#went back to my simple border.

[taertglia]

𖦹

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Mama, I’m in love with a criminal

Tags: Sukuna x fem!Reader, no curse au, dead dove, violence described including murder, dark romance, use of y/n, descriptions of mental illness.

Synopsis: Sukuna’s talking to his therapist in jail about you. He’s incarcerated because of you, and his obsession is concerning.

An: Yeah idk i thought of this while I was driving to work one morning.

Session one. | Session two.

His large frame laid lazily over the couch, clad in an orange jumpsuit. He had his feet propped up on one side, and his head was propped up on the other side in a far too casual manner. His naturally pink hair pushed up near the front, messily so.

He was still cuffed and shackled, but the therapist was still afraid of him. To the therapist’s credit, he had read the warrant that went into viscous detail of Sukuna’s crimes.

Normally, the therapist wouldn’t read the inmates warrants due to situations like these. He liked going into sessions with an open mind, but he had gotten warnings about Sukuna… how the man can fly into a blind rage like a switch on the wall.

He was brutal, unforgivable, inhumane.

Simple counseling wasn’t going to “fix” a broken human like Sukuna. The therapist knew this, but the state mandated that Sukuna undergo weekly counseling sessions per his sentence.

Sukuna could taste the therapist’s fear, and he let out an earnest laugh. “You don’t even want to try to fix me, do you?” He asked tauntingly with a lopsided grin. “I don’t blame you. Don’t feel bad~”

The therapist swallowed the lump in his throat, and he adjusted in his seat. “I can’t fix anyone… Counseling isn’t about fixing.. It’s about moving forward and learning how to live.”

“Bullshit.” Sukuna spits with shrug. “Counseling is about focusing on the past and letting shit hang you up for far too long. I guarantee you that you’re going to ask me about how I got here, is that right?”

The therapist is shaking like a leaf at this point. “Our past can help us navigate to a better future.” He murmured out weakly.

Sukuna roars in laughter, causing the therapist to nearly jump out of his seat. The pink-haired felon doubles over as he laughs hysterically. “You’re a funny guy. Fine. You really want to know how I got here? I’ll tell you.”

After a deep breath and wiping away a fake tear, Sukuna goes on, “You know, teachers always believe that pairing the troubled kids up with the good kids will inspire them to act right. That shit never works.”

“I think that’s when my ‘type’ developed. My bitch of a second-grade teacher assigned me to sit next to this frail meek girl after I got in trouble one too many times for terrorizing the other kids. She was a real stick in the mud.” Sukuna laughs fondly, a rare genuine smile on his face.

“Y/n?” The therapist asks, remembering your name from the warrants.

Sukuna’s red eyes snap over to the therapist with an almost predatory gaze. His hands visibly curl into fists. “Say her name again, and I’ll splatter your blood all over this room. The officers won’t be able to pry me from you, deeming you to be a lost cause.”

The therapist freezes as the breath hitches in his throat. His eyes dart toward his panic button, knowing he should probably press it now, but he’s frozen in fear.

“We’ll call her mouse.” Sukuna goes on as if he didn’t just threaten the poor guy’s life in brutal detail.

“Mouse was a real challenge. I for some reason made it my mission to get her to talk to me, but she always stayed silent — only answering me with simple head gestures.” He laughs again, lying his head back further as he’s replaying the memories in his mind. He can remember you vividly and how you looked back then. He yearns for that feeling again. The feeling of seeing you for the first time.

“I can’t exactly tell you when the challenge started to border obsession, but she slowly slithered her way into my brain. Even when I wasn’t in school, I thought about her. I wondered what she sounded like, wondered why she wouldn’t talk to me, wondered why she looked at me like that.”

The therapist furrows his eyebrows. Even though he doesn’t feel safe in this session, and he doesn’t trust Sukuna at all, he has a hunger for knowledge, and he loves solving things that have to do with the human psyche.

“Looked at you like what?” The therapist dared to ask.

Sukuna stayed silent for a moment, and he tapped his finger against the back of his hand. His face hardened as he found the words he was looking for. “She looked at me like she had no preconceived notion of me. Her eyes… were so big and round. Even though she didn’t talk to me, it was like she accepting of my presence.”

The shackles jingled as Sukuna rubbed his face in a stressed gesture. Remembering you was like a double edged sword. He loved thinking about you, but he hated being reminded that he was without you.

The therapist eased in his chair. There was actual emotions underneath all those tattoos, thick skin, and muscle. The media had portrayed Sukuna as a complete narcissistic sociopath, but this was proof that diagnosis was false.

“I bothered the shit out of her for years, continually getting myself paired up with her.” Sukuna grinned, shifting the conversation back in a direction that he was more comfortable with, “I remember those asshole kids always called me her shadow because I followed her everywhere. Jokes on them.”

The therapist shivered as be remembered a chilling detail from the warrants. Each time a victim was found, a message was written in the victim’s blood.

-ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ

His victim’s - their deaths were like an homage to you.

“Were the kids ever… assholes to mouse?”

Sukuna’s jaw visibly tightened. He loathed this therapist’s questions… thinking he knew everything just because you and Sukuna were misunderstood kids.

“They called her weird for not talking.” Sukuna recalled as he bit his inner cheek. His eyes glared to the wall in front of him. “Now look at who can’t talk.”

Sukuna’s first victim. He didn’t start out with murder. He started out with stapling your bullies mouth shut for taunting you. Everything was for you. Everything.

He held a kid down to the teacher’s in third grade, grabbing a stapler, and he pressed it down one by one into the kids lips, binding them together. The kid couldn’t scream or cry for help, or else he’d risk ripping the flesh on his lips.

The teachers found the kid and immediately knew the only kid sadistic enough to go through with such an act was none other than Sukuna.

“Did mouse witness you do that?” The therapist asked, genuinely intrigued by Sukuna’s narrative. For being a ruthless criminal, he was a wonderful historian.

“No. Why would I scare her like that?” Sukuna’s voice was tense as he eyed the therapist carefully, as if he was waiting for him to say the wrong thing.

The therapist clicks his tongue in surprise, and he looks like a deer in headlights. “Scare? No.. no, I thought you’d maybe just show off what you did for her.”

“I’m not the type to show off.” Sukuna answers flatly, and the therapist wonders if that’s the first time Sukuna’s lied during this session. He knows that Sukuna likes to show off. The warrants prove it.

“Anyways, I wore her down over the years. She didn’t speak to me until we were in sixth grade.” An eerie smile curls on Sukuna’s lip. “I can still remember her first word to me and how she said it…”

The therapist leaned in, curiosity getting best of him.

Sukuna smirks, knowing he has the therapist interested now. “Her first word to me was a plea. A word to show her undeniable want. Her first word to me was please.”

Bang! Bang Bang!

The therapist literally flinches out of his chair from the heavy knocks at the door.

“Ryomen! Your time is up!” The officer yelled on the other side of the door.

“Pity. I was beginning to have fun.” Sukuna remarked as he stood up from the couch. The shackles jingled as he walked toward the door, and the door buzzed, letting him out. “See you next week, doc.”

[keikikait]

can you do something really angsty for rafe please. like one where they might not end up together:(

ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ᴡᴀʟᴋ ʜᴏᴍᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.8k

summary: from the corner, at the party, you watch him

warnings: ANGST!!!!, pining/whipped reader, rafe & reader are friends, kook!reader & kook!rafe, drinking, not proofread

a note: yeah....yeah....

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

He’s never looked more beautiful. 

You bring the red solo cup to your lips, eye twitching and throat burning as you take a sip. It was foul, cheap vodka mixed with melted skittles, but it was getting you drunk, and that’s all that mattered. You felt like a creep, sitting in the corner of Barry’s living room, practically eye fucking Rafe as he stands in the kitchen, but you couldn’t help it. Your eyes naturally went to his figure, tracing the expanses of his toned arms. 

You wanted him.

You always have.

From the second you met him in elementary school, when you were around 6 years old, you’ve had a crush on Rafe. You remember that day like it was yesterday. You had just gotten new shoes that had laces instead of Velcro, and even though your mom had tied them for you in the morning, you were struggling to tie them yourself after they had come undone. Rafe had spotted you in the courtyard and expertly tied them himself before sticking his hand out towards you to shake, announcing his presence with the upmost confidence. Ward had been raising him to be a businessman, after all.

You fell for him immediately, and you fell hard. As your friendship grew, so did your feelings towards him. You had just moved to Kildare, and your parents had exclaimed that you would be best friends forever when you discovered that you were actually his next door neighbour. Through the trees you could just make out his bedroom window, and if he tried hard enough, he could see right into yours too. You spent the rest of your days wanting, needing, dying for him, hoping one day he would pick you over whatever girl of the week he was seeing. You wondered what it was like to be chosen. You were never chosen by Rafe. You were a maybe, a probably, sometimes even definitely, but never his first choice. 

You remember when he got his first actual girlfriend, April. You were 13, already head over heels in love with him, and were absolutely devastated when he sent you that text. You cried so hard you nearly threw up, yet your reply to him was a simple ‘Congrats!’. You knew that he didn’t like you back then, and that showing any type of jealousy would just drive a further wedge between you. He was already starting to pull away. He was dealing with so much at home that he was taking it out on everyone else at school, constantly screaming and yelling and throwing things. He needed the attention he wasn’t getting, and it seemed that the attention you were giving him wasn’t enough.

At 15, he got a new girlfriend, Lillian. They weren’t serious like how he was with April, but this was the first girl he had in a while that actually stuck around. Lillian didn’t like you, and you didn’t like her. She was, quite ironically, jealous, and was constantly reading your texts with Rafe. She purposely excluded you from parties and hangouts, doing everything in her power to get you away from Rafe. They only lasted seven months before Rafe dropped her, saying: ‘I’ve known her for a few months. I’ve known you my whole life. It’s a pretty easy choice.’

He didn’t get another girlfriend until he was 17, bordering on 18, when he met Jacquelyn. The daughter of one of Ward’s business partners, they were essentially a PR relationship, only hugging and holding hands during fancy black tie events. Jacquelyn was nice to you, nice enough, although you always had a feeling that she knew you loved Rafe. 

And it was hard not to love him. You had tried so many times over the years to just get a grip and move on, but something about him was so alluring. You had watched him grow, blossom into the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, and it was hard not to fall for him. You had tried to gaslight yourself a few times into believing you were truly over him, climbed out of the hole you were stuck in, but the next time you hugged, and you got to bury your face into his chest, you fell right back down. He was the moon in your universe, and you were barely even a star.

Just as you had seen Rafe blossom, you had seen him shrivel up. Watching him get into drugs, alcohol, and violence was heart-wrenching, but he never listened to you. He said you didn’t get it, and you didn’t understand him, but when things got too much for him, or he got too drunk, he would always turn up on your porch, your favourite candy in hand as a figurative olive branch. And you accepted it every time, eagerly opening your arms to welcome him, revelling in the feeling of his whispered apologies in your ear. 

You were always the one he went to.

Until he met Sofia.

You didn’t want to hate Sofia, but you couldn’t help it. She had everything you wanted, and she was everything you wanted to be. She had Rafe, and she was Rafe’s. After Rafe heard of Ward’s death, Sofia is the one he went to, not you. You didn’t see him until weeks later at The Island Club, and as you tried to give him your condolences, she whisked him away. He left the room as quickly as he entered it, leaving only a waft of his cologne and a pit in your stomach in his wake.

She stole him away from you, constantly hanging on his arm and dragging away during parties. He never responded to you anymore, too busy spending time with her, taking her to some stupid boutique on the mainland or going with her to the beach when the UV was too high to resist. Did he rub sunscreen on her back? Did his hands ever slip under the bikini straps as he caressed her skin, did his hands ever wander around the front and slip underneath the cups?

Did you even want to know?

You had grown apart these last few months. You rarely saw him, even out on Kildare, and your conversations were few and far between. Even then, your feelings for him never faded. You would sit on the chair by your window, staring out towards his, wondering if just maybe you would catch a glimpse of him walking by. You felt, for lack of a better word, hollow without him. Rafe was one of your best friends, and after spending years together attached at the hip, you were suddenly missing your other half. It felt like a breakup, except you were never together in the first place. You were grieving a relationship that never even happened. 

You advert your eyes from Rafe, realising you’ve been staring for a bit, and go to take another sip, only to find your cup empty. You sigh, chewing on the inside of your lip as you look back up at the kitchen. His arm is slung around Sofia’s neck, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing at her collarbones as she leans against his chest, a smug look on her stupid pretty face as she sips on her hard seltzer.

You look back at the cup again. You needed more alcohol if you were going to stay sane at this party. You stand up, placing the pillow that was once in your lap on the chair before moving across the room towards the kitchen, manoeuvring through drunk Kooks and groping couples until you reached the linoleum.

‘It’s an open bar,’ Barry said, ‘Take whatever.’ so you didn’t feel weird about immediately digging through his liquor cabinet, pulling out the giant bottle of Everclear from the bottom shelf. You had only ever had Everclear one other time, and all you remember of the night was waking up face first in the sand with seaweed in your hair. You had promised yourself never again, but this night was different. You wanted to stay at this party and be with your friends, but you couldn’t bear to look at Rafe and Sofia sober.

Rafe’s thumb moves up to caress Sofia’s jaw as he watches you set the Everclear down on the kitchen counter. “Damn, already?”

Oh, shit. Was he talking to you? You look over, pursing your lips together. “Uh, yeah. Why not live a little, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess…” He mutters, dragging his thumb down Sofia’s neck. “You know that stuff is hella strong, right?”

Did he not remember that night? “I’m just gonna take one shot, dude.”

“Well, one shot can turn into two, then into four, then…” He trails off. “You know how you are after a few shots.”

You unscrew the Everclear and pour some into your solo cup. Your hands are shaking from the vodka you had before, and you dump in more than you had initially planned on. You screw the cap back on and slip it into the cabinet again before opening the fridge to grab a mixer. “I got it.”

He watches you pour, eyebrows raising when he sees the amount that flows into your cup, but he says nothing, simply continuing to caress the skin of Sofia’s jaw with his thumb. “Mhm, okay.”

Sofia looks between the two of you, sipping on her drink before speaking up, “You never drink like this.”

You don’t even fucking know me, you want to say, but you don’t. You shrug as you open a can of Cherry Coke and dump it into the solo cup before crushing it and tossing it into the recycling bin on the edge of the kitchen. “Just wanna try something new.”

“You could do that with literally anything. Everclear is not a good start,” He sighs, looking down at you. “One shot of that stuff will have you on your ass within the hour.”

You swirl the drink in your cup and shrug again as you leave the kitchen to go back to your spot. “We’ll see.” You glance at Rafe over your shoulder as you take a sip, moving back through the crowd.

It tasted disgusting. You felt the liquor burn all the way down to your stomach, your eyes watering slightly as you hold back a cough, but you keep drinking. You wanted to forget. You wanted to be drunk enough to not care about Rafe and Sofia. You sat back down without a word, grabbing the pillow you had left on the chair and putting it back on your lap. You watched the party from the corner, hesitating as you lift the cup to your lips and take another sip.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The party gets too hot too quickly.

November was one of the cooler months in the Outer Banks and although the patio door was wide open, you were starting to sweat. The alcohol, mixed with your bubbling anxiety as you watched Rafe and Sofia, was causing you to start to squirm uncomfortably in your seat.

You hadn’t even finished your drink when you head outside, pushing through the crowd bottlenecked at the door, breathing a sigh of relief when you reach the pool area. Your shoulders droop as you start to relax, your skin starting to cool down. The loungers and seats are full, but the pool is empty, even though Barry had been promising everyone it was heated. There were a few Kooks sitting on the edge of the hot tub, their feet in the water, beer cans littering the surrounding ground.

You look around, biting the inside of your lip. You start to move, looking around the expansive backyard before finding a small concrete bench pressed up against an old out of use fountain full of leaves and dried algae. You brush some of the leaves off and sit down, a small noise escaping your mouth at how fucking cold it is. You zip up your jacket, sitting cross-legged as you try to get as comfortable as possible. 

You continue to people watch, taking some brief moments to look up at the stars.

It’s peaceful, and you’re grateful for the silence. The sound from the house is still audible, but it’s muffled enough from being out in the yard. You watch the Kooks in the hot tub, noticing a couple of them starting to kiss.

You were grateful to be out of there.

You were grateful not to be looking at Rafe and Sofia. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back to the kitchen. Rafe’s hands on Sofia’s hips. Him burying his nose in her hair. The soft kisses they exchanged every time they thought you weren’t looking. It made your stomach turn.

You look up at the clear night sky, shivering as a breeze passes, brushing the stray hairs that escaped your low bun away from your face. You could see Orion, you could see the moon, you could even see some stars you didn’t know the name of. They manage to distract you for a long time, so long that you don’t even remember how long you’ve been sitting there.

You feel something heavy being placed on your shoulders, the weight startling you. You turn around, ready to snap at whoever had disturbed your solitude, but you're met by Rafe. He's wearing only a t-shirt, his own jacket in his hands. “Couldn't let you freeze to death sitting out here alone.”

“I have a jacket,” You say. It’s true, your jacket was keeping you warm, and a large part of you felt bad that Rafe was trying to give his up. “Keep yours.” As you stop dissociating, your fingers and toes suddenly feel stiff. You move the cup to your other hand, clenching and stretching your fingers.

He ignores your protest, draping his jacket over your shoulders anyway, even going as far as to zip it up under your chin. “No arguments. You looked like a baby deer sitting here shivering.”

His cologne smells so good. It smells like home. “Thanks.” Your eyes follow him as he sits next to you on the bench, beer bottle in hand.

“No problem,” Rafe looks out, his knee brushing your leg as he turns to check out the backyard, eyes scanning the Kooks in the hot tub as he takes a sip of his beer. After a moment, he turns back to you, eyebrows furrowing as he notices your drink. “You didn’t finish that.” he nods towards the cup in your hand.

“No, it’s uh…” You clear your throat and sit up straight. “It’s disgusting. Guess Everclear and Cherry Coke don’t mix.”

He snickers, “Told you so,” He takes another sip of his beer, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looks at you. “You shouldn’t drink that stuff anyway. I’ve seen people go down quick after only one shot. Not pretty.”

“Eh. Wanted to try something new.” You say, swirling it around in the cup.

“Yeah, well, don’t go drinking Everclear again. I’m not gonna hold your hair back while you’re puking,” He gives you another once over, eyes lingering on your face. “You don’t look very good.”

You weren’t doing good. Not at all. You were trying to live your life without Rafe around, even just as a friend, and it was proving to be a very difficult task. It was so hard to not immediately rush to text him, or to send him a million TikToks throughout the day. You missed him, as much as it pained you to admit. You shrug. “Just kinda tired. Didn’t sleep well.”

He notices the change in your demeanour instantly, the walls that he was so used to seeing come down were up now. You were shutting him out. “You gotta stop staying up late on your phone, then.” he elbows you playfully, hoping to get you to laugh, like old times.

You don’t.

You awkwardly look back down at your drink and swirl it again. You had thought that maybe this unwelcomed distance would do you good, and you would eventually fall out of love with him, but it seems to get harder and harder every day. You just wanted to hold him one last time. You needed him back then, and you needed him still. You let out a breath. “Yeah. Probably.”

He stays silent, taking another sip from his beer as he looks back out to the yard. There was a tension in the air now, but he wasn’t sure if it was all in his head. You seemed…distant. Shut off. He was so used to your bright personality, your happy demeanour, your laugh. Now, you were just…blank. His knee bumps yours again as he shifts. He looked back over at you, watching you for a long time. You were just staring straight, avoiding his gaze.

You clear your throat again, setting your cup down beside you. You unzip his jacket and stand up as you slide it off, trying to avoid his gaze as you drape it over his shoulders. “I’m gonna head back inside.”

Rafe catches your wrist as you start to move away, fingers gentle, but firm, almost reluctant to let you go. His eyes meet yours immediately, holding your gaze captive as he looks at you. “Wait.”

“What?” You ask, picking your drink back up with your free hand.

“We…” he trails off, his thumb rubbing the sensitive skin of your inner wrist as he looks at you. It was cold outside, but your skin was so warm against his. It felt so natural. Like everything was right again. He didn’t ever realise how much he had missed you until now. “We need to talk.”

You try to pull your wrist away. “About what?”

He lets the grasp on your wrist loosen, but he doesn’t let go, his touch trailing down until his fingers are laced with yours. “About this…distance…” he motions vaguely between you two, “That you’ve been building for the past couple of months.”

“That I’ve been building?” You ask, your eyebrows raising. “You’re the one who’s been ignoring me.”

“Not on purpose. I’ve been busy.” he says defensively, almost immediately. He’d be lying if he didn’t say that he had been busy lately. Sofia had been keeping him on his toes lately, and he hadn’t had much time alone during the day, let alone time alone in his own home. But he also couldn’t deny that he had been purposefully avoiding you, knowing that if he spent too much time with you, Sofia would have something to say about it.

