#that's the knowledge i have of it anyways :) happy to hear what other people know tho

[greaterspawnislands]

hello. song anon here. Where did Phil with antlers start? I keep seeing it

hmm well honestly, i don't know the exact origins! if you're referring to the blueza art i reblogged, that comes from colorzas lore/fanon creation which predates my being in the fandom. But i do know that they were originated by philcult - I have this twitter thread saved, which has most of the original designs from halo0h, qloof, etc :) so that's where most people take their inspiration basis from at this point I think. and then from there, qloof turned xer colorza designs into various minecraft skins that phil has used in past mccs. when he was on the blue bats in mcc 17, phil used qloof's skin, which has antlers on blueza, which I think definitely continued to popularize that design :)

and then i mean sometimes i see regular phil with antlers in more fantasy/fae based aus, and i think that just comes from Wow Cool Fantasy Traits lol

[leewritestoomuch]

hi could i rq. general konoha 11 + sand siblings nsfw hcs ! (aged up/boruto ver obv) <3

Also: nobody understands Uchihas better than I do and I don’t even like most of em. /j Why are they all practically evil in fics? I’m going crazy. Most of them are clearly softies when it comes to love. Am I right or am I right???

And sorry, you can tell who I have more ideas for and who I was drawing a blank on.

Oh and sorry yall for the gap in my writing. This one took a while. I’ve been working on it for a bit. And part of it got lost and deleted, so I rewrote it. A long with a couple other stories got deleted and I lost some motivation for a moment lol

Konoha 13 + Sand Siblings HCs

Naruto Uzumaki

He’s energetic, and that 100% applies to in bed too.

Likely inexperienced, but eager. And a little nervous.

Talked big game beforehand, but even if you didn’t know before, you definitely know it was all talk now.

That being said, he’s a quick learner, even if he complains about being confused at first.

I think he’d have like little to no knowledge though, being such a loner for a while, in all. Hope you have patience.

That being said, he is a bit of a pervert with what he does know.

Overall though, he’d set a fast pace, but the sex would still be intimate and soft.

Praise. Praise. Praise. Giving and receiving.

Sasuke Uchiha

No experience, but he knows the ins and outs.

He wasn’t too concerned with sex or anything of that matter before, but when he returned to Konoha, he realized he had feelings for you. So he starts to think about it.

He’s not a pervert like Kakashi or Naruto, and he’d never lose his cool over sexy jutsu, BUTTT he’s secretly horny as hell. Like low sex drive usually, but just being around you makes it sky rocket to abnormal levels.

He’s very private about sex though, so usually only happens in your bedroom or… cough cough in a quiet forest with nobody around cough cough (if you know, you know)

He’s got a breeding kink. Next question.

Uses a mix of degradation and praises.

Lots of demanding, but also lots of giving soooo…

I truly believe Sasuke would be a softer partner than people make him out to be. Like did yall watch Boruto or not?? He’s got awkward and sweet energy. He’s TRYING. He’s emotionally stunted yall.

More dominant and likes to be in control, but will fall apart in your arms anyways. Usually more of a soft dom than anything.

One of the most likely to be fairly kinky though. I think he’d slowly discover he’s into things as they occur or cross his mind.

Sakura Haruno

She knows a lot about the human body.

Might have experience, might not. I could see it either way.

I think your first time with her would happen after like a romantic dinner together. And it would be romantic and slow.

But… that depends on you, because she’ll mostly go with what you want. It makes her happy.

She’s okay with being degraded or praised, but she really only likes to praise you.

Low sex drive.

She likes any position she can see your face.

She’s a switch, depends on her partner’s preference.

Sai Yamanaka

(Obviously not married here but just to have a last name to add)

He read a book about what to do.

Probably does something incredibly stupid at first, but that being said, he’s not an idiot, so not too bad.

You’d probably have to correct him a little bit. Also, tell him to forget the book and just go with the feeling and follow your lead.

You’d be in the lead at first. Probably go down on him first thing.

He’s not small. (I mean did you hear the way he talked to Naruto? He’s probably got something to work with if he’s talking so confidently LMFAO)

So you’d probably have to use your hand for the base while your mouth sucks on about half or so of his cock.

His hand tangles in your hair/rests on top, not pulling, but resting there.

He throws his head back, letting out soft sighs and small moans that escape his lips. He’s not trying to be quiet, but he’s not loud either.

Although, he might have read girls don’t like when guys make noise. Who knows. Then you might have to tell him that’s not true.

At first, sex is just discovering things with him. You’re both exploring how everything feels.

But, after a few times, he starts taking the lead and initiating.

He has a low sex drive though, so he won’t initiate too often.

It’s also hard to get him to realize what you’re asking for if you drop hints. He saw your underwear when you bent over… okay. He might even comment on how you should be more careful since he knows you don’t like to expose yourself so much.

You just deadpan and tell him it was supposed to turn him on.

“Oh.” And now he’s unbuckling his pants and asking you to come sit on his lap. :)

Shikamaru Nara

Low sex drive, usually at least, because now he’s consumed by the desire to be rode by you. Like he dreams about it.

He calls you troublesome to himself when he wakes up hard in the morning occasionally.

He lowkey loves to just lay between your legs or have you sit on his face so he can eat you out (pussy or ass, don’t matter)

Lazy morning sex. He loves it.

He’s dominant, but he can be rather lazy most the time. That being said, he will fuck you how you want him to if you ask.

Degrading but he’s not super mean about it at all. More like soft grunts with degrading terms, but the rest of it comes out more like soft sighs and groans of pleasure and praise.

Choji Akimichi

The sweetest. He takes his time with you every time.

Body worship. More so giving than receiving, but he’ll be a blushing mess if you give back the same energy.

Praise. Lots of it.

He’d be the type to kiss down your body, from your lips to your neck to your chest all the way down til he gets between your legs.

He can’t bring himself to be rough or harsh with you in anyway. No degradation, rough sex, or anything.

Likes to be able to see your face during sex.

He’d like to try food play.

Ino Yamanaka

Pillow princess unless asked to do otherwise.

She loves to be praised and worshipped, but also likes things rougher.

She’s a bit of a brat about things. Constantly going against what you say for fun.

She does it on purpose so you’ll go rougher on her, she likes it.

She also likes when things are slow and romantic though.

And she’d love it if you planned like a candlelit dinner and put a trail of rose petals on like Valentine’s Day, or even just cuz.

Shino Aburame

He’s in charge. He’s on top. Whatever. He doesn’t like to not have control.

He also just wants to please you, and often he’s not too worried about himself.

Might get a little self conscious if you skip over touching him or giving him head more than once. Like if it’s been a few times now and you haven’t bothered… did he do something?

He doesn’t need it, but he just… you know how he is.

He doesn’t make much noise.

But I do believe that right before he cums, he whimpers. He can’t help it, and don’t bring it up afterwards. He’ll be so embarrassed and not want to do it for a while because he’s scared he’ll do it again.

If he gets like that, just tell him you loved it. Then go down on him and tell him you wanna make him do it again.

He’s good with his hands, I just know it.

He can go rough and be stern and demanding, but other than that, he’s rather vanilla.

He’s a big fan of missionary so he can see your face.

And he doesn’t want to do anything unless it’s in your own home or absolute private, like an inn.

Kiba Inuzuka

Hickeys.

He loves giving them.

You will have like 20. From your jaw to your thighs, he’s marked. Plenty of them are visible and hard to hide because they’re dark.

He doesn’t exactly take his time. No, those hickeys are from the entire act. He starts leaving them during foreplay, then when he’s pounding into you, he quiets himself down by latching onto your skin.

When he eats you out, he leaves bite marks and hickeys around your thighs.

He calls it “marking his territory” then has to explain himself because no he doesn’t mean you’re a territory, you’re not a place or an object… he just… you’re his partner!

He’s rough.

Likes doggystyle most, but then he gets upset that he can’t see your face and next time he sets up a mirror.

Quickies. He can’t wait. He’ll whine if you tell him NO he can’t fuck you under the blanket, because YES people will notice the movement.

You might want to settle and pull him into a bathroom and let him fuck you over the counter, but he won’t force or beg you to the point of you giving in or anything. He’ll wait if you really mean no.

He’s got a high sex drive

Very likely to be pretty kinky. He’d be willing to tie you up, spank you, degrade you, etc.

He won’t do pet play. Thinks that shit is weird. So don’t think that because he’s a dog user, he’s gonna act dog like or have you act dog like. In fact, he’s more likely to hate it as a dog user.

I think he’d find any roleplay to be useless though. You could convince him if you wanted, but he’ll complain.

Hinata Hyuga

Much more intimate and gentle sex is what she wants

She’s not a pillow princess. She literally fantasizes about pleasing her partner.

Like probably day dreams, gets lost in her own thoughts, then is a blushing mess when she realizes that somebody is talking to her and she’s imagining what your moans would sound like when she’s between your legs, ESPECIALLY if the person talking to her is you.

She likes to do it in private, but she can’t deny that she imagines doing it where you both currently are. Not that she would.

Secretly has a high sex drive

Long refractory period though. She needs breaks between rounds.

Neji Hyuga

Took him a while to get vulnerable enough to take off his clothes if he’s being honest

Also I think Hyuga’s are very reserved and conservative until marriage, but he has such a tough time following that.

He really wants to jump your bones. And it’s almost like the fact he can’t because of his clan’s reserved and traditional nature just makes it WAYYYY more tempting.

You’re literally irresistible to him

Secretly, he’s just a little bit of a pervert. (Like Rock Lee’s Ninja Pals says he is)

I think he would have wet dreams from sexual frustration. Like the longer he holds back from having you under him, the worse it gets. Like a disease with no treatment.

I think your first time with him would be sudden, and it would be his first time ever.

You’d look WAYYYYY to good, and this time he can’t bring himself to ignore the boner he gets. No he’s gotta see if you’ll indulge him.

He may stop and pull away, get his act together if you remind him of his clan’s pride, and how he was so bent on following it before.

Maybe the first time, but by the next time he tries to give in, there is no try. He is cancelling any plans y’all had and tearing the outfit that made your body look so irresistible off.

He doesn’t have a super high sex drive, but he has such a hard time resisting just laying you down when you look so damn good. You are the reason he’s horny.

He loves when you ride him, and he WILL whimper. He tries not to, but Neji can’t be silent with the way you are squeezing him. The way you do it is so perfect, every bounce is drawing a noise out of him until he’s literally just letting out a stream of loud whimpers as he cums.

I think his cum would actually taste good. Next question.

Rock Lee

Perverted…

He feels bad for it when he catches himself, but Oop it’s too late… he’s got a boner

Boners are obvious in that green spandex…

He wouldn’t agree with doing it in public or semi-public though, but if you noticed his behavior or boner and pulled him off into the bathroom, ignoring his “this is indecent!” Protests because when you look at him before diving in to give him head, his eyes are literally pleading and he shuts up, pushing his hips towards your face.

He can’t be quiet so you’ll have stuff something in his mouth or cover it with your hand.

He secretly wants your chest in his face. He’s a chest guy. Boobs, pecks, whatever. He loves everything chest.

But he also loves ass. Small or big. Wants to grab a handful anyways.

Total switch

Because listen, he loves to pin your hips down and force you to accept the pleasure you’re trying to deny yourself.

Loves to pound his hips against yours until you’re a mess, but he also loves to do as you say.

He loves to be broken down until he’s in pieces by your mouth, body, words, whatever.

He whimpers like constantly, especially when he’s submissive. He tries to shut up when he’s dirty talking as he’s in charge, but he lets GO otherwise.

Tenten

I’m sorry her portion of this will be… lacking. I don’t know enough to say much. I love her, but I’ve never really thought about this at all.

I think she’d be a switch, but prefers to be in charge.

I think she’s depend greatly on you though.

If you don’t want to bottom/sub, that’s good.

Or vise versa.

She likes to take her time when she’s in control.

She’s fairly willing to try new things if you want to.

She enjoys going down on you most of all.

Gaara of the Sand

He’s very private about everything. He believes that his private life and his kazekage life should stay relatively separate. However, it is known that you are his partner. That’s no secret.

He’s not super into PDA, so it’s no surprise that he refuses to do anything risky or public in anyway.

He will not do it in the kazekage’s office. He has too much respect for it, but he also doesn’t want to get caught anyways.

He’s very intimate during. Slow and sensual for sure.

I can see him being into bondage, but like you get tied up, not him. But… depends. And might take some encouragement.

Refuses to hurt or degrade you for any reason. He only does praise. He could not bring himself to call you names or anything. Or to draw blood from you or hit you, etc. he doesn’t see why those things should be brought into the bedroom for “fun.”

He doesn’t think they’re fun.

He knew like nothing about sex before you. I actually think he’d have no idea how to initiate at first so you definitely initiated it.

I think he’d be the type you have to teach what to do a bit, but he gets the hang of it quickly. Then next time, he’s got every spot memorized.

Awkward. Like the first couple times were awkward, but romantic and cute.

Kankuro of the Sand

One word: kinky.

He likes to degrade you with a shit eating grin on his face. His degradation feels like a compliment most of the time though. Like he calls you a slut and it feels like he’s calling you a prince/princess. It’s confusing.

He’s so good at dirty talk. He’ll have you writhing in your spot, desperate for him and he’s not even touched you yet.

He’s got incredible patience when it comes to you. He takes his time breaking you down into a mess for him.

His face paint would 10 billion percent be smeared across your thighs and chest. Your neck is purple from bites AND his face paint to the point you can’t tell which is which.

Only when you wash off the face paint do you realize he left way too many dark hickeys that’ll probably take at least a week to fade away.

Confront him about this and he’ll just laugh.

Don’t tempt him to leave more, because he will.

He forces you to maintain eye contact when he goes down on you. If you look away for more than like 3 seconds, he give you a little tap as a warning, but twice and he stops.

Orgasm denial for sure. He would be the type to make up an excuse as to why he pulled away. He tells you all sorts of excuses. “You weren’t moaning enough.” “You moved your hips too much. Stay still.” And of course, “you looked away.”

He can make you cum hard almost every single time. You see stars.

The most fun part for him isn’t dicking you down, it’s the breaking you apart and putting you back together again.

Temari of the Sand

Dominant. Dommy mommy for sure.

Even when she decides to “sub” or “bottom,” she’s not doing a good job at it. She’s still telling you what to do, where to move, etc.

She’ll pull your hair, slap you, etc. as long as you are okay with it and want her to.

Loves to boss you around, telling you what she wants. Demanding you to please her.

“Get on your knees”

Head pusher for sure, but you two have a like physical que to let each other know when it’s enough.

All that being said, sometimes she really really just wants sweet, slow sex. Intimate nights filled with nothing but love.

She likes to keep all of this private though. No public or risky stuff.

However, she does like to do it beyond just in bed.

Would be the type to start kissing all over your neck, unbuttoning your shirt while you’re trying to cook breakfast.

You might want to turn the stove off.

[dosshie]

my mom, that studied african religion for more than a decade and is part of umbanda, live reaction to ororon and iansan:

"I don't care if you make them white with blue eyes, at least study the gods you're basing them from!!!!"

im too afraid of twitter so imma post this here, but for short: the skin color is not the only problem! lol

i asked my mom who is very knowledgeable of the religion for her opinions and this is what we talked!! please don't take this post as an flawless analysis, you should also hear the opinions of people from umbanda, candomblé, and specially from nigeria. i'm mainly doing this because this religion barely gets any representation at all, so this will be the first time many people will be introduced to this culture and while i'm happy that it's included in a game that i play, it's important to recognize its shortcomings, anyway enough rambling!

for iansan, her character is based on iansã, the orixá (deity/god) of the winds and storms, she is seen as a warrior and is associated with the color red

she said that they easily could've given her buffalo horns on her mask, since iansã's animal is the buffalo (tho i know some people may think this is insensitive since yknow, giving one of the few dark-skinned charactes an animal skull doesn't look very good), the other thing she said is that they could've given her some braids in her hair, because in history thats what iansã and her army used to wear when they were going in combat (which was like, VERY on point??? i didnt tell her natlan was the nation of war beforehand)

other than that she didn't gave much imput, probably because her design does look like someone who fights

now, as for ororon... he is based on olorum, the orixá closest to a god/creator, and is commonly associated with...... the color white..... and one of his visual features is his staff

she said that they could've easily given him light hair/eyes, for her ororon doesn't seem to resemble olorum in the slightest, i also asked jokingly what she thought about him being a wolfboy and she said that it was fine lol

she asked me what power (vision/weapon) they gave to him and i said that i didn't know, but from the leaks they said that he's a bow character, and she immediately said that they made logunedé, in her words: "HE'S A HUNTER AND HE LOOKS A BIT SISSY, IT'S LOGUMEDÉ!"

logumedé is the son of the orixás oxóssi and oxum, he is a hunter like his father and takes care of his looks like his mother* (that's why she called him sissy LOL), his weapon is the bow, his colors are blue and yellow and he's associated with the animal peacock, which was what made my mom make that connection, ororon's scarf reminded her a lot of a peacock feather

*the word used here is vaidoso but... that doesn't exist in english lmao?? the closest we have is "vain" but vain is much more akin to superficial, which is not a synonymous of vaidoso, so yeah, weird translation quirk here, vaidoso means that you care of yourself/your looks because they are important to you

erhmmm anyway 1 like and i'll redesign them based on the actual orixás (/hj i still have artfight attacks to finish lmao)

[brabblesblog]

Sounds like a plan.

Drabble set right after act II’s confession scene. What if Tav didn’t feel quite alright with Astarion’s manipulation, and tried to just go along with it for his sake?

Angst with a happy ending. Also a tiny bit of Gale. Enjoy!

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

He starts to notice when you stop smiling at him.

Oh, you'd smirk and laugh when talking to him, but that wasn't it - you just didn't smile.

That one he'd craved so much to see, the one that made your eyes crinkle and your nose flare a little. That smile. He hadn't seen it since the night he confessed his feelings to you.

He’d worry about it more, if you two didn’t spend every waking moment together. If you didn’t move into his tent. Didn’t cuddle with him every night, and woke up tangled in his arms every dawn.

So he put it aside for now. Your relationship was a new and fragile thing, and he dared not risk it.

That is, until he noticed you smiling like that with Gale. Astarion had just been walking back to camp from a hunt, when he had heard your voice and Gale’s and had inadvertently began to eavesdrop.

You had been sitting by the campfire with the wizard, reading one of those raunchy romance novels Shadowheart had given you. The two of you were huddled close together, knees touching, chortling and snorting as you read the passages aloud.

“I don’t think elves have… appendages of that size,” Gale remarks after a particularly salacious line. “Would they?” He shoots you a particularly nasty smirk.

You laugh, all pretense thrown aside. “I haven’t seen enough elf cock to know,” you mumble. “Or any other type of cock, for that matter.”

Gale chuckles. “You’ve been sleeping with one, have you not?” There is a small note of sadness in Gale’s voice when he says this, and you note it. You had turned the wizard down for Astarion.

The laugh that was about to come out of you dies at Gale’s words. You remember sleeping with Astarion, remember how your relationship started, how-

You shake your head, trying to clear out those thoughts. You want to just have fun right now, not think about your complicated situation. Gale notices, and he closes the spicy book. He looks to you, those large eyes holding nothing but affection and concern for you.

“Is something the matter? Anything you need, I’ll be there,” he reminds. He may not be your partner, but he’s still one of your closest friends in camp.

“Actually.” You weigh your options. No one seemed to be here at camp, and so you decide to confide in your friend. “Yes. There.. there is a problem. With.. with Astarion and I.”

Astarion initially rolls his eyes as he hears this conversation. It’s just banter, and he doesn’t mind. What made him stay there and listen in for a moment was the sound of your laughter. It was so genuine and he had not heard it in what felt like forever. He felt a pang of jealousy that of all people, Gale had been the one to bring it out of you. As he prepared to go back to your shared tent, he finally heard you mention his name. He froze, immediately rooted to the spot by fear. He had to know what was wrong. He had to fix it before you left him.

Gale puts a comforting hand on your knee. “Then I will lend you my ears. I shall keep your confidence.”

“It’s- it’s hard to explain,” you begin, speaking gently. “Does it make sense if I say I understand why he would do something he did, but it hurts anyways?”

“More than you know,” Gale replies somberly. “You understand their reasons. Sympathize, even. But you can’t help how you feel.” He pauses, considering it. “Does he know?”

“No.” You shake your head, answering without hesitation. “I didn’t want to give him more things to worry about. He..”

He already has too many things on his plate, you figured, and your petty little issues are nothing compared to what he’s going through.

Gale nods. “And you didn’t want to burden him. I understand.” He clears his throat. “I’m not a good choice for advice regarding relationships, however- it’s common knowledge that hiding things from each other so early on is a portent for disaster. I hope you know that.”

“I know, Gale,” you say, your tone sharpening. Then you let out a sigh, forcing yourself to calm down. “I just don’t want to hurt him any more than he’s already been hurt. I can’t hate him for what he did to me, but I want to hate him for how much it hurts.”

