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godihatethiswebsite · 1 year ago

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Tethered Bonds

✽ Poly 141 x f!reader (Omegaverse AU)

A lucky stroke of fate led you right into the arms of your alpha soulmates. But is it everything you dreamed it would be or just the continuation of a nightmare?

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part Two - The aftermath

So many of you came out of the woodwork for this story and I couldn't be more grateful for all the kind words of encouragement! I'm truly flattered by the amount of love this received for being something that randomly popped in my head on a whim ❤️

I'm glad I was able to get this part out so quickly. It might be a tick before part three, but I've already got some of it worked out. I'll still try to keep chipping away at it while I work on my other series~

Trigger warnings: swearing, angst, depression

“I saw them the other day.”

“...saw who?”

“My scent matches.”

There’s a pregnant pause as your therapist of four years takes the information in, caught off guard by the abruptness of the statement but also the further implications behind the words.

Dr. Miranda has been your life raft and confidant ever since you’d first gone to your family with the appalling reality of your newfound situation. An omega like yourself; she specializes in the treatment and rehabilitation of women who've endured abuse at the hands of their packmates and the dredges of society. Highly recommended by the United Designation Resource Center for psychological trauma.

It had taken you over a week following the incident to gather the strength to confront your fathers on the thorny subject - too ashamed of admittance and too anxious of their response. And even then it was done over the phone in the most uncomfortable video call of your life, the dour atmosphere so at odds with that blessedly clear mid-afternoon sky, its temperate climate and soft summer breeze carrying along an enchanting melody of carefree innocence.

Inside, it was raining.

The wretched bond was a gravity well, sucking you down into a chasmic abyss and siphoning your once bountiful vibrancy. Responsibilities fell by the wayside, locked away in your self-imposed prison as if the globe would simply stop moving if you only ignored its rotations. Not until both your fathers made the three hour flight up north did you muster the courage to finally remove the makeshift barricade guarding your front door, talking through the deceptively difficult act with them on the other end of the phone as the two alphas supported you during the twenty five minutes it took to overcome the all-consuming panic and usher them inside.

They stayed with you for the better part of the month, taking over where depression had failed you in your efforts to function alone. Your parents allowed you space to look after yourself, clearing away the physical filth of your living quarters and, in doing so, sweeping away the cobwebs of your teetering sanity. They scrubbed at putrid greasy plates while you scoured tainted flesh under a scalding hot stream, the dead skin cells contaminated by his poisonous touch spiraling down the drain along with your tears.

The harsh truth of the matter is that there is no escape from your own body. You come screaming into this world given one to do with as you will, to mold and shape based on lived experiences with no regard for the decisions and circumstances made outside your control. There is no space to slip between the weaved threads of time, no hands to turn counter clockwise when you make a mistake. Just a grim acceptance that the life you once aspired to was forevermore out of reach.

There was only so much to be done given your situation. As much aid as your family offered, they were as helpless of bystanders as the soul in your meat suit. Chores were completed, accumulated bills paid, a hearty meal piled high on your plate combating the recent gauntness of your face. You were cherished and fussed over like the wee babe found scattered amongst family photos in your childhood home, cradled in their arms when the horrid presence came calling, dragging a hot poker through your insides and causing mental anguish at all hours of the night.

The more time they spent around you, the more apparent it was that you could no longer stay there. The closer the proximity to your bonded alpha the more power he held to disrupt your life.

That's how you landed in Dr. Miranda’s lap. Before you'd even set foot on the tarmac arrangements had been made for a new life in a new city on the other side of the country - spiriting you away on a mission to regain your independence, the distance easing the damage he could do even as the strained bond churned.

Initially dreading having to confess the horrors you’d endured to some random unknown, she’d worked diligently to soothe your broken nerves in both demeanor and environment. A kind omega in her early forties, the subtle crows feet and laugh lines only accentuated her cheerful personality, disarming in her ability to draw out your insecurities and work with you through the trauma in a way that didn’t feel intruding.

Dr. Miranda was a veritable well of understanding, always encouraging of whatever pace you set, careful of the fragile boundaries constructed to guard your heart from further damage.

She operated as part of a larger business that provided therapeutic services and catered to all designations alike. You’d been thrilled to find there was a separate entrance away from the cacophony of the common room, bypassing the headache of having to wait amongst strangers and leading directly to her office in the back right corner of the building.

The space itself was considerably cozy, low lit warmth all plush and homely. The spacious couch against the back wall invited you to stretch out comfortably, decorative pillows available in a colorful assortment of textures - catering to a discerning omega’s personal preferences. A small diffuser wafting light refreshing mists operated as both a handy descenting spray and an emotional pick me up. Every accommodation purposeful, given special care for your emotional easement and wellbeing.

You appreciated the effort she put into making her office feel more like a living room than a sterile setting. It was easier for you to converse when it felt like you were speaking with a friend.

Bit by bit, Dr. Miranda coaxed you from the sheltered recesses in which you’d burrowed; not just a guiding hand through the concrete dust and collapsed rubble, but a mentor recovering your confidence, reminding you of the path you once walked independently and peeling back the suffocating layers that kept you from standing on your own two feet.

In hindsight, you probably could’ve broken the news of your scent match a bit less abrasively - probably should’ve led with it too.

The pair of you had been engrossed in a topic that was moreso a follow up from your last session rather than anything of actual import. Your brain had been functioning on autopilot the past twenty odd minutes, making sounds vaguely human enough to get by without requiring proper attention. Honestly, most of her words had been drowned out by the incessant buzzing in your ear that had been slowly growing in volume, throat clenching and knuckles flexing, more aware of the sweat dripping down the back of your nape than anything she had to proffer.

Eventually the dam just broke. The words slipped out like grease, lubricated in a film of oil too slick to be contained and begging to be addressed.

There’s a struggle on her face to try and maintain some level of professionalism after the sudden revelation. Knitted eyebrows spiked before smoothing back down, jaw almost dropping until she remembered herself and switched it from an ‘o’ to a relaxed flat line. She mirrored your own position on the couch from her velvet wingback chair, sitting cross legged with an air of casualness. Her only remaining tell was her hands fidgeting in her lap as if her fingers itched to shake you down like a coconut tree or pry your brain open like a valuable specimen.

Knowing the scarcity of scent bonding, this may have very well been the first time she’s come across this scenario - whether in her personal life or from her spot opposite you in her seat.

“How are you feeling about the encounter?” A loaded question if ever there was one, giving you plenty of breathing room to start the conversation however you needed and giving her a chance to compartmentalize.

You tried to focus on the initial emotions, remembering that first brush of sweet alpha pheromones on your olfactory senses. The rush of endorphins as your inner omega staked her claim with that first gulp of built up citrus infused drool.

“I didn’t know I could feel like that...” There was a breathy quality to your tone as you visibly brightened, gazing at the plush rug in the center of the room without actually viewing it, a glow to your smile that was soft in your reminiscence. “They don’t prepare you for that first whiff at the Academy. It’s almost like…”

How could you explain in the span of a few sentences what the most ardent poets struggled with over the course of a lifetime?

“It’s like when someone grows up not being able to breathe properly and they don’t even realize it’s a problem. To them it’s normal to be in a constant state of dyspnea because that’s all they’ve ever known. No one else might be complaining about it, but no one’s asked them about it either. They just assume that's how your lungs are supposed to function and carry on none the wiser.”

Dr. Miranda nodded along, ever patient as you attempted to spew out your thoughts in an at least semi-coherent structure.

“But then, one day, they’re walking behind a guy who’s fumbling with his attempt to shove a small object back in his pocket and watches as it falls to the sidewalk. They pick it up off the ground like a good citizen; strike up a conversation. Ask him about the strange contraption the guy calls an inhaler - learns there's another way to breathe. And so they go home and tell their mom what’s been going on with them and she takes them to see the doctor who gets them one of their own. And when that first dose of medicated mist gets sucked into their lungs…”

The image of a wide eyed innocent gasping in a world full of untold possibilities as if reborn from the ashes of their previous life, no longer chained down by the invisible restrictions tethering them to the globe, eyes glistening full of wonderment at how something so small can be something so cosmically life altering.

With each new breath, they soar.

You’re pulled out of your musings and back to reality as your own lungs expand, something weightless shimmering in your gaze, glassy eyed and perfectly at ease. “Now I know why they call it living.”

The words are floated around the space with a sort of reverence akin to hearing a favored childhood fairy tale read aloud at their mother’s knee. Something wistful and longing and filled with effervescent hope.

“Sounds heavenly...” Her own voice was just as breathy, living vicariously through the moment she herself hasn't experienced. Curling her legs up under herself, Dr. Miranda encouraged, “tell me more.”

“There were two of them,” you went on, smile turning playful and newly invigorated. “The first one was just this big bulk of an alpha. I mean, seriously, he was properly huge!” Animated arms opened wide for emphasis, your grin reaching almost the same diameter. “Built like a fucking linebacker or something. I can only imagine what he must do for a living. Kinda gives off scary vibes, but like… in a non sketchy way? He dresses a bit like a drug dealer, but feels more like a gym teacher. Maybe that’s just me being biased ‘cause he smells like a cupcake, I dunno.”

The energy you gave off was infectious. Dr. Miranda couldn’t help but join in with amused laughter, endeared to the way you were lighting up the room. It wasn’t often she got to see you like this, glimpsing the lighthearted woman you were before the accident. It was a welcome sight after so much negativity. “And the other?”

“Fuuuuck me, Doc.” You groaned good naturedly, head falling back to rest against the spine of the couch as your limbs went limp. “Swear to god he was the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life. Gorgeous smile. Like, I’ve always been a casual fan of coconut, but after that encounter…” You shuddered. “I just wanna roll around in an entire box of fucking samoas.”

“And do these tasty specimens have names?”

Just like that, you wilted.

The temperature shifted rapidly, a violent change that dragged out of your whimsy and back into a world where life didn’t discriminate between those deserving of heaven and those who broke their way in to taint the ghosts at peace.

She picked up on it immediately, back straightening as if you weren’t the only one in the room with a chill suddenly dripping down their spine.

Your admission came from a voice far more fragile than she’d heard in a very long time. “...I never got to ask.”

Recounting the excruciating memory was like shoving needles underneath your nailbeds, bringing up the other person in the room keeping you from wanton bliss, describing the torture you’d endured witnessing them existing with their own omega unaware of the damage she’d inadvertently done. You relayed their moment of recognition and sympathy. The confusion on the poor omega’s face.

How you turned tail and fled like a coward from the scene.

“I panicked,” came the strained confession, stumbled out in a frantic rush that spoke volumes of your frazzled mental state. “I-I didn’t know what else to do! I couldn’t just waltz up to them all willy nilly and throw a wrench in whatever the hell kinda life they’d already built. I mean, she was right there! How was I supposed to fawn over the men who should’ve been mine to keep when they were never mine to begin with?!”

You flinched away from the unwanted flashback of silvery bite marks, the pale white indents plastered on her skin displayed proudly beneath the collar of her coat like an olympic medal. So at odds with the ones mirrored on your own flesh, hidden now under a thick cotton turtleneck that you fought the urge to scratch.

Dr. Miranda listened closely, keen eyes analyzing the familiar body language and monitoring your growing levels of distress. She watched as you picked apart a loose hanging thread with jittery deftness until inevitably too much unwound and fluffy white stuffing poked out between the seams of the pillow clutched like a life jacket to your chest.

“I can only imagine the hurt you must’ve felt in that moment…”

Where once your voice had been full of life, now there was only a grave emptiness. Color had been sucked from your aura the same way it had been from the room. There was no hiding from your devastation in the tiny office, the frayed threads of the cashmere pillow a reflection revealing the true turmoil roiling beneath the skin. It rotted from the inside out, exposing the vulnerable squishy interior and keeping you reliving the same brutal lacerations again and again and again.

“...I hadn’t even considered it a possibility, you know…?”

Hadn’t allowed yourself the concept of hope.

“And suddenly it was right there - the answer to all my problems. For a brief moment, I was shown a glimpse of a better life. A future… one where I didn't wake up with earth shattering headaches and relentless nausea and I’d actually have energy to do more than just be a useless fucking couch potato and there could be laughter and healing and–”

You weren’t sure at which point in your stream of consciousness you’d started crying, nor when you fitfully clawed into the padded fabric, shredding the delicate material as it twisted and stretched in your trembling hands.

“I wish I never ran into them at the store... I wish I could’ve kept living in stupid fucking ignorance. At least then they could’ve just stayed made up characters in my head. Anything would’ve been better than this–” you spat angrily, chucking the mangled remains of the pillow on the ground and gritting your teeth through the onslaught of tears. “Having them ripped away from me like some sick fucking joke! Like the universe hasn’t already crushed my hopes and dreams and laughed in my face for wanting a normal fucking life!? Well guess what, gods? You win! Okay?! You fucking win! Take my heart! I don't want it anymore!”

Consoling arms encapsulated your quivering form, the comforting florals of Dr. Miranda’s airy omega scent projecting like a protective blanket and overpowering the tart bitterness of your once sweetened pear turned ashen in your mouth.

The floodgates opened. They couldn't be stopped.

“I’m just so fucking sick of this!” Your screams of devastation become muffled against the softness of her pink knitted sweater, harsh blubbering sobs broken up by heaving gasps as you mourn the life you’ll never have. “I hate him... I hate him! I don’t wanna do this anymore! I just want my fucking life back!”

There are no words that can fix the lesions of the heart. There’s no comfort of a better tomorrow that she can wax poetic whilst drying your tears. Sometimes grief cannot be mended - only managed. And sometimes that means accepting the bad days with the learned knowledge that not all anger is made of evil.

Holding you close, lulling you into a guarded safety with a placating purr, she grants you reprieve from the mask that you wear.

Not much more was discussed in the aftermath. The remaining time was dedicated to helping you stabilize from the emotional trauma, bringing you down carefully to avoid dropping into a catatonic state. She’d witnessed it with you before - at the start of your visits. When the grief was still too near and your triggers splayed out like a million mouse traps all primed to go off. Avoiding them was all but impossible in those early days. Three hours of your life were forever lost to time, the only proof of its occurrence the foggy aftermath filled memory of cold dampened skin and sweat soaked weighted blankets clutched tight in a dark room, uncontrollable trembles wracking your form and a bone deep exhaustion as if you’d just ran ten miles.

Dr. Miranda never once left your side.

Trudging your way back to your vehicle, the air inside the car was only mildly warmer than its outer counterpart, sinking into the rigid cloth seats and listening to the laboured clicks of the old engine grappling to turn over in the bitter cold. Snowflakes gathered on your coat began to melt as it finally gave way, puttering to life and filling the space with dense heated air.

You huffed out a loaded sigh, absentmindedly scratching at the already abused skin as you felt his presence poking experimentally across the bond. As if you didn’t have enough on your plate without him adding his delightful input, sniffing around your emotions like a trained bloodhound attuned to your melancholic brooding.

He was a spiteful thing; had been since he first opened his eyes the next morning from his drug induced stupor and found the pretty thing he’d coveted had just up and vanished. You never knew when he’d invade the sanctity of your mind. The flicker of amusement from his end was the telltale proof this was all just a sick game.

The bonds didn’t allow any actual communication. There were no words passed back and forth, no sudden powers of telepathy. Just intense sensations - emotions conveyed as though tangible and speaking ideas down an invisible phone line.

The whole point of a mating bite in the first place was to bring a further cohesion to the packs. As an omega, you were the fixed point in space around which all other members orbited. A mediator of sorts; it was your job to smooth the serrated edges of an alpha’s instincts, regulating their emotional needs and nurturing them to achieve a sense of balance - and vice versa.

An omega’s naturally empathetic nature meant you were frequently prone to becoming easily overstimulated. It was an alpha’s duty to soothe your frazzled nerves.

He liked to abuse his privileges.

Sometimes he went days without pestering, others his tiresome machinations seemed unending. The longest reprieve had been just shy of three weeks, lured into a false sense of optimism that just maybe he’d overdosed and freed you from his haunting clutches. His return was a hot knife stabbing into your skull, grinding and drilling like a makeshift lobotomy for the clinically insane.

You were grateful for the miles between now softening the blows. Once he’d begun to feel the strain on the flight to your current city whittling away at the strength of your bond, he’d lashed out in unbridled fury. You’d spent the first leg of the trip huddled on your knees in the airplane stall, his mental punishment sawing into your ribs and expelling the simple breakfast you’d eaten an hour prior.

Sobs of anguish turned to tears of relief as time went on and his reach stretched thin across the continent.

The bond withdrawals came afterwards. His presence still lurked in the tether that binds you, but no more than a casual thought in the back of your mind, the quiet voice that whispers on the edge of a canyon daring you to ‘jump’.

The bond withdrawals were now the worst of your worries. It was hard to function on a day to day basis when the same distance granting you a second chance caused you to become physically - sometimes violently - ill. Instances like that, Zofran was your best friend.

Buckling your seatbelt, you waged an internal battle over whether or not to do the responsible thing of making a second attempt at grocery shopping (despite your best efforts over the past two days, you hadn’t yet figured out how to miraculously will food to materialize in your barren pantry). Statistically speaking you were most likely safe from another encounter… unless they’d pulled a you and hadn’t left with their wares either.

But if you didn’t have the luxury before to keep putting it off then you certainly hadn’t acquired it now.

Math was on your side as you emerged with a full cart of goods and a lack of new therapy material. You’d still been the most skittish paranoid thing ever, scurrying quickly through the aisles like the CIA was out to get you, scanning your periphery and emerging quickly from the self checkout lanes to hurry towards your car. But just because you’d been successful in your venture doesn’t mean you weren’t followed along by fuzzy raised brows and curious - if not judgemental - looks.

It was an odd notion - being terrified of the one thing that should’ve made you feel secure. It was all you could do to distract yourself from the frustrating realization that this was a game you’d be playing for the foreseeable future unless you shelled out the extra cash to bypass doing the chore yourself.

That would have to be a worry for another time. Right now, all you desired was to curl up in your tiny studio apartment with a home cooked microwaved meal and lose yourself in the diversion that was the food network channel.

But first: caffeine.

You ignored the nagging ghost of responsibility tugging at your ear as you pulled into a parking spot alongside the main road, stepping out of the warm confines of your car and hurrying inside the nestled hole in the wall you frequented a few times a week for a caffeinated boost.

Large crowds still bothered you even with the reassurance he wasn't there, as if he could somehow physically slink out of the bond formed between you and hide amongst the chittering rabble waiting for an opportune moment of weakness to strike. Thankfully you’d arrived after the mid afternoon rush - although there were still a few stragglers with the same mindset as you eager to escape the frosty air with something warm on an otherwise picturesque snowy winter’s day.

The chiming bell above the door hailed your arrival, festive drink flavors assaulting your nose and instantly watering your mouth. Smoky chestnut praline, rich peppermint mocha, enticing caramel brulee. Cranberry laden pastries, chewy gingerbread cookies; all folded together in a Christmasy mix laced with the pleasant aroma of freshly ground coffee beans.

Your mind zeroed in on exactly what it wanted, pinpointing the most succulent fragrance amongst the bountiful bouquet, cutting through the sea of heavy pheromones belonging to the other patrons and hitting something raw inside your weary soul.

The veritable nectar of the gods.

A rich shot of bold espresso. Sweetly caramelized with smooth, creamy, chocolatey undertones. It zapped your spine with a jolt of adrenaline, awakening your senses while simultaneously soothing them. The first relaxing sip of a perfectly hot beverage. The golden liquid flowed down the back of your throat and alleviated the tangled knots still keeping you on edge, settling like a sturdy hand on your shoulder and allowing you the chance to breathe easy.

Something about the blend had your inner omega preening, ears perked up and startling a small purr from your chest that had you blinking down at your torso in surprised confusion. You’d barely stepped foot inside the cafe and suddenly the craving had expanded tenfold, something ravenous and feral urging your steps towards the counter that you had to fight to withstand.

Shrugging off the intense hunger as a simple lack of shoving something slightly more substantial in your mouth before leaving this morning, you adjusted the strap of your purse more securely on your shoulder and raised your eyes level to the awaiting interior.

Right into the most alluring shade of brilliant azure - sparkling like sapphires and already fixated on you.

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solbaby7 · 5 months ago

Note

Can I have a margarita with a salt rim? Neat please 🤪

warning: alluding to smut bc sometimes actually writing the smut is boooringggg 🤭

-> BLURB BAR <-

[ “got quite a mouth on you. someone should teach you how to use it” + smut + az ]

Trouble had a funny fucking way of finding you.

You weren’t sure how you were going to explain your way out of this. It was just supposed to be some light training—testing the limits of a power within you that had only just began manifesting itself. Eris had been perfectly clear, voice calm and even as he coached you through what to do. “Slow your breathing and close your eyes. Picture where you want to go then reach for it.”

He should’ve been more thorough. Should’ve specified picturing a place within Autumn Court. Maybe if he had, you wouldn’t be here; wherever the fuck that was. Never once had you seen the sky so dark, the stars shining that much brighter against its canvas of murky oblivion.

It’s rather soothing, if not oddly familiar—like you’d been here before or had seen it once in a dream.

There’s no time to decipher the near-debilitating deja vu when you hear the heavy thud of a soldiers boots against the cobblestone. He’s a little drunk, steps sloppy and laughs loud as he jokes with a friend, arm digging into his side. You only catch a glimpse of his companions handsome face—and it’s memorable; all perfect angles, dark ink and smoldering shadows. Brilliant wings stand proudly behind him, shoulders stiff, hair mussed and full lips pressed into a thin line. A wisp of darkness curls around his ear and every muscle locks in place when eyes meet. “You!”

That’s your cue, his voice snapping you back to the present and your feet are taking off before you’ve even fully comprehended the siphons he wears. The color leathers he dons. The inky tattoos branded against the cut of his jaw. Descriptors you’d heard your brother prattle on about it time and time again, hateful worlds about a temperamental shadowsinger for the Night Court.

Fuck.

Of all the godsdamned places to winnow for the first time.

Thank shit you’re somewhat properly dressed, riding pants tucked neatly inside knee-length boots. Hair braided back and out of the way, a savior when dashing through the streets, weaving and bobbing through street vendors and small businesses. Its instinct to keep to the shadows, blending into nothingness until the sound of following footsteps fades.

Stopping to catch your breath would be your downfall, heart hammering and chest heaving too rapidly to notice the hankering figure looming behind you until sentient shadows sneak out like a limb and wraps around the tail of your braid in an iron grip. “Motherfucker!”

Azriel wishes he didn’t notice your beauty but he swears he recognizes it.

Hates the way his eyes scan over such pretty features, memorizing the plush of your mouth and the burning fire that erupts behind your iris. Curiosity grows when he realizes he’s seen them before, when the day is done and his duties are left at the door. When his head hits the pillow and his eyes close—foggy glimpses of your face is the one he sees.

