#the answer my doves will always be pacing

[chemical-processes]

Absolutely love it when past-me makes editing and working on my WIPs living hell

[moonstruckme]

hello my sweet gorgeous mae!!

how we feeling abt a fic where reader has some difficulty regulating her emotions when she’s upset and just some casual poly!wolfstar dominance. girl honestly just needs a hug and someone to validate her feelings tbh

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting!! I did give her a reason for her upset which in retrospect I probably should have just left vague but I hope it doesn't take you out of it and if anyone knows anything that makes them think this relates to me in any way no it literally doesn't why would you think that

cw: somewhat subtle/implicit d/s dynamics (really just a couple joking mentions of "rules" or "bans")

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’re grateful to come home to an empty apartment. No sooner does the door shut behind you than the sob that’s been building in your chest jostles its way out. You hug your bag to your front and go to the floor, crying. 

You don’t hold back. You let tears flow down your cheeks and take short, jagged breaths to fuel even more, curling your knees towards your chest and pushing your fingertips into your forehead. 

Your heartbeat is loud enough in your ears that it takes you a second to register the sound of footsteps on the stairs, but you notice when they pick up their pace as they draw closer. Not, evidently, so empty an apartment after all. 

“Dovey.” Remus sounds gutted. You open your eyes, and he looks it, too. Sirius comes up behind him, both of their forms blurring as they crouch in front of you. “What happened?” 

You shake your head. “I—I didn’t—” You’re crying like a child, all choked sobs and snivelly voice. “I didn’t—”

“Shh, that’s okay.” Sirius takes your face in his hands. His hold is firm but his thumbs gentle as they brush over your cheeks. “Just nod yes or no for me, my love. Are you hurt?” 

You shake your head. 

Some of the worry eases from his features, but his brows pinch sympathetically. “Just sad?” 

You open your mouth to answer him, and a hiccup of sobs spills out. 

Sirius makes a pained sound and pulls you to him. Remus murmurs, “Oh, sweetheart.” 

You try to speak again into the material of Sirius’ shirt, to apologize for coming home like this, but both boys shush you, Sirius rubbing your back while Remus gives your arm a squeeze and leans over to kiss your head. 

Remus takes your shoes off for you, and Sirius helps him ease your bag off your shoulder without ever really loosening his hold on you. They move you to the couch. Your boyfriends work in quiet harmony, one always comforting you while the other takes measures to make you more practically comfortable. 

“Dove, listen to me,” Remus says after a while. “You’re going to make yourself sick. Take a deep breath.” 

You try, inhaling only for it to come jerking back out of you on another sob. “I can’t.” 

“You can.” Sirius rubs your back. “Keep trying, baby.” 

They talk you through deep breaths for a while, until you start to calm and it’s only Sirius’ voice in your ear, low and reassuring while Remus goes to get something from the kitchen. 

He passes you a cold glass of water when he gets back, while Sirius is scraping damp pieces of hair back from your face. Presses it into your hands. 

You sniffle. “I’m not really thirsty.” 

“You’re going to be dehydrated after all that. You don’t have to drink it all at once,” he says, and the message is clear: but you do have to drink it. “Take your time if you need to.” 

You take a shaky breath, bringing the glass to your lips. 

“There you go.” Sirius kisses your cheek. You love and hate when they gang up on you like this. You’re between them on the couch, quite literally the center of attention. It’s both comforting and overwhelming. “Now, are you ready to say what’s wound you up so badly?” 

You swallow, nodding. “Sorry,” you say, and you still sound congested, “I didn’t think anyone was home.” 

Sirius tsks. “You know the s word is banned.” He somehow manages to strike a tone that’s both loving and stern. “You don’t get to start bending the rules because you’ve had a bad day.” 

“You shouldn’t feel like you can’t cry when we’re here, either, sweetheart,” Remus adds. 

“Probably wouldn’t have made such a spectacle of it, though.” You attempt a feeble smile. Neither boy looks amused. “It was only that I got my rejection from the Lunds job.” 

“Oh.” Remus' face creases with sympathy. He rubs your thigh. “You really wanted that one, yeah?” 

You shrug, but tears fill your eyes again against your will, dribbling down your cheeks. “I thought I had a good feeling about that one,” you whisper. Sirius starts stroking between your shoulder blades again. “It was stupid.” 

“I’m beginning to think we should ban every s word,” Sirius mutters. There’s no bite to it, though, and when you crack a smile he kisses underneath your ear. “It wasn’t stupid, baby. You were excited about it.” 

Remus’ voice is a low hum. “It’s not just about this one job, though, is it?” 

You look at him, tasting salt in the seam of your lips. 

“You’ve been anxious about all this for a long while,” he says, thumb moving over your knee in a slow, soothing back-and-forth. “I think you put all your stock into this one, and now it’s caught up to you, but this was never the only one that mattered. You can still find a job somewhere else.” 

“I just…” You draw in a breath, trying to steady yourself. “I thought I was so perfect for this one. If they didn’t want me” —your voice wavers— “how can I expect to ever get one?” 

“Angel, I love you, and you know I think you’re a genius ahead of your time,” says Sirius, “but that is some very shoddy reasoning. You’ve no idea who else applied. They might’ve had fucking superman in their stack of applications, and you could’ve been their second choice. That’s not going to happen every time.” 

“But it is still,” Remus tells you, taking your hand in his, “very hard to feel like you weren’t good enough. I’m sure all you’ve been putting in without getting results weighs on you, yeah?” 

You bite down hard on your lower lip to keep from bursting into tears again. Somehow Remus always knows how to get to the heart of the issue. 

“Yeah,” you say softly. 

“Oh, I know, sweet girl.” He pulls you into his side, kissing your head. “You’ve worked so hard. But it’ll all pay off in the end, alright? What’s say we have a break for tonight. No more applications, just relaxing.” 

“Yeah,” Sirius agrees for you. “After a good cry like that, I think a film and some cuddles are in order.” 

“These aren’t already cuddles?” you joke wetly. 

He makes an offended squawking noise. “Not proper ones. Get your cozies on and let Rem make us a hot cocoa, babydoll, and then we’ll remind you what real cuddles are like.”

[wildwestdean]

repose

based on a request made by @chevroletdean! 🤍

a/n: this is a repost, because i tried to edit the main post when half asleep but my dumb ass deleted it instead 😭

summary: you catch a cold while out on a hunt with dean. you refuse to take it easy once back at the bunker, so he takes matters into his own hands to try and help you recover - even if it means bribing you into finally getting some rest

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 2.6k+

warnings: some mentions of violence/mutilation in the beginning, established relationship, stubborn reader, reader puts her own health on the back burner, reader doesn't like to feel useless, reader won't take her meds, fluff, a touch of angst, minor swearing, protective dean, worried dean, dean goes full caretaker mode, dean just really loves reader, briefest mention of clothes being taken off, reader gets carried around, more fluff

Dean knew it was a bad idea. 

He knew he should’ve tried harder to stop you, but really, what was he supposed to do? The suspect was about to get away, and you were too stubborn in your ways once you set your mind to something. All he could do was watch as you ran out the door, quickly disappearing within the sheets of freezing rain that were falling while he cursed to himself. 

His first thought wasn’t a declaration of fear that the suspect might get a drop on you. No, despite your appearance, your skills were rivalled only by those of Sam and Dean themselves; they taught you everything you knew, after all. Instead, shockingly, the first thought to cross his mind was: she’s going to catch a cold. 

Hurrying after you, you two easily managed to apprehend the suspect to haul him back to the warehouse for questions, all while Dean grumbled about how you should’ve stayed put and let him deal with it; a rant that only earned him a roll of your eyes in return. You didn’t venture out very far, and while it did feel like you were soaked straight through to the bone, the warehouse was growing closer and would soon offer respite from the downpour - his worrying, like usual, would end up being over nothing. 

Yet the chill you were met with once back in the warehouse almost had you regretting your choice, and had it not been for the sickening grin you were given by the douchebag that Dean was currently tying to a rickety chair, you probably would have. You were convinced it was even colder in here than outside; but you refused to let Dean in on that fact.

He didn’t pick up on it right away, focusing solely on extracting the answers that were buried behind the soulless eyes he glared into. He always enjoyed taking his time when it came to things like this, letting the fear and dread settle in their hearts as he threatened to carve into skin or chop off extremities. It was fun, really, and he was enjoying it right up until you decided to pitch in, voicing your own threat of cutting off a very precious body part piece by little piece.

As soon as the words left your mouth, Dean took on a new sense of urgency to get the information you two needed. You could see it in every choice he made: how his pacing quickened, how his voice got darker and tighter while his patience drained away, how he stopped giving warning before his knife dove into flesh. 

You knew he was suddenly in a hurry to wrap this all up, but what you didn’t know was why. You didn’t know that when you spoke, Dean heard the waver in your voice, the quiet chatter of your teeth as you shivered from the cold. You didn’t think it was noticeable, but when it came to you, there was nothing Dean wouldn’t notice. 

With the increase of effort and decrease of delicacy, it wasn’t much longer until Dean finally got what he needed, and he plunged his knife through skin and muscle one final time before eagerly leading you from the warehouse.

“Wait here,” he requested, gently tugging you back just before you could step outside. 

“What, why?” you asked, silently amazed at how warm his palm felt on your arm despite being just as drenched as you were. “We need to finish up.”

“Just wait here,” he repeated, running out into the darkness before you could even reply. 

Left confused in his wake, all you could do was stand there and wait for him to return, trying to ignore the way your whole body wanted to tremble in response to the frigid air. You really, really longed for a hot shower right now, and the fact you knew you needed to dispose of this body somewhere out in this storm made tears threaten to spill over onto your still dampened face. 

The sight of Baby’s headlights cutting through the curtain of rain was like a breath of fresh air to you, and you yearned to just curl up on her front seat while the heat blasted from the dash. 

“One step at a time,” you told yourself. “Take care of the body, then you can warm up on the drive back.” 

Dean made it clear he had other plans in mind when he pulled up as close to the door as possible, leaving the engine running as he ran back over to you. 

“Heat’s on,” he declared, shaking some excess water from his jacket. “Lock yourself inside, I shouldn’t be too long.” 

“Too long doing what?” you asked, totally lost. 

He looked just as confused as you were, not understanding what you didn’t understand. 

“Getting rid of the body,” he declared after a moment, as though it were completely obvious. 

“You’re not doing that alone,” you argued in bewilderment. 

“Yes I am,” he argued back. 

“Dean-” you wanted to argue some more, but he cut you off by taking your face in his palms. 

“Even the screams couldn’t cover up the sound of your knees knockin’ together,” he teased. “Go wait in the car, baby. If you don’t go willingly, I’ll gladly toss you in.” 

You had the urge to say no, wanting to be useful and help him, but you backed down when you saw the look in his eyes.

“Fine,” you agreed, sighing in defeat. “But if you’re not back soon, I will be coming to find you,” you warned. 

Dean grinned in triumph as he planted a kiss on your forehead. “Understood,” he confirmed, guiding you to the car before heading off to carry out his mission. 

It wasn’t until a few days later, when you finally made it back to the bunker, that you realized maybe Dean’s worrying hadn’t been over nothing after all. Despite having the heat cranked all the way up in every motel room, those worn down radiators could really only do so much. The piercing winds would seep through the meekly insulated windows, finding you even under the feigned safety of blankets and tight embrace of Dean; not to mention there being no way to avoid the icy blows whenever you made stops along the road. The sheer lack of sleep you got due to rushing back home seemed to be the final nail in the coffin, and your body was too exhausted to fight off the inevitable. 

It started as a tickle in your throat, which resulted in you continuously chugging back tea and honey; honey that Cas was extremely thrilled to provide you with. Dean was quick to notice you started doing this, and took it upon himself to bring you a mug whenever you were tied up with Sam and looking into some lore, or tirelessly helping Jack understand his latest discovery of the day. 

When the tickle in your throat developed into you having a full blown cough, he bought you your favourite cough drops, keeping an eye on them to make sure you didn’t run out. Though when they seemed to not be enough, he made sure to get you some cough syrup, too. 

He did his best to make sure you didn’t do too much, but asking you to take things easy was like asking a baby not to cry. It just wasn’t going to happen. You had the constant need to be productive, to be helpful. Feeling a little under the weather wasn’t going to change that. Him getting you to see a doctor was nothing short of a miracle, and the fact you were just about as stubborn as him was nearly ironic; he would laugh about it if he wasn’t so worried about you. 

His worry only magnified tenfold when he went to check on you one night, only to find your room empty. He tried convincing you to let him stay with you like usual, but you didn’t want him to get sick, too. He was really regretting not pushing back on that more, now that he found you in the library, lost in a pile of books; he had to take a breath to compose himself before speaking. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, approaching the table. 

“Research,” you croaked, eliciting another coughing fit. 

“Research?” he baulked. “For what? And why now?” 

You coughed once more, chugging down the rest of your tea before replying. “T’help Sammy. Couldn’sleep anyway,” you sniffled, words jumbled together from congestion.  

Dean sighed heavily, taking a seat beside you. “You didn’t even try to sleep, did you?” 

The lack of response from you told him everything he needed to know. 

“Alright, come on,” he announced, reaching for the book you were reading. 

Your reaction time was definitely slower than usual, but you still managed to pull the book out of his reach just in time. “No.” 

Knowing it would be a losing battle, and that it would probably cause more harm than good to just toss you over his shoulder and carry you to your room, he got up with a huff and left. You assumed he was angry, and felt a little guilty for upsetting him when he was just looking out for you, but you knew you were fine enough to carry on with this for a while longer.  

The last thing you currently expected was for him to return with a bowl of your favourite soup, leftover from when he made some for you earlier, and another large mug of tea, placing them on the free space in front of you before sitting back down. 

“If you wanna be helpful, then you’re gonna sit there and eat while I look for whatever the hell it is we’re looking for,” he ordered, easily snatching the book from you. 

“Fine,” you mumbled, picking up the spoon. “Bossy,” you added, hoping he didn’t see the smile playing on your lips as you feigned annoyance. 

He definitely did, but he kept it to himself as you gave him a cliff notes version of what you were looking into between spoonfuls of soup. 

You aren’t sure when it happened, but at some point between finishing the soup and drinking half the tea, you started to drift off; the warmth of his palm on your thigh and comfort of his soft rambling beside you lulling you to sleep. 

This time, Dean knew he would win the battle against you, and he carefully took you in his arms and carried you to bed, staying with you until morning.

Days had continued to go by, and you only seemed to be getting worse. Dean didn’t know what else to do and it was driving him mad - he couldn’t stand to see you like this anymore. 

He refused to take no as an answer now when it came to him doing things for you, and took over every task you tried to start. He followed you around, practically glued to your side, never letting you lift a finger and being a second pair of eyes when you did any research. 

Research that he tried to stop from coming in by threatening to break Sam’s legs if he didn’t quit bothering you for help, only to find out you were doing it of your accord. 

Even Jack had decided to stop coming to you for things until you were better, since he knew you’d never let him heal you.

Yet Dean knew it wasn’t enough. He knew you needed to just fucking lay down and rest. 

Waking up in the middle of the night to find your side of the bed empty once more, Dean stormed off towards the hub of the bunker as he shouted your name - he didn’t care if he woke everyone up at this point. 

He didn’t stop until he found you in the kitchen, frantically cleaning and completely unaware of his presence. 

“Baby?” he asked cautiously, hesitantly approaching you. 

“'m’not going back t’bed,” you told him, not even looking at him.

“Okay,” he said. “Why not?” 

“Too much t’do,” you replied simply, trying to breeze past him. 

“Hey, whoa,” he called, gently taking hold of your shoulders. “Look at me.” 

“I’m fine,” you said automatically, meeting his gaze after he forced your chin up.

He took note of your distant gaze and pale skin, practically burning under his touch. Suddenly, everything seemed to click into place. “You’re really not, sweetheart,” he determined, tucking your hair behind your ears. “You have a fever. Which means you haven’t even been taking your meds, have you?” 

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise at his question, before you averted your gaze in guilt. “No.” 

Dean wanted to be mad at you. Well, truthfully, Dean was mad at you. You’ve been doing seemingly everything you could to prevent yourself from recovering, while Dean was trying as hard as he could to help you. He wanted to yell at you, but more importantly, he just wanted to understand. 

