#you’re telling me hunters don’t exist?

[lordprettyflackotara]

2005 || sam and colby || part two

‘won’t you bring me, bring me to life?’

sum: after discovering you can solidify from an energy exchange by touching sam and colby, you wonder just how far you can go to become human

tw:SMUT FILTHY SMUT MINORS DNI 18+, ghost!reader, ghost hunters!sam and colby, welcome to paris baby, general roughness, sams a cocky asshole, light choking, throat fucking, unrealistic ghost sex (kesha core)

a/n: there is nothing more i love then that stupid blonde and brunette ghost hunter duo

part one is here

You turned to Colby, ignoring a snickering Sam as he properly set up the massive porno camera.

“Are you sure about this?” Colby asked unsurely. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you in every single way possible, quite the opposite. But breaking the laws of psychics, touching a ghost, nevertheless fucking one, was completely unheard of.

His large hands found your waist, your body jittery in anticipation as he touched you. “Don’t tell me you’re scared. I won’t bite. Unless you want me to,” You whispered, standing on your tippy toes. You allowed your eyes to flutter shut, nervously waiting for Colby to take control and kiss you. Given the twenty years you spent alone, you had only day dreamed what a kiss felt like.

Not the wholesome fluffy kind. The kind like this. Full of intensity and raw passion. The way his lips threatened to bruise yours with each passing second, the soft groans what escaped both of your lips. His tongue gliding on your bottom lip, smirking as you accepted it into your mouth. His energy was so intense, so strong, you felt like you were on cloud nine. Another set of hands grabbed you from behind, Sam’s breath hot against your ear. You shuddered in between them, your arms wrapping themselves around Colby’s neck.

“Sorry lovebirds, i’m here to crash the party,” The blonde snickered, nibbling at your earlobe. Sinful noises left your lips shamelessly, being sandwiched in between Sam and Colby the best slice of heaven you could’ve ever asked for. Colby’s lips strayed from yours, allowing you to breathe as he peppered kisses down your neck. “Not to spook you ghost girl, but you’re looking more and more human by the second,” Sam said, grabbing your chin. Assertively he forced you to look at the camera, the bright flash the only light illuminating the dim basement. “How’s it feel knowing your mark on humanity will be letting us use you like this?” Sam asked, watching you melt under his touch.

Colby pulled away from your neck, his gaze hardening. “Sam,” He said in a warning tone. The blonde released your chin, allowing you to face Colby with deeply red cheeks. “Relax man, she likes it. Look at her,” Sam insisted. Colby’s gaze finally centered on you, cheeks tomato red and thighs rubbing together to create friction. You were practically vibrating with desire, your core throbbing and lips puffy from his earlier assault. Colby brought his hand to your face, cupping it before pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb. “You like this? Being our little ghost girl?” Colby questioned. You couldn’t control your unholy sounds, a whimper leaving your lips as Sam grinded against your ass.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Sam snickered, brushing your hair away from your neck. You whined as his lips attached themselves to your skin, harshly sucking. For a brief moment you had forgotten you were dead. You had never felt so utterly alive in your forty two years of existence, your body engulfed in the flames Sam and Colby eagerly devoured you in. Colby dropped to his knees, pulling at your skirt. If this had truly been for science, you were sure it would’ve been called into question how your clothes materialized along with you. But this wasn’t for science anymore, your body a slave to the pleasure the two ghost hunters were providing you. And nothing had even really started yet.

Sam held you into place, stopping you from squirming as Colby played with the hem of your skirt. “Can I take these off of you princess?” He asked innocently, his pupils blown with lust as he looked up at you. You were so breath taking like this, your being transparent but real to the touch at the same time. “Please,” You whined, tilting your head back onto Sam’s shoulder. You couldn’t remember sex from your human life, your sex life containing fingering yourself to whatever shitty porno played on one of the tv’s in the hotel. That’s why when Colby flipped up your skirt, his lips grazing your thin panties, your knees almost buckled. Sam was quick to hold you up, chuckling darkly at your action. “You’re so cute,” He grumbled against your skin, his hands slithering up to your breast.

Your back arched as he slid under your shirt with ease, as well as your bra. His warm hands complimented your cool skin well, your nipples hardening under his touch. He quickly cupped your breast, before rolling each nipple in between his fingers. “Good girl, so responsive for us,” He cooed, his teeth grazing your skin as Colby’s hot breath fanned over your folds. He pulled your panties to the side, admiring your drenched slick. “So fuckin wet, shit,” Colby muttered, before licking a stripe up your folds. Your moans echoed off of the basement walls, one of your hands flying down to grab a handful of his hair. You involuntarily pulled at Colby’s roots, whining as Sam guided your chin to kiss him.

You couldn’t help but moan into Sam’s mouth as Colby’s lips were quick to find your clit, sucking at the sensitive bud as he pleased. “You like that? Hmm? You like Colby eating you out?” Sam asked, his eyes dancing with amusement as he watched you grind pathetically against Colby’s mouth. You nodded vigorously, feeling the brunette devour your cunt mercilessly. “Words baby, tell Colby how good he’s making you feel,” Sam purred. He smirked as he watched your cheeks turn a darker shade of red, his spare hand pinching at your left nipple. “Feels so- fuckin- oh-, good! So good Colby,” You sputtered, your hips moving on their own as they grinded against Colby’s tongue.

Sam’s lips returned to your neck, littering any exposed skin with hickies and possessive marks. Colby released your clit with a pop, peering up at you curiously. You whined at the loss of friction, the brunette mesmerized as you held onto him and Sam for support as you lost yourself in pleasure. He brought two fingers to his mouth, sucking on them before shoving them abruptly into your entrance. Your back arched off of Sam’s, Colby smirking as he curled them. He could feel your gummy walls cling to him, begging for more. “Don’t be rude princess, tell Sam how good he’s making you feel,” Colby taunted, watching your mouth drop into the shape of an O as he hit your g spot. Sam slithered his hand to your throat, gently squeezing the sides to test the waters. This ignited a spark within you, your hips restless as they struggled to grind against Sam’s dick and Colby’s hand at the same time.

“Fuck fuck fuck, so, so, good, you both feel- ahh, amazing, please, don’t stop,” You pleaded, your legs threatening to tremble as they continued to tease you. Satisfied with your shameless pleas Colby dipped back under your skirt, reattaching his mouth to your neglected clit. You gasped, feeling Sam squeeze your throat tighter. “Be grateful baby, thank Colby for making you feel good,” Sam grunted, his cock straining against the confines of his jeans. He felt like he was going feral, your energy coursing adrenaline through his veins. Colby grinned into your folds as you struggled to make a coherent sentence. He finger fucked you faster, eager to feel your walls continuously flutter around his fingers.

“Thank you Colby, thank you soooo much,” You panted, gripping onto Sam’s arm for support. His veins were visible, popping out as he restricted your airway. Sam couldn’t hide his snicker, his breath hot against your skin as he got close to your ear. “How are you so cock drunk and we haven’t even fucked you yet?” He murmured, planting kisses against your ear as you grinded against Colby’s face. You could feel yourself coming closer to the edge, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your thighs threatened to shut. “Gonna cum, fuckin, fuck-” You warned, euphoria washing over you. Your moans were strings of sinful cursed and mantras of the boys names, a cocky Colby emerging from between your thighs.

They were quick to rearrange you, your knees scraping against the cold basement floor. You had never realized just how cold the basement actually was, goosebumps trailing across your skin. You arched your back as you were on all fours, your eyes curiously looking up at Sam as he unbuckled his belt in front of you. The thought of taking them both at the same time was mouth watering, your tongue flattening out across your lower lip. Sam stopped undressing momentarily, bringing his thumb to your tongue. “You dirty bitch, fuck me,” He grumbled, watching you eagerly suck his thumb. You swirled your tongue around it, causing the blonde to only strip faster.

Meanwhile behind you, Colby began rubbing his cock up and down your slick. His tip brushed against your abused clit, causing you to shudder as Sam presented his cock in front of you. Eagerly you began sucking the head first, kitten licking his slit before lowering yourself down further onto his cock. His own sinful groans of your name were borderline euphoric, so much so you forgot a hot and bothered Colby sat behind you. Your moans vibrated around Sam’s cock as Colby pushed himself inside of you, gripping the sides of your hips aggressively. If possible, you were sure his grip promised finger shaped bruises in the morning to come. “She’s so tight, holy shit,” Colby moaned, biting his bottom lip as he bottomed out inside of you.

“Dude, you should feel her mouth, it’s like she was made for me,” Sam replied, grabbing a handful of your hair. Colby began to thrust into you, relishing the way your cunt felt as he fucked you. “Made for us, fuck, she’s all ours,” Colby agreed, picking up the pace. Forcefully Sam made you to look up at him, tears flooding your waterline as his cock hit the back of your throat. “Hear that? Made for us. You’re ours baby. Ours to fuck,” Sam taunted, shoving his cock deeper down your throat.

“Ours to ruin,” Colby agreed, fucking you more desperately.

“Ours to claim,” Sam smirked, tugging at your hair. He pulled you off of his cock, a trail of saliva attaching you to him. He gave you a moment to breathe, your lungs craving oxygen and accepting gulps before he shoved you back onto his cock. Your hands placed themselves onto his thighs, your elbows digging against the harsh concrete floor. The sharp pain that rubbed against your knees and elbows was irrelevant, your body trembling as your jaw loosened. You could feel Colby pound against your g spot, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you finally let go. Allowing them to use you like this, on a filthy basement floor, was pure and utter bliss.

“Look at our cock drunk girl, so pretty,” Colby praised, noting the way your body milked his cock for all it’s worth. Sam tugged at the roots of your hair, biting the inside of his cheek. “I’m gonna cum down your pretty throat, understand? And you’re gonna swallow every last drop for me,” Sam barked, ecstasy running down his spine as you eagerly nodded. His hips stuttered as he thrusted forward one final time, his warm seed flooding the back of your throat. You tried your hardest not to gag, eagerly swallowing every drop of the salty seed Sam could produce. You continued to suck his dick, milking him utterly dry. It wasn’t until the blonde was shaking that he pulled away, grabbing your face with his large hand.

“Such a good girl, our good little ghost girl,” He praised, admiring the sounds of your delicious moans as Colby pounded into you. You struggled to keep eye contact, each thrust Colby provided more intense than the last. It was when the brunettes hand slipped down to your clit that your knees threatened to give out on you. “Awe, does Colby playing with your clit make you squirm?” Sam asked mockingly, forcing your lips to pucker out like a fish. You couldn’t form a coherent response, the extra stimulation making the rope inside of you tighten. “I think she’s close, I can feel her- fuck, I can feel her milking me,” Colby said, struggling to keep himself from cumming right then and there.

Sam squeezed your face harder, his eyes boring down into yours. “Cum on his cock baby, go on,” He cooed, watching in satisfaction as your thighs trembled in euphoria. You grabbed onto his arm for support, feeling Colby slip out of you. His warm seed painted your ass, your breath shuddering as you met Sam’s gaze. The three of you were panting messes, the blonde using his thumb to wipe some saliva off of your chin.

“Wait, can ghost get pregnant?”

“Shut up Sam.”

[pterodactylterrace]

All the folks of kings landing are rioting because they aren’t happy with the variety of food being offered. They don’t want fish anymore, they want something else.

My autistic ass heard that they were eating the same thing everyday and was like “I don’t see the problem. That is my ideal.” I have like 4 meals I rotate indefinitely for myself. Sure I will try new things, but in general I could eat the same four things for the rest of my life and be perfectly fine.

Also pretty pissed off that they weren’t upset that they were starving. They were upset because they were sick of fish. Literally choosing beggars. The fuck, Condal? Has he never met a poor person before? We don’t care what the food is as long as we eat that day.

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake’s Coworkers (ft. The Fenton Family)

It’s not that Tim doesn’t like the Batfamily. He tolerates them just fine. Damian is great for sparring (if you like sparring with a tiny murder machine), and Jason’s brand of dark humor isn’t too bad once you get used to it. Dick’s a bit too much sometimes, but overall? Fine. Totally fine.

But the thing is… they’re just his coworkers.

And it never really clicks for the Bats until Danny Phantom joins the Justice League and everything starts unraveling.

———

The revelation comes during a League meeting. They’re strategizing about some ghost-related chaos, and Danny floats into the Watchtower, bright and glowing.

“Oh, hey, Tim,” Danny greets casually, giving him a little wave.

Tim doesn’t even look up from his tablet. “Sup.”

Superman looks between them, confused. “…you two know each other?”

Danny grins. “yeah, he’s my brother.”

Dead silence.

“WHAT?!” Bruce’s bellow shakes the entire room.

Tim finally looks up, unfazed. “What? Did you think I just spawned into existence?”

“You have a brother?!” Clark sputters.

“Two siblings, actually,” Tim corrects, utterly nonchalant. “Danny’s the younger one. Jazz is the older one. She’s great. Super organized. Kept me alive in middle school.”

Bruce’s eye twitches. “Why—why am I only learning this now?”

Tim shrugs. “It didn’t seem relevant.”

“Relevant?” Diana repeats, incredulous. “You’re the brother of Danny Phantom and it’s not relevant?”

Danny, who’s been munching on some ectoplasm candy, jumps in: “Honestly, Tim’s always been kind of private about his personal life. We just figured it was his way of coping with the whole ‘raised-by-rich-neglectful-aunt’ thing.”

“Yeah, about that,” Tim interjects, glaring at Danny. “Thanks so much for dumping me with Aunt Janet, by the way.”

Danny shrugs sheepishly. “Mom and Dad panicked! They thought you’d get ghost-napped next!”

“Uh, correction: Aunt Janet left me to raise myself, so that plan was awesome.”

Bruce, trying to keep up, interrupts: “Hold on. Your parents left you with Janet Drake?”

“They didn’t know she sucked at raising kids,” Tim deadpans. “And to be fair, they did call. A lot. I just didn’t pick up.”

Jason, who has been cackling this entire time, leans forward. “Wait, wait, wait—so you’re telling me that the Replacement’s entire family is a bunch of ghost hunters?”

“Yup.” Danny pops the “p” with a grin.

“You’re kidding me,” Steph says, borderline hysterical.

Tim sighs, clearly over it. “Look, it’s not a big deal. Jazz keeps the parents in check, Danny handles the ghost stuff, and I… stay out of the way. It’s fine.”

“FINE?” Damian glares. “Drake, you’ve been fraternizing with ghost hunters while working with a vigilante group, and you think that’s fine?”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Dami, chill. It’s not like it affects work. You’re my coworkers. They’re my family. Separate categories.”

Cue collective Batfamily malfunction.

———

Later, Danny is chilling in the Batcave, feet kicked up on the Batcomputer, chatting with Alfred. The rest of the Bats are still spiraling.

“Tim, we’ve lived together for years!” Dick exclaims, sounding genuinely hurt. “How are we only your coworkers?”

“You’re not my family,” Tim explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Danny and Jazz are my family. You guys are my teammates. It’s different.”

Jason throws his head back, laughing. “Oh my god, Replacement, you’re stone cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Tim argues. “I just don’t think we need to make it more complicated than it is. We work together. That’s enough.”

Meanwhile, Danny is wiping tears of laughter off his face. “Oh man. Jazz is gonna love this.”

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru x darling

TW: NSFW, noncon, fantasy au

gn reader

Thinking about hunter Gojo and the pretty little nymph that gets themselves snared in one of his traps.

You can’t get your poor leg loose, having twisted your ankle in your fall to the ground – something’s wrong with your wing too, you can feel it – the thin network’s been folded, almost broken – so even if you did manage getting loose, you wouldn’t be able to fly away.

Branches snap around you along the crunch of old leaves – and your heart’s beating out of your chest in fear of it – knowing something large and dangerous is not far behind, that whoever set the trap is not something that wishes you well.

“You’re not a rabbit.” The man says, having crept in close before you’d even heard him approach – crouching in front of you with a hunter's grace. Hawk-eyes ice-blue and piercing, hair as white as pure snow.

He’s got three daggers sleaved in his belt – a fillet knife, a gutting knife, and a larger one you imagine is meant to slice throats. He doesn’t carry a sword like most men but has a bow and sack of arrows slung on his back. Otherwise, dressed lightly – brown leather boots, brown slacks, and a blue cotton shirt. You could have mistaken him for a woodland elf if it weren’t for the thick stench of man.

“Eating creatures from the holy forest is forbidden.” You snip, despite your wide eyes and the wobble of fear evident on your lip.

He only smiles at the quip, a grin like a predator humored by prey. “You wouldn’t tell a wolf not to hunt.”

He stalks you, leaning in closer, and you try shuffling away – but the movement only makes you wince.

“I’m just another hungry animal…”

Rope gnaws into your fine skin while his breath puffs hot and dewy on your face.

“And tonight… seems lady luck has favored me once again.”

He gags you and ties you further up before redoing his snare for the next unlucky creature – then carries you over his shoulder until he’s dropping you down on a bed of furs.

Your skin flushes with goosebumps at the thought of being skinned the same way – mouthing a little prayer around the cloth he’s split your teeth and lips with. He’s cut trees down as well; you hear their pitiful screams when he lights a fire with their bodies. You mourn them, too.

At his full height, the man must be two heads taller than any male nymph you’ve ever seen and at least three heads taller than you. You hope you’re enough to satisfy him tonight, to spare the forest of further bloodshed.

You shiver and sniffle when he starts prepping you – removing your clothes and groping your tender, fleshy places with a strength you’re not used to – hands large and crass – kneading you like dough – probably to assess the quality of your meat. He has a smile on his face while at it. 

