of all people was the one bringing you home! What the hell, Y/N?!"

Her mom has never liked Colby. The problem is, no one knows why. Y/N isn't sure if her mom even knows why. She tried asking once, it didn't go over so well.

But that's when two and two click together into a four in her head - a bright idea. Actually, 'dim' would be better. Nothing bright is welcome within her proximity with the splitting headache she's nursing.

Without a second thought, she blurts out: "What's so wrong with having my boyfriend take me home after a party?"

Her words ring out like a gunshot in the quiet house. Yet they are nothing in comparison to the explosion of her mother's anger in response.

Colby's mouth is hanging open, his gaze piercing through more so than focusing on his friend.

She, on the other hand, is sweating bullets, anxiously waiting for him to say something and break the long silence that has fallen upon them. When he doesn't, she wills herself to whisper a mousy little "I'm sorry."

Finally, a voice leaves his parted lips: "Y/N, you're fucking insane."

[morphids]

linger, ellie williams

pairing: dealer!ellie x afab!reader

chapter: one shot (5.5k words) (theres hope for a continuation tbh) proofread but I'm dyslexic so if you see a missing word, double words and errors- mind ur business </3

warnings: explicit sexual content, 18+ so minors do not interact!!!, dealer!ellie so mentions of drug use and marijuana, afab!reader and gendered nicknames, poc friendly!! blasphemy, choking, use of trusty strap. ellie's a bit rough but it's all consensual she just gets pussydrunk tbh, (think that's all)

summary: reader returns from patrol to find her stash is empty, relying on her trusty masc dealer who loves calling her nicknames and teasing her.

Disclaimer: I do not support the genocide of the indigenous Palestinian people, and neither should you, please don’t buy the new Remastered or continue giving any more money to Druckmann. Educate yourself, learn the history, it is vital. From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free 🇵🇸

**

A sigh escaped your lips, damn.

You looked at the almost empty baggie with a slight pout, almost pleading to the bag, hoping its substances would magically reappear. But you knew better than that.

You glanced at the clock behind you, it rested on a mahogany wall which had seldom been cleaned or decorated, you simply didn't have the time or effort, to be honest. Even after so many years.

There was too much to do in Jackson, whether you were on patrol, sorting out stables or farming crops. There was rarely any free time, but tonight you had returned from a three-week patrol, and all you had wanted was to spark up and relax for a few hours. Maybe finally get some good fucking sleep, in your own bed.

Alas, you had returned to Jackson to find your stash box considerably emptier than you remember. You could've sworn you had some more left, but knowing your habits, three weeks prior you had probably decided it would be best to smoke it all, as a going-away present to yourself. You sighed at your own stupidity.

The clock's hands ticked as you reevaluated your situation. Another look at the clock told you it was now 2:36 a.m. What were your options?

You could attempt to sleep without a joint and lie awake all night, your mind consistently reminding you of all the shocks and horrors you'd seen that you'd hoped had all been forgotten. Sometimes, you'd see the restless faces you had killed, sometimes you'd see the people who tried to kill you. Other times, flashes of infected, masses and masses of them charging after you. You shook your head to yourself. Needless to say, going cold turkey was not something you had wanted to do, especially at nighttime.

With that in mind, you collected some things and put some denim pants on, they were a bit on the baggy side but in the apocalypse, beggars can't be choosers, they fit around your waist that's all that matters. On top rested a tightly fitted green shirt, it was actually one of your favourites as it let you see what was going on underneath those clothes, it made you feel confident and you'd need all the confidence you had for this.

You had no other choice, it was almost 3 a.m and the only other person who was likely to be awake, someone with the same sleeping struggles as you, was none other than Ellie Williams. Your cheeks flushed. Would she even be awake? Would she even want customers at this hour?

You hesitated as you reached your front door, this probably wasn't a good idea but you were desperate, with a final sigh you unlocked your door and stepped outside into Jackson's winter weather.

***

With a light tap, you knocked on Ellie's door, suddenly unsure of yourself. A few moments passed as you thought no answer was going to come when you heard shuffling from inside the building and a shadow moving across the window.

You sighed, happy that she was awake.

You heard the door unlock before it opened revealing the auburn-haired girl you had hoped to see. Her brows were furrowed, a hint of confusion on her features.

"It's a bit late, you know." She spoke, her voice raspy, she was probably tired. It was then that you realised how desperate you probably looked, knocking on Ellie's door at ungodly hours of the night.

"Sorry, ran out of weed." You muttered, that was all you could say, a gust of condensation exiting with your words due to the cold. Hopefully, she'd be kind enough to give you some and spare you the embarrassment. Ellie had a reputation for being a bit of a menace, though.

Ellie chuckled quietly, looking down at you. "Well, that explains it," she hummed, her green eyes locking onto yours. Unable to hold her gaze, you looked down at your hands. They were slowly becoming numb from the extreme weather, your jacket not padded enough to protect you from this cold. "I know it's late, I just can't sleep without it..." you trailed off, "sorry, I can come back tomorrow if that's better."

Ellie simply shook her head, a soft smile grazing her plump lips, "I couldn't turn away such a pretty girl," she stopped, "especially at this time of night, it's dangerous out there."

At her words, you felt yourself fumble. You knew there was little to worry about in the safe confines of Jackson in terms of danger, except for a few raids here and there. Memories flashed in your head from a few years ago, you blushed at the thought, refusing to entertain it any longer. You wondered if she remembered it, too. Probably not.

"Only if it's no bother," you said, unsure. "Of course, not. It comes with the job of being the only source for miles," she reassured, to which you smiled and shook your head, agreeing.

"Come in, you look like you're freezing." That you didn't expect, usually in your meetings you would quickly exchange goods before returning home. But this time, she was looking at you with that smile of hers, and the cold was slowly decreasing your energy. "Yeah, okay." you hesitated, following her into her home.

Ellie closed the door behind you, before speaking again, "It's upstairs, I'll go grab it, you can take a seat wherever." She accommodated, I sat as she left the room, hearing her footsteps trail upstairs.

You took this time to look around, your house was comfortable, but it wasn't quite lived in as Ellie's, who seemingly had personalised and decorated her space. You wonder if she has people over often. For some reason, that thought tightened your chest.

You were quickly pulled away from your thoughts as Ellie reappeared in the living room. "Here," she threw a bag towards you, you smiled as your mission had been successful, catching the bag in your hands. "Thanks," you spoke, gratitude all over your voice.