“Maybe I’ve been busy too.” You say, although it’s a lie. 

Rafe snorts, almost calling you out on the lie, but he lets it go with a sigh. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just looking at you. His thumb rubs slow circles on the inside of your palm, the touch familiar. It hurt his chest. “I don’t like this.”

“Don’t like what?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“This,” He gestures between you and him. “This distance. I don’t like it,” He looks away, a frustrated expression on his face. “We’re friends. We’ve known each other for years. Why do you act like I can’t even approach you anymore?”

Friends. You never hated a word more. You take a step back, sighing as you glance out over the pool again. “Sometimes friends drift apart, Rafe.”

He looks at you, his jaw clenched as he watches you avoid his gaze once again. You wouldn’t even look at him. It was infuriating. He couldn’t believe that you were so nonchalant about all of this. Friends drift apart. That’s what you said. Did he have to mean so little? His hand falls back to his side, but the expression on his face stays fixed. “Bullshit.”

“You’re busy, I’m busy,” You say. “Sometimes that happens.”

“I’m only busy with Sofia,” He snaps, frustration seeping through in his voice. He takes a step towards you, eyes narrowed. “And even when I’m busy with her, I still manage to find time-” He stops himself, taking a moment to slow his breathing. He was getting too worked up. The last thing he needed right now was to blow up at you.

You chug the rest of your drink and set the empty solo cup on the bench, immediately regretting it. You should’ve dumped it out a while ago. The last thing you needed was a drunk walk home. “We’ve both been busy. That’s it, Rafe.”

“That’s it?” He repeats, looking at you incredulously. He couldn’t believe you were so blasé about this. About you guys practically ignoring each other, never talking, practically avoiding each other every chance you got. Was it so simple to you? To forget years of friendship over something so idiotic like being busy? “You’re bullshitting me.”

You hated this feeling. Your heart ached, and your hands went numb, your body full of tingles. You take a few more steps back. You had to do it, you had to rip the band-aid off if you wanted to finally move on. You didn’t want your happiness to live and die with him. “Maybe this friendship thing isn’t working anymore.”

It felt like you had stabbed him straight in the chest, twisted the blade, and then pulled it out slowly, painfully. Every word that you spat out felt like another layer of pain. It was bullshit. You had been by his side through everything. You were always there. He trusted you more than anyone. And this was how you felt now? You didn’t want to be friends? Rafe clenched his jaw, biting back the sting of emotion. “You’re not serious.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Rafe.” You say.

“I want you to tell me that you still give a damn about our friendship!” he says, a frustrated tone in his voice.  “I want you to tell me that this distance is bullshit and that I still mean something to you! That you still want to hang out and talk and everything else I thought we’d still be doing when we got older, and that I’m just reading into this too much! I want you to tell me that you’re just busy, and it’ll all get better in a little bit, because I can’t handle this anymore.”

“Rafe--” You try to speak, but he cuts you off.

He was getting more worked up now, his chest heaving as he stares at you. He had never felt like this before. You always knew how to calm him down from whatever fit he was throwing, but you weren’t doing that now. He takes a step closer, getting into your personal space now, anger evident in his eyes. “Do you even care about me anymore, or are you just pretending you do whenever I’m around? Do you hate me now?”

You would probably still adore him with his hands around your neck. “No, of course I don’t hate you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?” He demands, his tone a mix of anger and desperation. He was getting louder, but he didn’t care. For once, he wanted to let his emotions out, knowing that they would be safe with you. “Why are you acting like this?” He gestures between you, “You’re shutting me out, and you’re pulling away, and you can’t even look me in the eye without flinching. Why? Tell me why.”

“Because I like you, Rafe!” You blurt out. Your eyes widen slightly when you realise what you said. You let out a shaky breath. “I like you a lot. More than I should. And seeing you with her, with Sofia… it’s so hard for me.”

He stares at you for a moment, stunned into silence by your confession. 

You liked him.

A lot?

More than you should.

His jaw clenched, his mind trying to process everything as he sits back down. He had suspected that you liked him more than a friend for a long time, but he had never dared to try and confirm it. The words were out in the open now, though. And it changed everything.

You hate how silent he’s being. Your voice is shaky when you start to speak again, “And I know that you don’t feel the same way about me. I know that, and I’m okay with that.”

He lets out an almost bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. The sound is harsh in the air, like a slap in the face. “That’s what you think? You think I don’t have feelings for you?” His voice was quiet, but there was something in it that made it even more threatening than if he was yelling.

“I know you don’t.” You say softly, tears starting to well in your eyes. You weren’t stupid. You knew from day dot that he would never feel the same way that you do, and you always knew that he would never be yours, but it was never enough to help you finally move on. 

For the first time in Rafe’s life, he struggles with what to say. It takes him a few seconds to find the words he's looking for. “Jesus Christ, are you kidding me? We’re not romantic or anything, we’re just friends.”

“I know that.” You say.

“We’re just friends.” He says again, as if you didn’t hear him the first time.

Your stomach hurts. “I know.”

He looks away from you, standing up from the bench. “How long have you liked me?”

“Since the day we met,” You say. “When you tied my shoe for me.”

He runs his hand through his hair again. “And you never said anything.” It’s a statement, not a question, and it stings.

“There was no point,” You say. “I knew even back then that you would never feel the same way.”

He doesn’t know what to do. You’re right, he doesn’t feel the same way. He doesn’t like you the way you like him. At least he thinks he doesn’t. He stays quiet, his fists clenching.

“I don’t want to ignore you, Rafe,” You continue. “But maybe this distance will be good for us. I’ll be able to get over you.”

“You shouldn’t have fallen for me in the first place.” He snaps.

It takes you by surprise. Your eyes flutter for a second as tears start to fall, and you take a step back, chest clenching.

He stares at you, his stomach lurching as the first of the tears roll down your face. He stays silent for a moment, before finally sighing. “It’s not supposed to be this way,” He walks towards you again, reaching out to take both of your hands, trying to stop you from backing away from him. “You’re supposed to be my best friend, not some girl in love with me.”

“I’m sorry.” You say.

“Stop apologising,” He says, holding your wrists tightly, like he’s trying to keep you in place. “I hate it when you do that.”

You almost apologise again. You just nod, looking down at your feet before moving your gaze back over to the pool. No one has noticed you two yet.

He follows your gaze, looking towards the pool. No one had even spared a glance in your direction. It was just you and him, secluded in the quiet corner, surrounded by a party that seemed a mile away. He doesn’t know what to say, or how to react to your confession. All he knows is that he still hates seeing you cry.

“Do you still want to be friends?” You ask quietly, looking up at him.

Rafe hesitates. 

His first instinct is to push you away. To tell you that it would be best if you two just never spoke to each other again, that things would be better that way. But he knew he didn’t mean that. And when he looked down at you, seeing the heartbreak on your face, he knew he couldn’t say it. He wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings, and he had no idea what he was doing, but you were his oldest friend. You had been by his side through everything. There was no way he was pushing you away that easily.

He pulls you into a hug, pressing his nose into the crown of your head. “Of course, I still want to be friends,” he murmurs. “You’re my best friend, you idiot.”

You hug him back, and it feels so good to finally hold him again. You interlock your fingers behind his back. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he mutters, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Stop apologising.” He stays silent for a moment, soaking in the feeling of being able to hold you again. He had missed this. He had missed you more than he had ever realised.

You stay there for a while, nose buried in his chest, before you speak again. Your voice is quiet, muffled against his jacket, but he can hear you loud and clear. “I love you.”

Rafe sighs, pushing your hair away from your forehead before placing a kiss on it. “It’ll pass.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two is here!

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg, @teenwolfbitches28, @dasia21, @drewsphswife, @gilwm, @watchmerora, @odairtrqsh, @wearemadeofstardust0, @rafesbabygirlx, @slumnit, @babygirlwilly, @rafeyswife, @maybanksgirl69, @evermorx89, @ivy-34, @marlenee3e, @koibleufish (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

join my permanent obx taglist here!

[unorthodoxfaithxx]

Yandere JJK - Yuta Okkotsu

When you leave for a month long mission without telling your close friend and maybe crush, Yuuta. You come back and he’s cracked. 

It’d been two months since you left on a mission, only now being able to return back to Japan. When you arrived home to your shared apartment, you had expected a warm welcome from your kind and courteous friend, Yuuta. You imagined he’d tell you, “Welcome home,” ask how your trip was, and offer to make dinner like he usually did on days he felt adventurous enough to cook. The two of you lived pretty harmoniously together, both being capable sorcerers with similar demeanors and all.

What you didn’t expect was to be shoved against the wall of the flat’s narrow hallway kabedon style, body pressed flush against your roommate’s, who had a look on his face like he hadn’t been sleeping for weeks and just found out the cure to his insomnia was something ridiculously simple, bordering on relief and hysteria. 

“Where. Have you been.” He practically growled, your heart beating at an odd pace since he was barely an inch away from your face.

“Uhnn, on a mission. But great news-I’m back home and won’t be working for a bit, aha?” You broke eye contact, unable to withstand the cold intensity of his dark eyes. 

“And you left without telling me? Without telling anyone?” 

“Well, to be fair it was a secret mission! It wasn’t to be disclosed and even then I knew it’d only make you worry and you’d probably end up trying to tag along somehow. I didn’t want to distract you from your work, Yu.”

Your explanation didn’t do much to help calm his nerves. You could tell he was obviously worked up, he was breathing hard, his arms were shaking, and his newfound grip on your shoulders was soul crushing. You knew your friend was strong, but the fact that you couldn’t move at all from your position was impressive. 

“So you just up and left? That’s not fair,” His languid voice spoke with quiet rage. He was never one to raise his voice, not even now. “You don’t get to decide that. What if you had died? What if something happened and nobody from home knew anything about it? Would you be okay with leaving everyone behind? Leaving me?” 

“No…I mean…I wouldn’t want that. I mean hey, I’m here! We’re good now, right? I’m fine! We’re fine.” You said this last part with no confidence, “…Are we?”

Yuuta took a step back, staring at the wall next to you because he couldn’t stand to look at you. “No. We’re not.” 

He let you go, moving to turn back to his room. You grabbed his shoulder. “Hey-wait! I know you’re upset. I would be too. But please, don’t ignore me. I was so lonely on my own, now that I’m back I…well, is it too selfish to say I want you by my side? I missed you a lot.” Your abandonment issues were about to be the death of you.

“You trampled on my feelings, completely disregarding how I’d feel, and now you want pity?”

You deflated. “No. Just. I just want you. I’m sorry for hurting you, Yuta. I didn’t mean it, really.”

A minute of silence passed you both. You felt like you were about to cry. You sniffled. “I really am sorry.” 

He stared at the ground, muttering a soft curse before looking back at you, slowly opening his arms. He sighed. “I can never stay mad at you. I missed you too. C’mere.” 

And you nearly leapt into his arms, hugging him tightly. His scowl broke, turning into an ever so slight smile. 

Coming home wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

You thought the two of you were cool and were about to offer to order take-out when he threw you over his shoulder, went to his room, and threw you on the bed, locking the door promptly behind him. 

“Uhhhh, Yuuta?” You asked. “Watcha doing?”

He chuckled darkly. “You confessed to me before your mission, right? And then you bolted before I could even respond. Well, I’ve had a lot of time to think about how I should reply in the past months you were gone. And this is my response.”

Your face grew red. How could you have forgotten about that? 

He crawled on the bed after you, leering over you like a tiger would its prey. 

“I love you. More than anything in the world. And when I noticed you left and had no idea when you’d be back, or if you’d come back at all? I thought I’d go crazy. It took everything in me to not kill the elites that ordered you on the mission and drag you back home myself.” He had you caged between his arms again, voice dropping to something thick and heavy at his next words, “I decided that when you came back, if you ever came back, I wouldn’t let you go anymore. I want you by my side forever. And even then forever’s no where near enough.”

“Quite the romantic, are you big guy?”

He smirked at that. “I’ve had enough time to study up on the type of guys you like.” You shivered when you felt his lips glide across your neck, a rough hand slowly sneaking up your stomach, beneath your clothes. 

“You’re mine tonight. And forever.”

Tonight was going to be a loooooooong night. 

[alovelyfrenchworld]

Your Neigborly Orc Part 1

Meeting an orc was not something that anyone from your village ever expected. Even with your village being the closest human civilization near the river orc territories, it was still considered strange.

Half-orcs were proof of the interracial relations, but they were rare in your part of the country. A half-orc hadn't been spotted for around 50 years. You never thought you would be one to compete with the discourse of your people.

You met your warlord lover perchance after hunting one day. THe border between the orc territory and the human territory was divided by a small river in the forest. Few ever ventured that close.

There was knowledge that other orc territories had blurred with the humans in other regions, but yours had yet to do so. The overall interactions with orcs had increased across the lands and it was becoming a small shadow in the thoughts of the human civilizations of what these interactions could mean.

Regardless of their opinions, you tried to stay near to your homestead you had established in the blissful wood. You decided a change of pace to create a space for yourself was beneficial. You lived close to the river that divided the territories as it gave you a water source, but when hunting and foraging, you tried to stay as close as possible. If one was not paying attention, it was easy to cross the borders between territories. Even in your land did the borders begin to blur.

You had begun to make a living from selling animals meats and forage herbs in your village. Living in the wood gave you access to many resources and a source for profit. Living solitarily was not as lonely as many thought.

**********

The winter was growing harsher as the weeks went by, making it all the more pertinent to stay stocked on supplies. Primarily, that meant firewood was in constant need.

After enjoying a humble breakfast and attending to your minimal, but helpful, livestock, you set out into the nearby wood to refill your kindling.

Supplied with your rucksack, simple ace, and rope for bundling, you set out for the day. The weather had killed off many of the berry bushes and herbs you often used, so meat and wood had become the primary subjects of your searches.

After finding a decent spot, you chopped away at some smaller trees that would be easier for you to carry. Carrying everything by hand was not your usual method, but your wagon was not properly equipped for travelling in the snow, so you you could only bring home what you could carry. That fateful day, you were not the only one who decided to go out deeper into the woods.

Some distance away, across the river, was a big, burly, orc chopping away at a large log. Methodically and skillfully, he was chopping the wood and bundling it together.

You were mesmerized. You had never seen an orc in person before. He fascinated you.

Having noticed your staring, you went back to chopping wood. The noise must have alerted the orc, who then took his turn to take note of you when you were looking away.

You, unknowingly being watched in return, bundled the bits of ash tree you had chopped and readied yourself to go back home.

"It won't be enough," spoke a gravelly voice.

You turned to see the orc standing closer to the river, his kindling hanging from one arm.

"I'm sorry?" you hadn't expected him to speak to you.

"A few more bits of wood will help you. It's an awfully freezing winter." He was right, but you wouldn't admit that to a stranger.

"I appreciate your input, but I can handle my own. Have a good day, sir." At that, you turned around to head back home.

Regardless of whether or not the orc was right, you wanted to be self-sufficient. You had all you could carry and that was more that what many could do, so either way, you were proud.

[sarawritestories]

Azriel X Fem Human Reader

Summary: Azriel finds your journal and reads your depictions of the life the two of you have spent so far...

Content Warning: Memory loss, Death of a character, grief, someone on their death bed. Mention of Poison

Word Count: 2.9K

Dedicated: to @daycourtofficial who broke my heart with her Az fic this week

Tags: @milswrites @berryzxx @lady-of-tearshed @simple-fan2 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @riddlesb1tch

ACOTAR Masterlist

There once was a human girl, who fell in love with a fae male.

After the war when borders had blurred, a young human woman traveled to Prythian the land of the fae. Not aware that some still held hatred in their heart for her kind. The woman cornered by fae males twice her size, looking at her as if she were their next meal. Slamming her eyes shut the woman began to tremble and wishing she would have stayed in her safe little hut.

Yet no one had laid a hand on her. Not a hair out of place. She only opened her eyes when the shrieks and snarls of males overwhelmed her ears. Flashes of cobalt lit the alley. The males scurrying with their tails between their legs, no longer fierce predators, but the fearful prey.

Swirls of shadows slithered around the woman’s body, their touch soft kisses against her skin. They wrapped around her neck and back down before slithering away, one lone tendril remaining and resting against the woman’s wrist. Despite her life being threatened moments before she laughed. This sentient magical being was not scary, but playful and cute.

Then she heard the clearing of a throat and her head slid up, no longer paying attention to the shadow, but the person who wielded them. Whispers of the male and his friends were the talk of the village.

“Shadowsinger.” The male blinked in surprised at her knowledge of who he was.

The male spoke, and the woman, never heard a more lovely sound. “Most people call me Azriel.” He smiled and held out his hand. “Are you alright?”

The woman slid her hand into his and a spark erupted from his touch and the woman panicked as a gold thread wrapped tightly around her heart, she couldn’t see it. She felt it. Something in her mind told her that the other end led to the person in front of her. “You’re my mate.” He whispered. The woman didn’t know what he meant by that. She didn’t have to know. Two things she knew was true:

This Male’s name was Azriel, and this male named Azriel made her feel safe.

A few years went by and the woman absolutely adored her mate.

She had a mate! Someone who was her equal in every way. Someone who promised the day she accepted the bond to love and cherish her until the day air left his lungs for good. Only to promise that in case, he would simply find her in the next life.

The young woman now had a family to call her own and a loving partner to walk through life with. New adventures awaited them.

But she will always be grateful for making the trip to Prythian, the beginning of her Happily Ever After.

The end

Azriel closed the journal, his gaze eyes meeting your cloudy ones. “That was a lovely story, young man.”  He smiled and gripped your now elderly hand. In the Spymaster’s eyes, you had only grown more beautiful with age. Your smile lines grew deeper from the years of laughing with Cassian. Forehead creases from playing too many games with Rhysand focusing on your shields so he couldn’t cheat. Every wrinkle, every crease, every spot told a story. Your story. As your body grew more wrinkles and your hair began to gray, the shadowsinger somehow fell deeper in love with you, your beauty knew no bounds and he thanked the mother that she chose you as his mate.

“You wrote it, my love.”  Azriel gave you a rare smile and you returned it with one of your own. “It’s about how we met. About our bond. You wrote it to tell Nyx someday, to tell our children someday.” Children the two of you were never destined to have, your body too fragile to carry an Illyrian babe to term. You were devastated when Madja revealed that to you. You thought you were broken; Az recalled the numerous times you apologized to him simply for the human body you possessed. Your apologies met with arms around you and Azriel rocking you murmuring how you had nothing to apologize for.

You looked upon the fae male whom in the last 50 years had not aged. His hazel eyes felt familiar to you though you couldn’t place how. One thing you knew for certain was that this male was in love. “You have a woman in your life.” There was a flicker of sadness in the male’s eyes, but he blinked, and it was gone. “An old woman can tell these things.”

The male gave you a smile, you felt inclined to reach for his hand, he immediately grips your hand in his own, the raised skin of his scars colliding with the frail now thin skin of your own. “I do. Would you like to hear about her?”

“Please.” The handsome male squeezed your hand. “She must be special, your eyes light up, just asking to talk about her.”

“She’s wonderful.” The male’s timbre shook slightly, you patted his hand encouraging him to continue. “When she reads, she always crinkles her nose, and her face always flushes when she reaches a smutty scene.” You chuckled, “When I return home from a mission, without fail she is the first one to greet me. Leaping into my arms, her scent consuming me entirely.” His thumb idly stroked the top of yours. “My favorite thing about her, is late at night before she goes to bed, she would sit at her desk and write in her journal.”

You blinked and you smiled at the sight of your best friend, your husband, your mate. “You always scolded me to come to bed.” Azriel let a sob lose as he pressed his forehead to yours. “No fair.” He sniffled as his shadows came to greet you, as if you had been gone for ages, “You haven’t aged in 50 years.”

Azriel pressed his lips to yours, “You have only gotten more beautiful with time, my love.”  He pulled away and you were able to see every emotion in his hazel eyes. Most people had a hard time figuring out what Azriel was feeling. You always knew he held every emotion in his beautiful eyes.

You lifted a hand to his cheek, and he leaned into your touch, you swiped away his tears, “We agreed,” You whispered, “No tears. No goodbyes.”

Azriel whimpered and it was the first time you ever saw the spy master look defeated, broken, lost. “We were younger when we agreed to that. You can’t ask this of me.” His palm pressed over yours. “Not when we have such little time.”

“Az, look at me, baby.” His watery gaze met yours, “We were running on borrowed time. I’ve made peace with that years ago.” Another broken sob escaped him, and you began to feel your own tears coming to the surface. “I don’t want this to be how I remember you. This isn’t how I want us to part.”

“This life isn’t worth living, if you’re not here.” His shadows kissed your cheeks, drying your tears. “I can’t live without you, Angel.”