“Why?” he asked gently, softly running his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks. 

“They make me groggy,” you told him.

“You mean they make you sleep,” he corrected, knowing what it was you wouldn’t say. “I don’t understand why you won’t let yourself rest.” 

You shrugged helplessly, feeling smaller than ever under his searching gaze. “I don’ like feelin’ useless.” 

“You’re not useless, baby. You’re sick,” Dean defended. 

“Still,” you said, not having a better argument. “I need t’help.”

“How about we make a deal?” he suggested, fully understanding how it feels to not want to lay around and not help with anything, all while everyone else seemed to scramble around.

“Like?” you wondered, lightly shoving him away so you wouldn’t sneeze on him. 

“Like,” he said, feeling more and more like this was the best idea. “You leave this mess as is, go take your medicine, and lay down with me.” 

“That’s not a deal,” you argued thickly. 

“I didn’t finish!” he said with a laugh. “You do that for me, and that disgustingly cheesy movie you love so much? Not only will I watch it with you from start to finish, but I won’t even make a single joke about it.” 

“But what about-” 

“Sam and I can handle the mess later,” he said with a sigh, already knowing what you would ask. 

“‘kay,” you sniffled. “Then deal.” 

“Good,” he grinned, not giving you a chance to change your mind and scooping you off your feet once more.

He made a stop at the bathroom first, so that he could help you freshen up and do your usual nightly routine. Lord knows he watched you do it enough times to know it step by step, and he was never more grateful for that than right now.

Once that was all taken care of, he took you to your room to get you fully settled for the night. He gently peeled off your lounge clothes to slip one of his clean sweatshirts over your head before tucking you into bed. He grabbed you a glass of water so you could take your medicine. He hunted down extra blankets to keep by the bed in case you got cold. He settled in beside you, setting up the movie as you nestled against his chest. 

It was barely even twenty minutes in by the time you were sleeping soundly in his arms. Dean smiled to himself, carefully landing a kiss on the top of your head as he carried on with the movie. 

He started to doze off about halfway through, and he knew in his heart that if this was the deal he’d have to make every night while you recovered, he’d gladly do so. There was definitely no shortage of these cheesy movies you loved, and there was nothing in the universe that mattered to him more than you and your wellbeing. 

Besides, even though he’d never admit, these romcoms you liked really weren’t half bad. 

taglist: @roseblue373, @redmaro86, @snowayumi, @iluvdeanwinchester, @winharry, @star-yawnznn, @jc-winchester

if you'd like to be added or removed from this list, please let me know!

(sorry for the double tag on this y'all, i'm stupid af lol)

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Gone But Here All The Same｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

Being a military wife could be quite lonesome especially being a military wife to a ghost but he knows exactly what you need to make you feel less alone

Warnings: smut, phone sex, masturbation (m&f), some reference to death and PTSD but not really, dom!Simon, sex toys, bit of voice kink, size kink

WC: 1.7k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You knew what you were getting into when you married Simon. He was a member of the special forces who technically didn’t exist- you were used to the long months when he was shipped off, the anxiety that John Price would show up on your doorstep with a frown and a letter from the military, the anger and the fear that your husband carried on his chest every moment of the day.

You knew all of this and yet you still married him because he was the best thing to ever happen to you and besides that, he was the best lay you ever had.

Simon had ruined you for any other man (and toy) the moment that his thick fingers slipped between your soft thighs and into your panties under the bar table on your third date. He drove you insane with the smallest of touches, playing with your body with a finesse that only a seasoned soldier could.

You constantly ached for him, feeling so hollow without his thick cock stretching you to your absolute limit. Sure the reunion sex was absolutely mind-blowing every time he came home but with Simon leaving for sometimes months at a time, your need for any sort of pleasure drove you insane.

But luckily, he was going to call you today.

Simon called when he could, usually it was from a private number or some foreign phone, a different number every time. He had created a system with you, he would always call on the 13th of every month and if he missed it, he would call you on the 23rd. 

You sat on your shared bed, staring intently at your phone. The minutes ticked by at a snail's pace as the sun cast a warm orange glow over the large bedroom. You sighed when the clock hit 8, you doubted that he would call today.

A groan slipped from your lips as you rocked forward to slip from the bed, but just then the phone screen lit up, displaying a cute photo of you and Simon on your honeymoon as a random number rolled across the top. You snatched it up and quickly answered.

“Simon.” You breathed, relief flooding your body. His chuckle crackled through your phone’s speaker.

“Hello to you too bunny.” Your smile grew even wider if that was at all possible. He only ever called you bunny when he was in a good mood. You flopped back against the mountain of pillows propped against the headboard, keeping your phone as close as you could in lieu of your husband’s massive body.

“Are you coming home soon?” You tugged the collar of the shirt you were wearing up to your nose, inhaling the fading scent of his cologne.

He was silent for a moment. “No, not yet love.” ‘Love’, that’s what he called you when he was trying to let you down easy. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion but he quickly spoke again. “I do have a present for you bunny.” He purred, his voice dropping down an octave to that deep baritone that haunted your wet dreams.

“But nothing was delivered to the house?” 

“Oh bunny.” He said mockingly. “Your present is already in the house. How ‘bout you check my nightstand.” You practically dove over to his side of the bed in your excitement, Simon’s broken laughter following after you.

The drawer slid open and you gasped. Sitting on top of one of his many spare balaclavas and a book he was in the middle of reading was an enormous dildo. There was a suction cup on the bottom where the balls should have been and with a little bow sitting on the head, it made you laugh a little under your breath. “Got it?” 

Simon’s voice broke you out of your trance. You snatched up the toy and gasped at the weight of it. “Simon what is this?” You settled back into your original spot, your fingers flexing around the purple silicon almost unconsciously.

“I would think you know what it is considering how often you beg for it.” He said right as your middle finger brushed against an incredibly life-like vein towards the base of the fake cock, a vein you knew very well.

“Is this- is this your cock?” Molten heat pooled between your thighs as you held the toy even tighter, now realising that you were indeed holding a replica of your husband’s generous gift. Already you were using your free hand to pull your soaked panties down your legs.

“Damn right it is. You think I would let another cock near you?” He snarled, sending another wave of arousal right to your core. You moaned softly into the air as your fingers brushed against your aching clit, smearing your wetness over the sedative bundle of nerves. “Oh you like that don’t you.”

“Si.” His groan echoed through the room and you could faintly hear the sound of a zipper.

“Go on bunny, get that cunt nice and stretched for my cock.” You were dripping onto the comforter beneath you, desperately eager to follow each and every one of his orders. Excitement began to curl in your stomach as two of your fingers easily slipped into your cunt. It wasn’t nearly enough for you, your fingers weren’t as thick or as long as your husband’s but they were warming you up well enough.

“Can I put it in now?” You pleaded into your phone, needing your husband’s cock nestled inside you once more, even if it was only a replica. He let out a sniffled groan and you could just picture the way he was biting his lip to keep his voice down, his blue eyes squeezed shut as he gripped the base of his dick to stave off his end. He always got noisy when he was about to cum.

“I don’t think your little cunt can handle it.” He managed to get out through clenched teeth. You nodded frantically. “Words bunny.” He snarled, briefly jolting you from your haze.

“Yes Si, can handle you. Always do.” Your other hand practically flew between your thighs, the toy gripped so tightly you could feel the silicon give under the tension. The cold tip bumped against your hot skin as you notched it at your entrance. 

Your cunt burned as it finally breached you, dousing the ache in your belly. You whined with pain and Simon moaned. It was no secret that he loved the size difference between you both, he revealed in the way you cried when he fucked you, his massive cock stirring up your guts in the most deliciously painful way.

You could barely breathe as you reached the halfway mark. “So big.” Your back arched and you forced another inch inside you. A wet slapping came through your phone’s speakers along with Simon’s muffled breaths.

An image of him flashed behind your eyes- fully dressed in dark clothes but with his fly open and his thick cargo pants shuffled down his hips just enough for his cock to be free. The ridged lines of his skull mask would hide the way his lips twitched as he got lost in the feel of his gloved fist around his aching length. 

You cried out as you finally reached the hilt of the dildo, finally you were full of him once more. “Simon, you feel so good.” You pulled the toy out only a few centimetres before pushing it back in and sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. 

“Fuck bunny, keep talking.” He ground out as the wet sounds on his end picked up the pace.

“I can feel you in my belly, so big. Stretching me out.” Your hand began to move faster. It wasn’t the same as when your husband fucked you, you couldn’t feel his weight keeping you picked to the mattress or the way his cock would throb and twitch within you but the sound of his voice right next to your ear was all the same. 

His groan resonated through your chest, lighting your nerves up with that familiar fire. “Take that fucking cock, bunny, be a good girl and fuck yourself on it. Let me hear you cum for me.” 

You thrashed on top of the bed, hips rolling down to meet your hand with each thrust. “Simon!” You clumsily strummed your clit with your other hand so wishing for the rough fingertips of your husband instead. “‘M close.” You mewled.

“Cum.” The connection crackled with the depth of his voice but the effect was still the same. Your body seized suddenly as your jaw dropped in a silent scream. Pleasure rippled through you like a tidal wave, both easing and fuelling your lust. 

As soon as your breath returned to your lungs, you chanted his name over and over again as you rode out your high. “That’s it, good bunny.” Simon cooed, his breath hitching as he thrust into his fist with an added fervour. You were delirious with ecstasy, the toy inside of you now only keeping you full while your orgasm began to fade.

“Simon. Need your cum.” You begged softly into the phone. “Please Simon. Need it so bad.” He gasped and then moaned deep in his chest. 

“Shit.” He said breathlessly after a moment. “Shoulda brought a towel with me.” He grumbled and you laughed.

As gently as you could, you eased the dildo from your cunt. You winced at the stretch, now feeling sore and satisfied for the first time in two months. “How much longer do you have left on the call?” There was a grunt and then the sound of a zipper.

“Not long.” You sighed and relaxed back into the pillows. Simon always got quiet after sex, his pillow talk was practically non-existent.

“I love you.” There was a beat and then.

“Go take a shower and have a snack. Don’t forget water.” He never said it back but you felt it all the same. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

There was muffled shouting in the background and he sighed. “Stay safe out there. Don’t worry about me.” Your fingers curled around your phone and tucked it closer to your body.

“Always do bunny.” He replied simply. “Always do.” 

You held onto the device long after he finally hung up. It was hard being Simon’s wife but it was also the easiest thing in the world because you knew that he would always be right there, even when he was thousands of miles away.

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[snowsinterlude]

La Femme Damnée.

(coriolanus snow x fem. reader x sejanus plinth)

summary: to celebrate your birthday, your two best friends decided to give you the best gift you could ask for.

c.w: double penetration, drunk sex, pussy/dick adoration, friends with benefits, threesome, threeway, coriolanus x reader x sejanus, oral (f. and m. recieving), anal, dumbification, squirting, breeding, explicit content, degrading, dirty talk, tummy bulge, heavy smut, overstimulation, +18. mdni.

"here she is," snow announced, hand finding your waist and casting a kiss on your temple. "the prettiest birthday girl in the world."

you chuckled, pulling away from his grip to greet them in a theatrical manner, earning soft chuckles from both of your bestfriends.

"happy birthday, bunny." sejanus said, hugging you tightly and kissing the corner of your mouth. you smiled softly at him, returning the kiss.

"thank you, sej." you said, smiling softly as your hands caressed his cheeks.

"hey, i'm gonna be a third wheel here or what?" coryo teased, faking disappointment, which you laughed at, approaching him and giving him a kiss on the lips.

"of course not, coryo." you said, smiling.

it was always like that. you three seemed attached to one another. your first times happened with them. kisses, virginity loss, everything turned out to happen in group.

thinking about that, you tried to recall when sejanus got his face buried in between your legs, licking and sucking and fingering you all at once while you moaned and sucked coriolanus cock.

fuck, it felt so good.

your moans on coriolanus's dick made his cock vibrate while he fucked your throat, his tip teasing the back of your throat as you gagged and coughed on him, your pretty, teary eyes looking up into his, searching for his approval as he laughed at the sight of your pleading stare.

"you're such a pretty girl, dove. taking my dick so well into that perfect throat of yours," he said, voice huskier than usual as you felt your heart flutter as you licked his entire shaft, drooling all over him and making a sloppy mess. "that's what you wanna hear, isn't it darling?"

you mewled against him, sucking his tip.

"what if i call you for what you are, hm? what if i call you-" a grunt, as he fucked your throat in a slow pace "a dirty whore? would you like it?" he asked, and your only answer was to free your mouth from his dick, letting out a shameless moan as you held sejanus by his hair, grinding on his face.

just then, snow looked over to see what sejanus was doing, a bit disappointed for not having the attention of your mouth anymore.

between your legs, sejanus was making a mess. his thumb rubbing your clit roughly while your core recieved his fingers attention.

"man, stop it. you want her to cum already?" snow voice took over your hearing senses, and you moaned a bunch of messy words that none of them understood rightfully.

"i want her to, actually." sejanus said, looking at you both, and god he looked beautiful. his mouth and chin were all wet from your juices, you could see the wet shining line of saliva and your pussy wetness connecting his lips to your pussy. you moved your hips, wanting his tongue back, and he chuckled alongside with coryo. "what's that, princess? you have something to say?"

"p-please, keep going. i-i need that- i need your tongue, please. please!" you begged, small tears rolling down your cheeks as he pinched your clit. "g-god, please keep going."

"fuck, look at her. we didn't even fucked her and she's all dumb already." coriolanus said, chuckling at your despair. his cock looked so pretty, too. you couldn't help but suck his tip again, surprising him with that action as he grunted. "doll, what?"

"'m sorry, your cock looks so good, i just- ah!" you moaned, being interrupted as sejanus tongue thrusted inside your warm core. your senses seemed to be sucked out from you.

it didn't took much for you to squirt right on his mouth, and coryo laughed, kissing you on your soft lips as your legs shaked from the pleasure, causing you to get distracted and not notice plinth's cock teasing your pussy, you were so sensitive you thought it was just your imagination.

but then your leg as over sejanus waist as he prepared his dick to enter you, your heart dropping as you noticed the position you were in.

sandwiched between plinth and snow, you could feel coryo's hand spreading your plump ass while his tip teased your hole.

"you ready?" plinth asked, more to snow than to you.

"always." he answered, kissing your neck.

"w-wait, wait- ah, fuck!" you cried, feeling your insides warming up as the two boys penetrated you, both at the same time.

"fuck, she's so tight." plinth said, frowning in pleasure as his hand replaced coryo's, grabbing your ass and letting you hide your face on the curvature of his neck.

"isn't she? she's always so tight and wet for us. such a perfect doll." coryo said, pounding his dick into you while he bite his lips, groaning on your earlobe and nibbling on it.

"god, darling. your always so eager to us." plinth said, moaning as he pounded into you slowly, his pace matching with snow's pace as them both messily touched your body. coryo grabbed your tits and fondled it with gentleness, while sej sucked on your neck and left bite marks on your neck. both watching as you moved your hips, trying to get more of them.

"mmm, you're so hungry for both of us. tell us, princess, what do you want?" coryo asked, teasing you and going even slower on you.

"f...faster, please. please, just a little bit." you begged, swelling eyes taking place while you whined and cried over them. "need to. i-if you keep going i-i'll cum-"

"and what's the problem with that, bunny?" coryo asked, kissing you. his tongue seemed to explore your entire mouth, your eyes shutting close as he thrusted himself entirely inside your tight hole.

"hey, leave a bit to me." sejanus said, going along and thrusting his entire shaft inside you. ah, fuck. he felt too good on your cunt. good enough to make you part your lips from coryo's to let your moans echo on the room.

then he shut you up by kissing you, his hand grabbing your cheeks roughly as he slammed your lips on his, a kiss not so soft as coryo, much for your surprise.

and coryo's mouth found your tits, your nipple hard and soft as he engulfed it on his mouth.

you panicked when both started to thrust faster into you, both hitting spots that were never hit before. your eyes widened up, both your holes tightening them as they fucked you.

"s-stop!! stop it, please! i-i'm close to- fuck, i'll cum! p-please!!" but did they listened to you? of course not. they kept on going.

and even when you cummed three times more, they only stopped when they came, filling you entirely with their cum.

your body gave up, pussy throbbing as you felt on the bed entirely, breathless as the two guys pulled out of you.