"Don't mention it," she paused, "Seriously, don't mention it, Maria's been on my ass about it." "Having a domestic dealer probably wasn't what she wanted for Jackson." You joked, knowing Maria always made disapproving comments when she'd catch a whiff of it at your house. "Well, too bad. If I had to deal with an apocalypse sober, I'd have shot myself." She deadpanned, and you laughed in return.

"Thank you for providing sanity for us all." Ellie laughed at this. Her eyes looking over you, it reminded you of that day so many years ago. You shuddered.

"Well, I'll head off, don't wanna bother you more than I already have." You said, thinking that it must be at least four in the morning by this point. "Rude as always, I see." she joked, putting her hand over her heart in feigned hurt, "not even gonna stay for a joint?" Ellie pressed, finding herself entertained with the pretty girl in her living room.

To be honest, you were quite comfortable and warm. Not wanting to face that cold again, you mulled over what she said, surely one joint with her can't hurt right? "If you insist," you finally said.

With that, Ellie picked herself up off the floor, making her way over to Joel's vinyl player. You took this time to really look at her, she'd only gotten more attractive over the years you'd known her. Her short auburn hair was tied into a half bun, the rest of her hair left down, biting down on her lip softly as she scoured for a good record to play, god she really was attractive, you thought.

Against your will, memories of ardent kisses, lingering glances, heavy breaths and harsh touches appeared in your brain again. God damn it, you thought, not now. You pressed your legs together as Ellie had finally picked a record, placing it delicately on the player before turning her attention back towards you, music playing softly in the background.

"So, we've not really spoken for a while, huh?" Ellie said, grabbing the baggie and her paraphernalia as she settled down on the floor to roll. Ellie knew you could roll perfectly fine, you had been getting weed off her for years, but she couldn't help herself from wanting to show off her skills a little. You glanced at her arms, toned and tanned, adorned with a tattoo, your glance reaching her hands as you inspect the delicate way she grabs the items. Her hands are so pretty- veiny and strong, your thoughts roamed, thinking about what she could do with them, you blushed to yourself.

"I've been on patrol the past three weeks, only got back tonight." "I was wondering where the beauty of Jackson had disappeared off to," she half-smiled, looking up from hands to you, "Glad you're back."

You felt the blood in your cheeks rise, you were far from the prettiest girl around. "Me too, couldn't take another day of Jesse and Dina sneaking around during the night." You joked, those two thought they were so subtle and you couldn't shatter that blissful illusion for them. "Why do you think I refuse to go on patrol with both of them?" Ellie said, the joint rolled in less than a few minutes.

You couldn't help but be impressed, it usually took you a good amount of time before you could perfectly tuck the paper into itself, that part always annoyed you. But, Ellie? She did it all so effortlessly, her fingers habitually manoeuvring the paper before bringing it to her lips, licking the edge of the paper to stick it all together. Her eyes never left yours as she did this, lingering on you.

You watched, wordlessly as she finished rolling it. What could you say? Yeah, that was really hot, do it again, never. "Why are you so far away, I don't bite," Ellie said, trying to soften the tension that glazed over the room.

You didn't realise the distance there was between you two, you being happily sat on the couch whilst Ellie settled herself on the floor. "Alright," you scootered down next to her on the floor, resting your back against the couch. "That's more like it,"

With that, she held the joint up to your face, placing it lightly between your defined lips. You froze, watching her grab a lighter and bring it to the joint, lighting it for you. You inhaled, securing the flame was actually lit before pulling away and exhaling.

You remembered something Tommy had said, how before the outbreak, men would sometimes light cigarettes for women they find attractive and were actively pursuing. You wondered if Ellie was making a subtle move on you, but before the thought continued, you passed the joint back to her, fingers lingering on each other briefly. She established eye contact, not breaking it as she inhaled. You felt something in the air switch.

"You know something?" She broke the silence, exhaling the smoke as she did so, you thought she was about to say something really serious, so you listened. "I think you've never had to roll a joint in your entire life," she accused, an impish glint in her eyes letting you know she was officially reaching teasing territory.

"Excuse me, I can roll very well, thank you." You responded, feeling confident in your abilities. "No, I don't think that's true," she paused, taking a drag, "Pretty girl like you, I'm sure men are fawning at the chance to roll for you to impress." Ellie teased. "What, like you?" You retorted, not wanting her to have the upper hand. This seemed to catch her off guard, "What? You think I didn't notice you 'fawning to roll to impress me'?" Ellie was silent, then. Her teasing had backfired and she was left with nothing to say. You felt a swell of pride, you had made the confident Ellie speechless.

Passing you the joint back, Ellie thought back to the same day you couldn't stop remembering, she recalled that day clearly. The way your mouths had fervently collided, a haze of lust in each other's eyes. You had probably both been about 17 at the time, succumbing to each other after a night of secretly drinking Tommy's whiskey behind the stables. Of course, the lovely make-out session had been interrupted by Jesse, who was roaming around the stables. Ever since then, they never mentioned it, and nothing further happened. To make it worse, she found out that the day after you two had kissed, there was a certain man trying to grab your attention.

Ellie was never insecure, but seeing you laugh at this random bastard's jokes made her feel inferior, so she gave up. She left you alone and decided she wouldn't mention it. Though, her body craved to feel you again. She had assumed you were straight, in all honesty, but she never bothered to ask. If she did she would've found that you were the exact opposite. You had dated men in the past, slept with them, Ellie knew this. However, she was none the wiser to the truth that you were, in fact, dealing with a heavy dilemma as you realised you weren't actually attracted to men. You had always known you were into women, but finalising that you weren't into men at all, was a recent development.

Ellie sighed, thinking of that night. You had probably forgotten, she thought. It was so long ago now. "Penny for your thoughts," you said, after exhaling and passing it back to Ellie. "I'd rather stay penniless." She stated, not wanting to expose what she was really thinking about. "Come on, that's no fun." You said, feeling light-headed.

"I was just thinking," she trailed off, realising she had lost the upper hand. Ellie wouldn't have that, she craved being in control of the situation again. Ellie liked control, she liked to have her bearings and to be honest, you were making her lose it. "What?"

"I was wondering if you remember that night." You gulped, eyebrows slightly raising and stopped the movement of your hand raising the joint to your lips. There it is. Ellie thought, a smirk grazing her lips, she remembers. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ellie." This was the first time in the entire night you had said her name, and the rush it brought her was unreal, feeling more confident to press further. She saw you shudder and she wanted to see it again, she wanted to see you in all sorts of compromising positions.

"You don't?" Ellie teased, "Really?" Inching closer to you, gaze dropping down to your lips, not believing a word that was coming from them. You tensed, of course, you remembered. How could you possibly forget? The way she grabbed your waist, kissing up your neck. It was heavenly. You sighed, and she ate it up.