A misty apparition turned tangible and now that he’s got you in the flesh, he refuses to let go. “Got quite the mouth on you.” He’s wearing gloves you notice, one hand reaching out to grip at your jaw, forcing you to stare at him head on. You pretend not to be affected by his strict surveillance and the way it takes in every inch of your face. Dragging down the slope of your neck long enough to acknowledge the attire that certainly isn’t sold at any stores near here. “Someone should teach you how to use it.”

“So, someone else will. Now let me go.” That’s the wrong answer but surely, he can feel it too—this tension that’s built on blind yearning and nursed by one hell of a chase; the kind that gets Azriel’s blood pumping and pants tightening from the satisfaction of catching such formidable prey.

Of having such a pretty reward for his efforts.

One that feels so familiar—so right.

“Not until you tell me how you got in.” A destructive fire eats away at your restraint when the rough cadence of his voice reaches your ears. It’s smooth like aged whiskey, the aftertaste a pleasant burn that warms your blood and melts your marrow to mush.

Maybe that’s why you answer with such little resistance, wonder still lingering around the edges of your syllables. “I winnowed.”

“Right through the wards?”

“There were wards?” Az doesn’t even bother trying to mask the breathless laugh that emits, disbelief leaking from every pore and you’re absolutely positive that alarm bells have been sounded—proper authorities alerted of a breach in their city. Your stomach turns, nerves frayed with worry when you realize just how deeply you’d fucked up. “Look, I meant no harm. I don’t even know where I am so if you’d just let me go, I can return to where I’m supposed to be.”

“Oh honey,” Breath catches at the silky tone he adopts, one arm braced near your head. It’s difficult not to notice the strong chords of his muscles jumping in your peripheral. “You’re exactly where I want you to be. Fat chance I’ll let you go now.”

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chloe-skywalker · 6 months ago

Text

Early Shower Gift - Klaus / Kai

Klaus x Fem!Reader (romantic)

Kai x Reader (friends)

Warnings: TVD

Word count: 1,200

Summary: Being friends with Kai and him giving you and Klaus a magical pregnancy.

Authors Note: Hope doesn’t exist. Or Freya just time line for Freya.

Masterlist

TVD Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Where are you two going?” Rebekah asked, noticing Klaus and Y/n ready to leave the compound.

“To visit her siphoner friend.” Klaus tells his sister their plans. Klaus wasn’t necessarily thrilled to go visiting the siphoner but Y/n had said Kai wanted to see both of them.

Klaus also didn’t want Y/n out and about much. She’s a vampire but she’s been sick throwing up the last couple weeks. It’s put all the Mikaelsons on edge, they all love Klaus’ wife the two had been married forever. Y/n is their family through and through. So her being sick when it shouldn’t be possible, it worried them.

“Why?” Elijah asked not trusting Malachai Parker. Not one Mikaelson did. But Y/n had met him before he was locked away and befriended him. When Kai got out he seeked her out and their friendship reconnected.

“He said he wanted to talk to the both of us.” Y/n shrugged. Kai wouldn’t even give her a hint and that was hard for him.

“Are you feeling well enough to go?” Rebekah was worried for y/n. She was the sister she always wanted.

“I’ll be fine. Knowing Kai it won’t take long.” Y/n nodded smiling at the female Mikaelson. Y/n appreciated all their concern but she trusted Kai and Klaus would be with her.

“I’m still trying to find out why you're feeling sick.” Kol tell’s her. Kol had gotten out every grimoire he had collected over his lifetime and was trying to find anything on why Y/n was seemingly sick. Y/n’s family to them, they all loved her and she loves them. Kol was worried about her. Elijah was the only one keeping a leveled compost, but he to felt nervous for his sister in-law.

“Thanks Kol.” Y/n smiles gratefully at him.

“Let’s go love.” Klaus wrapped his arm around her waist guiding her to leave. The sooner they left the sooner Klaus could get her back to the compound and keep her safe.

^ ^ ^

“Kai?” Y/n called out not seeing her friend as they entered the abandoned house Kai had given her the address to.

“You guys made it.” Kai greeted them excitedly as he walked into what used to be a living room.

“We did.” Y/n hugged him as he came over very excited to see the couple. “What’s up? You’re giddy.” Y/n noted as they pulled apart, and her ever protective hybrid pulled her closer to him.

“Have you been throwing up lately? Achey? Tired?” Kai asked her, smiling, looking her up and down.

“Why do you ask?” Klaus questioned defensively. How could he know how she’s been feeling?

Y/n rested her hand on Klaus’ chest to calm him before turning her attention back to Kai. “Yes. Do you know why?”

Kai nodded with a huge grin on his face. Which sent Klaus closer to the edge.

“Wanna share?” Klaus narrowed his eyes, preparing himself to kill the siphoner.

“What are those the symptoms of?” Kai smiled, rocking on his feet back and forth.

“A lot of things.” Y/n answers not wanting to get her hopes up for the impossible that did run through her mind.

Kai smirks. “Something a hybrid, especially an original can’t get.”

Y/n looks at him confused. “Pregnancy. But that's impossible Kai.”

“We’re over a thousand years out its not possible.” Klaus shook his head and Y/n was turned with the Mikaelson siblings. She herself is an original, there’s no possible way for her to get pregnant and why now? They’ve had a lot of sex over the centuries.

“You're welcome.” Kai smiled excitedly, raising his arms. Confirming that he had indeed given them the impossible.

“Kai, I don't know what to say.” Y/n was overwhelmed with shock and happiness and close to tears. She never thought she’d have kids after what Ester and Mikael did to all of them.

“I see the way you look at children. I’ve heard you express if you could you would. I found a way to give you that, and for it to be 100% both of you.” Kai explained to the couple. If he was gonna do a nice thing it’d be for the woman who stuck up for him and would defend him.

“Thank you.” Y/n hugged him as tight as she could without hurting him.

“Thanks mate.” Klaus thanked the siphoner as well. Klaus was shocked, astonished, and happily surprised he’d do that for them. Maybe his opinion of Malachia would have to change. After doing this for them, if Y/n wanted him to be an uncle to their kid, Kai deserved it in Klaus’ mind. The kid wouldn’t be possible without him.

“No problem. Think of it as an early baby shower gift.” Kai shrugged, smiling as big as his face would allow.

“Well there wouldn’t be a baby without you. Thank you Kai. Really.” Y/n laughed over joyed.

^ ^ ^

Once Y/n and Klaus left and went back to the Mikaelson compound, the two walked hand in hand with smiles on their faces. Which didn’t go unnoticed by the Mikaelson siblings.

“What’s your friend want?” Rebekah asked from the couch as she noticed the two enter before Elijah or Kol.

“He did something amazing for us.” Klaus was smiling a guinea smile as he answered his sister, all the while pulling Y/n closer to him. Y/n’s back was to his chest a smile on her face as well.

“Kol you can stop researching. We know why I’m sick now.” Y/n told the youngest Mikaelson brother.

“Why are you sick?” Elijah asked the million dollar question.

“What does my brother mean?” Rebekah questioned, still confused as to what Klaus’ words meant. Klaus seemed overly happy and normally that wasn’t because of anything good.

“Kai used magic and it’s the reason I’m sick.” Y/n told them.

Kol Stood up furiously. “I’ll kill him.”

“Don’t you dare.” Klaus narrowed his eyes pointing at Kol.

“Why not?” Kol looked at Klaus like he was crazy. Their family was harmed. Why would the siphoner still get to keep his life?

Y/n and Klaus exchanged look’s before Y/n turned back to their family. Klaus started rubbing over her stomach giving his siblings a teasing look while Y/n said. “I’m pregnant.”

“He used some spells and was able to create a magical miracle.” Klaus explained further, smiling widely at his siblings. Still reeling from the news.

“It’s 100% us. I don’t know how he did it. But he did.” Y/n tells them in their state of shock laughing at how things turned out so good.

Elijah, Rebekah, and Kol all got up worried for Y/n since this wasn’t something that's ever happened before. But they were also all excited to bring a little Mikaelson into the world, and they were happy for the couple. They all knew how much Y/n had wanted to have kids when they were human. Hell most of them did. But that choice was taken from all thanks to their parents. They would protect this child with their lives.

Taglist:

@padawancat97 @gruffle1 @starkleila

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starshipsofstarlord · 2 months ago

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roses, just for you | kai parker

summary. after spending a night with your sole companion in the prison world, you realise that you have began to fall for kai. there is so much you want to know about him, but he only lets on so much, distracting you with his affection (1.5k)

warnings. mentions of sex and murder, fluff, kai evading the truth of his past, imprisonment in the prison world

divider credits. @cafekitsune

The stream of sunlight hit you before you awoke, the golden rays resting upon your skin. It was beautiful, but it held less beauty than how you had spent the previous night. You had finally caved to the insistent siphon that had wandered through the prison world alone until you had turned up. At first you had thought of him as annoying and brash, his hyper personality sparring with your own that was much less enthusiastic from the recent interval of your entrapment.

Each and every day was supposed to be the same here, an endless loop of time that had no end, always returning to it’s exactly tempo, the weather and temperature never once shifting from its infinite pattern. But with Kai he made it feel different, as though each reset at midnight was a whole new adventure. He wanted to show you the world, places that you had never been to and the places that you had always wanted to. There was not a single soul that could get in your way, or so much as attempt to stop the both of you amidst your exploration.

And last night, well the two of you had finally explore each other’s bodies. There had been no overpowering hunger to bear witness to the nudity of one another, instead it had been intoxicatingly sweet, the joining of your bodies coming together being a union of more than lust. The recent memory brought a smile to erupt onto your face. You missed your friends and you had no doubt that they were trying to find you and bring you home, but that didn’t dampen the mood that Kai had began to erupt within you.

You were okay with remaining in the prison world a little longer you realised, you had every intention of finding an exit but the hunt for that could wait for now. With a blissful smile etched upon your face, you rolled over to the other side of the bed where Kai had rested his head, though a pang shot through your heart when you realised he wasn’t there. He was gone. In your mind it hadn’t been or had felt like a one night stand. Hell, you were the only two people in this place, it wasn’t like he could run off to the company of someone else.

That gave you some relief, but it wasn’t enough. Had you scared him away? Kai had mentioned in passing of conversation that he wasn’t good with emotions, and sometimes got them mixed up. You hoped he hadn’t gotten confused over your perception of him, you were starting to like him, and as much as you did not want to admit it for the vulnerability that it brought you, you were sure that you were falling for him.

So with a tired and sore haste you dragged yourself up from the mattress that you had spent such an intimate experience with Kai on, reaching to gather the clothes that you had discarded across the floor, however they had also disappeared. All that remained, folded neatly at the end of the bed was a shirt that you recognised as not being your own. Perhaps it had been his intention that you would notice it, and so you pulled the material over your head, opting for a fresh pair of panties to wear with it.

Your bare feet padded around the house that Kai had grown up in, him having briefly stated that it had not been the easiest household to habit, and as you neared the kitchen you were hit with the smell of food that invaded your senses and made your stomach groan in approval. He was still here; immediate relief drowned your mind, he hadn’t left you as you had feared. The siphon’s focus was on a tray that was set on the counter, a plate upon it, the ceramic crammed with your favourite breakfast meal. “Good morning.” Kai jumped at the sound of your voice, not having expected you to have risen yet.

“You’re supposed to still be in bed.” Kai stated, and your raised your eyebrows, though there was a smile on both of your faces. The man abandoned his task, moving across the room towards you, one of his hands cupping your face, the other slinking down to hold your waits through his shirt. He leaned so that he could greet you properly, his lips seeking yours in a sensual and heartfelt kiss, you wanted to draw it out, though he pulled back with a pout on his face. “I was making you breakfast in bed.”

His words made your heart swoon, you had never had a man in your life who was so attentive and thoughtful. It was truly a crime for him, a one of a kind soul, to have been exonerated into an entrapment on his lonesome. You couldn’t understand why anybody would want to punish Kai in such a terrible way, he didn’t deserve it, you thought, pristinely unaware of the terrifyingly awful acts that he had committed. If Bonnie managed to open a veil for you to escape out of, an opportunity to leave this purgatory, then you would not hesitate to bring Kai back to the rush of the present with you.

It was a society that had its flaws in Mystic Falls, your hometown always drawing in bouts of trouble, but if Kai were in it with you then it would make it much easier to sieve through. He made everything feel as though it would be easy. “So that’s why you got up,” you observed, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, and he was practically eating out of your hand from the attention. He was such an open book, you thought, and you were glad that you had not been swayed into the arms of a vampire like some of your friends.

Yes, he was a witch, but he only had immortality in this world as you did. He held no hunger in anything except from of course food, and apparently spoiling you with his affections. You felt irritation at yourself for not having held trust and care for him sooner. “Of course, you need to eat.” Kai pecked the tip of your nose, inwardly debating whether to get deeply lost in you again or usher you towards the table so that he could indulge you with his cooking. He chose the latter, pulling a chair out for you before you sat down.

He retrieved the tray, bringing it over to the place before you, pressing his lips to yours once more. “Don’t get ahead of yourself Parker,” you prompted him, kissing him gently again, “let me eat first.” He laughed lightly, feeling a strange fluttering that beat within his chest. He wanted to ask you about it, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment, or accidentally slip up if he overexerted his speaking into mentioning the giddy emotion that he had felt when taking the lives of his siblings. No, you could not know, otherwise that would bring ruin to whatever he had with you. He was enjoying it far too much to cast it aside.

The silver cutlery was within your grasp, and Kai held the back of your hand softly, forcing you to stop your motions. “Uh, uh, uh.” You were confused, but Kai smiled towards you, telling you to wait a minute as he left, stepping out onto the porch only to return a moment later. In his hands was a clear vase that contained the stems of a dozen roses, their crimson heads above the surface, the rolled petals expressing a scent that you adored. He placed it onto the table before the tray. You swore that he could make your heart melt.

“What are these for?” Your appreciation was shown through your expression, as your eyes drifted between him and the beautiful flowers. Damn him, you were truly falling. Falling for him and all the surprises that he was constantly bringing you, not only in the form of gifts and sentiments, but also within himself. He didn’t have to do any of this, he was the only guy in this world, and there was no one for him to compete with, but he did it anyways. Despite your wish for a return to the life you had before you had been sent here, you had never smiled so much outside of the prison world.

“You said that no one had ever got you flowers before,” he said endearingly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the blasted universe. “So I did. And they will never die, since it’s the same day over and over again. Though I will make sure that they aren’t your last.” Kai had made you well and truly fall for him, you were shocked into silence unsure of what to say. Luckily, Kai did not expect any words, kissing you again, feeling as you melted into him.

He frowned into the kiss, the sight oblivious to your closed eyes. There had been the feeling of a shift within the world, the same sensation that overcome him when you had joined him as a prisoner in this realm. It couldn’t be ignored, someone else, two souls in fact had joined you in the prison world. He dismissed the idea of informing you, pulling gently away as he stroked your hair. “You better eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

#kai parker x reader #kai parker imagine #kai parker smut #kai parker x reader smut #kai parker fluff #kai parker fic #kai parker fanfic #kai parker x you #kai parker x y/n #kai parker oneshot #tvd imagine #tvd x reader #tvd x you #vampire diaries fanfiction

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lis-likes-fics · 5 months ago

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Keep Me Warm

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 2.3k words Prompt: Thigh fucking Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, alcohol use, thigh fucking, fingering, daddy kink, Dean calls reader "babygirl", aftercare... A/N: Ugh, part of this actually got me there hahaha. Thank you and enjoy!

“This is what Hell is like.”

Dean shakes his head, bringing the lip of his ice cold beer to his mouth. “No,” he takes a swig, “too cold.”

You grumble, turning over in the bed and shoving your face in the crappy pillow in an attempt to warm your frozen nose. The blankets wrap tighter around you, too thin to help as much as you need.

You start to speak, but your voice is muffled against the plastic-y feel of the pillow’s fabric. “Can’t hear you, baby.”

You lift your head. “I don’t even know how you can drink that.” Perspiration dribbles off the side of his bottle and wets his hand. surely adding to the freezing temperatures brought on by the broken motel heater.

Sam is out trying to find some hand warmers or something to help with the cold, but every convenience store he comes across is fresh out. It seems everyone is struggling to deal with the below freezing temperatures.

Dean’s chuckle is gruff. “I’ve been dealing with this for a while. Cold doesn’t beat alcoholism, sweets.” You roll your eyes, emerging from the covers to shuffle over to him. You drape yourself over his lap, curling into him to siphon some of his warmth away.

“If you loved me, you’d warm me up,” you mumble.

Dean laughs again, “Oh, baby. I have a couple ways I can warm you up, but you’d only say that Sammy will come back any second now.”

You roll your eyes, turning to lay on your back so you can see his face. He’s looking down at you, his tanned skin slightly flushed with blood in an attempt to warm his skin. He feels warm to you—Dean always runs hot. He’s like a furnace.

His phone pings, and he grabs it from where it had been thrown into the sheets earlier. “Speak of the Devil,” he says ironically. “Says he’s gonna find a Walmart to look for a space heater.”

He glances at you, bobbing his eyebrows suggestively. “That’s a good ten, fifteen minutes from here.” He leans down, one hand dropping down to the top of your head. The other finds your thigh, squeezing it gently as he smirks. “I think that’s plenty of time to warm up, don’t you?”

You shouldn’t. Sam has to suffer through your relationship enough, if he comes back before you’re done, he’ll probably just wait in the car or something while he waits. You don’t want him to catch you again, especially not when he’s doing so much right now to warm you all up.

But the way Dean’s looking at you has always been hard to ignore. The way his hand curls around your thigh, his fingers dipping down to feel you squeeze them together, is intoxicating. You lick your lip absent-mindedly and let out a heavy sigh as you concede.

“Fine, you dog.”

His smirk widens, like a predator of its own as he leans down further. He lets out a low, deep bark before swooping down to capture your lips in his own.

You moan into the kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip as he sucks on your top. Your hand reaches up to tangle in his hair. He supports the back of your head with his palm, and you already feel warmer as you soak in the heat of his lust.

He doesn't even touch you at first, at least not where you need him to. He mouths hungrily at your mouth and at your throat while his hand paws at your thighs, groping and kneading the doughy flesh with a desperation that pinpoints just why the bulge digging into your back is so prominent beneath you.

“You're terrible,” you breathe, holding him to your neck.

“I don't hear any complaints about it.” He pulls a sliver of skin between his teeth, nibbling at it with an eager hum. You chuckle breathily, the sound nearly coming off as a whimper with the way it shakes. “Fuckin’ love these thighs, babygirl.”

You feel his hand stroke farther up your inner thigh until he cups your clothed pussy. He rubs his hand against you, eventually slipping beneath your sweatpants to feel how wet you've already become.

He groans against your lips, sliding two fingers between your folds to gather your arousal on them. “Jesus, you're fucking soaked.”

You arch your back slightly, drawing his attention to your chest as he smirks. Dean's hand continues to rub up against your clit, teasing you and coaxing you as you keen into his touch.

“Take your shirt off, baby,” he instructs, his voice rough with his growing lust. You do, tugging it over your head, despite the cold of the room. You hardly feel it—you can steadily feel your body heat rising higher and higher under his hands, one on your aching clit and the other petting your hair.

Your nipples peak immediately against the chilly air. Dean leans down and laps at them, sucking them between his lips as his hot mouth makes you shudder. His tongue licks greedily over the peak, his teeth occasionally grazing and making your breath hitch.

Your hand presses against his belly, feeling the curves of his abs beneath your palm with appreciative fingers. You lift his shirt clumsily, pressing your mouth to his skin. You warm him with your mouth and hands as he warms you, keening into his touch and smiling every time his belly tenses beneath your lips.

Your kiss becomes sloppy when he presses a finger into you, parting your pussy with a thick digit that has you sighing heavily. “Oh, Daddy.”

His lips curl around your nipple. He sucks on it, pulling it taut before letting it slip out with a smack. “You like that, baby?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You spread your legs farther apart, inviting him in. He groans, pulling his fingers out of you just to pull your sweatpants off. He prods at you again before shoving then back inside at a new angle, thrusting his finger deeper inside of you and curling until you gasp. “Fuck, right there. Please don’t stop.”

He continues to support your head in one hand as the other keeps fucking into you. When a second finger stretches you even more, he attaches his lips to your nipple again with a grunt.

Your lips part and let out a tiny gasp when he starts to circle your clit. Your hips lift up into his hand, your chest presses up to his mouth. Breaths leave you with a frugality you're not sure you can afford.

“C'mon, baby,” his voice is husky, coarse. “You gonna cum for me, babygirl? You gonna cum all over my fingers? Let me feel it.”

You feel like you’ll burst. There's a deep gasp in your chest waiting to be taken as it curls and curls. Your legs tense, your belly tight as it anticipates your undoing.

Dean keeps curling, keeps coaxing. He's guiding you closer and closer, luring you, reeling you in. “You're so close, baby. Let go. Hm? Do that for me, baby. Let go for Daddy.”

It's an unfurling. Your eyes close, your brows pinch, your lips part as you inhale a sharp intake of desperate breath. The pleasure washes over you like it's trying to wipe sense from your mind and replace it all with unadulterated lust.

You grab onto his shirt squeezing tight as you try to stifle needy moans. “Ah, fuck, Daddy.”

He curls his fingers tight, almost like he's trying to take hold and lift you up, his thumb still circling. “Good girl,” he drawls. “That's my good fucking girl.”

He pulls his fingers from you, using the two, sticky from your slick, to rub at your clit some more before pulling away to smack it lightly. You shudder and shake beneath his touch, whimpering at every contact. “Yeah, you like it, don't you? Feels so fucking good, doesn't it?”

Cold forgotten, you nod and let yourself tremble as the high wanes to something that buzzes in your bones. “Yeah, yes…”

Dean leans down to kiss you, hungry and greedy as he continues to smack your cunt. He smirks every time you whimper, every time you flutter against his hand. It's somehow worse when he gropes your thighs again, his grip tighter than before. He kneads them in his palm, this insistent and possessive thing that makes him harder beneath you.

“Come here.” He moves you from his lap, lays you across the bed as he moves to stand. He pulls you to the edge of the bed, pulling a little chuckle from you as he takes hold of your legs.

“Look at you,” he coos. “So fucking pretty.” He leans over your body, pressing his mouth against yours, your throat, your collarbone. His hands grab at your thighs like a lifeline, squeezing them in his palms and groaning.

You pull his shirt over his head, rubbing your hands eagerly against his chest and his belly, admiring the strong, solid feeling of him against you. “You're abusing my thighs, Dean.”

He hums deeply. “I'm gonna fuck your thighs, baby.”

He lifts your legs, pushing them together and back. His hand rubs along your ass, the back of your thighs. A deep sound rumbles in his chest as he shakes your head and stares. “Maybe this is the real Heaven.”

“Dean.” You clench around him when he shoves his finger back into your cunt.