Humans make you sick – to think he’s planning on roasting then eating you despite the soul fueling your spirit and the beating heart in your chest. But you’ve long known that all death but their own matters little to them – they don’t feel the same way nymphs do – they don’t regard life with the same respect they’ve donned themselves. It must be a sad and lonely existence, you think. It even makes you feel a little sorry for him.

You yelp when his gritty fingers brush the area between your legs – shimmying when he lowers his mouth down to the same place. Oh God – does he plan on eating you raw? While your body’s still hot and pumping blood?

But the bite never comes – not yet eating but tasting it would seem – licking and slurping and sucking on you.

He takes his shirt off. Probably to avoid spilling on it, you think.

You don’t really understand what’s going on until he’s got his fat manhood pointed toward your kernel-sized hole. Eyes wide as he splits you apart slowly and unabashedly – as though it isn't as deviant as a dog mating a cat – sinking in inch after meaty inch.

You whimper at the stretch – wincing when the plush mushroom-shaped head grinds against that special place inside you. 

It doesn’t fit more than halfway, but that doesn’t seem to bother him – rolling his head back with a rusty groan, even with just the tip gaining purchase within you – pounding into you like a beast in his rut.

“What's the matter, pretty nymph? Did you think I was gonna eat you?” He laughs, bearing over you – his hands steadying your hips to meet his sharp thrust – each hit deeper than the last. “I’m the only hunter in this forest; I can eat what I want when I want – but eating you?” He scoffed and snickered. “That would just be a waste.”

The blood on his breath makes you wrinkle your nose – squeezing your eyes shut as his tongue sweeps up the tear streaks on your cheek.

“My stomach’s already full. Time to empty my balls.”

[messrmoonyy]

-Sadie Adler as your gf hcs ( sfw/nsfw )

Sadie Adler x Fem!reader

A/N- I am in fact posting these out of pure and utter spite because Sadie Adler can. And will. Kiss girls. Because this is what?! Fan fiction!And it brings me an insane amount of joy that the sheer idea alone of Sadie being queer angers people. Sadie Adler kisses girls pass it on!!!

These are mostlyyy epilogue and beyond based Sadie pls lemme be your lil housewife

Dedicated to @queer-sadie-adler for being the true voice of reason lately amidst the hell hole that has been the queer Sadie discussions. You’re awesome.

Masterlist - requests are open!

• she’s incredibly protective of you. One wrong look your way and she’s ready to start shooting or swinging. Shes so a ‘ why don’t ya take a picture, it’ll last longer ‘ baby has some slight anger issues

• falls very much into the ‘ I hate everyone except you ‘ category. So stoney faced and ready to brawl with everyone, but soft gazes and tender touches with you.

• you hear her before you see her. She’ll ride back home to you after going after a bounty and proudly announce her return with a ‘ honey I’m home! ‘ as she rides up to your home.

• secretly adores the way you fuss over her before she goes out. She lost everything other than you in the space of like. A year. so it’s nice to be reminded how much you care about her. And that she has someone in the world to care about herself.

• she’s actually a pretty decent cook. And you can often expect her to try cook you something nice. Especially if she’s gotten onto your bad side some how, she knows a nice romantic meal will butter you up nice and quick

• I have this thought that she is just a nightmare to share a bed with. Girly tosses and turns and takes up too much damn space. But it just gives you the excuse to crawl up close to her and get comfy in the little space she leaves, falling asleep practically on top of her.

• and on the subject of sleeping. Has just the finest motherfuckin morning voice you’ve ever heard. Her raspy ‘ Mornin my darlin’ in your ear everyday makes you wanna melt into a puddle every damn time.

• loves sharing a bath with you. Especially if she’s been gone for a few days. She’ll make some excuse that it’s just to save on water. But in reality she just wants to relax and hold you close to her, feel your skin on hers to remind her she’s not just some angry bounty hunter. All tough and rough and fighting. She needs the gentle and the calm you provide her.

• hand holding. Forehead kisses. Sitting in her lap as you read on the porch. Just small, gentle acts of intimacy. The kind not discussed but well practiced between lovers.

• she can get in her head a little sometimes. She knows it’s not easy being in a relationship like that in 1907. And she knows that she doesn’t make it much easier on you with the works she does either.

• but she loves you wholeheartedly. And she knows that you love her just as equally. And as much as she feels she doesn’t deserve you, she’ll keep loving you until you don’t want her anymore which would never happen of course

•NSFW•

• she needs to be the one in control all of the time. This isn’t to say she doesn’t like receiving, or like having you on top of her. She just likes to be the one with her hands on the reins yk.

• in fact. She quite enjoys you on top of her or In her lap. But even so, know that she’s the one pulling the strings and she’s two steps ahead of you at all times

• she’s gentle and soft with you, but determined. Whether that’s knowing exactly where to touch you and abusing that same spot over and over again until you’re a shaking mess. Or telling you where and how to touch her.

• I said this in my last hcs but fingers in the mouthhhhh. Idc what anyone says. I see it so vividly. She loves it. Loves watching you suck her fingers to get them wet. Or clean them off.

• eats pussy like a god. Will have you seeing stars and thanking whatever Lord may exist for putting that woman right between your thighs. Sloppy and thorough and has you coming with her name on your tongue.

• thigh riding!!!!

• girly loves to manspread. Will sit there and pat her leg for you to perch on, but manoeuvre you to straddle her leg instead. And she loves how it makes you blush ‘ you’re a regular ol’ cowgirl now ain’t ya honey? ‘ as she leans back in her seat to watch you I’m literally going insane

• morning sex!! Waking up spooning with her, teasing her by wiggling your hips against her until she slips a hand over your hips and between your legs

• ‘ this what y’ wanted? Been dreamin of me honey? ‘

• will absolutely get up afterwards as casual as ever and ask what’s for breakfast. As if she hadn’t just had her fingers buried in your cunt.

• her aftercare is just so gentle. Especially if she’s been gone a while and has you coming for hours on end. She’ll praise you and hold you and help clean you up. Maybe drag you into the tub with her and sit behind you to wash your hair.

• and she enjoys the intimacy of dressing you so much more than undressing. Getting you comfy and cosy in clean night clothes before snuggling up with you in bed, letting you rest your head on her chest and tangling up your legs together.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Killing Time: Prologue

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, includes violence, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: a job offer could be an escape from your old life, but the new one, may not hold freedom.

Characters: Kraven the Hunter, August Walker, Lloyd Hansen, James Conrad, God the Bounty Hunter, Court Gentry

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

“Yes, he’s here again,” your voice creaks as your hand shakes. “Please. I called yesterday…” And every other day for months. Almost a full year.

You peer out between the small space that divides curtain from window. The shadow looms, looking up at you. Your phone vibrates as the operator hems and haws on the other end.

“Are you sure it’s him?” She asks. They always doubt you. Report after report, phone call after phone call, and it’s always question, question, question. You sigh.

“Yes,” your voice peeks as you pull back and hide against the wall. “Yes, I know it’s him. He’s texting me.”

You don’t even need to check. It’s the same thing every time. Next, he’ll try to sneak in the front and be knocking at your apartment door.

“Well, ma’am, you say you’ve called before and we’ve sent a cruiser and we’ve filed reports. And this man keeps showing up, so what exactly do you want me to do now? I can’t issue you a safety order over the phone--”

“Excuse me?” You gasp. “Excuse me? Are you serious? I have an order already and much good it does me. I call you and I get accused of being dramatic and questioned. What I want is for someone to protect me.”

“Ma’am, don’t get abusive with me,” she warns. “Have you tried telling him to go away yourself?”

“Wow, wow,” you throw your hand out. “Really? Really? No, I never thought of it,” you say sarcastically, “is there someone else who can take me call? I really don’t feel safe.”

“If it makes you feel better, I can reroute an officer to you. Alright?” She speaks as if you’re a child. You’re too weak to argue anymore.

“Whatever,” you hang up.

You can’t do this anymore. You need to get out of here. Not that you didn’t think of it before but you can’t afford anything else. Your rent control is the only thing keeping you under a roof. You’ve already switched jobs, just to get away from him. There isn’t that much else up there.

You drag yourself through the shadows and sit on the bed. You exist in darkness. You don’t turn on the lights so he can’t see in. You keep the curtains shut. You only leave for work and always take a different exit, never the same route; not always the bus, not always the train.

And friends? What are those? Most of them took his side, said you were throwing around false accusations, and the others accused you of being obsessed. The single coworker you confided in told you to leave town. Wow, well, if you could afford that, you wouldn’t stay in this building with the grinding radiator and rattling fridge.

You look at your phone.

‘I see you.’ The message was sent while you were on the call with emergency services. Several more followed. ‘I just want to talk’; ‘you look so pretty’; ‘please, I love you’.

As you read each text, you can hear the last conversation you had with Jake. He’s a relic of your former friend group, the very reason for your dejection. It’s almost funny how the rest just cut ties but he won’t let go.

It all started with a kiss. A kiss and rejection. New Years Eve and the clock counted down. You didn’t expect him to turn and plant one on you and when you shoved him away, that dreamy look in his eyes turned to fury as you fled. New Year, New you, right?

The new you is scared and paranoid and tired. So, so tired.

You get up and move the chair in front of the door. Just in case. You retreat, keeping your phone close, and grab the extendable baton from the table. You sleep with both, if you can sleep. That night, you won’t.

You settle in on the couch. You don’t use the bedroom. You need an easy escape. You sit back against the cushions and scroll on your phone. It might be hopeless, but you trawl the job board and the apartment boards. You might find a nugget of gold in all the pebbles.

You sign into the job site and see the red dot in the corner. It’s always a marketing promo. ‘Recommending’ a job you don’t qualify for or an invitation for an MLM scheme. It’s a joke. You don’t understand how anyone ever gets a job but everyone seems to have a better one than you.

You tap the inbox to make the red dot go away. You hate it floating in the corner of your vision. Your thumb twitches and hovers over the screen as you read the subject line. Hm.

‘Caretaker Position: Relocation Required’.

Well, you don’t really have the experience for caretaking but the second part sounds intriguing. You hesitate. It’s too good to be true. You’re sure there will be a list of qualifications longer than your resume.

Tap.

You open up the message.

‘Hello,

We’ve reviewed your profile and determined you might be a match for this position.

New Applicants Welcome.

We are seeking an individual to undertake caretaking duties for a property. This role would include the following:

Lawn care

General cleaning and maintenance

Manual labour requiring lifting of up to 60lbs

24/7 tenancy within property (no rent for chosen candidate)

Subsidized relocation

Training on-site

If you are seeking a fresh start and to learn new skills which can take you into future roles in a custodial or caretaking capacity, this is the job for you. To apply, please submit brief profile and resume for consideration.

Applicants are subject to a background check.’

You bite down on the inside of your lip. It sounds interesting but you’re not sure you’re a good fit. It’s so general, too. Would you need to know how to deal with electrical issues? Your apartment sure has taught you a lot about dealing with broken utilities, but your formal training is lacking.

And it’s a big thing. You want to get out of here but it’s still daunting in comparison to your current predicament.

You tense as you hear footsteps in the hall. You brace yourself and lower the phone, staring at the door. The thumping on the other side makes you flinch. Your heart races.

“Baby, I know you’re awake. Please. I just wanna talk.” He keeps tapping. “If you just talked to me, we could figure this out.”

You shudder and look at your phone again. You stare at the big blue button; ‘Apply Now’.

“I forgive you. For lying about me. Everyone knows you were just upset. I’ll tell them all it was just a misunderstanding…” he begs as the door shakes in the frame, the chair knocking against the handle. All that stands between you and him are those hinges and that flimsy piece of furniture.

You press down on the button. It can’t get worse than this.

[prythianpages]

A Man After Midnight | Eris x Reader

summary: though engaged to Sawyer Vanserra, you feel utterly and completely alone with only the company of autumn winds, blowing outside your window. that is, until, Eris shows up. Your man after midnight.

warnings: mentions of assault (reader gets touched against her will but nothing explicit or anything that goes beyond that), blood, bruises/abuse/bullying; reader having a panic attack

a/n: This originally was going to head a different direction but I decided to make it like a part three to this instead. You can also read this as a stand alone one-shot. I love ABBA and I knew I had to use this song. One of my favs but you'll find that I say that a lot. You can find the masterlist to my ABBA x ACOTAR series here.

Your eyes light up as you spot Sawyer stepping out from the High Lord’s study. Overridden with excitement, you eagerly fall into step with him, the sheer brightness of your presence outshining the dimly lit surroundings. You pay no mind to the fact that his other brothers, Hunter and Oliver, are not too far behind.

“Good morning, Sawyer! Will you walk with me?” you beam up at him with a smile. It's the kind of sight that would make many fall to their feet–that even Oliver wants to bask in the glow of.

But Sawyer? He doesn’t even spare you a glance, his dark brown eyes fixed ahead as he replies, his tone detached. “I’m doing that right now.”

You can hear his brothers snicker behind you–too close for your liking that it has you quickening your steps. “But I was hoping you’d walk with me in the gardens? Or maybe we can have lunch together? We are to be marri–”

“Our marriage is nothing but a business deal arranged by our fathers.” He cuts you in sharply and you find your resolve faltering.

“Love may not come from our marriage but perhaps, we can be friends?” You offer, hating the desperation that seeps into your tone, as you trail behind Sawyer.

Sawyer stops abruptly, causing you to crash into his chest and stumble backwards. You catch yourself, a hand rubbing at your forehead where you’re sure an imprint of the necklace he wears marks your reddening skin. Your betrothed looks down at you in a way no one has ever before. Ever since your father left, it appeared that so did Sawyer’s patience. It’s as if the male you met when you first arrived was a facade. Pure disgust simmers in his heated gaze and his nose wrinkles as he lets out a scoff, causing you to shrink back.

“Friends? I don’t want to be friends with you. I don’t want to be anything with you. You’re the bane of my existence.”

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, and instinctively, you take another step back, as though the physical distance could somehow lessen the impact of his words. It doesn’t. Your lip trembles as a frown threatens to overtake your features. 

“How can you mean that when you barely know me?” you ask, your voice a mere whisper but you know by the way his steps stop, that he catches every word. So you decide to remind him and add: “I didn’t ask for this either.”

Sawyer doesn’t bother to turn around or answer you, simply choosing to keep walking away. Hunter pushes past you aggressively, turning to smirk at your distraught expression as he catches up with Sawyer. It is Oliver who stops you from colliding into the wall. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, steadying you and pulling you close to him.

“Oh, sweet girl, you’re too pretty to cry.”

Oliver’s free hand reaches up to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to him. His lips form a slight pout that contrasts the mischief twinkling in his amber eyes. He leans to lick the single tear trickling down your cheek and you wince. You want to run but his grip on you is strong.  

He then directs your attention forward, where Hunter has Sawyer in a similar hold. “Tell her,” Hunter says, gaze darkening with a thirst to torment. He flashes his teeth as his smirk widens. This is all a fun game to him. “Tell her why you don’t like her.”

Sawyer looks like he would rather die than answer Hunter’s demand. He glares at you as he struggles to free himself from his brother’s grasps but Hunter is much stronger. He realizes that he won’t be free until he says something. Finally, between clenched teeth, Sawyer answers. “She’s not my type.”

Hunter throws his head back in laughter, the sound echoing through the room with a dark and menacing resonance.

“What a shame,” Oliver says, his breath tickling your ear as his hand roams down the length of your neck. You swear your heart misses a beat when his hand stops right over the swell of your chest. His nails dig into your chest at your struggle to free yourself.  “She’s exactly my type.”

Your entire body tenses at the unwanted touch, eyes widening when you feel heat prick at your skin. The smell of burnt fabric reaches your nose and a chill permeates, displacing the warmth as Oliver lifts his flaming hand from you. You rush to cross your arms over your chest, desperate to cover your exposed skin from Hunter’s and Oliver’s hungry gazes.

“Just look at her,” Oliver continues, pushing you forward so harshly it sends you to your knees. His chuckle makes goosebumps rise on your skin. “So pretty, so docile.”

As you blink away tears of humiliation, your eyes remain fixed on Sawyer, pleading almost. He’s determined to look anywhere but you. You curl your arms tighter around yourself and lower your gaze. You don’t want to give the other Vanserras the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You suspect it will only prompt them to torment you further.

“Then have at her. I don’t care.”

Sawyer’s words reach you with a devastating force like the last blow. They pierce through the core of your naive heart and you can’t help the tears that escape and spill onto the floor. Hunter peels his gaze away from you to roll his eyes at his younger brother, releasing him with a rough shove.

“You’re no fun, Sawyer,” he says with a disappointed sigh, his expectation for a different response lingering unfulfilled. Hunter then looks back at you, you can feel his heated gaze, and you curl in further into yourself. “But it looks like you are.”

“What is the meaning of this??”

**

Beron’s cold eyes take in the sight before him, gaze sweeping over your slumped form on the floor. It’s Hunter who moves to speak but at the lift of Beron’s finger, his mouth closes shut. Beron comes to the conclusion that he doesn’t care as there’s other pressing matters to attend to. Such as dealing with your father and ensuring he keeps his end of the agreement. He turns to his oldest, who stands at his side with a perfectly donned mask.

“You deal with whatever this is.”

“Yes, father,” Eris replies with no hesitation and Beron pats him on the shoulder–the same shoulder he left a bruise on the other night.

Eris bites back a wince. He waits until his father is away from sight to take in the situation before him. The torches lining up the halls flare. With a simmering intensity that could rival a raging inferno, Eris turns his attention to the brother closest to him. The searing authority of his gaze has Oliver raising his hands in a gesture of surrender and stepping away from you.

“We were just having a little fun, brother.”

“Fun?” 