Your voice breaks at the last moment, and you bury yourself in Gale’s shoulder. He wraps a comforting arm around you, letting you finally let out those feelings you’ve been bottling in.

“I thought,” you gasp, “that he’d finally be the one person to actually want me for me.”

Astarion, hidden in the periphery of the camp, sees and hears everything. He keeps silent, as his own heart rips at the sound of your sobbing. Of course. How could he have been so blind? How could he have just assumed you were okay with what he did? After his confession, you had said everything was okay, and he had taken it at face value.

Gods damned it, Astarion thinks. As the conversation dies and you gradually shift to just sobbing into Gale’s shoulder, Astarion slips away.

You head back to your shared tent and hour or so later, opening the flaps. To your surprise, your lover sits there. He snaps upwards the moment your face pokes in, as if he had been waiting for just that exact moment.

“You’re back early,” you say, slipping in and closing the flap behind you. You drop to your knees and crawl towards the bedroll beside him, exhausted.

“Caught a boar quite early on. I daresay I got a bit lucky,” is the reply, delivered in a tone that just sounded off to your ears. He moves to wrap an arm around you, pulling you close to him. “And you, darling? Catching up with the wizard?” He tries to go for nonchalant, and absolutely fails it.

You notice it then, the way he’s actually not even breathing. The way his chest is stiff as a board, the way his fingers tremble.

“Astarion,” you squeeze your eyes shut. “You heard.”

“Every word,” he says, a pained sigh escaping his lips. His arm stops pulling you close. You turn to face him, and you see his face, more pained than you have ever seen him before. When he had confessed, he looked frightened. This time he looked resigned. You watch him clench his jaw, preparing to say the words he knew he should say.

Astarion takes a small, sharp breath. He meets your gaze.

“I hurt you.” The statement is quiet, emotionless. “You shouldn’t have told me you were okay, darling. You should have let me know.” His jaw works again, and he struggles to say the next words.

“I’ve put your things in your pack. You can leave whenever you wish.”

He tries not to cry. Not to beg for you to stay. Because you deserve to go. You deserve real, and if you can’t be real with him, then he isn’t the one who deserves you. Swallowing, his hand caresses your cheek. “I am sorry.”

Sorry he can’t give you what you deserve. Sorry he hurt you. Sorry he was what he was.

You sit up. You try to see what he’s thinking, to see if this relationship still had anything to salvage. But here in the dark, it’s very hard to tell. You brace yourself; the thing missing here was communication, and you’ll be damned if you don’t try to do just that before it all blows up.

“Do you want this, Astarion? Us?”

A quick, quiet hiss of pain breaks the silence. His eyes brighten, filling up with tears. They don’t fall just yet.

“Yes. Gods, yes.”

Your own shoulders drop, and you exhale.

“Then I’m going nowhere. But I suppose we should talk about what you overheard.”

He exhales, relief flooding his features. The guardedness isn’t quite gone yet, however. He makes no move to close the gap. Instead he sits up, matching your position.

“What else is there to say? I manipulated you. You felt a lot less gracious about it than you originally thought. Seems about the sum of it, no?”

There is a little defensiveness there. As if he’s already building walls in the event of your departure.

“Somewhat, but not quite.” You clear your throat. “I don’t blame you. I’m not upset at you. Or resentful. Or whatever else you think I am. Before anything else, I want you to know that.”

His eyes widen, surprised. He had overheard the conversation; he should have known this. But hearing it so directly said was different. You can see his shoulders sag as the tension leaves his body, as that terrible knot in his heart starts to loosen. He nods, acknowledging your statement and an encouragement to continue.

“I’m just hurt.” That was the root of all of it, really. “I’m hurt, but I didn’t want you to know. You already suffer so much, that it felt…” you trail off, trying to find the words.

“Frivolous, darling?” He suggests. As you nod he continues. “Just because I’m going through things doesn’t mean there’s no space… for your feelings,” he begins tentatively. He takes one more small breath, then reaches across to take your hand, just like he did that night he confessed.

“I’ve spent two hundred years carrying my own burdens. You have shared my load. Please. Let me lighten yours too.”

You scan his face, on instinct, trying to see any signs of insincerity. There is none. His eyes are round and open, and his hand remains on yours, palm up, an invitation for you to come to him.

You choke back tears, leaning forward to touch your foreheads together. “It’s just that I wished you were.. that we started differently. That you wanted me..”

“For you,” he says, repeating what you said to Gale. “I know. And I might not have, at the start. I might have seen you as a means to an end.”

He gathers his courage and moves to wrap his arms around you. “But now I do,” he whispers against your ear. “I want you for you.”

You melt into his arms then, moulding yourself to his torso as you cry yet again. But unlike your tears when talking to Gale, this feels like relief. Like home.

He shushes you, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You said you aren’t upset at all. But you can. We can..” he thinks for a moment, then proceeds. “We can take some time apart, if that’s what you want. We can take a step back and see if we can end up back here again.”

Saying that felt like torture for him. But he knew it needed to be said. You needed to have that option.

You shake your head. “No. I’m- I would very much rather be in this, whatever this is,” you say with a teary laugh. “But you’re right. I think I’ll still need some time to go through it and accept everything.”

“Just don’t forget, Astarion. It’s not your fault. It’s not,” you say vehemently. “I’m just hurt, but I’m not holding you responsible.”

He wants to protest, but knows better than to. Instead he nods. Carefully he cups your face in his hands, and you shiver as his cool palms make contact with your wet cheeks.

He kisses the tears away, each kiss a soft, feather-light brush against your skin.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. For your kindness. For your forgiveness and grace. For your love, although he couldn’t even use that word yet, even to himself. For the gift of yourself, always so generously given, from the very start.

He wishes he could someday live up to your love. That he would be worth everything you give him. He tries to voice this out.

“If you’re staying, then… it gives me a challenge, mm?” He tries to smile. “I’ll try to be worth the trouble. But no promises, darling.”

You huff out a laugh. This beautiful, strong, insufferable man. How could he think he wasn’t worth it to you? But you understood. You felt the same way.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say. “As for me, well. I don’t imagine I’ll ever be worth all that, either.”

“Then we’ll be worthless together,” he says without missing a beat. If you only knew how special he thought you were. How worthy. How you make him want to be better.

He presses his lips to yours, finally. Sealing your words together. A promise for you two to share each other’s burdens. Together.

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree.

[dixons-sunshine]

Third Time's Not Always The Charm | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

Summary: Way before you officially became Daryl's girl, Daryl had liked you more than friends should like each other. Before he officially asked you out, there were three times he'd wanted to confess to you.

Genre: Fluff, some slight angst if you squint

Era: Pre outbreak.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams universe.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse.

Word count: 1.2k

Requested by anon.

A/n: My mind needed a break from the angst I'm attempting to write, so I figured I'd make a little blurb about all the times our baby boy has wanted to confess in this little universe I created. I hope you enjoy!

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

Daryl didn't know exactly when he started adopting feelings for you, but he knew exactly when he realised that he liked you more than a friend should—the day he took you fishing for the first time. You were so radiant to him that day, your smile on full display as he instructed you on what to do that he'd felt the urge to pull you into his arms and kiss you. That urge was what awakened the knowledge that he was falling for you, and hard.

The first time Daryl almost worked up enough nerve to tell you how he felt was on the day you tried to help him sharpen his knife. You looked so concentrated on the task while Daryl instructed you carefully on what to do, which made his heart almost pound out of his chest. The way you sat against his side while he guided your movements with his hands made him so nervous in the best way possible. If he were to die right there, he would've died a happy man.

Somewhere along the lines, Daryl removed his hands from yours and simply admired the work of art that sat beside him—you. Your tongue was slightly sticking out of your mouth as you concentrated on your task and you were so giddy whenever Daryl told you that you were doing a good job. It was adorable to him, and he wanted to fall to his knees and confess his attraction to you right then and there.

However, your hand slipped and the knife cut your hand, and his concern overpowered his need to tell you how he felt.

The second time that Daryl almost confessed to you was when the two of you were walking home from the store, each of you having a soda in your hands. You were laughing at some lame joke he had told you, your head thrown back as laughter wracked through your body. That melodic sound, along with the sparkle in your eyes when you looked up at him, made butterflies swarm around in his stomach.

When the two of you were walking through a neighbourhood with a bunch of fancy, rich houses, he was laughing along with you as you made remarks about the ridiculousness of the appearances the people tried to uphold. You had stopped in front of one of the driveways momentarily to tie your undone shoelaces before standing back up to look at him with that beautiful, museum worthy smile of yours. Time had seemingly stopped and Daryl wanted to tell you how he felt.

However, at that moment, one of the ladies that lived in that neighbourhood recognised you and decided to strike up a conversation with you, effectively destroying any confidence Daryl had built up to tell you how he felt.

The third time Daryl wanted to tell you how he felt was on one of those days when his father's abuse became too much to withstand.

Battered and bruised from the latest beating his father had bestowed on him, Daryl had snuck out of his trailer and made his way over to yours, sneaking around to your window. It was a little bit after midnight and he doubted that you were still awake, but he had knocked on your window anyway, and he was tremendously relieved when he could hear your footsteps.

All it took was one look at his state for you to open up your window and help him into your room. You didn't press, didn't force him to tell you what happened, because you already knew—you were the only person he'd ever told about his father's abuse. You simply patched up his wounds to the best of your ability and offered him silent reassurance.

The two of you must've made a bigger ruckus than you'd initially realised, because it didn't take long for your mom to walk into your room. When she saw Daryl's state, she instantly wanted to question what happened, but all it took was one look from you to shut that idea down.

“Mom, can Daryl stay the night?” was all you had offered up, giving your mom a pleading look.

Your mom instantly nodded. “Of course. You can stay as long as you need to, honey,” your mom told Daryl.

About an hour later, you and your mom had the couch all set up for Daryl. Daryl was already laying back on the couch, comfortable with pillows behind his head and wrapped up in the fluffiest and most comfortable blanket he'd ever used. His eyes were feeling heavy, and he felt more safe than he ever had in his entire life. Your mom had made him something to eat and insisted he eat when he refused, and you had snuffed out the last two painkillers you had and gave it to him with a glass of cold water.

You were on your knees on the floor next to him, softly brushing his hair back from his face as you offered him a small smile. “Comfy?” you asked him, threading your fingers through his hair.

Daryl hummed and closed his eyes at the sensation, relishing in the comfort it brought him. It was amazing how safe you made him feel. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to pull you into his arms and have you rest your head on his chest, holding you tightly as the two of you drifted off. As his mind wandered, he felt the urge to express his feelings to you. He slowly opened his eyes again and turned his head to you, softly calling your name.

“Yeah?” you whispered, giving him a smile.

As he looked into your eyes, the way it held no judgement or disgust, he hesitated. It was so easy for you to love, to take care of somebody. He felt like he didn't deserve you. You deserved somebody better than him, somebody who could give you a better life. Somebody that wasn't as screwed up as him.

“Jus', uh... Jus' wanted to thank ya fer all of this. Ya didn't have to.”

You smiled and shook your head. “I know, but I wanted to. You're worthy of love, Dar. No matter what you might think. I'm here to prove that to you.” You stood up before leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Try to get some sleep, okay? We'll figure everything out in the morning.”

Daryl could feel his face flush with heat but nodded. “Alrigh'. G'night.”

“Goodnight.”

With that, you retreated to the sanctuary of your room, and Daryl turned over on his side to get some much needed sleep. However, unbeknownst to you or Daryl, your mom had witnessed the whole ordeal through the crack of her slightly open door, and she smirked knowingly.

She knew it was only a matter of time before the two of you got together, and she was on board with that idea.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Day 7: Handcuffs

A/n: Someone said Slash said he liked being handcuffed and it just makes so much sense, also Slash pouts all the time, I know it was mostly because of drugs but I swear to god this man is so pouty and I love it

Warnings: Smut, Slash gets handcuffed to a bed, voyeurism (ft. Izzy), oral (f receiving), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Kinktober

Slash was a bitch, always flirting with groupies, sneaking off with them. You weren't exclusive but still, it didn't feel great to see him off with other girls.

Anytime you'd try to bring up your relationship he'd always brush it off, always saying something about it. "Aw, come on, what we have is perfect... now, keep doing that."

It's not that he didn't care about you, he did, always making sure you had a place to stay whether it was with him or a hotel -he'd never let you stay somewhere shitty, at least three stars wherever you were- and he'd bring you with him on tour.

He just wasn't solely committed to you, and he was happy with that relationship, it's not like you didn't reap the benefits of that relationship either, to his knowledge anyway.

You didn't sleep around, not because you couldn't but because you didn't want to. You wanted Slash, other people would just be a nuisance.

But you were quickly growing tired of Slash's antics and needed to get through to him somehow.

On more than one occasion you'd caught Izzy looking at you in a certain way, you always told yourself you wouldn't go for someone else in the band, but Slash never mentioned anything because why would he?

You were gonna take advantage of that as soon as he got off stage.

The second you were back in the hotel room you were on him, you'd managed to get him away from the venue before the groupies got to him.

Slash had already had a few drinks, when hadn't he, and easily fell onto the mattress, letting you fall on top of him, lips crashing onto his, tongue slipping into his mouth.

He'd never been especially dominant with you, taken his anger out on you maybe but he wasn't one to be dominant, and when he got submissive, fuck, he got all whiny and whimpering.

When he felt the metal of those handcuffs around his wrists he immediately hardened against you, as if it was possible to get harder than he'd already been with the way you'd been grinding on top of him.

You hooked the cuffs on the bedposts, keeping his arms apart above his head. He was partially leaning back against the pillow and was all giggly as you pulled away, tugging on the metal, wanting to pull you back for more but he couldn't.

"Oh, c'mon, you got me like this and you just pull away?" He asked, his smile quickly fading as soon as he spotted Izzy sitting in the chair in the corner. "Why's there always a fuckin' cuckchair?" He muttered, more to himself than anything.

You didn't pay much more attention to him focusing on Izzy as he stood and came over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer, leaning down and kissing you.

It was sweet and warm, passionate, something Slash never gave you. You heard him tugging at the restraints, hearing them jungle as he protested, question what the fuck you were thinking.

Izzy was getting eager, pulling at your clothes and getting them off of you, flinging them across the room until you were both down to nothing.

"What the fuck! Get off her, man!" Slash called, flailing about as much as he could, the chains of the cuffs clanking as he did.

"Oh, do you ever shut up?" You asked, shooting him a look. He looked pathetic, arms spread wide, legs kicking and thrashing about until you looked at him. He was always pouting, if he wasn't pouting he was smoking, drinking, or smiling, he was always pouting, but this seemed different, it almost made you crack.

Almost.

"I've had just about enough out of you." You continued as Izzy littered kisses over your face, trailing down your neck and to your collarbone. "Always saying how we're fine just like this, but you don't want me with other men, huh?"

"Not-! Not in front of me..." He mumbled, watching as Izzy's lips went lower, to your chest. "Izzy, hey, stop there! That's mine!" His voice was getting whinier, you knew he loved your chest, always falling asleep on it, kissing it so domestically, in a way.

Your hands went to Izzy's raven hair, tangling in it and pushing him down further, faster so Slash wouldn't have to watch one of his closest friends kiss what he always did.

Izzy's calloused hands moved down your sides to your hips, roaming and squishing your ass and thighs as he got on his knees, lips pressing onto your thighs and pelvis before his tongue dipped into you, lapping at you, all while Slash sat whining on the bed.

Slash huffed, tugging on the cuffs again. "Man, you're not even doing it right!" He called. "She's not getting anything out of that! You gotta do it right!" Whether he actually cared or just wanted to get into Izzy's head you weren't sure, either way you could tell how much this was effecting him.

He had a point, though, Izzy was only focusing on tongue fucking your hole, not bothering with your clit and using his fingers. You pushed him away and got him to his feet again, turning and bending over the bed, holding yourself up with your hands and pushing your ass back to Izzy who took the first chance to push into you he could.

He was different to Slash, not in a bad way but you did miss him. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he thrusted into you, setting a good, fast and deep pace that had you close in minutes.

"You suck at that, too!" Slash whined, his squirming getting worse, like it hurt to keep going. He was getting tired of it and seeing you with Izzy right in front of him, he'd never done this to you. "It's a different angle, dude, fuckin' move your ass!"

You rolled your eyes at him and lowered yourself down onto your elbows, forcing Izzy to hit where you liked it.

"Makin' her do all the work for you, you fuckin' pussy!" That was your last straw and you stood up straighter, pushing Izzy off of you in the process.

"If you'd have just told your little whore group to fuck off we wouldn't be here!" You yelled, pointing at Slash, who was near tears now.

You felt Izzy's hands on your waist as he took a step closer to you, kissing your cheek and mumbling something about needing to get to his room before pulling his jeans back on, gathering his other clothes and walking off.

"I'm sorry." Slash said once the door had shut behind Izzy, tugging on the cuffs again. "Just-just lemme do it, I can do it." He said, trying to flip his hair out of his face so you could see his puppy eyes, of which always worked on you whether he meant for them to or not.

You crawled across the bed and sat over his lap, feeling how hard he still was under you through his jeans. You held his chin between your fingers. "Tonight and tomorrow and the day after?" You asked, staring down at him with furrowed brows.

He nodded eagerly. "You-you can move in when we get back, I promise... and no more... no more of them." He said, eyes trained on your lips. "Just you, only you, only us, I promise."

You smiled down at him. "Good" You said simply, pecking his lips. "But I'm not undoing the handcuffs." He smiled wide at that.

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

My evidence, btw

[mxtantrights]

where you go, I go

a/n: okay so while I'm writing this whole series for azriel just know that I had this other recurring dream about a plot like this. I couldn't really make it a fully fleshed out story with a happy ending so I decided to type it all out and make it a one-shot with angst and not a lot of comfort (this is your warning, this doesn't end happily) anyways with all of that said, if you decide to read this please enjoy and tell me what you think! <333 also happy valentines day <333

azriel x assassin!fem!reader

5.1k words

The day court was home to many things. Vibrant colors, warm waters, ancient books and of course the very ancient and magical day blade. It's your job to know where that this is at all times.

You can't possibly understand why the shadow singer would try to steal it. Try being the operative word here. While you did sense him enter your court and break into the room where the blade was, it wouldn't have mattered.

Seeing as it is your job to protect the blade at all costs, it never leaves your sight. But that didn't mean you couldn't have fun with those who wanted so badly to get it.

In your pocket you feel a piece of paper appearing suddenly. You reach inside and unfold it. It's Helion. He's requesting your presence. You smile to yourself, this would be fun.

You leave your hiding place, the palace had many hidden rooms and hallways, and walk over to Helion's day room. As you approach from the hallway you can hear multiple conversations being had.

The door is closed so you open it slightly.

"There she is! Come in and greet my guests!" he says happily.

You make sure you face is kept neutral. You had an image to upkeep in this court.

The people respect you and fear you in the same breath. You don't go around killing people but you do often get justice in ways that aren't in the parameters of the law. Whether that be stringing up robbers and looters from their pants, or burning down the houses of dirty criminals.

You keep your eyes straight, not looking any of his guests in the eye. You walk until you are standing behind Helion who sits in his usual seat.

"I was just telling Feyre that I enjoy the new company. This is the inner circle." he says to you.

You nod once.

"She doesn't talk?" Nesta asks.

You know all of them. It's your duty to know The Who's who of the courts. The inner circle of the night court. High Lord Rhysand and High Lady Feyre-Curse breaker. Her sisters Elaine and Nesta. Rhysand's brothers Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan, past fiancee of Eris Vanserra. Amren, a mythical creature of serious power.

Helion laughs at Nesta's question. He knows you talk. He knows you very well, seeing as he practically raised you. But that information isn't public knowledge.

"She does, but not when theres something wrong." Helion answers.

You look at all of them now. How the girl closest to the shadow singer, Elaine, looks worried. And it's quick, you almost don't catch it, but you're so good at your job at this point.

"Trouble in the day court?" Rhysand says.

You lean over and whisper into Helion's ear about the blade. How the shadow singer came here to steal it, on a mission from his high lord. How he thinks he got away with it.

The room goes quiet as you pull back and Helion sits back in his chair. He loves the dramatics you pull off every single time someone tries to take the blade. The last person you caught was really delighted to be drowned in glitter, confetti and manure.

"Is there something you're forgetting?" Helion asks.

Rhysand looks at his inner circle with an incredulous smile. Then he looks to you, no doubt trying to read your mind. You can't imagine this will go over well either.

You can't feel it. The daemati powers that certain fae have don't work on you. You're not really sure why. Might have something to do with your unknown lineage. Or your overall hardheadedness-so Helion says.

Rhysand cocks his head to the side at your unmoving posture. He's still looking at you. You however are taking in the shadow singer. He's sitting there, not bothering to look at anyone. He must really think he got the blade.

"What would that be?" Feyre asks this time.

"Well, when you want something that another has you usually ask." Helion says.

At that everyone at the table grows grim. Caught red handed is what it seems like. You still manage to hide you smile though.

"Helion..." Rhysand starts.