It was an unspoken thing, you both quietly decided that it'd be best to never mention it. But now, Ellie was reaching dangerous territory, and she couldn't pull herself back.

"Cos I remember," she leaned closer to your ear, "I remember everything." Your mouth hung open, feeling the heaviness of her breath hitting your ear, almost making you flinch. "You do?" you breathed, moving your head so it was level with hers.

"Everything," Ellie stated. Her eyes were blown out, the joint almost neglected as the smoke kept disappearing into the room's air. Ellie grabbed the forgotten joint from your hands, bringing it to her lips and inhaling, before moving it back to your lips. Your faces were so close, she blew the smoke at you. You latched on to the joint taking a final drag before Ellie stumps it out and throws it aside, "Let me jog your memory," grabbing the back of your head, bringing your lips closer.

With the smoke still in your throat, you close the gap, lips meeting in a needy manner. Her hand still latched on to your hair, pulls your head back as you have no choice but to sigh into her mouth. Ellie sucks the smoke from your lips, taking her final drag before ripping her lips from yours to blow it out.

You had never seen anything like it, you felt a rush down to your core at the action, then realised you were sad that she had taken away the warmth of her lips.

With a groan, she replaced her hands at the back of your neck, breathing heavily as she reconnected your lips together. God this was so much better than you remembered, Ellie's gotten good at this, causing a pang of jealousy to hit your chest.

Your hands travelled, meeting her waist and letting out a small gasp as Ellie grabbed the back of your head and pulled your neck back again, exposing your throat to her. This time, she leaned down and placed her soft lips on your supple skin, groaning as she sucked, causing soft hisses to escape from you. Ellie chuckled and continued leaving marks all over your neck, she was enjoying this, fucker.

Her roaming hands grasp the skin underneath your shirt, gripping you tightly. You let out a sigh as she manoeuvred her hands up, reaching the hem of your bra. Ellie brought her lips from your throat back to yours, almost laughing at how much she wanted this. She grabbed your thighs, a noise reverberating in her throat as she felt how warm they were, with a slight squeeze of your inner thigh, she hoisted you on top of her lap. Legs spread over hers.

Ever since that day, Ellie had never forgotten about you. Haunted by the memories of the night she held sacred. She often wondered if you thought about it. She wishes she had gotten further with you that night, but Jesse had to ruin everything. Here, today, she was given another chance, another chance to claim you, to mark you and make you feel the best pleasure you've ever felt.

It was almost carnal, her desire. She thanked her gods for bringing you to her tonight, she had a taste of you that night, and now she was ready to have the whole serving. "Ellie.." you trailed off, suddenly embarrassed, looking at her with those doe eyes. How can you look at her so innocently? Ellie almost melted at the sight, your eyes needy and chest rising rapidly, tugging on her waist harder. "What is it, pretty girl?" You almost moaned at the nickname, feeling a wave of shyness hitting you.

"Use your words, baby." Ellie hummed, placing her lips on your earlobe as she bit down gently, her hands caressing your back as she grabbed you tightly by the waist.

"Ellie... I.." You finally moaned, allowing yourself to give in, "Yes, angel?" Her raspy voice in your ear was causing your thoughts to run at a million miles per second. "Please," you finally said, covering your eyes with your hands.

Ellie was having none of that, she quickly raised her arms to grab yours, pulling them away from your face. "Why are you hiding, pretty girl?" You locked eyes, the longer you looked at her, the less resolve you had. She was just... so hot. The scar on her eyebrow brought a certain toughness to her appearance, her plump lips slightly red from kissing you, you could only imagine what you looked like. "I want you." You said, to which her smirk reappeared.

"Is that right?" she pecked your lips, "What do you want me to do?" She was teasing you, she knew damn well what you wanted. But she'll be damned if you weren't going to say it.

"Ellie!" You groaned, "Don't make me say it." hiding your face into her neck. "Say it." Her voice deadpan, "Say what you want me to do to you or this stops."

Her sudden change in demeanour took you by surprise, not expecting the way her words dripped with honey and hung in the air. You heard Ellie had a reputation, word travels fast in a small town, but you didn't realise just how quickly she could switch to being so dominating. You had no choice, now. Ellie wanted you to submit to her, assert her power and give you everything you needed. You just needed to say the word.

The tension hung in the atmosphere as you stared at each other, her pupils were dilated so large you could barely see the green eyes leaning on you. You couldn't take any more, you needed her, like a flower craves sunshine. "I need you to fuck me, Ellie." That's all that was needed. As soon as those sweet, sweet words left those tender lips of yours, Ellie knew she was a goner.

"That's all you had to say, pretty girl," she whispered into your lips, her hands at your thighs. It's like she just knew where to touch you, like she was born knowing. You let out a moan when she placed her knee in between your legs, grabbing her neck for support. You were still on her lap, your hips started moving automatically at the feel of her knee where you needed her the most.

"That's it, baby." she hummed, "Keep moving those hips for me," Her hands moved down to your ass, grabbing it and pulling you down further on her knee, all you could do was moan, and she had barely done anything. The power was quickly going to Ellie's head as she became unabashed. Loving how you looked so weak right now, so powerless, so... hers.

Ellie took notice of the way your cheeks darkened whenever she called you those names, she wanted to use that to her advantage. With a quick hand, she unbuttoned the pants that were still in the way, dragging them down your legs to reveal your silken thighs and lace underwear. Ellie groaned at the sight, fingers already making their way to your underwear before either of you noticed. She almost slapped herself for not doing this sooner, then remembered that guy.

"All those times you came here, saying you wanted a joint," she paused, "What you really wanted was for me to fuck you until you break." Her fingers teased circular motions at the inner part of your thighs, the sensation making you squeeze your legs. She was so close. "Isn't that right?" she questioned, "You just want to be fucked properly, can't fault you there, baby girl. These stupid men don't know what they're doing."

"Ellie... please." you moaned, feeling her fingers so, so close to your dripping core. "Is that what you want, hmm?" she cooed, her lips going to your neck again, "You want me to fuck you like those guys never did?" Fingers inching closer and closer, they slid the fabric of your underwear to the side. "Fuck.. Ellie.. please." You couldn't believe yourself, you were someone who liked to be in control, and Ellie was completely undoing everything you thought about yourself by the second. You heard the desperation in your own voice, almost ashamed that you could ever sound that needy.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby." She dipped her finger into you, rotating it in small circles that made your skin feel as though it was on fire. The slight pressure of Ellie's finger stretching you out brought moans from your lips, it had been so long since you had been touched. And even longer since you felt this turned on. You craved more, you craved her.

