#we’ll see what happens come spring

[moonstruckme]

hi! i was wondering if you could make some more bartender!sirius x reader stories! anything works really! i love love love your writing 💞

Thanks for requesting ml!

cw: attempted sa, police are called (but don't worry, everything is fine)

bartender!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius isn’t ashamed to say he’s had his eye on you tonight. You’re a sweet-looking thing, with sparkly eyes and a big, genuine smile that you’d beamed right at him as you ordered your drink. You got your first couple from Marlene, but most recently you came up to him. You’d leaned your elbows on the bar, looked at him with those lovely eyes, and said all the pleases and thank yous and may Is that always make Sirius want to climb over the counter and hug the customers who use them. He'd have comped your drink if you weren’t clearly here with someone else. 

And that someone else seems to be infatuated with you. Appropriately so, Sirius thinks. He takes your hand to lead you over to a couch along the wall, and he nods so eagerly while you speak that it looks like his head is on a spring, and when you turn to look at something he’s pointed out he reaches over and—

“Hey!” 

Several heads turn at Sirius’ shout, but the important part is that yours does. Not before your lips close around the straw of your drink, though. Sirius doesn’t have to work to convey urgency in his expression—that comes quite naturally. He waves his hand to beckon you back to the bar.

You obey, not looking upset but rather tentative as you make your way through the crowd. Your date stands with you, but something in Sirius’ face must tip him off. He disappears towards the exit. Sirius wants to go after him and strangle the bloke with his own two hands, but he’ll have to worry about that later. 

“Don’t drink that,” he says once he thinks you’re within earshot. 

You’re not, evidently. “What?” 

“Give it here.” Sirius leans across the bar, reaching for your drink. It’s only the caution in your expression that reminds him to say, “Please.” 

You hand it over, eyebrows raising when he brings it behind the bar and immediately pours it into the sink. 

“Erm…am I going to be refunded for that?” 

Sirius shakes his head, but managing a breathless, frazzled, “Yeah.” 

He feels so far out of his depth. Nothing like this has ever happened during one of his shifts—at least, fuck, not that he knows of. Sirius isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. 

He starts by looking you in the eyes. “The bloke you were with put something in your drink.” 

Your lips part, brows twitching together. “What? No, he…” You turn your head, clearly expecting your date to be right behind you. Sirius watches your face change as you realize he’s nowhere to be seen. 

When you turn back to him, he can see the beginnings of fear in your gaze. His hand makes its way across the bar of its own accord, squeezing your wrist before tugging you gently towards the nearest barstool. 

“I saw it happen,” he says firmly. “Do you want to sit here with me for a bit?” 

“I don’t…yeah, please.” You look dazed. Understandably dazed, in Sirius’ opinion. You slide onto the stool and slouch to rest your elbows on the bar. “I don’t feel any different. I only had a sip.” 

“It might not be enough to do anything,” he agrees. “I’m not sure, honestly. But it’s probably a good idea for you not to be alone just in case, yeah?” 

You nod hesitantly. Sirius strokes a short line into the inside of your wrist, and when you look up at him those pretty eyes are wet. 

“I’m already drunk,” you say, quietly, your voice on the edge of breaking. “How am I s’posed to know if it’s working?” 

“I’m sure you’d know,” says Sirius, though honestly he’s not very sure of that himself. Guys don’t learn much about these things, not the way girls have to. “You’re alright, darling. We’ll take care of you up here, you’re totally safe. Do you mind if I phone the police?” 

Your eyes widen to glossy saucers, the true gravity of your situation seeming to sink in. 

“It’s just standard procedure,” he adds quickly. 

“Right.” You blink, sniffling. “Um, sure.” 

“Beautiful.” Sirius shoots you a smile. “Be right back. Marl,” he gets his coworker’s attention, “keep an eye on her, yeah?” 

Marlene looks confused and then intrigued as she spots you weeping at the other end of the bar, but she makes her way to you. 

Sirius’ call with the police is brief. They make him regret tossing out your drink before it could be tested, but they tell him to keep you at the bar and they’ll be there soon to question you. When he goes back inside, you look far better than he’d left you, face tearstained but dry and nursing what looks to be a plain coke topped by a mountain of cherries. 

“Blimey, did you ask for extra?” Sirius asks, taking his place in front of you. Marlene, helping a customer at the other end of the bar, shoots him a grimace that lets him know you’ve told her what happened. 

“I asked for a few,” you say, picking one of your cherries up by the stem and popping it in your mouth. “I think she feels bad for me.” 

Sirius laughs. “No, Marlene doesn’t feel bad for anyone. She probably just likes you.” 

“Really?”

“Yup. Almost as much as she hates our manager.” He winks at you. “Her latest plot is to rob him blind by way of bar napkins and maraschino cherries. But you didn’t hear that from me.” 

Your lips twitch into something dangerously close to a smile. You draw a line across them, pretending to zip them shut. 

“So,” you say, looking down to fish another cherry from your glass, “did you give the police my regards?”

Sirius smiles at your forehead. “I did. They said it’s been far too long, and they’d like to come here to chat with you themselves.” 

You huff a laugh. “That’s funny, you’d think they’d’ve gotten their fill of me when I was in the nick last week.” 

Sirius laughs, delighted. 

You look up with a wry smile. “Kidding,” you whisper. 

“Oh, I’m so disappointed.” He props his chin on his hand, letting his head loll to the side. “And here I was thinking you were a rebel outside the law.” 

You shrug, smile fading as the melancholy turn your night has taken seems to take you under again. “Sorry to lead you astray,” you say anyway. 

“No, don’t worry about it.” Sirius studies you. You look understandably worried, a tad wistful too, but still that same sweet girl who’d come up to order from him at the bar. “If you are concerned about the cops catching onto your jailbird alter-ego, I could always stay with you when they get here. If you want company.” 

Your expression melts into gratitude, the fretful line of your brow softening and your eyes filling with relief. They start to go shiny again. “That would be great,” you say. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t worry about it, doll.” Sirius reaches across the bar, giving your hand an awkward pat. “Just don’t cry again, please? It kills me a little bit.”

[writingsbytee]

SURPRISE! - TERRY RICHMOND x BLACK FEM (AFAB) READER

WARNINGS: 18+ ; angst; fluff; SMUT; minors do not interact!

PAIRING: Terry x Gwen (reader)

SUMMARY: You and Terry have been broken up for 3 months. You’re injured in an accident and the hospital calls Terry to notify him and… surprise

TROPES: second chance; 

WORD COUNT: 4,074

“Ms. Daniels, please wake up”, a gentle voice eases me back into consciousness. My head feels like it’s being split open with a claw hammer. I blink slowly so that my eyes can adjust. 

When my eyes finally focus I look up to see a pretty lady in scrubs looking down kindly at me. 

“Welcome back Ms. Daniels. You had us scared there for a moment,” she says.

“What hospital am I in? What happened?” I say sitting up and holding my head. 

“You’re at Benson Memorial. You were in a bicycle accident. You’re fine just a few bumps and bruises. Your head CT was clear, so nothing to worry about there, ” she says handing me a cup of water. 

I take slow small sips as I try to recall the past few hours.  I never even saw that car coming as I crossed the road from one trail to the next. I hear muffled shouting coming from outside my room, and the doctor shoots a nervous glance my way. 

“Ms. Daniels, your boyfriend is outside and I don’t know how much longer he can wait”

I nearly choke on my water, “Boyfriend?”

I hear a commotion outside my door before the doctor/ nurse can open her mouth. 

“Nah, I’ve been here for two fucking hours and no one has told me how she’s doing yet! I’m going to see my girlfriend if you want to throw me out after then throw me out!”

I’ll never forget that voice. Terry is here. Now. He bursts into my room looking as good as ever but incredibly worried. When his eyes land on mine his shoulders sag with relief and he rushes to my side.

“What happened?! How bad are you hurt? Were you wearing your helmet?” He asks, his mouth running a mile a minute. I must be dreaming there’s no way Terry’s here we broke up 3 months ago after he came back from Shelby Springs. 

He came back different after trying to bail his cousin Mike out of jail. I tried to be there for him and provide all the support he needed but he just pushed me away. When I found out that he had been helping a girl named Summer, he completely shut down and wouldn’t say anything. I didn’t want to give him an ultimatum so I told him that when he figured everything out to come and find me. Two weeks later I got a letter that absolutely broke me. 

“Why did they call you?” I asked looking at my doctor.

“He’s listed as the primary on your emergency contact list we have on file here”, she said motioning someone else in scrubs to come in. Another woman comes in holding an ultrasound machine and my heart stops.

“Is my baby ok?!” I ask immediately grasping at my stomach. 

“That’s why I needed to wake you. Ms. Daniels, we need your consent to do a transvaginal ultrasound so we can evaluate the status of your baby”, the doctor says remaining calm. 

I nod, “Of course, please do what you need to do”.

There’s a deep sigh to my right. I almost forgot that Terry was next to me. When I glance over at him he looks shocked and heartbroken. 

“I’m sorry I know I should’ve told you but you sent that letter the day I took the test and I didn’t know what to do”, I said right before the waterworks started, courtesy of your pregnancy hormones. Terry just looked at me his eyes softening but his trademark frown was still there. 

“Can you give us a minute please?” Terry asks the doctor.

She nods, “We’ll be right outside tap the door twice. We need to get this ultrasound done so the faster the better you two.” Then she’s out the door.

“So the baby’s mine?” Terry asks.

I nod my head, a fresh wave of tears coming. 

“I never meant to keep from you this long but you weren’t returning my calls and I couldn’t reach you. You didn’t leave a return address on the letters you sent, which ripped me apart by the way, and you just fell off the face of the earth Terry! I mean come the fuck on! I’m in love with you and finding out I’m having your baby just for you to dump us over a fucking letter!”, I’m out of breath, my chest heaving with anger.

He opens his mouth to speak but I cut him off, “We don’t have the time to get into this now. We’ll talk later now please let the doctor in, I need this baby to be ok”, I say my eyes burning with unshed tears. Jesus everything makes me so emotional now, well let’s be real it wasn’t that different before I got pregnant. Terry looks at me, his eyes softening to that doe-eyed steel gray.

“Sure thing princess,” he says with a small smirk. Terry gets up and I bite my lip at the way his ass looks in his khakis. Has he gotten finer since I last saw him? He taps the door twice and almost immediately the nurse is back in the door, the doctor following in shortly after.  They set up all the equipment, I put my feet in the stirrups, and the doctor began her exam. 

“Aaaaand that is your baby’s heartbeat!”, the doctor says as she points to the disfigured blob that’s my baby.

“Terry look!” I say as I point my finger toward the screen. 

I turn my head to the right and I see a small smile on Terry’s face.

“That’s our baby?” he says all choked up. Two small tears fall out of each eye as he looks down at me. 

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” I say reaching for Terry’s hand.

He grabs it and says, “We’ll talk when we get home.”

Home? Like my home or he’s just taking me to my house and that’s my home. 

“How did the hospital even get in touch with you?”, I ask as Terry drives us home. 

“I just got a new phone, same number,” he says eyes focused on the road.

“Oh, ok,” I say folding my arms across my chest.

“I already know what you’re thinking. I was going to call you, but a lot of what I have to say shouldn’t be said over the phone. I want a chance to explain myself. I never should’ve ended things the way I did. You deserve so much better than what I gave you and I can’t be any more clear when I say I’m so sorry. I fucked up.” 

“Ok when we get home I want to know everything”, I say gently. Terry looks my way and nods twice before looking back at the road. 

“Yeah, can I get two double cheeseburgers all the way with cajun fries please?” Terry says to the ‘five guys’ employee.

“Aww, you remember my order?” I say my face softening. 

“It’s been three months. Not three years. I didn’t forget baby” Terry huffed looking at me with that sexy-ass side-eye. 

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m supposed to be mad at you,” I say rolling my eyes. There’s no way this man has me in the palm of his hand in an hour and a half. I need to stand the fuck up. Terry grabs our food when they call our number and escorts us out of the restaurant.

He chuckles as we get back in the car and says, “Oh it’ll come back to you I’m sure.” I roll my eyes, looking at the scenery passing by. 

“You said ‘I can’t do this anymore Gwen. It’s not you it’s me.’ Terry, you have no fucking idea how much that hurt. How insignificant it made me feel. Like I wasn’t even good enough to break up in person so you use a fucking letter?” These pregnancy hormones are no joke I was thinking about mounting this man and now I’m going off on him. 

“Babygirl I’m so sorry. Please, when we get home I’ll finally be able to explain myself. Please don’t cry, baby I never meant to hurt you the way that I did. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I made my peace with this a long time ago Terry. Some people just aren’t meant to be together,” my voice breaks as I try to keep my emotions at bay. 

“I wanted us to work so bad I would’ve done anything to keep you, but I won’t do that anymore. I’m worth more than that. Our baby is worth more than that. I won’t have them question my love for them I’m going to show up for them every day because that’s what a mother does,” I take a few deep breaths to try and compose myself, but I can feel the dam start to break. I look over at Terry and he has a deep frown on his face. He’s white-knuckling the steering wheel and I can tell by his posture that he’s trying to keep his cool.

I unlock my front door to let Terry and myself in. He follows silently behind me. I can feel the tension radiating off him. Despite how he feels right now he still pulls out everything I need to eat and sets my place at the table. I wait for him to join me before I start eating. We eat in a tense, awkward silence before he breaks the spell of uncertainty around us.

“Mike’s dead.” I didn’t have to look up to see the pain on Terry’s face. The burning behind my eyes is instant.

“What do you mean dead? You were going to bail him out?!” I reached for my necklace. It’s a locket, Terry gave me after our first anniversary. A small heart-shaped photo of us sits inches from my heart every day. Terry took a deep breath before he went into detail. About Shelby Springs and its corrupt law system. How he almost died on multiple occasions. Who Summer was and how he couldn’t leave her fate in their corrupt hands. 

“I couldn’t leave until I knew I wouldn’t have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life. I couldn’t involve you and potentially put you at risk. I’d never forgive myself if you were hurt, especially knowing what I know now,” the guilt evident in Terry’s voice as he buried his head in his hands. 

I feel the warmth of the tears as they glide down my face. My hand comes up to cover my mouth to stifle a sob. I rush to Terry’s side, wrapping my arms around him. 

“I’m so sorry Terry! You shouldn’t have had to deal with this all on your own. What can I do?” 

This whole situation is miscommunication at its finest. I grab Terry’s hand and lead him back to the room we used to share.

“I didn’t bring you back here to have sex. Take your shoes and shirt off and get on the bed.” I say kicking my shoes off. I crawl to the head of the bed and make myself comfortable before making grabby hands at Terry.  He crawled his way up the bed before laying his head on my stomach. I started giving him a scalp massage as he loaded everything he’d gone through while we were apart. When he finished we were both a mess. Terry lifts his head and my heart breaks at his expression. 

“I never wanted any of this. All I tried to do was save my cousin and instead, I lost him. I lost you, our baby. I’m alone now.”

I’m shaking my head before he can finish his sentence, “You didn’t lose Mike. In the physical sense yes but, he’s always with you Terry. I know it’s easier said than done, but you can put this behind you and move on. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this.”

“Together?” he looks like a scared sad little boy and it breaks my heart. I reach my hand down and caress his face. 

“Together Terry, all three of us,” you say as a fresh wave of tears begins. You were going to dehydrate at this rate with all the crying.

“Come on, we’ve had a busy day and I think a shower would do us some good,” you say sitting up. Terry sits up and scoots to the foot of the bed. I look at him and really notice how tired he looks. Like the weight of the world is sitting on his shoulders.

I make my way towards him and kiss his cheek, “Come on, your clothes are right where you left them. I’ll be in the bathroom when you’re ready.”

I grab one of Terry’s old ‘Marine’ t-shirts and boy shorts and head into the bathroom. I can’t believe this shit, no way this is real life. Poor Mike, poor Terry, and even poor Summer. 

I’m in the shower washing the dirt and leaves out of my hair when I hear the bathroom door open. I keep quiet continuing to wash my hair waiting for Terry to join me. I feel the cool air as he opens the shower door and steps inside. His arms wrap around my waist from behind and he rests his head on my shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry Gwen. You’re not unlovable. Loving you is the easiest thing in the world. I couldn’t come back unless I knew you were safe. I’ll be making this right for the rest of my life to you and our little bean,” Terry says as his hand migrates to my stomach. 

I turn in his arms wrapping my hands around his neck, “I’m not going to pretend that I’m ok with how you did everything but, I understand. I forgive you, Terry.  I did as soon as you burst through the hospital door,” I finish with a chuckle. 

Terry grips my face in his hands, “I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving to you and the baby how sorry I am. I wasn’t there when you found out and you have no idea how bad I wish I were. Every doctor’s appointment I’m there, you’ll never feel how you felt when you got that letter, Gwen. That’s a promise.” Terry’s eyes have that fierce determination in them. You know when he gets that way there’s no stopping him.

“Stop crying baby, I hate seeing you so upset,” Terry’s using his thumbs to wipe my tears. 

I shake my head, a watery laugh leaving my lips, “It’s hormones more than anything.” My eyes widen as Terry drops to his knees in the shower. His hands wrap around my hips. He presses his forehead to my belly and kisses the barely-there baby bump.

“Hey there little one. I’m your dad. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to find out about you. I’m here now. Daddy’s not going anywhere.” 

I could barely see Terry over the tears in my eyes. A watery smile forms on my lips when Terry lifts his head to look at me.

“What is it, baby?” he asks.

“Kiss me,” I say pulling him up to meet me.

Terry towers over me pressing my back against the shower wall—nothing but steam and unspoken confessions hanging in the air. 

“Are you sure, princess? I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for”, Terry’s face takes on that deep frown that’s so attractive to me.

“I’m sure Terry. You’re still in the doghouse but, that doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you and I want us to be a family, so yes please kiss me.”

When Terry kisses me it’s like the world stops. An involuntary moan leaves my lips. It’s like we have all the time in the world. He kisses me slowly, deeply, all-consuming. 

“I forgot how good your lips feel, princess.” Terry’s eyes darken in color and I can almost read his mind. 

“I’m going to kiss you again ok?”, a small smirk makes its way onto his face as he crowds my space. 

“You’re not leaving any room for Jesus are you?” I ask chuckling.

“There’s been too much space between us the past three months. Prepare to be sick of me, baby girl.” Terry’s voice drops an octave and I can feel my ovaries crying. His hand glides down my front pausing over my barely-there baby bump.

“We’re going to be great parents,” I reach my hand for Terry’s face caressing his cheek. 

He smiles that megawatt smile of his and nods, “Without a doubt.” And then he kisses me again.  We’re a mess of lips, tongues, and teeth. My pregnancy hormones have me grinding against Terry’s leg like a dog in heat. 

“You missed Daddy huh?”, he asks placing his thigh in between my legs. He grabs my hips and slides me up and down the length of his thigh. The friction on my neglected clit is out of this world as I release a needy moan. 

“I can’t hear you. Do I need to stop?” Terry grips my hips forcing me to stop.

“No, no, no I miss you, Daddy! I do. Please don’t stop. I need this,” I grip his shoulders, leaving little crescent indents.

“Look at me, sweet girl. Tell Daddy what you want,” Terry says gripping my chin and lifting it to meet his eyes. 

I can barely put two words together and he wants me to tell him what I want. 

“I love it when your eyes get all dopey like this, you want Daddy inside you?” Terry’s lapping at my neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. I’ll have a time with my concealer in the morning but that’s not my concern at the moment. I reach for his wrist, bringing his hand down to my pussy, right where I want him. 

“Please Daddy I need you. I need this please,” my voice taking on a whiny pitch. Next thing I know the water’s being shut off and Terry’s opening the shower door. 

“There are things I want to do to you that can’t be done in the shower. Come on,” Terry says while wrapping me up in a towel before leading me out of the bathroom. 

“Ugh! Daddy don’t stop please!” My legs won’t stop shaking as Terry sucks the soul out of me. I lost count of how many times I’ve come already. I look down at Terry while he’s devouring my pussy. The sounds in this room are purely pornographic. 

He looks up at me through hooded eyes and moans the sound vibrating against my clit. 

“Ouuu Daddy yes!! Right there! Don’t stop!”, I’m a panting mess. I look down at Terry again and all I see are the whites of his eyes. 

“I forgot how good you taste baby. I can’t get enough mm!” You’d think Terry never ate a day in his life the way he’s eating me out.

“Terry I… I need you!” I squeal pushing his head away.  

He releases my clit with a small pop before sitting up on his knees. His eyes narrowed, “Now I’ll let you have that one ‘cause it’s been so long. Don’t do that shit again. I’ll finish eating when I finish. Understand?” Terry has my face in a vice-grip, my lips puckered.

“Yes Daddy,” I say, willing to do whatever he asks as long as he gives me that dick. I’d probably go rob a bank if he asked. 

“On your side, princess,” Terry says as he places a few pillows behind me.

I turn on my side and Terry’s right behind me kissing any skin he can get his hands on. 

“Fuck, I missed this. I missed your smell, your taste, your smile, your laugh, and even when you roll your eyes. Even though you know that’s five lashes automatically,” Terry says peppering my whole body in kisses. 

“I missed you too Daddy. Now are you going to show me how much, or do I have to get started without you?” I tease him by running my hands down my body. Terry playfully smacks my hands away before lifting my leg and sliding into me. 

We moan simultaneously as Terry starts to move, “Oh god! I forgot how big you are!” I moan as Terry bottoms out.  

My head falls back onto Terry’s shoulder, “I’m not going to last!” I squeal the burning already starting in my lower belly. It feels so good from this angle, Terry keeps hitting my g-spot with every thrust. 

“Come whenever you want baby. Daddy’s got you,” Terry breathes into my ear. The neighbors can probably hear squelching and moaning coming from my room but I really don’t give a fuck. If their man was digging their shit out like Terry was doing to me, they’d be screaming too. 

“No! Come with me please! I need it baby!” I moan trying to plant a kiss somewhere on Terry. He sees me struggling and bends his head to kiss me. He grabs my neck with one of is free hands, not hard enough to do harm but, just enough to give me that much more pleasure. 

“Open,” he says stilling inside me. I lean my head back a little farther, opening my mouth. Terry smiles deviously like the freaky devil he is and I watched dazed as a small glob of spit makes its way from his mouth to mine.

“Now swallow,” I do as he asks and open my mouth to show him it’s all gone.  

“Jesus, woman you’re going to kill me! Fucking love how nasty you get for me. Daddy’s little slut,” Terry groans. He slides out of me and I flop onto my back. 

