#here have 2.2k of word vomit

[suugarbabe]

the 'anything but' party | m.r x reader

prompt: it’s a gryffindor (maybe) party but it’s acc a theme party. the theme is dressing up as another house and reader (not a slytherin) borrows some of the boys’ quidditch clothes (like a bomber jacket or a jersey) and theo/mattheo get super jealous even though reader and him aren’t together. but it’s like he’s been after her for the whole year but she likes to play hard bc he normally doesn’t have to make any effort to have whoever girl he wants at his feet, and she doesn’t want to be just another girl, if you get what i mean? so she just shows up wearing another guys’ name and he goes feral.

word count: 2.2k

warning: angst, smut, heavy smut, 18+ MDNI!!

You were okay with parties. You weren’t ever overly obsessed with them, but the party tonight you were particularly excited about. It was a theme party. The theme being any house but your house. Very typical of the Gryffindors to throw something that will likely cause absolute chaos, but you were here for it. 

You threw on the jersey you had borrowed from Enzo Berkshire. You had a few classes with him and was even partnered with him in potions last year. When you heard about the theme he was the first person you went to. You asked if you could borrow his jersey for the party and he was more than willing to loan it out to you. 

As you threw it on it fell to about mid thigh. You thanked Merlin for Enzo’s height because now you could just wear his jersey as a dress. You turned to Luna, who had borrowed a bomber jacket from Blaise, “How do I look Lunes?”

She tilted her head, smiling and clasping her hand together, “You look marvelous! I think it would’ve suited us well to be sorted in to Slytherin.” 

You laughed a little, “Yeah, I do quite like how I look in green.” Your thoughts drifted to another Slytherin that would be able to accommodate your new favorite color. 

“Thinking about Mattheo?” Luna’s voice cut into your internal monologue and your cheeks instantly flamed. 

You did your best not to stutter over your words, “I don’t, erm, I mean why do you ask?” 

In very Luna fashion, she made no comment about you being flustered, her voice fluttering out like a feather with simple observation, “I only ask because it’s obvious that he likes you very much. It’s quite sweet, really. Are you going to finally tell him that you like him as well?”

You couldn’t help but stare at her dumbfounded. You figured your constant rejections to Mattheo’s advances made it appear to everyone that you did not reciprocate his feelings. That wasn’t actually the case, but you wanted to make him work for it. 

Girls came far too easy for Mattheo, basically throwing themselves at him. It was vomit inducing to you at times, how blatantly obvious they would be and how he essentially cherry-picked whatever girl he was feeling that particular moment. 

You weren’t going to be one of those girls, you absolutely refused it. So when you first noticed Mattheo staring at you at the beginning of the year, you just rolled your eyes anytime they connected to his. 

The first time you did this, his eyebrows shot to the ceiling, not used to this type of response from a woman. When he tried to stop you after class, you quickly shot your hand up before he could even get a word out, “Not interested, Riddle.” 

He was met with a chorus of “ohhhh’s” from his friends, which likely died down quickly due to a glare or threat from the scorned man. He tried again after that…and just about every other day from that first moment you rejected him until this morning. 

You weren’t blind, you knew Mattheo was attractive. Hell, you’ve known since the bloody sorting ceremony in first year. But the way that all of the girls swooned over him, and how he so obviously ate it up, you vowed to never be that girl. 

So for the last six years, you never really paid him any mind. You knew he was there, you knew his reputation, but he never really consumed your thoughts. So when he started staring at you, then starting actually pursuing you, you couldn’t quite understand why your heart would beat faster, or get butterflies in your stomach. 

You had boyfriends throughout your school career, even dating the quidditch captain of your house, but something about Mattheo focusing solely on you like he has made your stomach flutter like no other guy you’d been with. You weren’t even with Mattheo, but him pursuing you essentially deterred any other guy from coming up to you. 

Finishing your hair and makeup, you and Luna joined a few other Ravenclaw’s and headed to the Gryffindor common room. Walking through the portrait hole you would think there was nothing going on, but as soon as you passed through the entryway you broke the silencing charm barrier and was assaulted with the sound of bass and smell of weed. 

You looked over at Luna, who took a deep inhale, “Don’t you just love that earthy smell?” You couldn’t help but laugh at her care-free spirit. “I’m gonna go get a drink, do you want one?” Luna nodded, telling you she was going to find Blaise and to look for her in the usual spot. 

Heading to the drink table you spotted Enzo who was adorning a Ravenclaw cardigan. You had a little skip in your step, sidling up next to him and grabbing cups for you and Luna, “Well hey there, looking dashing in blue and bronze.” 

He smirked at you, leaning against the table while you got yourself a drink, “Looks like you were sorted into the wrong house. Green definitely suits you.” You turned to him, a drink in each hand, “Thank you, Enzo.” 

He held an arm out, “Shall we? I’m assuming you're not doublefisting tonight and one of those is for Miss Lovegood?” You let out a laugh, nodding and following him to the back corner where his gang of miscreants resided. You both were simply walking next to each other. Your hands were full with both drinks and while he only had one his other hand was flailing around in the air as he recounted aspects of the last Slytherin quidditch game. 

So when you reached the group, you were surprised that Mattheo’s face was set in a scowl. You quirked an eyebrow when he finally met your eyes, which took a moment as his were apparently taking their sweet time scanning your body, his eyes rolled, scoffing slightly and leaning back on the couch. 

You decided to be bold tonight, Luna’s voice from earlier in the back of your head. You greeted the others, then went and sat down next to Mattheo. As soon as your ass hit the chair, Mattheo scooted a few inches away from you. You told yourself not to be hurt by this, but he had essentially been trying to be all over you for the last month and a half. 

“What’s wrong with you?” you turned to face him, one leg now on the couch, causing the jersey you had on the ride higher on your leg. Mattheo’s eyes cast down briefly, seeing more of your skin exposed before meeting your eyes again.

“What are you wearing?” His eye contact was intense, making you squirm a little. “It’s a theme party, I’m wearing Slytherin clothes.” He let out a huff of air through his nose. You narrowed your eyes at him now, asking him again, “What’s your problem?”

He pinched the number that laid just above your left breast, your breath getting caught in your throat with how close his hands were, “You’re wearing Enzo’s jersey.” You couldn’t quite place his tone but it sounded almost like…jealousy? This made you smirk a little and now the wheels in your mind were turning. 

You shrugged your shoulders, “I thought it looked cute.” Your hands caressing the side of your body to the hem of the jersey. You saw his eyes follow your hands as you roamed your body, now focused on where your hands played with the hem, “And it’s so long on me I didn’t even have to wear any panties.” 

You saw the clench in his jaw, and you’d be lying if you said the action didn’t send a searing heat through your body. You started to pull the jersey higher up your legs, just to tease him a little. His hand shot to your wrist, “Stop.” You smirked at him, “What’s wrong, Teo?”

The nickname was something new you were toying with and it seemed to have the effect you were looking for as the grip he had on your wrist tightened. He placed his other hand on your thigh, using it as leverage to lean closer to you. 

His lips ghosted the shell of your ear, goosebumps rising along your skin, “It’s gonna be really hard for me to fuck you with Berkshire’s jersey on.” Your cheeks immediately turned red. You turned your head, staring into his eyes, faces so close your noses are nearly brushing against one another. Your heart was beating out of your chest, you feared he could hear it over the bass of the music.

Your facade was failing, quickly. The desperation you were feeling was more extreme than you could control. “Kiss me,” you requested, eyes not leaving the brown ones you were gazing at. He laughs softly, smirk adorning his face as his eyes flicker down to your lips. 

Normally that type of cockiness from him would have you leaving Mattheo there hot and bothered but tonight you found yourself leaning towards him with just as much anticipation. His mouth slotted against yours, he tasted like cigarettes and firewhiskey. You latch onto him, fisting a handful of the hufflepuff cardigan he chose for the party. 

When you finally pull away, lungs burning for air you can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face. Mattheo’s lips were red and swollen. You look at him with big eyes, silently telling him you wanted more than was possible in the open common room. 

Mattheo glanced around, searching for a solution. He stood up quickly, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the stairs to the dorms. He led you down a hall, opening the first door he could find and pulling you in behind him. 

Before you could even glance around the room Mattheo had you pressed against the door. His arm circled your waist, sliding down the small of your back before grabbing a handful of your ass, his mouth attaching itself to your neck, sucking at biting at the soft skin there. The action had the most obscene noise leaving your throat.

His grip on your ass tightens, holding you flush against his body as he tucks a knee between your legs. You whine at the contact, the fabric of his trousers grazing against your bare clit. He braces himself with his free hand on the door, resting his forehead to yours, “Merlin, I’ve been wanting to make those noises leave that pretty mouth of yours all year.” 

You open your mouth to respond, fully prepped to give a witty retort when he pressed his leg against you again. A whimper leaves your throat this time and Mattheo looks cockier than you’ve ever seen him.

You gripped his forearm, “Teo…please.” You looked up at him through your lashes as his hand dipped under the jersey, fingertips feather light on your skin. “So needy, love. Had to wear someone else’s jersey just to get me riled up, hmm?” His head dips down, lips grazing the sensitive skin where your neck and collarbone meet. 

He bites you lightly, nipping and sucking at the skin there, surely leaving his mark in a place where it’d be hard for you to hide, claiming you as his. You’re basically grinding yourself on his leg now and Mattheo thinks he can cum from the sight of you using him for your own pleasure. 

“So wet, love, can feel you through my trousers,” Mattheo grabs your hips, stilling you against his leg emitting another whine from you. “You gonna be good f’me, love?” he was teasing you now, but that didn’t stop you from nodding pathetically. 