"happy birthday, bunny." coryo said, kissing the back of your neck.

"happy birthday, princess." sejanus voiced, letting your overstimulated body rest on his arm.

[p-taryn-dactyl]

maybe for way down we go somehow agatha manipulates everyone/the evidence so it looks like she's innocent/falsely accused or reader has to hide her bc she doesn't want aggie to go back to jail idk I'm sorry lol i just love reading your work

way down we go: the aftermath (ii)

a/n: ok confess did you read my mind? but really, i’m so glad you sent this in bc i was wondering if the ideas i had were bad😭 but great minds think alike and so now here’s part 2 hehehe (also thank you anon! i’m so happy you enjoy my work!) edit: dear god i am so embarrassed by what i have written here but also i hope some of y'all like it?? oh god imma go climb in a hole christ maybe i should go back to church idk word count: 1.6k warning(s): first part of this fic is smut, or what i consider smut (ok idk why it's harder for me to write spicy shit on this blog when ive written it so many other times) the rest is back to normal production of murder, crime and debauchery; like a second or two of angst; im making so much of this shit up plz don't come for me

Once she started, it felt like she would never stop. 

You didn’t want her to. 

Your hands grasped Agatha’s neck and shoulders, trembling as she brought crashing waves of pleasure over you. With eyes screwed shut, your head leaned back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. But your wife wouldn’t allow you to rest. With the hand not pumping into you, she grasped your chin, forcing you to look at her as you pried your eyes open.

“Look at me,” her voice commanded softly as the heel of her hand pressed into your clit, drawing a surprised whimper from your lips as her pace became slow and languid, “I want to see what I do to you, what only I do to you.”

At her words, there was a question radiating in her eyes, along with a sudden hardness that took your remaining breath away. You tightened your grip on your wife, following her instructions and looking deep into her eyes. 

“There was no one else, there’s always been no one else. Only you.” 

Agatha nodded slightly, increasing her pace once more and looking proud of herself as your face twisted with pleasure. 

“Only me.”

Agatha added a finger, continuously brushing your bundle of nerves with the heel of her hand, relishing in your moans and how you wrapped your arms even tighter around her neck, bringing a hand to tangle in her hair and bring her into a crashing kiss. A battle for dominance was quickly lost as her tongue parted your lips, devouring you. You felt your mind grow hazy from pleasure, the hot coil in your abdomen threatening to snap. 

The ring of your phone interrupted everything. 

You felt it buzz in your backpocket, vibrating against the wall behind you. 

Agatha didn’t like your attention being taken away. 

She shifted, removing her fingers from you, much to your chagrin. You only had a moment to process before you were moved. In a blur, you now sat in the very chair Agatha once sat, your legs propped over her shoulders, your phone in her hand as she handed it to you. You furrowed your brow in confusion as you watched it ring, Agatha’s eyes never leaving yours. 

“Answer it, we can’t have anyone worrying for you.” There was something in Agatha’s tone that you couldn’t decipher but you couldn’t go against what she told you to do. You put your phone to your ear, hitting the answer button. Darcy’s panicked ramblings flooded out, barely giving you time to answer any of her questions. 

“Did you see the news? Y/N, this is crazy. Do you think she escaped? Oh god with our luck she was behind it all! Where are you right now? Do you need company? Girl I can be over to your place so fast-”

You were quickly distracted from your best friend as you felt Agatha’s hands tighten on your thighs, pulling your pants and underwear down with her teeth. She only took a second to take in the sight in front of her, your glistening folds, wet from the pleasure she gave you. Then she dove straight in. You could barely contain your surprised squeal, slapping your free hand over your mouth. 

She was relentless, fingers parting your folds as her mouth covered your entire core, tongue going straight to your clit. It was like she was doing everything to get you to fall apart before her and you were oh so close.

"...Y/N, are you ok?"

It was like Darcy was speaking to you underwater, your focus purely on how your wife's head moved between your legs. Swallowing back a moan as Agatha's tongue flattened and lapped harshly at your folds, you gave your friend an answer.

"Yeah...I'm, I'm just shaken. Can I call you la-later?"

You could practically feel Darcy's hesitation through the phone but the second she agreed you hit the hang up button. Throwing your phone onto the floor somewhere, your hands tangled in Agatha's hair, encouraging her. You felt her smirking before she removed a hand from your thigh to slip two fingers into you, almost immediately finding that electric spot within you. Paired with her lips and tongue staying firmly suctioned onto your clit, you felt your orgasm crash into you and over you. Your mind and body felt seperated as you caught your breath, Agatha peeling herself away from you, coming up to kiss your forehead. She nuzzled you with her nose for a moment, the soft action sending you into a light sleep.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The weeks that followed Agatha's return were nothing less than stressful. Constantly looking over your shoulder as you walked into your home, unplugging every and any device that could connect to internet, and ordering food but having them deliver to your neighbor finally made you snap one day at the lab.

You knew how to do it, you knew how to collect evidence, how to manipulate it wasn't exactly hard.

The issue was Darcy.

While she was a great friend, constantly checking in on you, making sure you were okay with your supposed serial killer ex-wife being on the run, she was the greatest obstacle in your goal.

One night, while the two of you had dinner, you mentioned this to Agatha, angry at yourself for being untruthfull to your friend.

"Well, I could always," Agatha made a gesture with her knife jokingly, smirking to herself as she cut into the steak. It was like all the air left the room, the reminder of what your wife was hitting you like a truck. At your silence, Agatha looked up, her eyes widening at your expression. With a shaking hand, you pointed at your wife and shook your head.

"No, no, you don't-" your voice broke as everything swirled around in your mind, "You don't joke about that. Definitely not about Darcy."

Agatha opened her mouth to respond but you found yourself not wanting to hear her voice. Some petty, evil, part of you called from the dark part of your mind to call the police. Turn Agatha in once more and remove the weight from your shoulders.

You ignored that thought, instead pushing your chair away from the table before Agatha could speak and walking to the bedroom, calling over your shoulder.

"I'm going to bed, I need to think."

You got into your pajamas, going through your nightly routine with a lump in your throat, like your flight or fight was being triggered. It took a while for you to notice that Agatha had yet to come to bed, the time well into the night. Making your way into the living room, you took some steadying breaths. While your reaction was valid, maybe you should've stayed to listen to what she had to say. When you crossed the threshold into the living room, you saw that Agatha had gotten some spare blankets out of a closest, making bed on the couch. She too was awake and smiled at you hesitantly when she noticed you standing in the walkway.

"I didn't know if you would appreciate my company tonight." Her voice was soft, almost as if she was trying to be careful. You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow.

"I always appreciate your company, I didn't appreciate the comment you made."

Agatha nodded, slowly getting up from the couch to come stand in front of you, holding her hands up as if she wanted to hold you.

"It's too early for jokes, I understand."

At a peculiarly pointed glare, Agatha quickly added on,

"And Darcy is off limits, of course. I would never, I mean- she's safe, totally safe."

Some part of you wanted to laugh at your flustered serial killer wife but you simply held out a hand, pulling her back to your bedroom, your plan and anxiety of tomorrow swirling in your head.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You'd never been more grateful for a robbery before. Since you specialized in murder or special victim cases, you were able to stay behind in the lab while Darcy and Jimmy went to case the gas station and talk to the poor teen who was at the register. You reviewed the two key pieces of evidence that were used to hammer the final nail in Agatha's coffin. A strand of hair and the blood profile. Anything else was circumstancial or based on a loose psychological profile.

The hair was easy enough to make doubtful as it wasn't a reliable source by itself. The follicle of the strand wasn't even attatched, meaning the only use this had was to be compared with a strand of Agatha's hair taken during the trial process.

One click and the hair was digitally gone.

The blood, however, was the tricky part. It was a 94% match to your wife, meaning it could either be her or a relative. You felt your stomach drop when you realized this could be the evidence that ruins everythings.

Until you noticed something.

In your report, in the other forensic report, and in the court transcript, it said the other blood profile was heavily mixed into the victims. You did a cross reference between Agatha's supposed blood and the victims, the result showing that one couldn't be distinguished from the other. Agatha's blood was triggered as the closest possible match of the two blood profiles, even though realistically the computer should've said the evidence was inconclusive.

An excuse formed in your head.

You, and your team, were so focused on catching the serial killer that had been terrorizing the town, you had overlooked key inconsistencies, instead focusing on the one true suspect you'd had on the case.

One click. The blood was deemed inconclusive.

One click, the case was reopened.

One click, all evidence of Agatha being guilty was erased.

One click, no one would know it was you who had manipulated the system.

One click.

Agatha was officially innocent.

a/n: was this ok? lie to me and say yes, wait no don't do that I'll get happy then remember you're lying and then ill be sad. on another note, r is officially a criminal whoo. i do have something planned for this series but can y'all tell me if you genuinely like this series? many thanks 🙏

[madhatterbri]

Secret Santa | A.S.

Summary: 17.) Secret Santa ~ Alex Shelley x plus size reader, plz use pet names rather than y/n.

Requested by: @tahiri-veyla

Author's Note: I changed my mind and posted tonight. He is kind of hot. 💀 Taken from my prompts list found here. No use of Y/N.

Alex Shelley Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @smallestsnarkestgirl @magicalbuttertarts @cowboywritersworld

"Wow! You got your girlfriend for Secret Santa? That's gotta be the easiest thing ever,"

Alex looked at his friend and smiled briefly. He let out a chuckle as he looked at his girlfriend's name written on the slip of paper. Of course it was going to be easy. They had been together forever. What could possibly go wrong?

He put the slip in his jean pocket and drove to a local store. Alex figured he'd walk in the store, buy something for the love of his life, and walk out in fifteen minutes. Nothing could have prepared him for the moment his mind went blank as he looked at all the items. There are so many things to buy but he doesn't know what exactly he should buy.

The Secret Santa was going to be a party amongst their friends. The gifts had to be out of the park. His little miss had to get the very best things. He was sure he would get something lame for whoever picked him. It didn't matter if it would be another Starbucks gift card that he received that would rot in a kitchen drawer. The sparkle in her eyes that night would make his night.

Alex pulled out his phone and scrolled through Google. He was trying to find a perfect gift for her. Google had an answer for everything, right?

Slippers? What are we? 80?

Gift cards? Hey babe, we've only been dating for years. Here's something because I don't listen to your likes. Don't worry. I'll see myself to the couch.

Okay, so Google wasn't the right thing to use for today. Alex closed the window and texted his best friend. Maybe he could give some sort of insight into his dilemma. It went as well as expected. The message poked fun at his current situation.

Dude, you have one hour until the party. Are you serious? Oh man, you are so ducked.

Alex shoved his phone in his pocket. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. One hour. Only one hour to get everything ready. The wrestler looked through the aisle again and stopped.

A rubber duck with a wrestling face mask stared back at him. He questioned how he hadn't seen this before. The toy would be a great addition to her collection. Besides, wrestling held major importance to them. They met at a wrestling show.

"You are coming home with me," he spoke to the duck much to the bewilderment of the customers around him. His hands fiddled with the duck as he paced around the store.

Alex thought about his girlfriend. His perfect little dove from head to toe. She had a smile that could light up the whole room. A body with curves in all the right places. Her beautiful face and eyes lit up as she had her nose stuck in another book. A blanket wrapped around her feet since they were always cold.

Wait, that's it!

The forgetful boyfriend rushed to the book aisle. She was just complaining about almost being done with a book. Her world was made when she found out there was a sequel. Scanning through the aisle, he found the next book in the series. It was the very last copy.

His next stop was the socks section. A cute pair of fuzzy socks in her favorite color lay at the top of the bin. When he saw they were her size, he breathed a sigh of relief. With no time to lose, Alex made his way to the checkout line with a gift bag in hand.

Alex's friend ribbed him the moment he arrived at the party.

Dead man walking.

Coal would be a blessing compared to what you are going to get.

He chuckled at the lighthearted teasing. "Oh no, my baby is going to love this,"

They stepped inside the home. The host of the party didn't waste much time in allowing people to open their gifts. He wanted to have the presents opened before the adult beverage consumption.

One by one, the gifts were spread out amongst the crowd. As expected, Alex was gifted a Starbucks gift card. He thanked them all the same.

"You are my secret Santa? Isn't that cheating?" His girlfriend asked.

Alex shrugged. "Open it up, darling,"

He watched as her fingers removed each tissue paper carefully. She placed them neatly on the couch next to her.

"A wrestling duck?" She asked with a laugh. "He's adorable,"

Her laughter made him smile. "Keep looking,"

Upon further inspection, she removed the book from the gift bag. Her face lit up brighter than the Christmas tree. "I could never find one in any of the stores. Thank you,"

"You have one more thing in there," Alex told her.

She pulled out the pair of fuzzy socks out and laughed. He couldn't help but laugh as well.

"No more putting your cold feet against me at night," he teased. His girlfriend threw her head back and laughed.

"I guess I'll have to put something else against you tonight," she whispered between them. She leaned in and gave him a kiss. Alex smiled in the kiss. Maybe getting a Starbucks card didn't suck so much after all.

[2kyo7]

𓇼𝐂𝐀𝐈𝐌𓇼 | 06

pairing ; neteyam sully , lo’ak sully , aonung , & more x female reader

𓏲 ➥ summary ; You were always told to never trust the likes of monsters or you’d be eaten whole. But monsters can be so deceptive and cunning, how could you resist?

warnings ; name-calling , jealous aonung , argument

notes ; this is the final unposted chapter of the hiatus, no more left:((

YOUR FEET TREAD LIGHTLY across the soft but durable fabric that created pathways throughout Awa'atlu, causing your body to bounce up and down with every sudden movement, while a sluggish Ao'nung was not so fast to match your hurried pace. "_____ why so rushed today? You tìyawn our walks..." He stood solid and unmoving, his hold unrelenting on your fingers as they intertwined with his own seemed almost permanent. "Hmm? Tell me."

tìyawn - love

Ao'nung tilted his head with a hum, complimented by his signature smirk, as if that would prompt you to answer him any sooner. "Maybe I am unworthy to walk with Olo'eyktans son," you jokingly mocked his notorious title, beginning to sway circles around him, his body turning to keep track of your own. "Or," Ao'nungs tone became deeper—more serious within a matter of seconds, every ounce of playfulness drained from his expression.

"You are in a hurry to see that forest devil." A newfound death grip was placed along your biceps while he flipped you around to face himself, not a single inch of space left to breathe. You found yourself almost scared, but remembered this was harmless Ao. The same boy who still needed help braiding his hair and couldn't tell rotting fruit from ripe, at the realization you became rather irritated. "What are you saying?"

His forehead crashed into yours and not in a loving or comforting manor you'd grown accustomed to—no harm was done—but the action was still quite rough. "You know exactly what. O'laya told me she saw you and him together last night. Alone. Touching." Your eyes narrowed impossibly more, and Ao'nungs intense glare wasn't letting up. "How dare you. I would never muntxa si with anyone much less na'rìng na'vi."

muntxa si - mate with marry

na'rìng - forest

"Hard to believe when others saw too." Ao'nung lightened his grip ever so slightly, you took the chance to push him away. "I never claimed we were not together txonam," you take multiple needed steps back, extra precaution in case he made another attempt. "And it should not be a worry of yours who I spend my time with. Forest devil or no."

txonam - last night

Ao'nung released a sharp hiss, "of course it is my worry—you are my..."

"Your what Ao'nung?" You let out an equally poisonous hiss, becoming closer to him, this time on your own accord. He struggled to gather his thoughts into a comprehensive response, hurt taking the place of anger. "Tsk, exactly." You brush past him coldly, seeking the walkway's edge before you dove into cool waters that surrounded it. Leaving a stunned, shattered Ao'nung alone with only his thoughts.

Soothing gentle circles around your tender, slightly discolored arm where your fight with Ao'nung had occurred, a small pout wearing down your features at the thought of it. You'd known Ao'nung all your life and while you knew he only had good intentions in mind, there are better ways to convey a discomfort about something than whatever that was. You decided forgiveness would be granted when your arms felt better (nearing the day's end) and he himself apologized for his actions.

Besides, you couldn't stay angry at your Ao forever, especially with the saddened eyes he'd been sending your way.