“What was that?” You shiver, and he laughs at you. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”

You hear his buckle clink. He pulls his pants down, watching you as he goes. His eyes, usually green as apple, are a dark forest that soaks into your skin. It makes you warm, it makes you ache.

“You wanna be a good girl for me, baby?”

You nod, raising a hand to tease your nipple with shy fingers. “Yes.”

“Say ‘Yes, Daddy’.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He smiles. “Good. You know what you're gonna do? You're gonna hold these thighs together and you're gonna keep ‘em nice and tight while I fuck them.”

You swallow thickly, an emphatic nod of your head outlining your desire for him, to please him, to be pleased by him.

“Say ‘Yes, Daddy’.” He says it as a reminder.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” He kisses you—though a better word would be to say he devours you. He tastes your lips on his tongue and breathes you in like a flower.

You press your thighs together, watching as he takes hold of you, one hand stroking his cock slowly with a hiss.

You feel him slide himself between your thighs, your arousal wetting the bottom of his cock as it glides over your wet folds. He holds them close and lets out a long sigh at the feeling.

He starts out slow, like he's teasing himself with your warmth and your wetness. His brows knit together, his lips part with thick breaths.

“God, you're fucking perfect,” he groans. The blunt head of his cock presses against your clit, and a small whimper falls out. His hips jerk at the sound, quickening his pace until his breaths are heavy and shallow.

Precum dribbles from his tip and onto your belly, smearing along the inside of your thighs. You put so much focus on keeping your legs together that they begin to shake. His arm wraps securely around your legs, keeping your ankles on his shoulder as he palms at your breast with the other hand.

“Always so good for me, aren't you, babygirl? Hm?” He ruts into you, the gathering slick making it easy to move back and forth in search of his release. Each slide through your folds brings a breath from your throat, and each press against your clit makes you whimper.

You can feel his cock twitching. He leans even closer, forcing your legs back more as his measured thrusts become less steady. His breath becomes erratic, his eyes struggling to stay open.

“I'm gonna cum, baby. You gonna take it for me?” You nod eagerly, watching with lidded eyes and shallow breath.

“Cum on me, Daddy. Please, I want it.”

His thrusts stagger until you feel the warm, sticky spurts of his cum painting your belly white. He groans, the sound deep and rumbling, almost a growl as his hands grab onto whatever he can find. “Fucking Christ.”

The sounds of your breaths fill the air. You lay back against the mattress, your fingers itching for him to hold.

Dean lets out a thick breath. He admires the sight of you, heavy-bodied and covered in him. He lightly smacks your side, a little pat of his warm hand that strokes you soothingly.

He lets your legs down, tucking himself back in his pants. “You doin’ okay?” his voice is a hum, a low and gentle sound that makes you grin.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “But you're cleaning this up.”

He laughs heartily, walking away to find something to do it with. You lay there, naked and feeling much better but slowly becoming aware again of the fact that the room is freezing.

He finishes cleaning you up. You groan, turning on your side and pulling the covers back over you. “I think we should just fuck. I'm cold again.”

He chuckles deeply. “We'll put some clothes back on, and I'll cuddle you. How about that?”

You peek up at him with your best set of puppy dog eyes. “You'll cuddle me?”

He nods, his smirk curling over his lips as he gently shakes his head at you. He picks up his shirt to pull back over his head. You watch as it covers his chest. “Yeah, baby, I'll cuddle you.”

You hum, grabbing your shirt and pulling it on. Once you're dressed, you give him the space to join you under the covers. It's much warmer, and you're much happier to lay there with him.

When Sam comes back holding a space heater, his face scrunches in disgust to see the both of you spooning. “Ugh. Did you have sex while I was out?”

Without looking at him, Dean just brings you closer. You glance at him. “Fucked hard, Sammy.”

“Dean!”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #reader insert #female reader

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plotsignificanthaircut555 · 1 year ago

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Sleepover with Drunk Nanami

Nanami crashes on your couch after a drunken meeting on a rare night out.

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY. fem! Reader, Soft Nanami, drunk Nanami, slow burn (sorta? Does nine hours count?), discussions of consent, Gojo is in it also lol.

Word count: 13.9k, Ngl this one kind of got away from me 🤭🫣. Don’t have sex with drunk people! let the tension build until that consent is sober and enthusiastic.

This was inspired by the song Get Up by Ciara, and my being very horny. I haven’t written fanfic in almost ten years, so here’s what I have for you. This was so fun to write, I really hope y’all enjoy it. I am so obsessed with this man its actually insane.

Ko.fi. Masterlist

Clubs were not his preferred way to “cut loose”. He hated the claustrophobic proximity, the overpriced drinks, the flagrants displays of affection, most of all the inability to hold a conversation. Resounding bass and artificial light blaring against his skull was sure to culminate in tomorrow’s headache. Nanami couldn't be bothered to entertain the idea of joining his coworkers to dance and drink as they so often invited him. He much preferred to keep his own company, drinking at home, indulging in the occasional (and strictly, personally regulated) cigarette, and reading in the bath. Although the last two weeks he found himself working around the clock. It seemed that as soon as he crossed his own home’s threshold he was back to work in some capacity or other. He couldn't remember the last time he had been able to turn his brain off completely in between shifts. He hated working, period, let alone working outside of his normal hours, but the work needed to be done, and as the days trudged forward, his work life balance compounded into a singularity designed specifically to siphon any free time he could find.

But that had ended this afternoon, completing a mission’s adjoining paperwork and being released for a three day leave in between assignments. Returning to his small office, he begins to retrieve his coat and pack his bag to depart and return home to finally relax. Already feeling his shoulders unknot themselves, Nanami allowed a blissful sigh to leave his lips. No sooner had he begun to draw in the following breath than had the rapping of angular knuckles against his door frame rung in his ears. Raising his eyes, Kento sees long time (reluctant) friend and daily annoyance, Satoru Gojo, strolling casually inside and plopping across the desk from him.

“So what time should I pick you up?” Although Kento could not see his eyes behind the famous black blindfold hiding them, the blase demeanor and entitlement dripping from his question was apparent.

Already feeling the vein in his head begin to pulse, Nanami sighed out, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come out with us tonight. You’re off the ne t few days. I’m sure even you can recover from one night out in that time. Everyone is goin, Suguru, Shoko, yours truly…even Ijichi said he would come,” Gojo allows his smile to lure in the other man, “So you have to come.”

A familiar feeling rose the skin on the back of his neck as Kento heard his familiar train of thought, Absolutely not. I’m exhausted. I have to decline. Don’t wait up for me, but before the reluctance to break his own routine won over, his shoulders softened, “Okay.”

Gojo snapped to attention, his planned seduction now moot in the face of Nanami’s quick acceptance. He hadn't said yes to going out in two months, and the last time he had joined the group, he left less than an hour in claiming a headache and calling a cab.

“For real?” Gojo couldn't help himself, he was waiting for this to be a joke.

“Yes, 9:00 you’ll pick me up. We’ll go out. I could use the break. Thank you for the invitation.”

Gojo was beside himself, feeling his lips stretch from ear to ear, he rose to his feet and began to head to the door. He had to limit the time for Nanami to come to his senses, fearing this may all be some bought of madness from the usually grumpy man.

“See you then, wear something I like.”

Idiot always had to have the last word. Nanami lowered himself into his desk chair, taken aback by his own enthusiasm, a small smile creeping across his lips. He wasn't sure what had come over him, but he couldn't say he was upset by it, it had been a long time since he had tried to meet his friends like this. He wasn't social by nature, and he was grateful to have people who understood that, allowing him his space but still continuing to include him in their extroverted fun. As much as Gojo’s refusal to allow him peace took its toll, Nanami was pleased to have someone so insistent on pushing his social limits. Although he would never tell him that.

These are the circumstances that lead Nanami to drinking as much as he had, to loosening his tie eventually to the point of hanging on either shoulder, to laying his jacket along the barstool of the hightop table he and his friends occupied. Dancing, actually dancing inside of the group of people gyrating together on the club’s designated dance floor. Eyes closed, hair sticking to his forehead, Kento felt the weight of fall away and the warm embrace of intoxication take over.

Gojo laughed over his dark sunglasses, nudging Geto’s elbow with his own before tipping his head to their large, very uncharacteristically drunk friend. They watched in shared admiration, laughing to each other, remembering fondly the stiff demeanor their friend had always carried. Since they’d known him they had seen him get drunk countless times, but drunk enough to dance? Only a handful. Drunk enough to have undone his top three buttons and reveal a growing flush down his neck and shoulders, maybe twice.

“He really needed this,” Geto praised Gojo lightly, it was him who always insisted on inviting out Nanami once again, despite the likely improbability of it happening.

Gojo smiled warmly before laughing again, this time to himself, he didn't want to reveal how easy it really was. How little he had had to push to get him out, he let the praise wash over him as he admired the usually stuffy man’s catharsis. Shoko returned then from the bar, two shots for herself and one for Ijichi who followed closely behind her, already starting to stumble himself.

That’s when Nanami saw you. Finally opening his eyes, pupils adjusting to the dim light, you appeared to him like a vision. And a vision you were, long legs wrapped in a skirt, a top lightly grazing the hemline at your waist, arms full and strong, hair styled specifically showcasing care and effort as well as routine. Engaged in conversation with a friend of yours, both laughing and allowing the atmosphere to relax you, Kento didn't realize his body had stopped dancing as he now stood dumbly in the center of the dancefloor. With soft pushes and thoughtless instinctual movement, he moved to the outskirts of the dancefloor, although still within sight of you. His breath caught in his chest, his hands ran cold, becoming clammy quickly as he watched you share a shot with your friend, head tipping back and revealing the full column of your neck to him. He felt his face flush further than the alcohol could.

Soon enough his back found the table that Shoko currently occupied, digging in her discarded coat’s pocket for her lighter, cigarette hanging loosely between her lips. Cooly placing her hand atop a few rattled glasses knocked around by his collision, she inquired as to Nanami’s dreamy state, “something got your attention?” her laugh broke through his haze just as she followed his eyeline to you.

“She’s pretty, you know her?” she was finally able to fish her lighter from the correct pocket.

Nanmi shook his head, still not able to tear his gaze away,” do you?”

“Never seen her before.” She observed the dumbstruck look in Nanami’s eyes weighing whether her input was more prescient than her desire for a smoke break, “You should try to talk to her. Who knows when we’ll get you out again. Make the most of it.”

With that she headed back towards the smoker’s patio, leaving Nanami with her words bouncing between his ears. When was the last time he had flirted with someone? When was the last time he had been on an actual date? When was the last time he had gotten to take someone home? When was the last time he had shared a bed with someone? When was the last time someone else had made him cum, not just himself between disgruntled days and nights working too much with little output? He had a break, he had come out, hadn't he? As he had gotten ready tonight he chastised his own mind for indulging in fantasies of meeting someone, But he didn't think he would find someone so ... .magnetic.

He wasn't even sure how long it had been since Shoko had gone outside, Kento snapped back to himself when he saw you set your drink down- nearly finished- and head into the throng of dancing bodies. His body moves before he can consciously decide how best to approach you; feet escorting him to the dance floor, hips following the beat and loosening the rest of him. His hands moved upward around his shoulders imitating a boxer’s stance, the alcohol clearly influencing his dancing style. Pressing forward he found himself just to your left. It was as though you had your own kinespheric bubble surrounding you, people danced near you but not on you. He felt invited in by this space, as though you had saved it just for him. He watched your body move, circling your hips and allowing your neck to follow the melody freely, your arms raising above your head as your eyes fluttered between completely closed and mostly closed. Your lips were parted beautifully, lip gloss catching the light so beautifully.

Maybe it was just chapstick, or it was lipstick, he had no idea, but just seeing the glint along your bottom lip made his mouth water for your kiss.

Would you use your tongue right away, or would he need to draw it out of you with his? Would you want him to guide you, or did you want to lead him yourself? He found his heart quickening at ever new possibility. When you finally allowed your eyes to open, they found him almost instantly. Locking eyes with you finally, Kento thought his skin was going to burst. Heart quickened, hand clammy, breath quick he searched for any reciprocation in your own eyes.

So when your eyes crinkle, following the line of your smile, so clearly directed right at him and only him, Kento can't resist but bring his hands to the sides of your hips.

The blonde man had been watching you since you got here. You noticed, Sophie noticed. As soon as you left the bar and staked your claim on an open hightop bordering the crowded but lively dance floor, she had jutted her chin toward him on the other side of the floor.

“Got one already.” she said impressed with your efficiency.

You turned to briefly meet his gaze, in just a second his gaze was so intense you could tell his eyes were honey brown and they were trained on you and only you, “oh come on. I’m sure he’s just checking everyone out.” you dismissed, still feeling the hot eyes on the back of your neck.

“He’s still looking at you,” Sophie marveled, “still looking…still…wow I don't think hes even trying to hide it.”

You knew. You could feel it, your heart raced. You had just barely looked at him but you had seen enough to see how attractive he was. A tall, broad frame, well cultivated outfit, neat, well styled hair, confidence and stability oozing from every pore. So clearly unabashedly interested. God, he was your type. Before you knew it most of your drink was drained, the nerves of being observed having made you suddenly parched. The liquid confidence settling in your system motivated you to pull Sophie to dance. You two found an open bubble in the sea of bodies and allowed yourself to release your lingering thoughts of the watcher.

That is, until you open your eyes once more, finding a pair of honey brown eyes begging for yours. It was him. He was less than two feet from you, he had sought you out. You couldn't help yourself, his interest and obvious enthusiasm brought a curl to your lips. Your smile locking him into a stare, you didn't flinch when you felt large, strong hands on your hips. It felt right, looking into his eyes the idea of not feeling him touch you felt preposterous. Your hips still followed the music, his soon joining their routine. His hands, once brazen, now stayed still and solid against your hips, moving with you, but never straying from their position. Emboldened by his sudden demure approach,wanting to reciprocate with just as much interested you turned, facing your back to him and pressing the curve of your ass against his hips, you thought you hear a soft groan exit his mouth. Once you had turned away from him, a bit of tension is relieved. You feel braver not looking him directly in the eye anymore. You grip onto one of his hands and trail it up your body, leaving the other gripping your hip harder and harder. Soon your back was fully against his chest, the music carried your pelvis, joined against his, everything else fell away as you guided his right hand across your body, side, hips, stomach and ass. His body felt so solid against yours, it was so solid against yours. He was an imposing figure, six foot or more, strong and cultivated build demonstrating both his personal strength and his own discipline. How you could have not noticed him here before was beyond you.

Nanami was hypnotized. From the moment you had looked him in the eye, he was hooked. Now that your body was flush against his, ass grinding into the front of his slacks, he couldn't think about anything else. He breathed hot against your ear as your fingers curled around his, sliding his fingers up from your hip to your stomach. It was so intimate, your leading his hand along your body, showing him exactly where you wanted his touch. You had your head cocked to the left, opening the side of your neck to him and moving your hair just under his nose, the smell of your shampoo was thrilling, he longed to run his fingers through your hair, to ruin your styling and pull. He wondered if you would let him brush it for you, wash it for you. He could learn exactly how you liked your routine, learn to style, learn to braid, anything to keep this smell close to him.

Behind his eyelids he wondered about your body, how your breasts would look, how your skin would flush through excitement or exertion, how wet you would get, how you would taste. He wondered, too, about your kiss, again thinking about how much tongue you would use, and if you would want to be in charge or him. A soft moan escaped his lips as he thought of your tongue sliding against his, directly against the shell of your ear. As if cued you spun around again, your leg slotted between his, allowing you both to move as one, grinding unashamed as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“You can touch me yourself you know,” You could barely hear the music but Nanami knew exactly what you had said, “Or do you just like being told what to do.”

Your flirting sent a shock directly down his body, feeling his cock swell against the inside of his slacks, he slid his hands up the curves and folds of your back, your skin was so soft, he saw your lips part as he touched you. You were so reactive, he couldn't hear the caught breaths of the soft moans over the club’s speakers, but he watched as your eyes fluttered and your knees pulled tighter around him. One hand traveled down to the side of your leg, brushing down the side of your hip and ass to grip your thigh. The front strands of his hair had loosened and now hung freely in his face, a dark blush settled across his freckled nose and cheeks, one of your hands moved down his shoulder and onto his chest, he wished he had been more reckless and undone a few more buttons for you, he longed to have your fingers on his skin. But for now they held the collar of his shirt in their grasp, he longed for your eyes again, and as if you had read his find they met his own. He prayed you couldn't feel the way the eye contact had made his dick twitch, the blush deepening at the shame of being so crass in his attraction to you. Pulling him somehow even closer, he could feel your breath on his neck, he was panting a bit from the exertion of dance and the intense sexual tension. The song was beginning to end, and the DJ was already beginning to blend it with the introduction of the next song.

Seizing his opportunity, Nanami finally spoke his first words to you, “Can I buy you a drink?”

You nodded, smiling at him, he wanted to make you smile again and again, the warmth of your gazing making the stuffy club feel icy by comparison.

“Thank you!”, you moved a hand down his arm to join your hands together. Guiding him over to the bar. Your hand in his felt electric, you both could feel it. His large, work roughened palm against your own. They had fit together so naturally.

As you made your way over to the bar the music became less and less overwhelming, the pressing of bodies became less insistent. You turned your head to find Sophie, chatting to a few friends she had planned to run into, she caught your eye before giving you a knowing look and a thumbs up. You smiled and winked at her before turning back to the man behind you. You caught him at the end of turning his head from what looked to be a group of his own friends. All of whom were looking at the pair of you. One, particularly tall man with dark glasses was giving an encouraging thumbs up mirroring Sophie’s. You caught yourself wondering if your friends would get along, if he would get along with your friends, if you would get along with his. You didn't even know this man's name, you had barely spoken to him, and here you were ready to merge friend groups and make brunch plans. What the hell was going on tonight?

Finally reaching the bar right as two seats opened up, you both sat, giving your exhausted legs much needed refuge. The air between you two suddenly became thick, without the immediacy of movement you found yourself suddenly worried about how to engage him again in the heat you had just had.

“What do you like to drink?”, he started right as you offered a question of your own,

“So what’s your name..”

You both laughed for a second, the acknowledgement of shared nerves taking a little pressure off. His smile was reserved, seemingly unpracticed. But his eyes betrayed his warmth, you could see.

“Kento Nanami,” He answered your question first, fighting the urge to hold out his hand for a chaste and professional handshake. He lifted his eyebrows to signify it being your turn to answer, you told him your name, and his smile returned again, “That's a beautiful name.” he repeated it back to you, ensuring his pronunciation was correct, when in actuality he could have rolled your name in his mouth a thousand times and never tired of the taste.

“I’d love a gin and tonic,” You offered, answering his question, “Or whatever you’re drinking.”

Drinking, he was drinking. Suddenly he was aware of how much he had been drinking. Skin hot and red, probably sweating all over you, stinking of booze. He felt the embarrassment move throughout his body as he replayed his invitation to buy you a drink. Were you just being nice to him? Wanting to find a polite way to get away from him and return to your friend? He had been so casual, so unhindered.

God, he was an idiot

“Sorry to take you away from your friends, I understand if you want to go back.”He wanted to offer you an out, feeling himself try to straighten up and will the drunkenness out of him before he embarrassed you or himself further. But to his surprise, you cocked your head to the side, eyes narrowing to assess his change in demeanor. You could see right through him.

“Don’t get shy on me now, the nights just starting,” you offered a new, slyer smile, “isn’t it?”

He nodded slowly, the bartender finally rounded the bar top to take your orders. Nanami ordered your drink as well as one of his own, you added on the desire for some ice water. Once the drinks were down set, you offered him a little cheers, tapping your glass against his before sipping. The drink was cool and refreshing, the perfect remedy for the heat rising in your neck and face.

He was so handsome, from his carved cheekbones speckled with freckles, you wondered if they were anywhere further down his collar. His bottom lip was full and plump, parted slightly as he tasted his drink, with his face profile to yours you could see a small pink circle on the side of his nose.

“Do you wear glasses?”, you asked.

Nanami’s brows twitched slightly together, “I do.”

“You have those little impressions on your nose. From the bridge of your glasses.” You answer, without him having asked how you could tell, “I bet you look handsome with your glasses on.”

Nanami cursed himself for leaving his glasses in his coat pocket across the bar. He’ll never make that mistake again. Bringing the chilled glass to his lips, attempting to cover his smile. He feels so seen by you, the way your eyes move over every inch of him, he doesn’t know if he’s ever been observed so closely. It’s exhilarating, it’s terrifying. You’re terrifying. You’re exhilarating. You’re still looking at him. You’re looking at him expectantly. You asked him another question and he missed it. He scrambles through the last few seconds searching for what you may have said to him, and how he possibly could have missed it.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if those were your friends over there.” You pointed over his shoulder.

Nanami turned quickly, oh god too quickly, his head spinning a bit as his equilibrium struggled to catch up. Gojo was waving at him, gesturing broadly in unintelligible charades. Nanami felt his frustration flare up at both having been distracted from you and also having to once again decipher another one of Satoru’s riddles. At the meeting of their eye line, Gojo began to move over to where the pair of you were seated, Geto and Shoko sharing the weight of a stumbling Ijichi. The head vein began pulsing again, he ought to name it after Gojo the way he sets it off. Panic set throughout his body, he didn’t want you to meet his friends— or maybe he didn’t want them to meet you. Not yet. He didn’t want to risk ruining what hadn’t yet really started. Suddenly feeling very territorial of you, he turned back, once again sending his head swimming.

“Yes. Those are my coworkers. I’m not—“

“Nanamiiiiin. We gotta take Ijichi home, he’s already thrown up twice. It’s gross.” Gojo was already halfway through his sentence before reaching the bar.

You assessed the new crowd of faces. Odd faces, all so well built and specific. Between the tall man in the darkest sunglasses you had ever seen in an already dark bar, the lithe woman with purple eyeshadow and the most perfect beauty mark, and the embodiment of tall dark and handsome— you wondered what exactly Nanami did for a living. Was there some kind of work force that employed only the hottest people you had ever seen. It took you a second to notice the younger, far drunker man with his arm slung around the black haired man with the gauges. The white haired man was still talking to Nanami, maybe arguing, but they spoke too softly for you to hear specifics. Both were cut off

“So do you want a ride home or are you good here?” Gauges asked eyes moving between you and Nanami coolly, before readjusting his hold of the nearly asleep fourth man.

The woman tapped on her phone, seemingly uninvested in what was happening, now barely holding onto their friend.

The white haired man cut in before Nanami could answer, “you hit those drinks pretty hard, Nanami. We don’t want you getting taken advantage of.” His face turned toward you and although you couldn’t see his eyes, you felt them.

Wow, like really felt them, he was sizing you up, it was clear. It was confusing, his inflection was teasing-almost joking, but his energy was severe.