He dragged the material of the jersey over your hips, a gasp releasing itself from your lips as the air hits your bare center. Your teeth are sinking into your bottom lip and Mattheo drops to his knees. He puts one of your legs over his shoulder, your hand shooting to his shoulder to brace yourself as his tongue licks a stripe up your dripping cunt. 

A mewl spills from your mouth and you swear you can feel him smirk against you. Without warning he plunges two fingers deep inside you, your back arching off the door and into his touch. His free hand grabs your hip, stabilizing you against the door.

He flattens his tongue, dragging it from his fingers inside you back to your sensitive nub. Your other hand flies to his curls, fingers laced and pulling harshly. This only spurs him further, curling his fingers inside you. They rut against your g-spot, pressure building in your lower belly.

You thank Merlin for the loudness of the party because the sounds Mattheo was getting you to make were sinful. His lips are attached to your clit, mercilessly sucking and licking and humming against the bud. 

Your legs are trembling and Mattheo’s grip on your hip tightens, your vision begins to blank, mouth hanging open in a silent scream, you can’t even cry out, your mind dizzy with anything but the bliss that Mattheo is giving you between your legs as your tumbling over the edge.

He continues to eat you through your orgasm, overstimulating your clit as he slowly removes his fingers. “Fuck, Teo,” you breathe, trying to catch your breath as he lowers your leg from his shoulder. 

Mattheo stands, mouth attaching to yours immediately. You moan into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. He trails kisses along your jaw, down your neck then up to your ear, “Now let’s get you out of this fucking jersey.”

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fic #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #golden era #harry potter

[moonstruckme]

Hello love, I just found your blog and I must say that I adore your writing!! I’ve been looking for some new marauder content and couldn’t be happier with what I have come across here! 🫶🏼🩷

Can I request a counterpart to Dizzy? Where the reader comes home super tipsy and roommate James has to deal with their affection and sloppy behavior :)) I think that might be a fun change of perspective for those two.

If not, no worries! Thank you for your amazing work 🥹 take care 🫶🏼

Hi gorgeous, thanks so much! Apologies for the wait, this got a bit long haha. Hope you like it <3

cw: drunkenness

roommate!James x fem!reader ♡ 2.2k words

James hears the front door open and close, a painful sounding series of thumps, and not much after that. 

He sets down his late-night snack of melon he’s been sneakily eating from the bowl you’d cut it up in earlier, leaving his fork sticking out of a piece. “Hello?” 

Your reply is quiet, barely echoing down the hallway to reach him. “James?” 

He gets up and goes toward the door. You’re slumped against it, cast half in shadow from the lamplight that filters through the window to fall upon one side of your face, brows bunched as you toy clumsily with your shoelace. You look up at his approach, and your expression clears. 

“James!”

James smiles; he can’t help it.

“Hi,” he says, with nearly as much enthusiasm. “Did you have fun tonight, sweetheart?” 

You nod happily. “I brought you something.” 

He feels his eyebrows raise. “Something for me?” 

“Mhm.” You twist onto your side, mouth screwing up concentratedly as you lift your bum to fish around in your back pocket. “Here!” You pull out a squished mars bar, looking rather pleased with yourself. “Those are your favorite, right?” 

“They are,” he agrees, taking it from you, “thanks. Where’d you get this?” 

“A man was giving them out on the street.”

James blinks. “Just giving them away?” 

“I know, very suspicious.” You nod sagely. “But I already had mine, and it wasn’t laced with cocaine or anything, so I figure it’s fine.” 

Right, then. James will just have to check on you in the morning to make sure you’re still breathing. 

“Well, thank you for the gift,” he says, and is rewarded with your gargantuan grin. 

“I’m glad you like it,” you reply, eyes full of an earnestness so sweet it makes James’ chest hurt. “I never get to do anything for you, and you’re so nice to me.” 

“You do tons of stuff for me,” he scoffs, but you look prepared to argue, and he doesn’t want that. He gives your shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Hey, wanna get some water?” 

You go quiet, considering this. “Can I have it on the floor?” 

James laughs. “You want to drink your water sitting on the floor?” 

You smile like you don’t quite understand what’s so funny but are happy to go along with it anyway. “The floor is good,” you say, as though it’s a simple fact of life. 

“Alright.” James weaves his arm under yours, hoisting you up. “Sure, sweetheart, you can have it on the floor.” 

He all but carries you into the kitchen, your feet barely touching the floor as they stumble inelegantly over each other and your one undone shoelace. You make a small sound as he eases you down on the floor next to the fridge, looking decidedly worse than you had over by the door. 

“Do you feel okay?” he asks, keeping a wary eye on you as he fills a cup from the tap. 

You hum noncommittally, waving him off. “Don’t worry about me.” 

“Sorry, you can’t stop me,” he replies teasingly, crouching in front of you to pass you the water. He can’t stop himself. “Do you think you’re going to be sick?” 

You make a face, mouth twisting in disgust. “God, I hope not.” 

A nervous laugh escapes him. “Okay well, uh—here.” James grabs a nearly empty bread bag from the counter, taking the last two slices out and setting them on top of the toaster. He passes it to you. “Just in case you do.” 

You give him a soft look, as if he hasn’t just handed you a vomit bag. “Thanks, Jamie.” 

His heart sputters. You never call him that, and certainly never while looking at him the way you are now. He has the sudden urge to squish your face between his hands. 

“Course,” he says quickly, looking down and getting to work on the shoelaces that were giving you trouble earlier. You’d double-knotted them and evidently forgotten. The action of prying the knot apart feels good, giving his body something productive to do. 

For a while, you only drink your water quietly. James disentangles the laces and slips your shoes off, setting them next to each other on the floor. You put your feet in his lap, and he lets you. When you gasp, he looks up, alarmed. 

“What?” 

“James.” Your eyes are wide and glossy. “James, I just remembered the most wonderful thing.” 

His heart calms slightly. “What’s that, love?” 

“I cut up cantaloupe earlier. We should eat it!”

James grins, taking your ankles to move them out of his lap. “Great idea. I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He stands, ignoring your confused puppy sound at his leaving. 

Your eyes light up when he returns a moment later, bowl of melon in hand. 

“Oh my god, you’re the best,” you gush, reaching for the fork he passes you from the drawer. “Where were you hiding this?” 

“In my room,” he admits, sitting beside you. “I know you don’t like it when I eat right out of the bowl, sorry.” 

“Oh, I don’t mind so much anymore,” you wave him off, forking a chunk of melon and taking a bite out of it. “That was a new-roommate thing. I didn’t want your spit in my food, you could’ve had herpes.” 

A laugh startles out of him. “Did you think I had herpes?” 

“I didn’t know!” you defend yourself, and it’s ridiculous how endearing he finds it that you’re comfortable enough to talk with your mouth full around him. “You’re a very pretty man, James Potter. For all I knew, you had a steady rotation coming in and out of your room whenever I wasn’t home.” 

James guffaws, bumping your shoulder with his reprimandingly. “Wow, thanks for that. At least you think I’m pretty.” 

“Just the truth,” you say into your cup, voice somewhat quieter than before. 

He looks over, and you’ve gone a bit bashful, shoulders pulling up towards your ears as you down the last of your water. James thinks that he’s lucky you aren’t like this often. It’d be very hard to keep things platonic between you if you were this sweet and open with him as a habit. 

“I wasn’t sure about you when you first moved in either,” he says to lighten things. “The first time I opened the cottage cheese and saw peaches inside, I almost moved out.” 

You turn to him with your mouth agape, hand coming up to grip his bicep in offense. (He presumes he’s supposed to be intimidated, but all he can think about is how you never touch him like this, usually. It’s nice.) “You said it was good when I made you try it!” you accuse. “You liked it!” 

“It was okay,” he allows laughingly, letting himself cover your hand with his under the pretense of loosening your grip. “It was just off-putting at first. That was a lot of weird right out the gate, sweetheart. Sirius wanted me to call the police.” 

His plan backfires, and you drop your hand. Your chin, too, giving James a deadpan look through your lashes. “It’s not that weird. Tons of people do it.” 

“Sure, sure,” James says, patting your shoulder placatingly when you seem like you could argue more. “Feeling like you might be ready for bed?” You seem to have eaten your fill of melon. Your fork lies discarded in the bowl, swimming in juice. 

You deliberate for a moment before humming in affirmation. He stands first, taking both of your hands to help you up and marveling at the fact that you let him. When he turns to walk towards your room and you link your arm through his, he begins to worry he’s dreaming this whole thing. 

“James,” you whisper up towards his ear. “Jamie-Jame. I have a secret to tell you.” 

Definitely dreaming, then. A secret? He wonders what you could have thought of to tell him at this hour, in the state you’re in. Surely a good friend wouldn’t let you spill your guts when you’re this out of sorts. It could be something serious. Anything you’re not willing to share sober, he shouldn’t want to hear.

“What is it?” he asks, hating himself. 

“I’m not going to take off my makeup before bed.” 

A giggle bubbles out of him, so ridiculous he’s glad you’re not in your right mind to hear it. “Wow. Dire measures, huh?” 

You nod somberly. “I’m gonna be so upset with myself tomorrow. I’m gonna wake up with crusty-eye and a million new zits, but I just want to go to sleep so bad, you know?” 

“Mm, I think I see where you’re coming from.” James tries to sound like he’s giving it due consideration while he sets you down on your bed. You scoot back to the side, making room for him to sit beside you. He does. (Who is he to refuse an invitation like that?) “Yeah, you’ve just gotta prioritize comfort sometimes. You’ll make it up to yourself, I’m sure.” 

You level him with what seems to be your best approximation of a stern look. It makes you look extremely cuddly. “You can’t hold it against me when you see my skin tomorrow, James. It’s going to be atrocious.” 