"If you were anyone else I would have you locked up already. But lucky for me my security system is top notch." Helion smiles and grabs his glass for another sip of what could only be wine.

At his words the shadow singer now looks at the high lord. Your high lord. His face bares no emotion, like he can't afford to give a way a secret or smile.

You've heard about his reputation. But at this point that's all it is. He couldn't even steal from you correctly. This has to be the most interesting thing that's happened this year. You don't get around to much outsider business, you tend to stay out of it.

"I don't think it is." the shadow singer says.

Helion stifles a laugh. But you can hear it. And you know if you can hear it they all can. The room is big but not big enough that guests at a table can't hear things.

"Care to relieve them of their misery?" he looks up to you and asks.

You didn't really want to. But then again you'd have to play nice with them. Helion seems to like this group. Or most likely, his son is friends with this group and he wants to be friends with his son.

You sigh, "Take out the blade."

You watch in amusement as everyone at the table looks at each other. As if they all don't know what they really came here for. The shadow singer though, he's different. He's looking right at you.

His shadows materialize the blade right on the table for everyone to see. Cassian, gives him a look. But Azriel doesn't seem to see it or care.

"That's not the blade." Helion quips.

You call the blade to you with your powers. Being gifted with the ability to control sun made objects is fun most of the time. Most living things are sun made in a sense. So really you could control all things, to a certain extent.

The blade comes flying into your hand. As soon as it makes contact with your skin it transforms. The metal of the blade turns into a vibrant green stem. And the helm turns into the face of a sunflower.

Azriel seems to go through a range of emotions. First confusion. Then understanding. And then the last one, well you can't actually pin down the last one. You've gotten good at reading people but he's harder than others.

"The blade is safe in the day court, where it will remain until you ask for it." Helion says.

Rhysand lets of a breath, "I am sorry about lying, but we're short on time."

"And I thought our alliance was stronger than that. I am sorry too." Helion replies.

Helion stands from his seat, causing the others to match his actions. The sound of chairs on marble floors reaches your ears. You take a step back and cross your hands behind your back.

"We need the blade for a mission." Feyre speaks.

"It could be a simple mission or the end of the world. The fact that you have no respect to ask me tells me everything I need to know." Helion says casually.

You know that he is hurt by their lying. It's not deep, but it's there. He thought he could trust them. He thought because they had good relations with him before that they were better than the actions they are displaying right now.

Of course you know of the good bond between them. Which is why you don't understand why they didn't just ask. Unless there is a well justified reason. Why not ask the high lord for the blade unless he was implicated somehow.

How could Helion be implicated in a mission from the night court. He doesn't know anything, or he would have offered them the blade himself. No this is something he's not at the center of. But it still concerns him.

Lucien. You look at the guests around the room. He is no where to be found. True he's not part of the inner circle. He's an emissary. But if it was something the inner circle could simply ask Helion for, why not butter him up with his son?

Lucien may or may not know what going on.

"Where's Lucien?" you ask.

At you question all of the heads move to you. Right, you hadn't spoken to them this whole time. Well you weren't going to give them a smile and greet them kindly.

"What business do you have with him?" Nesta asks.

"He's in Spring. Managing relations." Rhysand answers.

You nod your head. Spring. If that answer can even be trusted. Let's say you do trust it for the moment.

The inner circle needs the day blade. They didn't want to ask for it. They didn't let Lucien come.

"Were you planning on returning it?" you ask again.

Nesta, rolls her eyes at your question. You can't help the giddiness you feel of getting under her skin. You hardly did anything to warrant it. But it felt kind of good.

"As soon as we were done." Azriel answers this time.

You don't ignore the stress he puts not he word soon. You also don't ignore the way his eyes seem to never leave yours.

"That blade is our most powerful weapon. We don't just give it out to anyone." Helion chimes in.

He maneuvers around his chair and stands behind you. When he grips both of your shoulders with his hands, you can tell he's smiling even if you can't see him.

"But I will let you use it," Helion continues, "on one condition."

"Go ahead." Rhysand says.

"Wherever the blade goes, she goes." Helion says.

"That won't be necessary." Nesta says.

At the same time Cassian says, "That's odd."

Helion shrugs his shoulders and lets go of you. He leans into your ear to whisper his next words very carefully. When you understand him and what he wants, you nod your head only once.

He grabs the sunflower from your hands as you uncross them from behind you. Helion stands next to you now. You watch as Helion brings the flower up to his nose and gives it a sniff.

"We agree to those terms." Azriel speaks up.

"Woah hold on-" Rhysand tries to cut in.

"Great. I think this will be beneficial to both courts." your high lord agrees.

You turn to face him now, your back towards the guests. Helion was looking at you with a very faint smile. You heard every word he whispered to you. And you understand the reason why: Family.

What you don't get it is why he won't just speak to Lucien himself. Why play nice with a high lord that knows his son when he can just reach out to him? Invite him to the day court or send him a letter.

Everyone in this room knows Lucien is Helion's son, except Lucien. And now your mission is to tell him so that he might finally have a true place to call home.

Helion wouldn't so easily agree to lending out the blade like this if it weren't for Lucien. And the night court wouldn't try to steal it if Lucien did know, because he could just ask on their behalf.

Your shoulders sag at the thought. You had no interactions with Lucien. You only ever heard of him from Helion and he only started referring to him as his son a couple of months ago.

It'll be you. You'll be the one to see him, come eye to eye to him, and tell him the truth.

You can see it in his eyes. The sadness. You'd do anything for him. He's a father figure to you. And you'll see this through, for his sake and Lucien's too.

"Promise me you'll smile a little bit during your trip." Helion says.

"The Sun Wraith doesn't smile." you answer.

"You're the Sun Wraith?" Cassian's voice asks.

You turn around and face the general. It's all over his face. The look of shock. It wasn't hard to become something of a legend in this court and the ones surrounding it.

"Even people in the night court are scared of you." Nesta says.

On her face seems to be another emotion. Not fear. Not shock. Something lighter amongst the surface. Admiration maybe? You aren't too sure.

"I'll grab my things." you say to no one in particular.

"And the blade." Azriel's voice sounds.

"I never go anywhere without it." you say, reaching behind you.

Grabbing the flaps of your yellow vest you flip it over and your hand wraps around the hilt of the blade. You pull it out for all of them to see.

"Best security in all of the courts." Helion jokes.

-

THREE WEEKS LATER

The mission has barely begun and you hate it here. You hate it in the night court. The days are shorter and you feel pale without even looking into a mirror most days. Nothing beats the sun of the day court on your skin.

Amren had told you it would get better. After your first meeting she had taken a liking to you. You were told by several members in the inner court that it was no easy feat. She talked to you the most out of everyone.

Second to her, came Nesta who was just curious about the things you allegedly did or did not do. You held off on telling her anything too juicy. It was funny toying with her with the details. She also likes your fighting style. Morrigan too.

Azriel talks to you. Sometimes. He's friendly to a point. Cassian is more friendlier than him but you're starting to understand it's just in his nature. Feyre and Rhysand are cordial. Elaine is, well you've been told that she's nice but you haven't really seen it. She greets you but that's it.

The inner circle didn't get on your nerves. But you also had your own mission. Deliver the news to Lucien that Beron isn't his father, Helion is.

Which is why though this whirlwind of a mission you're laying down on path of grass outside of the House of Wind. Weird. What was even weirder was the fact that Velaris, a secret city inside of the night court, has existed for so long with no one none the wiser.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Trying to turn your brain off. It wasn't working. The sun wasn't the same, it does't feel the same. You can't call off this mission either.

"Is this what you do in the day court?"

You'd know that voice anywhere. Which is weird to say as you've known the male for a couple of weeks now. But it's true. Azriel's voice was distinguishable from others. A bit low, but still soft. Clear.

"Yes." you answer.

"Is that all the explanation you can give me?"

"Yes."

You think he'll go away. He plays nice because you have the blade. He needs the blade, which means he needs you. Once he no loner needs the blade he won't need you.

When you hear the sound of him getting closer you want so badly to open your eyes. But you don't. You keep them closed. As much as you want to open them and see what he's doing.

The sound of him laying down beside you on the grass is one you weren't expecting. Also the feeling of soft cold tendrils nipping at your arm.

"It feels...nice. A bit cold." he speaks.

Of course he'd complain about he cold. Nesta had told you that Illyrians were whiny babies. You'd seen it personally when Cassian couldn't get a certain dish because there were no more potatoes for the day.

And now here his brother is. Complaining.

You hold up your left hand, the one close to him.

"Give me your hand." you command.

You half expect him to decline. To maybe even get up and leave. Or maybe say that he doesn't mind the cold. The other half of you expects him to just listen you-to see where it goes.

He takes your hand. You focus on letting the additional warmth you normally feel from the sun flow from your hand and into his.

Out of all the things you half expect and do expect, his laugh is something you don't plan for. It's deep. It comes from his core. It's gentle too. Which you wouldn't get just from looking at him.

"It's warm." he says.

"That's how the sun feels in the day court." you answer.

"I think you just spoke more than three words to me."

You scoff, "Don't get used to it."

"That was four words."

"Shut up."

"Two. We're regressing."

"Azriel."

"I'll be quiet now."

This is how you spend your time. If you are not training with Morrigan, Amren and Nesta. Or not eating with Cassian in the kitchen. You are laying out on the grass with Azriel in the sun.

It happens more times than you care to admit as the mission goes on.

-

ONE MONTH LATER

This place, Velaris, was starting to grow on you. You didn't want to admit that out loud, or in your letters to Helion. Or how well you were gettign on with Azriel. The trips into the city, the lingering glances and words with hidden layers.

You letters should only have on subject, Lucien.

He has been back from the spring court for two weeks now. You've taken that time to get to know him. You couldn't fathom unleashing the truth on him as a stranger. You don't need to be his friend. But he needs to at least trust the words coming out of your mouth when you say them.

Family dinner they called it. Even though only three of them were related to each other. But you guess that what makes their family unique. They choose each other, every day.

This meal was special. Seeing as you had finished the mission that Helion sent you on to protect the blade. There was a fae that needed to be tracked down and would only come out of hiding if he could see the sun blade.

Of course you didn't let him, but you did convince him that the fake blade you passed onto him was the real thing. When he found it wasn't after he revealed his intentions with it he got angry.

Angry enough to rain hellfire down on both you and Azriel. If it weren't for your fast thinking and powers you both wouldn't have made it out in one piece.

Now you're sat with the inner circle to celebrate your feat.

Someone clears their throat. This drags your gaze from the redheaded male to the dark haired one. The both of them were sitting in front of you.

How the mother is cruel and precious at the same time. One male is your mission which you planned for. The other male you didn't plan for, and yet...

"Az was asking if you miss home." Morrigan says from your side.

"Dearly. But its not bad here." You speak, not quite realizing what you just did.

You watch as Azriel's smile grows and grows on is lips. It hits you then.

"Wipe that smile off your face before I take it back." you say to him.

"No I don't think I will." he jokes.

You shake your head with a light laugh. You can pick up on his laugh too from across the table.

"Well if it means anything, you fit in well here." Amren speaks up.

Everyone at the table quiets down at that. You look over at her, peering around Morrigan. You nod once at the sentiment.

"You need to tell him." Elaine says suddenly.

You look to her sharply. She's gotten better about speaking to you. More than a greeting but still less than a conversation. It does weird you out some times but you let it go for the most part.

"Oh?" you ask rhetorically.

"Elaine I don't think we should discuss this here." Feyre starts.

"He needs to know." Elaine says again.

It upsets you. She is his mate. She is the one connected to him. She has known this secret longer than you. But you'll be the one to tell him? She doesn't want to get her hands dirty. None of them do.

"What do I need to know?" Lucien asks all of a sudden.

You look to him. Hoping nothin is being given away by your face. When no one answers him he scoffs lightly to himself and looks around at the table.

This is happening now.

"It's obviously about me, none of you can look me in the eye except for her." Lucien continues.

"I can tell you, in private." you offer.

He nods his head and gets up from his seat. You follow his lead and get up too. The two of you walk out of the dining room and onto the balcony. You pull the door close behind you.

"Before you say anything, do they all know about this?" he asks.

He can't be asking about Elaine. She's the whole reason you're having this conversation right now. No, he's talking about Feyre. His friend. Or who he thought was his friend.

What can be left of a friendship after a lie like this?

"Yes." you answer simply.

Lucien shakes his head, "Okay, you can tell me now."

You take him in. The tense shoulders. The bowed head. His hair is perfectly combed behind his back. In this light, he looks like Helion. Not too much, but just enough.

How do you up end someone's life?

"Lucien do you ever think about what it felt like growing up with Beron as your father?" you ask.

Lucien looks at you sharply, "It was unspeakable. I wouldn't wish that life on anyone."

"And it shouldn't have been yours either." you reply.

His brows furrow. Right in the middle like they want to meet so badly. You wonder if he's felt like an outsider before. If he's ever felt it amongst his brothers. The black sheep.

"When my mission is over here, do you think you could come back with me to the day court?" you ask softly.

His face goes from confusion to somewhat understanding. But you haven't told him enough for him to completely get what you're saying, what you're asking of him.

"A couple of times Eris tried to make me visit the day court." Lucien admits.

You nod your head at that. Of course. Ever the perfect actor. You knew him for a little slice of time in your life. A period in which you won't ever forget. He was your first kiss. You were young and kids, trying to figure out your own way in life.

Kissing Eris, the treacherous fox of the autumn court, was every bit exciting at your age. You gossiped, and word got around. But he didn't deny it. For all the lies and manipulation he pulled you thought he might say you were delusional, that you had made it all up. But he backed you claim.

Eris knew Lucien wasn't Beron's son. Eris probably protected him as best he could. In his own, Eris way. Whatever that means.

"You can invite him too." you say.

Lucien looks past you. No doubt at the inner circle lingering inside. If you were in his position you wouldn't even go back in there. You'd never talk to any of them again.

"I'll take my leave now, but thank you. For being honest." he says.

You give him a small smile, "To be clear I was to tell you the news in a gentle manner. What just happened was out of my hands."

"I get it. I'll see you around." he says.

You bid him goodbye. Then he's walking past you. You hear the door open and how voices inside seem to call his name. You don't hear him respond to any of them. You hear the front door slam.

With a breath you turn around and head back inside too. When you do everyone is looking right at you. It unnerves you. You hate it.

"I've done your dirty work now. I think I'll call it a night." you speak.

"He didn't deserve to find out like that." Feyre says.

"You're right, he deserved honesty from his friends." you retort.

"You were sent here to tell him the truth. Am I wrong?" Rhysand asks.

You turn to face him clearly. You can't believe he just said that. You cannot believe he formed the words with his mouth to say that to you.

Without saying another word you walk right out of the dinning room. You ignore Nesta and Amren calling out to you. And you ignore the shadow that walks with you right out of the room and into he hallway.

As soon as you get inside of your guest room the shadow disappears.

SUNRISE, THE NEXT DAY

You're skip training and packing for home instead. You wish you could pack faster but that isn’t possible. You don’t want to be here for another second. Not in this court, not among the inner circle.

When you throw in your last few shirts into the luggage a knock raps on the door. You don’t know who it is, but if it is Rhysand or Elaine you won’t open the door.

“Who is it?” You ask.

“It's me, can you open up?”

You go over to the door and open it. Standing there on the threshold is Azriel.

“I’ll be leaving soon.” You say.

His eyes seem to widen at that. You watch as he peers over you and takes in the bareness of the room, and the packed luggage. He straightens himself out.

“Why so soon? It feels like you just got here.” He replies. 

Based on his words alone he doesn’t want you to leave. You can feel it too. How it’s only been a month or so but the two of you are comfortable around each other. 

You sigh, “The mission is over.”

“And we’re back to this? Four word sentences?” He asks.

“Azriel.”

He looks down both sides of the hallway. His head turning left then right. Then he’s turning back to you. He looks nervous. Antsy. He doesn’t normally look that way. He’s usually so composed. 

He takes you by surprise. He side steps into the room and closes the door behind him. At that you know your eyes go wide. He holds up his hands in defense.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for that but I just—are you mad at me?” He asks.

You scoff, “Yes I am.”

“Okay I knew that, but I was also confused because on that mission you saved my life.”

“Hardly.” You answer simply.

He groans at your one word answer, “You made sure those arrows didn’t plant themselves in my wings. You made sure I was safe.”

“It was nothing.” 

“No it was something.” 

You’re catching on now to how tense he is. Tense or nervous you can’t tell. His eyes are frantic. His breathing is also uneven. And his shadows are fully out on display now.

You do the one thing you can think of. You reach out for his hand. He doesn’t even seem to notice it. When you make contact he looks you in the eye. “Please calm down.” You whisper.

He bows his head, his hair covering his face now. All of a sudden he sinks to his knees. The action catches you completely off guard. 

“I’m sorry.” He says again.

You focus on sending him warmth from your hand. In a second you can see his shoulders begin to shake. From this angle you can’t tell just yet if it’s what you think it is. 

So you bring your free hand to the side of his face. You feel it. In the palm of your hand you feel his wet cheek. He’s crying. Azriel the shadow singer is crying, on his knees in front of you.

“I could have died and for the first time in a very long time I felt this deep regret in the bottom of my belly.” He chokes out.

What would he have to regret? 

Slowly you drag you hand down his cheek. You place your pointer finger under his chin. Titling his head up, you meet his eyes. From this close you hadn’t realize how many shades of brown they hold.

“Azriel, you’re okay. I promise you you’re okay.” You whisper.

He shuts his eyes, more tears flowing down his face now. 

“I don’t think I will be.” He admits.

“Why?” You ask.

He opens his eyes again. 

“Because you hate us now, you’ll never come back here.” He answers.

In a sense he was right. Not totally. You didn’t hate the inner circle. You just couldn’t stand what they did last night. How they acted, how none of them would fess up. Even though some of them had known Lucien for a long time.

But you didn’t hate them. You didn’t hate him.

“I don’t hate you.” You reply.

“I could see it on your face last night. And now, you’re leaving so quickly. You want nothing to do with us.” He adds on.

There’s silence between the two of you. The emotions Azriel is feeling right now feel heavy. Way too heavy for someone he’s only spent about two months with. 

You had heard many rumors about him. But him being like this, wearing his heart on his sleeve like this? You don’t think you could have ever imagined it.

Remembering that he’s waiting for you to answer, you remember to speak.

“Yes I’m upset and I want to go home. But that doesn’t mean I never want to see you again. Azriel I really enjoyed my time with you.” You speak.

You don’t realize it but your hand is stroking his now. 

He gives you a look you can’t figure out, “Why does it feel like that time is over already? Like I’ll never see you again?” 

He reaches up and places your hand on his cheek again. You don’t emit the warmth from there but he nuzzles into your hand like you are. His thumb rubs back and forth on the back of your hand there.

“You talk like everything is set in stone. Like there is only one path.” You say.

“I can just, sense it.” He explains barely.

You shake you head, “Azriel I was always going to leave.”

“Not like this. Last night changed everything.” He says, but it comes out more like a whisper.

“Get up.” 

He looks at you, a bit of shock. You watch as he follows your command and gets back on his feet. He keeps your hand pressed to his face the whole time. Your other hand falls to your side.

“You can come visit me.” You say.

He’s silent. Silent but he nods his head at your words. You’re not sure if he believes you fully. But it’s enough. He wipes the tears from his face. His wings perk up, off the floor now.

You wrap your arms around his body before you can think against it. Instantly you feel his arms around you. Pulling you closer. He rests his head on top of yours. It feels right. It feels natural. No, it feels like something else too.

It feels the exact same way the sunlight in the day court feels on your skin. Like it is meant to be.

part two here!

[funnylittlelad]

birdsong - steddie ficlet (-1.5k)

That time Steve got hearing aids.

Steve has been pissing people off for weeks and he knows it. He just doesn’t know what to do about it. It gets to the point where Dustin snaps at him for never paying attention to them. Steve starts to consider just leaving the country and starting new somewhere else. Somewhere it doesn't matter if he can hear who’s talking to him because he can't understand them anyways. He always thought Italy could be nice. Instead of running, he just shows up less. Both literally and metaphorically.

He starts bailing on more hangouts, figuring he won't be able to hear everyone so what's the point. When he is there he participates less in the conversation. He only engages when he’s really sure he can hear, which isn't a lot. It's mostly one-on-one or one-on-two. He doesn't think anyone notices, but they do. Eddie most of all feels Steve’s absence even when he’s sitting right next to him. He’s noticed the anxious tension in him when they're in groups. He just isn't sure what to do. So, he sits with a Steve-sized ache in his chest. There’s a day when the ache becomes too much, though, and Eddie breaks.

Steve sits in his living room with everyone strewn about. Eddie is next to him like he usually is unless Robin was already at Steve’s first. The kids lay and sit on the rug around the coffee table. Robin is on the other side of Eddie. Nancy sits with her legs tucked under her in a big armchair. The sound of conversation and life flows around him like a pebble in a stream. His edges have been smoothed so the water can move effortlessly, never catching on his surface. He can feel that there are words in the air around him, but there are too many other things around those words. Too much background noise and laughter. He can’t dig through it all in time to figure out what anyone is saying. So, he just stays silent like he has been. 

