#so now i unconsciously speak low and quiet

[incohorace]

very important addition to the poll: this is what my voice actually sounds like

hi :3

oh and this is the poll where we are voting on whether or not my accent is sexy <3

@lalallorona tis done

[divinesolas]

First everything

Summary: in desperate need to pass your upcoming math test you go to your best friend for help, your best friend who you just so happen to be in love with. Sometimes feelings just spill out and theres nothing you can do but embrace it and try to navigate through it.

modern!jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

w.c: 4.2k

c.w: college au, nerdy jace, two virgins just trying to figure it out, virginity loss (both), fingering (fem), oral (fem), minor hand-job, p in v, protected sex, love confessions, glasses stay on during sex, theres also fluff guys, not proofread

a.n: for my nerdy jace warriors out there 🫡 pls lmk your thoughts !

perm jace taglist (open!) <3 @tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jacesvelaryons @earth4angels

you could not afford to fail this upcoming math test with you’re grade already as rocky as it is and if you didn’t nail it your grades were gonna tank.

So you decide to do the only rational thing you can think of and go stop by your best friends house who just so happens to be basically a genius to get him to tutor you. You don’t text him, having a key to his place and checking his location you can see he’s home he definitely won’t mind you just dropping by.

He’s been your best friend since you two were kids, having lived across the street from you the two of you would always stand by the bus stop together and chat and when you got older he started driving you to school. you guys would spend all the time together though you guys didn’t end up in the same college you guys happened to both get into colleges in the same city and lived right near each other.

He was perfect essentially, you try to ignore that gnawing feeling in your stomach every time you speak to him or even think about him. You’ve liked him for as long as you can remember but you never tried to do anything out of fear of ruining the relationship you two have built. You also can’t get a read on if he feels the same, everything you two have ever done has been platonic, cuddling on the couch while watching a movie, having sleepovers, but you can shake the feeling of wanting to be more, maybe he was thinking the same way but you had no clue.

The apartment is quiet when you enter, when you call his name and there’s no response you think for a second maybe he went out and left his phone? but that’s not like him at all. until you walk towards his bathroom and you can hear the shower running and let out a sigh of relief as you begin to set up your stuff in the living room and order some take out for the two of you on your phone.

busying yourself on your phone you don’t even hear the shower turn off or the door open until you hear the soft thumps on the floor of his footsteps and when you look up the two of you gasp at one another. With water dripping down his chest and a firm hand places on the towel around his waist, his glasses all fogged up and his face hot red you feel like you might pass out.

“I’m so sorry oh my god i had no clue you were coming i haven't checked my phone um oh god.” You can barely pay attention to his rambling as you can’t take your eyes off him. Since when was he toned? oh and the towel is low enough you can see his v line. NO! You shake your head as you find yourself heating up, “no no its my fault Jace i never texted you i just thought i would show up um.. I’m so sorry i should have texted.”

He scratches the back of his head as he begins to move his way to his room, “no its okay you can show up any time i just, um i uh let me go get dressed.” With that he quickly rushes away without another word his ears and face blaringly red. when the door shuts and you’re alone once again you lean against the couch and take a couple deep breaths. you cannot be thinking about him like this right now. Your thighs press together unconsciously as the memory of him was still so fresh in your mind.

You quickly stand and rush to his bathroom to splash some cold water on your face to snap yourself out of it. he’s your best friend who you just so happen to be in love with and today will fill your fantasies for the next decade. You manage to get yourself back on the couch and run a hand down your face as you try to calm your racing heart and mind. Its fine its cool its just a normal thing people shower and they just so happen to get naked in the shower its not weird to see your best friend shirtless no its not.

he walks back into the room and sits down on the couch next to you, now dressed in a white t-shirt and some sweatpants, his glasses free of fog but his hair drips onto his shoulders and shirt making some parts of it see through. when you look closely you can even still see his ears are a bright red. “is everything good? its not like you to just show up out of the blue.” you are thankful he’s acting like that did not just happen, or maybe you’re just overthinking it and its not a big deal.

“i need to trade brains with you this Friday at 11 am.” his beautiful laugh fills your ears as he raises his brows at you, “you’re finally admitting I'm smarter than you?” You playfully huff and push his shoulder lightly as he smiles at you. “you’re way better at math then me, i need help Jace please.” you press your hands together in a plea and he taps his chin as if he’s in thought. “I don’t know, what do i get in return?” You pout at him and scoot a bit closer, “you get to hang out with your gorgeous smart and talented best friend?” He blows raspberry's and looks up at the ceiling turning himself away from you. “and i bought take out.” “deal.”

He is a great help, though he’s a history major he’s still places in a math level higher than you and he’s able to guide you though everything you’re struggling with ease. Its usually so easy to ignore how you feel about him but tonight is different. You don't know if its hormones or if there's something in the air but you can’t stop staring at him thinking about him. The way he bites on the top of his pen when he’s in thought, when his forehead creases while he’s checking over your work or listening to you, the way he moves his hands while he talks and explains the problems and the solutions you can’t even stop looking at him while he’s eating.

This was bad. very bad. but at least you managed to get the information he’s told you poured into your head and with his notes you’re sure to ace the test. After a couple hours of studying you two decided to put on a movie but you can’t even cuddle up next to him like you normally would instead choosing to lay on the other side of the couching praying he doesn’t ask about you’re odd behavior.

You can’t help but continue to look at him throughout the movie barely even looking at the screen. he has such a nice side profile. At one point he glances at you and catches your eye so you quickly turn away from him but he sits up and pauses the movie, turning to you with concern laced in his eyes. “Okay spit it out what's wrong?” you. you shrug and try to play it off like nothing, you certainly can’t tell him what's really bothering you. “I’m just worried about the test.” “the you i know would have stopped worrying about the test as soon as you closed that textbook.” you let out a shaky sigh and he moves to sit next to you, staring at you with his puppy dog eyes desperately. “you can always tell me anything you know that right?”

not this. you can’t tell him this. as much as you want to. Yet your heart aches at the thought of not being able to kiss him at the thought of not spending yet another day another minute being his and him being yours. he grabs your hands and his voice is hushed laced with care, “please.”

you cave.

“I'm in love with you.”

You watch him freeze and you take a deep breath as you look down at your connected hands. “i know this is really sudden but i cant hide this any longer. i think I've loved you since the second i met you and i cant keep continuing to pretend like I'm not. If you don’t feel the same that's fine we can just move on and pretend like this never happened.” you let out a fake laugh and a couple shaky breaths as you get off your chest your best kept secret. When he doesn’t say anything you look at his face to see his glossy covered eyes and red tinted face. “Please say something.”

You can feel his hands tighten around yours as he lets out a shaky breath. “I'm so in love with you i feel like i'm gonna throw up.” you laugh as a wave of fresh air washes over you, he grins and lets out his own laugh as a lone tear runs down his face. “fuck this is not how i thought tonight would go.” You don’t know how long the two of you were sitting there just laughing and smiling at each other but it was just so peaceful.

You end up cupping his face and he freezes his breath caught in his throat. “Can i kiss you?” “Please.” The kiss is soft and slow but its everything you’ve every dreamed of. His lips are as soft as they've always looked, he’s clearly inexperienced but you are too and you figure it out together. You feel like you’re not close enough to him, so you end up separating from him and he watches with wide eyes as you sit yourself in his lap. His hands quickly move to grasp your waist as he gulps, you can feel his hardness poking at you through your shorts and he lets out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, i didn’t mean to its just,” he’s quickly cut off with a moan as you pull him into another kiss.

You can feel yourself aching in your stomach, yet you can’t bring yourself to do more until you pull away from his lips. a long string of salvia that connects you two snaps as you begin to speak. “I want to go further, if only you want to.” His chest moves quickly up and down as he tries to catch his breath, he blinks rapidly as he looks at you with swollen lips, one of his hands moves to readjust his glasses. “I do its just, i don’t know what i'm doing.” the two of you softly laugh as you press your forehead against his and he lightly rubs his nose against yours. “I don’t know what I'm doing either, we’ll figure it out.”

His hands around your waist tighten as he places one last kiss on your lips before he stands, you squeal lightly as he keeps you firmly around his waist walking towards his room. “You could put me down you know?” He places a kiss on your cheek and you wrap your arms around his neck, “I don’t want to.”

Once in the bedroom he lightly places you down on the bed and he stays standing up unsure of what he’s supposed to do. “do i like take off my clothes um.” You stand and the two of you look at one another. “Why don’t we both undress? or do you want to undress each other?” At your words his eyes light up and his ears couldn’t get any redder, he clearly likes the idea a lot so you grab his hands and place them on your shirt. “You can take it off.” He nods and lets out a shaky breath as he lifts your shirt over your head.

If you had known this was going to happen you would have chosen a cuter bra but you instead stand in your basic skin tone bra, heat rises on your face lightly with embarrassment but the look of amazement on his face has you feeling confident. You grab his hands once more and slide them to your waist where you help him tug down your pants and you stand in just your underwear in front of him. His mouth opens in amazement as his eyes dart all over you. “you’re so beautiful.” “shut up.” “im serious. you’re the most beautiful women ive ever seen. im the luckiest guy in the world.”

You place your hands on his neck as you place a light kiss on his lips. “you’re so sweet.” He shakes his head and his hands cup your face eyes full of love. “im only telling the truth.” Your hands move to the neck of his shirt and grip it. “Your turn.” His bright red face somehow only gets redder when you slide your hands down his chest to grab the bottom of his shirt and lifting it over his head. “when did you start working out?” He lets out a light moan as your hands drag down his stomach and rub around his chest. “when i moved here uhh the umm the complex has a gym.” You lightly um as your hands reach the waistband of his pants and you begin to toy with the elastic.

He expects you to take off his pants move back to sit on the bed but instead your hands goes inside the waistband to cup his budge from his briefs. The sound he lets out is not what you had been expecting, it sounds something closer to a whine as he questions you, “what are you doing?” You grin at him as his eyes dart all over your face. “Can i touch you?” He pants lightly as your hands already begins to move slight and he gulps. “shouldn’t i touch you? or umm oh i don’t know fuck please.” his head falls to your neck and he begins pecking light kisses on the skin there as your hand slips into his briefs and wraps around him.

He throbs in your hands, you lightly jerk him to see how he responds and you can hear a pleased moan as you continue to pump him in your hand using the precum that drips out of his tip as a lubricant you find a steady pace. He bites into the side of your neck and you let out a shaky moan as his grip tightens on your waist. you can feel wetness soak your skin whether it be his sweat or tears you have no clue but the only thing you can focus on his whines and moans in your ear. “you’re so good fuck fuck.” he must be getting close because you can feel him shaking but he suddenly grabs your hands and pulls them away from him as he pants.

“did i do something wrong? im sorry.” he quickly shakes his head, “no no of course not i just don’t want to um cum right now.” you tilt your head in confusion, why would he not want to cum? until he turns his head and even his neck has turned red and a light bulb flicks over your head and you let out an sound of understanding and grab his sweatpants to pull them down until they hit the floor.

you both stand face to face in just your underwear, you watch him eye your chest and you reach your hands up to unclip your bra. you slowly unclip it and he watches as it drags down your arms and you toss it lightly on the floor. you sit down on the bed and you motion for him to join you. he does and he warily watches your face for approval which you grant before he cups your breasts with a shuttered breath. You can tell somethings bothering him though, theres a look in his eyes that says somethings wrong but before you can question it he speaks.

“can i touch you?” its the same question you had throw at him but it gives you butterflies, you wonder if it had done the same to him. you spread your legs and he stares at the spot between your legs where you’re soaked. theres a huge spot on your practically ruined panties where you’ve begun to leak, theres even some residual wetness on your inner thighs. “fuck.” he licks his lips and looks up at you and your flushed face. “don’t get cocky jace.” he laughs lightly as his fingers press against your slit from the fabric and you let out a moan. he watches for your reactions as he begins to rub you through the fabric, “Jace, please.”

his fingers shake as they push the fabric aside and he touches your folds. “oh fuck you’re so fucking wet.” he just continues to rub at your skin, it feels nice but you both know you need more. “how many should i,,” he trails off, unsure of how to word the question. “two, just to start, you can add another when i tell you.” he nods and slowly pushes two fingers into you.

his fingers feel a lot better than yours do they're thicker and they're longer reaching a bit more than you can and your hands dig into his shoulders. “good?” you hiss lightly for a second as his hands wiggle lightly before nodding. “yes move please.” he quickly listens, pulling his fingers out before slowly pushing them back in methodically. He feeds off every sound you let out and moves quicker as your face contorts in pleasure. it feels good but its not enough and when you tell him he can add another he finger he looks at you unsure but when you reassure him its fine he does and the burn it adds satisfies the itch that you know can only be scratched once he’s inside of you.

when he pulls his fingers out before you can cum you whine but he just smiles at you “lift your hips for me.” you do and he slides your underwear down your legs exposing you fully to him. He takes a second to admire you before your eyes widen as he gets down on his knees, “i thought guys didn’t like that.” you try to tell him but he just shrugs, “i bet i will.”

he kisses you inner thighs slowly working his way up to your slit where he pauses before he lightly licks at your folds before pushing his tongue inside of you. your hand finds it way to his hair as he warily licks every drop of you he can get. when you tug at his hair he groans, you try your best to avoid his glasses which sit pushed up into his hair. Your face contorts with pleasure as you throw your head back. he’s messy and clearly unsure of what he’s doing but it doesn’t matter to you as he brings you closer to your release. you can feel your stomach burning as he suddenly pulls away and looks at you, he looks gorgeous with his hair a mess and his lips glossy.

“could you show me um where uh,,,” your brows furrow in confusion until you laugh and sit up. “its fine here.” you grab his hand and use his finger to push around inside of you until his finger presses against your clit and your moan. you suddenly fall back once again with your hands playing with your breasts while one of his hand plays with your clit and his other on your knee to keep your legs parted while he tongue works his way inside of you. you can no longer ignore the burning in your stomach as it becomes harder and harder to push down. “Jace I'm gonna oh fuck.” the grip you have on his hair tightens as you hiss when he continues to work you till you shake with pleasure and you essence drips into his mouth down his jaw and neck.

He shakily stands and licks his lips seemingly not caring that he was a mess. “do i-“ you pull him down on top of you and press your lips against him in a feverish kiss which he returns, “i want to be on top.” his eyes widen, “will that be good for you?” you nod rapidly eager to feel him inside of you and your eyes practically turn into hearts when he stands and pulls down his briefs, his hardness slapping his stomach you barely get the chance to admire him before he rummages around in his bedside table pulling out a clearly new box of condoms.

he struggles to open them slight with his shaky hands but manages to open it and grab one. when he looks back at you and your amused expression he looks down at the box with embarrassment. “Aegon got it for me. he was trying to tease me.” you grab him to sit on the bed and get him to lay back against the headboard while you grabbed the packet out of his hands. “then ill have to thank him later.”

you open the condom with your teeth before slowly sliding it down his length causing him to hiss and close his eyes to calm himself. the two of you look at each other as you sit up, “are you good?” he nods and lightly thanks you, “are you?” you also nod and you grab him to position him into your opening while he pulls his glasses back down to his face. with one last look you begin to sink down onto him.

you put your forehead against his and the two of you shudder with pleasure the lower and lower you get. once you get as low as you can go you pause and the two of you take a few moments to readjust. his glasses fog up as he catches your lips in his, when your hips move slightly up then back down he bites at your lip before throwing his head back and whines slightly while your mouth lulls open in pleasure.

You two find a simply rhythm with you moving up and down. sweat covering your bodies as the two of you sing in pleasure, his glasses are basically completely covered now with fog and you take them off his face before shoving your lips messily against his as his hands grip your hips to help you move up and down on him. the sounds of your skin slapping against each other and moans and whines fill the hot room. he throbs inside of you as he hits spots you've never been able to reach, your head falls into the cave of his neck neck as you feel yourself close. “Jace fuck you’re so good fuck.” he whines and bites your shoulder again “please cum please Jace fuck wanna feel it.” he cries into your neck as he nods, “i love you i love you so much.” “i love you too Jace.” when he feels you release around him it pushes him over the edge where he's shooting his load into his condom.

the two of you fall completely on top of each other in a sweaty sticky mess. you catch your breaths unable to think straight. no words are spoken for awhile until you sit up lightly and push the hair away from his sweaty face. “we should have done that sooner.” the two of you laugh as you peck his lips. “i really love you a lot Jace.” he beams and grabs his glasses to fiddle them back onto his face. “i love you too.” you hum and kiss his cheek. “as nice as you being inside me is i really have to pee.” the two of you hiss as you pull away and he sits up to watch you stumble your way towards the bathroom. he tosses the condom away and he stands to get a cup of water not bothering to put on any of his clothes.

he hands you a glass when you walk out of the bathroom and you chug it down before looking at yourself with disgust. “i need a shower.” “you can use it i don't mind.” you roll your eyes and slap his shoulder much to his confusion. “that's when you’re supposed to say then lets take one together dummy.” his face flushes for the millionth time that night as you walk away and sigh as you turn to see him not following you. “come on you’re not gonna leave me alone are you?” he downs his glass and quickly hurries to follow you as you giggle.

[chosok-amo]

SILLY LITTLE NIGHTMARES: GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU.

you are having a nightmare about your boyfriend, geto, became a curse user and is a mass murderer, so you spend your day following him around like a puppy.

warning. established relationship! satosugu, murder mentioned.

geto finishes the last bit of paperwork, the soft sound of his pen clicking shut echoing in the living room. he leans back in his chair, stretching out his arms and letting out a content sigh, satisfied to finally have some time to relax. gojo is busy tidying up the room from the mess he just made, adjusting the pillows on the couch and fluffing the throw blankets, occasionally shooting playful glances at geto.

just then, you walk into the room, your eyes still puffy and red from a restless nap. the moment they see you, both of them pause, sensing something is off. tears stream down your cheeks as you try to wipe them away, but they only seem to flow more freely.

geto’s heart drops as he immediately stands up, worry etched on his face. “hey, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, taking a step closer to you. he can feel a wave of concern wash over him, instinctively wanting to protect you from whatever is troubling you.

you blink up at him, your voice shaking as you manage to speak. “i… i just had a bad dream,” you say, your words barely above a whisper, the weight of fear still clinging to you.

you walk closer to geto, feeling the weight of your lingering emotions pressing down on you. without a second thought, you straddle him, sitting on his lap as you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder. your body shakes with quiet sobs, and the warmth of his presence envelops you like a comforting blanket.

geto’s initial alarm quickly melts away as he sees your vulnerable state. he instantly wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer until your body is pressed flush against him. a part of him is glad that it was just a dream, but he hates seeing you in such distress.

geto runs his hand gently over your hair, his touch soothing and tender. “ssh, it’s okay, you’re safe now,” he whispers, his voice gentle. gojo’s eyes dart between the two of you, a subtle frown creasing his forehead, as he pauses his tidying to watch the scene unfolding.

gojo crosses his arms, his eyes flickering with a hint of concern, but he remains silent, letting geto take the lead. he leans against the back of the couch, watching the two of you intently.

geto continues to hold you close, his hand caressing your back in slow, circular motions. “do you want to talk about it?” he gently inquires, his voice low and steady. he isn’t particularly fond of hearing about nightmares, but he wouldn't hesitate to listen if it meant offering you some sort of comfort.

you take a deep breath, trying to gather the words through your sobs as you cling to geto. his warmth and steady presence help, but the lingering fear from the dream makes your chest tighten. “it was horrible,” you manage, your voice shaky. “i dreamt that you… you became a curse user… and…” your voice breaks, tears streaming down your cheeks as you press your face into his shoulder.

geto stiffens slightly, his grip on you tightening. despite the calm expression he usually wears, you can feel the tension in his body at your words. he’s quiet for a moment, letting you continue when you’re ready.

“you…” you take another shaky breath, the words harder to say than you expected. “you killed people… so many… and then you left me and satoru behind. you just… disappeared.” fresh tears fall as the vividness of the nightmare overwhelms you again, the image of geto turning away from you playing over and over in your mind.

geto’s heart sinks deeper as he listens to your tremulous voice and imagines the nightmare you endured. his arms unconsciously tighten around you, as if he could shield you from the horrors of the dream world.

he bites down on the inside of his cheek, frustration and helplessness welling up inside of him. he hates the thought of ever causing you such pain, especially by abandoning you and gojo. it's an outcome he could never even fathom.

he lets out a slow breath, trying to maintain his composure as he replies, “i would never do that.” his tone is firm, almost urgent, as if he’s trying to convince you as much as himself.

“i’m not going anywhere, okay?” he murmurs, his hand reaching up to gently stroke your hair.

gojo watches quietly from his spot on the couch, his eyes flickering to geto. he can sense the mix of irritation and helplessness that geto is feeling, both at the idea of being the source of your pain and his inability to ease your distress.

geto’s mind races, trying to find the right words to say. he knows that just saying he wouldn’t do that isn’t enough to erase the emotional scars from the nightmare. “i’m right here,” he repeats, his voice softer now as he presses his lips against the top of your head. “i’m not going to leave you… i promise.”

you continue to cry softly, your breaths shaky as the remnants of the nightmare still cling to you. geto’s words bring some comfort, but the fear lingers, and you can’t stop the tears from falling. he holds you close, feeling the weight of your pain, and his heart aches to see you like this.

he gently pulls your face away from his shoulder, his large hands cupping your wet cheeks with care. his thumbs brush against your skin, wiping away the tears that stream down your face. his dark eyes are filled with concern and love as he gazes into yours. “look at me,” he whispers, his voice steady but tender. “i’m here. i’m not going anywhere. i promise.”

your lower lip quivers as you meet his gaze, still feeling the sting of the dream. “it felt so real, suguru,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “i thought i lost you.”

geto’s heart clenches at your words, the fear and pain in your voice like a dagger stabbing through his chest. he hates the thought of you feeling even a second of uncertainty or doubt.

he keeps his hands on your face, his gaze never waivering from yours, as he replies, “it was just a nightmare, okay? i’ll always be here with you. i swear.” he slowly leans in, gently pressing his lips against your forehead, as if to kiss away your fears and worries.

geto draws back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “i won’t let anything happen to you, and i’m damn sure i won’t ever leave you.” he repeats, his voice low and firm. “i promise.”

he holds your gaze for a moment, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your jawline, before looking over to gojo, who’s quietly watching from the side. gojo gives him a small nod, a mix of worry and support in his eyes.

geto’s hands slowly move from your cheeks to the back of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair in a soothing gesture. he holds you closer still, as if he’s trying to shield you from the world and all its horrors.

gojo silently observes the two of you from the couch, his usual smirk replaced with a serious expression. he can see the pain and worry etched on geto’s face, and he can sense the turmoil in your heart. he knows how tightly the two of you are bound together, and it pains him to see you both suffering from a mere dream.

“i won’t ever let that happen, baby, he didn’t even get a chance to think about living us before i smack some sense into his head, do you hear me?” gojo softly asks, hoping his words get through your pretty little head and the amidst cloud of nightmare.

geto shoots gojo a grateful glance, appreciating the reassurance and support. he knows that your mind being eased by both of them helps a lot more than just his word alone.

he focuses his attention on you, his hands still gently cradling your head. he can feel the tension slowly start to ease from your trembling body, and that small sign of improvement gives him some relief. “hey,” he murmurs, shifting to pull you even closer, until your face is buried into his neck. “you’re safe, you’re okay.”

you feel geto’s fingers gently combing through your hair, the repetitive motion soothing your nerves little by little. his arms wrap around you more tightly, his body shielding you from everything, just as you needed in this moment. the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours helps you regain some composure, though the lingering fear still weighs on your mind.

gojo’s voice reaches you, soft but firm, and you lift your head slightly to glance over at him. his words bring a sense of reassurance, his usual playful energy now replaced with sincerity. the thought of him smacking some sense into geto if he ever tried to leave brings a small, albeit shaky, smile to your face. you know he’s trying to lighten the mood, but there's also a seriousness in his tone that makes you feel safe.

“okay..” you manage to whisper, your voice still trembling but less fragile than before. you nod slowly, taking in a deep breath as you try to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. the nightmare is fading now, replaced by the warmth of their presence. with each inhale, you feel the fear dissipating, and with each exhale, you focus on the reality that you're here, with them.