He has to bite his lip to match your seriousness. “I guarantee I will not mind. In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never not looked lovely.” 

“Oh, you wouldn’t get it.” You flop back onto your pillow, disconsolate. “You’ve probably never had a zit in your life.” 

“Actually, I went through a fairly bad stint in year eight—”

“That’s not fair,” you groan. 

He smiles at you patiently. “What’s not fair, sweetheart?” 

“You’re not fair.” You gesture vaguely in his direction as if to make your point. “You haven’t gotten zits since eighth year, first of all. Then on top of that, you smell nice. And you have really long eyelashes, which no boy should ever have. There’s no way you appreciate them as much as they deserve. And you call me sweetheart—what’s up with that?” James blinks, but you’re not done. “And you’re way too nice to me! It doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Right,” James says, considering. “So all I have to do is start getting zits, stop showering, and…trim my eyelashes, and then you’ll be satisfied? Justice will be restored?” 

Your lips curve, and you nod magnanimously. “Yes, please. Straightaway.” 

“Cruel.” He sets a hand on your knee, giving your leg a teasing little shake. “Should I stop calling you sweetheart as well, then?” 

You go shy again, looking just to the side of his face as a faint blush colors your cheeks. “No, that’s okay.” 

James has to bite the inside of his cheek to tamp down the full force of his smile. “Okay. Alright if I continue being nice to you as well? I’d feel like a bit of a prick if I stopped.” 

You give it a few moment’s consideration. “Fine,” you say, as if this is a large allowance and he really is on thin ice. James lets loose his smile. You copy him, your own grin lopsided and goofy. “Hey, can I ask you something?” 

“Anything.” 

“Can I have a hug?” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” The word tumbles out of his mouth before he can stop it, warm fondness oozing from every syllable. “Of course, come here.” 

Despite his own words, he goes to you, crushing you to his chest with perhaps a touch too much eagerness. You don’t seem to notice, drooping against him with your arms banded around his middle. He thinks he hears you breathe in. 

“Still feeling okay?” he asks gently, rubbing your back. You hum. “Ready to go to sleep?” 

“Not if you’re going to leave.” Your voice is muffled against the fabric of his pajama shirt. The skin beneath grows warm from your breath. “I like you so much, Jamie. You’re so nice to me, you know?” 

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that.” He smiles to himself, palm sweeping over the bare skin of your upper back and the material of your dress. He wonders if you’ll regret having slept in it in the morning. He can’t stand the thought of wearing outside clothes in bed. Oddly, he doesn’t know if you’re the same. “I can stay for a bit, if you want.” 

“I like you, like, so much it’s a problem,” you go on as if he hasn’t spoken. You sound mildly upset. “You have no idea.”

Something tense and tentatively happy twists in James’ gut. It takes more effort than it should to keep breathing, keep rubbing your back. “I can stay, but you have to go to sleep, okay?” 

You ease out of his embrace to look up at him. Your eyes are somewhat focussed, but watery. “James, I like you so much.” 

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” he says softly, heart a hard-to-ignore, thundering thing in his chest. “Let’s just sleep for now, okay?” 

“Okay.” You look reluctant but nod, laying back against your pillow. “Thanks.” 

James doesn’t know what you’re thanking him for. He’s not sure he deserves it. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.” 

“I’m going, I’m going,” you grumble, but reach up for his hand. He gives it to you, and you haul it to your chest with surprising strength, sending James slumping forward until he’s nearly lying down beside you. “Sorry,” you say drowsily. Then, after some thought, “Actually, no I’m not.” 

James laughs. He’s happy to know you, he thinks. You’re kind and funny and thoughtful, and apparently very talkative when you’re drunk. He likes you too. Loves you, maybe. He’ll think about it tomorrow.

#roommate!james #roommate!james potter #roommate!james x reader #james potter au #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x self insert #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter drabble #james potter one shot #james potter scenario #marauders #marauders era #the marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fanfic #marauders fic #the marauders era #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[frantic-fiction]

Reoccurring Nightmares

(Gif: margonite-seer)

Astarion x GN!Reader / Astarion x Good!Durge

Summary: A night reveals that maybe the past is not left behind, and maybe old urges have begun again. As people always say healing is never linear.

Triggers/Tags: Implied mentions of self harm. Violent topics. Angst Hurt/comfort.

Minor spoilers for Durges plot line nothing very specific but you have been warned.

Word Count: 2.2k

(Quick note I gave reader Tav's name so hope y'all don't mind)

Cold damp earth thunders under your feet as you run, each step echoes in the silent woods. Your chest heaves, each breath a meager attempt to fill lungs that can't seem to feel satisfied. 

Why are you out here? 

The forest is a maze, and you navigate it with urgency, propelled forward by the rhythmic pounding of your heart. It threatens to break free, like a wild creature desperate to escape its cage. You don’t stop, fueled by the momentum and the all-consuming fear clawing at your throat.

Why were you running?

This isn’t the first time your memory has betrayed you, leaving you disoriented in the unknown.

Ducking beneath a fallen tree, the rough bark scratches against your skin. You turn sharply and press on, the underbrush snapping beneath your hurried steps. The surroundings are a blur, darkness shrouding any discernible features. The moon, a mere sliver in the night sky, casts an eerie glow through the dense canopy.

A plan forms in the chaos of your thoughts. The distant sound of water becomes a lifeline; a river might offer refuge from a pursuer. You move toward the sou-

 Your foot snags a root, and you collide with a rock. Blood fills your mouth, the metallic taste jarring, familiar. In the darkness, your hand tightens around a shard of glass. The moonlight reflects off its jagged edges, casting faint ethereal patterns on the forest floor.

Frogs and crickets harmonize in the night, their symphony a stark contrast to the turmoil within. The beauty of the scene clashes with the disarray of your mind. A brief moment of clarity emerges, allowing you to catch your breath. 

What happened? 

You examine the shard of glass, uncurling your fingers for a better look. A deeper wound reveals itself, and the blood flows unabated. The taste and sight is both revolting and comforting, a paradoxical sensation that grounds you in the reality of pain.

Where did the glass come from? Memories fracture, and images of a shared life flood your mind. The house on the outskirts, memories of love and healing. Someone's absence looms, silver curls and sharp teeth; Astarion, a question unanswered. 

Knees pulled to your chest, you notice the blood-soaked clothes. Panic sets in; that part of you, the monster believed buried, threatens to resurface. Did his blood taint you again? Did you harm Astarion?

Jerking to the side, you vomit, the weight of imagined horrors overwhelming you. The riverbed offers a cold sanctuary, and you scrub the blood away. The water numbs your body, but you persist until your fingers ache. The raw emptiness grows, time stops, and the world holds its breath in shared grief. You can’t face your friends; the word "friend" is tainted by your actions. Astarion’s absence is a void you can’t bear.

Wasn’t this the fear? The fear that kept you awake, haunted by the possibility of losing control. The dark whispers that the urges would resurface. 

Your reflection in the river, blood-soaked and tormented, triggers waves of self-loathing. The glass shard gleams, a macabre symbol of your descent into the abyss.

Fingers graze the cold surface, and a distant voice interrupts your thoughts. 

“Tav!” The sound pierces through the chaos, freezing your movements. 

“TAV!” Astarion’s voice, a lifeline in the disarray. 

Frantically searching, he emerges from the trees, disheveled and relieved. He is by your side in a moment joining you halfway into the river. He cups your cheek, his touch offers a brief respite, a moment of grounding in the maelstrom. 

Words are cement in your mouth. You're mystified by the reality that is facing you. Astarion is here, in front of you. And, in fact, very much alive. You reach up with a shaky hand to barely caress his cheek, as if a more stern touch would shatter the fragile moment. He grabs your wrist and kisses your cold palm softly.

“You’re alive,” you choke, collapsing into his chest sobs rolls through your body.

He momentarily freezes in confusion at your words before refocusing at the current urgency of your state. Pressing you tighter against him, Astarion strokes your hair and gives you a gentle kiss to your hairline. Maybe he had just fed before finding you, or maybe it's a testament to how long you have suffered the freezing night, but he’s warm. You bury yourself deeper in his embrace, hiding your tear-streaked face in his neck.

“Of course, my love,” He softly says and holds you a moment longer, allowing you to feel the truth of something he’s not quite understanding but knows is important just the same. But little by little, he begins to pry you from his body.

“No,” you make a pathetic whine in protest, desperately trying to stay attached. Too afraid that once you let go, he’ll disappear and the truth of what you did will be brought back into the moonlight.

“Hush now, my sweet,” Astarion stands up suddenly and removes the heavy jacket you had given him. Kneeling back down, he drapes it over your shoulders.

“You have been in the middle of the woods in freezing weather for gods know how long. And you've had a bit of a swim.” His thumb brushes the line of your cheekbone. “Let’s get you home so I can warm you up, and if you are feeling okay tonight, we could discuss what my darling was doing alone out here.”

He doesn’t leave room to argue, and you have none to give. So he takes you in his arms and begins to walk. You’re too tired to speak, so you simply curl closer into him and resume your position, face tucked into the crook of his neck. His scent invades your nostrils, and finally, since waking up in the woods earlier this evening, you breathe a sigh of relief.

***

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you awake on the plush sofa in your living room. Astarion must have moved it because it is now as close to the fireplace as safety would allow. The only thing standing in its way was the intricately sculpted metal table Dammon had gifted you for a housewarming gift. 

What seemed to be the entire house's stock of blankets was now piled on top of you, effectively cocooning you in cotton and silks. You try to sit up, but find that no strength is left in your bones.