“He’s not listening again,” Dustin says frustratedly. 

Eddie frowns and looks at Steve. The movement catches Steve’s attention. He turns to look at Eddie with a small smile. Then he notices that it's more than just Eddie’s eyes on him. His blood runs cold and his throat dries.

“What?” He asks cautiously, eyes flitting to everyone else before landing on Eddie.

“Be honest, can you hear us?” Eddie answers Steve’s question with his own.

“I-”

“Be honest,” Eddie warns.

“No,” Steve sighs, “most of the time I can't really. I mean, I can hear you, but I can't tell what you're saying. It all garbles together like I’m underwater or something.”

“I think it's time to go to the doctor, Stevie,” Eddie says softly.

Steve frowns, but nods. There's a nervous twist in his stomach at the thought. He agrees to make an appointment the following day. Eddie hangs behind after everyone else leaves for a little bit. He does this sometimes and Steve’s never complained. Steve’s never thought about complaining. There's no surprise when Eddie gently grabs his hand either. He does that sometimes too. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” Eddie asks. 

The question nearly makes Steve cry. He wants to cry so bad. He wants to cry because he misses being able to hear his friends. He wants to cry because he’s scared of what's going to happen to what's left of his hearing. He wants to cry because Eddie is standing here offering to go to his doctor’s appointment with him like he’s a child. Mostly, he wants to cry because he’s so fucking happy Eddie offered and he doesn't have to ask. Steve nods.

“Yeah, if you don't mind,” he answers with a slight waver in his voice. 

Eddie smiles all sticky and sweet at him. Steve silently wonders what he did to be worthy of a smile like that. 

“‘Course I don't mind. Just tell me when and where and I’m there,” Eddie promises.

And he was. Eddie drives Steve to the ENT on the morning of his appointment the next week. He sat in the waiting room until Steve was done, but the knowledge he was there was enough. It was the same thing when Steve was sent to the Audiologist two weeks later. Eddie sat in the waiting room patiently while Steve sat in a booth answering all sorts of questions and prompts. It doesn't really sink in until he sees Eddie stand from his chair. The knit of his brow tells Steve his face says it all.

“What’s the verdict?” Eddie asks. 

“They’ll let me know when to come in and be fitted for my hearing aids,” he sighs with a frown.

“That’s good!” Eddie smiles as they walk out of the office. 

“Good? Eds, I’m going to have hearing aids,” Steve scoffs.

“Yeah, which means you’ll, y’know, be able to hear,” Eddie points out. 

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Nope, no buts except yours in my van,” Eddie interrupts him and points to the passenger side as they approach the van.

Steve rolls his eyes with a small smile as he climbs in. 

“I just don’t feel like it's that bad,” he admits quietly as the van choked to a start.

“How bad did they say it was?” 

Steve remains silent for a beat as Eddie pulls out. He sighs and glances out the window at the building as they leave.

“I'm working with sixty percent of my hearing in one ear and seventy in the other,” he tells Eddie.

“Stevie,” Eddie breathes with a shake of his head, “If the doctors say these things will help you then they’re worth a shot. M’tired of you bailing out on things- yeah, I noticed.”

Steve’s face flushes at being caught like that. He exhales slowly and nods. 

“Okay,” he agrees, “I’ll give them a shot.”

A couple weeks later he’s called into the office for his hearing aids. Eddie is so quick to drop what he’s doing to go with him it nearly gives Steve whiplash. The sight of Eddie’s van pulling up gives a strange swooping sensation that he's grown used to around Eddie. The appointment itself takes around an hour. Then Steve is walking out fashioned with two white hearing aids hooked over his ears. His eyes are wide as they bounce to the television and then the clacking behind the desk. Eddie beams at him and stands. Steve looks beautiful so stunned. Hell, Eddie can admit that Steve just looks beautiful. 

“C’mon, Stevie, let’s go give’em a spin,” he says with a wolfish grin.

Steve laughs and nods. They don't get far, though. Once they step foot outside Steve comes to a halt. He makes a noise that's a cross between choking and a sob. Eddie’s hands fly to examine him for injury, but there is none. Steve’s lip wobbles, his face is blotchy and red, and his warm toffee eyes are trained on the tree a few feet away. Eddie’s mouth opens to ask, but then Steve’s eyes are on him like that. His eyes overflow with more emotion than Eddie knew a human could hold. 

“The birds,” Steve croaks. 

“What about’em?” Eddie’s brows furrow.

He glances accusingly at the little chirping finches in the tree. Steve chuckles wetly at the sight.

“I- I can hear them. It’s been so long- I didn't even realize,” Steve shakes his head, “I don’t know the last time I’ve actually heard the birds.”

Steve’s wonder-filled gaze turns back to the birds in question. He laughs again, heartier this time at the notion. He can hear birds. 

“Shit,” Eddie whispers to himself, “I’m so in love with you.”

At least he thought it was to himself. An hour ago it would have been to himself. Steve’s face whips around with huge eyes. His lips part slightly as he watches Eddie stunned. Eddie freezes, absolutely terrified. He’s so sure he just fucked it all up. 

“I can hear you too,” Steve whispers.

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat.

“Nah, pretty sure that was a bird too,” he attempts to joke it off. 

“I really hope not,” Steve frowns.

Eddie blinks hopefully.

“Really? Why?”

“Because I’m in love with you too.”

Safe to say, Steve is very happy he got hearing aids. 

Masterlist - beta read by @steveslilshorts

[fatuismooches]

This is just for the sake of fluff, honestly. What if Reader were the one to go to Sumeru with Boattore instead of Omega. Then the segments wouldn't have been erased. Since Nahida can't do anything against Reader, and they don't have the ability to erase the segments, they just end up negotiating about... whatever. Then the happy ending comes, the segments don't get erased.

CANON BTW!!! You reassure him that such manpower wasn't needed, after all, who did he think was his right hand for all those centuries? Did he doubt you? Quite hurtful, you tease him.

Reader and Nahida "negotiating" would be interesting, because the way they and Dottore think are quite different, even though they're both scholars. Dottore's purely logical, he considers and accepts all possibilities, he'll make a decision based on these factors. You aren't so... methodical with it - you can read other's emotions, their feelings, see how these things affect them, not always using facts. Therefore, they wouldn't care about Nahida's bluffing - they wouldn't consider it a possibility because they can see through her little ruse. If she wants to gamble, then they too will gamble - what would she do if the awakened Heavenly Principles happened to hurt her beloved citizens? Her city? There's no telling what the principles would do after sleeping for so long. Does she want to gamble this possibility with you?

"Wait," the young God called for you once more after you had finished imparting certain knowledge to her. You looked back at her expressionlessly, your usual smile gone from having to be around her.

"Yes? I thought we had finished our business here."

"Why... why do you stay with the Outcast? I can see it... you are not quite like him." You sighed a bit at the nickname but ignored it for the sake of time.

"I've had a number of people ask me this question, and I give them the same answer, and yet they are never satisfied. But I shall give it to you anyway. I love Dottore so very much. But you probably can't understand that anyway, can you, oh God of Wisdom?" The expression on her face told you the answer to that already.

"Well, you can have fun pondering that, just like all the others. Next time we meet, you can tell me your findings." As you walked away, the God could hear you mumbling about buying some sweets for Dottore before you left, but trying to restrain yourself and the other segments from eating it on the way there. The deity can only wonder what the nature of this relationship is like.

Regardless, the most important part: Reader coming home to all the segments to give them kisses after the very successful mission. They can't help bragging a bit to Dottore about snagging both Gnoses with minimum losses and demand a lot of affection (and vacation time with him) afterward. (Little did you know the CRISIS you adverted.)

[miharuki]

hello!! thank you for making second part of Luka fanfic!!!

may i request Luka x reader is Marinette's sister(just hear me out. they are exes. it's probably weird to date your sister's ex but it's only a fanfiction so I'm trying not to think to deeply about). i hope you don't mind. feel free to ignore my request!!!

(i think it will work greatly if reader was opposite of marinette for "balance" but everything is up to you)

It took me a long time to find the story, but I finally found my Google Documents account, I have a lot, don't question it, anyway, now I found your message and I'm posting the story, sorry if it's a little bad, I'm still going to do a part 2 hehe, sorry again, and sorry for my bad english

(fluff, Reader is oblivious to Luka's passion, End of relationship , 4 temp de miraculos spoiler, ep true, crocoduel, e dear family, reader doesn't know that marinette is ladybug

Adrien and Marinette know about Luka's passion )

𝕷𝖚𝖐𝖆 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖋𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖃 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗!𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗

"It was not long ago when your sister confessed that she was moving on, you were so proud. It had been a while since you heard from your sister how perfect your friend Adrien Agreste was, it seemed more like an obsession than a crush, but knowing your sister's traumas you put it on the same level as a crush, as it was a childish crush. Being a year older than your sister, you always try to set an example, and often Marinette asks for advice on relationships, which you may have some knowledge about due to your past relationships, but you are still proud even with Marinette's decisions, after all, she is growing up, she is becoming mature."

If she didn't keep holding onto her secrets, it was getting weirder. Your sister would stay up late into the night, some days with dark circles under her eyes, and you had to help cover them with makeup because she didn't want to worry her friends. You still believed she needed to sleep and relax; it was starting to cause problems. Her relationship with her friends was in conflict along with her relationship with Luka. Not only that, but she seemed to be hiding things from everyone, like a ticking time bomb.

It was not long ago that you entered Marinette's room, pulled her onto the couch, and gently asked her to relax.

"You're keeping things to yourself. You're keeping them as if you're protecting others, but you're actually hurting yourself!" It was at that moment that Marinette had a realization of what was happening. Marinette looked at you, at your sad and worried eyes.

"I'm sorry!" she cried out as she hugged you, and you hugged her back. "It's just that everything is suffocating me. I have to be class president and a friend to my friends, but I just can't handle this responsibility. I still like Adrien even though I'm with Luka, and I feel guilty because everyone believes in me! I can't tell them how I feel! I'm just a pathetic girl!" As you ran your hand over her back, you watched your sister cry on your shoulder. You hugged her and comforted her about it.

"Everyone has secrets, Marinette. It's okay to keep them, but sometimes you have to trust people more. You think everyone is depending on you because you believe in yourself!" Taking Marinette's hands, you looked into her eyes. "You have to know that you're not alone! You need to let people help you. Doing things alone isn't helping you; it's hurting you! As your older sister, I'm trying my best to make you okay, but I can't do it alone. I need you to help me make you happy too! Even if it means letting go of some things! You know, go with the flow." Marinette knew on that day what she had to do. Even though she kept secrets from you, even though you were the one she could turn to for help, you were there for her. She still didn't want to put you at risk, even if it meant revealing her true work.

Marinette began to admire you more. You were right, and Marinette realized that. It was on that day that she decided to end her relationship. Of course, you understood and stood by her side at that moment. You still think what she's doing is okay if it means she can be happy. You also understood Luka's side, even why he was there that day. You said it was okay to let things go; sometimes relationships don't work out, but that's okay. Not everything is perfect. And just like that day, Luka finally understood why Marinette always talked about you, why she admired you. And just like Marinette, Luka started to admire you too from that day on.

It was amazing how you always knew what to say about other people's emotions and relationships, as if you were a counselor, and some might even say you were a kind of cupid. You began to notice various posters and billboards of Ladybug and Chat Noir together, naming them the new couple of Paris. Although you were happy, your gut feeling told you something was wrong. This was when you heard Marinette shout from her room that Ladybug and Chat Noir weren't a couple. Not understanding, you just shrugged as you prepared to deliver the orders from your family bakery. You waved as you put on your helmet, leaving with music in your ears as you passed people, waving to them in greeting on a good day.

Passing through a park as a shortcut, you saw Adrien a few meters away, sitting on a bench crying. It broke your heart. One thing you were used to was hearing and seeing Marinette talk about how cool Adrien was, and having known him too, it was a strange situation to see the boy crying in a public place. With determination, you stopped your bike and left it in the corner, approaching the boy. You called out to him.

"Adrien? Are you okay?" Upon hearing your voice, the boy raised his head, quickly wiping his tears.

"Oh, hi (name)." The boy continued to look down. You put your hand on his shoulder, sitting next to him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you ask, and the boy seems to struggle to contain himself.

"It's okay if you can't," you rub the boy's back, watching him calm down and lift his head to look at the Ladybug and Chat Noir poster.

"Hypothetically, if I've liked someone my whole life only to always be rejected, and then when I think we're okay, she confirms with words that she doesn't want me, and then I realize that maybe she doesn't even want me by her side anymore, and states that we're just partners, what do I do?"

You've heard this question somewhere before, almost similar, but you prefer to set it aside. You put your hand on the boy's shoulder, looking into his eyes.

"You know, hypothetically if that happened, what I recommend is that you let things go," observing the boy become confused, you continue, "let's just say maybe you should look for someone else. If that person didn't want to see you as a romantic partner, then maybe you should leave it like that. Sometimes moving on is better; maybe then you won't keep hurting yourself."

The boy wipes away his tears as he looks at you, smiling. You ruffle the boy's hair.

"I think I understand now, I know why Marinette and Luka like you, especially Luka," a question mark lingers in your head, but again, you prefer to leave things as they are, in the perfect balance.

"Thank you so much, (name), you've helped me a lot!" You smile at the boy as you stand up and bid him farewell. He's now looking at the sky, and you hop onto your bike, putting on your helmet. You wonder what Adrien meant, but you shrug it off as you ride away, heading home after the deliveries. You take off your helmet and put it away, shaking out your hair as you enter the bakery.

"Mom, I finished the deliveries - oh hi, Luka," you greet the boy as he picks up a package. "How's your family?" you ask, remembering the last time you saw them during Luka's mother's akumatization.

"They're fine, thank you. Were you delivering the orders?" the boy asks, turning to look at you.

"Yeah, it was just a few, so it was pretty quick."

The boy looks down at the treat in his hand, taking a deep breath before speaking again.

"You know, (name), I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go out sometime."

"Sounds good to me, we'll set a day, okay? Bye, Luka," you said as you began walking back into the bakery.

"Alright! Bye, (name)!" he replied quickly as he watched you enter the bakery, heading home. He left the bakery with a sigh.

Accepting that his relationship with Marinette had ended was already difficult, but accepting that he had feelings for his ex's older sister was even harder. And if that wasn't enough, both his ex and his friend Adrien already knew about his feelings, but it seemed like he was oblivious to it all.

It was a family day, and you watched as your grandfather and father took the galette out of the oven. You couldn't resist tasting it. It was Sunday, and you had woken up early to help your parents at the bakery. Marinette was still asleep, and you were helping your parents until she finally woke up.

"Awake, Sleeping Beauty?" you chuckled as Marinette asked for a piece. Of course, she'd wake up to the smell.

"Yeah, I was thinking I could distribute the galette with (name) to the people outside for the tasting!" she suggested.

"Great idea! It's so good to see that young people are still polite!" Your grandfather laughed as he spoke, grabbing a tray full of sliced galette. Together with Marinette, you distributed them to everyone outside.

"Happy Kings' Galette Day! Hi, Nadia! Would you like some?" you offered as Nadia and Manu took a piece and thanked you. You continued distributing.

"Happy Kings' Galette Day! Oh, hi, Luka, Juleka! How are you?" you asked as the boy took a piece of galette.

"Hmm, wow! I still don't think I'll ever get used to your parents' cooking," Luka commented, and you chuckled at his remark while offering some to Juleka, who also took a piece and enjoyed it.

"Yeah, it's really good!" Juleka agreed as you waved and walked away, unaware of the boy's gaze following you.

"Happy Kings' Galette Day!" you greeted as you entered after distributing all the galettes, putting away the tray and wiping your flour-covered hands.

"Thank you so much, (name), for helping out!" your mother said, and you simply nodded, grabbing a small plate with some galette without your parents noticing and walking off.

"Marinette hasn't tried the galette yet. I think I should give her some," you smiled, walking to her room and knocking on the door.

"Marinette?" You thought she was in her room after helping you distribute some galette. You heard noises and assumed it was her. Luckily, when you called out Marinette's name, the kwamis had time to notice that someone was about to enter.

"Kwamis! Quick, hide!" Sass said as everyone rushed into the miraculous box, hiding inside.

Climbing up the stairs, you looked inside. Marinette wasn't there anywhere, yet you entered and placed the plate on her computer desk.

"When she comes back, she'll eat it," you said as you descended the stairs again, heading to the bakery downstairs. You noticed Marinette now watching your grandfather and the mayor arguing over the last galette.

"Did I miss something?" you asked Marinette as she laughed and shook her head. You observed as your grandfather kicked out the mayor. It would've been a good meme if you had filmed it earlier.

Hearing a honk, your parents and grandfather went outside.

"Grandma?" you asked as she entered, now talking about a gift for you? Marinette already got her motorcycle, but your birthday is still far away. You don't understand, but now your grandparents and parents are discussing the early gift. Upon entering the bakery, everyone looked at Marinette as she held the box with the galette.

"Oh, I was just about to take the galette upstairs for us to eat together as a family!" you sighed in relief as everyone went upstairs to the living room, but it seemed like things still weren't resolved.

"Maybe they won't notice! But (name) isn't a little girl anymore; she's a young lady now! And I know she'll love to have the motorcycle! Isn't that right, (name)?" It seemed like things hadn't been resolved; they still insist on your birthday, which hasn't even arrived yet.

"What nonsense! (Name) will only be an adult at 18! Until then, she's still a child!"

"I'm not a child, Grandpa!" you said, already getting annoyed with your grandfather's behavior. Sure, you'll be turning 17 soon, but he still doesn't need to decide things for you.

"Allowing her to think otherwise is to educate her wrong!" your grandfather continued, ignoring your words.

"I don't think—" Marinette is interrupted by your family again.

"You came to argue again! I know my little girl better than anyone! And I think that motorcycle is too dangerous for her yet!" Your father doesn't help as he argues with your grandparents.

"You're right, son! Your mother is irresponsible!" Marinette looks at your family arguing, even you, a total pacifist of balance, was starting to get irritated with your family deciding for you. It was clear you were about to get stressed, that is if Marinette didn't see Trixx and Wayzz pointing to Tikki almost eating the galette.

"Marinette, what are you doing?" your mother asked, while Marinette, with a nervous look, holding the galette in her hands, looks at the family.

"Oh, nothing! Why don't we think it's time to try the galette?!" Marinette then quickly cuts the galette and puts it on plates, giving it to her family.

"Mmm! It looks delicious! Oops! Let's eat!" Even holding the galette, the family continues to argue, and you try to at least get a voice there.

"Your tone is too protective with your daughter! Just like your father did with him! Do you at least give her freedom?!" Your grandmother retorts as she eats.

"That's how it's done! Parents have to protect their children!" Your grandfather says as he argues with your grandmother.

"But I don't need that! I'm old enough, don't you think?!" you say as everyone still argues.

"Yes, and I'm not overprotective of her!" your father says before your mother steps in.

"Oh yes, you are! And she's not a little girl anymore!" your mother says as you agree, the argument was getting on your nerves.

"I think the motorcycle is an exaggeration!" your mother responded to your grandmother as you rub your forehead.

"What (name) lacks are rules and discipline!"

"What she really needs is more freedom!"

"What she needs is a father who can protect her!"

"Who chooses what she needs is (name) herself!"

"I could if you stopped deciding things as if I were a newborn baby!"

A fight continued for a while, but you couldn't bear to be ignored anymore when your family was making decisions for you.

"Enough! I'M TIRED OF ALL OF THIS!!" You stand up, dropping the plate with the galette, stomping your feet in irritation as you leave the room. You hadn't noticed Marinette's absence in the room; you were too irritated with the situation. Slamming the door shut, you lean against it, sighing before finally leaving and heading to your room.

"I need to relax!" you mutter as you scratch your neck, heading to your desk and grabbing your backpack. Maybe you could draw or do something until the situation resolved itself. Closing and locking the door for privacy, you put the key around your neck as you walked out of the bakery. You hadn't noticed a small purple butterfly flying towards the window of your house. You began to walk, perhaps heading to the museum, a quiet and peaceful place to relax when you needed to.

"(Name)! WHERE ARE YOU?!" You heard someone calling you; it sounded like your mother, but it might just be in your head. Ignoring it, you continue to vibe with the music in your head.

"(Name)?" You look up to see who called you, seeing Luka. Removing your headphones, you wave to him.

"Hey, Luka! How are you?" You approach the boy, who was smiling.

"So, about that matter, are you up for going out today?" Luka says, but before you can respond, you hear a crash.

"(Name)!!! YOUR GRANDMOTHER BEFANA IS GOING TO GIVE YOU YOUR FREEDOM~" You look up to see your grandmother akumatized on her motorcycle, approaching quickly.

"I guess our date will have to wait for now. Let's go!" Luka says, grabbing your hand and running, dodging Befana's shots. You manage to run into an alley, stopping to catch your breath, leaning against the wall and trying to calm your breath.