“i know it was just a dream,” you murmur, your voice gaining a little more strength. “it’s just… it felt so real.” your fingers clutch the fabric of geto’s shirt, grounding yourself in the moment. “i just can’t stop thinking about it and it makes me upset.”

geto listens to your words quietly, his hand continuing to stroke through your hair, grounding you back to reality. he hates how your mind is still stuck on the nightmare, the fear and anxiety clinging to you like a shadow. he runs his fingers through your hair again, trying to soothe you further. “i know, i know. it’s okay. nightmares can feel so real sometimes.”

he pauses, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “i wish i could take the memories of that dream away from you, but all i can do for now is tell you that it wasn't real. i'm right here, and i'm not going anywhere.”

he tightens his grip on you ever so slightly, his voice soft as he replies, “you’re safe. i’m here. it was just a dream,” he repeats, his words a soothing mantra, as if trying to imprint them onto your heart. he turns his attention to gojo, silently asking him with a look to add some comfort as well.

gojo pushes himself off the couch and walks over to the two of you. he crouches down in front of you, his cerulean eyes meeting your tear-filled eyes gently. his hand reaches out for yours, taking it in a firm yet compassionate grip.

he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his voice low and comforting as he speaks. “i don’t know what you saw in that nightmare, but suguru’s right. you’re safe and sound right now, in the real world. it was just a product of your imagination, nothing more.”

gojo continues, his voice soothing as he tries to erase the remnants of your nightmare from your mind. “and i know, it’s hard to shake off the fear and anxiety after waking up from a nightmare, but it wasn’t real. it’s okay to feel shaken, but i promise you, nothing in that nightmare is going to come true. geto and i are here with you, always will be, and we’ll do anything to keep you safe, okay?”

you look into gojo’s cerulean eyes as he speaks, his words washing over you like a calming wave. his hand in yours feels warm and steady, grounding you in the present, reminding you that you’re no longer trapped in the nightmare. his voice is soothing, full of reassurance, and it helps ease the tension in your chest.

you take a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs and then slowly release it. the trembling in your hands begins to subside as you listen to him, the fear starting to melt away with each word. “okay,” you whisper, your voice soft but more steady than before. you give him a small nod, trusting in both him and geto to keep you safe, knowing they would never let anything happen to you.

gojo gives you a small, comforting smile, squeezing your hand once more before letting go. “that's my girl,” he says softly, his usual playful tone creeping back in, just enough to bring you a sense of normalcy.

you lean back into geto’s embrace, feeling the weight of your fear finally lifting. their presence, their words, their love—it all grounds you in this moment, and you know, deep down, that you’re safe. “thank you,” you murmur again, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude for both of them. you close your eyes briefly, taking another deep breath, this one much calmer than before.

geto holds you tightly, his hand still in your hair, and gojo rests a hand on your shoulder, the both of them ensuring you feel surrounded by warmth, love, and protection. “we’ve got you,” geto whispers against your hair, his voice filled with quiet certainty.

once both he and gojo are satisfied that you’re slowly coming down from the nightmare, geto leans back against the couch, pulling you with him until you’re snuggled against his chest. he keeps his arm wrapped around you, holding you close, as if he’s trying to shield you from any remaining shadows of the nightmare.

gojo returns to his spot on the couch, collapsing onto the cushion, but his eyes remain on you, watching intently to make sure you’re truly okay.

geto continues to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and comforting as he looks down at you. he feels the tension in your body slowly dissipating, the fear and anxiety fading away little by little. “try to get some more sleep, okay? you need to rest. one bad dream shouldn’t dictate your whole day.” he says quietly, his voice low.

you shake your head gently, pressing closer to geto, the thought of going back to sleep still unsettling. “i don’t want to sleep,” you murmur, your voice soft but firm. the fear of falling back into another nightmare lingers, making the idea of rest feel impossible.

geto’s hand stills for a moment, and he glances down at you with concern, his brows knitting together. “you’ve been burning out from work, you’re tired,” he says softly, “you need rest.”

but you just shake your head again, clinging to the warmth of his embrace. “i don’t want to go through that again,” you whisper, the vulnerability in your voice evident. “not right now.”

geto's grip on you tightens as he hears the vulnerability in your voice. he understands your fear of reliving the nightmare, but he also knows that avoiding rest will worsen it. he bites his lip, trying to think of what to say to ease your fears.

he looks over to gojo for assistance. gojo, who’s been quietly observing the two of you, sits up a little straighter, his expression becoming serious again. “alright, we’ll stay with you. we’re not going anywhere. you don’t have to go back to sleep, but you can just rest here with us then, okay?”

you nod softly in response, your body beginning to relax just a little more in geto’s arms. the reassurance from both of them is enough to help you feel safe, even if the thought of sleeping still scares you. you hum softly in acknowledgment, closing your eyes for a brief moment as you feel gojo’s presence near.

gojo leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a second, offering comfort through the simple touch. the warmth from his kiss spreads through you, easing the last remnants of fear.

“okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible but full of trust. you lean back into geto’s embrace, feeling the strength and safety in his hold, while gojo’s calming presence at your side brings you peace.

geto squeezes you tighter, wrapping his arm around you securely as you lean into him. his chin rests on the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. the sight of gojo pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead makes his heart ache, knowing how scared you were moments ago.

gojo keeps his eyes on you, watching your breath even out little by little, and the anxiety slowly leaving your body. he reaches out to take your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, providing a subtle reassurance.

“we’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and gentle.

after crying your heart out from the nightmare that had shaken you to your core, you spent the rest of the day trailing geto wherever he went, almost as if you couldn’t bear to let him out of your sight. the nightmare, though just a figment of your imagination, had left a heavy weight in your chest, one that only seemed to lighten when you were close to him.

now, you, geto, and gojo are sitting on the couch, the soft hum of the tv in the background as you lean against gojo’s chest. his arm is draped around you lazily, while geto sits at the other end, relaxed but aware of your every movement. the comfort of being sandwiched between the two of them has kept the lingering unease at bay for most of the day.

suddenly, you feel geto shift beside you, and when he begins to stand, your body tenses up. you sit upright quickly, eyes wide with concern as you look at him. “where are you going?” you ask, your voice betraying the anxiety that still lingers from the nightmare.

your voice laced with a quiet urgency, unable to mask the worry that creeps back into your tone. the idea of him leaving your sight, even for just a moment, stirs up the unease from earlier.

geto stops in his tracks, looking back at you with a gentle smile, one that’s meant to reassure you. “just going to the bathroom,” he says softly, his tone calm and understanding. “i’ll be right back, i promise.”

gojo tightens his arm around you slightly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “he’s not running off, baby,” gojo teases lightly, though there’s a hint of concern in his voice as he looks down at you. “besides, if he takes too long, i’ll drag him back for you.” despite gojo’s playful tone, your eyes stay on geto, still uneasy. but you nod slowly, watching him as he disappears down the hall.

once geto is in the bathroom and out of earshot, gojo drops the teasing tone and turns his attention fully to you. he studies your face silently for a moment, taking in the unease that still clings to you. he can see the way your eyes follow geto’s every move when he’s around, the anxiety etched onto your features whenever he leaves your sight.

he sighs softly, his hand continuing to rub circles on your back in a calm, comforting motion. “you're still rattled from that nightmare, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice low and gentle.

you turn to gojo, shaking your head lightly as if trying to convince both him and yourself. “i’m not,” you murmur, your voice soft but unconvincing. though you rest your head back against his chest, the tension in your body hasn’t fully disappeared. despite your denial, your eyes still flicker toward the bathroom door every few moments, watching, waiting.

gojo can easily tell that you're lying, and he lets out a quiet exhale as he continues to rub circles on your back. “you are,” he counters softly, his voice free from any playful tone, no hint of teasing at all. “we both know you are, and there’s no shame in it.”

he glances at the bathroom door and then back at you. “you’re on edge every time he leaves the room, and you’ve been like this all day.”

gojo pauses for a moment, trying to figure out how to address your uneasiness. you keep your head on his chest, avoiding his gaze, clearly still trying to convince yourself that you're okay. but he can feel the tension in your body, the way you're silently clenching and unclenching your fists.

he runs his hand through your hair gently, brushing a strand of it behind your ear. gojo’s lips twitch in a small, knowing smile, but he doesn’t say anything for a moment. he can see through your weak attempt at convincing him that you're not still affected by the nightmare.

he wraps his arm around you tighter, pulling you closer against his chest. “you know, getting another nightmare is pretty unlikely. the chances are very low,” he says, trying to alleviate your fears.

you shake your head slightly against gojo’s chest, your voice barely a whisper as you reply, “i still can’t forget about it.” the unease in your tone is unmistakable, and the way your fists clench unconsciously gives away how much the nightmare still lingers in your mind.

despite his comforting presence and logical reassurance, the images from the nightmare are too vivid, too real to easily brush aside. “it’s terrible..” you admit softly, your eyes once again darting toward the bathroom door, waiting for geto to return, as if his presence alone can chase away the remnants of the dream.

gojo looks down at you, a pang of sympathy and concern in his eyes. he sees the way you're still on edge, your fists clenching and unclenching, your eyes darting to the bathroom door. he knows this is more than just a bad dream, it’s a lingering fear that's hard to shake off.

he runs his fingers through your hair gently, trying to soothe you. “i know it’s hard to forget,” he says softly, “but you’e awake now. that nightmare isn’t real. you’re here with me and geto, you’re safe. there he is,” he murmur the moment his eyes caught geto walk out of the bathroom.

geto returns from the bathroom, immediately noticing your tense demeanor and the way you're still glued to gojo’s side. he walks over and takes a seat next to you, a small frown tugging at his lips as he takes in your anxious expression. he reaches out and puts a hand gently on your shoulder. “still rattled?” he asks, his voice soft.

you nod silently, unable to speak through the lump in your throat. the nightmare still feels fresh in your mind, leaving you feeling vulnerable and shaken. geto’s touch brings you a small measure of reassurance, but it’s not enough to fully calm your racing heart.

geto chuckles softly, his expression softening as he watches you shift in gojo’s embrace, your eyes still filled with a lingering unease. "come here," he murmurs, opening his arms wide. there’s a teasing glint in his eyes, but the warmth in his voice makes it clear that his intention is to comfort you.

without hesitation, you move from gojo’s chest and slip into geto’s arms, almost instinctively. he wraps them around you, pulling you close, his hands immediately resuming their familiar, soothing touch. “there you go,” he murmurs into your hair, his breath warm against your skin. his voice is light, and you can feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath you.

then, with a small smirk, he adds teasingly, “you really are a crybaby, you know that?” despite the words, there’s nothing but affection in his tone.

you can’t help but let out a small, half-hearted laugh through your lingering nerves, burying your face in his shoulder. “i’m not,” you mumble, the warmth of his embrace finally starting to chip away at the cold fear still gripping your heart.

gojo watches as you move into geto's arms, his expression a mix of amusement and understanding. he sees the way you immediately melt into geto’s touch, the tension slowly slipping away. as you let out a small laugh, he lets out a small scoff, a smile on his face. “yes, you are,” he says, joining in the teasing. “but it’s alright, we have all night to soothe your fragile little heart.”

geto laughs softly at gojo's words, his arms tightening around you momentarily. “he’s right, you know,” he murmurs, his voice soft against your hair. “you really are quite sensitive when it comes to nightmares. but don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe and sound all night long.”

his hands continue to run soothingly over your back as he looks over at gojo. “you better watch yourself. you’re just as soft as she is, you know.”

you grumble in response, your face still buried in geto’s shoulder. you can feel his laugh reverberate through his chest, and his hands continue to move gently over your back, soothing and comforting.

“you two are such a jerk,” you murmur, but there’s no real venom in your words. geto just laughs again, pulling you even closer into his embrace. “and you’re a baby,” he teases again, ruffling your hair.

gojo grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “aww, don’t deny it, you're a total baby.” he teasingly pokes your side, making you squirm in protest. geto chuckles, holding on to you firmly. “yeah, that’s right. you’re our little baby. all soft and sensitive, just like a fragile little flower.”

“stop moving too much,” you whine, trying to keep up as geto moves around the house with his usual calm, deliberate pace. it’s been hours of him finding little things to do, whether straightening up, moving a book from one shelf to another, or inspecting something that didn’t need attention at all.

he glances over his shoulder at you, amusement dancing in his eyes as he chuckles. “you’re the one who keeps following me,” he teases, but there’s a knowing warmth behind his words. he’s been doing this on purpose—giving you something to focus on, keeping you busy enough to slowly pull you away from the lingering nightmare.

you can tell what he’s up to, but you don’t mind. in fact, it’s comforting to follow him, even if your legs are starting to get tired. each step behind him feels like a reminder that he’s there, solid and real, and the nightmare is fading further into the background.

he pauses for a moment, turning to face you fully with a smirk. “i’m just making sure you tire yourself out enough to sleep tonight and stop you from all those nightmares you had,” he says lightly, his eyes softening as he reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

you groan, feeling the exhaustion creeping in as you follow geto once again, watching him head toward the kitchen. “you’re so annoying,” you mutter, though there’s no real bite behind your words. he’s clearly enjoying himself, finding amusement in your persistence.

geto just chuckles again, unfazed, as he steps into the kitchen where gojo is sitting comfortably at the dining table, leisurely munching on a donut. gojo watches the whole scene unfold with an amused grin, his eyes flicking between the two of you. "you really are wasting all your energy following him around like a lost puppy,” gojo comments, his voice teasing but not unkind. he takes another bite of his donut, leaning back in his chair like he’s enjoying a front-row seat to the show.

“maybe if someone would stop walking around, i wouldn’t have to,” you huff, shooting a playful glare at geto as he busies himself with something on the counter. “toruuu, you could help me, you know,” you say, taking a seat beside him, though even as you speak, you know that’s unlikely. he’s perfectly content watching you wear yourself out.

gojo chuckles, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watches you following geto around like a lost puppy. he knows exactly why geto’s doing this, and he’s thoroughly enjoying the show. “aww, look at you being the devoted little follower,” he teases between bites of his donut. “just keep following him like that and you’ll wear yourself out in no time.”

geto, who’s puttering around in the kitchen, can’t help but chuckle at your comment. he shoots a glance over his shoulder at you, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “and miss this entertaining spectacle? it’s not every day i get to have a cute little puppy trailing behind me, constantly at my beck and call,” he teases back.

he knows that you’re not exactly happy about being tired out, but he’s enjoying the fact that you’re willingly following him around. it’s like a game to him, seeing how long you’ll keep up the tag-along. but he also wants to help you shake off the lingering effects of the nightmare.

gojo lets out a small pout of mock disappointment as you steal his donut, his initial protest quickly giving way to a look of amusement. “how rude,” he says, feigning hurt.

he watches as you happily bite into the stolen treat, a small smile tugging at his lips. “you’re such a little gremlin, you know that?” he teases, knowing full well that he doesn’t mind sharing, especially if it puts a smile on your face. geto watches the whole scene unfold from a distance, a grin on his face as he continues tending to whatever he’s doing in the kitchen.

geto can’t help but feel a warmth in his chest as he watches you banter playfully with gojo, the tension and unease from earlier slowly melting away. he continues his tasks in the kitchen, allowing himself a moment to simply observe the two of you interacting.

after a moment, he speaks up again. “you know, if you’re done eating gojo’s donut, maybe you should come back here. i’m not finished with you yet.” there’s a hint of tease in his voice, even as he keeps his focus on the task before him.

you shake your head playfully, reaching for another donut with a smug grin. “i think i’m good here, actually,” you say, biting into the donut with exaggerated satisfaction. “besides, the nightmare’s already gone, and satoru’s donuts taste so good.”

gojo chuckles, watching you pilfer another donut from the box. “you’re a little thief,” he teases, not bothering to stop you. he doesn’t really mind sharing his food, especially if it means getting to see you look so satisfied and relaxed.

geto scoffs at your response, his eyes narrowed with playful irritation. “don’t think you’re getting off that easily. i’ve got plans for you.” he glances over his shoulder at you, a smirk on his lips. “and besides, i’m not done yet. you still have some energy left to burn.”

you hum contentedly, still munching on the donut in your hand. glancing at the box, then back at gojo, you grin mischievously. “i call shotgun on the oreo,” you announce, pointing toward the donut with a playful smirk, even while taking another bite of the one you’re eating.

gojo rolls his eyes, his expression a mix of playful annoyance and amusement. “you’re really going to finish all my donuts, aren’t you?” he says, knowing full well that resisting your charm is a futile task.

before he can respond further, geto calls out from the kitchen, his voice laced with both warmth and command. “oh, come on. quit flirting with each other and get your ass over here.”

you flash gojo a smug grin, enjoying the way his face twists in mock annoyance. “too bad for you, i called shotgun first,” you say, your voice dripping with playful confidence as you take another indulgent bite of your donut. the satisfaction of winning this little battle with him adds a bit more sweetness to the treat in your hand.

you glance over at geto, who’s been quietly observing the entire exchange. with a heavy, exaggerated sigh, you reluctantly place the donut back on the table. “fine,” you grumble under your breath, acting as though you’ve just made the biggest sacrifice of your life. dragging your feet a little for dramatic effect, you slowly make your way toward geto, still pouting as you walk.

gojo watches as you saunter over to geto, unable to hide the small smile forming on his face. he shakes his head, amused by your exaggerated show of reluctance.

geto, on the other hand, looks far from sympathetic as he watches you approach with a small chuckle, his arms crossed over his chest. “oh, spare me the drama. you’re not the one making a sacrifice here, princess.” he smirks, clearly enjoying your exaggerated expression.

“you’re such a diva,” he teases, rolling his eyes as you approach. he’s clearly enjoying your bratty behavior, but he’s not about to let you get off scot-free. “now, come on. stop moving so slow,” he says, reaching out to grab your arm and pull you closer to him.

he guides you to a spot next to him, a countertop filled with various ingredients laid out in front of you. “since you’re so keen on stealing everyone’s food, maybe you can put your thieving skills to use in the kitchen,” he says with a wry smile, his grip on your arm still gentle but firm.

he releases you and steps back, giving you a moment to take in the array of items on the counter. “now, you’re going to help make some sweets,” he orders, his voice soft but authoritative. “and no complaints or diva moments, understood?”

you let out a dramatic sigh, letting your shoulders slump as if the weight of the world rested on them. your face adopts a lazy, bored expression, and you roll your eyes at geto’s suggestion. “i’m still rattled from the nightmare,” you say with an exaggerated pout, the hint of a lie in your voice. in truth, it’s more about feeling lazy than shaken up. “i’m not allowed to do such a thing while still traumatized,” you admit, eyeing towards the remaining treats with a longing look.

geto lets out a scoff, the sound a mix of fondness and irritation. he knows you too well to be fooled by your act. “oh, please. don’t try to pull a fast one, princess. i know you’re not that rattled. you’re just being a brat.”

he takes a step closer to you, his hand gently tilting your chin up so you can meet his gaze. his eyes hold a mixture of warmth and challenge. “no more excuses. you’re helping me make sweets, end of story.”

he glances over at the remaining treats, a knowing smirk on his lips. “and don’t even think about going for those donuts again. you’ve had plenty.”

he releases your chin and steps back, gesturing to the array of ingredients on the counter. “now, here’s the plan. pay close attention,” he says, his tone commanding and authoritative. “i’ll guide you through the steps, but don’t even think about slacking off or complaining.”

you narrow your eyes at gojo, who’s blissfully enjoying the very oreo donut you just claimed as your own. his smug smirk only adds fuel to the fire of your annoyance. you cross your arms, shooting him a playful glare that says everything—this is definitely a low blow.

with a dramatically heavy sigh, you lean back slightly, feigning exasperation. “ugh, fine,” you concede, rolling your eyes for added effect. you shoot one last pout in gojo's direction before begrudgingly turning back to the array of ingredients laid out in front of you, secretly hoping you might enjoy the process despite your reluctance.

gojo chuckles, thoroughly enjoying your reaction to his sneaky donut heist. his smirk only gets wider, clearly amused by your grumpy display.

geto watches the exchange, his expression a mix of annoyance and affection. he shakes his head at your theatrical display of reluctance, clearly unamused by your exaggerated behavior.

he steps closer to you, his voice low and firm. “enough with the pouts. you’re not getting out of this, princess. you’re going to help me make these sweets, and you’re going to do it happily. got it?”

you roll your eyes dramatically, unable to help the annoyance bubbling up inside you. with a sarcastic huff, you mutter, “yes, dad,” the words slipping out effortlessly. it’s a phrase you’ve used countless times before whenever geto gets all strict and bossy with you.

gojo barks out a laugh, the sound echoing through the room. he can’t help but find the whole situation hilarious.

geto’s response, however, is far less amused. his eyes narrow slightly at your sarcastic comment, his expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “oh, princess, don’t even start. you’re really living up to the brat name tonight,” he scoffs.

“if you’re going to act like a petulant child, i can treat you like one,” geto threatens, his voice stern and commanding, his gaze locked on yours.

you mutter a half-hearted “sorry” under your breath, your face still scrunched in irritation as you grab the spatula geto handed you. the gesture feels more like a chore than a fun activity, and you can’t shake the annoyance creeping in from being forced into this situation.

geto’s unwavering gaze doesn’t let up, a mix of authority and exasperation in his eyes. it’s clear he’s not backing down, no matter how much you might want to sulk. you huff silently, resigned to your fate, and start to focus on the ingredients in front of you, trying to channel your frustration into something productive— even if it feels a bit like throwing a tantrum.

gojo watches the back-and-forth between you and geto with a stifled chuckle, clearly amused by your bratty behavior. it’s like watching two stubbornly opposing forces collide, each determined to win.

geto, on the other hand, continues to maintain his stern and commanding presence. he knows exactly how far he can push you, and he refuses to give an inch. “stop mumbling apologies and focus,” he barks, his voice a mixture of amused and expectation.

“you’re not getting out of this until you make something edible.”

the atmosphere in the kitchen is a mix of tension and challenge, as you begrudgingly begin to follow geto’s instructions on mixing the ingredients.

he watches you silently for a moment, his eyes never leaving your form. he can see the frustration and irritation still etched on your face, but he also knows that deep down, you’re enjoying this, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it. “less complaining, more stirring,” he comments with a smirk, clearly enjoying the fact that you’re following his orders.

[weepingwillowwonder]

Horny Hazbin Hotel Thoughts: NSFW AHEAD [Minors DNI! 🔞] -> -> ->

We gotta winner!!!

This is about:

Alastor, Angel Dust, Lucifer, & Valentino/Vox

Reactions to Shy!Reader asking to have sex/initiating sex

CW: Embarrassment/Humiliation, Dry Humping, Dirty Talk, Daddy Kink, Vox/Val being MEAN

---

Alastor -

Waiting for a moment alone with Alastor feels like an eternity. When you both finally settle in for the evening, you're careful in how you approach your proposal to ask him for what you want. Trying not to seem suspicious, you continue in your nightly routine and prepare yourself for bed. Alastor sits quietly in his chair, flipping the pages of his book every so often. The soft sounds of jazz music playing from a nearby radio helps you to relax as you put your plan in motion. 

Crawling onto the bed, you roll over on your back, rest your hands on your stomach, and turn your head in his direction. He doesn't immediately acknowledge you, seeming consumed in the literature. You draw your knees up and continue to stare, waiting patiently for him to glance up. "What is it my dear?" He finally says, still looking down at his book. It's easy to get distracted by his features in these moments where it seems as if his guard is down with you. An easy smile graces his lips, as he turns to the next page. "I was just thinking..." you say hesitantly with a

teasing lit to your voice. His smile grows slightly at that, still not giving you the attention you want. 

"Mm…And what might you be thinking about?" He hums, in a similar teasing tone. Your thighs unconsciously squeeze together as he still continues to read his book. It's quiet for a moment, only the soft sounds of the music plays in the background and him flipping to the next page. "Welllll...I thought maybe we could..uhh...I mean, I wanted to..." you trail off, taking in a deep breath. "I was hoping that we could..." you start and inwardly cringe, turning to look at the ceiling. You shift slightly, suddenly feeling very silly at trying to ask your request. 

You try to gather your thoughts and turn to look at him to finally answer his question. When your mouth opens to speak, you freeze when you see his eyes peering over to you above his book. Quickly breaking eye contact, you roll on your back to again stare at the ceiling to try to avoid the feeling of his eyes burning into you. Your fingers awkwardly dance together on your stomach as you shove down the embarrassment you feel. A creak from across the room, signals Alastor getting up from the chair. The soft sounds of him setting down the book and slow footsteps making their way over to you makes your eyes squeeze shut.

He soothingly says your name and turns your cheek to look at him, while sitting down next to you on the bed. When you open your eyes, your cheeks warm at the heated look he gives you, “Given your reaction, I’m guessing you’ve been thinking of something naughty~” His fingers trail down your cheek to your neck, making you gasp and tilt your head up to bare your neck to him. He leans in while grasping your throat, and asks in a low tone “Now tell me…what were you thinking that made you so shy to ask me?”

A pathetic whimper crosses your lips making his grin widen, “Come on dear, we don’t have all night...” Pushing down the apprehensive thoughts, you finally answer quietly, “..I want you Alastor..” When he lets go and pulls away slightly, you panic and start to sit up as well, but he gently pushes you back down, climbing over top of you. He slides a hand down your hip to your thigh and pulls it to wrap around his waist. When he drops his hips to press into yours, you can’t help it when your hips lift to his, and moan. “Mm. And how do you want me darling?” 

Angel Dust -

Like most days when Angel is off of work, you were hanging out together in his room, updating each other on the recent happenings since the last time you both spent time together. This time you both were lying on his bed, you listening to him talk about the graphic details of his newest film. You can’t help the way your mind wanders...While Angel expresses his annoyance in having to retake shots multiple times, you’re thinking about him in those heated moments, what he might have looked like, how he might have felt, what he might have felt like…. 

When your thighs automatically press together, you try to hide the sharp breath that escapes. In hopes of trying not to catch his attention, you continue to nod along to his story, throwing in an

extra “uh huh” or “oh yeah.” He hesitates, eyeing you carefully when he notices your sudden shifting and flushed expression. Angel puts an elbow on the bed and rests his cheek against his fist, “Soooo…whatcha thinkin’ about?” He’s not looking at you when he asks, trying to appear as if he doesn’t know. His sudden question startles you and you look up at him with wide eyes, “N-nothing! I’m just listening to you!” You say too quickly for it to actually be nothing, waving your hands in front of you. He giggles at your reaction, and responds teasingly “You’re a bad fuckin’ liar~” 

Embarrassed, you roll over to hide your blush and bury your face in his chest, scooting closer when his arms envelop you. “Why you bein’ shy all of a sudden?” He kisses the top of your head and gently rubs circles on your back. Whining, you respond while sliding your leg over him, his thigh now resting between your legs, “..’M not..” Taking a shaky breath, you softly say his name and roll your hips against his thigh. 

Angel blushes himself and an excited grin slowly makes its way to his lips, “You horny, baby?” You gasp and suddenly look up at him from the bluntness of his question. “You know…” He starts, lifting his leg slightly and grabbing your hips to guide you on his thigh, “Daddy will always give you what you want, all you gotta do is ask..” 

Lucifer - 

At the hotel bar, you and Lucifer had been chatting away all evening after the events of Charlie’s most recent trust exercise with the hotel’s guests. Both of you decided you needed a drink afterwards, which led you to where you were now. “..I mean it’s crazy that they even finished the course! I mean I love the girl but someone’s gotta draw the line,” Lucifer laughs out referring to his daughter’s idea of team bonding. You giggle along with him, taking a sip of your own drink. This goes on for sometime, conversation flowing easily between you two. 

A few drinks later, you randomly notice the way Lucifer grips his glass and focus in on his fingers. A familiar throbbing between your legs, makes you shift in your chair. It’s hard to tell if it’s the alcohol that has you thinking naughty thoughts or if it’s the way his hands look like he could manhandle you however he pleased. You think it’s both.

Seemingly oblivious to the sudden fixation you have for his hands, he started rolling up his sleeves, making you bite your lip. You zone out, now openly staring, when he starts speaking again. When he abruptly says your name, your eyes flicker up to look at him, your cheeks heating up. He raises an eyebrow and gives you a knowing look before taking another sip of his drink, “What’s on your mind? You’ve been awfully quiet.” You look away, shaking your head before murmuring, “It’s nothing..”