“Stari?” You croak, your voice hoarse from your sobs.

There is not an immediate response, just the crackling fire and the rustling of dinnerware from the kitchen. You don’t bother to call out again; you know he’ll be in to check on you soon. When it comes to you, Astarion’s mother hen tendencies rear their head with great urgency.

 While you wait, you stare transfixed into the fire, mesmerized by the crackling wood and swirling ash. The chaos of fire has always been interesting to you. In small quantities, fire can bring warmth to a home and light to darkness. But uncontrolled fire burns, burns everything in its path. No mercy, no complexities, just fire and fuel; anything in between is insignificant in the grand scheme. It's familiar, too familiar.

Maybe this topic was best left untouched; maybe you hated fire. After all, fire is made to burn.

“Oh good, I was just about to wake you,” Astarion sets a tray on the coffee table. “I made tea,”

He starts to unearth your body from your blanket tomb and helps you into a more seated position before moving to the armchair. You catch his wrist; his crimson eyes meet yours. You're not entirely sure what you want; you just can’t bear him being so far. Not after thinking he was lost to you forever.

“Hold me?” The words are barely above a whisper, hesitant as if Astarion has ever denied you anything. “Please,” you tack on for good measure, though you're not sure why.

“Of course, my sweet,”

Handing you your tea, Astarion motions you to lean forward so that he can slip in behind you. Sandwiched between his legs, he wraps an arm around your middle and eases you against his solid torso. 

He’s warm; you must have been right. During your trek in the woods, he must have stepped out to feed. Now that the winter is approaching, he’s been hunting larger game; he likes to be warm, says it’s not always fair when you're the only one bringing heat into the relationship. 

He silently urges you to drink your tea, and you do. It’s quiet; neither of you speaks; you simply drink your tea and Astarion comforts. Hands gently trail up and down your arms, in between peppering tender kisses on your neck and shoulders.

You know what he’s doing. You’ve done the same tactics on him plenty of times in the past. He’s waiting. Waiting for you to speak first. To share with him why you were in those woods. What horrors brought you there. It’s an unspoken rule between two very broken people. You offer each other comfort, the safety each has lacked in the past and wait. If or when the person wishes to speak, the other listens.

But how do you even begin to describe the night that has occurred? The terror, the guilt, the hatred. It all just boils in your chest like wet tar. You can’t even really explain what happened to yourself. Once the tea is finished, you pass the cup to Astarion, who in turn returns it to the tray.

With a deep breath, you say simply, “I thought it happened again,” he knows immediately what you're saying and holds you just a bit tighter. 

“I-I-I don’t know what happened, b-but I was just running. I was… Gods, Astarion, I was so scared.”

Pushing the blankets further away from you, you turn in his arms and wrap around his neck. His eyes reflect the same sadness and fear you are feeling. “I was covered in blood, and then…then all I could think about was you,”

Tears begin to roll one by one down your cheeks; he collect them with his thumbs. Tears of his begin to follow a similar path. “I thought it finally happened,” you're crying harder now, hiccuping between words. 

“I thought he finally made me kill you,” words began to fail you from there. You pathetically tried to say more but the only sounds that escape are choked hiccups and wet sobs. When you know you have no hope of continuing you simply hide your face in your hands, no longer wanting to face the world.

“We’re okay, little love. Everythings okay.” Astarion is rubbing soft circles into your back, repeating calming phrases until they stick. “I’m here, nothing can change that. You’re okay darling.” 

It takes a lot of lovely words and small touches before your breathing calms down and you seem to have run out of your tear supply for that night. But even then Astarion doesn’t let go. You two stay interlocked, warmed by the slowly dwindling fire. He clears up your scattered thoughts. 

Astarion's voice, tinged with concern and a hint of reassurance, breaks through the remnants of your panic. "It was probably just one of your nightmares," he offers, a familiar acknowledgment that nightmares are woven into the fabric of your existence. In the quiet aftermath of your ordeal, the weight of his words settles in the still air. 

As he gently extracts one of your hands from your tear-streaked face, the dim light catches the glint of a heavy bandage wrapped around your trembling fingers. The glass shard, a cruel messenger, the night will leave its mark. With a tender touch, Astarion guides your gaze to the bandage, and then, with a careful motion, he lifts the fabric of your pants to expose a larger wound on your thigh, neatly covered in thick gauze.

The size of the injury is alarming, and the realization dawns that stitches would have been a necessity. Astarion's eyes reflect a regret that mirrors your own. "I should have been there, I'm so very sorry, my love," he whispers, his voice carrying the weight of an unspoken vow to protect you from the horrors that lurk within your own mind.

As you open your mouth to argue or perhaps offer words of comfort, Astarion anticipates your protest. "Regardless of what you are going to say," he interrupts, his words cutting through the heavy air, "from now on, I will be feeding exclusively when you are awake." The admission reveals a vulnerability in his eyes—a fear that lingers from the night when the scent of your blood permeated the air, and you were nowhere to be found.

"There was nothing more frightening than coming home to the smell of your blood and you gone." His hand begin to play with a strand of your hair. "Not to mention the absolute nightmare of a talk I’m to receive once I call for Shadowheart come morning, because I’m still not convinced you didn’t contract hypothermia during your midnight swim.” 

A small smile plays on your lips, a silent acknowledgment of the impending lecture from Shadowheart, whose disapproval you can almost taste. Astarion seems to relish in your smile, and he cups your jaw, pressing his forehead to yours in an intimate gesture that transcends words.

"That is all behind us," he declares, a note of determination in his voice. "Our wounds are still fresh, but we are here, and we are healing. We'll get through this, we always have." His smirk carries a promise of resilience, and you nod in agreement, surrendering to the irresistible urge to find solace in the warmth of his lips pressed against yours.

Author's notes: Oh boy I haven't posted any of my writings since 2018 but damn BG3 has sparked something in me. Astarion is something special and I love him. If anyone has some ideas they would like to throw my way I would loved to see them.

Feedback is welcome, hate is not! Have a nice day, cheers.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x dark urge #astarion #astarion imagine #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #baldur's gate #fanfic #writing #reader insert #astarion ancunin #angst #hurt/comfort

[1d1195]

Right Here Extra I

You can read the original story here: Right Here

This is just going to be a collection of little moments between them based on this ask from a sweet anon 💕 Hope you like it

~2.2k words

Warnings: vomiting, sick, nausea, etc. Otherwise it's going to be fluff, fluff, fluff.

“Cause you’re perfect, lovie.”

“I’m far from perfect.”

“Perfect for me,” he shrugged so casually. As if he said it to anyone that was worried about their self-worth.

As if he hadn’t just thawed the last bit of ice that was in her body.

It was her annual physical. She was sure. The cacophony of sniffles that were in the doctor’s waiting room made her feel sick before any of the germs had a moment to really incubate in her system. She wished she had a mask in her purse, or they had offered/mandated it in the waiting room.

Because now she was laying in front of her toilet. A towel that was balled into a pillow and the cold tile her only relief from the flu symptoms that plagued her. She wasn’t sure she called out from work. She thought she did, but if she managed to actually call her boss in between vomiting she would have been genuinely surprised. But she hadn’t had the strength to lift herself off the floor in hours. Only long enough to heave into the toilet before falling back asleep.

It pained her to say it, because she would have died if Harry was to see her this way, but she longed for him. The way he would take care of her, the way he would dote on her. She could imagine his voice so clearly it was like he was actually rubbing her back soothingly.

“S’okay, lovie,” he whispered in her ear. “M’here. M’right here,” the figment of her imagination felt so real, his fingers cool on her clammy, damp skin. “Poor baby,” he murmured. She moaned softly, her stomach clenching and cramping even though there was long since anything to expel from her stomach.

The figment was nice. Like an imaginary oasis that she saw on TV shows when she was little. It let her drift to sleep.

After she managed to throw up again.

*

The tile was warm and soft now. The air smelled of eucalyptus and menthol. She groaned quietly. The pain in her stomach had stopped completely. In fact, she swore she was feeling hungry. Carefully she got out of bed taking slow steps because she felt weak and exhausted. There was no concept of time that she had spent while asleep.

She opened the fridge to get her water pitcher. “Kitten?” Harry’s voice asked, startling her so badly she dropped the pitched cracking and spilling it on the floor.

“Harry!” Her socks started to get wet. He grabbed her by the waist as gently as he could, mindful she wasn’t feeling well and didn't want to upset her stomach anymore than it already was. He lifted her as if she weighed as much as penny and settled her gently on the counter. “What are you doing here?” She grumbled feeling self-conscious. Her hair was off her face, pulled into a twist to the side of her head.

“Y’didn’t come t’work,” he bent to the floor with paper towels cleaning up the water.

“I have the flu or a stomach bug.”

“I know."

Her head was still pretty achy—maybe the hunger was doing her in but regardless Harry’s laissez-faire attitude about him being there was not helping. “What do you mean ‘you know’?”

“Y’didn’t come t’work,” he repeated. “I called you ‘bout ten times t’make sure you were okay,” he explained. “I was so worried, lovie. Then I saw y’on the floor—”

Her stomach rolled again—this time with uneasiness and embarrassment. “No you didn’t,” she whispered and covered her face. Harry didn’t understand her reaction. He tossed the paper towels in the trash and put the broken pitcher in the sink.

“S’matter, beautiful?”

“You saw me?” She croaked.

“Well—”

“Oh my God,” she groaned.

“Lovie, y’had me worried half t’death,” he repeated. “Why are you—”

“I am so disgusting and I can’t imagine—”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he rolled his eyes and put his hands on her thighs. “Y’were sick. Nonetheless y’were still beautiful. Even sprawled on the bathroom floor...not that it even matters, lovie... I wish y’called me. I would have been over sooner,” he frowned.