"I guess we'll postpone it for tomorrow," you joke, pointing your finger at Luka, who chuckles a bit before asking seriously, "Do you know what happened for her to be like this?"

"Family stuff, and I haven't even been gone for 5 minutes!" You say before running your hands through your hair. You don't notice Luka looking at you and then out of the alley, seeing a certain red kwami flying away, until you start hearing loud noises and the ground begins to crack.

"What's happening!?" You say, holding onto the wall, feeling the ground shake. Looking up, you notice something—a huge galette painted red with black dots.

"But what—"

"Let's go!" You're interrupted again when Luka pulls you, running out. Looking back, you see your akumatized grandfather shouting.

"(Name)! I WON'T ACCEPT THIS! YOU'RE NOT OLD ENOUGH TO DATE YET!" Your grandfather shouted as he started running after you. Looking at Luka, who was dragging you as you fled from your akumatized family, you didn't even realize what your grandfather had said. You were too shocked by everything. Luckily, as you ran, you saw Ladybug and Cat Noir heading towards your house. But again, you were dragged into an alley, watching your akumatized family pass by. You take a deep breath after running so much.

"Hope Ladybug and Cat Noir end this soon!" you say, panting, while holding onto your knees.

"They will, I'm sure of it," you hear Luka say, also panting. You turn your head, smiling at him.

"Look!" You turn your head to see Ladybug's ladybugs fixing things, especially patching up you and Luka, who got a little scratched up from the situation.

"It seems like everything's resolved!" you say happily, watching everything being restored.

"Let's go see your family!" You hear Luka say, and then you agree, walking back to your house and observing everyone gathered in the bakery. You don't even notice the boy still holding your hand.

"I owe you one, Luka. Thank you," you say.

"You can repay me by going out with me tomorrow. Deal?" Luka suggests.

"Sure! Let's set the time!" you say, looking at Luka, who smiles and agrees. You finalize your farewell by hugging the boy and saying goodbye.

"(Name)!!!" you hear your family calling you in unison. You turn your head towards the bakery to see your family coming out, smiling. You sigh with a smile before entering.

"Let's finish eating the galette first, then we'll figure things out!" you say, listening to your family chatting and apologizing for the gift mishap.

Bonus:

"Sorry, guys, I couldn't get a piece of galette for all of you," Marinette apologizes to the kwamis as they watch her.

"Don't worry, Marinette! Actually, your sister came earlier today and left a plate with a piece for you. Since there was plenty, we took the liberty to eat some. Hope you don't mind," the kwamis explain.

"It's okay!" Marinette says, a bit shocked at the situation but soon smiling. "She's always like that anyway, haha."

"I have to thank her later," Marinette thought to herself.

[sammyluvr]

makes you wonder — sam winchester

cw : gn!awkward!reader, fluff, uses y/n, some of the lore/history is totally made up, swearing, workplace bullying/verbal harassment (i’m so sorry if your name is mark, he’s the asshole character), likely contains a few mistakes, mentions of canon typical violence and monsters, 5.2K words. requested !

summary : you’re the local expert on ancient weaponry, and fake fbi agent sam needs your help finding a certain dagger for a case. pronunciation guide (using scottish gaelic) : each-uishge — yahk-oosh-ga (hk is pronounced in the back of the throat like loch). biodag — bidag (the g is almost a k sound) [ disclaimer, i found these pronunciations off of the internet! i’m not scottish nor do i speak scottish gaelic, so if anyone can correct anything i got wrong, i’d be super grateful for it! ]

certainly including the fact that it’s exactly what you want to be doing, working as a curator at your city’s history museum is near total perfection for you. not without much hard work and research, you were able to get a job that focuses on your specialty. historic weaponry. plus, your extra knowledge and fascination with mythologies and folklore gave you the perfect edge (pun intended) during interviews.

as a plus, you’re also able to spend minimal time interacting with people, even less so with those who don’t share the common interest of at least museum curation. of course, even that can’t magic away your awkwardness, and you still dread team meetings, but none of your coworkers save the resident asshole care at all when you stumble over your words or speak in clunky sentences. you’re smart, kind, and good at your job, so everyone except mark lessinger is more than happy to have you around. mark, the aforementioned resident asshole, is only around still because he’s the single person for miles who cares about the bland history of the town that is “strongly encouraged” by the local government to be kept in the museum. you’re sure he doesn’t do anything other than watch tv shows at his desk, lounge in the museum café. and make snide comments about anybody he can, because that exhibit hasn’t been updated in years and likely never will be unless something spectacular happens.

when you hear the click of the office door opening, you glance up from the work on your desk on instinct. it’s no surprise to see the devil himself (a mean and entirely pathetic thirty-four year old white man) walk through the door. mark was probably off slacking in the café like he does whenever he can get away with it, which is often considering he has nothing helpful to offer anyway. 

it’s the man who follows him that snags at your gaze and keeps your eyes lingering on the doorway for a second longer than usual. in the split second that you take his appearance in, you’re surprised by how much you want to keep looking at him, rather than the diagram of a seventeenth century revolver you’re hoping to include in the exhibit you’re planning for next fall. the gun is fascinating to you, moreso than just about anyone who could walk in that door. but something about this man is beautiful, so much so that you don’t want to look away. then both mark’s and his eyes fall on you, and you snap your chin back down to refocus on your work. this, of course, doesn’t work, because you can still feel them looking at you.

“that’s them right there. you know, weapons are the only thing that they’re useful for,” mark begins to ramble, and now you know without a doubt that they’re headed towards you, “which, unfortunately, isn’t very helpful at all most of the time. but maybe they can do you some good, agent.”

that word is what catches your attention; you don’t even blink at the condescending tone to his voice or the fact that he doesn’t make any sort of attempt to hide his criticisms from you or this agent. you don’t even look up until the two men are right at your desk, so you miss the judgemental look that the stranger gives to mark’s unsavory comments about you. the idiot obviously misses the look too, because he’s smiling down at you all smug and patronizing when you give him your attention.

“this is agent giles from the fbi. the federal bureau of investigation,” he begins, cocking his head in a way that makes him look like he’s got a knot in his neck, rather than intelligent and important as you figure he intends. you just nod as the agent flashes his badge, resisting the urge to examine the tall man like one of your exhibit pieces. “well, he’s looking for a certain type of knife–” mark says slowly, like you don’t understand what he’s implying. you, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about him as you look the agent up and down, trying to look casual. you’re usually far more into ancient weaponry than men, but he is straight up gorgeous, you conclude. 

“–so, you should help him look for it. it’s very important, so don’t make us look like fools by saying something weird.” you grimace internally, but don’t show much of a reaction because all you can really think about is how much of an idiot he is. and how agent giles is too pretty to be an employee of the federal government. that part is far more important than mark’s rudeness, as you’re fully aware that he has nothing of value to offer, while you absolutely do.

“i’m sure y/n will be very helpful,” says agent giles firmly, and for a moment it surprises you that he knows your name before you realize mark must have given it earlier, “thanks for the sandwich recommendation mr.” he clears his throat because he’s clearly forgotten mark’s last name, “linser.” you stifle a laugh at both the insult of this agent remembering your name, but not mark’s, and the image of mark recommending an fbi agent his favorite sandwich from the museum café.

“lessinger,” he corrects with a stupid, haughty smile that suggests he has no idea that the agent thinks he’s a dumbass and couldn’t care less about him. he doesn’t even get the memo that he’s supposed to leave until agent giles clears his throat again and gives him a pointed look. “well, if y/n can’t get you what you need, i’m sure i can figure it out, so just let me know if you need anything else,” he lands a final insult before scurrying away to his own desk.

“it’s very bad,” you say with a matter of fact tone and shake of your head, once he’s finally out of ear shot. 

the agent raises his eyebrows in question, like he’s not one hundred percent sure what you’re referring to. “him?” he scoffs, “yeah, he’s a total asshole.” agent gile’s tone is much lighter and pleasant when he’s talking just to you, though he certainly means what he’s just said.

“oh, well, no. i mean, yes, he is a complete asshole, but i meant to say that– um, well, the sandwich. it’s very bad,” you repeat the sentiment in earnest after realizing you started speaking almost completely out of context. now you feel the need to explain, “he always gets the same sandwich, and it’s not a good one. if you’re hungry you should get the superfood salad. very healthy, and really good– or, i mean, if you wanted a sandwich, the blt is quite good, especially if you add avocado,” you trail off and realize you’re completely off topic, “but, uh– that’s not what you’re here for, obviously. i’m sorry, i don’t mean to waste your time, agent. uh, how can i help you?”

“no, no, that’s okay,” he says, his pretty hazel eyes full of sincerity, “i am in fact hungry, but i’d never take his recommendation, so i’m glad to have yours. i love salad,” he smiles.

“oh, thanks,” you relax, before wondering if that’s a normal response. but, instead of trying to correct yourself like you normally might, you stay silent to avoid going off topic again and preventing him from getting to the point.

“i’m looking for a certain type of dagger,” he begins, and you realize it’s taking quite a bit of effort to keep looking up at him from your seated position. he’s so tall. “i saw your museum has a weapons collection and was wondering–,” without thinking, you stand to alleviate the pressure on your neck. he pauses in his speech, but is quick to realize you’re simply just standing and that he’s free to keep talking, “–if you’d be able to help me find out if you have any. i hear you’re the weapons expert?”

“yep, that’s me!” you say, unable to completely tamp down your excitement about the topic. only then do you realize that your timing to stand up was slightly odd, but you forge on for the sake of daggers. your favorite subset of weapons. “um, what sort of dagger are you looking for?”

“a scottish dirk?” he answers like he’s asking a question, as if he’s not sure how odd it is to ask that. it is sort of odd, only because you can’t understand exactly what the fbi’s interest is in scottish daggers, but you couldn’t care less. 

your eyes light up and you grin, “we have plenty. actually, it’s quite a collection for a small museum like ours. uhh, let me show you! we have one on display, but personally, i think the ones in storage are the ones you’ll want to see,” you brush past him and head out into the hallway towards storage. 

he follows behind as you continue talking, “i mean, of course the one on display is incredible, it’s just that the best one doesn’t quite fit into the right time frame for this particular exhibit,” you explain, though you think a moment after that he surely couldn’t care less about those details. then, your curiosity gets the best of you, “so, am i allowed to ask why the fbi is looking for scottish dirks? i just didn’t think they’d be something the u.s. government would be concerned about for any reason. oh, well– not that it can’t be! you can certainly investigate anything you want, obviously,” you stop yourself there before you can say anything else borderline embarrassing.

“well, it may be connected to some odd deaths we’re investigating here. we’re just following every possibility.” his answer is completely cryptic and absolutely no help in calming your curiosities. you can’t think of any possible way that sixteenth century scottish daggers could be connected to unexplained deaths.

“you mean the… body in the lake?” you question aloud when the news article you read last week pops into your mind. the word “body” is used lightly; they only found the woman’s liver floating on the surface. you swipe your key card to open the door to storage and lead him inside, then you register that he said “deaths,” plural. “there was more than one?”

“yeah, over the course of the past … few years. the one from last week is just the most recent, second to the one we found this morning.” you’re not sure why he hesitates over the word “few,” but you figure he’s got all sorts of reasons to act secretive. 

“o-oh,” you stammer out, as everything suddenly turns so morbid, “i didn’t know that,” you reply as you stop without thinking at the right storage container. from the desk behind you, you grab a pair of gloves and ask him to put them on as well before you carefully extract the three long knives from their shelf. “so, what? you think someone’s using a scottish dirk to cut people up and throw their livers in the lake? odd considering the dirk is a thrusting blade. wouldn’t be very effective for such a task. well, uh, not that i’d really know. well, i do because i– but not like that! obviously, i’ve never used a scottish dirk to– nevermind.” you let out a little breath that’s half laugh half sigh and force yourself to focus on unwrapping the blades in front of you, each around at least a foot long.

you completely miss the endeared look that the agent gives you. sam only came in to see if the museum had the dagger and figure out how to steal it after hours to complete this case, but you’ve completely occupied his attention. he wants to hear you talk, loves the way you got excited when he asked about the dirk, thinks it’s sweet the way words tumble out of your mouth and your eyebrows change when you realize it was an awkward way to say things. and as a plus, your knowledge of the blade and its history could very likely be helpful.

“we’re not sure exactly how the dirk fits in, but that’s helpful to know,” he says kindly, peering down at the daggers. they’re beautiful and well-crafted, one with a particularly intricately carved handle. “that douche back there,” he begins, and you laugh a little at his unprofessional language, “he said you were interested in “fairy tales” related to weapons. i assume he meant folklore and mythologies? is there anything you can tell me about the folklore behind these?”

you almost cringe, thinking agent giles must find you silly until he proves just the opposite.

“yes, definitely! mark—the douchebag—loves to make fun of me for it, but it’s an important part of the job,” you explain, “it’s just, you might have to interrupt me, i get kind of excited about this kind of thing and, uh, i might start rambling,” you warn with a sheepish smile.

“any information helps,” he reassures. with that, you can’t help yourself, silently apologizing for the pure shitload of nerdy information he’s about to have dumped on him.

“well, if you insist. don’t say i didn’t warn you, but i’ll do my best to stick to the highlights,” you glance at him fleetingly and send him a smile you hope isn’t too awkward. you can’t help but notice he sends back a similar expression. so worried about your own behavior, you hadn’t realized that he’s also sort of awkward. it’s sweet and it makes you feel a bit more relaxed as you turn your attention back to the topic at hand. 

“the dirk, biodag in scottish gaelic, is a particularly important part of traditional scottish highlander culture. it was very common for warrior cultures to swear their most important oaths on their swords, but for the highlanders, it was done with their dirk. these oaths were binding with what was called the force of a gaes, which involved severe supernatural consequences were the oath to be broken. the iron of the dirk was considered to be holy, which stems from the folk superstitions that iron can protect against mythological creatures. these two,” you point to the simpler of the three knives, “are 17th century dirks, crafted with soligen steel, as there was a sort of magic ascribed to the forging of germanic steel that became popular in later centuries. 

“but, this one is a very early version of the dirk from the early 16th century, and made frompure iron,” you smile as you move on to talk about the third dirk, the one sam had noticed to be particularly ornate, “and therefore more aligned with traditional scottish folklore, as iron is considered to be stronger than any sort of alloy, like steel, against supernatural forces. this one’s definitely my favorite, just don’t tell the others,” you finish off with satisfaction, and even an affection that sam secretly finds adorable.

“it is a beautiful blade,” he agrees, in a way that makes you think he genuinely appreciates its value. “now, is there any sort of supernatural creature that the dirk specifically is used to kill?” sam knows the answer he’s looking for, but he’s always eager to confirm any sort of lore that he’s not intimately familiar with, so he asks despite the weirdness of it all.

this question is certainly very odd to you, and you can’t understand why he’d need to know, but you answer anyway. “well, it can depend on who you ask or what records you look at. in many cases, any old thing made of iron, or silver, depending, would do, especially because most folklore dates back to before the development of the highland dirk. but, there are definitely accounts of supernatural creatures being killed or warded off using a dirk, especially one used for a blood oath that was never broken. some believe the strength of an oath fulfilled made the weapon stronger and able to kill creatures otherwise thought unkillable.”

he takes in all of this information with such a serious and straight face that you really begin to question how this could all be about unsolved murders. he seems to think the folklore is going to help him solve real life mysteries, or maybe he’s just secretly interested in this sort of thing and using the opportunity to learn about it.

“and do you know anything in particular about a creature called the each-uisge?”

“each-uisge?” you repeat, unable to stop yourself from laughing a little in surprise. now you’re perfectly sure this federal government investigator is just a secret nerd with an interest in niche folklore. even his pronunciation is decent, though he neglected the back-of-the-throat sound of the “ch.” 

“well– i mean, yes, there are accounts of each-uisge being warded away by both silver bullets and an iron dirk,” you indulge, “i know less about the each-uisge themselves than dirks, but i’ve never read any account of one being killed. though, i do suppose an oath-strengthened dirk might be just the thing to do it.”

he nods intently. “listen, i’m sure this is a long shot,” agent giles begins, gesturing haphazardly with his gloved hands, and you wonder what sort of strange thing he could ask this time, “but is there a way of knowing if this one,” he points to the pure iron dirk, “might have been used to fullfill an oath?”

at that you can’t help but snort out a laugh. “what, are you trying to hunt down a each-uisge?” you tease. “you know that they’re only located in scotland, right? … i mean, if they were real, obviously.” by the end, your tone is no longer playful as your mind returns to the news of missing, presumed dead people, with nothing left but their livers found in the nearby lake. then you think about the history of the town, once heavy with scottish imigrants when it was founded in the early eighteenth century. and finally, all in just a second or two, you fully recall the story of the each-uisge, a vicious, shape-shifting horse that drowns its victims at the bottom of the nearest lake and eats their whole body except the liver, which floats to the surface. a chill runs up your spine before you tamp down the ridiculous suspicions that fill your mind.

“right, obviously,” agent giles laughs too, but it’s sort of stiff, like he wasn’t really joking when he asked. you’re certainly not laughing anymore. “as for the dirk?”

you raise your eyebrows, “hm?” is all you can manage as your mind goes sort of blank. there’s absolutely no way that what you’re thinking about could actually be true, so you brush it off and try to listen to the agent—if that’s really who he is.

“can you tell?” he asks again.

“uh– tell what? oh– oh! if it was used to swear an oath?” you prompt. he nods. “well, i mean, ha. not really, not for sure. we have tested, and there are traces of blood on the blade,” you gesture towards it vaguely, “but, um, that could be from anywhere, not just an oath, you know? lots of fighting…and stuff, uh, those days,” your voice trails off as you laugh and nod a little awkwardly, starting to feel more and more confused about this agent giles, no matter how pretty his soft-looking brown hair is. you tell yourself he’s just curious, but he just looks oh so serious, despite the fact that he’s trying to seem casual and normal about this unconventional conversation.

“hm,” is the only little sound he makes in response, like he’s almost disappointed and considering something weighty you don’t know about because of your unsure answer.

and because you hate to see that little frown on his face, you keep talking, “but, it’s more than likely that this blade was owned by a high ranking clansman, possibly even the chief, as indicated by the ornate nature of the handle and overall high quality. oaths were, in retrospect, decently common to make, even more so for high ranking clansmen.

“which means it is very likely that at least one, maybe many oaths have been sworn using this blade. of course, there’s no telling whether each oath was fulfilled, but considering the cultural importance of loyalty and honor and the roles of oaths in such, it wouldn’t be far fetched to consider this dirk as the kind strong enough to kill a each-uisge. if, you know, you wanted to know a random, cool, and totally niche fun fact about one of my favorite weapons in this museum’s storage room,” in the last sentence, you speak in a clunky, awkward sort of way as you run out of interesting tidbits to info-dump and your mind instead wanders back to the undeniably peculiar circumstances surrounding this conversation. the laugh you let out at the end is quiet, and far more nervous than humored.

the smile he gives you then is sympathetic, like he knows this is all weird and maybe a little alarming if you’re willing to question your non-belief in the supernatural. you’re no longer sure at all that he’s an fbi agent, but strangely enough, you don’t find yourself feeling distrustful of him. your gut tells you that he’s good, and you decide to trust it.

“all of this was a big help,” he says, the sincerity in his voice almost tangible, “thank you.” that makes you feel good, because it seems to you like he’s just trying to help people. with what, you’re not sure, and then you sort of wish that he’d made some sort of joke about how this last part of the conversation wasn’t actually helpful, just interesting. interesting and completely irrelevant to the livers on the lake. 

you swallow hard, “of course. glad i could be of help to you, agent.”

“sam,” he corrects. “just sam is alright.”

“oh. right. just sam,” you nod and wonder if the feeling in your chest could be your heart fluttering. your eyes flicker from his face to his broad shoulders, to his pretty, big hands and the way his right middle finger taps against the side of his thigh. then, worried you’re staring, your gaze flits down to your own hands, resting on the table, then to the daggers you know so well. yet, you look at them different this time. you’ve certainly wondered about the oaths that may have been sworn by their blades and their connections to traditional superstitions. but now you look at them and wonder if it’s real. if one of these blades had been used to ward off a real-life myth in the past, or been magically strengthened by blood and kept promises. sam—you think sam fits him so much better than agent giles—has shifted your perspective of the things you’ve been studying and learning about and loving for years and years of your life.

it’s true that you’ve always been one to daydream, to wonder; that’s where your fascination with folklore and fairy tales comes from. always, you’ve looked for rumored mythological weapons in the real world and marveled at the less historic possibilities of the things you study. and you think that if it were anyone else, or if he talked to or looked at you in a different way, you wouldn’t be questioning your reality like this, but you are. maybe you’re predisposed to believing, or just too curious for your own good, but you know at that moment that you won’t be able to let this go.

sam clears his throat to break the awkward silence, and he thinks he can see the gears in your head turning, the way they have been since he asked about the each-uisge. he hopes desperatly you won’t ask him if he thinks this is all real, all because he doesn’t think he could lie to you anymore. there’s something about your authenticity, your intelligence and innate curiosity, and the goodness that you so clearly carry with you that simultaneously makes him want to tell you everything and protect you from the truth. the latter option is always his go-to, rightfully so, but he can’t explain to himself the way that he purely just wants to share with you, bring you closer to him through a shared understanding of the world. sam thinks he must be crazy, because he just met you and thinks it would be entirely possible to fall right in love with you if he got the chance to get to know you.

then he realizes that he’s the one staring. “right, well… i should get going. you know. i’ve got another lead i need to follow up on,” he forces the words out like he doesn’t want to go, and it’s true. he doesn’t, but if he spends more time with you, he’ll have to keep lying, and he doesn’t want to do that. more importantly, he doesn’t want to expose you to anything more that could put you in danger.