Eris releases a disbelieving exhale as he grasps onto Oliver’s shirt. He wants to burn his hand through his brother’s skin until he’s screaming and crying, the same way Oliver had intended to do with you. Because how dare he touch you, hurt you. It’s as if Oliver can hear the crackling roar of the fire burning within his older brother and his eyes widen in fear.

Under the weight of Hunter’s hawk eyes, Eris grudgingly settles on shoving Oliver further away from him. And you.

“If you want to have fun, go to a fucking brothel. This is our home.”

Oliver releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He doesn’t waste another second, happy to leave the hall before his brother can take back his mercy.

"And you," Eris seethes, his voice a low, rumbling growl as he turns to face Hunter next. Eris effortlessly surpasses him in both stature and might, looming over him like a formidable mountain casting its shadow. “Shouldn’t you be making haste to quell the riots in town? Or should I add that to your growing list of incapabilities?”

Hunter's fists clench at his sides, the dance of flames flickering along his skin, but in the presence of Eris, his fire pales in comparison. The fire raging within Eris burns brighter, stronger. A force that demands respect and obedience. Much like their father’s. Without uttering another word, he turns on his heel and leaves.

Stepping forward, Eris finally allows his gaze to fall on you and he feels a violent tug in his chest that threatens to weaken him. The desire to sink to his knees beside you and envelop your trembling form in his arms is an overpowering one, coursing through him like a forbidden current. Yet, the harsh reality holds him back. It’s too dangerous. He cannot act upon the fervent emotions that entwine his heart and it pains him, seeking to destroy him almost.

But he can’t just leave you there. Helpless. On the floor. So he masks his emotions–something he is well accustomed to–and dons a facade of annoyance. With a deft, almost dismissive motion, Eris removes his tailcoat, flinging it carelessly in your direction. The seconds stretch into a languid dance as your eyes, wide with surprise, meet his. You gratefully slip his coat over your smaller form, clutching it tightly to your chest.

There’s a bittersweet ache that lingers within Eris at the unexpected intake of breath you give.

A fleeting flicker of sweet agony passes through his eyes. It vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared, leaving you to wonder if it was a mere figment of your imagination. 

"And lastly," Eris starts with a deep sigh, the once-fiery intensity in his eyes dimming as he regards his last remaining brother. The only brother left that harbored some redeemable qualities but now, Eris questioned it.

"Is this any way to treat your fiancé?"

A ripple courses through Sawyer's jawline. “Why do you care?”

"I don't." Eris retorts with a glare. He's skilled at weaving falsehoods, and though this one is way far out from the truth, it slides effortlessly off his tongue like all the other ones. He immediately senses the weight of your gaze pressing into the expense of his back.

"But I do care about the consequences if she runs away. You should too."

Though it pains him, he doesn’t turn back around to you. He looks at Sawyer once more in warning. Then, he begins to walk away, every step pulling him further from the one he yearns to be with. Your gaze, burning into him like a relentless brand the entire time.

**

Weeks Later..

Autumn winds blow harshly outside the window as you look around your room. They mirror the melancholy that lingers in your heart. Your room is big and spacious, seems fit for a princess, adorned with sculpted art and paintings. In one corner stands a massive wardrobe crafted from the richness of dark cherry wood filled to the brim with a variety of dresses that would make any lady of your status swoon. Beside it, there’s a lovely vanity with golden carvings that hosts an array of makeup and beauty products. On the opposite side, is a desk that matches your wardrobe. It bears the weight of books, letters from your father, threads, unfinished embroideries and your untouched dinner. 

At a glance, it appears you have everything.

Yet, as you sit on the bed, a pitiful truth echoes louder than the winds outside. Your gaze meets a reflection in the full-length mirror positioned next to the desk, capturing the solemn expression that dances across your features. Dark, sad eyes stare back at you and the weight of isolation is evident in the downturned corners of your mouth. You miss your home. Your friends, your horse, your father, and gods do you miss your mother. 

Upon your arrival, eager anticipation filled your heart as you looked forward to getting acquainted with your future husband. You knew not to expect love to come from it as you were mere strangers but you had hoped for a friend. The promise of a lifelong companion, a partner to share laughter and weave a tapestry of memories together, stirred excitement and nerves within you. It’s what your father and mother had shared. Your foolish heart had eagerly counted down the days, each one a step closer to a shared future.

But now? As the appointed days draw near, the once-cherished anticipation morphs into a heavy sense of dread, casting a haunting shadow over you. Your husband to be looks at you as if you’re the scum on his boots.

The High Lord, your future father in law, is cruel and terrifying. You avoid him at all costs. Your future mother in law, Lady Autumn, is often busy and away. She helps you plan your dreadful wedding during the times she isn’t busy but you find that she is quiet and reserved. There’s a lingering sadness always present in her amber eyes that you assume comes from all the sorrow and grief she’s had to endure. You’ve met one of her sons–Lucien, you remember– during your travels with your father and you used to wonder why he no longer resided in Autumn but not anymore. You can only imagine the horrors he’s had to endure that made him leave.

Hunter enjoys berating you every chance he can. There’s a darkness that burns in him and you can’t help but think about what would become of you if Sawyer was interested in you. One day, while walking through the garden you overheard from some gossiping servants that Hunter was once married. His wife died shortly after the marriage and rumor has it that the frightening Vanserra had something to do with her sudden disappearance. They wondered if the same fate would befall upon you. A thought you didn’t want to linger on as it was absolutely terrifying.

Then, there’s Oliver. Though kinder, only in comparison to Hunter and maybe even Sawyer, he is not to be trusted. He undresses you with his eyes in every glance and vulgarly welcomes you to his bed. You do your best to stay away from him because as lonely as you are, you’re nowhere near desperate for his company, and fear the day he’ll grow wary of your constant rejection.

You find yourself, however, desperate for another’s. Eris. 

You haven’t seen him since that day Sawyer broke your heart, since he let Oliver make a spectacle out of you. Eris had been the only one you’d look forward to seeing during dinner and his noted absence was the reason why you stopped joining the Vanserra dinners yourself.

Days, even weeks have passed, and he hasn’t fulfilled the promise of returning your book, its absence on your nightstand a constant reminder. He hasn’t even asked for his coat back. It remains draped over your desk chair. He’s a rare sight to see when walking amongst the grounds of the Forest house, prompting a question to rise. Is he purposely avoiding you? The mere thought stirs an unexpected pain within you.

There’s no one here for you. 

A little over a month into your lifetime stay at the Forest house and you already feel so alone. So utterly and completely alone.

Suddenly feeling suffocated, you rise from your bed and head toward your favorite area of your room–the window seat. Kneeling on the soft cushion, your fingers reach to open the window, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. The Autumn winds continue to howl through the darkness of the night but their chill does not reach you. Your eyes open and you raise your hand. A surge of electricity courses through you as your hand meets an unseen force. A magical barrier.

Turning your head toward the door, your gaze dips to the bottom where shadows dance. You can make out the planted boots of an Autumn guard and hope deflates. Nothing can come in. Nothing can go out. Not only are you alone but you’re trapped. 

A taste of what’s to come, of what’s to be of the rest of your miserable life. Lonely. Trapped. Locked away into oblivion. No breath you take is enough as you’re suffocated by the storm of emotions flooding through you. This place is your hell. Impending doom. You’re going to die here. Alone. There’s not a soul out there…

Water. You should drink some water. Tremors take over your body as you make your way toward your nightstand. Water spills onto the floor as you pour yourself a glass. You bring the water to your lips but your throat feels like it’s closing up. You glance at the pocket watch on your nightstand and notice it’s half past twelve.

There’s not a soul out there…

You extend your hand towards the watch—a cherished heirloom passed down from your mother. The gentle, rhythmic ticking of it has long been a source of solace and comfort for you. But it’s too late.

The hand clutching onto your glass of water shatters against the dark wood of your nightstand as you clutch the watch to your racing heart. You can only pray to the Cauldron, the Mother, to anyone as the room spins around you. But there’s no one to hear your prayer…

There’s a deep agony in your chest that tightens with every passing second, an inescapable loop of gloom that envelops your every thought and emotion. There’s not a soul out there. You can’t breathe. No one to hear your prayer…

“y/n.”

You catch the faint murmur of your name being called, yet a lingering doubt creeps in. You must be going mad because there’s no one here for you. Not a soul—

“y/n.”

And there it is again. Your name is being called. Louder, firmer this time. It’s real. The cruel clutches of your sorrow that held you captive begin to shatter like your glass from earlier. The sound of your name acts as a lifeline, pulling you from the depths of despair you inadvertently locked yourself into.

“That’s it. Breathe with me, angel,” the soothing voice persists, a gentle anchor for your drifting thoughts. And you can finally hear it. Your beloved watch. Though it's fast, it becomes a comforting undercurrent, a familiar melody that helps steady your racing heartbeat.

You feel like you can finally breathe again. As you blink away the haze clouding your vision and come back down, you are met with a pair of familiar amber eyes. The warm hues flicker like flames as they fixate upon you. Intense but tender and full of concern.

**

“Eris.”

You breathe his name so heavenly, like an answered prayer as you take him in. His dark red hair is tousled as though he emerged hastily from a slumber. Adorned in a thin, un-tied linen shirt, the fine contours of his chest are revealed, and his pants, creased as if donned in urgency, complete the picture of a man who arrived in haste yet with purpose.

"You're here," you say, your tone teetering on the edge of question and you glance toward your door, confirming that the Autumn guard is still stationed there.

You called, he wants to reply but instead, settles on, “I’m here.”

“How?” You ask, aware of the wards in your room preventing winnowing. At first, you thought they were meant to protect you. Now, you’re aware they’re really meant to keep you from escaping.

The corners of his lips lift into a small smirk. “I have my ways. I know every secret tunnel, every little crevice of this estate.”

Your head turns, eyes scanning your room in search of said secret tunnel. Eris lightly grasps your chin, focusing your attention back to him to keep you from spotting the secret door hidden behind your full length mirror. He wipes at the lingering traces of tears on your face, watching as your eyes dip and fixate on the golden chain encircling his neck. A sigil of three hounds captures your attention—an emblem unfamiliar to your discerning gaze, sparking a curiosity that mingles with the relief flooding your senses.

He finds his own breathing to steady at your calming state but at the sight of blood trickling down your hand, a knot twists in his stomach. “You’re hurt.”

You pull your gaze from his necklace, eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him. “I thought you didn’t care,” you tell him, echoing his words from the last time you saw him.

Again, Eris does not answer you. His eyes scan your room for a moment before abandoning whatever he was searching for. In his haste to aid your bleeding hand, he’s slipping his shirt off without another thought. 

“It’s fine,” you insist.

“No. It’s not.” He shakes his head at you as he guides you to the window nook. If only you knew the effect you had on him. The horror that crashed over him like a bucket of ice cold water, waking him so abruptly from his sleep. At your pain. Your agony. It nearly destroyed him the way it had been destroying you.

Eris pushes you gently to sit while he uses his shirt to wipe your blood off, frowning to himself when he can still hear the irregular beat of your heart. Too engrossed in cleaning your injury, he fails to catch on that the fluttering rhythm of your heart is now stirred by an entirely different source.

His expression transforms into one of genuine surprise as he encounters the gentle skin of your palm. Untouched, unmarked. His gaze flickers back to the shattered pieces of glass by the foot of your bed and then back to your hand. There’s no way. Not even with your healing abilities as a high fae. The amount of blood he had seen, the stinging he had felt through the bond–

“I told you it was fine.”

“But you’re not.” Eris counters and sucks in a sharp breath. “Angel–”

“Neither are you.” You point out, deftly redirecting the focus from yourself.

Your glistening eyes, pools of concern, flicker toward him. Toward his chest, where scars from injuries that had not healed properly and lingering bruises taint the muscles beneath, painting an alarming image. 

Eris averts his gaze, withdrawing slightly, reluctant to confront the vulnerability of the moment. Though your touch is gentle, the softest caress, his entire body tenses at the unfamiliar sensation. Your palm presses against a nasty scar that runs down the length of his abdomen, making him shudder at the memory it came from.

You suspect the answer but you can’t stop yourself from asking anyway. A blend of hurt and anger seeps through your voice.  “Who did this to you?”

Eris stands abruptly, caught in the tumult of conflicting desires–of longing to bask in the warmth of your touch and the simultaneous impulse to flee from it. “You should go to bed,” he says, voice strained. “Get some sleep.”

You stand up as well. “But I’m wide awake.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Eris, please,” you nearly beg and he finds his feet rooted to the ground. He watches as you walk over to your chair, retrieving the coat he let you borrow. You extend it toward him–a silent promise you won’t push him further on his scars.  “We can talk about other things.”

He feels his throat tighten at the urgency in your eyes.  “Like what?”

"Like…" Your voice trails off, your attention turning to the scattered items on your desk. "Embroidery?" you suggest, showing him one of your unfinished projects. It’s an outline of a yellow flower he has seen before but cannot recognize at the moment. 

"You want to talk about...embroidery?" His tone lightens, a subtle easing of tension as he slips into his coat and watches you raise another one. Unlike the first one you showed him, this one is finished and beautifully depicts a white horse with a brown mane and tail.

“This one is of my horse,” you share with pride, a subtle smile gracing your face. The warmth in your expression acts as an irresistible pull for Eris, compelling him to sit back down. "His name is Maximus.”

"I think I miss him the most," you add, the smile on your face faltering. 

It prompts Eris to speak–to keep it from falling. “It’s beautiful.”

Your smile, like the sun breaking through clouds, brightens once more. You’re beautiful, he wants to add.

“Would you like me to teach you?”

Even though he knows he should leave, he finds himself nodding. Because the prospect of your smile faltering, of you returning to your state from earlier becomes an unbearable thought. 

He secures a glamor in your room to keep the guard outside your door from hearing you. Having spent centuries studying the wards in every room, he’s learned how to unravel some pieces of them. Eris allows you to teach him the craft of embroidery. He tries to take in every instruction of yours and finds himself not lost in the craft but lost in the light in your eyes, the delightful curve of your smile as you speak.

As the daughter of a powerful and influential merchant, you’ve stayed in every court and have so many captivating stories to tell. You speak so highly of your father that he doesn’t have it in him to tell you about his dark truth–the real reason behind your arranged marriage. The delicate pricks of the thin needle against his fingers go unnoticed, drowned out by the melody of your laughter, which proves irresistibly contagious. The bond in his chest hums with a resonance that echoes through his being. He wonders, a smaller part of him fervently hoping, if you can feel it too.

Eris stays until your voice trails off–until the heaviness of your eyelids becomes an insurmountable burden, causing you to slump against the softness of the pillows. The temptation to tenderly brush your hair back from your face is strong, but he restrains the impulse.

“Eris?” Your voice, laced with the soft tendrils of sleep, reaches him.

“Yes?”

“Does this mean we’re friends now?”

The word—friends—sends a pang through him, but nevertheless, he manages a gentle "yes," reluctant to shatter the moment by uttering the truth that lies beneath the surface of his emotions. He doesn’t want to be your friend. He wants to be more than just your friend. 

A soft content hum comes from you, the only response you can manage. Mindful not to disturb your peaceful slumber, he beckons one of the blankets from your bed with his magic before carefully draping it over your curled up form at the window nook. He quietly draws the curtains shut, shielding you from the intrusion of the rising sun. He positions the embroidery hoop, adorned with the laughable but endearing image of the heart he crafted, beside you. He turns to leave but sneaks one last glance at you. Only then does he allow himself to truly smile.

Eris does not return the following night, even though he desperately wants to. Caution dictates his actions, a week elapsing before a clandestine note passed in the hallway signals his quiet return to your room. It’s during this second visit that he inevitably gives away the hidden door in your room. They lead to the house’s secret tunnels, one only Eris knows well. He promises you to take you through them one day.

It’s half past twelve and as the autumn winds blow outside your window, you're not alone this time. Eris is there with you, weaving conversations that never seem to run dry. An unspoken agreement unfolds–to keep your growing friendship hidden and away from everyone. He continues to sneak into your room, always warning you beforehand as to not scare you. The sacrifice of sleep on these nights becomes inconsequential, for both you and him.

Eris helps you chase your shadows away, taking you through the darkness to the break of the day. Your man after midnight. The soul that heard your prayer.

**

A wrought-iron table, nestled under a cascading canopy of amber leaves, holds an exquisite spread of breakfast delicacies. The air is laced with the enticing aroma of freshly brewed tea, mingling with the sweet fragrance of the flowers that surround you. Lady Autumn, whose name you learned is Raelynn, sits across from you. Her eyes, as deep as the autumnal twilight, reflect warmth back at you–no traces of the lingering sadness you’ve witnessed before in this moment. 

“My apologies, my dear, for not inviting you to breakfast sooner.” Even her voice is as warm as her gaze. “I know this court is not an easy one to adjust to.”

You find yourself smiling in reassurance back at her. Because you understand. If you were her, you’d also be wary of any newcomer.

“Eris tells me you enjoy embroidery?” Lady Raelynn says, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she brings her cup to her mouth. “Among other things.”

“I do,” you answer politely, gaze drifting to the perfectly tended lawn across from the patio you sit at. Targets for archery are neatly arranged.  There’s an arrow embedded into the bull’s eyes of every one of them.

Lady Raelynn follows your gaze. “Are you interested in archery?”

Yes, you want to say and though you find comfort in Lady Autumn’s presence, you're wary of her reaction. What if she deems it unlady like? And decides to forgo any relationship you’ve desperately clung to the hope to?

“I don’t know much about it,” you reply, choosing a diplomatic response.

 “I can teach you.” Lady Raelynn’s smile morphs into a grin. A gasp escapes you, and realization slowly etches itself into your features. “I think we’ll get along just fine,” she laughs, her words sparking hope within you.