Part of her believed him. That figment wasn’t her imagination after all. Harry really did come and take care of her and dote on her. Even though she didn’t call him, he still showed up. Her heart felt all kinds of confused because she was so embarrassed. Her hair was a wreck, and she was almost certain she smelled faintly of vomit. It was not a good day. “I thought I dreamt that you were here,” she mumbled.

“Yeah? S’that a good thing?” His smile had a smug quality to it. Like he was glad she missed him even if he was a bit distraught with worry over her.

She nodded. “I think I look terrible, but... I... I wanted you to take care of me,” she admitted. “That’s really hard for me to say out loud,” she added. But she didn’t need to. Harry already knew that.

“I know,” he assured her and cupped her face. His hand felt cool compared to her still damp skin. “Y’don’t look terrible. Y’look so much better than y’did when I found y’on the floor. Scared me half t’death,” he repeated, skimming the back of his hand along her face. He pouted ever so slightly. “Wish y’texted me, lovie. I was worried something happened t’you.”

“I didn’t want you to get sick,” she frowned. “You’re probably going to now,” she reminded him.

“No... I went to the company flu shot clinic like a good employee,” he joked.

She rolled her eyes. “Some of us had a budget meeting that paid for you to get that flu shot.”

“You’re mean when you’re sick,” he chuckled. Sighing, she pressed her face to the front of his shoulder.

“I smell like throw up, don’t I?” She mumbled.

He nodded against her. “S’okay. S’important part of the relationship.”

“To smell like throw up around you and look like I laid on the bathroom floor for a day?”

“In sickness and in health, lovie,” he shrugged. Her heart skipped a beat. Did he know how intense that sounded? Did he care that he was giving her a slight arrhythmia? That was a vow for people who got married and lived the rest of their lives together. They’d only been together a handful of months. He couldn’t possibly love her that much already. “Go shower, m’gonna make y’some soup.”

He paid no mind to her silent, internal spinning. She felt overwhelmed with love for him. It made her stomach ache all over again. A flutter that made her wonder if she had a stomach bug at all or if it was just the feeling of love for Harry with no place else to go.

As soon as she felt well enough to stand on her own for longer than ten minutes, she was going to kiss Harry until he couldn’t breathe and make him feel like he had the flu.

*

Harry thought if it was any colder her toes were going to fall off. The fireplace was on the maximum, full heat. He wondered why on earth she decided to walk to his apartment. “It was a ten-minute walk, Harry,” she rolled her eyes.

“I would have come get you, lovie,” he grumbled. Her stubbornness would never cease to amaze him. Her tenacity was one of his most favorite qualities she possessed. But the softness she allowed—like when he cared for her while she wasn’t feeling well—or right now, when her body was warming under the blankets, was when he swore he knew everything about her. Everything. It didn’t matter than she kept things from him. Little things or big. In the soft moments he knew her. When her guard went down he knew every inch of her. Every fiber of her.

He adored her.

“That would have been unnecessary.”

“It’s freezing outside, lovie. Y’could’ve gotten frostbite.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want my car to get stuck here. This made more sense.”

Harry frowned and came out to her in the living room. Leaving the cookies on the sheet on top of the pre-heating oven. “Y’don’t want t’be stuck here?” He sat beside her freezing figure even though she was snuggled under three blankets. Harry made sure her face didn’t get accidentally covered and that she had movement of her arms as well.

“No, I want to be stuck here. I don’t want my car to be stuck here.”

His frown morphed into a grin. He tucked his face into the curve of her neck and shoulder. Feeling for if she tensed because he pressed to close to her or not. “I hope we’re trapped for days,” he murmured.

She smiled and turned her face to his and stole a kiss swiftly and sweetly. As cold as her lips were, Harry thought there was nothing on earth as warm as her kisses. His whole body reacted to the gesture. Part of him thought he was frostbitten—the way his fingers and toes tingled. All she did was brush her lips on his and it felt like heaven. Better than heaven.

“I love you,” she whispered. He stopped, pulled away and looked at her for several seconds. Harry willed his mouth to move but he couldn’t. The shock was so great. The feeling and excitement so immense he was speechless. “Oh,” she pulled her arms from the blankets. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t what I was—” she cleared her throat, completely embarrassed. Of course he didn’t love her. She was insane. She hated him for the better part of two decades. Why would that suddenly be fixed with a proclamation of love? “Please...just forget I said that,” she stood and paced away from him nerves plaguing her and now being trapped here seemed like a horrific idea.

“Whoa, lovie...stop,” he finally stood up and grabbed her hand. She refused to look at him. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “S’jus’... y’caught me off guard,” he admitted with a shy smile.

“Well, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it.”

He frowned. “Why’s that?”

“You obviously realized that me hating you for twenty years was not what you wanted in a relationship,” she looked at her fingers. “A claustrophobic baby is not what you want in a girlfriend and you definitely—”

“You didn’t hate me,” he smiled mischievously. Like it was a secret that only he knew. Maybe he did. Because there was no way she hated him all that time if she was suddenly in love with him now. Right?

“I guess not, but you obviously don’t feel the same way,” she refused to make eye contact with him and which made Harry unbelievably happy despite the fact she was so uneasy. As much as he hated to make her uncomfortable, something like this: an innocently mocking moment and still very sweet was one of his favorite past times. Like all the whispers he created at work.

“Kitten,” he chuckled. “I can’t believe y’said it before me,” his smile was so sweet. The kind of smile that made her chest hurt. The one that made her fall so hard for him—especially while they were away on business together. “I love you to pieces, beautiful,” he promised. “I jus’ never thought y’would say it before me,” he cupped her cheek and kissed her softly on the lips. All of her muscles relaxed, making Harry smile. “Y’thought I didn’t love you?”

“I don’t know why you would,” she murmured.

Her body was still chilled from the wintry air and he wanted nothing more than to rip her clothes off and make her warm in front of the fire in the most primal way. But she felt so perfect in his arms. It was indescribable. He didn’t want to move. He considered quitting his job and quitting her job on her behalf just so he never had to leave that spot.

She loved him. She said she loved him. “Cause you’re perfect, lovie.”

“I’m far from perfect.”

“Perfect for me,” he shrugged so casually. As if he said it to anyone that was worried about their self-worth.

As if he hadn’t just thawed the last bit of ice that was in her body.

Harry always sensed that she held back just the tiniest bit since they started dating, officially. It was the reason she was so obstinate with him. Never letting him fluster her at work in front of their colleagues, why she refused to move in (although he supposed asking her to move in on the first day of their real relationship was too much), and how there was always the littlest moment of hesitation whenever he complimented her—like she didn’t fully believe it.

All of that melted as much as the iciness of the outside air melted from her in his apartment. He watched the hesitation disappear in her eyes and he swore her body released the tension she had wound around her. Over twenty years of tension finally released from her muscles. Harry was surprised she didn’t collapse. “You really love me?” She whispered.

He nodded. “Course, lovie,” he smiled and kissed her forehead, melting her further. "Always have."

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter @kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @harryscherri @indierockgirrl

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles concept #hs #hs fic #hs writing #one direction #one direction writing #right here

[genshxn]

✤ 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐜: 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤

mild(?) spoilers for 3.2 archon quest (but probably everyone knows it by now let's be honest)

written pre-3.3

author drivel. what's up, i've got covid and a head full of cotton and I'm making it your problem too, so here's some unsolicited 'fluffy' scaramouche word vomit. as such, please excuse any egregious spelling/grammar mistakes or consistency errors because lord knows i'm gonna fuck something up with my negative braincells rn.

sorry about the lack of consistency with scaramouche's name. there are so many bloody things you can call that lil piece of shit

synopsis. under kusanali's order, you're in charge of scaramouche's domestication. for now, you've fallen sick with a tenacious cold, and as part of his 'training', scaramouche has to look after you.

contents. y/n has a cold (and the shivers), scaramouche being scaramouche, slight crack, fluff, and scaramouche screaming.

w.c. 2.2k

HEY HEY YOU CAN READ PART 2 HERE

You let out a prolonged, melodramatic groan. Colds suck. You were piled under blanket after blanket, nestled in amongst a halo of pillows, banished to your quarters near the Sanctuary of Surasthana. Despite being half buried alive, you were still trying your best not to shiver. Your fever has rotated to its chills period, and nothing was helping.

You sigh. The low-lit room and radio silence weren't helping your awful feeling. Curse human fragility and its ability to fall victim to microscopic beings not even really considered "alive".

"Augh, I feel like shit..."

The door slams open. "You look like shit." In walks Scaramouche—the man of many names—with a tray of food in hand and blankets strung over his slender shoulders like an oversized, pompous collar. Same as ever, he speaks with a sharp tongue. It's not so much sarcasm aimed at you rather than it simply being the puppet's nature.

"Yeah, thanks Bowlcut." You cough back in reply.

"How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?" He huffs, gently setting down the tray on a small table next to you, contrary to his grouchy demeanour. Next, he sheds himself of the blankets, sticking them at the foot of your bed.

"As many times as I've told you to not announce your arrival with 'n insult aimed a' me." You grunt out, voice stuffy and croaky from your sinuses feeling like they're about to blow up. "Try your opening line again, Bowlcut."

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, he belligerently changes his greeting. "I brought your food." He dramatically gestures to the table beside you, sarcastically showing off the dishes with the added pizzazz of some jazz hands.

"Much better." You pathetically sit up, cascades of green blankets falling off your form. The movement makes your wonky head spin slightly.

"If you don't hurry up and eat it, I'm gonna eat it myself." He pulls a chair up from behind him and sticks himself down on it, leaning back with one leg crossed on top of the other. "It smells good." He looks between you and the food expectantly.