“right. right, of course,” you nod, and you’re practically breaking his heart because you fail to hide the disappointment on your face for a split second. he hadn’t realized he was looking at you that carefully to catch the look, but he doesn’t regret it. he’s discovered that he likes looking at you enough to not care much about that sort of thing. “would you like me to show you out, or do you remember the way?”

“i’m alright,” sam answers on instinct before his heart breaks doubly because your eyes look sad again for a moment, “but let me walk you back to your office. or, no, let me buy you that superfood salad for taking up your time,” he amends quickly.

“i already ate lunch, but– shit,” you interrupt yourself, cursing when you realize he was flirting. then you get flustered, “no, i mean– uh, well– okay! er, no, that’s okay, i mean,” because there’s no taking back the fact that you already said you ate lunch already. you take a breath to steady yourself, “but you can definitely walk me back to my office, let me just put these away, it’ll be quick–,” your hands rush to wrap up the daggers before you remember their fragility, “oh– sorry! thank you for the offer, though! that would’ve been completely unnecessary, i’m just glad i could help. not that i wouldn’t– uh,” you gulp anxiously, “not that i wouldn’t eat lunch with you, of course– well, if that’s what you were implying which maybe it wasn’t, which, in that case–”

sam who cuts you off, “it’s alright,” he reassures before you can keep rambling, “that is what i’m implying, but…” he quiets for a split second, only because he’s a littly shy, “it’s okay. maybe, yknow, when the case is over, we can go for lunch, if that’s alright with you?”

you inhale sharply, nodding silently before remembering you should answer aloud too. when you do, your voice is a little breathless, “yeah, yeah, that sounds good.” then, you’re fighting back a grin.

“great,” he doesn’t hide his own smile as he dips his hand into a jacket pocket and hands you his card. “call me tomorrow, we can set up a time.” you accept the card with a shy smile, and one beat, two beats of silence pass before the both of you realize you’re staring at the other.

in sync, you snap out of it, gazes jerking elsewhere and hands flying anywhere to get busy. you turn to the blades on the table and he focuses on fixing up the black jacket of his suit. you try to ignore him as you put the artifacts away, expecting for him to have said goodbye and left by the time you turn back to him. when you look at him in confusion, the corner of his mouth quirks up when he realizes you’ve forgotten that you said he could walk you back to your office.

he vaguely motions towards the door, “shall we? i’ll walk you to your office, then i’m good to find my way out.”

“oh! right, of course!” you nod, “yeah.” with your lips pursed in an awkward smile, you turn to the door and walk towards the exit without looking to see if he follows. but you don’t have to, because a half-second later, he’s right by your side, which you can attribute his long strides to. you like the way he lingers close to you, closer than he did when you first walked in together, even if it makes you feel flustered so that your hands mess with the hem of your shirt.

you stop at the office door, turning to him and expecting your goodbye to happen surrounded by the empty, white walls of the hallway.

but, he points to the door with his chin. “i’ll walk you in,” he explains, “show that asshole, mark, that you’re friendly with an fbi agent.”

“oh,” you sigh out through a smile, “you don’t have to do that, yknow. i know he’s an idiot.”

he laughs at that. “yeah, he absolutely is,” he agrees readily, “but, i still wanna. i think of it as part of my job to scare off assholes.” especially from pretty people like you, he wants to say. he’s just too shy for that, thinks it would be too soon to say it.

“well then, be my guest,” you smile as you open the door and let him follow close behind you.

“thank you for all of your help,” sam says, repeating what he said before, louder than he has to so that mark, a few desks away from yours, can hear it all, “you really helped move our investigation along. i think we’ll be able to wrap it up soon, thanks to you.” you’re sure that he’s over-exaggerating, but you certainly aren’t going to stop him from proving a point to mark.

“it was the least i could do,” you play along, trying to hide your grin from your coworkers, because you can feel all their eyes on you. when you sit, sam looks down at you with nothing short of affection, just for a moment before your eyes settle back on his pretty face.

“have a nice rest of your day,” he smiles before turning away. then he reaches the door, not too far away, he turns back around and speaks for everyone to hear, “don’t forget to call me, yeah?” before disappearing and leaving you a flustered, grinning mess. you can’t help but steal a look at mark and feel satisfaction run through your veins at his utterly shocked expression. 

he looks to have gone through the five stages of grief in a matter of seconds, and it’s frankly hilarious. he can’t seem to possibly consider the fact that you absolutely just pulled a (not?) fbi agent, not to mention one who’s that tall and just plain attractive. you can’t wait to catch whatever comical expression he wears when he sees you greeted by sam in the museum foyer during your lunch break for a date (because surely he’ll be sitting in the café watching people walk in and out as he’s chewing on his nasty sandwich).

part two : now you know

[durrtydawg]

Hey queen get better soon 🌟🌟🌟

Since your requests are open, some Sam fluff with just one bed trope pleeeeasee ���

Abso-flipping-lutely, babycakes.

I got another anon asking for this, so I hope they find it. I'm sooo sleep deprived, thus might revisit and jazz this up at a later date, but until then, here's one of many takes of the one bed trope <3

Masterlist

One Bed

Sam Drake x Reader {Fluff Req.}

Words: 4k approx | Warnings: Blood mention, weapons mention

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

"Got that stupid coin of yours?"

You watch Sam cock his head at you in confusion whilst you perch on the dresser inside your newly-appointed motel room.

Sam ferrets around his duffel with a frown as he pulls out the time-worn coin he may as well attach to himself surgically at this point.

"Give."

"What are you doing?"

You ignore him, flexing your hand in his direction to encourage him into throwing it over. His brows furrow harder as a curious smile appears on his lips. Intrigued, He tosses you the coin, and you instantly conceal it in your hands.

"Heads or tails?"

"Uh...heads?" Sam shakes his own, not one to rope himself into something without any prior knowledge.  "Hold on. What are we bettin’ on here?"

You flip the coin rather ungracefully, swivelling to catch it to avoid dropping it on the floor.

"Who gets the bed." You cover the coin post-flip, ready to reveal the winner. "And tails always wi..."

You trail off and stare at your palm in silence. Heads. Sam approaches and looks over your shoulder, patting you in commiseration.

"That backfired, huh?" He chuckles, snatching back his coin as he smirks at your defeat.

"Hmm." You retort, a sarcastic smile on your face as you trudge over to the bed and pick up a pillow with a sigh.

"What are you-" he puts his hand out in confusion, watching as you walk away from the bed and over to the bathroom door. “Where are you going with that pillow?"

"Bathtub. I'm sure as hell not sleeping on the floor and listening to you snore."

"The bath- just share the bed! We're adults, aren't we?" Sam lets out a bemused laugh. "And- you know full well- I don't snore."

You raise an accusatory brow, tucking the pillow under your arm. Sam shakes his head, throwing his arms up in the air as he walks over to where he’d kicked off his boots.

"I am an adult. Which is exactly why I refuse to share."

"Fine! I will go back to the grumpy old bastard at reception, and ask for a spare room."

You sigh. "Like you, I lack the energy to argue. If letting you have your own bed is what it'll take for you to remove whatever stick has been so uncomfortably jammed up your ass over the past few hours, I'm happy to leave it at that."

He grumbles, stepping back into his boots, too tired to do up the laces. "No- nope. You take it. I am nothing if not a gentleman. Besides, I don't want to hear you complaining for days about a stiff neck, or whatever other little princess injury you'd end up givin' yourself."

He puts the strap of his holdall back over his shoulder with a tired huff, approaching the door, hand resting on the handle. Before he turns it, he speaks once more.

“Anyways, I’ll have you know that I’ve shared a bed with many, many people," he chuckles, more so to himself than to you. "Not a single one of ‘em ever complained about snoring. Or... complained about anything, come to think of it." Sam smirks.

You scoff and roll your eyes at his need to make things crass, putting your hands together as if in prayer.

“Please, tell me more about what you and your dick get up to in your spare time. It’s fascinating.”  

“Alright, alright.” He chuckles, opening the door. “Gotta admit, though,” He continues, looking behind him into the corridor before turning back to you with slightly narrowed eyes. “I really thought we had something good going here, sweetheart. I'm a little hurt you're so against a cozy one-night... cuddle.”

You grin into the pillow as you raise an inquisitive brow. “Oh yeah? Cuddle?” You laugh.

Sam simply looks at you with a smile, practically begging to be goaded further. You clear your throat and straighten your posture, as if you're assuming an act. “Tell me more.” You eventually say, voice muffled as you play along.

You’ve always been a fan of Sam’s… suggestive nature. And he’s always admired your ability to take it on the chin. You two are a match made in heaven.

Or is it more… platonic purgatory?

“Pfft. Of course.” He chuckles, folding his arms with his back leaned up against the door frame. He clears his throat too, putting his hand on his chin in thought. “All those passing glances when we were stuck in that forest…”

You lower the pillow, grin deepening. “Hmm. You must mean my turning to make sure you’ve managed to catch up with me?”

He raises a brow towards you, tongue toying with his teeth. Calculating. “…that sighing you keep doin’ around me...” He looks up to the ceiling in mock thought as you cut in again.

“A sign of my ever-dwindling patience?”

He swats his hand in the air, as if to keep you hushed. “This little back ’n’ forth bickering thing we’ve got goin’.” He clicks his tongue. “Gotta say, it’s a shame you're passin' up such an opportunity as this.” He gestures behind you, over to the bed.

You laugh, nodding. “Hmm. I guess sharing that bed could have us really getting to know each other.”

He gives you a teasing smirk, the mischievous glint in his eyes making your cheeks heat up- something you’ve been unable to help since your first job together. Luckily for the sake of your dignity, the pillow serves as a perfect shield.

Sam pouts, mimicking a kiss. Funny how almost dying leads you to revert back to childish conversation.

“Get out.” You laugh, throwing the pillow at him which he swerves just about as you swivel for the bathroom.

“Alright. I'm goin'. Enjoy your cold, lonely bed.”

“I will!” You chirp from behind the bathroom door, grabbing a towel from the folded pile beside the sink and hanging it beside the shower.

You hear the door close and turn on the shower, giving it a moment to warm up as you take off your mud and sweat-saturated clothes, unable to wipe the smile off of your face.

A fierce sting shoots through your upper leg as you peel off your cargos- upon closer inspection, you notice a tear in the fabric at your outer thigh. And thus, the smile is gone.

You kick them off, and ogle at the long gash along your skin- a sore reminder of the run-in with some somewhat feral bandits you and Sam had dealt with mere hours ago. The blood seems to have dried, effectively sealing the wound, but that’s not to say it doesn’t bite like a bitch.

You’d been wrestled to the ground by a member of the group that had the pair of you under attack, the gentleman in question had a knife in his hand, and your gun had long-been out of ammo. If it wasn’t for Sam’s boot swiftly connecting with your assailant's head, a lengthy cut on the thigh would’ve been the least of your problems.

For anyone else, this event alone would be enough to persuade one to partake in several therapy sessions. But, as is tradition with you two, a quick once-over for lethal injuries and a shaky joke about your uncharacteristic lack of finesse is all it took for to divert you back to the task in hand.

Ultimately, though, Sam did save your life today. You can’t help but think that maybe you should be the one finding somewhere else to sleep.

Or you should’ve just been an adult and let him share.

Shrugging off the soreness of your leg, and the guilt of letting Sam take responsibility for the single bed mishap, you step into the shower, using the entirety of the hotel’s adorably tiny tube of shower gel to scrub away evidence of the day’s toil.

Finished, you wrap yourself in your towel, brushing your teeth twice over before you hear the door open and close.

You cautiously open the door, peeking through the gap to see Sam lounging on the bed, chewing some sort of granola bar whilst he channel surfs through a series of programs that he has no actual interest in. You adjust your posture, relieved, but equally miffed that all you’ve got covering you is a towel- your bag on the other side of the room.

“Yay, he’s back!” You chirp through clenched teeth, hastily scampering over to your backpack which Sam has oh-so-conveniently placed himself right next to.

“No more rooms.” He shrugs, taking another bite as he continues to stare mindlessly at the TV, before taking a pause to inspect the bar’s packaging. “Decent vending machine, though.”

“Just when I thought there was no silver lining.” You smile sarcastically, hurriedly rifling through your bag for the cleanest t-shirt and pair of shorts you can find.

You finally catch his eye and an irksome wolf-whistle accompanies a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. You know it's a harmless joke, but you're growing increasingly more exhausted and, fuck, your leg is really stinging.

“Don't be a pest.”

“What? Hardly leaves much to the imagination.” He smirks to himself, looking back to the TV screen.

You frown, self-consciously tightening your hold on the towel wrapped around you. It’s extremely rare that Sam crosses the boundary between harmless flirtation and being straight up weird.

Unfortunately, the latter is swiftly making an appearance due to the rapid progression of your irritability caused by the pain in your leg.

He clears his throat as he clocks your sudden aversion to the conversation, and you direct your stare back to your bag. Slight unease fills the gap between the foreign TV show crackling in the background and the silence between you both.

"I'm..." He starts quietly, his hand cautiously rubbing the back of his neck as he looks away from you coyly. He sniffs. Anything to fill the silence. Anything to avoid an apology.

You press your hand on your thigh to push yourself back upright, ready to make a dash back to the bathroom to pull yourself together and get dressed. Unfortunately, the desired getaway is trampled on as you stand; you grunt suddenly as you accidentally apply pressure to the gash on your thigh, agitating it, and splitting it enough for it to start bleeding again. Almost instantly a small crimson patch becomes visible on the outside of your towel, and you hiss in annoyance, unwittingly attracting Sam’s attention.

"You good?” He asks almost awkwardly.

"Uh-" you bundle your clothes together, bunching them up around your upper thigh, turning away from Sam to dig your shorts out of your bag all whilst shielding your reddened cheeks from his eye line. "Yep. All good."

He adjusts his posture, swivelling his legs off of the bed as he sits up and narrows his eyes at you. “I smell bullshit here, sweetheart. What are you hiding?”

You screw your face up a little, debating whether to tell him or not, cheeks warming even more due to your flustered nature and the sudden protective softness of his tone… yay. Insult, meet injury. 

You eventually grumble in defeat, knuckles tightening more around the twist in the towel by your chest as you return to the bathroom, angling the door for the sake of modesty. “You're not gonna leave this alone are you?" Your voice is muffled by your t-shirt as you shimmy out of the towel and slide it over your head. You step into your shorts with another wince as the fabric grazes the wound.

"Nope." He pops the ‘P’, arms folded as he stands, crumpling the wrapper of the granola bar thing in his hand as he chews on the last bite.

You sigh, slowly stepping back out of the bathroom, the material pulled aside to reveal the long, but fortunately not perilously deep nick, decorating your upper leg with a steadily dribbling stream of blood. Sam’s brows raise, and he freezes mid-chew, giving you an almost chastising glare which makes you instantly jump on the defence.

"Don't- look- It's fine. I'm fine."

“Bleeding pretty damn bad to be ‘fine’, if you ask me.” He swallows, as you scramble through your kit for first aid supplies. “When did that happen?"

You sigh, hating the fuss. "When do you think it happened?" You say, finding the small box of medical supplies stuffed amongst the rest of your belongings and quickly taking a seat on the end of the bed. You take out the things you need, saturating a cotton pad with a cleansing solution as you feel that horrible tension once more.

Sam double takes at you as he walks past you to dispose of his wrapper. "Oh, right. The guy with the knife that 'didn't touch you'?"

"I'm a good liar, Samuel, what can I say- ow!" You hiss as you dab cleansing solution over the wound.

Your hands tremble.

There’s always been something about fixing your own wounds that’s much more of a challenge than managing someone else’s.

"Well… at least now, you can feel less guilty about giving him a severe concussion." 

He shrugs as he rinses off his hands in the bathroom sink before walking back over to you.

You try again, cheeks practically burning by now as you feel Sam’s scrutinising gaze fall over you. You daren’t look up- you presume his eyes are either going to be riddled with judgement or some sort of patronising sympathy- neither an option you care for. You hold your breath, dabbing the saturated cotton wool back against the worst part of the gash, but you grunt just a little too uncomfortably for Sam to stay silent for much longer.

“Alright- give me that.” He steps towards you, extending a hand to the first aid kit, which you let him take with a huff.

Sam kneels in front of you, carefully bracing a hand on your thigh whilst the other takes the cotton wool out of your shaky hand. He begins using the clean side to prevent a dribble of blood from hitting the sheets beneath you whilst he inspects the injury.

"It's only a flesh wound...so…" He says, almost as if he’s reassuring himself about something. You wait curiously as he gets out the remainder of your anti-bacterial solution and some more cotton wool from the small first aid kit, leaving the dirty cotton pad on the floor. 

The end of his sentence never comes. 

The sudden cold sting as he gently dabs at the sore gash on your thigh sends your hands instinctively grabbing at Sam’s forearm with another hiss, causing him to look at you with concern. There’s something else underlying the concern though. Not quite anger, but… he’s definitely vexed.

Sam's fingers are gentle, and you can't help but appreciate the care he’s taking, even if there seems to be a slight discomfort to the silence. He wraps some gauze over the wound before unravelling the last of the roll of bandage, hesitating for a moment. 

He stays silent, and you frown as you watch a series of undecipherable expressions fall over him as he stares at your thigh, almost as if he’s daydreaming.

“Hey.” You gently nudge his chest with your knee, tilting your head down to bring him back to earth as he fiddles with the bandage. “What’s… going on up here?” You cautiously smile, tapping the spot between his eyebrows. 

Sam’s eyes finally meet yours, and you feel your stomach drop a little as his stern expression doesn’t fade remotely.

He takes you in, eyes grazing over every part of your face; eyes, nose, cheeks, lips.

Then, with a speck of what you can only decipher as shame in his eyes, his stare snaps back to your leg.

"I…could’a lost you today."

His voice is low and sincere. So much so that it makes it hard for you to look at him. Serious moments between the two of you are few and far between- you’ve never really learned how to navigate them.

“It’s…just my leg. I’m okay.” You reply quietly, trying to keep the soft smile on your face.

“Could’ve been your throat.” He says, brows still knitted together, eyes flitting down to the bandage in his hands. “Should’ve got to you sooner.”

You frown.

“Why do you think I’m so incapable of holding my own?” You ask, almost taken aback by his sudden shift in tone, your fists grabbing the sheets in an attempt to alleviate the sharp sting from your wound still.

“What?” He scoffs, still concentrating on your leg as he begins to wrap the bandage over your skin. “I don’t think you’re incapable?”

“So why say that?” You ask, curiosity lilting your words.

His eyes are sympathetic for a moment, before they reinstate themselves with a hint of determination. "I think you’re more capable than me most days, ya know. Lift.” He instructs you to raise your leg so he can bring the bandage underneath, but his comment is far from lost by you. He stops speaking again, but it’s clear there’s something he wants to say. 

“You don’t need to keep things from me.” you say, and Sam does a little huff to himself as he continues securing the bandage. Not good enough.

“Sam,” You urge, resting your hands on the sides of his face, forcing him to give you every ounce of his attention as you tilt him up to you. “You’re acting off all of a sudden. Talk to me.”

He’s hard to read for a moment, before he sighs and almost leans into your hands.

“With each run-in we’ve had over the past… two- three years, I feel like I’m becoming more and more scared about you-”

You let go of him, leaning back slightly. “So I am incapable.”

“Jesus- no! Let me speak.” He retorts, tightening the knot on the bandage before tucking it away. You sigh and shift back, pulling yourself fully onto the bed and patting the spot beside you to beckon him to sit too.

He stands, moving the first aid kit onto the floor before sitting, almost reluctantly, beside you on the bed.

Sam lays his head back against the headboard, folding his arms over his chest as he takes a moment to deduce his thoughts. “I’m already on thin ice here. I’m trying not to come across as some kinda-”

“Oh my god, spit it out.” You push, turning onto your side to look at him fully as he stares up to the ceiling, laughing a little at your sudden, but warranted impatience.

“I want to work with you. All the damn time. That’s pretty obvious, right?” He finally turns his head down to you, and you narrow your eyes slightly as you await whatever he’s about to say next. “Every time you get… hurt. No matter how stupid the injury, I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault. Like it’s my responsibility to…fuck, I don’t know.”

He gnaws at his lower lip, eyes suddenly struggling to stay in line with your own.

