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sh1-n0bu · 7 months

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𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 15: collaring with kamisato ayato from genshin impact

warnings: collaring, leash, degrading, thigh riding, cumming untouched, fluff at the end

notes: first time ever writing abt this pretty man. he’s so cocky i just wanna—

being the head of the kamisato clan is tiring. it’s boring. it’s nauseating. it’s annoying — everything and anything negative, it was the definition of being the head of the kamisato clan. but he doesn’t do it for nothing.

if it meant his little sister could live her life freely without ever having to worry about anything, if it meant his clan members and workers could sleep peacefully in the night, if it meant his only close friend, thoma could continue to be safe and protected — he would continue to be the head of the kamisato clan.

but there was another reason by he would continue to be in his position of authority. what other reason? his doting lover who would keep a tight leash on him as he pathetically humps his clothed cock on their thigh, of course.

no one would ever suspect a man like ayato to be the type to love being controlled. or collared. or even leashed for that matter but here he was. on your thigh, the soft leather material hugging his neck being a reminder that even with titles and authority, you would always be in charge.

titles, work or duties would always be thrown out the window the moment you would appear in his peripheral vision. with you, ayato didn’t needed to act all high and mighty. you were his lover of many years, you know exactly everything that goes on behind his mask of calm and collected attitude and the ever so gentle smile on his face. he thinks too much, plans ahead, takes too deeply but none of that mattered with you by his side.

with you, ayato could let loose and relax. with you, ayato could be a doting husband and not just a man with wealth and power and authority. with you, ayato could be just himself, jusg be ayato and not the head of the kamisato clan who shoulder the weight of everything.

with you, ayato could place sloppy kisses on your lips, a whine coming out when you only smile into the kiss and not kiss him back. he could clutch the fabric of your shirt tightly in his hands, humping his clothed cock into your thigh. he could take every word you said with a nod. heart shaped pupils, hazy eyes and drool covered lips wide open, gasping and begging you to help him. he could leave the leash in your hand, knowing that you would take good care of him. you always did.

“darling, will you please help me out? you’ve been away on your business trip for so long, i felt so lonely waiting for you” the young lord whines, leaning in to pepper kisses on your lips again. even with his swollen lips, he was so eager to kiss you. it was endearing in a way.

“that so? is that why you handed me this when i walked inside first without even a welcome back kiss?” you hold up the leash in your hand, tugging on it gently to pull him back for a proper kiss this time. he happily obliges, sighing into your mouth. he can make up for the forgotten ‘welcome back’ kiss later.

“missed you. missed you so much” wrapping his hands around your neck, ayato wiggles around on your lap a bit to a more comfortable position. legs spread on the sides of your own, placing sloppy, open mouthed kisses on your lips, he could barely hold back his giggle when your hands rested over his hips.

“my my, you did miss me this much. look at you, young lord. all hard and needy just when i came back home” you say his title with a certain mocking tone, knowing full well that ayato loves to have a bit of degrading in your game of pleasure and love.

but it was true. the moment he saw you walk into your shared home, letting out groans and sighs of relief of finally coming back home, he was already throwing himself at you. clinging to your form as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, taking in the familiar comforting scent of wood, honey and bonfire. it didn’t take long for you to let out a coo of affection before ayato was handing you an all too familiar leash, grinding himself on your thigh.

“s-sorry… i just missed you a lot” he whimpers, hugging you close to himself. that was how it all went. a quick hug and a coo at the hallways of your doorstep with your husband grinding his hard-on on your thigh. deciding to help him out with his hard work, you flex your leg, raising it a bit and flexing your thigh so it would be easier for him to ride himself stupid on only your thigh.

so easy to please yet so incredibly spoiled. even that didn’t seemed to be enough for him as his hands guide yours to rest over his hips. a silent plea to help him out.

chuckling with a sigh of defeat, you oblige. who wouldn’t with how he was slobbering all over you anyways? dry humping, hugging you close, taking in the familiar comforting scent of you as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. soft whines and whispers about how much he missed you, delirious moans of how much he loves you as he places open mouthed kisses on your neck.

“m-missed you… missed you a lot daaanh! guckk♡︎” before he could even finish his another moan of how much he missed you, ayato lets out a squeal, choking on his own moans as his ships still on your lap. there was a wet patch forming on his pants.

how sweet. your husband missed you so much he came untouched by just grinding his hips on you as you tug on the leash. perking up, he leans in to give you another kiss on your lips. his swollen lips hurt but he was willing to endure it for you.

a quick soft peck before he pulls back with a sweet smile. a genuine smile filled with live and affection. one that you eagerly returned with your own.

“welcome back home, darling”

“i’m home”

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 3 months

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Warm Me Up

Summary: Illyria is cold, Rhys has some ideas on how to stay warm.

Content Warnings: Smut; dirty talk; little bit of cursing.

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Illyria was a wasteland, nothing but frigid mountains and harsh winds, you'd never understood how anything survived here. Your mate had flown you in an hour ago, you'd immediately had to sit in front of the cabin's fireplace, smothered in blankets, a warm cup of tea in your hands to avoid your teeth chattering and your fingertips from turning blue. The boys were somehow training outside shirtless. You could see them from the window, sparring, even as the relentless wind continued to beat against the windows.

You furrowed deeper into your mountain of blankets, still so damned cold. How were they managing that? How had Cassian survived his childhood, alone and hungry in this for so long? Was there something built into Illyrians to help them survive?

You tapped a mental hand against the bond hesitantly, worried you might distract your mate and he'd get hurt... again. Rhys had gotten used to your random questions, but thd first couple of times had been so sudden he'd lost focus, Az had clipped him across the shoulder, drawing blood. It hadn't even scarred, had healed with the help of his powers in less than hour. He'd probably forgotten about it. You hadn't.

Your mate responded with a gentle caress against your mental shields, like he'd brushed a hand over you mind, urging you to come forward.

"Do Illyrians run hot?" You asked.

A dark chuckle ran across the bond, sending a shiver over your spine. "Why don't you come out here and find out?"

You rolled your eyes. "And freeze to death? No thank you."

"It's not even snowing yet.," he let your peer through his eyes, the landscape dripping from yesterday's rain, but it was more mud than anything.

"I've seen warmer places in the Winter Court."

"There are plenty of ways to stay warm up here," Rhys purred, his voice a playful caress against your mind. "You're welcome to join us in the birken when we're done."

"And leave the safety of my little nest by the fire? I'll have frostbite by the time I make it there."

"Give me five minutes." The bond snapped closed and then Cassian was screaming obscenities from where they were sparring near the side of the cabin.

"THAT'S CHEATING YOU BASTARD!" Azriel shouted.

"RHYSAND I CAN'T FUCKING SEE!"

You pulled the comforter off the top of your head to try and get a good look through the closest window, but there was nothing but darkness against the glass. It was still too early in the day for the sun to be going down, the darkness outside rattling against the windows like a harsh wind. Rhys very rarely unleashed that much power, but you felt your own flare to life in your chest at the sight of it. Like calls to like, and your starborn powers had always risen to the challenge it found in Night Triumphant.

It wasn't even a full five minutes before the back door was thrown open so fast the old wood cracked against the wall. The wind came in with it, making you burrow deeper into your mound of blankets to avoid it.

Rhys must have kicked off his boots at the door, because you heard it slam shut and then nothing until large hands settled on your blanket clad shoulders.

You jumped with a shriek of surprise that had your mate bending over the back of the couch to kiss your barely exposed forehead apologetically, his skin colder than the wind beating against the walls.

"Ack! You're an ice cube!" You hissed, twisting to get away.

He chuckled as he pulled away and went to the closet near the front door.

"Don't bother, I've already raided it," you warned.

He opened it anyway, then frowned at all the empty shelves. "You weren't kidding." His next move was to go to the stack of wood neatly organized by the fire place and throw more in, the blaze illuminating the sharp planes of his face. He wasn't wearing a shirt, training leathers hanging low on his hips, a fine sheen of sweat making his bronze skin glow in the firelight.

Under normal circumstances, you would have jumped right on him, ran your tongue over his abs, traced the swirl of ink across his chest. Something about him in leathers made you weak in the knees, all rational thought out the window. The only thing keeping you in place this time was the thought of loosing the little pocket of warmth you had created.

He felt your gaze of course, turning away from the fire to look at you. "Better?" His voice had gone down an octave, his pupils dilating.

"Little," you admitted, though him being so close, looking like that might have been more of a reason for the heat you were starting to feel than the fire.

He walked to you slowly, intently, violet eyes fixed on you.

Your heartbeat quickened in your chest as he knelt in front of you.

"Think you can make room for me in there?" He kept his hands on the top blanket of your little cocoon, waiting for permission.

"I don't know, how cold are you?" You teased; this would be the last little bit of your resolve.

He slid a hand under the blankets, fingers dragging up slowly, intently over your calves.

"Cold," you whimpered, but the shiver that ran through you had nothing to do with the temperature, not as he traced his way up your thighs, only stopping when he found the hem of your sweater.

He leaned and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose first, then the corners of your lips, his breath warm against your face, the contrast between the two temperatures making your head spin. You wanted to reel away and lean in all the same time.

"Just for a second," he promised, "then I'll get you nice and warm."

You opened the blanket, and that intense violet gaze took stock of your attire: His old sweater, so loose and baggy it looked like a dress on you, and knee high, fuzzy pink socks. Pants had felt like a waste of time, not when sifting through the dresser meant time spent away from the fire.

Rhys all but jumped on top of you, pushing you down into the couch cushions, the blankets tangling between you as he crashed his lips against yours.

Rhys, as High Lord, was always so poised and put together, everything about him calculated and curated to create the necessary masks of court duties; but alone, like this, when it was just the two of you, no masks necessary, he let that unending restraint slip, kissing you and running his hands over your body like a man starved. His tongue swept into your mouth as he slid a hand under your sweater, deft fingers dragging up your skin to cup your breast.

He'd kept his promise about the cold, you'd only felt it for a moment before he'd settled between your legs, using a bit of magic to untangle the blankets and rearrange them over the two of you. You ran a hand through his hair, scraping your nails lightly over his scalp as he playfully gave your nipple a tug.

"Better?" He rasped, lips barely off yours like he couldn't bear to be that far from you.

The warmth of his weight on top of you would have been enough, but the way he kept running his hands over any bit of you he could reach, the way he kissed you again and again and again was enough to make you forget you had ever been cold in the first place.

"Much better," you confirmed as he broke away to nip at your neck.

He chuckled as you arched into his touch; whimpering lightly as his tongue laved over the sting of his teeth on your throat.

"Can't decide," he murmured into your skin, "if I should fuck you in my sweater or not?"

Heat coiled between your legs, even further when he rocked his hips into your center, even with the clothes separating the two of you, the friction was enough to make you moan.

He nipped under your jaw, "Look so pretty in it, but I gotta get you all warmed up don't I? My poor little mate, not used to the cold."

Now that he was with you, you wanted, needed, every bit of contact with his body you could get. The sweater, so warm and comforting before, now felt like a tremendously itchy obstacle keeping you from him. "Want it off," you complained, trying to find your voice around another moan as he rutted his hips into you again, hard even through his leathers.

He chuckled as he fisted the hem and started pulling it up your body. "Wear it again for me later?"

You nodded as he pulled it over your head and tossed it over the back of the couch. Distantly, you hoped Rhys had the good sense to send his brothers away for a little while since you had stopped hearing them moving around outside, but had no time to ask as he started kissing his way down your body, pausing to give some attention to your peaked nipples. A whine tore from your throat as he swirled his tongue over one and then the other.

"Love when you make those little noises for me," he purred into your mind, not wanting to remove his lips from your body to speak.

"Rhys," you whimpered, body arching into him as he nipped at your sensitive skin.

"You're gonna look so pretty, all marked up under my sweater later," he sent an image of you, covered in hickeys from your throat to your hips down the bond as he continued to move slowly down your body.

Rhys liked to push you, liked to see how worked up he could get you, first with that silver tongue of his, then his hands, he could keep this up for hours. You, however, where so desperate for more friction, to fill the ache now burning between your legs, bucked your hips, squirming underneath him now. "Please. Need you."

He scraped his teeth along he hem of your underwear, humming his approval. Rhys grinned against your skin, all male satisfaction as he held your hips in place. "So impatient. I thought you were freezing to death in here? Don't you want to get warm, Darling?"

Warm? Your skin was on fire in every spot he had touched, the warmth of his body spreading to every point of contact he gave. It was becoming too much and not enough, you needed more, more, more.

"Please!"

He caught the hem of your panties in his teeth and pulled them slowly down your hips, hands skimming your hips and thighs, kneading soft skin. Your legs widened for him automatically, instinctively, despite the fact that you were now uncomfortably wet from his ministrations.

He ran his tongue against your center, humming his approval, blasting it down the bond. "So wet, and I've barely even touched you."

You pinched your eyes shut, overwhelmed already. He really was too damn good at this. No amount of time would ever be enough to satisfy the well of need you had for him. You blasted that desperation, that ache for him right down the bond as words failed you, as he continued his exploration of your dripping core with his tongue. Stars erupted behind your closed eyelids as he chuckled down the bond, pleased with your reactions to his body.

You were sure you were begging for him, whimpering and pleading nonsense as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, but the words faded in and out of your consciousness. There was only Rhys, the movements of his tongue, the feeling of his fingertips digging pleasantly tight in your hips, the heat of skin wherever it touched you. Your eyes rolled back into your head, body arching, hands tangling in his hair as the edge rose up to meet and you and you toppled over it with a scream that sounded an awful lot like your mate's name.

"Such a good girl," he purred as he lapped up the evidence of your pleasure.

You're whole body shook as he kissed his way back up your body, grinning against your flushed skin the whole way. He was so warm, when he kissed you again, the taste of your release still on his plush lips, your only thoughts were on how you could get more of that warmth, until it has seeped into your bones, erased any trace of the cold that had laid so deep beneath.

You threaded your hands in his hair, now a mess across his forehead, whimpering. "Need you still."

He grinned as he caught your lower lip between his teeth in a playful nip. "I know, love."

You moved a hand to the small of his back, pulling him closer.

"You'll have me until there are no longer stars in the sky." The bond flooded with more warmth and affection, as deep as your need for him ran, his was equal, there was no end to what he could give you.

You kissed him again, even as your legs wrapped around his waist, a bit of magic finally removing those damned leathers. Maybe you'd ask him to put them back on later, so you could enjoy the sight of him in the aftermath as much as he would you, but those were questions for later.

"I love you," you whimpered as he finally slide into you, slowly, casually, like there was all the time in the world for the two of you to enjoy each other.

He fit like he was made just for you, the stretch just uncomfortable for a moment before the pleasure made your back arch and your toes curl. He moaned into your throat, pushing his nose into your sweat dampened skin, inhaling your scent as he pushed all the way in to you.

You wondered, distantly, if the stars you were seeing were his making, or something that appeared for him too. The way he panted into your skin as he rocked his hips, testing you, made you think he saw them too.

"So perfect," he moaned as he slid almost fully out.

Your nails clawed at his shoulders, begging for him to come back and he plunged back in a little more forcefully this time, the couch groaning beneath the two of you.

You rocked your hips to meet his thrusts, hands still trailing down the contours of his spine in a move that would be sure to leave marks of your own. He nipped at your neck and shoulders when you pushed too hard, skin breaking beneath your fingertips, but you knew he didn't mind, know he relished in being marked up by you, like it was a badge of honor. You'd leave hickeys on him afterwards, when the pleasure building between your legs wasn't so white hot, when you could focus your attention somewhere other than the need burning it's way through you.

His hand snaked down between your legs, drawing you closer and closer to the edge again.

"Rhys," a prayer, a mantra, the only thing that made sense as pleasure turned all rational thought to mush.

"I've got you," he rasped in your ear, every muscle taught as he rocked into you again and again and again. His pace was quickly becoming more frantic, his breath hot on your throat as he moaned into your skin. It was that sound, so desperate and low right beneath your ear, coupled with the movement of his deft fingers, the angle of his cock inside you, all hurtling you so quickly towards the edge that you didn't notice it was there until you toppled over it. Your mate followed with a roar, his own release warm inside you.