"I'd love to be able to smell it, but unfortunately it feels like a slime's taken refuge in my sinuses right now." You shuffle over to the edge of the bed to get closer, still wrapped in a thick, fluffy blanket. You shudder at the loss of warmth. "Thanks for bringing my food, Scaramouche."

To your surprise, you're met with silence from him. Normally he has some sort of surly quip to fire back at anything you say, but not this time it seems. "...What're you gawking at?" He notices your blatant staring.

"You feeling alright? You're unusually quiet."

"I should be the one asking you that question." His half-assed sarcastic tone betrays his actual message with that line. He stares at some point on the floor in front of him, unable to meet your gaze. "I-it's— um... just..."

"Just what?" You blink, tilting your head slightly.

"Can you not call me that?" His voice is much quieter than normal. He sounds almost... defeated. A very uncharacteristic tone for someone who refuses to accept defeat (despite it being the only thing he's been faced with in recent times).

"You mean Sca—"

"Did you not hear what I just said?" He quickly cuts you off.

"Ah, sorry." You look down at the same spot on the floor for a moment. "What would you like to be called then?"

He doesn't answer, still looking downcast.

"I think I've heard you use Wanderer once. I could call you that."

"What? Don't call me that. I just said that because I couldn't think of anything to say to some rando, like... one time!" His expression is right back to his usual self: a look of confused contempt.

"What about your other name, Kunikuzushi? I could also call you a shortened version, like... Niku?"

"Do not call me that. Niku means 'meat'. Of all things, you picked out that?" He throws his arms up in response. "Kunikuzushi or whatever works, I guess... Just don't call me Scaramouche. Or Bowlcut. OR NIKU." Upon the final word, he crosses his arms over himself like a child having a tantrum. "Now eat your food or I'm gonna take the halva for myself and feed you the... other thing... myself."

"Alright, alright." You turn to look down at the food. As you've had with your past meals, there was a dessert side of Halvamazd, made specially by Nahida for you, but curiously, the main dish itself was different than the usual Sumeran cuisine. It looks like some sort of Inazuman dish that you're not sure you've ever seen before. You stare at it curiously, and he notices.

"What, do you not like it?" Kunikuzushi frowns, staring intently at your face. His voice is unexpectedly intense.

"Oh, nothing like that, I just wasn't expecting an Inazuman dinner today." You wave your hands around slightly beneath the blanket.

"I-if you wanna blame anyone, blame the Radish," he says, sitting back, crossing his arms again. "It was her idea..." He trails off suspiciously, looking off to the side.

With that reaction? "Yeah right."

"It was!" He exclaims defensively. "Gods, are you sure you're sick? You're still as annoying as ever."

"Either way, it looks really good. What is it?"

At your words, Kunikuzushi calms down with a sigh. "It's my take on chazuke. Rice with some tea poured on top, plus some toppings. I made it, so of course it's going to be delicious." He declares confidently, puffing his flat chest.

"You made it for me?"

He stops in his tracks, lavender eyes going wide once he realizes he just blew his nonexistent cover. He sputters out some unintelligible nonsense before ultimately slumping down and crossing his arms grumpily for the third time. "Yes. Yes, I did. There, are you happy? I made it for you and it was my idea."

"Thank you very much, Ku. It looks delicious." You smile warmly at him. He looks at you with wide eyes, expression almost unreadable. His mouth parts, maybe to say something in response, but nothing comes out.

You unsheathe your hands from the blanket and begin to eat the dish. While your senses of smell and taste have been dampened by the cold, you can still taste the softly bitter and sweet flavours of the dish dancing over your tongue. It's the perfect temperature, to boot. Hot, but still cool enough to not burn your already shredded throat. Because your appetite isn't quite what it normally is, the light dish hits just right. The whole time, Kunikuzushi carefully—almost nervously—watches you wolf down the dish.

Once you finish it, you place the bowl and utensils back on the tray. "That was so good. Exactly what I needed." You wrap the blanket back around yourself, pulling it tighter to try and preserve your limited warmth. "You'll have to make it for me again when I'm better so I can really appreciate the taste."

"...Sure." He says shortly. His response isn't curt like normal, but just... awkward. You sit there awkwardly as well, trying to gather up all your layers of blankets again to reassemble your blanket cocoon. You're putting in a bit too much effort to try and not shiver. Kunikuzushi watches you for a minute, and then wordlessly moves to pick up the extra blankets he brought from the end of the bed.

"Oh, than—" Instead of simply handing them to you like you thought he would, he layers you in them, wrapping them around you himself. He kneels on the bed, torso close to your head. As he piles on blanket after blanket, his hands brush all over your shoulders. He's so close that you can feel a faint warmth radiating off him. An idea cha cha slides into your head.

"You look all... not even pathetic, just sad when you're sick and cold."

You've been around the grumpy puppet long enough to know that what he's really saying is that he doesn't like seeing you look miserable. Once you're suitably wrapped, he places one final blanket on top, draping it over the top of your head like a hooded cloak or veil. He takes a step back to examine his blanket-wrapping handiwork. Suitably happy with it, he decides to return back to his chair. But before he can get too far, you manage to grab his slender wrist, earning a shocked sputter from him.

"The blankets aren't enough. I'm still cold."

"What?! What else could you possibly need to—"

"You can't get sick, right?"

"No, not from colds or viruses or whatever, hence why I'm he—wait, what're yo—" Kunikuzushi squints at you suspiciously, aware of sinister things lingering in the air.

"You're warm. Be my heater for a bit."

"H-has your fever turned you delusional?!"

"Probably." You try to suppress a shiver unsuccessfully. "But c'mon, you said that you wouldn't get sick. Please?" You look at him expectantly,

Kunikuzushi looks at you with all sorts of conflicting feelings flitting across his twitching, reddening face, bubbling up until he finally concedes with a massive sigh. "F-fine." He puffs, eyes completely avoiding your gaze. He's too embarrassed to look anywhere near you. "At least let me do something first..." He sits on the edge of the bed and sheds his loose-sitting kimono and robes, leaving them folded neatly on the edge. Now he's in just that semi-transparent undershirt and regular shorts.

You stare at him with slightly raised eyebrows.

"What? I don't wanna overheat." He frowns, turning away from your gaze slightly. "If you're really going to... c-cling to me or whatever, lose at least two of the blankets."

"But 'm cold."

"That's your brain gaslighting you into thinking you're cold. Your 'shivers' will dissipate once I'm under there with you. If you overheat, your brain will become even more fried, and then you'll be completely useless."

Now it's your turn to let out a massive sigh with a reluctant "Fiiiiine." The outer two layers of your blanket cocoon come off, discarded to the floor next to you. You shuffle back to your original position, lying under the covers, wrapped in blankets. Kunikuzushi shuffles up next to you, hesitates for a second and then pulls the new outer blanket up a little to sit it just on top of your head. That was the second time he did that.

"What's the point of that?"

"What?"

"Move the blanket on top of my head?"

"...Um. I... do it sometimes. I like the feeling of it. I don't know, I thought you might—"

Instead, you cut him off by reaching out and putting part of the blanket on top of his head as well. He immediately goes quiet with wide eyes.

"Come on heater, get under the blankets. You talk a lot."

He makes a miffed grunt and shuffles under the covers, finding his way through all the blankets until he was right against you. You rotate your body to face him for optimal surface area coverage and close your eyes with a content exhale.

The two of you remain like this for a while, you lying next to the slightly stiff but warm Kunikuzushi. He doesn't move much and is completely silent aside from the very faint sound of his gentle breath. (does he breathe? idk lol) He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he seems to loosen up a little. You smile faintly at the thought, but it's quickly wiped from your face and replaced with a confused frown because he turns to face you and places his chin on top of your head. You can feel his soft breath on top of your head. Your eyes are as wide as saucers, staring right at the view in front of you—his neck. But oh, he's not done. Next, he pulls you slightly closer to him and then takes your hand in his own and gently laces your fingers with his. Your heart is going to beat out of your chest.

Next, he begins to mutter to himself. There's absolutely no way he's asleep—he must think you're asleep.

"Damnit... Fuck you, (Y/N)..."

You have to try SO hard to remain silent and not get offended and hit him with 'Bowlcut', but the dizzying polarity between his actions and his words is enough to keep you silent for now.

"Making me feel all this shit... Not even the Radish really knows what these feelings are."

You blink, eyes wide. You feel a cough coming on. This is not good. Your cover's gonna be blown.

"You're gonna be the end of me. Toying with my already shattered heart like I'm your plaything... Your smile, now calling me Ku... all these promises and things you do... I want to hate you, but I can't."

You can't hold it in anymore. You quickly push off his chest and jerk your head in the opposite direction so you don't have a coughing fit right on his chest. When you finally finish and turn back around, you're faced with a red-faced Kunikuzushi, looking absolutely mortified.

"YOU WERE AWAKE THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME?!"

You bit your lips together awkwardly.

"AND YOU HEARD IT ALL?!"

You cough again. "Yep."

Instead of having a response that could somehow qualify as normal, his stare simply goes blank for a second until he proceeds to konk out, eyes closing and head flopping down onto the pillow.

He short-circuited.

#fr idk what the fuck this is lmfao #i just word vomited like i do with 90% of the shit i write #scaramouche x reader #genshin #genshin impact #scaramouche fluff #genshin x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #genshin fluff

[malice-ov-mercy]

Your Scent is Still Here in My Place of Recovery

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Content Warnings: 18+!, alcohol addiction, implied relapses, angst, mention of vomiting /very brief description of vomit,

A/N: sat on this for a while deciding if I was done with it or if I wanted to post it at all. don’t completely hate it, so I suppose I’ll let it see the light of day. took inspiration from a prompt and a lyric from Milk It by Nirvana. Prompt and prompt list can be found here

Prompt:

“I want to help you through this, I really do, just not as your girlfriend.”