“Good morning mother, I’ve come to–” Both of your heads turn to find Eris. He halts mid-sentence, his gaze locking with yours, a flicker of surprise and something deeper dancing in his eyes. It has you averting your gaze with a slight warmth tinting your cheeks.  “I should leave.”

“No, stay,” Lady Raelynn insists with a graceful incline of her head. With a wave of her hand, a plate full of food materializes at the empty spot between you and her, a silent invitation for Eris to join.

Eris bows his head at his mother, acknowledging her command. He takes his place at the table, his movements a bit awkward at first. As he settles in, he can't help the warming relief that washes over him at the sight of both you and his mother taking his advice. He remains relatively quiet throughout breakfast, choosing to chime in only when necessary. He’s content to bask in the soothing cadence of your conversation with his mother, indulging in stolen glances at you that linger.

Something that does not go unnoticed by his keen mother nor the way his grip tightens around his fork at the mention of your upcoming wedding.

Lady Raelynn didn’t mean to spoil the mood but she had taken it upon herself to help you plan the ceremony and reception. Albeit, reluctantly at first. That all changed after getting to know you better. Although the marriage would not be to the man of your dreams, she was now determined in ensuring that the wedding would be. It was the least she could do for you, especially after learning about the mistreatment you had endured at the hands of her sons. 

“I hope my son is treating you well?” Lady Raelynn asks you, carrying a note of concern. Her observant eyes catch the brief exchange between you and Eris, not missing the slightest tint that graces his cheeks. At least one of them is. She suppresses a smile as she awaits your answer.

“Sawyer is…” your voice trails off hesitant because he’s barely spoken to you since the incident. One of the rare occurrences being where he randomly met you in the library. He had reluctantly engaged in conversation with you, awkwardly asking what you missed the most from home. A spark of optimism brightens your tone because for once, you do have something good to say about him.

“He is actually arranging for my horse to come here! It’s silly but my horse was my biggest companion back home and I’ve been feeling a bit homesick recently.”

“It’s not silly at all, my dear. Once your horse is here, let's arrange for a morning ride. The Autumn grounds are the most peaceful in the early hours."

Your smile reflects the gratitude in your heart as you look at Lady Autumn. She, in turn, observes her son, who raises his tea to his lips, attempting to conceal the small smile playing on his face. It does nothing to mask the gleam in his eyes. Lady Raelynn is well aware that the sweet gesture is not Sawyer's doing. It's Eris's.

a/n: sooo I'm literally just going with vibes for this series (vibes to songs as that is what inspires most of these.) I wanted to write a slow burn but tbh, I think I'm too impatient for that 😂

When it comes to Sawyer, I do want to explore more of his character. I know that in canon, the Vanserras are menaces but I'd like to hope there's at least one more redeeming brother. I feel like him and reader can fall into a relationship similar to that of Rhaenyra and Laenor from House of Dragon. I also am still stuck between having the marriage actually go through or something drastic that happens that keeps it from happening. Either way, it will be angsty. I left some references in this from a movie that may prompt for more references from said movie. Any guesses? 👀

tagging: @fxckmiup

[hauntedhokage]

𝓈𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇

Sylus x F!MC

word count: 1.6k

summary: After a UNICORNS holiday party, you meet up with Sylus in the most festive attire you have in your closet.

note: for @silverrings-n-prettythings, merry christmas bitch ily

Holiday parties with mandatory attendance rules were stupid.

You understood and somewhat respected the desire to reward the team for their efforts this year and give them an opportunity to relax, but requiring attendance at the event made the party less of a party and more of a team meeting. Your pre-existing plans be damned, “team bonding” was more important than the dinner reservations your partner had made. Despite how exclusive the restaurant was, how difficult it was to get those reservations - it was the party over anything and you did fear retaliatory missions should you choose to skip.

Tara had tried over the last week to get you to bring the boyfriend she’d yet to meet, seeing this as the golden opportunity to finally meet the mysterious Skye - “If that was his real name”. Every suggestion that you use your right to a plus one is shot down, but you don’t correct her on his name or the way the excitedly slipped off the morning of the party when you’d tiredly mumbled something sarcastic regarding his appearance that evening.

Her disappointment when you show up alone is almost enough to make you feel bad. Almost. But you wear your sweater, a bright red garment decorated with white snowflakes and black feathers and at the front read Santa Caws with a Grumpy Crow wearing a santa hat. Everyone could be well aware that you didn’t want to be there and would only be there long enough to be noticed before you left, but they couldn’t say that you were trying to be a buzzkill. You drank, chatted, danced, and had a merry time with your coworkers until your phone vibrated in your back pocket.

Sylus

6:04pm

Fifteen minutes, sweetie.

Sylus

6:04pm

Don’t keep me waiting.

Your exit is well timed, making sure to grab the box you were eyeing from the white elephant table on your way out in adherence to the rules. It wasn’t anything fancy or expensive, but it was necessary for you to make sure you had the last laugh against Sylus tonight.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Tara asks, speech slurred as an accusatory finger is pointed in your direction. “It’s only-“

“I still have reservations to make, Tara. I’ll see you on Monday, get home safe!”

She’s too tipsy to be able to catch you before the elevator door closes, and you lean against the wall with a sigh of relief at finally being free from that party. You were having fun, but even forty-five minutes was too long when you knew Sylus was waiting for you.

The elevator doesn’t move fast enough, the security locks take too long to register and record your credentials (and take even longer to actually unlock the doors) but it’s all worth it when you’re finally stepping out of the Hunter Association building and into the crisp winter air outside.

“That sweater is more of a crime than anything that’s ever occurred in the N109 zone.”

The pot was certainly calling the kettle black here, as Sylus was wearing a green cardigan that was obnoxious with every move he made; covered in little bells, garland, and lights that decorated the little tree shapes knitted into the fabric. Luke and Kieran certainly delivered when you’d asked for them to produce the worst thing they could find for him to wear for your date this evening. But still, even in something so heinous, Sylus’ figure was imposing as he leaned against the car that would be your chariot for the evening.

“Mine doesn’t alert everything in a five mile radius of my position when I breathe,” you retort, poking his chest and being in delight when the bells sounded in response. “But nice try.”

He only chuckles, opening the door of the vehicle for you to slide into the passenger’s seat. You set the box down at your feet as Sylus makes his way around to the driver’s seat.

You tell him about your day as he drives, answering the questions he had about the party you were at and your coworker’s - specifically Tara - suspicions regarding your dating life.

“You know, considering you run around with various pictures of me on hand and nobody has said anything, I’m sure you could’ve brought me to your work party.”

“While you’re right, I do like keeping you to myself.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m very possessive, Sylus.”

“I’m very aware, sweetie.” He winks, the action bringing a fresh heat to your cheeks as he continues. “Perhaps I want to see what happens when a kitten’s territory is threatened.”

“I’d have to be insecure to feel threatened,” you counter, smirking in your victory when he hums his approval. “Our uninterrupted time together is often limited, so if I don’t have to share your attention I’m not going to.”

“A sentiment we share, my bell.”

Your dinner is quiet, some patrons of the restaurant also dressed to match the season while others were dressed more formal to match the usual atmosphere of this restaurant. The restaurant overlooks the amusement park, treating you to a holiday light show as you eat your dinner at one of the coveted balcony tables. Despite the chill, you’re kept warm by the various fire pits going strong among the tables and you’re further warmed by Sylus’ attentive gaze as you discuss plans for the holiday and upcoming new year.

“I know you said not to worry about moving the reservation, but I do want to apologize for the inconvenience it must’ve been for you.”

“I appreciate your concern, but it actually worked out for the better because it meant I could secure this table.”

“That’s good to hear then. You should probably make next year’s reservations in advance.”

What were you saying? Making plans for a year in advance when tomorrow was barely guaranteed in your line of work? When you didn’t even know where your separate occupations would lead you? It was silly to make suggestions like that and you’re a bit embarrassed that you would try to.

“A good idea, sweetie.”

The praise has you grinning despite your embarrassment, clearly worried for no reason when he hasn’t even blinked at the suggestion. Maybe he was just as hopeful as you were for continued tomorrows that would carry you to the next holiday and every one after that?

“Let’s finish our ice cream, wouldn’t want the light maze line to get too terribly long.”

The line for the maze moves quickly, and soon you’re holding onto Sylus’ hand tightly as you move through the maze. Even with the balcony overlooking a section of the maze, the lights decorating the walls and other lost adventurers made it difficult to truly find your bearings in the structure. But you’re with Sylus and this time With him feels sacred, so you’re truly enjoying every minute with him that you have. You can’t help but think that you’d like to do this every year with him, exploring the light maze and watching the light shows while wearing ugly sweaters in the fanciest restaurant in Linkon City. The thought makes you slow down, something that Sylus definitely notices if the way he pulls you to the side is any indicator. It’s a good place to stop, not in the way of anyone else exploring the light maze and you’re grateful for the moment to be away from others as you stand at the dead end.

“You’re thinking hard, sweetie.” His observation with coupled with a hand on your cheek, and you smile up at him in an effort to assure him that you were alright. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Yeah, I was just thinking that I’d like to spend every holiday season watching the lights here with you,” you murmur, your arms winding around his neck tightly as he leans in to lift you into his arms so he could comfortably rest his forehead against yours. His hands are warm through your jeans as they support your weight, and you feel your cheeks get even warmer at your intimate positioning in such a public space.

“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I get to see the lights decorating your eyes, silver bell.”

You want to argue that it’s him the lights compliment more, pale skin illuminated by the soft hues surrounding you in the light maze. Ruby red irises sparkle with the reflection of twinkling lights, the sight mesmerizing and further complimented by his soft smile as he looks at you.

“The things I’d do to you if we weren’t in the middle of an amusement park.”

“Tell the twins to set up some lights in your bedroom, you can act on it all there.” You suggest, grin stretching across your face when he lets out a hum indicating that he was satisfied with your suggestion. “Just without the jingling sweater.”

For emphasis, you flick one of the bells sitting at the collar of his cardigan, warning a chuckle from your silver haired lover before he leans in to capture your lips in a kiss.

It’s saccharine, sweeter than the ice cream you’d shared on the balcony and carrying every sentiment let unsaid between you. The lights around you only make the moment more magical, and you wish there was a camera that could capture this moment but at the same time are grateful that this would live in your memories alone.

“It seems I’ve defeated the purpose of the mistletoe you’ve had on you since you left your party.” He teases, voice a murmur against your lips as you grin.

“That’s for later tonight,” you inform, pressing your lips to his in a chaste peck. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

After all, how was he supposed to expect that it was going to go around your waist?

[luffysinterlude]

★ LATE NIGHT CONVERSATIONS. . .

summary: in which zoro convinces you to see yourself from his point of view.

warnings: named fem!reader/oc, reader has suicidal thoughts (not too explicit, yet not very subtle), cursing, zoro may be ooc, angst/comfort

word count: 2K+ // slightly edited

an (1): this fic started when i got drunk and wanted to read angst. i revised it so many times and i’m still somewhat unsatisfied (hence the rushed ending) but i really love this oc i created and hope i get to write about her more :3 been feeling a lil sad bc i turned 21 and i’m still somewhat stuck in my life and uuuugh. just need zoro so bad..anyway…I’ll probably do an oc introduction next :p

ZORO thinks you’re the prettiest person in existence. He wishes he could give you his eyes so you could see yourself from his point of view. He watches you as you sit next to Robin: a blanket wrapped around your body, your head leaning on her shoulder as you listen to the conversation she’s having with Franky.

Tonight, something’s different. You don’t have the usual gleam in your eye nor does your laugh echo throughout the Sunny. Instead, your eyes are red and swollen, and you’re quieter than usual — only speaking when you’re spoken to. Your eyes meet Zoro’s for a split second, and understanding flashes in his gaze as he realizes why you’ve been so distant.

You ignore the swordsman’s curious eye, trying to be more interested in the conversation Robin and Franky are having; something about poneglyphs, but you wouldn’t be too sure because your thoughts are louder than their voices, making it hard to focus.

Tonight, everything hits you at once: your past, the present, and the what-ifs. The future remains a distant concept, with its many possible outcomes holding you back.

You think these thoughts that cloud your brain are nothing but selfish. A burning desire of yours is to quietly slip away and let your soul be free from this body and place.

You love the Straw Hats, your captain, and your crewmates. You love the sea and exploring new islands. With every stop, you hope to learn something new to distract yourself from the small part of you that wishes you weren't alive.

But every now and then, it hits you. And you feel like you’re nothing but a waste of space.

Before you realize it, Zoro’s standing next to you, offering his hand. You know the blend of sympathy, disappointment, and sadness on his face. With a deep breath and a small smile to the rest of the crew, you accept it, allowing him to pull your body up and lead you down the corridor.

+x+

Roronoa Zoro, pirate hunter turned pirate, was someone you held close to your heart. He was your closest friend, your anchor in times of darkness, and your lover.

He took care of you, even in your absence; he told you that you look out for everyone else that you tend to forget to take care of yourself.

When the crew split up and you had decided to go to Whole Cake Island, Zoro made sure Franky had sent you off with two transponder snails so he could check in on you. He’s still unsure of what happened on the island of sweets, but after your reunion with the rest of the crew he’s noticed the light in your eye had become darker.

He leads you to his room, opening the door for you and placing his swords by the entrance. You take a seat on his bed, a change from your usual behavior of lying down. Your thoughts crowd your mind again as the atmosphere around you grows quieter.

You’re not doing enough. Luffy doesn’t need you, nor do the others; you believe you’re just extra weight they carry because you’re his sister.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” You feel the mattress dip as Zoro occupies the space next to you, his body radiating warmth your way. He’s laying down, arms rested behind his head, eyes closed. You stare at the man next to you, taking in his form; despite the number of times he’s smiled in the face of death, scars and stitches scattering his body, you still think he’s the most handsome man on this earth.

“Just been…thinking,” you start. “About everything that’s happened up until now.”

Zoro hums to let you know that he’s listening, a cue for you to continue.

“Nobody on the crew knows this, not even Luffy, but I was there at Marineford.”

This makes Zoro’s eye shoot open, a look of surprise painting his face. As bad as it sounds, he isn’t too interested in learning about where the crew spent the last two years, he’s just glad they all made it back together alive. He knows that you spent time mastering your Haki with your childhood teacher, but that’s all you’ve let the crew know about.

“Grandpa snuck me in disguised as a marine — I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone if I was able to leave quietly. I wanted to see Ace one last time, and he granted me that because he owed me one for keeping an eye on Luffy when we were younger.

I was able to visit his holding cell, and the sight of him…it felt as if I was being punished. Ace was the one person who understood me and how I tend to feel, the one person I shared so much in common with. He was able to find bits and pieces of himself again thanks to the light that shines through Luffy, and when he left us I promised that I’d try and keep him safe despite the distance between us, and hopefully find myself through our crybaby brother as well.”

You’re smiling fondly at the distant memories of you and your brothers, ones that you wished were photographed so you could have physical proof of those events taking place; so even when you’re old and senile you’ll be able to remember them happening.

“Tell me more,” Zoro says. He eyes the spot next to him, and you position yourself to lay there. He allows you to remove his left arm from behind his head to use as a pillow. “Were you safe, at least?”

Of course not. You were infiltrating the World Government, and if you made a tiny mistake, you would’ve been right next to Ace on the execution platform.

“I was — you know I wouldn’t do anything impulsively, unlike some people.” You giggle, remembering the moment Luffy fell from the sky, in the middle of the battlefield. “I ended up being able to sneak away because of him. I found Trafalgar’s submarine and hopped on board and waited…and I can’t help but think that was my biggest mistake, leaving Luffy alone. It’s a heavy guilt that I’ve been carrying.”

Zoro ponders for a moment; it isn’t your weight to carry, he wants to say. Luffy went to Marineford on his own accord, and not every ending is a happy one. He’s also curious about how you were able to find the surgeon and his crew, but that’s something he’ll ask about another time.

“And when I felt Shanks’ presence nearby, I asked Law to take me to his ship — which he declined, of course — so I got off and swam there instead. The waters were surprisingly calm, so don’t panic, I’m sure Jinbe wouldn’t have let me get eaten up,” you confess to him, reassuring him that you were safe every step of the way.

You stare at the left side of his face, your arms wrapped around his body as if he was a teddy bear. The blanket you had previously wrapped around your body now covered parts of his, his arm cuddling you close as if you’d ever slip away.

“How’d it go with the redhead?” Zoro asks. His eyes are still closed but you know he’s interested in knowing; asking questions is somewhat his way of begging to know more. He isn’t as stoic as he thinks he is, at least not towards you.

“It was good seeing Shanks again. He was heading to Marineford to end the war, and allowed me to stay and hide with him until Luffy made the decision to reunite in two years. He’s actually the one who took me to my childhood teacher; it took about three weeks after burying Ace and Whitebeard to get there.”

Zoro’s curious about how you handled Ace’s burial, but again, that’s something he’ll ask about another time.

“They asked about us. It was different being the one to share experiences about life on the sea; but it was refreshing and fun…I told them all about the crazy stuff we went through, and they let me know about the reputation we’ve built for ourselves. It’s actually kind of cool how many people know of us, but also scary at the same time. It really opened my eyes though; it was probably the first time in a long time that I…” you trail off, repositioning your head to be more comfortable, the hand that lay on Zoro’s chest now tracing lines as you daze off. Sensing that he’s lost you, he opens his eye and nudges you lightly.

“I felt like I had a life purpose again. Gaining the knowledge that a lot of people had their eyes set on us as a team, it made me realize the responsibility I hold. The promises I made to both Ace and Sabo, the ones I made to you and the rest of us, and the promise I made to myself as a child — my ultimate dream: to live a long, fulfilled life.”