You clung to him, trembling, panting, as you came down from your high, the familiar weight of him atop you grounding in the aftermath. He snaked an arm around you as he positioned the two of you on your sides, sharing the couch now. You buried your face in the crook of his neck as he kissed the top of your head, gently.

"Warm now, darling?" He asked softly, a hint of teasing still there, even as he recovered his breath.

He hadn't pulled out of you yet; you bit your lip in thought as you tossed a leg over his, bringing you flush against his hips. You were sensitive, the movement made you wince a little, but even after all that, you still wanted more of him. Perhaps it would never be enough. Like the Illyrians that called this frigid place home, there was always going to be something that pushed you back towards the fire, that damned insatiable need to get warm.

"I think I'm still a little cold," you purred, eyes glinting playfully.

Your mate chuckled at the challenge in your tone, violet eyes narrowing into where you were still joined. "Can't have that, can we?"

The fire roared in the fireplace, a bit of your mate's magic flaring, making sure there was more heat in the cabin, before his lips were on yours again, chasing away any hint of cold before it could touch you.

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar smut #rhysand smut #fanfiction #i'm so downbad for this male as you can clearly tell #my writings

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tightjeansjavi · 4 months

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The Menu | Part 5

“my body is a cage”

A/N: I wrote this in a matter of hours yesterday..and also decided to say fuck the canon timeline so <3

~word count: 4.6k~

Pairing | dark!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel promises that he can make your pain go away. He’s a man that never goes back on his word.

Warnings: trauma responses from SA (not by Joel) mildly descriptive flashback to SA, degrading language, hurt, comfort, dark!joel, protective!joel, he’s kinda shit at communicating, but he’s trying his best for you, softish!joel, talk of the past, angst, sprinkle of fluff, intense emotional feelings, you and Joel let your guard down around one another, age gap, (Joel is in his 40’s and reader is in her late 20’s. I played around with the canon timeline a bit) reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

A languid roll of condensation drips down the base of Joel’s glass that has long since been abandoned the second you fell to your knees in an unceremonious fashion between his parted thighs.

Acceptance already began to make its home again in your heart when you watched Joel slowly shake his head. It hurt, like all rejections do, but it stung a little deeper than you were willing to admit.

Joel Miller didn’t want you anymore. He’d forget about you when the dust would inevitably settle. He’d find someone else to bury his troubles into. It wouldn’t be you, and maybe that was for the better. Maybe the presence of Joel in your life was not a good thing.

It still hurts. No amount of whiskey-melded poker face could mask that.

The weight of his actions seemed to strike their mark along him as well. Another drop of moisture slid down the glass, pooling along the worn down coffee table. He blinked once, twice, swallowing the prominent lump growing in his throat. His pupils had blown wide like two shiny 8-balls. Fuck.

The blooming awkwardness reared its ugly head when a silent tear traveled down your cheekbone. Once the first one escaped, the flood gates opened.

His gut twisted and churned painfully like a stranded ship being tousled by an onslaught of unforgiving swells. He couldn’t tear his sights from your doe-eyed teary gaze. His own tears threatened to spill when you flinched from his right hand moving upwards towards your face.

His fingers quivered when they finally settled against your clammy skin. Joel Miller would never believe himself to be a gentle-touched man. Maybe a long time ago when the sun warmed his skin, and joyous laughter echoed in both ears, and his eyes were bright and full of life, but now? His kindness was reserved, locked away, buried six feet under the cold clutches of earth. The key was thrown away, forgotten and rusted away along with what remained of his tattered and bruised heart.

Here in his hold, your skin warm, soft beneath the rough calluses of his palm, he felt. He felt not just anger, but guilt, sadness, a newfound ache that was tangled up in that stupid four letter word that he would be damned to ever utter its existence again.

“Hey, it’s okay, Angel. It’s okay. You’re safe.” He reassured you, big brown eyes never leaving yours.

You had never heard this brutish man speak to you in such a sincerely soft way. There wasn’t an ilk of pity or condescendence in his tone. Nothing but concern, fear, a desperate need to ascend comfort in his words.

He was so..confusing.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, choking back a sob that died in your throat. “You—you should go, Joel.” You went to brush away his hand to crawl as far away from him as physically possible, but he wasn’t budging. He’d never leave.

“Hey, look at me.” He commanded softly. His other hand found purchase around the left side of your face. His movements were gentle and slow. He wanted to ground you, to keep your soul from being plucked up like a marionette. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You pushed and pulled against him, grinding your teeth together when he still sat unmoving. It was as if you were the unsuspecting bird, and he was the wet cement that would soon harden and fossilize around your body.

“Why?” You questioned. Your sadness had ebbed away and was quickly replaced with simmering frustration. “You don’t want me anymore, Joel. There’s nothing left for you here, so just—fuckin’ leave.” You snapped.

“Angel, I never said I didn’t want you anymore. Please stop fightin’ me. Please.” He pleaded, the rough pads of his thumbs swiped under your eyes, collecting the tears that pooled there while they awaited their time to fall.

“You didn’t need to say it, Joel. I could fuckin’ feel it.” You sniffled, falling back on your haunches in defeat.

“No, sweet girl. You’re mistaken. I swear. I’m shit at this. This whole..communicating thing has never been my forte. I’m sorry. I’m so—sorry. But somethin’ about this ain’t feel right. I—I don’t want to assume, but somethin’ happened to you. I know you don’t want to tell me, but maybe—”

“But maybe what, Joel? Why do you even care? Why all of a sudden—when you said yourself that I’m nothin’ but your whore on stilts. A tight hole to fuck whenever you please. What, did you have a sudden change of heart? Gonna manipulate me into believing that you actually care about me? Fuck you—”

“I swear on my daughters fuckin’ grave that I care about you. I am not manipulating you into believing anythin’ that is leaving my mouth, Angel. I am tellin’ you the truth. You mean somethin’ to me. Puttin’ it into words ain’t easy for a man like me, but you’re hurtin.’ You’re in pain, and I swear to god if some sick fuck put their hands on you, I’ll make sure they never see the light of day again.” He confessed fiercely.

He might as well get down on one knee and sign his life off to you in red ink. To ensure his promise to keep you safe and protected like he was some knight in shining armor.

Benji yanked you up by the scruff of your neck like you were some stray cat, or a tattered ragdoll. You felt like a bug at his mercy, awaiting a painful death of being squashed beneath a leather boot, split into a million pieces. You could hear his friends snickering in the back while they were still fisting their cocks like the disgusting hounds that they were. “Jus’ remember your place in this world, Angel. No matter what anyone tells you, you will be nothin’ but a come-stained, filthy whore. And when you return to him, like I know you will, he’ll toss you away like yesterday's trash. All men are the same, sweetheart. They don’t like it when another dog has been in their bitch.” He spat cruelly, a glob of saliva landing along your cheek.

“No, Joel. I’m nothin’ but a come-stained whore, and you’ll toss me away like yesterday’s trash.” You whispered solemnly, chin tilting downwards in disgust with what was instilled in you to be your true identity. Crestfallen tears were wept. Tears that trailed down your cheeks and rolled down the expanse of his bare wrists and forearms. Each teardrop that landed upon his skin sent his anger flaring upwards the way that smoke rises from a blazing fire.

“Who did this to you, Angel? Tell me his name, and I swear to you that I will make this all go away. Tell me the name of the man who laid his fuckin’ hands on you. Tell me, please. Please, Angel. I want to help you.” He was on the cusp of begging, hating the fear that began to douse the flames. The fear that maybe it was too late, and the damage was done already.

Your eyes slowly meet his, rimmed in red, skin puffy and dry. From just the look alone that you gave him, he knew who had done this to you. He knew the second your lips parted, and uttered the name that sent the beast inside of him awakening once more.

“Benji.”

The dam broke the moment his name left your lips; you crumbled. An echo of gut wrenching, broken sobs tumbled out of you as Joel scrambled to keep you together. He was on the floor with you now, cradling you in his arms while struggling to gather up the broken pieces figuratively scattered around him. It was as if you were loose grains of sand, and no matter how many times he scooped you up into his gentle palms, you kept slipping through the cracks.

You found yourself crawling into his lap, straddling his hips with your arms latched around his neck. You anchored yourself around him while his shirt soaked up your heavy flowing tears like a sponge. His arms were around you like a cage, comforting you the only way he knew how; through touch. One large hand came to cradle the back of your head, while the other rested along the curve of your spine, drawing soothing circles against your skin with the rough pads of his fingertips.

It’s okay, Angel. I have you. You’re safe. I promise.

and through your tears, and your aching, you wanted to believe him. But believing and trusting someone never came easy. Especially in this world. To throw all your eggs into one basket would be considered foolish. Since the night of the outbreak you had convinced yourself that you needed no one. Not a shoulder to cry on, or a friend to confide in. You hadn’t sought for human connection till you crossed paths with Joel Miller. And now you felt guilty for webbing him into your life. For making this mountain of a man feel.

Was it intentional? No. But sometimes we lose all sense of control and ultimately find ourselves giving into that thing that we fear the most. In all retrospect, you had tried to push Joel away from you, but he was a stubborn man. The most stubborn person you had ever met. A whole lotta bark and bite. Fearless until he gave into feeling. Unmoving until he began to feel for you. The girl that was just looking for a vice to fill a void, and instead found a man that would quite literally kill for you. He’d lasso the fucking moon and bring it down to you if you asked. He’d be your friend, your shoulder to cry on, your comfort in the odd hours of the night when the nightmares would creep in.

He’d be your laughter, your anger, your sadness. He’d be whatever the fuck you wanted him to be. That was the thing about men like Joel Miller, they were fiercely loyal to the ones they loved to the point where maybe he was the foolish one. Maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew. And if that were the case, he’d lick his wounds, convince himself that he was okay, and move on until his body would ultimately give way to the grief he carried day in, and day out.

“Will you let me take care of you, Angel?” He asked suddenly, so softly you could barely hear him through the thick of your messy tears.

“If you wish it.” You sniffled, cheek pressed firmly against the damp fabric of his shirt where your tears had soaked through.

He rumbled a sigh, nostrils flaring while he tilted his chin down to take a peek at your current state. He’d never seen you look so tiny, frail, curling into yourself like a mouse shriveling from a house cat on the prowl. His latent caretaker instincts were kicking into full drive after the dust had been blown off of them and wafted through the stagnant air.

“C’mon, sweet girl.” He urged in a gentle tone, strong arms tightening their hold around you while his hands gently hoisted you up by your thighs. His knees creaked and groaned from carrying the weight of himself and you to a standing position. You clung to him still in a koala like fashion.

“Where are you taking me?” You asked unsurely.

“Takin’ you to the bathroom so we can wash the pain away.” He replied quietly.

His footsteps are soft, yet calculated while his hands stay secured around your thighs. He uses his shoulder to push open your flimsy bathroom door. You find yourself sitting along the toliet seat, back resting against the wall with your hands in your lap. You begin to pick at the skin around your nails absentmindedly. You flinch slightly when the sharp edge of your nail tears through dry cuticle skin surrounding your thumb. The sting feels nice, calming in a sense.

Your eyes stay focused on the wall even when the shadow of his silhouette looms over you, and his warm palm suddenly engulfs your own.

“Don’t do that.” He whispers, brows furrowed when he notices the bead of blood on the side of your thumb. “You have beautiful hands, Angel. Don’t go’n ruin ‘em.” He means every word.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can really say.

He slips his fingers through your own and you can feel every ridge and rough callus through his skin. His thumb strokes the outside of your hand in a tender sweep.

You want to cry, but you don’t. Instead you lean your head back against the wall and close your eyes while the sounds of the water sloshing into the tub drowns out your thoughts.

With his freehand he constantly checks the temperature of the water to make sure it’s not too hot, and not too cold. The last thing he wants to do is shock your system. He glances up at your face for a moment before he focuses on his blurry reflection in the rippling water.

How can I make her pain go away?

It's not something that will ever go away. It becomes bearable, but with time. All you can do is be there for her the best way that you can. He reminds himself.

“Angel.”

Your eyes snap open at the sound of his voice ringing in your ears.

So it wasn’t all a dream.

“Uh..the water should be good now. Do you want some privacy? I don’t—need to be in here with you..I understand if you—” he’s stumbling over his words more than he intended to, but this is uncharted territory for him, and he’s unsure.

“No.” You finally speak, “I want you to stay.”

He breathes; relieved for a moment. “Okay, I’ll stay. Do you..want some help?” He’s referring to your clothes and if you require assistance in undressing.

“Please.”

He nods reassuringly before standing up to his full height from where he was kneeling alongside the tub. “Arms up.” He softly requests while he reaches for the hem of your shirt.

Your body works strictly on autopilot, boneless as you lift your arms above your head so it’s easier for him to pull your shirt up.

His wounded knuckles brush gently against your sides when he begins to lift the fabric from your body slowly. Gooseflesh begins to rise when you're exposed to the room temperature air. Your hands instinctively move to cover your modesty and he pretends to not notice the way you immediately fold in on yourself.

It hurts him to see you in such a state as this, but his feelings do not matter, he reminds himself. Yours are far more important than his own.

He waits for your consent to pop the button of your jeans followed by the zipper. His eyes stay locked on your own when he begins to ease the worn denim down your thighs. There’s two gaping holes in the fabric around your knees that weren’t there before. He begins to feel the bile rise before he forces it back down.

You're trembling by the time he reaches for the elastic waistband of your tattered panties and he finds himself freezing in place when your hands snatch his wrists frantically.

“I won’t take them off, okay?” He reassures you. “I promise.”he adds for good measure.

You trust him, and that scares you, but it’s enough for you to release his wrists from your death grip.

“Turn around, please.” You croak out, still struggling to find your voice.

He doesn’t protest, or say mean things, or make you feel ten times smaller than you already felt. He obliges your request silently.

You wait until his back is facing you before you pull your panties down over your thighs. You catch a glimpse of a maroon saturated stain that will be forever tattooed in the flimsy fabric. You want to sob, but instead you drop the material to your ankles and discard them with the rest of your tattered clothing.

He doesn’t turn around to look at you until you give him permission. By that point you were already carefully lowering yourself into the tub. He finds you with your knees protectively tucked up to your chest, folded in on yourself. A dull, sullen look glossed over in your once vibrant irises. Your eyes cast down to your reflection before staring off into nothingness once more.

“Can..I get you anything? Are you hungry? I can whip you up some soup or somethin?’” He asks while lowering himself to sit alongside the tub. He doesn’t care that his lower back pinches a bit, or his knees creak, he just wants to be there for you in any way that he can.

“Just a cigarette would be nice.” You mumble out a reply. Your eyes meet his softened gaze for a moment with your chin resting along the dip of your knee. “He took the ones that you rolled me, along with the pills, and the pistol you lent me. I’m sorry, Joel. I—I’ll pay you back.”

“Hey, you don’t have to pay me back for any of that, okay? I don’t give a fuck about the pills, and I lent you the gun and cigarettes, Angel. Don’t worry about that, okay?” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his own stash and a lighter. He leaned forward, placing the cigarette between your lips before he ignited the unlit end with the lighter.

You took a long drag, letting the smoke attack your lungs, and the nicotine ease your brain into relaxation, and calm your rising anxiety.

“Okay.” You finally speak, willing yourself to scoot closer towards the edge of the tub to ash the cigarette over the side.

“Tell me something that..makes you happy.” He catches you off guard while you take another long drag. You blow the smoke off to the side, creating a hazy cloud that soon dissipates.

“Something..that makes me happy?” You question apprehensively.

“Yes. Jus’ anythin’ that you can think of that makes you happy, Angel.” He rasps softly as he awaits your response.

“The rain. But specifically when it’s storming. I love that earthy smell after a storm. When everything smells fresh, clean, alive. I like the dreary days too. Where it rains from morning through the night. I like the sound it makes when raindrops land on the pavement, or roofs. I know it might sound silly, but when I was a kid I used to sit out on the driveway with some neighborhood friends and watch the storms roll in. Always found myself getting excited when the clouds grew darker and the wind picked up..that first flash of lighting, and rumbling thunder?” You trailed off, unsure if you said too much, or too little for his liking.