Rutting your hips against her finger, Ellie decided to add more digits. Watching you as your face contorted with bliss, your eyebrows raising slightly as your mouth hung open, delicious sounds escaping your lips. It was music to Ellie's ears. This was officially the furthest you two had ever gotten.

"Do you know how long I wanted to do this, to see you rocking on my fingers? God, I could've killed Jesse that night." She groaned, her eyes gleaming as she smirked, feeling your hand grab her wrist, almost to say, more, more.

You were becoming breathless, but it still was not enough. You wanted all of Ellie. For her to give you her hardest. "Mhmm..." you moaned, smiling at the thought of Ellie being annoyed that your time in the stables had been interrupted, she thought about it as much as you did. It was clear now.

Ellie caught the smile and grinned, bringing her hand up to your throat. Smiling darkly up at you as she applied gentle pressure to your windpipe. You gasped, anytime a man had even tried to lay his hands on you like that, you'd tell him to kick it where the sun don't shine, yet with Ellie? With Ellie you would let her ravage you, take complete ownership of you. It was so natural. "You think I didn't see you practically drooling over my hands, you're not as subtle as you think, doll." 

Her toned arms gleamed in the dark as she fucked you, her other hand grabbing your breast under your shirt and rubbing your nipple, placing her lips over it as she sucked. You were getting close, the knot in your stomach tightening at her actions, and then she halted, pulling away from you and directing you onto the couch.

All you could do was whimper. Pathetically. That was until she leaned over you, your back resting against the couch as she spread your legs. She was tall, and she towered over you. Her fingers removed your shirt as yours removed her sports bra and shorts, throwing the garments with reckless abandon, uncaring of where they ended up, meeting each other's lips with a fever.

You felt your heart beat faster, the anticipation nearly making you come on the spot, you clenched wondering what she was about to do. Ellie lifted herself off you and onto her feet, "I'll be back, baby." She said before ruminating through a box in the room, you couldn't see what she was doing though, her back turned to you.

When she returned to you, she reconnected your lips, feverish hands moulding themselves over every inch of your body. As if she was worshipping you. Her head travelled down, dropping kisses on your collarbone, down to your stomach and finally reaching the top of your pelvis. You felt your thighs being pulled apart before Ellie placed her warm tongue down on you.

You moaned, relaxing at the sensation of her wet tongue lapping up your juices, she was good at this, there was no denying that. You were quick to lose control, hands clawing at the back of Ellie's head, as she wrapped your thighs around her head, bringing her tongue deeper. "Fuck..." you gasped, grabbing her head to relieve the pressure as she licked harder, alternating between soft and harsher pressures. It wasn't long before you were a moaning mess, whimpering and clenching around nothing.

Ellie decided to multitask, stretching you open with her fingers as she ate you out. She groaned herself, even without you touching her she was already so turned on, her mind reeling and all she could think about was you. You, those moans and that body. She felt drunk from the sounds you released, and wanted nothing more than to continue hearing them.

She removed her mouth from your core, fingers still dipping in and out of you. "You like that, baby? Huh?" She breathed, "You like having my fingers inside you?" She teased, looking up at you with those darkened eyes, before dipping her head back down to your core. "Ye-mhmm, yes, fuck!" You never knew head and fingers could make you feel so good, just goes to show the kind of previous partners you had.

"More, plea- Ellie!" The pace at which she was going in was unmatched, you were surprised a smoker had so much stamina. "Did you say more, pretty girl?" She hummed, waiting till you closed your eyes and nodded, "I think I know how I can help." There was an impish look in her eyes, as she stopped. You heard her shuffle around with something before you realised what it was.

Fuck. That had all just been a teaser, foreplay before the main event. Ellie had manoeuvred herself into the harness, glancing at you as you bit your lip, watching her silently, as she slid the plastic tip over your folds. Running the tip along the wetness of your core, you ground your hips against it, hoping Ellie would take the hint.

If she did, she made no acknowledgement of it, teasing you slowly as the tip became covered in your slick. Ellie just loved teasing, curious to see how long she could drag this out until you couldn't take it anymore. "Ellie, if you don't fuck me with that already, I'm leaving and never coming back," you groaned, your voice breathless as you tried to level out your breathing.

"Don't worry, darling, all in good time," she said, before finally slipping in the tip to your entrance. You couldn't bite down your moans anymore, feeling more full by the second as you stretched around the object. "Oh-," you gasped out, barely able to speak, this is what Ellie had wanted all along, you around her in this way as she grinded her hips into yours.

"Like that, baby?" she cooed, caressing your thighs, you nodded, "Yeah? Is this what you wanted?" "Mhm-my god," you moaned, finally feeling relief as the object dipped in and out, hitting you where you craved, filthy sounds left both of your lips. "No god here, just me," she smirked, with an air of cockiness, as she grabbed your hips, locking them into place as she went deeper inside you, relishing in the delicious sounds erupting from your lips.

"Ellie, feels so- so good," you nuzzled your face into your arms, feeling your eyes roll over to the back of your head, conscious about what you looked like, you hid. But Ellie seems to like it when you're confident, not shy.

Grabbing your arms and ripping them away from your face, she thrust into you as she held your arms over your head, keeping you in place, all exposed for her. She loved the filthy expression on your face, lips in the shape of an 'o', brows furrowed and eyes rolling.  "Who knew?" she teased, "That you were just a dirty little girl just waiting for me to fuck you," she loved the way her words had an impact on you, feeling high off your reactions.

"Please," you were reduced to whimpers and moans, the air felt obscene. Ellie suddenly grabbed your hips, flipping you over so you were on your stomach, she delved her hips into yours and the new position left you seeing stars. Her hand grabbed your hair, and you raised your hips, arching your back and rocking your hips with hers. The auburn-haired girl rubbed her palm softly on your ass before smacking her hand down with force, you yelped, not expecting the sudden hit and Ellie almost got scared until she noticed you settle into yourself, moaning louder.

"Fuck, doll, you're so hot like this," Ellie breathed, smacking her hand down on your cheek again, this time there was the red mark of her digits imprinted into your skin, it was devilish how much that riled Ellie on, losing control over her mouth as the obscene words escaped her lips. "Look at you," she scoffed, smirking, "So perfect, just made for this cock," At her crude words, you cried out, almost feeling overwhelmed by all the sensations you were experiencing, that didn't stop Ellie, though.