Word count: 2.2k

Tag List: @circle-with-me @xxrainstorm @foliosriot @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @concretenoah @witchyweeb34 @agravemisstake @an-insane-day @lyschko666 @calisto-thoughts @emzandthevoid @shroomfairy24 @cncohshit @dominuslunae

If you would like to be added, please let me know for who! If you tell me everyone/everything, just know that includes anything I may write for Bad Omens AND/OR Lorna Shore!

Noah Masterlist

Once again, you were holding Noah’s hair back while he vomited the entirety of his stomach into the toilet. Wretching and dry heaving bounced off the walls of the small bathroom. Another late night and broken promise flushed down the drain. Your heart ached seeing him so ill and carelessly destroying himself.

Helplessly, you watched Noah drown. Every life preserver you tossed him only held him above water barely long enough to keep him from death. He struggled to hold his weight and float. It drained you both.

“Fuck…” Noah coughed.

He pushed himself away from the toilet and leaned against the wall, his breathing heavy and staggered. Tears streaked his face. Dark circles lined his sunken eyes. Cold sweat beaded on his brows. Tremors rippled through his weak, sickly pale body.

You stared dejectedly at the stranger inhabiting the shell Noah abandoned. The dark brown eyes that you loved so much were now just voids of emotionless black, absorbing all the life and light that remained of him.

“Noah, I can’t do this anymore.” Surprised by your own words, you stood and tried to put as much distance between you and him as possible.

Noah squinted and blinked repeatedly as if he didn’t hear you.

“Do what?”

“This.” You gestured between you and him. “Us.”

“What?” Confusion and hurt creased his expression.

“I want to help you through this, I really do,” A knot formed in your throat. “Just not as your partner.”

Heavy silence sucked all the air out of the room, suffocating you both. The dull buzz of the bathroom light grated against your ears. Noah stared blankly at you, vacant and emotionless.

“You’re breaking up with me?” He said flatly.

Noah grabbed the toilet and heaved once more, expelling more of his stomach. You grimaced seeing the color, hoping the red tinge was just from the color of the copious amount of alcohol and food.

“You’ve broken one too many promises, Noah. I’ve been as patient and understanding as I possibly can.”

“So you’re just going to abandon me? Leave me here to deal with this by myself?” He peered up at you through tear stained lashes.

It hurt to see him so broken and frail. You wished you could snap your fingers and fix him, put all his discarded pieces back together and get your Noah back—but you couldn’t. He needed more help than you were capable of giving.

“I’ve tried, but you’re shutting me out and letting me down at every turn. This isn’t fair to me.”

“Not fair to you? You’re not the sick one here! It’s me!” Noah raised his voice, causing you to flinch. “You’re supposed to be helping me, giving me support! Not abandoning me in my time of need!”

“I love you, but I have to love you from a distance. I’m sorry.”

Noah scoffed. “No you aren’t and no you don’t.”

His harsh words pierced your heart.

“Get out.”

“Noah—“

“GET. OOOUUTTTT!!!” He shouted with such force, his body shook.

You hurried out of the bathroom and gently closed the door behind you. A gut wrenching, agony filled scream chilled you to the bone and your heart began to crumble. The pieces wanted to rush back to him, cradle his cold body close and apologize profusely and take everything back. But your mind held you in place, torturing you by listening to Noah wail as he lost the last sliver of his sanity.

The walls of your shared bedroom didn’t feel like home anymore. Pictures of happier memories mocked you. Little did the people in those photos know their shining smiles and bright eyes full of once unconditional love would come to a screeching halt, blindsided by a crippling disease.

A cacophony of noise in the bathroom startled you. Noah was destroying it. Your heart shattered along with the mirror. You did all you could, but in the end, it proved fruitless. Watching Noah wither away killed you.

Tears in your eyes, you reached for your phone and texted Nicholas. It wasn’t your fault, but guilt still ate away at you.

The storm raging outside did little to quell Noah’s mind. He’d been here for less than two weeks and he felt sicker than ever. Withdrawals were wreaking havoc. A permanent stomach ache constantly plagued him; his body couldn’t decide if it wanted to be as hot as the fiery pits of Hell or colder than the ice age. His chest ached in ways he didn’t know was humanly possible.

Lightning flashed outside followed by earth shattering thunder. He watched the rain pelt the window, praying it would break through and flood his room, washing him away. His world felt so minuscule and meaningless. Another barrage of thunder and lightning lit the sky and shook the walls. The white noise of the air conditioning that Noah sought solace in kicked off, as did the lights outside.

Grumbling, he crawled out of bed. His joints protested with every step, body bogged down by sleep deprivation. Leaves and other debris whizzed past his window. The storm reminded him of home, but nowhere near as rowdy as the summer storms he was used to.

Home. Noah didn’t know where home was anymore. It certainly wasn’t this facility and nothing waited for him in Virginia. All that remained in his house was hurt and temptation.

Here, he had a fresh start, a promise of sobriety if he cared enough to try.

The generator to the building buzzed to life, slicing the nostalgic silence surrounding Noah. A shiver crept up his spine as the cool air tickled his exposed back. He tore himself away from the drenched madness out his window and trudged to his dresser. His drawers were mostly bare. Nicholas promised to bring him more of his clothes by the end of the week.

Through the darkness of his room, his eyes landed on an unfamiliar shirt. He squinted at the crumpled fabric and reached for it. As he unfolded the shirt, an overwhelming sense of nausea washed over him. Things he’d rather forget filled his head.

It belonged to you, one of the very few times you left behind when you abandoned him. Noah didn’t remember packing it. He wasn’t sure how didn’t notice it before now either. A whirlwind of emotions surged through him. Regret. Anger. Hatred. Sadness. Sympathy. Shame.

Noah couldn’t recall the last time you crossed his mind or how long it’s been since he saw you. His days blurred together at some point. He knew how long he’d been confined here though and how long he would be stuck here.

He brought the shirt to his nose and inhaled. His heart ached.

Somehow it still smelled like you.

“Coffee for Noah!”

Noah glanced up from his phone and turned his head towards the counter. The barista smiled brightly at him, his coffee in her hand. He returned the gesture, pocketing his phone and walking to the counter.

“You coming to the meeting tonight?” She asked, handing him his drink.

“Can’t.” Noah dug around in his pocket for loose bills. “I have prior obligations.”

The barista frowned. “Boo. Now how am I supposed to enjoy my evening?”

Noah chuckled lightly. He shoved a handful of loose change in the tip jar, not caring about the size of the bills.

“Take your girlfriend. I’m sure she’d love to be bored to death.”

“Actually, she’s my fiancé now.” She said proudly, holding out her hand and displaying her ring.

A pang stabbed his chest for some reason. He hadn’t felt that in a long while—or thought about it. Despite his sudden mood shift, Noah congratulated her and promised to make the next meeting.

As he made his way to the exit, a curious and familiar head of hair got caught in his periphery. Noah’s brows furrowed as he studied the color of their hair. His heart rate picked up. There was no possible way it was the same. It couldn’t be. A voice deep in the recesses of his mind told him to approach them. His legs started moving in their direction before he had time to think about it. The closer he got, the more his heart resonated with the color.

A scent he long ago forgot permeated his nose, seeping into him and filling in pieces he didn’t know were empty.

“Uh, excuse me,” Noah said.

The person looked up from their laptop. Their expression was that of someone who saw a ghost.

“Noah…”

He smiled softly. His name always sounded divine in your voice.

“Hi.”

A grape vine told him that you left home sometime after his first rehab visit. He didn’t expect to see you in California, let alone in Los Angeles or in his favorite coffee shop. Your hair was shorter than he remembered. Maybe you cut it. But you looked just as radiant as ever. He was happy to see life back in your eyes instead of the dullness he caused.

You stared at him, a mix of surprise and panic blending in your stomach. His long locks were long gone. The short locks were tied in a bun. A few rebellious wavy strands escaped, falling softly just at his temples.

“You cut your hair,” was all you could say.

Noah chuckled, the sound light and airy.

“Yeah. I got tired of washing it.” The smile he gave you made your heart flutter.

“It looks good. I mean, what I can see of it anyway. So do you. You look… healthy.” You fumble over your words.

His expression softened. “Thank you. I am.”

Silence invaded the lull in conversation. You stared at each other, not sure how to proceed.

Something weighed heavily in Noah’s mind. He was crunched for time, but he couldn’t leave, not now. Not with you right in front of him.

As if you read his mind, you gestured to the seat in front of you. “Do you want to sit?”

You closed your laptop as Noah sat across from you and set his drink on the table.

“How have you been?” Noah asked, linking his fingers together and leaning forward.

The late morning sun cast a soft glow behind him. He looked infinitely better than how you left him. Intense and dark purple circles no longer bruised his eyes. Color returned to his skin, and the dreadful darkness in his irises was gone. California had been so kind to him.

“(Y/N)?”

His gentle call of your name snapped you out of your daydream.

“Sorry.” You laughed, slightly embarrassed. “Uh, I’ve been good. Busy with work and other life things. How about you?”

Noah puffed his cheeks. “It’s been a rollercoaster, honestly. But despite everything, I’m doing well. I’ve done a lot of growing. Lots of therapy on top of finally getting sober.”

Resting your chin in your hand, you smiled softly at him. “That’s wonderful, Noah. I'm proud of you.”

His cheeks flushed. He grabbed his coffee to try and hide behind it.