You pressed your forehead to his once more, your arms barely able to lift you up anymore. “You can, and you will. Nyx needs to see how you are not just serious. That you’re funny, and kind, he needs to know that Auntie loved him so much and will watch over him. Just like I will with you.” Your vision blurred as the tears trickled down your aged cheeks. “Maybe we’ll be lucky, and the Cauldron will turn me into one of your shadows.” A strangled sound came out of Azriel. “I love you, Azriel and I will love you in every lifetime.”

Azriel brought your lips to his once more. “I Love you too. Wait for me in the next life.”

“Hold me. One last time.”  You moved to make room for your mate. He slid his boots off and tucked his wings tightly to make room on the cramped bed. He scooped you in his arms, his shadows resting comfortably around your waist. Your whole world holding you close to his chest. “Az?”

“Angel?”

“Will you sing me to sleep?” You whispered, your eyes growing heavy, your body feeling so weak.

Azriel’s wing came over as if knowing you had caught a sudden chill. “For you, my love. Of course.” Azriel’s melodic voice singing words of love and devotion. Before unconscious held a grip on you, you felt his lips on the top of your head, “Until we meet again, My Angel.”

Azriel awoke at the sound of feet pattering on the hard wood floor down the hall. He looked over at you, your skin paled, lips a slight shade of blue, Azriel couldn’t hear your heartbeat and the bond had faded to a dim light sending his love down only to feel hollowness at the other end.  Tears slid down his cheeks as his shadows confirmed what he already knew:

Gone

Gone

She has left.

A little dark head of hair wandered in and Azriel jolted as the heir of the Night Court climbed on the bed. “Auntie!” His little jovial voice echoing through the room. Azriel moved and covered his mouth as he shut his eyes fighting the sob. “Auntie, it’s time to wake up.” The Shadowsinger opened his eyes to find Nyx brows furrowed. “Auntie?” He shakes your lifeless form before he places his head against your chest, as Rhys and Feyre reached the room. Nyx lifted his head, his lip wobbled, as he met Azriel’s eyes.  “Uncle Azzy, why can’t I hear Auntie’s heartbeat anymore?”

Feyre’s cries broke the silence as she also realized how still you had become. Rhys looked at his brother as he held Feyre close. Azriel didn’t miss that he held her closer than normal, not that he faulted his brother.  Rhys’ throat bobbed as though he was trying to contain his emotions, for his mate, and his son. “How long?” The High Lord’s voice cracked.

“We fell asleep. Her memory came back last night.” Azriel picked up Nyx.  “I woke up, she was gone.”

“She’s right there.” Nyx argued. “Auntie, didn’t leave.”

Feyre sniffled as Azriel pressed his cheek to his nephew’s head, “Her soul is gone, Little one. Her body was not meant to live as long as us. She aged and yesterday her soul left this plane of existence.”

Nyx’s eyes, so much like his father’s, lined with silver. “Will she be lonely? I don’t want her to be lonely.”

Azriel held the boy close not noticing Cassian rushing in, pain lacing the General’s face as he walked over to your body. Grabbing your limp hand Azriel whispered, “No she’s not alone, sweet prince. She’ll be busy.” Cassian kissed the top of your hand and Azriel tried to keep his composure.

“With what?”

Feyre answered, “Watching over us. She’ll want to see her favorite nephew grow up.” She walked over, opening her arms so that Azriel would hand Nyx. “Uncle Az needs a minute let’s go down and grab you something to eat.”

The small child simply nodded as he cried into his mother’s sweater. Rhys and Cassian lingered, “I’m sorry, Azriel.” Cassian was the first to speak. “She was a wonderful person.”

“A better friend,” Rhys interjected.

Azriel climbed back into the bed and pressed your lifeless corpse to his chest, allowing the tears to fall. “My perfect mate.” A shadow slithered from your ankle and swirled wildly until spotting its master. The lone shadow lingered by his ear whispering.

I’m Here

I’m With You.

Forever.

🌟🌟🌟

A century had passed without you though Azriel never felt alone. Not when one shadow would remind him you were near. Especially as he lay in the same bed you once did after a mission had gone terribly wrong leaving the spymaster fatally wounded. Sweat coated his brow as Nyx now a grown fae male held his hand, “Uncle Az, I’m sorry I should have listened.”

“Your stubborn, like your father, I’m used to it.” Azriel coughed and blood sputtered from his mouth just as said brother walked in, Cassian in tow.

Nyx rose, “Father, I.”

Fury laced Rhysand’s eyes, “Go see your mother, Uncle Cass and I will be having an at length discussion with you about following orders.” Guilt laced the young males’ features but to Azriel’s surprise, the prince puffed his chest out and walked out of the room, not sparing his brothers a second glance. Azriel smirked.

You would have been so proud of the male he has grown to be.

“He’s grown up so much, hasn’t he?” Your voice carried and Azriel’s head snapped toward the door. His shadows scurried away and began swirling around your body. Not the older woman you were when you left this world, no you were the young woman who braved the fae lands alone. The fierce youthful woman, Azriel had fallen in love with, the only difference was your skin had an ethereal glow and your dress of tool, sleeves draping off your shoulders and down your feet.

“Angel,” Azriel whispered smiling, as Rhysand and Cassian sat at either side of him.

“Madja, said that the wound was laced with poison, she said he might hallucinate.” Rhys spoke holding onto his brother’s hand as if the grip alone could keep him from disappearing.

“We have spent over 600 years together,” Cassian’s tears falling. Azriel’s eyes remained on you as you walked deeper into the room. “I was supposed to go first.” Cassian’s sobs were thunderous but were muffled to Az as he watched you place a hand on Rhys. The High Lord briefly looked over his shoulder as if he felt your touch.

“You noticed my shadow huh?” You giggled as your eyes met Azriel’s hazel ones “I promised you I would be with you. I kept it.” Azriel wanted to speak but you held up your hand, “Baby, save your words.” You looked over at your friends. “They need them more than me right now.”  You moved and Azriel thought you glided from one spot to the other where you pressed a kiss to Cassian’s cheek. A gesture the general always returned. Cassian’s hand slid there tentatively as if remembering your sweet gesture from years ago.

“Cass,” Azriel’s lips chapped throat tight, “You are my dearest friend. Thank you, for being kind to me and showing me what a brother really looks like,” Cassian’s voice broke as he kissed Azriel’s knuckles.

“Fuck you, you prick. You can’t leave. Please don’t leave.” He choked out, Azriel’s gaze turned to Rhysand.

“Rhys.” Azriel wheezed, “It was an honor to serve as…your spymaster…” Rhysand silently cried as he rested his forehead against the shadowsinger’s knuckles. His shadows are still swirling and kissing you. Azriel continued, “Being your brother, and Nyx’s uncle…has…been my greatest…honor…go…easy… on him…” Rhys nodded not being able to form words.

You approached your mate, “My love.” His eyes fluttered shut as your hand reached out and cupped his cheek. “I have been granted the greatest gift.” You pressed your lips to his head, “I get to bring you home with me. We can be together again.”

Azriel hummed as another fit of cough erupted from his mouth jolting his two brothers’ alert. “Az, stay with us.” Rhysand’s voice grew panicked. “Azriel, please we still need you. Nyx needs you.”

Azriel’s eyes creaked open, and Cassian noticed life fading from them. “I love you both. Take care of each other.”

“Az-

Azriel cut the general off, “She…” both Cassian and Rhysand stilled, “is calling…me home…”

Rhysand and Cassian then looked to where his shadows were swirling, as if they could see you there. Cassian squeezed his hand fighting the tears. “Tell that little spitfire, hello for me.”

Azriel’s eyes began to droop. “I understand,” His violet eyes looked to where yours would be though he couldn’t see you, “I know you’ll take good care of him, like you did when you were here.”

You leaned down your breath lingering over Azriel’s lips, “It’s time to come back to me.” You kissed his lips and as you did, Azriel’s grip loosened from his brothers’. The roar of Cassian deafening. You pulled away from Azriel’s lifeless body only for hands to grip your waist hoisting you up, there was a glow to the now tanned arms, though his hands, no longer scarred, they were how he had always wished them to be, unharmed, undamaged. His nose grazed your skin, “I missed you too, Azriel.” He hummed.

“My Little Angel.” He pressed his lips to your cheek, “Take me home.”

You led him away, your hand adjusting to the now smooth skin of his own. He looked down at his hands and grinned, and your heart soared “No phantom pains, no ugliness.”

“They were never ugly, Azriel.” You scowled and kissed his knuckles. “Come now we must go.” You led Azriel away from his lifeless body, only to pause and turned to his shadows that were following the two of you, “Take care of them. You hear me.” The shadows nodded and swirled around Rhys and Cassian as if wrapping them in a snug blanket.

As they walked down the hall, glancing at Feyre holding a sobbing Nyx tear of her own, Azriel’s voice broke your concentration. “Tell me the story.” He didn’t need to elaborate.

You paused causing him to stop too, you pressed your lips to his, and he cupped your cheek. You put a hand to his chest and lightly pushed, “There once was a human girl, who fell in love with a fae male.” Azriel smiled as you led him to the afterlife.

His Perfect Little Angel.

~Fin

[acotarxreader]

Mirror

Rhysand x Reader and Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: You were gifted with the ability to mirror other fae's magic with a simple touch and your free spirit nature leads you to cross very close to the borders of a hidden city, where your future best friends and soulmate snatch you out of the sky to protect their border.

Warnings: ANGSTY AF, a lil fluff, action, mentions of injury and breaking bones, silly Rhysand, high drama

Inspired by Tolerate It & My Tears Ricochet by Taylor M.F Swift

A/N As voted for by you friends! (Kinda fitting you choose the taylor inspired fic when I'm off to have her change my life lol) Okee this is a long angsty buddy. I used the timelines from this website and I hope that translates well.

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

1692

You had met your three best friends including your soulmate by pure luck of the Cauldron. Lost along a long mountain road, you wandered through the hills of a stretch of Night Court long-forgotten, as the Spring snow settled. You moved through the overgrown coastal trail, the shadows of the trees allowing you to shield yourself from the elements as you used your ability to shapeshift into the ease of the eagle cutting through the air. 

A bloodcurdling roar left your hooked beak, plummeting through the canopy of trees, using a strike of power to change to your Fae form, the arrow split through your upper arm where a wing had once flown. You rolled as you hit the ground, absorbing the force and pushing it away again, splitting the soil. You lay for a moment looking up at the night sky you had just cut through, gaining your bearings, your skin fusing around the arrow and pushing it out of your skin without your intervention. You sat up at the sound of light feet crossing the undergrowth before forcing yourself to stand, a hand hovering over a blade strapped to your leg. A knife sailed through the air, darting past your head, missing you by millimetres to sink into an oak tree. 

“Look, I’m not super into this covert ambush nonsense” You called out, your voice bouncing off the flora. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes lightly before spinning on the ball of your foot, releasing your knife from your thigh through the air, the sound of sharp groaning your reward. You followed the path of the blade to find a young Illrian, one wing pinned to an ancient tree, blue syphons shimmering to match his hazel eyes. 

“Damn, I’m rusty, I was aiming for your shoulder” You mused quietly, Azriel’s eyes scrunching before he reached for the blade, only to have you do it for him, freeing his flesh. The act of freeing someone you intend to hit confused him. His hand went to cover the spurting blood, a glow seemingly radiating from your energy, Azriel wishing to bask in it for the rest of his days.

You outstretched a hand to pull him to his feet, Azriel entirely confused but equally enchanted. He contemplated taking it until you spun back away from him to send your knee up and into the stomach of another hazel-eyed Illyrian. 

Cassian took the brunt of your knee but was mostly unshaken, stretching to catch your throat with crushing force. You managed the lightest of light laughs through your shrinking windpipe before flexing your fists. Cassian suddenly felt your neck seemingly harden against the strength he exerted on you. Your muscles almost looked to toughen in his grip before he released a single drip of pressure on you, enough for you to winnowing to behind him, sending your elbow into the back of his head with a crunch. Azriel’s shadows shot forward the action causing an obvious smile to decorate your face, the Shadowsinger’s eyebrow raising as he attempted to stand again as you dodged his dear smokey friends, only one crossing your hand. 

Rhysand flew into your side as Cassian reached the ground, the two of you rolling briefly, matching your winnowing course with unrelenting precision. You felt a grin grow as a slight stream of blood sprang from your forehead, mirroring the one from Rhysand’s lip. An onyx shadow darted from one of your flexed fists, knocking Rhysand backwards from on top of you, his wings splaying to rebalance. Azriel jumped to pull Cassian back to his feet, not quite sure he had truly seen what he had from your fists. 

“Oh, another High Lord’s son” You half laughed as you managed to stand to put space between you and the three warriors. 

“Who are you!? Who sent you!?” Rhysand barked, his two brothers now flanking him, syphons gleaming in the moonlight. 

“I’m just out for a leisurely trip through the Night Court, your Lordship” Your opal eyes shimmered briefly, stunning the three for a microsecond, your smile daring them to play with you. “No such thing as leisurely in the Court of Nightmares” Cassian matched the tone of his brother, the voice that boomed through legions. 

“You don't think I actually believe that?” Your amusement had Rhysand seething as Azriel studied you carefully, his shadows leaping to his ears with the rapid relaying of information, his eyes widening. 

“Enough” Rhysand’s hand raised to turn you into the same mist that decorated the hillside, Azriel suddenly leapt in front of the son of the High Lord of Night, causing Rhysand to flinch. 

“Stop, she’s mirroring our magic!” You licked your bottom lip before a deep smirk etched into your face, the three males not releasing their fighting stance. A matching expression painted Rhysand, his violet eyes reflecting sharply. “Rhys! Don’t go into her hea-” Azriel’s warning wasn’t fast enough, Rhysand sank to the ground with a thud, his hands gripping his head with white knuckle force as he screamed out in pain he hadn’t felt in decades, not since his shields had been reinforced beyond breaking. You stood, head tilted, unblinking and beaming at the sight, one fist in a ball. Cassian dropped to his brother’s side, trying to think of any possible way to relieve even an ounce of Rhysand’s pain. 

“Stop!” Cassian shouted, feeling a whole new level of useless, Azriels eyes unable to pull away from yours. Rhysand forced his eyes open, the violet glinting before dimming ever so slightly. You released the hold instantly at the sight. Plum flushed across Rhysand's face as Cassian helped him to stand again on trembling legs, oxygen flooding his starved muscles. 

“Should have listened to the Shadowsinger” you mused. 

“Who sent you?” Azriel tried again, your eyes fixating on Rhysand.

“No one sent me, I'm just passing through” You brushed the dirt from your tumble with the High Lord's son from your sleeves, the mark of the arrow healing to a scar. 

“Wh-at do y-ou want?” Rhysand rasped out, Azriel's shadows slowly slipping towards you, darting back to their master with a simple glance from you. 

“I just want to continue on my travels” You looked between the three, sinister smiles now long gone, your truer gentle demeanour taking shape, your shoulders relaxing. 

“Where are you from?”

“Look, I'm not on trial here, I'm just passing through-”

“-My Court”

“-Your Father's Court” You tease, a glint crossing Rhysand's eyes, he pulled from Cassian's grip, striding closer to you. 

“Rhys-” Rhysand only lifted a hand to silence his two brothers' caution. 

“Remarkable” he did a small circle of you, your hands now relaxed at your side, ready to flex if necessary.  

“And so what? Are we to really believe you have no goal on this side of the Night Court?” Rhysand continued.

“I'm just trying to see the world” 

“Remarkable” within arms reach of one another the both of you stilled your movements. 

“What Court are you from?” Azriel met Rhysand's side, your examining of one another breaking. Cassian remained further back, waiting and watching, the strong sense something had been borrowed from him still sticking to his skin. 

“I'm not from a Court per say, I am tied to no land, no home” the two brothers share a brief glance before returning back to Cassian to form a huddle. You didn’t feel it necessary to go into your heritage, The Middle frightened most into another attempt on your life at the mention of it. 

“We should just direct her back”

“As if she'd go Cassian”

“How'd she even get this deep in the Court?” Azriels shadows felt heavy with the lack of information they had on you.

“We’ll figure out that later, she's too close to…you know where to allow her to keep going onwards” The three whispered to one another as you rocked back and forth on your feet, hands finding their home on your hips.

“If the ‘you know where’ is Velaris-” the three males face shot towards your almost bored tone “-I have no interest in exposing your little city, like I said, I'm just trying to see the world” That was all you remembered. Shadows swarmed you with such precision in overwhelming volume it caught you entirely off guard. Their control swaddled you with some air of comfort before pulling you through the space they occupied, Rhysand's tendrils curling around your mind compelling you to sleep, unable to fend off the power of the three combined without formal training. 

–

“What are we going to do with her?” 

“I’m not sure Cassian but she knew about Velaris somehow and we need to find out” Rhysand whispered his reply while looking at your body flop down in the chair they had strapped you to. 

“She said another High Lord son to you Rhys and she was shapeshifting, what if she’s from Spring?” Cassian circled you, matching Rhysand’s pacing, Azriel watching pensively from his comfortable shadowy corner. 

“It's hard to know what she meant. I’ve never heard of someone with her abilities”

“Do we tell your father?” Azriel replied, slipping from his corner to join his friends standing in front of you. You groaned slightly as a shadow traced around your ankle. You rolled your chin along your collarbone, managing the strength to force your head into equilibrium once again, eyes still weighing heavy.

“We don’t tell him unless necessary, he’ll destroy her for this ability” Rhysand squatted down to reach your eye level, a hand landing on knee, rocking it gently to bring you around. The sudden loud banging of doors above the basement had Rhysand standing again.

“I think he knows” Cassian looked to his brothers. Sure enough the High Lord of Night had felt the energy shift even when you were kept deep within the bowels of the House of Wind. The door banged off the hinges as pure power stormed into the small chamber in the shape of his father, Cassian and Azriel standing to attention. 

“Who is that?” he bit, no reply from the males as he stalked closer to you. 

“Who brought her here?” he barked, Rhysand moving to lift his hand only to have Azriel get there first, forever defending his brother. 

“You bring a stranger to my city? I’ll deal with you later” Members of his own inner circle arrived on the scene. 

“Wha-t is happen-ing?” You whined out, eyes adjusting to the light as they widened to the audience in front of you. 

“How did you know where to find it?” Rhysand’s father’s tone dripped with cold as you looked towards Rhysand, a somewhat sympathetic look gracing his face. 

“I’m just passing through” You practically yawned out, hands working their way out of their bounds from behind the chair out of view of your spectators. 

“Well, I’m not sure how much you’ve seen, only that it’s all too much” He leaned inwards as he spoke mere inches from you. Your foot slid along the floor to touch against his foot, his head looking down at the action. He grasped your throat then, forcing a similar pressure Cassian had applied. 

“You-You just took something from me” The slithering feeling of your tendrils dancing around the High Lord’s head had him dropping the force he held on you. 

“You gave it” The thud of your bounds hitting the floor was all you needed, balling your hands together behind you and pushing deep within the High Lord’s head.

“Watch her hands!” Cassian shouted, the room's guests all overwhelming you, Rhysand fighting through your shields once again to send you to sleep as you kept a grip on his father's mind preventing him from misting you. 

-

The next time you woke up you cried out into the dark room. Through blurry eyes you found one of your hands nearly completely crushed, with both of them pinned down flat on a table in front of you with metal bindings, unable to flex. You roared out until your skin tinged blue in mourning.

“Ple-please don-t struggle” The almost quivering voice had you lifting your head towards the darkness. Azriel stepped out into the strip of light the rising sun had provided, his face marred with its own punishing wounds. He had tried to stop the cruelty shown to him from being projected at you. You attempted to move your hands once again, the metal seemingly tightening around you more, causing your lungs to rattle air out in pure pain. Azriel rushed closer to you, dropping to your level as you gritted your teeth, vibrating against the restraints that bound you to the chair. 

“They tighten when you move, the High Lord-he did that, I-I tried to stop him” he managed, your glare heating him, his shadows beginning to swirl around you, their cooling nature giving the smallest drop of relief. One graced past his ear before he nodded, it then flying to the base of your wrist where the knot of locks lay, beginning to attempt to free you.

“We’re gonna try to get you out, tell them you overwhelmed my powers, I’ll deal with whatever that brings” The shadows span frantically, the subtle sound of the lock clicking meeting your ringing ears. You hauled your hands back to your lap, face contorting in anguish. Azriel retrieved a wrap from within his jacket, spinning it like a web around your brittle bones, your eyes tracing over the deep fissures that decorated his own hands before beginning to work on the bindings at your back. You stood as they hit the ground, Azriel hesitating slightly to rest a hand on you to steady your step. 

“Please tell me you’re okay?” He looked down at your marred hands, unable to keep the curiosity to himself. 