Nanami was seething, mortified by the intrusion and Gojo’s crass assertion, “I can get myself home.”

It would have sounded more convincing if the slurring of his voice hadn’t married the words myself and home into a mess. You noticed, realizing for the first time that you were much more sober than him. His friends noticed too.

Nanami cleared his throat before speaking again, “I’m a grown man, I don’t need you to babysit me, Gojo. I’m enjoying my evening. Please take Ijichi home.”

Gojo didn’t seem convinced, turning his face back to you and finally sliding the sunglasses down his nose to reveal the bluest pair of eyes you had ever seen. They nearly glowed in the dim club. This gesture caused the others of the group to stiffen up. The woman finally putting her phone down, Gauges eyeing him carefully, even Nanami drew in a tense breath.

“We quite like our friend Nanami, we wouldn’t want him getting hurt.” He spoke directly to you, between his height and your seated position he leaned over you slightly, “are you someone we can trust our friend with?”

Nanami was about to cut in but before he could you met those azure eyes with yours, “I quite like your friend too.,” you copied his inflection, “ I understand why you’d be wary of some stranger taking him home. Since you have your hands full, I’ll watch him for the night. If he decides he needs a ride home, why don’t I call you directly?”

Nanami felt his jaw drop, looking between you and Gojo carefully. He caught Geto’s eye, seeing him smile lightly. No one talked to Gojo like this. Shoko chuckled softly, impressed with your lack of fear in the face of their “strongest” friend. There was no way for you to know the risk you were taking, but it was thrilling nonetheless.

“That is, if he would like to join me back to mine?” You continued, looking away from Gojo and back to Nanami.

“I’d like that very much.” Nanami answered quickly, in any other situation he would be embarrassed at how eager he sounded, especially in front of his friends. But you wanted to take him home, you wanted to keep talking to him, he could see where you lived, maybe you would let him kiss you, or touch you again.

“Give me your phone.”

The request snapped Nanami from his fantasy. Gojo held his hand out expectantly. To his surprise you handed over your cell phone. Gojo typed quickly, “This is my phone number and where Nanami lives. If I don’t answer, stick him in a cab to this address. Okay?”

“Okay. It’s nice to meet you, Gojo.” You attempted to ease the tension created, “I promise you’ve left him in good hands and I’ll return him to you in one piece.” You smiled warmly at him, cutting through the attempts at intimidation, even offering a small wink to Nanami over his friend’s shoulder.

You didn’t back down, you understood why anyone would be concerned about leaving their drunk friend with a stranger. It was a testament to how much he cared, he seemed completely sober himself. Playing DD, you assumed, was not a role he took lightly. You respected his protectiveness, you had done nearly the same on many occasions. If this is what Nanami’s friends were like, you would definitely fit in. You glanced down at where Gojo had written in the notes app of your phone. A string of numbers— his cell, and an address, Nanami’s, and below that another line, just for you.

Be nice to him, he’s more sensitive than he looks :)

Yeah, you would get along with this one. You smiled up at him and Nanami both before the dark haired man slung the full weight of the now completely passed out bespectacled man on his back in an attempt at a piggy back, and smiled to you warmly,

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Kento. Have a nice night.” Before turning and leading the group toward the exit. Gojo handed off Nanami’s jacket before pushing his glasses up his nose and turning around to follow.

With no more company, the two of you were once again alone. Nanami struggled to collect his thoughts before you soothed him, “Your friends are nice. They seem to really care about you. How long have you all worked together?”

“We all went to high school together.”

“And you’re still friends? That impressive, I barely keep up with friends from that long ago.”

“We’re, sort of, stuck with each other.” Nanami started, caught in the trap of having to figure out some way to explain his job without, actually, explaining his job. Thankfully, you cut that conversational thread and moved forward.

“I hope I wasn't too forward. You don't have to come back to mine. I felt like we were just getting to talking and I didn’t want to cut it short yet. But please don’t feel obligated.” You wanted to assure him that he could proceed however he wanted to. Despite how hopelessly attracted to this man you were, you recognized your responsibility as the more sober party to remain respectful.

“No I want to!” He blurted, not thinking about his volume, quickly standing.

You laughed, “I didn’t mean now! If you want to stay and have another drink, or dance more, that's good too.”

His resolve was starting to crack, it had been nearly an hour since he first saw you enter the club. He wanted desperately to be alone with you, suddenly the club was too hot and too crowded and too loud. Everything was overwhelming, and the only thing he wanted to overwhelm him was you.

Still standing he stepped in toward you a sudden surge of confidence lowering his voice and causing his head to dip down to meet you at eye level, “I would, very much like to join you back at your place.”

His voice was dripping with want, the eroticism behind his words lidding his eyes and sending chills down the side of your neck. You let out a small shaky breath before standing up, chest nearly colliding with his, sending him back up to his full height.

“Let me tell my friend I’m leaving. Stay here.”

You nearly ran to find Sophie and your mutual friends at a table of their own. Leaving Nanami to settle his tab and wait patiently at the bar for your return. Your heart was beating so fast you could barely hear the music. When you finally found her, you pulled her close to speak directly into her ear.

“I’m taking blondie back to mine. You all good here?”

She gave you a taunting oooh before smiling, “you really do work fast. Next time lets see if you can last two full hours before taking someone home.”

You rolled your eyes before giving her a tight hug and grabbing your jacket, “love you, text me when you get home.”

Waving to your other friends you turned on your heels and saw Nanami still standing at the bar patiently at the bar patiently. He hadn't pulled out his phone to pass the time, he simply waited, just as you had told him. God, if he could follow benign instructions like this so well, you can only imagine how well he would do with something more salacious. You had to relax, you knew nothing would happen tonight. He would come over and crash, and that was enough for now.

Nanami counted to six in his head over and over, trying to measure his breaths as though if he increased his oxygen intake he wouldn't be drunk anymore. The sides of his vision were fuzzy and dreamlike, ears hot, tongue a bit dry, all his physical indicators of intoxication were present. He paid his tab, the only things on it were your and his brief shared drink. Realizing that since Gojo( maybe Geto?) had purchased the earlier rounds, he actually had no way of knowing how much he had had tonight. What had he gotten himself into? His attempts to sober up proved inefficient because just as quickly as you had left, you were standing in front of him once more wearing your jacket and sliding your purse over your shoulder. You still looked so beautiful,

“Ready?”

He nodded, “Ready.”

And now he sat in the back of a cab, behind the driver, you on the other side. Had he remembered to open the door for you? Had you two waited outside for the cab to pull up long? A window had been cracked allowing fresh, night air to brush past his face. Your thumb ran over the back of his hand. You were holding his hand. He looked down to confirm that your fingers were interlocked with his resting on the middle seat between the two of you. They looked good like that, his long fingers laced with yours. How long had you been holding hands? Eyes wandering he saw the skin of your thigh where your skirt had ridden up, he wanted to feel your leg against his, the space between you in the backseat suddenly feeling cavernous.

“You’re so far away.” he mutters, not really intending to say so out loud.

Without saying anything you giggled and scooted closer to him, moving your joined hands into your lap and your leg right against his. You tipped your head up to look at him, he wanted desperately to kiss you. Just as he began to lean into your lips you stopped him with your fingers.

“Not yet.” was all you offered him as conciliation.

He nodded, lips still restrained by your fingertips. The faint smell of the lime you had squeezed into your drink still lingering. Even just having his lips on your fingertips sent his body into a frenzy. But he was a patient man. Drunk or not, he knew how to wait for what he wanted. Still, he allowed himself to indulge a little, he kissed your finger tips before pulling back with a sigh, nodding silently.

The rest of the drive was quick, or at least it felt quick. You lived in an apartment building and when the cab pulled up outside, you handed over a few bills before sliding out of the door closest to you. Nanami began to move toward his before it opened suddenly. You had opened his door for him and were now offering your hand to help him out. He stared up at you entranced, he felt romanced by you. It dawned on him that he had truly let himself be “picked up”. Taking your hand he exited the car and tried to think if he had ever had this happen before. Women approached him sure, men too, but whenever he allowed himself to spend the night with someone they had always come back to his place. It allowed him a sense of control, and thus comfort in a vulnerable situation. Vulnerability did not come naturally to him, not now anyway. He wasn't prudish or uncomfortable with casual sex, but he liked to remain the organizer of them. Much like everything in his life he liked it to remain under his control. But tonight, you had steered him right to your door and he was so willing, it dawned on him only once that maybe he could have gotten himself in a dangerous situation. He barely knew anything about you, he knew your name, and now where you lived, but the rest of you was a mystery to him. And yet here he was, following you down the hallway to your apartment door truly not caring what could be on the other side as long as it meant more time with you.

You hesitated at the front door, holding your keys in one hand, aimed at the lock.

“I want you to know I’ll call your friend whenever you like. If you decide you want to leave, you just say so and It won't be a problem. You won't hurt my feelings and it doesn’t have to be awkward.” It felt redundant at his point, but you couldn't shake the discomfort of having taken him home in this state. He had nodded off briefly in the cab, holding your hand tightly, before coming too and staring at you with wide eyes. You nearly backed off then and redirected the driver to the address his friend-- neigh, Bodyguard-- had written down. But then he had wanted you to come closer, and tried to kiss you. You knew he wasn't thinking clearly, but still he sought you out.

Gnawing the inside of your lip you looked up at him nervously, waiting for his response. Nanami looked down at you, his already drooping eyes still warm toward you, “I really like you. I think you’re beautiful. I bet you're a great decorator, can I please see what you’ve done to your apartment?”

His response made you laugh again. He Hadn't really answered you, but it was clear what he wanted. You weren't sure if he was intending to be funny, but nonetheless, the anxiety you had just felt slipped away once again and you turned the lock, leading him inside. You liked your apartment, it wasn't the nicest place available. But it was a two bedroom you could afford by yourself, with a good sized kitchen and small personal patio. Frankly, you were lucky to have even found it. You were a good decorator, and you were proud of the job you had done with the interior. A large, well managed and organized bookshelf along one wall with a recliner and side table, art along the walls you had collected since first moving away from home. A medium sized brown couch that was perfect for movie nights with Sophie or an afternoon nap. You had made a home here, and you were thankful for the chance to show it off.

“Wow…” Nanami’s voice sounded nice inside of your home.

“You like it?” you began to shed your jacket, hanging it on a tree rack by the door and clicking on a few lights. You offered to take his coat.

“It’s beautiful, so warm.” Nanami began to slip his jacket down his shoulder, suddenly realizing he didn't actually remember putting it on, “you did all of this yourself?”

You barely heard his question, distracted by the way his shirt stretched over the muscles of his back, “Uh.. yeah. I moved in about three years ago. So it's been a process but I’m pretty proud of how it turned out.”

You turned to hang his coat next to yours, even they looked cute together. He removed his shoes carefully, still stumbling a bit before he took a few steps into your apartment’s main room.

“Why don’t you take a seat.” you gestured to the couch

He sat gracelessly, cushion sinking more under him than he expected. His couch at home was pretty stiff, yours was soft and pliant under his weight. He steadied himself again, feeling embarrassed suddenly.

“I dont usually drink like this, I drink.. Just not so….like this?” He attempted to save some face in the wake of his stumble.

You stood by the edge of the couch before moving into the kitchen area.

“Are you hungry? I could make us something before bed.” You offered, more needing an escape from the building sexual tension than feeling any actual hunger.

“Oh I couldn’t put you out like that…” He started, feeling his limbs get heavy with comfort as the softness of your couch lulled him to lay down. It wouldn't hurt to just lay down a little, right?

“It's no trouble, really! We may feel better in the morning if we eat something now.” you called from behind him. Your voice seemed further away somehow as he pressed his cheek against the soft suede beneath him.

The couch smelled so good, like incense and home cooked food. He wondered if you had a pet he hadn't yet seen, or if you wanted one. Were you a dog person? Or did you prefer cats? Maybe you were one of those people into reptiles, he could learn to love one if you wanted him to. In this state he would do anything you asked him. Which was precisely why he wasn't getting the one thing he wanted from you, he buried his frustrated expression further into the couch. A small groan exiting his lips. Your hand brushed the back of his neck, rousing him back to attention.

“Kento, honey? You still with me?” your voice was so sweet saying his name, he wanted to hear it again. Once he looked up at you he saw you had a glass of water in your hand offering it to him, “Are you good to sleep in these clothes or should I look for something for you to wear?”

He was still in his dress clothes, not his work dress clothes, but not exactly lounge wear. His button up was stiff and pants had been well tailored, hell, he was still wearing his belt, “thank you.” he accepted the water, and by proxy your offer.

He was left alone in your living room. Slurping down the cool water he tried once against to regain his composure. Had he fallen asleep again just now? You seemed to have abandoned the idea of eating so he must have drifted off. This job really had run him ragged.

“They still may not be the right size, but they’ll work for the night I think.” You returned from the side room, presumably your bedroom, with a pair of black sweatpants, “They used to be my brother’s, but they've got some paint stains from when I redid the bathroom. Sorry I don't really have anything else.”

He accepted them graciously, setting the water down on a coaster before standing, “Thank you, this is all very nice of you. Letting me stay the night like this, I'm really not usually like this…”he started to repeat himself.

“It's really no trouble, it's been a long time since I let a man as handsome as you sleep on my couch.”

The couch. So he wouldn't be joining you in bed tonight. Part of him had hoped that even though he wouldn't be sleeping with you tonight, he could at least sleep in your bed, “The couch, huh?” His half awake state allowed the thought to slip out half formed.

“Mhm, the couch. You two seem to have really hit it off. I'm certain the drool puddle wasn't there when I left.” You pointed to a small wet spot on the cushion where his face had been.

Once again the embarrassment of his current state shot through his body like electricity, so he had fallen asleep again. He hung his head cringing at himself, “Oh jesus…I cant believe this.. I’m--”

You cut him off, “You really don't need to be sorry. I like having you here. And tomorrow morning maybe we can have coffee and talk some more. I hope you don't think I was just inviting you over to fuck you.”

His breath caught, “No, I- well.. I thought you--”

“I, of course, want to fuck you. And I don't really see any point in hiding it anymore now that you’re here. But it’s just not going to happen tonight. And I don't think I'll get a wink of sleep next to you when all I can think about is that. Does that make sense?”You were tired, you didn't want to be coy and demure anymore. You wanted to be frank and upfront about how you felt and what you wanted. Nanami nodded understandingly, although still a little surprised at your confession. You continued, “So, you’ll sleep here. I’ll sleep in my bed. I usually wake up at 8, the door to my bedroom is unlocked. If you need anything during the night, please don't hesitate to wake me up. The bathroom is the door behind you, you can change in there.”

Nanami was awestruck by your instructional tone, it sent his mind in a thousand directions; thinking of you telling him house work that needed to be done on the weekend, to you telling him exactly how to please you. He wanted you so badly, pants growing tighter, breath getting heavier. You stepped forward, nearly right up against his chest.

“I hope you're not too disappointed that I won't take advantage of you tonight.” Your voice soft.

“I respect your self control.” His eyes were locked on your lips, so plump and soft looking.

“I’m going to bed,”You leaned in closer, so close he could smell your perfume again, still as hypnotic as it was in the club, “Goodnight, Kento.”

You pressed your lips against his cheek. His body shuddered as your lips lingered there before you pulled away back on flat feet. Trying desperately to regulate his racing heart, Nanmi looked at you desperately.

“Goodnight.”

You turned back to the side room hitting a wall switch to extinguish the kitchen light before closing your bedroom door and leaving him in your dimly lit living room. He could still feel your lips burning on his cheek, he stood for a few seconds not wanting any other sensations that could potentially dull this one. Finally, he shed his pants, folding them haphazardly and setting them on your recliner. He sweatpants you had given him fit okay, the drawstring was broken so they hung pretty loose around his hips, showing just the elastic of his briefs. He undid the rest of his shirt buttons and folded it to stack atop his pants. He hoped you wouldn't mind, but he never slept with a shirt on. Honestly, he didn't usually sleep with pants on either, he already ran hot but sleeping was an entirely different story. Sleeping fully clothed almost always culminated in him waking up in a pool of sweat as though he had just broken a fever. Laying on his back on the couch he pulled a throw blanket over him, mind racing with thoughts of tomorrow.

In your room you stared up at the ceiling of your bedroom. You had returned to your room like every night, put on an old t shirt and shorts as you always did, washed your face and brushed your hair as though it was any old night, turned on your white noise and gotten into bed as if there wasn't the most attractive and charming man you had ever met settling in to sleep on your couch at this very moment. The nights events played and replayed in your mind on a loop, the intensity of his gaze across the floor, the way he had materialized right in front of you, the feeling of his body pressed up behind yours, his hands on your back back, his hand in yours, him asking to kiss you in the cab, him snoring softly on your couch, the way he had looked at you as he said goodnight. You had never felt so pulled toward another person before. It was far from a perfect night, on a perfect night you’d be fucking each other blind until the sun came up at this very moment. On a perfect night you wouldn't have even been in that club, you would already be his, spending romantic evenings reading and cooking. You wondered if he liked to read, what his favorite meals were, if he wanted pets, if he would want to move in here or if he’d ask you to move in with him. You recognized the street name of his address, he lived in a far nicer part of the city than you did. You wondered what his place looked like, if he had decorated it personally or if he had help. God, you haven't even asked if he had a girlfriend. You checked for a ring while you were dancing, but you got so caught up that the idea of a girlfriend hadn’t even crossed your mind. You rolled onto your side trying to relieve some anxiety, he didn't have a girlfriend. You met his friends, they were intense, sure. And sure, one of them had lightly threatened you, but it didn't seem like the threat was rooted in a fear of infidelity. It seemed like the threat came purely from a safety standpoint.

Were you being irresponsible? Was it smart of you to have brought him here so easily? You rarely brought hook ups here, almost always opting to follow them home and politely excuse yourself in the morning. You found yourself bending so many of your usual rules for him, giving your information to his friends, leaving the club so quickly, bringing him to your apartment. Nanami was so big and looked so strong, it probably wouldn't take a lot for him to overpower you. You had practically offered yourself to him on a silver plate. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to be afraid of him. You couldn't say that you knew him well enough to know he was safe, but you just…trusted him. And you felt that he trusted you too.

Your lips still tingled from kissing him. It was just a goodnight kiss, a simple gesture intended to convey continued interest but the end of the conversation around sex. You could call it chaste, even. And yet here you were, lips feeling electrified from a mere two second kiss on the cheek. Whatever product he uses in his hair smelled incredible, like honey or tobacco or sandalwood. Something organic and masculine. The soft sound of surprise he had let out when you touched the back of his sleeping neck resounded in your ears. His voice was so pretty, your mind attempted to conjure what he could sound like when he climaxed. If he would let out a low, husky groan, or if he would whine and beg you for more. You felt your pussy dampen at what your imagination offered you. Thoughts of him were consuming you, seconds moving by glacially as you begged for sleep to take over and bring the beautiful, sober light of day through your bedroom window. When it finally did your dreams were abstract but they were blue and honey and blonde.

Nanami could already feel his head pulsing before he opened his eyes. Oh God. When he finally did manage to pry his eyes open, he found himself not looking at his bedroom wall. He wasn't in his bedroom at all. He wasn't in his bed. Where the fuck was he? He sat up slowly, head pounding and back aching. He took in his new surroundings: he was on a couch, there were his clothes folded on the chair, he remembered taking them off, he looked to the coffee table and saw a glass of water mostly untouched with two small painkillers next to it. It must have been left there by you. YOU! This was your apartment, he had slept on your couch in your apartment! Memories of the previous night came screaming back against his aching head. The club, the shots, meeting you, dancing, you taking him home, you taking care of him-- oh god he was so drunk. Had he really fallen asleep twice? He was mortified. He didn't know if he could face seeing you. He remembered Gojo’s threats and his cheeks burned both in embarrassment and rage, where does he get off acting like some kind of guardian over him. Then again, if he was that drunk then maybe he needed it…maybe just not that one. He stood up on shaky, sore legs, even these pants weren't his. He needed to leave before he embarrassed you or himself any further. This was a mistake, he can't believe he let himself get so carried away, you must have thought he was some drunken fool who cant take care of himself. Maybe he was a drunken fool who couldnt take care of himself.

He unfolded his pants and wracked his brain for whether you had told him which door was your bathroom so he could change back into his own clothes. Just as he was trying to remember which door you had said led to the bathroom, you emerged from the side room yawning.

“Good morning!” You stretched a bit as you walked into the kitchen, “I hope you weren't planning on running off before I got out here. I set the coffee to make enough for two and if you don't drink part of it, I'll be buzzing for the rest of the day.”

The lilt of your laugh brought it all back. He knew exactly how he let himself get carried away. You were magnificent, even more beautiful in the morning light, hair undone, legs exposed under your sleep shorts, what appeared to be a well loved sweatshirt hanging off your shoulders. You took his breath away, he couldn't believe you were actually real. Not some dream his drunken state had conjured to torment him.

You were so grateful to have your back turned on him, it was stupid of you to assume he would have slept in that button up, and you hadn't given him a shirt to wear, despite having an extensive collection of oversized t-shirts that would certainly have covered him. But seeing him shirtless in your living room just for the duration of your walk from bedroom to coffee maker was enough to nearly make you falter right then and there. He was so, fucking, built. How does one even get a body like that, did he live at the gym? He hadn't really explained what it was he did for work, was he a trainer? You weren't really a big gym person, but you could be convinced to start going if it meant watching him huff and puff and sweat.

“Good morning. I don't know where to begin…”, His voice was the same as the previous night, low and smooth, but this morning it was more reserved, more even and controlled, “I can’t thank you enough for helping me out last night. I really can't believe my own behavior. I’m truly sorry.”

You turned to face him, you were expecting some kind of hangover induced remorse, but he sounded genuinely apologetic, as though he had imposed himself upon you rather than having been invited as a guest.

He continued, “I know it doesn't mean much, but I don’t go out very often. I had had a rough few weeks at work and my friends wanted to help me loosen up a bit. Apparently I did a little too good of a job with that part. I'm so sorry to have put you out, I hope your night wasn’t ruined by having to take care of me. I'm grateful to you, I'm just so…”

“How do you take it?” you cut him off before allowing him to apologize to you once again, turning back around to the two cups of coffee you had poured.

“Excuse me?”

“Your coffee,” you opened the fridge to see if you even had any milk to offer him.

“I--”

“I have sugar, or honey if you prefer, and then I don't have any cream but i do have oat milk. I usually take mine with one sugar. How do you take yours?”

Nanami was beside himself, mid flagellation, completely shut down and now once again having to ask something of you, “One sugar is perfect.”

You dropped about a teaspoon of sugar into each mug, giving them both a quick stir before setting the spoon in the sink and walking over to the couch to meet him. Getting close you saw that his freckles did extend down onto his shoulders. Small scatterings of cinnamon dusted on fair, even skin. You handed him one mug, your favorite mug actually, it was dark blue and hand thrown. You had bought it at an art fair when you first moved to town, you’d tell him that story eventually.