“Oh, yeah, I have to agree. Who doesn’t love a good heavy storm? Perfect sleepin’ weather too. Back in Texas we’d get some pretty wild storms out there. Flash floods and all that jazz. Didn’t matter to me cus’ I’d always sleep with the window open. My younger brother, Tommy, was afraid of thunderstorms, up until the point of me tellin’ him that we were always safe inside. Think he got over the fear by the time he was ten.” Joel found himself reminiscing on his childhood, and a simpler time that felt like a ghost to him now.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” You ashed the cigarette over the side of the tub once more before offering it to him. He declined with a slight shake of his head. You need it more than I do.

“Yeah, he’s..well, I don’t know where he’s at. Left with the fireflies a few years back. Thought he could be a hero and save the world. I send him radio messages every now and then jus’ to check up on him.” He sighed softly. His arm came to rest along the side of the tub, palm resting upwards in case you needed to, or wanted to hold his hand.

“Do you miss him?” You asked, shifting closer to him.

You could visibly see him tense from your question. Tommy was a sore spot for him, a festering wound at times. He felt resentful after everything he had done for his younger brother. The sacrifices he made to keep both of them safe from harm. But deep down he knew he couldn’t stay mad at his kin forever, but he wasn’t ready to let that resentment go just yet. He still needed to heal.

“I miss him more than I’m willin’ to admit, Angel. Not sure if he really misses me all that much.” He shrugged indignantly. “What about you, do..you have any siblings?”

He realized then that he didn’t know much about you at all. He knew your name, and your body, but he wanted to know more about what you were like before the world went to shit.

“Nope. Only child. Mom and Dad tried for another, but some things just aren’t meant to be.” It was your turn to shrug now. He caught you eyeing his outstretched palm resting along the chipped porcelain. If he had the ability to read minds, he certainly was reading yours now.

“And..your parents?” He asked, assuming the inevitable answer.

“Both dead. Car crash a couple years before outbreak. I was too young to comprehend any of it. Grandparents took me in luckily. We pretty much lived in desolation out in the middle of nowhere after that. Not much civilization out in the sticks.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” His tone is soft, baritone deep and soothing. And truth be told, you’re still confused. You can’t help it especially when you know this is the same man that just hours ago was trying to bust down your door.

Joel Miller made your head spin.

“It’s alright, Joel. No need for you to be sorry. Life sucks sometimes. It’s just something I’ve come to accept.”

He nods affirmatively. Life does suck sometimes, ain’t that the truth.

“So, where exactly are you from then? South? Midwest? West?” He couldn’t help his curiosity to know more. He didn’t expect you to be an open book by any means, but he’d take anything you’d give him.

“Montana. Grandparents owned a horse ranch out there. Real peaceful, open country, fresh air.”

“Ah, so a real country girl then? Well, guess you and I are closer than we originally thought, huh? How’d you end up all the way in Boston?” He stretched his arm out slightly when it had grown stiff from the position it had been in.

“If you consider Texas and Montana to be close, then sure, cowboy.” There was a glimmer of sass in your tone. Just enough to cause his ears to perk up. “Honestly, after the outbreak, things just turned into one big blur for me. It’s like I had to grow up overnight. Grandpa taught me how to use a shotgun, killed my first infected shortly after that. Grandma was the first to fall, and Grandpa followed a year later. I stayed in the ranch for as long as I could, fendin’ for myself. Was only a matter of time before raiders became a problem, and I packed a bag, took a horse, and headed east.”

Joel was having a hard time comprehending just how young you truly were when the world as you knew it turned to shit. You were just a kid, a little girl fending for yourself. When he realized you were just about Sarah’s age, he didn’t know how to process that newfound information either.

“You were..just a kid when this all happened.” He nearly whispered in disbelief at the thought of a younger version of yourself, strapped with her grandpa's shotgun, and nothing but open country to trek through.

“I was.” You confirmed. “I’m sure this is just my brain blocking all the bad shit out, but I don’t remember much of what happened after I left the ranch. I guess it’s a miracle that I managed to survive this long. Guess my luck hasn’t run out entirely, huh?”

“No, it certainly hasn’t, Angel. You’ve managed to defy practically all the odds that were placed against you.”

You fall silent again, casting another look down at your reflection while the cigarette perched between middle and forefinger dies out. “What’s your favorite color, Joel?”

“Oh, so now we’re goin’ elementary?” He teases lightly in hopes to brighten your spirits just a tad. He’d kill a thousand men just to see you smile again. “I think I have to go with a shade of blue.” He decides.

“Ha. Ha. You’re hilarious, cowboy. You’re the one who started with the personal questions. I think knowing your favorite color is definitely considered a personal question.” You feel your lips twitch, almost as if they are trying to curve up into a smile, but it doesn’t quite happen. “And blue..like the sky?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, “blue like the ocean. But y’know..like all the shades. What about you, Angel? What’s your favorite color?”

“Purple.” “But not just any shade of purple. The kind that you can see in sunsets. It’s almost got like a pinkish hue to it? Or the purple in lavender fields. We had loads of it growing at the ranch.”

“Mm.” He hums thoughtfully, “Sunsets sure are pretty.” He’s far more relaxed now with his legs outstretched in front of him, and his chin resting along his bare bicep as he looks at you.

He asks you more questions, finding out that your favorite movies were arguably LOTR (unfortunately the third, and highly anticipated film never made it to the theaters; damn you cordyceps) and The Last Unicorn. He learned that your favorite drink of choice, before the outbreak, was either a virgin pina colada (because it tasted like the beach) or the classic kiddy cocktail; a childhood delicacy.

You learned that he and his younger brother Tommy, worked as contractors in Austin Texas, and that Joel used to be married..and he had a single daughter that he raised practically on his own. Her name was Sarah, and she died the night of the outbreak; Joel’s birthday. You also now know that his favorite movie was Curtis and Viper 2.

And through the midst of your back and forth domestic conversing, you find yourselves holding hands again. You’re not sure if he initiated it, or vice versa, but neither of you let go.

There was an unasked question that circled heavy in the air, like two vultures waiting to dive in for the kill. He could sense just as much as you could. Addressing the elephant in the room was not going to be easy, but you were beginning to realize that Joel wasn’t going anywhere. In fact, you were shocked to find that he hadn’t climbed into that damn tub with you.

“Joel?” You ask suddenly, skin beginning to prune from being in the water for too long.

“Yes, Angel?” He’s hopeful, but realistic given the circumstances.

“Did you..mean what you said earlier? About..making this all go away?”

“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate to answer. He was not the kind of man to go back on his word. “I will make sure that he pays for what he did to you, Angel. He’ll suffer, and I’ll make him wish he was never born.” Oh, he’d make him pay alright.

“Good. I want you to kill him, Joel. And I want to be there to see you do it. I want to be right there when he takes his last pathetic breath—” you don’t even realize how hard you're squeezing his hand in your grasp that his knuckles are beginning to turn white from the pressure.

“Of course I’ll kill him for you, Angel.” That wasn't even a request in his mind. Benji would die at the hands of Joel, and you would get to watch.

and then..you told him everything.

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tadpolesonalgae · 2 months

Text

Can’t Bring Myself To Remember You

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: I’ve thought about it a little and I don’t think this adds anything to the story—it really just feels like a trashy filler episode.

word count: 4,173

-Part 14-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

It’s not an unusual occurrence for you to open a book near dusk then pull out of your mental wandering after dark, frequently falling so deep into immersion, so consistently dragged under by lonely curiosity that time itself seems to slip through your soft, tender fingers. A shadow twirls a lock of hair about, a gentle approach so you know he’s there.

Even when his steps don’t subconsciously take on that soundless whisper, it was too often you’d startle at the sound of his voice, almost strangely so, spun around looking slightly flustered. Azriel had always assumed it a side effect of being stolen from your home all that time ago, being thrown about in the ocean of your life, only now beginning to settle back into relative calm.

You turn now, meeting his soft hazel eyes, shadowed by lovely lashes and defined by a strong brow. A mouth that appears so soft your heart aches at the faintly curved edges, appearing so warm and inviting. The steady certainty about the way he moves, so calmly assured of each step, unrushed but quietly determined, driven forward relentlessly by his unfaltering loyalty, the dedication to helping those under his brother’s rule.

A smile pulls your mouth apart, surely gleaming in your eyes, warming your cheeks as you meet his gaze. “What a surprise to see you here,” you say, closing the book silently, balancing the thick and heavy edge on your hip, the leather of its wrapping weighing comfortably into your waist. “Looking for something?”

He smiles, pushing off from the bookcase he’d been leaning against, dark hair flopping over his brow, as soft as silk and looking as warm as fur. How lovely it would be to run your fingers through, gently playing with it like how you would do when you were younger, sat before an open fire in a wobbly line, crafting intricate patterns with your sisters.

“I’ve found it now,” he replies, amusement written clearly across his features, more open than usual, your pulse increasing. His eyes drop away from yours, landing on the book at your hip, nodding to it with a faint smile. “What have you gotten your hands on this time?”

You reciprocate the expression with a little more enthusiasm, almost beaming as you shift the volume to present the cover to him. “It was tucked near the back here,” you explain, eyes darting to the shelf you’d been stood before. “It looked a little forgotten so I had to move some of the others around to get to it. It’s a book on botany, and the different plants that can be found throughout the courts. It’s amazing how such a range can be contained to such a small land mass given the shift in climates.”

His eyes twinkle, and your heart flutters in response, smile broadening a little. “Were there many books in your first home, or did your curiosity come from seeing your father’s study?” He asks, watching you calmly, gaze skating over the beautifully crafted cover of the book appreciatively. “There weren’t as many as there are here, but there were a few I could get my hands on,” you answer honestly. “Elain and I used to flip through the pages to look at the illustrations when we were younger, though they were mostly done in ink so only black and white. Sometimes when we found ones with colour in—there were some wonderful ones. I mean, really so full of colour and shimmery paints they really looked from another world—but we would fold the corners over at the top to show to Feyre later. Then sometimes they’d have diagrams with names underneath that we didn’t yet know how to pronounce, so would fold the corners over at the bottom to ask Nesta later since our mother wouldn’t want to be disturbed. Then later because she wasn’t there.” You come to a stop, lips drawing themselves into a thin line.

“Do you miss her?” He asks quietly, those shadows of his rolling like mist from his back, weighing to the floor to cover the boards in an inky black fog. “I…it’s complicated,” you answer, head dipping as you pull the volume back to your torso, as if it will act as a shield against the complex emotions you have no idea how to articulate. “You have plenty of time to figure it out—should you wish to,” he says gently, and you peer up at him, heart fluttering at the warmth in his eyes. The faint softening at the edges of his wonderful mouth.

You remember to respond, dipping your head in a subdued nod. Tongue swiping over your lips. “Is your…I mean, your mother…?” He blinks those lovely hazel eyes, so filled with swirling colour, and you inwardly cringe, seeing how he shifts to stand more upright, posture more rigid. That sweet curve of his mouth replaced by a polite smile, one he probably knows he should give to keep anyone from feeling bad. “Alive, yes,” he answers, his tone not inviting anymore questions, without being clipped.

Lips pursing into an awkward line, your gaze drops down to the book, to your feet, nodding in confirmation. “I…I’m happy for you,” you say quietly, hoping it’s the right thing and she isn’t a terrible woman. Female. That would be quite awful, if she turned out to be.

Azriel hums lowly, and your throat rolls, toes curling a bit in your shoes. You inhale, managing to look in his vague direction, “how was your day?” It comes out much more muted than you had intended, heat spreading throughout your features as you again dip your head, felled with embarrassment. A moment of silence passes, and you feel like you might crumble into a heap of sand, simply disintegrate right then and there.

But, “good,” he answers, chuckling lowly.

Peeking up nervously, you can make out the slight twinkle in his eyes, the relaxed softness to his mouth, and relief washes through you, crushing and sweeping in its intensity. “Training’s going well,” he continues unprompted, and you perk up more, shifting on your feet, attempting to straighten out your shoulders. “It’s becoming a nice, well-rounded group. Nesta seems to be doing well, too. They all are.”

You manage a smile, drinking in every word, basking in the richness of his voice, imbued with a tinge of royal blue emotion. “Sounds like you’re having fun,” you say, trying to match the mirth of his intonation, how genuine it sounds. You don’t really succeed. “Between the strain of practice and learning, I think they do,” he answers, still smiling faintly, and you pause to take a moment to try and capture what’s different about his features when he’s smiling. The curve beneath his eyes, how his cheeks round a little, the way his lips stretch out and curve. Something about his ears raising a little higher, too.

“Have you ever considered joining?” He asks tentatively, and you freeze up.

“Training?” You manage, forcing down the splutter, cowering at the thought. His features level out, but his eyes remain amused as he nods. “No. I don’t think… It’s not for me,” you stumble through the answer, looking away. Then heat warms your cheeks, embarrassment heating across your chest, meeting his gaze. “Should I be?” You ask, quieter than before, stomach tensing as you pull the book closer to your front.

He shrugs, “only if you’d like to. You might find it enjoyable.”

You manage a tight smile, not knowing what to say without sounding rude, so choosing silence.

“Nesta…she has friends there,” Azriel says hesitantly, and you can feel his gaze on you. “They enjoy reading, too. Maybe it would be good for you to go. Exciting.”

“Really?” You ask, managing to meet his gaze, shifting on your feet as you grip the book tighter. “What sort of things—do you know?”

“I could find out,” he offers, the edges of his irises softer.

But you shake your head, “it’s fine. I’m— I’m happy. Where I am, I mean. As I am.” You dip your head slightly at the awkwardness. Should you be saying something like that with pride? There isn’t much to be proud of. Hardly anything you can say for yourself.

It’s a bit worthless, if you’re honest, to only have that to cling to.

“You are?” He asks, gently.

Your stomach drops through your toes, heart plummeting deeper than the depths of the ocean’s floor. Shifting on your feet. Even he can tell… But you nod, head dipping further as you peer at the ground, heart straining for some reason. “Besides, I love getting to read the things in here,” you manage, clutching the volume a little tighter. “And, I’m not sure Nesta…her friends would be interested in reading encyclopaedias.”

“You don’t know until you try,” he says quietly, matching your level of volume. “Wouldn’t it be nice having more people to talk to about the things you like?”

You shift again on your feet, readjusting your grip on the bound book. “Maybe? I guess…”

“So why not try?” He asks, able to hear the slight smile in his voice, and you want so desperately to look at him. “Just one lesson, or even a few minutes to see what it’s like. The first step is usually the hardest.”

“I don’t know…” you hedge, discomfort lodging itself in your throat; between your ribs. “What are you unsure about?” He asks, leaning up against the bookshelves. You shrug, not meeting his gaze. “I guess…I don’t see the point in it,” you answer reluctantly, quietly. Knowing he won’t like that response.

Sure enough, you can hear the frown in his voice, disapproval sharpening into something bladed, disappointment in your lack of enthusiasm. “You should still try,” he says gently, wings shifting at his back, refolding themselves. But you shake your head, more firmly this time, “I don’t want to intrude. That’s her space that she’s made. I don’t want to contaminate it.”

“You wouldn’t be contaminating it,” he sighs, arms folding casually over his broad chest, and you feel like he’s telling you off for something.

Slightly desperately, you aim to switch topic to something he’ll be willing to move on to. You don’t doubt he could keep you here if he wanted, simply returning to the original topic of conversation, so you have to be careful with your new selection.

“Have you asked Elain if she would join?” You ask, not meeting his gaze.

You feel his pause, heart beating a little harder in the hopes he’ll go along with it. The irony of you being the one to bring her up isn’t lost on you—after you’ve wanted a conversation free of her for some time now. So it’s just the two of you, even for one discussion.

“Elain?” He asks, bemusedly, and you nod. “Do you think she’d be interested?”

“You thought I might be. Why not her?” You reply, wincing at your tone. Shifting again on your feet. But instead of tense silence, he chuckles faintly. “I understand the two of you are sisters, but you’re very different from one another.”

Your eyes close briefly, allowing no more than a moment for the condemnation to sink through you.

You’re nothing like Elain, and he can see that clear as day.

So you smile faintly, trying to bring some life into it. “Just a thought.”

———

It had felt like being tossed to the grimy, half-rotten wooden boards of the old hut in there.

They hadn’t bothered with chains—you were human, what could you do against them?

Strange, magic, powerful creatures, hewn from nature herself. Like gazing upon perfect marble sculptures and wishing for their cold grace, sacrificing flesh and blood for stone-cold immortality.