“Even though I felt great and motivated after that and even now, the thoughts still linger around. The what-ifs: what if I stayed and attempted to save Ace alongside Luffy? What if I got caught by the Marines? What if the five of you never found me in Loguetown?

It’s a never-ending battle, and I’m getting more tired of myself with every passing day. It’s the reason why even now I exhaust myself mentally and physically, just to escape my thoughts. I guess there must be something happening with the planets for me to experience these feelings right now,” your tone is light, almost playful, yet your words place a heavy weight on him.

You let out a sharp sigh, suddenly turning on your back and staring at the wooden ceiling. You release your Haki to see what the rest of the crew is up to, noticing that some of them have already gone to bed. The only other people awake at the moment are Luffy, Sanji, and Jinbe — sharing a late night snack and a hushed conversation.

“You’re stronger and more resilient than you think,” Zoro states. “As a matter of fact, you’re probably the strongest person I know, both physically and mentally.

You’ve faced nothing but obstacles your entire life, and it makes me wish I had known you when we were younger. You and Kuina would’ve been great friends.” The mention of your lover’s childhood friend makes you smile. He’s only ever confided in you about his upbringing, and you pray to the heavens, hoping that Kuina herself hears you ask for his protection. “I admire you so much.”

And it’s true: Zoro envies how strong you are. He wishes he had unlocked Haki at a young age. He wishes he was as smart as you. There are so many things Zoro admires about you, and he wishes he knew the words to voice it.

“I’m not great with words.” You giggle at his self-awareness but let the laughter die down as he rolls his eye playfully. “But you deserve to be here — alive — regardless of where you came from, what powers and knowledge you possess, and what happened when you were a child. I’ve watched you grow into the person you are today, and it’s been a privilege.

Sometimes, it feels as if I was a saint in my past life to experience this: the open ocean, the different people and places, and you. However you see yourself isn’t how anyone else views you. Chopper looks up to you as a guardian — and despite the small age difference, I’m sure our knucklehead captain does too. Nami, Robin, Usopp, and Franky see you as their sister. I’m sure I heard Jinbe speaking of you like a daughter, and as for the annoying waiter we call a cook, he practically worships the ground you walk on. The skeleton praised you constantly, so I’m not sure how you don’t see the admiration everyone has for you.

You’ve become one of my biggest inspirations. I’ll probably never be in the mood to admit this again, so make sure you’re listening.” He suddenly sits up and rests against the headboard, your movements copying his as he interlocks your hands with his.

He meets your gaze, and you feel like you fall in love with him all over again. He’s looking at you with pure adoration, as if he’s trying to engrave your face into his memory.

Even with tear stains running down your cheeks and puffy eyes, you’re still the prettiest person to exist. Everything about you is perfect, and a demon like me doesn’t even deserve to be in your presence, Zoro thinks.

“The time we spent apart, I took some time to think about our adventures as a crew. I’m not sure if I subconsciously did it because it was a strange feeling being away from you all, or if it was because Perona kept asking too many questions.

After explaining how the ten of us all became a crew, she pointed out that I mentioned you a lot. I didn’t think so at the time, but I guess it’s just something that feels natural to me. What I’m trying to say is…

“I love you. You know this already, but I know sometimes it feels nice to have a verbal reminder. I’m in love with you, and I know I’ll always be. And I’ll help you fight your battles, even when you ask me to give you space. I’ll do anything you want me to, just promise me you’ll let me be there for you. You — in such a short amount of time — have become my greatest weakness.

It hurts when you push yourself away from everyone else, especially me. I know you don’t want to feel like a burden, but you’ll never be one; to me, or the others. Especially to Luffy. Whether you decide to tell him you were there to see Ace, is up to you. I’m positive he won’t react the way you think he would. You’ve always taken on way more than what we ask of you, and applying more pressure to yourself isn’t going to make us look at you any differently. You’re appreciated for all that you do, and will always be.

The only thing I’m asking of you is to take the time and make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Physical battles already take a toll on all of us, and we can always help each other out, but the mental ones we face can only be taken on by ourselves. Even I find it hard to deal with it. But then I’m grounded by remembering the fact that I was put here on this Earth for a reason — everyone was.”

Your jaw is hung open at Zoro’s words; yes, he saves sweet talk for you and you only, but this was an entirely different and unexpected side of him.

You want to cry. You want to kiss him. You want to take all of his pain away and give it to the officials in the World Government. You want to cradle his face in your chest and kiss his cheeks and tell him sweet nothings; yet as you process his words, you sit there in silence.

I’m grounded by remembering the fact that I was put here on this Earth for a reason — everyone was.

Similar to the last words spoken to you by your beloved brother Ace, you feel tears slip out of your eyes and suddenly you’re trapping Zoro in your arms.

“Thank you, Zo.”

The whisper reaches him, and he relaxes comfortably in your embrace. He buries his head in the crook of your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your torso. Even though it took a lot of guts to be that vulnerable, his chest feels lighter. With a soft kiss pressed to the top of his head, you return the words back to him.

“I love you so much. Thank you for always being there for me. You’re truly one of my anchors in this life.”

+x+

You wake up the next morning alone in bed. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, except this time a note sits on Zoro’s nightstand.

Woke up to Nami banging on the door. Kind of surprised it didn’t wake you up either. Anyway, we’re docked now and Luffy dragged me out with him to explore. The stupid cook and Robin are still here on the ship, so I asked them to ring me when you wake up. If you decide to leave the ship, come find me. If not, then rest and I’ll come back to you later. Love you, Zoro.

You smile at the sloppy handwriting, your mind quickly flashing to last night’s conversation between the two of you. You sit and think about it and come to the conclusion that you no longer doubt yourself. You feel as light as a feather, hopping out of bed and changing into a new outfit for the day. You’re assuming your lover had taken it upon himself to change you, not remembering when you had put your sleeping clothes on.

You waltz into the kitchen, greeted with heart eyes and the smell of coffee.

“Good morning to you, Athena. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up, Sanji’s desperately wanting to go pick some things up. Are you feeling better now? Zoro said you were feeling under the weather this morning.” Robin’s gentle voice distracts you from worrying about the amount of blood spilling from Sanji’s nose, a soft smile on her face as you greet her back.

“Good morning! I feel much better now, like I can do anything.” You smile. Sanji’s serving you a plate of breakfast as you sit across from the archaeologist. You start to eat, trying to peek at the newspaper she’s holding in her hand. The headline makes you choke on your food.

“WHAT THE HELL? LUFFY’S AN EMPEROR NOW?!”

Your voice is loud enough that Sanji and Robin are sure the entire island could hear it. Before Sanji’s able to fill you in on what was discussed after you and Zoro went to bed, your shrieks were heard throughout the Sunny.

“WHAAAAAAT?! MY BOUNTY’S AT TEN DIGITS NOW?!”

“Well, you and Zoro missed a lot last night. We’re happy to know that you’re feeling better now though!” Robin says, a closed-eye smile sent your way.

You’re in a state of shock: reading the article that was released less than twenty four hours ago, and you hear Sanji’s tongue click.

“Maybe we should take Athena-swan to Chopper for medicine,” Eyes wide and jaw hung, you nod your head. “And probably look for the embarrassment you call your boyfriend.”

With that, you shove Sanji away from you, standing up quickly and taking hold of Robin’s hand. You grab your bag and walk off the ship with the two of them next to you, feeling thousands times better than last night.

Zoro, you say in your mind. Please don’t be lost. Eh — it’s been hours since they left. He’s definitely lost.

With a new sense of confidence and optimism, you hold your head high and continue your journey in making this a life worth living.

+x+

an (2): ahhhh yes!! athena (reader) is luffy’s sister…i have her while character outline already written. i kinda hate the ending but i also didn’t want to stay stuck on this lil story for too long…but i do want to write more abt our lovely athena and the life she’s willing to live <3

please do leave feedback! it helps me improve :) especially since i’m still learning & getting back into it!!

[her-power]

So Called Chaos (Part One: Modern single dad! e.m x fem reader)

❤️‍🩹🚨‼️18+ Minors DO NOT interact ‼️🚨❤️‍🩹

Trigger warnings/content warnings: Talk of suicide, talk of death, grief, hurt, comfort. Talk of PPD/PPA. Smut will come later, not explicit but sensual I guess? (warning now) strong language, angst, fluff.

Summary: This takes place in modern times. Eddie & reader are in early 30s. Eddie is raising his two year old son, Hunter, alone while coping with the death of his son’s mother who he had a complicated relationship with. He runs into an old friend at the bookstore (the reader) and memories of their time together as teenagers flood his brain to a point where he cannot stop thinking about her and the what if’s. This blossoms into a beautiful rekindled friendship and potentially something more.

Word Count: 5.1K

Thirty-four-year-old Eddie Munson hovers over the crib, his eyes bloodshot, he was so tired, but he always made sure to watch him fall asleep. His sweet son, Hunter. He was turning two years old tomorrow. Two whole years. Eddie couldn’t imagine him not existing, even if it didn’t start out the way he wanted to. Hunter’s mother had died six months after he was born; it was a subject Eddie didn’t talk about with many people. Not even his friends. Olivia was sick, she was tired, she thought the easiest way was to just disappear forever. He was angry at her, but he had loved her. In a way they only knew how to love one another. 

Hunter was the best thing that ever happened to him. He reaches his hand over to his face, gently caressing the spot between his eyes, his brown curly hair lined his face perfectly. His lips puckered while he slept, and he would go into random laughing fits in his sleep. Eddie would tell him that it was grandma making him laugh from Heaven. He sighs, taking the video monitor and putting on the white noise machine. 

He walks downstairs and plops himself onto the couch. 

“You’re doing good, Eds.” The voice comes out of the shadows. 

Oh yeah, he also talks to the dead mother of his child. It was worse after she died, then it went away for awhile. Now, it’s been a daily occurrence. He isn’t sure if it’s his way of coping with her death or if he’s actually talking to her, but he wasn’t in the mood. 

“Go away.” He mutters. 

Olivia’s form reaches his peripheral vision, but he doesn’t turn his head. He couldn’t. The last time he did she didn’t look normal, she looked very dead. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispers. 

“You keep saying that and I honestly don’t think you are.” He laughs, feeling tears form at the corners of his eyes, he sniffles them back. “It was your choice to leave us. Leave me alone.” 

“I just want you to be happy, Eddie.” Her voice is fading. 

“Who says I’m not happy?” He grumbles, glancing at the time on his phone. “Go say happy birthday to our son and then stay away.” 

He doesn’t feel her presence in the room, and he’s almost relieved. Their relationship was complicated, even before she got pregnant. They were just friends with benefits, met at the hideout and it became a weekly thing. He loved her, but he wasn’t in love with her. She felt the same, but they tried to make it work when she got pregnant. He noticed a change in her after Hunter was born, she stopped going to her postpartum appointments, had denied that she was depressed. She was a wonderful mother, but she didn’t think she was good enough. She said so in her note, and it has taken him over a year to prevent himself from lighting it on fire. 

He was grieving, he knew that. But he was grieving more so for Hunter not having a mother. Like himself. Robin has been a big help. She would show up unannounced, demand him to take a nap or shower and she would take care of Hunter. He didn’t say many words but when he would see her, he would say “Teetee”, Auntie was too hard for him right now. He sighs and texts Robin: 

Been hearing her again. 

His phone immediately rings and he groans, sliding it to answer. “You know I hate talking on the phone.” 

“I don’t care. When did it start up again?” He hears the beeping from inside her car and her door shut.

“Robin, you don’t need to come here, I’m fine.” Eddie groans, falling back on the couch, his long hair falling out of its half bun. 

“When did it start?” 

“I don’t know, two weeks ago maybe.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as soon as hears Robin huff. Demanding in the sweetest way possible why he didn’t tell her sooner, and if he needs her to come over more. “Robin…Robin…slow it down. I’m fine. I promise.” 

“Well, I’m still coming over.” 

Eddie groans. “I was just gonna smoke a joint and go to bed.”

“Okay, smoke a joint, I’ll be there in five.” 

She hangs up and Eddie sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He gets up from the couch, taking the video monitor with him and goes into the two-car garage. He turns the light of the garage on, his truck sat idle in one of the spaces and his Sweetheart, drum set, and musical equipment sat in the other spot. 

He lucked out finding this house; it was a fixer upper, and they gave it to him 3,000 dollars below the asking price. He was able to finish the basement; he did it all himself, with the exceptional help of Robin, Steve and Dustin. It was a two-floor cape house; covered in wall-to-wall carpet. Ripping it up was easy, adding new flooring was not. Uncle Wayne had helped with the rest, and Eddie had settled for area rugs and the house came together beautifully. Hunter took his first steps in the hallway; he got his first bump on his head on the kitchen cabinet when he didn’t know how to slow down when he was “running”. 

Eddie chuckles as he rolls the joint, at the time it wasn’t funny, because Hunter was screaming, and Eddie thought he had brain damage. He remembers Robin saying, “don’t react, don’t react…be calm”. And once he calmed down, Hunter calmed down and went about his business, finding his toy bus and playing with it in the living room. 

He lights the joint, inhaling on it deeply and letting it out slowly of his mouth. He hears Robin’s car pull on the driveway and he carefully lifts up the garage door, her lights blinding him. He waves at her to shut them off and she flicks the high beams at him twice just to add some extra annoyance. 

She giggles, coming out of the car, holding two plastic bags of snacks and drinks. He takes them from her, immediately opening the popcorn. 

“You really didn’t have to come here.” He says, chewing on the popcorn and then inhaling on his joint. He passes it to her, and she takes it willingly. 

“I’m on vacation and Vicky is away for the weekend with her sister.” She passes the joint back to him as they walk back into the garage. “Plus, you need a day off.” 

“I’m on vacation too.” He grumbles, and he was, he took two weeks off from the record shop he co-owned just to spend more time with Hunter and potentially start writing music again. 

“Dude, I mean like a day off.” She says, passing him a soda from the bag. “Me and Hunter can have an auntie day, and you can go run errands or go scream in the woods.” 

Eddie chuckles. “Screaming in the woods does sound appealing.”

“Please just take the day for yourself, man.” She tells him kindly, both finishing off the joint and walking back inside. “You need it.” She peels off her jacket, it was springtime, but the nighttime air was still a bit chilly. 

“I don’t want to put a burden on you, Rob. He can be a handful, and it’s his birthday.” He tells her, moving his way to the living room to check the monitor. 

“He’s obsessed with me. He saves the tantrums for you. I’m not saying go out for the whole day, just go do something for you for a couple hours, and then we can have cake when you get back.” She pats his shoulder, and he laughs. They both sit on the couch; Eddie puts on a music documentary for background noise. 

He feels her eyes on him, and he turns his head to look at her. “Go ahead, ask the question.” 

“Are you really okay?” She asks him, pulling her knees up to her chest. 

He sighs, leaning back on the couch. “Okay in what sense?” 

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m okay when I’m with Hunter. When he giggles at something he finds funny, when he grabs my face just press his forehead against mine, when he hugs me. Nighttime lately has been…lonely, I guess.” He groans, hating that he was opening up like this, but Robin could unfortunately read him like a book. 

“Do you miss her?” 

“Of course I do.” He says, sighing loudly after he hesitates. “I miss having a partner, she was so good. And Hunter loved her…” His throat clenches, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m pissed at her for robbing him of a mother. I’m fucking angry, Robin. She had the help in front of her, I don’t understand.” 

Robin is silent for a moment. “Sometimes it’s hard for some people to get out of that darkness. Being in constant pain everyday and just trekking along. It wasn’t your job to save her, Eddie.” 

“I could never leave him like that.” His voice trembles. “He’s everything to me.” 

“And he was everything to her.” Robin says, leaning over to grab his hand. “But sometimes, that isn’t enough.” 

“Well, it should’ve been.” He wipes his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore, the more I talk about her the angrier I get.”

“Has Hunter talked about her?” 

And…we’re still talking about her. 

“Not really, he will stare at her picture and smile. His eyes twinkle like hers, that bright blue mixed with green. It’s beautiful.” He tries to smile. “I just feel like his life is already gonna be fucked up because of this and because I’m his dad.” 

“You’re a great father, Eddie.” 

He’s quiet. 

“I question it sometimes.” 

“Well, you shouldn’t. That little boy loves you.” She squeezes his hand. “I don’t know a thing about being a parent, but I know my parents, and they sucked. It’s not easy, but you’re doing your best.” 

He rolls his eyes, groaning, laying his head against her shoulder. “Can’t you just let me be self deprecating for once? I hate that you’re a nice person sometimes.” 

“I hate that you’re mean to yourself. You’re my best friend, and I wish you would just see what I see.” 

“I need to write again.” He sighs. 

“So, write. Go somewhere tomorrow and do that.” She rests her head against his. He pats her knee, sighing. 

“Fine. I will do that…after I express some more self-deprecating behavior.” 

“You’re so annoying, dude.” She laughs, shoving him away. 

“It’s your fault for wanting to be my friend.” 

***

Hunter had woken later than usual; he was happy and giggling and as soon as he saw Robin’s face, he squealed with delight. Eddie had put on one of Hunter’s favorite songs, Let’s Dance by David Bowie and the two of them danced and sang the song to him with goofy faces which made him have full belly laughs. It took Eddie a few pushes from Robin before she could get him out of the house. He wasn’t sure where he wanted to go, but as he drove, he realizes he hasn’t been to the bookstore in a while. He had bought a lot of his music books back in the day from there, along with anything that had to do with the Lord of the Rings. He pulls into the parking lot and steps out, adjusting his jeans and his Knocked Loose t-shirt. As soon as he steps in the doorway, he is hit with a familiar aroma of books. He forgot how soothing it was to just stand there and take it all in. 