"Manga," Roxto whistled after calling out to you, spitting water in your face for good measure. "You and your boyfriend have a fight or something? Pey do not answer that. The two of you are more than fight feet apart!" A sudden splash overcame Roxto as he struggled to keep the unexpected water out of unwanted places. "Quiet Roxto, all you do is speak speak speak! And what do you imply? We spend too much time together?"

manga - hey you

pey - wait

Rotxo's arms rose above his head to show he meant no harm, "geez, sorry—but it is funny how quick one can see when you two are in disagreement." You sent him a quick nudge to the face, "quiet my nerves are gone enough." He laughed aloud at your offensiveness, before something else caught his attention.

"Look there," Roxto nodded his head towards the approaching na'vi, the two of you watch for the umpteenth time as they carelessly jump into these ocean waters, a lack of proper guidance evident in their forms. Only for a moment did you catch a glimpse of Neteyam's golden eyes meet yours, quickly being shallow out by the water. You let out a deep sigh, "there is a long way to go." He nodded in agreement, swimming to meet Tsireya and Ao'nung, you quickly followed suit except pretending that a certain someone wasn't there entirely.

You tried to wait—you really did, but everyone looked as if they moved in slow motion, so you raced ahead without consideration, diving among the many creatures that resided within Eywa's wonderful sea. There were many things you noticed whenever finding the time to look back to the others, their lungs were weak, and on top of that they couldn't understand sign. It honestly made you reconsider your promise to Tuk and Neteyam many times. Everyone began to regroup towards the surface where you joined them.

"Are you alright?" Tsireya questioned the siblings with earnest concern, "you're too fast! Wait for us!" Tuk spoke on behalf of her family, her response made earned a laugh from yourself, you swam over and removed hair away from her face.

"You are not good divers—maybe good at swimming through trees but..." You coughed to silence the laugh that threatened to rise. Ao'nung looked over with a proud expression at almost making you laugh, his happiness was quickly revoked when his sister strikes him with little hesitation. "Tuktirey, I see you have already forgotten my words to you."

Tuk hummed, appearing in deep thought. She searched every inch of her memory in recall to yesterday's event. "You said...do not fear the waves. Fighting will only make it harder." You nodded, a gentle grin on display, "that's exactly it Tuktirey—this goes for the rest of you also," you take quick glances over the others. "Eywa has already accepted you into her beautiful waters, now you must allow yourself to be taken by them." You give them a simple demonstration by calming your breathing, eyes closed shut, feeling the water consume you on all sides.

Everyone watched your actions carefully, "yes breathe..." Tsireya added in a more direct sense, nodding as she did so. "Just breathe."

"We don't speak this...finger talk." Neteyam continued to grin though he seemed genuinely confused, playing with his own fingers to mimic the actual motions. "We don't know what you're saying." He looked to you almost pleadingly—I'm lost, guide me—his eyes read. You shook your head side to side, a small smile barely visible playing on your lips at his description. "No Neteyam, not finger talk, we call it sign. It is second tongue to us Metkayina."

Neteyam hummed, hanging on every word you spoke as he swam past his brother to be in closer proximity to you and Tuk. Aonung bared his teeth at the entire interaction, pray in that moment a wave overtook Neteyam, and him only. Tsireya’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head when seeing her brother's jealousy. "I will teach you." She looked over the group, "we all will."

Your ears perked up when Roxto's gasp beside you, "where is Kiri?" He asked, causing everyone to turn their heads in search of the female na'vi. "Kiri?" Tuk frantically called out for her sister. "Who?" Suddenly everyone started to repeat the name like a chant. "That girl is gone." You say in half meaningful concern, but mostly in surprise you hadn't noticed beforehand. Without notice you immerse the rest of your body into the water, splashing both Roxto and Tuk.

Ao'nung grabbed ahold of your tail before you could swim any further, preventing you from moving for the second time today. Unbelievable. Pulling your tail out of his grasp, you in turn whipped him with it. "Where are you going?" He angrily signed, now swatting your tail away from him. "To look for the weird girl." You began swimming once more, but felt his presence lingering behind. "Alone." You sent him a deadpan look, physically making him sulk.

You scoured the reef's sandy floor in search of a dark blue, lanky, out-of-place, female na'vi. Hoping she wouldn't be foolish enough to wonder any further, or even better, she retreated into the comfort of her home possibly getting spooked by an ocean animal. Though never in a million years would you think to see the foreign (former) Omatikaya this indulged in Eywa's sea—maybe even more so than yourself.

From behind a patch of rocks, you watched in complete shock as Kiri scouts the unfamiliar water, completely unafraid. She fearlessly swims alongside the animals, curiously observing them in complete awe, occasionally reaching out to touch. Your position would soon be compromised as your skimwing Kanaya came cutting through the water and barreling towards you at top speed, releasing a horrid screech to let her presence be known.

You shook your head quickly in a pitiful attempt to shoo her away but it was futile. Kanaya often greeted you like this, it had simply been in her nature to do so, she was rowdy, wild, antsy, but most of all—yours. Using her bill she nudged all around your belly resulting in a very ticklish you to nearly lose control of your breathing. Before you could even remotely get the chance to gain composure, Kiri rounded the boulder looking to Kanaya with bright eyes, then spotting you, making her immediately recoil.

How ungrateful, you begin to regret searching for her out of the goodness of your soul, moving to gently wrap your arm around Kanaya's neck, the two of you followed close behind while Kiri promptly swam away. She soon reached out to touch a school of fish, who avoided her hand entirely and instead circled around you, rubbing their smooth scales along your skin. Kiri crossed her arms with a huff when seeing the pink tongue that darted out from between your lips teasingly.

Slowly you reached down to pick a dark spiky vegetable from the rest of its brethren, letting Kanaya take a bite before handing it to Kiri. Her expression was one of extreme doubt, but ultimately received it. It's contents were nude in color, soft and mushy too, soon the same school of fish flocked to her in order to feed from what she held, looking to you with great suspicion.

You motioned Kiri to follow you up towards the surface, and she obliged, feeling herself begin to grow dizzy for desperately much needed air. How long had she been down there anyways.

"That vegetable is greatly loved among ocean creatures," you spoke calmly, your voice relatively steady for the first time (around Kiri at least). Once more she reached out to an unknown animal, though this time Kiri was welcomed with hostility, Kanaya biting away her hands. "Woah!" Kiri was quick to withdraw the limb, you laugh, rubbing Kanaya's neck up and down to sooth her worry. "Careful, she is of tsurak. They are not tstunwi, especially to strangers."

tsurak - skimwing

tstunwi - kind

"What's her name?" Kiri observed your skimwing, who sent looks of caution towards her. "Kanaya, and she is mine. I earned her around the age of thirteen—she is my world." Before you could explain any further, Kiri cut your words short, "why are you here?" She asked, watching as you mount Kanaya, "no, why are you here? You have already missed valuable lessons I've taught your siblings." Kiri seriously doubted that, "you haven't taught us anything since we arrived, can you blame me?" Almost as if she had said nothing at all, you make the bond with Kanaya and continue speaking. "Come, don't think holding your breath for long makes you Metkayina."

[sarcasm-and-stiles]

Hi I saw that you were wanting requests, I’ve been having this idea in my mind since I’ve read something similar in a Spencer fic, but instead of working for Penelope she works for Hotch as an intern. So the concept is the reader would be a new intern for something but she hangs around with Penelope a lot so she starts answering phone calls from Hotch in a similar way that Pen does for Derek and the first time it happens the reader gets all flustered but as time goes on the reader gets more confident. Possibly leading into Hotch asking the reader out? Just a bunch of fluff. (Please let me know if this idea is not good or can’t be used)

A/N: Oh my god thank you so much for this request anon! This was the first thing I’ve written in a while and it was a lot of fun. I took some liberties with the prompt but I tried to stay loyal to the request. This is my first Aaron fic so I hope you guys like it :)

Word count: 1.7K (holy shit I’ve never written anything this long)

Aaron Hotchner x intern!reader

age gap

Hotch is in his 40s and reader is in mid to late 20s

Working for the FBI was itself a demanding job, but being Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner’s intern? That was a whole other story. Obtaining a Masters in psychology was great and all but the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit was always my end goal, so getting to intern was a dream come true and I was determined not to blow it. Unfortunately, while working at the BAU I discovered another dream of mine, Aaron Hotchner. As I was nearing the end of my twenties and more concerned with academics and my career, it meant that there wasn’t much room for a love life, but a girl can dream can’t she?

I’m broken out of my reverie as I enter the bullpen.

“Morgan, have you seen Hotch yet this morning? I have those case files he was looking for.” I asked as I sidled up next to his desk.

“Sorry pretty girl I haven’t—never mind.” I look at Morgan with confusion written on my face.

“Sorry, I was running late.”

I tighten up a little before turning to address Hotch.

“Morning boss! No need to worry. I think that you’re allowed to be late every once in a while.” I say with a small smile. ‘Late to work’ isn’t in Aaron “punctuality” Hotchner’s vocabulary, so for him to show up late meant that something must have sent his morning off kilter.

Hotch started towards his office and I followed him, determined to finish the task set before me. He opens the door and holds it for me. I follow him through letting it close behind me to give us some privacy.

“Is everything alright with you this morning Aaron? You seem a little off.”

Hotch struggled to meet my eyes before replying, “What? Oh. Yes I’m fine. Jack woke up with a fever, so I had to wait on Jess to stay with him before I could leave the house.”

“Aw poor Jack,” I say as I place the files on an unoccupied area of Hotch’s desk.

“Thank you Y/N. Could you go and get Garcia, it’s time to start briefing the team.” I nod and exit his office closing the door shut behind me.

I walk to Penelope’s lair and let myself in. Since I’m only an intern, and have no field training, I am confined to the office. This means that I spend most of the time that Hotch is on a case with Penelope. This also means that Penelope is aware of my tiny monumental crush on our boss

“Ah good morning my dove! What brings you to me this beautiful morning?” Penelope’s sunshine demeanor is contagious bringing a smile to my face.

“Hello! Unfortunately I am here on business not pleasure, Aaron wants to start the briefing.”

“We must be on our way then. We can’t leave Aaron waiting, can we?” Penelope said while wiggling her eyebrows at me.

I blush realizing that she caught my mistake. “Hotch. Hotch wants to start the briefing.” I sigh knowing that my attempt to cover up my mistake was in vain. I quicken my pace to catch up with Garcia as she enters the conference room. When we walk in most everyone is already in their seats chatting comfortably. I look around and notice that the only available chair is the one next to Hotch and I steel my face as to not clue him in on my recent and obvious casualty surrounding my feelings for him. When I sit down he sends me a soft smile before calling everyone’s attention to the newest case that would be taking them to Nashville.

——

The team had landed safely in Tennessee, and by the next day I was out of things to do so I decided that the best way to spend my time was doing whatever I could to help the team by aiding Penelope.

I knock on the door before letting myself in announcing my entrance, “Good morning beautiful! How can I be of assistance to technical genius Penelope Garcia today?”

Garcia turned to look at me quickly before facing her computer once again. “Hello my lovely! Grab a seat and I’m sure I can find something for you.” As I’m settling myself in at the desk I hear the phone ring.

“Can you answer that for me love?” I nod and pick up the phone.

“Hey babygirl, how’s miss smart and sexy today?”

“Sorry to disappoint you Morgan, but I don’t think I’m the girl you’re looking for.”

“You’re never a disappointment y/l/n, although Garcia’s expertise may be more helpful in this situation.”

“Roger that. Passing you along.”

As I heard Penelope and Derek’s flirty phone banter, I couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to do the same thing with Hotch.

———

I had been combing through files for helpful information for the past couple of hours. My eyes were sore and my heart was heavy, nothing seemed to be of much use. I leaned back from the files and let out a sigh.

“Is everything alright my precious flower?”

I crack a small smile before responding, “Yeah yeah everything’s fine, just a lot on my mind.”

“Anything you want to talk about love?” I let out another small sigh.

“I was just thinking about my love life, or lack thereof.”

“You’re a catch hot stuff! You just need to put yourself out there. Anybody would be lucky to call themselves yours.”

“Just put myself out there. Easier said than done.”

I spent the next few hours thinking about what Penelope said while continuing my work.

Put myself out there, I can do that. What’s the worst that could happen? Flirting with your boss never has serious consequences. No. Yes. I can’t keep hiding my feelings, sooner or later someone is going to realize. It’s not like I’m subtle.

After forming my plan, all I could do was wait for the right time. Luckily I didn’t have to wait long.

Ring Ring Ring

I check the caller I.D. to see Hotch’s name flash up at me, and I flip open my phone. “Speak and I will obey.”

There was a pregnant pause making me second guess jumping straight into the deep end.

“Y/N, I need you to get an old file for me. It’s in the filing cabinet in my office. Once you have that I need to to send it to me ASAP.”

“Yes sir. Your wish is my command.”

I can hear him hesitate before answering, “…Thank you.”

——

The next time I’m in contact with Aaron is when the team returns from the case the next day. Everyone is cleaning up their workspaces getting ready to head home. I’m chatting with Reid about a new book that he had read when I hear Aaron’s voice call for me.

“Y/N, could I see you in my office.”

My mouth opens and closes slightly before I nod and walk up the few steps to his office. I step inside on uneasy feet. I couldn’t help but shake the nervousness around me.

“Shut the door and have a seat.” I do as I’m told. I begin twiddling my thumbs and it seems like hours before he talks again although it has only been a few moments. “I wanted to talk to you about yesterday.”

“Oh my god I’m so sorry. You’re gonna fire me aren’t you? I wouldn’t blame you. Oh my god-“

“Y/L/N.”

“I’m so stupid.”

“Y/N stop talking.” I look up quickly and shut up. “I’m not firing you. I’m just - I’m just a little confused. Yesterday seemed a little out of character for you.”

I let out a shuddered sigh, “I was- I was putting myself out there.”

“Putting yourself out there?”

I look him in the eyes before saying, “I guess I’m going all in. I know you’re my boss and I know it’s inappropriate for me to even be saying this but…I like you Aaron—romantically. You don’t have to respond…I know I’m putting you in an awkward position but I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.” After finishing my speech I have to shift my eyes to my lap, his analyzing stare too much for me to take.

“You’re right, it is inappropriate.”

I nod my head too ashamed to look him in the eyes as my own welled with tears. I stand up to let myself out of his office.

“I’ll uh…I’ll be…goodnight sir.” He lets me walk out the door without protest. By now the team has gone home which kept me from more embarrassment. I gather my belongings and rush towards the elevator. When I finally make it to the elevator and the doors begin to close I let my tears quietly fall. But a hand pushes itself between the closing doors, forcing them open. I rush to wipe my tears and look up. When I do I’m face to face with the man who had caused my tears. As quickly as he had gotten into the elevator he pressed the button closing the doors and leaving us alone together.

“Y/N.”

I refused to turn and look at him.

“Y/N, please.”

“What? What more do you have to say. I get it. I’ll get over it I just need some time.”

“I-I have feelings for you too.”

I look up at him, “What?”

“I have feelings for you too, and when you told me I didn’t know what to do. I-Ive never been in a situation like this before.”

“You do?”

“You’re very intelligent. Always trying to help others and you give your all no matter the task. And although it is not the main reason I find you so intriguing, you are beautiful. I know that we will have to learn to navigate this situation, but if it’s something you would want, I would like to take you out to dinner.”

It takes me a moment to respond, but when I do it’s with a wide smile on my face “I would like that very much Hotch.”

“Please, not Hotch. I love hearing you say my name.”

“I would like that very much Aaron.”

He takes a small step closer and reaches out to my face, wiping away a few stray tears before he cups my face.

“Can I kiss you?”

I look into Aaron’s eyes before saying, “Yes.”

[rae-and-mezo]

Could you write headcanon Seb and Omi being mean at reader so they cries and run away. The boys come to them to apologize.

Sebastian and Ominis say Awful Things During a Fight

A/N: This turned out a lot more like a blurb than headcanons, oops! I liked this one, angst is fun. I'm sorry it took me so long, finals are KILLING ME!

Seb:

You're sitting in the Undercroft with an ice pack to your head. Admittedly, you shouldn't have dove into the cave without a Wiggen weld potion. But you don't regret going in, how else would you save the Merlops from dark wizards.

Luckily you got out with just a concussion, Poppy dragged you away just in time.

But Sebastian heard the news in the form of a rumor, and he didn't hesitate to run out of charms class and towards where he hoped you were.