"I've... I've never felt- never had this... intrinsic need to be so protective over somebody, and I- ” Sam admits, his voice low and with an unsteadiness that makes your arm hairs stand on end. “Look. I know I make it difficult to know where we stand, sometimes. You n’me. I step over the line. N'I don't like making you feel... uncomfortable- inadequate, whatever-”

You stare at your bandaged leg, momentarily lost for words.

"Just- I don't know. Watching that guy on top'a you? The fear I felt-"

It’s fair to say that his… vulnerability strikes a chord deep within you- and you’re both acutely aware of the ever-festering bond the two of you have. Friendship scales tipped just off centre.

“I care about you.”

Suddenly, they’re erring on losing balance entirely.

You prop yourself up a little more. “Yeah, I know you do-”

“No- I- I really care."

He stares at his hands, eyes narrowed, almost as if he’s afraid to look in your direction.

You want to respond. To tell him that you understand, but the words don't come. The few seconds of silence feel like hours. It’s so thick you think you’re going to choke.

Sam clears his throat, poorly trying to mask his discomfort. "I'm gonna... take a shower. Need to clear my head." He stands up abruptly, almost knocking over the first aid kit in his haste.

You nod, giving him space. "Okay," you whisper, watching as he disappears into the bathroom. The muffled sound of running water fills the room, and you lie back, staring at the ceiling.

The day's events replay in your mind, mingling with Sam's emotional fluctuations. It feels like a weird turning point, a moment where a bunch of things are hanging in the balance- ready to do a 180° turn any moment. They just need a catalyst.

As the minutes tick by, exhaustion starts to creep in, mellowing the nervous pinch in your stomach. You close your eyes, letting the steady hum of the shower lull you into a light sleep. When you hear the bathroom door open again, you stir, blinking sleepily as Sam re-enters the room, steam billowing out from behind him.

He glances at you briefly before making his way to the bed, his movements cautious, almost hesitant.

He looks at you, a soft expression on his face as he stops towel-drying his hair, his free hand fiddling with the drawstring of his shorts.

"You sleepin’?”

"Not quite."

"Good," he says, grabbing the free pillow and tossing it to the ground, resting his damp towel flat beside it.. "Didn’t want to wake you."

“You- you’re not sleeping on the floor.”

“Yeah, well the tub’s too small so-”

“Sam.” You say, a tired rasp dulling down the sternness.

Sam pauses, his eyes flickering between your body and the floor, the moonlight filtering through the thin curtains softly illuminating his conflicted expression.

He’s rarely ever this hesitant. Usually, he’s full of confidence, even arrogance at times, but now… now he seems almost timid.

“Y’sure?” he asks quietly, the question barely more than a whisper.

You nod, patting the empty space beside you.

With a deep breath, he finally relents, sitting down on the edge with a cautiousness that makes your heart ache a little.

You watch as he carefully gets into bed, staying on top of the blankets and purposefully facing away from you. The distance feels unnecessary, almost painful. So you reach out, your fingers brushing against his upper arm.

“Hey.”

He turns slightly, looking over his shoulder at you. "Yeah?"

"I get it."

You don’t say anything else- you just shift closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his bare shoulder. It’s a simple gesture, but it conveys everything you’re feeling. I care about you, too.

His skin is warm and smells faintly of soap, and you nuzzle your face into his upper back, only hoping he feels the same comfort that you do.

He tenses- just for a split second before he exhales, body relaxing.

Neither of you speak; You tuck your face deeper into his back, letting the rhythm of his breathing lull you further away from the day.

As you fall asleep, with a gentle yet deliberate motion, Sam finds your hand, his fingers threading through yours. He brings your arm around his waist, holding your hand tightly against his chest.

His thumb softly strokes the back of your hand, a soothing, repetitive motion that makes your heart swell.

"Thank you."

He shifts slightly, turning his head to press a soft kiss to your sore knuckles.

Any more words can wait ‘til morning.

[ghysry]

A backstory for brisket Five? Say less!

Tags: Diego and Five bond:(, semi-happy ending, brisket Five, he's retired, not an x reader, if you guys want me to make one just ring the bell!, He's so silly!, now let's traumatize him, shows how brisket Five got his name

Characters: Five | the brisket boy (TUA show), Diego Hargreeves, slight mention of Luther Hargreeves and Sloane Hargreeves, Waiter Five cameo at the end

---------------------------------------------------

"You used to be one of the rotten ones."

Five wouldn't say he had any artistic ability, in hindsight his calculations all over every space of his childhood bedroom might look like modern art to the gullible eye but it's more of an eyesore when you actually understand the things written down, some even have corrections all over them, which at one point stops looking good and starts looking like someone barfed numbers on top of numbers. He learned mathematics in the years he spent walking the empty wasteland of an apocalypse at the ripe age of thirteen to fifty-something, reading books over and over again that survived in the apocalypse was his only source of enjoyment, if not enjoyment, then to pass the time.

No one knows one of those books he picked up was a cook book, a mini-series of them, he vaguely remembers having six out of the eight that you could get in a standard book set of these page torn burnt at the side step-by-step instruction nightmares. But he kept them. There were no stoves anywhere - and if there were, there would be no gas to turn the thing on; besides, he didn't exactly have the materials to cook food anyway, so it was useless to carry those six books around so much, embarrassing, even. Yet it was still in his cart, all forty years he spent heaving it and dragging the wooden mess behind him, those books never left his sight, and he never let them get damaged.

"Step one, throw a pot on the stove and set the fire to medium heat, slice the meat and add it into the water, then--" Five mumbled with his eyes closed, his hand fumbling with a fork, before his ears picked up footsteps right outside of his hotel bedroom. "Five?" Diego knocked on his already open door, letting himself into the older-but-younger brother's room. "You hear the thing with Sloane and Luther? They're getting married," Diego announced, eyeing his sibling for a second, trying to gauge his opinion. If Diego wasn't Five's second favorite sibling he would have sent him out of his room in less than a second, but he is. "I know. Space boy marries space girl before the world ends, kisses and hugs, do I have to be there?" Five grumbles, standing up from the edge of his bed and making his way to Diego, too lazy to use his powers.

"Yes, you have to be there. You're Luther's sibling too you know?" Diego, who's been trying to work on his parental instincts, can't help but see Five as a kid who just can't be understood by certain people, and with this knowledge in his mind, he also can't help but wrap an arm around Five's shoulder and give off a smile. "I'll be there too."

Well, this certainly wasn't what Five thought would happen a few hours before his brother's wedding. He was baking..a cake, a wedding cake, with Diego, his other brother. Five eyed Diego from his peripheral vision, watching him mix the cake batter incorrectly. "Give it here," he sneers, blinking next to Diego and grabbing the mixer, doing it the right way and watching his brother stare at him in what he thought was either awe, annoyance, disgust, or all three. "What?" Five stepped aside, cracking an egg into the batter and then mixing again. "Nothing, I just didn't think of you as the type of guy that cooks."

...

"I don't." Five stares down at his hand holding the mixer, blinking at the weird thought that maybe he could be the type of guy who cooks. After all this, when the world eventually ends and he finds himself up in his version of heaven (which he would prefer if his siblings were nearby, but he'd never tell them that), he'd open a restaurant and cook all the stuff he wishes he could've when he was stuck in the apocalypse. Or, maybe, he just dies - either way now that he was doing it, it felt pretty good, thinking about how people would eat his cooking. "Diego, help me with this."

--There it is, that dreaded moment. After Luther's wedding, after they found the other side of the hotel, after they reset the universe, after everyone else left. The sinking feeling that his siblings would never get to taste his cooking again, dare he ever try to cook after that shit show, it felt worse than standing here alone, by himself, in a park on the bench hoping nobody walks by him and asks if he knows where his parents are. Truthfully, he doesn't even know what happened to his parents, neither Reginald or his biological mother.

[SOMEWHERE IN THE GODDAMN PRESENT]

He gave up on cooking, he realized it sooner or later. After opening a restaurant that was - by the way - extremely successful, he found himself trying to contact his siblings in his free time, once or twice a week, calling them then hanging up a few minutes later to make it seem like he never missed them, and the reason he was calling was only to check up on whether or not they're starting another apocalypse or something. Klaus and Diego got more calls than he'd like to admit, Diego had a family, Klaus was finally off drugs because he lost his powers, and Allison was taking care of him while Klaus was taking care of Claire; who Allison finally got back in this timeline. But that wasn't when he gave up on cooking, it was when he realized this timeline was still doomed to fail either way.

He remembered it as clearly as he remembers that stupid commission handbook, the subway, the diary, the amount of times he felt his chest tightening at the mere mention of another apocalypse, even worse, at the mention of his siblings dying, or his siblings having to die for the sake of the world. That wasn't what he wanted, it was far from what he thought the ending would look like. Maybe, for once, he could accept that he was gullible for thinking he'd ever have a happy ending, especially one that had his siblings in it. If not for his siblings abandoning him, it was him abandoning his siblings. Again.

One more thing he would never tell anyone is that he still blames himself for ending up so far into the future. At first, when he ended up in the apocalypse and couldn't teleport back in time, he thought it was his fault. Seeing his siblings bodies laying there dead and hearts investing, he thought when he jumped too far into the future, he lost all the time he could have spent with them before the apocalypse happened. It's why he wanted to stop it so badly in the first place, to be able to spend more time with his family, the only family he had. Now, he was stuck in a stupid subway with his head in his hands, shivering in one of the empty seats, using his shirt to cover him up as much as possible from the harsh temperature of the subway. Ten years. Ten years on the subway, ten years travelling different timelines, surviving, leaving, wishing for a better adventure. It was just like the apocalypse honestly, if it happened in a train that smelled weirdly like a mixed cleaning agent and a car freshener.

It was on one of those off days when he found the abandoned restaurant, well, it was abandoned when he first saw it, but it felt like the universe was actively laughing in his face when the subway chose to bring him here, though it was the only place he could stay and feel even a little bit closer to home. He stepped inside the dusty establishment, coughing as he did so, the lights were on and flickering, but he was only here to try and loot the place for food. He walked around the place, old shoes sounding against the tiled floor, senses heightened and a butter knife he found clutched tightly in his right hand.

When he opened the kitchen door, he almost lunged in surprise, well, that is if he could lunge at all, or if he could feel surprised at all. It was..another version of him, cooking a meal of some sort, like something you'd find in a shitty three star fast food restaurant, and the grease was just everywhere on that thing. "Do you mind?" The other Five cleared his throat and raised his eyebrow, staring at the Five who was holding a butter knife in his hand.

"You hungry? I could cook you something too." Waiter Five smiled, well, it wasn't really a smile, more like a small smirk pointed towards the other Five who was just standing there like a bear poked. "I'll make my own food," Five answered, clearing his throat, but his hand never let go of the butter knife at his disposal.

"Got any brisket?"

[mxshifter]

hot take i guess but am i crazy for thinking that race changing is morally wrong.. because i keep getting things flooded in my feed about people on shiftblr defending it and i don’t understand why people feel the need to basically be rcta (race change to another) in their DR. if we can look at that and be like “hey this is not only weird and fetishize-y but also “aesthetic”-ifying a certain race which you aren’t apart of” what makes it different if you shift to do that exact same thing🧍? i don’t know if its just a me thing because my morals/beliefs transcend realities but i don’t understand shifting to a reality where your race is different just “because you want to” as if bipoc get to, in the same way, chose to be people of color and face inherent oppression everywhere we go. i just don’t understand how you can exist in a reality where bipoc are oppressed for existing, that oppression being an active factor in our everyday lives, and the way we view ourself, our culture/how its developed, etc., and completely IGNORING ALL OF THAT just because you want to be us!!!

in my opinion, i don’t think its just that but also EXTREME FOMO (fear of missing out) from people who are not bipoc/not from the culture they’re shifting as and having a weird perception of shifting as in “its not xyz reality so i can do what i want” knowing damn well they wouldn’t be sporting cornrows, indigenous regalia, etc. in their CR. its just a weird god-complex mindset that makes my radical mind very, very, VERY uncomfortable. like yes you’re limitless, i’m limitless, the multiverse is our oyster but I still have morals and beliefs that will carry over into my DRs! i wont keep wasting my breath explaining why rcta, not understanding the oppression bipoc face is bad, and dwelling on this because this should be common knowledge so i’ll end with this:

if you support or do race/ethnicity changing, don’t follow me! i’ve had this same boundary since i started my shifting journey and that has not stopped me from shifting many times (p.s: its not close-minded to have a boundary about something that make you uncomfortable). i’m honestly open to hearing opinions and just understanding other people’s perspectives more but specifically opinions from BIPOC. anyways happy shifting!

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 15/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

hooo weee this is a long one. A reaction chapter part 1

A few things to clear up:

Sir Pentious is in Heaven

They do not know that yet.

He'll have a part in the sequel!

------------------------------------------

Charlie is beyond worried.

She and the entirety of Pride sat in anticipation as Hell's highest powers perform the ritual again. Her dad disappeared a month ago and in his absence, she thinks she had handled Pride rather well. Vaggie and her friends were a big help though, as well as her uncles and aunts if they could.

Charlie has not missed once broadcast ever since it aired. Every time she looks for her dad among the demons and every time she's disappointed.

She keeps watching anyway in support- no matter how busy she was. The hotel residents do the same, dropping what they were doing to all sit in the couch together and watch this 'til it ended. The first time it aired created a mass panic that Charlie had to induce a Hellshake to placate her people. It somehow worked.

After the panic, it became the biggest hit "show" in Pride, resulting in the production of legit merch and even a few parodies- like it's just a game, like this can't kill them all.

That craze lasted almost 2 weeks but even the fanatics stopped watching when it was apparent that this wasn't a quick fix. Panic again then calm then panic- over and over and over again.

Vaggie: Babe?

Charlie: Hey, Vaggie.

Charlie tried to give her lover her usual smiles but she thinks she haven't given one ever since her dad left. Worry and guilt are eating her whole and she's just trying to stay afloat.

Vaggie: Hey, come on. What's going on in that pretty head of yours?

Charlie: Flatterer.

Vaggie: Not wrong though. But don't try to change the subject. .. Is it about your dad?

Charlie: I don't think I remember a time in a hundred years when it wasn't. When did it go so wrong, Vaggie? We were so happy when I was a kid..

Something inside the princess whispered her mother's name. She shakes off that thought because there's no way. Her mom and dad loved each other.

'But then why did they split? Why did your mom leave? Why did your dad fall in love with someone again?'

The voices are making a point but there's no chance her dad was going to tell her everything and it's not like her mom is even an option.

When Vaggie told her that Alastor and her dad were something, she tried to think of every moment she saw of her dad and the radio demon together after the hotel was rebuilt. The princess of Hell trusts Alastor but she doesn't know if she can trust him with her dad.

But..

Charlie: Dad is happier.

Vaggie: Huh?

Charlie: Sorry. Was thinking of him and how Alastor is probably helping him come out more than I am.

Vaggie: Hey hey. I know your dad would be devastated if he knew you were thinking that. He loves you and you love him, right?

Charlie: More than anything.

Vaggie: That's my girl. Now why don't we-

Cherri: Holy shit! Guys! The broadcast turned on again!

All of them rushed to the lobby upon hearing the cyclops yell. They thought it was over 30 minutes ago when the nth overlord and Goetia fainted. Guess Vox was a bit afraid he would be next and turned it off to save face.

Angel: Holy shit!

Holy shit indeed. The one on the screen is none other than her dad! And a beautiful lady in white?

Husk: Who the fuck is that?

Nifty: She looks so clean! I wanna know what products she use.

Vaggie: Do you know who that is?

Charlie: Probably who dad was looking for.

Goodie: Such words! Angel, was self-preservation not included when you gave them the fruit of knowledge? Lucifer: Apparently not.

Okay, they clearly missed out on some context because her dad just arrived and he's mad. They watch as Lucifer grabs Velvette's face hard enough to bleed. Everyone is kneeling and seem to be locked in place. Husk eyes Alastor's monstrous form in the background warily.

Husk: Something happened.

Lucifer: I can't blame you. I was not the most present ruler, after all. But I thought I made something very clear when I dealt with that moth man.... I guess one example isn't enough.

One moment Velvette was struggle and the next her fucking jaw is gone!

Angel: Holy shit!

Husk: Ugh! You keep saying that. Don't you have any other words than holy shit?

Angel: 'M sorry, Huskie. But what else am I supposed to say to that huh??

Charlie's winces but her eyes are still glued to the screen as her dad summons his flaming sword and brings it down to the pink demon.

Lucifer: So, let me keep it simple. I'm Lucifer Morningstar. The creator of the first sin. The angel that damned humanity. Í̷̫̈́́͂̒̚̕͝͝͝'̶̨̛̺̤̿̀͒͛̂̿͋̄̑͆́͘͠͝M̴̝̯̖̦͍̽̎̏͆̔ ̴̛̛̄̋̈̑̓̀̓̃̄͐͗ͅŸ̷͇̙̟͈̭̥̬̻̙͔̠̱́̽̊̊ͅÔ̵̤͙͈̬̫̪͕̼͍͌̀̔͜U̴͈̼͖̯̤͌̀̀̓̾̔͆̈́̊͑͗̕͠͝R̵̨̹͍̦͒͌̋͒͆͌̄͛̓͑̔́͜ ̸̝͑̐̀̉̃͠͝F̵̞͖̮̗̗̜̯̯͔̮͒̊͒̈́̈́́̽́̂̂͑̎͝U̵̟̙̱̙̯̤̼̙͈̳̘̫͊̈̀C̷̙̞̔̅̊͌͋K̷̖͙̼̪̠̾̄̅̾͘I̵̛̩̘̜͖̩̙̿̐̽́͊́̒͆̆̎̑͗N̴̤̏̂͝G̸͋̋̍ͅ ̵̡͈̩̹̗̹̝̻̬͍̗̬̲̳̟̍͋̽͛̒̉̍͊͑̑̋̅̽Ḳ̷̡̬͔̞̱̤̬̮͉̙͇̪͛̅͊̚I̵̤͙̪̞̝͔̱͎̜̩̖̺̟͔̙͊Ṉ̵͈̤̘͚̻̙̼̓͂̌͋́̎͜ͅĢ̸̭͔͇̹̹̳̭͋̓̒͗̈́̉̈́̂̚.

They all had to avert their eyes as a giant ball of flame came down to finish Velvette off.

Lucifer: Û̶̪̌͐́̂̆͠͠n̸̛̟͕̱͍̫̘̻̣̱͈͈͇̱̜͛̓͗̏̅̇͋̒͆͊̓͗̚͠d̷̢̢̨̼̙͈̞͈͓͈͙̂̌͋̔̂̉̍̈́͆̿̈́̕͘͜͠e̵̛͍̯̫̼̫̐͛̊̒̆̉̓̊̽̓̒̒̚͘ŗ̶̨̢̧̮̜͙̪̹̯̙̪̤̠̝̓́̒̋͆̆̓̿͐̄̓̕̚̕ş̷̛̮͖̰̝̟͇͕̟̞̳̟̪̥̂̀̈́̈͗́̿̐̔̎̕̕͠t̶̮̖̭̹͓͉̪̣̦͙̖͍́͐͂̑͒̑͂̑̾̓̍̊͝ô̵̥͓̥͐̄̏̀̾̀̽̆ò̴̜͇̣̣̳͖̗̹̟̇̓͑͝ͅd̸̨̨͈͓̠͑͑̒̎̈́͘͠?̸̟̎̈

Even the sinners in the safety of the hotel nodded in fear. Lucifer made a delighted noise and with a clap, Velvette is back in one piece, albeit trembling in Vox's arms.

Lucifer: What? Do you really think I killed her? Sounds counterproductive. We still have a situation at hand and you are no use to me dead. Goodie: Up now! My sister is becoming restless.

Everyone let out a breath they didn't know they were holding. Angel collapsed to Husk's side, when did he even stand up? Nifty didn't move a muscle but her maniacal smile is gone. Cherri started fiddling with an ignited bomb out of nowhere which Angel had to move to throw.

Goodie: Remember, angel, if this fails, you must do what I have told you. Lucifer: Let's start.

Angel: Holy shit.

Holy shit indeed.

-----------------------------------------

Part 16 will be the 2nd part of the reaction before Lucifer goes in!

Dk if I will post on Wednesday as it will be my birthday! yayy

[dreamtuna]

Laid Bare By Moonlight

It's finally done, I've slain the beast. And I'm pretty happy with it. This is a piece I've been working on for a while now and I just kept editing it over and over. But I'm finally letting it out. I'm a bit nervous about this one lmao but I enjoyed writing this a lot and I hope you guys enjoy it too! And yeah I'll probably write a sequel because I want to know what happens next. Attack on Titan - Levi x fem!Reader, Levi x Unknown Woman smut, afab!Reader, listening through wall (without their knowledge), masturbation, jealousy, slight obsession tbh, walked in on/caught in the act, but okay with it! pretty enthusiastic about it honestly, shame, praise, begging, oral (fem receiving), Reader is a bit of a subby mess and she loves it, very brief mentions of threesome and cum eating fantasies Word Count: 4.9k On a sleepless moonlit night you don't expect to be kept awake by your Captain, but this is what happens when you forget to lock your door.