“Come to mama,” I say grabbing his face and pulling him in for another sloppy kiss. I reach for his dick, wrapping my hands around it, and I feel him shudder. Terry moans as I give him a few slow strokes. 

“Get back inside me please. I need to come,” I wine.

“Again? Who made you so needy?” Terry asks smirking down at me. 

“You going to keep talking shit or remind me of how I got pregnant in the first place?” I ask. 

Terry grabs my throat almost instantly, “Who you think you’re talking to?”

He brings one of my legs up to his shoulder and I roll my eyes. Terry’s face darkens, as he bottoms out inside me for the second time.

“I told you I was going to let that shit slide. Now you pushing it,” he said as he begins to thrust. I’m grasping at air, that’s how good his dick is. 

“Aww look at you, getting fucked stupid. How’s it feel princess?” Terry taunts grabbing one of my hands interlocking our fingers. If I could talk I probably say something smart, but Terry’s right he’s fucking me stupid. I can’t put a single sentence together. 

“Huh what was that? Daddy can’t hear you.” A particularly hard thrust has me screaming, my orgasm hitting me out of nowhere. I feel myself soak the sheet and Terry, but I can barely keep my eyes open. My nails drag down his back, marking him up.

“Fuck baby I’m cumming, kiss me,” Terry moans. 

I grab the back of his neck, bringing his face to mine, but before our lips meet I whisper a quiet ‘I love you’. Our lips meet and we both moan as Terry fills me up. He stays inside me as I remove my leg from his shoulder. Both of us panting and staring at each other with awestruck goofy smiles. We have some work to do, but I can’t wait to see what this next chapter has in store for us.

THE END.

Annnnd that’s a wrap!! As always constructive criticism is appreciated but please be nice ‘cause I’m sensitive. I feel like I'm so bad at writing sex scenes, but I'm trying to get better. I really had fun writing this one. I anyone has any request DM me or ask anonymously. Until next time my little freaks <3

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Divider from: @puppizai

[starshipsofstarlord]

locked away

summary. whilst hiding out from walkers in a closet, you grow extremely bored. the only thing to do is daryl, but you have to make sure he stays quiet

warnings. smut, handjob, sub!daryl, dom!reader, praising, mentions of gagging, crying

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

The aroma of cigarette smoke that clung addictively to his clothes filled your nostrils as you hid in union together, avoiding the stream of deadly walkers that marched in their haphazard staggering through the wide hallway. There had been worse that you survived through, so as long as you didn’t alert the parasites that filled the decayed human bodies of your presence, you would be fine.

Boredom struck you after the first hour of leaning all of your weight against the chipped brick wall, listening without consent to the groans and growls of the dangerous passers-by. If you had a nickel for each time you expressively rolled your eyes that had adjusted to the shadows which conjured a graphite colouring to which you could see, you would be astoundingly rich in a world without cash currency.

You had an impulse to blabber out the most random thoughts that appeared intrusively in your mind, although you were sure if you dared to your beloved Daryl would gag your mouth with that dirty red rag and tell you to shut up; and it wouldn’t be a first time for that. Your shoulders slumped defeatedly as the pressing circumstances of the long and drawn out waiting game refused to come to an end.

How many goddamn walkers were out there? Actually that was an answer you’d rather not find out whilst you were contained in a narrow closet which was consumed with lacklustre silence. Daryl wouldn’t even meet your eyes in the dark space, sternly pent up from your antics during the run that had lead you into being entrapped by your own free will and vigilance to live another day. He was pissed, and worst of all in this circumstance; turned on.

His pools of pitiful blue distinctly avoided your gaze, trying his darnest to focus on the stakes that were against you both. But he was pursued by a cloaking of consuming lust, his shoulders rigid as he thought repeatedly of your earlier words. If you’re a good boy, then maybe we’ll have some fun before we get home. It wasn’t likely to happen now, the bowman thought intuitively, sharply discarding the sweet images of pleasing you from his brain.

These walkers were preying risk to more than just his life, he felt like he could explode from the overbearing desire to feel your hands rake upon his entire body, and he mentally cursed as he felt his cock spring to life at just the the sinful thought. He grunted in solitary longing, pacing with light and feline like steps as much as he could in the limited ground that was cemented in the storage room.

“Something wrong?” You almost inaudibly spoke, cocking your head as the corners of your mouth twitched in mocking amusement, and he would have whined in response if there wasn’t the threat of the passing walkers merely inches away. “Come here, let me help you baby.” His head was lowered in a submissive bow as he followed your command, creeping towards you until your chests were all but touching.

It was something you adored, to see Daryl in such a state, and it made you feel powerful without any limits. The flow of your bloodstream began to pound with revelations with what you could make your obedient man disperse himself to. It was like he was a buffet of possibilities, however his arousal was rubbing against your thigh, making you recall his desperation, and it would be satire and cruel for you to allow him to suffer without your amorous caregiving.

You shuffled, keeping a balance on your body weight so that you didn’t accidentally stagger backwards into the buckets or moulding mops that were leant against the wall to your left, as you lowered your hands to his wide hips, giving him an affectionate squeeze before you turned him in your embrace so that his back was facing your front.

Admittedly there were times where you loved to listen to him beg and cry for lustrous attention, but now was not the time; neither one of you could make so much as a speck of noise, it was going to be difficult as often times Daryl would draw out long and pathetically attractive moans each time you held contact with his cock in any manner, but he would just have to be quiet somehow, and if he couldn’t control himself, you had ideas of how to make him.

“Be a good boy.” You whispered with sultry warning in his ear as you reached further around him, slowly and tantalisingly unweaving his belt, pulling the strip of leather through the flimsy loops which granted you access to undo the button and fly of his trousers. With swift motions you did so, carefully shoving them down his sides as his cock was released from its containment. It was leaking defiantly with precum, and he resorted to calming breaths as he steadied his own self into being relaxed despite the nearby danger.

He inhaled immediately as he felt one of your hands wrap perfectly around his achingly hard length, gliding up and down the taught and erect flesh which made him throw his long locked head back in pleasure. His eyelids twitched as he fought against his desire to let you know how utterly amazing you were making him feel, as he bit his own bottom lip over and over. You dared to increase the pace in which you were stroking him, and a shattered gasp tumbled past his bared teeth.

Without so much as a thought, you smothered his mouth with your hand, pinching his nose a couple of times between your thumb and forefinger to restrain the oxygen he was permitted for a few seconds. A vibration riveted against your palm, as a quiet moan was silenced by your restriction. His whole body was rattling, as he began to rut his hips so that his cock was moving in the grasp of your soft hand.

“Such a good baby.” Your breath hit his ear as you forbade yourself from saying anything else, knowing that it would be obscenely dangerous, and the hoard of vacantly minded walkers were more than capable of pushing through the locked door. Your thumb rubbed expertly against his tip, as tears began to fill Daryl’s eyes, however he continued to jerk into your grip, and soon they fled from his tear ducts. His salt water, pleasure filled tears rolled onto your hand, weaving across your flesh as his tongue rolled pathetically around your palm, losing any grounding to reality that he had.

It drove you on farther, moving your hand at a quicker pace to make him spill over the edge, and with one last tough tug, he expelled his seed from his balls, it shooting directly in the air for a moment, and landing vividly on the ground. Daryl continued to shake like a leaf, breathing a kind kiss to your palm as he held your hand against his mouth for a while longer. This was definitely an interesting tale, however you would never tell anybody else. Everyone else thought Daryl was the being of all dominance in your relationship, and it made you inwardly cackle at how wrong you were.

He was as submissive as a human could come (pun intended), and he stood there idly and cautiously as you aided him in tucking his cock back into his confines. You grappled his belt, pulling it back around into its holding as you pulled it tightly around his waist, your eyes glowing with the satisfaction that you could make him so easily crumble. With one last pat to his sensitive bulge, you waited a while longer, until the coast was clear and it was only a few stragglers of the herd to take out in order to make your unruly escape.

[meazalykov]

expect the unexpected

crush!vivianne miedema x reader prologue (lynn wilms x reader series)

this is the prologue to a new series coming february 1st.

the chill of an early spring evening seeps into your jacket as you step into the cozy apartment vivianne shares with beth.

the warm lighting and faint scent of coffee create a comforting contrast to the cold tension that’s been suffocating you at arsenal. 

tonight is supposed to be a break. this is a chance to escape the drama that seems to cling to jonas’s shadow.

you clutch a cup of tea vivianne made for you, settling onto the couch next to gio, who’s scrolling absentmindedly on her phone. 

beth is in the kitchen, joking with vivianne as they finish up the snacks for the night.

“you look dead,” gio remarks, glancing at you with a small smile that doesn’t quite hide the concern in her eyes.

you shrug, sipping the tea and letting its warmth anchor you. 

“long week.”

“jonas again?” she asks knowingly, and you nod, not trusting your voice to not say anything respectful. 

vivianne enters the room, setting a bowl of popcorn on the table. 

“what did he do this time?” she asks, her tone edged with frustration as she sits down across from you. 

you hesitate. it feels like every time you bring it up, you’re just adding to a pile of grievances too heavy to carry anymore. “same thing he always does. benched me for no reason, made some comment to kim about how i ‘don’t fit the system.’” the words come out bitter, and you hate how small they make you feel.

vivianne leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. 

“he’s an idiot.”

you look at her, gratitude mixed with something heavier—a yearning you can’t shake. viv’s expression is kind, steady, and unchanging. she sees you as a friend. a teammate. nothing more.

gio knows your liking for viv, lighting frowning with sympathy as your eyes twinkle at the dutch woman. 

“thanks, viv,” you mumble, looking over to stare at the steam rising from your tea.

“he’s lucky i’m leaving,” gio interjects, tossing her phone onto the cushion beside her. the statement hangs in the air for a moment before anyone responds.

“wait,” beth says, stepping out of the kitchen with a plate of cookies. 

“what do you mean, leaving? like, leaving on loan again?”

gio shakes her head, her jaw tightening. 

“no. for good this time. i told my agent i’m done with arsenal. atletico madrid’s interested, and honestly? i think i need to go back. jonas is draining the joy out of football for me.”

the room falls silent. beth sets the plate down, her expression softening. 

“gio…”

“i’ve thought about it for a while,” gio continues, her voice firmer now. 

“i can’t stay here and keep pretending like everything’s fine. i want to love the game again, and that’s not going to happen under jonas.”

vivianne nods slowly, her gaze dropping to her hands. 

“i get it. i’ve been feeling the same way.”

you look up sharply. 

“wait, what?”

vivianne sighs, running a hand through her hair. 

“arsenal’s not renewing my contract. i found out last week. honestly, i’m upset about it but my nervous system is relieved. i need a change if he is going to stay there.”

“where are you going?” gio asks, her brows furrowed.

vivianne glances at beth, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“probably manchester city. it’s the most appealing option right now.”

you force yourself to smile, even as something twists painfully in your chest. of course. city. beth. you’ve always known vivianne had something serious with beth—everyone did—but hearing it out loud still stings.

“that’s... that’s great,” you manage, your voice steady enough to hide the ache. 

“you deserve to be somewhere you’re happy.”

“thanks,” vivianne says, her smile widening slightly. 

“and hey, if you end up staying in the wsl, we’ll still see each other plenty.”

you swallow hard and nod, but you don’t respond. 

you’re not staying. not here, not in the wsl, not under jonas.

beth sits down beside vivianne, her arm brushing against hers. “well, i’m not going anywhere,” she says lightly, though there’s a trace of tension in her voice. 

“at least not yet. i figure jonas won’t last forever, and i want to be here when he’s gone.”

gio snorts. 

“good luck with that.”

you take a deep breath, setting your tea on the table. “arsenal’s not renewing my contract either.” the words feel heavy, final, but there’s a strange relief in saying them out loud.

beth’s eyes widen. “what? since when?”

“my agent called me about it last month,” you admit. 

“i haven’t told anyone until now.”

vivianne leans back, studying you carefully. 

“are you staying in the wsl?”

you shake your head.

“no.”

“so, did barcelona finally knocked on your door?” vivianne jokes, a playful smirk on her face. 

“sorry– i mean, you’ve only been obsessed with them since forever.”

you laugh, the sound more bitter than you intended. 

“no, not barcelona. it’s... it might be the bundesliga. wolfsburg, specifically.”

vivianne’s expression softens. 

“that’s a good move. wolfsburg’s a great club, and i know a lot of people there. i can introduce you to some friends to help you settle in.”

“that would mean a lot,” you say, your voice quieter now. the idea of leaving everything you’ve known is daunting, but her support makes it feel a little less terrifying.

“wolfsburg suits you,” gio adds. 

“they’re lucky to have you.”

“thanks,” you reply to your bestfriend, though your mind drifts to what it will mean to leave—leave arsenal, leave the wsl, leave both gio and vivianne.

the four of you sit in silence for a moment, the weight of everything unspoken settling over the room. it’s beth who breaks it, her voice soft but resolute. 

“we’ve been through so much together here. it’s hard to imagine us all going our separate ways.”

“yeah,” vivianne agrees, her gaze distant. “at least i will still be here with you but its a same difference. a fresh start.”

“it’s just... sad,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“arsenal was supposed to be an amazing team, you know? but now it feels like i have to leave if i ever want to feel happy again.”

vivianne reaches out, squeezing your upper arm. 

“you’ll find that happiness again. i know you will.”

you look at her, and for a moment, you let yourself believe her. maybe wolfsburg will be the fresh start you need. 

maybe leaving vivianne will help you finally let go of feelings that were never meant to be with her.

“to moving on,” gio says, raising her glass of soda in a mock toast.

“to moving on,” the rest of you echo, clinking your glasses together. and in that moment, surrounded by your teammates, you start to believe that leaving isn’t the end.. it’s the beginning of something new.

series coming 2/1

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 2

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: After the first week at the Night Court the Archeron Twins are going back to the spring court. But Y/N comes back with a souvenir of her own a parting gift from the High Lord of the Night

Content Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.1K

Chapter 1

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl

A/N: Honestly I am blown away by the love and support you all sent me for the first chapter. This is kind of a fluffy chapter. I have been sick so I apologize if this isn't as good!

It was the end of the week and Feyre was thrumming with excited energy. I knew she could not wait to go back to the Spring Court. After that night and meeting that handsome male-Cassian, I didn’t venture out around the manor at night nervous to run into him again. When I had a Nightmare, I just sat at the armchair in the room and watched my sister’s chest rise and fall until I found my eyes drooping. I always awoke with a blanket wrapped around me the next morning.

Feyre smiled, “Ready to go ho-“She paused, “Back today?”

I shrugged, “Ready as I’ll ever be, but right now I just would like some breakfast.” I paused and gave her a pointed look. “Do you think you can try to be nice to our host.”

Feyre straightened her nose sticking up in the air, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am as civil as always.” She looked beautiful in her Night court outfit. It was teal with sheer sleeves that show a bit of midriff with matching pants. I was in something similar in peach tone but mine was a skirt with slit that ran up to my thigh.  Feyre looped her arm into my own and when we opened the door, we found Rhysand on the other end ready to knock. “Oh hello, High Lord we were just coming down to have breakfast with you.” Feyre put on her fakest smile that enticed an unladylike snort to come out of me.

“Oh wonderful, if you don’t mind Feyre Darling,” I noticed she scowled at the nickname, but Rhysand continued, “I would like to speak to your sister in private for a moment.”

Feyre’s nostrils flared, “Absolutely I mind, you wil-”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed interrupting her, “Fey, it’s fine. We’ll meet you in the dining room.” Feyre looked at me and I gave her an affirming nod and squeezed her arm.

Feyre released my arm and bumped Rhysand’s shoulder with force and the High Lord smiled in response, “Are you some kind of masochist, High Lord? Its almost like you enjoy getting hurt by my sister.” I raise a brow as I see him rub his hand behind his neck and…Blushing. “Oh my, you do like when she’s mean to you.”

Rhysand puts his hand down, “I do not, hush, you remind me of the General of my armies. He’s a smartass like you.”

I smirk, “I look forward to meeting him sometime.” Rhysand’s face shifts to something more serious, “Am I in trouble?”

The High Lord’s brow furrowed, “Not at all, should you be?”

I began rocking my weight back and forth from each foot out of nervousness, “I may have snuck into the library the day we got here.”

Rhysand huffed a laugh, “Hope you found some good reading material, but no. I just wanted to make sure you are doing since…” he didn’t need to finish his thought for me to know what he was talking about.

I give him a smile, “I’m fine, Rhysand-“

“Rhys. You can call me Rhys.” He interrupted.

Rhys is what Cassian had called him in the library. “Okay, Rhys, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t think you need to worry about me.” I bit my lip. Its Feyre you should be worried about she won’t talk to me about what happened Under the Mountain.

“I can worry about multiple things at once,” Rhys countered I met his violet gaze and noticed that stars that winked out at the seriousness in his tone, clearly not realizing that I had said that out loud. He took a step closer and gripped my hand to lift my eyes, his eyes drifting over to the yellowed bruise from Tamlin’s grip a week ago. “Are you treated well in his court?”

I was taken aback by his question, “I’m not sure what you’re asking me, Rhys.” I murmur lightly tugging my hand away and he lets me. “Tamlin has made is love for Feyre known. He is…good.” I gritted out the last word.

Rhys tucked his hand into his pocket. “You don’t have to say or tell me anything if you don’t want to. I know you are protective of your sister. I just want you to know that if you want to talk or need to let out some steam, you are free to do so, while you’re here.” He gave me a tight smile and was about to exit.

“We don’t like each other.” Rhysand paused at the door not turning to face me I kept going, not sure why I was sharing, “I think he didn’t like that Feyre and I are a package deal. I don’t know for certain why he is cold and…aggressive toward me. I can tell you that the wedding was the first time that he put his hands on me.”

Rhysand turned around and walked toward me and gripped my hand, “Make a bargain with me.”

“What for? I’m not dying anymore.” I felt Rhys give my hand a light squeeze, “I can take care of myself you know..”

Rhys smiled, “I know you can, Y/N, I am specifically asking for a bargain, because if we have a bargain, we will have a direct line of communication.”

I gave him a doubtful look, “Why would I need that?”

Rhys smile fell and his face turned serious which caused me to straighten my spine, “In case you need my help, I’ll know where to find you.”

My brow furrowed, “Why do you care? What do you benefit from ensuring I’m safe?”

Rhys sighed frustratingly, “Maybe I’m concerned with how your sister would feel, if something would happen to you. Maybe it’s because you were the first person to look me in my eyes and tell me you trusted me and looked at me as something other than Amarantha’s Whore. Or maybe I’m just trying to be your friend because correct me if I’m wrong, you could really use one.”

I looked at our entwined hands, and I met his eyes again, “A friend would be nice. What are the terms?”

“All I want is for you to ask for help if you need it. In return I will do whatever you wish within reason of course.”

I playfully sigh, “So turning Tamlin into a rat is not an option, got it.” He chuckled low and deep as you thought about what you want, thinking back to that night in the library and drifting to the warm honey eyes I met there. Rhys’ cough brought me back from my thoughts for a moment I thought he had brief smirk but, in a blink, it was gone, “I can’t read very well.” I blurted and that caused his eyes to widen, “Would you be willing to teach me how to read and write?”

Rhys blinked, and then smiled, “Of course. A bargain then.”

I shake his hand, “A bargain.” A light flashed and an intricate black tattoo of whirls and stars wrapped around my wrist. “These really are beautiful.”

Rhys took my hand and looped that arm around his, “Come now, we must not keep that ill tempered twin of yours waiting.”

You laughed as we left our room, “What do I say about this,” I raise my wrist, “when they inevitably, ask about it. When she asks about it?”

Rhys shrugged, “Whatever you see fit. If you want to paint me out as the villain who tricked, you into a bargain say so. I just wanted you to have a way to reach me.”

We reach the dining room Feyre quietly talking to Mor, Rhys’ cousin that we met in the middle of this week, “Careful, Rhys, keep this up and I am going to start thinking you’re a nice Fae male.” I kissed his cheek and made my way into the dining room.

Feyre stood, and gave me a warm smile, “Are you ready?” I gave her a nod and look back at Rhys who tucked a hand in his pocket and Feyre lifted her chin, “We would like to go home now.” I bristled at her calling it my home but let it slide.

Rhys nodded and held out both his hands and I extend the arm without the tattoo, in his hand Feyre taking the other, and Mor calls out, “See you next month, Ladies.”

I turn and give her a smile and wave and I can see Feyre’s eyes go wide at the tattoo. Darkness begins to swirl as I look back at the door to the hallway and my breath hitched seeing Hazel eyes and flashes of red before the darkness consumed us.

In a moment we were back in the warm heat of the Spring Court. “See you next month, ladies.” And with that he was gone, my gaze lingered on where he was.

I was whipped around by my sister as she lifted my left arm, “What did you do?”

I whipped my arm back and walked toward the manner cross my arms tucking my tattooed wrist hidden, “Rhys offered something I wanted, I made a bargain.”

“What could he possibly have that you could have wanted,” Feyre hissed trying to keep up with my pace. “Especially something that Tamlin can’t provide here.”

I glare at her, “Like how he has been so great at providing you the emotional support when you throw up every night. Right?” Feyre went silent, “That’s what I thought. Feyre as I said before, I love you, but I am my own person and can make my own decisions. Please stop treating me like I’m a child.” Lucien was standing in front of the manor, and I storm inside ignoring the red headed male and make a beeline for my room and slam my door and sitting in the armchair by my window. I felt a warm tingle on my wrist. I looked at my left arm and another wave of warmth tingled my wrist. “Thanks Rhys,” I smiled and leaned my head against the head rest and drifted off into sleep thinking of those warm eyes and beautiful smile.

Cassian POV

I spent every evening in the library this past week, in hopes I would see Y/N again. Rhys had told us that we wouldn’t see Feyre but when I had walked into that library and saw her soft eyes that gleamed in the dark fae lights and the ease it was to talk to her.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” Mor questioned her brow quirked. Her face brightened, “Is there a lucky male or Female warming your bed Cas?”

I choked on the bite of my breakfast, “Mother above, Mor. Why would you think that?

“Because you have been staring at your eggs like they wrote you a beautiful love sonnet to you. I would have to assume that someone is warming your bed.” Mor’s threw him saccharine grin.

Before I could answer Rhys returned, his face tight, his eyes met mine, “Well that went as well as I anticipated.” Rhys muttered sitting at the table and the house provided him with breakfast. He began to eat, “I made a bargain with Y/N.”