“I don’t want you to apologize to me. I’m glad I met you last night. And I’m glad you stayed over. And I'm especially glad you're still here now.” You took a seat on your usual spot on the couch, to the right of him. He was still standing, body facing the kitchen but face watching you intently, now holding his mug but not drinking. You patted the spot next to you on the couch. He sat down, silence fell between the two of you as you sipped your coffee again. He followed suit, the steaming drink already starting to soothe his hangover. He couldn't help the soft moan the escaped him, drinking down the relief of caffeine.

“Taste okay?” you checked in.

“Its perfect. Thank you.” he felt himself loosen up, his brain choosing to be kinder and remind himself of the parts of last night that had gone well. Making you laugh, making you smile, dancing with you, the smell of your hair, your lips on his cheek. You were sat facing him, back against the arm of the couch, legs curled in front of you, he sat up right with his feet planted on the ground, allowing his poster to relax a bit and lean against the back of your couch.

You took his relaxation as an opportunity to take him in. So this was what he was like in the morning: shyer, a bit stiffer, still so fucking handsome. His brown eyes were still a bit droopy with sleep (and likely a bit of light sensitivity), a light impression of the hem of your couch cushion had imprinted itself on his cheek, his hairstyle had fallen and his blonde strands now hung loosely in front of his face. And he still hasn't put a shirt on. His torso was like something in a museum. Strong, broad shoulders sat atop full, muscle built pectorals. The hair there was light and looked soft, it became darker and coarser leading down his toned stomach. You longed to run your tongue over every inch of him, but chose instead to sip your coffee and gawk somewhat openly. Finally the silence became too much and you spoke up again,

“When do I need to have you back to your bodyguard?” you teased sliding your knee to bump against his.

“My-- oh, Gojo, don’t worry about him. He’s likely forgotten all about it.” Nanami tried to cover up the hopefulness in his voice. “Do you have anywhere you need to be today?”

It was a Friday, it was plausible you would have to go into a job today, but he didn't know what you did for work so it was equally plausible that you, like him, were off. To his delight you shook your head, smiling coyly over the rim of your coffee cup, leaning back against the throw pillows he had arranged to rest his head last night. Feeling more confident now that he had shaken off the initial mortification, Nanami scooted closer to you on the couch, setting his mug down on your coffee table. He moved one hand to gently take your mug and place it on the coffee table beside his. He then put his hands at the top of your knees and pulled you closer to him, so you were nearly sitting in his lap.

“So I have a question.” He kept his hands on your legs as he spoke.

“Mm?” you were too stunned to form any actual words.

“Last night, you said something to me. Something about wanting to wait until this morning to fuck me,” he shocked himself at his boldness, “how do you feel about that now?”

Your eyes were wide, pupils nearly all encompassing as his hands touched your skin, this was the most you had touched since the dance floor. His fingertips felt like they were burning you, but the way a hot bath burns your skin just before it becomes relaxing.

This was it, you met his eyes, flicking down briefly to his lips, then back up,“I am still, very interested. What about you.”

Nanami moved one hand over your shoulder, to the back of your neck, leaning in so close you could feel his breath on your lips and he spoke, “I can't believe you made me wait all night.”

He pushed his lips to yours, finally feeling the kiss you both had waited so desperately for. His lips were so soft, the coffee you prepared lingering on both of you. His hand on your neck rose to tangle in your hair and yours reached out to find his neck, his shoulder, his hair-- fucking ANYTHING. He leaned over you slightly, catching a momentary moan and sliding his tongue between your lips, he found himself moaning, feeling your tongue slide against his. Your hands were on his back now, feeling the muscles flex and retract at every turn of his head or readjustment of his hands. The hand not on your head how found your waist, sliding up and down your form savoring every roll and bump and divot his fingers could find. Finally, fucking finally he could touch you, his lips slotted against yours over and over, allowing your tongues adjust and readjust, it was messy and desperate and so passionate, Nanami kissed you like he would never kiss you or anyone else every again. Like a man who knew he could die tomorrow and never again know the warmth of a kiss this intense. You pulled away briefly for air and before his hungry lips could pull you back down you started to remove your top. He met your hands half way and finished the motion for you, you hadn't put a bra on since waking up, opting instead for the thick sweatshirt instead. Your chest was now as exposed as his was. As desperate as he was to have your lips on his again, he took a moment to admire you. Your breasts were full, and round enough to fit perfectly in his grip, nipples hardened already in your exhilaration, still so reactive for him. He wondered if you were wet already, and if so- how wet were you. He couldn't wait to find out. He was staring, lost in his thoughts of how best to appreciate everything you were giving him. So much care, so much trust, your beautiful body. He wanted to know how best to show you what it meant to him.

You squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. Since you shed your top he was staring at you. You didn't mind it at first, but it was starting to make you self conscious. You weren't insecure about your body, but the intensity of his gaze, how you could nearly hear his mind racing, made you desperate to know what he thought. Finally he broke his gaze away from your chest, raising up one hand to hold your right breast firmly, he looked deep into your eyes moving to kiss you again, softer and more intimately but still just as passionate as before.

“So beautiful…” he said in between kisses, “Even better than I imagined. You’re so beautiful.”

You moaned against his lips as he massaged your chest. He redirected his kisses down the side of your neck, across your collarbone and right to the breast held in his hand. He kissed around the nipple before finally taking it into his mouth. A haughty moan was pulled from you as he sucked hard, eyes flicking up to watch you arch under his mouth. He moved to the otherside, and your hand took refuge in the short hair at the back of his neck. The cropped undercut left little to grip, so your nails dug lightly into his scalp. He moaned around your nipple, eyes rolling back slightly, and hips jutting into the couch involuntarily.

You marvel at his reaction, letting out a small chuckle before moving your nails across his hair again, “You like that?”

He nods wordlessly, mouth still full of you. He knew he was kissing hard enough to bruise, he didn't care. The taste of your skin, the feeling of your body under his, of your fingers in your hair had him feeling drunker than last night. He couldn't get enough of you, he was truly insatiable. He began to move to return to the first side of your chest when you pulled him back up to your mouth, kissing him hard.

“‘Need you.” you pleaded against him

“Need you too, so fucking bad.” He agreed, leaning back upright, and bringing you with him.

You pulled off and stood up quickly, your boobs bouncing as you moved, he would have been embarrassed of the sizable tent growing in the borrowed sweatpants, if he had had any remaining brain power to think about anything other than fucking you. But he didn’t. He stood up and followed you into your bedroom. You had a queen bed, a small wardrobe, a vanity table that appeared to double as a work desk and maybe moonlighted as a craft station. He couldn’t wait to find out what clothes went in what drawers, maybe eventually you would let him keep some of his work clothes here so he could spend the night on weekdays. You turned to face him before reaching the bed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down once again to kiss you. His hands fell to your exposed waist, the skin so soft and supple, they teased along the topline of your shorts, lingering to be told the next move. Without him having to ask, you nodded against his lips, and his hands dipped underneath the waist band, finding not underwear but only skin. His hands gripped into the meat of your ass, pulling moans from both of you. Your own hands had slipped down his stomach and began to remove the second hand pants from him as well. Finding the tangled up positioning complicated, you both pulled away briefly to remove the last of your clothing before you led him in climbing on the bed. He followed suit, ogling openly at how your body curved and folded and stretched with every motion. You were nearly serpentine the way your hips shifted climbing onto your bed. His cock was so hard between his legs, pre cum dripping onto your comforter as he followed your crawl. As you turned onto your back, he was right behind you, moving himself between your legs to meet your lips once more. A hand started on the back of one of your thighs, causing you to shiver deliciously.

“You're so sensitive.” He praised, sliding a finger feather light from your ass to the back of your knee.

You mewled unabashedly, proving his point. Finger trailing back down, his hands now gripped both of your thighs, he was on his knees before you, parting your legs further to finally, FINALLY look right at your glistening wet pussy. He nearly fainted at the sight. Lower lips parted to reveal the most beautiful, most delicious looking pussy he had ever seen. He couldn't stop himself, he leaned right down and planted a kiss directly onto it. His eyes rolled back in his head at the sensation, the taste, the smell, the feel of your pussy lips against his mouth, soft pubic hair brushing his nose and he gave a long lick from bottom to top.

“Thank you,” he was so grateful to you. For last night, for taking care of him, for being here this morning, for being here at all, he couldn't believe he had found you like this, and he planned to make the most of his chance.

Never in your life had you been thanked by someone eating your pussy. But here was Kento Nanami devouring you like he hadn't eaten in weeks and whimpering gratitudes into your wetness. You hadn't had time to even realize his intentions before he pushed his tongue between your lips, and once he had your brain had short circuited, causing you to assume the initial “thank you” had been all in your head. It wasn't until it was a mantra he clung to while increasing his ferocity that you realized he really was thanking you. Your hands flew to his hair again, this time pushing back the longer strands in the front that had gathered in his face. You pulled hard when he first sucked your clit into his mouth, the moan he let out sent vibrations up your body and added to the pleasure he was already giving you. Your legs were over his shoulders, your hands in his hair, his mouth was taking you apart one lap at a time, one of his hands found your breasts again, there was so much sensation it was like he knew precisely how to make you unravel before him.

Nanami didn't even realize he was rutting his hips into your mattress, his body desperately seeking friction to his painfully hard cock. He didnt think he had been this hard in years, he couldnt think at-fucking-all. The only thing on his mind was how good you tasted, how pretty you sounded above him, he wanted to hear you say his name, he wanted to make you say his name. He brought his free hand up and slid two of his fingers up and down your folds, getting them thoroughly wet before stopping them just in front of your already clenching hole.

“Do you want these?” his voice is even lower than before, mouth pornographically drenched in you.

You nodded helplessly, just looking at him between your legs threatening to make you cum. He gave a rough squeeze to the breast he held, “No.” he corrected, “ask me.”

You knew what game he wanted to play now, you knew he could tell how much wetter you had just gotten at his darker tone and rougher grip, the tiny showcase of his strength already sending your mind reeling to know how rough he could really get with you. But not right now, now you needed him, any of him, inside of you more than you needed air. So you’ll play along.

“Please, oh fuck please Kento, please put your fingers inside me, i need it. I need it so bad, please.”

More than pleased with your efforts, he slides his fingers into you, they go in so easily, youre so fucking wet. He resumes his meal, already itching to taste you again, now using his fingers to draw even more wetness out of you and onto his tongue. He curls his fingers slightly upward and your moans raise in pitch. He’s hit it, if he keeps this up you’ll cum in no time. You're panting, your moaning, you’re nearly screaming and Kento continues to thrust his long fingers into you, hitting your g spot with inhuman accuracy. You can feel it, you’re nearly there.

“K-Kento i’m..oh fuck i..I’m cumming of fuck I--”, a half scream-half moan rips through your lungs robbing you of the end of your sentence as he pulls your orgasm out of you. You're shaking, you’re pulling his hair, you’re repeating his name over and over until it's completely garbled in your mouth. He takes everything you give him, holding your hips down firmly so you stay connected to his mouth, not letting up with his fingers until he's satisfied you’re through the totality of your first climax. He continues lazy licks as you come down from your high, slowly easing out his fingers and sucking those clean as well.

From your spot on your back you look down at him still panting and dazed from cumming harder than you thought possible with another person. You and your trusty vibrator had made some good memories, but you never expected someone could make you cum like that on the first try. He knew it too, he could see it on your face as he savored the remnants of your cum on his fingers. You moved your hands to his shoulders, weakly pulling, urging him to come up to you. He followed your lead and moved his body over you. You could finally see how fucking hard he was. And how fucking big he was. Just by looking you had to assume he was seven or eight inches long, and he was thick, thicker towards the head than at the base, two pretty veins wrapped around him, the tip was so pink it was nearly red, sticky with precum and still weeping. It curved upward, wanting to rest against his lower abdomen, and the darker blond hair there that grew at the base of him. He clearly kept it groomed, it not being too long or unkempt, but you were grateful it was there. The monstrous thing would probably only look more intimidating without it.

He could see that you were doing the same mental calculations he had seen in every partner he had ever had, and he tucked away the immature arrogant pride and chose to instead kiss the side of your mouth, along your jaw, and up to the shell of your ear,

“It’ll fit, you're already so wet for me, and if it doesn't fit all in one go, that's okay. We can work our way up to it. Trust me.” He kissed your neck soothingly, and that was all you needed. You could already feel yourself dampening again, you wanted so desperately to please him, had just made you cum so hard, you had to at least try to settle the score. Finding his lips once again, you pulled him into another desperate kiss, this time trailing your hand down and wrapping your hand around his cock. Using his already collected precum to coat his shaft, you moved your hand up and down a few times, trying to find the right rhythm before his hand gripped your wrist sternly, forcing you to look him in the eye,

“I nearly came already just from eating your pussy, if you touch me like that I’ll cum right now and I have to be inside of you at least once before then.” he moves your hand away from him and above your head. You keep it there, although direction is ungiven, and he seems pleased by this. He moves to his knees between your legs, Wrapping your legs around his waist, he grips his desperate cock and slides it against your pussy, collecting as much arousal as he can. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he knows how big he is, he knows if he bottoms out without enough prep it won’t feel good for you the way it would for him, he wants you to feel good. He wants you to make that sound again. That pretty scream of his name and pure pleasure. You watch him as he becomes laser focused on the point where you'll be connected in mere moments, you feel honored, in a way to see him like this. He’s being so attentive, so thoughtful and he's making you feel so good. Your hand reaches up and touches the side of his face, and he leans into your palm, nuzzling into it.

“I trust you, Kento. Please, baby, fill me up, I need you so bad, please fuck me.”

He presses a kiss to the heel of your hand, the light breaks in your voice making cock twitch in his own hand, he can’t wait any longer, he begins easing himself inside. He tries, he really tries to go as slow as he can, but hes so fucked out and desperate he cant control his movements as well as he usually would. Feeling him push inside of you, you’ve never been so full in your life, he stretches you so nicely, a slight burn but the combination of foreplay and your first orgasm soothe any pain or anxiety you may have had. His eyes are closed, his brows are furrowed, lips parted and still wet. He looks so beautiful like this. You think he's finally gotten all the way in as he stops his movements, you couldn't be more wrong, his hands lift your hips up slightly, more aligned with his pelvis and he slides back out an inch, before pushing the rest of his length inside of you. You feel him against your cervix, you feel him along every inch inside of you.

Looking down at you, he finally opens his eyes, you look so beautiful filled with him. Mouth dropped open, a warm flush settling over your chest and neck, one hand gripping his arm tightly, the other buried in the blanket beneath you. He wants to keep you like this forever, he attempts to push even deeper, seeing how far you can really take him. Gasping your back arches away from his grasp, but he pulls you back to him.

“Just like this, take it all. Look at you, such a good girl for me. Taking every inch.” His praise coaxes you to relax again. He's so deep inside of you, it feels amazing, “You think I can move now, baby?”

You nod desperately. He starts a slow thrust, opening you up little by little. He's hitting every spot inside of you, you don't know how but you can already feel another orgasm building from just the first few thrusts.

“How do you expect me to fuck you properly, when she wont let me go.” he teases above you, sliding his fingers in a V shape along your innermost fold, right where you’ve gripped around him so tightly.

“‘Mm sorry.” you gasp out barely registering the conversation.

“Oh fuck,” he sputters, finally able to pull completely out before diving back in.

Youre finally warmed up enough for him to fuck completely. He pulls on your legs to place over his shoulder as he deepens his thrusts. Your moans are syncing with his, his movements are starting to become jerky again, trying to control himself as much as possible, Kento brings a thumb to circle your clit making you see stars behind your eyelids, when you open your eyes the only thing you can see his him, gripping onto you leg firmly, staring intently at how well you’re taking him, watching himself move in and out of you. He feels you start to grow tighter around him before you can even start to whimper out,

“Fuck, fuck, kento I---aughhh.” you came around him with no warning,the feeling of you pussy spasming and tightening around him is nearly enough for him to lose his own. He releases a deep moan.

“Where can I cum, please baby, fuck where do you want me to cum, i’m so fucking close.” he can feel the sweat dripping down his face, he’s so dangerously close to blowing it inside of you. He wants to so badly, but he needs to hear you want him to.

“Inside, please, inside me, i need you to fill me up, please fuck.”

Music to his fucking ears, he carried on with his thrusts as you continue begging him to cum inside of you. Your wicked tongue is so dangerous, anything you asked of him in this moment he would do, as long as it meant he could stay like this forever. His thrusts grow shorter, faster, more frantic, he’s truly rutting against you, so deseperate for release the only word on his lips is a repetition of “fuck” and your name. It sounds so good coming from him, like he was born to say it. Finally, he lets out a long strangled cry, coming from low in his belly. You can feel his cock twitch inside of you as his release covers your inner walls. He thrusts a few more times, emptying himself completely before stilling his movements, still locked inside of you.

Heavy pants fill the room, cutting through the thickened air. Nanami collapses over you, resting his head on your chest, the sound of your heart quickening underneath him cutting a smile into his face. You brush the front of his hair off his head once more, cycling your fingers through the sweat-dampened strands. Contented, satisfied sighs escaped both of you, neither of you spoke, neither of you wanted to, not wanting anything to break up this bliss of this moment.

Morning light dripped through your window curtains, golden rays illuminating his features, the freckles on his cheeks, the soft wrinkles by his eyes, a small scar cut into the arch of one eyebrow. He really was beautiful, you wondered how many people had gotten to see him like this. A man of his stature, his strength, completely unguarded. One of his large hands found yours, bringing it up to his lips, kissing your fingers, so sweet, so intimate. You really could fall in love with him. Finally, he looked up to face you, eyes catching the light and turning gold, he winced lightly, still feeling the sensitivity of his hangover. You flattened your palm in the path of the sun’s beam, offering his tender eyes solace in the shade. The gesture is short lived as he moves up to press his lips against yours again, his still buried cock shifting and igniting your inner nerves once again. Feeling you begin to tremble, Nanami wills himself to pull out and move onto his back next to you, one large arm wrapping around you, desperate to not be parted from you for even a second. You rest your forehead against the side of his neck snuggling up to his side. His smell fills your nose, the lingering cologne that you first smelled on the club’s crowded floor, mixed with something so uniquely and naturally him. You felt his lips press onto your forehead, arms pulling you tighter to his side.

Kento was the first to break the silence, “would you want to have dinner with me tonight?”

Your lips curve warmly already imagining how handsome he’ll look like in a nice restaurant, candlelight flicking over his face, maybe he’ll even wear his glasses.

“I’d love that.”

Author’s notes:

Okay thank you guys! I hope you enjoyed!I know I did, I know I said it earlie but I haven’t written in forever so I would love to hear some feedback! Don’t be scared, I know I can take it!

it’s up on Ao3 too.

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junkdrawerfan · 5 months ago

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A Batman Fanfic Idea:

Tim is a Creature, an answer to a prophecy that spells the doom of the coming universe. On his 18th birthday, the dark blood inside him will rear up to rip away his human facade and all of earth and the many planets known and unknown will be crushed under his heel.

It is a prophecy that has been guarded by the magical community for eons. They know the signs. They know what this doomsday child looks like. The day Timothy Jackson Drake is born, the magical community turns its attention to stopping the prophecy, of sealing the creature away in human flesh and bone.

The problem is that nothing works. Every ritual and spells falls away to fate. It is written. Tim will bring upon the doom of the universe. So what if… they just don’t let him turn 18.

It works for a few years. Messing with time has side effects. People don’t remember but they do? Villains get smarter and tougher. Magic feels less potent as more and more is siphoned of to hold back the flow of time. Mutations occur, ripples in the time stream that twist ally to foe and foe to ally.

(They try to kill him. Three “years” into the whole mess, Tim falls asleep while Bruce and Kon hold his hands. And then he wakes up the next day, a whole day older, in his coffin during his funeral. No one ever mentions it (not enough remember and those that do can’t). The prophecy will not let him die before his time.)

It’s not possible to keep the whole world stuck. Some events can’t be undone. Natural disasters persist even as time doesn’t. Some people age. Some don’t. Damien grows. Dick and Jason and Steph and Cass and Duke and Bruce don’t. For “years” no one notices.

And then Damian is only a year younger than Tim and the inconsistencies become too much to handle. The magic breaks. The spell shatters leaving a gash in the world.

For the first time since his 17th birthday, Tim ages a day. And then a week. A month passes and he can feel his hair growing longer for the first time in six years and has a panic attack.

People start to remember. Bruce goes form 35 to 41 in a week. Dick complain about back problems and aching joints of a 30 year old.

But there is nothing they can do. It was always unsustainable. There’s discussions of trying new ways to kill him, to freeze him. But even a frozen bodies feels time.

His birthday is a countdown.

Damian refuses to give up even as everyone else does.

The whole hero community holds its breath as the last month approaches. They prepare for war.

Tim prepares for death. He makes his peace. He says his goodbyes. He writes letters. It’s like a terminal illness. There’s enough time to say goodbye. There’s not enough time to heal it.

Tim and Kon get married. Kon is 25 now and beautiful. Tim, as always, forever 17. But they won’t have enough time for anything else. The wedding is gorgeous, expensive, a little gaudy. Bruce pours all his energy into planning it. He can’t fix this. There’s nothing he can do to save his son but he can give him two perfect days. It’s beautiful and they record every minute of it.

(Jason is Tim’s best man. It’s funny. Laugh!)

Damian never gives up. He runs to the League, searching the depths of his grandfather’s library. Oh the hero’s asked Ra’s. They scoured the globe for solutions. No knowledge forbidden in an attempt to stop the apocalypse. But there are secrets only family can access, records so lost to time that Ra’s barely remembers them.

He takes Jon (17 and Damian only 16, once again similar in age) with him on the quest, runs himself ragged against mortal and supernatural foes alike. He nearly misses the wedding, surfacing just long enough for a day of family photos and tearful congratulations that do nothing but add to his feverish resolve.

(His family has lost so much, has suffered in ways no family should. He loves them. He aches for them. His brothers and sisters. His aging father. He can’t lose this family when they never got to have enough time.)

He finds a portal to the fea world. The space between dimensions full of holes after six “years” of holding back time. He spends six months within its borders and dances a deadly game of wit with Kings and Queens older than time and returns to the mortal plan to find only 3 days have passed.

He returns to the manor with an untried solution, one he had to pry from the lips of an undying seer trapped within the depths of a catacomb (hard won after outsmarting a face stealer, wondering through an impossible fog, and facing far too many dragons) two days before Tim’s birthday.

The blood ritual is done with all the family present. There is a gash along Damian’s neck that will never stop being angry red, magic always pulsing beneath the skin. But it is worth it to see the hope flare in his family’s eyes.