"I bet no man has ever fucked you like this, huh?" Her hips thrust into you, slower this time but deeper, you were already close, she didn't have to do much, taking long pauses before entering you again. Her fingers moved down to your clit, rubbing the bud to enhance your orgasm, as she leaned over your ear, your hair still bunched into her hand, which was handy as it allowed her to bring your head closer to her own. "Answer me, doll,"

"No, Ellie-" you struggled out, "No one, ju-just you," You were delirious, evidently having lost your grasp on yourself as your body shook, you were so close. "That's what I thought," she whispered into your ear, dropping your head back into the couch, fucking you relentlessly.

Her fingers on your clit exacerbated your orgasm, as you let out a final "Fuck!" as your body rode out the high, twitching in Ellie's arms. "Fuck..." you whispered again, as you rested your head on your crossed arms, taking deep breaths as you slowly came back to reality. Ellie slipped herself out of you, rubbing circles into your thighs as she placed sweet kisses on your spine.

"You are... wow." she hummed, you were better than she ever expected. At a loss for words she decided to wrap her arms around you, you still lay on the couch, catching your bearings as you felt her strong arms cover your body. "I could say the same for you," You giggled, covering your face, "Come on now, still shy?" Ellie chuckled, "What we gonna do about this, then?"

"It's your fault, you're just so.." "So what?" She continued, her fingers rubbing against your skin. She was so different now, all affectionate when she had been a lust demon just seconds earlier. You two clearly had a lot to talk about. "Irresistible." "I'll take that,"

"I think I'll come down to your house at 3 am again,"  "I'd like that."

[tokyo-debunker-idk]

A Song of Ice and Aneurysm | 01

Summary: Jin Kamurai might be feared and respected as the wintery King of Frostheim, but even he is no match for a cursed honor student denser than any iceberg known to mankind.

Pairing: Kamurai Jin x Reader

Genre: Humor, romantic comedy, fluff, Jin struggling to emote, eventual smut, COMPLETE

18+, minors DNI

~~~~~

Jin: You better have a good fucking explanation, peasant

You gulp when you read the text sent by Frostheim’s haughty, commanding, somewhat terrifying Captain. It's barely been an hour since you've returned to solid ground from the terrifying foray into the sea, and part of you wants to dive right back in to avoid whatever confrontation Jin is expecting. You should have known that with your horrendous luck, something would go wrong during your mission with the Jabberwock ghouls.

Being taken to an illusory sunken ship in the guise of an undersea palace on the back of a talking turtle that ended up being progeny of a terrifying anomaly probably wouldn't have been your first guess, but being MIA for an unfortunate amount of time shouldn't have been outside the realm of expectation.

And, given the trend of everything in your life going atrociously, perhaps you should have considered the consequences of asking the Captain of the most prestigious house in Darkwick for such a huge favor, on such short notice.

Not only had he agreed and provided you with a boat (yacht, nearly) with only a day of turn-around time, but he had even staffed the craft with employees that had likely panicked upon your disappearance beneath the waves.

It wasn't exactly your fault that Towa had so impulsively leapt off the literal deep end, or that a strange wave had knocked you into the water after him. But then again, none of the disasters that have happened to you have been directly your control. You could have at least tried to prepare, or figured out a way to send communications, or had some sort of contingency plan. At this point, you should know better.

But alas, you are twice (Thrice? Ten times, at this point? Too many, definitely) the fool for being caught with your metaphorical pants down again.

You know that ignoring the text or giving feeble excuses will only piss Jin off further, so with a sigh you begin trotting towards the Frostheim dormitory, dread weighing down every footstep.

Well, at least you'll get to admire his perfect cheekbones while he yells at you.

~~~~~

"Why would I give a fuck about the boat?"

For some reason, Jin looks even more pissed than when you entered, and you feel your apprehension beginning to unravel into panic. Had you fucked something else up you can't even remember? At this rate you're going to be laundering the Captain's shirts until your curse kills you.

Though then you might be able to snag a couple for sleeping. Your premeditation of possible theft is only due to the fact that the material is the most luxurious your broke ass has ever felt, and that Jin's rich enough not to notice.

It's definitely not because his cologne smells masculine and delicious. That would be creepy.

Jin heaves an exasperated sigh, and your thoughts wander back to the reason you're currently here, at his mercy. Well, what you thought that was the reason. Now you are at a loss.

As if reading your confusion, he scowls and elaborates.

"I can always find another boat. Other things aren't so easily replaced."

Agonizing seconds pass as you wrack your brain for whatever could be so important that the Jin Kamurai, corporate heir, would have trouble replacing it. And then, finally, you get it.

Your sudden comprehension must show on your face, because his own relaxes. Thank goodness, too, because while Jin is gorgeous when he's angry, he's downright ethereal when he's not.

"Oh," you breathe, giving him a smile of understanding. "Don't worry, that dress you sent me is safe and sound in my dorm!"

Considering his background and the exquisite gowns of the other Frostheim ladies at the ball, it must have been very expensive, perhaps hand-made and thus more valuable than a factory-made vessel. You can't imagine it having sentimental value to him. To you, however, the lovely dress is not only a symbol of your first completed mission, but an indicator that some here accept you. You stomp down the hopeful part of your heart that wishes it was more than just mere acceptance, because that would be too unrealistic, too greedy.

The safety of the dress also does not seem to be the cause of his ire, however, because his expression is now so blank it's actually scarier than his anger. Deathly silence stronger than any anomalous sound-proofing begins to permeate the room as the regal ghoul stares at you, and you begin to sweat in spite of the cold. Perhaps he's upset that it's still in your possession?

You immediately feel like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. Of course it hadn't been a gift for you to keep, but rather, a loan.

It's obvious in hindsight – he needed to show that he was still the powerful man in charge of Frostheim, and you were a conveniently neutral party he could dance with to draw more eyes.

The realization stings a little more than you thought, and not for the first time you curse yourself for developing an attraction to someone so clearly out of your league. Thank god you've never let it show, soothing your pride if not your emotions.

"I-I can return it now, if you need it back!"

Your voice cracks a little, but you're otherwise able to keep your tone stable. You're a big girl, you can take a hint. It's pointless to feel an attachment to something that was never yours to begin with.

The offer does not appear to soothe the beast before you, however, because frosty silence emanates from Jin in ominous waves. You wonder if it might have been a good idea to write your will before your mission.

"Er, of course I'd have it dry cleaned first…?"