My eyes snapped to my brothers, “You did?”

He nodded and took another of bite, I move my gaze to Mor, she shrugged and asked, “Why?”

Rhys mouth tightened, “Tamlin got a little aggressive, when I picked them up on Feyre’s wedding day. He had gripped her tight,”

I gripped my glass firmly and I thought about our brief encounter. There had been a bruise on her arm, I just didn’t know where it was from. “Did you ask her about it?”

“She chalked it up to those two just not getting along but I wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone.” Rhys smirked, “Though I will say she may have had hazel eyes on her mind this morning,” He met my gaze as heat crawled to my face. “Any particular reason why, Cassian?”

Mor’s gasped, I shot her a glare, “I may have met her in the library the day the two of them got here.” I took a sip of my tea, “I didn’t do anything nefarious, just talked with her,”

Rhys held up a hand to stop me, “I know, her thoughts were loud, and it just feels like she was comfortable here and comfortable with her interactions with both of you.” He gave a smile, “Thank you, both.”

I took another sip of my tea and murmured, “Can you imagine when those two meet, Azriel?”

Mor giggled, “Cauldron spare them.”

Rhys smiled, “Indeed.” Then the three of us finished our breakfast and my mind drifted to red silk, and doe eyes.

Chapter 3

[breelandwalker]

Cold Moon - December 14-15 2024

Bundle up, witches! It’s time for the Cold Moon!

Cold Moon

The Cold Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of December. This will be another month when the moon appears full for two nights in a row, so we’ll have a nice bright full moon in the sky for the 14th and the 15th, with peak illumination on Dec 15th at 4:02am EST.

Like most full moon names, the Cold Moon takes its’ moniker from an English translation of a traditional name used by one or more North American indigenous groups. There are a number of indigenous names that reference the wintry conditions when this moon occurs, including Snow Moon (Haida, Cherokee), Winter Moon (Tunica-Biloxi), Hoar Frost Moon (Cree), and Long Night Moon (Mohican). More evocative names include Frost Exploding Trees Moon (Cree) and Moon of the Popping Trees (Oglala), both of which refer to a phenomenon which occurs during extreme cold, when the sap inside a tree freezes and the expanding pressure causes portions of the bark or even entire limbs to “pop” with loud cracking sounds that can be heard for miles.

Other names for the December moon include Yule Moon (Norse origins), Oak Moon (Celtic origins), and Bitter Moon (Chinese origins).

What Does It Mean For Witches?

The year is winding down. It’s time to wrap up our projects and put aside what we haven’t finished or no longer need. Rather than berating ourselves for the things we didn’t finish or didn’t accomplish, this is a time to give ourselves some grace and celebrate our successes and triumphs and the things we DID accomplish.

With only one page left on the calendar, many of us are already looking ahead to the new year, making plans and setting goals. This is a good time to brainstorm and engage in a bit of broad-view planning. Sketch out the things you’d like to see or do or try in the new year. Give voice to your dreams and start thinking of ways to make them happen.

The Cold Moon also falls shortly before the winter solstice this year (Dec 21), which could be a boon for anyone looking to time their seasonal rituals in optimal fashion. A working could be begun on the full moon and built up to culminate on the solstice, or whichever post-moon December date has special meaning to you and your practice.

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

Have a small supper gathering with friends or family (holiday themed or not, it’s up to you) to share joys and fellowship and enjoy good food and drink. Make wishes together for the new year. (Wish jars can be done individually or as an informal group ritual. Sharing wishes anonymously can be a fun party game.) A “White Elephant” gift exchange or swap meet with inexpensive or homemade witchy goods for your circle could be fun too!

Make a wish jar for the new year and put it out to charge under the Cold Moon. Cleanse any of your tools or crystals or accoutrements that you use moonlight for one more time this year.

This is the perfect time for divinations and goalsetting for the coming year. Pull out your favorite divination tools and your new planner and sketch out the coming year. You can also try candle wax divination with holiday candles, if that’s something that interests you.

Also, save those seasonal bayberry candles for future use! They’re great for debt repayment and money-drawing spells.

If you need some ideas for a fun family activity, you can feed the birds for good luck, either with scattered birdseed or pinecone birdfeeders. String dried fruit slices, cinnamon sticks, pinecones, holly leaves and berries, and other seasonal faves to make garlands. Stick apples or oranges or clementines full of cloves in pretty patterns to make pomanders.

Use those fibre arts skills to create a special piece to keep your home warm and safe and well-supplied until spring. It doesn’t have to be anything big - a simple weaving or single square will do. Crochet or cut out snowflakes for your home decor. If you want to get fancy, pick up a ball of cotton warp thread and look for old doily patterns - they look great as hoop weavings hung on the wall (or make a witch web in winter colors).

Make one more batch of moonwater to carry you through to the new year. If it happens to snow or freeze where you live, you can save clean snow or icicles for special (non-drinkable) elemental water, which can be a fun base for moonwater as well.

And speaking of elements, make sure to remember in all your seasonal decorating that fire safety is paramount. Be careful with your candles, warmers, light strings, plugs, extension cords, and cables. DO NOT “daisy chain” your extension cords or power strips. Never leave candles or wax warmers or simmer pots unattended, and turn off your holiday lights before bedtime. Safety first, witches!

Thanks for joining me for this exploration of full moon magic. See you next year!

Happy Cold Moon, witches! 🌕🧊

Further Reading:

Additional Lunar Calendar posts

Secular Celebration Suggestions for Yule

Moon Rise Calculator - The Old Farmer’s Almanac.

Cold Moon: Full Moon in December 2024, The Old Farmer’s Almanac.

December Full Moon 2024: Cold Moon’s Epic Spiritual Meaning, The Peculiar Brunette.

How Do Trees Survive The Winter?, National Forest Foundation.

How to Make Pomander Balls, The Old Farmer’s Almanac.

Fun Kid’s Activity: Winter Pinecone Bird Feeder, Audubon Southwest.

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison, Llewellyn Publications, 2004.

[the-winter-spider]

The Alchemy | Part 2

Football Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, toxic bf, angst

A/N: I have part 3 finished, sorry i took so long i just had to start the layout for the story in my docs!

Part One

The hallway was alive with its usual chaotic energy, lockers slamming shut, laughter echoing as students swapped stories about their spring break adventures. Bucky leaned against his locker, absently listening to his friends recount their week. He nodded and laughed in the right places, but his mind was elsewhere, still half-focused on the intense drills and scrimmages he’d just finished at football camp.

Then he saw you.

You walked in through the main doors, your head down, books clutched tightly to your chest. You weaved through the crowd without a word, shoulders hunched, your steps hesitant and stiff.

Something was wrong.

Bucky’s chest tightened, the noise around him dimming as his focus narrowed to you. The tension in your frame, the way you avoided making eye contact with anyone, the tired slump in your shoulders—it was all wrong. Then he saw the faint shadow on your cheek, the bruise just beginning to bloom, and his stomach turned.

His friends’ voices faded to static. His bag slipped from his shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud, forgotten.

“Bucky, hey!”

A voice called out, stopping him mid-stride. Jessica Langford. Of course. She stepped in front of him, all bright smiles and flirtatious energy, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder like a scene out of a high school movie. “How was camp? I missed seeing you around.”

Her hand brushed his arm, and Bucky froze for only a moment. “Not now,” he muttered, his tone sharp and clipped.

She blinked, caught off guard, her smile faltering. “Wait, what?”

“I said not now.” His voice was firmer this time, already stepping around her.

“Bucky, come on, we haven’t—”

Her voice trailed off as he stormed past her, his long strides eating up the distance between him and you. He didn’t have the patience to care how she felt, not when you were standing there, looking like you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.

You froze when you saw him coming, your stomach dropping like a stone. You should’ve known he’d notice, no matter how much you tried to cover it up.. Bucky Barnes always noticed everything about you.

His expression was tight, his jaw locked as he stopped just inches away from you. His blue eyes searched yours, wide and filled with unspoken questions, though there was a storm brewing beneath the surface.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but urgent. “What happened?”

You blinked up at him, your lips parting as if to respond, but the words got caught in your throat. His gaze dropped to your cheek, lingering on the faint discoloration, and his jaw tightened further.

“Y/N,” he said again, his voice low, almost pleading.

You held his gaze as long as you could, but the intensity was too much. Your eyes flickered away, and a shaky breath escaped your lips. “Bucky…” you started, but your voice cracked. A single tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, and you quickly wiped it away, cursing yourself for being so weak.

The shrill sound of the bell rang out, signaling the start of class. The hallway began to empty as students hurried to their rooms, but neither of you moved.

“We should get to class,” you mumbled, clutching your books tighter to your chest. “We can talk later.”

“No.”

His voice was firm, unyielding. He tilted your chin up gently with his fingers, forcing you to meet his eyes again. “We’ll talk now.”

“Bucky, please,” you tried again, but your voice broke, and the crack in it shattered something in him.

He reached up slowly, his fingers brushing lightly over the bruise on your cheek. You flinched at the contact, wincing as pain flickered across your face. His hand froze midair before it dropped to his side, curling into a fist.

“Was it him?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

You looked away, your throat tightening painfully.

“Was it your father?” he pressed, his voice shaking now, a mix of anger and desperation spilling into the words.

You nodded once, barely perceptible, but it was enough.

His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles went white, the rage radiating off him like heat. “I’m gonna kill him,” he muttered, the words low and full of venom.

“No, Bucky, you can’t,” you said quickly, panic rising in your chest. “You can’t do anything, he was just drunk again. Please. I just… I just need—”

Your breath hitched, and you pressed your hand to your mouth, trying to hold back the sobs threatening to escape.

“What do you need?” Bucky asked urgently, his voice softening despite the fire still burning in his eyes. He stepped closer, his concern cutting through his anger. “Tell me. Just tell me what you need.”

“I need you,” you choked out, the words spilling over as the tears came. “I just… I just need you.”

His arms were around you in an instant, pulling you close and holding you like he could shield you from everything. You buried your face in his chest, your hands clutching his shirt as the sobs you’d been holding in all week finally broke free.

“You’ve got me,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure. His hand moved to the back of your head, his touch gentle as he held you. “You always have me. You hear me? Always.”

You nodded against his chest, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

“I’ll fix this,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “I swear, I’ll fix this.”

When the hallway finally fell silent, the only sound was your shaky breathing and the faint ticking of the clock. Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting on your shoulders.

“We’re not done talking about this,” he said firmly, his blue eyes boring into yours.

You nodded again, wiping at your tear-streaked cheeks. “Okay.”

He exhaled slowly, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “I mean it, Y/N.”

You let yourself believe him. Even if only for a moment.

As the late bell rang, you both turned toward the now-empty hallway. “Come on,” he said, his hand brushing against yours as he led the way. “Let’s get through this day.”

---

The airport was alive with motion and sound, a blend of muffled announcements, rolling suitcases, and travelers rushing to their gates. You sat at yours, earbuds in and a book open on your lap, though your eyes hadn’t moved from the same page in ten minutes. Your flight wasn’t for another hour, and you’d already gone through the usual airport routine—security, coffee, and an email you barely remembered sending. Now, all that was left was waiting, though the lingering buzz from last night was making that feel impossible.

You glanced at your phone, the brightness of the screen sharp in the harsh fluorescent lighting. No new notifications, though your finger hovered over Bucky’s name in your contacts. You’d exchanged numbers last night, a moment that had felt both casual and monumental. Texting him now—just a quick “good luck” or something friendly—seemed innocent enough. But the thought of actually doing it made your stomach twist.

Would it seem too eager? Too awkward?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a shadow falling across your lap. Startled, you looked up, and your breath caught in your throat.

“Hi,” Bucky said, hands stuffed in the pockets of his perfectly tailored jacket. His lips curved into a small smirk, but there was something in his eyes—something soft and hesitant—that made your heart race.

“Bucky?” you stammered, closing your book as you stood up. “What are you doing here?”

He tilted his head, feigning nonchalance. “Heard you were flying economy.” His tone was light, teasing, but there was no mistaking the intensity behind his gaze. This wasn’t a coincidence.

“Okay, and?” you asked, crossing your arms, though you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

“And,” he said, stepping closer, “that’s not happening. You’re coming with me.”

You blinked, certain you’d misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re flying with us. On the team jet.” His grin widened, confidence returning as he added, “Come on. Let’s go.”

Your mouth fell open slightly, and you let out a nervous laugh. “No, I’m not. That’s not how this works. I’m just here to do a job, and—”

“Okay,” he interrupted, stepping even closer. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, his smirk turning playful. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your call.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” he said, gesturing subtly around the gate, “people are starting to notice. You might not want to end up in the background of someone’s TikTok arguing with me.”

Sure enough, when you glanced around, several people were sneaking glances in your direction, their phones not-so-discreetly pointed toward the two of you. Bucky Barnes, NFL superstar, wasn’t exactly someone who could go unnoticed—even less so when he was standing in the middle of an airport with a woman who looked like she wanted to melt into the floor.

“Bucky,” you hissed, your cheeks flushing. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug. “But you’re still coming with me.”

Before you could argue further, he reached for your bag. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, but the glint in his eyes—equal parts mischief and determination—made it hard to stay annoyed. Finally, you let out a resigned sigh. “Fine. But I’m not going to hear the end of this, am I?”

“Not a chance,” he said with a wink, slinging your bag over his shoulder and motioning for you to follow him.

The team jet was even more luxurious than you’d imagined. The smell of leather and cologne filled the cabin, the plush seats and polished wood practically gleaming under the soft overhead lights. Your eyes went wide as you stepped inside, taking in the sheer opulence.

“Wow,” you breathed, unable to stop the word from escaping.

Bucky grinned as he stowed your bag in one of the overhead compartments. “Crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, still taking it all in. “Crazy.”

Bucky gestured for you to follow him to the seating area, weaving through the narrow aisle where several players were already sprawled out. The hum of the jet engines provided a low backdrop to the animated chatter filling the cabin. Sam Wilson leaned over the aisle, gesturing wildly as he told a story, his laughter loud and contagious. Across from him, Steve Rogers sat near the back, scrolling through his phone, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile at something Sam said.

“Hey, Buck, what’s up?” Steve greeted as Bucky approached, looking up from his phone. His gaze flicked to you, curiosity lighting up his features as he extended a hand. “Hi, I’m Steve Rogers.”

You smiled, shifting your bag onto your shoulder as you took his hand. His grip was firm but friendly. “Hi. I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“Y/N’s doing some publicity stuff for the team this year,” Bucky cut in quickly, taking the seat next to you as Steve settled across from him.

“You guys are stuck with me all season,” you added with a small smile, hoping it didn’t come across as too nervous.

Steve’s warm grin immediately put you at ease. “More like the other way around—you’re stuck with us.” His laugh was easy and unassuming, and you couldn’t help but blush slightly under his gaze.

Bucky cleared his throat loudly, and Steve’s eyes darted to him before returning to you. “So,” Steve began, leaning back in his seat casually, “do you two know each other, or are you just jumping straight into work?”

Bucky glanced at you, his lips tugging into a faint smile as if he was letting you decide how much to share.

“This is Y/N,” he said finally, his tone soft but deliberate.

Steve frowned slightly, glancing between you and Bucky. “Yeah, I know. We just introduced ourselves.”

“No,” Bucky said, his voice even softer now, almost reverent. “This is Y/N.”

The weight in his words hung in the air for a moment before recognition dawned on Steve’s face. His eyes widened, and he straightened up, his gaze darting between the two of you. “From when you were kids?”

Bucky nodded, his smirk turning almost shy. “Yeah.”

Steve let out a low whistle, leaning back in his seat. “Holy shit. Small world.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off, though your heart was pounding in your chest. “Yeah. Guess it is.”

Steve’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his expression thoughtful, before a teasing grin broke through. “Well, I’ll say this—you must have some patience if you dealt with him during his adolescence. Can only imagine what he was like back then.”

You laughed, the tension breaking slightly as you glanced at Bucky, who was now looking a little uncomfortable. “You have no idea.”

Steve’s grin widened as he leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “You moved, right? I remember Buck saying something about that back in college.”

You hesitated, glancing briefly at Bucky, who was now studying the edge of the table in front of him. “Um, yeah. Right before our senior year.”

“So, where did you go to college?” Steve asked, his tone casual but curious.

“NYU,” you replied, relaxing slightly at the shift in conversation.

Steve’s eyebrows rose, clearly impressed. “Home-state university, huh? Makes sense. New York always feels like home.”

“It does,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I knew when I graduated, I wanted to go back.”

“Where did you move to?”

The new voice came from beside Steve, and you turned to see Sam Wilson, his broad grin immediately putting you on edge in the best way. “Sorry,” he added quickly, leaning forward to shake your hand. “Sam Wilson. Gotta get to know the pretty girl covering us this year, right, Buck?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but his faint blush didn’t go unnoticed.

“We moved to Pennsylvania,” you answered, trying to ignore the way Sam’s grin widened.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Pennsylvania? Buck, isn’t that where we went to college? What a coincidence.”

You frowned slightly, your confusion evident.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Bucky muttered, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

Sam leaned back with a satisfied smirk but didn’t push further.

“So,” Steve said, steering the conversation back on track, “when was the last time you two saw each other?”

Bucky’s jaw tensed slightly, and you felt the weight of his gaze before you cleared your throat, offering a small, sad smile. “The week before I moved. It’s been almost ten years.”

“Wow,” Sam said, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “That long ago? I know you moved, but I figured you’d have seen each other at least once, the way Buck talks—”

“Alright,” Bucky interrupted, his tone sharp with embarrassment now. “That’s enough.”

Steve grinned knowingly, leaning back in his seat, but the look in his eyes didn’t fade. There was something unspoken in his expression, something that made you wonder just how much Bucky had shared with him over the years.

You glanced at Bucky again, catching the faint blush still lingering on his cheeks, and couldn’t help but feel the same strange mix of comfort and tension that had been following you all day.

This season was going to be a lot more complicated than you’d anticipated.

-------

The faint glow of the streetlight outside your bedroom window barely reached the edges of the room. You sat on the edge of your bed, knees drawn to your chest, trying to keep your breathing steady. Your hands trembled, knuckles white as you gripped the edge of the worn blanket draped over your legs.

You could still hear his voice downstairs—your father’s angry, slurred shouting echoing through the house. The words blended together into a noise that clawed at your nerves, a mix of rage and incoherent accusations.

“Y/N?” A voice called softly from outside your window, cutting through the noise like a lifeline.

Your heart jumped, relief flooding your chest as you scrambled toward the window. You pushed it open, the cool night air brushing against your skin. There he was, Bucky, perched on the roof just outside, his familiar blue eyes filled with concern.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, your voice barely steady.

He tilted his head, his jaw tightening as he leaned closer. “I could hear him from my house. Thought you might need an escape.”

You glanced over your shoulder toward the door, listening for any sign of movement from the stairs. When you didn’t hear anything, you turned back to Bucky, hesitating for only a moment before grabbing your hoodie and climbing out the window. His hands were on you instantly, steadying you as you slid onto the roof.

“Careful,” he muttered, his voice low and tense. He helped you climb down, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary once your feet hit the ground.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, heading toward the small park a few blocks away. It was your unspoken safe haven, a place where the two of you always went when things got bad. Bucky walked close to you, his shoulder brushing yours as if he was ready to shield you from the world if needed.

When you reached the swings, you sat down heavily, the chain creaking as you swayed back and forth. Bucky crouched in front of you, his arms resting on his knees as he studied your face.

“Was it bad tonight?” he asked, his voice soft but edged with restrained anger.

You shrugged, your gaze fixed on the ground. “It’s always bad.”

"He didn't hit you again did he?" His jaw clenched, you shook your head no, and he looked away for a moment, running a hand through his hair. “I hate him,” he muttered under his breath.

“Don’t,” you said quickly, your voice sharper than you intended. “Don’t say that. He’s still my dad.”

Bucky’s head snapped back to you, his eyes blazing with something between frustration and disbelief. “I don’t care. He’s an asshole, Y/N. He doesn’t get to treat you like that.”

You looked away, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “It’s not that simple.”

“It should be,” he said firmly, moving to sit on the swing next to you. He grabbed the chain, his knuckles tightening around the cold metal as he continued. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit. Not alone.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not alone. I have you, don’t I?”

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than you’d expected them to be. When you finally glanced over at him, his expression had softened, his usual cocky grin replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable.

“Always,” he said, his voice steady. “You’ve got me. No matter what.”

For a moment, the world felt still, like the chaos you’d left behind couldn’t reach you here. You didn’t realize you were crying until Bucky shifted closer, his hand brushing against yours where it rested on the chain. He hesitated, his fingers hovering near yours before he finally wrapped his hand around yours, squeezing gently.

“You don’t have to stay there, you know,” he said quietly. “You could… I don’t know. Come stay with me and my ma. She wouldn’t care. She loves you.”

You smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Bucky, you know it’s not that easy.”

“Why not?” he pressed, his frustration bubbling back to the surface. “You’re almost eighteen. You don’t have to take his shit anymore.”

You looked at him, your throat tightening as you tried to find the right words. “It’s not about me,” you said finally. “It’s about my mom. I can’t just leave her there. I have to be there for her.”

Bucky’s expression darkened, his free hand curling into a fist at his side. “It’s not fair,” he muttered. “You shouldn’t have to fix everything. You shouldn’t have to… to stay in that hellhole just because he—”

“Bucky,” you interrupted, squeezing his hand to get his attention. “It’s my family. I can’t just walk away.”

He let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping as he leaned back against the swing. “I just want you to be okay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you."

“I know,” you said softly, your chest aching at the raw emotion in his voice. “I’m okay. I promise.”

But even as you said it, you weren’t sure if either of you believed it.

By the time the two of you started walking back, the air had grown colder, and the streets were eerily quiet. Bucky walked close to you again, his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, his jaw set in a way that told you his mind was still racing.

When you reached your house, you hesitated at the gate, glancing back toward the darkened windows.

“You sure you don’t want me to come in?” he asked, his voice low and careful.

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “I’ll be fine. He’s probably passed out by now.”

Bucky didn’t look convinced, but he nodded anyway, his gaze lingering on you like he was trying to memorize every detail.

“Text me if you need me,” he said, his tone more of a command than a request.

“I will,” you promised, though you both knew it was a lie.

As you climbed back through your window and watched him disappear down the street, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. You hated worrying him, hated the way he carried your pain like it was his own. He had everything going for him and the last thing he needed was for you to bring him down. So you decided to stop telling him everything.