He gives you a soft smile and reaches over to place his hand on your knee, stroking slowly with his thumb, “You know you can tell me anything right?” You don’t look at him in that moment but you nod your head slightly. “Good..” He murmurs, using his other hand to lift your chin to look at him, “...so what’s on your mind? Because you were staring pretty hard a bit ago.” Your lips pressed together as the uncomfortable feeling of getting caught overwhelms you. Not that you both were together, but it’s not as if you hadn’t had relations before. Still... 

“I dunno..I just…” the blush creeps further as he leans in, gripping your knee. “Yeah? Tell me..” he breathes out. When you finally admit you were thinking about his fingers, he chuckles. “That’s all sweetheart?” He slides his hand up your thigh, thumb getting dangerously close to your core and all you can do is spread your legs for him. He slowly moves his palm between your legs, earning himself a low moan as you roll your hips against it. Leaning in next to your ear, he whispers, “How about I show you what these fingers can do, hm?”

Valentino & Vox - 

In the secluded area of the VIP section of the club, you were nestled up under Vox’s arm nursing your drink while him and Valentino were talking business. Your relationship with Vox was questionable to say the least. Previously as one of Velvette’s models, you were now his personal toy which he played with as he pleased. A perfect piece of eye-candy to satisfy his occasional sweet tooth. For so long, he kept you away from Valentino, only allowing minimal interactions between the two of you, so tonight was a first of many considering how the night's events unfolded.

You’d heard Valentino was attractive and enticing, but you didn’t spend enough time with him to know first hand. All night your eyes trailed down his body, watched his lips as he spoke smoothly and seductively. Even if it wasn’t necessarily directed at you, you couldn’t help the way your thighs clenched while the two men spoke. Vox moves his hand to your hip, possessively pulling you closer to him. When you look up at him, he isn't watching you, rather he’s watching the way Valentino is practically undressing you with his eyes. “So tell me Voxxy..” He leans back, tilting his head in your direction and lights a cigarette, “Where did you find this little cutie?~” You blush at the pet name and look away from his heated gaze. 

Vox swirls his drink before answering, “Used to be one of Velvette’s models, now works for me,” he takes a sip, “Not a whole lot to it really.” When he takes a puff and blows smoke into the air, Valentino grins, “Mm you know…you could have always had one of my top whores..~” he purrs, eyeing you carefully now. Vox rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to retort before the sound of Valentino’s phone goes off. He frowns and sighs before getting up from the table, putting up a finger,  “Ah, un momento...” 

When he leaves, Vox kisses your temple and occupies himself with his phone. Even though it probably shouldn’t, thinking back at the way the men spoke as if you weren’t there and the way Vox was holding you, easily lit a fire between your legs. Biting your lip, you set your hand on his thigh and look around the corner, hoping that it takes Valentino some time to come back. Vox doesn’t say anything, but you feel his grip on you tighten. You pout and turn to bury your face in his neck, whining softly, “..daddy..?” 

That gets his attention. Putting down his phone, a wicked smirk comes across his screen before  he pulls you into his lap, “Yeah? What is it, baby?” You give him a coy smile, opening your mouth to respond. However you freeze as Valentino’s chuckling rings out behind you. “¿Qué es esto? I was gone for five minutes and came back to-” He licks his lips, staring at your ass, “-such an interesting display.” When he sits back down, your head is already buried in Vox’s shoulder. “Aww are you shy, cariño?” Valentino coos over at you, acknowledging you directly for the first time this evening. Vox laughs at the way your grip on him tightens, knowing you’re embarrassed to be caught in such a position. He pushes you to sit up and holds your hands so you can’t hide again, “What were you trying to ask me sweetheart?” 

Your entire face heats up and you shake your head in an attempt to get out of answering, “N-nothing, it’s not important..” Vox maneuvers you to turn around in his lap, now facing Valentino. He hums and pinches your cheeks, turning you to look directly at Valentino when you try to look away. Tears prick at your eyes when you see him grin at you, clearly enjoying the show. “Hm. It must have been pretty important if you were trying to get daddy’s attention, not to mention climbing into his lap as soon as Val left. Surely that’s not all for nothing right?” You close your eyes, tears now falling down your face at the humiliation. 

Despite speaking to the other, Valentino teases you, “Oh Voxxy, you’re being so meannn, making them cry. Pobrecito~”. Vox then growls in your ear, “Well, if you can’t tell me, maybe you’ll tell Val.” He roughly pushes you on the floor, making you gasp as you land on all fours. Valentino gives you a moment before lifting your face to look at him. He blows his smoke in your face and purrs, “Amor~  don’t you wanna tell daddy what’s going on in that cute little head of yours?” 

Your lip trembles as you finally answer, “I just wanted daddy that’s all!” you sob out, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down. Valentino hushes you, murmuring soft praises to you. “Muy bien baby..” He holds your cheek, which makes you lean into his touch, then glances up to Vox who’s watching intently, palming himself through his pants. “I understand now why you chose this one…” Valentino pulls you up into his lap and mischievously smirks, looking at Vox, “Since your little toy wants to play, you wouldn’t mind me having a turn would you?” Vox mimics his smile, “by all means.” 

--

Lemme know your thoughts!!! :3

---

{UPDATE}

Part 2: Angel Dust

Part 2: Vox/Val

[mieczyslawsravenclaw]

Good Morning, Mr Reid... - Spencer Reid

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

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating - 18+, Minors DNI - Smut - NSFW!!!

Summary / Prompt - When you wake up sweet Spencer with your wet dream, he can’t help but need to make your dreams a reality.

Warnings / Content - smutty smut smut lmao, being woken up by sexy times but that’s about it I think? (Nope also piv unprotected and nutting inside, I'm shit at proofreading the first time >_<)

Word Count - 900-ish

Author’s Note(s) - Bit shorter than my usual but this idea popped into my head and I wanted to try writing from Spence’s pov so here this is! Hopefully my fellow Horny-For-Reid girlies enjoy~

Additional Tags - Spencer is needy for you, smart boy is dumb for the meow-meow, consent is STILL IMPORTANT BABES

Spencer Reid was no stranger to being woken up by a myriad of things - his job was usually the top culprit. But this morning, it was you that pulled his focus into being. At first, he thought something might be wrong from the noises you were making. But after a moment of watching you, clearing his sleep-bleary eyes, he realized that was hardly the case.

“Spence…” It was a breathy sigh, almost tricking him into thinking you were awake. Were you? No, he decided; Apart from the fact that your breathing was more suited for someone in the throes of unconsciousness, your eyes were shut and you didn’t respond when he softly murmured your name. Dreaming, then.

About him, from the continued speaking of his name. It was a crime, really, to look that pretty when you weren’t even aware of it. Spencer was just enthralled with watching the way your face scrunched, he almost missed the way your hands were moving down to- oh. It was that kind of dream, then.

His eyes widened, already feeling the familiar tension of his cock straining against his boxers as you touched yourself, so unaware and still so pretty. Your voice a whine, begging him, please Spence please - he could think of nothing he wanted more than to give you whatever you wanted. You’d talked before about this sort of thing - it had never come about, until now. Waking you up with his touch, his cock to fill you up as the first thing you felt during the day.

He’d been cautious, as consent was a serious subject - but you’d assured him that, if ever there were a time that it called to him, he was more than welcome to do so. He was grateful for his eidetic memory, the echoing of those words in his mind now to settle where this was going.

But he wanted to watch a little longer, whether that was selfish or not, he didn’t know- and didn’t really care. Seeing your chest rise and fall while you messed with your bundle of nerves, still quietly begging him for something, anything, was enough to spur him into reaching for himself. The slow pumping of his fist and the sight before him pulled a low groan from Spencer; he tried to keep quiet, but it was a challenge. With you in front of him, doing that…really, could you blame him?

“Baby…” He sighed, eyes darting between your face and your hands, to the thin fabrics that kept you from him, for now. “Wanna be inside you. Can I be inside you?”

Your eyes fluttered a bit, but nothing more in response. Spencer was almost desperate, he needed to feel you wrap around him, so tight and warm-

“Baby,” He tried again, more of a whine than anything else. His free hand pulled you closer, nuzzling his face into the soft skin of your neck. “I need you, need you so bad-“

“Mmm…Spence…”

He rutted up against you; the brushing of your wetness against him, coupled with the way your arms instinctively moved to wrap around him, just made him need it even more. His hands slid your panties to the side, far too dire of a need to even bother with removing them completely. He took a moment to line himself up and pushed into you, letting out a deep moan that lilted into your name at the end.

“Fuck, so tight, baby,” He groaned, kissing your neck. He felt you rustle beneath him, a little groan escaping you.

“Morning to you, too,” You murmured back, a small laugh caught up in the way he felt pressing against your walls. “Thought I was dreaming there for second.”

“For a second, you were.” He amended, pulling back to give you a kiss. “I thought this could be a perfect time to test out that idea you had.”

“I’m certainly not complaining,” You gripped his shoulders as he thrusted deeper, earning noises from the both of you. “Couldn’t even wait long enough to get me naked, huh?”

Your teasing made him flush. “I- well, I just-“

“IQ of 187, and it all folds and disappears for me.” You smirked, and were quickly distracted again once he pushed further inside of you. “Fuck, Spence-“

“Not just me, huh?” He huffed, lifting your leg up to hit further back. “Not my fault you’re so pretty, I just wanna fill you up.”

“Please, do.”

“Say it for me.”

“Please, Spence, fill me up,” You cried out as he hit the spongy spot in tandem with rubbing against your clit, just how he knew you liked. “Fuck, I want you to cum in me, please-“

“Wanna see you cum first,” He groaned, rolling you over so he could lift both your legs to his shoulders. His own orgasm was impending, threatening to spill over, but he needed it to be you first.

“Don’t stop, Spence-“ Your nails dug crescents into his back before falling to the sheets, white knuckled as you told him, “Just a few more- I’m so close, I’m so-oh!”

Your release triggered Spencer’s own, no more willpower to hold back from it once he felt you shake and tighten around him. “Fuck,” he whimpered, “Me too, baby, me too,” and with your gentle praises he spilled over into you with a deeply pleasured moan.

You laid there together for a bit, not bothering to detach from one another until Spencer mentioned the need for cleaning you up.

“Well, are we going to shower, or are we going to fuck in the shower?” You smirked.

He was already getting hard again at the thought.

[hxltic]

imagine having an attitude w miguel o’hara

Even though he’s quick to anger, and very easily irritated, he’s never had that problem with you. You were his treatment in a way. You always dealt with people in a more kind manner, so he just lets you speak until you’ve given him permission, but today it seems as though the roles have reversed.

It’s even more angering with the fact that he just can’t seem to take you seriously, your cheeks bursting red with anger and fists unconsciously clenching, but he just leans against the wall, staring at you. Through you, almost. To be fair, whatever you were mad at you would probably get over later. But that wasn’t the point. You were angry and pissed off.

And you also hadn’t seen him in a relative amount of time; Spiderman work wasn’t easy. This was something you’d come to accept when you got with him, and you don’t mind being alone, but somehow it’s brought itself to matter in this very moment.

So how did you end up bent over as he plowed into you from behind? His brain pieced together that you just needed some dick. Whenever you two were intimate in any way, the next day he’d see you extra happy, beaming even, and the memories would flash in your head every now and then.

Of course, when he kissed you the first time, you pushed him off and said he was deflecting.

He doesn’t really run away from his problems, but this one could wait.

“You’re givin’ me the silent treatment, you can’t still be mad at me amor?”

Truth be told, you were quiet because you couldn’t speak. Your neck was upright, your throat dragging back and forth on the bed sheets, and your arms were forced back into his large, calloused hands. Your eyes fall closed when you grunt in response.

If he was being honest, this wasn’t even his favorite part. It was watching the scowl on your face dissipate into ecstasy and the irritated deep sighs transform into moans each time you came.

He rectifies his position by adjusting his foot placement and dropping his tight hold to your wrists, effectively finding a deeper way into you. It was messy and rough, the stickiness around where the two of you meet and the reddening skin pure evidence. Miguel bent his body over yours so your back was flush with his carved chest.

A muffled sound fell into the bed with every snap of his hips. His hair slightly stuck to his face when he forced his mouth into your right shoulder, digging his sharp canines past your skin. Not enough to draw blood, but it hurt and left a mark nonetheless. He sucked the skin and kissed it as if soothing. The senses were too much combined with your low pain tolerance, compelling tears to swell in buds.

He groans, “Not so upset now are you? If it was dick you wanted, you could’ve just said so.” He adds, “fuck, eres una belleza.”

You couldn’t even snap back. With this he flipped you over and spread your legs wide. Before you had the time to look down, his pink tongue was sliding through your folds eagerly.

“Miguel wait-“ you attempt breathlessly, but it was no good. He ate like he’s never eaten before: pushing his face between your thighs and wrapping the plush of them over his shoulders to press both palms on your abdomen. He shook his head sloppily, continuing regardless of your pleas.

The man wasn’t satisfied until the slick of you was dripping down his chin and coating his nose. Your back arched off the bed as you came, allowing those tears to fall in streams to your ears. Of course, he continued to slurp and suck and moan as you twist your hips in an escape to shake him off, but those muscles weren’t just for show. He only moved with you and gripped harder, almost taunting you, or giving you permission to try and escape from him. You couldn’t.

It wasn’t until you were pleading for him that he considered giving you mercy.

“MiguelMiguelMiguel- fuck! c-come off please,” you’d beg, accompanied by a futile effort to push his arms away. Like he was shaking his head no, he’d shake into you.

“mmphh.”

©️hxltic

i don’t speak spanish spare me

[junosmindpalace]

GEMINI BIRTHDAY BASH!

🎧 it's so sweet, knowing that you love me.

synopsis: celebrating their birthday...w/ the hq gemini men!

pairing(s): timeskip/present!hajime iwaizumi, koshi sugawara, shoyo hinata

content: references to 2024 dates but doesn't need to be strictly speaking (iwa's is more 2021), food (in suga's and hinata's), very short and brief angst(?), otherwise all fluff and fun!

total wc: 3.6k

a/n: it was my birthday a few days ago (june 17th) and i thought i would celebrate by writing for some gemini characters! i know shoyo is a cusp but i wanted to write him too </3 also this was my first time creating a graphic please be nice i am aware its a little plain </33

HAJIME IWAIZUMI: JUNE 10TH

The clock in your living room reads 11:55 in the evening; Hajime’s birthday is five minutes away. 

You both have work in the morning, so you should be in bed sound asleep. Everything has been done as normal; the whole nighttime routine of eating dinner (that you insisted on making) together, showering, brushing your teeth. Except instead of completing the routine by cozying up in bed, you’re cozying up on your living room couch, the light in the kitchen on, and the blue light from the TV keeping your tired eyes in a trance. 

Hajime’s arm is lazily outstretched over your shoulders, your fingers intertwined with the hand that dangles beside your head. His other arm is bent sideways on the couch pillow, head against his fist as he watches through bleary eyes the movie in front of him. Though your eyes are trained on the action on the TV, your ears don’t process the mumbling that pairs with it, too engrossed in your low conversation about each others’ day. 

“—and Hinata wanted something more to do for himself, so I’ll be reviewing his progress and seeing what I can do. Seriously, the guy is a monster at times. Sometimes it’s hard to believe I’m really looking at him, with how far he’s come since his high school days.”

“They all seem to be of another caliber now,” you replied somewhat drowsily, yet no less engaged.

“They’re intense, that’s for sure,” he sighs, bringing his head to rest behind the cushion and leaning closer toward your own. “But they’ve always been like that.” 

He’s completely unaware of the time and date approaching as he drones quietly about the day he’s had. He notices, on occasion, your glances up at the wall where your clock was located, and thought you were anxious to get to sleep.

“Hey,” he nudges your knee with his own. “you wanna head to bed?”

“Hm? No, no, not yet. Keep talking, I wanna hear.” 

Upon your insistence, he obliged reluctantly, resuming his chatter for a little while longer as you hum and nod. 

He feels comfortable like this, with your head against his chest, body snuggled close to his side, the low hum of the TV, the dim light. He, for a moment, finds his eyes gently closing unconsciously. You wait for him to continue his explanation at a pause, but are only met with the quietness of the TV. A slight stir prompts Hajime’s eyes to open immediately, and he shifts a little as he takes in your face, peering up at him through small eyes.

“Haji.”

“Mm?”

“You sleeping?”

“M’not.”

You placed a hand on his chest as you turned your body to look at the clock. It now reads 12:04 in the morning. You rub your eyes and reach for the phone on the coffee table in front of you, and when it blinks to life, it blinds you with the time and the new date.

June 10. 

“Ugh, put that away,” Hajime groaned as he turned away from the straining light on your phone, lolling his head to the other side against the couch cushion. You quickly slid it back onto the table, and then collapsed again against your boyfriend’s chest, hugging his middle tightly and digging your chin into his chest as you looked up at him with a wide smile.

“Happy birthday, Haji.” 

His eyes reopen slightly, and he angles his head toward the clock to view the time for himself: 12:05. 

He tucks his chin in so he meets your gaze and the sweet, tired smile on your face, and finds one of his own, tired yet tender, slowly propping up the apples of his cheeks. So that’s why you had been eyeing the clock, all for him and his silly birthday. Of course it would be you who remembers his birthday before he even does. You were sweet and thoughtful in that way.

“So that’s why you wanted to stay up a little longer, huh?” His tone is a faux annoyance for only a moment before his arm around your shoulders curls a little tighter in endearment, and he knocks his forehead against yours, gently and playfully, as you let out a short giggle at the gesture. “Thank you, baby.”

“What do you wish for?”

“To get some rest,” he yawned as he pulled away, going to sit up from the couch. 

“Why would you say that? Now it won’t come true!”

Your weight on his lap and arms now thrown around his neck anchored him to the couch. He gives you a deadpan look as a hand finds its way rubbing gently up and down your lower back, while the other slowly snakes itself under your legs.

“Oh, I’ll make it come true.” 

You squeal when he sits up and scoops you up in one swift motion, and you throw your head back in quiet laughter as he walks the two of you to your bedroom. 

“Haji, you know, it's your birthday. I should be the one carrying you.”

He snorts, and shakes his head. “ It’s my birthday, right? I get to do what I want.” 

KOSHI SUGAWARA: JUNE 14TH

Sugawara was dejected when he realized he had to work on his birthday.

As if the universe was taunting him, this year it fell right on a Friday, just one day off from the weekend. 

If he were honest, however, it wasn’t too much of a bother. He mentally groaned about it the evening before and morning of, but all in all, his birthday was a fleeting thought in his mind. Work and everyday busyness replaced the thought with lesson plans and mental preparedness to handle a classroom of young children after an exhausting week. 

He hoped, at the very least, however, that you would recognize the oddness of the day, do a little something to acknowledge it. Maybe a small cake or a nice breakfast. Maybe a little present. Hell, just a small, intimate murmur of a happy birthday accompanied with a sweet kiss would elevate his heart. Yet every time he looked on at you, you were preoccupied with preparing yourself for work, just as Suga was. No fancy breakfast was prepared, no gift sat on the table by the door, and the only kiss he was able to snag was a hurried one on the cheek as you wished him a good day, and headed out the door and into your car. 

So Suga’s birthday was not off to a great start. 

But again, it’s only a birthday. He almost feels a little dumb, getting all worked up over it, especially as an adult. So he makes the most out of the day as he always does with his kids and their lively attitudes, plus the wind down time and lack of work reserved for Friday’s brightens his special day from the dejected morning he experienced earlier.

Little did your boyfriend know of the plans you had in store for him.

As humble as Sugawara attempted to be about his birthday, you knew that he liked having it acknowledged. He was appreciative of any and all kind birthday gestures, from simple greetings to thoughtful presents. And you wanted your present for him to be thoughtful. Memorable. Surprising, exciting, and able to convey the sheer amount of affection you hold for him, though you doubted that any gesture could entirely convey such a thing. But your mission this year was to sure try.

You had taken the day off to get everything under way. Pick up a nice cake you ordered a few days before, with Suga’s favorite flavor of icing and batter, along with a neat and heartfelt Happy Birthday written on top in cursive. 

Once the cake was tucked away in your fridge, your next stop was a party store. Perhaps you may have overdone it with the decorations, you had thought to yourself when you examined your two (full) shopping bags as you walked back to your car, but there was just so much to choose from, and you were sure Suga would like it all! Banners, balloons of impressive and wacky sizes and shapes, streamers, confetti, party poppers; you couldn’t pass up a single thing, not when you imagined his enthusiasm over each one. 

Your final stop was for restocking on foods and drinks. Besides the cake, you bought a couple of bottles of fancy alcohol (the one’s he’ll often eye and make fun of how posh they sound), a couple of his favorite snacks and beverages, and the like. 

By the time Suga arrived home from work, he’s exhausted, yet somehow invigorated by the idea of seeing you. He lets himself into the house with his key, letting out a tired I’m home, heart picking up when he spots your shoes neatly organized in the genkan, and joins his own beside them as he pads further into your home toward an alluring smell. 

The light is low in your living room. It’s enveloped in a yellow glow compared to the blinding bright white that startles him awake and strains his tired eyes in the morning. The first thing that comes into his line of sight, besides you, already in comfortable clothing with your back turned and managing something on the table in front of you, is a neat and beautiful cake on the coffee table in front of your couch. 

Your living room is full of more animated color than usual; batches of balloons occupy the corners and a few are scattered, some hovering aimlessly, on your floor. A Happy Birthday banner hangs from above the threshold into the room. Suga, once the initial shock and surprise wore off and was able to fully comprehend that it was all for him, felt that he may burst into tears. 

You hurriedly turned around upon sensing a new presence in the living room, and gasped when it was none other than your boyfriend, briefcase in hand, and staring dumbfounded at you and the sight of your decorated living room.

“Ko! I didn’t expect you to be home this soon!”

“Traffic was sparse.” He managed to get out past the lump in throat, but once he realized how stupid he appeared, he shook his head in an attempt to feign nonchalance. “So! What is, uh…what’s all this?” 

Your brows shot up, and you gave him an exasperated smile before walking over to him. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” you said slyly, wrapping your arms around his neck, with Suga immediately reciprocating with a hand to your back. “I was still setting up some stuff because I was under the impression that I still had some time before you came home.”

“Oh, so you wanted me to get stuck in traffic, is that it?” He teases in a faux annoyed tone, but it’s quickly betrayed by the smile that immediately stretches back over his face. 

“In this instance, yes!” You laughed, grinning yourself when he began to pepper kisses all over your neck and face, curling his arm around your waist to keep you secure against him. You laughed breathlessly through the assault, attempting to push away the ticklish sensation. But Suga’s energy had just been replenished fully, and his heart elevated the highest it ever could. 

“It’s perfect, all of it. Thank you.” he halts his assault to mutter against your skin through his lovesick smile, and it brings a grin to your own lips as you bring him in for one final kiss on his lips, one he immediately attempts to deepen. 

“Okay, okay,” you laugh as you pull away when he whines and chases after your lips. “Now that you’re here, let’s sing!”

He laughs too, letting you drag him further into your living room, abandoning his briefcase by the wall as he sat himself down on your couch, and you came over with the lighter you were previously fiddling with to light the candles on the small cake. 

All he could think about as you sang to him enthusiastically was how giddy he felt, and how lucky he was that he was spending his birthday in such a manner with you. And when he blew out his candles, the wish at the forefront of his mind was to spend many more birthdays with you in this manner

(and maybe a new car). 

Even as you shooed him into the bathroom to change into more comfortable clothes as you cut yourselves slices to enjoy by the TV, and afterward retreated to bed, he muttered, “I’m still mad that you tricked me, by the way.” as the two of you closed your eyes.

Which earned him a swat to the chest. 

SHOYO HINATA: JUNE 21ST

Shoyo absolutely cannot deny the fact that he’s had a great birthday since the moment the sun rose in the sky.

His special day began with an influx of texts and calls from family and friends to wish him a happy birthday, and use the opportunity to catch up with him. Nearly every moment of his morning was taken up by a different phone call that he took as he prepared himself for the training he had that day. When he arrived at the training center, his team immediately pounced on him, greeting him with enthusiastic cheers and a round of singing. 

And while he can almost say his birthday was perfect, with all the texts and calls he received and the thoughtful birthday treatment, his one and only regret was the fact that you weren’t there to celebrate with him.

His birthday this year happened to coincide with travel for upcoming tournaments, which unfortunately meant that you wouldn’t be celebrating alongside him in person. But just because you weren’t there in the flesh to hug him tight and sing loudly in his ear, it didn’t prevent you in the slightest from doing whatever you could virtually to make him feel good on his special day. 

At least, he had hoped it wouldn’t.

He had picked up your call eagerly on the day of his birthday, and grinned from ear to ear as you sang to him loudly and exaggeratedly. When you finished your song and exchanged all your morning pleasantries, to his absolute dejectment, you had informed Shoyo with a guilty tone that you would be unable to call or text for the majority of the day. 

“I’m sorry, Sho, something suddenly came up for work, and I’m going to be swamped. I’ll call you tonight, I promise!”

The disappointment he felt was tremendous, yet he easily covered it up with an understanding nod and reassuring words that he’d stay up to catch your call. It wasn’t like he was really expecting your schedule to be free the entire day so he can call and text whenever. Besides, he was miles away from you; it would be selfish for him to expect that your schedule would be all free for him when his wasn’t. 

So Shoyo made the most out of his birthday without you, and there wasn’t a moment where he wasn’t grinning. Enjoying delicious meals, being on the receiving end of all sorts of enthusiasm,  excitement and birthday traditions from friends, family, colleagues and fans alike; each kind birthday gesture lifted his heart to Cloud 9. 

The day concluded, after practice in the training facility when the sun began to die out in the sky, with Shoyo’s team insisting that they treat him to a celebratory dinner at some nice restaurant with some excellent international cuisine, allowing him to get a small taste of home. And Shoyo’s stomach was starting to churn, and it wasn’t like he was about to pass up a free meal…

The company took cramped spots in a booth inside the restaurant, bringing a few spare chairs to form a full circle around the large, polished wooden table jutting out from the wall. The setting sun meant that there was still some time before the restaurant could anticipate a more busy dining area.

Shoyo was spoiled with trays of meat, bowls of rice, and all sorts of other cuisine that he sampled from the plates of his colleagues. By the time the sun had nearly fully disappeared beneath the horizon, each one of their appetites was satiated, full and content with their meals.