He wasn’t sure where to go first; they had done a lot of rearranging of the place. He settled with heading to the children’s section first. He felt like a little kid himself, remembering how it felt to open a new book and see the pictures pop out from the pages. He had a pile in his arms, one of the workers had to give him a basket so his arm wouldn’t fall off. He found children’s board books called Baby Bowie, Baby Janis and Baby Elvis. He found a children’s book rendition of the Goonies and Back to the Future, as well as a cute store about a pack of baby wolves in the woods. He exits the area, completely distracted by his next his adventure into the horror section when he accidentally collides with a woman in the aisle. He drops his basket, as well as causing her to drop her pile of books. 

“Oh shit, I am so sorry.” He tells her, squatting down to help her pick up up the books. 

“No, no, I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

That voice.

Eddie looks up. 

Your voice. 

The two of you lock eyes; Eddie almost topples over. 

“Oh my god…Eddie?!” You squeal with delight, getting to your feet and Eddie follows, lifting you off your feet as he hugs your waist tightly. He was almost shaking; it had been close to twenty years since he last laid his eyes on you. 

He pulls away to look at you and he smiles. “You haven’t changed.” 

You blush. “Neither have you.” You curl a piece of his hair in your finger. He stares at you and is having a hard time trying to find words as he hands your books to you. 

“How-how long are you in town for?” He asks you quietly, still smiling. 

“Oh, uh…permanently.” You say with a small laugh. “I moved into my parents house…my mom died a few years ago and my dad had to go to nursing home.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He says sadly, grabbing your hand. “I didn’t know.” 

“I wouldn’t expect you to come, Eddie. You got your hands full. How’s your son?” You smile sweetly at him, and his heart does a pitter patter. 

“He’s awesome. He’s two today. He’s at my house hanging out with Robin.” 

“Robin Buckley? How is she?” 

“She’s great, getting married next year to Vicky.” 

Eddie had heard that you were married a few years ago, but he didn’t want to pry when he didn’t see a ring on your finger and the admission that you were living with your parents. You smile, shaking your head and taking out your phone. “You probably should be getting back to Hunter. I would love to catch up though.” You ask him for his number which he gives willingly, and you send Eddie a melting face emoji and he giggles. 

“Got it.” He smiles at you, and you smile back. You sigh, going up on your toes to hug his shoulders. “It was so good to see you.” 

Eddie squeezes your waist, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut. It has been a long time since another man held you like this. You pull away and say your goodbyes, going your separate ways. 

Eddie is still dumbfounded when he gets home, he couldn’t believe he ran into you. Robin notices the look on his face, and he tells her everything. 

“Whoa dude, the one who got away.” 

“I mean, not really.” He says, moving Hunter’s curly hair out of his eyes and kissing his forehead. “The only thing that happened was we kissed, and that was short lived because the cops came to break up the party in the woods.” 

“Kissed key word. Steve and I had been rooting for the two of you that whole summer.” 

Eddie laughs. “We were just friends at that point.” He pulls Hunter in his arms, rocking him gently and he lays his head against Eddie’s chest, ready to fall asleep for his afternoon nap. Eddie stares at Hunter, taking him all in as he sometimes does. His beautiful round cheeks, his full lips. The dimples he got from Eddie, so much more prominent. His bright blue eyes stare into his, and his little hand goes up to cup his cheek and Eddie kisses his palm. Robin was watching her best friend from the background, knowing that his little moment he was sharing with Hunter was a moment just for them. Eddie begins singing a soft melody to him, and by the time he’s finished, Hunter is sound asleep in his arms. 

Eddie had placed him in his pack and play in the living room, covering him with his favorite blanket. 

“Go write some music.” Robin says gently. “I’ll hang in here with him.” 

Eddie nods, gently squeezing her hand. “Thank you.” 

Eddie walks in the garage, sighing as he takes a pack of cigarettes he had hidden in the cabinet. He barely smokes anymore, but when he needs to write something, a buzz from nicotine will usually do the trick. He sits down on the stool behind the drum set, laying his composition notebook on the snare drum, opening it to a blank page. He lights up the cigarette, letting the fire burn his lungs. He closes his eyes, slowly letting out the smoke. He takes the cap off his pen with his teeth and hovers it over the blank page. 

A sound of a beer can opening…

A cute laugh…

He stares off for a moment, remembering…

A long time ago…

Eddie sits on a broken tree limb, smoking a cigarette and sipping his beer, staring at the bon fire. He was seventeen, sitting by himself while watching his friends socialize. He wasn’t in the mood to socialize tonight; he was already in a bad mood, but Robin and Steve really wanted him at the party. His dad had called from prison, asking Eddie to wire him some money for his canteen. Eddie told him to fuck himself, and his father ended the call to tell him it was the anniversary of his mother Elizabeth’s death. Which he had forgotten about. And he was oddly overcome with so much sadness and grief he didn’t know how else to process it besides sulking. Eddie feels a presence next to him, and turns to see you, gripping an empty beer bottle. 

“Walk with me.” You mutter quietly. 

“What?” Eddie asks you, confusion setting in but also concern on why your hands are trembling. “Are you okay?”

“No.” You whisper. “I’m pretty sure one of the dudes over there drugged me…please just walk with me.” 

A burning rage fills up Eddie’s lungs as he looks over at the crowd of football players, passing small glances over at the two of you. Eddie couldn’t fathom why someone would do that…especially to someone like you. Eddie stands up, about to walk over there but you grab his denim jacket in a tight fist. 

“No, Eddie. Walk with me.” You tell him, desperation in your tone and Eddie lets out a sigh and nods. You drop the beer bottle when he takes your hand and the two of you walk down a dark path towards where the moon overlooks the lake. 

You lean against a tree; Eddie watches you as you take in a few deep breaths. He walks towards you, gently taking your hand. 

“Walk me through it, are you feeling it?” He asks you carefully. 

“I don’t know…maybe? My legs feel weird. I know I’m drunk, but my heart won’t stop racing. I feel like I’m gonna get sick.” 

“If you puke it will dial down the effects of the drugs.” Eddie tells you gently, the rage still burning. “Who was it?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You say, hiccuping and then holding your stomach. “Some douche bag.” 

“I need a name.” 

“No, you don’t, what you need is to hold my hair back because if you keep talking, I’m gonna throw up on your shoes.” You awkwardly stumble into him as you clench your stomach with your arm, and you feel the bile rise to your throat and the vomit come out like a faucet. Eddie’s holding your hair and gently rubbing your back as you violently puke behind the tree. When you feel like you have nothing left from your insides, you groan, leaning back against the tree. You didn’t feel like you were going to black out anymore, but the slight high was still there. 

“There’s…water…in my bag…” you tell him quietly. “Can you get it for me, please?” 

Eddie nods, going through your bag and handing you a steel water bottle. You chug it; Eddie tells you to slow down so you don’t puke again but you wave him off. You slide down to your bottom on the cool ground, your legs covered in dirt. “Thank you.”

“Now will you tell me who it was?” 

You giggle. “No. It’s over with. I’m the idiot who took a drink from a stranger at a party in the woods.” 

“Don’t victim blame.” Eddie tells you with a smirk. 

“I’m not a victim. You, Eddie Munson were my knight and shining armor who rescued me.” You giggle at how ridiculous you sound. “Sorry, I’m still drunk and I’m trying to keep it together.” 

Eddie laughs, sitting next to you. His heart doing a pitter patter as he stares at you. Steve and Robin had introduced you to him two summers ago. You had hung out together but never alone like this, he couldn’t get over your beauty. Even in the moonlight, your features were breathtaking. 

“Are you okay?” You ask him quietly. “You’ve seemed a little off all night.” 

Eddie is caught off guard by your question. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He smiles at you, taking out his cigarettes. 

“Those are bad for you.” You smirk at him. “Haven’t you seen those commercials?” 

“Yup.” He laughs, twirling the lighter in his hands. “I won’t smoke if it bothers you.” 

“No, it’s fine, cause I’m probably gonna ask you for one.” You laugh. 

“But these are bad for you.” Eddie teases and you gently nudge him with your foot. 

“Give me one.” 

Eddie laughs, taking two from his pack, and handing you one. He lights yours first, the flame illuminating your face as you inhale deeply, you only cough a little and you lean your head back against the tree. The two of you sit in silence, your anxiety was subsiding. His presence alone was making you feel safe, comfortable. 

“I was thinking about my mom.” Eddie tells you after a moment and you glance over at him, he’s not sure why he told you, he guesses he just needed to say it out loud. “Today is her anniversary…and I forgot. So, I feel like a shitty son.” 

You lean closer to him. “I’m sorry.” 

Eddie shrugs. “It’s just a lifelong thing I have to deal with I guess.” 

You inhale on the cigarette, letting it billow from your nostrils. “My dad lost both of his brothers during Vietnam. His older brother got killed over there and his other brother came home but never left until he took his life. I remember being young and asking him how it feels to grow up without them, how they stay the same age, and he gets older, approaching their ages year after year. I think I caught him off guard because it took him awhile to say what he said. But he said, ‘it feels like being trapped in a current, one side of the water is pulling you towards where you don’t want to go, and the other side is fighting against you. You can either swim with all your might to avoid it until you’re exhausted, or you can let the current slowly carry you. That’s what grief is, it’s never ending, sometimes it’s okay to fight against it, but sometimes it’s not. It’s just empty love’.” 

Eddie stares in awe at you, feeling tears creep up into the corners of his eyes. “Wow. I never thought of it like that.” 

“Me either, but I’ve also never lost anyone.” You sigh, glancing at his solemn face. “She must’ve been an amazing woman.” 

“Yeah.” Eddie hesitates. “From what I remember. She’s why I love music, so I guess when I play music or write songs, I take her with me.” 

You smile, and gently rest your head against his shoulder. He tenses a little but relaxes, resting his cheek against the top of your head. This felt natural to you, and it surprisingly felt natural to Eddie. You didn’t even know what time it was, and in that moment you didn’t care. You could stay curled next to him forever. 

“Will I feel like this tomorrow?” You whisper. 

His curly hair tickles your forehead. “You’re probably gonna have a headache in the morning. Drink a lot of water.” 

“I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there…or if my first instinct wasn’t to come find you.” You lean your head up to look at his face and he meets your eyes, his heart racing over how close your faces were. “Thank you.” 

Eddie smiles, gently squeezing your hand. “Don’t need to thank me. You could give me a name though.” 

“Nope.” You laugh and he sighs, shaking his head. 

“I’m gonna find out eventually.” He says, snuffing the cigarette out on a rock. 

“And you’re going to do nothing because I told you to do nothing.” You say, meeting his brown eyes, staring at them and he stares back at you. “Did you know that your eyes have a bit of gold in them? They’re beautiful.” 

Eddie blushes and giggles. “You’re just drunk.” He bumps you with his shoulder. 

“No, well, yes but…I never noticed them before.” You move your hand up to cup his face and he almost flinches. “There’s a lot I didn’t notice before.” 

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat, carefully turning towards you so your knees are touching. He lifts his hand to curl a piece of hair behind your ear and you tremble. You lean towards his lips, and he pulls back a little, cupping your cheek. “Are you sure? You’re still drunk, I don’t want you to—"

“Just kiss me, you dork.” You laugh and he smiles shyly. He leans carefully towards you, slightly trembling as his soft lips press against yours. A thousand volts goes through your entire core as you kiss him, and he wonders why he never got the guts to kiss you before now. The kiss deepens, and you push your body closer to his as he cups the back of your head. His other hand grips your waist, and you sigh, sitting on his lap. 

“COPS!” 

Someone yells as they run past you two, and your lips pull away quickly. You could hear the sirens by the fire and the sound of walkie talkies. The two of you scramble to your feet, you grab your bag, and he takes your hand, both going into a sprint through the woods. You couldn’t stop laughing, the excitement of kissing him as well as the adrenaline from escaping the cops was making you feel all kinds of giddy. When the two of you felt comfortable enough to slow down, you both end up on a quiet road, which was near your house, the silence was calming, and you had to catch your breath from the laughing. 

“That was insane.” You laugh. “I’ve never run from the cops before.” 

“It’s a cake walk for me now.” Eddie laughs, taking your hand as you two walk silently towards your street. Thunder booms over head, rain begins to pelt you both. You laugh loudly as the rain becomes torrential and you’re running again to the sidewalk in front of your house. He walks you to the front door, the awning shielding you both from the rain and you giggle, moving your wet hair from your face. 

Eddie laughs, picking a piece of a leaf that landed in your hair. You smile at him, clearing your throat. 

“I had a lot of fun.” You tell him and he smiles. 

“Yeah, me too.” He grins. “Are you gonna be okay?” 

“I’ll be fine. I’ll message you if I need you to pull me out of a black out.” You joke. 

“Don’t scare me because I will sleep outside your window.” 

You smile at him, gently patting his face. “Thank you for everything, Eddie.” 

Eddie gently cups your chin, smiling. “Don’t need to thank me.” 

You laugh, shaking your head, opening your screen door quietly. You stop at the door, looking up at him. You lean up on your toes, kissing him softly on the lips and open your front door. You wave to him from your foyer, telling him to text you when he got home safely. 

Eddie walked through the rain that night with a smile on his face, still feeling the tingle of your lips against his. 

It was a feeling he hasn’t felt before, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to lose it yet. 

Eddie groans, closing his notebook. He didn’t write anything, he was in a daze, thinking of you, remembering that kiss. The kiss that sealed the deal that you were the girl of his dreams, but then life happened, you never really saw each other again. But he always thought about you, always wondered what if, even when he was with Olivia. He sighs, taking his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolling to the text message you had sent him earlier. 

He didn’t know what to say, or what to ask. He didn’t know if it was too soon to reach out to you or if you were waiting for him. Coffee was innocent enough, right? He needed to find a babysitter first, only for a few hours. He couldn’t ask Robin again, he felt too bad, but he knew she would say yes. He felt extremely guilty suddenly; he shouldn’t be leaving him with babysitters. 

“Text her.” Olivia’s voice comes out of the shadows and Eddie gasps loudly, falling off the drum stool. 

“Fuck.” Eddie says, catching his breath. “Go away.” 

“Not until you text her.” He could feel her presence, and his hands tremble as he keeps his eyes fixed on the high hat. He knew she was right behind him, but he wouldn’t look. 

“You’re an actual nightmare.” He mutters, reaching for his phone. 

“Take Hunter with you if you have to.”

“No, I don’t want to confuse him.” 

“How would you confuse him?”

“She’s not you.” Eddie says, his heart slowly breaking.

“No, she’s not. But, Eddie…this will be good for you, for both of you.”

Eddie stares at the blinking cursor on the text thread, his fingers hovering over the keypad. He doesn’t feel Olivia’s presence anymore and quickly types up a message, hitting send.

Hi, I’m not sure if you have plans or not tomorrow, but would you like to meet for coffee in the morning? There’s a café near my house where they have cake pops that Hunter loves. I hope you don’t mind that he tags along.

She responds immediately: Why would I mind? He’s your son. Of course I would love to meet for coffee. 8am okay?

Eddie smiles. That sounds perfect. 

[orpheusluvr]

Embarrassment Kink (Fool’s Gold x Female Reader)

NSFW WARNING

(Just a head’s up, you and Fool’s Gold engage in public intimacy but you’re both covered so dw)

Rumours have been spreading around the manor that a certain survivor has been “hitting it off” with a hunter. No one other than you and Fool’s Gold. And he wants to give everyone a taste of what’s going behind closed doors, even if it means embarrassing you both in the process.

“Shameful.”

That’s the one word you kept hearing.

I mean yes, it was shameful that you had a very intimate relationship with a hunter. But you couldn’t help yourself. Fool’s Gold was a much more dominant and aggressive version of Norton, and he drove you crazy each time. Of course, he was caring too. But he had a different way of showing it.

“Y/N?” Norton gently tapped your shoulder. You immediately jumped and turned around.

You failed to meet his eyes, looking down at the ground and hanging your head in shame.

He went forward and embraced you into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry that everyone found out. My counterpart just couldn’t shut up about it for once.” He whispered.

“Why did he have to tell everyone?” You said, barely whispering.

“He just loves to boast about his possessions. It boosts his ego.” Norton sighed.

He cupped your face with his hands.

“Don’t worry though, they’re just rumours. Not everyone knows if it’s true or not. As long as he-”

“Well, well. What’s going on here?” Fool’s Gold appeared between you and Norton. He glared at Norton.

“You can go now. I’m going to deal with her.” He said.

“You sicken me.” Norton said, shaking his head. He gave you an apologetic look before heading off.

“Hey, you’re the one who caused my existence, remember?” Fool’s Gold called out after him, giving a laugh.

Norton’s face dropped after immediately remembering the mining incident, a traumatic look painted across his face. He clenched his fists, then continued walking.

“That hit a nerve.” Fool’s Gold continued to laugh. He then turned back towards you, lifting you up.

“My sweet treasure, I’m going to let the whole world know who you belong to.” He said, kissing you.

A crowd began gathering in the hallway of the manor, whispers heard among them.

“So the rumours ARE true.”

“I feel disappointed.”

“How could something like this even happen?”

You looked at Fool’s Gold with sadness in your eyes.

“Do you enjoy seeing them talk about us like this?” You said, your voice cracking as a tear rolled down your cheek.

He wiped the tear with his cold, hard hands. The rock texture grazed against your cheek.

“Darling, don’t let their words get to you. They mean nothing.” He reassured you.

He sat on the ground, placing you onto his lap. You froze in place as you watched the survivors stare at you with shocked filled gazes.