It’s strange how distorting panic can be. How acutely aware of the smallest hairs rising on mostly bare legs, yet forgetting the faces of the fae who’d thrown you into the deep dark of the cell. Warm bodies pressing tight to one another in the dim light of the stone cell, trembling hands gripping one another, grown out nails inadvertently scraping. Shaky breaths misting in the damp, winter deep air.

Few words had been traded in the perpetual night, a cold, spindly hand passing meals into the room through some method of magic. It had been good. Cold and plain yet disgustingly pleasant.

The first time Feyre had returned from Prythian and eaten human food she had gagged, it was unforgettable seeing how she’d changed. Such a small moment with such vast implications. Having then sampled the food, likely the worst of the worst of their own pallet, you could understand the insufficiency.

It doesn’t matter now though. Not now you’re trapped, locked away from the light.

Unknown time passes, and you never hear them coming. Like the night you’d been removed, they come on silent feet, utterly predatory and entirely invincible.

He’d appeared then, sat on a throne constructed of what you think vaguely reminds you human remains—long, stretching bones bound together to be sat upon, forced to serve long after death, condemned to relentless work, never to be lain to rest. The King you’ve been warned about.

At your side Nesta stiffens, observing something you can’t, struggling to remain alert after the numbing darkness of the cell. The strange isolation that had been enforced upon you despite company.

Even to human senses, the smell of blood is apparent, stark and piercing in the barren throne room. Though everything is secondary to the dooming thrum of pressure coming from the dais. Even the lives around you fade into something lesser when confronted with the concentration of Everything before you—a culmination of everything that has ever happened and everything that ever will across the four-dimensional planes, universes stretching and thinned, brought together before the Cauldron that sits, hunched on the stone floor. Watching. Observing. Waiting.

Words jumble from the king’s mouth, but you doubt even Nesta is entirely listening, not with the white-knuckled grip she has on you and Elain, pulled taut together, bound tighter than you’ve ever been before, a refusal to release one another. Even as numbing pain sets in, you don’t try to escape, each of you understanding the aches of the grip are small safeties, reminders you still exist with one another.

Grey-blue eyes catch yours across the hall, wide and fearful as they gaze upon the three of you. The youngest, yet the strongest. The strongest of your sisters, yet maybe the weakest in the room beyond yourselves. The power imbalance so stark the world tilts a little, as if nodding its head sadly in agreement.

Awareness is dunked over you like taking an icy bath, coming to in time to hear the damning words that have your heart jittering in your chest. Lurching and fumbling with fear.

“Who is the youngest, over there?”

And like a moth drawn to flame, your terrified eyes lock with his, singled out as a knowing smile tilts the King’s lips. “You.”

It’s a new terror, you understand. Being noticed by a being so incomprehensibly greater. How to rationalise and understand the fear in the fleeting seconds that tick faster and faster with each blink of your eyes. How time falls flat, and eventually pulls apart as a guard’s hand rips you clean from your sisters, a snarl of rage only adding to the ringing buzz that glistens though your ears, feet fumbling numbly over the cobbles, cracked and jagged in places.

The world fades in and out of focus as ice prickles from beneath your skin, at once hot and at once freezing the skin from your flesh, so cold it will start peeling back at any second, shedding until you disintegrate onto the floor. You’re helpless as you’re pushed onto the dais, far too close to the prowling beast of the Cauldron to ever come away. Even if they released you, the understanding is clear to you it would not allow the escape.

Noises break through the lilting haze of your world, vision clearing enough to pick out the wide, hellish eyes of your oldest sister, the conflict of terror and undeniable rage that blazes away in full view, and you wonder how she can sustain it. How she can muster up an emotion so overpowering your attention is pulled away from the Cauldron. From the King, and Queens.

Her teeth gleam in a snarl directed to the male atop the throne, and you wish for even an ember to take root in your soul. The inadequacies of your own self rising to the surface like bodies buried in muddy land.

“Put her in.”

Every muscle strings taut in your body, jaw nearly breaking itself from pressure, nearly vomiting the food you’d been given from squeezing your stomach in, every part of your being inherently recoiling from the eerily calm pool of black water before you, so still it looks like glass, contained in metal that reeks of something that should not be touched. Even borne witness to.

You’re lofted into the air, unable to so much as kick, terror taking control of your body, feeling as though you’re freshly dead, held stiff by catatonic shock while breath still whispers from your lips. Screams are choked back by the tightness in your throat, lungs burning with cries that would surely curdle blood, piercing shrieks that might at least serve to deafen their keen hearing.

But their large, spindly hands release you, and you slide into the yawning mouth. Gaping, and grinning.

Ice-cold water shocks your system, and you sink like a stone into the liquid. Sinking. Sinking. Sinking.

Dropping through the barriers of the realm. Falling off the edge of the world.

You drop further than possible, and nightmares resurface. Of rivers that swell and break their banks, flooding wetlands and tearing livestock from their home in the torrents of the winter melt. Rain lashing down day after day, heart pounding in your chest, hoping the rising water will never reach the already shaky beams of your rotting hut. In those night terrors there’s no escaping the rising tides, the currents gripping your ankles as you’re snatched from your feet, dragged away and under, swallowed whole and torn from your family in the blink of an eye.

Liquid like mercury surrounds you whole, submerged in the quicksilver of the Cauldron’s contents, dredging up long forgotten memories as though your life is passing before your eyes. Laying on the floor of your father’s study, flipping through books on food, plants, fauna and flora. There had been one nightmarish creature that had always stuck with you, lurking in the depths of your mind no matter what comforts Elain had provided, nor the goofy drawings Feyre had done in attempts to reduce the terror, nor the reasoning that such a small creature whose home was the deepest, murkiest parts of the sea would ever be able to find you.

And yet the Cauldron seems to seek it out specifically, conjuring the memory of the slimy pale blue paint that had been used, the ink that sharpened razor like teeth, the small spot of white on the page that illuminated the fish’s grotesque features.

Like an angler fish, you can’t help but feel now, sunken so far below, sucked in a whirlpool to the bottom of the Cauldron, that its icy surface had been the light, the power rolling from its dark metal the warm glow, and you’d been thrown toward it.

Now past the shredding ring of teeth, cast into its stomach.

The inky water pushes at your lips, squirming at your squeezed-shut eyes, wriggling like icy maggots trying to crawl beneath your skin, to worm their way inside and infest. It seems impossible to hold them out—everything had come from the Cauldron, how were you supposed to barricade yourself against that which you’d been born of?

You pull as tight as you can, wrapping in on yourself as blood recoils from your extremities, all you can salvage of yourself pulling taut and compact, stitched closer than rock, squeezed denser than ice that’s had centuries to compress. Air has long since lost its value among your turned around preservation instincts. Air is a pathway in, and you fear its intrusion with a conviction that spears deeper than any fear of death.

But the Cauldron is a prime creator, second you suppose only to the Mother, and has no concern for time.

No matter how long you keep it out for, minutes, hours, days, years, time is endless and stretching, a new metric confined to the swirling depths of horror contained within its malice-imbued metal. No matter how long you keep yourself walled off, hibernating deep within the parts of yourself you hadn’t even known existed, it waits just outside, prowling, circling, slowly squeezing and constricting. Until like even ice, or rock, you’ll split open. Pressure so steep it could cleave universes.

Even after the walls you’ve hidden behind, the only things keeping out the idle swirl of pure, liquid power, it’s not enough. Everything will fall to time, eroded and grated down to dust beneath the relentless drip of ticking seconds.

Your mind feels too numb to register as it creeps in, cold and deadening as it spreads calmly throughout your blood, filling you up from the inside out, infusing into your skin—numbed from slumber. Creeping and contaminating with cold, needle slim fingers, rearranging and knitting pieces together than should not be joined within a mortal.

It holds you with a familiarity that’s at once startling and reassuring, a puppet returned to the puppeteer, a dress returned to the seamstress, a splintered leg returned to the carpenter. All of them at once, without the care of a mother for her child. Cold and analytical, examining its past creation, exploring its functions with harsh fingers. Peeling back your skin, then your flesh, then your skull, retrieving the centre of your thoughts to discover your foundations.

Wishes and desires, tucked away secrets even you’ve forgotten, passing thoughts unworthy of being voiced, wants that deserved to be spoken but tied down by your tongue. Its ladle scoops you out, hollowing your mind and stomach, dipping a spoon into soup to retrieve a mouthful, except this space will be replaced with something else. Something to push the bounds of humanity and transform you into the sharp-featured creatures who had taken what scraps of your world had remained.

Something with the tremendous strike of lightening but worse fills the empty pockets it’s made. Capable of burning like the blazing rage contained within quicksilver eyes. Something slower. More insidious. You aren’t made for brute force, so a more subtle route will have to be afforded.

Like it had selected the nightmarish memories, so does it haul up the secret wishes. The wants so desperate they have heat kicking back against the icy touch of the Cauldron’s waters. To blaze like Nesta, to protect like Feyre, to soothe like Elain. But more.

A use.

If not a warrior, then a blade to be harnessed.

The Cauldron plucks the desire from your bones, and your body slumps. Skin without its stuffing, a heart without its thump. You could swear you feel it smile as it finds what it’s looking for, now conjuring up its match. The piece to fill the void it’s created by removing the wish, replaced with something sturdier, to lift your body to immortality.

With each possibility the prices rise steeper, and yet you no longer recoil.

The craving to have something—something entirely new, something entirely your own taking control of your mind and soul, driving you forward. How deeply you yearn to be someone with possessions that are your own. Not passed down, nor borrowed or shared, but your own. Something only you can have.

The desire is so acute you feel salty wetness push out from beneath closed eyelids.

To be sought after. Craved. Pursued.

Valued, treasured, fought for.

To have something that made you become both desired and capable of protection.

The cost would always be irrelevant for an offer like that.

Down to your roots, clipped at the foundations, an entirely human desire to be wanted. At whatever price, the yearning so innate and so acute your heart aches within the cage of your ribs. It runs deeper than a want, or a wish, or a need. So inherent to your ideal that now you’ve discovered its existence, returning without it would be a new death with every second, every breath drawn taking you further apart from the moment your could’ve had it.

The Cauldron smiles, dangling it before you, quietly hiding away what it’s already taken, not giving you a chance to consider what you will lose.

And with a still human heart, your soft, trembling fingers pluck the glowing green star from the inky darkness. Fooled by inexperience.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

#cbmthy #cbmtry

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writing-house-of-m · 8 months

Text

Connect... 4?

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You spend a fun day in, with Wanda, Billy and Tommy

A/N: I found this request really difficult to find inspiration for, lucky for me @nameforthemain came to my rescue (thank you mate!) The request can be found here. Comments, reblogs and likes are much appreciated!

Prompt: “I can’t believe you said that, you take that back.”

It is summer break for Billy and Tommy so you and Wanda booked time off from avenging to spend it with your kids.

Petting zoos, amusement parks, museums, you have done it all. Because it has been an action packed few weeks it was decided you would spend a few relaxing days at home.

If you could call it that.

For a while all of you played with different toys then various board games together, four player games which then switched to two vs two games, changing partners every so often.

That was until you and Wanda got to the game you were currently playing. The children have been long forgotten as you concentrate on the puzzle sitting between the two of you.

You have spent long minutes staring at the different combinations in front of you while your fingers play with a red counter piece.

"It's not rocket science honey, just put in your piece and get ready to lose," Wanda lets out a cocky remark.

You look up at her with an unimpressed look.

Wanda, the mother of your children, your wife, the light of your life, is going down. There is no way you are going to lose this.

Looking back at the rows before you, you go back to your planning. Finally you drop a piece into an empty column.

Wanda chuckles and immediately plays her turn blocking your planned potential four-in-a-row.

You squint your eyes and raise a brow at her. A smirk is playing on her lips which you don't understand because she has never been good at this game, where is this confidence coming from?

Something is definitely not right.

The game continues and the board slowly fills up, it isn't looking good for you. If Wanda doesn't make a mistake then she will win when you inevitably have to play a piece into a column that will give her the win.

And that is exactly what happens.

You sigh, a sour look on your face when you slide in that final counter, then turn away like that will stop your loss.

Before the red plastic you drop in even hits the empty frame below it Wanda is already placing her yellow piece in the same line. "I win!" She cheers with her arms in the air, hands stretched out.

"There's no way, you definitely cheated," you accuse.

"I can’t believe you said that, you take that back!" Wanda exclaims.

"No," you mock in a murmur crossing your arms over your chest side eying her..

Billy hears the commotion and moves away from his lego to ask, "What are you two arguing about?"

"Just about how your mom is a cheater," you say.

Wanda lets out a gasp, "No I am not!" She exasperates and throws a counter at you which you catch.

"Are you allowed to use your powers, mom? Because I saw your eyes turn red when you were waiting for your turn," he says easily.

With wide eyes you turn to Wanda, "I knew it!"

Wanda sighs and tries not to smile at getting caught out.

"Thank you son!" You exclaim, standing from sitting on the floor. Billy goggles when you lift him in the air excitedly, "A witness to corroborate my suspicions!"

When Tommy sees this he runs over with his arms up saying he wants a turn at being thrown in the air.

"Billy, I can't believe you. I thought we were friends," Wanda pouts.

"But mom you're the one who tells us to do the right thing," Billy says while you and Tommy, who is resting on your hip in your arm, nod your heads agreeing.

With no leg to stand on Wanda shakes her head in shame and confirms he is right. She can't go against that logic.

"Because mom cheated and therefore lost," you say smugly, putting Tommy down onto the ground. "I think she should bake us some cookies. Right, boys?"

"Yes!" "Alright!" They agree in unison.

"I have a better idea, how about we make them together," Wanda suggests.

"You're right, that is a better idea. This is why you're the boss," you agree and place a chaste kiss to Wanda's lips. "First one down gets to eat the chocolate chips!" You shout and immediately run to the kitchen leaving the rest of your family in the dust.

Bill and Tommy run off shortly after claiming you always do this and it is unfair while Wanda is left, laughing at your escapades.

With Wanda alone in the room, she rubs at her stomach and speaks down to it, "I think it's time to tell them this family is going to get a little bigger, don't you?" There is a little flutter in her stomach which she takes as a response to her question when really it is probably her own excitement.

She smiles as she strolls to the noise she can hear in the kitchen, most likely disagreements over the chocolate chips you are probably holding out of the boys' reach.

Wanda thinks it is time for her to step in and ban anyone else from eating any more chocolate then make some 'cheat free' cookies for her family.

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natashaslesbian · 9 months

Text

We Saved Each Other (Part One)

Summary: The Black widow is taking her final steps to join S.H.I.E.L.D in the heart of Budapest. A young widow has been discarded. Will Natasha’s guilt get the better of her?

Word Count: 689

Pairings: (Natasha Romanoff x Kid!Reader) (Avengers x Kid!Reader)

Warnings/content: None for this part

————

“We need confirmation Dreykov’s in the building” the spy said as his eyes wondered over the device in front of him. “His car is pulling up now” the assassin said, a thick Russian acent present in her words. She watched as a young girl exited the car and was ushered inside. Her eyes moved up to the second floor, the girl passing through each window frame. At the end of the hall, the brunette entered an office. The widow watched as a figure spun on his chair and greeted the girl. This was wrong, but this would make things right. Right? Guilt ran through her blood. The redhead dropped her vision to the right side of the building, and there she saw it. There she saw you.

You looked to be no older than 7 or 8, a large man was dragging you by the wrist, out into the cold winter evening. You were crying, sobbing, screaming. He threw you down on the concrete and with no hesitation turned around and walked away. You crawled to the door and banged your tiny fists against it. “Natasha, we clear?” She brought her communications device to her mouth, eyes still painted on you. People continued to pass by you without a care in the world. You cowered away from every wondering gaze, so afraid they would bring you more harm. Your frail body violently shook with each cry. Natasha took a deep breath “wait a minute”

Before Clint could even respond, Nat was out the car door and crossing the road, completely out in the open and risking everything. She paused briefly at the corner, studying you. You sheepishly returned to the door, trying the handle this time “please” you whimpered “I be good. I pam- I pwomis” the ex-widow knew those words all too well. She knew how you felt, and she would be dammed if you carried this hurt for the rest of your life. Natasha approached your fragile body with caution, she crouched to your level a few feet away. “Hey there” she softly spoke. You turned your gaze towards her, slowly, you eyed her with caution. “My name’s Natasha” the stranger said to you “what’s yours?” The question floated around for a moment, your voice now lost and dead to the world. “Why don’t we get you out of here? Somewhere warm and safe?” She reached out her hand and you pondered her intentions. Was she here to hurt you too? Or was she worth your trust? You looked back to the steel door, they didn’t want you anymore, you were there thrown out trash, where else did you have to go? Could anywhere really be worse? You turned towards the pale redhead woman, your eyes raw and burning. You took a leap, or rather step of faith and stumbled towards her outstretched arms.