"My-my hands" the voice that left you didn't belong to any part of yourself you had met before, your destroyed digits cracking through your heart. Azriel took no further hesitation in holding you into him, no longer caring if you took every cell of power from him, only wanting to provide you some shelter from a similar fate he had faced

“Az, I think I agree we gotta get her ou- oh” Rhysand stood in the doorway, violet eyes illuminating the room, almost pulling you into them. 

“We tried to-to stop him” he repeated Azriel’s earlier plea, your eyes looking back to your withering digits. 

“Cassian, the one you tried to coldcock earlier, will meet us with a healer” Azriel spoke softly again, Rhysand moving towards you.

“Just stay out of my head” Rhysand offered with a smile, trying to take the edge of the air out of the room. He nodded to Azriel who left the room to alert the Night Court that you had escaped. Rhysand wrapped an arm around your waist, your brain screaming at you to not trust him, your heart deciding it was worth it. 

—-------------------

1700

You looked down at the long table in the long-forgotten room deep within the House of Wind, your fingers traced over the deep holes in the table, their slightly crooked nature catching in the divots. The War had ended and soon this table would be used to begin to forge a new path to peace. After the three had freed you, you met them at different intervals over the years, Rhysand requesting your help at various stages, saving them on a few occasions in the trenches of the War that ripped through Prythian. 

“Oh, I was coming in here to get rid of that table” Azriel said from behind you, a smile growing across your face as you turned to him. 

“I think we should keep it, let it remind them what they did to me before they saw use in me” Azriel nodded, the war ageing him to almost unrecognisable from the twenty-something-year-old who had helped shoot you down in the woods. 

“Poetic my love” Rhysand called out from the doorway, equally aged by the horrors of war, he planted a kiss on your cheek, Azriel averting his eyes at the action, ignoring whatever twinged through him. You weren’t sure when Rhysand had gone from your enemy to your ally to your partner. Somewhere between him providing you with a place to plant roots in the depths of the Night Court hidden from his father and you saving him from being blown to bits in the ditches of war maybe. 

“We should move this table upstairs with the other things going to Hewn City” Azriel suggested, wishing to take his mind off the both of you, Cassian entering the room with his usual ease. The three gathered around the gigantic table, attempting to lift it. 

“YN, help Azriel with his end” you nodded to Rhysand’s instruction, Azriel fighting the urge to glare at him.

“YNN, please be careful of your hands” 

“I will Az” You smiled softly at him, Rhysand pursing his lips briefly at the action.

“Do you mind Cass?” He shrugged his shoulders, offering his hand for you to hold briefly before removing your hand to flex it, the bones creaking in the action as your strength felt as though it doubled. You caught hold of the corner adjacent to your partner, your new strength aiding the three.

“Does it hurt mirroring?” “Sometimes it hurts my brain-” you laughed to Azriel next to you“-it really is a matter of tactics, the last fae I touch and choose to mirror pushes out the last power I mirror away from me” he nodded in understanding before Rhysand and he winnowed together with you, Cassian and the table. 

The landing came with a hard thud, the gigantic ancient table weighed down with centuries of cruelty. You groaned as you released your corner, hands contorting in a spasm. Azriel released his section, almost instantly meeting your side.

"YNN, come on let's get a soak made up" "She's okay Az, it happens to her all the time, she has to get used to working through it alone if she is to return to the battlefield alongside us" Rhysand reprimanded the Spymaster for his close proximity to you, his own arm wrapping around your waist in an almost possessive nature. Azriel's eyes searched yours as you held the weaker hand in the other, the spasm unending, releasing another painful breath from your mouth.

"Start tomorrow" Azriel bit, looping his arm through your elbow, taking you from the High Lord's grasp to seek out Madja.

"I'll go Az, you take the table" Rhysand slipped his arm back to your waist, half pulling you back into him, the pain taking your attention away from the tension-filled air.

—-------------------

1800

“It's our home my love, surprise!” Rhysand pulled his hands from covering your eyes, they lit up instantly at the sight of The Town House. You turned to hug him so tightly he thought his ribs may crack. 

“I can’t believe you” you laughed hysterically before practically skipping up the driveway. Roots you never thought would grow from your heart that was born to see the world sprouted through Velaris. 

"I've never had a home like this Rhys" A small flow of salty water threatened the rims of your eyes before they fell parallel to your smile.

“I love you YN” the roots sank deeper with the words.

—-------------------

1850 

“YN? I thought you and Rhys had plans tonight?” Azriel asked from the entryway to the Town House, you sat alone at the dining table, candles sinking to the end of their wick.

“Oh Hi Az, eh yeah, he got- he got called away” Your soft voice was tinged with tears that threatened to fall, the plate of untouched food adjacent to you now stone cold. You stood, taking the plates into the kitchen, scraping them off before sinking them into bubbly water. 

“Oh, sorry to hear that” you just hummed in agreement to him as you polished the plates.

“The House looks great,” he offered quietly.

“Thank you for noticing” You saw a tear fall from your cheek into the suds, you lifted the ornate plate from the water, something seizing in your hand as you did, the plate falling to shatter into a thousand pieces as your hand cramped.

“Fuck!” You shouted, kneeling directly down into the shards, gripping your contorting hand with the other, the tears now freely flowing.

“YNN! Hey hey it's okay!” He met your side, his hands tracing over yours gently. You looked up to meet his eyes as they attempted to coax you through your unsteady breaths. His thumbs traced circles around your palms, massaging the seizure until it gave in. Azriel pulled you back to your feet, ceramics crunching underfoot as he brought you into the living room.

-

“You did not” The laugh left you loudly at one of Azriel’s happier stories from his time at Windhaven involving pulling Rhysands trousers down in front of the whole camp. The two of you sat on opposite ends of the loveseat, curled up in the warmth of the Town House. 

“True story, Gods, we got up to some trouble” he smiled down at his lap and then beamed to you.

“You must have your own stories YNN?” “Not really” You shrugged.

“C’mon now, you travelled a lot before we met you, no great stories?” “None that I can share in the company of gentleman” His foot slipped to tap against you playfully before bending back up to his chest beneath his blanket. 

“Rhy’s thinks I talk too much about that time” You shrug.

“I want to hear every story, at least twice-” You rolled your eyes at his genuine smile "-Do you miss travelling? Flexing that wonderful power of yours?” “I think, I think I was looking for something back then, I thought I found it” You looked at hands as they flattened out as straight as they could.

"What you found was trouble" Azriel grinned and you nodded in agreement.

"Do you enjoy mirroring?" His head tilted, his greatest interest was your greatest asset.

“It can be difficult now, I think I returned too quickly to it after...what happened but Rhys needed me in the war and...I'd break myself for him"

"You already have YNN, you owe him nothing, we owe you everything, if a return to exploring the world is what you want you should have it" He watched you inspect your hands as he had for centuries since his own battle wounds.

"I just want to be happy Az" A single tear fell from your cheek to meet one of your scars, the fissure in your skin like roots in a tree.

"I want you to be happy YNN-" You looked to his sincerity, it enveloped you in kindness "-and if that means never mirroring again, then so be it" "Mirroring Rhys sometimes is the only way I feel close to him” You admitted, curling your fingers back, a full fist still not easily achieved by the hand that was totally crushed.

“It gets easier-” he gestured to your wicked scars “-dealing with the cruelty of others but... No one YNN, and I truly mean no one, should get to treat you with anything other than love” You just nodded softly in reply, the sound of a click of a lock sending your head in the direction of the doorway.

“Rhys!” You leapt from the couch, sweeping away any trace of tears, Azriel hating how easily you compartmentalized it all away in front of Rhysand. You ran into the arms of your partner, a battle hero's welcome as he seemingly brushed you off like a little kid.

“I’m going straight to b- Az? What are you doing here?” “Just keeping YNN company, I’ll see you both tomorrow” He didn’t allow for further questioning, dissolving into shadows. You fixated your stare on the space, Rhysand brushing past you and straight up the stairs. Alone in the living room that you had painstakingly decorated for the two of you. You looked around, a small shadow you created leaking from a fist you managed to ball together before you outed the light. 

—---------------------

1900

“YN could use her abilities” “YN deserves rest Rhy’s, she is eager to travel to the continent” “I won’t risk her abilities Az-” Azriel’s head tilted slightly to the misspoken word “-Her, I won't risk her” 

“But you’ll risk her to expand your border?” Cassian spoke with his own concern similar to Azriels. Rhysand rolled his shoulders, brushing off the question before standing from his chair.

“Needs must”

“She's not your weapon!”

“But she is my partner!” Azriel sat further back in his chair in shock, Rhysand hadn’t spoken with such sharpness since he tried to convince Azriel to allow his father to handle your future centuries ago, his darkest secret. 

“Enough” Rhysand walked to look out the window down to you in the courtyard of the House of Wind, happily stretching in the sun. 

“Are you going to go out to her? She doesn't know you've returned from your trip yet, she misses you” “No, I have more important things to attend to right now, she’ll wait for me” He dismissed himself from his own meeting, flashing out of the room.

“Green is not your colour Az '' Cassian laughed from the table as Azriel found himself watching you from the window, sinking into shadow to join your side in the sun.

—----------------------

2158

“Rhys! Take me with you, please!” “No YN. Enough!” He pulled the tie around his neck until the knot sealed delicately. His eyes met yours in the mirror as you sat on the bed behind him. 

“I-I never get to be around you much anymore” You admitted, your head dipping as Rhysand turned to face you. 

“YN, this will be a boring political ball that Hybern’s emissary is hosting, you’re not missing anything” “I’m missing you” You looked up, the glint in his violet eyes you saw so many years ago had not been seen since. His hand traced along your cheek with such tenderness you hadn’t felt from him in so long.

"You'll wait for me" The words hung between you as he kissed the top of your head and walked out the door without looking back. 

—-----------------------------------

2201

“Wait YN! Hear me out!”

“NO!” you span on your heels, allowing Rhysand to bounce back from you before pushing him away further into the chest.

“YN, I don’t want to hurt you but-” “But! Exactly! You are! Fifty fucking years I waited for you! And what's the first thing you say to me?! She’s my mate! And now you’re going to go and get her and bring her here! To our home!” Rage-hot tears flooded your face, every nerve standing on edge at the feeling of this cosmic betrayal. 

“What do you want from me YN, I just-I just love Feyre!” Rhysand caught your wrists as you went to hit him further, equal despair painting his face. You felt yourself tense in his grip, a very old injury still reminding you of how you got here.

“YOU USED TO LOVE ME!” the roar left you in a blind fury, never had you raised your voice at Rhysand but never had he betrayed you so deeply.

“I can’t make this better! I want to but I can’t, please” he found himself crying now too. You stopped pulling against his hold, two sets of wild eyes landing on one another for what felt like the first time in a long time. 

“You don’t love me, Rhysand. You tolerate me, tolerate me for everything you used to love me for” A fresh set of words like knives fell through the space between you.

“YN-” “-Tell me now, tell me If it's all in my head. Even on my worst day, did I deserve this, All the hell you gave me? Because I loved you, I swear I loved you until my dying day and all you do is TOLERATE ME! TELL ME OTHERWISE!” Once the last voice crack had Rhysand averting his gaze from you as you shook your head, slipping your wrists from him. 

“I can’t tell you that” you backed away from him and the words you always knew but never thought you’d hear.

“I really hope she’s everything you need her to be” The words broke him further through your rattled voice, rage turning to mind-numbing sadness you hadn’t felt since hearing of his capture. You took steps back from him in the foyer of the Town House, seemingly unable to lift his heavy limbs from the marble.

Your feet nearly separated the cobblestone road as you trudged along, passing fae trying not to gawk at their almost High Lady. You stopped once your toes touched the wall protecting the city from the Sidra. 

“YN?” Azriel called out from the end of the bridge as he crossed, quickening his pace to you with your lack of reply. 

“Hey hey what’s going on, more plate smashing?” You huffed slightly into his chest through your tears at the absurdity of the memory. 

“I’m leaving Az” you muffled through the soft fabric, his tough hands finding your arms to push you back from him, deeply inspecting your opal eyes, hands still heating your sides. 

“Leaving? But-but we only just got Rhys back-” Your head dropped to his feet instantly, pushing the rising vomit in your throat away.

“YNN, please tell me, just tell me how I can fix it?” 

“Bring me back in time and leave me to keep flying away” You stepped fully from his grip, his shadows swirling around you, now mingling with the ones you created. You took the deepest breath, pushing a smile through your muscles, tears outlining them. 

“Bye Az”

“YNN, please where are you going?” He pleaded, your arms slipping from his grip,

"Anywhere I want to, just not home" You dissolved into shadow, leaving the Illyrian with his wings dipping to the floor.

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

Okeee friends what do we think?

P.S Did you catch that only Az calls reader YNN? hehe. Also, I have part two written and she's based on Who's Afraid of Little Old Me and My Tears Richochet so if you think that's something you'd enjoy please let me know hehe

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Bubbles | König x Reader

Day 7: Hoodie Weather w/ König

Summary: When Task Force 141 joins together with KorTac for a mission, he doesn’t expect the bubbly member of the 141 to give his entire base a Christmas surprise.

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: None!

A/N: the könig brainrot is deadly. it is infecting me at an unprecedented speed. on a positive note, we’re one week through with October! hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

You were known to him as the bubbly one.

König had caught his men referring to you as Blasen—bubbles, rather than your actual name, something he kept forgetting how to pronounce anyway.

How you, a small little thing compared to him, could be deadly on the field was a mystery to him, but your teammates in the little group you had, called Task Force 141, seemed to trust you. Especially the one with the mohawk. He often heard you and him laughing together down the halls, because of a mission where KorTac, for God knows why, required the additional help of the 141 due to border disputes with the enemy they were hunting down.

It was stupid. He knew that.

But you’d brought out a surprising little bit of happiness and cheer to the base.

Christmas was nearing, and you seemed to have settled into their base by now, despite not speaking a lick of German other than the very basics that you even butchered at that. You mostly just used basic gestures or made the tall man, with the strange mask, translate for you.

König woke up early in the morning, earlier than anyone else, pulling his clothes and uniform on, walking out of the bunks, only to find tinsel with little ornaments hanging from it, no lights—they would be a fire hazard, in the hallways.

If it weren’t for his mask, anyone could’ve seen the plain surprise and confusion on his face. His men surely hadn’t done it, he knew they were busy training, or keeping themselves occupied until the next mission. And the only other person with enough time on their hands, and the balls to pull it off, would naturally be…

“Ah.”

He muttered to himself when he found you, standing on top of two barrels stacked on top of each other, adding a small fake star to the very top of the tree that had somehow been moved inside the center of the rec room.

You must’ve noticed him despite his quiet steps, throwing your head back to give a bright grin, jumping off from the barrels, and landing on your feet to lean back and look at the decorated tree from afar as you backed up until you were right next to him, hands on your hips.

“What are we thinkin’, Kön?”

He despised the nickname. Or at least he tried to, despite the way your audacity alone made him want to let the laughs bubbling up in him go, and not hold them down.

“It is…a tree.”

He stated, swallowing, not sure what to say, wondering how you’d even gotten a tree in here, knowing it was real based on the sap he could smell coming from it.

“That, my friend, is a lovely observation.”

You said, grinning, clapping him on the back as he stared, utterly gobsmacked when you sauntered over and plugged something in, and lights began glimmering from the tree.

He blinked, blue eyes filled with confusion as he tried working out the math in his head, only to fail every time. He watched as you walked back over, looking proud as a peacock, despite the little shiver in your small frame.

“How.”

He asked, accent thick as you sniffled, nose running slightly, before answering.

“Well, I went and got a tree, brought it back here, then dug up some old shit from your storage room. Simple as that.”

König hadn’t even known they kept anything in that storage room. Let alone Christmas lights, or anything to decorate, really. And to gather an entire tree, it must’ve taken all night, and with the storm blowing through—

You must’ve been freezing.

No wonder you were shivering, small body not large enough to keep warm as long as his, or any of the other men on base.

He reached out, pressing the area where his glove and sleeve failed to overlap against your exposed neck, frowning with worry at the temperature he felt. You probably hadn’t known. How could you, when you were probably used to the temperatures at your old base? There was a reason they wore thicker clothing here.

Humming to himself in thought, he pulled the hoodie he wore over his normal uniform off, and promptly placed it on top of your head, watching as your expression transitioned from confusion to understanding, then amusement as you pulled it over your head, putting the arms in, savoring in the warmth the thick material brought you.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know. I would’ve been fine.”

You pointed out. He’d been expecting it. Women were undermined already in the military, so it was no surprise they usually made up for their size with their attitude and wits.

“You needed it, Blasen.”

He spoke simply, watching the confusion overtake your face again as you tried to figure out what he’d just said in German. It was a little funny. That was, until, he heard the signs of the other men in base waking up, with confused and excited German and English being exchanged through the base, with a familiar,

“Steamin’ Jesus!”

Being heard through the hallways your grin somehow spread wider. König heard Horangi and Nikto conversing, wondering what the hell was going on, only to stop dead in their tracks when they saw the Christmas tree in the rec room.

The masked man cocked his head at König, who only jerked his head towards you with a shrug, Horangi just taking everything in with a furrowed brow.

The 141 weren’t too soon after to file in after more soldiers on base, Soap first to greet you with a laugh and some gibberish in an accent so thick not even König could understand it. He ruffled your hair, eyes taking notice of the hoodie you wore, raising a brow at the large German man standing awkwardly nearby, watching, but commenting nothing.

Then another man he’d forgotten the name of came by, a dazzling white flash of teeth, then he was trailing off to find Soap and keep him out of trouble. The Ghost took one glance at the room, shook his head in what König assumed to be exasperation, and went to sit with Price, the man who seemed to be in charge and had been up early, taking all of the decorations into account already.

As everyone settled into the new surroundings, you and König exchanged a long glance, before you swallowed, almost nervously, giving a small smile.

“Well, uh—thanks for the hoodie. I’ll see you around?”

He took your words into account for a moment, before nodding.

“Ja. See you…around.”

And you sauntered off to the table where Price and the strange Ghost man were seated, only for Price to raise a brow at the hoodie you were wearing, muttering something König couldn’t hear from his distance before he walked to join his men.

He was greeted with a,

“Permission to speak freely?”

Carefully eying Horangi, he responded.

“…Granted.”

“Am I invited to the wedding?”

Tags:

@hawke1917

@flufftober

[daycourtofficial]

Everything is Not As it Seems

Summary: You’ve been abducted, and the inner circle have to find you as quickly as possible.

Author’s note: this idea’s been floating around my head all weekend so I needed to get it out. I’m thinking this will be three parts - I already have part two done and some of three ! Also I’m a bit obsessed with the idea of Evil!Eris.

You received a letter three days ago that hasn’t left you alone since. It’s a simple letter, requesting your presence, but it’s signed by a mysterious “hound”.

You’ve mentioned the letter to the Inner Circle, at first they thought it might be someone just messing with you. Telling them that there are things in the letter about you caused some of them to get really nervous.

“What do you mean, specific details?” Rhys asked, as you brought up the letter.

“Little things,” you reply, sitting in the seat next to Rhys, “for instance, it’s addressed to me as ‘Little Fox’. That’s a nickname my brothers gave me because I was born in the autumn court. There’s a line from one of my favorite poems at the bottom. They mention my favorite flowers. It’s small things, but I’m not sure. Things that people could know about me. It’s like they’re luring me in by telling me they know me. I really feel an urge to go to find out who this is.”

“If someone’s stalking you, sweetheart, running into their trap isn’t what you should do,” Cassian says, looking over your shoulder at the letter in your hand.

“I don’t think they’re stalking me - I just think it’s someone that knows me, or at least used to know me,” you say, pausing. “I don’t know how I feel about going. On one hand, why stay anonymous? On the other, what if they have important information? I don’t know what to do.”

Rhys is the only one who looks like he’s actually considering you going to this meeting, everyone else looks apprehensive.

“I think it could be beneficial. Even if they don’t have much to tell us, it could help us determine another ally,” the high lord states.

Azriel is trying to stay calm on the outside, but he is going feral on the inside. Sending you, alone, into most likely enemy hands? He won’t stand for it.

“We’re not risking your life for knowledge on potential allies,” Azriel remarks, looking at you not with possessiveness, but fear. “None of us want anything to happen to you. There’s not much to gain from this, Rhys, but there’s a ton to lose.”

You look at him for a moment, forgetting the point of this meeting, seeing the concern in his eyes as they’re focused on you. You’re about to say it’s a bad idea, not wanting to cause Azriel anymore stress, when Rhysand states, “you’ll go. End of discussion. We’ll have Feyre and Cassian nearby on the lookout for you.”

Seeing Azriel’s distress during the meeting almost made you beg Rhys to reconsider, but the high lord is currently under such a high level of stress, the last thing he needs is you complaining about this meeting.

-

The letter asked for you to come completely alone. Rhys and Feyre stayed out of your mental shields, afraid that whoever it was would be able to sense their interference. The only thing keeping you from completely loneliness were the two shadows wrapped around your ankles underneath your skirt.