“Yes, fellow survivors. The rumours are true. Y/N and I share a very special bond.” He called out.

You heard rustling underneath you, and then you felt his hand slide up your dress.

“She belongs to me…”

Fool’s Gold positioned you over his cock.

“…and only me.” He said, slamming you against it.

You were about to let out a loud moan, but immediately covered your mouth with your hand.

“Darling, what are you doing? Don’t be so shy, let everyone know how much you’re desperate and needy for me.” Fool’s Gold cooed, nibbling on your ear.

He slammed his hips upwards, completely filling you up with his huge length and signalling to you to start moving on him. You threw your head back and closed your eyes, slowly grinding against him as your moans muffled with the sound of the survivor’s shocked gasps and whispers. You were eventually so lost in the pleasure that you completely forgot that they were even there, grabbing onto Fool’s Gold’s hair and moaning his name while he grabbed onto your hips and sucked on your neck.

Eventually, the crowd became empty so it was just you and Fool’s Gold. With one last thrust, he released in you, filling your pussy with his cum. You released right after him, your juices mixing together, symbolising your strong bond.

You sat gasping for air in his lap, while he was still inside you. His face was flushed, a deep red hue completely contrasting to his physique. He kissed your cheek.

“You did good, my beloved treasure.” He whispered.

Norton eventually found you both, shaking his head.

“Great, now everyone knows that you were telling the truth.” He glared at Fool’s Gold.

“Good. That’s what I intended to do.” Fool’s Gold said, with a smirk.

[winterstelltales]

daybreak [zayne x fem!reader]

summary : you're dawnbreaker this life

warnings : angst, mentions of deaths, little bit of blood, fingering, grammar errors

note : first time trying nsfw pls bear with me

his voice was like when you sat in front of a fireplace in the winter, it seeped under your skin, warming your very soul. and when he looked at you, you couldn’t look away. his eyes were the softest gold infused with green, as if he held the new spring growth inside. They were the forest floor and the golden sunbursts, somewhere you could rest and breathe.

you shouldn’t look away, not when every moment you get to look at him was transient, a fleeting moment that you knew could slip away at any time.

zayne.

he looks at you as if you’re his world. he smiles at you—calls your name in the gentlest voice that soothes the weight settled deep inside your heart.

he’s speaking, arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you incredibly close to his chest. under the soft glow of moonlight, his face is calm.

“I thought about it and decided it’s better to just tell you,” his hand slowly moves up, cradling the side of your face.

his fingers rest under your chin and tips your face up to meet his gaze, “the moon is beautiful tonight,” and then he lowers his lips and kisses you so gently under the moonlight...no

no...no, that's not right.

zayne lowers his and kisses her, he’s kissing her, his lover, his hunter.

and you’re not her. you’ll never be her.

────────────

linkon falls years before you’re born.

in the spring that flowers bloomed and where new beginnings were promised, linkon city met’s it end in a storm of dust and debris. in the end all that was left was a canvas drenched in black ash and veiled in smoke.

you’re twelve when you ran away from the foster home. the blood of your foster mother coats your little hands, red streaks running down the side of your face. you didn't mean to kill her, not even when she lunged at you with the ink black tendrils growing inside her.

you just didn’t want to die, so when those disfigured limbs came twisting towards you, you stabbed her heart with the kitchen knife in your hand.

it was your first kill.

that was the same night you dreamed of her. she was you, wearing a uniform and fighting those creatures haunting your life.

your life was black and white, but then you’ll see him with her. he’s always smiling when he’s with her.

missing a person that didn’t even exist in your world seemed foolish, but you cling to that dream desperately, chasing it as though it were the only thread tethering you to sanity—the one thing that brings you comfort.

────────────

later at night you go to sleep in hope of waking up in his arms. sometimes you’re awake in her world, watching him through her eyes. and with your selfish heart you’re wishing, i don’t want to let this go.

so you cling desperately, hoping that she’ll sleep a little longer and then..your fingers hover just above his cheek, finger tingling to feel his skin. he looks so peaceful sleeping. you wonder how it feels to kiss him, to touch him.

just one time

you’re begging, and begging. but you can’t. it’s a heart wrenching ache, like something coiling around your heart, the tightness in your throat making it unbearably hard for you to breathe.

a silent sob escapes your lips, and you quickly cover your mouth as the tears roll down your cheeks.

why does it hurt so much?

why does loving him hurt so much?

your eyes are blurry, but you stare up at the familiar ceiling of your room. you close your eyes, trying to live in the moment that you just lost.

and for the very first time you realised that missing him has a sound. so every time your heart beats, you are thinking about him.

────────────

it’s hard this time, to breathe, but for a totally different reason. your entire body feels hot.

dreams that promise you his touch like this was rare, but when it is given, you’re too much of a selfish person to refuse.

you crave for his touch with a desperation that borders on madness, like a parched soul longing for rain in an endless desert.

the room is cloaked in shadows, illuminated only by a faint, dim light by the bedside.

you’re sitting in between his legs, legs spread and back pressed tightly against his chest. your whole body was wrapped in his arms.

warm, it’s a foreign feeling to you. even when you turned on the heater in your crappy apartment, it was always the bone chilling cold that accompanied you. but right now, in his arms, there’s a warmth that seeps into every part of you.

you can feel his hardness behind you. your heart is beating like a drum, threatening to spill out of your ribs. but zayne’s large hands hold your shoulders, fingers stroking your bare arms back and forth. he is whispering your name in your ears like a mantra, his breath so close, and every time he breathes, it plucked at your heartstrings.

this wasn’t yours to feel. but the desire that burns your reasons away like a prairie fire makes you turn your head to him. zayne looks into your eyes and leans in, kissing you softly.

his kiss tastes like the warm sun.

why is that a person like him, who’s shrouded in coldness, has so much warmth in him?

zayne’s leaving a string of tiny kisses down your neck and you can’t help but give in to the feeling. His tongue teases the sensitive back of your neck, pecking it lightly, biting.

you whine lightly, pressing yourself closer to his chest. his lips curve on the surface of your skin.

“sensitive?”

his voice sounds low, magnetic.

you’re afraid to speak, but the pleasure is fogging your mind.

“zayne..” you whisper softly and he hums, hands sliding from your shoulders to your perky breasts. his hands easily covers your entire breast and gently kneads the soft skin all the while leaving delicate and wet kisses down your shoulders.

amid your broken moans, his hands circle your erect nipples, thumb swiping over them, pinching and tugging them before rolling your nipples between his fingers, adding to your burning desire.

“beautiful,” zayne pants in your ear, his hand leaves your breast, trailing his feather light touch down to your stomach until it reaches where you wanted him the most.

you lean back weakly, not knowing what to do with this unknown desire.

you close your eyes when he trails his fingers down your dripping folds, you arch your back to him. zayne groans behind you and you grab his forearm, gripping it tightly,

“ah,” you bit your lips, moaning softly, “zayne.”

“you’re soaked, baby” his voice is thick and filled with lust whispers behind you, “relax.”

in the moment of daze, zayne gathers the wetness at your entrance and lathers it on your clit, rubbing it back and forth with his wet fingers. broken moans spill out of your lips as you buck into his hands. you can almost hear how hard his heart is beating behind you, his breath getting heavier and heavier.

you whimper when his fingers probe at your entrance. he spreads your closing legs apart with his knees before slowly inserting his finger inside you. you whimper at the sensation, your walls tightening around his finger.

It doesn’t take him long to add another, and by the time he adds in a third, you’re nothing but a whimpering mess, one hand gripping his arm for dear life while the other squeezes the blanket beside you.

His fingers thrusts in and out of you, curling them, bringing you closer and closer to your release until it hits you like a wave.

concealing your feelings for him was hard, but denying him was impossible.

but does he know the person in front of him was not the person he knew? the person he cherished and loved?

the you in the parallel time and space, the you who always walked silently in hell on earth, the you...with your hands covered in blood.

will he love you the same if he knew that?

you don’t feel the tears rolling down your cheek, not until his calloused fingertips wipe them away softly.

“i’m sorry,” your lower lips tremble as you lay on his chest, “i’m sorry.”

“don’t cry,” zayne’s voice sounds far away, but you could still feel his fleeting kiss on your forehead.

it’s cold again. and it’s only your sobs that fills the silence of your room. in your heart that beats for death, each beat was a jagged shard of glass.

your restraints for your feelings were as vapid as the winter snow was cold. but now you realise that falling in love with zayne was inevitable.

and now you know why loving him hurts so much.

[kybercrystals94]

Of Scene Breaks and Plot Twists

Read here on Ao3!

Rated: G | Words: 2256 | Summary: The members of Clone Force 99 have an unwanted guest.

A/N: For Christmas, I wrote an entirely unserious, indulgent little fic because I can…so I did.

I am totally making fun of myself with this fic…apologies to the characters for not always (read: rarely) having a plan when I write.

I dedicate this story to every fanfic writer I know and don’t. May you never cease to amaze with your creativity and dedication to the art…you are a gift to the communities you partake in.

“Alright, boys, settle down,” Hunter says, walking into the cockpit. “We’ve got our next mission.”

“Do we actually get to blow something up this time?” Wrecker asks, sitting up in the seat he was slouching in.

Crosshair takes out his toothpick and flicks it at Wrecker, the sliver of wood bouncing harmlessly off the giant’s shoulder. “Or shoot something?”

“We have been on three consecutive data retrieval missions with no enemy engagement,” Tech states.

Echo points out, “Which is a good thing. It means we did our job well.”

“It means they were boring!” Wrecker declares.

Tech and Crosshair nod.

“I won’t promise anything,” Hunter says, grinning, “However, there is a high probability of explosions and shooting taking place this time around.”

The news receives reactive sounds of approval from most of the members of Clone Force 99. However, Echo isn’t fooling anyone with his eye roll. He’s been craving action as much as any of his brothers.

“So, what is it?” Echo asks.

“What’s what?” Hunter asks.

Echo frowns at him. “The mission?”

Hunter looks down at the data pad in his hand. “I…I don’t know. Nothing’s come through.”

“But you just said–”

“Sorry, sorry! That’s my fault,” I say, pushing myself up from the wall I was leaning against. “I’m sorta writing this as I go. I have no idea what your mission is yet. The keyword here is yet, because I’m sure it will come to me as we go.”

I’m honestly not sure what sort of reaction I expected, but five blasters pulled on me was not on the agenda. I put my hands up, heart battering in my throat. “Woah, woah, hey!” I cry, “Don’t shoot!”

“Who are you and how did you get on our ship?” Hunter growls, blaster still carefully poised to take me out if I make any wrong move.

I swallow. “I’m a fanfic writer. I’m the one writing this story.”

Oh. This is my story. Ha, sorta forgot that I can just…

The Batch lower their weapons with bewildered expressions, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“What just happened?” Wrecker asks. “Why’d we all lower our blasters like that?”

“I told you, I’m writing this story. I’m a fanfic writer,” I say, and, bolstered by my own abilities, I walk over and take a seat in behind Tech, turning the chair to face my darling characters. Aww, they look so sweet when they’re confused.

“You’re using some sort of mind trick,” Tech tells me. “You’re a Force user.”

I laugh. “I wish, but no. I’m just a humble fanfic writer, I promise.”

“You obviously know we don’t understand what that means,” Hunter says, and he sounds so annoyed. A little Crosshair-like, if I’m being honest. “So explain it. Now.”

Bossy.

“Fine,” I sigh, reaching in my back pocket and pulling out my phone.

Tech’s eyes light up, and I can tell he wants to ask about it; however, a sharp look from Hunter makes him settle back in the pilot’s chair. I make a mental note to show it to him once I’ve calmed everybody down.

For the sake of my gentle reader, I won’t get into the vaguely detailed explanation I gave the boys. It did not go well, and nobody calmed down. After all, how do you explain that someone’s reality and existence is fictional in your reality…without giving them spoilers for their futures? Then you would have to get into fix-its and canon and head canon and all that complicated jargon. Suffice to say, I had to again utilize my writing power to make them sit down and shut up for two seconds while I assured them that their lives were very much “real”, and that I am just trying to share one of their stories with my world…and also that I am making it up on the fly.

“I would like to study these works of fiction,” Tech says.

I ensure my phone is locked and secured in my pocket. “Mmm…maybe later.”

“So, basically,” Crosshair says, and somehow he manages to sound genuine and sarcastic at the same time, “you are calling all the shots and we have no freewill.”

I guess it does sound bad when he puts it like that.

“How about a compromise,” I say, “I’ll let you boys ‘call the shots’, and I’ll just write it down…if you stop threatening to shoot me out of the airlock. Deal?”

They collectively look unimpressed.

I continue stubbornly, “I’m not going anywhere until I have my story. I’ve been suffering from writer’s block for weeks, and this is the first decent idea I’ve had.”

“Half-baked is more like,” Echo grumbles. “Kriffing idiot.”

“See?” I say, splaying a hand at the cyborg, “If I were controlling everything, would I be letting y’all verbally assault me?”

“Let me shoot you with a blaster, and I’ll be convinced,” Crosshair says with a menacing flash of teeth that I think might be some sort of smile.

Suppressing a shudder, I roll my eyes. “The sooner I finish this story, the sooner I’ll get out of here. Then I’ll never bother you again…”

…In person.

I love internal dialogue.

“Fine,” Hunter agrees after a long, long bout of silence. “What’s our mission then?”

Oh. Right. That’s what started this whole mess in the first place.

Scrambling to come up with something, I say, “Alright, you should have a mission on your data pad now.”

Hunter looks down at his device. “It just says data extraction mission from blank.”

“Hey!” Wrecker objects, loudly, “I thought there was gonna be explosions and shooting!”

Tech takes the data pad from Hunter. “Not to mention the parameters of the mission are unfathomably vague.”

“Alright, alright,” I say, putting up my hands. “How about now?”

“Dangerous data extraction mission from insert planet name here,” Tech reads aloud.

Echo groans. “You have to give us more than that!”

“I don’t usually have to come up with all the details.”

“You’ve given us literally nothing,” Crosshair says, “Less than nothing.”

“You are making it very difficult to believe that anyone reads your stories willingly,” Tech says.

I narrow my eyes.

**

“What just happened?” Hunter asks.

We are in hyperspace, coordinates safely secured in the nav computer, boys fully aware of the mission parameters.

My work here is done.

“That, my friends, is called a scene break,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “Now, tell me about this mission.”

“Why would we go over it again?” Crosshair asks, annoyed. “We’ve been arguing strategy for the past hour.”

“So I can write it down.”

“What do you mean so you can write it down? I thought that’s what you were doing!”

I shake my head. “No, see, that’s the point of a scene break. I can skip writing all the monotony and just give readers the jist of it. So, give me the summary of the mission and I’ll write down the important bits I care about.”

Echo gapes at me. “You mean to tell me you still don’t know what the mission is?”

“Which is why you’re going to tell me,” I tell him patiently.

The boys exchange glances. I can see in their microexpressions that they’ve come to some sort of agreement that I am not going to like. Now wait a minute…

“Don’t tell the writer anything, boys,” Hunter says, turning back to the nav computer. “They get to come along for the ride, just like they wanted.”

“You can’t do that!” I cry.

“We just did, di’kut.” Crosshair begins polishing his rifle, the item having appeared during the scene break. “We’re in charge now.”

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going,” I implore weakly.

“Classified,” Echo says.

“Is it still a data extraction mission?”

Tech has the audacity to shrug. He’s scrolling through my phone. How…when…?

“Hey, give that back,” I say, lunging forward to snatch it from him.

He evades me easily, and I go sprawling across the durasteel floor.

Rolling over, I glare up at the commandos grinning down at me. “I’m still the writer,” I say, “I can still do whatever I want and know whatever I want.”

“Then why don’t you do it?” Crosshair taunts.

I must not be completely over my writer’s block after all, because nothing comes to mind. Somehow, the characters are in charge. Kriff.

“Tech,” I say, returning to the topic of my phone, “you can’t be looking at that stuff.”

“These tags are concerning,” Tech mutters, continuing to scroll as if I hadn’t said anything. “Hurt forward slash comfort? Angst? Fluff? Whump? What do these mean? That is, what is the context?”

I hate to do it, but I use my writing ability to put the phone back in my hands before Tech hurts himself emotionally. “Some things are better left unknown, Tech.”

“I swear,” Crosshair growls, “if any of those fanfics are sappy, I will shoot you out the airlock. I don’t care about our ‘deal’.”

“I’m not the only fanfic writer, okay? There are thousands of us.”

“Sounds like a nasty infestation,” Echo says.

“I’ll have you know,” I tell him primly, “we are a lovely community.”

Wrecker, the sweet boy, offers to help me to my feet, putting a hand out. I grip it and he hauls me up a little too roughly, nearly dislocating my shoulder. I grin at him nonetheless. “Thanks, Wreck.”

“Sure thing, writer,” he tells me. He leans in. “In those fanfic thingies you write, do I get to blow stuff up a lot?”

“Uhm, well,” I say, sitting back down, “it depends on the purpose of fic, really.”

“Whadda you mean? Aren’t they all just missions you make up for us?”

Crosshair huffs. “Or pretend to make up?”

“Listen,” I say, leaning around Wrecker to glare at the sniper, “I have writer’s block. Most of the time I think of legitimate missions.”

“Oh, yeah? Name one.”

“Well, one time, you were on this planet getting intel and the building that Echo and Tech was in collapsed and the rest of you had to dig them out.”

“What planet was it?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“What was the intel?”

“Important.”

“So you just make whatever the kark you want up and people actually read it?” Echo asks.

Offended by the oversimplification of my work, I retort, “Well, I like to focus more on character development than missions. But that’s just me. Other writers are a heck of a lot better at writing mission stories.”