The solution is deceptively easy and terribly dangerous. You can’t stop fate but you can make it wrong. Tim’s creature blood will rise to the surface on his 18th birthday. But what if it comes a day early. There is a risk that it will all go wrong, that the creature will always ache for blood and death even without fate pulling it along. But, Tim argues, at least then he can die (no one finds this as reassuring as he’d hoped).

Bruce and Kon hold his hands — a parody of that moment three years ago when he fell asleep — and Tim braces for pain. But there is none, just a new taste of magic and the ease of his body morphing. Ears twisting into points, his hair turns feathery and fluffy, pupils spinning into triangles. There is more. Seams along his cheekbones and neck he knows can open into extra mouths and eyes. A tail curling along his spine. His tongue splits at the tip. But his limbs do not twist into anything inhuman (though maybe he could if he tried). And his mind — oh his soul — stays his.

As the clock strikes midnight on Tim’s 18th birthday, nothing happens.

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 8 months ago

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Tear of salt

Azriel x Mermaid OC

Word count: +6300

Summary: He sneaks into enemy territory to spy/assassinate someone and while sneaking through that person's manor he finds a large tank holding a sad mermaid.

Warnings: Azriel doing his job - killing; mentions of blood, wounds, torturing, starvation

Based on this prompt by @ghostedgrim @azrielappreciationweek Day 7: Free Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Azriel crossed his room, attaching last daggers he had prepared, to his gear. He got a mission, a very easy one. There was nothing that could go wrong and he even didn't feel sorry for what he was about to do. Sneaking into manor of some bastard who was kidnapping lesser faeries and human children all around Prythian and selling them as slaves on continent, was way too easy for him. Azriel could have sent some of his spies to handle this, but after witnessing what was left of one of the victims, he wanted to do it personally. He wanted to see that bastard suffering as much as those children suffered before he would allow him to die.

The shadows swirled around his arms and wings, gathering at his ear. "It's time," they whispered in their silent soothing voices.

Azriel closed his honeyed hazel eyes, releasing a deep sigh through nose while shadows swallowed him. When he again opened them, he stood on a hill at the edge of the forest.

It was night, a valley bellow was plunged in impenetrable darkness as heavy dark clouds swimming across the firmament, hid all the stars and moon. Air was filled with a smell of rain and static energy of coming storm. Azriel didn't mind it though. He was used to the darkness and saw his destination almost as clearly as during the day.

At the bottom of the shallow valley stood a manor surrounded by garden and high fence. Only certain people knew about its existence or how to get there. It took him just a few hours to find the right people and follow them to this place and next several days he spent spying around, counting coming and leaving wagons. That bastard was so arrogant that he kept only a small unit of guards to secure such big estate. Killing him couldn't be more easier. Even from afar Azriel could say that whoever cast the wards around the estate, did a very poor job. He cracked through them the second he came without any problem and not a single soul noticed it.

Azriel waited for an hour after the last of the lights turned off in the manor. The wind was getting stronger, playing with his dark hair as he stretched out his wings. The guards were so negligent that they rather hid from the coming storm than guarded the place. This really couldn't be easier.

Azriel quietly slid on the wind down to the garden close to the servants entrance, but then he changed his mind and with smirk he landed on a driveway. There was no need to hide in the shadows, the darkness of the night covered his tall figure dressed in black perfectly fine. Rhys would certainly call him a show-off for this later. His noiseless steps led him up the staircase straight to the main entrance, hand casually resting on a hilt of his favourite dagger on his hip.

The shadows swam out from beneath the massive doors, climbing up his body to whisper into his ear. Azriel huffed when they told him that nobody was keeping an eye in the main hall nor anywhere nearby. How convenient. His blue siphons gleamed in the darkness as he reached for handle. It wasn't even locked. How could such amateurs manage to kidnap so many people and even had an audacity to think that nobody would notice and come for them?

Tugging his wings closer, Azriel stepped in and closed the doors behind. The main hall was literary made of white marble that covered not only floor but also walls and ceiling. Great portals on the both sides of the doors led deeper into the house. However, Azriel's attention was trained on the two staircases winding around an enormous tank. The bedroom he was looking for, was certainly up on the second floor. Though that didn't bother him so much at the moment.

A soft greenish light was coming out of the tank full of dirty water, the only source of light here. As far as he could say, Azriel didn't see any fish swimming in it. He couldn't explain it, but something was drawing him to that tank. With hammering heart he stalked closer, trying to get a better look of what was within the glass walls covered with slime. It took him awhile to recognize the shape of a great rock in its middle. At first he thought that the tank was empty except of the rock and kelps swaying in the dirt. He was about to return back to the purpose of his visit when he noticed a faint gleam of something metallic. Not metallic, he realized. A fish scale. Now when he knew where to look, he could see it. A long fish tail attached to a human-looking torso. He hadn't seen any of this creatures with his own eyes, yet he immediately recognized it.

A mermaid.

The only known mermaids lived in the ocean near the shores of Summer court, occasionally ranging water lines of Spring. They lived in well guarded communities, but once every few centuries there was a curious mermaid who came out from the water looking for an adventure on land. Their rare offspring with fae or human, however, were excluded from their community and had to stay on land. They usually had just little if anything of their mermaid ancestors anyway and they could be easily mistaken for high fae.

The mermaid was lying on her side, limp. Her eyes were closed, dark shadows loomed under sharp bones of her cheeks. Her skin had a sickly greyish tone, by the state of her starved body, she could be already dead.

Azriel clenched teeth and pressed his palm to the thick glass, its surface cold like ice. No wonder this room was so cold compared to the stuffy night air of late summer outside. His stomach hollowed, the pain wrapped around his heart like hand around tiny bird and squeezed. He felt sorrow for the poor creature who ended up imprisoned in this tank, starved to the death. That wasn't fate he would wish even for his worst enemy.

As leather of gear on his hand touched the tank, it caused the small thud echoed through the water. Mermaid's long eyelashes flickered and she so slowly opened eyes. Her gaze was empty, dulled with suffer and tiredness, sliding down the glass to the place he stood at.

When their gazes collided, Azriel gasped and took a half-step back. The jade like eyes struk him straight to the heart, sending waves of the sweetest pain to his veins. His heart expanded to create space for a golden thread that bounded him to the female in front of him.

Her lips parted, soft moan slipped from between them. She felt it, too.

However, the thread was weak, disappearing as the life gradually drained from her. It took some time until it fully formed and he got a straight link to her. Enormous hunger and pain flooded his system and he needed a moment to separate her feelings from his own. He couldn't do anything right now to help her, except of sending his strength and assurance to her.

Her hand, bones and tendons wrapped in skin, slightly moved toward him.

Azriel's jaw tightened as his gaze flickered to the second floor for a brief moment.

"I'll return for you, I swear. Just give me a second to finish that bastard. I'll make him suffer on your behalf." He only whispered the words, but water carried them to her and she weakly nodded.

Not wasting another second, Azriel ran up the steps, taking three at time. The game was over. There was no need to hide in the shadows, sneaking around. The rage was tearing through him, seeping from his pores like a toxic cloud. He was the Death and the Death was him. Nothing could stop him now. Every person who took part of enslaving and torturing of his mate deserved nothing better that slow death. Those who saw her and decided to do nothing weren't any better.

As if they felt it, several residents of the manor appeared in the hallway, blocking his way. Azriel didn't even as much as blink when his scarred fingers closed around hilts of daggers. He moved smoothly as a dancer, cutting a path through bodies. Once he got them, he didn't glance their way anymore. There was no need. He was trained killer, with every blow he delivered fatal injury. Some died immediately, some shrieked on the floor, blood flowing from the cuts like unstoppable river, others were drowning in it.

Azriel swiftly followed the lead of his shadows showing him the shortest way to the bed chambers of the head of this group. He didn't count the number of bodies he left behind. Spattered with dark crimson liquid, he smashed the door open - the real demon looking for his next victim.

The bastard was hidden behind his bed, trembling like a little girl with small knife in hand. Azriel wrinkled his nose as an odour of urine hit him. He snorted. That bastard pissed himself. If Azriel had time, he'd love to play with him to make him pay for all ruined lives, but his mate was weakening with every second he spent here. He needed to hurry up. He moved toward the hiding male who shrieking threw the knife at his head and tried to run away. A big mistake! No one could outran the Death.

Azriel caught the flying knife mid air and tossed it aside. The tendril of shadows wrapped around males neck, yanking him back. Careful not to break his neck, they lifted him into the air. The male was making choking noises, kicking feet around in attempt to find something, anything to stand on. Shadows squeezed his neck more firmly until his eyes rolled back in his head.

Azriel waited. The shadows loosened their hold before the male could die. It was their master's turn to strike the final blow. Azriel promised that he would make him suffer and so he did. He made a tiny cut to the artery on male's arms and watched as his life dripped out of him, drop after drop. When male in agony shuddered for the last time, shadows tossed him into the puddle of his own blood and swam to their master.

Spymaster turned on heel and ran back down to the entrance hall. He searched whole tank on his way down the stairs, but there was no hole, no opening. It was built only for one purpose and that enraged him even more.

Azriel put both palms on the thick glass, gathered all the power from his siphons and released it at once. The glass turned into fine dust, the mass of dirty and stinky water spilled on Azriel and all around the room. He shook himself dry like a dog, wiping the disgusting slime from his face and climbed inside. He waded in knee-deep dirty water to the rock in its middle, slippery algae binding his legs and making the progress harder. The mermaid just lay there helplessly, her chest heaved with difficulty, gasping for air.

Without hesitation, Azriel opened the upper part of leathers and stripped the T-shirt beneath it. He jumped up on the rock and started carefully wiping off the dirt from her face and especially from her nose, mouth and gills on her neck.

As soon as he was done, she took a deep breath, savouring fresh air. She tried to lift her head, but she was too weak.

"It's over now," he spoke lowly to her, his voice soft. "I know that you felt it, too. I won't let anything bad ever happen to you again."

He brushed her long wet hair from her face. Even with a thick layer of dirt on, she was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. As the wild creature of depths of the ocean she was, she undoubtedly wanted to return home, but Azriel already knew he wouldn't be able to let her go. He would gladly follow her even to the bottom of the ocean. She was his mate after all, the missing half of his soul. They were made for each other. That had to mean something.

"Let's get you out of here."

He so carefully scooped her in his arms, but her tail was so long that it dragged behind. Shadows wrapped around the scales and lifted it up, helping to their master. Her head with still closed eyes fell on his naked chest. His body shivered in answer and he groaned. Only thanks to the years of discipline and restrains he didn't crush her in his arms. Right now she needed healer, food, care and love. He had to wait until she would be healthy and then they would talk about the bond.

Azriel released a deep breath and called in the shadows that obediently swallowed them. When Azriel opened eyes again, he was standing in the middle of Madja's office at healers center, the dirty water was dripping from their bodies on perfectly clean floor. Old healer was leaning over the table, her hands swiftly taking one pouch after another, mixing medicine with precision of many years of practice.

The shadows immediately flew to greet her. The healer didn't even as much as sigh in surprise when they touched her hands, helping with the pouches.

"Good evening, Azriel," she spoke in a tired voice. "I hope that you know what time it is and that the injury you have, is really serious."

She slowly turned to him, her moves sluggish after a long, hard day. She gasped when she noticed mermaid in his arms.

"I know it's late and believe me, if it wasn't a matter of life and death, I wouldn't bother you. But.. she needs immediate help and you are the only one I can entrust her to."

"At last you found the one," she smiled at him knowingly, her hands already picking up everything she would need. "Put her on the bed."

Azriel did as she asked and carefully set the mermaid down on simple bed for patients. When he made sure she is comfortable, he moved to the tail that hung from bed and gently scooped it into his arms, holding it off of the cold floor. Looking closely at it, he noticed quite big areas with only reddish skin without scales and his heart clenched. Even now he felt unbearable pain and hunger seeping from her end of the bond and he wished he could kill that bastard again.

Madja got to work, swiftly looking the pacient over. Azriel watched her while his shadows assisted to her. When Madja was done, she sighed and wiped her hands clean.

"She is heavily malnourished. That's the cause of the other issues like loosing the scales and tiredness. Looking at you two, I assume that the numerous inflammations are caused by too long stay in stagnant dirty water. The very first thing she needs, is a bath. I think it's something you can deal with. Just treat her carefully. Right now she is very sensitive, more sensitive to touch than your wings."

Azriel nodded. "Got it."

Madja put together all the medicines and ointments while explaining him how and when to apply them and what to expect in the following days. At last she told him to call for her, if her state worsened.

Azriel listened carefully, thanked to the old healer and winnowed with the mermaid to his apartment in the center of the city that he kept secret from his family. It was his place to retreat to when things started to be too much and he needed silence, peace and time to recharge.

The apartment was enough big to accommodate him and his wings, equipped only with a necessary basics like bed, closet with some spare clothes, bathroom, sofa near the hearth, small kitchen area where he could prepare a simple meal, and few shelves with books. It wasn't much, but it suited his needs. The whole building was located next to the park, with Sidra flowing behind it. That was the main reason why he decided for this apartment. None of the windows was directed to the street so it was a very quiet place, exactly what he was looking for.

His steps immediately led to the bathroom with bathtub enough big for giant Illyrian warrior. Some of his shadows return as soon as they heard about the bath to prepare it. Bathtub was full of warm water, the steam was rising from its surface.

Azriel hesitated for a moment unsure whether mermaids were fine with warm baths. He sat down on the edge of the tub, placing his mate on his lap. He gently took her hand and let it slowly inch after inch slip into the water. Mermaid groaned softly, but she didn't seem to be in pain. He lifted small hand up, inspecting it closely. The colour of her skin seemed to be normal, there were no blisters or redness, so he assumed it should be fine and carefully dipped her whole body. After that he took off his dirty leathers and shadows took care of them. It was so dirty that it was better to throw it away than to try to clean it. Shadowsinger dipped to the water, sighing with relief as warm liquid worked its wonders on his tired body. He made sure to wash himself properly before touching female opposite him. Then he moved to her, gently washing off the dirt from her body and hair.

The water turned muddy after the first wash, so he refilled the tub again and again until it stayed clear. Then it was finally a time for the most hardest and delicate work - to wash her tail. Shadows brought him a new soft toothbrush from cabinet under the sink and he started to gently brush one scale after the other. It took him hours to get from the top to the bottom, but he didn't mind it at slightest. For his mate he would do it even thousand times and gladly. When he looked at her clean tail from afar, it had a light sea green colour with metallic accent. However, looking closely at the scales, each one had a pearly iridescent colour. It was fascinating.

Mermaid was whole time unconscious, but the bond between them was growing stronger and steadier which was a good sign. Azriel checked on her every now and then to make sure he wasn't hurting her.

She was calm, her expression relaxed as he pulled her out of the tub, wrapped her in towel and carried her to the bed. Her hair was so tangled that he decided to just wrap it in another towel and deal with it later. Gently wiping her body he moved to her tail. As soon as the towel touched it, it started to melt beneath his hands like ice. Azriel's eyes widened in shock, panic gripping his heart. That wasn't suppose to happen, was it?

He quickly ran back to the bathroom to run another bath. When he returned, he stiffened on threshold. Instead of mermaid, a Fae-like female was lying on the bed, her long pale legs riddled with red wounds.

Azriel dropped to his knees, wiping tears away as he drew hands down his face. He stayed like that, watching her chest rise with every steady breath until he calmed down. She was fine. He cursed under his breath. Madja certainly knew this would happen, she should have warned him.

Sitting on the edge of mattress, he took out the ointments the healer gave him. Mermaid, now female, was completely naked in this form and it took everything in him to ignore the fact. He quickly finished this tormenting activity, bandaged the wounds and dressed her in one of his spare T-shirts. Once she was safely tucked under the blanket, all tempting parts covered, he released the breath he held entire time.

He needed a minute to cool down, so he dressed and went to clean the mess they made in the apartment. When he was done, he took comb, climbed on the bed and began untangling her long hair. Free from dirt and slime it was the deep shade of auburn, slightly wavy and soft to touch. By the time he braided her hair, gave her medicine from the healer and exhausted fell asleep next to her, it was already a lunch time.

The next few days he hadn't left his apartment. As Madja warned him, mermaid got a fever caused by infection in numerous wounds. Even the most shallow ones took twice the time to heal than it normally would. Azriel patiently replaced the bandages several times a day, applying the ointments on wounded skin of legs. He was worried, yet he couldn't but appreciate this opportunity. It gave him enough time to think everything over.

She was still unconscious, so she wasn't able to eat solid food, which left Azriel with only one option - soups.

When he tried to feed her the very first meal, he hit an obstacle. He tried every possible method of getting liquid into unconscious person he knew of, failing terribly. The soup simply spilled from her mouth or she started choking on it.

He was sitting helplessly on the edge of mattress, watching her. According to all the stories and little information his kind had, it was well known that mermaids were beautiful. Their physical appearance was hard to resist to and where their beauty failed, their voice managed to break even the strongest individual. Singing of mermaids was legendary. Depending on what the mermaid wanted, the effect of their song could differ. Azriel hadn't heard her voice yet he was already lost. Whether she wanted or not, she had him wrapped around her finger. Sleeping peacefully her features were soft, she looked quite young and like a good person. He assumed that she liked to smile a lot because corners of her mouth were permanently turned upward. He really hoped to see her smile someday.

However, her sunken cheeks were causing him a pain. When he was changing her bandages after waking up, he noticed a lot of details that early in the morning he missed out in agitation. Every time he touched her and felt no muscles, only bones and thin tissue under the skin, it hurt him like a stab straight into the heart. Desperately wanting to get the food to her belly, he was just sitting there, gazing at her, his eyes clouded with sorrow. There had to be some way how to do this.

Brooding over it, he didn't hear his shadows when they spoke to him at first. The darkness swirled around him, gathering near his ear, whispering. When he didn't answer, they tried to get his attention by cool gentle touches. It didn't work either, so they moved to master's mate, creating wall between them.

"What is it?" Azriel frowned, pushing them away.

"We are trying to talk to you. Why don't you listen to us?"

"She needs food," he stirred the cooling soup with spoon. "I'm trying to come up with some way to feed her."

"We might know about something you haven't tried yet."

"I tried everything," he shook head. "Maybe I need to ask Madja. I should write her a message. Will you deliver it?"

"Nope," they collectively dismissed. "First, try our method."

"Are you sure that it will work?" he raised a brow at them.

"For 100%! But if not, we will deliver the message."

"Fine, so what do I need to do?"

The shadows explained him their idea in detail. Azriel's eyes grew wider with every their word and he blushed fiercely.

"I can't do that!" He covered his mouth with hand, stuttering. "It's.. it's disrespectful to her.. I need her permission to do something so.. naughty."

"In this state, she will hardly give you permission. It's your only chance, boy. She doesn't have to know about it. Think about it!"

He hated to admit it, but they were once again right.

"It's going to be just feeding.. Only feeding.. nothing else," he grunted giving up and shoved spoonful of soup into his mouth.

His cheeks burnt with bright red colour as he leaned over sleeping mermaid. He gently opened her mouth and sealed his lips over hers. The jolt of energy surged through his body at that simple touch and he groaned, closing his eyes. He needed a moment, unable to move. He wanted to taste her, but thankfully his mouth were full of soup.

Come to your senses! It's feeding.. It isn't a real kiss, he scolded himself, taking a deep, steadying breath.

"That's it, boy! And now slooooowly," shadows were encouraging him, floating so close they were almost touching them. A growl rumbled in his chest and they recoiled.

"Fine!" If they had eyes, they would roll them now. "Just don't drown her." They flew back behind his shoulders and observed the situation from there.

Azriel sighed through nose. He let a few drops of soup slip from between his lips into her mouth and waited. Nothing happened at first and he was about to call it off when her throat worked under his tender touch and she swallowed. Female moaned and her brows knitted together as her lips moved slightly, looking for more. Happy, Azriel caressed her hair and let another small amount flow into her mouth.

Gradually, he fed her half of the soup in the bowl. It was quite a slow process, but how could he mind? Being so close to his mate, the bond between them awoke, pulsing in unison with their heartbeats. It came in handy in this situation. As her belly filled, the bond shone with satisfaction and Azriel knew it was time to stop. She had to start carefully to keep the food in. He put the bowl aside and pulled warm blanket higher, tucking her in. Mermaid frowned, her lips looking for more food.

"Soon. I'll give you more very soon," he murmured, caressing her cheek lovingly. "You are safe here. I'll give you as much food as you need. I'll give you anything you want, just.. give me a chance."

He hoped his prayer would somehow reach her and she wouldn't refuse the bond as soon as she opened eyes.

Azriel decided to feed her with small amount of soup every two hours and see how her body would react to that. And in between he gave her tea from herbs Madja gave him. It took him only a half day to turn this into a routine. His body got used to the repeating motions. Cleaning of wounds and applying ointments, changing bandages, little bit of tea with medicine, few mouthfuls of soup.

All of that required a lot of time and the short breaks between the individual actions, he spent gazing at his mate, committing details of her face to his memory or cooking some food for himself and soup for his patient.

At beginning, he always tried to feed her with spoon, but when it failed, he gladly pressed his lips to hers. It was like a remedy and while he was balancing between keeping it professional, detached, and giving in to his needs, he hardly noticed anything else. Two days later he didn't even bother with trying spoon anymore. The fever was finally gone and she seemed to be getting better, her starved body was healing, too. Yet she didn't awoke even once. As his mouth sealed over hers, he closed eyes, fighting his usual battle and imagining what could be.

Azriel didn't notice the startled move of hand nor felt the body under him tensed. He let small amount of soup slip into mermaids mouth and she swallowed. Suddenly pair of hands pushed him away. It surprised him and he started choking on the soup, coughing violently.

"W-what are you doing?" Her voice was still weak and full of fear, but she was definitely awake.

Azriel finally stopped coughing and took a deep breath, wiping away tears. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do anything bad," he put his hands up. "While you were unconscious, you couldn't eat and this was the only way how to get food into you.. I swear I tried everything else before.. you know.." The blush climbed up his neck, burning his cheeks. He watched her with plea.

"I-.. You are that male, the one who saved me.."

"Yes, it's me," Azriel nodded eagerly, biting on his bottom lip and waiting whether she would mention the bond.

"I have to thank you for saving my life. I was sure that I will die there and I really would die, if it wasn't for you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

Her voice was the sweetest melody Azriel ever heard. He was trying to stay focussed, but with every word that left her lips it was harder and harder.

The bond in his chest stirred and flexed with expectation. He knew that she felt it, it snapped for both of them at the same time after all, yet he wanted to wait until she mentioned it. While he was waiting, they introduced to each other, sharing some basic information. She even told him about how they captured her and confined her in that gigant tank.

Several days later, Mer was enough strong to stand up on her own. She didn't need Azriel to help her anymore. Her wounds healed without leaving any marks and she was able to eat solid food. Not even once she mentioned the bond and Azriel had a bad feeling about it.