A muscle twitches in his (very well-defined) jaw, and you begin to pray.

~~~~~

Tohma Ishibashi is having what might be the best day of his entire life.

He watches silently as the illustrious, dauntless, emotionally constipated Captain of Frostheim malfunctions in the face of guileless misunderstanding. Is it really that difficult for the man to simply tell you he was worried?

You glance backwards to meet his gaze, and your own holds so much terror at Jin's oppressive silence that Tohma clears his throat to suppress a laugh.

"I believe, Y/N," the Vice Captain interjects, regretting the need to break the magnificently suffocating atmosphere, "that our Captain means that there are certain members of our house who would have been most upset had anything happened to you."

Tohma had almost decided not to interfere, because the Jin Kamurai's wordless suffering due to his own inability to communicate is a delicious treat. But all good things must come to an end, and prolonging such an entertaining scene would only take away the sweetness of the memory.

And that bashful smile of yours, surprised and a little bit grateful at the understanding that you are important to them, is worth it all on its own.

~~~~~

Jin doesn't know who to kill first. You, Tohma, or himself.

Not only have the meaning of his words flown over your head despite him practically announcing that he's grown rather fond of you, but the twitch of Tohma's lips shows that the Vice-Captain is enjoying this situation entirely too much.

He almost forgives his second when the bespectacled asshole finally deigns to clarify the situation, because your smile is warm enough to thaw the angry chill that's coated his heart.

"Ah, I see… I'm so sorry I didn't realize," you murmur, looking contrite and a little embarrassed. That's more fucking like it.

You had fucking disappeared, into the fucking ocean where humans famously cannot breathe, where there was a monster tearing fish and other anomalies apart. You were in danger, alone but for the Jabberwock rabble, and Jin was stuck here with no idea where you were and no way to get to you.

You should be sorry for making him wonder if he'll ever see your stupid ass again.

So many social climbers are willing to read far too much into a single look, a moment of eye-contact, one mere hello. He's shown you far too much favor already, even if part of it can be written off as repayment for giving him the ability to use his stigma again.

Why the fuck would he want the dress back? Do you think he wants to fucking wear it? He got it for you, tailored to your size based on the measurements in Darkwick's records. He doesn't remember what they are because they were only important to ensure the gown suited you perfectly.

You're an idiot. An irritating mixture of meek and headstrong. Someone who will take stupid menial duties from him without (much) complaint, like a doormat, but then the same day will also investigate paranormal murder with no promise of safety other than what others can give you. You're an open book, easy to read and impossible to understand.

You have grown on him, a sneaky tumor whose cells now circulate through his veins and invade his thoughts. Do you really think that just anyone has his contact information? Or has the privilege to be allowed to call him? And on top of that, be able ask for a fucking favor without immediately being blocked?

You needed a boat, so he got you a fucking boat. A big one. If one day you need the moon, he will find a fucking rocket. And eventually, he'll catch the damn flower that cursed you.

It is ridiculous that it's taken Tohma practically spelling it out for you to realize–

"I didn't know Kaito and Luca would be so worried about me that it would impact you."

You can not be fucking serious. Something dies inside of Jin, and he thinks it might be his sanity.

"It's really sweet of them, I never thought anyone would care enough about me to notice I was gone, but still. They're adults, and they need to understand the reality of my situation and their own responsibilities."

First, he's going to murder you for being this fucking stupid. Then, he is going to off the first-year brats because you think they're sweet. Next on the list will be Tohma, who has just let out what, from any less refined individual, would be classified as a snort.

And then he's going to kill every fucker at Jabberwock for putting you in danger in the first place.

"Shut the fuck up."

~~~~~

This is not going well.

In fact, if you were still on the boat Jin apparently does not care about, you would say it is currently sinking. And, true to form, you have no lifeboats prepared.

"Get out."

Ah, but one has been fortuitously offered to you, and with immense relief you turn to escape.

"Not you. Him."

You knew it was too good to be true, yet you still give Tohma a pleading glance as he bows gracefully. He meets your eyes with a calm smile. Then, like the cold bastard he is, leaves you to your doom without a backwards glance.

The heavy doors close behind him with an ominous thud, and you eye Jin nervously. His threats from your first meeting echo in your head like an alarm.

"My room has anomalous soundproofing. You can scream and cry all you like. No one's gonna hear you."

Oh god. You're fucked. You're so, so fucked.

"Come here."

Jin can't use his stigma without you, and yet you find yourself obeying, his commanding tone impossible to resist. Your legs move until you're standing before him.

Even though he is lounging on his luxurious couch and you're on your feet, he still manages to look down on you. His icy blue eyes pierce into your own, and despite the nervous thrum of your chest alerting you to danger, you're unable to look away. You've never been able to stare back at him so blatantly.

Somehow, the longer you look, the more beautiful he becomes.

You're close enough to catch hints of his cologne, and it clouds your senses as if beckoning you forward. You dazedly wonder if you should be admiring your potential murderer. But it's not your fault that he has such full lips, or beautiful silvery hair that looks perfect for running your fingers through.

It's not fair for that to be all you can think about when you're this close to evisceration.

"You're a fucking idiot."

His blunt words slice through the confused haze in your mind, and indignation restores your self-awareness.

"Excuse me? That is so ru–eep!"

He grabs your wrist to tug you closer, and you let out an embarrassingly inelegant noise as you lose your balance. And perhaps your grasp on reality, because you have somehow tumbled into Jin Kamurai's lap, practically straddling him.

No, you've definitely lost your sanity, because instead of pushing you away or lopping off your head for your transgression, your body seems to believe that one of his hands is resting on your hip, and the other is brushing hair out of your face. Perhaps you have already died, and this is actually heaven. You must have done enough good in the world to outweigh all the tampons you flushed down the toilet in the past.

Jin's thumb trails gently over your cheek, and you automatically lean into his warmth. He's normally so harsh with his words, aloof in a way that shuts others out with thick walls of ice. Yet that hidden, secret side of him is evident in the softness of his touch.

"J-Jin," your voice quivers, a whisper because for some reason it feels like you shouldn't speak any louder. If against all odds, this actually is reality, you don't want to break whatever spell is being woven around you. You don't want this gentle moment to ever end.

There's something you don't understand in those mesmerizing eyes, and his pretty, pretty lips of his curve into what, for Jin, is a smile. It spills into your chest like sunlight through the clouds, and for a moment you wonder why you were ever scared.

"Bianerus."

~~~~~

Part 2

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

07 Immobilized

Zhongli x Reader / SFW / Angst with a happy ending / Rex Lapis is actively ruling Liyue. He's called Morax in here / Reader is a sculpture. I swear it's not as weird as it sounds!