---

The rest of the flight passed in a blur of camaraderie and chatter, the easy banter between teammates filling the cabin like background music. Sam’s voice carried above the others, booming with laughter as he recounted some story that had Steve shaking his head but smiling nonetheless. Their camaraderie felt warm and infectious, but it only deepened the ache in your chest.

You tried to focus on the conversation around you, but the buzzing in your lap pulled you back to reality every time. The phone’s screen lit up again, a glaring reminder of the life you couldn’t escape, no matter how far you flew.

The messages weren’t surprising. They never were.

“Riding with them now? You think you’re too good for the rest of us?”

“You couldn’t even tell me? You just don’t care, do you?”

“You’re a joke. Enjoy your little fantasy. Just wait till you’re back.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening as you typed a response, your fingers trembling slightly over the screen. You knew the drill by now. Keep calm. Keep him calm.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I’d be on the jet until last minute. It’s not what you think.”

The reply came instantly. He was waiting.

“Don’t lie to me. I know exactly what this is.”

You let out a shaky breath, locking your phone and gripping the edge of your hoodie. The weight of his accusations felt heavier with every word, pressing down on your chest like a stone.

It’s not that bad. He’s just upset. You can fix this. You always fix this.

But the exhaustion of it—of always fixing it—was beginning to seep into your bones.

Bucky leaned back in his seat across from you, stretching his long legs out in front of him. The hum of the jet’s engines thrummed steadily beneath them, but he wasn’t paying attention to the noise or even the laughter coming from Sam and Steve.

His focus was on you.

He’d noticed it all day—the nervous edge in your laugh, the way your fingers fidgeted with the zipper of your hoodie, the subtle way your eyes darted to your phone every time it buzzed. Something wasn’t right.

When he saw you sigh and tuck your phone into your lap, your shoulders slumping under an invisible weight, his chest tightened. You looked small. Smaller than he ever remembered.

“Everything okay?”

His voice startled you, and your head snapped up, your eyes wide with surprise. Quickly, you shoved your phone into the pocket of your hoodie, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah,” you said too quickly. “Just…life, you know?”

But Bucky wasn’t buying it. His blue eyes lingered on you, studying the slight tremor in your hands, the tension in your shoulders, the forced cheer in your voice.

He reached out instinctively, his hand hovering near your arm, but the second he moved, you flinched. It was small—barely noticeable—but it was enough.

The reaction hit him like a punch to the gut. His hand froze mid-air before he dropped it into his lap, his fingers curling into a fist.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, your laugh shaky and hollow. “Guess I’m a little jumpy today.”

Bucky’s chest ached at the sound of your laugh—fragile, hollow, like it could shatter under its own weight. It was a ghost of the sound he used to know, the one that had been full and unrestrained, the laugh he’d loved hearing so much it felt like his own reward.

And now? Now it felt like before.

He’d seen this before—the way someone flinched, the way they seemed to fold in on themselves, as if making themselves smaller would make them safer. He’d seen it in you before, years ago, when you were kids. When the bruises on your skin matched the invisible ones he carried in his heart, and neither of you needed words to know the pain you shared.

Ten years.

It had been ten years since he’d seen you like that, ten years since you’d moved away, leaving his life like a chapter ripped out of a book. He thought you’d left it behind—the bruises, the fear, the constant need to be invisible. You deserved to leave it behind.

But now? Now he wasn’t sure.

Bucky’s gaze flicked to the phone you kept gripping in your lap, like it might leap out of your hands at any second. He hadn’t seen the messages, but he didn’t need to. He could feel the tension radiating off you, the way your fingers hovered over the screen like you were walking a tightrope, trying not to fall.

His chest tightened as his mind spiraled. It couldn’t be your father again.

After you moved, Bucky had tried to keep track of your family—what little he could gather from secondhand whispers and scraps of news. He knew your father had gone on a bender shortly after you left town, disappearing for good. The house you grew up in had been sold. Beyond that, nothing.

He wanted to ask. He wanted to reach out. He tried.

There were nights he stared at his phone, typing and deleting message after message. The words felt useless, his guilt too heavy. He was the one who left you high and dry when you needed him most. He’d promised you’d always have him, and then he’d failed spectacularly. How could he text you after all that, after years of silence, just to say he was sorry for being a shitty friend?

He told himself he’d wait. Wait until he’d made something of himself. Wait until he had the right words to tell you what he’d been too scared to admit back then—that he loved you. That he’d loved you all along.

And then you showed up. Just like that.

It felt like fate—like he’d been handed a second chance he didn’t deserve. A chance he wouldn’t let slip through his fingers this time.

His eyes drifted back to you, and his heart sank further. You weren’t the same girl he remembered, the girl who lit up every room she walked into. The one who laughed loudly, whose confidence was as infectious as her smile.

Now, you seemed smaller, quieter. Like you were trying not to take up too much space.

His teeth clenched as the thought burned through him. Who was hurting you this time?

Your phone buzzed again, but you didn’t dare check it. Not with Bucky watching you so closely.

You already knew what the message would say.

You didn’t need to see the words to feel the simmering anger waiting for you on the other side of the screen. He didn’t have to yell. He didn’t need to anymore. His disappointment, his accusations—they carried enough weight to crush you on their own.

You know how to make him stop, a voice in your head whispered. Just apologize. Tell him what he wants to hear.

You hated how predictable it was. How it always came back to you taking the blame, finding a way to calm him down, to diffuse the situation before it spiraled further. You told yourself it wasn’t that bad, even as the exhaustion of it seeped into your bones.

It’s not that bad.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Bucky’s voice startled you, softer now, almost hesitant.

You nodded quickly, your hand tightening around the hem of your hoodie. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just… work stress. It’s no biggie.”

He frowned, his brows knitting together as he leaned back in his seat. His arms crossed over his chest, but he didn’t press. Not yet.

“If you say so,” he said finally, though his tone was laced with doubt.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and unresolved. You thought that might be the end of it—that he’d let it go.

But then he leaned forward again.

“You know,” he started, his voice quieter now, softer, like he was trying not to scare you away. “I never thought I’d see you again. After all this time.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. You glanced at him, startled, your breath hitching in your throat. He wasn’t smiling. There was no teasing in his expression, no hint of the cocky smirk you remembered. Just something raw and vulnerable that made your chest ache.

“I’m happy I get to,” he added, his blue eyes locking with yours. His voice dropped even lower as he added, almost shyly, “I, uh… missed you.”

The words hit harder than you expected. You looked away quickly, blinking back the sting of tears as your throat tightened. “Me too,” you whispered, the words barely audible.

Bucky’s voice softened even further, his tone almost breaking. “I wish it was sooner. And I’m sor—”

The captain’s voice crackled through the speakers, breaking the moment.

“We’ll be landing shortly. Please return to your seats and prepare for descent.”

You turned away, fumbling with your seatbelt as Bucky leaned back in his seat. But you could still feel his eyes on you, the weight of his gaze heavy with everything unsaid.

He wanted to say more. You could feel it. And part of you wanted to let him.

But the secrets you carried sat like stones in your chest, too heavy to lift, too sharp to let him see.

As the plane descended, Bucky’s jaw tightened with quiet resolve. Something was wrong—he could feel it in his bones. And he wasn’t going to let it go this time.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon 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: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: gotta right my final reflection today and then I don't have schoolwork for a while!

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 <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“So, when is the wedding?” Lillians asks over a half-empty plate. 

You take your time chewing. You don’t have an answer. As far as you’re concerned, this is Lloyd’s plot so he can come up with the detail. You're here to enjoy the wine. 

“Uh, the spring,” he blurts out. 

“The spring?” Gwenyth repeats. “Don’t you have a specific date?” 

“Erm, May something...” Lloyd says. 

“May? That’s so soon. If you don’t even have a date, I doubt you have a venue or a dress or--” Lillian counters. 

“Oh, well, we were thinking of. Er...” Lloyd turns his fork in this hand. “Eloping?” 

“Eloping,” Gwenyth hisses. “Eloping? Does that mean we’re not invited? It’s simply not fair.” 

“Mom, I--” 

“Gwen, he didn’t say that, did he?” 

“Well, dad--” 

“We are invited,” William states. It’s not a question. 

“You see what happens?” Gwen takes her cloth napkin and folds it, dabbing her tearless eyes, “the groom’s mother is always excluded. He is my son--” 

“A destination wedding would be nice,” William suggests. 

“Uh, of course. Yeah. We’d like to go somewhere far away, but uh, not far from you...” Lloyd stammers and you kick his foot. You could laugh at how flustered he is if you were entwined in his lies. He sits straighter, “We’ll have the invitations out soon. Everyone’s invited of course--” 

You kick him again. He slips his hand on your knee and squeezes, “we’re still figuring things out,” he declares. 

“Oh, it seems so!” Gwenyth clasps the napkin between her hands. “Darling, you must let me help. And Lillian. Her wedding was fabulous.” 

“Which one?” Lloyd snickers. 

“We’ll see if you even have one,” his sister retorts. 

He cackles and William sighs. 

“Yes, weddings. All that mess,” William drawls. “The ladies can suss out the details but I do believe it’s time for the yearly rematch.” 

“You still do that?” Lloyd asks. 

“Hm, of course. It is a tradition. What’s the matter? You too old, boy?” 

“Speak for yourself,” Lloyd bounces back, shocking you with the snipe. 

Another surprise, William laughs. 

“Ben may need to sit out,” William suggests. 

“Oh, to the contrary, old boy, I’ve had just enough bourbon that I am a prized asset in my state,” the man with the fluffy ash hair doffs his mug. 

“Hm, yes, Carter, Linus, Ransom, Ben, myself, Lloyd,” William counts on his fingers, “Dawson, Lewis, Hudson, and Owen. Quite the lineup this year.” 

You look at Lloyd confused. He doesn’t look excited. You reach under the table and move his hand off your leg. He flinches and glances over at you. 

“Is this some sort of cribbage tournament?” You scoff under your breath. 

He shakes his head. “Touch football...” 

“Football...” You peer across the table with concerns. At least four of the players named are a bit too old to be running around in the snow. 

“It’s fine. Just like tag,” Lloyd shrugs unconvincingly. You chew your lip as you consider him. His eyes follow the movement and you stop yourself. “What?” He asks. 

“I’m just trying to picture it,” you say. “You don’t seem like a football person.” 

“What does that mean? You don’t seem like one either? What would you know?” You hiss back. 

“Ah, dear,” William calls across the table, “do not fear for his safety. We are all family, no one means to hurt each other.” 

Despite his assurance, you’re even less convinced that there won’t be some horrible accident. Again, you remind yourself, it’s Lloyd’s problems. Your sole focus is the money. And the wine. 

You reach to drain your glass, “I’m not worried at all,” you smile, “oh, and honey,” you turn to Lloyd, “you never asked but I love football. I’m a big Bills fan, actually. Remember, laces out.” 

Lloyd grumbles and stands. The other men do in a lazy succession. They stretch and groan over the scraping chair legs. The women rise too and start to clear the table. You’re not a fan of that divide; the men get their fun and the women get to tidy, but you will not be as rude as they’ve accused you. 

You start to gather cutlery and plates. Lloyd startles you as he puts his hand on your hip to stop you. You face him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” He says. 

You bat your lashes and smirk. You’re amused that he thinks you’re that concerned. 

“Oh, I’m sure you can handle a game of tag, but you might want to stretch. There’s no one you can pay to run the ball for you,” you snort. 

You move past him and follow Lillian. He huffs as you leave him to the rabble of old man talking trash. As you enter the kitchen, Lillian sets the plates on the counter and you put yours next to hers. You take the top one and scrape it clean. 

“You’ll enjoy it. It’s always a good show. I am interested to see the teams this year,” she trills. “Of course, without Lloyd around for so long, I had to step in. Unfortunately, this year, I'm in no condition to lace up.” 

“Oh, it sounds like a fun tradition,” you remark. 

“It’s wonderful fun,” she assures as Gwenyth enters. Lillian shifts closer and lowers her voice, “also, you might want to consider, Lloyd wasn’t keeping us from you, perhaps it was the opposite. We are a rather selective bunch.” 

You meet her bruising sneer and smile. The wine helps drown your agitation. Why should you be bothered? Once you have your money, it won’t worry what the bloated bitch thinks? Oops, let’s keep those thoughts inside. 

“Oh, I’ll be sure to thank him for that,” you wink. She frowns. 

“Leave the plates at the sink, ladies,” Gwenyth commands. “Let’s grab out coats! The powder’s fresh. It’ll be a good match.” 

It’s odd. You really didn’t take this horde of pretentious ghouls as the football type. Well, maybe not the NFL-watching, tailgating type in pickups or minivans. Still, you can’t help but be a little amped for a Christmas game. 

There’s a crunch at the front door. Andrea, Angela, and Raquel warble with Gwenyth, as Shanna, Linda, and Lana come over to admire Lillian’s bump and ask her about the birth plans, while you stand to the side and watch Beatrice with a few younger girls, the elder daughters from all those pairing, who are less than enthused about the whole show. The parade of names escape you though you hardly wonder who is who. 

Your eyes wander to the next room. The younger kids are kept busy before the large Christmas tree by women you haven’t been introduced too. You assume those are the nannies Lloyd mentioned. It’s rather grim, a family divided as if the younger generation were a nuisance. Despite the enthusiasm for Lillian’s coming child, the poor soul will only end up at kids’ table apart from their mother. 

The men chatter near the open door as a brisk wind flows in. As you reach for your coat, you collide with another. You turn in the tight space to face Ransom as he cracks his neck. 

“You going to cheer me on, baby girl?” He smirks at you. 

You stare at him crisply. You continue to pull your coat on as you censor the variations of ‘hell no’ rolling through your mind. You look around for an escape but there isn’t one. The entry way is packed with bodies. 

“It will be cathartic. You’d just be cheering on the team, not necessarily, cheering against your beloved fiance,” he snickers. 

You look at him dully, “oh, I'm certain you’ll run circles around a team full of middle aged and elder men.” 

“You love to see it,” he grins and reaches around you. Before you can react, he pinches your ass again. You hit his chest as he pulls away and rubs his fingertips together, “for good luck.” 

“You’re nasty.” 

“Look at who you came with, sweetheart,” he sticks his tongue out and turns away. “But I understand if it’s my ass you’re watching out in the snow.” 

You curl your lip as you zip up your coat and shuffle over near the women. The men disburse through the front door ahead of you. They holler at each other, pointing impatiently, “over there.”; “Ben, too far”, “No, you snap--” 

You watch them break into team in the snowy street, barren of cars in the calm of Christmas Day. You tuck your hands into your pocket as you stand along the curb and the other women puff clouds into the frigid air. Lazy flakes swirl down and add to the glowing ambiance of the wintry midday. 

William, Ransom, Linus, Dawson, and Hudson huddle on one side with the ball as the others, Benson, Lloyd, Carter, Lewis, and Owen watch, waiting to respond to the first play. You’re not expecting anything more than wobbling throws and clumsy runs, still, it’s better than arguing at the dinner table. 

Ransom gets down to snap to William. The ball passes hands as Dawson runs a route and Ransom and Linus block the front light. Hudson takes the running backs route for the fake handoff before William searches for his receiver. Not bad for amateurs, especially given the demographic. 

The ball is caught as Owen makes the touch. No proper tackle, just a tap on Dawson’s shoulders. The play end as the next play is called in the huddle. Instead of moving down the street, the team resets at the same line, counting yard from that point. 

Another snap. The run is stuffed as Lloyd makes the touch on Hudson, almost indifferent about the play. The women cheer but not at the right times. They’re not really paying attention as they garble about desserts or their hair stylists. 

“You know what would be perfect, some mulled cider,” Beatrice suggests. The comment does make you thirsty but you’re not so sure you’d trade the cold outside for that inside. 

The ball switches possessions. Lloyd takes the snap. You’re a bit surprised but Benson is swaying in his blocking position. That’s less shocking. 

Snap. A pass. Straight and on target. Carter, one of William’s brothers, makes the catch and runs for ten more. Or what’s assumed to be that man. 

A new call. Lloyd rambles out signals in a parody of a real game. “Blood. Wine. Beemer, beemer beemer. Black sheep...” Your eye is drawn by Ransom as he shifts low. You tilt your head. 

“Offside,” you mutter as the ball snaps. Ransom’s across the line before the blockers can react and before the ball can change hands. In an instant, Lloyd is in the snow beneath the other man. 

“Oh my!” “Gosh.” “Ransom...” The concern washes over the audience of women as the men stop the play and turn to look at the two men in the snow. 

The latch onto each other in a toothless brawl. Lloyd knocks Ransom into the snow and grabs his neck. Ransom grips him in turn and they roll back and forth, trying to throttle each other. The other men move to separate them. 

“You two,” William booms. 

“Oh, Ransom, what are you doing?” Linda rushes over. 

“Linda,” William growls as Lloyd is dragged away from her son. “We were kind in letting him come here after everything--” 

“Oh, don’t blame him. Your son is just as bad.” 

“My son has a job,” William snarls back. 

“Don’t worry, that cuck barely got a ding on me,” Lloyd sneers as he shrugs the other men off. There’s a raw and red patch on his cheek bone and snow in his mussed hair. Scratches peek out above his collar as he coughs. 

“Fucker’s weak as pudding,” Ransom jeers back. 

“Both of you. That’s disgusting,” William growls. “Enough. Both of you, benched.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Lloyd whines. 

“Doesn’t matter. You’re ruining the game,” William says. “Both of you, go inside.” 

“He antagonized him,” Linda squalls, “you heard his play call--” 

“Your son’s grown. He can handle words,” William rebuffs. “You can go inside with them.” 

You’re disappointed. It wasn’t bad while it lasted. Lloyd chuffs and steps around his father. Several bodies move to keep him away from Ransom. He rolls his eyes and waves them off. 

“He’s not worth it,” he stomps over to you. “Whatever, let’s get some hot chocolate or some shit. Better than standing in the snow with a bunch of geezers.” 

He grabs your arm and you have no choice but to let him lead you away. You can hear Ransom pleading his own case, whining at his mom, as she huffs and sighs. The argument fades as you near the front door. 

Lloyd pushes through and drags you in with him. He checks his reflection in the wall mirror, fixing his hair as he winces. He left his coat and blazer inside, wearing only his black turtleneck, now wet from the snow and streaked with salt along his back. He shakes his head at himself. 

You undo your coat and hang it. You almost want to call it a day. You came to brunch, you faced the wolves, and there isn’t enough wine to make them tolerable. 

He touches his cheek and hisses, “ugh, bastard.” 

“Hard hit,” you say. 

“Sure was. Who knew the brat had it in him?” He gingerly presses his cheekbone, “ugh, well, Pix, how about you kiss it better?” 

“What?” You grimace. “No way.” 

“But it hurts,” he turns to you and pushes his bottom lip out. 

“Uh uh,” you cross your arms. “We need to talk. About the wedding.” 

“Really? You wanna talk about that?” 

“Lloyd, I said a courthouse.” 

“I know but...” he pauses and glances around the entry way, “come on.” 

He ushers you down the hall and into the bathroom. He shuts the door and you’re once more trapped in the tight space with a Hansen twin. He stands in front of the door as he faces you. 

“Look, I’m just trying to get this done. It’s good for both of us. You want your money, don’t you? So you need to play along.” 

“I am.” 

“It’s just a fucking ceremony and a dinner.” He argues. 

“It’s not what I agreed too.” 

“Yeah, well, we have to be convincing if we want our prize.” 

You scowl, “I really am not enjoying this whole ‘we’ narrative.” 

“That’s the script, Pixie pie. So put a little bit of energy into it.” He steps closer and you stiffen as he puts his hands on your shoulders. “Loosen up and you might actually have a bit of fun.” 

“It was supposed to be the holiday and the courthouse,” you insist. 

“Not good enough. We both know it.” 

“I want more money,” you grit. 

He pouts again, “you drive a hard bargain for such a soft little thing.” 

You push him away as he goes to stroke his cheek. 

“Two million. I’m not wearing a white dress for anything less.” 

“Baby, please, you’re bleeding me dry--” 

“I’m not blind, Lloyd.” You look around emphatically, “I know what I’m asking for is a fraction of what you’ll get. I’ve worked for you long enough to know your tactics. Whatever I ask, I’m being undersold. Two or I walk right now.” 

He takes a deep breath and lets it out, “let me just see a little ass.” 

You blink, stunned by his barter. You shake your head. “Not for a three million.” 

“Ugh, fine. You’re so damn stubborn. I like it but I also hate it,” he sighs. “Two,” he pulls his hand free and offers it. You shake it with a triumphant smirk. “Let’s seal that the right way.” 

He tightens his hold on you as he grabs the back of your head and bends to smother you with a bristly kiss. You squeak before you can pull away. You scoff at him and yank your hand free to wipe your lips. 

“It’s gonna happen, Pixie,” he grins. “Trust.” 

[hellfirenacht]

Crit Happens: Session 0

Fic Summary: You are who’s Dustin’s favorite cousin from out of town who is staying with him for the summer. Eddie finds himself jealous as he's suddenly been pushed aside as Dustin’s favorite dungeon master. When Dustin insists that Eddie join the campaign, you and Eddie quickly butt heads about how Dungeons and Dragons should be played.

Master List

2.2k words

May, 1986

Session 0

The air in the drama room was hot and stagnant as the members of Hellfire held their breath. One Erica Sinclair held the D20 between her palms, shaking her cupped hands together, while everyone stared at her in anticipation of the drop that would tell them if the campaign that they had been working through all semester had been for naught. 

Eddie’s eyes narrowed and he found himself standing taller to look over his DM screen as the die fell from her grasp, tumbling and rolling to decide the fate of the party. Two weeks ago, he had damn near thrown a fit over the idea of pushing back the finale of The Cult of Vecna out by a week, but he was no longer regretting that decision after spending his spring break working and reworking his notes until he was ready to kill Vecna himself from the frustration. 

The older Sinclair stood behind his sister, gripping her shoulders tightly, while Dustin and Will held Lucas’s. Actually, if Eddie hadn’t been staring so hard at the die as it clacked along the squares of his map, he would have seen all of Hellfire cleaning to each other, and he would have absolutely made fun of them. 

Not now though. 

The die hit the small podium that Eddie had spent an afternoon putting together to set Vecna on top of. The mini-fig shifted just slightly under Eddie’s hawk-like gaze before toppling over. A fitting end as the die settled on the magic number. 