As if Shoyo’s birthday couldn’t get any better so late into the day, it was about to become complete in the most unexpected and perfect way imaginable. Though the team was full, they could spare the appetite for a dessert, the most fitting conclusion for a birthday: because what’s a birthday without a cake? 

Shoyo’s team accompanied him home with eager conversation, yet strange occasional whispers among themselves. Perhaps all the celebration was all a little too much? 

When they arrived in a large group by his front door, Shoyo took notice of poorly hidden sly smiles and eager eyes from the teammates across from him, exchanging them among themselves as he fiddled with his keys. 

He’s the first to step inside the dark room, calling out to nobody in particular an I’m home!, as was routine for him to do. His heart suddenly stops, however, when he hears a voice answer. 

“Welcome back!”

His teammates burst out into chuckles and giggles. “Ah, it looks like our dessert is here!” One of them nodded his head toward the living room. 

When Shoyo makes his way reluctantly further into his apartment, initially confused, his furrowed brows immediately relax when he turns on the overhead light, and he feels as though the breath had been stolen from his lungs and hitched in his throat. 

At first, he thinks that perhaps he’s gotten a little homesick being without you, his special person, on his special day. He’d been thinking of you in intervals at every peak of his day. Surely now his exhaustion is crashing down on him, making him see things?

But your eager grin and short laughter as you took in his shocked expression tells him otherwise. You were here, in the flesh, standing right before him--

He all too suddenly finds himself squeezing you tight in his arms, and you immediately reciprocate with one hand coming around his neck, collective aww’s and teasing ew’s going round at the affectionate sight.

“Hold on there, Shoyo, the cake!” 

He quickly steps away when he suddenly feels an object collide gently with his side, and he only partially lets you go as he steps back to look at a box you were holding in your other hand. You grinned at him. 

“Surprise!”

He doesn’t dare let go of your hand even when you set the cake down and urge him to take a seat on his couch, taking an electronic candle you had bought on your way to his apartment and placing it at the very center. His entire team begins to sing to him once more as they crowd around him on the couch and around the table, this time with you joining in standing beside him, and his smile feels almost painful with the way it doesn’t falter for a second. 

When the song ends, a round of cheers go around the table, and you remove the candle to place it in a napkin. You turn toward each other, and you place a hand on his shoulder as you lean down to give him a kiss on his temple and mumble a more quiet, personal happy birthday. 

And just as he was about to lean over to capture your lips in an enthusiastic kiss, let thank you after thank you fall from his lips for such a grand surprise, all for him, you grabbed hold of his head, turned it back toward the cake, and shoved his face right into the center of it. 

Gasps and cheers alike went around the table, and the rest of his team laughed at the bold and sudden gesture. He could hear your own soft laughter as his face gradually emerged from the cake, and the shrills and hollers from his teammates grew louder as they took in the sight of the icing and chunks of cake sticking to various sides. They continued to bark out laughter as he wiped the chunks away from his eyes, staring at them on his fingertips before turning toward you, hiding a smile behind your hand as you mouthed over it an I'm sorry.

Shoyo rose silently halfway from his seat, leaned over toward you, and before anyone could properly call on what he was about to do, smeared the cake on his hands onto your own face, and a new wave of audible surprise and amusement went around the table.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

“I hear you, Shoyo,” one of his teammates hovered over his seat as he took a large chunk of the cake with his bare hands, and immediately smeared it onto his colleague beside him. “You look better like this, anyway.”

The table erupted into chaos, with the remainder of the unassualted teammates running away from the assault. 

“Quick, scatter, before they get us too!” 

“Oh, you aren’t escaping that easily!” 

Running, breathless laughter, and shrills of alarm rang out in a chaotic symphony throughout the apartment, but amidst the chaos, only you and Shoyo remained by the couch side by side, hunched over laughing at each other’s ruined faces. Despite the ruined cake, the madness in his home, and the icing running down your faces, Shoyo’s heart thrums with love and happiness, and he steps forward to cup your cool cheeks and halt your giggles by capturing your lips in a deep and (literally) sweet kiss. 

Now, perhaps, Shoyo could say his birthday was perfect.

return to masterlist.

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

bully

pair: Draco Malfoy x reader summery: y/n (she/her) tries to take her life after Draco bullies her, but little does she know the reason of the bullying is for him to hide his actual feelings for her.

masterlist | navigation

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The corridors of Hogwarts echoed with the usual clamor of students racing between classes. Draco Malfoy, eyes narrowed and expression fixed in an aloof scowl, stalked down the hall. His gaze frequently flicked towards the classroom doors, a hint of unease underlying his otherwise indifferent demeanor. He noticed, not without a trace of irritation, that Y/N wasn’t in Potions class today.

She was a Slytherin, like him, with a fierce intelligence and quiet confidence that drew him to her in ways he couldn't admit, even to himself. But instead of confronting his feelings, he had taken a different route—one of veiled hostility. Draco's jabs and snide remarks had become routine, a mask for the turmoil that brewed within him.

As Potions class ended, Draco hesitated outside the door, glancing at the empty corridors. He should have felt triumphant that another one of his barbs had landed, but today was different. Today, the absence of Y/N tugged at him in a way he couldn’t ignore.

He needed to find out where she was. Without hesitation, he stormed towards Professor Snape’s office. The hallways seemed unusually empty, a ghostly silence amplifying his anxiety.

“Professor Snape,” Draco said abruptly as he entered the office. Snape looked up from his desk, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy?” Snape's voice was a low rumble.

“Y/N wasn’t in class today,” Draco said, his voice betraying a hint of urgency he hadn’t intended. “Do you know where she is?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “I believe she’s in the Hospital Wing. She was found in a distressing state this morning.”

Draco’s heart raced. “What happened?”

Snape’s expression softened, just a fraction. “It’s not my place to discuss the details. You may want to speak to Madame Pomfrey.”

Without another word, Draco bolted towards the Hospital Wing. Each step felt heavier than the last, his mind a maelstrom of dread and guilt. He burst through the doors and found Madame Pomfrey tending to a patient. Her face turned grim as she saw him.

“She’s been unconscious since this morning,” Madame Pomfrey said softly, her hands steady but her voice heavy with concern. “She tried to—”

“No,” Draco interrupted, his voice breaking. “Don’t say it.”

Madame Pomfrey’s eyes were filled with an unspoken sympathy. “She was in a very dark place. She’s receiving treatment now, but the emotional wounds run deep.”

Draco’s legs felt like lead as he approached the bed where Y/N lay, pale and unmoving. He took in her delicate features, twisted in an expression of pain even in unconsciousness. The sight was unbearable, and the realization of his role in her suffering struck him like a physical blow.

His heart pounded as he sank into a chair beside her bed, feeling the crushing weight of guilt. If only he hadn’t been so cruel, so blinded by his own insecurities. The anger he had directed at her had masked his true feelings, but now he saw it clearly—his actions had pushed her to the brink.Hours ticked by as Draco sat by her side, the hospital’s sterile smell mixing with the bitterness of regret. Madame Pomfrey and other staff moved about quietly, giving him space to process the enormity of what had happened.

When Y/N finally stirred, her eyes fluttering open, Draco was there, his face etched with anguish and something akin to hope. Her gaze met his, and she seemed to recognize him, though her expression was a mix of confusion and pain.

“I’m so sorry,” Draco whispered, his voice cracking. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Y/N’s eyes held a fleeting softness, but words failed her as she drifted back to sleep. Draco remained, vowing silently to be better, to make amends in ways he could never fully express. He knew the road to redemption was long, but for the first time, he understood the depth of his own faults and the true meaning of regret.

In the dim light of the Hospital Wing, Draco Malfoy sat in the silent company of his own remorse, a boy learning the hard lesson of love and consequence.

[soapels]

but my hair smells of war

simon “ghost” riley x female reader

tw: nsfw, mutual pining, size kink (i guess?), reader is a jittery virgin, soft! ghost, lovey! ghost, but there’s an overall dark, forlorn theme, (angst??) slight paranoia, 18+ characters

notes: my first cod fic ever :,) bear with me here while i learn to navigate the characterizations! anyways the title is really inspired by that quote by warsan shire! do tell if you enjoyed & let me know who you’d like to see next (^_^)’’ (soap + konig brainrot is REAL lately…)

all hearts and reblogs are very appreciated!

Just outside the safehouse, crickets chirp.

It’s a pleasant backdrop to the otherwise quiet area of the stables, hay so itchy it even manages to prickle at your skin through the thick fatigues, slivers of the moon filtering in through the windows.

It’s been a long day, you’d seen awful things again (and you know this is just your call of duty but bloodshed- no matter how repetitive- never gets old, never gets easy), and up until around fifteen minutes ago, you were still on the run outside, tired; veins pumped to the hilt with adrenaline, (sometimes you wonder if these levels are healthy) and admittedly quite fearful (that never gets old either).

The path you’ve chosen is frightening at the best of times.

But now you can rest. Even if just for a moment, even if sleep comes seldom or you have to beckon it until closer to sunrise- even if tomorrow, when you return to the battle and the chaos and the ever-changing future, you won’t make it out alive.

There’s some quiet chatter in the safehouse, unconsciousness to you is like nirvana and nirvana is rare, near unobtainable, but you can vaguely make out the low rumble of Ghost’s voice, and more clearly- the lighthearted quips of Soap- and it oddly puts you at ease. Nudges you along to that inviting darkness, bones so pleasantly weak and ready for that nothingness, even if the hay is uncomfortable and you’re sure at least a spiderweb or two is lurking somewhere above in the rafters (because it’s just too dim to see, and the wooden beams block most of the moonlight from here).

You’ve never trusted Graves. (What’re you thinking? Go to sleep.) …Not entirely, at least, and the Shadows are up to no good lately- you don’t know this for sure, to be honest you’ve said no peep of your niggling qualms- but you feel it from deep within that something’s… wrong.

Or maybe it’s paranoia, maybe, most-certainly, it’s just that warrior disease settling in. It’s dark out, and you’re exhausted, and your heart always feels so laden when you’re all alone and the gunfire ceases. That’s why these awful thoughts creep in on you, you convince yourself, lashes fluttering as you approach a hopefully pleasant dream. That’s why your mind sabotages you like this.

Your comrades aren’t enemies- don’t shut them out. No one fights alone. (And now, the last thought you have before drifting off completely, is oddly of Ghost, and how his voice would rasp as he said those familiar words, and the way the foreboding skull of his mask shifts when he speaks. And that damned glow of his eyes, haunting… strangely-beautiful, whenever they flicker over to you. So cold yet distant too, like an iceberg peeking above a frozen tide, silent but fatal if you’re not careful enough to steer clear of it. They don’t call him Ghost for no reason, though you think Simon Riley is a rather befitting name too- because if he had to have one, if he had to be real, then that’d be it.)

And you’re almost there, a warm fuzziness within- so vague and shapeless as you fade from reality- almost to that quiet bliss. One of the things you learned over the taxing span of your military years- sleep is by no means a small luxury.

There’s a shuffling beside you. Faint, ever so slight. Shouldn’t be enough to wake you. But it is. It’s enough to have your eyelids flying open, all exhaustion crumbling away as you—

“Shh, sergeant,” a gruff voice hushes, and recognition clicks. “It’s me,” he’s stood at the edge of the bale, which is frankly closer than you anticipated, propping his gun against a beam before sitting himself down. You swear you feel his body heat as the backside of his thick fatigues brush against your thigh, instinctively drawing your legs closer to give him more room.

Partially confused, very caught off guard, and admittedly a bit flustered, you blink away from him, his silhouette brimmed with the pale, conniving moon as you muster up a coherent response.

“Ghost,” is all you manage to breathe. But he seems to be fine with that, those dark, untelling eyes regarding you cooly as your knuckles sheepishly brush away exhaustion from your lashes.

“Sorry, did-… are we off already?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head softly, and even his gravelly voice has dipped into something gentler, not as harsh around the edges. To see Ghost like this- so unguarded (not entirely, never, but it’s still surprising)- comrade or not, is… different, to say the least. Not in a bad way, quite the opposite. Still.

“Get some rest …Didn’t mean to wake ya.” His whisper is calming; you trust him fully, wholly, you think if he asked for your life right now you’d give it to him. Easily. Without falter. Because despite it all, his rough exterior, his sometimes-lethal temper and his unforthcoming behavior towards others, you know he’d do the same.

(He’s killed for you. Save you too many times to count.)

The crickets and cicadas thrum, but despite it all- the soothing wildlife outside and the soft rustling of hay as across the stable, Soap situates himself for the night- you’re focused on the man sat beside you, not even a foot away as he regards you almost absently. (But you’ve learned that nothing about Ghost is absent.)

And you want to listen to him, belatedly settling your head down on the bale, you really do, but there’s just something off in the air as those deep-chestnut eyes sweep over you; relaxed, too relaxed, almost as if nobody was behind them (but you know that to be false, too), a peculiar, unfamiliar drawl to them as he appraises you.

You’re dusted pale, feathered with the moon like the stars stepped down to personally kiss you, and Ghost watches you for a second more, your fluttering lashes- making no move to close- your lips, the slope of your cheek and the curls of hair framing your face- and his black skull balaclava shifts.

“Sleep, sergeant.”

“I don’t think I can,” you murmur, so quiet and faint, yet your voice manages to resonate with him regardless. It earns a halfhearted snort from him.

“Haven’t even tried, have ya?”

Maybe there’s a sliver of jest there.

You take the opportunity to make a harmless tease at him, a sweet little smile carving into your cheeks, “Well, I almost succeeded until you came along.”

His silence isn’t rewarding, but you both know you’re right, and a heavy question weasels its way into your mind. And you know he can sense it, that unspoken thickness as your lids battle exhaustion, and you also understand that Ghost doesn’t appreciate dishonesty- or a lack of divulgence where it’s due.

So you ask him.

“There was… something you wanted? If you want me to do something-“ maybe you should be embarrassed, how quick you are to jump the gun if it meant helping your Lieutenant, “I-I’ll do it. I will.”

(How are you still so sweet? After all you’ve seen? Why aren’t you hardened? Why are you the bunny in all the places wherein he’s the wolf? How is it that you still manage to glow, even when you very well might be teetering on the precipice of an untimely, surely-brutal death? Simon doesn’t know. He doesn’t. He’s good at reading the room, digging into people’s minds- even the most fucked up ones, especially so- and finding out everything dark they’ve ever felt. With you it’s different. He often struggles to piece together a conclusion from just a smile you send him, wondering if there’s another layer to it. Stilling in his tracks whenever you laugh- so soft like you always do, pleasant like euphony- feeling something unbidden in his chest start to weigh.)

His chest puffs out a little at that, and he huffs low. And Ghost looks away from you, those umber eyes trailing out towards the window up above and somewhere behind you, and for a moment he just goes impossibly still, like a dog waiting for a sound, purposely searching for something there in the wilderness that doesn’t belong.

And you can’t help but feel like the two of you are somewhat out of place also, yet then again, if you were to think someone in the world had to share your loneliness with you, it’d be Ghost. Always. (Because you feel that you know him. He doesn’t have to say a word, his eyes say nothing, but simultaneously they scream everything too. All at once. All in one long wail.)

“No,” is all he says. All gruff and rasping. But soft too, somehow. A disinclined slump to his broad shoulders he only allows you and the team to be privy to (speaking of, Soap’s kneeing a few haybales together now, squishing them in so he’s got space to roll when he inevitably ends up stirring tonight)- but even then, it’s rare.

His eyes meets yours again, all shadows with a small, conniving highlight, brimmed with his balaclava.

“Scoot ova’.” he says it so simply, but your brain goes utterly blank for a fleeting moment.

His accent is quite thick- maybe you’ve lost yourself in it again, or fell too hard in the caramel pool of his eyes, or perhaps you’re just too tired to comprehend him right now- but once it clicks, you’re obedient to his wish. Right away.

The sound of clothes rustling fills the otherwise quiet atmosphere as you shimmy yourself all the way against the wall of hay to your side, letting Ghost- all big and tall- settle in beside you as you curl up to yourself. You’d burrow inside yourself if you could, face flushing warm as your Lieutenant’s body knocks and brushes against yours, and before you know it, the gentleness of shared breathing descends over you both as your noses point to the rafters. Dark, and silent. Comfortable, but at the same time not. A wordless dance of being convinced of your composure to having it singlehandedly ripped away whenever he made the faintest move beside you.

Ghost feels just slightly similar to drowning; just that cold world beneath the waves, hurtled into a murky tide, spun beneath turbulent waters. Uneasy, unsure of where the hell you are- only that you don’t know how you got in and you don’t know how to get out. Lungs aching, chest pouring…

But he feels like the merciful gasp of air when you finally resurface, too. That glimmer of hope, that split second thought of thank God I made it out alive as your chin thrashes over the ripples.

He’s the violent ocean and the life-ring thrown to you all at once. He is the silent chaos and he is the overwhelming relief- and he isn’t a kind man but the good side of him always seems to somehow win out.

“Ghost?” You breathe again. Not sure of even why, and your body quivers with sweat and nerves because Lieutenant’s so strong and he’s laying beside you (this isn’t even odd, this has happened before- sleeping with the team in cramped, awkward places that leave literally no room for complaints, but this time it felt different, like he was somehow closer).

His breaths even out in the pleasant air. And his silence could perhaps be welcoming on its own, but he deigns you with a reply anyway.

“What?” All gruff and low, thick yet- for you, now in the fall of night- gentle too. All Ghost.

(…But maybe partially Simon Riley, too, but you have trouble distinguishing two things when you’re hardly certain one even exists.)

“…” You chew on the words you want to say- or maybe you need to say them- but you don’t know what it is that sticks to your tongue like glue, and you’re rendered stupid, jaw-gaping, for a solid moment.

So you settle for simple. You settle for something good that will suffice, something pleasant and sweet but nothing that tiptoes too close to Ghost (you’re already close enough, and he did choose this bale with you, but still, you never know with him, and he’s not the sort of man you want to question).

“Goodnight.”

You’re sure he makes a soundless scoff at that. And for a splitsecond, you decide to take a peek over, because your stupid curiosity wins out and you just have to see him one last time before a permanent stillness ensues- sheepish hues darting over to his in the dimness—

“Night,” (you think you hear a scintilla of wry humor there) “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

—Only to find they’re already on you.

︻┳═一

The next time you and your Lieutenant are ‘forced’ to bunk together is closer to three weeks later, in a ratty shed by the river.

You turn away from Ghost just in time to miss him dragging out a body (finished him with a silencer, but it doesn’t matter anyway. his buddies wouldn’t have heard. his buddies are dead) as you awkwardly look around the decrepit place.

“Fix us up a place to call it a night, soldier.”

You’re quick to obey, chirping off an obedient yes sir as you take a few steps into the old storage shed.

It’s hard to see, and this time there’s not much moonlight to work with (when the door’s closed, it’ll go utterly dark), but with your scope’s flash you spot a disarray of pallets off to the corner, and you waste no time in hauling them together. You find a few cloths- puffy vests and discarded life-jackets, toss ‘em on the wood, and call it a cot.

“There we are,” you say with a smile when he inevitably walks in, door swinging shut as he does one last quick once-over before approaching.

“Good work,” (you hate the way your chest blooms at his simple praise; you’re a soldier, aren’t you? not some stupid schoolgirl) “Now let’s huddle up and kip down. Soap and the others cleared out the second field.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod curtly, fingers hesitating for a split second before you switch off the flash, the old shed blanketed in darkness as you set your rifle down and maneuver onto the makeshift bed (you weren’t complaining, though, you’ve both slept on far worse). Ghost follows in suit, his barely-clear silhouette lowering down onto the pallets with you, minding his muscle as he settles beside you.

…And for a while, it’s nice.

It doesn’t feel as awkward as it used to months- even just weeks, ago, yet still, sometimes you swear there’s an odd thickness to the air, an unprecedented drawl of tension that, like smoke, wisps by before dissipating. Like it was never there. (Yet the smell lingers, traces of something potent and simmering in your nostrils, caught in your clothes like gunpowder. Your hair smells of war and running, and Ghost smells so similar that it almost hurts, yet he’s more charred than you, you can feel it, and if you are a solider of team 141 than he is the bombs and shelter and war and relief.)

(No, perhaps he is the battlefield.)

That strange whiff of something close to vulnerability drifts in the space between you- wanting to say something, but having no words to offer, or maybe it’s a different feeling- like when you want to add something funny to the conversation, but it suddenly inches by and you’re left in your uncertainty, holding onto the joke with a tenuous grip. (Tenuous, yes, but you still want to say it, don’t you? You’re still looking for a window to speak your mind?)

And you’re sure Ghost can sense it too, because from beside you where he lies, he shifts just a bit more than usual, antsy and unable to find a comfortable position, his gear brushing against yours as you gnaw on the insides of your cheeks, feeling the same way.

“Lieutenant-“ “Sergeant-“

He turns over to you, and you see something in those dark eyes that glints as you glance over to him. His hues widen slightly, but whatever startle you thought you might’ve gleaned there flickers out and you’re once more left in the silence- this time, somewhat awkward, waiting for the other to break it.

You called him, and he called you. But now, neither of you return it.

Surprising perhaps the both of you, after what seems like forever passes and Ghost is the one to clear his throat, rasping out a quick, dismissive goodnight when your lips finally snap open to speak-

“G-Ghost—“

“Sleep, soldier. Tomorrow’ll be hell, and m’not carryin’ ya if y’legs give out.”

(He would. Of course he fucking would.)

︻┳═一

Soap and Ghost murmur for a bit with each other, tying off the threads of the last mission as you hesitantly approach. You don’t exactly remember Soap ever making it last night, but hours before sunrise you stirred in your slumber, and are now eighty-percent convinced you heard him settling in the otherwise quiet shed, exchanging a tired grunt or two with Ghost.

And it shouldn’t bother you. The men, you mean, because you’ve known them for months now, fought and bled and killed together, stuck to each other like glue as you endured all the shitty times and awful memories. But your fingers tighten around your rifle just that much more when you near, because Ghost is just so big and strong and the two mingle together for an unseemly yet fatal duo. (They’d never hurt you, never, and you know this damn well, but you’ve always had a shy nature and their respective sets of eyes never get any easier to stare at- you think sometimes you prefer the barrel of a gun over those sage, umber voids.)

Soap’s the first to spot you, those oceanic blues drifting over Ghost’s shoulder, rippling with what you suspect to be genuine mirth as you stop a foot short of the two.

“G’mornin’, sleepyhead,” he greets with a vaguely-boyish grin that sort of twinkles, eyes running over your dewy lashes, slightly-mussed hair and the crooked bend of your straps and gear bands. You smile sheepishly in lieu of a reply, giving him a tipsy little nod that his smile deepens at before your lips part open.

(And you’re afraid your voice will quiver or give out entirely when Ghost’s eyes, sunken beneath his skull mask- but just as haunting and intricate- snake over to you. But, thank God, it doesn’t.)

“Y-You got a spare ‘clava?”

Soap’s chest puffs and swells briefly when he scoffs halfheartedly, those gorgeous hues never slipping from yours for too long as he rests a hand along the butt of his pistol in his pocket, the other dipping back into the bag slung over his shoulders. (Big and broad, his build is similar to Lieutenant’s, but Ghost is taller and holds more mass. Both are purely muscle, though, all death and chaos- Soap’s just always been more friendly with his destruction, delivers it with a laugh or a pat on the back.)

“Y’embarrassed? Don’t think I’ve ever seen a bed head quite like y’rs, lass.” He says it with a playful chuckle, stepping forward (and his legs are long, he reaches you in an instant) and proffering the black mask out to you. You accept it with soft thanks, cheeks warm from embarrassment and perhaps some odd sort of pride as he ruffles your hair and smiles. Like, really smiles, the skin around his eyes wrinkling just slightly as he nods, “there y’are, lass,” he says, “we’ll all meet up back at base, yeah?”

“You’re leaving already?” You chirp highly, traces of dejection caught in your voice (aw, you sad he’s leaving? makes two of you), eyes all starry and confused as he toys with the straps of his vest and quirks his head to the side some. “‘Fraid so, got some loose ends to tie- won’t be long, promise.”

You accept his words with a small, silent nod, offering him a gentle, if not somewhat sleepy smile as he reaches a fist forward, knuckles you lightly on your collar, and belatedly brushes past you. The heels of his boots clip dully against the floor when he reaches the janky door of the shed, daylight weaseling in through the splits and cracks of the wooden walls. Bathing the three of you in a golden porridge of early morning and twittering birds and that odd emptiness of your stomach that always churns at around six o’clock.

With one last pleasant glance to Soap (his cerulean gaze seems to linger and corrode into you, somehow) you allow him to trade a simple goodbye with Ghost, wasting no more time in slipping the mask over your head as Johnny did the same. (Even in your head, it feels forbidden to call him that- only Ghost is allowed to- you don’t know why, but were never brave enough to beg the question.)

And he departs. And the once-comfortable silence betrays you and Ghost yet again.

Still, he turns over to you, letting the door shut, watching as you lower yourself onto the pallets and fix your shoelaces. (But your thumbs tremble, wrists twitching, nervous, like the task is foreign, like it’s not one of the simplest things you’ve ever done in this business of war.)

And those brown, all-seeing eyes sweep over you (you can feel it), those thick boots of his brushing over the dusty floor as he makes his way over.

Your hues collide with his, something off in the air- a calling, or a warning maybe, but it’s heavy and the look he meets you with just before he approaches plants a pit in your belly- frightful and needy- feeling so small and perfectly useless as it builds and builds and-

“Sergeant.”

“Yes?” Breathless without any good reason.

You wonder if he feels it, too. That weight in his tummy that buckles his knees, makes them knock together, dizzies his head. Makes his heart skip faster. But the thought is dismissed too quickly, because you’re certain it’s fear you feel, strong and overwhelming- too great a respect to label. And Ghost isn’t afraid, clammy palms have never been a part of his brand. He doesn’t hesitate.

Yet, now, that all seems like rubbish. Every preconceived idea of him you held withering away as Ghost does just what you knew he never would. His hand, all big and capable (stained with blood, too) hesitates.

But this time- unlike all those sleepless nights where you felt skin brush against yours unbidden, his eyes burning against your quiet profile as his fingers contemplated over your face- it reaches you. Fulfills what it wanted to for a long time coming.