“All clear” Natasha spoke into her coms as she pulled the car door closed. Within seconds, the building went up in flames. Rubble began to fall from the sky and the noise had you on high alert. “It’s ok” she said as she held you close “you’re safe now. Safe with me” Natasha pulled you into her chest as she began to drive away “saf” you whispered “yeah, safe” Natasha repeated. Before long, the motions of the car lulled you into a slumber. Natasha was shaking, so afraid, but her guilt was long forgotten. She turned the wheel so carefully, braked with ease as to not wake you. Was she crazy? This was crazy. A young girl laid in her arms, a young girl who needs love and care. How was she to give that to you?

The assassin turned onto the large green field, a shield jet waiting for her arrival. She stumbled out of her car, you still sound asleep against her neck, herself still shaking. “Who’s this?” Clint asked as the young woman approached with another young woman accompanying her. “She-she was outside” Natasha began “I couldn’t just, I couldn’t. They just threw her out” she explained, tears now escaping her “let’s get you both on the jet” Clint smiled.

————

Part one of a new story :))))

The parts will get longer I just wanted to start with something short to see the interest

-Astara🩷

#marvel #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel fic #nat x reader #avengers #natasha x little!reader #clint barton #clint x natasha

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lets-try-some-writing · 7 months

Note

Okay, I just wanna say that I love ALL the fic ideas you came up with and I desperately want to read all of them but I know everyone else wants that too, so for the sake of your mental sanity, I'll pick my favorites

Also, as much as I cry/go feral over your angst works, your fluff/crack stuff does something to my brain chemistry that I need

So I really want to see more of the prompts I requested (omg, someone wanting to see more of their prompt, who would've guessed? Though which one you wanna expand on is up to you) as well as "Of all the things that could happen, did have to be this?", "Human Females Do What Once A Month?!", "Cybertrons newest younglings/sparklings"

Those are some of my personal favorites but if you aren't feeling it or wanna do angst, you do you. Love all your amazing work and thanks for listening to my rambles 🙃

Well thank you for the chance to write more fluff! I am so happy you like my work friend! I've been meaning to get to this request for a while now. But classes have been dragging me kicking and screaming through the mud.

Prompt for this request here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Of all the things that could happen, did it have to be this?

The battle for the Omega Lock was by far one of the most intense any of the Decepticons had ever engaged in. It was a fierce and brutal conflict that left both sides struggling. However in the end, all Autobots on Earth were captured, promptly executed, and had their bodies thrown into the Cybermatter as a taunt toward their desperate attempts to regain control of the relic. But of course, this singular act of smug retribution came with consequences.

As the bodies of the Autobots sank into the Cybermatter, the Matrix blazed and collected the sparks of the fallen within itself in an attempt to preserve them. Then, with the aid of the Cybermatter surrounding it, the Matrix did as it was made to. It remade those it was offered. Optimus it kept to itself, but the others? It molded them again granting them new life and hoping to save them from execution once more by altering how they emerged. It could not erase who they were, nor did it want to. No, it needed to preserve them and give them a chance.

With that in mind, there was no way the Decepticons, who were still reveling in their victory, could have ever predicted eight sparklings clambering out of the Omega Lock screaming and shivering. At first the gathered Decepticons were too shocked to act, but as a young Smokescreen wailed, Starscream moved without thinking. With soft murmurs and croons, the Seeker held the sparkling close to himself, soothing him with gentle touches and songs. After that, there was no stopping it. Megatron was cruel, but he was not the the kind to allow sparklings to die, no matter their origin. Thus he gathered the sparklings, brought them onto the Nemesis, and set course for Cybertron. Earth was all but forgotten amidst the chaos.

A meeting was held with all of high command as soon as the Nemesis was out of Earth's orbit. There was brief discussion of killing the sparklings considering they were formerly Autobots, however that was shut down immediately by Starscream throwing the biggest fit any on the Nemesis had the displeasure to deal with. The Seeker threw away any pretense of cowardice in order to defend the sparklings, regardless of whatever wrath Megatron might hold toward him after the fact. Thankfully for him, Knockout was quick to support his stance, even going so far as to threaten to damage the ship and tell the Vehicons about the incident if the order to kill the sparklings was given.

As such, with no other choice considering the threat of mutiny, Megatron sighed, and had the sparklings distributed until a better plan could be devised. The Nemesis continued to soar toward Cybertron, but the trip would take time and quite frankly, what interest Megatron had in Earth all but faded. Optimus was a sparkling, and without his foe fighting for the planet so viciously, the competitive desire to take the world was no longer present. Cybertron was his focus, even more so now that there were sparklings on board to fuel and raise. They had been at war for far too long, and now with the Autobot elites stuck as sparklings, it had practically been ended. Cybertron needed to be restored, and Megatron would see to it, if only to ensure he didn't lose the loyalty of his soldiers.

Of course, taking care of sparklings was far easier said than done. Each of the newly reforged Autobots seemed to have something... off about them. All were assessed by Shockwave and with his aid, assigned to the appropriate caretakers until further notice.

Smokescreen was biologically the youngest and based on the tests run, the most mentally stable. He behaved as a perfectly normal sparkling, with all the little quirks and habits of the newly emerged. In order to ensure that the sparklings with more... pressing needs were attended to, Smokescreen was given to the Vehicons, under the supervision of Starscream of course. The former Autobot rookie was perfectly tame for the most part and by all accounts, terrible friendly. He didn't care for who was tending to him and had a fantastic time with just about anyone. He only cried when he wanted something and was totally at ease for the most part. He had no sense of stranger danger whatsoever. His only notable quirk was the simple fact that whenever he got a glimpse of the other Autobots-turned-sparklings, something seemed to click in him.

In the instances where he caught sight of his former comrades, Smokescreen lost any and all self control. He would scream, kick, bite, and overall fight denta and digit to get away from whoever was taking care of him. There was an intelligence in his optics during those instances, and cunning calculation that often led to the sparkling somehow wriggling away and booking it after whoever it was he spotted. Thankfully for everyone, he would calm quite easily once allowed to interact with whoever it was he wanted to get to. He needed at least a half groon with the former comrade in question, but then he would not struggle against being removed.

Bulkhead was the second least difficult sparkling to handle. He and Wheeljack could not be separated without causing both to throw horrible fits and reject energon, and so were given to a caretaker together. Knockout ended up being the one to take both under his wing, partially due to their relation to Breakdown before their reforging, but largely because he was one of the few ground units that could be trusted with unruly sparklings. He treated them perfectly well and took great care of them. Knockout threw himself into the tending of his new charges, even going so far as to create carriers that he wore on his front and back, one for each sparkling. Both his charges were given ample entertainment and offered enough affection to be somewhat smothering. But of course, there were issues.

For an undeterminable reason, Bulkhead spent a great deal of time crying. Next to nothing Knockout did ever seemed to calm him. All that worked for the former Wrecker was being held close to Knockout at all times. Often this led Knockout to carry the sparkling around everywhere during the cycle, even while working. Bulkhead could not be left alone or he would begin to wail. Having Wheeljack with him helped, but Wheeljack had his own set of problems that made having him around a blessing and a curse. Perhaps due to his prior love of any and all things explosion related, Wheeljack was a master at eluding Knockout while he tended to his more sensitive ward. Wheeljack then proceeded to always get into something important, be it the inner workings of the Nemesis, or some wiring that inevitably led to partial blackouts. It was somewhat amusing most of the time for Knockout, up until Wheeljack started making Megatron mad.

Knockout has since kept to giving Wheeljack random broken electronic parts to mess with instead of watching his wreck havoc on the ship. Of course the pyromaniac still manages to escape the confines of Knockout's workspace here and there, but it is nothing serious... usually.

Arcee ended up with Starscream quite simply due to her rather debilitating problem. Anything that moved too quickly, she immediately did her best to attack and kill despite her small size. More specifically, anything with too much kibble for her liking ended up receiving her ire. Shockwave predicted it was due to lingering trauma from Arachnid, but whatever the case, she hurt herself and sometimes others because of her aggressive tendencies. Starscream, long used to tending to feral seeker sparklings, took her on as his own in an instant. He took every precaution tending to her despite her lack of flight capability. It had been far too long since he last saw or was even able to come near a sparkling.

Arcee was a vicious little thing, but Starscream handled her with grace none on the Nemesis knew he possessed. She quickly came to only calm around Starscream and her former Autobot companions as the seeker worked to earn her trust. It was an arduous process, but Starscream carefully cleaning her, singing to her, helping her fuel, and constantly holding her as close to himself as possible yielded results. She could not be around any of the other Decepticons without her newfound caretaker for fear of her hurting herself, but she was renown for the happy sounds she made when particularly at peace. Starscream has a whole album filled with photos of his adopted ward, which he shows off as if it were the documentation giving him ownership of Cybertron itself.

Ultra Magnus was a difficult sparkling to be placed under a caretaker. At first he was given to Knockout alongside Wheeljack and Bulkhead, but that swiftly led to numerous fights between the trio. Not to mention a startling lack of emotion from the former leader of the Wreckers and a subsequent explosion of it made handling him alongside the other two impossible. Ultra Magnus was a mess of emotions and couldn't be predicted at all for the most part... well except by one scientist. Shockwave did fight hard to not be given the position of tending to the sparkling, but Ultra Magnus needed a steady servo to guide him. He reacted to any sort of emotions that others presented with extreme prejudice. Shockwave had no facial components for Ultra Magnus to react to, nor did Shockwave have any outward emotional responses.

There were MANY concerns from Knockout and Starscream about Shockwave possibly turning Ultra Magnus into his lab rat or abusing him. However against the expectations of pretty much everyone, Shockwave was a highly dutiful caretaker once the mantle of being a parent was passed to him. He took all the necessary steps to tend to his ward, including setting up an entire section of his laboratory specifically for Ultra Magnus. In turn, Magnus was as happy as could be in a safe, controlled, and calm environment. He thrived in the stable comfort Shockwave provided and was content to remain quiet as the scientist kept careful tabs on what he needed and when. There was never a moment when Magnus wanted for anything, and in the odd instance where something set him off, Shockwave was there to hold him as he worked, waiting until Magnus calmed. Emotionally Shockwave was not particularly invested, but with Magnus's mental state, that seemed to be for the best for both of them.

Ratchet was an interesting case in that he REFUSED to be cared for by anyone. He was... odd to say the least. Being the most developed out of all the sparklings, he could easily toddle and was capable of managing basic words. What he said was concerning more often than not. He seemed to know things he really shouldn't, especially regarding death and medicine. In the end, Megatron himself ended up snatching up the former medic and becoming his overseer more so than a Sire. Ratchet had no interest in forming any real parental bonds, but he was more than accepting of tutelage despite his relative youth. That suited Megatron just fine as often he would allow Ratchet to roam with a Vehicon as an escort. In turn, Ratchet would visit with almost every one of his former compatriots and hang around with Megatron's inner circle, watching and learning without complaint.

The only times he made a fuss where when Megatron was eventually forced to come grab him from wherever he was hiding out and take him to his crib. Ratchet was NEVER pleased with that development. He got his energon from those his visited, and his assigned Vehicons tended to him when he required aid. He had no interest in being put to bed against his wishes, even if he was not exactly sure why. Once he had Ratchet secured, Megatron would fulfill his one vaguely parental task of the cycle and tuck the sparkling in, answering several questions and reading Ratchet a book of his choice before bidding him a good recharge cycle and leaving. Ratchet was a strange and oddly mature sparkling, one constantly hounding his fellows to ensure they were well. And despite the hatred Megatron once held to the former medic, he came to appreciate Ratchet's willingness to learn and was more than happy to give him classes necessary for a future leader. Ratchet didn't seem all that enthusiastic about leadership, but he took the lessons without complaint.

All the sparklings settled into some sort of situation, that is all save for Optimus and Bumblebee. Their situation was.... unique in the extreme. Before their reforging, Optimus and Bumblebee were bound as Father and Son. The Matrix, in its infinite wisdom saw this fact, and not wishing to destroy those bonds, came up with a fantastic solution. It simply... didn't give Bumblebee a proper frame. Optimus emerged from the Cybermatter screaming and ready to wage war despite being the size of Megatron's servo. But that was not the strange part about his and Bumblebee's situation. No, it was the fact that when examinations were run, it was revealed that Bumblebee's spark shared a chamber with Optimus's. Through some strange means, he yet lived, but was not yet truly developed. Optimus carried his sparkling within him alongside the resized Matrix, and based on the scans, it seemed that once Optimus was large enough, the Prime was going to likely go through the oddity that was budding.

That took almost everyone by surprise. Budding was not... unheard of. However it was so rare as to be little more than a fairy tale. Often it was the result of a set of spark twins forged from a hotspot not developing with enough protoform for both of them to have frames. In those instances, whichever sibling developed would eventually bulk up until there was enough protoform to break off and produce a frame for their sibling. Even in those extraordinarily rare cases, modern technology meant that it was often easier to artificially produce a protoform for the twin without a frame. With that in mind, there was discussion of having that done to Bumblebee, however a shriek of outrage from Optimus and a good look at the adult sized protoforms on board that that idea flying out the window. Not to mention Optimus's Sire coding was still active despite his youthful body, meaning that any attempt to take what he saw as HIS would end horribly. Bumblebee would be left alone, at least until Cybertron was stabilized.

Bumblebee's spark appeared healthy enough once they could strap the half feral Prime down long enough to get a solid look at his spark chamber. The gold and white mote of light spun happily around its far larger counterpart, pulsating as it swirled like a nebula. Optimus for his part was fiercely protective, and once released and given time to calm himself around his companions, he too revealed his oddities. Much like Ratchet, he seemed to know a bit too much and had little desire to seek out a parental unit. During the trip to Cybertron he largely avoided everyone and wandered the Nemesis, only remaining with his former comrades to receive fuel and check on them. Often he fell into recharge in dark corners, unwilling to settle down anywhere due to his parental desires. Thankfully for Knockout and Starscream's mental health, Soundwave, through bribery with energon goodies and respectful interaction, managed to acquire Optimus's trust.

While most certainly odd, Soundwave found himself with the young Prime as his ward. Optimus was perfectly content to remain quiet, muttering to himself and to the unframed spark within him as he followed Soundwave and watched. He was not a nuisance, and so the spymaster had no issue teaching the young Prime his craft and caring for him as required. Theirs was a strange relationship, one that never fully stepped into mentorship or a familial tie. They simply existed and assisted the other as much as possible. But of course their care for each other was quite clear when Soundwave would silently stalk the halls with Optimus clinging to one of his cables as he hurried to keep up.

They were processor ache inducing menaces at times, especially when Ratchet and Optimus managed to meet and be creepy together or when Wheeljack managed to get Ultra Magnus into a tizzy, but they were the former Autobots were Decepticon wards now. Most of the caretakers involved in tending to them would have it no other way, especially once the startling realization that they still required the Allspark to fully repair their world hit them all in the helms. That left them two choices.

One: Wait until Optimus was old enough to guide them to it.

Two: Try to focus on rebuilding Cybertron until Shockwave could find a way to locate it.

Either option involved time and a great deal of sparkling rearing in the meantime.

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stuffymcstuffsworld · 2 months

Text

Love at first strike

It all started on an average Tuesday. He hadn't thought much of it at the time. How was he to know his life would be changed in an instant that day?

Dali couldn't help it. Really, it was inevitable. There was no running or weaseling his way out of it. He had fallen and fallen hard.

He could still remember it all vividly. The chatter in the halls the sunlight pouring through the windows. Walking into the library and ready to greet the newest suck- Librarian that was hired.

***SMACK***

He never saw that broom coming. He's hit directly in the face and falls backward. Staring up at them from his spot on the floor, he watches them chasing some creature around the aisles.