The darkness wrapped around you but sleep refused to come. No matter how hard you tossed and turned, there was no comfort and there was no rest, that much was clear. The frustration pooled in your body. You were exhausted, body weary from pushing extra hard in training lately. It was tough these days to think of much else except for your chronic underperformance. And now the stress of it all was eating away at your sleep. It seemed to have become a self feeding monster.

You threw your legs out of bed and walked across the room to the window. The moonlight had been bleeding through the thin curtains anyway, so you felt you might as well enjoy it fully if sleep wasn’t going to come and take you away. You pulled them back to bathe the room in it.

You returned to your bed, eyes drifting across the room at the empty one directly opposite. Most people envied you, having a room to yourself. You had the freedom to make a mess, the freedom to stay up late if needed, the freedom to have night time visits. But your room was spotless, you were usually in bed at a decent time and you hadn’t had a single partner since you joined the regiment. You’d just been too busy, too preoccupied with putting everything into this and proving you could do it.

Now look where that had landed you: alone in the middle of the night, insomnia gripping you by the throat and refusing to let go.

You heard a door open as the occupant of the next room returned for the night. It was rare to hear considering he would usually choose to sleep at his desk instead of in his bed. But sleep was never the purpose.

A light, floaty giggle travelled through the walls. Yeah, there it was. The stress relief. Captain Levi was not alone.

Now you were alone with your thoughts and the hushed excitement of some girl next door, muffled sounds drifting through the wall. Was that his boots being removed? Was that her body on the bed? Was that his on top of her? You couldn’t help it, your mind began to wander. Sitting with your back against the wall, you closed your eyes and listened.

Maybe you should’ve picked the other bed when you took this room.

You knew this was wrong. Only a wall separated you. You couldn’t hear much, but you could hear enough. You could hear the bed strain under their joint weight as they moved into positions you could only imagine. You could hear her moan loud and sudden as he, most likely, inserted himself into her, wasting no time. You could hear Levi hush her harshly, cutting off the objections which followed in what you could only imagine must be a rough kiss. And you could feel your hands drifting down your body as your lips opened in a silent gasp, your back arching slightly off the wall, imagining him slick with her excitement as he thrust in and out of her, as your fingertips danced over your light sleepwear.

You knew this was wrong. He was your Captain. But you had been attracted to him for as long as you knew of his existence, overflowing with excitement when you were picked to train under him. And as you heard the bed groan rhythmically under his thrusts you couldn’t help but crave being under him right now, a toxin beginning to flow through your veins. Jealousy clouded your judgement and your fingers worked their way under the waistband of your shorts.

You gingerly reached for your warmth, almost scared of what you might find, as if you weren’t already aware of how turned on you were. Your clothing did nothing to muffle the obscene noises your fingers made as you ran them up and down your slit, playing with your wetness before swirling them over your clit. Your back arched further as you touched the bundle of nerves, your desire and jealousy intertwining dangerously as you heard this faceless girl taking what you wanted. Biting down to suppress the building dark pleasure that wanted to rise out of your throat, you listened intently as the object of your desires gave her everything that should have been yours.

You almost scoffed. You were just another cadet to him. A promising one, sure, that’s why you had been picked to work under him, but just a cadet in his eyes nonetheless. He didn’t seem the type to mix business and pleasure, instead opting for these infrequent meetings with nameless women he likely never thought about again.

You wanted to be one of them so badly.

The cool night air caressed you, a much welcome feeling as your body began to heat up. Your free hand snaked up your stomach, pushing your t-shirt up to expose your breasts. You squeezed, pinching your nipple as you heard her cry out next door. She was getting close. Even to you it was obvious. The Captain had given up on hushing her but she seemed muffled. You thought about his firm hand clamped over her mouth, scowling down at her as he drove her closer and closer to climax.

It was too much. You needed more.

In a sudden movement you pulled your shorts off completely. Desperation overtook you, throwing yourself down on the bed, imagining his hands pushing you down, holding you in place. He would grab your legs, pushing your knees into your chest and exposing you completely… all for him. Much like she probably was right now. You pinched your nipple harshly, your pussy tingling as the dark wave of envy consumed you. Finally, you pressed first one finger, then a second, into your eager hole.

You had barely inserted the second when you realised the loud groan of pleasure you were hearing was actually coming from you.

You froze. Surely you hadn’t been that loud. It just seemed loud because you were the one who did it, right? The bed continued slamming into the wall separating you and you let out the breath you didn’t realise you had been holding. Deciding you were safe, you began to move your fingers in and out. Slowly, you savoured the feeling, the pleasant intrusion taking but a moment to get used to. You tried to match the rhythm of the bed next door, but it felt entirely insufficient. All you could think about was Levi’s cock driving in and out of her, coated in her wetness. A desperate part of you wanted so badly to be on your knees, watching them up close. You would wait patiently, mouth open like he expected of you, tongue ready to clean them both up. You wouldn’t resist when he’d pull out and push your face into her, commanding you to lick every last drop of his cum from inside of her. You wanted to do anything to please him.

The moonlight covered your body, your most intimate places only just shadowed by your knees pressed to your chest. It felt good, like you were in some kind of spotlight just for him. You writhed and you could no longer control your moans as they rose above your audible wetness. Sure, you had heard the Captain fuck once or twice before. It was a rare occurrence and you couldn’t begrudge a man under that much stress for indulging in his desires. You would usually just roll over and try to ignore the noises and the growing damp spot in your underwear. You’d spend the whole night dreaming of him and all the things he could do to you. But you never gave into your feelings like this.

Maybe the moon is affecting me, you thought, mind wandering hazily to the idea the full moon could affect your mental state. Through clouded eyes you stared out the window into the night sky, fingers never slowing. The only thing on your mind was how your Captain would look above you in that pale light, hair stuck gently to his brow with sweat, eyes an almost ghostly silver. In that moment you were convinced there could not be anything more magnificent.

Suddenly you snapped back to reality. The room next door was quiet now. Had you missed the end of the show? Whatever the case was, you still had your own needs to attend to. Unlike her, you didn’t have anyone to deliver you an orgasm on a silver platter. The more you thought about how you’d missed out on him slamming deep inside her, releasing with a grunt as her insides pulsed and milked him, the closer you got to falling off the edge of that cliff.

A moan tore from your throat, masking a faint sound you couldn’t quite place in the back of your mind. That was until you heard your door close a moment later. You gasped, freezing in place, vulnerable and exposed on your back with your legs in the air, fingers curled inside your entrance, hand barely covering your chest.

“You should really lock the door.”

Your body went ice cold. That voice. No, it couldn’t be. You were too anxious to move or cover yourself. You were too anxious to even look towards the door and confirm your fears. You didn’t understand what was going on. Blushing a furious shade of red - thankfully not very visible in the moonlight - you reluctantly tore your eyes away from the window, slowly turning to gaze across the room.

After a moment, the voice spoke again. “Do you want me to leave?” No, your mind pleaded, don’t leave. But you couldn’t respond. “I can leave and we pretend this never happened.”

Finally your eyes fell directly on him. Levi stood there, face unreadable in the shadows. But he was clearly staring straight at you. Embarrassment flooded your entire being at the thought of being seen like this, especially by him. You could no longer even form words in your panicked mind.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked again. His voice was gentle, wrapping around you seductively.

Your voice shook, but you managed to get out a quiet “no”. You cleared your throat and repeated yourself as strongly as you could. “Stay,” you pleaded, voice thick with desire, knowing it was your lust speaking but it didn’t change the fact that this was something you craved so deeply.

He seemed satisfied with this and walked slowly across the room until he stood above you. He placed one hand softly on your knee, stroking back and forth across your bare skin as he stared down at you. You couldn’t see his expression like this, but he could see almost all of you. Ironically, only your lewd position saved you from exposing everything to him.

“Don’t stop,” he told you.

You blinked up at him. “W-what?”

Levi leaned forwards, placing his hands on the bed either side of your face. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I said don’t stop.”

With a start you realised what he meant. Inhaling sharply, you began working your fingers inside you again. You felt your cheeks heat up instantly at the sound of your fingers plunging into you. You wanted to look away from him, but he was watching you so intently it felt wrong not to hold his gaze. He’d caught you at your most vulnerable, and your desperation was clawing at you to get out. You wanted to please him. Your mouth opened slightly as your breathing picked up and the slightest smirk appeared on his features.

“You think I didn’t hear you moan before?” he said quietly. His voice held something in it that you couldn’t quite identify now, but it wasn’t malicious or menacing. It was stern, the type of voice that demanded respect, but yet it had that same warm edge to it as you’d heard when he first came in. “Can’t believe you’ve been lying here getting off listening to me fuck.”

You gasped at hearing it said out loud, the way he practically spat the word at you, your face flushing even deeper. You had to look away from him now. You couldn’t handle the shame as it washed over you as you felt yourself getting wetter with every word. You were even beginning to whimper now, the feelings intensifying with his warmth just above you.

He grabbed your chin, turning you to face him once again. Your eyes locked. There was a power in that gaze that you couldn’t resist, one that had you tumbling down and down into him, ready to give him everything as you had dreamed of for so long. And you knew, when you were consumed by those eyes, that he would gladly take everything you had to offer.

“What do you want?” he asked you, but you had no way of answering that. Your mind was going blank again as the pleasure rose. You knew if you opened your mouth now it would be an incoherent pleading. You had just enough dignity left to want to avoid that. Barely.

He pulled back, his hand returning to your knee to stroke it softly. You moaned at the sudden contact, fingers jerking inside you. You couldn’t believe you were behaving this way at even the lightest of touches. It was pathetic. Your insides squeezed tightly around your fingers. Your skin was on fire, desperate to feel him against you.

“Tell me what you want.”

It was no longer a question. It was not a request.

With great difficulty, you swallowed hard. Closing your eyes you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. Everything felt crazy, like this was just some super vivid dream. It had to be. But his touch felt so real. His skin was rough against yours, neatly trimmed nails barely grazing against you from time to time.

Eventually, you managed to answer him in the smallest voice. “Please touch me.”

He didn’t need telling twice. Instantly he shifted, moving to sit on the bed between your legs, angling himself so he could appreciate your body in the light. Instincts kicked in and you began to squeeze your legs shut, shame threatening to overcome you, but his hands gripped your knees, firmly. Levi spread your legs and gazed down at your half naked body, eyes roaming you hungrily from your breasts right down to where your fingers still toyed with your juices.

In the moonlight you could see now his hair was mussed, the tips lightly dampened from the sweat of his previous exertions. The sheen of sweat was mostly gone, but you felt that bitter jealousy rising throughout you at the way his skin glistened, making him look ethereal. He’d pulled a shirt on, the top few buttons undone, his collarbones enticing you. You didn’t even notice as your tongue darted out to wet your lips at the sight of them, your hunger to cover them with a bouquet of nips and kisses growing.

You realised he must have literally finished with her, dressed and come straight through to you. The thought made your stomach flutter, an odd mixture between indignation and a deep dark pride at being next on his list tonight. Vaguely, your mind wandered to thinking about whether this was something he regularly did.

Levi ran his hands over your legs, jolting you out of your thoughts, holding them open so he could enjoy the show you were putting on for him. There was something intoxicating about the way he watched your fingers work. He stared intently at the glistening digits as they withdrew from within you, the light barely catching them now your knees were being held out of the way. He sat quietly like this for a moment. The only sound between you was your light panting and your own juices, almost deafening in the silence.

He leaned forward between your legs, sliding his hands up your thighs and onto your stomach before cupping your breasts. He squeezed gently, a warm strength wrapping around you, toying with your nipple ever so lightly. He worked his way down, planting the lightest kiss on your stomach. His body intermittently touched against your hand. You wondered if that was deliberate, your fingers pushing deeper inside you whenever he did.

You couldn’t hold back your thoughts any longer. “What happened with her?” you asked in a hoarse voice.

Levi paused, face hovering above your stomach. He looked up at you, sharp eyes connecting with yours. His eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“I told her to leave.”

He said it like it was so simple, so obvious. Is that why you hadn’t heard anything? He’d just stopped? Or did he mean he had finished and immediately dismissed her? He watched you, eyes narrowing as he realised you were still digesting his words.

He sighed. “After I heard you she just didn’t feel the same to me anymore.” After a long pause he asked, “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

You shook your head. You felt weird, but you weren’t exactly uncomfortable with it. Had you somehow stolen him away from her? All you were doing was masturbating to the sound of your Captain slamming his hips into a mystery woman without his knowledge when you may have let out a loud moan - what was so wrong with that? Well, it sounded kinda messed up when you put it that way. The whole thing was messed up, what with him appearing in your door. Your head was still reeling from it. A part of you said you should’ve shooed him away instantly, but the way his hands played with your tits was melting away any lingering doubt you may have had. You had wanted him so much, and now here he was. Were you really going to squander this chance? His lips pressing against your stomach again had you forgetting all about what was okay and what wasn’t. You pushed your stomach up towards him, craving more, moaning lightly for him.

“Ah, yeah, that’s the sound,” he whispered into your skin.

His voice sounded strained. He gave your nipple a sharp pinch, eliciting a gasp from you, and then did it again for good measure. Your nipples were starting to get so sensitive from both his pinching and the attention you had given them earlier. His weight shifted on the bed and suddenly he was leaning right over you. He pushed his body gently down onto you, staring into your eyes as he did so. You could feel his bulge through his pants as he pressed into your hand slightly.

Levi kissed you. Delicate at first, your lips touching for only a second, but it didn’t take long before you had both devolved to desperately pushing against each other. His tongue worked its way into your willing mouth, claiming you as his own. You moaned into his mouth and you swear you could feel him twitch against the back of your hand.

A thought crossed your mind. Carefully you pulled your fingers out of yourself, shifting your arm enough to grab your Captain’s cock through his pants. You stroked him gently. He nipped at your bottom lip. He was straining against his pants, his hips thrusting erratically into your hand almost as if it were a subconscious reaction to your touch. You could feel the change in his breathing as he kissed you.

Your fingers fumbled to undo his pants but with only one hand it was difficult. You started to reach down but he grasped your wrist. He promptly found your other wrist and brought them together above your head, pinning you to the bed. You whimpered. This was starting to feel a lot like your fantasies.

He pulled back from your lips for a moment. In the moonlight you could just see the glint of his steely eyes as he looked at you. Without a word he lifted himself off you, but before you could whine about losing contact you found his lips descending on your sensitive buds. Working first one nipple, then the other, lathering them with sloppy attention until his teeth lightly nipped. Levi kissed and licked your breasts, smothering them with soft, sweet sensations before adding in more sharp little bites. You moaned for him, arching your back to push your breast into his mouth. But he pushed you back down. With a loud wet kiss to each breast, he began to work his way further down your body.

You were in heaven. No one had ever made you feel this way before. No one had ever shown your body so much consideration. You’d been with others before, and some of them had attempted foreplay, but the keyword there was “attempted”. After a while it all just devolved into grunting into one another and hoping their motions would be enough to satisfy you. They never were. But this was different. Levi hadn’t even taken his clothes off yet and you felt close to the edge of something huge that had you gripping the covers in anticipation as you moaned for him. You knew the second his lips made their way lower there was a good chance you would just shatter into pieces underneath him.

His lips trailed soft kisses along your hips. You were still in disbelief at what was happening, but oh God did you believe it when you threw your head back and moaned his name as his lips descended on your clit. He immediately felt the way you were quivering and pulled back.

“Not yet,” he told you, firmly squeezing your thighs where his hands had come to rest, holding you open for him.

You whimpered, but that stern warmth of his voice had you willing to do your best for him, wrapping around and pulling you into submission.

You glanced up from your pillow. You could see his eyes looking up at you, awaiting confirmation of your obedience. You nodded in understanding and he kissed your mound.

“Good girl,” he whispered, sending jolts of electricity up through your body until they pierced your soul.

Knowing how sensitive you were, Levi was very careful with his touch. He pressed his forearm under your thighs, pressing your knees into your chest. You’d had your legs in the air so long they were beginning to ache, but there wasn’t a chance in hell you were about to complain. Especially not as his other hand made its way to take over for your earlier incomplete job. His fingers ran up and down your slit, admiring the way they would glide over you with how wet you were for him. Not messing around, he inserted two fingers straight into you and was instantly rewarded with you tightening around them, a whimper escaping you.

His lips came back down on your clit, sucking and licking at the bundle of nerves as his fingers began to pump in and out of you. He wasn’t gentle, but there was a certain care in his actions that made you feel safe. Maybe it was just your desire to orgasm tricking you into feeling that way. It really didn’t matter all that much to you what it was, it just felt good.

Levi enjoyed the way you whimpered for him. He wanted more of it until he was drowning in the sweet sounds you were making for him. But he could feel you reaching your limit. You were trying so hard to hold on for him. He could feel it in the way you tensed. He could hear it in how obnoxiously loud your pussy was. He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, savouring the way they glistened with your juices in the moonlight. He licked them clean, eyes closing as your flavour engulfed him.

When he was done his lips were wet with the taste of you.

“You’re being such a good girl for me,” he praised you, fingers working their way back inside. This time he got to feel that jolt of electricity those two words sent through you as you clenched around him. “Yeah, you want more of that?”

You whimpered louder now. The desperation was clear. You didn’t need to nod for him to know, but seeing the way you frantically bobbed your head up and down had a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The control he had over your pleasure was intoxicating.

“I can’t hear you. Do you want to cum or not?”

He lightly swatted at your ass. You groaned loudly, feeling your dignity slipping away with each second. You felt yourself almost lose it and immediately, despite the fog of arousal, it was clear in your head what you wanted.

You mumbled something.

“Hmm?”

“Please… Want to cum…”

“Tch, that’s no way to ask for what you want.” His fingers arched up inside you briefly, hitting that sensitive spot for the first time. It felt like your whole body jerked upwards as you cried out.

“Please, Captain…” You sobbed slightly now, your dignity all but gone now. If you could only actually get the words out.

He seemed pleased with your efforts, stroking that sweet spot again as a reward. It was too much. You were going to cum either way, you might as well please him at the same time.

“Please, Captain, oh fuck. Please let me cum.” You choked back a sob. “Please, I can’t hold it. Please.”

A low groan rolled out of him. For a second the rhythm of his fingers faltered in you. He wasn’t expecting your begging to be that sweet, but oh how he adored it. He placed a sloppy kiss on your clit, enjoying the sharp gasp it drew from you.

“Cum for me,” he whispered, words ghosting over the bundle of nerves. “Cum for your Captain.”

His tongue danced around you, fingers now pressing relentlessly into that sweet spot no one else had ever found. He sucked noisily on you, alternating between suction and sweet kisses and lapping tongue. It was driving you insane and within seconds of this assault you were falling apart beneath him, your moans so loud, so beautiful, that there was no way half the barracks hadn’t heard you this time. You pulsated around his fingers as they found their home deep inside you, playing with the nerves inside that made your body tremble beneath him.

When you had finally reduced to a whimpering mess he withdrew from you. He sat back and looked at his hand, covered in your love.

“Oi, look at me and open your mouth,” he ordered and through your hazy brain you obeyed without question.

Levi shoved his hand at your face. You got the message and eagerly took his fingers into your mouth, sucking and licking him clean almost hungrily in a way that made his cock throb in his pants. You were so far gone at this point, your inner desires carrying you now. You would do so much for this man if he only asked it of you. He made you weak, and after that you knew he could make you feel better than anything else in this world.

You so desperately wanted to hear him call you a good girl again.

He pulled his hand back and, much to your surprise, he lay down next to you. He pulled you into his arms, resting your head against his chest. You were stunned, letting him manipulate your body however he wanted.

“You did so well,” he whispered into your ear, kissing your hair gently. “Rest.”

“But you haven’t cum,” you blurted out, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt not really knowing what to think or feel right now.

His sweet chuckle only made you more confused. A noise you never thought you’d hear from him of all people. But there it was, followed by yet another brief kiss to your hair.

“Rest,” he repeated. “You can look after me when you get your breath back.”

After a moment the tensions in your body eased and you let yourself get comfortable in his arms. You couldn’t get it out of your mind how uncomfortable he must be having had no relief, but his thumb was making soothing sweeps across your bare back, your top still pulled up above your breasts so that your nipples grazed against the fabric of his shirt. Your hips were gently touching. His warmth was engulfing you.

The more he held you and gently pet you the more you found yourself sinking into that sleep you so desperately desired before all this started. You were a complete mess, heart only just coming under control, head swirling with endless thoughts about what had just happened. You decided to take up his offer of rest for just a while longer, trying desperately to remove all those doubts that were creeping back up from your mind.

Because in that moment, none of that mattered. The only things that mattered were his warmth and his gentle breathing beside you. The way his thumbs continued rubbing your bare back, soothing you endlessly. The way his bulge rubbed gently against you. It wouldn’t take long before he’d have you on your knees taking care of him, you were sure of it, but for now you could just melt into his body. His lips grazed against your hair again and you gripped onto his shirt a little tighter, sighing happily, stress and anxiety easing in your heart, even if just for a little while.