Two shadows was decided - if anything were to happen to you, one would report back to Azriel while the other remained with you. It was the only interference from Azriel Rhys would allow. He wanted to be standing nearby, waiting for any sign of distress from you, but Rhys wouldn’t allow it. He was all too aware of the effect you had on his brother, and he was going to keep Azriel in his sight while you went to this meeting.

You were standing in the trees, at the border between winter and autumn, right where the letter asked you to be. The border is a mixture of deep red leaves littering the ground that trail off into about a foot of snow. The cold morning air making your breath visible.

You hear movement, ready to set eyes on whoever sent the mysterious note.

“Hello, Little Fox.”

-

Azriel could not stand still. Rhysand had never seen him so visibly under duress. Azriel, who usually kept stock still and kept a stoic expression. Azriel was pacing and his hair was standing up from how much he was running his hands through it.

“Azriel, she’ll be okay. If anything happens, she can winnow to us, to Cassian, to Feyre. She’ll be okay.”

Cassian was stationed in the winter court, Feyre in the autumn court, both equidistant from you, however too far for them to know what’s happening during your meeting.

“I don’t like this. Something feels incredibly off. An ally sending a letter like that? It feels more like a love letter than some form of allyship. I think you let the high lord position cloud your judgement on this.”

“If it were a love letter, she wouldn’t have entertained it.” The high lord said, looking through the correspondence on his desk. He knows his nonchalance will annoy Azriel, hopefully allowing him some reprieve from the concern he’s feeling for you.

Azriel tuts, “you don’t know that.”

Rhys sighs, “you’re right, if she thought the love letter was from you, she would have gone, no hesitations.”

The high lord smirks, looking at the shadowsinger to gauge his reaction. He stops mid-step, “don’t say things like that if you don’t fully believe them,” then continues his pacing.

“I’ve known her for a long time, Az. In that time, she’s had many suitors come to her. She’ll always go on a first date - she says it’s because “you never know”, or whatever. Since being here and meeting you, I haven’t seen her even glance at another male vying for her attention.”

Azriel stops, looks at Rhys’s face for a long time, trying to decipher any hint of deception. His face was void of it. In fact, he looked honest and almost vulnerable.

Before Azriel could ask more, one of his shadows comes whizzing in at an incredibly fast speed, news of you, circling around Azriel’s ears to tell him what it saw as fast as it can.

“We have to go,” Azriel says, his face darkening with concern and shadows.

-

“Eris Vanserra, as I live and breathe,” you say, a smile gracing your face.

You don’t hate Eris, you actually spent some time with him while growing up. You don’t know if you particularly like Eris, however you’ve always had a soft spot for him due to the cruelties of his father.

“You seem surprised to see me,” he says, a smirk growing across his face, “I’m glad you came.”

“Why in Prythian did you send me a cryptic letter, and not just tell me who was requesting my presence?” You ask.

He steps closer to you and the tree you’re leaning against. “Because I’m sure those dogs would have thrown out any correspondence addressed from me to you.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” you say, letting the dog comment go for now.

“Oh? Then what about all of my previous letters?”

You stop, “previous letters?”

“I’ve been writing to you for months, my dear. I had to figure out new ways to get in contact with you.”

His grin was so feline, your interest in this meeting at an all time high. If Eris wanted an alliance with the night court, why would he go through all of this effort to reach you?

“Well, you have my attention now, Eris, what is it you desire?” You ask.

A wicked grin takes over his face, as he removes his hands from his pocket.

“You,” he says, unfurling his fist to reveal a powdery substance that he blows directly into your face.

You stumble a little and cough, confusion knitting your brows. You start to feel very heavy, and instinctively you reach out to lean against Eris as your balance starts getting more and more unsteady.

Eris is taking a few steps back, making you follow him. What you don’t realize in your confused state is he’s leading you across the border into Autumn, and once you have both feet in Autumn, he allows you to lean against him as he wraps his arms around your waist and winnows you away, except for one tiny little shadow that begins heading toward the Night Court.

-

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Azriel is raving mad, having scoured the border for hours for you. “Where the FUCK did he take her?”

His shadow told him everything, how he incapacitated you, tricked you into willingly coming into his court. The shadows even recognized the faebane he made you inhale, however there was something different about this faebane they couldn’t quite figure out.

Azriel and Rhys scoured the location, with Rhys sending word to Cassian and Feyre to come to the rendezvous point.

“Brother-“ Rhys starts, trying to get Azriel to calm down. His anger was radiating off of him and the entire area was pitch black, with his shadows moving erratically.

“Don’t you dare,” Azriel snarls, “you convinced her to come here! You said “oh it’ll be safe! Cassian and Feyre won’t be too far away!” And now she’s gone! Who knows what he wants with her!”

Feyre and Rhys exchange a glance, clearly speaking to each other internally.

“Shut the fuck up! If you’re going to speak, speak out loud for all to hear!” Azriel barks.

Cassian was seriously concerned for his brother- he had never, ever seen him snap like that at anyone, let alone his high lord and high lady.

Feyre and Rhys were just as startled.

“Azriel, we understand, Feyre was in the spring court-“

“It’s not the same, not even one bit.” He bit back, “Feyre chose to go, she didn’t. Feyre is a High Lady, she isn’t. Feyre has tons of training and is powerful enough to hold her own against high lords, she isn’t. She’s with one of the most powerful non-high lord fae in Prythian. She can’t speak to us telekinetically, she has no mating bond to even tell if she’s alive, it is not the same.”

-

It’s been days since you were taken by Eris. All the inner circle can guess is that you’re somewhere in the Autumn Court. Eris covered his tracks well by having you willingly cross the border. Unless they had proof you were in imminent danger or being held against your will, there wasn’t much they could do, but that didn’t mean they stopped trying.

They even began going through the confiscated correspondence Eris tried to start with you, but it was mostly pleasantries, asking after Lucien, and updates on the lady of the autumn court, who you were quite fond of.

Azriel was looking paler than usual due to the loss of his shadows. They were all in the Autumn court, scouring every inch for you. They do as Azriel tells them to, yes, but he’s noticed how much they seem to like you. Some of them won’t come back to him when called, opting instead to play in your hair or ghost along your hands. He sighs at the memory.

Feyre is trying again to tap into your mind, just like she and Rhys have been trying to do the entire week you’ve been gone. Azriel was losing hope. He’d keep searching, he’d never stop searching, but he was losing hope.

Lost in his spiraling thoughts of a life without you in it, he was jolted from them when he heard Feyre gasp. “She let me in,” is all she says. The room has gone deadly quiet. “I’m not sure she knows I’m here, so I’m trying to keep very still.”

-

When you woke up, you were very confused. You must have fallen asleep at some point, the blankets wrapped around your naked body. The room you’re in is gorgeous, with brown walls, an ornately decorated fireplace, and beautiful artwork covering the walls. The door to your room begins to open and you breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of him.

“Hi sweetheart,” the male tells you, “I brought you coffee.”

The smell of the coffee hits you and you reach your hands out for a desperate taste of it.

“What time is it? How late did I sleep in?” You ask, taking a sip from the coffee cup. The notes of pumpkin melting onto your tongue.

“Mid-morning,” he coos, sitting next to you on the bed.

“And why didn’t you wake me?” You ask.

“I figured you deserved all the rest you could get after last night,” he says, placing a hand on your thigh, “and to have you well-rested for today.” He smirks.

You blush, still not used to this directness from him, “don’t you have work today?”

He sighs, “yes, yes, I just figured I’d bid you good morning before I started my day. Besides, I know you’ll be busy wedding planning all day. Wanted to see my beautiful bride at least once today.”

He kisses your temple, leaving you alone in the room, buzzing just thinking about his inevitable return.

-

Feyre didn’t dare broadcast the image to the Inner Circle. At first out of fear of what she might see - if you were being tortured, she didn’t want them to see that, especially not Azriel.

The contents of what she saw were almost more horrifying.

“Eris is playing tricks on her mind. She, uh, -“ Feyre looks around the room, afraid to tell them what she saw, making eye contact with Azriel, ultimately deciding to say something to get him to leave.

“He’s coercing her into marrying him.”

Everyone sits up straighter and chaos erupts. They all start yelling and bickering, trying to figure out what to do.

Rhys commands everyone’s attention, already having spoken with Feyre about getting Azriel out of the room.

“Azriel, see if you can find out anything about an upcoming autumn court wedding. If Eris and Beron are trying to hide this, it might not be known that it’s for a member of the High Lord’s family.”

Azriel leaves, thankful for something, anything, to keep his mind off of you marrying someone else and thankful for a small lead to finding you.

Once Azriel’s gone, Feyre turns to the group. “It gets worse.” She says, looking at Rhys in nervousness.

“How the Hel can it get any worse? Our friend being forced to marry him? What is worse than that?” Cassian asks, absolutely outraged that he let you go to that meeting.

“Eris has glamoured himself, it’s how he’s convinced her to go along with the marriage.” Feyre speaks softly, looking down at the ground.

The silence hangs in the room for a moment, and just when Feyre thought the silence would settle and stay for a while, Mor speaks up, “and who exactly is he glamoured as?”

Everyone in the room knows the answer, but they wait for Feyre’s confirmation.

“He’s glamoured as Azriel. She thinks she’s safe with Azriel in the Autumn Court and that they’re getting married soon.”

[crassstitchbeetch]

bee’s summer of stitching

ahoy! thank you for bearing with while i’ve been quiet here! i’ve been pretty busy. i’ve been using my stitching to unwind and calm down, and i’ve got through a bunch of work in the summer. here’s a rundown for your reading pleasure:

the only way to begin is by beginning | stitched by me on 18 ct | i LOVE gamechanger and i loved stitching this one!

ceasefire now! | stitched by me on 14 or 16 ct | good to spend time doing at the encampment. this pattern, as well as the other free palestine patterns, are freely available with an option to donate but honestly just donate to a gofundme

i've had ENOUGH aroace pattern | stitched by me on 18 ct | this took about a month to stitch and was really simple once the outline was done! this will look really cute on the wall near my aroace flag !

devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes | stitched by me on 18 ct | the pinks looked brighter than the pattern but i loved it! i’ve spend this summer working on my thesis so i’ve been drawn to simple designs and this was perfect. i also backstitched the font and border to make the project last longer (so i didn’t get hyperfixated on a new pattern)

the children yearn for the mines | stitched be me on 14(?) ct | i started this one earlier this year, but finished it this summer. got super close to the edge there but i’ve stolen @jennystudy’s technique of putting masking tape on the edges to prevent fraying, so it was all good!

take me back to the coconut tree | stitched by Pax on 18 ct | Pax is my flatmate and i got it into cross stitch over the summer. when i asked them for a review of the stitch, it said, “um… it was pretty fun. except for the bit where i didn’t have one colour because we went all the way to the craft store and i didn’t write it down so i didn’t get it. it was a good stitch.”

we all got a little barbie in us | stitched by me on 18 ct | like minecraft, i started this one a while ago (edit: a whole year! holy shit!) and came back to it later in the summer. this one is Lorge holy shit i did not expect it to be so big!

last, but not least:

under all conditions, i will persevere | stitched by me on 14 ct (grey) | i literally started this three days ago when the draft was already in my folder but i got through it q u i c k l y so i added it! this one is so cute, i’ve been wanting to stitch it since i designed it but never *quite* got round to it. this pattern is very special to me because of the damned stubbornness of dandelions and because they signal the end of winter, which is my least favourite season. i just love them

thus concludes the season of stitching i hope u enjoyed my silly little recap !!

[scarletwidowsbaby]

Little Pet

Summary: Something nefarious this way comes. Will you run before it's too late?

Pairings: Vampire!Nat x Hunter!Fem!Reader x Heretic!Wanda

Genre: Dark and slightly smutty but no sexy times.

Warnings: Sexual suggestions, blood, fangs, lingerie, dark magic. Minors dni, this is not for you.

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while but I gave it a bit of a touch-up. Hope you enjoy!

It was only dusk and you were already regretting taking the job. 

You had been hired by the local innkeeper to investigate the mystery around the abandoned manor on the backside of the forest��s mountain. Many adventurers had come in search of the manor, yet none had returned.

The fact that he was paying you three thousand coin per adventurer that you found was… possibly also the deciding factor. 

As you stepped onto the surprisingly well-kept lawn of the place, your hunter instincts went off. Something nefarious was here, lurking in the shadows, watching and waiting. You pulled out your sword as you entered through the giant double oak doors.

Immediately, your blade began to burn hotter than a thousand suns, forcing you to drop it. Thankfully, you had your fireproof gloves on from your latest encounter with a feral dragon, and weren’t burnt. 

“So sorry, dear.” A voice echoed in the grand pitch-black entryway, high ceiling above decorated with paintings akin to the skills of the Sistine Chapel. 

Not even God could save you now. 

“Come closer, dear. Let me see you in the light.” 

You noticed a speck of moonlight from a small window to the high right, almost casting a spotlight on the tiles in front of you. You cautiously stepped forward into it, unsure why, yet the voice’s chuckle was… unnerving.

“Why, look at you. A female hunter? Shall we call you Huntress?”

Your gaze steeled - there were more of them - before you felt a sharpness on your neck, a blur passing behind you. 

“Oh my. How… sweet.” 

You put your hand on your neck, your glove in the light showing a thin line of your blood. 

“Vampires.” You muttered beneath your breath. 

“Oh, not just vampires.” A new voice said, a clear glee entwined in her thick accent. “I do wish you would figure it out already.”

Suddenly, your body was lifted by an invisible force. You couldn’t move, save your eyes, and you were whisked through the house before you came to a throne room. You were practically thrown to the ground in front of it, a pair of sleek boots in your gaze. 

“It’s so wonderful to see another human try their luck here, isn’t it love?” The person, woman, in front of you chuckled darkly. 

“Let her lift her head, my dear. I want to see the life in this one’s eyes before I take it away.” 

The invisible force acting on your body released your head and you immediately lifted it, coming up to see two women. The one on the throne held a classic lop-sided smirk, her ginger-red hair flowing down her shoulders in simple waves. The other, standing beside the throne, was very clearly something else, with her brown locks tied back in neat braids done by a professional.

“A… here… tic…” You strained the devious hybrid species’ name through your lips.

“There we go. She figured it out!” She snarkily laughed, her eyes glowing as crimson as the bloodstains on her sleeves. 

“You are clearly a very skilled huntress. What is your name, sugarcube?” The seated vampire asked, her eyes set on yours. 

“Y/N.” Your name was pulled from your lungs by the heretic. 

“My my… No wonder Wanda liked the feeling from your sword… you are known for such giant feats of destruction in our world, Y/N the Huntress.” 

You guessed that Wanda was the heretic, given the grin that came onto her face. “Now now, love, I think you should introduce yourself. Give this huntress a good fright, yes?” 

You looked back at the throned woman, noticing a familiarity to a few wanted posters on the borders of the Darklands. “No…” 

“Yes…” She grinned, nodding her head as her sharp nails came to grip your cheek. “I am Natasha Romanova, Countess of the Mstiteli Clan. And you, dear huntress… are now mine.”

She pulled you up by your neck and made a neat slit across your skin, sinking her fangs into your vein whilst Wanda ripped your armour from your body with her magic. Wanda grabbed your wrist and pulled up your sleeve, making a neat slit perpendicular to your arm and delved into it. 

Tingling sensations spread from both areas, sending shivers down your spine. It was fast, and ruthless, as they didn’t stop even to let you breathe. You were trapped in the cycle of stuttered breaths, euphoria, and the effects of blood loss. 

When you rose, your body felt exactly how it was - weak, drained of energy, of blood. You felt your ankle had been chained, the cold metal stinging on your skin though it contrasted vastly with the softness of the bed beneath you. 

“Oh, now that’s a hangover headache for the ages.” You winced, lifting your hand to your head to simultaneously relieve the ache and brush a few strands out of your face.

“Is that what humans feel like when they’re blood is consumed? Intoxicated?” You jerked your head up - bad idea - to see Countess Natasha lying next to you in nothing but a black nightrobe and dark red lingerie. She gingerly brushed her fingers over your neck, which had small gauze patches on either side. 

“You.” You growled before instinctively reaching for your sword, only to feel another hand there. 

“You were right to melt her armour and sword, my love - she is such a feisty one.” Wanda giggled, her own nightrobe and lingerie adorned on her body. 

Wanda flicked some magic to your hands and they obeyed, pulling up until the wisps of red tied your wrists to the bed frame. “Though you can think of hurting us, now you can’t.” She grinned deviously.

“Now, sugarcube… what to do with you…” Natasha teased before she carefully began to peel off your gauze patches.

“Hey! That hurts!” You huffed before Wanda ripped the one near her fangs off with a sharp tug. 

“OW!”

They both chuckled and cooed at you like you were some soft malleable thing. 

“Calm down, detka. You’re such an impatient little thing.” Natasha rolled her eyes. 

“I’m not your ‘baby’.” You huffed, rolling your eyes before she quickly gripped your jaw.  

“Do that again and I’ll take away the pleasure from being fed on.” She whispered darkly into your ear, pressing her thumb and finger into your neck to pinch your airways. 

You paused, relinquishing, and she pulled away. “Good. Now, for ground rules: This coven is a respected coven. You are the only human we’ve ever taken in that won’t be turned, no matter how sexy you’d be as a vampire.”

“You see, baby girl… We own you now.” Wanda summarised, putting a small bit of ointment on your healing bite wounds. 

“Nobody owns me.” You retorted. 

“That ends today. Well, I should say tonight.” Natasha chuckled, tracing the outline of your face. 

“Yes, it does. So, we will explain the hierarchy to you: Natasha is Countess, so she will often be busy with coven affairs and our coven’s safety. Then, it’s me, considering I am her wife-”

“Wife?!” You exclaimed before Natasha’s finger pushed down on your sternum, her supernatural strength keeping you down in the bed. 

“Yes, my adoring, lovely, brilliant chef of a Sokovian wife. Now listen and be respectful.” The countess warned you. 

“As I was saying, I am second in the hierarchy. Then it is James, Steve, Sam and Scott - they are our ‘muscle’, even though some of them look like tanks and others not so much. After them is virtually everyone who is not an unturned child. Those we have accepted and who will be turned upon legal age.”

You listened carefully before you noticed an item in Wanda’s hand - a necklace. 

“This is something you will wear at all times unless in the shower. It is imbued with Natasha and mine’s scents and blood, should you ever need to be healed.” She said, clasping it over your neck and not afraid to let her hands wander a bit down. 

You turned your head away from hers, feeling some sort of spell over your body like the blood within the red stone was charged. 

“You feel it, don’t you?” Natasha smirked from above you, her hair tickling your neck as it hung down. “The power of us, the Mstiteli Clan leaders, though only a single drop of blood each. The power of vampires. You could have never defeated us, Y/N. Not even with your enchanted sword.”

“I did enjoy breaking those enchantments.” Wanda added.

You closed your eyes, trying to take everything in since you were still a bit dazed. “Nobody told me that you were Mstiteli. If I had known that-”

“You wouldn’t have come. We know. But we loved chatting to that innkeeper a few nights ago. He was just divine.” Natasha licked her lips and you understood the double entendre. 

“A few little drops of amber ash doesn’t hurt a fella. And without you to return and claim your prizes, we’ll keep getting willing meals right at our doorstep.” Wanda smirked.

“Such delicious, tasty meals… Speaking of, I want to have some more…”

You looked at the two warily. They stopped. What?

Natasha snickered darkly, cupping your cheek. “Oh, you really are as sweet as they come. No, what we did was a dominance show. Now, we go gently.”

Gently wasn’t the right word for her to use as she practically smashed her lips against yours, delving her tongue in to test if even your saliva was as sweet as your blood. Your hands, still chained above your head, were no match for Wanda’s power as she sank to your stomach, kissing and sucking at the exposed skin. 

“So divine…” She murmured, a flick of her magic warping your reality. 

“Hey! Bring my clothes back!” You yelled, mostly from embarrassment as you now wore the same nightrobe adorned on them but in crimson red… and without lingerie. 

“Patience, dear. We want our filling first. We will always come before you.” Natasha said, the words burning in your mind as she locked eyes with you. 

Then, she leaned in and reopened the wound with such precision of her fang she could be a surgeon. She sucked at your neck whilst keeping a firm hold of your body, her arm snaking underneath the nightrobe and around your back. 

“Come up here, Wanda. You were the one who wanted us to make our marks clear and present.” She chided her wife, who you hadn’t even noticed feeding on your wrist. 

“But she’s so beautiful… I want to sink my fangs into every inch of her, litter her body with my bite.” Wanda said and you could tell she was the far more possessive one. 

“Neck first.” Natasha said firmly. 

You felt like a blood bag. Nothing more than for something they can feed on and toy with, squish around in their hands to bring out every bit of life source. 