With each passing day she was getting restless. She often watched Sidra flowing under the window of sitting room, her gaze vacant.

"Where does the river flow?" she asked him for the third time that day.

"It flows into the sea beyond the city," he answered her patiently, his voice sad. "Why?"

"I want to go home," she murmured under her breath, but he heard it. It was the first time she mentioned it and his heart clenched in pain.

Azriel swallowed hard, preparing to hear something that would break him into pieces. "Do you want to return home, Mer?"

"Yes," she replied simply and finally looked at him. "When will you let me go?"

That hurt more than he expected. Balling hands into fists, he turned his back to her.

"I can't.."

He was hardly keeping it together. Shadows swirled around his shoulders as if trying to comfort him. His wings rustled as he abruptly marched to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of bed, putting head into his hands. Mother had a very strange sense of humour, punishing him by giving him a mate who didn't want him. The only person who was supposed to love him and stay by his side, wanted to leave him.

He felt unwanted his entire life, first by his own father, then in the camp by his own people and later even by the first love of his life. He was scared to love because people who really mattered to him, didn't want him in their lives. Five centuries later, it was still hard for him to comprehend that Cassian and Rhysand liked him, that they called him their brother and he dreaded the day they would stop.

Mer quietly followed him, watching him with puzzled expression.

"Did you save me only to imprison me again?" Her voice was calm, there was no trace of hatred or accusation in it.

He took a shaky breath and shook his head. He hadn't seriously cried since he was thrown into dungeons as a small boy. He didn't cry even when his hands were burnt and it hurt badly, but now he felt like doing so.

"I can't possibly let my mate leave me just like that.."

She sighed and walked over to him, crouching in front of him and pulled his hands away from his face. He looked at her in surprise. It was the first time she touched him. Ever since she woke up, she was refusing his toich. Now she was searching his face, her expression unreadable, her small but strong hands holding his.

"You know that we belong to different worlds. I can't stay on land for too long and you can't survive under the water. That's just how things are. We can't change it."

She was so calm that it was killing him. Was he really so unworthy? Was he really not good enough even for his mate, the one he was made for? Azriel was never pushy with people he cared for. He was always putting others, their wishes and needs before himself. He could count on fingers of one hands the times when he revolted and stood his ground. In this case, he didn't want to give up easily. He wanted to give it a try and fight with everything he had to change her mind, to prove her that this could work.

He closed fingers around her hands, holding them firmly and looked straight into her eyes with determination. Small sparkles whirled in them as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I always believed that the real love can overcome anything. That once I find my mate, she could love me despite of looking like this," he nodded to his scarred hands. "That she will see me, the real me under all the darkness and blood staining my hands and yet choose to stay by my side.." He searched her eyes, looking for a hint of agreement, a hint of longing, anything. "There's nothing I wouldn't be willing to do for you. Nothing. I would even try to learn to live under the water, if you asked me for that. Please, don't shove me away.. Don't refuse the bond.. Give me at least one chance to prove myself as worthy of you.. I believe that this relationship can work and I will do anything for that.. Please.. Just one chance.."

She listened closely. When he stayed quiet, waiting for her respond, she narrowed eyes on him, thinking about it. It felt like forever until she gave him an answer, his heart treating to explode with emotions that were wrestling with him.

"Fine," she sighed and nodded, squeezing his hands back. "Let's try it. But what if it won't work? What then?"

"I'm sure it will work, but if not, we will talk about it then. I won't give up though."

She smiled at him gently. "I think that you are good male. So don't take it personally, but I really need to go home. I mean to the water. The time I can spend on land is still quite limited because I am young. The longer mermaids live, the longer they can stay without water."

Azriel's brows raised. "Oh.. I didn't know that. I'm so sorry. Your kind lives in depths of ocean, secluded and we have a little to nothing information about mermaids. You are more like a legend from fairytale. I don't like to admit it, but my knowledge is limited. However, I will learn it all, I swear. Just give me time and guidance, please."

He helped her to sit on the bed and headed to the bathroom to prepare bath. When they visited Madja last day, the healer said that she should be okay from now on, but she needed to take it slowly and especially to avoid dirty water because infection could still return. She also had to keep taking the medication healer gave them.

When bath was ready he returned to bedroom and scooped her in his arms.

"I can walk," she protested weakly.

"And I know it, but as I told you before, I want to prove myself. Carrying my mate when she is sick and needs to take it easy, is my responsibility that I'll gladly do," he smiled at her. "I want to be a good mate. And not just now, it's forever."

She didn't protest at slightest when he offered to help her strip from his T-shirt that looked like dress on her and carefully lowered her into the bath. As soon as her skin touched the surface of water, the tail reappeared and she sighed in relief, diving in. Azriel watched her to swim in small circle, glad his bathtub was enough big, but he was already thinking about getting a bigger one. She emerged and watching him, she swam closer.

"Azriel?" she called at him and his attention immediately was fully on her. "Uhm, you know I'm not water spirit, right?"

He blinked, confused. "Sure. I couldn't possibly mistake you for one."

"I see," she pouted her lips, playing with water. "So you remember when I told you about my home. In ocean."

"Of course, I remember everything you told me," he laughed and then tensed as the realisation hit him.

"Salt water," he breathed out, blushing fiercely. How could it not occur to him sooner? "You need salt water."

Her head tilted to the side as she observed his embarrassed form. Azriel dashed from the bathroom and returned within seconds with small container of kitchen salt.

"Would this do?" he hesitated.

Mer burst in genuine laugher and the thread connecting them sang. Soon Azriel joined her, sitting down next to the bathtub. She swam to the edge and he took her hand, placing kiss on its back. When they calmed down, he locked his gaze with hers, serious.

"I'll learn it, I swear. I meant it when I said that I want this to work and I'll do everything I can for that. Please, trust me. Can you forgive me for the mistakes I'll do at start? I promise that I will get better."

Mer bit on her bottom lip and leaned closer. Her lips gently brushed over the corner of his lips in lovingly kiss. Flushed, she smiled.

"I want this to work too. Let's try it! Together."

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danikamariewrites · 2 years ago

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I absolutely adore and love your housewife Feysand series, it’s so good rishshdkdbdkck

I propose an idea, even though reader is usually always at home/Velaris, what if they got kidnapped??? And reader gets injured and Feysand go INSANE trying to find them and it’s just angsty hehehehehe BONUS POINTS if it’s just fluff and overprotective central once they rescue and find reader

Gone Girl

Feysand x reader

A/n: thank you anon! I love this little series and I’m so glad others are enjoying it

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, injuries, eventual fluff

As Feyre walked home, hand in hand with Nyx, she couldn’t help but go over today’s events. She hadn’t seen you since this morning. Which isn’t unusual but occasionally you’d pop in to say to her and Rhys while they worked.

Maybe your brunch with Mor had run longer than you thought it would? But you would’ve let them know you weren’t going to pick Nyx up from school. You always pick Nyx up from school.

As the pair entered the house Feyre saw Mor pacing in the living room. Worry on her face as she bit at her perfect nails.

Feyre crouched down in front of Nyx, giving the sweet boy a small smile. “Uncle Cass is in the kitchen, go ask him to help you with your after school snack.” The boy nodded excitedly, his floppy black hair swishing with his movements. “Ok mommy.” He gave Feyre a quick kiss on the cheek before running off to get the most unhealthy snack his uncle could find him.

Making her way over to Mor, Feyre tilted her head curiously. She took Mor’s hands before asking, “What is it?” “Y/n didn’t come to brunch. I haven’t seen her all day.” Feyre’s heart sank into her stomach. A moment later Azriel came bursting through the front door like a mad man. His shadows frantic as he yelled for his brother. “Rhys! Rhys we have a problem!”

Before Azriel could make his way up the stairs Feyre winnowed in front of him. Her hands pushed against his chest as the sapphire siphons flared, the only annoyance he showed at being bared from Rhys. When he realized Feyre was in front of Azriel pulled his High Lady up the stairs to the High Lords office.

Rhys jumped up from his chair as Azriel slammed the door. His still panicked demeanor scaring the pair. “Azriel what’s going on?” Feyre asked desperately. The spymaster got right to the point. “Y/n has been taken. A rival camp to Windhaven has reported rogue members, they think the group of males took her. A few of my spies noticed them in the city not well disguised.”

Feyre let out a cry, covering her mouth. Silver lined her eyes as Rhys held her up. He pressed his face to her head giving her a small, reassuring kiss. Rhys took a deep breath. “Do you know where she is?” Rhys asked darkly. Azriel was sure everyone in the house could feel the dark power emanating from the High Lord. “I will soon.” Azriel quickly left before the moment could turn personal. Giving the couple space.

Hours later Azriel reported that the four males had taken you to an abandoned village at the edge of the mountains. It was the dead of winter, you must be freezing. That made Rhys and Feyre even angrier. You were raised in the Summer Court you can’t handle the cold of Illyria.

Rhys didn’t want this done quietly. He wanted to make his presence known. These moronic males took what was the High Lord and Lady’s and they would pay dearly for it.

Winnowing to the center of the abandoned village Rhys, Feyre, Az, Cass, and Mor stood back to back in a circle. Weapons raised, their eyes scanned the dilapidated homes. Wind and snow whipped around the group making in almost impossible to see their surroundings. Azriel sent his shadows out in all directions. Minutes later one returned swirling frantically as it relayed information to its master. He whistled and nodded in the direction the shadow came from.

Rhys and Feyre were the first to move. As they walked ahead the raging snow storm seemed to part for them. Like it was afraid of their wrath.

——

The cabin was freezing. Your body was aching from shivering for hours on end. You try to pull at the ropes around your wrists but your arms were too weak to move. It felt like you were frozen in place.

The four males that had taken you from Velaris were huddled near the front door. Now that they weren’t looking you allowed yourself to wince at the pain rushing through your right cheek. One of the males had backhanded you so hard it left a large bruise and cut from just below your temple to your cheek.

You hadn’t said a single word to them when you came to. You just sat slightly slumped in the rickety chair they tied you to. You kept your face blank, not giving them the satisfaction of a reaction or screaming and pleading with them.

When you had first woken up you tried to reach out to Rhys and Feyre. They were too far so your connection to them was nonexistent. You had prayed to the Mother that your friends and family noticed you missing. Prayed that Mor thought it was weird you didn’t show up to brunch. And Nyx! Poor Nyx must’ve been so sad when you didn’t pick him up from school.

Tears started to blur your vision as you thought about your little boy. Would you ever see him again?

Before the sob building in your throat could leave your lips the sound of the front door splintering filled your ears. You ducked your head, hissing at how stiff your neck felt.

You didn’t have to look at who was beating your captors. You could feel their presence. You’d know them anywhere.

Screwing your eyes shut you waited for the chaos to be over. You heard snow and wood crunch under extra footsteps as the males are hauled away.

A warm hand caresses your unharmed cheek. “Y/n,” a small voice says tentatively. You slowly look up at your loves. The tears you were trying to hold back falling as you give them a tight lipped smile. “You came.” Your voice raspy from not being used. “Of course we did.” Rhys said, kneeling in front of you.

With a snap of his fingers you were free from the ropes. You slipped off the chair into Rhys’s embrace. He held your shivering body tight as Feyre winnowed the three of you back to the River House. Madja was waiting upstairs in the bedroom with an apprentice to check you over.

Once she was done you slept for hours. You were still trembling from the cold which Madja had informed them was normal. You should be fine by morning as long as the fire kept going. Feyre sat with you first while Rhys went to be with Nyx.

Nyx had begged his father to see you. The little boy didn’t understand why they brought you home in tears. He kept trying to sneak away from Rhys so he could see you. “I just want to cuddle with mom!” He had yelled and stomped when he was told no.

Rhys and Feyre had switched before Nyx’s bedtime. When Feyre came downstairs Nyx was sitting on the couch, a devious look on his face with his arms crossed. Feyre copied her son with a small chuckle as she faced him down. “I’m not going to bed until I see mom.”

She sat next to him with a sigh. “You’re not seeing mom tonight, baby.” Nyx let out a little hmph and leaned back. His little wings flaring behind him. By nine he was passed out and moved to his own bed.

——

Blinking your eyes open the bright morning sun caught you off guard. You thought it was nighttime. You slowly sit up against the headboard rolling out your stiff joints. Looking around you see Feyre and Rhys asleep leaning on each other at the end of the bed.

You tug on the duvet hard enough to wake them and they jolt whipping their heads around. You cover your mouth to stifle your laugh. Their eyes snap to you and relief floods their faces. They scramble to sit on either side of you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “Sweetheart we were so worried.” “Are you ok? Do you need anything? Water, food, anything?” They continued their onslaught of questions until you pulled away from them.

“I’m fine. Maybe some breakfast and water. But I feel fine.” Rhys looked at you with an assessing gaze. “You’re sure?” You nod at him with a small smile. “I’ll get you some food.” Rhys gives you a kiss before leaving. You turn to look at Feyre.

She stares at you with watery eyes. Her finger gently traces around your cut. You could see the hurt in her eyes. She felt guilty for not getting to you sooner. You grabbed her hand kissing her fingers softly. “I love you, so much.” She whispered. “I love you too. Thank you, for coming to rescue me.” Feyre leaned her forehead against yours. “I’d burn down the world to find you.” Her warm lips pressed against yours in a soft kiss.

When Rhys came back Nyx was following him, holding back his excitement to see you. Before climbing on the bed he gave his father a look that asked for permission. As soon as Rhys nodded Nyx climbed up on the bed snuggling into your chest.

You felt Rhys caress your mental shields before letting him in. “Feyre meant it. We’d burn the world down if it meant you were safe in our arms.” “I know Rhys. And I love you both for it.” “You know you’re never leaving our sight again, right?” You mentally and physically roll your eyes at him. It was going to be a long time before you left the house without an escort soon.

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cakesunflower · 1 year ago

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reasons why Elriel is endgame because it’s so goddamn obvious

Elain starting a conversation with Azriel (because he seemed the most approachable to her) during their dinner at the Archeron Estate.

Elain wearing a cobalt blue dress (matching the color of Azriel’s siphons) when the mortal Queens came to visit.

Azriel sitting with Elain in the garden, arguably the one who spent the most time with her during a time she wasn’t speaking to anyone after turning Fae.

Azriel being the only one who figured there was something more to what Elain was saying in regards to her visions and then being the one to figure out she is a Seer.

Feyre asking Rhys why Azriel and Elain couldn’t be mates, wondering if Azriel is who she needs.

Azriel being the one to realize Elain was missing when Hybern kidnapped her, and him being dead set on rescuing her.

Elain saying “you came for me” when he and Feyre found her.

Elain being the only person Azriel allowed to use Truth-Teller in all of the centuries he has had it.

DEATH AND THE LOVELY FAWN!!!! DARK AND LIGHT!!! DEATH AND LIFE!!!

Azriel not wanting to keep tabs on Lucien because it would be an invasion of Elain’s privacy.

Azriel sitting with Elain late into the night, listening to her plans for the garden.

Elain buying presents for Azriel on Solstice, but never buying them for Lucien.

Azriel staying up at night, staring at the first gift Elain gave him.

Elain finds Azriel approachable, someone she can talk to (and obviously has feelings for), but shrinks into herself and becomes quiet whenever Lucien is around.

Azriel subtly defending Elain when Amren snapped at her during dinner in ACOFAS (“I’d feel bad for the mice).

Feyre noting multiple times that Elain moves quietly, is a good secret keeper (foreshadowing Elain becoming a spy)

Elain’s best friends are Nuala and Cerridwen aka the spies for the Night Court aka Azriel’s spies

Rhysand trained Feyre, Cassian trained Nesta. . . Azriel is going to train Elain.

Azriel following the sound of Elain’s laugh. Something charged passing through the air (Nesta notices) when their eyes meet.

THEIR ALMOST KISS???? HELLO???

Azriel being in a shitty mood after Solstice when Rhys forbade him from being near Elain

Azriel asking “what happened to Elain?” when Cassian mentions the argument between her and Nesta.

Azriel’s shadows being ready to strike at Nesta when she said to Elain “maybe you’ll become interesting after all.”

Nesta knowing why Azriel stayed far from Elain and Lucien during Solstice because he could smell their mating bond and it made him sick enough to stay far away.

Elain immediately wanting to wear the necklace Azriel got her, meanwhile she obviously rejects/dislikes the gifts Lucien has bought for her.

It’s 3 brothers (the bat boys) and 3 sisters (the Archerons). 3 mountain peaks. 3 items in the Trove. 3 is a big number for SJM. You don’t think that has any significance?? Think again!

The cauldron has been said to be corrupted. Mor has mentioned it, Azriel questioned if the cauldron was wrong, and (SPOILER) its corruption is noted in House of Flame and Shadow, too. There’s a chance it fucked up (or maliciously formed) the mating bond for Elain.

Whether or not Elain’s real mate is Azriel, her bond with Lucien brings up the idea of rejecting the mating bond. There’s a reason SJM had Feyre asking Rhys if mating bonds can be rejected. Elain’s choices have been stripped from her, time and time again. No control over her life since her family lost their fortune, turning Fae against her will, losing Grayson.

SJM has said her books are about the female protagonists finding their agency. Elain’s book is going to be about that, obviously, and rejecting the bond with Lucien and CHOOSING Azriel is no doubt going to be a part of that. Along with whatever SJM has in store for Elain.

Feysand are Night Triumphant and Stars Eternal. Nessian are Lord of Bloodshed and Lady Death. Elriel are Death and the Lovely Fawn. There’s a reason SJM has these titles. You gotta be blind not to see it.

anyways! if you can’t see how all of this is gonna lead to an Elriel endgame then i feel sorry for you

also back in 2021 when we were all in lockdown and i had nothing better to do (and because i am a writer and a little insane) i wrote a whole essay after ACOSF was published explaining why i think Elriel is endgame (i’m pretty sure i use all of the points here in the essay) and if you wanna read my musings that are all derived from fact you can read it here!!!!!

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whoops-all-jennas · 6 months ago

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Past Lives pt 6.

Wednesday x witch!reader

"I've got this strangest feeling."

"This isn't our first time around."

Summary: During Outreach Day, you and Wednesday try to get information on Joseph Crackstone.

Warnings: emetophobia (I will mark the section that has this)

Bag over my head for optimal disorientation, wrists tied tight enough to cut off circulation, and no idea if I'm going to live or die.

They pull the bags off Y/n and I's head with a light blasting into our faces.

"Who dares breach our inner sanctum." It's clearly Bianca putting on a voice.

"You can take the mask off Bianca." I state with disappointment in my voice, looking to Y/n who is still adjusting to the light

Bianca takes off her mask and dims the projector that was blinding us. The rest of the organization does the same revealing some faces I recognize and names I know.

I feel the rope tied around my wrists moving by itself, untying the knot. I hold the rope after to not draw suspicion. "Wait, I preferred you with it on."

Bianca makes a teasing expression with her face until Xavier joins. "How'd you get down here?"

"Rowan showed us." I realized Y/n likes feeling involved, so I try to show her involvement in my words.

I motioned my eyes down towards my left hip. "Left pocket."

Xavier moves first and finds the drawing Rowan gave us in my left pocket.

"We tracked the watermark to the Poe Statue then we solved the riddle."

"Wait, there's a riddle? I thought we just snapped twice?" The boy with a black eye, I assume the one trying to sabotage the Poe Cup says while the rest of the organization groan.

"Well, aren't you the brightest in the bunch?" The boy stares at Wednesday with an annoyed, yet unconfident look.

"The Nightshades are an elite social club, emphasis on elite." Bianca states, refocusing the conversation.

"We have parties, campouts, the occasional midnight skinny dip." The girl who I know as Enid's friend speaks for the first time.

"And Yoko's an amateur mixologist, She makes a killer virgin mojito. It can get pretty wild." The snakes slither around Ajax's beanie at the thought of this 'killer virgin mojito.'

I was about to tease them until your voice fills the room. "Do you guys have scheduled play dates too?"

It seems I'm rubbing off onto her. "Last I heard the Nightshades had been disbanded." I say, trying to siphon any information I can get.

"Yeah, the group kinda lost its charter thirty years ago after some normie kid died." Xavier states, Yoko barely lets Xavier finish speaking. "But, we have a lot of wealthy alumni, so Weems looks the other way as long as nobody makes any waves."

"Someone like Rowan?" I find myself interjecting, trying to get as much actually important information as possible.

"We booted that loser last semester." Bianca's face was met with a look from Xavier, he clearly didn't like her wording. "Question is, what are we gonna do with them? Only members are allowed in this library."

The members look at each with uncertain looks on their faces for a moment.

"I say we invite them to pledge." Xavier is met with Bianca giving him a bewildered look. "They're both a legacy." Xavier points at a picture of my parents, unsure how he knows about Y/n's parents being past members.

"I'm a legacy?" I look to you, you have a confused look on your face.

"After the crap they pulled at the Poe Cup, there's no way in hell." Bianca speaks over you, not providing an answer. "You wanna talk about waves? She's a tsunami." She points specifically at me.

Does she not see you as a threat?

"Just because we beat you at your own game?" I involve Y/n back into the conversation. "Let me save you trouble, we're not interested in joining."

"Are you seriously turning us down?" Yoko says shocked, as if a secret society that has a bed time would interest me.

"Can you believe it?" I say in a teasing tone, Bianca and Yoko stare at each in shock.

"Untie her." Bianca demands, Xavier starts to move before I interject.

"Y/n untied us 5 minutes ago." I hold the rope in front of me while Y/n just drops it behind her. Bianca looks at you with shock. She clearly underestimates you.

I walk towards the exit with you following. The boy from before blocks the exit.

"Do you want a matching black eye?" I force the rope onto him as he moves out of the way. We walk up the stairs until I stop near the top. "It's amateurs like you who give kidnapping a bad name."

We continue walking up the steps, leaving the library. "You're really good at that, the quips I mean." Your voice faintly reaches the library, fading away as you both continue to increase the distance.

Wednesday and I are looking at the journal we stole while we stand in the quad, looking at the picture's contrast to the location.

"All students will report for their volunteer jobs at ten a.m. sharp, followed by a community lunch at one." Weems voice fills the quad as the students go quiet.

"As you know, this years Outreach Day culminates in a very special event, the dedication of a new memorial statue in town square. Which will also include performances by Nevermore students."

"How much you want to bet it's going to be a statue of Joseph Crackstone?" I whisper to Wednesday rhetorically.

"Who's Joseph Crackstone?" Wednesday whispers back, curiosity in her monotone voice.

"He's this pilgrim who led a movement to kill all the witches in town, and is the founder of Jericho. There's a reason magic parents don't send their kids to this school." I state, finding Wednesday staring at the picture in the journal before bringing my attention back to Weems speech.

"As representatives of our school, I trust you will all put your best face forward."

Teachers start handing out our volunteer jobs. I receive mine before Wednesday does and open it to discover that I've been assigned to Pilgrim World.