“Then how’d we get stuck with you?” Crosshair asks, throwing his wadded up polishing rag at me.

I wish I could say I caught it, but it hits me in the face.

“You know what,” I sputter, tossing the rag aside, “Scene…”

**

“...break.”

We are standing in the middle of a hall, surrounded on both sides by droids.

“Would you stop doing that?” Hunter shouts at me over the din of blasterfire.

I crouch down next to Tech at a control panel. “Hey, can I borrow one of your blasters?”

“Write yourself one,” he says, deadpan, keeping his focus on hacking into the Separatist system.

“It doesn’t work like that.”

Tech rolls his eyes and passes over one of his blasters. “Please take care not to shoot one of us.”

“I think I can handle it.”

I cannot handle it. My first shot goes wide and high, taking out a light in the ceiling. Before I can try again, someone snatches the blaster out of my hand.

“Give me that before you hurt yourself.” It’s Echo.

“If that’s a legitimate risk, let them keep it,” Crosshair calls out.

“Aw, don’t hurt yourself, little writer person,” Wrecker says, scooping me up under one arm, “I’ll protect ya!”

I kick my legs and flail my arms, dangling haplessly in his grip. “Put me down!”

“Not until we’re out of here,” Hunter orders.

Fine then.

**

We’re back on the Marauder. The boys’ dark armor is covered in spatters of dried mud, and the right lens of Tech’s goggles has a crack in it.

“What happened to you?” I ask, sitting comfortably in the pilot’s chair, unscathed.

“You’d know if you stuck around to find out,” Crosshair growls.

“Apparently, I was just in the way back there. So I skipped ahead.”

“You’ve been in the way this whole time,” Hunter mutters.

Oh. Those are fighting words.

I smile, and I hope it appears as devilish as I feel. “Plot twist.”

**

I’m not sure what the creature is, but it’s ugly. It’s covered in some sort of goo and it smells putrid.

And it’s gnawing on the Marauder. Don’t worry, it doesn’t have teeth, so the ship won’t be damaged, but it will leave a residue that probably won’t be fun to scrub off later.

“What in the universe is that?” Wrecker asks.

We’ve moved outside of the ship, and we’ve discovered that the creature simply absorbs blaster bolts and is completely unfazed. The boys will have to distract it somehow, lure it away.

How inconvenient.

“This was uncalled for,” Tech says, turning to glare at me.

“Did you see it coming?” I ask. When I am not dignified with a response from any of them, I add, “Plot twist successful.”

“How are we supposed to get rid of it?” Echo asks.

I shrug. “Maybe you boys will figure it out by the next chapter.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘next chapter’?”

“And this is what we writers like to call,” I say, smiling sweetly, “a cliffhanger.”

TBC

A/N: Will I ever actually finish this fic?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

‘Tis the nature of fanfic, isn’t it? ;D

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my Tag List!

Tag List: @arctrooper69 @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @baddest-batchers @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @dreamsight73 @royallykt @blackseafoam @illogicaalbraindump @skellymom

[xvysarene]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖

Pairing: Xavier x Fem!Reader Prompt: “No, you can't stay here.” Words: ~1.1k Genre: Angst, No Comfort Notice: Some spoiler of Xavier's Myth, Shooting Stars, although not entirely aligned

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

He staggered back, clearly surprised by how your muttered words reverberated loudly in the otherwise dimly lit room. Cerulean orbs searched for yours skilfully, eyes bright as they were when tracking Wanderers in the darkest of nights.

“What did you say?” A hint of disbelief was palpable in Xavier's voice.

You stepped away from the shadow, hands trembling as you struggled to steady them. Despite anticipating this moment, when confronted with reality, you found yourself questioning whether you could truly accept your sacrifice without harboring any regrets.

“I said, no, you can't stay here.”

Revelation dawned on him. Despite Xavier’s frequent drowsiness, he remained inherently sharp. It was one of the attributes that had made him a highly respected hunter.

“How long have you known?”

“Enough time to understand the over-complicated truth.”

Irritation briefly flickered in his eyes. He looked at the thinning veil behind him, clearly cursing the other party that stepped through it earlier. “Jeremiah told you.”

“I was the one who convinced Jeremiah to tell me everything. You shouldn’t kick his ass when you see him again.”

Xavier couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly at that. Jeremiah, though physically not imposing, could defeat anyone on mind games. That’s why he brought him along on the mission as he needed a logical partner.

He couldn’t comprehend why Jeremiah had agreed to divulge the secrets they swore to keep between themselves—especially to the one person he had hoped would never uncover the truth.

“Besides, you’re not as secretive as you thought, Xav.” You gave him a small, sad smile. “I guess that's what makes us human, right? Despite not being a normal one, having an aether core-fused heart, or having lived for a hundred years, we still can’t stop ourselves from showing our deepest desires during moments of vulnerability. I used to believe that she was your unforgettable first love or perhaps an ex who taught you a crucial life lesson. However, that’s just me shying away from the undeniable.”

As much as you had steeled yourself for this moment, your vision began to blur, and Xavier was fast to engulf you in his hug. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his lithe but muscular figure, feeling his warmth and further breaking your heart.

He buried his face in your hair, taking a deep breath to blanket himself in your scent like he always did.

“That’s not true,” his voice came out shakier than he intended.

“But it is, Xavier. You don’t know how many times you called out to her in your sleep. Or sometimes when you look at me, I can tell that you don't truly see me for who I am in this current existence. You can’t deny this, because in doing so, you’re also hurting her…me.”

You had to force your head up to fully face your light. Xavier wouldn’t let you step away from him.

Gently cupping his cheeks, you urged him to focus on your next words. “Face it, Xav. Your queen and I… our resemblances are solely physical. We’re two entirely different persons, made up of distinct personalities. If she was the reason why you were in this timeline in the first place, you cling to the hope of going back to her one day, don’t you? You wouldn’t abandon her eternity, right?”

His hug tightened. “I’m sorry,” he said after some time, head bowed in shame. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Truly, deeply sorry for making you feel less than your worth.”

Despite his painful acknowledgment, you found yourself relaxing, accepting your fate. Xavier's thumbs gently wiped away the tears that had escaped from your eyes.

“But you’re going to be here all alone,” his voice cracked, almond eyes cloudy. “I can’t go back and live peacefully knowing that.”

“If what Jeremiah told me is the truth, I have left you more than once. It’s your time to experience having someone be there when you’re back. This is the time to redeem myself, even when the timeline has gone haywire.”

Xavier shook his head furiously. “We won’t know if the alternative aether core would work. If I go back and learn that I will lose you again and Philos, I would rather stay here with you in the past.”

“You know it will work, that’s why you were so insistent on sending Jeremiah back alone with it, and selfishly waiting at the other end just to make sure it disappears, an indicator that Philos has accepted the aether-core. You know how much Jeremiah wants to go back there, and for everything he has done for you, you believed it was your turn to help him. I can’t take you away from her; it’s not right. It’s not my time to have you.”

“What difference does it make when I’m also willingly leaving you here? You understand that once I step through that veil, we’ll never meet each other again in this timeline.”

As if aware of its existence, the veil dimmed. You eyed it wearily, realizing that the swirling vortex of electric blue and silver had turned almost transparent.

“Xavier,” you sighed when he cupped your hand, reveling at the contact, “we both know that my time in this realm will end, I can’t be immortal here. I would rather face the certainty of our eternal bond in another dimension than linger in the fleeting confines of this world.”

You placed your fingers against his lips, silencing his upcoming argument. “You do realize that if you abandoned me in the future, I would despise you, don't you?" you made a playful comment to lighten the mood, but he was miserable. Filled with guilt and disappointment that he couldn’t control the situation.

You guided his head down to meet your lips halfway. As both of your lips touched in a bittersweet embrace, a silent farewell woven into each tender touch. The palm pressed against his heart felt its rapid beats.

“Goodbye, my light. Be happy,” you whispered those words to his lips.

Xavier should have known that whenever you were around, his caution melted away. That was his greatest weakness. He registered the force that caught him entirely off guard a second too late.

Xavier reached out his hand, losing momentum. “Y/N! Wait—!” he called out, voice tinged with urgency.

As his body was hurled into the closing veil, it snapped shut, swallowing his unfinished words. Sobs wracked your body, each wave of emotion sent your body crashing to the wooden floor.

Moonlight peeking through the windows cast its glow upon the intricate gold of the gigantic frame before you.

Where the veil had shimmered moments before, there was now only emptiness, revealing a cold cement wall that stood as a cruel reminder of the end of a chapter you could never revisit.

While seemingly nearly empty every night, a profound silence enveloped Philo Flower Store differently. Vibrant blooms began to wilt, their once lively hues fading into desolation, while the lush vines that once cascaded down nearby buildings now curled and browned.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

[holylulusworld]

Let's hunt Nessie

Summary: You came for bones. Dean wants to go on a special hunt.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester

Warnings: fun, crack!fic

“Now that we have the dusty bones of good old Crowley, can we go sightseeing? I’ve never been to Scotland before.” You excitedly clap your hands, giddy to play tourist for one day. “Right, Sammy. You want to explore Scotland and its mysteries too.”

Sam nods. He found this old library, and he’d love to explore it some more. Dean insisted on getting Crowley’s bones as fast as possible and Sam didn't have much time to look at the books.

“We are going back to Lebanon. No detours.” Dean shakes his head. He’s done with Scotland, the left-hand traffic, and the piss (his words) they call beer. “I want beer, my baby, and to sleep for a fucking week after getting in an airplane twice!”

“But—” You pout and fake a sob. “I want to go and explore Scotland! Let’s visit Stonehenge, the National Museum of Scotland, and Loch Ness!” You count all the places you always want to visit in Scotland. “Maybe we'll see Nessie too!”

“Nessie?” Dean cocks a brow. He had heard that name before but forgot its origin. “What’s a Nessie?” The hunter puts Crowley’s bones in a pillowcase and huffs. “We don’t have time to try out a fancy ice cream or another cake monstrosity.”

“Dude,” you snort at Dean’s comment. “Did you never hear of the monster of Loch Ness before? It’s famous, Dean.”

Dean slowly turns his head to look at his brother. He furrows his brows, his mouth falling open.

“Sammy, why didn’t you tell me there’s a monster nearby? We are not on a vacation!” Dean walks toward the rented car, stopping in his tracks to curse. “Crap, we don’t have guns!”

“Dean!” You laugh when the hunter starts pacing back and forth. “DEAN!”

“Just a minute,” he says and raises his hand. “I have to find a weapon.” He turns back around and looks at Sam. “Wait! Sammy! Scotland has lots of castles, right?”

“Uh—sure.” Sam nods, unsure what his brother is up to. “Why are you asking?”

“Castles were protected by knights,” Dean hums to himself. “Knights had swords and battle axes.” His eyes grow wide, and he grins. “Oh! OH! Sonofabitch! They had ball and chain flails and morning stars too!”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at, Dean.” Sam rubs his tired eyes. “We should head out. I don’t want to get caught with Crowley’s bones in our hands.”

“No, no, Sammy! We have to find a castle first and get all the weapons,” Dean stops his brother from turning his back on the battle Dean wants to fight. “After we got the weapons, we are ready to fight that monster.”

You gape at Dean. So far, you believed he tried to make fun of you or crack a joke. But he seems to be adamant about hunting Nessie down. “Dean, you can’t hunt Nessie!”

“Why not?” He cocks his head. “It’s a monster. We hunt monsters. Do not try to stop me only because we are not residents of Scotland.”

You snort. Sam chuckles.

“What’s so funny, Sammy? Did you lose your mojo on the flight? Don’t you want to hunt a monster? I could use a good fight.” Dean cracks his knuckles and looks your way. “What about you, Y/N?”

“Dean, I never say no to a hunt, but,” you snicker and hold your stomach. “No one knows for sure if Nessie exists. It’s a mythos, a legend. Nothing else. You can’t hunt an enemy that doesn’t exist for real.”

“And we won’t break into a castle to steal antique weapons,” Sam sternly says. He points his index finger at Dean to stop him from arguing. “Let’s leave Nessie and its legend alone. If it’s going to cause trouble, we can always come back.”

Dean sighs and pouts. All he wanted was to hunt a monster down.

“Well, if you’re up to it,” you say, “we can visit the Scotch Whiskey Experience in Edinburgh.”

Dean’s eyes light up. He licks his lips and slowly nods. “You’re going to buy me the most expensive whiskey if you forbid me to hunt Nessie.”

Tags in reblog.

[my-proof-is-you]

But God, at what cost?

Imagine: Dean helping you get through your cardio workout

A/N: Literally thought of this when I was at the gym trying to get through a workout. Pretended Dean was cheering me on…is that weird? Ha.

You were pretty sure almost no one hated running more than you.

You were a bigger person. You always had been. Plus sized, if you will. You were very strong, though. When you hunted, you held your own. 

You didn’t hate your body, either. You weren’t skinny like some of your friends were in high school. You knew none of them could do what you could on hunts, though.

Dean liked your curves, too. He always said he admired your strength and the man damn near worshipped your body in bed. 

But you knew your weakness: cardio. 

It wasn’t very often you had to run for your life. You, Sam and Dean made a great hunting team, so there was rarely a need to run away. 

When you did, though, you lagged behind. That meant that Dean lagged behind, too. He would never leave you to fend for yourself. You didn’t like it. You didn’t want him in danger any more than he wanted you to be.

So that was why you were trying to get better at running even though it was the bane of your existence. You’d been spending time in the bunker gym, using the treadmill Sam had bought for when the weather outside wasn’t conducive to his runs.

You didn’t really want Dean to know what you were doing. It was your own problem, and you wanted to fix it on your own. 

You’d run a few times on your own on the treadmill, and hated every second of it. It put you in a bad mood for the rest of the day, and your boyfriend had definitely noticed. 

You were once again trying to get a run in on the treadmill before the brothers got back from their supply run. Unfortunately, you didn’t time it right.

��Y-Y/N?” Dean asked, entering the gym. He had a shocked look on his face. 

“What?” You huffed, annoyed. It wasn’t his fault, but you couldn’t hide how much you hated what you were doing.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, coming to stand next to the treadmill with his arms crossed over his chest. 

You rolled your eyes. “Can’t a person run without getting asked a million questions?”

“A person, yes. You…no. Sweetheart, you hate running,” he said with a smile and a raised eyebrow. 

“Yeah—well— hate—putting you—in danger—more,” you said while panting.

Dean reached over, pulling the cord that stops the treadmill. 

“Hey!” You exclaimed, slowing to a walk before the belt stopped completely. 

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked. “What danger?”

“I’m slow, Dean,” you said, finally regaining your breath. “I know I am. And I don’t want to be the reason you stay behind and get killed by a monster!”

“First of all, that’s not going to happen. And B, you are one of the best hunters I know. I really think you’re underestimating yourself.”

You sighed. “Regardless, Dean, I could be better, and I want to be.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed as he studied your face. “This has nothing to do with looks, right? Cause, sweetheart, you know I think you’re perfect the way you are.”

You smiled, despite your exhaustion. “I know that, De. And I promise, it’s not about that. I know I’m hot,” you said with a wink. 

Dean bit his lip, sending a little thrill through to your core. 

“I just want to improve is all,” you said with a shrug. 

“Well, sweetheart, you know how I feel about running, too. I hate it maybe more than you do. But if this is something you want, I will help you,” Dean said, reaching out to squeeze your hand. 

You weren’t sure how he meant to help you, but going it alone wasn’t working. You’d take any help offered at this point.

He watched your face as you tried to understand what he’d do, and he gestured for you to step back on the treadmill. You turned it back on and began jogging. 

After a minute or so, you started to get out of breath and wanted desperately to stop. You looked at Dean, who nodded his head in the direction the treadmill was facing to tell you to keep looking forward. 

“You got this, sweetheart,” he began. He wasn’t yelling it, just speaking with conviction at his normal volume. 

“I’ve seen you go through literal Hell, Y/N. This is nothing. You are so strong.”

His words gave you some confidence. It was nice to hear, especially over the voice in your head that was telling you to quit. 

You went another ten minutes with Dean’s words of encouragement spurring you on before your legs started really aching.

“It—hurts—De—” you panted.

“Just a little more, Y/N/N. And when you’re done, I’m gonna take you to the shower…get you nice and clean,” he said, his voice turning sultry.

“Hm?” You asked, suddenly distracted from your pain. 

“That’s right, baby. Then I’m gonna massage all your sore muscles.”

You felt even more of a blush rising to your cheeks.

“And tomorrow, when you’re all rested, we’re gonna do some cardio together.”

“You—hate—running,” you said, breathless for more than one reason.

“I’m not talking about running, sweetheart.”

You hit your goal of two miles then, and nearly leapt off the treadmill before the belt even stopped. 

“Let’s hit the showers,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the hall. 

Dean followed, chuckling. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Forevers:

@divadinag @lynne1993 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​  @onethirstyunicorn @sammykb1994 @lilulo-12 @mellorine-paprika @tranquility-or-chaos @collette04 @hoboal87 @chevyharvelle @miraclesoflove @defenderrosetyler @babypink224221 @calaofnoldor @beatifuldisaster018 @coffeebooksandfandom @supernatural3002 @lainxcas @mylovelydame21 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @lovely-lynns-likes @ppeachygemss @screechingartisancashbailiff @metalfangirl @vicmc624 @polina-93 @hobby27 @sexyvixen7 @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @lyarr24 @amelia-song-pond @donnaintx @spnbaby-67 @traceyaudette @gh0stgurl @fiftyshadesgrl @tapedeck-hearts @lacilou @foxyjwls007 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573 @cumuluscranium

Dean/Jensen:

@harleycao