Then, you felt that tingle again. That rush of endorphins coursing through your veins, making you whimper beneath their touch. 

“Hush. Fuck, you’re delicious.” Wanda moaned against your neck, digging her fangs deeper. 

You quietened down like a good little pet and let them have their fill once more, your jostles of movement stopping quickly as fatigue set in. They were both grinning as they pulled away from your neck, fangs and lips smeared with your blood. 

“Wanda, go get some hot towels.” Natasha muttered, the heretic speeding away to bring a tower of hot towels. 

She leaned into your ear, kissing it gently. “Now hush, little pet. Time for you to rest some more…”

[mgparker]

keep your eyes on me

joel miller x f!reader

warnings: ANGST, stab wound, mentions of violence and blood, lots of violence actually, protective!joel, reader being moody and angsty, some gore (wound details), inaccurate stuff probably (definitely), inconsistencies for sure

word count: 6.63k UNEDITED

here’s the full version of ‘keep your eyes on me.’ i apologize in advance for the reader’s moody and angsty monologue in the intro and all that follows after. prepare the tissues?

The mission was simple.

A quick in and out, a regular check for supplies in one of the surrounding buildings of the QZ and that was it. Nothing you hadn’t done countless times already, even before Joel entered your life, and it was relatively easy.

The hardest part was sneaking past the supervised borders and even that had been figured out when you started paying one of the guards to turn a blind eye whenever you went out for a run.

It just so happened that this run had to occur in the smack-dab middle of a feud you’d found yourself in simply because you associated yourself with Joel Miller and Tess Servopoulos. 

It didn’t help that Joel, in particular, rarely associated himself with anyone at all. Perhaps that’s what made you a prime target in his dispute with his former partner Robert Navarro. 

Because Joel went out of his way to join your side more often than either of you cared to admit, it made sense that, in turn, Robert’s fury would extend to you. 

That’s how you found yourself a little more jumpy than usual, on edge as you scoured the few abandoned buildings in the far east of Boston that hadn’t been touched by common smugglers… or you. 

A crash tore you out of your compulsive thinking and you sprang into action before you could even blink. 

The end of your newly sharpened blade found Joel standing on the other side of it, a scorned look on his face mixed with a hint of annoyance. 

“You could’ve taken my eye out,” he grumbled with a slight shove as he moved past.

It wasn’t enough for you to lose your footing, but you scowled at him anyway. “Don’t expect me to apologize for your foolishness.”

“Never,” he called back from the next room. 

You pocketed the knife and sighed. 

Despite your banter, you’d consider Joel a good friend. And even that was an understatement; despite the code of living you’d created and stuck to since life had been uprooted and torn from beneath you nearly two decades ago.

Truth is, since the moment you met him, Joel Miller somehow dug his way into your rigid heart, along with Tess in some ways, but Joel was different. You weren’t sure if it was the hardened exterior that masked a broken person underneath, much like you, or something else, but it didn’t take long for his acquaintance to become friendly and then something more. 

Like it or not, the warm feeling you’d get whenever Joel would reveal a new piece of himself, no matter how meticulously small, or when he’d simply exist around you was something you couldn’t ignore.

And nowadays, as the world was quickly becoming even colder and harsher, it was a feeling you found yourself unwilling to let go.

It was near impossible to find something that inspired feelings that didn’t match the gloominess and grayness of the world around you, and now that you had, it was like a drug.

But if his knee-jerk reaction to pulling away from any type of affection or semblance of love is any indication, Joel Miller could not and would not ever feel as deeply for you as you did for him. 

And though it left a painful lump in your throat, you’d accepted it long ago.

For now, you’d stick to the passive aggressive flow you two seemed to fall into in each other’s company. It was how you two had first treated each other before you got involved in each other’s lives and it wasn’t going to change now. 

You knew for sure, despite all other uncertainties revolving your relationship, consistency is something you both needed in these trying days. 

You’d settle for it as long as he stayed in your life. 

“Find anything interesting?” You’d been silent for too long. You realized it with an awkward jolt and you set yourself back into motion.

“No,” you called back. “You?”

“The whole place has been swept clean,” Joel sighed as he came back into the room.

“That can’t be right,” you leaned against the wall and stared at your feet in confusion. “The smugglers haven’t gotten this far, I’m sure of it.”

You looked up to find Joel staring down at you with a hint of sympathy. He knew how excited you were about this one—it was a medical building. Tall with a few stories of what you’d assumed had been doctors’ offices and reception areas.

You’d been kind of right. It definitely seemed to have been an office building of some sort, desks still neatly organized in separate cubicles, but everything was pristinely empty.

No medicine, no supplies, no tools. Nothing.

“Goddamnit!” You furiously kicked a nearby desk over.

Joel continued to stare at you with the same brewing frustration. With what you were both expecting to steal and sell off, it would’ve been enough to get the battery Joel needed to get the hell out of dodge. 

Despite the trip being for the sole purpose of finding his brother, Joel knew from the moment you started splitting your illegal earnings with him, you had both feet in the door. Getting out of Boston was just as important to you as it was for him. And while it may have started out for personal gain, you started caring about Joel’s mission somewhere along the way.

And despite his best efforts against it, Joel started caring about you. Battery or not, you were here to stay. 

You were in his life.

When he focused back into the real world, you were pacing the office space, mumbling to yourself with waving hands.

“Seriously, even yesterday these cabinets had been full—”

“Yesterday?” Joel cut in with furrowed brows. “You were here yesterday?”

“Where do you think I got those prescription lenses?” You’d returned yesterday with a box full of glass lenses, not the cheap shit—actual optometrist lenses, shit that would make you a fortune on the black market once you came back for the rest. When Joel got back from work yesterday to where you, him and Tess had been shacking up (an ‘apartment unit’ that was falling apart), he’d found you sitting on your bed, grinning from ear to ear with a small box full of them.

It'd made you a good amount of ration cards and you made enough to quietly pay a man who claimed he had a functioning battery on the market. Joel didn’t know yet— you weren’t going to tell him until the deal went through and the battery was in your hand.

No point in bringing anyone’s hopes up until it was a sure thing, right?

You brushed past Joel, bristling at the thought of someone taking your fortune.

He followed you towards the door, hot on your heels. 

“You went this far out by yourself? Are you crazy?” He realized how pathetic he sounded. How it teetered too close to sounding like he cared more than he should, but he did. 

And the mere thought of you putting yourself in serious danger irked him in a raging way.

“Our options were getting limited, Joel,” you whipped around with flames in your eyes. “And it would’ve got us what we needed. If that makes me crazy, so be it.”

Protectiveness wasn’t unusual for Joel. You’d see it when anyone spoke to you in the wrong tone. How he’d snap at whoever for even looking at you the wrong way. You’ve seen it with his insistency in finding his brother. 

And you’re seeing it now.

Only this time, it didn’t cause those stubborn butterflies in your gut. It only fueled your ever-growing frustration.

Joel grabbed your arm firmly. “If something had happened to you—"

Slam!

It cut off Joel before he could finish, both of you whipping towards the doorway and looking at the stairs that led to the first floor.

“Spread out,” a gruff voice commanded below you. “They’re in here somewhere.”

“Shit,” you cursed quietly, ripping your arm from Joel’s tight grip, rushing over to hide against the wall next to the open door.

Joel did the same, a loaded pistol in his right hand, aimed across his chest toward his left. He stared at you across the doorway, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

You fell into immediate silence as Joel brought a finger to his lips, hushing you before you could utter another word.

“This is stupid, man. Everything’s untouched, are you sure they even came through—”

“Shut the fuck up. We follow his rules. We do our job, and we get paid and that’s it.”

Breath hitched in your throat, you stared over at Joel, watching his face contort with every piece of information the two idiots revealed.

“Isn’t he scared of this dude? I mean, if he wants them gone, why not come after them himself? Who knows what this Miller guy is capable of—”

“Get a fuckin’ grip, Santiago,” you nearly jumped out of your skin when his gruff voice sounded much closer. “It’s two of them against all of us. You’re a fuckin’ pussy. Don’t know why Robert chose you in the first place.”

Joel threw his head against the concrete with a roll of his eyes. But his fingers curled over the trigger and you did the same.

“I’m lookin’ out for myself,” their footsteps echoed up the stairwell. “You should do the same.”

Slowly raising your gun, your lips silently counted down.

‘5..’ Joel gave you a curt nod.

‘4’ “That’s exactly what I’m doing. Don’t talk about shit chu don’t know about.”

‘3’ You tried to check your ammo as quietly as possible.

‘2’ Something uncomfortable pricked at Joel’s stomach, staring at you as he imagined fighting side-by-side. It wasn’t his first time, but every single time got harder than the last. And this time, he wasn’t even sure how big the ambush would be. 

If something happened to you—

‘1.’

He shook his head a bit more aggressively than he meant, ignoring your questioning gaze, before swinging around the corner with his gun in one hand, blade in the other.

Instantly, the two men went to scream, but you and Joel took care of it quickly. You tried to ignore the pang of guilt in your chest as you fired your muffled weapon directly between one of the men’s eyes. 

Beside him, Joel held his partner against his front, hand over his gurgling mouth, blood spilling out the side of his neck.

Your eyes were locked on his until the man in his arms went limp and Joel let him drop emotionlessly.

You ignored the temptation to follow his body with your eyes and instead hardened your gaze toward Joel. 

It wasn’t his fault that you still hadn’t grown as desensitized as he had over the years, but your envy was hard to swallow. Even if you were better at hiding it, you knew Joel would’ve eventually noticed. Despite his careless exterior, Joel was a nitpicker, constantly inspecting, constantly searching. 

You were just glad that his faith in your abilities hadn’t wavered despite your stubborn empathetic streak. 

You refused to appear weak, especially in front of him. 

A rush of voices and footsteps pulled both you and Joel out of whatever spiral your minds had thrown you into, a calloused hand wrapping around your arm and dragging you to the center of the room and then pushing you to the right side behind a rather large desk. 

Your knees roughly hit the dusty mat in front of the workstation, and you whipped your head around to search for Joel before he could disappear within the room. 

A flash of brown hair was the only indication that your partner hadn’t left you high and dry, but you had no time to dwell on it. The door was busted down and a chorus of voices entered. 

They must’ve seen Santiago and whatever the other guy’s name was because there was a simultaneous shift in which your mind shut down everything else but the need to survive.

The sight of bullets flying registered before the sound of the shots, blood rushing to your ears and fingertips as you flew up instinctively, pulling your own trigger. 

The fight became quickly divided, a few more flocking toward Joel’s side of the floor and you felt the rush of determination more than ever. 

The adrenaline coursing through your veins as your mind chanted one thing only. 

Fight, survive, protect.

“You bitch!” A blonde came rushing toward you, face screwed in anger as he bared his teeth at you. 

He was lifting his gun, looking between you and Santiago’s body from behind your desk. You were quick to respond, lifting your weapon quicker and firing the bullet. 

You didn’t even get to see his body hit the ground. A sudden pain in your jaw blinded you, the force of a fist smashing against your face sending you tumbling into the nearest wall. 

Black spots dusted your vision and you quickly shook them away. You swung back and kicked against whoever had gotten the jump on you. 

His fist was wrapped in your hair, pulling as you fought back tirelessly. You managed to catch a glimpse of your attacker’s eyes before you were finally getting a grip on the pistol strapped to your thigh, firing into his side as he made one final move. 

Your skin tore quickly, stretching down your chest agonizingly, and you almost fell to the ground with him. 

A harrowing yell escaped you before you could help it. You’re not even sure how you managed to stumble away but you found yourself quickly pressing your hands against the knife that was still lodged in your stomach. 

Without hesitation, you ripped the weapon out. 

It was a hinderance to your survival, to Joel’s survival, and you couldn’t afford to wait on the sidelines. But then a wave of agony made you fall to your knees. 

You could hear your name being called over and over again, but then the blood was suddenly rushing into your head, your skull pounding behind your eyes.

Did you answer? Did you call Joel’s name like he did yours? God, the pain was blinding. Your hands shook violently as you tried to rip a piece of your jacket.

The fabric slipped between your fingers like water and you pulled away in frantic confusion.

Red. It was all over the place. It stained your fingers, your shirt— it wouldn’t stop. 

Why won’t it stop? 

A disgruntled breath escaped you, just as you rubbed your hands against your shirt again, and both things hit you like a freight train.

The pain, blossoming from the sharp intake of air and the contact against your ever present wound, was enough to send you tumbling in realization.

You’d ripped the knife out of your stomach. It wasn’t just a scratch. Your fight-or-flight mode seemed to override the severity of what had just happened.

“Shit,” you whispered, putting pressure against the wound despite every part of you wanting to pull away.

A distance away, Joel yelled your name again. It was desperate, enough to cut through your gaze of panic. As calm as you could manage, you threw him a glance over your shoulder. 

He was cornered again, three men surrounding him with knives and pistols. They were putting up a decent fight but it didn’t worry you. You’d seen your partner fight against greater odds and win without breaking a sweat.

As long as he stayed focused.

“I’m fine,” you called back to him, staring down at your blood-soaked hand. “Just got the wind knocked out of me is all.”

You hated lying.

The numbers behind you were slowly dwindling down...

Until suddenly they weren’t. 

A chorus of shouts emerged from the hallway to your right and a sudden rush of adrenaline numbed your pain.

You felt a flood of relief.

Joel couldn’t handle this alone. After everything you two had been through together, a stab wound was not going to take you out.

Not without a good fight before.

The grunts behind you finally died down and Joel was quick to join your side, pulling his handgun from the holster on his belt.

The action quickly started again, men flooding into the room with pointed guns.

Your finger pulled the trigger on instinct, taking down the closest man before he could make a move towards you. 

It was a series of bangs and flashes after that. Purely running off adrenaline and instinct, ducking behind whatever desks were still in one piece and flying back up with a bullet in tow.

Across the room, Joel was holding his own, clearing the room as quick as you were.

Suddenly, a bullet whizzed past your ear, close enough you could feel the rush of wind speed past you and you spun on your feet, firing before you even laid eyes on your final target.

Luckily, by the time you spotted him, the last man was dropping to the floor with a heavy thud.

Your arm fell slack, loosely gripping your pistol. 

It was silent for a few moments as you gazed over at your partner and he seemed just as winded as you.

Joel’s breaths were loud, chest heaving with exhaustion. He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees. 

“They must’ve been tipped off,” he said.

The adrenaline was slowly leaving your body. 

Weakly, you nodded. You didn’t even stop to think that he had his back turned toward you.

The air was suddenly punched out of your lungs. The pain was back, and it felt like the prick of a hundred needles. You weren’t sure you could hold yourself up much longer.

“Joel…” Your lips could barely form the word. Where did all your strength go in an instant?

He must not have heard you over his increasing anger. Joel was a loud thinker; at least, he was with you. 

For anyone else, the man was a damn puzzle that was impossible to solve. It’s what made you feel a pang of guilt, just as your legs gave out, because there was a dreadful feeling in your gut that maybe this wasn’t one that you could come back from. Not this far out from the QZ, and even then. Medical supplies were scarce and expensive, more than both you and Joel could afford even with joint forces, seeing as most of everything you had had gone into this mission.

You hit the ground hard enough to send Joel spinning faster than you’d ever seen him move. His stance was sure, gun back in his hand before you could even see it move toward his belt, ready to take on whoever else had threatened him and you.

Black dots began to fizzle the corners of your vision.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” Joel pocketed the weapon and rushed toward you. “Hey, Y/N, look at me.”

You tried. Your eyelids were too heavy.

A noise of panic left the back of his throat. “Open your eyes,” Joel grabbed your face roughly. “Look at me now!”

Startled, your eyes opened wide and a bit of awareness came back to you.

“What happened?” Joel demanded, scanning your body with urgency. His eyes zeroed in on your hands that were pressed against the wound.

Shakily, you pulled away and for a moment, he thought he was trapped in a nightmare. Blood coated your shaking palms.

“One of those fuckers got me good,” you hissed. Joel was mercilessly pressing his hands against your stomach now.

“Ease up, will you?” A flare of annoyance struck you when he pressed harder. “Jesus Christ—"

“I’m a little busy trying to save your life,” Joel gave you a hard glare. There was something in his eyes, a mix of frustration and anger and—and something else.

Joel Miller’s impeccable mask of calmness was cracking, panic seeping through the seams. 

That confirms it, you thought dreadfully. It really is as bad as I thought.

Things suddenly became blurrier than before. You squinted through the haze. “Sorry, I know. Sorry, it just—it just hurts.”

At that, he finally let up and curled his fingers around the hem of your torn shirt. As quickly as you nodded, Joel pulled the fabric up and instantly regretted it.

Though he tried hard to disguise it, you saw the drop in his expression, the disappointment in his gaze as he studied your stomach with a horrible poker face.

You looked up at the ceiling, a deeper pit in your stomach settling. You weren’t leaving this torn-up building. Not alive at least.

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, and you angrily blinked them away before Joel could see them.

“It’s not too bad,” Joel said finally.

If you had the strength, you would’ve scoffed. “Don’t lie.”

“Like you did?” He accused.

You dropped your chin to glare at him through half-lidded eyes. “We were surrounded. You were surrounded. I had no choice.”

He was looking down at your torso again and you dared to follow his gaze.

Torn skin, fiery red around the ragged edges of what had been a rather large, hefty blade. It nearly dragged down to your navel, bleeding profusely down into the fabric of your pants, likely ripped open by the rush of adrenaline that allowed you to finish the rest of Robert’s men.

“Don’t ever lie to me again,” he began to tug on your arm, dragging you up from the ground with a grunt. “Never again.”

A whine escaped you before you could stop it, teeth gritting from the blinding pain, and you had half a mind to whack Joel with all the strength you could muster.

“Fuck,” you coughed. “W-warn me next time.”

An apology was at the tip of Joel’s tongue, but he swallowed it down. He wouldn’t start going easy on you now. Not until he was sure you were out of death’s reach, and he could properly scold you for being so stupid.

“Talk to me,” he demanded as he more or less dragged you down the first flight of stairs, struggling to store his gun in the holster of his belt. His hands were shaking too badly and a wave of nausea hit him. 

“Why?” You hissed in pain, brain still foggy from the blood loss and irritated from the numbness in your legs. You weren’t making sense of anything. 

Joel bit his lip harshly. “So, I can keep you awake. You need to be alert, you hear me?”

You didn’t hear him. 

In fact, all you could hear or think or even see was blinding red, an ache so deep in your bones. You weren’t even sure if you were still dragging your feet along.

Your silence had Joel stumbling to a stop, pushing you against the wall and pinching your cheek desperately. Your eyelids were barely open. A string of mumbles left your lips and Joel firmly shook your shoulders. 

“It—” you centered yourself again. “It hurts—"

The world spun again, and you were suddenly looking straight up at the underside of his jaw, clenched in worry, eyes straight ahead as he began to hustle down the rest of the stairs with you in his arms.

As he finally made it outside, the lump in his throat got harder to swallow and something began to crack in his chest. An anxiety that he hadn’t felt since he had someone else in his arms like this, since spilled blood coated his arms and shirt.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not ever.

It was eerily quiet, only your protests that went unheard by him breaking the silence of sunset over the city, and his mind tortured him even further. 

Plaguing him with memories of when you were alive and well.

Joel knew he was in for a night of trouble when you came through the door that evening with a sly tone in your voice.

“Guess what I found today.”

“Trouble, no doubt,” Joel responded mindlessly, bottom lip pinched between the grip of his calloused fingers, troubled with memories of the past and the horrors of the possible future. 

You shrugged with a cunning smile on your face, sauntering to the ‘kitchen’ and out of his peripheral view. “Could be.”

He heard the clatter of your keys, the familiar rustle of you shrugging off your jacket, and he only looked up once you made your way to the edge of the living room. 

There was the hint of a smile on your face, as if you were containing an excitement over God knows what. It wasn’t often that he saw that particular look on your face. He secretly decided that he liked it a lot.

His gaze left your face as you pulled something out from behind your back and held it up with pride.

A dark red bottle dwarfed your hand in size, a peeling label wrapped around its front and he squinted his eyes to read the cursive inscription— ‘Tuscan Vineyards Cabernet.’

He looked up at you with wide eyes and you were full on smiling now. You walked over to him, and Joel had to arch his neck to look up at you from his spot on the floor. Gently, you handed it over.

“Can big and bad Joel Miller handle his liquor?”

“This is wine,” Joel scoffed, inspecting the bottle in his large hands. “I’d hardly consider this liquor.”

You watched as a hint of pink flooded the apples of his cheeks, despite his best efforts to ignore your teasing. The corner of your lips curled up.

“I don’t know,” you slipped the bottle out of his grip with a pointed sigh. “It’s been a while since we’ve had the good stuff. Our tolerance is probably not what it used to be.”

“Speak for yourself. I was never the first to tap out of any drinking game. That was Tommy’s job.”

You tried not to let the surprise show on your face. 