“Nat 20!” Erica yelled, smiling wide with an excitement for the game that made Eddie nostalgic for his days as a player. Immediately, the room erupted in cheers and jumping as the members of Hellfire celebrated. 

Eddie jumped up, and clapped his hands, hardly able to believe what he was seeing.

Two weeks ago, Lucas begged him to postpone Hellfire. Two weeks ago Lucas had told Eddie that he could guarantee a passing grade for O’Donnels if he would postpone this one time. Lucas swore that he could get Eddie the best math tutor in Hawkins. 

Now, said tutor had just rolled a Nat 20 and was being hailed as a hero amongst the party that Eddie had been guiding for the past school year. 

It could have brought a tear to his eye, knowing that Hellfire had beaten his campaign, and now he was set to walk the stage in a week to graduate. 

“That’s why we play!” Eddie declared, dramatically bowing to Erica, who stood proud as the rest of the group high-fived and jumped around. 

“Erica, you’re joining Hellfire officially when you get to high school, right?” Will asked. 

“We’ll see if I want to join this nerd club in a year.” Erica said, as if that hadn’t been part of the deal with Eddie postponing Hellfire for Lucas’s game. 

The night wound down, as members reluctantly were picked up by their parents. Eddie himself was stalling as he cleaned up the board for the last time. He had always known that this day would come, that there would be a last Hellfire meeting, a final campaign, one last adventure. He knew that, but never really believed that it would happen until he was folding up his DM screen and sliding it into his beat up backpack. 

Eddie already promised himself that he wouldn’t ever enter the grounds of Hawkins High again once that diploma was in his hands. There had been talk amongst his band-mates about setting up a game for just Corroded Coffin, but nothing set in stone yet. 

He watched as most of the group headed up the stairs and towards the door, until it was just the freshmen huddled in a corner and whispering to each other in a hushed and excited tone. 

Curiosity got the better of Eddie, it always did. He walked over to the little sheep and crossed his arms. “And what’s the big secret?” he asked. 

The boys jumped slightly, and they all looked like they were stuffing something in their pockets or subtly trying to hide something, which only made Eddie more curious. 

“We were just deciding who was going to be the dungeon master next semester!” Mike said, a little too fast, but it was a good alibi for now. The older members of the band had never shown too much of an interest in running the game, but Eddie knew that Mike and Will had swapped around being the DM long before joining Hellfire. 

This did interest Eddie though, and he was willing to ignore whatever secret that the children were holding for the moment. He knew this was an important decision for the fate of the club. “And who among you thinks they are worthy of being my successor?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Dustin took a step forward. “I do.” he said.

Eddie’s lips stretched into a grin as he looked down at his favorite freshman (though he’d never admit it out loud). Had it been up to Eddie, he would have picked Henderson himself. Maybe Will was a close second, with his passion for the game above all else. 

“So, Dustin the Bard thinks that he is good enough to tell the tale of Hellfire for the future generations?” Eddie asked. 

“I know I’m good enough.” Dustin replied. “I learned from the best.” 

Eddie hadn’t expected such a sentiment from the kid, and for a second his expression softened. For the past year, Dustin had constantly talked about how great and amazing Steve Harrington was, practically worshiped the jock much to Eddie’s confusion. But knowing that Dustin really did think highly of him as well, melted a part of Eddie’ cynical old heart. 

“When is she coming in anyway?” Will asked, looking at Dustin. 

...Who?

Dustin’s head snapped over at Will with a glare, the Byers kid had a shit eating grin. 

“She’ll be coming in next week.” Dustin said through his teeth. “But that’s not important right now.”

Eddie didn’t consider himself a nosy person, but he was. He was about to leave Hawkins High and Hellfire forever, and these children were being cryptic and weirder than usual. 

Dustin turned back to Eddie. “I’ll be running the next campaign.” he tried again. “I already have a lot of ideas.”

“Well, Henderson, you’re in luck.” Eddie said. “I’ll have some free time on my hands this summer, I think if you’re going to live up to my legacy then you should at least get the proper training.” 

Eddie’s mouth was going faster than his brain with the idea. It’s not something that he would have offered to anyone else, and truth be told he didn’t know why he was suddenly feeling the need to hang out with anyone other than his band over the summer.  

It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that after he had that diploma in hand he would be even more lost than he was within the walls of this prison of a school. Nothing to do with Wayne talking about getting him a job at the plant after graduation or the fact that suddenly Grant, Gareth, and Jeff had summer plans with their families which would cut into Corroded Coffin’s rehearsal and stage time. 

No, it had nothing to do with any of that. It was out of the kindness of Eddie’s heart that he was willing to guide his sheep into one last adventure to prepare them for the new year and new challenges that they would have to face without the mean and scary freak of Hawkins High protecting them. This was all only for the future of Hellfire. 

Dustin looked confused, looking to Mike and Lucas for support but they looked like they were holding back laughter. 

Were they laughing at Eddie? After all he’d done for them over the past year? Keeping them relatively safe from bullies, letting them join Hellfire?

Lucas slapped Dustin on the shoulder with a smirk. “See you later. Good luck.” he said before him, Mike, and Will practically bolted up the stairs and out the door. 

This kept getting weirder and weirder. 

“So you want to train me...?” Dustin asked, turning his attention to Eddie after nearly setting the staircase on fire with his glare. 

“Think of it like ‘Dungeon Master Boot Camp’.” Eddie said, though he sounded more confident than he felt after that weird exchange. 

He couldn’t fully blame the freshmen either, it’s not like he had ever asked to hang out with them outside of school or Hellfire. The closest had been Grant’s birthday party, and the two times they had all gone to the arcade together as a club. 

“About that I- uh.” Dustin was holding onto a piece of paper in his hands, fiddling with it. “I’ll actually be living with the person who taught us D&D this summer and they said that they’d help me- but you can help,too!” 

Eddie’s face must have betrayed some form of emotion with how quickly Dustin had added in that last part. He tried to brush off that odd feeling of disappointment, it didn’t matter anyway. This was just something Eddie was offering to kill time during the summer due to boredom. No other reason.

“And who exactly taught you to play?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms. It was no secret that the kids knew how to play before joining Hellfire, but he had always assumed that they had learned the same way he had; by sneaking into bookstores and libraries and writing down as much of the rules as he could until he could finally put together enough money to buy his own copy of the players handbook. It hadn’t occurred to him that someone would have taught anyone in that group. 

“My cousin.” Dustin said. “She doesn’t live here, but she used to come up for summer break before going to college. My cousin was the one to bring me the books and got me into the game and then we just played a campaign every time they visited.” 

There was something about the way Dustin was talking that made Eddie feel like he was trying to hide something from him. 

“And so this cousin of yours is coming back to visit for the summer and will be, what, teaching you how to play again?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. 

“No! No, she’s just gonna run a campaign for us!” Dustin said, incredulously before sighing and showing Eddie the piece of paper that everyone had been poorly trying to hide. He snatched the paper out of Dustin’s hand and looked it over. 

It was about the size of a chocolate bar, with ADMIT ONE TO THE CARNIVAL OF LOST SOULS on the front. When flipped over, it looked like an invitation to some sort of demented carnival, with doodles of ghosts and gross clowns and rancid looking carnival food. Dustin's’ address was scrawled in a drippy red ink across the back as well as a date and time. 

Eddie was both impressed and confused. 

“What is this?” 

“That’s the invitation we all got to be part of the campaign.” Dustin said. “My cousin really gets into theme.” 

Eddie kept looking at the ticket. It glowed just slightly in the dim light of the drama room. Was that glow paint? 

Yes. Yes it was. 

“Carnival of Lost Souls.” Eddie read slowly. Was that a new module? 

“It’s an adventure they made up. I don’t think they even use any module or even Faerune for the campaigns.” 

What kind of blasphemy was this?

“And you want this person to train you to be the dungeon master for Hellfire?” Eddie was unimpressed. 

“Yes- I mean no- I-”

Eddie was finding joy in the way Dustin was floundering. The kid was usually quick on his feet and sharp witted, fitting for a bard, but now he seemed backed into a corner. 

“Join the campaign.” Dustin finally blurted out. “You don’t get to ever play, right? Come join the campaign and then I can learn from both of you!”

That was a tempting offer. Eddie had been trying to get Corroded Coffin to schedule weekly D&D during the summer, but as it stood they’d be lucky to even meet up for rehearsals. 

Eddie looked down again at the ticket. Henderson seemed to really have faith in this person, and when was the last time Eddie got to play outside of the occasional one shot? Very rarely. 

“Keep the ticket.” Dustin said. “Just bring that with you and I’ll make sure you get in.” 

“Is this a secret club, or something?” Eddie shoved the ticket in his lunch box. 

Dustin shrugged “My cousin always likes to go all out.” 

“Dustin, you’re mom’s looking for you!” Will called down the stairs. 

“Shit. Coming!” Dustin called back up. “Eddie, come join us if you want. I can show you what I’m working on for next year and you can actually play for once.”

Eddie wasn’t given a chance to answer as Dustin ran up the stairs, leaving him alone in the drama room. 

He watched the door close and looked around the room that had been a safe-haven for the past few years. It was a bittersweet feeling, Eddie had always hid inside of the game and his band, being given a few precious hours a week to be more than what this school and town thought of him. Here, he could be a hero, a rock star, a somebody. When he finally got that diploma in the next two weeks and ran off that stage, what was Eddie running to? 

---

Welcome to my new series! I'm doing a lot of research on D&D and the satanic panic for this, so I hope you all enjoy <3

[theaologies]

spinning my chair around and sitting in it backwards: GOOOOOD MORNING CLASS

FIRST AND FOREMOST: this is not a panic post. It’s an informational preparedness post. Don’t panic. Just be prepared for this like you’d be prepared for an earthquake but you know it’s coming and it’s wet.

I’m 30, lived in Central Florida for the first 26 years of my life, and have experienced more hurricanes and tropical storms than you can imagine. Never in my life did I think I would have to discuss HURRICANE SAFETY again after moving to LOS ANGELES from FLORIDA and yet HERE WE ARE-

(This information is accurate as of 8/17 at 9am PST)

SO models are still early but it seems like as of last night, Pacific Hurricane Hilary is rapidly intensified AND has shifted its track pretty severely inland. Originally SoCal was predicted to get some bands off the coast but this does NOT seem to be the case anymore

As our good friend Jim Cantore mentioned above, if Hilary DOES make landfall in SoCal, it will be the first tropical storm to do so since 1939. Fucking yikes.

THE GOOD NEWS:

It isn’t looking like Hilary will make landfall anywhere as a strong hurricane. If it makes landfall in central Baja it looks like it’ll be a Cat 2 which isn’t great but still- better than the Cat 5 it’s currently strengthening to.

As for SoCal, we’re not predicted to get anything over a Tropical Storm. And mountains tear up tropical cyclones like crazy. It’ll (probably) be weak and, wind wise, no worse than the Santa Ana’s

THE BAD NEWS:

Our Cone of Uncertainty is currently pretty wide- this fluctuation matters as it determines which side of the storm hits us. Is this significant? Yes. The right side of a Hurricane is considered the “dirty” side- it’s the side that is most likely to produce severe weather, such as severe thunderstorms and tornadoes. It’s still too early to determine what side will affect us the most but it’s something to keep in mind.

Also, I can’t speak for the rest of SoCal, but I would not bet on the LA infrastructure doing well even with a weak tropical storm. Which is why I have brought you here today, to run down the IMPORTANT HURRICANE CHECKLIST

NOTE: I made this several years ago for FLORIDA so not all of it will be accurate to SoCal. Most of us live in apartments and have no say over tree trimmings and the likes. If the storm is feeling like it’s going to get bad, I would recommend moving important things and electronics away from windows and hanging out in areas of the apartment that have the least amount of windows. I don’t think boarding up windows or anything will be necessary but here’s information if you need/want it

ANOTHER NOTE: if you have the means, please check up on your unhoused neighbors and immediate community groups that do so, as well. As always, they will be the ones most affected by severe weather. Tarps, anything that rises up off the ground, waterproof bags, etc would be good to grab for them. I am not an expert here and would recommend following the lead of your community groups that work with your unhoused neighbors to find out what will be needed most.

I don’t at all think we’ll see any shutdowns so if the rain does get bad be prepared for dangerous driving conditions. I know it’s dangerous to drive any time it rains in LA but, you know. The Weather Channel isn’t predicting a TON of rain at the moment (for LA) but, just like our winter/spring this year, be on the look out for flash floods.

And again, this is all JUST IN CASE. It’s better to be prepared than not. SoCal’s infrastructure is not at all prepared to handle a tropical event so who knows! Anything is possible. If I was in Florida I wouldn’t at all be worrying about this but I’m not anymore and our wet winter absolutely fucked our roads in LA so I’d rather everyone be safe than sorry.

I’m sure it’ll all be fine and now you just have more safety information, which is never bad! Because frankly climate change is very real and I would not be surprised to see this happening more and more in the coming years. And it does have me worrying that El Niño this year is going to be worse than we imagined.

[callsigns-haze]

Memories Fade III

Eris x Rhysand's Sister!Reader Summary: Not so long back Rhysand lost his sister. Years after Helion and Elain can raise her memories from the past to see what truly happened to Y/n. Warning: Mentions of death and drinking

Part 1 here

Eris led Y/N down the narrow, dimly lit corridor until they reached a small, unmarked door. He glanced around once more to ensure they were alone before opening the door and pulling her inside. The room was cramped and cluttered, clearly a storage space for cleaning supplies. He shut the door behind them aggressively, the sound echoing in the confined space.

Before Y/N could react, Eris had her pinned against the door, his body pressed close to hers. His eyes burned with intensity as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a fervent kiss. Y/N's initial surprise melted into desire, and she kissed him back, her hands tangling in his hair.

For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the heat between them. But the urgency in Eris's kiss reminded her of the reason they were here. With a gasp, she broke the kiss, her breaths coming quick and shallow.

"Eris," she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of longing and determination, "tell me what’s going on."

He rested his forehead against hers, his breaths heavy. "I heard something from my father," he began, his voice low and tense. "The Spring Court... they're planning something."

Y/N's eyes widened. "What do you mean? Planning what?"

Eris took a deep breath, his grip on her waist tightening. "They're trying to break from the peace treaty. There are rumors that they might attack one of the courts. It's not clear which one, but the threat is real."

Y/N's heart raced, the gravity of his words sinking in. "But why? What could they hope to gain?"

Eris shook his head. "I don't know all the details, but my father believes it’s a power move, a way to disrupt the current balance and seize control."

She swallowed hard, her mind reeling with the implications. "We have to tell someone. Rhysand, my father—"

"No," Eris interrupted sharply, his eyes fierce. "You can't tell anyone. Not yet."

Y/N frowned, confusion and frustration bubbling within her. "Why not? They need to know. We need to be prepared."

Eris cupped her face in his hands, his expression pained. "Because if they know you heard it from me, it could jeopardize everything. My position, my father’s trust, they could hurt you—everything we’ve worked for. We need to find another way to confirm the information without raising suspicion."

Y/N nodded slowly, understanding the delicate balance they needed to maintain. "All right. But we can’t just do nothing."

Eris kissed her forehead, his touch gentle despite the urgency of the situation. "I know. We’ll find a way. But for now, you have to promise me you won’t say anything."

She looked into his eyes, seeing the determination and concern there. "I promise. But be careful, Eris. This is dangerous."

He gave her a small, reassuring smile. "I will. And you too."

As they stood there in the cramped broom closet, the weight of their secret pressed heavily on them. The world outside continued on, unaware of the storm brewing within the courts.

---

Back in the chamber where the memories were being relived, Rhysand sat tensely as Helion and Elain prepared the next sequence. The Inner Circle watched with a mix of anticipation and concern, understanding the gravity of what they were about to witness.

Helion's power flared, and the room grew dimmer as the memory began to take shape. Rhysand braced himself, feeling a familiar, painful tug at his heart as he was drawn back into the past.

The memory unfolded in the dimly lit corridors of the palace. Eris and Y/N were huddled in a cramped broom closet, their bodies pressed together. Rhysand watched, his heart clenching as he saw the urgency and fear in their eyes.

"Eris," Y/N whispered in the memory, "tell me what’s going on."

Eris's voice was low and tense as he explained the threat from the Spring Court. The details were stark and unsettling, and Rhysand's mind raced as he listened.

"They're trying to break from the peace treaty. There are rumors that they might attack one of the courts. It's not clear which one, but the threat is real," Eris said.

Rhysand felt a chill run down his spine as he absorbed the words. The memory continued, showing Y/N's resolve and her promise to keep the information secret. Then, as the memory faded, Rhysand was jolted back to the present.

The room was silent, everyone absorbing the weight of what they had just seen. Rhysand's breath caught in his throat as the pieces began to fall into place. He turned to Feyre, his eyes wide with realization.

"That conversation," he said, his voice strained, "it happened exactly a week ago before..."

Feyre's eyes widened as she understood. "The Spring Court attack..."

Rhysand nodded, his heart pounding. "It was the attack where Y/N and our mother were ambushed. Our mother died, and Y/N... she lost her wings."

The room fell into a stunned silence, the gravity of the revelation hitting them all. Mor covered her mouth with her hand, tears welling in her eyes at the memory. Cassian and Azriel exchanged grim looks, their jaws clenched in anger and sorrow.

Rhysand stood, his body trembling with a mix of rage and grief. "This isn't just a memory. It's a warning. We need to act, and we need to do it now."

Feyre placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. "We'll get justice for them, Rhys. We'll make sure of it."

Helion stepped forward, his expression serious. "There's more to uncover. We need to continue the memories to understand the full extent of what we're dealing with."

Rhysand nodded, though his heart ached. "Yes, let's continue. We need to know everything."

As Helion and Elain prepared the next memory, Rhysand took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever came next. The past was painful, but it held the key to avenging his mother and protecting his sister. He would face it all, no matter the cost.

---

Y/N stood in the woods beside her mother, the twilight casting long shadows around them. The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, and a sense of unease settled in Y/N's stomach. They had been told to come here and wait for Rhysand and her father, but something felt wrong.

"Mother, do you think they’re running late?" Y/N asked, trying to keep the nervous tremor out of her voice.

Her mother smiled, though her eyes were alert. "I’m sure they’ll be here soon, dear. Just be patient."

The rustling of leaves drew their attention, and emerging from the shadows was the High Lord of Spring, his eyes alight with malevolence. Flanking him were his sons, their expressions hard and unforgiving. Y/N's heart skipped a beat, her instincts screaming that this was a trap.

"Tamlin's father," her mother whispered, her voice tight with tension.

The High Lord’s eyes were cold as he regarded them. "I’m afraid your wait is over."

Without warning, they attacked. Y/N and her mother sprang into action, their training taking over. Magic and steel clashed in the dim light, the sounds of battle echoing through the trees. Y/N fought fiercely, her sword meeting each strike with precision, her heart pounding with adrenaline.

In the midst of the chaos, she heard a scream. She turned just in time to see her mother being stabbed by one of the High Lord's sons. Her mother’s eyes widened in pain and shock, and she fell to her knees.

"Mother!" Y/N cried out, desperation clawing at her chest.

She lunged towards her mother, but before she could reach her, a sharp pain exploded in her side. She looked down to see a blade protruding from her abdomen, her blood soaking the ground beneath her. The world blurred and tilted as she fell to the ground, her strength ebbing away.

Through the haze of pain, Y/N watched in horror as the Spring Court fae descended on her mother. They cut her wings off with brutal efficiency, the beautiful appendages falling to the forest floor. Her mother screamed in agony, a sound that would haunt Y/N forever, before they silenced her with a final, fatal blow.

Tears streamed down Y/N’s face as she tried to crawl towards her mother, every movement sending waves of agony through her body. One of the sons turned to her, his expression devoid of mercy, and with a swift motion, he severed her wings too. The pain was blinding, and she screamed, her vision going dark at the edges.

"Leave her to bleed out," the High Lord’s voice said, cold and dismissive. "She’s no threat now."

They left, their figures vanishing into the woods, leaving Y/N and her mother to their fate. Summoning every ounce of strength she had left, Y/N dragged her bleeding body across the ground. Her vision swam, but she kept moving, inch by agonizing inch, until she reached her mother’s side.

"Mom" she whispered, her voice a broken sob. She reached out, her hand trembling as she touched her mother’s cold, lifeless face.

The world seemed to close in around her, the pain and grief overwhelming. She lay there, next to her mother, the life slowly draining from her. But she clung to one thought, one last piece of hope: Rhysand would find them. He had to.

With that thought, Y/N let the darkness take her, her body going still next to her mother’s.

-

Eris sat in the grand throne room of the Autumn Court, the flickering firelight casting dancing shadows on the walls. He was engrossed in a book, trying to distract himself from the ever-present political intrigues that plagued his court. The pages turned slowly under his fingers, but his mind wandered to thoughts of Y/N and the complicated web of emotions he felt for her.

Suddenly, a searing pain tore through his chest, unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was as if his very soul was being ripped apart. The book fell from his hands, landing with a dull thud on the floor as he clutched at his chest, gasping for breath. The pain was relentless, a torrent of agony that left him reeling.

"What...what is this?" he gasped, his voice barely more than a whisper.

As the pain intensified, a horrifying realization dawned on him. This wasn't just any pain; it was the pain of a mating bond snapping into place. And not only had it locked into place, but it was being flooded with the murderous agony of his mate.

Y/N.

Y/N was his mate.

The name echoed in his mind, bringing with it a surge of emotions: shock, fear, and an overwhelming need to protect her. He knew, with a certainty that left no room for doubt, that Y/N was in danger.

Eris forced himself to stand, his vision blurring with the intensity of the pain. He stumbled towards the nearest door, his steps unsteady. Each movement was a struggle, but he pressed on, driven by the primal urge to find his mate and save her from whatever horror she was enduring.

The halls of the Autumn Court blurred around him as he pushed forward, his mind solely focused on Y/N. He could feel her pain, her fear, as if they were his own. It was a connection he had never expected, yet it was more powerful than anything he had ever known.

He burst into his father's study, his eyes wild with desperation. "Father, I need to leave immediately."

Beron looked up from his papers, his expression one of mild irritation. "And why, exactly, do you think you have the right to leave?"

Eris struggled to keep his voice steady, the pain making it difficult to think clearly. "There's an urgent matter that I must attend to. Please, Father, it's a matter of life and death."

Beron's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. "You have no right to leave the court without my explicit permission, Eris. Whatever this is, it can wait."