And now you’re breathless for an entirely different reason. “Ghost,” you whisper, so thin it might break- and your voice does shake, like a leaf in the wind. There’s something in his eyes, you notice, as they trail along you, his large palm swallowing up your cheek, gloved fingertips eroding the thin fabric over your skin in the best way possible.

Every lick of pain comes with a spark of pleasure, a needy, gentle ache masquerading as limitless fear.

(But those deep-brown eyes know no limits.)

“You afraid of me?” Ghost is a lot of things. But now you have a niggling, loud feeling that who you’re gaping back at now isn’t he or his mask, but rather what’s beneath it.

You shakily stand, maybe to grasp the illusion of having some control over yourself, or perhaps just to get closer to the door if you wanted to make some stupid excuse to leave. “Simon- I-“

He cuts you off with a low huff, but it sounds more like a groan than anything else- all displeased yet thrilled all at once. It shuts you up. It paralyzes you. (Barely keeping your gaze on his simmering one, you want to lie on your fucking back, and for the life of you, you don’t know why.)

When he says nothing, just continues regarding you with that weird fucking look (it’s not bad- it’s good, you think, but terrifying too) and lets his hand finally slip off your cheek, you try again.

“Simon,” (Simon hears you swallow, watches your throat bob, all tender where he’s cold, soft where he’s covered in jagged heaps of ice) “I- W-We should go.”

Ghost takes a pensive moment to respond.

“We don’t even got our mission yet, do we?”

Your confusion must be palpable, brows pinching together in a cute little knot that has his belly doing backflips as your eyes sparkle up at him. There’s an odd twinkle to his own, broad chest swelling out for a bit longer than a breath should as your lips part open.

“We-…” (f-fuck, just speak, soldier!) “We’re meeting everyone at base, yes?”

Earning no response from him, and the silence quickly killing you- you add:

“I- I thought we… Were meeting up, all of us.”

He grunts at that, low and quiet. And you look up at him like he owns the world, like there’s nobody else in it but him, and your eyes are starry and so unapologetically warm that it burns him from the inside out. His chest aches, he’s wanted you for too long a time to not act on it, to not do something about it, but for once in a very long time, Simon’s… afraid.

Or maybe uneasy is the better word, because he doesn’t want to hurt you, he’s so big and you’re so small and sometimes he worries that if he were to touch you without gloves on, you’d wither completely.

He’s used to that game. His kisses are gunpowder. His love is death, he believes it because he’s seen it. Everywhere. All the time.

But he can’t help it, not now. Not when he’s got you all alone and it’s like the birds chirping outside are telling him to fucking do something already- and Simon knows if he doesn’t make a move, someone else will. They’ll swoop in and steal you away, scoop you off your feet and treat you like a princess- the only way you ever should be- and you’ll be happy and smiling and so fucking far from him.

Safe.

…But maybe he’s selfish. He knows he’s not all that good, he wasn’t made to love or be loved- he is a product of war and brokenness and an endless cycle of pain- but maybe you can be his good thing.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters beneath his breath, “take it off.”

“What-“

“Show me your face.”

(Hah. How ironic; when every soul in the military who’s ever crossed him has wanted to say the same damn thing, but always balked before they could because his eyes alone are killer enough.)

His voice is a little rougher now, your brain registers it as an order, so with a shaky, uncertain hand, you peel off your balaclava and hold it awkwardly in your lap. And your hair’s quite messy from a wakeful night, and your skin glows ever so slightly from sweat and sleep and smeared gunpowder and your pulse is so rapid you fear it may explode.

You want to hide from him.

But, catching both of you by surprise, Simon leans in, one hand raking up his mask- stealing a blurry glimpse of his mouth- and captures your lips in his. And he doesn’t let you hide.

Run, either; he slots his hulking body up against yours, kneeling down on the wooden pallets as he lowers you atop them, making it physically impossible to wrest yourself away if he really wanted you to stay.

(And he really wants you to stay. Fuck.)

You gasp into the kiss, eyes instinctively screwing shut because you’re so fucking embarrassed and your legs feel heavy and your bones’ve gone to jelly because Simon is so big and strong and perfect and his lips are on yours.

“Simon,” you were going for a half-rebuttal, a plea for a moment to grasp just what the hell was happening. But you make a pathetic sound closer to a moan instead, all frail and cute as you whine his given name, and it makes his pants feel that much tighter, exchanging a groan into your mouth as he holds you beneath him.

And his grip is sort of awkward, you think, like he’s made the split-second decision to go all in but now he’s worried he fucked things up and you’ll end up hating him. So his tongue prods against your soft lips, hesitant, and his long lashes occasionally brush against your cheekbone, but he ultimately pulls away.

Like the recoil of a gun; sharp, sudden. There’s a blip of panic there, of what the hell did I just do. But there’s no regret. Because in Simon’s head, it had to be done- else he would’ve crumbled, else your smile would steadily become torture and someone else would’ve done it.

Your eyes are still shut when silence falls over the rundown shed and you feel the tip of his nose carve almost awkwardly in the juncture of your neck. Because you’re afraid. Because your tummy is burning and so is your face, your heart, too. Because there’s still a little unreasonable part of you that, despite feeling his lips brush against your collar, is scared that when you open them, he’ll be staring back at you- mask rucked up and all- genuinely Simon- and you don’t want to see his face if he doesn’t want you to.

“I should stop,” he murmurs into your neck. “I should stay away.” And it almost feels like it’s all over now, the fucked-up calm after the storm. The residual smoke and death on the battlefield- the smell of gunfire and metal. Water under the bridge—

“But that’d be hell.”

And he pulls the trigger again. Those lips, cold as bullet shells, colliding with yours once more. Nipping, and all tongue with the occasional clash of teeth, but it feels so fucking good and you realize with a spark of dismay that you don’t want it to stop.

Never.

“Simon,” and you’re chanting it now, all teary-eyed, lashes thick with pleasure as his mouth descends upon you, his deft fingers already working at tearing off your clothes- straps unbuckling, gear clinking softly as it rolls off the pallets and onto the floor.

Fear- respect- or whatever the hell you’ve always felt for Ghost- bleeds into something closer to… love, you think, and your chest is swelling by the time his gloved fingertips reach there, gliding over your bare skin. And you glow in the golden streaks of young sun, flesh soft and too fucking inviting to pass up on.

(He doesn’t.)

Simon leans away, then, and you dare open your eyes at the lost contact, the lower half of his face bathed in a dim-yellow, his balaclava clinging midway up the bridge of his nose. And within the cage of the printed skull (iconic and terrifying, sort of like batman- an omen of evil’s bane on the way), his brown hues glint, all hazy- far from sober as they sweep over you.

Flickering; giving out; flickering. Burning, and then lessening, sparking like a broken fuse before it becomes so hot you feel you may wither beneath him-

“Gorgeous,” he breathes.

And he’s on you again, tongue laving at your neck and chest, one hand kneading a tender breast while he takes a nipple in his mouth and sucks. You whimper; his cock throbs; he made the impromptu decision just as Soap left that he’d bring you to ruin, and his plans haven’t changed at all.

“I need you, Simon,” you confess, because you do. You need him, you’re sure of it. On the battlefield, on base, on any fucking mission you’re given. You need him above you and on you and inside you.

(Fuck, you want him inside, you want him everywhere. In the mushy, warm crevice between your ribcages and now, between the river of your thighs. Now now now—)

There’s a screech of a zipper. It jams, but he’s impatient and dislodges it quickly, flimsy metal snapping as he shrugs off some of the weight and tugs down his pants.

And, goodness, it’s big.

Flushed red at the tip, angry and twitching as he drags you in by your hips, appraising you with this simmering, foggy look that has your legs quietly splitting. But Simon’s big all over, and you’ve always known him to be stronger (so much stronger), so when he slots himself up with your core, murmurs out a string of reassurances and fuckin’ beautiful’s, you lie back and let him take you.

You, that pretty, sopping cunt, and your virginity.

And as he deflowers you (there’s a dull, hot pain, he’s so big and thick- it hurts- but he folds himself over you and hushes you and tells you it’s okay), you think he takes your heart, too. (If he didn’t already have it.)

When the sting subsides and he realizes you’re not sniffling into his shoulder anymore, he bumps up the speed, entering a controlled, careful pace, the wood jostling beneath you as he fucks and breaks and loves you.

“Please,” you beg, “give it to me.”

“Am, darlin��,” he rasps at your ear, an echo of a high-pitched sigh there. “Giving ya everything I’ve got… And you’ll fuckin’ take it, yeah?”

When you nod and tighten up around him, those velvet walls sucking him in like a perfect vice, and pair it with a mewling yes, Simon, something in his lower abdomen clutches. A pit forming there already, all hot and pleasant as your pussy overwhelms him, beckons him further in until he’s hitting deep deep deep and a pale-pink is oozing between your legs, traces of your blood caught on his pelvis as he gives it to you. Everything. All of it.

Every piece of him, every bad memory and gentle kiss on his forehead, every grey cloud and good grade and bout of death- he stuffs it all inside you. Buries his hate and love there, cock grazing your womb as he thinks about the one he came from, and all the shouting and cracked beer bottles and spatters of smoke and red on the field.

And you suddenly tighten up around him completely, eyes going wide as your mouth gapes with some unwarranted, foreign wave of pleasure.

“There y’are,” he grunts, half breathless and half utterly feral, brown voids enamored with the sight of you crumbling beneath him as his jaw falls open and his eyes roll back. All the way back, ‘til his lashes- pale in the morning sunshine- kiss the points of his cheekbones and he can’t hide the desperate groan he tries to stifle in the dip of your neck.

Gloved hands grasping at the soft fat of your hips, digging and unintentionally hurting, leaving purplish semi-circles behind as his hips stutter one last time.

And he paints you on the inside. Roots himself there. Cums with a murky moan of your name that claws itself into every vital part of your soul and refuses to let go. (You don’t want it to.)

And the longer you two lie there, bathing in the gold of early morning, the less inclined he feels to leave.

Your fingertips, delicate as snow, graze over his back, swollen lips tickling his jawbone and the side of his face as he pants into the arch of your neck.

And his nose nestles into your aura, the messy tresses and gentle wildlife of you, gloved hands marking up your hips. And Ghost thinks your hair smells of war, too.

[thedevilsoftruth]

Iniquitous ~ Loki x fem! reader

Summary: You are a maid for the royal family of Asgard, but little did you know of how much your prince really likes you.

Warning: Smut with plot? Heavy, heavy, smut. Filthy, rough sex. Arrogant, narcissistic Loki, Slight non con, Dom! Loki, Sadist Loki, knife play, blood mentions, heavy degrading ( Loki calls the reader a whore/slut ) over simulation, bondage, oral ( fem receiving) Loki being obsessed with the reader, drugging. Minors dni

This is the darkest thing I have ever written. The ending is actually really freaking sad, and I had the sitting in my drafts for so long because I just didn’t like it. Anyways, here she is, enjoy!

Word count: 6k || Read time: 20+ minutes

Gif from lokihiddleston

Night came down on Asgard with the full, bright moon above illuminating the dark sky. Loki wondered the halls of his " precious " home, the castle which resided the royal family including himself. Although he was King Odins son, he never felt as though his father or mother gave him the attention he truly desired. It was always his brother who seemed to be the favorite. It was always his brother who seemed to be blessed with the most luck. His brother was always in the league as for whoever would get the throne next. But when it came to Loki, it seemed all he brought to the table was chaos and mischief, always fighting with his brother over anything.He truly thought he wasn’t able to meet anyone who seemed to have the slightest care for him. Until you came to him. You were kind and gentle with him, you were the only person who really seemed to care

 The moon shone above the kingdom and casted a ghostly, yet beautiful glare of light through the windows of the building, filling in the dark spaces. Lokis green eyes moved to see through his brows as his head hung low. He had partaken in evil, but not this kind of evil.  Something about the moonlight, or maybe the fact he was carrying your unconscious body in his arms was filling him with some sort of twisted lust. These halls he had wondered for decades he had met many different people and tried to feel love through that, nothing seemed to work out well and he found himself falling into a certain depression. But tonight he knew he would never be the same, as he was going to feel some sort of comfort through his lechery. 

His eyes darted back onto your sweet face in his arms as he recollected the things that had happened before this very moment. The shouting, the anger.’

 " I wasn't trying to seduce her, brother. what is this nonsense you speak of? " Thor asked him in distress and confusion, throwing his hands up as his brows knitted together. 

Loki looked down at his hands, not wanting to make eye contact with his disappointment of a brother.

  " I saw what you did to her, she's not yours. " Loki utterd, clenching his jaw tightly as his fingers curled into fists. 

  " I never claimed her as mine, brother. if you would just listen to me- " Thor argued back desperately, only to be cut off. 

  " why should I listen to you!? You tried to kiss my beloved, I saw it with my own two eyes. " Loki raised his voice, his fingernails digging so deep into his skin he could feel it leaving marks. 

  " It was just a greeting, brother. All I did was kiss her on her cheek, I meant nothing else. " Thors voice became quiet as his nose burned as if he were going to cry. He felt hurt as well, he never wanted to fight like this with his brother but unfortunately not eveything went the way he wished. Loki shot his brother a deadly glare. 

  " if you touch or talk to her again, my brother, I will make you wish you never crossed paths with her. " Loki growled before turning his heel and walking away to look for you. And then that was it. it only took him an ambush, but oh he had you now. 

He finally reached his chambers with your inert form in his arms, using his magic to thrash the door open and close. 

 Once inside his chambers he set you carefully on his bed,sitting between your legs as he awaited your consciousness to return. Your face twitched and your arms jerked slightly through your sleep and Loki admired the sight. He leaned in and pulled your hair in your face over your ear so he could place a tender kiss on your cheek. 

  His fingers went up to your chest to touch the collar of your shirt and then.. 

  Your eyes opened as you awakened, your lashes fluttering against your soft skin as your head hurt too much to sit up. You groaned as your vison somewhat cleared from being so blurry, and Loki vaguely came into your vison. 

" mmm... Loki? " You rasped and blinked rapidly trying to clear your vision, but still couldn't quite focus on his face properly. what was he doing there? 

" shh, my love. " he hushed you in a gravely tone as he leaned in more to connect your lips with his, kissing you softly and patiently. You groaned into his mouth, pulling away confused. 

" what are you doing? "you questioned him, your voice weak and small. the room spun and your head felt like it was bashed into the ground repeatedly. He simply hushed you again. 

" worry not, darling. you and I have a lot to talk about, my love. " he spoke softly as he combed your hair back with his slim fingers. you tried to remember what happened before this moment, but everything was so foggy and your body was just so exhausted. Your brow raised, curious about what he had to say. He gave you a gentle smile and raised your hand to kiss your soft knuckles. 

" I've been watching you for a really long time now. I'd say you've got some kind of hold on me. " he said with a chuckle, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone lovingly as he stared down at you with soft green eyes. your brows furrowed harder.

" what do you mean, ' watching me? ' "you questioned the sly god as he towered above you. He grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers with his. 

" You're so wonderful. " he sighed as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and let go your fingers, slowly slipping off his jacket from his shoulders and tossing it like it was nothing. you were confused and in pain, and to be honest you were quite scared. You closed your eyes tightly and tried to remember what happened last. All you could remember was finishing talking with Thor and then going off into the halls to finish cleaning the common room before someone grabbed you from behind and covered your mouth, but who was that? 

" Loki, please be more precise with me. I'm beginning to get scared. " you spoke with a wobbly voice as your eyes opened, your body starting to feel less numb. He lifted his head from the crook of your neck and his expression softened into a fake pout. His thumb traced over your cheek before trailing to your plump lips and running sideways over your wet bottom lip. 

" aww, so pathetic. " he mocked through a chuckle as he lowered back down again to kiss your wet lips. You whimpered against his skin as he bit down harshly on your lower lip, making you yelp and jerk your head back. 

Lokis hand lowered down to his belt, pulling out a pocketknife and rising his hand to your face with the unopened knife in his hand. 

" look at you, so pretty and vulnerable. are you going to cry? " he taunted in a high voice, pressing a button on the pocketknife and making the blade pop out. Your nose burned and your vision became blurry with tears. This was it. There wasn't even anything you could do about it, you were weak and powerless. 

" please, Loki. I'm sorry if I did anything- "  your voice was shaky as you stuttered your words, hoping he wouldn't do anything bad fo you. 

" oh darling, " he began in that same husky tone. " just keep begging like that. I love you so much. " his warm hand went on the side of your neck to support you as the blade of his knife grazed the skin on your face harsh enough to draw blood, making the tears you held back to come pouring out of your eyes. You cried out in agony as he pressed harder against your cheek before quickly pulling the knife out of your bloddy skin. He bit his lip at the sight of you crying and it only made him more lecherous. He set the now bloody blade on the nightstand next to the bed, his legs repositioning between you to straddle your lap, making sure you didn't go anywhere.

Lokis eyes darted back at you, his energy prurient and randy. His tongue darted out of his two lips and he hunched over to lick the blood off of your soft cheek. You stared in horror as he lifted his gaze to yours, your very own blood all over his lips like an animal. 

Your breath became short and uneven as he licked the blood that coated his lips. your head was throbbing and your thoughts were racing, how did you get yourself into this situation!?

 You were just a simple maid working around the palace, you had talked to Loki a lot but you would have never though he would think of you like this. you were a mere peasant and he was a god and a Prince. And yet here you were. As much as he disgusted you, you felt some sort of weird liking for the way he was touching you. you knew it was wrong, but it truly was tempting to just give in.  

Your eyes painfully cluttered open, and when they did you wished they didn't. Loki was naked from the waist down and your shirt was off of you and hanging off of his shoulder. How did that happen? You gave him wide eyes and sat upright, backing away with your arms covering your almost bare chest. 

" magic comes in handy sometimes. now come here, darling. I need you. " He voice was low as he beckoned you closer with his right hand, his left grabbing your arm and sliding you underneath himself like how he had you earlier.  He pinned you beneath him as you felt his hardness press against your center, making you gasp softly and turn to face the other way. You felt guilty with how easily you were letting him just take you. 

" I don't want this. " you whispered through a quiet sob as his fingers fiddled with your bra strap. He panted against your exposed skin, his breath hot and making your body shiver. 

he gave you another fake pout. 

 " You know, I've longed for this moment for a really long time. I like you a lot. I don't know what I would do if you said no. " He said, his tone of voice low and somber as he held your hand in his own and against his cheek. He gave your hand a small peck, his gaze not leaving yours as he gave you a pleading look. you shook your head, tears streaming down your wet face and soaking the green silky sheets beneath your shaking form. 

there was a moment of silence. you were afraid to close your eyes, but you couldn't keep them open much longer and you so badly needed more tears to come down. You could feel him moving in between your legs, though you couldn't see him.He dropped your hand and now you could feel his hands underneath your long skirt, lifting it up to drop all the way down to your hips. 

 Your eyes fluttered open to painfully meet his sultry gaze. He looked at you through his raised brows with a smirk, his hands sneaking under your thighs to prop your legs around his now nude body. He was beautiful. 

He was vile, but good lord he was a very charming man. As you stared at him, his smirk grew. It was like he knew what you were thinking. 

" Don't fight it, " he whispered as his cold fingers slid your undergarments off of your pretty little legs with a singular swift move. He bent down, his form towering over you and casting a shadow over you. The room was dark, but the moon shining through the window illuminating him. he looked like he was under a spotlight or like he was twinkling like a star in the night sky. he looked so handsome over you, it was just so sad how he got you in the position. He gave your lips a quick peck, his slim fingers going up and under your back to unbuckle your laced bra. He propped you up on his lap, sitting you upright as he slid your bra off your shoulders and tossed that aside as well. Your breasts were now exposed for him to see and he chuckled as you hugged your chest with embarrassment. He chuckled. 

" aww, don't hid yourself. what's the point if you don't have anywhere to turn anymore? " he breathed against the back of your neck, his huge cold hand running up and down your bare back. " so sad. " he laughed, kissing your shoulder tenderly. He looked back at you with that smug face.

" you belong to me now. All I need is you right now, so don't try to leave me or things will end up very bad for you. " he uttered, his tone licentious as it echoed in the large space. He laid you back down on your back on his king sized bed and pinned you down by your wrists   on the silky sheets. 

" I want you to say you need me. Say it. " he demanded, his hot breath fanning over your cold body. You gulped as your last tear rolled down your cheek, not wanting to say anything or oblige to his orders. But he was so beautiful, how could you not resist? His eyes were mesmerizing. Your throat burned.

 " I need you, Loki. " you said, your voice sounding guttural. he chuckled gravely, his grip on your wrists tightening. You even said his name. There was nothing that turned him on more than your pathetic body underneath him like this, especially when you spoke to him like that and obliged to his orders so easily. But he was getting bored now, he needed more excitement.

 Loki pressed his erect tip against your enterance, making you yelp in surprise. His face lowered down to the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. His nose grazed against your skin, trailing up to the back of your ear and making you quiver. 

 " Such a good little whore. Now say it louder." He said, slowly sliding an inch of his lubricated tip into your wet entrance. You whimpered quietly and your hips bucked up as you bit your lip hard. 

  " Please. I need you, Loki! " you supplicated desperately yet loudly. You writhed underneath him as he pulled himself out completely, leaving you empty and cold. You whined at his teasing, he was testing you. You closed your eyes tightly. 

  " Please! " you were only saying it the first time, just to be safe but now you actually meant it and it was driving the both of you crazy. He chuckled against your skin at your precious reactions, his voice sending vibrations through the room and your neck. He hummed as he lifted his gaze and grinned. 

" So obedient and eager. " He growled that last part, his index and middle fingers sliding up from your wrists to pin your palms down, his other fingers clenching around your wrist. With that, he wasted no time to shove his length into your tight hole with one harsh thrust. You bit your lip harder, trying your utmost hardest to not let your moans slip out.

 " Such a whore.I guess it wouldn't matter if you wanted me or not anyways. " he muttered under his breath  as he continued his pace against your quivering form. His thick erection slid in and out of your slick walls that clenched around him. He was perfect. Every thrust he gave sent you inches to heaven. You truly felt like you were being penetrated by a god.  His big muscles flexed every time he slammed into you and you couldn't help moaning louder each time. 

His lips hovered above your ear, his lips grazing the sensitive skin on the side of it as he moaned and groaned with his rough movements. 

Loki grabbed your hips to hold you in place as he rammed into you harder, his shaft twitching deep into your sopping cunt.

" So good. Just so good for me. Do you understand what you are doing to me? " he murmured against your ear, his words sending shivers down your entire body. Your lips trembled, sliva dripping down your chin as you slightly shook your head. Your parted lips let out breathy little moans of pleasure in sync with his pelvic thrusting. 

Loki took his hand off of your hip and rised his  thumb to touch your tremoring wet lips. He leaned his face in with yours, your noses merely touching and his pace slowing. His thumb fell on your bottom lip and slowly grazed the soft skin before grabbing your chin roughly with his other fingers, forcing your mouth agape. 

" Don't close your eyes or look away from me. " he whispered, his voice gruff but smooth. he let go of your face and pulled himself out of you entirely, making your eyes shut and making you whimper desperately. Loki hummed at your reaction, his other hand that was pinning you down going onto your chest as his second now wondering your thigh. 

" Loki... please.. " you mewled, your hand gripping his shoulder weakly as he stared down at you with an intense gaze. He smirked, his hand that was on your chest beginning to graze your hard nipple. You but your lip to try and hold back your sounds of pleasure but it was difficult when he was teasing you like that. 

" Look, " he started, his hand fondling your stimulated breast. " at me. " he ordered frimly, making you shake your head in response as your tear filled eyes darted towards his emerald ones. he chortled at the sight of you. 

" mmm, good girl. " he cooed in a praise as he gave you a peck your wet lips, reaching for the drawer of his night stand for something as he kissed you passionately. You whined quietly and squirmed underneath him. It was so hot and uncomfortable, all you wanted was him inside you again.

" Hush, my love. " he whispered into your mouth as he pulled out something from the drawer that made a loud metal clanking. You we're too scared to look at what it was as because you had a feeling it was something bad. Loki pulled away to fix his attention on something else, but you wouldn't allow yourself to look at what he was doing. He looked back at you with a dangerous gaze. 

" Sit up, pet. " he spat, making you nod your head frantically and sit upright with your quaking body. Loki smiled innocently at you as he held up something in your vison. It was a pair of handcuffs. He unlocked them from each side, his eyes still fixed on yours seductively. You had a feeling you knew what he was going to do. That disgusting smirk on his face never left. 

Loki grabbed your wrist and cuffed it to the bedpost, straining you from making too much movements. The god clicked his tongue and slid his body down yours, making his way to your naked legs and never taking his gaze from you. He trailed kisses from your stomach to your lower abdomen, earning tiny moans from you in the process.

 Loki lifted the back of your thighs and placed them on his shoulders so he could bury his face in between your legs like the hungry animal he was. His face lowered down to your drenched womanhood, his lips coming in contact with your throbbing cunt. Your head threw back as his hot breath fanned over your desperate sex, his lips abrading your wetness.

His tongue glided up and down your folds repeatedly before stopping at your pulsating clit. He looked at your piteous form through his brows, humming against your clit as he did so and making your legs jerk with pleasure. 

You felt so pathetic and vulnerable like this, underneath him as he ate you out like the greedy slut you were. 

His tongue lapped around your throbbing clit , sucking gently while circling the ring that was throbbing painfully in anticipation of him. He took a hand off of your thigh, rubbing in over your lower abdomen as he gave your bud a kiss. He licked the tips of his middle and index fingers and dipped their bases into your entrance, inserting them in and out slowly and making your body shake from shock. 

You screamed and thrashed beneath him, your legs jerking and your bound hand clawing in the air. You heard a deep rumble from Loki, the vibrations traveling to your inner core and causing a new wave of blissfulness to course through your entire body. Your thighs clenched around his face tightly, making him growl and take his fingers out of you, seizing your thighs roughly. 

" stop fucking squirming! " Loki snarled lowly as he glared at you through his brows.  You were panting heavily but you kept your eyes averted in shame, looking anywhere but at him.