It was rare that Joel spoke about his past, and with how anxious he was to hear from his little brother, you were surprised he was bringing him up so casually. 

Busying yourself by getting up from some glasses, you threw an eyebrow raise over your shoulder. “We’ll see about that.”

Joel rolled his eyes. Even after you turned around, he kept staring at you, entranced by your fluid movements, reaching to set two glasses down and searching for a suitable knife within the stash you had accumulated in the apartment. 

There was something so normal about watching you flounce along the kitchen, eager to indulge in a treat you two hadn’t had since before the world ended. 

It was almost… domestic.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, Joel cast it away just as quickly, sharply looking away from your figure and glaring down at the carpet with a sudden anger. 

Domesticity and anything along the lines ceased to exist for Joel long, long ago. Even if an odd pang in his chest was begging him to look back at you and chase the feeling, he’d ignore it and bury it down deep inside.

He couldn’t afford to entertain such thoughts.

“Ah!” You carefully crossed the living room, two glasses full to the brim in your grip. “Finally.”

Seeing the alcohol had Joel perking up slightly, quickly accepting his cup with a familiar spark in his eye. 

“Thanks,” he grumbled slightly, still bewildered by his impulsive thoughts. Silently, he watched as you carefully lowered yourself to the ground beside him, folding your legs under yourself and letting out a sign of relief as your muscles finally took a much-needed break.

You were tempted to clink your glasses against his, and it seemed Joel had the same beat of hesitation too, but you quickly reeled yourself back in. 

This world hardly allowed for any wins, and now it was just pitiful to raise your glass in this day and age.

A nod will have to do, Joel decided first, and you gratefully tipped your head back toward him. 

The tartness burst along his tongue at the first sip, smooth but shockingly strong, carving its way down his throat slowly.

Beside him, you also drank with a pleased hum. 

“Where’d you find this?” Joel asked as soon as he’d gotten his first fill. 

“The city,” you avoided his eyes, busying your mouth with wine again.

You were a shit liar when it came to personal affairs. 

“I’ll ask again,” Joel corrected with the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Who’d you steal this from?”

“Some guy named John Dean, ’twas the name on the liquor license in the bar. You think I could afford this on the market? We’re lucky John had this stashed in the back.”

“I can see why. It’s pretty damn good,” Joel admitted.

“It is, isn’t it? It’s a shame Tess isn’t here to share with us.”

Right. He’d almost forgotten about her impromptu solo trip to ‘visit some friends’ in Detroit.

If he cared more, Joel would’ve pressed for more information, but Tess had never done him, or you, wrong before. It wasn’t his job to worry about her personal life.

Joel hummed in response. The sun was setting, casting you two in darkness and neither of you made an effort to get up and flick on the light switch...

Time must’ve eluded him because your voice cut through the silence that had settled like a knife. 

“We’ll find him, you know?”

Joel hardened his gaze and took another sip. The wall was suddenly very interesting.

“We’re going to find your brother,” you said again, staring over at Joel with a look he couldn’t quite place. Not even after he moved his eyes over to you.

Your eyes were rounded with sincerity, the golden hues of the sun reflecting in your gaze, lips parted with hints of stained red. The glass of wine hung between your fingers loosely, half-full but still briming with unspoken truths. 

It was that look in your eyes that cracked his rugged exterior, meticulously built from years of grief and horror. 

He wanted to say something, anything, but he was coming up blank. Ensnared by the absolute beauty you exuded in this very moment. 

He’s been looking at you for much longer than you’d consider normal, there’s no point in pushing anything away now. Might as well go the full nine yards.

And just as he was taking that leap, bringing his face closer to yours, his own hands flashed in his vision. 

Covered in a red deeper than the stain on your lips, dripping and dripping...

Joel pulled back with a jolt, unnoticing to the small sigh that left your mouth, and tried to blink away the blood on his shaking hands. 

He swallowed down the bile that threatened to burn the roof of his mouth with a sip of wine.

Death followed him around every corner. His failure to protect what was his would always haunt him.

He couldn’t allow it to happen again.

Your breaths evened out after a moment, and he listened to them with closed eyes.

An apology was at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t let you be another casualty. 

You had to stay alive. Joel would keep you alive...

You’d said something before he managed to fuck things up. 

Joel racked his brain for the memory. It seemed like it’d been so long ago. 

‘We’re going to find your brother.’ That’s what you’d said...

Joel would keep you alive, even if every nerve in his body ached to connect with yours. He wanted to explain it to you, but you’d made him a promise. He’s making one to you too. He’s going to keep you alive...

‘We’re going to find your brother,’ you’d said.

Apologize. Explain. His brain was screaming at him-- no.

Respond.

“Okay,” is what he settled for instead.

You were still alive. 

You were still alive and that’s the only thing that mattered. He had to keep it that way. 

“Stop,” you begged breathlessly. It was like he hadn’t even heard you, pushing on even as the sun began to set in the west.

How long had it been?

There was a buzzing in your head; it was numbing, as if you’d been injected with some sort of laughing gas. It was a little bizarre and it was enough to add some bass in your tone.

“Joel, please. Stop.” 

It was your grip that made Joel finally look down. Your hand, quivering and weak, had come to wrap around his bicep, nails digging in with urgency.

He staggered as he looked into your dim eyes, half-lidded and bloodshot red.

“Put me down,” you whispered. “Please.”

You were slipping away; he could feel it. 

It was happening all over again, and he was helpless to stop it.

“No,” he said firmly, but his body was still going through the motions. He was still falling on his knees, a shock spreading to his spine, but he didn’t feel the pain. 

All he could feel was you.

Your staggering breaths, the twitching of your hands, he guessed some sort of state of shock from the blood loss… It was probably a miracle that you hadn’t passed out from it all yet.

Gravel dug into his jeans, but he paid it no mind, frantically searching your eyes for something. Anything—any sort of solution because he couldn’t go through this again.

Desperately, he pulled up your shirt to look at your wound. The blood wasn’t clotting, it was going faster than your body could respond.

Maybe he could find something to stitch you up with, try to work through all the blood, but the small logical part of him knew that searching through any of these buildings would be like finding a needle in a haystack. And he didn’t trust that you’d keep yourself awake while he was gone…

With a jolt, Joel realized he was no longer hearing anything at all. Your breaths had gone eerily quiet, your hands devastatingly still…

“Hey!” Joel looked toward your face frantically. 

His shout jolted you awake, reaching toward the last bits of consciousness your brain could muster. 

It was as if a thousand-pound weight had been tied to your ankle and you’d been thrown in the ocean. Desperately reaching for the surface as you sank further and further. Like your oxygen was running out...

“Hey, stay with me, you’re not allowed to rest. Not yet.”

You’re barely able to pinpoint where the voice is coming from until he’s shaking your shoulders roughly. 

Your eyes focused back on Joel, a heaviness in your chest.

“Joel?” It takes an extreme amount of effort to form his name on your lips, but you know it’s worth the pain. The dull headache it forms to not give into the peaceful silence that sleep was promising you. It was luring you in, but love made in a little bit easier to keep yourself rooted to the land of the living.

“I’m here. I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not—”

He’s caught by surprise when a sob lodged itself in his throat. He did his best to swallow it down.

It felt like something was ripping at his own chest, breaking through the grief he’d buried down decades ago. And his grip on your body got tighter. 

Joel pulled you in to his body like he’d done years ago.

He loved you. God, he loved you. It was threatening to swallow him whole, the flood of emotions as he stared down at your pale cheeks and dim eyes. 

He’d denied himself the opportunity to love you, truly love you, because of his stubborn belief that he knew what was best for you.

He knew that if he allowed himself to indulge, he’d set you both up for disaster. Because that’s just how the universe worked for him.

But now, as he sat doused in your blood, Joel Miller felt a deeper heartbreak than anything he could’ve ever imagined the universe had in store for him.

He didn’t think he’d ever feel this way after Sarah.

He was a fool.

“Joel—” you breathed with a hint of a smile.

“Why? Why did you lie—you should’ve told me before—”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” you coughed, the taste of iron on your tongue. “I wasn’t going to let them get the jump on us. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you—”

You’re kidding. Even as you look death in the face, you’re talking about his safety before your own. 

It cracked his heart further.

His lips quivered and you were so close that you could feel the small puffs of breath that escaped them. “We gotta get back to the QZ, the sun’s going down. We gotta get you stitched up—“

Even though his knees screamed against it, he was already hauling you two back up before your shrill scream sent him right back down in panic. 

One look at your pained expression and he was reminded that he couldn’t afford to spare you the luxury of rest.

“I know, I know it hurts, I know,” he repeated because he was stuck in the same nightmare. “I’m sorry, I know.”

“No,” you begged. “We won’t make it. Please, please, Joel. Stop.”

He only managed a few staggering steps before he was collapsing again, shrinking into himself in anguish. 

It seemed like a century had passed as he sat on the gravel, cradling your frail body.

Joel didn’t even feel the tears running down his face until your fragile hand touched his cheek.

“I—I should’ve said it before, but I didn’t want to ruin what we had,” it was getting harder to breathe, but you knew this was what you wanted to use your last breaths for. 

“I love you, Joel Miller... And –”

Joel’s eyes flew open in shock, staring into yours in disbelief. 

He was unlovable, he’d made sure of that, but here you were. Looking at him with the most sincerity he’d ever seen in anyone’s eyes, glistening with unshed tears of what could’ve been.

“And I’m sorry I’m telling you this now. But you—you had to know. Tell Tess I’m sorry and that she better find what she’s looking for in—in Detroit.”

“Y/N…” His hands cradled your face, just as you ran your fingertips over his quivering lips.

“You’ll be okay, Joel,” you smiled weakly. “You’re going to find Tommy and you’re going to be okay.”

“Please.”

You seemed to ignore his plea, choosing to look over at the orange sunset with that same easy smile on your lips.

And when it slowly began to drop, when your eyes started to glaze over, Joel leaned over to press his lips against the corner of yours, feeling the air leave your parted mouth. And his lips found your forehead, pressing firmly with the whispers of a thousand apologies against your skin.

And there he sobbed, cradled your head into his neck, facing away from the sunset your eyes lastly rested on, the world falling apart at his knees.

Joel Miller loved you too. You left this world without knowing it.

He loved you too.

uh… this will be edited 1000% when i’m completely sober <3 tipsy elle clocking out!

— elle <3

taglist:

@rendiore @words-are-cheap @justhereforthosefics @angelmenace @lady-bellyn @encephalitiskat

@sloanexx @rendiore @words-are-cheap @justhereforthosefics @angelmenace @lady-bellyn @encephalitiskat

[dewdropdinosaur]

Smutmas Day 11 - Mistle-Hoe

Lucifer x Reader Summary: After a lavish night out for Christmas dinner, Lucifer has another surprise under his sleeve. Or rather, on his tail. Warnings: Oral sex, semi-public sex, cum, use of nicknames (ducky, dove, my king) in sexual context, etc. MNDI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Requested by @morganr26

The night was a symphony of winter—soft snowflakes danced in the air, and the streets of Hell’s downtown glimmered with crimson lights strung from wrought-iron lampposts. Y/N adjusted her maroon dress as she stepped into the extravagant restaurant Lucifer had chosen. Their first Christmas together. No small feat, mind you, and it was already becoming clear that tonight would perfect.

The dress hugged her figure in all the right ways, and the sheer confidence it gave her didn’t go unnoticed. Paired with a set of simple but elegant beige hells, Lucifer’s golden eyes gleamed with mischief and appreciation; flickering over her as if committing every detail to memory.

“You look stunning, dove ” he purred, offering his arm. “Though I must say, you’re making it very hard for me to focus on anything else tonight.”

Y/N smirked. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”  

The waiter greeted Lucifer with a bow so deep it bordered on theatrical, leading them to a private balcony. Perks of dating the King one would suppose. The table was adorned with black candles and ruby-red roses, their fragrance mingling with the crisp scent of snow and spice wafting from the kitchen.  

Dinner was an indulgent affair—succulent meats, rich wines, and an array of desserts that seemed designed for seduction. But as the meal went on, it wasn’t the food that held Lucifer’s attention. His gaze lingered on Y/N, his smirk growing every time her laugh tinkled like bells in the night air. She had given him his confidence back after Lillith’s disappearance, taking years of solitude and hovel and turning it into a year full of joy and love. For that he was eternally grateful.

“You’re staring,” she teased, dabbing the corner of her lips with a napkin. Eyes glinting down in a bashful display. 

“Can you blame me? You’re just so beautiful when you laugh” he quipped, leaning closer.  

As the night winded down, they stepped out onto the balcony to enjoy the view. The icy air nipped at Y/N’s skin, and Lucifer, ever the gentleman, draped his jacket over her shoulders. Albiet a touch clumsily, hands ghosting over her shoulders in a way that almost made his knees buckle, but that was for him to know only. 

“You’re awfully sweet for someone who’s supposed to be the very scary King of Hell” she said, wrapping herself in his warmth.  

“Ah, but sweetness can be just as sinful when applied correctly,” he replied, his tail swishing playfully behind him.  

Then, with the devilish charm he wielded so effortlessly, Lucifer unfurled his long, pointed tail. Hanging from the tip was a sprig of mistletoe, glittering with enchanted frost. He arched it above their heads, his smile equal parts playful and seductive.  

“Would you look at that? What strange timing,” he said, feigning innocence. “It seems tradition demands a kiss.”  

Y/N raised a brow, crossing her arms. “You just happened to have mistletoe ready?”  

“Dove, I’m nothing if not prepared,” he said smoothly.  

She stepped closer, the warmth of his presence drawing her in despite the chill in the air. “Well then, who am I to break tradition?”  

Her lips met his in a kiss that was soft but searing, a perfect blend of tenderness and fire. Lucifer’s hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her closer as if staking his claim. When they finally parted, his golden eyes glowed brighter, his grin impossibly wide.  

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he murmured, his voice a velvet promise.  

Y/N chuckled, brushing a stray snowflake from his hair. “Merry Christmas, Luci.”  

Leaning back in, Y/N’s palm caressed Lucifer’s cheek with a gentle tenderness that took the King off guard though it did not deter him. His tail wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush to his chest. Her body now pressed against him in a heated entanglement of heat and passion, lips locked and hands roaming desparetly grabbing onto anything they could get. Lucifer’s tongue swiped across Y/N’s bottom lip, a plea for a needed access. Granting the request, tongues engaged in an impassioned battle for dominance. 

Pulling away, though only for a moment, Lucifer lips trailed their vigorious assualt on Y/N’s neck. Trailing hot open-mouthed kisses to the soft and supple flesh of her neck, down to her collarbone; his hands slowly peeling her dress down from her shoulders. 

“Luci—we are in public,” Her voice came out in rapid pants, hands coming to curl themselves in Lucifer’s locks. 

“Don’t worry, no one can see us up here, dove.” 

The balcony was high on the fifth floor, shrouded in darkness and low candle light. Out of sight of any prying eyes but close enough to the toe the line of danger. Continuing to pursue his goal, his fingers pulled and allowed the fabric of Y/N’s dress to pool at her feet. Pinning her against the edge of the stone wall, eyes roaming hungrily across her form. 

“No underwear, ducky? Bold move—“

“Only for you, my king.” 

Letting out a gasp of surprise that was quickly replaced with a lewd moan, Lucifer dragged his knuckle over her dripping slit. Marveling at how her body reacted to him, each moan and buck of her hips into his hand, Lucifer was nothing short of mezmerized by his girlfriend’s perfect figure. Working his way down, his face ended between her thighs. Diving in, his tongue lapped up all the juices that spilled from her needy cunt. Sucking softly on her clit, delving as deep as his tongue would allow. Gripping the wall behind her, eyes shut in blissfull ectasy. 

Biting her lip, attempting to quiet herself, the only thing heard was the pornographic amount of slurping from the now kneeling King of Hell. Taking her lack of noise as a challenge, Lucifer would never admit to using magic to make his tongue larger to increase her pleasure. Greedily sucking at every drop that spilled from her now puffy cunt.  Not even seconds later did her release hit her like a tidal wave and ropes of cum now soaked Lucifer’s face, still lapping and working her through her high. 

Pulling away after a moment, Lucifer looked up at Y/N with dark and blown eyes. Taking in her disheveled form, the way her hair framed her face now shrouded in desire that he caused. And as the snow fell around them, the Prince of Darkness held his queen beneath a winter sky that seemed to burn just for them.  

[artificialbreezy]

AN: I’ve jumped on the best friend trend. so plz enjoy this best friend Noah smutty thought i had. this was a quick write, and also written on my phone so plz ignore the capitalization errors.

NSFW below the cut ◡̈

Honestly, if anyone were to ask, you weren't sure how you would have told them. how it started, who brought it up, or even how the topic came up. but here you were, pj shorts at the foot of his bed, legs spread and Noah watching you from his desk chair.

you were both giggly about it. it seemed silly, but he’s your best friend who cares? but that all went away the second your legs spread. the man's eyes going a little wide, pupils blown as he watched your hand roam down your body.

this wasn't sexy, well it wasn’t meant to be.

"uh, like this?" you asked, a little embarrassed. "fuck, this is stupid."

you were against his pillows, the show long forgotten, the bowl of popcorn moved to his desk. Noah was still at his desk, starry eyes watching you intently.

your hand was down the front of your underwear, shakey fingers searching for something you shared you’d never been able to achieve on your own.

you still were questioning why you told him.

Noah adjusted himself, his growing cock pressed against the fabric of his shorts. forever wishing he put on boxers today.

he didn't know the rules when it came to getting yourself off in front of your best friend. so he kept it a little light, laughed breathily and asked, "you're such an idiot. are you even touching your clit?"

his words ran through you, a simple question truly but it was bordering on the dirty talk you desperately craved to come from his mouth.

you squirmed, shrugging, unable to take your eyes off of Noah. he was watching your hand move, content with seeing your fingers moving through your folds.

"i think so?" you claimed. "i don't know. it's just, it's too wet to feel anything really.”

Noah felt his breath get stuck in his throat.

you watched his cheeks burn, wondering if he'd move closer, if you asked.

you don’t know when, but he’s at the edge of his bed now. still in his chair. his fingers brushing against your ankle.

"no, I know. fuck, um-" Noah swallowed, shifting again. "move in circles, be a bit softer. fuck, sweetheart. yeah, you'll feel it."

so you did, two fingers exploring slowly, up and down between your folds, moving a little higher until you reached the spot he was just picking on you for, the pads of your middle and pointer touching a little bump that made your breath hitch.

you laughed to yourself, feeling stupid, feeling floaty, searching for that high. you crinkled your nose, as you did slow circles, soft and shy.

"oh," you mumbled, mouth parting slightly. still watching Noah.

he pressed his lips together, eyes flickering from your hand to your face.

"yeah? does that feel good?"

"uh huh, feels good."

you thought you heard him let out a soft noise.

"will I come?" you asked, still feeling small. "if I keep doing this?"

you were squirming again, moaning softly, chasing your high. he was watching you, open mouthed.

he was too far gone to try and hide it, when he dragged his palm over himself, you moaned, eyes following his movements.

"yeah, fuck. just keep doing that. do what feels good, okay?" voice hoarse, and wrecked, "you're doing so good, baby."

the praise made your hips lift from the bed a little, fingers moving down a little further, confidence building as Noah kept rubbing over his cock,"holy shit, that's fucking hot. you gonna show me how tight you are?" he croaked.

“uh huh”, head tipped back into the pillows. you wanted him to keep talking. you just didn't know how to ask him.

your foot slipped, bumping into Noah's arm and he caught your ankle, wide palm wrapping around as he held you. making you shiver.

"oh, there you go," he murmured. “that's it, baby. fuck, you're so good. can't believe you're gonna let me watch you cum. gonna be a good girl and show me how bad you want it? won’t ever need anyone else after this. just me and you.”

[hunkpossession0]

Saw these two hunks chilling on our mountain trip, and me and my friend were eager to steal their bodies. The plan was simple: wait until they were alone, use the enchanted stones we found last summer, and swap our souls with theirs. I ended up in the body of the long-haired one, and my friend took over the other.

Feeling the weight of his muscles, the power in his limbs, was exhilarating. My long hair swayed in the breeze, and I couldn't help but admire my reflection in the nearby stream. My friend was having a similar moment, flexing and laughing with newfound joy.

"Guess we should head back to camp," I said, my voice now deep and rich. We walked back, exploring the sensations, the way our new bodies moved. Every step felt different, more grounded, more alive.

As night fell, we set up a small fire. The flames cast shadows that danced across our chiseled features. My friend, in his new body, couldn't stop touching his biceps, marveling at the strength.

"Let's see what else these bodies can do," he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes. I felt a rush of excitement, a thrill at the possibilities.

We moved closer, exploring each other's new forms. His hands ran down my back, tracing the contours of muscle. I reciprocated, feeling the hard planes of his chest, the tautness of his abs.