Eris's heart pounded, a mix of fear and frustration coursing through him. "Father, please, this cannot wait."

Beron stood, his presence imposing as he loomed over Eris. "You will stay here, Eris. You have duties to the court that cannot be ignored for your whims. If you defy me, you will face severe consequences."

Eris clenched his fists, the bond's agony nearly bringing him to his knees. He couldn’t tell his father about the mating bond—it would only complicate things further, perhaps even endanger Y/N more. But the pain was unbearable, each second a testament to her suffering.

"Understood," Eris managed to say through gritted teeth, his body trembling with the effort to remain standing. He turned and left the room, his mind racing. He couldn’t leave openly, but he had to find a way to reach Y/N.

As he made his way back to his chambers, he devised a plan. He would have to be discreet, find a way to slip past the guards and leave the Autumn Court without drawing attention. His mate's life depended on it.

"Hold on, Y/N," he whispered fiercely, "I will find a way."

The bond thrummed with urgency, a desperate call that he could not ignore. Eris steeled himself, determination hardening his resolve. He would find a way to reach her, no matter the cost.

--------

The room was heavy with silence as the latest memory faded away. Rhysand stood motionless, his mind reeling from the intensity of what they had just witnessed. His breathing was uneven, and his heart pounded painfully in his chest. He could still feel the echoes of Y/N's and Eris's agony, the depth of their connection, and the horror of the attack.

Feyre, standing beside him, looked up with concern etched on her face. The rest of the Inner Circle shared her worried glances, the gravity of the memories weighing on them all.

Rhysand's gaze was distant as he pieced together the fragments of the memories they had just seen. The pain, the urgency, the raw emotion—everything clicked into place with a terrifying clarity. He clenched his fists, the reality of the situation hitting him like a tidal wave.

Feyre gently placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. "Rhys, what is it?" she asked softly, her voice trembling with concern.

Rhysand turned to face his friends, his eyes dark with the weight of his revelation. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for him to speak. He swallowed hard, his throat dry as he finally found the words.

"They were mates," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper but filled with a profound mix of shock and sorrow.

The declaration hung in the air, a stark truth that changed everything. The Inner Circle exchanged stunned glances, the full impact of what Rhysand had said sinking in. They understood the implications, the depth of the bond that had been so cruelly severed.

For a moment, no one spoke, the enormity of the revelation settling over them like a heavy shroud. Rhysand closed his eyes, the pain of the memories still raw in his mind, knowing that this discovery was just the beginning of a much larger and more dangerous journey.

"He knew she was going to die."

Part 4

Tagging some:

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@kmc1989

@hardballoonlove

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@marvel-molly

@lucky7rosie

@daughterofthemoons-stuff

@lilah-asteria

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@pit-and-the-pen

@inky-sun

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@adalia-jaycee

[velvetchrry]

━━━━ THISTLE AND BARLEY

pairing: johnny “soap” mactavish x f!reader

2.7k. during a solo trip to the scottish highlands, you find yourself transported back in time.

The chill of the evening air prickles along your skin. The spring breeze envelopes you, circling her prey. You are a rabbit, and she is a fox. She waits, patiently, until you are unsuspecting, and then sinks her sharp teeth into your soft skin.

It seems like you are the only one to really feel the chill — but you are an outsider. An outlander. A stranger. There are a few other foreigners here like you, but mostly it’s the residents of Inverness.

You get some relief when passing by one of the many bonfires littered through this valley. The entire night sky was alight — but not with stars. No, those are almost impossible to see compared to last night. There are enough fires lit in the valley to cause light pollution to seep through to the night sky.

Everyone here is clothed in a flowy, bohemian white gown. A beautiful crown of flowers rests atop your heads. Beltane. The official start to summer.

You didn’t know you would be here tonight until the last minute. The hostess of your bed and breakfast was the one who mentioned it to you this morning. It’s your last night in the Highlands so you figured, why not? Your solo travel adventures are about to come to an end. What’s one more night with no sleep?

A lit cave sparks your interest. It’s small, basically just an opening that goes 8 feet or so, but it’s lit up with candles everywhere. They're arranged in some sort of pattern, but you can’t make out exactly what it’s supposed to be. The air in here is even colder somehow — settling in your bones. You cover your upper body with your arms as best you can, unable to stop yourself from entering this ethereal place.

When you get closer to the wall, you see it has something painted on it. The paint is hard to see, even with the candle light. The same pattern is marked on the cave wall that the candles make on the floor. It’s old, flaking. You let out a breath and you watch as it rises in front of you.

The wall is shifting. Shimmering. It looks celestial. Like the night sky. You rub your eyes. It must be the heat from all the candles.

You turn around to leave but are startled by the sight of a woman at the entrance. You recognize her — it’s the owner of your bed and breakfast. A greeting almost escapes your lips but when you catch the look on her face you can’t seem to speak. Mouth hanging open, you just stare at her. She glides to you effortlessly, lithe for her age. Her fingertips are black as they reach out to you. It happens in slow motion. At least, that’s how it feels. She slowly reaches out to touch you and you stumble back, almost into the wall, just out of range.

“Yer where yer meant to be lass. Remember that. You have to remember. This was destined for ya.”

You shake your head to try and get a grasp on what she’s saying to you. Your tongue is suddenly heavy in your mouth. “Wh.. what?”

“Goodbye, lass.”

Before you can open your mouth to speak, she pushes against your shoulder with a firm hand. You stumble, and brace for impact into the cave wall.

Falling. You’re falling. It’s black.

There is no cave wall.

“D’ya think she’s a witch?”

It's morning, that much you can tell. Birdsong flits down to your ears and the sun is bright against your closed eyes. The grass caresses your body.

“Dinnae think so. Not sure what to make of ‘er.”

You try to remember what happened last. How you got here. Where you are. You brain is fuzzy, feeling like you’re suffering from a hangover. Wait — that’s not right, you didn’t drink last night.

“Let’s just leave her.”

Beltane. The celebration. That’s where you were. In the valley near Inverness. You were wandering. There were fires. Dancing.

“No. We’ll bring her to the castle.”

The cave. Oh god, the lady from your bed and breakfast. She followed you, she pushed you. She said something to you. What did she say to you?

“Yer off yer fuckin’ head, boy. What’ll yer Da say?”

You have to get out of here. You are supposed to be out of here. Your flight out of Inverness leaves this morning. How did this happen?

“I cannae just leave her here.”

Sunlight floods your eyes when they shoot open. A groan escapes you, and you cover your head with your forearm. You struggle to fully sit up, headache assaulting all of your senses.

“Aye, lassie? Ye hearin’ me?”

You rub your eyes and look up to who’s speaking to you. It’s a man in his late 20s. He’s wearing a kilt and it isn’t until you look around that you notice almost all of them are. You saw a few men in Inverness wearing kilts but, not quite like this. They look like an authentic historical recreation.

He’s… handsome. The one talking to you. Pools of blue eyes stare into yours, a hand reaching out to you. You gingerly take it, and he helps you stand. “Ye got a name, hen?”

Still in a bit of a daze, you give him your name and take a second to get your bearings. The cave you remember from last night is just behind you — but there are no candles, or paint on the walls. There’s no evidence anyone was in this valley last night. Where are the pits and scorch marks from the bonfires? What about the string lights that were strung along the tree trunks? Even the grass doesn't look like it’s been trampled on by a hundred or so pairs of feet.

“I’m Johnny of Clan MacTavish. May I ask, what’re ye doin’ out here hen?”

You swallow thickly. “I.. erm.. it’s Beltane. The party?”

“A druid.” The tallest one says. He’s one of the ones not in a kilt and has a deep British accent.

“Ah,” Johnny’s face lights up in understanding. “And yer out here alone?”

“I… uh…” you stutter. You’re not sure what’s happening. They really don't know about the party? Most of them look like and sound locals. “I guess… I am?”

“Where ya from?” one of them asks. He’s got a stout build and a thick set of facial hair.

“Well, I’m an American… I’m just… just traveling…”

You pause when you notice their interests peak.

“Which colony ye fae?” someone asks.

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “Colony?”

“She’s a British spy!” another shouts. You flinch.

“Ah, she’s no bloody spy. Look at her,” the tall one from earlier says. “Aye, we never had any spies like her before,” the stout one agrees, coming up to Johnny’s side.

Johnny hums. “I cannae leave you out here to fend on your own, spy or no. Can we take ye somewhere?”

You pause for a moment before speaking. “Inverness?”

Johnny nods and his men grumble, but go back to their horses. He motions for you to follow. You watch as he struggles to get up, wincing in pain and almost falling. The tall one comes up behind you and grabs you by the hips — lifting you ontop of Johnny’s horse and causing you to yelp. “Up ya go.”

Your body goes rigid as Johnny reaches around you to grab the reins. “Ain’t gonna hurt ye, hen,” he murmurs. He kicks the horse into gear and you’re off, still wondering what’s happening to you.

Maybe someone is filming a movie nearby.

You don’t have much of anything to hold onto, so you keep your legs clenched, body stiffened. Johnny notices this, wrapping his big arm around your waist for support. The group keeps a brisk pace, chatting with one another about things you’re unfamiliar with.

Panic starts to seep in when you see the River Ness, which bysects the city. “Where are we? Where’s the city? It should be visible by now.”

“Yer looking straight at it.”

Your breathing picks up rapidly and you try to focus on not hyperventilating. This was not the Inverness you had been in just yesterday.

“No…,” your voice is a soft whisper. “No, no, no… this can’t be right.”

The horse comes to a stop as Johnny tugs on the reins. “What is it, lass?”

The men start to grumble around you as the rest of the group comes to a stop. “Where’s the city? The buildings? Where’s the airport? This is… this isn’t right.”

“I dinnae ken what yer talking about hen but… that’s Inverness up ahead,” Johnny says softly to you.

“I… I don’t…” you stutter.

“Aye, what's goin’ on? Why are we stoppin’?” someone shouts out.

Johnny shoots him a look and walks his horse a little ways up to give you two a bit more privacy. Tears start to well in your eyes, and your nose has that familiar prickle like it’s gonna start running. You’re afraid to ask, but you have to know. “What year is it?”

If Johnny is confused why you’re asking, he doesn't show it. He speaks in a matter of fact tone when he says, “1724.”

No… how could this happen? You can just jump back in time 300 years… this is impossible. This can’t be real… this can’t be. But you saw — you saw right where Inverness is supposed to be. You recognized the landmarks. And it’s just… not right.

“Do ye still want to go to Inverness, hen?”

What are you going to do? There’s no aiport, hell — the America you’d go back to wouldn’t be the same. And what, do you hop on a boat for months and go back to a different world?

“I… I…” You suck in a shaky breath. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” you finally admit.

“I’ll take ye to the Castle,” Johnny states confidently. “Give ya a chance to figure out where yer going.”

A single tear slips down your cheek. Johnny calls out to the group that you’re headed to the Castle and you tune out the cries of them asking why the hell you were going with instead dumping you in Inverness.

The Scottish countryside passes by in a teary-eyed blur. It’s like you blinked and suddenly night is falling, the sun almost completely dipped below the horizon. Your stomach aches with hunger. You’re in an unfamiliar area, surrounded on all sides by trees. Johnny slows his horse, and the rest of his party follows suit. The tall one from earlier glides off his horse with ease and walks over to pick you up off of Johnny’s horse. You watch in a daze as he also gives Johnny a hand, as he struggles to get off his horse.

You look up at him after he is back on the ground. His white shirt seeps red near his bicep. You're not sure how you didn't notice it before. It’s got a brownish tinge to it now.

“You’re hurt.”

He waves you off. “Ach, jus’ a scratch, bonnie.”

He doesn’t stop you, just observes as you walk over to his side. You gently pry back the sticky fabric of his shirt. There’s a decent sized gash through his arm, red and angry. It looks like the start of an infection; like it might need stitches.

“It's not just a scratch if you need help on and off your horse. Did you clean this after it happened?”

“Clean it?” he tilts his head slightly as he asks.

“Like, rinse it? With water, at least?”

He shakes his head no.

You bite your lip as you contemplate. “Does… er… does anyone have any alcohol?”

Some of the guys burst into laughter. One hands you a flask. “Dinnae think you’d be one to get pished, lassie!” he exclaims.

You ignore him and get to work, ripping the bottom of your flimsy white dress. It tears easily under your fingers. You push it into Johnny’s hands and he holds onto the fabric unquestioningly while you uncork the flask with your teeth and again peel back his shirt.

“This is gonna sting a little,” you admit quietly.

He winces and grunts as you pour the alcohol down his arm, the men breaking out into cries of protest at the loss of booze. You place the cork back in the bottle and drop it on the ground. The man who gave you the flask quickly swipes it away from you before you can waste anymore.

Johnny places the ripped fabric of your dress in your outstretched hands. You tie it tightly around his arm, and while he grimaces, he doesn’t complain. You give him a gentle pat on the shoulder when you’re done.

“You’re probably gonna need stitches, but that should hold you over for a bit. Hopefully it’s not infected, or you're gonna need something stronger than alcohol.”

A voice from directly behind you makes you jump out of your skin. “Told ya she was a druid,” the tall one says.

“Aye,” Johnny agrees. “We could use someone with yer skills at the Castle. Our druid can’t…. well she ain’t as nimble as she used ta be.”

You aren’t sure what to say to that so you watch silently as the boys set up camp for the evening. “We’ll reach home come morning,” Johnny tells you at one point. The sun is gone now, the temperature dropping rapidly. The Beltane gown provides no heat and you scoot as close to the fire as you can without singeing off your eyebrows. You ditched your flower crown long ago.

The tall one hands you some food and you eat quietly while the rest of them chat around you. The stout one from earlier and the tall one sit next to each other and observe you, talking lowly to themselves. You try your best to ignore them.

Johnny walks over and sits next to you. “You should get some sleep, hen.” He’s close enough to you that his kilt brushes against your leg.

You swallow thickly and gnaw on your lip. You nod your head in agreement but you’re not sure if you’ll be able to sleep tonight. The reality is, these men are strangers in a strange time — even if one of them has been showing you kindness.

Johnny moves even closer to you and you can’t help but tense up. He's maneuvering his kilt around, tugging on the end of it.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting my plaid loose. Cannae let ye sleep in just that shift. You’ll freeze.”

You cross your arms, trying to keep in more warmth. “I’ll be fine.”

He covers your shoulders and instantly you feel warmer. A scent of musk and pine surrounds you, earthy and male. He opens his arm to you, waiting for you to lean against him.

“I meant what I said bonnie, I won’t hurt ye. I’m just keeping warm. Yer teeth chattering is making my bones rattle in my head.”

You can’t help the small chuckle that you produce hearing him tease you a little bit. It serves to make you feel even more comfortable around him. You nod and move in further under the plaid, while he wraps his good arm around you and rubs up and down your arm.

“Yer frozen solid,” he murmurs. “Why ye out here in just a shift anyway?”

“It was… uh… apart of the festival.”

He hums in response, still rubbing you arm up and down, up and down. You find a comfortable silence, leaning against him and listening to the conversations around you. Johnny adds his two cents every so often but mostly just sits beside you quietly.

You can feel your eyelids start to get droopy, your head nodding off every so often, but you fight it. You fight the urge to fall asleep. It’s so much harder now that you're warm. So hard when you’re feeling a small bit of comfort from the touch you're receiving.

You don’t even realize your head is on Johnny’s shoulder right away. You start to sit up, but he grips you a little more firmly to his side.

“Sleep, lassie. Yer safe with me.”

[forest-hashira]

Keeping Warm

having now recovered from writing smut back in september, i am back with more demon slayer smut! partially joking but writing smut really does take more out of me which is why this one took so long to come out. this is my promised second entry for my autumn leaves anniversary event, which is still open if you would like to contribute something! anyways, i hope you guys enjoy 💜 also big thanks to @awkwardchick87 for beta reading this for me!

event masterlist | read on ao3 | wc: ~2.6k | cw: obamitsu x gn/afab reader (female anatomy but gender neutral pronouns), undefined but implied established relationship, cockwarming, orgasm delay/denial, oral (reader receiving), making out, cowgirl position, slight sub iggy/dom mitsuri (not too heavy tho), creampie

Obanai had never been fond of cold weather. Much like his scaly companion, he preferred the warmth of spring and summer, and spent as much of his time as possible indoors during the fall and winter. If there was a chill in the air, it would cut straight through to his bones, no matter how many layers he wore. He never mentioned it to anyone else, knowing there was little that could be done about his difficulty regulating his own body temperature, but as soon as both you and Mitsuri had wormed your way past his defenses, the two of you had picked up on it, and did everything you could to keep him warm.

Which, he supposed, was how you all wound up the way you were now.

The temperature had dropped before the sun had set, and he had barely finished lighting his fireplace when he heard Mitsuri calling out for him.

“Obanai!” she’d chirped, grinning brightly when he came to the door to greet her. She’d held a thick blanket in one arm, her other hand holding yours. You’d offered the serpent hashira a pleased smile as well, just as happy to see that he was, in fact, home. 

“Hello, Mitsuri,” he’d replied, smiling behind his bandages. He’d greeted you, too, then tilted his head slightly. “Not that I’m not happy to see the two of you, of course, but can I ask what brings you to see me this time?”

“We know you don’t like the cold,” you’d explained. “We wanted to make sure you stayed warm tonight.”

He hadn’t thought much of the way Mitsuri’s eyes glinted when he’d invited the two of you in, assuming she was just excited about having a sleepover with you and him, since those didn’t happen exceedingly often, given your positions in the corps.

Now he was wondering if he should’ve read into that glint a bit more, since she was straddling him as he laid on his back on his futon, you sitting by his head. Clothes had been discarded quickly, so you and Mitsuri were entirely bare, and the only thing Obanai still wore was his bandages.

“We’ll keep you warm, ‘nai,” the love hashira cooed, rolling her hips against his, and he let out a shuddering breath, his hands gripping lightly at her thighs. She paused at the touch, tilting her head slightly. “Wait until you’re given permission, love.”

“Apologies,” he murmured, releasing his hold on her, instead digging his fingers into the futon beneath him.

“All is forgiven,” Mitsuri assured him, slowly beginning to roll her hips again.

Your fingers glided across his forehead, gently brushing his hair from his eyes, and you smiled at him when he looked up at you. “Can I take these off?” you asked quietly, fingers ghosting down his cheek until they reached the edge of his bandages.

There was the tiniest moment of hesitation – less than a second, really – before he nodded. “Yes,” he breathed, remembering that Mitsuri liked when he said the words aloud. “Yes, you can take them off.” 

With nimble fingers, you delicately unwound the bandages from the lower half of his face, setting them off to the side. As always, you were careful not to touch his scars; he was comfortable enough to allow you and Mitsuri to see them in private, but he still didn’t like them to be touched. “Stunning as always, ‘nai,” you said, giggling softly when his face darkened with a blush at your words.

The sound of your laughter sent his heart fluttering, and he smiled slightly back up at you. He still found himself flustered whenever you complimented him, but he never argued, even if he disagreed with your words; how could he, when your eyes always shone with genuine, eager affection?

Mitsuri shifted her weight slightly from her position atop the serpent hashira, and he gasped, his hips bucking the tiniest bit with surprise. Knowing the movement was unintentional, the love hashira chose not to chastise, instead grinning down at him. “Someone’s eager,” she teased, a small laugh tumbling from her lips at the way the older man’s blush spread from his face down his neck to his chest.

“Looks like you’re warming up,” you said, a teasing lilt to your words as well. As you spoke, you carded your fingers through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Just as you knew would happen, the touch sent a shiver through the serpent hashira. “Or maybe not.” 

With an exaggerated pout, you looked back up at Mitsuri. “Looks like he’s still cold, ‘Tsuri.”

She fake pouted right back at you. “Well we can’t have that, now can we?” Her gaze dropped to Obanai’s, and she tilted her head slightly. “Do you need more to stay warm?”

“Please,” he answered, nodding eagerly. “Yes, please, Mitsuri.”

Her peridot eyes flashed. “Well, when you ask so nicely…”

When she stopped the slow rolling of her hips, Obanai almost whined, staring up at her pleadingly; you knew from experience he was mere moments away from openly begging, if the love hashira decided to push him even just a tiny bit more. He was in luck this time, though, and she had mercy on him. She raised herself off of him slightly, just enough to wrap her fingers around his hard cock.

He barely stifled a gasp at her touch, and when she began to sink down onto him, his eyes rolled back in his head. The feeling of being inside of either of you was something he knew he would never take for granted; the warmth and intimacy of it was too precious to him. It took him a few moments to catch his breath once Mitsuri was fully seated on him, the heat of her almost unbearable, while somehow also being exactly what he needed. 

The love hashira sat perfectly still atop the serpent hashira, watching as he fought to compose himself once again. She could be patient, and she knew you could, too; besides that, this was far from the first time the three of you had done anything like this, and Obanai had proven each time that he was more than capable of being obedient and taking direction. There was no doubt in her mind that he would manage it again this time. When she saw his two-toned eyes flutter open once again, she smiled down at him.

“‘Nai,” she cooed, slowly trailing her fingers up his stomach and chest, delighting in every minor jump and twitch of his muscles beneath her touch. “You’re doing so well… Can you do something else for me?”

“Anything,” Obanai replied, almost before Mitsuri finished speaking. He was willing to do anything she asked of him, even if all it earned him was a smile. The same went for how he felt about you; maybe holding the two of you so close to his heart would only cause him pain one day, but for now it only brought him peace, so he would make no effort to change how he felt.

Mitsuri’s smile inched closer to a smirk. “I want you to make them feel good.” Her eyes darted up to your face for a moment, though his stayed locked on her.

“How?”

“With your mouth.”

Finally, he tipped his head back slightly to meet your gaze, his pupils blown wide. “I would be honored to pleasure you that way,” he told you, almost reverently.

His words had heat pooling in your gut, and you swallowed thickly. Even if you hadn’t already known how skilled he was with his tongue, you wouldn’t have been able to deny him when he looked so beautiful when he asked. You nodded in response, not quite able to find your voice in the moment.

“Thank you,” he murmured, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. His eyes never once left your face, and the feeling of his lips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine.

“Don’t keep him waiting,” Mitsuri told you, a faint edge to her voice – not sharp, but motivating nonetheless.

Never one to disagree or deny yourself pleasure from either of your lovers, you carefully pulled yourself away from Obanai, shifting so you were hovering over his face, facing the love hashira. You didn’t lower yourself to be within his reach, though; Mitsuri was still calling the shots, after all.