His large hands gripped onto either side of your hips, holding you tightly in place as he lifted his head up out of your heat. He licked his lips and leaned in to give you a sloppy kiss as he positioned his hips in between your legs comfortably once more. He wasted no time to slide his thick length back inside you again, his large hands gripping your waist as he pumped in and out of you roughly like he did before. 

 Your hands curled into fists in the air, your hips shaking wildly at the feeling of him stretching you out completely. You couldn't hold in any of your moans. you wanted more of him, wanted every inch of his whole being even if it was wrong.  

Loki had never felt such intense emotions until now. It had been what he longed and what he utmost desired. When he first met you it was like your hearts were binded together, like you guys were meant to be with each other. And now he had you. All underneath him and moaning like the sad being you were. He had to admit, it was the one of the best sexual experiences he's had. But it wasn't enough, he needed more. 

Loki pulled you in for another kiss, his pace becoming faster as his memeber pushed deeper into your core, making you cry into his mouth. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue gliding against your bottom lip as his hips rocked against yours. There was a loud wet sound coming from your sex's rubbing together, echoing through his room along with both of your moans and groans of pleasure. He didn't care if it was loud, he needed satisfaction. All he cared for at the moment was sweet release. 

Lokis hand went up to curl a fist around the locks of your hair tightly as he slammed almost every inch of his length into you, his pace erratic and his breathing ragged. You were a fever, and you were taking over him. But every touch was too much for you, hitting every nerve in your system. Loki pulled away from your lips, leaving you to feel cold without the cordiality of his lips. 

" You're so damn gorgeous like this. " he whispered huskily as he moved his dominant hand to grab the headboard of his bed, his hips rolling back and forward with such force that made the bed slam against the wall repeatedly. Your moans were gasps and screams now, your back arching like a cat in heat as he gave you his all. Your free hand gripped the green sheets beneath your sweating body as your bound hand tugged as far as it could in the handcuffs desperately. 

" Ha— Loki! " you screamed his name as your mind cluttered with pure lust and desire. You felt a burning in your abdomen, letting you know you were close. 

  With on swift move, Loki was able to push every inch of his shaft into the deepest and sweetest part of your core. He repeatedly hit your sweet spot and growled lowly as you screamed and moaned in sync with his thrusts.  Your nails dug into the sheets, your whole body tensing up as he pounded into you relentlessly. With bucked hips, you grinded against his pulsating length to help reach your peak as he drived into that same spot over and over again. And it worked. 

With high pitched scream, you came undone all around his full length, your body convulsing violently with waves of ecstasy that washed through your whole being. 

Your chest  heaved up and down as the warm liquid discharged out of your body. Once you caught your breath, you finally turned your head to meet Loki's gaze. He stared lovingly at your disheveled appearance as you panted underneath him. He took his hand off the headboard and used it to swoop your hair back and kiss your sweaty forehead. 

" Good girl.  " he praised in a whisper against your skin, his voice croaky and guttural. " look at you, you've made such a mess underneath me. "  he cooed, his fingers running through your hair softly. He hummed softly as he gave you another kiss on your forehead, his hand slipping off of your head and down to the side of your jaw. 

" I just need you to keep being a good girl as I go another round on you. "he said with a wicked grin plastered on his handsome face. He hadn't even pulled out of you yet, either. You let out a soft cry and you covered your face into the sheets, knowing he was just going to being more torture. 

Loki  began kissing your cheek and moving to your jaw, leaving his lips lingering there for quite some time before he moved back to kiss your neck. 

" I want you to beg. " he purred against your skin, his long lashes fluttering against your skin. He finally pulled himself out of you,  sending an ache straight through your core like a fire. You winced in pain and his hand brushed your hair. His gaze drew back to the nightstand next to the bed. he was able to reach the top drawer from the bed and he pulled out a tiny sliver key from the cluttered drawer. He used the key to unlock the handcuffs, your arms falling down limply next to you with a red swollen wrist. 

" Stand up. " Loki demanded, spanking your ass hard enough that it burned and was sure to leave a mark. You whimpered and stood up shakily, feeling lightheaded due to all the moving around. You felt exhausted, your legs wobbling underneath you as you used the nightstand for support. Loki shifted behind you and wrapped his arms around you. 

" you know, I didn't quite like that interaction you had with my lovely brother Thor earlier. " He whispered against the crook of your neck as he gave you sloppy wet kisses around your skin. He nibbled at your skin and his hands rubbing your warm stomach. You let out a small moan at his touch, f a mixture of pleasure and discomfort coursing through you as his hot breath sent shivers down your spine. 

" I'm sorry if I did something that upset you, Loki. Thor was simply greeting me- " Your voice was small, but cut off before you could finish. 

" I didn't ask for your inexact excuses. " he growled, moving your body against the cold wall. He moved your arms behind your back and held both your wrists together with one hand. You felt your ragged breath returning. Your mind was cluttered and you were exceedingly overwhelmed. You gave him a glance over your shoulder.

" You think me a liar, Loki? "  You asked curiously, trying to figure out where this conversation was going. But you hadn't been lying to him, he was your prince and you were supposed to be loyal to him. 

" Never forget that you're mine, y/n. not Thors, not anyone else's, mine. " He tone incensed and almost like a growl as his grip on your tightened. You nodded your head, feeling your knees about to give out underneath you.

Loki's bare chest rest against your back, his wet tip twitching against your soaking entrance that had just been covered in your hot cum. He bent down and placed his lips right next to the sensitive nub of your ear.

" Now take me again like the piteous slut you are." He growled, entering you again and watching you scream in agony and pleasure. Every touch was enough to make you spill out, it was like he was working magic against you. As much as you hated it, you knew you loved it. As much as you just wanted to stop comprehend what was going on, you just wanted to be oblivious and simply drown in the rapture of the moment. Everything around you was hot and dizzy as he worked you into a frenzy, making your body jolt wildly against his.  Loki loved seeing you writhe like this in his reach in ecstasy and pain. It was so intoxicating; it was just his own little fantasy, which was intensely satisfying to him because it was all he could think about for days. He felt himself just about to reach his full satisfaction, his breathing becoming labored and his fingernails digging into your skin as he thrashed into you. You couldn't help but moan his name while feeling that burning sensation return in your core. His movements became jerky and a bit out of rhythm, he could barely take it anymore and it was getting hard for you to continue to hold on as well. He whimpered and pulled out, turning you around to come face to face with you as he pushed you back down on his bed. 

He wasted no time to get back inside you again, rocking his hips against yours like an absolute mad man and immediately hitting your sweet spot like it was nothing.  You gasped loudly in response, your hands tgrabbing around his shoulders as your eyes rolled backwards into your head.  The feeling was overwhelming and absolutely blissful. He groaned your name with urgency as his long desired orgasm came over him so intensely he couldnt stop moaning. The white liquid coated the deepest parts of you and you felt yourself reaching peak as well, only adding to the mess. Your entire body was trembling and twitching, still incapable of comprehending what the hell had just happened. Loki ran his fingers through your hair again and the gave your forehead a kiss. 

" so obedient, you are. you know I could hit that spot without even trying. " he spoke through a chuckled as he magicked his way back into his clothes. He gave your forehead another kiss before standing up and walking around the bed. He threw you a white lacy robe. where did he get that from, you wondered as you felt the silky fabric. 

" Get dressed. " you heard his voice speak as you turned away from him. You did as such, wrapping the comfy piece of clothing around your stilly shaky form. You were surprised that you could still move... barely. The second you tied the robe closed you fell off the bed due to immense exhaustion. Loki shifted in front of you and squatted down on his knee, bringing your hand into his own so he could help you up. 

" ah.. Loki, my head hurts. " you groaned, rubbing your temples to see if that could help you at all. Loki hummed emphatically amd brought you back into his warm embrace. His hand ran up and down your arm soothingly. 

" I know, darling. here, you should drink some water. " his voice was soft and sweet as if he genuinely cared. He even conjured you a cold glass of water and handed it to you while giving you that warm smile that said he cared. 

You sipped the water slowly, but you quickly realized that you shouldn't have given him yourself like that. 

" oh god, " you felt even more lightheaded now. it was like your heart skipped a beat and your world completely stopped moving in that very moment. Loki innocently titled his head in confusion. 

" what is it, dear? are you feeling worse? " he asked, his hands rubbing your shoulders comfortingly. You shook your head and shuddered you shoulders to get his dirty hands off you. 

" it all makes sense now. " you spoke with a wobbly voice through sobs, placing the glass he gave you down on the floor. Tears streamed down your cheeks and Loki simply stared at you worriedly. 

" what is it you speak of, my love? " He asked again, you looked down at your hands that lay limply in your lap.

" you drugged me. "  you choked, your voice coming out as a whisper.

" I...what? " his words seemed stuck in his throat as his eyes widened in disbelief. you stood from his lap and backed a few feet away from him.

" Dont act as if you're innocent, you know what you did! " you yelled through broken ugly sobs. He continued to look at you with wide eyes as if he had just been told something utterly absurd. 

" Darling, I would never do such a thing! " He said, his heart dropping because he knew something terrible was coming up. You looked behind yourself and picked up Lokis opened pocketknife on the nightstand that was still covered in your blood. 

" Then how did I get into your room? why do I remember someone coming up behind me while I was folding laundry and pressing a cloth against my mouth before I blacked out? " Loki stared at the knife and then back at you. His expression became serious and he stood up as well. 

" you dare threaten me with that!? " he spat,  taking a step towards you with a menacing aura. You shook your head again and continued to sob. 

" Just admit to it, Loki! " you cried desperately, backing up towards the door. 

" so I finally get my happiest moment with the woman I love and now she's threatening me with a knife? I guess I just can't be happy! " he said with watery eyes, now making you feel bad. you never wanted him to be sad, only wanted to see him happy but he did do terrible things to you. 

" I thought you loved me too. " his voice was barely above a whisper as a tear ran down his cheek. You shook your head, your tears only purring down even more. 

" Loki please just- " he grabbed your arm and pulled you flush against his body. 

" if you loved me you wouldn't be pointing that thing at me. But I guess you don't. " his voice was brittle, his grip around you tight before it released.

" and if you loved me, you wouldn't have drugged me! " you barked back, the whites of your eyes now having a tint of red from all the crying. Loki inhaled sharply and his face scrunched up angrily. 

" Do not talk to me that way! " Loki shouted, raising his hand threateningly and making you flinch.  There was a long silence, a loud silence. It was like time had slowed down, almost to a standstill. You lowered the knife and your crying slowed down. You wondered how you had gotten yourself into this situation. All you did was be nice to this man before. you cared for him for years and you were there for him during rough times. And yet here you were. You had supposed this was an example of how easy it is to be manipulated, and that hurt a lot. Loki stiffed his shoulders and breathed in sharply. 

" You know, you should be grateful for what I did for you. "  he said in a low tone, looking directly into your face and staring deeply into your eyes. Your mouth slightly fell agap in astonishment and you couldn't believe how twisted truly he had become. The only Loki you ever knew was kind, loving, and caring, always so gentle. Now there was none of that.

Your nose felt like it was on fire. 

" So if you're not going to be grateful, " he pushed you out of the way from the door and you stared at him anxiously. 

" I'll just leave you here. " and with that he was gone, all the doors in the room shut and locked completely. Your tears returned, and this time worse than before. 

" no, no, no, no, Loki! " you spoke with heavy, desperate tears streaming down your cheeks as you banged your fists on the door. 

" no, don't leave me! " he probably couldn't even hear you anymore, and that terrified you. Your body slid down the door and crumbled up into a ball when it hit the floor. Your face was so wet with tears, it looked like your were dunked into water. Everything was a blur now. You were all alone.

[chiliger]

Snippet of the Multiverse AU that takes place not long after this scene. I wrote it nearly a year ago but I felt like sharing it now. Please enjoy ☺️

Cody suppressed a flinch when a container of rehydrated food clattered on the small table in front of him. Then another was set down on the opposite side as Kote sat across from him.

Kote had removed his vambraces sometime between shoving Cody on his current seat and bringing the meal over. But Cody knew better than to think that granted any sort of evening out the playing field, so to speak. For one, he was still cuffed. Secondly, Kote remained armed with blasters at his hips and blades tucked away who-knows-where.

So… yeah, no, Cody’s chances of incapacitating him were slim to none. It wouldn’t be worth the effort.

Yet.

Kote pointed his spork at Cody, somehow brandishing it like a weapon. “Eat.”

Cody gave him a flat look while holding up his cuffed hands, spreading his fingers and wiggling them with fake enthusiasm.

Kote returned the stare, raising one brow. “I don’t see the problem.”

Resisting the urge to huff, Cody let his hands drop back on his lap. “I would like to not be treated like a prisoner.”

“You are a prisoner.”

“Because you refuse to let me go.”

“That’s kind of the point. Now,” Kote reached over and nudged Cody’s tray with his spork. “Eat.”

Cody looked down at the food, his nose scrunching up and lips pressing together in a small frown. It looked marginally more appetizing than the usual GAR issued slop, but that could be his stomach talking. Cody isn’t sure when exactly was the last time he ate. Definitely before dimension jumping, when he had first meal in the mess with Ghost. But that had been hours before he got flung into a portal, and then he was knocked unconscious shortly after for an unclear amount of time.

A waft of the food’s scent found its way into his nostrils, and he clenched his fists when his stomach gurgled out loud in the quiet room. Little traitor.

“By the Ka’ra,” Kote muttered, rubbing his nose bridge. He leaned back against his seat, left arm resting across the top. “We do have a carbon freezer on this ship if you would prefer the full experience.”

Didn’t that sound promising.

“I literally have no value to you,” Cody said, keeping his voice low and steady. “Not here. Not in this universe.”

Kote tilted his head, eyes roving somewhere above Cody. “If that’s what you think.”

[dindjarindiaries]

Broken Wings - Chapter 1

summary: You meet Clone Force 99 when they fall into the same helpless situation as yourself, and you quickly find yourself getting tied up more and more with them—and their sergeant.

pairing: hunter (the bad batch) x fem!reader

rating: mature (18+)

tags: strangers to lovers, fluff & angst, emotional & physical hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, injuries & blood, loss of limb, trauma, eventual/mild smut, eventual pregnancy, canon character death, canon compliant

note: this story will follow tbb canon events, but quotes and other details will not always be 100% accurate to maintain originality

word count: 5.468k

series masterlist ⟹ next

chapter 1 ⟹

It was the sudden commotion that finally got you to lift your head from where it’d been tucked towards your chest. You reopened your eyes and focused your gaze on anything other than the leg you had stretched out in front of you as you listened closely to whatever was happening behind you.

“Wrecker, attempting to resist at this stage is not only ineffective, but also unwise.” The speaker’s voice was calm and pointed, despite the fact they were clearly a new captive of the same Zygerrians who had also taken you from the wreckage of your ship.

“I don’t care!” This voice was much rougher. Your brow furrowed as you kept listening to the exchange. “They can’t stop me from—.”

He was cut off by the sound of both crackling electricity and his own exclamation of pain. You huffed to yourself and shook your head, even as the weight of the device around your own neck grew heavier. Guess they can stop you.

“Take it easy, Wrecker.” There was another new voice, but this one was oddly familiar—though that may have been its low, smoky tone enticing you. “You need to save your energy.”

The next voice was unmistakable. “Yeah, and keep us from getting punished on your behalf.”

A clone. They’re clones.

Your eyes doubled in size, and your heart began to race inside your hollow chest. How could he have already sent a group of clone troopers after you? There was no possible way he had found you. You had made sure of it.

And, of course, the Zygerrians were taking this group of clones right over to the vacant space at your side. You closed your eyes and steadied yourself with a deep breath. Even if this was the end of your short road to freedom, you wouldn’t be letting them know how much it affected you.

“We’ve tolerated enough of your noise,” the Zygerrian that had been leading the group sneered at them. “Now keep quiet, or else.”

The rough voice you had heard, the one they called Wrecker, spoke up again. “Or else what?”

The sound of electricity and his own pain rang out again, along with the frustrated groans of his fellow troopers. You couldn’t help chuckling to yourself, despite the circumstances. This group of clones he had sent after you couldn’t even evade capture from a rogue group of Zygerrians.

Not that you could, either, but you had been unconscious when they found you. You didn’t even have a chance to fight them.

The Zygerrian walked away, joining those who stood guard around you. Their threat didn’t keep the group of clones from speaking, though they at least lowered their voices enough to keep their conversation more private. “Well, this is great,” the clone whose voice you had immediately recognized grumbled. “What do you think are our chances of getting out of this mess, Tech?”

“Seeing as I do not have the kind of data required to make a sound conclusion… I do not know.” The first voice you heard sounded nothing more than annoyed and curious.

Maybe it was the loneliness of sitting here for stars know how long or the madness of knowing you had been caught so quickly, but either way, you were the one to offer a response. “They’re low.” You narrowed your eyes, but still refused to look in their direction. “Especially if I get my hands on you.”

There was only stunned silence for a few heartbeats, but Tech recovered quickly enough to break it. “And what exactly have we done to earn such a threat from you?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Come on. You’re clones.” At least, one of them was. The others sounded similar enough for you to conclude they all were. “I know he sent you here.”

There was no silence in response to your words this time. There was only that smoky voice from before, uttering a single word that was genuine enough to make you question every preconceived notion you had just conjured up about these men. “Who?”

With a sigh, you finally turned your head to look at them. Immediately, you were struck by how different they all were. Their armor was mostly black instead of white, and it was painted with accents of red. You could tell they were all clones, but they still looked vastly different from one another, just as their voices had been. Your stare, however, was drawn to only one of them, the one who had just spoken.

Your heart started to race for a very different reason.

He had the familiar face of the clones, but every feature was sharper and more defined. Half his face was covered by a skull tattoo, and he had grown out his dark hair enough for him to need a bandana to hold most of it back—aside from a few pieces that framed his face. His brown eyes were nearly golden in this light, sparkling with both concern and intrigue as they focused on you.

You blinked a few times. He was handsome, very handsome, and it was the last thing you needed right now.

You willed the words to come, and after a few more moments, they did. “You really don’t know who I’m talking about?”

“Not unless it’s Cid.” Wrecker’s lame attempt at a hushed tone drew your gaze over to him. He was almost double the size of his fellow troopers, and the scarred skin around his whitened eye proved that he was no stranger to battle. The deep, dramatic gasp he took was a stark contrast to his otherwise tough exterior. “Do you think she could be Muchi?”

Tech spoke before you could, his chained hands pushing his goggles further up his nose as he did so. “Considering Cid made it clear that Muchi is an adolescent, I highly doubt it. Though…” his gaze flickered upward in consideration, “I suppose Cid seems old enough to perceive anyone younger than herself as a ‘kid.’”

You frowned. “I’m not a kid, and I’m not Muchi.”

The fourth member of their group, one who looked the most like the other clones you knew, returned your grimace, his eyes narrowed. “Then who are you, and who’s after you?”

You scoffed. “As if I’d ever tell you that.”

The one with the face tattoo gave you a softer look. His eyes were full of understanding, and while it was unnerving for him to see through you like this, it was also somewhat comforting. “Is there at least something we can call you for now?”

You thought for a moment, though the nickname came quickly: your callsign from the piloting academy. “Birdie.”

He nodded, and you could have sworn there was the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Well, Birdie, we’re not after you. We’re looking for someone named Muchi.”

The regular clone snapped his head towards this one. His voice was a low warning. “Hunter…”

Hunter. So far, these names of theirs seemed to have a significance that matched up with their personalities, and the sound of this one tied a knot of thick dread within your chest. It would make sense for him to send some kind of “hunter” clone after you.

Hunter offered his fellow trooper a reassuring nod. “Echo, it’s fine.” He rattled the chain that linked them together. “We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

You tightened your jaw. “I’m not gonna help you take someone against their will.” You looked down and added the next part under your breath. “Especially on behalf of the Empire.”

“We are not affiliated with the Empire.” You looked back up after Tech spoke, your brow furrowed. He took that as an invitation to continue, though his topic shift also took you aback. “What happened to your leg?”

You didn’t look at your leg as you tucked it underneath you the best you could. You barely bit back your whimper as it reignited the fiery pain that had long since been throbbing within it from your knee down. “It’s fine.”

You caught Hunter’s eye at just the right moment, seeing him level you with a glance that was both concerned and curious. You immediately shifted your focus back onto Tech.

“What do you mean you’re not with the Empire?” You shook your head. “All the clones are.”

Echo lifted his chin. He was the only one matching your defiant energy, and you liked that. “Not us.”

You gave him a half a smile, but before you could respond, Wrecker attempted another whisper in Hunter’s direction. “Hey, Sarge.” He jerked his head towards something overhead.

Your brow raised at his title. Hunter being their leader made sense, based on his calming aura and authoritative presence alone, but you were way more curious about what you were seeing than his position within this small squad.

There was a young girl scaling some of the rock structures surrounding the Zygerrians’ base, wearing similar colors to the clones themselves. Wisps of her short blonde hair fell around her face as she paused to wave in the clones’ direction, her brown eyes lit up with determination. 

You glanced back down at the squad just as Hunter gave her a subtle shake of his head. There was a look in his eye that you had never seen someone direct towards you, something that made his aura even more oddly comforting: protectiveness.

“Who’s that?” You couldn’t keep the question to yourself. The idea of rogue clones running around the galaxy with a young girl made little sense to you.

Hunter’s voice was filled with the same protectiveness you had seen as he spoke, though there was also an unmistakable layer of warmth. “She’s one of ours.”

The smile was impossible to keep off your lips as you caught both the fondness and the concern he had for her. It was reflected in the faces of the other clones, too, but there was something about Hunter’s tone specifically that had nearly been paternal.

You were getting way too curious about this group of clones.

Hunter finally looked around his squad. “She shouldn’t be here.”

Tech tilted his head. “Well, she is currently our best option at getting out of this… situation.”

“And finding Muchi,” Wrecker added.

Your mind suddenly flooded with dozens of questions that you wanted to ask them, specifically about whoever this Muchi person was that they were looking for, but you bit your tongue. If you somehow did manage to get out of this situation, you were taking the first ship you could find and getting the hell out of there. The less you knew about these clones, the better.

The girl was still making her best stealth approach when she suddenly slid, causing a few pieces of crumbled rock to hit the ground. The Zygerrians were alert, but before their heads could fully turn and investigate the situation, Wrecker spoke in a much louder tone than before. “You better get me out of these chains right now!”

The Zygerrians’ stares fell on him, and they exchanged a few amused looks before one of them stood forward. “And why is that?”

“Because.” Wrecker’s tone was threatening, and if you hadn’t gotten a hint of who he was underneath this guise, you would honestly be terrified. “I’ll lose it if you don’t. And you don’t wanna see what happens when I lose it.”

The Zygerrian frowned and started to open their mouth, but they were cut off as a commotion broke out near one of their giant crates. You looked, and your heart sank as you saw the young girl caught in the arms of two Zygerrians. Even if you didn’t really know her, it still sickened you to think of someone like her being captured by these kinds of people.

One look at the clone troopers told you exactly how they felt about it. Every single one of their faces were hardened in hardly-concealed fury.

Especially Hunter’s.

“Let me go!” The girl’s voice was strong and defiant, as were the kicks and tugs she gave them. You smiled at her, recognizing pieces of yourself in her.

“‘Atta girl,” you mumbled underneath your breath. “Give them hell.”

That made Hunter glance in your direction. You furrowed your brow, returning his stare with confusion. There was no possible way he had heard what you said.

“This is what you get for sneaking around,” one of the Zygerrians sneered at the girl.

“I wasn’t sneaking.” The girl held up her hand, showing them what was in her palm. It was a metal rod with a curved end. “I was unlocking.”

That’s when the cage she was near suddenly flew open, and your jaw dropped as a rancor ran out of it full-force. It roared into the sky before flinging the nearest Zygerrians aside.

“All right, now I’m gonna lose it!” Wrecker yelled the warning before pulling his bound hands apart, easily snapping the cuffs that had previously been restricting him.

Echo voiced the same thought you had. “You couldn’t have done that earlier?”

Wrecker answered only after he’d torn the device off his neck. “Not without backup!”

It was pure chaos. The clone troopers were making quick work of freeing themselves and retrieving their gear while the Zygerrians were attempting to fight off the rancor, which was quickly charging away. You were trying to craft your own escape plan, but in the back of your mind, there was a hindrance that continued to eat away at you.

Your leg definitely wasn’t fine, and you had no idea how you were going to get anywhere on it.

Echo knelt down beside you and nodded. “I can get these off for you.”

Your brow shot up when he lifted an arm that had a flat-headed working tool on the end of it instead of a hand. Still, you nodded, refusing to miss an opportunity for freedom. Echo easily unlocked the chain and did the same to the device on your neck, returning your nod only once he had finished. He stood and went over to help the other captives, leaving you to figure out your leg situation on your own.

That was fine. You didn’t need people knowing about your weaknesses.

You took a deep breath and rubbed out your sore wrists before pressing your palms flat against the stone underneath you. Your uninjured leg attempted to support you on its own, but as you pushed yourself upwards, you still needed help from the injured one—and it couldn’t provide it.

You tried to disguise your gasp of pain as a simple exhale, but you clearly hadn’t done a good enough job of it. One of the clones was kneeling by your side again, and when you gave them a quick glance, you realized it was Hunter. His helmet was now concealing his face, though its soft tilt was almost as comforting as his gaze had been before.

“I know you’re hurt.” Hunter’s modulated voice was low, meant to stay between the two of you. “At least let us help you get out of here, and then you can go off on your own. Okay?”

You blinked a few times in shock, only nodding once you had recovered. Any of the words you would’ve said were lost deep inside your throat. You hadn’t realized there were people like this in the galaxy, who would offer their help without expecting anything in return.

Maybe you should’ve remained skeptical, but the chaos of the situation and the pain in your leg was making it difficult to think straight—as was Hunter’s proximity.

And his touch, which was now settling on your arm as he slung it over his armored shoulders. He took practically all your weight as he helped you to your feet, and you put on your bravest face as you attempted to straighten out your bad leg. Hunter’s visor was carefully watching your every move.

“You okay?”

You were still so stunned by him and the amount of kind concern he was showing you. Your voice was breathless when you finally found it again. “Yeah.” You nodded. “Thank you.”

Hunter returned your nod before he started to crutch you over to where the rest of his squad was waiting, including the young girl. She was giving you a delightfully curious once-over, even if her furrowed brow was telling a different story. She was quick to speak as you and Hunter approached.