"I've never felt anything like this," I whispered, leaning in. Our bodies were drawn to each other, an irresistible force pulling us together.

We spent the night discovering every inch, every sensation heightened by the unfamiliarity of our new forms. It was as if we were learning to be human all over again, but this time, with a layer of intense attraction we hadn't anticipated.

By morning, we lay exhausted but satisfied, tangled in each other's arms. The mountain air felt different, clearer, as if we had become a part of it. The hunks' bodies were ours now, and with them, a new understanding of who we could be.

"I guess we're stuck like this," my friend said, a hint of amusement in his voice. I looked at him, feeling a deep connection, something that went beyond just the physical.

"Yeah," I replied, smiling. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Body 1: The Long-Haired Hunk (Me)

Standing tall at 6'3", this body exudes an effortless blend of strength and grace. The long, flowing hair cascades down to broad shoulders, catching the light with a hint of natural wave. His piercing blue eyes are framed by strong, angular features—a chiseled jawline and high cheekbones that give him a rugged yet refined look.

His muscular build is evident with every movement. Defined pecs, sculpted abs, and powerful arms showcase years of dedication to fitness. His skin is sun-kissed, hinting at a life spent outdoors, and there's a confident swagger in his stride. Tattoos snake along his right arm, adding an edge to his otherwise classic good looks. This body is a perfect blend of warrior and model, turning heads effortlessly.

Body 2: The Short-Haired Hunk (My Friend)

Even more imposing, this body stands at 6'5" with a massively muscular build that demands attention. His short, dark hair is stylishly tousled, revealing a pair of intense, hazel eyes that seem to see right through you. His face is equally handsome, with a strong nose and a slightly cleft chin giving him a distinguished air.

His physique is the epitome of power, with thick, bulging biceps, a broad, barrel-like chest, and legs like tree trunks. Every muscle is defined and exaggerated, creating a look that borders on the heroic. His skin is a warm olive tone, suggesting a heritage of sun-soaked climates, and he carries himself with a natural, easy confidence.

A few faint scars on his knuckles and forearms hint at an adventurous past, adding an element of intrigue. This body radiates a dynamic energy, as if always ready for the next challenge, and his infectious smile suggests he's more than willing to take it on with you.

[cherrychilli]

Slip of the Tongue

A mini series I 18+ I Enemies to lovers

Chapter two

Eddie Munson x neighbor! reader

Reader and Eddie are the same age - she's in College and he's repeating his senior year once again.

Chapter Summary: Eddie invites you back to his room for a one on one demonstration of his skills.

A/N: Sorry for edging y'all last chapter. This one's pure smut start to finish. Enjoy💛

Chapter warnings: Oral sex (f), fingering, squirting

Tag list rules:

New additions: Make sure to both reblog the chapter and comment to let me know if you'd like to be added to the list and PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE CLEARLY LISTED IN YOUR BIO IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED. AGELESS BLOGS/BLANK BLOGS/MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Current tag list: Make sure to reblog the chapter if you'd like to remain on the list for future updates.

The stress had taken its toll on you.

Juggling two part time jobs while studying for your college midterms had you running on fumes, unable to unwind no matter what you tried. The little time you had to yourself was usually spent catching up on sleep but that wasn't ever enough to reinvigorate you, not when you had other needs that went unmet in the meantime.

You were desperate for some real stress relief, bordering on delirious. You had to be because how the hell else could you explain ending up in Eddie Munson's bedroom? Lying in his bed, your panties amongst the litter of cassettes and fantasy magazines strewn across his bedroom floor, and said boy's head between your thighs.

"You better not be wasting my time, Munson", you tried your best to sound tough, a near impossible task when his lips are brushing against your inner thigh, so very close to your slit. He had your skirt pushed out of the way to bunch at your waist, large, rough hands wrapped around your thighs which bracket his face.

"So feisty", he cooed back in reply, breath puffing warm against your core.

It's all so painfully surreal, being here like this, but you try your hardest not to think about it too hard for the sake of keeping your sanity intact. About how Eddie's got you laid out and completely exposed, your bare pussy mere inches away from the boy you'd come over to yell at, the same boy who'd caused a fair amount of the tension he's now offering to help relieve with his tongue.

"Don't worry. I'm going to take real good care of you", he breaks you out of your internal spiral, a teasing but lighthearted lilt to his voice as if somehow, he'd sensed your nerves.

And then he says, "You ready?"

It's a simple yes or no question, much easier than the ones you've been pouring over for days in your practice tests but you find this one the hardest to answer. Not because you're unsure of what to say – you had your answer ready and tucked at the back of your throat ever since his fingers climbed up your thighs to tug at the waistband of your panties.

No, it's because you’re certain that when you answer him, everything’s going to change.

"Yeah...go ahead", you manage to wring the words from your throat, fingers clenching his sheets, eyes trained up at the ceiling because watching him somehow feels like too much.

The few seconds that elapse before his mouth descends on you feels like you’re freefalling, a sharp, plunging descent with no way to prepare yourself for the impact of his tongue gently licking at your folds, thighs jerking as he lapped at the slick which had gathered when you watched him play through the window.

"Y' know, for someone who's always in a sour mood you taste pretty fucking sweet", he smirked, knowing it would set you off, thumb momentarily skimming your folds in place of his tongue.

Ordinarily, a comment like that would have earned him a knee to the groin but now, in this maddeningly bizarre situation you've find yourself in the middle of, your body reacts against its usual instincts, hips shifting off the bed to chase his mouth for more.

"Don't stop", you mutter loud enough for him to hear, tone somewhere between commanding and imploring, eyes slipping shut.

You've never felt a warmth like the kind that seeps into your veins like sunlight when Eddie's broad tongue parts your folds, licking his way up to your clit to lightly swirl the pointed tip over your sensitive bud, hands bringing your hips back down to bed to hold them firmly in place.

"Shit, Eddie that's...nice", you sigh out, perhaps the most civil thing you've said to him in weeks.

Everything smelled like him – the sheets, the pillows, even you, you realize as you turned to press your cheek against his mattress, your hair now carrying the same woodsy, smoky scent, inhaling a little deeper to take in that undertone of boyish musk you find yourself strangely drawn to.

His scent.

Another soft swipe of his tongue along your folds has your toes curling but what's makes the fluttering sensation brewing in the pit of your stomach grow stronger is knowing that he's carrying your scent too.

"Oh fuck..."

The way his tongue roams you is slow and lingering, not at all like what you'd watched him do with his guitar but fuck does it feel good, having his fingers press into the meat of your thighs like he’s afraid you might slip through them at any moment, teasing your clit with soft kitten licks, plush lips occasionally trapping the bud to suck lightly before releasing it again.

He's building you up for what's to come, taking his time to find out what makes your breath stutter and your spine curve in an effort to press yourself closer to him, getting you to loosen up and give yourself to him.

Minutes go by like this though you’re not sure how many. Ten? fifteen? maybe longer, of him lazily laving and sucking gently and it's amazing but it’s also only nearly enough, steadily stoking the fire inside you. It’s enough to draw out a soft pants and muffled moans out of you, enough to make all the tension that had wound you so tight begin to unravel but not enough to grant you the release you're seeking.

Chest heaving, you can’t bring yourself to beg, afraid of what you might sound like if you did, a choked whine of Eddie’s name so close to spilling from your lips already. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing it.

Angling your right foot, you’re able to reach down and press your heel into his waist, not forceful, just enough to make him pull away from cunt, lips sheened with your slick and chin brushing the soft curls on your mound when he peeks up from between your legs.

“Need more already huh?”, he beats you to it, knowing and smug.

As much as you wanted to deny it, you already missed having his mouth on you. Lips pressing into a thin line to show your annoyance, you try to grasp at the right words from the jumble of them knocking around inside your head, hoping to pick the ones that might help you seem less needy than you actually feel, not wanting to boost his ego more than you probably already have.

“What you did earlier when you were playing… that was different”, you point out carefully.

“I know, I’m just getting you ready”, he explains matter-of-factly, eyes dropping back down to your cunt, gently spreading your folds apart with his thumbs with rapt attention.

“I am ready”, you try to argue, a little breathless but firm.

Eddie meets your stern gaze again and gives you a skeptical look in return, holding your stare for a few more seconds as if assessing you before he ultimately yields.

"Alright alright. Listen, uh - this might get a little intense so just um… pinch my hand if it gets too much for you and I'll stop, okay?", he winds one arm around your hip, holding out his hand for you to take.

The shift in demeanor has you slightly taken aback. He’d been so cocky for most this, showing shades of something softer at times but this was the most blatant display of that side of him so far – no sass, no crude remarks, no teasing jab. It was a side you’d seen glimpses of back when you were in school with him, that considerate streak he was sometimes partial to like when he’d taken in those freshmen who didn’t seem to fit in anywhere else. You never thought he’d show you the same kindness, no matter how veiled. Part of you even thought you didn’t deserve it after all the squabbling you’d initiated over the years.

Tentatively, you stare at the hand he offers you, his words echoing in your head loud enough to override your temporary and uncharacteristic bout of guilt.

Intense? Too much for you? Fuck, it's so hard to keep from wanting to grind your core against his face when he says things like that.

"You're pretty confident, aren't you?", you say instead, stalling so that you could discreetly wipe your palm against his sheets before you place your hand in his, afraid yours might be sweaty.

"Yeah, I am. And for good reason", he grinned, curling his much longer fingers around yours as you rest your joined hands close to your belly button, hoping he couldn't feel the storm of butterflies flapping their wings wildly inside your stomach.

“Oh, but first–”

Despite your best efforts, you can’t contain the pathetic yelp he rips from you when he pulls you closer by his free hand, picking your legs up abruptly to get them over his shoulders, spreading you even wider and getting you so close that you’re practically locked in place.

"Eddie-shit", you try to scold but it’s no use.

There’s no more soft, gentle licking when he dives in, tongue moving boldly to pulse against your clit with enough pressure to make your whole chest feel like its crackling with pops of electricity. He’d warned you it would be intense and you learned he was a man of his word, thighs twitching and quivering around his cheeks and curtain of curls. You squeeze his hand instantly, not pinching, he notices, a sign that it’s okay to continue as you throw your head back.

Spiraling again, you’re at a complete loss as to how good this feels. It never felt this good with the other boys and it definitely didn’t feel like this even when you touched yourself. How could someone who’s never touched you until today be able to get you like this so quickly and so easily?

Well, the position certainly helped. You’re entirely at his mercy like this, pinned in place from the waist down, suddenly very aware of how strong Eddie really is, not what you’d expected of someone who spent most of his time occupied with fantasy games. He groans, deep and rumbling, the vibration of it travelling through you while you fight to keep your teeth firmly set in your bottom lip, starting to writhe as he alternates between flicking your clit with his tongue and sucking on it, sloppy, wet, filthy sounds echoing plentiful in his bedroom.

It’s a riot inside your head – two thoughts competing and clashing fiercely; one part of you screams for him to slow down, that it’s all so much so fast despite having asked for it and the other roars back a resounding keep going, oh god, keep fucking going, overtaking the first.

But Eddie isn’t privy to any of this – you don’t want to let him know because even with the way he’s making it harder and harder for you to not just cry out for more, you’re much too stubborn to actually do so – knowing full well that if you were to let on just how much you’re enjoying his ministrations, he’d never let you hear the end of it.

Easier said than done.

Your resolve is withering at an alarming rate, not sure how long you can keep true to your vow of silence when he slips his tongue into your opening, pleasure and relief melding into one now that you have somethinginside you, curtailing the ache of being empty for this long. He fucks you with it, driving it in and out, lavishing you from the inside with every stroke and drag of the slippery muscle against your walls.

“Oh Ed– oh fuck”, you blabber, hips bucking up against his face. You clench around it, clit throbbing in the absence of his tongue swiping over it but the way his nose bumps the tender pearl with every sloppy thrust of your hips more than makes up for it.

He lets you rut against his face like that, only pulling back and away minutes later but you’re not left wanting for long.

A sharp gasp is pulled from you when a finger plunges into you, another joining not too long after. You feel stupid for forgetting how well those fingers moved on his guitar when he curls them inside you, long and thick, reaching deeper than your own, filling you better than his tongue did.

“Shit, listen to you”, he tutted, cunt sopping and squelching loud enough for your whole face to flare up. “Got this worked up just for me, huh?”

He wants to hear you beg; you know it. Rather than replying you whine between ragged breaths, containing the rest that threatened to spill out in moans and cries for more. But it’s nowhere near enough to satiate him now. Eddie frowns, face clouding with irritation. He wasn’t going to let you get away with stifling yourself any longer.

“Tell me how good I make you feel”, he says, tone losing its playful lilt and gaining a firm edge instead, eyes darkening.

“I’ve been real generous with you today – even after all your fucking attitude”, he punctuates with a particularly rough thrust of his fingers into your cunt, another gasp tapering into a whimper falling from your lips.

“Not g-gonna say it…” you tremor, so clearly affected by what he’s doing to you. 

He laughs but there’s no amusement there, only something foreboding glinting in his eyes. “Can feel you, honey – trying so hard to hold back but you’re soaked and you’re squeezing me so tight”, sinking his fingers in up to the knuckles.

“C’mon, I’m not asking for a lot, am I?  just say the words and I’ll let you cum,” he murmured, amber eyes hooded and locked on yours.

“Eddie-”, you start, hating how it came out all pitchy and wavering, hating it even more when you see how much he liked hearing his name leave your lips like that. “You said you would- this isn’t what we agreed- “

“Do it or I’ll stop”, he cuts you off, unsmiling. You can tell he isn’t joking when his pace falters and his fingers still inside you.

The fear of him stopping when you’re already so close rushes in with torrential urgency, no time to feel embarrassed by how quickly or how hard you squeeze his hand when you feel him begin to unweave his fingers from yours to make good on his threat, your steely grip preventing him from slipping away, begging him to stay.

“Please...”, you begin to crumble, breathy and desperate and aching for him to finish what he started.

The smile pulling at his slick lips tells you he’s appeased, pumping his fingers inside you again, slow but deep, stretching you well.

“Go on…” he encourages, speeding up when you let loose an unrestrained moan that comes out all high and pretty for him, helpless to his touch, your building arousal making you grow compliant.

“Fuck -Eddie, I’ve- I’ve never felt this good before”, you relent with a sob.

“Yeah? Poor baby – always working so hard… got no one else to take care of you. Needed it so bad, didn’t you? Couldn’t even control yourself when you saw me today, huh? Climbed in my bed and spread your legs even though you say you can't stand me”, he grins wickedly, tone thick with condescension.

He was right. For years, you were gasoline and him, the match, all of that smoldering friction between the two of you culminating in the most surprising way.

“But now you can’t get enough of me.”, he finished with a sneer.

Something new blossoms beneath your ribs – humiliation.

But instead of trying to shy away from it you find yourself welcoming the way it sprouts up like tendrils, winding around you all slow and creeping, all because you’ve been put in your place, rendered a mewling, gasping, desperate thing by the boy you’ve spent far too much time despising.

“Wanna feel your mouth on me again”, you blurt between pants, a broken, pitiful sound.

“Need you to make me cum – please”

He watches you struggle under the weight of your own desire, willing to debase yourself if it meant he’d grant you your release and it makes him chuckle, satisfied.

“Was that so hard?”, he flashed you one of those impish, shit eating grins before his mouth is on your clit again, fingers driving inside you in tandem. Your free hand shoots out to weave into his hair, clutching it like a lifeline.

The combination sends you careening towards the edge, the feeling starting to become too much when he sucks hard on your bundle of nerves but there’s no way to pull yourself away from him – not that you wanted to. Not really.

Your whole body tenses and ripples when it crests, something white hot barreling its way out of you – too fast and too intense to warn him, cunt fluttering around his moving fingers, thighs squeezing, throat growing hoarse from your cries.

It runs through you in crashing, gushing waves, leaving you shaking and keening, lungs burning for air until breath returns to you slowly, roiling intensity settling down into pulsing aftershocks. They subside when the afterglow comes next and you relish the way it drapes over your quivering body, lips trembling and chanting whispered exclamations of ‘oh my god oh my god oh my god’ up at the ceiling, still reeling from it all. It’s only when the sensation of weightlessness that had cradled you for those moments following your orgasm begins to recede that you spring up, elbows pressing into the mattress to support you, heart shooting up into your throat when you catch sight of Eddie.

And it’s worse than you thought.

His cheeks, mouth, jaw and neck are soaked, as is the collar of his shirt now clinging wetly to the dip between his clavicles. Oh shit it’s in his hair too, noticing a few dampened ends which stick to the fabric near his shoulders.

In the thick fog of your afterglow your mind turns sluggish – too slow to piece together what exactly had happened as your eyes lowered in search of what caused Eddie’s current state. Realization sets in after a few seconds of delay in the form of a swooping, twisting flurry in your belly, worsening when you find the same wetness coating your inner thighs and pooling on his sheets, your ass resting in a little puddle of well, yourself.

You've squirted all over his face and his bed.

"I've never done that before”, you breathe out, both stunned and mortified at what you’ve done. Though your worry lessens somewhat when you dare to look at Eddie again, the look on his drenched face telling you that he’s anything but upset about it.

“I’ve never made anyone do that before”, he utters back, sharing your surprise.

Your hand which somehow had managed to stay clasped in his throughout the whole thing is finally returned to you when you both loosen your hold on each other, awkwardly pulling away enough for you to scoot off the damp spot on his bed and for Eddie to ease up onto his knees, which he realizes a little too late was probably a mistake.

Your eyes dart to it when you hear his sharp inhale, widening at the sight.

There's a new elephant in the room to address now – the massive erection straining against his sweatpants.

Silence shrouds the room, both of you speechless, panting and sweaty. He makes no move to cover himself and you don’t think to set your gaze anywhere else.

You’re not sure why you did what you did next, only that you felt compelled to do so.

Easing up on to your knees, you come face to face with Eddie, skirt falling back down to conceal you. Your fingers move seemingly on their own accord, curling into the waistband of his sweats, fingertips grazing the hot skin that lies underneath and for some reason he lets you, watching you closely albeit a little disbelieving. This wasn’t part of your ‘agreement’. He’d offered to get you off and you had accepted but that was the extent of it, neither of you giving much thought as to what would happen after but here you are, chasing after more.

Inches away from his lips, you can smell yourself on his skin. That tangy, earthy essence he'd lapped at and drunk down so eagerly for the past hour. What made him like it so much? What made him want to do this all in the first place? You wanted to ask him but more than that, fingers tightening on the cotton waistband, daring to dip inside and skim the course trail of hair above his pelvis, you wanted to find out what he tasted like too.

You draw a little closer and so does he, nose brushing his, chin tipping up, eyes slipping shut…

But your lips don’t meet.

Whatever was about to happen is cut short then, the both of you whipping your heads in the direction Eddie’s bedroom door, on the other side of which comes the sound of the front door unlatching and a set of boots stepping through the entryway.

Wayne’s home.

“Fuck”, you exclaim in unison.

Sharing a panicked look with Eddie the two of you begin to scramble quietly off the bed, not wanting to risk alerting Wayne to your presence in their trailer.

You liked Wayne. Despite his gruff exterior he’d always been fair to you and your family but the last thing you wanted was to get caught out in his nephew's room. Like this.

"Shit – I can't believe I'm saying this now but...you have to go", Eddie winced as he whispered to you, looking increasingly more regretful with every word he’s forced to let out in reference to your departure.

"No– It's okay. I get it, I really should leave", you hush back in agreement, looking all kinds of frazzled and just as sympathetic given you bare as much of the responsibility for how things escalated the way they did.

You get your shoes back on as quickly and quietly as you can manage, panic rising when Wayne calls out something from the kitchen about dinner.

“Be right there!”, Eddie yells back, swooping down to pick your panties up off the floor, sheepishly handing them to you and you ball the underwear in your fist, suddenly too embarrassed to let him look at them despite everything that’s transpired.

And with that brief brush of his fingers against yours, a moment hangs over the two of you as you stare at one another, a moment that begs for something more to be said about the situation.

But what could you say?

"Thanks for the head?"

"Sorry about the mess. I hope it doesn't leave a stain?"

Nothing feels right no matter what you try to scrounge up and scrape together from the recesses of your mind so reluctantly, you don’t say anything at all, turning towards the window and letting him help you out through it, a faint sense of something sour washing over you when his fingers slip away from yours.

The walk back to your trailer is a short one but it’s made all the more difficult on unsteady, wobbling legs. Casting your gaze at every neighboring window in search of anyone happening to look outside, you try your best to look as inconspicuous as possible despite your ungainly stride and your disheveled state, scrambling up and through your front door.

Back in your room, slumping against your bedroom door, your thighs are wet and sticky, breath coming out in short, hurried puffs, heart thudding a mile a minute and you have just one thought ballooning in your mind.

How the hell were you ever going to look Eddie in the eye after this?

-

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