Obanai felt his mouth begin to water as he looked up at your pussy, so close yet still so far away. He flexed his hands against the futon, eager to devour you but doing his best to be patient.

Apparently getting a thrill from the control she had over the two of you, Mitsuri sat in silence for a moment, simply looking you over, before she said, “You can touch them now, ‘nai.”

The serpent hashira barely remembered to thank her before he locked his arms around your thighs and dragged you down to sit on his face, his mouth already open and eager to please. The first taste of you on his tongue had him moaning against you, and you gasped at the vibration against your cunt.

“Fuck,” you breathed, one hand going to Obanai’s abdomen to steady yourself, the other landing on Mitsuri’s shoulder. You met her gaze, and the heat that had risen to your cheeks spread a bit further when you saw the glint in her eyes.

“He’s quite good at that, isn’t he?” she asked, somewhat teasingly. As she spoke, one of her hands pushed your hair away from your face before coming to cradle your burning cheek. “Feels like he’s keeping you nice and warm, too, hm?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, lashes fluttering a bit as you felt Obanai trace a pattern across your clit. You couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but if you’d asked, he would have admitted it was his name; an invisible mark stating that you were his as much he was yours and Mitsuri’s.

“Good,” she murmured, smirking slightly as she pressed her thumb to your bottom lip for a moment. When your lips parted slightly at the touch, she pulled you into a kiss. 

Her lips were soft and plush against your own, and in mere seconds you found yourself being devoured from both ends, completely at the mercy of your two ravenous lovers. Your grip on her shoulder tightened as you moaned against her, reciprocating the kiss as best as you were able.

It wasn’t long – an embarrassingly short amount of time, in fact – before your legs were shaking around Obanai’s head. “‘Tsuri,” you whimpered, breaking the heated kiss in an attempt to catch your breath. “I— ah! —I’m close.”

“Already?” she asked, a teasing edge to her voice. When you nodded, she tilted your chin up slightly to meet her eyes again. “I know you’ve earned it,” she added, glancing down at the man beneath you for a moment. “But do you think he has?”

“Uh-huh,” you answered immediately. “He’s— fuck — making me feel s-so good.” With practically every breath, small moans and whimpers slipped from your lips, and if the serpent hashira’s hold on you had been any less secure, you’d have been grinding down on his tongue, eagerly chasing your release.

Mitsuri seemed to brighten a bit at that. “Good, I’m glad. You deserve to feel good, love.” She grinned when the pet name had you practically melting for her, and she pressed another quick kiss to your lips before turning her attention to her other partner. 

“‘Nai,” she said, tracing a fingertip lightly down his torso. “Once you make them cum, I’ll let you cum, too.” She punctuated her words with a roll of her hips, promising so much more once he did as he was told.

The action drew a loud, wanton moan from the man, which in turn had you gasping and dropping your hand from Mitsuri’s shoulder, leaving both hands now braced against his stomach. He tightened his grip around your thighs, pressing you as close to him as he could as he increased his efforts. 

When he shifted his head slightly and pressed his tongue into you, not giving you a moment to adjust to the feeling before he was fucking you relentlessly with it, you cried out. The sheer amount of pleasure coursing through your body at that moment had you trembling from head to toe, but it wasn’t quite enough to tip you over the edge. You squirmed the tiny amount you were able in his hold, trying to get some sort of stimulation to your clit.

Thankfully, Obanai seemed to get the message, and he loosened his hold on you with one arm. It allowed you to shift a bit more, but the movement wasn’t really necessary once his fingers found your clit. He rubbed quick, almost aggressive circles on it, matching the insistent pace of his tongue inside you. 

“Oh fuck!” you wailed as your orgasm crashed over you, your head dropped forward to rest against your pink haired lover’s chest. Despite having brought you to your peak, your raven haired lover showed no signs of letting up, still devouring you as if his life depended on it.

“Looks like you’ve earned your reward,” Mitsuri mused, beginning to rock her hips, giving Obanai the pleasure she’d promised him. 

It quickly became apparent to you that she was eager for release, too, because within just a few minutes she was fully lifting herself up and down on his cock, little sounds of pleasure slipping from her every time their hips made contact. Managing to come back to yourself a bit, you lifted your head from her chest, dipping in and taking one of her pretty pink nipples into your mouth and sucking hard, the way that always made her whine and plead for more. 

“Oh, yes, keep doing that,” she gasped, beginning to pinch and tug the other nipple herself. The more stimulation she got there, the louder she moaned and whined; she’d always been sensitive there, and you loved the reactions it would pull from her.

When she grew closer to her orgasm, she went back to simply rolling her hips and grinding down on Obanai’s cock, chasing the pleasure she knew awaited her. You decided to take advantage of the change in her movements, reaching between her legs to play with her clit. You were drawing close to another orgasm yourself, and you wanted desperately for all three of you to cum together.

She gasped, crying out your name as she fell apart, riding Obanai even harder to bring him to the heights of pleasure, too. It didn’t take long for him to get there, if the moan he let out against your pussy and the gasp Mitsuri gave were any indication. The vibration of his moan was enough to send you toppling over the edge again, a shuddering, breathless moan escaping you as you released Misturi’s nipple from your lips.

The three of you took a moment to catch your breath, not bothering to move from your positions at first. Eventually, though, both you and Mitsuri crawled off of the serpent hashira, one of you lying on either side of him and curling up as close to him as you could. After a moment, Mitsuri reached behind her, fumbling a bit until she found the blankets, including the extra thick one she’d brought with her. She pulled them over the three of you, and you let out a soft sigh of relief. Obanai wrapped his arms a bit tighter around the two of you, and you eagerly pressed further into his space – you were there to keep him warm, after all.

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[shadowandlightt]

Of Nightmares and Memories /four/ Azriel x reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

A/N: We're getting closer to her returning to the IC and I'm so happy about that. I also had a lot of fun writing this part, so I hope you enjoy!

Part One Part Two Part Three

The following days were much the same, watching from a distance as Tamlin worked hard to woo the young Feyre. Your eyes rolled every time he tried to complement her. She didn’t belong here. Just like you didn’t belong here. She was too much of a dreamer to become a High Lord’s wife, or little play thing. Too much of a dreamer to be held down by his endless rules and customs. 

She deserved so much more. You deserved more. 

Imagines of wings and starlight fill your head every time you close your eyes. You could see all of them, laughing at The House of Wind over dinner, having a grand time without you. They moved on, you know they had. But you couldn’t move on from them, no matter how hard you tried. You yearned for them. 

You yearned for Cassian and his brutish humor, the kind that always got him in trouble with your mother, but always made you laugh harder than you should. You yearned for Morrigan and her never ending support when your father was being particularly dastardly. And Azriel….oh how you longed for him. The gentle touches of his shadows, the shy smiles, and rare bouts of laughter. Besides your brother, you missed Azriel most of all. 

He was your Az, and yet you had no claim to him. But he seemed to understand that you belonged to one another. Maybe that’s why you made the promises you did. 

Where you go I go, but whatever we do we do it together. 

You made that promise before you flew for the first time. You were too afraid to fly as a child, but when Azriel came along and had to learn so late in life….well you got over your fear for him. You grasped his scarred hand in your tiny one and led him to the edge of the House of Wind. Why they decided that was the best place to learn to fly, you’ll never quite understand. 

But it was then that you looked up at him, tears in your eyes due to fear, that you spoke, “Where you go I go.”

He nodded slowly, hair blowing in the wind, “But we do it together.”

“Together,” You agreed, holding his hand tighter. 

And together you leapt from the ledge and let the wind take hold of your wings. Together you wobbled, but still stayed afloat. Together you figured it out, never once letting go of the other. And when you landed back on the roof, you held him so tightly as he laughed. And it was then that you decided that was the most beautiful sound you ever heard. It was then that you decided you would do anything to hear that laugh and see that smile as much as possible. 

And it was then that he decided he would always protect you, because you were his just as much as he was yours. 

“He’s sending her back,” Lucien’s voice drew you from your thoughts. 

“He’s what?”

“Your brother came,” Lucien says, face pale, “Took her mind, threatened to crush it. It isn’t safe for her here anymore, time is almost up. So Tam is sending her back.”

“He’s a damned fool,” you hiss, “She’s in love with him, it’s plain as day to see! All he has to do is get her to admit it, but he can’t do that, can he? He’s giving up, all because my brother decided to come and scare him?”

“You weren’t there.”

“No, I wasn’t, but when does the brutality of the Night Court surprise Tamlin?” You question, “He’s seen it first hand, he knows what we’ll do to him. Why do you think he keeps me full of Faebane? Huh?” 

“Y/N-”

“He knows I could shred all of your minds so easily,” You nearly laugh, “I could make Rhys look like child’s play if I really wanted to. You think he is vile and violent? See what happens when I have all of my powers, Lucien. There’ll be nothing left to bury. I could raze the Spring Court to the ground and not feel a thing about it.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I’m a prisoner here, don’t think that I wouldn’t take the first chance to escape,” You shake your head, “No matter who I have to kill. I might still be a child compared to the rest of you but I’m a child of the Night. Brutality is in my blood.” 

“You aren’t like them-”

“Oh? Am I not? Just because I’ve been docile so far doesn’t mean it isn’t inside of me. I am a wolf in sheep's clothing. I always have been, dear Lucien. I am the most dangerous person in this manor, and he’s a fool to forget it.”

His face contorts into something that you aren’t quite able to read. Pride wells in your chest knowing you’re doing your job. You want to feel sick about it, want to feel sick about the role you’re playing. But if it brings you one step closer to your brother then you can’t bring yourself to feel bad about it. All you want is to go home again. You just want Rhys to hold you and tell you everything is going to be alright again. 

“Tamlin deserves what's coming to him,” you hiss, “You all do.”

“You don’t mean that.” 

“Oh but I do. I hope Rhys enjoys breaking every single one of you. And if he doesn’t, I will,” You take a step closer to Lucien, “By the cauldron I promise you, I will break this court apart piece by piece and I will laugh as I do it. And I won’t stop until he’s the only one left standing, and all he has to claim is rubble.” 

It rises up in your chest, and you feel it escaping through your fingertips, the darkness you used to run from long ago. You smile at it, feeling it wrap up your arms and cascade down towards the floor. It took a lot of energy to conjure it. You would be exhausted afterwards. But it would be worth it. 

Lucien took a step back, and then another. Head shaking. You knew what you looked like. A vile smile on your face, darkness twirling all around you. You looked like your big brother. You felt the power flowing through your veins, what little you had left of it anyway. 

“Don’t underestimate me, Lucien.” 

Tamlin sent Feyre back to the human lands the following day. You watched from your window with a scowl on your face as the carriage took her away. Tamlin was giving up and damning all of you in the process. Amerantha would come for him soon enough, and then there would be nothing left for you but to run. 

Maybe you could make it to the Night Court, maybe you would be lucky. 

“Once she comes, you’re free,” Tamlin spoke over dinner that night. 

“Perhaps,” You do your best to sound bored. 

You had to control your heart, so you didn’t give away how scared you truly were. If she found you, you would be dead in an instant. Or maybe she’d use you as a toy to get Rhys to do her bidding some more. He was already her whore, but perhaps she wanted more. She wanted him on his knees for her. And even you knew that he bowed before no one but his court. 

“Maybe I’ll stay here, I’ve grown quite fond of this place.”

“Liar.” Lucien bites out. 

One look from you though and he stands down. What he doesn’t know is you slept for almost twelve hours after your little display earlier. It took everything you had, all of your energy and what power you had. But it was worth every second to see the look on Lucien’s face. To know that you were still able to scare him enough. 

“Something you add, Lucien?” You question, venom dripping from your words. 

His head shakes, swallowing deeply. It only makes you smirk. You were so close to going home, to any semblance of home. Maybe your brother wouldn’t be there, but you’d be free. The Court of Nightmares had to be better than living here. 

“You should hide,” Tamlin says slowly, “They’re coming.”

“Now?”

He only nods, and reaches for more wine. He seems too calm. But then again he’s already given up. He gave up the second he sent Feyre back across the wall to her family. You can’t help but scoff as you rise to your feet. You expected him to fight back, maybe even for Lucien to fight. But you didn’t expect them to just lay down and roll over and let Amerantha march her cronies in here and take everyone. 

“You’re a coward, Tamlin.”

“So you’ve been saying for hundreds of years.”

“You should have just killed me.”

“Heard that too.” 

Your eyes roll, “I hope you have fun as her dog.” 

“Enjoy your freedom, Y/N.” 

You scoff again, “You best hope I never get the chance to kill you, Tamlin. I won’t make it as quick as my brother made your family's death.” 

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[dyaz-stories]

too many beds || ft. gojo satoru x reader

title is self-explanatory

word count: 1.8k

cw: canon compliant, implied fwb, kissing, suggestive & implied sex, crack treated seriously, fluff, just written for fun honestly

There is no reason that you should be stuck in the Japanese countryside in the middle of the night. You’d planned for this trip, as you do for everything. You had plenty of time, and for the worst case scenario you had checked out nearby hotels you could reach.

The one thing you hadn’t accounted for enough was, of course, Satoru Gojo.

Which means you have no one to blame but yourself because, by now, you should know that that man will not let himself be part of any of your thoughtfully prepared plans. It also means that you’re now following him up the stairs to a tiny inn, lips pressed tightly together as you’re doing your very best to remain calm. It doesn’t help that Gojo looks so pleased with himself, with a little spring to his step as he slides open the door to the inn.

The very old woman who’s sitting behind the counter looks startled, seeing him come in, eyes darting towards his white hair and the bandages that cover half his face, and you pray the ground would open under your feet.

Well, Gojo would catch you anyway, if that did happen.

Ugh.

“Hello ma’am,” he says, leaning on the counter and shooting her his best, brightest smile. “My wife here and I have tragically gotten ourselves lost in this beautiful region of yours.” He elbows you when you choke at the word ‘wife’. “We know it’s quite late, but we were hoping you’d have a room for us.”

“Or two,” you pipe up, and he pouts at you.

“Ah, darling, don’t tell me you’re still mad at me for misreading the map?”

You glare at him, refusing to play his game, but he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you against his chest, and even if you are mad at him, even if you know better, his antics always, always get to you.

“It’s fine,” you mumble finally, knowing that even if you added a biting ‘honey’ at the end of the sentence it would only delight him more.

“Um,” the old woman says, looking up at the both of you with knitted eyebrows behind her round glasses, “I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid we don’t have any rooms left.”

“Oh,” Gojo says, turning to face her. “None at all? We’ll make sure to take as little space as possible, you have my word.” Then he leans closer to add, “and I assure you, I pay very well.”

“Well,” the woman considers slowly, “we might have something, but…”

“Amazing! We’ll take it. Don’t worry if it’s the size of closet, I’m sure we’ll make do!”

You roll your eyes, but as she gets up slowly and grabs a key from behind the counter and he turns around to give you a triumphant grin, you still follow.

And man were you right to do that.

Because the way he freezes when she opens the door to a twenty-beds dormitory is absolutely priceless. Nothing could have made up for that — best thing you’ve seen all year, probably.

The twin-sized beds are lined up on either side of the room, facing each other in perfect symmetry, and you have to bite your lip not to laugh immediately. Not only is this the exact opposite of what he was hoping for, you’re pretty sure these beds are too small for him. Oh, this is so good. You’ll need to sneak a picture of him with his feet sticking out for Nanami.

“There you are,” the old woman says, fidgeting with her keys. “I know it’s not ideal for youth like you, but I’m afraid that’s all I have left.”

“Er,” Gojo says, rendered speechless for maybe the first time since you’ve met him. “Are you sure you don’t—”

“Oh, darling, we really cannot look a gift horse in the mouse,” you chime, as sweet as you can manage, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you so much, ma’am, this is absolutely perfect. You must be our guardian angel, because without you we’d be left to sleep in our car!”

A light pink dusts the woman cheekbones, but she scoffs and waves your thanks away with a gesture of her hand.

“That was nothing, that was nothing,” she says under her breath. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, yes?”

“Sure, we’d be so thankful for that,” you hum, since Gojo still hasn’t gotten his words back.

“You’re an evil, evil person,” he comments once she’s left the room.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell him, sounding way too cheerful for his taste, as you drop your bags in front of one of the beds. “You’re the one who found us this little gem of a place. Thank you for that, babe.”

He lets out a groan as you fall on the bed you’ve chosen, and he watches how your feet almost reach the end of it.

Yeah, he’s not sleeping in that.

You push yourself back on your elbows when you hear him ruffling around the room.

“What are you— Gojo!”

“Now we’re talking,” he grins as he throws two mattresses in the space between the beds, then two more, for good measure.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you hiss at him, glancing at the door to make sure your hostess won’t barge in on him in his bizarre rearranging of the room.

“I’m sure someone as smart as you can figure it out,” he answers as four blankets land on the mattresses, followed by the pillows.

Yes. And you could also figure out how to murder him, if given enough time and enough of reason.

“You’re not going to sleep there, are you?”

He turns to face you, with the cockiest expression known to man — something he excels at, as you must regretfully admit.

“No, we’re going to sleep here.”

“I’ll take the bed, thank you very much,” you deadpan. “It would be rude not to use what’s been prepared for us.”

“Aw,” he teases, walking towards you until you’re right in front of him, and he puts his thumb under your chin to gently tilt your face up. “Come on, you can’t be that mad at me. What would you be doing if we were back in Tokyo anyways? Grading papers?”

He leans forward and even if you are mad, you don’t do anything to push him away when he presses a hot kiss against your jaw.

“We’re supposed to help each other blow off steam, aren’t we?” he asks, breath warm against your skin.

That’s true. It’s what your relationship was supposed to be, strictly about relief, even if it has since very obviously devolved into something that neither of you are willing to address. You let him make his way down your jaw, to your neck, as he wraps an arm tightly around your waist, pressing your body against his.

“I’m not going to forgive you that easily,” you mumble, and it would be a lot more believable if your hand wasn’t already in his hair.

Between two kisses, he lets out a soft laugh, but doesn’t answer you. Instead, he treacherously pushes his thigh between your legs, and keeps a hand on the small of your back to make sure he has you right where he wants you.

Not that you’re going anywhere. It’s not every day you get to have his undivided attention, not every day the two of you get time, instead of fifteen minutes between two classes or before he’s shipped off wherever by the higher-ups. On the rare occasions when you get to spend a night together, you wake up alone more often than not, learning where he’s gone through a note, if he’s left one, or through Yaga, if he didn’t get the time.

So, really, is there this much harm in enjoying what you have…?

He pulls away from your neck, one of his hands shooting up to trace the sensitive skin, as he admires his own work.

“You’re going to have to cover that up,” he says, not sounding sorry at all, “or the students are going to be asking questions.”

Ugh. You’ll deal with that in the morning, like you’ll deal with the fallout of all the other obligations you’re not fulfilling by being here with him. Instead, you grab the collar of his jacket, and pull him down against your mouth.

You get to enjoy a small whimper of surprise, one you receive as a badge of honor — it’s not everyone that can catch the great Satoru Gojo off-guard. It only lasts a second then, and then his grip tightens on your waist, bringing you closer as he flexes his thigh so it rubs against your core just right. You’re about to abandon yourself wholly into the kiss, because what point is there in pretending when your body is molding itself into his so perfectly, when your hips are already rocking back and forth into him, when your lips are parting to welcome his tongue, when you realize you’re losing your balance.

A second later, you’re both landing exactly where he’d meant to get you all along.

On the damn mattresses he’s gathered on the floor.

Above you, with one hand next to your head so that his body doesn’t crush yours, he has the nerve to smile.

“See, it wasn’t such a bad idea after all,” he says as he reaches up to get rid of the bandages. There’s his usual nonchalance in his tone, but it’s undercut by a certain urgency, which you think has something to do with the fact that you feel how hard he is against your thigh right now.

Even if there wasn’t, you see how wide his pupils are when the bandages fall. By now, you know him well enough to be aware that he only removes them when he’s truly riled up and wants to see all of you.

“Fine,” you relent, “I’ll stay here, but on two conditions.”

He tilts his head to the side, amused. You both know that you’ve already given in anyway, but he’ll let you pretend that you still get to make the calls.

“What are they?”

“Number one, you’re not going to let that sweet old lady walk in on us here in the morning. I don’t care if you wake me up at dawn, she’s not seeing that mess or— or anything else when she walks in here.”

He laughs. He wouldn’t care, that’s for sure, but it’s kinda sweet that you would.

“Done. What’s number two?”

Your cheeks burn, but you refuse to avert your eyes. Instead, you stare directly in his.

“Make this worth my while.”

His eyes widen, and for a second his smile falls as he just stares at you, all sweet and bashful under him, for him. When the smile reappears, it’s hungry and wolfish.

“Oh, trust me. I’m planning on it.”

hope you enjoyed this silly little thing lol. i want to write a 'there was only one bed' piece for nanami, but this trope was too much fun with gojo, sooo, there you have it! please reblog and comment my work to support me and let me know if you'd like to see more of it! i appreciate any and all feedback, and comments are what keeps me motivated and writing

you can find more of my gojo x reader here if you're interested

this reader is the same as in open the blinds, let me see your face (angst) and say my name and everything just stops (smut)

[amethystwrytes]

Safe. (Part Four)

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem. Reader x Lee Minho

Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous. 

Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Discussion of murder and physical assault. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. 18+ Only.

Chapter WC: 5k

Read Parts One, Two and Three Here

- PART FOUR -

Christopher helps you through the unfamiliar door. Immediately Minho and Hyunjin spring up from the sitting area and rush you. 

“Are you alright?”

“What did they say?” 

“I’m fine,” you sigh, “I’ve got a few cracked ribs, that’s the worst of it.” 

“We have your bedroom ready, Felix and the others brought all your things,” Minho rubs your arm. You just nod. 

“Come, I’ll help you upstairs,” Hyunjin wraps his arm around your shoulder and leads you like an injured puppy. 

The new bedroom is cozy, inviting. If you had walked into the house for a tour you’d know two things for sure: One, you’d never afford this in a thousand years, and two, it really is beautiful. Anyones dreamhouse. You look out onto the backyard from the window and see there’s even a pool, it’s covered and closed in preparation for the coming cooler months, but it’s there. You love to swim, and you picture yourself lounging in the chaises like a cat in the sun, then cooling off in clear blue water. Then you remember that you probably wouldn’t make it till Spring, and even if you did you’d probably have to change houses before the warm weather comes. 

“What will happen to the other house?” you wonder out loud, wonder what fate will become of the house you got so used to, “Burn it to the ground?” you joke dryly, unsmiling. 