"Mc! Oh Merlin, what did you do?" He didn't even greet you as he stormed into the cold room.

You winced, half because of the pain and half because you had hoped Seb wouldn't find out.

"Hello, Sebastian." You greeted without turning around. After all, you weren't sure you could keep from crying. Sebastian grabbed your shoulders and turned you to face him gently.

He simply shook his head in wonder as he took the ice pack and examined your head. "It looks bad."

"It's really not." Sebastian frowns at your dismissal. "Okay, well, either way, it needs to be healed. The hospital wing isn't a good idea, they'll just ask questions. I'll run and grab a wiggenweld...no, I should stay with you. Anne taught me a healing charm a few years ago, I can attempt it if you would like."

"Sebastian."

"On second thought, I shouldn't try an unknown charm on you. Is it more of an aching pain or sharp pain? I have some herbs in my bag and-"

"Sebastian." He looks up at you fiercely. Around anyone else he hides his emotions, but around you it seems they flow right from his sleeve. Is he shaking? He is, you decide, but because it's cold. At least that's better than admitting he is shaking because of the fear you caused him.

"I'm alright."

"No, you're not. Look at this lump! How did you even get it?" the uncomfortable silence told both of you that he didn't really want to know.

"It will heal Sebastian."

"You didn't answer my question."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does!" Sebastian stands up with his hands in his hair. "Merlin, it does! You do this every bloody week, go off on some quest and come back beat up. Why don't you ever ask somebody to go with you? Is it your pride? I bet it is."

Taken aback by his outburst, your eyes widen. "I just ran into an unexpected group of poachers, Sebastian I promise."

"I don't doubt it. You...you probably scouted them out, right? You're always looking for more ways to get into danger anyways. You don't trust me. That's why you don't ask me to go with you. Either you don't trust me, or you're lying." He paces a small portion of the room.

"I do trust you, Seb. I just want to protect you."

"Is that what you call it? Lying to me about where you're going and then hurting yourself?" He turns to face you and steps closer. "Let me tell you something. You're going to die out there. A slow, painful death because you're too fucking stubborn too ask for help." When you don't budge, he narrows his eyes. "Will anyone grieve? We will miss you, but we all would know it was coming. Every one of us would know, I promise. And as much as we would miss you, we wouldn't have to worry about you anymore."

Silence.

"Fuck you."

And then, you're off. A blur of tears, are you shaking? You are. No sounds but the thumping of your feet on the corridors. Your head hurts.

You couldn't comprehend what Sebastian had said, it was too painful. A fog filtered through your mind and you didn't stop to think somebody might have seen you running. Everything inside hurt.

If you were gone, it would be a burden off of everyone's back. That's what he said. It hurt so bad you clutched at your chest.

In the dungeons, you couldn't run anymore. So you collapsed into the nearest wall in a mess of sobs. Of course, he was right. Of course he was. Had he ever been wrong?

And it's three days (or really, an hour) until Sebastian comes and finds you. He has tears running down his face too.

"Mc!"

"Fuck off."

You might agree with him, but you don't want to see him. He sits down opposite of you, and he's still shaking.

"I shouldn't have said that."

Silence.

"I didn't mean it."

Silence.

"I swear, MC, I was just worried and-"

He stops when you turn to face him. "Sebastian. Shut up." The harsh words shock him. "You were right."

"No!" Those eyes you love so much widen. "I wasn't, don't say that! Mc, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, let alone Hogwarts. I would- no, the world would be devastated to lose you. All you were trying to do was protect us and the innocent creatures. I was terrified something happened to you, and took it out in the worst way possible. I am beyond sorry, my love."

You frown as you took in his face. Wide brown eyes, messy hair from sprinting towards you, swollen eyebags and a red neck from the near hyperventilating breaths he had been taking.

"I'm sorry too." He smiles and holds a hand out halfway too you. An invitation, maybe. "You don't need to be. How about this? I'll work on taking my anger out, and we can come up with a way for you to tell me if you're about to, you know, jump into a poacher ring."

"Sounds like a plan." You shake his hand.

Ominis

Yet again, the two of you were arguing.

It all had started a few days earlier with a letter from Ominis's parents. They had found a wife for him, a distant cousin capable of legilimency. With her powers and his Parseltoungue, they could make the ultimate heirs of Slytherin.

You wished that Ominis was able to forget things. He never had been, and never would be, but it would make your life easier. Instead, he fixated on a story his older brother had told him of one of their second cousins. Albert was his name. And he had refused to marry the bride his parents picked out. He was forced to marry her with a blade to his sisters throat and a noose around his beloved's neck.

It was probably just a tale, you told him. Maybe it was, but Ominis could never take the risk. You had spent the last few days trying to get into his head, but he prevailed. The attempts had ended in pure passive agression.

All he wanted was too keep you safe from his family, but all you had waned was him.

Here you sat, on the quidditch pitch in the middle of the night. An odd place to be sure, but it was secluded. And you could put as much distance between the two of you as you wanted.

"Are you even going to try and fight for us, Ominis?"

"try? I've been trying! I've done everything but refuse, and if I do it will kill you."

"You don't know that!"

"MC, it's not that easy. I love you too much to-"

"Love me so much you're willing to marry someone else and write me off? How is this fair to me?"

"It's not, and it's not fair to me either. But I don't have a choice." You glared at him as he swept a hand through his hair.

"like hell you dont!" You snarl. "Run away with me."

"MC, you know we can't do that. They'll find us." His look of pure heartbreak would have hurt if you weren't pissed off. "MC..."

"I don't want to talk about this right now. I don't want to talk right now." He frowned at your words. "this isn't easy for me either, MC,"

"I didn't say it was."

"Are you even trying to listen to me? Do you EVER listen to me?" Ominis runs an angry hand through his hair. "Do you listen to me MC, or do you ever listen to anybody?"

"Oh really, Ominis?" you stand. "you want to go there?"

"I swear, MC, you only care about yourself." You raised an eyebrow. "And that's why I saved hogwarts, and your ass right?"

"Just leave me alone. I don't want anything to do with you."

"You don't mean that."

"Oh, but I do. I never loved you."

Logically, you knew he was under a lot of stress and trying to protect his own feelings. But emotionally, it hit you like a bullet to the chest. You take a deep breath and turn to walk away.

"You're going to run away now?"

You started running. And didn't stop until you got to the Undercroft. Sure, he could find you there, but it was far, far away from the pitch and that's all you wanted in the moment. You crumbled against the wall and cried. How could he ever say that? It kept playing in your mind, over and over.

Tears kept coming, then they came some more, and eventually you fell asleep. It was exhausting to cry, after all. And when you woke up, there was something in your hair.

A hand.

Ominis was sitting next to you, running a hand through your hair, his face pale and blank. You had never seen his eyes so devoid of emotion. Instinctively, you curled up to him, but when you remembered what he said, you jumped away.

He looked down at you with sad, sad eyes. "I'm not even going to try to apologize. I don't deserve to be forgiven. Just, please don't make this more painful than it has to be. I know you never want to talk to me again. I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Fuck off." You groaned, scotting away from him. "I don't want to speak to you."

"I know. I just wanted to apologize before leaving." He sighed, raking a hand through his unusually messy hair. "I didn't mean what I said. I love you more than I could ever put into words. I am nothing without you. I have only ever wanted to protect you, and if that means having to say goodbye, so be it."

You stared at him for a moment before shaking your head. "You, Ominis, are an Idiot. I want you. I don't want you to say goodbye to protect me. All I want is for you to fight for me. I'm not mad about you saying you didn't love me. I was, but I know you didn't mean it. I am, however, furious that you aren't giving me a chance to fight for you, and that you aren't fighting for me."

"I want too. I will send an Owl to my parents first thing in the morning to tell them I won't marry her. That they can either cast me from the family or accept it, but it's what's going to happen."

You look up at him, wide eyed at his willingness to fight for your love.

"Really?" You ask and hate that you sound rather like a small child.

"Really." He wiped your tears with his thumbs and smiled gently. "I know you aren't ready to forgive me yet, but I'm here and I'm not leaving."

[hobiebrownismygod]

Hi, sorry!!Hope you’re having a nice day! May you make a fanfic where the reader is very secretive, formal and keeps to themself, like they never take off their suit’s mask kinda secretive. And hobie is curious about them and wants to get to know them better?

this was such a fun prompt to write! Thx for requesting <3

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader - Mysterious

WC: <1k

Masterlist

🕷 ______________________________________________________🕷

"Hey Y/N!"

"Hi Peter."

"Hi Y/N!!"

"Hi Peter."

You awkwardly nodded at the passing Spider-people, all of them greeting you excitedly while you barely acknowledged them, keeping your eyes in front of you. There was no point in engaging in a conversation, it'd only end up with you having to answer their questions and force yourself into the open. You weren't ready for that just yet.

You kept your head down as you walked through the door of the training center, pretending not to notice the few Peters that waved at you while fighting, friendly yet blank smiles on their faces. They were all the same.

"Hey, Y/N."

You stopped for a moment and turned around, being greeted by a familiar face that you hadn't seen in the past few days. The same face that was the worst of them all, asking you more questions about yourself and your past life than all the other Peters combined.

"Hi Hobie." You muttered, about to turn away again. You did not want to start a conversation with him right now. It always ended with him probing you with questions about your dimension, your family, your canon events...he was too curious to take a hint.

"Woah, where d'you think you're goin' sunshine?" He asked with a grin, following you as you. "Y'can't get rid of me that easy."

"Obviously not." You mumbled, slowing down your pace when you realized you wouldn't be able to shake him off. He watched you for a moment, as if inspecting you, dark brown eyes running over your mask and suit. "Why do you never take off that mask?" He asked out of the blue, cocking his head towards you slightly.

"I don't feel like it" You replied dryly, not making eye contact with him. "Why don't you feel like it, then?" He asked sweetly, a sly expression crossing his face. "Are you horribly disfigured or something?"

"I just don't find it necessary." Your tone was as cold as you could make it, the annoyance at his presence practically oozing out of your body. "And why's that?" He asked, making his tone as childish as possible, obviously trying to annoy the crap out of you. Little shit. "Because my face shouldn't matter."

"But it's not just your face, is it?" He chuckled. "It's your story too. I've known you for a month, but I don't know a single thing about you" His tone turned teasing. "You have something to hide?"

You froze. "I just don't like talking about it, okay?" You snapped, looking up at him. He backed down slightly, hands going up in the air defensively. "Alright, alright...I'm still curious though." He pushed his hands into the pockets of his vest, leaning in once again. "I mean, we've all experienced the same things...what makes you so special?"

"I never said I was special." You said with a scoff, folding your arms over your chest. "Ahh, but you act like you're special." He replied. "All mysterious and secretive...makes me think you've got something a little different."

"What if it's just none of your business?"

He shrugged. "I'd still like to know."

You shook your head and turned away from him again, but he gently grabbed your arm before you could leave. "Wait!" he said quickly, getting back in front of you. "I just want to get to know you better, dove."

"Why?"

"I just...would like to."

You stayed silent for a moment, mulling it over. "If I answer your questions, will you leave me alone?" He rolled his eyes. "I'd rather be friends, but if that's what you'd like..."

"I'd like you to leave me alone."

"Will do, princess. Now first question-why hide your face?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, already regretting giving him his chance. "I just don't want to take it off."

"I won't leave you alone if you don't answer my questions."

"Fine, fine." you said quickly, "I just don't trust any of these people with my identity."

He raised an eyebrow. "You think they're gonna use it against you?" He asked amusedly, a laugh on the tip of his tongue. "We're all Spider-man too...I think you're a bit mental."

"Shut up!" You said annoyedly, shaking your head at him. "I just have...trust issues, okay?" You murmured, just barely loud enough for him to hear. His smile widened at this confession and he lowered his voice as well. "Honestly? Me too."

"Uh-huh" you replied, not buying into it. "No really-" he responded, "-you know, when I first got here, I wouldn't say a single word to LYLA. Still don't. I don't trust anything that robots got to say."

You chuckled at this. "That's not the same though-" You began.

"I didn't trust people with my face either, 'til I realized everyone's got their mask off so it doesn't really matter." he interjected

You stayed silent, letting his words sink in. How cute. "Alright, next question-"

"Hey, I've already answered a question!" You said, a smile appearing on your face.

"You never said I was only allowed one question." he teased, wagging his finger in your face.

"Jerk."

"Why don't you want to be friends with me?" He tilted his head to the side and you couldn't help but feel a little guilty. You'd been fairly rude to him in the time that you'd known him. Although he was pretty annoying, he still wasn't the worst.

"I just...I'm not very good at making friends." You admitted, breaking eye contact and looking to the side awkwardly. He nodded solemnly, not taking his eyes off of you. "I get it."

"No I'm like really bad at making friends. I just...don't like people. I don't get people."

"Don't feel bad about it. To each their own, right?" he assured you, eyes crinkling up slightly as he grinned.

You grinned back. "I guess you're right."

"Doesn't mean we can't be friends though."

You laughed. "Why do you want to be friends with me so bad?"

"You're mysterious. It draws me in." He said jokingly. "But really, I just want to get to know you." he said, almost embarrassedly. "And I'd like you to get to know me too."

You stared at each other in silence. "Well, when you put it that way, I guess I kind of have to now." You said with a chuckle, extending your hand out to him. "Why don't we start over?"

"Sounds perfect, darling. I'm Hobie, Hobie Brown. You?" He said with a smile, taking your hand and shaking it vigorously. "It's nice to meet you, Hobie Brown. I'm Y/N."

[itskindofidontknow]

What dreams know about love?

Chapter 8

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

Elijah knew the Dreaming turned into a wasteland, but it didn’t hit him what a wasteland actually looked like. “ Lucienne, lock all doors, gates, windows. Any creation of my husband that is in the Dreaming must seek protection immediately. A dove will be sent when it is safe to leave.” ‘If it is ever safe to leave’ Love thought while marching through the hall straight to the throne room. The librarian followed the Queen’s fast pace, as Elijah stayed behind, analyzed his surroundings

He vaguely remembered the Dreaming. He didn’t think it was nearly as beautiful as the Garden, but it was alluring. Incohesive to his eyes, due to its ever-changing nature. Even if the Garden, like the Dreaming, was susceptible to its creator's mood and condition, the Garden kept his core unchanged, it was consistent, stable for the lovefolk. The same could not be said about the Dreaming. And Elijah could clearly understand why the Emissary was hesitant and why Eoster was running around giving urgent orders to Lucienne.

They could very realistically be on the verge of a disaster.

The Dreaming was collapsing, which means the King was weak. Lucifer has one of his prized possessions. Morningstar has the trap set and Dream walked right into it.

“Spells or anything against demons. Check Constantine book, maybe it has something. We need it. Now.” Enfatic saying to the librarian, she turned to the cupid “Elijah, find ink, prepare the doves” It didn’t occur to her that there weren't any doves in the Dreaming, nor ravens. Elijah would have to find a way to warn their allies. They would be easy to find. Only a few entities were not fond of her, especially since she had taken a vast number of protégés, blessed many unions and was a godmother of gods knew how many children from these unions.

“Allies? My lady, we are not at war.” Lucienne said it with a gasped nervous laugh of uncertainty. Hands slightly shaking and hesitant. In her eyes the need for something to hold to, something to believe in.

Love was skeptical about her husband’s return. He was Endless, but his state was frail, crumbling to pieces like his own realm. And Lightbringer would see that. An opportunity. Lucifer always sees an opportunity, and one as delicious as an Endless desperate to get his tools back? The fallen angel was going to make him risk it all. And Morpheus would have no alternative but to accept it.

She couldn’t lie to the librarian, saying that everything was fine. Lucienne saw the restlessness in the Garden. Elijah and the Emissary agitated, promptly abiding Love’s demands. If she tried to lie, the librarian would be skeptical of her word. At the same time, it was her duty to care for her husband's creations. She needed to give them hope. If Lucienne, his most loyal dream, gave up on him, there would be no one left to fight for.

“You are right. We are not at war, but it might be wise to prepare. Demons can be erratic.” Love answered promptly. This wasn’t the time to argue about the necessity of raising defenses.

“I believe in Lord Morpheus” Lucienne faced her queen, fixing her glasses. Lucienne’s tone questioning Love's faith in the Dream King. Eoster couldn’t blame her. She couldn’t convince herself of any different outcome than defeat on her husband’s part.