“Are you okay?” The girl frowned. “Did they do something to you?”

You couldn’t help chuckling lightly at her concern. It was easy to tell she had picked up the troopers’ sense of protectiveness. “I’m fine. Just a bad leg.” You willed the strength to stand on your own as you looked over at Hunter and nodded. “Thank you for your help.”

Hunter helped you ease your arm off him. “You don’t have to thank me, and we’re not done yet.” It was difficult to stand on your own, but you did it and managed to keep any evidence of pain hidden away as the sergeant went on. “Echo, Omega, you help these people get to safety. Wrecker, Tech, and I will get Muchi.”

Your eyes widened at his words. “Wait, the rancor is Muchi?”

Echo’s helmet snapped in your direction. “That’s what I said!”

Hunter drew one of the blasters from his holster. “Let’s get going.”

You glanced down at your feet, trying not to focus on your awkward-looking leg. This was likely the last time you were going to see Hunter and the two others who were going with him, and you wouldn’t get to say goodbye.

You were getting way too lonely on the run.

Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech darted forward, leaving you with Echo, the young girl Omega, and the other former captives. You looked up to meet Echo’s stare through his helmet.

“Are you okay to walk, Birdie?” Echo asked you.

Probably not. “Yeah, I can handle it.”

“Birdie? I love that name!” Omega smiled up at you. “Nice to meet you, Birdie.”

You beamed down at her. “You too, Omega.” You gestured with your head back towards the Zygerrians’ encampment. “You’re very brave, you know.”

She grinned from ear-to-ear. “Thank you. My brothers have been teaching me a lot.”

You would’ve knelt down to her level if you trusted your body enough, but you didn’t. Instead, you tilted your head at her. “Bravery can’t be taught.”

“I hate to break up the moment,” Echo interjected, “but we’ve gotta get moving.” He nodded towards the distance. “I see some speederbikes we can get you all loaded on.”

He led the way, as did Omega beside him. You decided to hold up the rear of the pack, knowing that your slower pace with your leg would hold them up. It was manageable for a time, but not for much longer.

You had just made it to the speederbikes when the sound of commotion caught your attention. You tensed and looked where Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech had gone, your chest constricting when you realized they weren’t together anymore.

Instead, Hunter was alone with a Zygerrian. Every instinct within you cried out to help him, if only to truly thank him for his kindness. You relented.

“Echo,” you called, watching as the trooper’s helmet turned towards you. “Save a bike for me.”

“Where are you going?”

You had already started to back away. “I’ll be right back!”

With that, you were on your way over, hopping awkwardly as you tried your best to run with your leg. The adrenaline was masking the pain for now, and that’s all that mattered. The closer you got, however, the more you realized you really weren’t suited to help Hunter in this fight. You had no weapons, thanks to them all being stripped from you by the Zygerrians, and you could barely stand on your own two feet.

But if you’d learned anything about yourself, it’s that you would always find a way, no matter what.

You leaned down on your good leg and swiped up a large rock, giving it a small toss inside your hand before you reached back and slung it forward. It connected with the side of the Zygerrian’s head, making him trip over a few steps as he clutched the now-bleeding wound.

“Birdie?” Hunter’s voice caught your attention, drawing your gaze over to where he was recovering from the Zygerrians’ shock. A golden whip was still wrapped around his wrist, but what struck you—and stuck with you—was the concern in his voice as he called for you.

The protectiveness.

You weren’t given much time to relish in it. The Zygerrian had recovered quickly, and he had also taken note of the worry in Hunter’s voice. He withdrew his whip from Hunter’s wrist and shot it in your direction, and if the pain of its contact with your bad leg wasn’t enough to make you see nothing but black, the shock he sent through it certainly was.

Everything was a blur after your body hit the dirt. You didn’t regain consciousness for an alarming amount of time, but there were faint glimpses you remembered, almost dreamlike in your fragile state. You had been picked up and carried somewhere else before you were set down again. The problem was that you didn’t know who you had ended up with.

When your full awareness returned, your survival instincts made you assume the worst.

You sat up and reached for your empty holster. You cursed, remembering your lost weapons, and tried to find a nearby object to use. The action alerted the nearest silhouette, who spun around in a chair to face you.

“You’re awake.” Hunter’s voice was much calmer than it had been the last time you heard it. You kept your wide eyes focused on him, willing your heaving chest to settle. Hunter noticed, raising his hands in surrender and standing as he gave you a nod. “It’s okay, Birdie. You’re safe.”

You lifted your chin to hide the hard swallow you took and let your gaze scan the area. “Where am I?”

Hunter used one of his raised hands to gesture to the space around him. “Our ship.”

It was certainly a ship made and used for battle. This was the inside of an attack shuttle, with a cockpit at the front and a weapons station at the back—which was curiously half-closed off with a curtain and furnished with blankets. Hunter was still standing by some kind of console with a large vidscreen, which was near the bunk you had been set upon.

“It’s called the Marauder.” You looked down as Omega joined the conversation, her smile just as bright as it had been before. She stood at Hunter’s side, respecting your boundaries the same way Hunter was. “It’s our home.”

Your mouth went dry at the sound of that word. You had certainly strayed far from your own home, if all had gone according to plan. You set your attention back on Hunter and kept your tense shoulders set. “Where are you taking me?”

Hunter’s brow furrowed as he gave his head a small shake. “Nowhere. We’re just on the other side of the planet.” He ran a gloved hand over his hair. “I’m sorry we couldn’t ask you if that was okay first, but we figured you’d be heading to the spaceport, anyway.”

You relaxed at that, exhaling a relieved breath before offering him a small nod. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me here.” With your adrenaline beginning to fade, you were starting to feel the aches and pains of the day full-force, causing you to run your fingertips along your forehead as you exhaled a heavy breath. “What happened? Did you get Muchi?”

“Yeah, Wrecker put her to sleep.” Omega was buzzing with enthusiasm as she beamed towards the ship’s open hatch. “I think she’s starting to wake up, though.”

Hunter sighed at that. His hands were set on his hips as he looked at the hatch over his shoulder. “We have to get her to Cid’s.”

Your lips tightened. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”

Hunter’s stare returned to you. He gave you a brief once-over. “We wanted to make sure you were okay.”

There it was, the note of genuine concern in both his eyes and his tone that made the tips of your ears burn. You deflected the warmth it brought you with a huff as the memory of your last conscious moment rushed over you. “Yeah, I wasn’t much of a help in that fight, was I?”

Hunter’s jaw tightened at your self-deprecating words. “Actually, your sacrifice gave me the perfect window to take him out.” He nodded at you. “I should be thanking you for your help.”

You blinked a few times in surprise. The warmth of his gaze made yours fall, forcing you to encounter your injured leg. Your brow shot up when you realized it had been secured in a tight wrap.

“Tech helped me with that.” You looked back up at Hunter as he spoke. “We were trying to figure out what was wrong with it. I think he got it, but… well, you’d be better off asking him.” Hunter gestured with his head to the open hatch. “Researching is his hobby.”

You huffed, the corners of your mouth pulling up in a small smile. “I appreciate it.”

Your smile faltered as you watched your fingers run over the wrapping on your leg. This would be another favor you owed someone, another debt that would have to be paid, and you refused to be in that situation again. It didn’t matter how kind these clones seemed. You wouldn’t, and couldn’t, let yourself be in someone’s debt again.

Hunter took a cautious step forward, drawing your gaze up to him again. He set a hand on Omega’s shoulder, wordlessly dismissing her as she headed towards the open hatch. “Is it bothering you?” Hunter gestured to your leg before crossing his arms over his chestplate.

He was even more distractingly handsome up close.

You shook your head. “No.” You straightened your leg, still sitting on the bunk as you did so. “It feels a lot better, actually.”

Hunter nodded, though his brow furrowed at you. He shifted his weight before he spoke again. “What happened to it?”

You didn’t answer him right away. Your gaze darted around the small space in consideration, your fingers mindlessly brushing over the fresh wrap. When you gained the courage to meet his stare again, the golden flecks within his eyes convinced you to speak the truth.

“My ship crashed.” You gave your head an aimless shake. “That’s all I know. The impact knocked me out right away, and when I woke, I was with the Zygerrians.”

Hunter’s gaze softened, though he kept the rest of his body rigid as his jaw ticked. “So, you’re out a ship.”

You let out a mirthless chuckle and nodded. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Hunter’s gloved fingers tapped his upper arms rhythmically. After a long pause, he dared to ask his next question. “Did whoever’s after you make you crash?”

Your chest inflated with a breath that you held until your lungs burned. Hunter was an easy person to trust, despite his otherwise gruff persona, but even he couldn’t get this information out of you. Not now.

You finally pushed yourself off the bunk, surprising yourself with how easily you were able to stand on both your legs. Hunter seemed just as shocked, his arms lowered back to his sides as if he’d been preparing to catch you. You gestured with your head to the open hatch. “Don’t you have to go to this Cid person’s place?”

Hunter circled his jaw before nodding. “Yeah. Can’t keep her waiting long.” Still, he made no move for the hatch, instead inhaling a steady breath before adding more. “She has refreshments there, if you want to grab something before moving on.”

You crossed your arms and let your lips curl up in another smile. You traded your caution and fear for amusement and confidence as you raised your brow at him. “Is that an invitation, Sergeant?”

Hunter’s shoulders straightened as his stare met yours again. You enjoyed the faint flush that painted his cheeks, even though he tried to deflect it with a quiet chuckle. “Only if you want Tech to talk to you non-stop about your injury, and Omega to ask you a thousand questions about your life story.”

You looked towards the hatch, seeing the rest of Hunter’s crew standing outside with Muchi. Omega was laughing as Wrecker set her upon the rancor’s back, and the creature was beaming at the group that had somehow made her feel safe enough to stay calm, despite her wild nature. Maybe if the rancor could let herself feel safe with them, then you could, too.

“What the hell.” You let your arms fall back to your sides as you stepped towards the hatch. “I’m sure he won’t catch up to me in a standard hour.” You brushed past Hunter and smiled to yourself. “And even if he could, I’m too hungry to care.”

Hunter huffed at that, and you could hear him following you. You stopped, however, when you looked down at the stairs that separated you from the ship and the ground. Your leg was stronger, but this would prove to be a challenge for it, and you weren’t keen on falling down hard enough to knock yourself out for a third time today.

Then came the gentle touch on your elbow. “Go ahead, Birdie.” Hunter's low voice was calming from behind you. “I’ve got you.”

For a moment, you were overwhelmed by a rush of unprecedented warmth from head-to-toe, accompanied by an explosion of sparkling glimmers within your stomach. You took a deep breath to combat the foreign feeling and nodded to acknowledge Hunter’s reassurance before stepping down. It was easier than you thought it would be, but Hunter’s gentle grasp on your elbow still worked wonders in helping to keep you steady.

“Birdie!” Omega waved from Muchi’s back once your boots hit the hangar’s floor. “Are you coming with us?”

You laughed at her. “Only if I get a meal out of it.”

The rest of the group had already turned to you, and you found yourself stiffening out of instinct. Tech’s gaze was fixed pointedly on your leg as he pushed his goggles further up his nose, while Wrecker was laughing at your comment about food. Echo was the only other cautious one, though you couldn’t and wouldn’t blame him for that. He raised an eyebrow at you before shifting his gaze to Hunter behind you.

“It is good to see you have made a recovery,” Tech said, breaking the brief moment of tense silence. “Though your vitals were stable, I was uncertain you had enough strength to rouse so quickly.”

You set your jaw and hung your hands on your hips. “I have plenty of strength.”

Tech tilted his head. “Clearly.” He pointed at your leg. “Though we have yet to test the strength of your leg, which seems to be in poor shape. I can provide you with a more detailed briefing about it once we arrive at Cid’s.”

You just nodded, too stunned by his straightforwardness to say anything. The weight of Hunter’s stare drew your gaze over to him, and you caught his amused smile as he gestured to Tech with his head. “Told you.” He then looked at his squad and raised his voice loud enough for him to be heard by everyone. “Let’s get going.”

The squad obeyed, and you stayed close to Hunter as the group headed out of the hangar. It was strange to find yourself among them, a group of strangers who were becoming more and more familiar, but you were comfortable in their presence. Even the thought of leaving them in a standard hour’s time or so was more saddening than you thought it would be.

But a brand-new start was awaiting you, and if there was one thing you learned about this galaxy, it was to always expect the unexpected.

series masterlist ⟹ next

hunter tag list: @zenrobbins0021 @cw80831 @yunggoblin @maddiedrmr @Molmcb @jellybeanstacey0519 @violetlilly2020

broken wings tag list: @dindadjarin

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Eye of The Storm ⛈| Six of Crows Imagine

Takes place during the events of Shadow & Bone S2

My Masterlists

Characters & Pairings: Crows x Squaller/Saint!Reader (platonic), Kaz Brekker x reader (slight/eventual)

Content Warnings: fighting, blood, profanity, cannon divergence | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4.9k

Requested 📨: yes/no

Premise: As the Crows make their way back to the Slate following their climatic dethronement of Pekka Rollins, they are ambushed by his supporters with no plan of action to escape. As they slowly accept their fate, what was once a clear night is rained upon with lightning and thunder in its wake. Having beat the odds of meeting one living Saint in their lifetime, the Crows are stunned when their savior, a player in the ever unfolding drama in Ravka, is the legend in stories of restoring life in the world when all hope was lost.

Note: although the Saint name I give is not Y/n, it’s still a reader insert and explains more at the end (it’s not an OC) also I know Zoya is called Sankta Zoya of the Storm but I have yet to get to her arc so for this the reader has powers equivalent to her

————————

The sirens had finally seized, concluding the hysteria in the streets of Ketterdam once it was revealed the Firebox outbreak was a hoax. Constructed by none other than the Bastard of the Barrel and his thieves amongst men, the Crows. After years of heated tension, and guided vengeance, against Pekka Rollins, Kaz Brekker succeeded in his plans of putting down the Lion that had ruined his life. Constant mental torture as he manuevered his players on their chestboard now able to rest.

“Where were you?” His voice was raspy, face still painted with his blood from the beating as he addressed Inej when she appeared from the shadows. They had been making their way back to the Slat. Nina, Wylan, and Jesper were flanked beside him, the dimly lit street light shining down on the group. Inej had been the only one not accounted for, flooding Kaz with anxiety mixed with anger that she strayed from the plan.

“I--.”

A gloved hand came up, stopping her. “Actually, I’d rather not hear what you have to say.” he wanted to shout. Reprimand her for being so foolish. Voice how her actions could’ve gotten her or one of them hurt because they had no idea where she was.

Despite these desires, the pain in Kaz’s body was too much and he was in need of a strong drink. Inej narrowed her eyes, but the man brushed past her leaving the others to send her looks of sympathy. Falling in step, the group followed behind Kaz, making note of how empty the streets were at that time of night. It was eerie. Yeah they may have caused an uproar with their little stunt, but they assumed there’d still be people out and about.

Dance halls and clubs are empty. The markets closed for business. Not a soul in sight. Wylan was the first to speak, “I’ve never seen it this quiet.”

“Very odd if I must say,” Jesper agreed, unconsciously letting his hands fall to where his guns strapped to his belt. His intuition was picking at his brain at the feeling that something wasn’t right.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s plotting now that Pekka is gone,” Inej made note of their surroundings. They were only a block from the Slat. Soon they’d be in the comfort of their home, able to bask in the relief they pulled their task off. A warm cup of tea by the fireplace before it came time for bed. Inej was looking forward to it.

But unfortunately, fate had other plans.

Nina suddenly froze, “Stop,” all movement seized, heads turning to the heartrender. Unease consumed them as they took in the sudden paleness of her appearance. “I hear heartbeats.” There was a subtle gulp, the woman adding in a low tone, “a lot of heartbeats.”

Tensing, they were met with the sounds of footsteps approaching from every angle. Inej pulled out her knives, as did Jesper with his guns. Wylan clutched his satchel to his chest, thinking of what he could use to help them out of this situation, though the odds were not looking good. Meanwhile, Kaz reversed his steps while the others spun around, the Crows forming a circle with their backs to one another, Kaz keeping space between him and Jesper. Allowing them a full view of the square.

They watched the herd of men step into the light. Revealing themselves with menacing eyes filled with vengeance. Kaz tensed, recognizing them as Pekka’s men.

Well the ones still loyal to the King of the Barrel. Several had already pledged their support to Kaz or took the chance to ditch town while they had the opportunity. Yet, here was a group of at least twelve, likely part of Pekka’s inner circle who’ve taken the actions of Kaz more personally. Those who refused to kneel. The young criminal should’ve known better than to expect a sudden shift in power would come easily to him.

“We have no business with you, gentlemen,” Kaz spoke with a level of calm that surprised even him. Deep down he was consumed with nerves seeing he and the Crows were severely outnumbered.

“Oh, but we do,” a gruff voice replied. Kaz’s eyes drifted to the owner, who’s hand mavuevered over his gun. “See, some of us are not too pleased with your little show tonight, Brekker. And we’ll be damned before claiming you as the King of the city.”

Jesper tilts his head slightly, whispering under his breath, “What do we do, boss?” Beside him Wylan was visibly freaking out. Nina raised her hands, ready to counter any attacks while Inej tightened the grip of her knives.

“This is it,” Kaz thought, clutching onto his cane. No ideas surfaced to help them escape. Accepting his time was up. Though he was going to fight for his Crows, the Bastard of the Barrel was ready to come to terms with his fate.

But before anyone could make the first room, a crack of lightning followed by its booming thunder shook the ground. Several flinched, including the crows, some of the Dime Lions stumbling by how close and sudden the element was to them. Rainfall began to pour down the once clear sky. Dark clouds covering the stars and skies.

The rain was thick, drenching everyone from head to toe. Their clothes became heavy. Had it not been for the skewing of their visibility, making them struggle to see where they were, they’d be annoyed by their state. But there were more important things at stake.

The storm made it hard to see. Only getting a glimpse of shapes and figures when flashes of lightning in the near distance hit the earth. Coupled with its thunder. Kaz barely could make out the enemy, bringing his cane up for any sudden attacks.

“What’s happening?” Wylan shouted, gurgling when the water hit mouth. “What do we do?”

“I-I--,” Kaz stuttered, the feeling of nausea swarming him at the cold, wet, rain hitting his face. It brought him back to the worst days of his life. Floating on top of cold, wet, bodies in the harbour, begging the Saints to save him. The man wanted to crawl away and hide. Yet the fear of not knowing what waited for them when the rain stopped kept him from falling to his knees in a panic.

“Hey! You there!” the same man from before shouted, Kaz squinting his eyes to see him raise his gun only to be thrown back by an invisible force of wind. His partner beside him went down next, though what hit him appeared to be a beam of light.

Kinda like a lightning bolt.

“What the hell was that?!” Inej shouted over the thunder.

‘A Squaller?’ Kaz thought to himself, watching another bout of wind sweep his oncoming attacker off their feet. He had not heard of another Grisha roaming the streets of Ketterdam. Surely if a squaller were inhabiting the area he’d know.

Using the butt of his cane Kaz knocked him out unconsious. When he glanced back up, his eyes landed on a cloaked figure standing on the roof of a nearby building. The rain made it impossible to make out their face. But judging by the way they moved their hands, and the fact his enemies were being bombarded by gusts of air, their savior was in fact an Ethereaki.

But what kind exactly?

At first Kaz believed they had to be a Squaller due to the wind. Yet, he then witnessed the rain shift direction, and water from a puddle shoot up to hit a man about to attack Wylan. A Tidemaker would better fit that description, however Kaz wasn’t aware of a Grisha able to control both air and water.

“I don’t know,” Jesper responded, shooting at an assailant he saw racing toward them, “But I’ve never been so happy for a thunderstorm as I am now.” At that moment Kaz realized nobody else noticed the mysterious person on the roof. His attention turned to Jesper beside him, oblivious to the help he was getting from a fellow Grisha. Turning back to the roof, expecting to see the cloaked individual, but they were gone.

As the fight commenced the storm ensued. Thunder overpowering the sound of pelting rain and gunshots. The Crows fought for their lives as the number of Dime Lions against them decreased. Nina managed to incapacitate several as did Jesper and Inej. The fight came to a climatic end with the last one standing was, quite, literally, hit with a lightning bolt causing the Crows to freeze where they stood.

Smoke filled the space, and when it cleared they were met with the mysterious being. Rain pelting down on them, however they seemed to pay no mind. As though it were a natural occurrence. It was still hard to see them. The streetlight candles had been blown out from the rain and wind, and the moon was covered by the clouds. Both those combinations obscured the face of their savior.

Nina raised her hands, ready to defend the group but Kaz motioned for her to stop, causing confusion amongst the rest. Who was this person and what did they want? And why was Kaz not doing anything?

“Well,” their voice, a feminine one at that, breached the once silent square. “That was entertaining if I’m being honest. Been a while since I’ve squabbled with angsty men,” she chucked, “but I was in dire need of practice.” Now hearing the woman speak clearly, they were able to identify her Ravkan accent. For Nina, her heart nearly stopped.

“I know that voice.” she felt the eyes of everyone, including the woman, on her. Hands lowering to her side, Nina's face etched into pure astonishment. Adding more confusion to the group who were at a loss of who this woman was.

“Oh!” The woman chuckled, not commenting on Nina’s words, “Apologies for the storm, let me just--,” they watched in stunned silence as her right hand rose, displaying a motion before the rain slowed and stopped altogether. Then with two fingers, she waved them around causing the clouds above to dissaperate, allowing the moon to shine down.

“Did she just--.” Jesper whispered to Inej, who’s expression resembled that of witnessing a miracle. “Can squallers summon thunderstorms? I thought that was a myth.”

Inej blinked rapidly, voice so low the others barely made out her reply. Tone in absolute awe, “Only one can.”

“One?” Kaz repeated, feeling a wave of unease beneath his skin.

Water from puddles splashed as the woman walked forward, stepping into the ray of light. The Crows, now able to see her fully, were greeted with her (y/h/c) hair and bearing dazzling grey eyes like the storm clouds she’d summoned. She appeared to be slightly older than the group, possibly by a few years. Then again Grisha were known to age slower than regular folk. For all they know she could be in her 50s. Look at the Darkling, who passed as a man in his early 40s to the naked eye but had lived for nearly 400 years.

Adorned in a deep grey kefta, the white and blue embroidery etched on resembled lightning bolts along with tiny drops of rain. It was unlike any kefta the Grisha wore. Those in the Ravka’s Second Army, with the exception of the Darkling, wore certain colored keftas and embroideries to signify their order. But to the knowledge of the Crows, no Grisha wore grey.

“Saints,” Nina gasped, jaw dropping slightly, causing the woman to smirk.

“Now, now,” she playfully tsked, “I’m not above swearing, but considering that applies to me….” her smirk never faltered, “I’m sure you can understand.”

Jesper’s head spun, looking between his comrades to see they were reacting the same way, “I’m sorry, are you saying that you’re--.”

Nina beat him to it, “Sankta Imber of the Drought.” Inej gasped, as did Wylan. The former repeated the name in wonder, falling to her knees in respect, “Sankta Imber….”

Kaz tightened his grip on his cane, mind racing to remember the tale behind the name. Who’s story was passed down from generation to generation for centuries. Who, like the Darkling and the Sun Summoner, was said to be either myth or once lived but suspected of perishing long ago.

Legends say that Sankta Imber of the Drought had been born in the century following the creation of the Fold. A farmer's daughter in the region of East Ravka, her family lived through the period where the country was stricken with a severe drought lasting over a hundred years, beginning not long after the Black Heretic disappeared. With no rain bringing water to the crops came a deadly famine. Hundreds of people and animals were lost, not only due to starvation and dehydration, but also illness. The economy in all of Ravka crumbled. Both States were fighting against each other for resources, as the food supply from East Ravka to West was now scarce. An increase in fires and dust bowls destroyed a lot of ecosystems, further deteriorating the country.

What was left of it that is.

There was little to no hope, with even prayers to the Saints to help them becoming meaningless words. Those still worshiping begged for a savior. The one who would bring the rain and storm. Ending the drought. Releasing them from the famine.

The idea a Squaller could summon a powerful storm was unheard of. Being able to bring forth powerful winds, rain, and possibly lightning and Thunder? Surely a Grisha of sorts would be only known by folklore. Especially given Tidemakers were the ones to control water.

Yet, it all changed one day as the 104th year of the drought approached.

“You’re more powerful than you think, Imber,” Baghra's stern voice echoed in the cave. Sitting opposite of her, with her head down and tear stains painting her cheeks, 15-year-old Imber Egorova made a sound Baghra could only assume was a whimper. “Denying it will do you no good. It will do this country no good.”

“How do you know?” The girl whispered, voice hoarse from crying following another gruesome 12 hour training day. “What makes me different from any other Squaller here?” She referred to the 20 other Squallers residing on the Little Palace grounds. Though some trained with the renowned Gisha teacher, none experienced the level of intensity Imber did.

“No Squaller here has shot someone 80 yards by their power during an exercise,” Baghra rebutted, causing Imber to wince at the memory. The reason why she was suddenly called to Baghra’s cave in the first place. From then on Imber barely got a lick of sleep or time to eat a proper meal.

The older woman gave a pointed look, “nor have they been able to summon electricity.” Ignoring Imbers stunned expression, she continued, “yes, girl, I know what you did when your sister’s heart stopped before you came here. Why your family was so willing to let you go after the testers proved you were Grisha,” Baghra leaned back in her chair, face void of emotion. “Ravka has not seen more than a few inches of rain since this drought began. No storms. And with the famine,” there was a light pause, “It’s claimed more lives than the Fold.”

Imber shuddered at the mention of Ravka’s darkened entity. Not wanting to think about its black abyss swimming with volcra.

“The point is, child,” Baghra captured her attention once more, “Besides the Sun Summoner, you could be the one to end part of Ravka’s suffering. But that will not happen if you cannot believe it yourself.”

Weeks shy of her 16th birthday, Imber received a letter from her father, which would change not only her world, but the one around. After contracting a bacteria from contaminated pond water, her mother and sister succumbed to a deadly illness after only a week. Her father had buried them on their land by the dead oak tree where they used to have picnics before Imber was taken to the Little Palace.