"GET BACK HERE YOU MENACE!!! LITERATURE EATING PEST!!!! OUT!!! GET OUT OF THIS LIBRARY!!!" They scream repeatedly, swatting it with the broom.

How was Dali supposed to know that the beating on his heart and the flushed face he wore were signs of love? He thought he had been caught off guard! Surprised!

All he could say was he never regretted stepping into the library that day. He remembered laughing his ass off as he watched the chase. How the rage in their eyes shone brightly.

The cute way their tail twitched. The cry of victory they had let out once they had successfully disposed of the creature. A furious little imp with a mighty swing to match.

A little psychopath on a rampage as you got everything organized. Forcing your will onto him and making him help. All without introductions or an apology for hitting him.

"How can anyone find anything? This is a learning environment! You're supposed to help the children find things they have an interest in or have trouble understanding, not hide everything!"

Tossing rags of cobwebs away and disposing of long forgotten snacks left on the shelf. They continued ranting vividly about strangling the previous caretaker of the library. So cute!

Their furrowed brows. The puffed cheeks. The frustrated huffs as they vigorously scrubbed the library clean from top to bottom.

It looks like a reverse hurricane sweeping by. Leaving nothing but order behind instead of chaos. How amusing!

At this point, Dali had forgotten his reason for coming and just handed them things on occasion while watching them do the impossible. "Flithy! Disgusting! When was the last time this place was clean?"

That was a fair question. He watched as they swept clouds of dust into the air. For as long as he could remember the library if babyls had been a mess.

More focused on gaining knowledge than organizing it. Yet here, this newcomer was only a few hours into the job and halfway finished cleaning. He wondered if it was some kind of magic.

"And none of these are organized! It will take days to sort out!!! Do we even have a master list of the books here?!?"

Dali can't help but chuckle mischievously at the biting remark thrown his way. "Oh... I'm sure we do. Somewhere around here..." Casually leaning against one of the shelves as he drawed out his words.

That, of course, earned him a new smack. This time with a duster. What was it with them and constantly hitting his poor face?

***SMACK***

Speaking of which, he snapped out of his reminiscence by a familiar ache. He stares at the demon in question. The imp has the nerve to smack him again with the paperwork in their hand.

"Just look at all this paperwork! I didn't take this job to sign papers all day long! I did it to relax in a cozy place with books!" They huffed.

"Awww, don't be like that, dear." He wraps his arms around their waste, admiring how their tail gave a small wiggle. "Why don't I sit with you to pass the time?"

"I feel like you're just hiding from your own mountain of papers." "Mmm, I do have many essays to grade." He rests his head against theirs.

"But I'd love to do my work with you by my side." He purrs softly, making them blush and shove his face away. "Alright, alright. So needy."

#mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #reader #dantalion

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xzhdjsj · 5 months

Text

xanthus x reader

xanthus comforts you!

ANOTHA ONE! and ofc its xanny again what can i sayyy i love my pookie- this was meant to be more wholesome butttt i chopped off an entire part that just didn't flow with everything

alsooo finals season is starting and ill be busy suffering for the next two weeks sooo i may complete one more fic later this week then disappear for a while

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“You're in the wind, I'm in the water Nobody's son, nobody's daughter”

You’re not one to sulk, throughout your life you’ve learnt that pointless worrying will never prove to be an advantage and overthinking weighs you down like a heavy burden. Although sometimes you can’t help but think of home especially now when your life is thrown on the line all over again. The home you once knew and loved isn’t your home anymore. The home you abandoned to pursue a better life. Ironically, that peace was short-lived and danger seems to follow you everywhere you go; it seeps into the cracks of your life, it follows you to every crevice of the earth.

Sometimes you wonder about your parent and if they think of you too. It would be funny to explain the course your life has taken to them. It would be nice to introduce Xanthus to them. Would that be possible? Are they even alive still? Nothing is guaranteed, nothing at all. Maybe someday you could track them down. Someday you could see them again and hug them but would they even remember you? Have they already moved on and forgotten about you?

That’s impossible, right?

Dontis’ home has a spectacular view of the city, his balcony was a perfect to observe the city’s rich culture but that wasn’t your reason for gazing down at the lights and colours that illuminated the streets. You wished to clear your mind, avoid your thoughts of home and your parents but the families that hurried excitedly through the streets together did not help you whatsoever. If anything, it made your current predicament worst.

Teardrops fall onto your hand, the wet stream cooling in the nigh time breeze as it rolls down your cheeks leaving a glistening trail in their wake. Shit, you didn’t mean to cry not when Xanthus can feel what you feel.

“Love, are you out there?” his soothing voice calls from behind you.

Crap it’s too late now.

“Yeah, uh I’m here” your hands quickly drag against your cheeks wiping away any sign of tears before you head inside.

He stood by the glass doors, waiting for you. You don’t say a word. You walk straight to him pressing resting your forehead against. His hands immediately wrap around your body and he placed a kiss on the crown of your head.

“What’s the matter my love?” his voice is so gentle, so patient.

It makes you break down all over again. Your lips quiver, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you sob into him. Xanthus is so sooo patient with you. He stays with you silently rubbing small circles on your back and resting his face against your hair.

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there with him but it was long enough for you to calm down. Hiccups leaving your throat as you pull back from him.

“’m sorry” you mumble

“You don’t have to be love” he cradles your face in his palms.

“I ruined your shirt” you eye the wet splotch on the front of his shirt but Xanthus only lets out a short chuckled.

“That’s the last thing on my mind right now” he kisses your forehead. “Come on, let’s get you comfortable”

He walks you to the plush sofa and drapes a soft blanket over your shoulders before disappearing into the kitchen. Within seconds he’s back by your side with water and he takes a seat next to you.

“Thank you Xan” you take a sip of your water.

“I promised to take care of you didn’t I? Now, do you want to talk about it?” concern is evident in his voice and his eyes.

“I don’t know, lately I’ve been thinking about my parents and I guess it makes me sad. I think during my time away from them I’ve romanticized a relationship that’s far better the one we actually had.” A deep sigh heaves from your chest “Truth be told, I’m not even sure they’d remember me. It’s been so long and I still somehow miss them and the relationship we could have had if I stayed”

“That’s alright love, it’s understandable” he lays on the sofa pulling you close to him. “Sometimes I feel it too.”

“Really?” you perk up like a puppy, only slowly like a rather sick puppy given how miserable you feel.

“Yeah” he looks down at you “It’s been 400 years but sometimes I think of a fond memory and I long for their presence again too.” The sadness doesn’t get lost in his voice and its clear Xanthus understands exactly how you feel.

“It’s mostly memories of my brother and my mother but it’s enough to make me miss them in my life.” He continued.

“I’m sorry” you weren’t sure how to reply, it felt most natural to let your actions say what your words couldn’t. You close your eyes and hugged him tighter.

“Don’t be, it’s not something we can change.” He smiles. “And we may not have families but we have each other don’t we?”

You look up at him to find his piercing eyes already looking for yours.

“We do.”

You smile at him and he pulls your body onto his chest. His lips fit perfectly against yours slowly savouring the feeling and taste. Your hands grip his shirt and his slips under the thick blanket to hold onto your waist. He pulls away slowly, reluctantly.

“And we’ll always have each other”

“Always” you parrot and he places a kiss on your forehead.

There's a glimmer in his eyes then he speaks again. “I have an idea, come here” he gets up, pulling you to follow him.

For the rest of the night Xanthus stays cuddled up with you in Dontis’ balcony, sharing fond memories, tracing patterns in the stars and eventually you fall asleep in his arms.

Life has definitely taken a turn through another dangerous path, but you aren’t complaining. You don’t bother yourself with such a mediocre thing either, because through every hardship, every conflict, you aren’t alone. Xanthus has been here from the start and there’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll be here until the very end. You can feel it when he holds you close, when he kisses you, and especially when he looks you in the eyes and tells you how much he loves you.

The guarantee of a future is unknown but you’d die and do it all over again if it meant Xanthus was by your side.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

#trauma bonding with xanthus frfr #zsakuva #sakuverse #xanthus #xanthus claiborne #xanthus x reader #vampire #vampire x reader #asmr

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kyber-kisses · 1 year

Text

Blood and Steel (Part.2)

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Warnings: it’s game of thrones hall, you know what you’re getting into. (But there’s no incest so yay!)

Summary: When Y/N left her noble house behind she set her sights on Dragonstone to swear fealty to the rightful heir of the seven kingdoms. What she didnt expect was to be made her ward as well as her handmaiden. Now she is her sworn protector and hidden in plain sight at Rhaenyras side. If anyone were to make a move against the rightful queen they would never se her coming. . . except for maybe a one eyed prince

A/N: you can find all available chapters on wattpad and Ao3! Enjoy my mediocre writing!

"You shouldn't have done that."

"Oh and what was a supposed to do? Let the sword hit us?" You questioned, as the three of you took quick steps through the hallways of the Red Keep, heading back towards the guest quarters and away from the potential drama you may have caused.

"Of course not, we could have ducked."

"No offense but I don't think you two would have been quick enough."

"I thought it was amazing. Jace did you see the look on Aemonds face when she caught it?" Luke questioned, tugging on his brothers cloak in an attempt to slow him down. "He looked so startled."

"That's not a good enough reason to let it slide." Jace sighed, the three of you taking the stairs two at a time as he did. "Y/N, you know what our mother said. While we are here you have to lay low, act like a regular Lady."

"And I will ask it again. Did you want me to just allow that sword to take off my ear?"

Falling quiet you slowed your steps to take a breath, deep down you knew Jacaerys was right.

Ever since you had been ten and one you had not been raised in the traditional ways of a lady. Your late father had loved you dearly and instead of sending you off into the harsh world alone, he taught you how to protect yourself- despite your mothers wishes. But because of him you had gotten this far in life, and you intended to go much further.

And when you stepped foot on the docks of Dragonstone prepared to be a simple handmaiden in the castle, Daemon Targaryen had bore witness to what your father had taught you as you had thrown a fully grown boat captain over your shoulder when he had gotten to handsy.

And that was the moment an absurd yet brilliant idea was born. You were to be Rhaenyras handmaiden but also a act as a shield and sword hidden in plain sight when Daemon or any others were not around.

A sworn protector hidden right at her side.

And now here you were.

You hadn't wanted to leave the Princesses side earlier, but an order was an order and you had to continue to play your roll to perfection.

Luke and Jace continued to escort you back to your quarters in silence until you reached the massive oak door.

"We won't tell Mother. And I doubt Aemond will either. He doesn't like people knowing he can be caught off guard." Jace stated, opening the door for you as he did.

"I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about the several other people who also saw that happen. If word gets around it will compromise my position." Letting out a sigh you stepped through the threshold, running your palms down the creases in your dress. "You were right, I should not have done that, we probably could have ducked."

"Don't worry Y/N. I'm sure everyone will forget about it by morning." Luke added, giving you a reassured smile.

•

It was not forgotten about the next morning long story short.

You were halfway through breakfast in your quarters when Princess Rhaenyra walked in, sending you out your chair so quick one would have thought it had been lit aflame.

"Princess, forgive me. I did not know I was needed yet."

"Please, no need to get up for me. At least not right now." Rhaenyra smiled, crossing the room as she did before lowering herself into the chair across from you.

"I'm glad they accepted my request to have your quarters below mine, despite how you should be in the servants quarters."

"I'm very thankful. You did not have to."

"You're right, but I like having you nearby. I know Daemon appreciates it as well, especially when he's not around." She explained, folding her hands over the wood of the table that divided you.

"Luke and Jace told me what happened." She added, watching your face carefully.

"I'm so sorry Princess, it won't happen again. I was simply-"

"Reacting as one would if a sword was coming at them. You were simply protecting yourself. It was instinct" Rhaenyra explained softly, reaching across the table to grasp your hands. "Though I doubt any of those men have the reflexes you do."

"So I'm not in trouble?"

"Of course not my dear. And don't worry about gossip going around. Men are not known for going around talking about women they might see as a threat. It would only make them look weak in eyes of others."

At her words you cracked a smile, squeezing her hand slightly as you did. "Thank you Princess."

"You are welcome." She nodded before standing up, "now get dressed, we have a busy day ahead of us and I need my handmaiden at my side." And with a sly wink she turned and departed leaving you to your breakfast

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #house of the dragon

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qsphyxias · 2 years

Text

daisy. spotted. pillow.

if you fetishize mlm/nblm relationships, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; pillow fluff, pillow talk? with quest!!

warnings ; cussing, kissing, fluff, the funnies, not very serious, just fluff and fun, unintentional gn reader - i was planning for it to be male but alas

note ; i did a drawing to go with it too! (At the end)

words ; 0.7k +

⊱ ────── {⋅.sunshine - steve lacy.⋅} ────── ⊰

slowly but surely, your eyes were forced open by the harsh rays of sunlight breaking through panned glass from the window, causing you to wake up earlier than you wanted. hissing, you used your forearm to shield your eyes from the light like a certain shallow, yet fashionable vampire. with one arm sticking to your face, you rolled over and felt around on your bed with your other arm, trying to find your favourite daisy-spotted pillow. you let out a noise of surprise, as your palm met with tough skin instead of soft cotton.

"ouch." a gruff yet playful voice erupted from the other side of the bed, causing you to peel the arm covering your eyes away so you could check on quest. "oh! sorry, are you okay?" you rolled to the other side of the bed to coddle your boyfriend, only to have every ounce of guilt disperse from your system as you saw the pillow he clutched so comfortably in his arms. rubbing his cheek against it. tucking his arm underneath it. it felt like you witnessed infidelity.

it was your favourite. daisy-spotted. pillow.

you grimaced at him, frowned, gave him the dirtiest look you have ever given anyone in your entire life. you crossed your arms and bore your eyes into his soul, expecting him to apologize.

quest would be sweating bullets at your stare if he wasn't so infatuated with everything you did; sometimes being loved by this man can have a downside as he doesn't find anything you do, threatening.

for example, that one time quest accidentally crushed your keyboard mouse because he wasn't used to the weight of it. you got mad, because he hadn't told you and tried to blame it on gravity. you called him by his full name, mustering your scariest look on him, and all he did was kiss you in the midst of your rage.

"quest.." your warning voice quickly turned into a childish whine. "i want my pillow back."

for a second, you weren't even sure if he heard you, as he just stared at you with the silliest grin without any indication that he was planning to return your pillow.

"que- hey!" with a gentle and swift movement, quest took the hand that was tucked underneath the pillow and tenderly guided you onto his pillow covered chest. "is this better?" he grinned against your ear, lips brushing against your cheek. you could practically hear the heart emojis in between his words.

with your face flushed, arms tucked between your chest and his, the pillow pathetically stuck between the both of you, you'd say—"...yes." yes. yes, it was better.

quest seemed content with your response, his rough hands happily rubbing up and down your spine seemed to show it. "i'm glad, angel." his silly smile widened, and he kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. closing his eyes to enjoy the lazy morning with you, he whispered, "next time you need a pillow, just ping me."

you groaned, shoving him away, "you really had to ruin the moment like that, huh?" you feigned annoyance, but the laughter bubbling in your throat screwed you over.

"i don't know what you're talking about, that was extremely romantic!" he snorted, stretching his large arms back over to you to bring you back towards him. "yeah, sure, okay, discord mod." your grin grew even wider when quest finally caught you and brought you back in, pillow long forgotten and thrown off the bed. "say what you will, but you fell for this discord mod." he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, rough hands dropping and landing against the side of your stomach when he leaned over to stare down at you.

"ah, don't remind me of the biggest mistake of my entire adult life. worse than the time i thought peeing in the public pool at the water park was a good idea." you sighed dejectedly, eyes droopy and full of feigned regret. quest laughed hard, so hard that he crumbled up and fell against you, head landing against your chest and causing the entire bed frame to tremble.

the laughter was briefly slowed to a stop with a soft sigh, then followed by a sincere remark. "seriously though. if you need a pillow, i'm always here, angel. okay?"

you smiled knowingly, "okay."

⊱───── ❝ thank you for reading! ❞ ─────⊰

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nahokura · 4 months

Text

Someone made a request about reader being one of the Brellies and thats they're a doctor, knowing all the weak points in the human body because they needed to know them. They get into a fight with the Brellies and after destroying some of them they are all smile and kind.

I don't remember who was the person who made the request because I posted the draft and deleted it so let me know if you read it!