She was also furious with his recklessness, doing the same mistake that got him imprisoned in first place and led to the loss of his prized possessions. Acting before thinking, acting before having a proper conversation with his wife, without tracing a proper plan.

He may not respect her as a wife. He may not want to talk about their relationship. But, politically speaking, she was his queen, she was responsible for his realm in his absence. The bare minimum would’ve been to let her know that he planned to throw his freedom away and deliver it on a silver platter to Lucifer.

Love took a step forward, enterwinding her fingers pressing them against her corset. She kept her face neutral but her green eyes sparkled with authority. It occurred to her that Lucienne never had to take direct orders from Love. Usually Love’s requests were supported by a previous order from Dream. How strange it must be to have to blindly follow Love’s without the king’s approval.

Love took that into account when choosing her words. “As you should. Defying my husband was a mistake and Lucifer will learn it the hardest way. Morningstar is a sore loser and might not want to give in easily. We must be prepared. When he returns, My lord husband will be displeased if we let erratic demons creep into his realm.” Promises of a doubtful return that Love made as a certainty.

The librarian's eyes kept still on the Queen, as if looking for something of a doubt. But Love turned her back, dismissing her “ Protection spells might be enough,”

Lucienne bowed before leaving the throne room, going to the library.

Love waited until she was certain she was alone, taking a deep breath, as filling her lungs with air would somehow ease her mind. Losing the posture, dragging herself up to the throne, sitting under it, leaning her head in the seat. She couldn’t occupy his seat. It could send the wrong message, like a claim she didn’t want to state. Besides, even the thought of occupying his seat seemed like a bad omen, like she was already sealing Dream’s fate. Sitting at the thorne's feet seemed more appropriate. Always at Morpheus' feet, never at his side. A position quite too familiar.

She should’ve known that his sympathy last night was hiding something. His secrecy with Matthew, and the sudden stop when she arrived. He knew he was going. This was the type of thing he should discuss with her, not with his raven. And more importantly, he should not waste their last night together in poor attempts at flattering!

Did he think she was that naive? Or that superficial? That a praise here and there, a kind word, would thaw her frozen heart, so she could grieve for him? For his realm? Beg to Lightbringer for mercy?

Love was already imagining the mess of his loss. There would be two sides that would split entities and anthropomorphic manifestations. The mortal realm would be chaos for who knows how long. Some would probably lose their lives, realms could be destroyed. All would burden her shoulders, terrorize her nights.

One side would support the narrative of: Morpheus lost in the oldest game. Suppose Lucifer wants to enslave the Dream Lord. The angel gets control of the Dreaming. And since Lady Love is bonded by the Book Before Time under the laws of the True Marriage, to Morpheus, she carries half of his soul. Since the Dream King is enslaved and Eoster is also part of his essence, Lucifer has a claim of Eoster and the Garden. Not only the fallen angel would have two realms, but two powerful entities as playthings. That would be his claim. A very good, and logical one, in Eoster’s opinion. Easy to support.

The other side, the one that Love would try to persuade Lords and Ladies to abide, would be: Morpheus lost in the oldest game. Lady Love is bonded to Dream by the Book Before Time under the laws of True Marriage. Since Lady Love carries half of his soul, and The Dreaming is her husband’s essence, The Dreaming is hers, as it is Morpheus’. By ancient law, before the oldest game, The Dreaming and her husband’s creations are hers. And since she wasn’t the one who lost nor agreed to gamble her realms, Lucifer has no valid claims. Morpheus may be enslaved and unable to rule, but not his creations, since they are now Love’s.

It didn’t sound strong like the first one, but that would be what Love would have to claim, to stay in the Dreaming, deny and resist its take over. Protect her subjects. Her husband might be awful to her, but he created dreams, nightmares and stories, beyond her wildest imagination. They carry an important hole in the mortals' realm. To let it be destroyed and corrupted was unthinkable.

She remembered the night before, her husband’s soft touch, the way his gaze rested in her face, his words. It was a farewell. He knew that he might not come back from Hell. Love didn’t know how to feel. He was imprisoned before, but she was not aware of it, of any suffering, and he was imprisoned by a mortal. Now it’s different. Lucifer could, or better, he wil.condemn him to eternal servitude, there would be no escape, no hope. She would be deserted. Alone. Fighting for a realm that the King never made to be a home for his Queen. A realm she felt responsible for.

It wasn’t like before, when she didn’t know if he would be back. This time, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t. “My Lady, what do we do, now?” Elijah’s voice made her raise her head from her hand, putting the curls that covered her vision out of her face. “Pray, my cupid. Seal the palace against demons and pray.”

The minutes turned to what seemed hours. Love heard a clock that wasn’t around, in her heels clicking on the floor, in Lucienne turning the pages, even in Elijah’s careful watch over the symbols draw to keep away demons. Love tried to make herself useful after pacing around the throne room, double checking all the entrances. Love hesitated in entering her husband’s quarters, but shook the feeling away, doing what was needed.

The last bedroom to be checked was hers. Lucienne left it half opened, and Love stayed in the middle of the hallways looking at the double doors. She wasn’t ready to deal with the past that laid inside that room. No longer she was the queen that lived there. She missed who she was. Hoping for it all, believing in the future promised in those forged letters by someone who wasn’t the one laying beside her. A blissful life, like the mortal’s she blessed, full of passionate love making, whispers of sweet promises, not a need in the universe the other couldn’t fulfill.

Love heard from someone she couldn’t remember, that the King of Dreams was so infatuated by his lovers that mortals would often dream of them. Love was humble enough to not think that it would be her case, but she did blindly believe that he would love her.

The memories from inside her room begged to differ.

Eoster took a deep breath, deciding to check the windows of the balcony, and go back to the throne room, not staying longer than necessary.

As she stepped inside, a crunchy noise was heard. Broken glass. She couldn’t tell if the smell of the room persisted from all those years, or it was her imagination. Roses, jasmyne and wine. It took her back, centuries ago. Her bed was a mess. Stained and creased white linen, pillows ripped, two in the bed, one on the floor, swan feathers everywhere. There were dresses tossed aside in her chaise lounge, unmatching heels scattered through the bedroom. Her vanity had a broken mirror. It was a disaster. A perfect scenery of the lowest point in their marriage.

Flashes from that night came straight to her head, like cutted scenes from a movie. Love’s head burned from each memory. Disgusting pleas, mixed with sobs, she collapsed on the floor. Head down in defeat, incomprehensible mumbles and eyes filled with tears that made it impossible to see anything other than a blurred vision of the marble floor.

She could feel his eyes on her back, but she didn’t care. He needed to get away from her.

“Leave”. Eoster repeated the words he coldly said it. Love never understood how he could watch her defeated and broken at his feet and not do anything at all.

It didn’t bring tears to her face. It wasn’t a sad memory. It was sour and left a weird taste in her mouth, something she felt ashamed of. That night, she questioned her own nature, if she deserved to be Lady of the Four Loves. Both said awful despicable things to each other.

One thing Love never admitted to anyone was that his decision in banning her from the Dreaming was for the best. Distance saved their marriage, not exactly saved, but preserved it. It calmed their nerves. Steady their emotions. Both could do their work, focus on the mortal realm, attend to their creations. True Marriage requires half of a soul, but it doesn't require them to share a home, a bed or even talk to one another. They would be together in reunions, conferences, sitting side by side in official events. He would summon her, when needed, and she would abide by his requests.

Love finished crossing the room, leaving the past behind, checking her balcony window, and taking a seat. Resting her back against the wall, she felt the cold silent air brushing against her face and brought her knees to her chest hugging them. Early stars shining above the realm's silhouette. The same view she used to stare while waiting. For the maids to fix her up to some event. For the Seamstress while adjusting one of her dresses for the evening. For Elijah. For Lucienne. For Dream. Her bedroom was more of a waiting room than anything else. All her life all she seemed to do is to wait.

Maybe it would be a good thing Lucifer taking control of the Dreaming. Maybe she could present herself favorable, relief even. The fallen angel could destroy the palace, destroy the rooms that terrorize her memories. Maybe Love could suggest to Lucifer to make Morpheus relieved their marriage but in her point of view. A torture even the cruelest demons would applause. It was tempting.

“ Lady wife” Eoster’s heart skip a beat, shutting down those traisoning thoughts. For the first time she was relieved to hear that deep calm voice. Tears almost came to her eyes, and she let out a breath she didn’t know was holding since earlier. Without turning, she could feel his presence at the door. “ You’ve returned.” She said it without any hint of worry.

“You seemed surprised. Did you not believe in me?” Love could feel his vacillating steps, like approaching a cornered dangerous animal. He remembers. She turned defeated, tired. “Don’t. Please” He stood quietly. She turned to him, saying in a quiet voice“ Why didn’t you tell me?” He raised an eyebrow “ Would you care?”

“I am your queen.” He perfectly knew what that meant. It didn’t matter if she cared or not. She should’ve known.

“ I had to restore my helmet.” He said it was the most logical response in the world. A final answer that justifies his whole sequence of inconsequential decisions.

It sent Love over the edge. Was he that oblivious? Didn’t he stop for even a second and think? She was at her feet quickly. “ You had to think sensibly, not impulsively barging into Hell!” She screamed angrily pacing through the bedroom, her steps almost opening a hole on the floor.

“ I was sensible! I did what I had to do. How did you expect me to rule?!” He replied screaming back. It came back to the fighting. The only language they seemed to understand.

“ I don’t know! But you should’ve consulted me! Talked to me!” Love’s voice got weak, her hand holding the bridge of her nose, shaking her head in denial, trying to avoid the knot in her throat. Taking a few seconds to regroup herself. Avoid all those convoluted feelings.

“Since when the Lady of the Four Loves is an expert in challenges in Hell?“ Morpheus grinded his teeth, trying to shove his angriness away. Why couldn’t she understand? He was rebuilding his realm. That was the only way he had to restore his possessions, even if that meant to put himself at risk. The night before, she made it perfectly clear that she did not care. Why was she upset?

“ Since when the Lord of Dreams is?!” Love was shaking, she didn't know how she was even able to keep walking back and forth in the room, because every fiber in her body was trembling.

“ Do you have any idea what the last hours have been like for me?! Making promises I didn’t even know if they were real. Promises that even I didn’t believe! Your librarian was in shambles, so I had to pick it up. And I didn’t know what to do. Prepare for a war? Search for you? Sit in the Garden and do nothing?!”

He tried to argue between her rants. “ I was going to tell you, last night. But you left before I could even say anything. I was trying-”

“Don’t lie to yourself!You didn’t plan to tell me anything! You were trying to court me to bed!” Poorly, she wanted to add. She saw men do it for centuries over love stories after love stories, telling their muses whatever they want to hear, luring them away from their senses with pretty words and impossible promises. It is easy for an innocent heart to fall for it, but not a seasoned one.

“ I did this for me as I did for you! Don’t you think that I know what would happen if Lightbringer or any other knew about my wounded state? If I did nothing, and waited, they would’ve come. And The Dreaming and you, I might add-” Love knew he was being sincere but couldn’t keep away her anguish.

“I was scared, Morpheus!” She let it out, before realizing what she said. He was stunted, his deep blue eyes confused but kept quiet. And she dared to repeat. Even if every inch of her body was trying to keep her from vomiting all her feelings. She repeated quietly, like she didn't want him to listen. Like admitting it to him, was admitting defeat. Her pride wonded by the confession. “I was scared. I thought…” She spoke before any sense of regretness made her quiet “You barely returned, and you were gone. Again. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid. For me, for the Dreaming, for your subjects… for you”

Both dropped in silence, things were escalating. Both their chest going up and down, they could feel the thickness of the air, the bedroom seemed smaller, and their loud voices seemed to echo through the walls.

The raven haired king never, in centuries, saw his wife in such a state. He remembered her earlier years of being lovable and understanding. The later years of her melancholy and bitterness, and her recent coldness and passive aggressiveness. But, apart from one time, he never saw her distressed, arms and hands trembling, trying to hold herself. Love never showed any weakness in front of him. She silently cried, but every single inch of her always breath royalty, always a proper queen. Even in their fallouts.

He didn’t know why he made his way towards her. Last night, Dream saw that Eoster preferred to avoid his touch, recoiling from even the most lightly innocent brush of fingers. But he was taken aback by her sincerity. The confession of fear, obliviousness in face of a situation he didn’t prepare her to. He felt guilt. His wife knew nothing of the Dreaming. He never bothered to teach her.

Now trying to understand her place, he couldn’t contain himself, but to walk to her, close enough to touch her face, her elaborated hairstyle was semi-undone, her brown curls falling in her face. Dream put them behind her ear, making his queen look at him. At first, by impulse, she tried to get away from him, but concead mumbling again about being scared. “ I won’t ask for your forgiveness. I did what needed to be done. Still, it was never my intention to distress you. Leaving you in the dark, I thought…”

He didn’t, actually. The Dream King thought his wife wouldn’t worry. He never thought she would be terrified with his departure. He didn’t think about the burden he dropped inadvertently at her feet. Seeing her as only his unhappy wife, not his queen. Queen of the Dreaming. The Queen who would deal with the consequences if anything happened differently than his win. An entity with no experience in quarrels beyond the ones of a relationship.

Morpheus didn’t know his wife at all, that was clear by the shock of knowing she would try to defend his realm. Even after the suffering he inflicted on her.

Dream leaned in,letting his forehead rest against hers, as both of his hands secured her face, whipping the salty tears in her cheeks. Eoster let out a deep sigh, still listening, she didn’t try to wriggle out of his touch. Morpheus whispered to her, trying to calm her down, like an intimate prayer shared only between them. “ Hope made me victorious. It is what kept my strength, even when Morningstar had the upper hand. Laying on the ground, almost giving up. It was hope that upheld me. Hope for the Dreaming, for a new dawn… for us.”

Love’s voice was almost a whisper, and if he wasn’t close enough to see her lips move, he would’ve thought it was the whispers of the wind. She frowned, letting the best of her senses behind, ignoring the pain, the memories, nudging against his nose, looking for comfort even for a brief moment. Eyes closed, as if opening them meant to face reality. “Husband… You yearn for what lovers share, that only lovers long and grieve for. Only lovers hope.”

She taught that lesson a hundred times to protegées: When lovers are together, they can give each other everything that matters to the heart: Affection, romance, friendship, passion, fidelity, devotedness, but only if their hopes are in perfect harmony. Strangers that share a bed when the flesh craved for warmth, or that were tricked into marrying someone they thought they loved, are never in harmony. Their hopes are always somewhere else.

Only lovers hope. He knew what she meant. They weren’t lovers. Never were. Silence fell among them again, his thumb caressing her soft wet skin. Love didn’t remember if she ever felt such gentleness emanating through his body, calming her trembling self. She didn’t want to let go.

“My Lady, it is all I plead you ” He begged against her skin, their lips almost brushing against each other. Love felt the warmth of his hands against her cheek. She covered his hand with her own, slightly pending her head in his hand. She opened her green watery eyes, staring at him. Either they look brighter with tears, or Morpheus never really paid attention to them.

Eoster knew what he was asking from her. A vow of faith. To believe in his hope. To believe in his change. With all of her heart she wished she could. The words she so longed to hear. She once wished for his love, with all of her heart and self. Now he wanted her to believe in their future.

She wished she could, she wished her memory was feeble, obliviating all those painful recollections of their time together. His coldness, neglectfulness, disregard. The constant humiliations of being looked at with pity in reunions and having to pretend to not see it, having to endure with elegance, mistress after mistress. Having her intentions questioned constantly. Her devotion, inquisitioned by her own husband. Tossed aside, used for relief and discarded. A pretty accessory parading around in the Prince of Stories’ arm. A cruel joke that Desire could tell to amuse others.

“I want to believe, my lord. How I wish I could…” She let the words trail off, pressing her hands harder against his, as if she could make it happen by physically holding onto him, holding the moment.

She wished to forget the past, the truth and live in this ethereal parenthesis where her husband cared, where he looked at her with worry, sorrow, guilt, and he yearned for her. A parenthesis between the quests to find his belongings.

But the truth hovered between them. It was smothered by a brief second, but it was there, already reopening the drift between them. It was impossible to be ignored.

The truth was they were spouses.