You were once again stirred awake from your sleep by the touch of a hand. His warmth had become something you had come to expect, something you looked forward to. These visits happened frequently. How long they had been going on for, you only had a vague idea. Your memory was a blur before he appeared.

Utterings of words you couldn't understand resonated beside your ear. You could feel his breath against your face. Sometimes he would press his lips against your forehead or tenderly stroke your cheeks. Sometimes he would wrap his arms around you before sighing and letting go.

There would always be a lingering sense of longing and sadness about him. Most times when you felt his presence, he would just quietly stand beside you. You couldn't feel his touch, but his familiar aura would permeate the air around you. You could almost feel his amber gaze gently sweeping over your face.

Once, you felt his lips press against yours, only to retreat too quickly, before you could even make sense of what he had done. After that, it never happened again. It was as if he was disappointed in the sensation. Perhaps the cold and lifeless stone your lips were sculpted from failed to give him the solace he was hoping to find.

You wondered who he was. It was only natural of you to be curious about him, but this curiosity would be your undoing. It was an anomaly that should never have happened.

As you would come to learn, you were never supposed to reciprocate these obscure and unrequitable longings of his. All you were ever meant to do was receive them, or rather hold them for him. Rex Lapis created you merely to be a receptacle for these unresolved sentiments that haunted him to no end, a means to cope with the erosion brought on by someone whose name he repeatedly whispered as he held you close. This name, it cut into you. A miniscule crack formed within your stone, slowly but surely spreading like an invisible poison.

All you wished to do was open your lips to utter words of comfort, but the silly thought gradually died with that spark of intent. Your lips had been sculpted shut, corners curled ever so slightly in a stagnant smile. Your arms could never be lifted from their position, so you'd also never be able to embrace him back. The Lord of Geo never gave you the ability to move, and so you remained inanimate, perpetually frozen in a state of passivity.

Everytime Morax's gaze fell on your face, you knew he didn't actually see you. He was staring at someone else, to which you had been painstakingly sculpted in the likeness of. Every detail on your body was a testament of his yearning. His touches, his embraces, and his kisses weren't meant for you, but they would never find their intended recipient. The saltiness on your lips told you all you needed to know. Every drop seeped into the stone you were carved from. Fine cracks continued to shread your body where his eyes couldn't see.

You were supposed to keep the Lord of Geo company for longer than this, you helplessly lamented as the fissures began to tear you apart from the inside. There was not much time left for you. How many centuries had passed since you first felt his touch? How long did you still have? Did you manage to ebb his sadness a little, or was your existence just a futile attempt at prolonging something that no living being in Teyvat could escape?

If your lips could move, perhaps you'd request the Lord of Geo give you a name, one that belonged only to you. You would whisper into his ear that you didn't want to leave him, that if you had a choice, you'd stay with him until Teyvat crumbled and fell into the Abyss. Alas, even stone wouldn't last.

It's a known fact that in the thousands of years Rex Lapis ruled over Liyue, he never once took a consort. Over time, rumors spread of him taking on various identities and appearances, walking among the people of Liyue. It would not be hard to imagine him occassionally indulging in mortal pleasures, but there was little evidence of it. Questionable sources even claim that Rex Lapis secretly kept a mortal lover, imprisoning them in his palace until their death. Most historians speculated that even if Rex Lapis did take interest in a particular mortal, he most likely kept his distance, leaving them to continue on with their fleeting mortal lives without his interference. That would be the most reasonable assumption based on their understanding of their Archon.

Only you heard the truth from the source. Your lips would forever keep the Geo Archon's secrets, along with all your unspoken thoughts about them. It was probably comforting to him, the fact that you could never disclose the things you knew. If only he knew how much you wished those words he uttered into your ears were indeed for you.

A subtle crease appeared in his brow as he notices a tiny crack that had finally made its way to the surface of the stone. He brushed a thumb over your cheek.

"Hmm… a blemish." He remarked, genuinely taken aback.

You would never forget the look on his face at this very moment. It was as if he was finally seeing you for the first time. A golden glow radiated from his hand as he held it against your face. The crack healed up and the stone surface was once again flawless. He didn't remove his hand though, realizing how deep the fissures ran.

A bit of warmth seeped into you from the prolonged contact. If you had lungs, perhaps you'd hold your breath. You silently waited as Morax repaired the cracks that had been festering within you for all this time. You wondered if he was just taken aback by the extent of your erosion or if he truly cared about you. These cracks had been here every time he visited you. They were just not visible until now, until you had finally reached the brink of crumbling. Now that he had momentarily reversed the inevitable, perhaps the two of you would just go back to how things had always been. A part of you mourned the loss of those cracks. They said everything your lips couldn't. Did he bother to listen before he silenced them?

A breeze combed through the quiet garden as you felt his presence leave your side yet again.

'Wait, please…' You begged with unmoving lips. For what, you weren't quite sure of yourself.

Did you want him to turn around and look at you the way he did when he noticed the crack? Did you want him to free you from this stone prison? Or did you simply want him to return the escape he had robbed you of?

You could almost hear a faint sigh in the wind. It caressed your cheeks like the hands of an understanding friend. Even the wind could see how much anguish you were in, but Morax was blind to your distress as he had always been.

"A heart of stone is a heart no less, for there are yearnings even it can't repress." The sound of melodic strumming drifted into your ear.

'Who's there?' You asked, unsure. There was nobody in front of you.

"Someone who can give you what your heart desires." The disembodied voice giggled.

The next time the Lord of Geo came to visit you, he was greeted by a unexpected sight, your absence. The stone base you stood on was still there. It was like you had simply wandered off for a stroll. The quaint garden you occupied felt unrecognizable without you. The bizarre sight distracted his mind for a good moment before he caught a suspicious stench in the air. A whiff of dandelion wine had been deliberately left here, intended for him no doubt.

"That drunken bard."

Perhaps it was finally time to pay an old friend a visit. He had to, now that the Anemo Archon had whisked you away. Little did he know, you had participated in your own kidnapping in a way a mere sculpture could never. If he knew, perhaps he wouldn't have even went after you.

You were originally just a chunk of stone he had sculpted in memory of someone he was unable to forget. He missed them dearly, everyday, in excruciating vividness. Such was the curse of memory, which he endured in a degree that few on Teyvat could compare.

Stone remembers everything etched into it. Just as someone left their mark on him, he had also left his mark on you. You possessed no memory of the person you were inspired by, but every moment he spent with you had become a part of you. His presence saturated every aspect of your existence. You longed to leave your own indentation in him. It wasn't fair that he was so out of your reach.