Warnings: explicit violence? I never wrote about fights so it might not be good.

Reader's power is to see the human anatomy through the bodies.

Reader is gender neutral.

You were a doctor. You left the house kinda early to make your studies. Reginald Hargreeves never cared that much about what you loved and never helped you through your passion so you decided to left the house. You left before Five time traveled so you don't know about his disappearance and you're not surprised to see him at Reginald's funeral. You arrived the last since you were kinda far away from your natal city.

Everyone was gathered outside next to Ben's statue.

«Does anyone wish to say something? Pogo asked.

–So now what? You asked. Dad died, it's a part of the life, it should've happened.

–I don't think you understand, dad has been murdered. Luther answered.

–What about it? He was a monster, he deserved to died. Said Diego while crossing his arms.

–Wait a second where were you all this time (Y/N)? You're a doctor you could've examine his body if you just came sooner. Noticed Five.

–You're the one talking Five, you left for seventeen years to say that the world is ending in eight days. Klaus laughed between his words.

–Wait, what now? What happened when I wasn't here?! You complained, giving a questioning look to Five.

–A lot of things you don't wish to know. He replied. Luther cut you both:

–We're not going to fight now, right? Not at dad's funerals.

–This is stupid, my work is more important than something who should've happened some day or not! You sighed, speaking in a sweet way.»

The funerals ended, everyone wanted to leave. Except learning that the world was going to end, nothing interesting happened. You thought that at least you could have autopsied the body as Five said but the corpse had already passed the cremation stage. You walked around the house, trying to find some new informations or find a clue that dad actually cared about you. The only thing you found was a book that you only forgotten when you left. Diego joined you and spoke, trying to sound soft:

«You still think that dad cared about us?

–He should've at least left us a clue, I said everyone died one day but Five said the world is going to end in eight days, this can't be a coincidence.

–You're overthinking things. Even if he knew something he wouldn't have tell us.

–I always have hope in other's kindness.

–As always.»

You both smiled but your smiles quickly faded when you heard a gunshot and Allison scream that people just entered the house. they really have a good timing. You think to yourself. You rushed with Diego to the center of the house where you heard the gunshot and Allison. The intruders were six, you were seven, with six people having powers. You all ran straight away, Luther told Viktor to stay back while you all were ready to fight. Diego took out his knives and threw them at one of them, the knives touched one of the man. You used your powers to see where they had been embedded. One was stuck in the peritoneum and the other has been thrown in his kidney. It will stop him for some times but he still has his hands and his guns were intacts which worried you. You rushed to the man while he was still screaming in pain, crouching. He raised his pistol in the air and aimed at Diego. You kicked him on the side of his neck which knocked him out completely, you swung his gun with your foot. Diego was shocked for a second but quickly concentrated on someone else, aiming at them. You looked around, Luther certainly didn't need help. You didn't know where Five and Viktor were but your eyes quickly locked on Allison who was fighting with her bare hands. Why didn't she use her power? You didn't want to underestimate her but you had a bad feeling. You picked up the man from before's gun and joined Allison. You shot in the air to have the killer's attention and when he turned around, you punched him in the solar plexus, causing his breath to catch in his throat. Allison took advantage of this and kicked him in the groin. You nodded in approval.

«Good job sis!»

You smiled brightly and searched for Klaus afterwards. Your brother was drunk so you were worried for him, he could do anything dumb. You climbed upstairs and saw Five from the corner of your eye, he was fighting with another man. You assumed he didn't need help when you saw the man's bloody face and Five's confidence. You searched for Klaus again and quickly found him when he screeched loudly. You ran to the room from where you heard him.

«I don't want to hit a woman!»

He cried, something in his voice said that he also said that because he was not in a state to fight. You approached the woman quietly and moved your hands in a way to tell Klaus the woman to turn around, which he didn't need to do because the woman noticed Klaus' eyes looking behind her. She turned around and immediately punched you in the face. Your lips curled up into a gentle smile.

«You know, if you want to damage me you'll have to hit... You raised your feet and gave her an highkick in the temple, causing her to hiss and hold her head with her hand. Here. it's just an advice.»

Klaus looked at you then strangely looked next to him.

«Who are you looking at?

–Ben...»

You chuckled nervously, you didn't want to believe his powers could make him see their dead brother. A voice was heard from behind you:

«So I guess there's one left.»

It was Five. You nodded. You helped Klaus standing up and went down the stairs with your two brothers. You were all gathered here except...

«Where's Viktor?!»

You shouted in cohesion with Allison.

«Shit..Five muttered under his breath and teleported, searching for Viktor.

–We should search for him together, there's only one left so it'll be easy! You said happily.

–And if you misaimed one of them? Asked Diego. How can you even be so chill and smile after making half of them pass out?!

–Chillax Diego, (Y/N)'s a doctor, remember? Klaus reassured. Five came back and panted, seems like his powers were not infinite.

–(Y/N)'s power makes their hit even more precise, trust me, they're all knocked out, I verified while searching for our dear brother.

–Viktor must be with the killer, that's what worries me, we didn't hear a single noise since we beat up all of them. Allison was right. Viktor must be with the killer.»

You looked around and suddenly, your face looked like you just realized something. You didn't even take the time to tell everyone to follow you, you just ran outside. Viktor was defending against a woman with a knife. He was lucky to fall on the only one with a knife because he would've been dead by now. Your brother didn't see you, he was more focused on saving his life. You approached the woman, not caring if you were loud or not this time. The woman turned around to face you and you punched her in the face. She punched you back and thrusted her knife in your shoulder. You screamed but you were chill, you weren't afraid for your life.

«You should really learn where are the most fragile points in a human being, because as a murderer you're useless if you don't know those basics.»

You hissed at her and lifted your foot, kicking her in the knees unsuccessfully. She let go of the knife to avoid your hit. You sigh and walks forward, the woman was stepping backward. She didn't have any weapon and she looked like she didn't know what to do, those people were obviously beginners. Viktor was behind the woman, she didn't pay attention of this. He wrapped his forearm around the woman's neck and squeezed tightly to knock the breath out of her lungs. You smirked softly.

«Take your teammates and get out of here. I don't care if you can't lift them all, get out and don't try to touch my family again.»

The woman nodded, Viktor let go of her, her breath and face were enough to tell you that she gave up. She ran away, your brothers and Allison soon joined you and Viktor. Everyone was looking at you in shock. You could see the woman trying to lift her partners from the outside.

«You're letting her go. You know she will probably take her revenge? Diego scowled you, still shaken by the events.

–She can come, I'm waiting for her. You smiled brightly as you didn't make three men pass out and a woman leave. Luther shrugged. What? Why are you all looking at me like that? Five said as he didn't almost kill someone himself:

–You're so chill about all of this. I'm sure you could've killed them and still look so bright.

–You're the one talking, your opponent was at the verge of death! Nobody deserves to die, we all deserve a chance to enjoy the sun before the world ends.

–They're gonna have sequels, I saw everything before going outside. Viktor said.»

Your face was still soft, you didn't have any worries and that totally shook up your family. You hugged Viktor, then Luther, then Klaus, then Allison, who hugged you back. You hugged Diego, he was still flabbergasted and no words could come out of his mouth. You tried to hug Five but he avoided you by teleporting which left you with a pout. You brushed it off and chuckled.

«I'm so happy we're all reunited! I hope this will last forever!»

#reader #the umbrella academy #tua #umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #luther hargreeves #reginald hargreeves #ben hargreeves #allison hargreeves #diego hargreeves #x reader #request

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pearl484-blog · 6 months

Note

Trick or treat! 🧛☠️

Yes! My first ask!

Hmm....here's some cut content for my Adrien AUGreste intial entry of Risk Taker. Originally designed as a prequel for Replay, ultimately thia bad boy spiraled out of control and far away from what I was looking for

Quick Summary: On the worst day of his life, Nino tries to evade his best friend while he tries to kill him.

It all started when an akuma called Spin Doctor attacked the city of Paris. He looked like an old fashioned stereotype of a doctor, that had been colored in by a kindergartner, complete with a green lab coat, yellow gloves, a red stethoscope, gray skin and a shiny metal disk strapped to his head that looked like a misplaced CD. Unfortunately, that particular part of the ensemble was what fired the beams that mind-controlled his victims.

His victims were emotionless and parroted whatever lies Spin Doctor declared on loop, and they walked like they were drunk, swaying from side to side and staring at nothing. Or at least that was what it seemed like. It was hard to tell because all of the victims had silver disks for eyes.

At first, Nino had thought they were blind, but as he was looking through his bedroom window to watch the akuma pass by, he saw a bit of movement. Nino’s eyes darted over to see what it was, and he noticed a mother trying to make a run for it with her toddler before the akuma got close enough to get her.

Immediately, it was like a flip had been switched. The akuma barely did more than twitch towards her, and the akuma’s victims swarmed the mother enmass. She cried out as her child was ripped from her and she was thrown to the ground. One of the victims grabbed the baby and ran off while 4 others grabbed the mom and held her down. She had screamed in terror until the full mob descended on her, and then she stopped.

Only, it didn’t sound like she’d just been muffled or subdued. It was like her scream had been a track on a playlist, and at the height of her panic, someone paused it. It was so strange, the Nino could barely react.

Nino watched the mob with a strange horror as he realized he couldn’t bring himself to look away until he knew the woman’s fate. Had she been killed? Had she been converted? Had she been transformed into something else. Nino could only guess, and when Nino realized that the mob was no more, and he still hadn’t seen a trace of the mother, he understood that he’d never know.

Nino hid inside his apartment after that, closing all the blinds in his window and barricading the doors. It wouldn’t stop Spin Doctor if he truly wanted to get to Nino, but it might delay him, and it might stop his victims. Thankfully, Chris was at a sleepover with some friends, and his parents were out for date night so they were probably safe if Hawk Moth decided to get his revenge on Nino for being a hero.

Knowing that this may take awhile and worrying about it wouldn’t help anymore, Nino decided to make some stress hot chocolate and listen to some music on his headphones. Which is why he didn’t notice Ladybug asking him for help until she tapped him on the shoulder.

He jumped in surprise at that, before he pulled off his headphones. “Ladybug,” he said, “How did you get here?”

She smiled guiltily at him. “You didn’t lock your windows, '' she explained. Nino shrank in embarrassment. Of course he had forgotten. His apartment was so high up, but really, that wouldn’t stop any akumas or Miraculous wiekders. He’d have to be more careful in the future.

“Oh, uh, right,” Nino said. “Why are you here, Ladybug? I kinda thought I was retired after the whole Miracle Queen thing.”

“You are,” Ladybug said, nervously. “You most definitely are. It’s just that Chat Noir was hit by one of those beams, and I don’t have time to explain everything to someone new, and this akuma is no joke…”

“Say no more,” Nino answered, eager to see Wayzz again. He really did miss the little guy. “I’ll help you.”

“Thank goodness,” Ladybug breathed a sigh of relief. Then she straighten up. “Nino Lahiffe, this is the Miraculous of the Turtle, which grants the power of protection. You will use it for the greater good.” Nino gave his buddy, Wayzz, a smile as he put on his bracelet.

“Good to see ya, little dude,” Nino said.

“Likewise,” Wayzz said nodding. “I’m glad to see you too, even if it is for one last time.”

“Wayzz!” Nino cried. “Shell on!”

“Okay,” Ladybug said. “The akuma’s only a few blocks from here, and I’ve already sent King Monkey and Ryuko over to deal with him too. I need you to help them distract the akuma and Chat Noir while I get more reenforcements. The victims like to attack heroes more than civilians too, so I’m sure they’ll appreciate someone watching their backs.”

“You got it, Ladybug,” Carapace said, saluting Ladybug before the two went their separate ways. With any luck, this whole thing would be fixed before anybody else came home and no one would be none the wiser. Course, Carapace knew that things sometimes didn’t go quite his way, so he also prepared the mental excuses for why he’d be gone if Mom and Dad did get back home before him.

When he made his way to the akuma, the situation was a mess. The streets were lousy with akuma victims, so much that it was hard to see the pavement underneath the thick masses of bodies around Ryuko and King Monkey. The two of them kept trying to get to higher ground, out of the reach of the masses, but as a collectivem they grabbed and pulled at the heroes, constantly dragging them back down to their level. The one time that Ryuko did manage to escape, Chat Noir leapt after her, taunting her by waggling his finger and tsking at her, before knocking her back into the masses.

Watching from the rooftops, Carapace decided that King Monkey was the bigger priority to get loose. After all, he could disrupt the akuma’s power and stop him from making all those victims come to him. So, Carapace hurled his shield into the crowd and forced them to disperse away from King Monkey.

As soon as he was able, King Monkey leapt up and called out “UPROAR”, summoning himself a luau shirt that he hurled right at the doctor. It smacked him right in the face and knocked him off of his perch. The doctor’s disk short circuited and began zapping everyone around him, freeing some people, converting others, and even converting a few into full mirror statues.

Terrified, Carapace put a shelter around the akuma, out of sheer desperation for it all to stop. When it worked, much to his shock, he wondered why he hadn’t done it in the first place.

-Chat Noir is revealed to be Adrien after he times out from Cataclysming King Monkey

-Everyone is shocked, but Ryuko, hoping that Adrien is not completely gone, tries to talk some sense into him, annoying the akuma

-Seeing the nasty look on his face, Carapace realizes that the akuma’s about to order Adrien to attack Ryuko

-Carapace throws his shield to defend her, as Adrien tries to punch her in the face

-his shield nails the akuma square in the face

-Enraged, the akuma orders Adrien to kill Carapace, and Adrien begins to chase them.

-Upon seeing that other heroes have shown up, he orders Plagg to use Cataclysm on the area around them to cause maximum chaos and flees

-Adrien chases down Nino with surprising speed as they navigate the building crumbling around them.

-At one point, a wall falls between Carapace and Adrien. For a moment, Carapace worries about Adrien before he sees Adrien get up through a hole in the wall and breathes a sigh in relief as he realizes that Adrien can’t possibly get to him now.

-Only for Adrien to see the hole and start trying to claw his way through it, pulling apart the rebar to make way. Horrified at the damage Adrien’s doing to himself, and terrified of the building falling on top of them, Carapace helps make the hole bigger, and drags Adrien through, deciding to hold him tight enough that he can’t do anything and casting Shellter to protect them.

-When he does, Carapace soon realizes that Adrien has stopped struggling to get him, and is just standing there.

-Finally free of his mind control, Adrien tells Carapace that he thinks they’re safe

-Then Adrien realizes his ring is gone and panics

-Carapace tells him that Hawkmoth stole his ring and tries to comfort him

#trick or treat #deleted scene #deleted fic #my fic #carapace #chat noir #adrien agreste #So many decisions unexplained #This has been rewritten

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elizabethwritesmen · 2 years

Text

Notice - Part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Curvy!Reader

Warnings: Violence, Mature Themes, Self deprecation on both sides, Body image issues, Self hatred, Angst, Slow burn, Mutual pining and smut to come in later chapters, Gone with the Wind references

Summary: Reader stays the night with the brothers and grows even closer to the two of them. So what's going to happen when they have to leave the next day?

Word Count: 2,531

AN: Sorry for the wait - I have a multitude of things going on in my personal life. But I'm gonna try to update more regularly after this one! Thanks again for all of the support that this story has been shown! Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this series!

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

The morning came much too soon. The motel bed was more comfortable than Y/N had imagined, but that might have been because Dean slept beside her. Something about him felt safe, like a home she'd always wanted. Her own home had never been good, she had never experienced the comfort that Dean brought her.

"Mornin' sweetheart," Dean startled her and she jumped, looking up at him. He was buttoning up his flannel, staring down at her gently, "I was wondering when you were gonna get up."

"I was comfy," she shrugged with a yawn, stretching her arms over her head. He couldn't help but watch, her back arching with the motion. He had lent her a T shirt to sleep in, knowing she was uncomfortable in her skimpy bar clothes, and she looked damn good in it. Too good. He wanted to see her like that again.

"Comfy? In that bed?" Sam asked as he walked out of the bathroom, pulling a T shirt of his own out of his bag and slipping it on. His hair was wet and he had steam coming off of him, so Y/N concluded that he had just showered.

"Guess I just felt safe with you two giants here to protect me," she giggled.