Not lovers.

They never were

@secretdreamlandmentality @littlemoistcarrot @lokigirlszendaya

[winniethewife]

I call you when I need you, my heart's on fire (Marc Spector x F!reader)

Prompt: Heatwave

Words: 1080

It was a record high heatwave that summer. There had been a few power outages city wide.  Marc was half way done with a movie one night when the whole flat went dark.

“Fuck, Not again” He grumbles before standing up. He stretches and looks around, trying to figure out what he was going to do with his time waiting for the power to comeback on, just then Stevens Cell rings. Marc was slightly startled but as he picks it up notices the caller ID. “My Dove” he presses the green button to accept the call.

“Hey.” He keeps it cool, She was Steven’s girl, not his, He wasn’t sure he was ready to be in a relationship again, after letting go of Layla? He just wasn’t there yet.

“Oh! Hey Marc, Um…I could use some company do you think…you could come over?” She sounded freaked out, Marc looks in the nearest reflective surface searching for input from his alter but finds only himself staring back.

“Uh. I don’t know, Steven seems to be MIA at the moment.” He says with slight annoyance. Of course just when the Brit is needed is when he decides to disappear. She lets out a shakey sigh, Marc’s ears prick up at the sound, the familiar twinge of anxiety in her voice. “You okay?”

“N-Not exactly, um… I’m sorry I just…Is there any chance you can come over anyway I…I don’t want to be alone right now… with the power cut…” Her voice starts to crack slightly as she starts tearing up, these sorts of situations always gave her the worst anxiety attacks. Marc doesn’t let her finish her thought.

“I’m on my way. Just hang on for me. Okay?” He wouldn’t admit to himself how much he had grown to care for her but he was quickly throwing on a pair of sneakers and grabbing his things to leave with out a second thought.

“Thank you Marc I really appreciate it.” She hangs up the phone. She starts to pace her flat, the heat was nearly unbearable. She had every window in the place open, she wasn’t sure if it was helping or making it worse. It seemed to take forever and at the same time no time at all for Marc to show up at her door. When she opened the door, Marc quickly flushed bright red as in the light of his torch she is revealed to be in a tank top and short shorts, damp with sweat. She smiles at him oblivious to the situation he was in, deciding to give him a quick hug. “Thank you for coming.”

“No problem.” He quickly comes in to the flat, swallowing a lump in his throat as he looks around. He wipes the sweat from his brow as she walks with him to the living room. They both sit awkwardly apart from each other, when she suddenly looks up.

“OH shit!” She stands up quickly and heads for the kitchen, Marc follows behind her to find her opening the freezer and taking out two large tubs of ice cream. “My niece’s birthday party is tomorrow and I was supposed to bring these, but they’re going to go bad before then.��� She puts them down on the counter and looks at him with a small smile. Marc breaks down laughing.

“Christ, with the way you reacted I thought something bad happened.” He manages to get out while laughing as he leaned on the counter, she started laughing along with him.

“Oh my Gods, I’m so sorry! I just realized…Oh that’s too funny.” She was giggling so hard she had a hard time standing up. After a few minutes of their unstoppable laughter she got out two spoons and they went to town on the ice cream. They started talking about whatever came to mind. Her family, the book series she was reading, how bad this heat wave was.

“I know I would rather be back in the US right now, at least we have AC.” Marc says before shoving another spoon full of slightly melted Ice cream in his house.

“Well, I’m glad you are here, I wouldn’t have met you if you were still in the states.” She comments as she slightly blushed.

“You mean you wouldn’t have met Steven.” He says with a smirk

“No, I mean yes, him too but…I meant you.” She softly answers. Marc stops, this was not a conversation he was sure he should have. She continues “Marc, I know why you won’t open up to me, I know…you might not be ready but…I can’t help it, the mornings I wake up when Steven has spent the night and you’re there, the way you hold me, the way you fixed my washing machine when it was broken, the way you care about Steven, I couldn’t help but fall for you, I’ve fallen in lo-” She couldn’t finish her sentence as his lip were on hers, taking her in his arms as his lips moved against hers, hungry, wanting, no needing to be close to her. The way he had moved so quickly to her and held her so close, it was so natural, so normal, It felt right. Her hands on his chest as she presses into him, their lips dancing together in sync, his large hands gripping her hips. He feels like he can’t let go, that the moment he pulls away she will vanish. As the passion heats up, so does the temperature, and it is quickly too much to bare, she pulls away and looks up at him. In the darkness she still manages to fins his eyes. Marc couldn’t find the words, he wasn’t sure how to follow up that moment. His head was spinning, he wanted to be hers, he wanted…so much more than he ever let himself have. She opened her mouth to say something and just then the lights flicker back on. They both wince from the sudden bright light in their eyes. As they take a moment to adjust Marc finally speaks up.

“I want the same thing. I’m Sorry I didn’t admit it sooner.” He looks into her eyes, his brow furrowed.

“Don’t apologize! It’s okay, you needed time and I’m more than willing to wait.” She smiles at him, reaching up to touch his face, he leans into the touch.

“I just hope it’s worth the wait.”

Bingo Masterlist

Tag: @moonknight-events @juneknight @spacecowboyhotch @silvernight-m

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 43

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Not this guy again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You hole up in the room you’re allotted. You don’t quite know what to do with yourself. You don’t have much. Just your journal, the tablet, and the few garments you packed. 

You pace, sit, stare out the window, pace again. You make yourself dizzy as you walk in circles. You fall onto the bed and huff. You still haven’t cracked. For some reason, that tingle in the corners of your eyes evaporated once alone. The agonized tugging in your chest remains but you can’t summon a single tear. It’s as if your body’s numbing itself to the pain.

You watch the time in the margin of the small screen. Closer and closer. Just after noon there’s a knock on the door. You go to it but don’t open as she speaks through the barrier. Ann. His wife. She asks if you’re hungry. You’re not. Just tired but painfully awake.

She tells you to come downstairs if you change your mind. You won’t. You can’t bring yourself to face her. Or to put it more truthfully, to face the truth. 

You plug in the tablet as the battery dwindles. A few more hours. Closer and closer. It’s the only thing that keeps you going. For a moment, you doubt yourself. Is it wrong?

Evening darkens the windows. You nestle into the chair in the corner as you rest the tablet on your bent legs. You try to busy yourself with a matching game but you can’t focus. You sit in the shadows and wait and wait and wait.

It’s just you and the screen. That tenuous limbo stretching on and on. Then it pops up. That notification. The camera app interrupts your matches with an alert; ‘motion detected’.

You tap it without a thought. Your stomach twists and your throat squeezes tight. You bite down on your knuckle as the app loads. Your teeth pinch but you don’t care. This is it.

The front door closes as Andy steps onto the mat. He tilts his head as he listens, unaware of the camera across from him, just as you had been. He narrows his eyes but shrugs. He sets his bag down, just like he always does, and unbuttons his coat with a sigh.

He hangs it and looks over his shoulder again. He scratches his chin before he lifts a foot, taking off one boot than the other. He yawns and stretches his arms, rolling his shoulders. A low growl rumbles from his throat.

“Dove,” he calls out, “I hope you’re not working too hard…”

He disappears into the front room. That’s the thing, the camera is stagnant. You can’t see it all but you can hear it. You turn up the volume as you hunch down, ears pricked as you hear his distant voice.

“Honey?” There’s the clink of porcelain then frantic steps. He comes back to the edge of the frame, “Dove!”

He stops at the bottom of the stairs, close to the lens. You see the tension in his cheek, the tick in his jaw. That expression that used to make you wilt. He stomps upstairs, once more out of sight. You hold your breath as the corners of your lips curve.

“Fuck,” his voice precedes him as he barrels back down, his shoulder brushing the camera. “Dove–” 

He chokes on his holler as he backs up and faces the small white box. The ‘speaker’. His omniscient companion. He scowls and grabs it, dislodging it from the wall. He brings it close, looking down the lens.

“What?” He whispers in confusion.

You want to laugh. You want him to hear you laughing. But that fear he feels is nothing compared to the terror he instilled in you. Not just of him, but yourself. He made you afraid of your own skin, your own mind, your very being. In that moment, he can’t know even an ounce of the torture he put your through.

“How does it feel?” You whisper. “How does it feel?!” Your voice comes louder, “asshole!”

Your feet slip off the cushion and the tablet falls flat. You clap your hand over your mouth, hoping you weren’t careless enough to be heard past the walls. Your heart races as your breath burns in your throat.

“Dove!” Andy snarls at the camera, “come back. Right now. I forgive you, you can still come ba–”

You black the screen and his pleas mute. Just like he did to you. He never heard ‘no’. He never heard ‘enough’. You grip the edges of the lifeless tablet and shudder weakly.

“Sweetheart,” Dr. Kemp’s voice jolts you from your trance. You look up at him, horrified. How long had he been there? “Dinner’s ready. Come meet the kids.” He keeps his hand on the door as his silhouette is limned from behind. “They’re gonna love you.”

🕊️

“Harper, Avery,” Ann’s voice is firm, almost scary as she interrupts the children’s argument over something called Bluey, “we have a guest, please.”

You sit quietly at the other side of the table, on an island all your own. Steve sits at one end of the table, Ann the other, and the two children sit shoulder to shoulder on the other side. You look at your plate and push around the peas, mixing them into the mashed potatoes.

“Everything alright?” Ann asks. As you look up, you find her watching your fork.

“Yes,” you murmur with a tiny nod, sinking your chin back down as you try to fade out of existence. 

Steve clears his throat. You wince and scoops up a mix of peas and potato. You force it into your mouth. You don’t want to be rude. Besides, chewing is a good excuse not to answer any more questions.

“What is she doing here?” The boy, Harper flings flecks of potato around his plate as he smashes his fork into the soft heap.

“That’s not a very nice question,” Steve girds. “She’s a friend, she doesn’t need a reason to be here.”

“Jasmine, Jasmine!” Avery chimes as she tilts her head back and forth.

“Avery,” Ann snips, “don’t you say that name.”

The little girl snaps her mouth shut and blinks in fright. You peek over at Ann as she forces a smile and shakes her head, the pretty flip of her blond hair brushing against her shoulders. She meets your eyes with a pretty laugh.

“We don’t like to talk about the past.”

“I’m sorry, mommy,” Avery babbles.

“It’s okay, honey, but you know Jasmine wasn’t nice,” Ann trills, her eyes clinging to you. “She was a nanny,” she lowers her voice, “and she really liked my style, mm. You know, sticky fingers.”

You nod as you glean her meaning. A thief. You squirm and take another bite. You hope she doesn’t suspect you of anything like that. You would never touch anything of hers. Ever.

Your eyes flit over to Steve. You find him watching you. His cheeks dimple with content.

“Like she says, leave the past in the past,” he sighs, “the kids are in school now and we found a private day care for date nights. It all worked out in the end. It always does.”

You try to smile and swallow tightly. You reach for the glass of water and gulp. The potatoes are garlicky and the peas shriveled and dry.

“It will, honey,” Ann adds on. “Now you’re here and you can start working on you.”

“What?” Harper crinkles his nose.

“Nothing to worry about,” Steve dismisses, “so, kids, tell me about school. How much trouble did you get in?”

You can’t help but wallow in dejection. You never had that. A father that cared about your day. You doubt you’ll ever have a husband to kiss your cheek. The only man who ever loved you, hurt you in ways no one else ever did. He never cared about you, just what he could get from you.

The food turns bitter on your tongue. You eat without tasting, stare without seeing, and suddenly, you’re alone. It’s only the clink of a plate that brings you back. You look up as Ann takes your empty plate.

“Hungry?” She preens.

“Oh, um, can I help?” You go to grab the plate but she keeps it out of your grasp.

“No, honey, you’re our guest. You just…” she bats her lashes as you as her pretty cheeks bulb and her lips pull taut beneath her pink lipstick. She reaches to pet your cheek, “just relax, okay? You’re safe, now.”

You don’t know how to answer, so you don’t. You find it hard to even look at her. She’s so perfect and pristine. Of course Steve loves her. You’re so stupid!

You look across the table at the empty chairs and hear the kids giggling and stomping in the next room. Steve’s deep timbre rumbles under their chirpy tones. You stand up numbly and sidle out from in front of the chair.

“If you need to go lay down, you go ahead,” she squeezes your shoulder, “the kids can be so rambunctious.”

“Thanks, i… think I will.”

You pad off and stop just in the archway to the front room. You peer through and see the kids playing on the floor; Avery brushing the hair of her doll and Harper bashing trucks together as Steve pushes around another. He sits on the floor with them. He’s too good for you, you knew that all along.

He looks up and catches your eye. He smiles bigger and you make yourself walk away. You continue upstairs and into the room. Not your room, the room they allow you. Just like before. You’re just another burden.

You go to the bed and move the tablet from where you left it on the pillow. You keep yourself from putting it on the night table and slide back the cover. There’s an endless slew of notifications. Messages in all caps; emails notifying of you a new rating on your Etsy shop. Bubble after bubble.

Andy. His texts swing between pleading and anger. From accusations to desperate declarations of love. In one, he says he needs you so bad, in the next, he calls you ungrateful.

You flip to your inbox and tap the link to your shop. Every item ranked one star. All the way down. Long comments about being a scam or low quality or just profanity from top to bottom. It’s no coincidence.

You clap the cover over the screen and set it aside. You’ve burned that bridge but you don’t mind the smoke. Better than standing in the flame. 

You lay down, flat and feelingless. You stare at the ceiling until your eyes close on their own. You’re so so tired. You let yourself drift into a shallow sleep, the sort where the world exists just beyond a see-through curtain. Light, sound, and noise sifts through the cloudy layer of your subconscious.

The door snaps shut and you sit up with a gasp. For a moment, you’re back in the room at Andy’s house. It’s him standing at the foot of the bed, fuming as he snarls at you, ready to pounce. You shake off the daze and see clearly.

Ann stands with two glasses in her hands. The golden wine streams with bubbles as she smirks at you. You gulp and pull your legs up, folding them before you.

“Sorry, sweetie, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says, “I was hoping we could have some girl time while Steve puts the kids to bed.”

“Oh,” you frown. You're confused. You only just met her and she’s acting like your best friend. She’s too good to be true, just like her husband. Husband. Ugh.

“I had some pinot and I don’t usually have someone to share with,” she comes up the side of the bed and sits, holding out a glass.

“Well, er, I…” you accept it by the stem and stare through the yellow contents. “Thank you.”

“I checked with Steve that you’re not on anything it would interact with,” she assures.

You hold back a wince. Right, you’re still just patient to her. You’re surprised she let you sit at the same table as her children. You bring the brim towards your lips.

“Cheers,” she stops you and outstretches her arm.

“Cheers,” you clink your glass before rescinding it, greedily sipping. You remember not everything was so dire when you drank just enough.

She sips daintily, watching you over the crystal. She draws her lips away, a pink stain on the glass. Your cheeks are hot as you wait for her to look away. Does she hate you? Can she see right through you? Does she know about all those dumb emotions you’re drowning in?

She sighs and leans to place her glass next to your table. She sits back, planting her hand on the mattress as she angles herself toward you. She brings a knee up onto the mattress. You drink to calm your nerves.

“You are so pretty,” she says. You nearly choke as you sit up rigidly. Disbelief arches your brows and rounds your eyes. “Really, you are.”

“Um, thanks, you are too,” you eke out.

“You think so?” She challenges.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter.

“What makes me pretty?”

You shake your head, you don’t know what she means. You frown. “I don’t know… you… you’re makeup and… your hair. You… you have nice eyes.”

“Sweetie, you’re so cute,” she trills, “I could do you up. Put some makeup on you too, do your hair…” she touches your cheek again, brushing her knuckles along your skin. “You could put on something sexy.”

You grip the wine glass tight and pull away from her touch. You set the glass with hes  and turn to push away. She catches your arm and rips you back. You whimper as she covers your mouth and pushes you down onto your back.

She bends over you and hushes you, her breath tinged with wine. She hovers her mouth just above her hand as she smothers you with her palm. You whine and curl your fingers around the blankets.

“You’re okay, sweetie,” she purrs, “just relax. You wanna be ready for him, don’t you?”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you murmur into her palm.

“Let me help you out,” she trails her other hand down your stomach, poking along the front of your pants and dipping beneath, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You lock up. You couldn’t move if you tried. This can’t be happening. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would she do this? Why would Steve let her? He wouldn’t, right? She can see right through you and your childish crush. She’s just trying to scare you away.