“No,” Hyunjin answers softly, “We’ll repair the windows and clean it up, then stick a for sale sign in the front yard.”

“Good, it’s a good house. It deserves a family that lives inside, happy, with pets or kids or something,” you say sadly. 

“___,” he says your name with despair, and you turn to look at him, he looks like a man with a thousand things to say, and you briefly remember him catching you with Minho earlier, at the Casino. You can’t find it within you to care about that right now though. Finally, he lets out a resigned breath and shakes his head, “Let’s run a bath for you.”

He disappears into the adjoining bathroom and you hear the water start to run. Shimmying out of your clothes leaves you feeling sore and feeble. You find a bathrobe amongst your things and shrug it on. 

You say nothing as you stand in front of the bath, Hyunjin beside you, stoic and unmoving. You don’t care anymore, so you remove the robe and step into the hot water, carefully submerging yourself. Hyunjin appears at the side of the tub, kneels down and dips a cloth into the water then rings it out over your skin. You stare at the faucet, studying each drop that drips from the opening making ripples on the water as Hyunjin washes you. He carefully wipes the blood away, then gently turns your face toward him so he can clean the dried blood around your lips. 

Suddenly the door opens and Minho steps inside, you can see him falter in his stride, briefly pausing to examine the scene before him. Hyunjin only turns his head slightly, not even enough to look at Minho, then goes back to washing and rinsing. 

“Do you have everything you need darling?” Minho asks, you guess he’s decided not to ask about why Hyunjin is washing your naked body. Given the circumstances he might not care, or maybe he does and you’ll both pay for this at a later date. 

“Yes,” is all you say. 

Minho comes and sits on the edge of the tub, he looks between you and Hyunjin for a few seconds, “I’m sorry that this happened, I’m just…so, so sorry.” 

“It’s done,” you say, leaning back against the tub wall. 

“It’s far from done,” Minho says darkly, “In fact I’m about to head out to make this right. I will make this right.” 

You don’t say anything. Minho shoots one last quizzical look at Hyunjin before standing up and heading towards the door. 

“I’m staying here, with her,” Hyunjin pipes up. Minho stops and looks down at Hyunjin. He looks like he’s about to say something, a look of irritation darkens his eyes for only a few seconds before he inhales sharply, then exhales. 

“Very well,” he stuffs his hand in his pocket and marches out without another word. 

Hyunjin continues bathing you in silence, but when the silence becomes too loud you reach in front of you and pull the drain stopper, then drag yourself up. He hands you a towel and you dry off then slide back into the same bathrobe. You quietly walk back into the bedroom, turn the covers down and get in. 

Hyunjin follows and watches you for several moments before he removes his shirt and dress pants, he slides into bed next to you. You look at him briefly, eyes brimming with new tears, and he pulls you in close to him, engulfing you in the safety of his body. 

“I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere until you order me away,” he whispers. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“Why on Earth would you be sorry?” he half laughs, gently smoothing your hair down. 

“At the Casino earlier, when you walked in…”

“I don’t care,” he takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly, “I don’t care if you’re with him, if you want him. I should care, but I don’t. I was angry at first, jealous, but then the call came in that something had happened to you and I,” his voice cracks and he rights himself, “and I realized that I don’t care what you are to him, what you do with him - I care about you. Deeply. It’s borderline pathetic,” he chokes on a laugh, “but I care about you so much ___. When we walked in and you were laying there and I thought you were dead, something inside me broke.” 

“Why do you like me so much?” you sniff, “I’m trying to understand, but I just don’t get it. I’ve done nothing to deserve any kind of affection from you.” 

He chuckles a bit, “I don’t know. At first it was pretty basic - I just thought you were hot,” he nudges you playfully and you smile a bit, “Then weeks passed, I kept bringing in my friends beat to hell and back and no matter what we told you, you treated us well, you didn’t look at us like we were monsters, that pulled some kind of heartstring of mine.” 

“So just because I’m nice to you?” you ask, “What kind of people are you meeting anyway?” 

He laughs, “None that are nice, I’ll tell you that. I don’t know, when we kissed the other night, I thought, this is it, if I kiss her and it’s nothing more than a hot little makeout session then I’ll know I just have a crush, that I’m attracted to the pretty nurse who takes care of us and has kindness in her heart, that’s not a huge reach after all. Then we kissed, and all I could think about was running off with you so I could kiss you anytime I want, I’ve been daydreaming about this pretend life where you work in some hospital somewhere and I have a normal fucking career that doesn’t end with me dead or in prison. Now the only way I can fall asleep at night is imagining that.” 

You nestle your head deeper into his shoulder, “How the Hell did you get here Hyunjin? How did someone as sweet and good get here?” 

“Remember when you were patching me up, and I wouldn’t take the pills because I used to have a problem?” 

“I do, yeah.” 

“It was a little more than just a problem, I was strung out of my mind most days, and the days I wasn’t I was strung out in withdrawal, desperately looking for someone who had anything I could take. I had no money, I had no friends - unless you count my plugs - I lost my apartment, all my stuff. I would pretend to be passed out on drug dealers couches just to have somewhere to sleep, but I was living on the streets, doing anything anyone wanted so I could buy pills.” 

“Jesus,” you say softly, squeezing him a little tighter. 

“One night Changbin came across me, he mistook me for someone Minho was looking for and tried to drag me into the car, but all I could think about was the pills I’d stashed and how I wouldn’t get them now and I just lost it on him. We beat the shit out of each other. I think he realized I wasn’t the guy, but he tossed me in the car anyway and brought me to Lee. Told him I was a hell of a fighter, but a junkie. Lee basically put me in solitary confinement, for weeks, months really. I went through Hell, in different stages of detox, altered states of consciousness. I dropped so much weight I looked like I was dying…but I got through it. Minho saved me; he gave me a job, an apartment, I owe him and Bin everything,” he explains. 

“Hyunjin,” you prop yourself up above him so you can really look, “I’m not saying that what Minho did wasn’t good for you, it was, but the second you got better, the second he let you out of whatever hole you were detoxing in, you could’ve gone straight back. That choice was yours. All you. The other night when I offered you pain meds you could’ve taken them, I mean anytime you walked into that house you could’ve gone straight to my medicine closet, you chose not to, over and over you chose.” 

You cup his face with the palm of your hand, “I’m glad you found people who pushed you, but don’t let yourself think that every single day it isn’t you who’s choosing to stay sober, you owe yourself just as much admiration and gratitude.” 

“See right there,” he puts his hand over yours and lays you back down gently on the pillows, “That’s what I love about you, that’s why your face is the only thing I can think about at night.” 

His lips brush against yours softly, and you hold his chin with your fingertips while your mouths move together. He pulls away and rubs his nose against yours, eyes screwed shut. 

“You need to rest,” he whispers, “You’ve been through Hell tonight, go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

For two days all you do is sleep, and everytime you do, you dream about the three men who broke into the house and nearly beat you to death. Sometimes they still wear their masks, other times their faces are just Kim Taehyung, his menacing voice saying “I’ll be seeing you” over and over. Then, a few times, their faces are Minho, Hyunjin, Seungmin or one of the other men you’ve come to know and care about. Each time you wake up, totally sure that you’ve been thrashing and screaming, but according to Hyunjin you’re as still as the dead when you’re out. 

You’re on the couch asleep one evening when you hear the door open, your eyes immediately go wide, but you remain still on the couch, heart pounding despite knowing Hyunjin sits only a few feet away. 

“How is she?” Minhos voice is quiet, a whisper, and you realize he thinks you’re asleep, so you close your eyes and pretend. You don’t want to talk to him, you aren’t ready to tell him about your plan to leave when you can move without pain. 

“She’s been sleeping a lot, like, a lot but I make her eat and drink when she’s awake,” Hyunjin answers. “I’m scared she’s going to carry this with her forever.” 

Me too, you can’t help but think. 

“She’s strong,” Minho says, “I don’t think she knows it, but I can see it in her.” 

It goes quiet for a moment, but then Minho clears his throat, “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.” 

Your heart starts pounding again. This is it, you think. He’s going to confront Hyunjin about the nature of your - relationship? Not that you could call it one. You couldn’t even call what you have with Minho a relationship. 

“I have feelings for her, yes,” Hyunjin answers without giving him the opportunity to ask the question. Your very breath catches in your throat and you wait for the blow, unsure whether it will be verbal or physical. You wait for what feels like an eternity. 

“I see,” is all Minho says. “And does she have feelings for you?” 

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin answers, “I think she has feelings for you though.” 

“I can’t imagine why,” Minho chuckles to himself. “I’m not a good man. I’m a monster.”

You silently wonder if Hyunjins face is as shocked as you feel, Minho opening up about anything seems like such an impossibility, yet you heard him clearly. 

“I used to be in control of it though, sort of, it was this weird self-awareness switch I could flip on and off when I needed to. I always had the ability to be ruthless, heartless, unfeeling - but I could be different when the day was done. Then, when Seola was killed,” he sighs and takes a second or two, “when I lost her, I also lost the ability to turn that switch on and off. Suddenly I didn’t care. I didn’t care what happened to me, what happened to you guys, what happened to our enemies. I just wanted everyone as miserable as me, to suffer like me. The more time that passed the less ability I had to control that switch, and I didn’t give a fuck.”

“Do you give a fuck now?” Hyunjin asks, and you can feel them staring at you. 

“The night I met __ was the first time in three years that I felt anything. This woman who found me bleeding in the hospital parking lot, who should’ve gone back in and told security but instead she laid her job on the line to save me. It was the first time in years that I thought, I genuinely hope nothing bad ever happens to this person,” he laughs dryly, “and then look at what I did to her. I snatched her away from a perfectly respectable career, I’ve threatened her, made her scared of me, and now I’ve nearly gotten her beaten to death.” 

“Do you love her?” Hyunjin asks him, and you stop breathing altogether. 

“I don’t want to love her,” Minho answers, “The more time I spend with her, the harder I fight to not love her. This all started because I think she and I both desperately needed some company, and now I’m ready to spill the blood of every person I come across because of what happened to her.” 

“So what do we do?” Hyunjin asks. 

“About what?” 

“What do we do about how we feel for her?” Hyunjin clarifies. 

Minho is quiet for a bit, then lets out a breath, “We let her decide I suppose. In the meantime, I plan on working on that blood-spilling thing. When she wakes up, call me.” 

“Okay,” Hyunjin answers. 

“You’re the best I’ve got Hyunjin,” you hear Minho pause at the door, “and I don’t want to lose either of you over this, but I don’t know how I feel about sharing, it’s not in my nature.” 

“Me either, sir,” Hyunjin says resolutely. 

Minho chuckles, “Good to know.” Then he’s gone. 

You listen as Hyunjin retreats to the kitchen area, then you hear the sound of the sliding glass door that leads out to the back patio and you’re alone. 

You sit up and stretch a little, replaying their conversation over and over in your mind. You feel bad that Hyunjin isn’t aware you have feelings for him, and you feel bad because maybe Minho deserves more than the way you’ve hated him recently. 

We let her decide…

You audibly scoff at this. Decide? As if you’re choosing who to go to prom with. As if you’re in a little love triangle from a romantic comedy and by the end everything will be right as rain, with no one hurt or upset. Please. 

The truth is you have feelings for both of these men, Minho your dark, dangerous unpredictable disaster; Hyunjin your kind, caring artist who is so misplaced in this world of crime that it would be funny if it weren’t so deadly. 

The other truth is that it doesn’t matter. You won’t be around long enough to need to decide anything. Even if you allow yourself to think about staying, you don’t like the idea of choosing. As selfish as it makes you feel, you would choose them both, every time. You try to ignore the way it makes your heart ache to think about leaving them behind. 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Hello gorgeous.” 

You look up from your reading chair and see Chris stepping into your bedroom, yellow roses and daisies in a bouquet under his arm. 

“Christopher?” 

“Just thought I’d come by to say Hello, and to see how you were feeling, and you know, to see how your getaway plan is going?” 

“Where’s Hyunjin,” you look over him, as if Hyunjin is right behind. 

“He went to meet Lee for something, I’m supposed to get you dressed and take you to meet them,” he says. 

You raise an eyebrow, “Just here to say Hello and check on me, huh?” 

“Hey, nobody made me stop and get these flowers, I care, okay?” he defends himself and you laugh. 

“Why do I have to go meet them?” you wonder, deciding to avoid getaway plans or explanations. At this point you feel well enough to pack, well enough to drive, yet you’re sitting here reading the same romance novel you read to Hyunjin that night a few weeks ago. 

Chris shoots you a look, “I’m a chauffeur at best, you think I know anything?” 

“You’re not just a chauffeur, you also have a knack for picking out dresses,” you tease.  

“Ah, smooth transition into our options for this afternoon,” he walks over to your closet and starts selecting things - he emerges with a pair of jeans tossed over his shoulder, “I’m just delivering you to the Casino office, so no evening wear this time,” he teases. 

“Thank God.” 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Walking into the Casino at nine in the morning is very different than walking in at nine at night. Totally different crowd, brighter lights. You pause at the Blackjack table and stare down at it, run your fingers over the black velvet lining. 

I’ll be seeing you. 

Kim Taehyungs voice echoes, menacing in your brain, and suddenly your stomach is in knots. 

“Are you joining?” the dealer calls to you. 

You look at her and shake your head back and forth, walking away towards Christopher who is waiting for you. 

Christopher leads you back into the area behind the Casino walls, where the very air is different. Darker. Something doesn’t feel right, but you pass it off as being behind the scenes, seeing the things that the general public isn’t supposed to see. When you reach a service elevator he stops, and presses a button, the doors immediately opening. 

“This is as far as I go,” he says cautiously. 

“Why?” you look at him. 

He shrugs, “I do what I’m told.” 

You look at the elevator and then back at him, the worry in your eyes must be visible. 

“Press B when you get in, and keep your chin up, I know what goes on down there and the tougher you look the safer you’ll be,” he says. 

“If that’s supposed to be encouraging then I’m sorry but you suck at it,” you force a laugh, but really you’re just procrastinating. 

He chuckles, “I happen to know that both Minho and Hyunjin are down there, so I doubt highly anything bad is going to happen to you, but it never hurts to look like you can beat the shit out of anyone who looks at you wrong.” 

“Right,” you sigh and step into the elevator. 

When it opens Hyunjin is standing there waiting, you immediately relax. 

“How are you?” he asks. 

“Fine,” you feel so awkward around him now. He nor Minho are aware you overheard their conversation from yesterday. 

He leans in and kisses you softly and there goes the awkwardness. Your body is still sore, and likely will be for weeks, but you lift your arms despite the pain and wrap them around his neck, holding yourself close to him, letting his warmth engulf you. 

He pulls away, his eyes holding something back. He looks as though he’s about to tell you he ran over your cat, if you had one that is. 

“What?” 

“Remember the night I told you that you were the good in all this?”

“Yes…” 

“Well I’m about to drag you into the bad,” he says apologetically. 

“What are you talk-,” 

“Darling,” Minhos voice descends upon you and you watch as he smiles, his hand extending out towards you, his demeanor the complete opposite of Hyunjin, “Come.” 

You look at Hyunjin quizzically once more then take Minhos hand in yours. The confusion you feel, not just at trying to guess what the Hell is about to happen, but also at the way you seem to be just as relieved to see Minho as you do Hyunjin has your head spinning. You should’ve taken something for the inevitable headache that’s coming on fast. 

“How do you feel today?” he asks. 

“Sore,” you answer honestly, “but it’s getting a little better each day. I’m okay.” 

“Good, I’ve been so worried about you, but I’ve tried to keep my distance, give you space,” he leans in and kisses your temple. The pressure of the kiss temporarily relieves the ache in your head and you lean into it, into him. 

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers and you wonder how he’s so good at it. So good at the sweet, the soft, the delicate when you know what he’s capable of. 

“What am I doing here?” you look up at him. 

“I need you to see something,” he smiles and opens a heavy door. 

You follow him into a large room and at first you don’t see him, your eyes adjusting to the darker area, trying to identify all the odds and ends you see. Then it hits you, that the giant glass window separating this room from another is actually a reciprocal mirror, and on the other side in the middle of an empty room sits a man, tied to a chair. Bloodied and beaten. Your mouth goes dry. 

Hyunjin saunters into the room behind you and closes the door. 

You look between the beaten man, Minho and Hyunjin, “What have you done? Who is that person?” 

“Nothing, yet,” Minho answers. “This is one of the men who attacked you. I wanted you to know I made good on my word, partially, until I get my hands on the others.” 

You whip your throbbing head back towards the man, your heart rate sky rockets. 

“What are you going to do?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. 

Minho seems to hyperfocus on the glass instead of looking at you, “I need information. So I’m going to ask questions.” 

“And after that?” 

Minho doesn’t answer so you twist around, painfully, and stare at Hyunjin who only stares at his fists. 

“Are you going to kill him?” you ask carefully. 

At this Minho looks at you, “Do you want me to?” 

You can feel Hyunjins head snap up to look between the two of you. 

“What?” you furrow your brows. 

“I said, do you want me to kill him?” 

You turn away from Minho and shut your eyes tight. In addition to the headache that now throbs, your stomach also feels nauseous. 

The image of the three men who busted through your window that night has haunted you ever since it happened. What kind of person would beat a stranger who did nothing just because someone told him to? 

Hyunjin. Seungmin. Jisung. Felix. Jeongin. Changbin. 

They’ve all beaten people they didn’t know, killed people they didn’t know - just because Lee Minho told them to. 

You look at the man strapped to the chair, his face is swollen and bruised, but unmasked; your eyes flood with tears. Suddenly you realize the weight of it all. All this time you’ve had this mindset that you were helping the good guys, that Minho’s ‘team’ was the team to be on. You only ever see them as victims, after the dirty work, they come to you bleeding, cut open, shot - they come to you as patients. There are no good guys, and now you’re one of them. You’re a part of this. 

Like a ton of bricks hitting you all at once, you realize that running away won’t do any good. If you run then eventually you’ll get caught. Maybe by Taehyung, who would torture you and deliver the parts to Minho to break him. Maybe by the police, the few left who are actually still fighting crime that is; and they’ll put you in prison for being an accessory to God only knows what kind of criminal acts, for aiding and abetting these men in their endeavors, for practicing and distributing medicine illegally, for any number of reasons. Whether you like it or not, whether you want it or not, the safest place for you to be is right here standing between Hyunjin and Minho. 

“Love? Why are you crying?” 

You sniff and wipe your tears off your cheeks. You’re crying because you’ve solidified this life for yourself. Maybe as early as the night you helped Minho in the parking lot at work, or maybe it was sometime later, some undefined moment when you fell in love with the two men standing near you. Either way, there is nowhere to go. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you say. 

“It matters to me,” he says, “is this too much? I shouldn’t have brought you here.”  

You shake your head, “No. What I mean is that it doesn’t matter if I want you to kill him or not,” you look Minho in the eyes, then do the same with Hyunjin, “You two are going to kill him anyway.” 

You see the way Hyunjin looks at Minho and know that he just confirmed your assumption. 

Minho lets out a long breath and nods, “Yes. It would have made me feel better if you wanted him dead though.” 

You look into the room again, taking in the image of this man who beat you senseless. You wonder if it was the man who punched your face, or the man who held you down, or the man who kicked your ribs so hard they cracked. You clench your jaw tightly. 

“I never said I didn’t.” 

Minhos head whips towards you and though his lips don’t form an actual smile, a dangerously pleasant expression creeps across his face. 

“Good then. Hyunjin, why don’t you take our girl back to Christopher, we can finish this when you come back down,” he instructs. 

Our girl. 

“I want to see it.”

Hyunjin makes an odd sounding noise in his throat, “___, no…”

Minho looks perplexed but he holds his hand up to quiet Hyunjin. 

“It won’t be pretty love,” he cautions you. 

“I’m an ER nurse Minho, don’t you think I know that?” 

“If you stay and witness this, you won’t be able to leave us, you’ll be part of this,” he goes on and you look at him. 

“Christopher told you I was running?” you guess. 

“He told me that you weren’t sure you wanted to stay with us, and I didn’t blame you after what I said to you, and then what happened to you, but if you stay and watch this, you’re just as responsible as I will be. At least legally,” Minho explains. 

You make a mental note to start keeping secrets, like Hyunjin does, you have no confidantes here. You’re not even angry with Chris. A part of you knew he’d run and tell Minho, maybe that’s why you said it. 

“I understand.” 

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Hyunjin pipes, “You’re the good part of all this…don’t become…” he trails off, you assume he meant don’t become like us. 

You look up at Minho who shrugs, “It’s up to you darling, but I’ll admit it’s an unusual request.” 

Maybe they’re right. Maybe you don’t need to see this. If you’re going to be all in then there are other ways to do so. The thought of Hyunjin thinking less of you is enough to stop your sudden need to see the man who nearly killed you murdered. 

“Fine. Then I’ll see myself out,” you stop at the door, “but I think I’d like to see you later, both of you, I think we have things to discuss.” 

“We’ll bring you dinner then,” Minho kisses your lips. He shouldn’t look as proud as he looks, and it shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does. 

Hyunjin hesitates, but eventually he walks to you and pulls you into a hug. He doesn’t kiss your lips, but he plants a gentle kiss to your cheek. 

There’s a charge to the room now, something heavy that sits between the three of you. A mix between excitement and dread. 

“Don’t bring anything,” you say softly, “I’ll cook. I’ll have Christopher drive me to the market.” 

“He goes in with you,” Minho orders. 

“Of course,” you nod. “See you soon, make sure you both clean up for dinner.” 

Endnotes:

Do not hurt me for leaving it here, with zero spice - trust the process and know that I have plans to make it up to you all. This was one of the areas of the story that I initially mentioned not being sure on how to break up into a chapter.  So if it feels like a sudden start or stop that’s probably why and I’m terrible at transitions…and pacing…and ya know, lots of stuff 😂

Taglist(s): OKAY. So this week I learned that you can only tag FOIVE people in a post (wtf Tumblr?). So, with that newfound knowledge I suppose I’m going to have to reblog with taglists multiple times in order to include everyone who wants to be tagged, and that should finally take care of my “hey I can’t tag you problem” S/O to @moni-logues who brought this to my attention (and who also helped me talk myself through some decisions for this fic bc she is amazing and a wonderful listener and friend), and subsequently gets spot 1 of 5 in this round of tags haha.

Taglist 1: @katieraven @linocz @screamobubbles @hpnsfwaddict