I audibly groan. "I'll be right back, I need to persuade Weems to change mine. I don't want to be volunteering at a place where I'll hear about other witches being burned all day."

I start to approach Weems, who's in the same spot. "Principal Weems, I don't think Pilgrim World is a good idea for me. I don't want to be hearing about witch burnings all day."

"I'm so sorry Y/n, I didn't realize. How inconsiderate of me. We'll have you switch with another student."

Wednesday approaches from behind before grabbing my elbow to drag me away from Weems. "She was just over exaggerating, she'll be volunteering at Pilgrim World."

I turn to Wednesday, asking with my eyes 'What are you doing?!' I find Wednesday's eyes staring at me back. She's giving me this look that she gives me while we investigate, but with a pleading look behind her eyes.

My face goes back to a neutral expression as the plan clicks in my head. "Wednesday's right, I'll be okay at Pilgrim World. I don't want to make it harder for anyone else."

Wednesday starts to drag me away. In the corner of my eye I see Ajax, who has his paper wide open reading 'Uriah's Heap'.

"Wednesday, may I speak to you for a moment before you both head off?" Weems says, stopping us in our tracks. I glance down at Wednesday's volunteer sheet to also find it says 'Uriah's Heap'.'

Before Weems starts talking I hold out my volunteer sheet to Wednesday with my back towards Weems, motioning my eyes to her assignment.

Wednesday immediately understands and switches assignments with me.

I immediately head to Enid who I overheard she also is volunteering at Pilgrim World. "Enid we need to switch assignments. Consider it a I scratch your back you scratch mine situation."

"What'd you get?" Enid asks, curiosity in her voice.

I hold up the volunteer assignment. "Oh this is Wednesday's." Enid immediately makes a face of disgust.

"No thanks Y/n." Enid is about to turn around to leave.

"Ajax will be volunteering there." My words make Enid freeze in place. She quickly turns back around with excitement on her face, jumping to switch assignments.

"Thank you! thank you!" Enid grabs me into a hug, lifting my feet off the ground. She sets me back down with the biggest smile.

"I won't forget this Y/n!" She says before running off.

Wednesday and I approach Pilgrim World as the old timey music fills our ears. "Let's get this over with." I make eye contact with Wednesday before we follow the rest of the group.

I roll my eyes as we pass an old man in a pilgrim costume exclaiming about the times of witch trials.

"Hey Wednesday, wanna grab a hummers group photo?" Eugene states after watching some other students taking a photo.

"I didn't know you were friends with Eugene." I say to Wednesday, met with her turning her head to me before interrupted by a woman in a pilgrim costume.

"Good morrow, my young Nevermore kin. I am Mistress Arlene, a real OC." We're all silent for a moment. "An original colonist."

I run my hand over my face, already annoyed at what this will bring.

"Now prithee, put your cellphones on vibrate and make haste, for you're about to travel back in time to the year of our Lord 1625, to Jericho's first pilgrim settlement."

Arlene turns and starts walking with perfect posture, stopping before an old building.

"Behold, the meeting house. Inside is a collection of artifacts related to Jericho's most beloved and pious founder, Joseph Crackstone."

Wednesday and I turn our heads to each other to meet each other's gaze, as if we're communicating through our eyes.

Wednesday takes a step forward. "I haveth a query." I find myself smiling at her vocabulary.

"Pray, be quick, child." Arlene looks down upon Wednesday due to the height difference.

"In the meeting house, which of Joseph Crackstone's artifacts are on display?" She says, gaving up on speaking in old English.

"It's truly a treasure trove, including original farm tools, tableware, and even the Crackstone's family chamber pot."

"Sounds fascinating, Y/n and I volunteer to work there." She turns around to meet your gaze until Arlene interjects.

"Pray, no. That exhibit is being renovated. Today, thou will all be working at the beating heart of Pilgrim World.

I find Eugene, Wednesday, and I staring at the sign on a building.

"Ye Olde Fudgery?" Eugene says with a hint of excitement.

"More like Ye Olde Diabetes in a box." I find myself smiling at Wednesday's quip.

Arlene stands carrying a basket of pilgrim costumes. "Volunteers, prick up thine ears. Fudge is the lifeblood of our humble community." She pauses for a moment. "And samples equal sales, so grab a uniform and a box and make our forefathers proud."

Wednesday holds up the headgear with her index finger and thumb as if it's carrying a disease. "Are these for muzzling tourists?"

I'm standing outside next to Bianca giving away samples in the costume Arlene gave us. Bianca's pretending I don't exist, but it's not like I want to interact with her anyways.

I see the three bullies approaching Eugene who is on the floor. I preemptively put my tray on the floor and pull out my wand, slowly approaching before the situation unfolds.

-EMETOPHOBIA WARNING-

The three boys force Eugene to stand up. "Check out this greedy little freak."

"Please, I need to get back to the..." Eugene's stomach audibly rumbles. He gags for a moment before throwing up all over one of the boys.

-END OF WARNING-

"Get over here!" The boy grabs Eugene, directing him to a stockade nearby.

I point my wand at the boy. "Tarantallegra."

The boys feet stumble for a moment, soon finding a rhythm as he starts dancing with his feet.

"Dude what are you doing?" Lucas asks, one of his eyebrows raised.

"I'm not meaning to!" The tapping of his feet fill the field.

The other boy looks around and eventually ends his eyes on me with my wand by my side. He starts approaching my rapidly, anger written on his face.

"You filthy little witch!"

I instinctively take a step back before Wednesday suddenly appears. Standing between us. "Howdy Pilgrim."

His face changes from one of anger to fear, taking a step back. He turns around to go back to his friends. "Let's go guys."

They have to guide the dancing guy to where they're going, the dancing jinx still in effect.

"Thanks." I say, Wednesday turning to me before turning back around to go see Eugene.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

We're off to the side, Wednesday wiping at Eugene's clothes before turning to me. I approach with more napkins. "Don't you have a spell for this or something?"

"Not really." I crouch down next to Wednesday, helping her clean off Eugene's clothes.

It is silent for a moment. "Nobody's ever stood up for me before."

"You said Hummers stick together."

"I know this might come as a shock, but I don't really have any other friends besides you and Y/n." Eugene says with vulnerability in his voice.

I expect Wednesday to say something sarcastic, surprised when she's silent for a moment.

"You remind me of my brother, sans the desire to strangle him every waking moment."

Wednesday stands, looking down upon Eugene as he stays sitting. "Now follow me. I need to know more about this Crackstone."

I look to Wednesday, excited that we're finally about to do something besides volunteer work. "We have a meeting house to break into."

We approach the back entrance of the meeting house which is locked shut. Wednesday holds out her hand to Eugene. "Hand me your retainer."

It looks as if Eugene was going to say something in response.

"That won't be necessary." I pull out my wand, pointing it at the lock before making a circular motion with my wrist. "Alohamora." There are sounds of the lock shifting before it becomes unhatched.

"How many spells do you know?" Wednesday states, seemingly dumb founded at the range of magic I know.

I grab the lock before throwing it on the floor. "If you could do magic wouldn't you try to learn everything you can?" I open the door, leaving it open for Wednesday to follow in behind me.

"Keep watch." Wednesday directs to Eugene as she closes the door behind us.

Wednesday takes her backpack off, pouring Thing out of it onto a display case. Wednesday takes a moment and stares at the statue in the center.

"Wednesday check this out." I call to her in front of a painting. "Is that the girl you said you saw in your vision?" I point to a girl with blonde hair in two braids.

She approaches the painting, her eyes going wide. "She's also holding the same book."

I turn to investigate more, seeing a black book in a display case. "Like this black book?"

Wednesday quickly approaches the display case, staring at the book. I point at the book. "Codex Umbrarüm, that's latin for-"

"Book of shadows." You both say simultaneously before Wednesday opens the display case, opening the book to find blank pages.

"Great, it's a fake." Wednesday closes the book looking at the back of the cover to find an Etsy sticker on the bottom right corner.

"I don't know who Etsy is, but I doubt she was an outcast settler."

I can't help but smile at Wednesday's lack of Internet knowledge.

My smile fades as the sound of the door opening fills the room, Arlene enters dragging Eugene in with her. "Just what the fudge are you two doing in here."

"Mistress Arlene, how now."

"How now, indeed. I proclaimed the meeting house is under repair. I know thoust heard me."

"I told them the door was unlocked and you both were dying to learn more about Crackstone." Eugene says, defending us.

"Yes, and this display case was already open." Wednesday glances towards the case, the book still in her arms.

"The books a replica."

"You don't say." I state sarcastically

Her eyes meet mine with annoyance. "The original was stolen in the early 90s from the Gates family."

"It was probably the only authentic thing you have in here, yet you still charge $29.95 a ticket?"

"Hold thy tongue. I'm reassigning you all, to fudge churning duty." Eugene sighs disappointingly while I give him an apologetic look.

"The original meeting house, the one in the painting, where is it?" Wednesday says, prying for more information.

Arlene sighs, giving up on being in character. "How the hell should I know? I only moved here from Scottsdale in April."

Xavier heads to a table while wearing a weathervane apron. He notices Y/n and I. "I thought you both were supposed to be at Pilgrim World."

We both turned around. "Decided to leave before I lost my sanity." Y/n says with a smile while we approach the counter.

"Oh yeah? You two want a coffee? It's one of the many perks of this wonderful assignment." Xavier says with sarcasm laced in his voice.

"I'm actually here for Tyler." I say, met with Xavier looking at me with a disappointed look.

"I told you he was bad news."

"Y/n did too, but who I speak to is my business" I ring the bell. Shortly after, Tyler shows up from behind us. Before I see Tyler I see Y/n giving Xavier an apologetic look.

"You rang?"

Xavier looks between all of us, shaking his head before walking away.

"You want the usual?" Tyler asks, trying to ignore Y/n

"Something for Y/n as well, and your help." I turn to an empty table unfolding a map. "You know the original pilgrim meeting house, the one from the 1600s? You know if it's still around?"

"What's left is out in Cobham Woods, but it's pretty much a ruin."

"Show us."

Tyler points to a spot on the map. I quickly grab the map and start leaving with Y/n trailing behind me.

"That place is pretty sketchy, want me to help?" Tyler raises his voice so we can hear him before we leave.

"No." I say while opening the door, not even turning back to look at him.

The sound of Y/n and I's footsteps echo among the trees of the forest, the leaves having shades of yellow, red, and orange.

When we both approach the building it's pretty much nothing but ruins of what it use to be, like Tyler told us.

After we enter I put my bag in the ground, Thing leaving the bag a moment later. Thing quickly speaks through hand movements.

"I expected more too." I say, looking down at Thing.

"What are you doing here little girl?" A man with a scruffy white beard and layers of rough clothes says while appearing from one of the corners.

"Use the words 'little' and 'girl' to address me again and I can't guarantee your safety."

"This is my place, get out!" The man shouts towards us both.

"Y/n a hand here." I looks at you with an expecting look on my face before you pull out your wand and point it towards his pants near his feet.

"Ignis Illusio." The pants near his shoes catch on fire, startling the man.

He hops on one foot, patting the fire with his hand to attempt to put the fire out. He makes high pitched groans of panic while running out of the building.

I look towards Y/n with a small mischievous smile. "Ignis Illusio, or fire illusion, is a harmless charm that merely creates the illusion of fire."

The smile fades after knowing it wasn't real.

I immediately start to look around again. "There's nothing here."

"What if you just started touching stuff? see if you can activate a vision or something?" You suggest while also looking around.

"My visions happen spontaneously, I don't believe that would work." Thing starts tapping on the ground to communicate with me.

"I would rather dye my hair pink than ask my mother for advice." I see Y/n holding back a smile.

Thing gestures back to your idea of me touching stuff in hopes of triggering a vision.

"You want me to prove it to you?"

I place my hand on a wooden beam.

"No."

I head towards the wall, placing my hands on the mantle of a fireplace.

"Nothing."

I start to approach an empty Taco Bell bag.

"Wends, I think we get it." You say as I grab the bag, giving you a look for referring to me with a nickname. There is instant regret on your face.

"I bet this one will give us some insight." I hold out the bag in front of me and throw my head back, pretending to have a vision, before dropping the bag to the ground. I walk past you and, like usual, you start following me again.

"My visions are as predictable as shark attacks" I mutter to myself before grabbing the handle to the entrance and proceeding to throw my head back, actually entering a vision this time.

"Wednesday!" You shout before you go to catch me.

My surroundings suddenly change as I stumble to the ground. I hear people chanting phrases like "Burn her!" and "Devil spawn!"

I look to the side and see a crowd of people holding torches, pushing a girl around the center of said crowd.

I go behind a barrel to watch from the shadows.

A pilgrim with a staff walks through the crowd. "Goody Addams!" He shouts, bringing everyone's attention to him, the crowd becoming quiet.

"You have been judged before God and found guilty." I look on in curiosity, trying to remember every detail.

"You are a witch, a sorceress, Lucifer's mistress herself. For your sins, you will burn this night, and suffer the flames of eternal hellfire."

"I am innocent." Goody looks up towards Joseph as she is on the ground. "It is you, Joseph Crackstone, that should be tried."

I look at Joseph Crackstone, now having a real face to name rather than a wax statue.

"We were here before you, living in harmony with nature and the native folk. But you have stolen the land, slaughtered the innocent! you have robbed us of our peaceful spirit!"

Goody, hiding a blade, quietly draws it to her side where no one can see it. "You are the true monster, all of you!"

Goody quickly stands, slashing the knife to Joseph's face, blood trickling down his cheek. The crowd grabs Goody by her arms in shock.

"The Devil ne'er sent such a demon." Joseph exclaims, slapping Goody with the back of his hand, the crowd cheering.

"And I will send you back!" The crowd starts pushing Goody towards the meeting house, Goody struggling to escape their grasp.

"No!" Goody exclaims before she is thrown into the meeting house.

I manage to sneak in before the crowd shuts the doors.

"Elsie!" Goody calls out while running towards a girl, the other girl I saw in my vision, rattling the chains that bind you to floor desperately. Her long white hair tangled to the chains

I can see her face this time and instantly recognize it as you.

"Goody please, listen. This is my time, but it doesn't have to be our last time seeing one and other." Elsie says desperately to Goody, grabbing her attention.

"I need a string, any string please!" Goody, without hesitation, rips at a heam in her dress and rips it into a long string.

"Take my hand, wrap the string around our hands." Goody looks Elsie in the eyes with fear as they're interrupted.

"Set it ablaze!" is heard from outside as the sound of fire is heard and the sight of it on the walls. Goody looks towards where the words were coming from before being brought back by Elsie.

"Hurry please! I can't imagine another life without you!" Elsie cries with desperation. Goody, without hesitation, interlocks her open hand around Elsie's, wrapping the white string around the two.

Elsie closes her eyes and is silent for a moment to focus while Goody looks at her face, unaware to what is happening.

"Haec chorda semper nos alliget." Elsie starts chanting the incantations with fear in her voice, the string is starting to illuminate a red light, brighter and brighter.

"Quantumvis implicitum vel edoctum, rursus se invicem inveniemus." The string is the brightest it's been before it embeds itself into their skin, soon disappearing. Elsie finishes the incantation with a smile and tears falling down her face. "We will meet again I promise Goody." Elsie says with a painful, yet hopeful smile.

"It may be in a different form, or a different time, but we will meet again."

"I mustn't leave you here still" Goody desperately pulls on the chains on Elsie's wrist, she can't imagine life without her either.

"You must, avenge us Goody. You're the only one!" Elsie cries. "Go!"

Goody grabs her face as their lips touch for their final kiss, tears streaming down their faces.

"I love you." Goody says with glossy eyes, pain lacing her voice, before going to the fireplace to hide under a trapdoor.

"I love you too." Elsie says to herself her final words, with the same hopeful smile, waiting for the day they'll again meet.

Wednesday feels like she's moving backwards while staying in place until everything goes black.

I abruptly sit up, waking up to the sound of rain.

I quickly acknowledge you over me with your wand out, casting a barrier above us acting as an umbrella.

"Y/n, I saw them! The people from my visions." I say while looking into your eyes.

There's something new in my eyes that wasn't there before, some sort of softness.

"Her name is Goody Addams, and I believe she's my ancestor from 400 years ago." You look at me with the same softness.

"Was there anything else in the vision?" You ask before you're interrupted by the sound of a footstep from outside the ruins of the meeting house.

I stand up, approaching the wall, with you behind me still providing safety from the rain.

"Must've been the man from earlier." You state, breaking the silence.

The eye of the monster peers through the hole. Pupil unnaturally dilated and filled with bloodlust.

You grab me by the elbow, pulling me back as the monster runs away. "Come on Wednesday we have to go!" You say while grabbing my bag after Thing enters it, handing me my bag with your trembling hand.

We're both running in the rain, mud splashing with every step, covering each other's clothes. I slow down after seeing unnatural foot prints.

You follow me as I follow the prints as they turn into human ones.

"The monster's human."

I say before turning around to you as you go to grab your phone to take pictures as evidence, accidentally dropping it on the ground causing the lens to be covered in mud.

"Shit." You exclaim to yourself, trying to clean it as fast as you can. We both hear footsteps approaching from behind us.

"What the hell are you two doing?" The voice of Xavier cuts through the air.

I quickly turn to him, startled at his sudden appearance. "We were following the monster."

"You saw it? Xavier says with a hint of fear in his voice. "Its here? Do you have a death wish or something?"

You find your way into the conversation. "What are you doing here?"

"I overheard you say you're going to the old meeting house, I guess its lucky I showed up when I did."

"I did learn one thing, the monster is human. We saw the monster footprints turn into human ones." I say after you finish getting the mud off the lens of your phone as you go to take a picture of the footprints.

"Shit." You say interrupting their conversation and they both look towards you, holding your phone sideways. "The footprints are gone."

Xavier scoffs before I look back at him. "I know what I saw." I look disapprovingly at Xavier, he's clearly annoyed about our interaction with Tyler.

"I'm trying to keep an open mind."

"How big of you." You gave me a look at the attitude I'm giving him. It's silent for a moment besides the sound of our footsteps.

"I do think you might be right about Rowan." Xavier breaks the silence.

Y/n and I glance at each for a moment. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"I texted him again today. I said maybe we could meet up for spring break and go snowboarding like we did last year. This time he texted right back, said he wouldn't be able to make it."

"But I went camping with you and your family last spring break." Y/n adds. Xavier nods in response.

"Part of me wanted to blame his recent weirdness. I didn't want to think something bad has happened" He says, moving his wet hair out of his face.

"The cover-up is always worse than the crime." I state flatly.

Xavier stops in place, causing both of us to look back at him. I almost step out from under your umbrella.

"I want you to be honest with me. Why'd you two come out to the old meeting house in the first place?"

"I was trying to learn more about Crackstone. Figure out how he's connected to this."

"Yeah, you were trying to use your psychic abilities, right?"

I give him a look of confusion. "What makes you think I have any?"

"Lucky guess, when did they start?"

"About a year ago." I turn to keep moving, causing everyone else to follow.

"When they happen it feels like I'm touching live wire. I usually enjoy the sensation." I see Y/n smiling at my description

"But you can't control it and that freaks you out. I've lived with a self-described master, and the first thing he'll tell you is that visions can't be trusted. You only see a part of the image." Xavier explains while staring at the ground while he walks.

"I saw Joseph Crackstone in front of me as clearly as I'm seeing you now. He gathered all the outcasts into the meeting house and burned them alive." Your face tenses at the mention of burning more outcasts.

"Okay, he was a sadist asshole. So what it-"

I see your mouth agape, anger building in your eyes.

"A sadist asshole? That's it?! People who make those impossible stages on Mario Maker are sadistic assholes, this guy is a monster!" There is raw emotion in your voice.

"Y/n you know I didn't mean it like that-"

"You know witches were a primary focus in these hunts right? They were called 'Witch Burnings' for a reason!" The magic field that was acting as an umbrella was pulsating above Y/n and I. All the topics of witch burning of today has built up inside her till this point, pushing her over the edge.

"Y/n, I-"

"I don't want to hear it right now." You say loudly, your energy quickly depleating from your emotions. You speed up to walk ahead of the group.

I stand in the rain for a moment looking between you two before I follow you, leaving Xavier where he is as he stands there awkwardly. A few raindrops have gotten my clothes and hair wet.

You let out a big sigh, releasing some of the pent up emotion.

"Did you learn anything else from your vision Wends?" You ask with your voice trembling a little bit. It was clear you wanted to move on from what just happened.

I don't give her a look of disapprovement this time to the nickname, and it's not because of the situation. Ever since that vision something happened in the way that I see you, something that is willing me to tolerate your nickname.

I'm silent for a few seconds before glancing at you again. "No, that's all." I don't know how she'll react if I tell her that potentially our souls are connected and that we were lovers in our past lives.

The rain starts to slow down as you both continue walking towards Jericho, your clothes muddy and dirty from the rain.

The ceremony for Crackstone's Statue is soon, which I can't imagine you are excited about after all the events today.

"It is my honor to celebrate our town's history and Jericho's former forefather, Joseph Crackstone. Now he believed with a happy heart, and an open ear, there was nothing our town couldn't achieve." The mayor is speaking into a microphone standing next to Weems in front of the new statue dedicated to Joseph Crackstone.

I'm sitting in the bleachers while Wednesday is forced to sit with the band with her cello. I found myself gripping the loose fabric of my skirt while listening to his speech. All the emotions of today building up.

I feel a gentle hand go over mine. "Hey, are you okay?" I find Enid's eyes looking into mine with concern.

My hands loosen up at the contact. "Yeah I'm okay, thanks for checking in on me."

She gives me a gentle smile before focusing back to the speech.

I zone out again, staring at the statue. Every word the mayor says goes in one ear out the other until I hear music playing.

The music isn't very good, which is also annoying to listen to.

I half way zone back in at the motion of Mayor Walker pressing a button, causing the fountain to activate.

The anger bubbles silently inside me until suddenly,

It's gone.

It's as if all the pent up emotion has evaporated from my body, met with the colors of red and orange centering my vision. The sounds of the band replaced by the muted sounds of screaming and panic. I can faintly hear the sounds of a cello rendition of Vivaldi's Winter.

"Y/n! Y/n! We have to go!" I zone back in to Enid pushing me out of the trance I was in. I witness the statue burning in front of me, seeing the face of the statue melting. I clearly hear Wednesday's cello over the panic vs how muted it sounded before.

Enid pulls me out of the bleachers by my arm. We start running down the street with the rest of the panicked crowd.

Did I do that?

Part 7.

Past Lives Masterlist

a/n: we're finally caught up to the preview guys! There are some differences in here compared to the preview so if you skipped that section in this chapter I'd recommend going back and reading it. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as it fried my brain to write :p

#wednesday x y/n #wednesday x fem!reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #Spotify

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