[vraisetzen]

https://www.tumblr.com/vraisetzen/759944146657148928/hi-v-howre-you-after-reading-notte?source=share

Woah! Oh my god, this is such an awesome response! It’s so thoughtful and well-written! I really love your answer to the first question! It’s absolutely incredibly thoughtful!!

I’m not anon, but I’ve also been curious about the way a meeting between Michikatsu and Tengen would go, too… I wonder — does Michikatsu, on some level, want to impress Tengen? And how would Suma, Makio and Hinatsuru react to Michikatsu? What about Amato?

And how would the rest of the surviving people react to the marriage? Would they know or would only the closest — like Tengen — know?

And also just another thing I’ve been curious… what do you think Michikatsu would do now that he’s human again? He’s no longer a demon and no longer has to think about Muzan’s wishes… and because there are no demons, he doesn’t have to think about being a demon slayer anymore… so what would he do?

You are SO COOL. I cannot believe you provided such an amazing response to those questions. You are so thoughtful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone respond in this way before on Tumblr.

And can I just say? You’re such a cool writer. You are so good at conjuring the mood, using just the right descriptions, writing believable dialogue, and just being able to replicate believably human behaviour… That is so cool!

I honestly wish more people knew about ‘Notte Stellata’ because it’s fantastic. It’s so well-paced and it’s just filled with some of the coolest imagery and dialogue. You truly have a gift for writing.

Hi Anon! I'm so happy that you enjoyed my answer! It was a fantastic question and I had a great time thinking about it~

I think Michikatsu, firstly as the Reader's husband, and secondly as someone who is naturally competitive and always aspires to be the best, would seek to prove his worth — though more so to himself than to others. As a human, he no longer has the supernatural strength and skill of a demon (though his Breathing techniques will always stay with him), so he is keenly aware that he needs to show his capabilities in other aspects of his life even if the Reader assures him that there is no need for him to do so.

On a separate vein, he also understands that Uzui is not just the Reader's former comrade, but also the closest person she could have to a family; he therefore knows that Uzui expects him to show that he deserves the Reader's husband.

"Still, there was no reason for Tengen-sama to come rushing over, demanding an explanation," Hinatsuru said with a sheepish smile. Amato, sitting on her laps, gurgled in agreement.

"I don't think Uzui-san meant any offence nor harm," you offered, embarrassed that you might have sowed some seeds of discord between the quartet. "We really should have told you earlier."

"You had no obligation to," Hinatsuru assured. "It's your marriage, and we understand that you needed some time with each other."

"And Michikatsu-san has been nothing more than gracious towards us," noted Suma as she carried Amato into her arms, tickling the young boy in his sides. "Amato was so happy when he'd made a little wooden horse just for him!"

"Well, he's good with his hands," you agreed, looking down at your reflection in the tea cup just in time to catch the flash of pride that flitted across your eyes.

"Does he work as a craftsman?" Makio asked, setting down a small bowl of sweet potatoes. Instantly, Amato dove for the snack, using his fingers to prod the mash. Makio pulled his hand away. "Hey, manners!"

"Does he work at all?" Suma joked.

"Well, it's not a bad thing to be idle," Makio noted, feeding Amato a tiny spoonful of the sweet potatoes. "But not as idle as Tengen-sama though..."

"Girls..." Hinatsuru interjected, but you waved off her concerns with a small smile, touching your ears in a bid to quell the heat that has stained it a deep pink.

"Michikatsu does have a job," you explained. "Well, sort of..."

"Sort of?" Makio raised a brow, pausing as she hovered the spoon inches away from her son's mouth. Amato cried in protest, and she turned her attentions back to him. "Ah, sorry, kiddo..."

Michikatsu, to your knowledge, has never had to work a day in his life. In the past, he had been a samurai, tasked with managing his estate's finances and ensuring the discipline of his men. And in the following centuries as a demon, he never needed to worry about accumulating worldly possessions and wealth.

It thus came as a surprise to him, after he had recovered from his injuries, when you suggested that he tried to put his skills to good use. While the pension you received from the Corps was enough to keep you two fed and warm for the rest of your lives, you thought it best if Michikatsu could explore this new world as a human.

The only issue, of course, was that Michikatsu was a man displaced from his time. Any skill he possessed had been outdated for many years; the carrying of swords was banned by the Meiji government for several decades before you were born. While he was a skilled Go player, the game had become increasingly unpopular as many turned to Western chess and other new imported curiosities.

It was one thing to be a demon in a world of humans, but another to be an old soul in a world of modernity.

And though Michikatsu may remain silent, you sensed that he was becoming rather antsy at his alienation from this modern world. You noticed that he would retreat into the study or the woods for hours at a time, and would not emerge till it was minutes before dusk with a pensive look on his face. He never spoke of his worries nor expressed his frustrations to you, but it made the atmosphere at home rather tense.

Anxiety gnawed at your bones as you wondered if your marriage was doomed even before you had time to bicker over chores and sleeping patterns.

But you did not tell this to the girls, of course. What you could tell them, however, was a small twist of fate that turned things around for the two of you:

There was a small bookstore in town which you and Michikatsu enjoyed frequenting for its quaint collection of old books from the Edo period and Chinese classics. The owner was a widowed old man, balding and slight with a pair of half-moon glasses, who always allowed you to borrow the texts instead of purchasing them, in exchange for the occasional afternoon tea.

"A few weeks Michikatsu pointed out that the chapters in a copy of The Analects had been written in the wrong order. The shop owner was rather impressed when he managed to arrange them correctly from memory, that he asked if Michikatsu would like to be his assistant."

At the moment the owner made his offer, Michikatsu had glanced at you, a small flicker of light flashing across his eyes while you smiled at him with encouragement. You took his hand in yours, and while your slim fingers were engulfed by his longer ones, you squeezed them tight.

"Of course, I won't be able to pay you as much as those banks and law firms in the city, but if you don't mind keeping an old man company and an eye out for any thieves..." the owner had drifted off, twiddling his thumbs.

"That is fine," Michikatsu had said, looking down at your entwined fingers. "I can start tomorrow."

"A librarian!" gushed Suma. "How romantic!"

"He's not exactly a librarian," you hurried to explain. "Michikatsu's just helping the store owner with sorting the books and making sure everything's in order. He also helps the customers with reaching for the top shelf since he's rather tall..."

"Oh, that we can relate," Makio remarked, throwing Hinatsuru an amused grin.

Hinatsuru nodded. "It sounds like honest work."

"It is," you agreed.

And it was exactly that Michikatsu needed: something on which he could spend his time learning more about this new world, speaking with other people besides yourself (and Uzui, if and when they decide to talk). Just yesterday afternoon, you managed to slip into town and spy through the windows to see how he was faring, and it warmed your heart to see him engrossed in a game of Go with one of the owner's friends. There was a levity in his posture which you missed seeing, and you were delighted that he had found it in the most unexpected of places.

"Why, isn't it the missus!" the store owner — Tanaka-san, as Michikatsu had so kindly informed you — greeted when you stepped into the bookstore, the bells dangling over the doors pealing in an effervescent chime. "Would you like anything to drink?"

Michikatsu looked up briefly from the game board, and crossing gazes with you. As the sunlight poured in from the open windows, you could see every shade of his brilliant eyes, dancing from a soft heather to a rich violet. His scars, barely visible, creased as he gave you a smile — and at that moment, you have never been more thankful for the small, lucky stars that gave the moon its radiance.

And how would the rest of the surviving people react to the marriage? Would they know or would only the closest — like Tengen — know?

This is a very good question too, Anon! I think for most part, the Reader desires to have a peaceful, quiet life with Michikatsu, with as few people knowing about her marriage as possible. It wasn't because she was afraid of their judgment, but because she simply wanted to move on with this new chapter of her life. Hence, I can't imagine her divulging her marriage to anyone else in the Corps, not even Tanjiro.

Tanjiro had a brief encounter with the Reader in the early chapters on Notte Stellata, and ever since he mentioned that he could smell demons near her, she avoided him like the plague. And while Tanjiro was puzzled by the Reader's sudden absence during the events of the Hashira Training arc, he was unable to write her a letter to her because she had not exchanged her details with him.

It would be up to Uzui, a chronic yapper, to finally reveal with a slip of the tongue — not that she was married, but where she lived. Excited, Tanjiro would write a very polite and well-worded letter, asking her if she was doing well, and — if she so wished — to visit the Kamado residence.

The appearance of the letter would naturally surprise the Reader, who had no idea how Tanjiro would come to know where she lived. She had heard occasional updates from Tengen that the young ones had settled down in their family home, but had never been keen on knowing more.

And as she went over the lines of the letter, taking in Tanjiro's innocent invitation and pondering whether she should reply, Michikatsu came over.

"Kamado Tanjiro," he noted, recognising the name of the young boy written on the outside of the letter. He did not spot its contents, however — nor did he wished to intrude, especially when he noticed that you had gone rather silent.

"Should I reply?" you asked, folding the letter back along the creases.

Michikatsu's eyes ran over the worried clouding your expression, and how you bit your bottom lip as you began drafting a response in your head. He took the letter from your hands, placing it face down on the desk where its sender's name was hidden from you. "Take however long you need."

And "however long" was about a week or so, after you woke up one morning before Michikatsu to compose your reply:

"Dear Tanjiro,

Thank you for your letter. It is so wonderful to hear from you, and to know that you are doing well.

I should quite like to visit your home someday, if I am ever close by."

And that was it. No promises, and no lies — and you had meant every word of it.

Sanemi, on the other hand, would prove to be rather difficult. To begin with, the Reader has always thought him a little unpredictable, despite the good nature beneath that fiery temper. And as someone who had fought Kokushibo and lived (something which Michikatsu would eventually tell her), she just couldn't tell if Sanemi would still recognise the first Upper Moon, and how he would react if he did.

Unlike Tanjiro, Sanemi never made the effort of reaching out to his fellow comrades, and the Reader suspected that he, too, would like to spend the rest of his days in relative peace and quiet. Uzui mentioned that he had met a young woman who worked at a wagashi store; despite your friend's slightly sardonic tone, you were happy for Sanemi, and wondered if he had mellowed out in the wake of the battle.

It was then inevitable that you would receive a wedding invite (no thanks to Uzui who also revealed to Sanemi where you lived). This time, you did not reject the good will shown by your former comrade. In fact, it would only draw unnecessary attention to yourself if you did not appear.

The wedding was set to take place in the far reaches of Tokyo, closer to Iruma, Saitama. It had taken half a day for you and Michikatsu to get there, and throughout the train journey you were thinking of the possible answers you could give Sanemi should he ask about your husband.

"I didn't think you would come," Sanemi said by way of greeting, though his eyes were fixed instead on Michikatsu, who stood beside you firmly and quietly. "Is that...?"

"My husband, yes," you confirmed, and Michikatsu took a step forward, offering a small bow. "Tsugikuni Michikatsu."

"Tsugikuni," Sanemi repeated, and you held your breath, waiting for the barrage of questions, or the light of recognition to dawn in his eyes. Instead, he was distracted by Amato, who traipsed into the scene, still carrying the horse Mchikatsu made for him.

"Hey!" Sanemi snapped, as the toddler hugged his leg as a bear cub clinging to a tree. "Uzui, come get ya brat!"

So much for mellowing out, you thought.

The wedding ceremony began and ended without much fanfare, and the dinner reception took place at a small restaurant in town. Sanemi's bride, whose name was to the tune of Kazuko or Kazuki, was a delicate vision of white silk and powder as she and Sanemi exchanged a cup of sake to mark their marriage.

Thereafter, more drinks were poured as side dishes were served; Uzui entertained a distressed Giyuu and his wives with his signature kappore routine, while Michikatsu disappeared outside, volunteering to take care of Amato. You settled into the corner of the room, seated beside a frazzled Sanemi who could finally sit down for a drink.

"Y'know, your danna..." Sanemi began, and instantly you were on guard, your clasped hands gripping so tightly that it cut into the flesh of your palm.

"Yes?" you asked, the picture of perfect calm. It was something you had learned from Shinobu, and Sanemi saw her face in yours too, as he gulped a finger of sake and poured himself another cup.

"Nah, it's just..." he furrowed his brows, looking at the bottom of his drink. You wondered if he was inebriated enough to forget this conversation come sunrise. "It's strange, isn't it? The people we end up marrying."

You blinked, the unexpected turn in the conversation leaving you a little loss for words. But Sanemi was nothing if not unpredictable, a sweeping typhoon whose trajectory one could never quite figure out. You poured yourself a drink from the bottle, and tipped your sake dish in his direction for a small toast.

"Indeed," you observed. "Love is a strange little thing."

Thank you for the question again, Anon! And sorry that this took me a while to answer; I had a great time thinking about the responses here, and I hope you enjoyed reading it too :D

xoxo, V ♥️

[justagayperson-2024]

Sub!Hermione Granger x Dom!Reader

~Reader helps Hermione get off in the library~ GN!Reader

The library was its usual quiet self, with the sound of quills scratching on parchment paper and the flipping of book pages being the only noises you could hear. I sat in the corner of the library with Hogwarts's most esteemed nerd, Hermione Granger. She diligently scribbled her essay down on the parchment as I watched her with admiration and lust. Hermione looked up at me and blushed softly, "What are you looking at sweetie." Now it was my turn to blush. Her little pet names for me never failed to make me blush like a 12-year-old. I smirked at her and shook my head, "Oh nothing I just love watching you study and do homework." I said honestly. Her blush intensified and she tried hiding her face with her hair. I moved it behind her ear and gently cupped her chin, making her look at me. "Don't hide from me beautiful, you look so lovely when you blush," I whispered moving closer to her lips. A faint whimper escaped her rosy lips as mine ghosted over hers. I stopped millimetres from her lips then pulled away, "Oh I am sorry darling I don't want to distract you from your homework." I said sitting back in my seat and going back to reading my book. Hermione pouted and moved her chair closer to mine. "Please Y/n, kiss me." She begged quietly. Her hand rested on my knee and she looked into my eyes. Her pretty brown eyes looked at me with a neediness I'd never seen from Hermione. I looked around and noticed no one was around us so I swiftly maneuverer her onto my lap. Hermione gasped and squealed softly, "You need to stay quiet honey, there are still people at the other end of the Library yeah." I said gently squeezing her thigh. She nodded and crashed her lips into mine. Her neediness was overwhelming in the best way possible. She fervently kissed me while grinding her hips into mine earning a soft moan from me. I grabbed her hips and moved her onto my thigh, "Is my darling needy huh?" I asked moving her clothed pussy against my thigh softly. She bit her lip and nodded, trying to keep her moans quiet. I moved her hips at a painfully slow pace making sure to apply just the right amount of pressure to her clothed clit. Hermione buried her face into my neck in an attempt to quiet her noises. I softly chuckled as she began moving quicker, "Oh honey you want to cum?" I whispered in her ear, moving her hair to expose her beautiful neck. I peppered kisses from her ear down her neck leaving small bites now and then, littering her pretty neck in pretty marks. She moaned louder and I smacked her thigh gently, "You need to stay quiet honey or you don't get to cum." Hermione nodded quickly and moved faster against my thigh. I knew she was getting close so I let her get herself off on my thigh. She looked so pretty like this, face flushed, hair a mess, neck covered in marks made by me. "God the things I am going to do to you tonight my dove, I'm going to have you screaming my name." I whispered in her ear earning me a 'yes daddy' moan from her. Gods she is perfect. "Daddy I'm so close fuck please," Hermione whispered/moaned not so quietly. I ignored her loudness and moved her hips faster. "Good girl, cum on daddy's thigh you can do it my little dove," I said sweetly lifting her chin and making her look at me. I always love it when she looks at me as she cums. My words sent her over the edge and her eyes rolled back into her head as she came on my thigh. "Y/n oh god!" She moaned falling onto my shoulder. Her breath was heavy as she rode out her high. I slowly guided her hips off my thigh and sat her at the edge of the desk. "Was that okay my love?" I asked already knowing the answer. She nodded weakly and clung to my shirt. "Come now my dove let's get you to bed." I waved my wand and our stuff was in our bags neatly. I grabbed the bags and carried her bridal style out of the library earning some confused looks.