"I'm just glad Dean was there to protect you last night. That demon is dangerous," Sam mused.

"I'll be glad when we kill that son of a bitch. He's not gonna get away with what he did to you, or any of those other girls." Dean was determined. Seeing her be thrown on the ground by the demon... seeing it kick her. He wasn't just angry. He was furious. He wanted to make it regret the day it surfaced. And he would. He knew he would, for her.

"Don't forget the cows. He needs to pay for what he did to the cows, too," she added with a cheeky grin.

"And the fuckin' cows!" he smiled at her.

Y/N wanted to go with them to look for the demon. She really did. She tried everything. Offering herself as bait, convincing, and downright begging. But Dean refused. With good reason, of course. He knew what demons were capable of. And he also knew that this particular one would be prepared for them. If she went along, there'd be a good chance that the demon would be expecting that, and it would get the drop on them and he wouldn't be able to save her.

And if anything happened to her...

He would be devastated.

"Dean, please. Just let me go! You guys can protect me, and I can... help! Please!"

"Absolutely not. You're going right back to your apartment where you're safe, and we'll come by after it's done to say goodbye to you."

She huffed, realizing that he wasn't budging.

"Fine. You promise you'll come say bye? I'll never forgive you if you skip town on me without a word."

He smiled at her, finding it hard to believe that she could doubt him like that. He had to come say goodbye to her. He couldn't not. His mind was a swirling haze of her eyes, and her smile, and her words, and her laugh, and - damn - her ass. He had almost forgotten how to think normally, she was invading his senses. He could swear he could smell her perfume even from a different room. She was everything, absolutely everything. And he couldn't even convey that into words to tell her, but he wanted to. For the first time in his life, he wanted to let someone know how he felt. She was bringing it out in him, like a sickeningly sweet virus.

"I promise."

And with that, she was off. They followed her back to her apartment and walked in with her to make sure she was safe. Sam was the first to head back to the car, leaving the pair standing at her front door but never opening it. Dean didn't want to leave her, though he was unsure of why. How had this woman captivated him in such a short amount of time? He barely knew her and somehow felt as if he couldn't live without her. What really scared him was knowing he had to leave her.

"Dean," she started, but she didn't know what to say. In one short day, he had become so important to her. Nobody had ever treated her like he did. Like she was a person and not just an extra, standing off screen until it was absolutely necessary that she get screen time. She wanted him to want her so badly that she could feel it in her bones and in her heart. But he had to leave, and she knew she was never going to be okay with that.

"I know, sweetheart," his gaze weighed heavily down on her.

"Be careful. Please."

"I always am."

They stared at each other. They were locked in that moment right before a kiss where they don't know whether or not their lips are ever going to touch. Y/N's lip quivered with the need to touch his, and he didn't miss the movement.

"You should go," she whispered, but she didn't mean it, especially not when he reached up and brushed her hair behind her ear, hand staying on the side of her face and his thumb tracing her lip gently.

"I should," he nodded slightly, leaning in to her with a contented sigh.

Something in her mind told her to pull away. He was the most amazing man she had ever met in her entire life, from his handsome face to his wonderful personality. She didn't want to ruin this illusion she had with him by kissing him, or touching him. She didn't want to find out that he was using her for a quick lay, or that he didn't want her at all. What if she was reading the moment wrong? What if he didn't want to kiss her at all? She had been wrong about men before.

So away she pulled, and his hand chased her greedily. She opened her door and gave him a polite smile.

"Don't forget to come say bye before you guys leave town," she smiled as she politely ushered him out.

"Of course I will, I'd never forget," he assured, eyebrows furrowing as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Or maybe they were furrowing in confusion. He was so close to kissing her, why had she pulled away? Did she not feel the same spark that he felt? All he wanted was to grab her by the waist and lay one on her Rhett Butler style. She was the kind of girl that should be kissed, and often. Yet she rejected him like she didn't think about him that way at all.

"Be careful, Dean," she smiled, closing the door. She sighed, leaning against it, wishing he would come back. Wishing he would knock on the door just for a chance to see her face one more time before he went on his demon hunt.

The knock never came. So she sat on her couch, watching reruns of old sitcoms to distract herself from the inevitable goodbye that awaited her. She trusted that he would come by to bid her farewell. He had promised, and she didn't think he would lie about it. But the later it got, the more she doubted herself.

She had just started to drift off when she heard it. A soft rapping, light as a feather, just heavy enough for her to hear.

She yawned as she made her way to her door, trying to contain the relief in her bones.

As soon as she opened it, her jaw dropped. Dean stood before her, looking worse for wear, he clothes ripped up and bruises littering him. He appeared to be bleeding, but she couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. He was also dirty, as if he had rolled around on the ground a bit.

"Dean," she sighed, not knowing what to say.

"We killed the son of a bitch," he huffed, "Can I come in? Just for a minute."

"Yes," she nodded, a bit too urgently, pulling him gently onto her side of the door and shutting it. "Here, sit, I'll get you some water."

He did as she asked, plopping down on her couch as if he couldn't carry his weight any longer. She sat next to him, a glass in her hand, and he drank from it eagerly.

"It'd be better if it was whiskey," he grumbled, but that didn't stop him from downing every last drop.

"I don't have any of that. Plus, you've gotta drive home tonight."

"You're too good of an influence, sweetheart," he chuckled, and she rolled her eyes, scanning him over.

"Let me clean you up before you leave," she pleaded, and he nodded, so she pulled his jacket off of him, cringing at his bloody arm.

"It won't need stitches, just a good cleaning. That's the only bad one I have."

She grabbed a rag, wetting it, and pulled the rubbing alcohol from her medicine cabinet, along with some gauze and medical tape. First, she wiped all the blood off of the cut, relieved to see it wasn't that bad. Mostly just a surface injury.

"Grit your teeth. This isn't gonna feel good," she sighed, already regretting what she was about to do. She doused the wound in rubbing alcohol and he groaned, but it only lasted a couple seconds. Finally, she wrapped it in gauze and taped it securely.

"You didn't have to do that," he let her know, but he didn't have to. She would have done it no matter what.

"Consider it your thanks for cleaning me up yesterday," she smiled, winking at him slightly as she put her supplies away, then sitting back down beside him.

The air in the room thickened. She couldn't tell whether it was the attraction or the realization that he was about to have to leave that made the air feel so heavy, but either way, it was suffocating her.

"I don't want to leave, I hope you know that," he stated suddenly, and she giggled.

"I hate that you have to."

"I'll come back. I promise. Soon. I'll look for another hunt close to you so I have an excuse to see you again."

"You can't look for hunts close to me forever. Eventually we're gonna have to say goodbye for good," she sighed, eyes falling to her lap.

"But not any time soon. I can promise you that."

"No you can't," she huffed, standing up and pacing lightly. Her mind was quickly racing into overdrive. She wanted to end this thing with Dean here and now. She knew that if she didn't, it would ruin her. She couldn't bare to keep him as an option knowing it would never work out. Realistically, this was the first man to ever see her as more than just the big girl sitting in the corner all sad and lonely. He saw her for her personality, and her smile, and her eyes, and he saw all the good in her when she didn't think there was any. The chances of that ever happening again were slim to none. So she needed to cut the fantasy off where it was instead of dragging out the heartache.

Dean didn't understand this, though. In his mind, she wasn't second guessing herself. She was second guessing him, going over his flaws over and over again, wondering if it was even worth it to try. He wanted to reassure her, but wasn't sure if he should. He couldn't bare not to try, though, not with the way she made his heart skip beats.

He stood up and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcibly stopping her pacing.

"Sweetheart, talk to me. What's on your mind? Why are you so anxious?"

His voice soothed her, and she felt like she could really tell him what was wrong. She never liked talking about her feelings, especially not with men, but in that moment she knew he was different.

"I don't know if this is worth it. I mean, you're probably gonna forget all about me whether we end this or we don't, but I'm not gonna be so lucky. I'm gonna sit here and pine after you. Nobody has ever looked at me like you do, Dean. Knowing there's an open door with you... I would never be able to move on. I think maybe we should just say bye and part ways and that be that."

His brows furrowed in the most confused manner they had yet.

"Huh?" he blurted, "I don't want 'that to be that.' Not with you! What are you even talking about? And I'm never gonna forget about you, sweetheart. You're not the only one who's struggling here. You said nobody has ever looked at you like I do before. Well what about me? You think women fall at the feet of men like me?"

"Yes, Dean, I do think that. Women stare at you. They want your attention. You can have anyone you want."

"No I can't," he huffed, in disbelief that she could be so blind to how it truly was, "Women want to sleep with me, they want a good night then a goodbye. That's it. That's all I've ever been good for. But once they really get to know me... they never want more. They never want a conversation, or a deeper meaning, and they definitely don't want to know all the bad things I've done. The things that keep me up at night and give me nightmares when I do sleep. And I never wanted any of that, but you... You do. You want.... you want conversation, and stories, and the truth. You want the truth so bad it almost hurts not to give it to you. Nobody wants the fucking truth sweetheart! So you really think I'm gonna forget about you? You're the most unforgettable woman I've ever met."

She took a step back from him, reeling from everything he had just said. She could see it in his eyes, the insecurity. The pain. The sadness. The agony. The fear. The boyish innocence that he still held, even after all he had seen and been through. She hadn't noticed it before, but it had always been there.

And suddenly, she felt so selfish. She had been so concerned with her own problems that she hadn't stopped to consider his. He held as much self hatred as he did, and it gnawed at him just as it did her. She wanted to help him. She wanted to alleviate it. She never wanted to stop.

"Dean," she sighed, pulling him close to her by his hand, "You deserve so much better than you've been given. You deserve..."

She didn't know what to say. Not with the way he was looking at her, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"You deserve everything."

If only she knew that he thought she was everything.

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Tag List: @stoneyggirl2 @winchestergypsy90 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @deansbbyx @siospins2 @gatorgal94 @classyunknownlover @jbcalway @djs8891

#dean winchester smut #dean smut #dean angst #mutual pining #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #spn smut #spn fanfiction

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glassofspoiledmilk · 6 months

Text

Going gold | Yuri P.

Chapter 6 | Victor and the Airport

After we got our nails done, I thought about what Mila said. She made the point of how I would only get this upset if I wanted him to like me. I don't think I like him? I guess I overreacted a little. I think I'm going to give Victor a call and see what he thinks later, but first I think I should apologize to Yuri for being an ass towards him yesterday.

I walked out of my room and took a deep breath as I knocked on his door. I looked down at the ground as I heard him tug on the handle.

"Im really sorry for being an asshole yesterday, I was in a really bad mood." I said looking up from the ground.

"It's fine, I get it" he said giving me a slight smile.

"So, we cool now?" I say hopefully.

"Yeah I guess" he replies.

"Good" I say, walking back to my room. I wish Victor were still here, but he's out in Japan with his "friend" Yuuri. I really miss him. He would always help me when I didn't understand something, and I really need his guidance right now. I sat down in my bed and pulled my phone from my pocket. I tapped on victors contact and held my phone up to my ear as it rung.

"Hello?" Victor said

"Hi Victor it's Y/N, I need your advice on something" I asked him.

"What up?" He replied

"Yesterday, Yuri invited me to watch a movie with him, I thought it was because he actually liked me and wanted to hang out, but turns out he only did it because Lilia told him too. I got really upset, and I can't figure out why" I said.

"Can you describe how you felt?" Victor added.

"It felt like my heart dropped into my stomach... I felt betrayed?" I replied.

Victor slightly laughed and said "Y/N, Im not going to tell you what I think because it's better for you to figure it out yourself. Think about Yurio and think about that heart drop feeling. When have you felt that before?".

I thought about it for a minute, and got nothing.

"Hey it's getting late here so I'm gonna go to bed alright?" Victor added

"Goodnight Victor"

"Goodnight Y/N"

Victor hung up and I couldn't help but feel like I was still in the same spot I was before.

After a long while of staring at my ceiling I decided that I was going to get no where. I rolled over and checked my phone again. It was 9:30. Time flies when your contemplating your life decisions.

I turned onto my side and shorty after I quickly fell asleep.

~ the day we leave for Paris ~

I woke up to the sound of Yuri pounding on my door.

" Y/N I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DONT GET UP IM GONNA BREAK DOWN YOUR DOOR" He yelled.

"Oh my god Yuri it's like 3 in the fucking morning our flight isn't until 7" I replied rubbing my eyes.

"I COULD HONESTLY CARE LESS NOW GET UP BEFORE WE MISS OUR FLIGHT" he added, walking away.

I had completely forgotten today was the day we left for Paris. I got up and loudly yawed. My room was a complete mess, there were clothes thrown everywhere and my suitcase was only half packed. Before heading downstairs to eat breakfast I fixed my issue with the suitcase and cleaned up a little. When I got down stairs I made myself a bagel and quickly ate it because I knew damn well if I took any longer Yuri would be on my ass. I took a shower and put on a comfy pair of sweat pants and a sweat shirt for the plane. After I was done getting ready, I loaded my luggage into Lilias car and then waited on the couch until we left. Yuri was sitting across from me watching something on his phone and he was smiling.

"Watcha looking at Yuri?" I said getting up to look over his phone.

"Mind your business!" he stuttered, quickly turning his phone out of my view.

"Jeez calm down, we're you looking at a girl you like?" I said jokingly.

"Maybe I was maybe I wasn't" he said turning so the back of his phone faced me.

I felt my heart sink a little.

I frowned and silently moved away from him, retreating back to my original spot on the couch.

"Yuri, Y/N, let's go" Lilia said as she stood at the entrance of the living room.

Me and Yuri both stood up and followed her out to the car. When I stepped outside I felt the cold air engulf me. I quickly ran into lilias car and strapped on the seatbelt and turned on the heater from the back seat. Everyone got into the car shortly after, and then we were on our way to the airport. I put on my headphone and listened to some music to help pass the time, and before I knew it we had arrived. Yakov dropped us off at the airport entrance so he could go park. Lilia walked me and Yuri into the airport and over to TSA. The line was long and I was so tired I could barely stand. While we were waiting I sat down on my suitcase and went onto my phone. I checked my Instagram and saw that Yuri had viewed a few of my posts, including the shared post I had made with Mila yesterday. After a long while of waiting we finally made it through TSA with no problems. Lilia pulled me and Yuri off the the side so she could call yakov and see where he was. Apparently he was already at our gate so we headed over there. Lilia lead us around the airport for about 10 minutes before we finally made it to our destination. She got a little lost, but in the end we made it.

"Y/N , Yuri could you go get me some coffee please" Lilia asked.

"Uh sure..what kind?" I asked.

"Medium black coffee" she replied.

I grabbed my phone and started walking towards the nearest Starbucks. Yuri followed just behind me. When we got to the shop I walked up to the counter but before I could talk Yuri interrupted me.

"Can I get a grande black coffee?" He asked the cashier before turning to me and asking for my order.

"Um can i get a tall latte" I asked the cashier. He hit a few buttons and then Yuri ordered what he wanted. While he was ordering I started to pull out my wallet to pay but he stopped me.

"Cmon Yuri you don't have to pay I got it" I insisted.

"No I got it" he said handing the worker some cash.

"Cmon Yuri now I'm gonna owe you double from that one time at 7/11. Just let me pay!" I pleaded.

"You don't have to pay me back it's fine" he adds.

He then pulled me over to the side to wait for our order. I couldn't help but take slight glances at him. He looked so...sweet? I don't know how to describe it. I felt my face heat up a little bit, but thought nothing of it.

When our order came Yuri handed me my drink and took the rest. On the walk back to our gate I opened up Instagram and viewed Yuris page. Most of the pictures he had up were him at competitions, and his cats. As I was scrolling I accidentally liked one of his posts.

You would've thought I was the god damn flash with how quick I scrolled out of his profile.

A moment later i saw him pick up his phone, give a puzzled look, and look back at me.

"Why'd you like a post of me from last years Grand Prix?" He asked as we approached the gate.

"Uh no i didnt" i lied.

"Your an awful lier" He replied, continuing to walk.

Yuri gave Lilia her coffee as I sat down next to Yakov. Shortly, Yuri came back over and sat to my right. There was about an hour before our flight, so I decided to take a short nap.

#yuri on ice #figure skating #fluff imagine #grand prix #oneshots #x reader #yuri plisetsky x reader #yurio plisetsky #victuuri

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