Distraught and riddled with unbearable pain, Imber collapsed to her knees in the middle of the courtyard, crumbling the letter in her hands. Her peers were silent, staring at her with sympathy. Unsure of what to say to the grieving teen, despite many knowing the exact feeling Imber was feeling.

Sorrow, anguish, regret. Never having the chance to correct wrongs or make memories with the loved onces they longed for. The cries of the Grisha filled the otherwise silent courtyard.

Suddenly, a rumble came from the sky..

Imber didn’t hear it over the sound of her sobs. Her companions, however, drew their attention upward, where they were greeted by a sight unimaginable. What once was a clear blue canvas, barely any clouds to begin with, transformed to that of a dark shadow. Wind, so powerful they thought a Squaller was responsible, nearly sent them off their feet.

“What’s happening?” A girl shouted, though they had difficulty hearing her due to the mix of rumbling overhead and breeze of wind.

“I don’t know!” the boy, a Tidemaker, beside her squinted, “Imber!” He lifted a hand to protect his eyes while focusing his view on the kneeled Grisha. A flash of light where her hands were plaed on the ground had him flinching. ‘What in the---.’ The spark occured once more. Chills filled his entire being as his eyes became saucers, falling to a whisper. “Saints above.”

Witnessing the sparks, an Inferni moved closer, ignoring the warning sent by the Tidemaker. “What is she doing?” His answer came by being blasted back by a gust of wind.

Imber let out a broken scream, head tilting back toward the sky as bolts of lightning released from her hands, igniting bouts of thunder in its wake. Gasps and shouts echoed around the Squaller from fellow Grisha and palace guards. The group behind her ran to find cover as the wind became too much, sending barrels and crates flying. Lightning and thunder, the duo reuniting as lost friends.

A sight to behold.

As the tears rolled down Imber’s cheeks, heavy rain soon replaced them. Drenching the lands of East Ravka for the first time in a hundred years.

For hours the girl remained kneeling on the grounds of the courtyard. Alone as everyone had seeked shelter within the Palace walls, letting the water from above coat her. The kefta she bore grew heavy. She paid no mind to it.

It wasn’t until she began to shiver from the freezing atmosphere that Imber retreated inside. Coming face to face with the reality of what transpired. As two guards escorted her to the throne room, Imber barely took notice of her peers watching the storm draw on from the windowsills. Some glanced at her in a mix of wonder, awe, and fear. Fear at the unknown, but wonder at what will be known.

Entering the throne room Imber was greeted by the King, Queen, Baghra, and the General of Ravka’s Second Army. Whereas the country’s monarchs were visibily bewildered at Imber, Baghra appeared impressed in comparison to the General’s excitement. Nerves consumed her on top of the immense grief Imber was experincing. Rain continued pelting the windows and roof of the Little Palace. Every once in a while, the occupants in the room flinched at the crack of thunder.

Upon making eye contact with the King, Imber bowed her head, curtseying as best she could with the weight of her soaked kefta. From there she underwent an hour of intense interrogation at the hands of the King and General. Baghra was questioned as well. Admitting she suspected the scale of Imber’s power but decided to stay quiet until the time came. The General, while pleased to know the world’s most powerful Squaller was among his ranks, voiced concern at the possibility of their enemies discovering her.

“Ravka has been praying for the day storms finally wash over her,” his tone was calm, almost haunting. Imber couldn’t look away as he moved toward her, tear stains painting her cheeks. “To save them from this wretching drought. Bring an end to this famine that has wiped away countless lives. Rain has touched grounds for the first time in over a century, Miss. Egorova. The people of Ravka are going to celebrate you. Erect statues on your name for being the hope they prayed for all these years.” he halted directly in front of her, keeping hold of her gaze it sent another wave of chills not relating to the cold clothes Imber wore.

“You are now the symbol of this dark period coming to its end. You are Sankta Imber of the Drought.”

“The storm lasted a fortnight, dispersing across Ravka’s lands until every inch had been touched by lightning. Yet the rain continued for months on end after the winds disappeared,” Nina recited the story etched into her brain. The crows silent as they took in her words. “Many say it was the raw grief of Imber losing her family that the storms were so strong. The constant rain marked as a symbol of her time in mourning.” The crows familiar with loss could relate. Kaz, Jesper, and Inej looking elsewhere than the Grisha.

Nina let out a breath, “Now whenever a powerful storm appears in Ravka, locals believe it to be Sankta Imber reminding them they will never experience a drought again. Famine will never touch their lands so long as she remains. Rain will be their protector, and she will be its champion.”

At the end of the Heartrender’s tale, Imber clasped her hands behind her back. “Nice to see my reputation still precedes me after all these years.” Chuckling, she took another step toward the group, “Still odd to hear myself spoken like a myth when I still live and breathe the same air as you.”

Again, no words could describe what the Crows were feeling at that moment. No one however was more shocked than Nina herself. And her reasons were far more than just being in the presence of a living Saint. “But you…”

Imber’s smirk turned to a soft smile, “Been some time since our last acquaintance, Nina Zenik.”

All eyes turned to the brunette, Kaz the first to speak, “What?” Not only was his mind racing, but now it was full of questions and doubts. They knew each other? But judging by Nina’s reaction, it was not all that meets the eye. She was stunned beyond belief like they were. “Care to explain, Zenik?”

Tensing by the tone of his voice, Nina sent him a light glare, “I don’t know her as Sankta Imber,” her eyes returned to the Grisha, this time showcasing betrayal as the memory of the woman in a blue kefta like her fellow Squallers appeared in her mind. “But as Commander Y/n Tempestasov of the Second Army.” Everyone felt the shift in the air at the mention of the Darkling’s army.

Why was one of the Darkling’s soldiers, a Saint at that, coming to them in the middle of the night? Traveling across the sea and saving them from Pekka’s men. There had to be a reason.

Kaz tightened the grip he had on his cane. Thinking back to events of the past several months. He would’ve recognized Imber, or Y/n, whatever she wanted to be called--at the Winter’s Fete. The kefta was unique; it would've captured anyone’s attention. As a powerful Squaller, Kirigan surely wanted her close to his side. Yet the Grisha had not been present on the skiff nor did Alina mention anything of meeting another living Saint.

Then there was the fact that the legends of Sankta Imber of the Drought were from nearly 300 years ago. It was believed she had died or dissapeared roughtly 20 years after she brought the storm to Ravka.

Meaning she’s been hiding in plain sight for centuries. A ghost among the living. Playing the role of a Second Army soldier under a false name to preserve her identity.

Another chuckle brought Kaz out of his thoughts, “Allow me to fill in the blanks, Crows,” Imber smirked at their reaction, “yes I know who you are. Do not doubt Nina’s loyalty--the last time we saw each other I was a different person. Roughly eight years if I’m correct,” bringing a hand to her chin, the Saint acted like she was deep in thought, “You’d only just arrived at the Little Palace before I escaped.”

“Escaped?”

Imber retained her posture, more serious than the initial laid back she had presented, “You’ve witnessed the evil General Kirigan is capabale of first hand.” they stayed silent, but each of their expressions faltered. “I discovered the scale of it a long time ago, after he made me a prisoner of the Little Palace under the guise of a trainer.” Nina bowed her head, the memory of Commander Y/n paroling the grounds where the Etherealki trained. She always appeared detached, but was kind to the young Grisha who had not yet succumbed to the corruption of the Darkling. “He was responsible for everyone believing I had died or dissapeared. After instilling fear in me at the thought of being captured by enemies, he had me locked in the caves of the Little Palace.” Inej let out a gasp, face consorting with sadness.

Imber shrugged, “sooner or later people stopped searching for me. Unaware I was close the entire time despire my storms becoming a blanket over Ravka for years. I was all but the myth you’ve heard.” Turning her head to Nina, Imber offered a soft smile, “It was years before he let me out. When he did I was named Commander under a false name and trained Grisha for centuries. Changing my name each time he did because someone asked too many questions and we had to clean up his mess. Y/n Tempestasov is the recent name of the many I’ve gone by. Frankly it’s my favorite if I’m being honest.”

“Would you prefer it if we called you that?” Wylan raised his hand, resulting in a side eye from Kaz at his formality. The Saint, however, smiled at him, “I’d like that. Imber Egorova…” she trailed off, connecting her gaze with Kaz as though she read him like a book. “She is of the past.”

Ignoring the weight on his chest, knowing damn well what the Saint was refering to, Kaz changed the subject. “Enough sentiment. You still haven’t said why you’re here.” The sound of his cane echoed on the pavement when he moved closer to her. “The Darkling might be dead but how are we to trust you’re not doing his bidding.”

The woman scoffed, obviously offended by the assumption, “Believe me, I hate the man more than anyone. Probably more than you and Alina combined.”

Jesper made a face of shock, voicing what they all thought, “You know Alina?”

“She sent me,” Y/n mused, shocking them more when she added, “And Kirigan is alive.”

“How is that possible?” Inej wondered aloud, unable to grasp the news.

“Turns out his own creation did not kill him after all. Instead he used merzost to create shadow monsters. Monsters that can only be destroyed with a certain blade that, like me, is also a legend.”

“Neshyenyer,” Kaz narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to call bluff. Y/n smirked in response.

“That is where you come in. We have some mutual friends, and they sent me to retrieve you lot to find the sword. Said you were the best of the best.” Hand going into her pocket, she removes a rolled parchment tied with a ribbon. “For your cooperation, the King of Ravka plans to generously compensate you.” She held it out to Kaz, “For you, Dirtyhands.”

He ignored the name, deciding not to question the depth of her knowledge on him and the Crows, and instead took the parchment. Once unfolded, he read the message inked onto its surface, detailing the extent of the mission and amount of kruge to be paid. He stopped at the name signed at the very end, ‘Nikolai Lantsov.’

‘Mutual friends,’ he remembered she said. Intuition telling him it was not only Alina and Mal the Saint referred to. Only person Kaz recalled that could likely be said aquaintance was a certain privateer.

Footsteps wandering away had the man look up, finding Y/n to take her leave. Kaz and Jesper flanked to his sides, the whole group watching her depart. “Come along, Crows,” she called out, the playfulness returning. “A storm is approaching.” light rain began to fall once more, followed by the sound of thunder in the distance. Kaz pictured the smile on her face by the tone of her voice. “And we’ve got work to do.”

[swifty-fox]

[ needs ] sender asks receiver what they need

Would love something for Gale/John in Little Beasts—even a different prompt. Just something where they’re having to be emotionally vulnerable in some way.

John's leg jiggles rapidly, fingers tapping against the cheap plastic seat between his legs. The staccato beat is the loudest thing in the near-empty emergency room. It's only him and a harried looking young mother cradling her coughing child. She spares a glance at him, lips pursing unreadably and he offers her a faint smile that is not returned.

It's three A.M. and there's blood on his hands, under his fingernails. Coppery and sickening and mixed with the vomit on the knee of his jeans. He picks at it absently, too tired or perhaps too shell-shocked for disgust. Exhaustion sits heavy on his shoulders, and every glance from that woman has his skin crawling. It's irrational and unlikely but he imagines somehow she knows exactly why he's here, who he's brought and the six care rules he'd broken in the process of doing it.

No more late night wandering, if you can't sleep have a cup of goddamn tea Egan.

If tea doesn't help text Brady, yes even if Ev complains fucking text Brady

Don't text Curt

Don't let Curt text you

Don't go see Curt, no matter what he says or begs or promises, you can't save a man determined to drown

Stop trying to save the world.

Not the world, Johnny, just one man.

He stares so long and so hard in front of him the linoloum floor tiles begin warping and sliding against each other as if waves of the ocean. Florescent lights buzz above him, a mosquito whine in his ear and he tries not to picture Curts pale grey face, the way his teeth had unconsciously sunk into the meat of John's hand until it drew blood as he choked around his desperate begging fingers.

Don't be too far gone, please Cutty don't be too far gone.

Solid black shoes, shined to a modest polish step into John's field of view, a steaming cup of coffee pressed into his hands. (his bloody, bloody hands)

Father Cleven, who had been Gale to him now for longer than he hadn't been, folds himself gracefully into the chair beside him with his own cup of coffee. Takes a sip and hisses but doesn't complain beyond that.

"Drink, John," comes the pastor's quiet rumble.

He drinks. The coffee is made how he likes. Heavy on the creamer, light on the sugar but never wholly unsweetened.

"They said he's awake." Gale says, "But since I wasn't an emergency contact or family they couldn't tell me more."

John was Curt's emergency contact, or at least he used to be. He wasn't quite sure whether the man had kept him on the papers after not speaking for over two years.

He nods, takes another sip of his coffee and tastes none of it.

"John," Gale says and there's a slightly uncertain wobble to his voice. He's dressed in a white shirt and worn-soft jeans. Glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose and his hair was sticking up in odd places, flopping over his forehead and tangling around his ears like the ruffled feathers of a duck.

Hello?

Gale- fuck sorry I know it's late-

It's fine, John, are you alright?

Yes- no. Yes I'm alright but I need- fuck

Take a breath, what's going on

I need you to drive me somewhere. It's my friend, he's in trouble.

John sits his coffee on the floor and pushes his fingers into his browbone, exhaling slowly.

He's taken something.

A hand rubs along his back, an excusable away touch of a Paster comforting one of his flock only not twelve hours ago Gale had pressed John down into the mattress with that same hand on that same spot and made him muffle his cries into a pillow.

"What do you need John?"

He swallows. Swallows again. Swallows again and then gasps for a wet breath, tears clogging his nostrils and avoiding his dry eyes.

"Take me home," he pitches his voice lower, only for them, "take me home and let me hold you."

He feels Gale exhale just as shakily and braces himself for spitting bitter rejection.

"Okay."

[spiderlandry]

upbraid — ethan landry

Description: Upbraid—To upbraid someone is to speak to them in an angry or critical way in response to something they have done wrong—in other words, to scold them.

Or: You hate that Ethan has been careless while wearing the mask.

Pairing: Spider-Man!Ethan Landry x GN!Reader

Warnings/Tags: descriptions of wounds/bruises, some angst

Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s Note: a little writing exercise for me, i took merriam webster’s september 3rd word of the day (upbraid) and built a plot out of it :] finished it about a month later LMAO

It was after a night out with some friends that you discovered that your best friend since high-school, Ethan, was the same man dressing up in red and blue and patrolling the streets every night. You came home slightly drunk, and the vigilante was passed out on your fire escape, battered and bruised. You hadn’t known it was him yet. It was when you had to stitch him up—while he was unconscious—and you saw a birthmark on his side that you got suspicious. When he took off the mask right in front of you was the confirmation.

You’d been taking care of him since then. He insisted that you didn’t have to, but sometimes you figured that patching him up was more for you than him.

Things didn’t change much after that incident except for that Ethan comes to you every night for his wounds. Outside of that secret shared between you two, there was no change in your relationship whatsoever.

Working regular shifts at a local coffee shop ensured you heard whatever the news stations were saying about Spider-Man that week due to the television always playing, albeit at a low volume. Over the last few months, you learned how yo tune it out in fear that you’ll one day hear that Ethan was dead.

But your coworkers couldn’t seem to get enough of him. Which, at first, you didn’t care, but now that you knew it Ethan, you shut down any words about Spider-Man.

All it took was one day, on your break.

There were no customers, so you lounged in the main sitting area scrolling through your phone.

“Holy shit,” Mindy, the only coworker you considered a friend, grabbed the nearby remote and turned up the TV volume. “Look.”

Seeing as she wasn’t usually the type to care about Spider-Man, your instincts trusted that whatever was on the screen wasn’t about him. But you were so, so wrong.

It happened quickly.

The headline caught your eye first:

LIVE: SPIDER-MAN FIGHTS GREEN GOBLIN

The green goblin. That’s what the media had been calling the bad guy of the week. Well, more like two weeks. Ethan assured you that he had it under control.

It was clear as day that he, in fact, did not have it under control.

Your spine went rigid.

The camera zoomed in on Spider-Man, a large gash on his calf and holding his arm close to his chest, assessing the situation while civilians ran for their lives.

You grabbed the remote from Mindy’s hand, turning off the TV and earning you an irked ‘Hey!’; however you didn’t hear much more than that because you were bolting out the door in the next second.

You waited about an hour in anticipation at your apartment, med kit on the counter, sitting there blankly and watching if your phone got any texts from Ethan. You repeatedly ignored the texts from Mindy or your manager asking where you had gone—none of that was important now—Ethan had to be your priority.

The loud bang on your window finally signalled his arrival, and you hated that you were relieved. The pit in your chest grew deeper every time, and yet every time, it meant he was alive.

The room was eerily quiet.

Ethan winced as you wrapped up his arm. Whenever you patched him up like this, it was always quiet. But this time—this time was different, somehow. It was tense. Something hung in the room and it left a tense note, an unfinished symphony; he was in the dark.

It hit him that it was the look on your face which made him fill with dread.

Your furrowed brows accompanied a seemingly permanent frown on your face, and your eyes were everywhere but his own.

He knew how much he worried you. You said so on the first day he landed on that fire escape, but you always started every visit with an, ‘I’m glad you’re okay,’ or at least some variation of it.

This wasn’t that. At all.

“Can you at least talk to me?” He broke the silence, a glass shattered.

You looked up at him, “No.”

The air left his lungs. “What?” Maybe it was the end. “What—what do you mean?”

“You wanna talk?” You haphazardly shoved things in the med kit, zipping it up and walking away with it to put it back where it belonged.

Ethan only nodded hesitantly.

“I’ll talk.” When you came back to face him, you looked down. “You’re fucking careless.”

He could only part his lips in hopes that words will come. Maybe they will. But nothing did, he didn’t know if he truly could’ve spoken at that moment because you were elaborating what you meant soon enough.

“You just—you come in here and expect me to fix you every single time,” he heard your heart beat faster with every word. “And then you go out there and do it again.”

“I told—“

“No!” his jaw shut tight when you raised your voice. “I’m tired, Ethan. I really am. I see you getting hurt every day—I have to see that, Ethan, because you’re everywhere! Then you come to me and I have to pretend like thinking about you dying doesn’t keep me up at night.”

Ethan’s heart plummeted into the abyss. He wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole along with it, as the shame and disgust at himself hit him all at once. He had nothing else to say. There were no words for you, because you were right. And that’s what hurt the most.

He had nothing else to say except, “I didn’t know I hurt you like that.”

“Ethan—”

“I told you that you didn’t have to do that for me.”

“If I don’t do it, nobody else will,” you sighed.

“I’m sorry.” Ethan had been so lost in protecting others that he lost sight of protecting you. In turn, he hurt you—used you. “I’ll go.”

He stood up in haste, shuffling past you with his eyes glued to the ground.

“Ethan,” God, even the way you say his name wounded him. So much that he’d already forgotten about his physical state. He winced as he put his mask back on and opened up the window. “Don’t.”

But that was a good sign. Don’t meant you wanted him to stay. Nonetheless, he still had to protect you. Protecting you was his priority.

“I can’t—” he coughed. “This isn’t…good. I’ll go.”

There was a beat of silence when he looked back before leaving.

“You know what?” You added. “You’re right. Just leave.”

And so he left.

Days passed.

You ignored the screens, though it always made its way back to you.

SPIDER-MAN: ABANDONED NEW YORK?

Spider-Man was gone. For three days, at least. Yet the world felt his absence. Your world, however, was at a complete standstill. Waiting with bated breath in anticipation of either hearing about the death of your Ethan or his resurfacing. You hoped it was the latter.

Your mutual friends even sensed your unease, but because of college and finals, it was really only Tara who took note of the blankness in your eyes when someone brought up Ethan.

Thankfully, Spider-Man showed up. The city rejoiced in being protected once again. But you were still missing Ethan in your life. Through Chad, you checked on his state, who always responded that his roommate rarely spoke to him these days. It seemed that Ethan was letting you have your pick of friends, almost as if it were a divorce and you got what he had. Even if the idea of you and Ethan getting ‘divorced’ made you laugh at its absurdity, in some ways it did feel like that.

Weeks passed. It was days before finals. You had dealt somewhat well with Ethan’s absence by losing yourself in your day-to-day life. You studied harder, even picked up extra shifts which made Mindy question your motive. You hated work.

Unfortunately, it seemed as though the all-nighters finally caught up to you.

It was dawn. You hadn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours, and you knew Ethan would be out patrolling at this moment. You banged on the door of his dorm, waking up an angry Chad, but you couldn’t think about that now as you headed straight for Ethan’s room and sat on his bed.

You figured it was too long. Weeks too long. You should have talked to him the day after, but his insistence on leaving your apartment that day made your heart constrict in ways you didn’t think possible. Maybe you hurt him too much with what you said.

The sleep came easily.

A light touch of your arm woke you up.

Upon rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you were faced with Ethan. Your Ethan. His mask was off.

The instinct to stand up to wrap your arms around him was as easy as the sleep that came to you hours before. It was long overdue.

It took a few seconds for him to reciprocate, and you sighed when you finally felt him release his breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

He pulled back to your dismay, keeping you at arms length.

“You—you shouldn’t be here.”

You almost flinched. “What?”

“No,” he shook his head incessantly. “I’m supposed to be protecting you.”

That was not what you expected. “Ethan, what—”

“Please, just—just leave.”

“Is that what you really want?”

Same like that day, his eyes didn’t leave the ground. Anywhere but your eyes.

“Answer me, at least.” You sounded desperate.

“I can’t hurt you like that again. So, leave.” His voice tapered off, shaken.

“Look me in the eyes when you say that.” You mustered up all the strength you could despite having woke up mere minutes ago. “Tell me that I’m safer without you.”

He shook his head instinctively, “You’re not without me.”

“What?” You whispered, lungs out of air.

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been watching me, aren’t you?”

His silence said everything.

You reached to brush his messy curls out of his eyes. His mask had messed them up. He finally turned his head to you, curious.

Yet, you couldn’t look him in his eyes as you said it.

“You hurt me when you’re careless,” you declared. “But it hurts more when you—you…think I don’t want you to be around me. I feel safe with you, Ethan. If you really don’t want to hurt me then…then just—please stay in my life. As Ethan.”

He pulled you closer, and you rested your head against his shoulder.

“What you’re doing as Spider-Man is good. You have to protect people. But you’re Ethan. I fell in love with him first and—and I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

“You’re in love with me?”

He lifted your chin up to face him, the contact surging through your being.

You nodded wordlessly.

He finally smiled, “I think I’ve been in love with you for longer.”

“Nuh uh,” you flashed him a grin back. “I knew when I met you.”

“Then we’re even.”

He kept his hands on your chin, subconsciously pulling you closer. He desperately searched your eyes for unease, but found something he’d always known was there: love.

“Prove it.”

And so he kissed you like his life depended on it.

[princessofanarchy]

hi! this is honestly my first fanfic ever so i know there's maybe a few things I'm not doing right. i'm fully open to feedback and suggestions to improve. hope y'all like it ;)

You, the reader, and Gojo Satoru were in what everyone would consider a great relationship. That is, until he broke up with you, citing his desire to keep you safe from the threats of the world that he was a part of. He was thorough in his separation from you, so thorough that, had you wanted to reach out to him when you found out you were pregnant, you would not have been able to.

Now, three years later, you've moved out to a quiet village near the sea on Okinawa Island where you've been raising your son as a single mother. You've resigned yourself to only worrying about your son's paternity when he becomes old enough to question it, and you've convinced yourself that you're completely over the blue eyed bastard.

One day, you're out, strolling the beach with your son propped on your hip. You're enjoying the peaceful scene, indulging in your son's fascination of the seaside. His is the kind of fascination that can only come from experiencing something novel. It's the last place you expect to lock eyes on Satoru after the wind sent your wide brimmed hat flying his way and landing at his feet.

Your grip on your son tightens and you unconsciously hold his head to your chest, hiding his face and the azure blue eyes that are exactly like the ones you're looking at now. You can't which of you is more in shock over the encounter. You stare at each other for a few moments too long, but you're the first to speak.

"Can you……pass me that hat?" You ask politely. That seems to snap him out of it, and he picks the hat up and dusts it off before handing it to you.

"Thank you." You place the hat on your head, still holding your squirming son to your chest, and turn away quickly.

"Wait!"

You freeze. Your heart jackhammers in your chest. You hear the sand shift beneath his feet as he approaches you.

"Could you turn around, please?" He asks softly. You hesitate.

"M-mama!" The toddler in your arms whimpers frustratedly as he tries to wiggle from your uncomfortably tight grip. Your stomach drops when you realise that you might have been hurting him and you loosen your grip quickly and place a kisses on his forehead and cheeks.

"I'm sorry, baby. Mommy's sorry." You coo at him softly.

"Y/N?" Satoru calls out to you in a low voice from behind. His tone is unreadable. You consider, briefly, making a mad dash away from him. For some reason the desire to hide your son away from him has seized every fibre of your being. But you know damn well how futile that would be against Gojo Satoru, and it would only make him suspicious.

You turn slowly to face him, carefully hiding your son's face, and look up, into the eyes of the man that you weren't counting on seeing again anytime soon.

"Satoru. It's been a while." His name sounds foreign on your tongue, after not speaking it for almost three years. His eyes soften as he takes in your face. The expression makes your heart stutter.

"Yeah……it sure has been." He rubs the back of his head, a nervous trait of his. "You look, well."

"So do you." You respond evenly, as you wonder how you'll manage to get out of the interaction, hoping those damned eyes of his don't pick up on what you're trying to hide. You should have known better though, because when his eyes move from your face to the child in your arms, you knew that he had known from the moment your first locked eyes. His gaze travels back to your face, and he arches a snowy white brow. You press your lips together, not wanting to verbally confirm the obvious, and you both fall into a silent staring contest that  lasts a few brief moments before he sighs deeply.

"Can I hold him?"

The immediate answer than springs to your tongue is a resounding 'No'. And right on its heels are all the things you wanted to scream at him when he left broken and abandoned three years ago. He sees it on your face, the myriad of feelings, the supressed hurt and anger.

"There's a lot of things we have to talk about." He says. "And we will, I promise. But for now, can I just -"

His words taper off as the child in your arms turns and looks at him curiously. You're watching Satoru's face the entire time. You see his breath catch. You see the shock in his eyes. Then you see something that wasn't there when he broke your heart; regret. Anger blooms within your chest.

"My house isn't too far from the beach." You hear yourself say, before you turn and walk away.

Satoru watches your retreating back for a moment before taking one step, then another, before he begins walking after you.