His lips parted as he stared at you in silence. The way he gazed at you was exactly the way you expected. You stood before him, so reminiscent of that person in his memory. If not for the defiance in your eyes, he would've mistaken you for them.

He had watched that person from afar, seen their hair grow white and wrinkles cover their face. They experienced a short but fulfilling life, tasted all the mundane joys it had to offer, and departed whilst surrounded by children and grandchildren. The smile he promised to protect never left their face, which assured him that his decision was not made in vain. Had he taken them as his consort, he couldn't ensure that smile would remain. A mortal's life was not meant to be entangled with his.

You had the same youthful face, but aside from that, the two of you had nothing in common. He had carved every inch of your body with his own hands. You were created to last, to preserve and shoulder his memories, which had grown steadily heavier as the years went by. He never imagined that by sharing his burden with you, you'd suffer erosion at such an alarming rate. He also never expected that you'd awaken, reject the purpose you were created for, and abandon him without so much as a goodbye. Rather than resembling the person you were sculpted in the likeness of, you took after him more, cruel and resolute when need be.

"I'd rather stay here." You told him, hands clenched into fists inside your sleeves.

Of course you would, he told himself. Who would willingly allow themselves to fall back into the role of a dead lover's replacement? An indefinite, possibly eternal placeholder?

"Very well." He said, the slight tremble in his voice betraying the coldness of his reply.

You bit your lip as he turned around. The tears you were trying so hard to hold back finally spilled over at the sight of his retreating back. Despite your human-like appearance and your ability to move freely, your body was still made of stone. You could still feel the cracks as they formed inside you.

"A name!" You shouted after him, stopping him in his tracks. "If you can't even give me that, then I'm not going back with you!"

Morax made his way back to you, one uncertain step at a time. His gaze bore into yours. All he could see were tears, clouding anything that could give away your thoughts.

"You'll return to my side if I give you a name?"

He had to repeat your request to make sure he hadn't misheard it. What kind of fool would consider such an unfair exchange?

"If I stay here, you're going to treat me like I never existed, aren't you?"

"It would be for the best." The conviction in his tone left no room for doubt.

Despite expecting this answer, fresh tears welled in your eyes. You knew Morax better than anyone else. If you make that choice, he wouldn't give you the chance to regret it. He wouldn't even attempt to convince you otherwise.

"I know you can easily turn around…"

He had done so countless times, leaving you with the sight of his retreating back. He could do so without a thought, because in his eyes, you were an object. You had no feelings, no expectations, no demands.

"You can always just carve another me…"

Morax's eyes remained on you, brows furrowed ever so slightly. He caught and held onto your every word as you spoke. You couldn't help the flood of emotions washing over you. They had been accumulating for centuries. Now that he was looking at you like this, listening, it all came rushing out of you.

"But you still came, didn't you?" You tried to smile at him.

He reached out, resting a hand against your face. The wetness under his thumb caused him to momentarily freeze. His gaze fell on the tearstains running down your cheeks again. This time, he couldn't stand the sight of them.

He could see his own reflection in your glassy eyes. It was never like that in the past. Your gaze rendered him transparent. Quite frankly, he was. You knew too much about him. If you wanted to, you could've called him a liar.

If you said the words, you had no doubt that he'd do everything it took to ensure you got the clean cut you asked for. There was one thing he was incapable of though, and you knew. You had witnessed him struggle with memories for as long as you could remember.

Each time, he overestimates himself. Morax was more fragile than he was willing to admit. He only ever allowed you to catch his tears. You would continue to hold them for him for as long as you could.

"I could not fathom you running off." He managed to say. "It was clear to me that Barbatos was behind your disappearance."

"Don't take it out on Venti. He just answered my prayers."

Morax narrowed his eyes. "Speaking of that bard, where is he?"

"You still haven't come up with a name for me. Do you want me to go back to Liyue with you or not?"

"What kind of name would you prefer? Better yet, why don't you tell me what you'd like me to call you? Since it is your name, we can both agree that it should be of your own choosing."

You clung onto Morax's back, nestled behind the soft fur of his neck. He had transformed himself into a dragon in order to quickly travel back to Liyue.

Since you were no longer a sculpture, Morax insisted you reside in his domain with him. It was quite an adjustment seeing as life prior to this consisted of standing immobile in a garden all day, everyday. The changes were overwhelming to the point you almost missed the idleness of that lifestyle.

"What's on your mind, dear?" Zhongli would ask you everytime he catches you on one of these strange dazes.

"Would you mind if I went back to being a statue?"

His brows furrowed, perplexed by your question. "I don't see why not, but is there any particular reason for the sudden desire to once again become an inanimate object?"

"Chirping birds, sunlight, shady trees, and fresh air. What's there not to love?"

"Bird droppings, sudden rainstorms, standing for extended periods of time, and most importantly, I do not get to see you as often."

"Are you so sure of the last one?"

"What are you alluding to, dear?" Morax hummed, deep voice resonating beside your ear as he enveloped you from behind, scooping you up in his arms.

It seemed he needed to remind you yet again what pleasures you could never experience as a mere statue. He was definitely more careful and attentive to your unspoken needs now than he had ever been. It certainly helped that you could speak and move, but his favorite way of communicating was surprisingly silent. Sometimes, he would pause in the midst of a passionate kiss just to stare into your eyes. It would never fail to earn a blush from you.

"Let me hold you for a bit." You demanded as you wrapped your arms tightly around him.

"For as long as you wish to." He chuckled.

He would never understand how much you relished this simple joy. For much of your waking existence, you could not even lift a finger. Countless times he stood in front of you, arms wrapped around your body, but you couldn't return the embrace.

There really was no greater bliss than this.

[nin-deer]

I can’t stop thinking about the fact that out of all subjects, language is what Anya is good at. I mean- her math score is understandable. She is literally learning everything from the start because she is at least a year or two younger than her classmates. (Plus the fact that she probably didn’t grow up rich so she wouldn’t even have the same type of education as them in the earlier years,,,)

Classical language, on the other hand, is something she’s more familiar with. She grew up hearing all the thoughts of the people around her, so she had to learn to interpret what they mean. Like, logistically- a sentence for an adult is much more complex than a sentence for a four six year old yet Anya is able to understand the basics of what Loid and Yor are thinking most of the time. (Especially impressive with Loid and how complex his thoughts are; the fact that Anya is even able to understand any implications is an amazing feat for her age) So reading an older, more complex text and interpreting what it means? Anya has literally been doing this ever since she got her powers, whether it was from birth or not. There are so many more examples like her ability to interpret Bond’s future sight or the whole terrorist arc but alas I’ll cut this here bc I should probably go to sleep now lol