Silence once again filled the space between you. You looked past Noah to the busy afternoon bustle outside. People hurried along to their jobs or appointments, friends and couples laughed joyously with each other. Businessmen buried their noses in their phones. You wondered about their lives, if they were as tumultuous as yours and Noah’s had once been.

You could feel Noah staring at you, burning into the side of your face. He kept his gaze fixed on you as you gave your attention back to him. There was more lurking in his dark eyes, but you couldn’t decipher what. Whatever it was was eating away at him, that much you knew. Even after all the time you’ve been apart, you still read him like a book, one you memorized every word of.

“What’s wrong, Noah?” You furrowed your brows.

Noah rapped his fingers on his cup then sighed. Setting it down, he reached across the table and silently asked for your hand. You placed yours gently in his. He fixed his eyes on your joined hands, his thumb smoothing over your knuckles.

“I’m sorry.” Remorse and sorrow saturated his voice.

“Noah—“

“No, let me finish.”

Noah scooted further up his seat. His other hand clasped your intertwined hands.

“I put you through hell and I’m immensely regretful for everything. You didn’t deserve any of it. Especially that night. I was so far away from who you first met and I couldn’t see that then.”

Tears welled in your eyes. Noah squeezed your hands.

“Part of my recovery has been recognizing and apologizing for all the hurt and pain I caused everyone. I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’ve learned that’s something I have to earn, but I just need you to know that I am sorry. For everything.”

You stare at your hands. His ink covered, shaky hands were warm, a stark contrast to the ice you remembered. You didn’t doubt the sincerity or genuineness of his words, but the shake of his hands poked at the unpleasant memories.

“Thank you.” You whispered. “I appreciate the apology. I-I’m sorry for leaving you at your lowest.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, (Y/N). Leaving was the best thing you did for both of us. I would have dragged you down with me.”

His words broke the dam in your eyes. Noah stood and hurried to your side, crouching down and tightly grasped your hand. His free hand brushed away the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’ve spent years thinking of how I could possibly make it up to you,” Noah stared deeply in your eyes, his thumb gently stroking the apple of your cheek, “if you’ll let me, I’d love to make up for lost time.”

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic

[perzawa]

BEFORE I LET GO | 2.2K

OCT 5TH: AGE GAP

kinktober masterlist

♡ toji fushiguro x fem! reader

relationships are hard enough when there are no stakes, but it’s even harder when you’re dating your best friend’s father. you never expected things to get more difficult than that, but when you only have 24 hours before you’re on the other side of the world, you can’t help but wonder if such a relationship can even last.

♡ warnings/tags! toji is like early 40’s here and the reader is like early 20’s, toji is megumi’s dad, reader is studying abroad, public sex, sex in the woods lol, unprotected sex, fingering, kinda angsty but not toooo bad

“C’mon, relax.”

Your eyes are still stuck to the car floor, nails lightly scraping your skin as your boyfriend's words kind of wash over you. Tomorrow, you'll be miles away from him for what feels like forever, and it's all you can think about. You try to hold off on the waterworks until you're on the plane or, better yet, not in the same room as Toji, but the reality of being apart hits you hard.

Trying is pointless now, so you give up. You chew your lip as hot tears silently make their way down your cheeks, and you attempt to distract your mind. Your stomach's in knots, your head's pounding from all the stress you've been wrestling with. God, you weren't prepared for this. Breathing feels like a neverending chore, and you’re fucking sick of it. Feels like you’ve been on a rollercoaster and you might vomit any minute now. Just when you're lost in that sensation, Toji's fingers on your thigh draw you back until you’re focused on him.

He stole a glance at your pitiful state and scowled. “You’re gonna make yourself sick. Stop.”

He's shattered, just like you. Despite his efforts to hold it together and keep you grounded, there's something in you that senses he's crumbling on the inside. You nod, letting out a sigh. "I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry," you groan, smacking your palm against your forehead a few times. "I’m just scared. I'm so damn scared, Toji, I don't know what to do."

You remember being so excited when the topic of studying abroad first came to your mind. Having been sheltered most of your life, you figured it was time to get out there and go a little wild once you graduated, but you never expected to fall in love along the way.

Especially not with your best friend’s father.

Right now, you should be with him. Both of you should be smoking in his room and flipping through pictures of you both in middle school, but instead, you’re with his fucking father. It’s almost sick to you how big of a secret you’ve been keeping from your closest companion, but you knew it’d kill him if he ever found out about your relationship—and it’s not like you blamed him either. If you’d been close to someone for this long and you found out she was fucking your father, you know you’d raise hell so this was no difference.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, baby,” he said, cutting the silence with his deep voice. “Just tell me what’s going on up there, pretty girl.” He kept his eyes on the road, steering with one hand while the other stayed solid on your thigh. For as long as you’ve known the man, he’s always been a stoic man who never had an issue with staying calm, but the grip he had on the wheel was a new side of him.

After a while, you spoke with a meek and broken voice. "I just... God, I don't want to leave you. You understand that, right?" You gazed out of the window, watching as Toji navigated through a path in the dark forests of your city. It was the last time you'd be able to visit your spot for a few years. "And Megumi, too. I feel like such a bitch for what I'm doing to him, Toji. I shouldn't... we shouldn't be doing this."

He just stayed silent, pulling into a parking area not too deep in the forest. Once he stopped the car, he breathed out a heavy sigh before hanging his head for a minute to think, retracting his large hand from your thigh. “Fuck, I know. I know how you feel, I do,” Toji started, shutting his eyes tight. “I know because I feel the same. But there’s nothing wrong with you falling in love with someone, is there? Father or not, it shouldn’t matter.”

“Maybe, but you know how this looks for us…” You looked into his dark green eyes, the shining jade pigment sending a wave of relief through your tired body. The vibrant hue held a deep, almost mystical quality, reminiscent of emeralds bathed in sunlight. Flecks of darker green and hints of gold danced within, creating an intricate pattern that seemed to shift with every blink. He’s so fucking beautiful. You couldn’t begin to comprehend just how much you’d miss seeing him every night. How much you’d miss sneaking around and kissing those beautiful scarred lips. There was nothing okay with falling in love with your best friend’s dad, but you couldn’t help it. You never asked for this.

Toji nodded, his gaze focused on you. “I know, but let's not dwell on this anymore,” he murmured, his hand gently squeezing your arm. “Tonight, I just want us to be together peacefully, okay? We can tackle the tough stuff another time.” With that, he left the car, walking over to your size to let you out as well.

Your last night together.

The least you could do was let it be peaceful. The walk to your favorite river was painfully slow, consisting of you trudging behind Toji and dragging your feet almost slothfully. The only light illuminating your path was the soft glow of the moon, making it a little difficult to find your way in the beginning but you soon found yourself standing in front of a steep river. Memories of your first night here with Toji resurfaced, causing a small grin to twitch on your face. It was a night for a lot of firsts. Your first kiss, your first time… it was an easier time.

Everything seemed so simple then.

Toji sat by the river, stretching his legs until his shoes nearly touched the dark, glowing water. He glanced up at you, observing as you settled down beside him, crossing your legs. A soft sigh escaped you as you gazed ahead, tuning in to the gentle flow of the water. You yearned to be like the river—serene, a graceful body of water simply existing peacefully. No struggles or worries, just living.

“Fuck, baby,” Toji finally groaned, playfully bumping his shoulder into yours. “I’m gonna miss you so much. You better call me every day,” he demanded, a small grin stretching on his lips despite the inner turmoil he was still feeling. No matter how lonely he’d be without you, all he wanted was for you to achieve the dream you’d been thinking about for years now. It was time for you to break free from the cocoon your parents had trapped you in and live a little.

“You better not start getting too friendly with other girls,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him. At that, Toji laughed hard before smashing his lips against your soft ones. He let out a gentle noise, his hand reaching to squeeze your waist before he hesitantly pulled away.

“Doesn’t matter if you’re gone for two years or two decades. You know you’re not gettin’ rid of me that easily.” He clasped your hand, giving it a tight squeeze before pressing it gently to his lips, his rough scar grazing your skin. Regardless of the complexities in your relationship, the thought of living without him was unimaginable. He wasn't just Megumi's father anymore; he belonged to you. The distance of the ocean couldn't alter that.

“Besides,” he continued, pulling you into his lap. “We’ll always have holidays, won’t we? This isn’t over. We aren’t over.” His lips were on you moments after, moving in a slow but messy harmony. Small grunts escaped you both as his tongue forced itself into your mouth, tangling with yours. Strings of saliva began escaping, dripping down your chin and neck - but you didn’t care. You couldn’t. It would be like a million eternities before you were able to feel him against you like this again.

Finally, you pulled away, your bottom lip glossy with his saliva as you panted softly. Tomorrow, you’d be in a place making your way across the ocean for two whole years.

You only had tonight.

“Right here, Toji,” you started, quickly pulling your shirt over your head before you finished explaining. “Need you right now. We don’t have long, so just… just take me now,” you rushed, pressing kisses to his neck and lips.

You lay down on the grass, pushing your skirt up to expose your black panties, body aching for his gentle touch. Toji wasted no time in getting your panties down to your ankles and then to the ground, his thick fingers pressing against your clit. He sighed, dragging the tip of his middle and ring finger through your slick folds, starting from your clit and then down to your entrance.

Slowly, he eased those fingers inside, burying them as deep as he could before pulling them out, witnessing how soaked you were. “I bet she’s gonna miss me the most, huh?” He asked rhetorically before slowly thrusting his slick-coated digits into your heated depths, listening for every moan and whimper you blessed his ears with.

“Yeah… don’t know what I’m gonna do without your tongue or fingers,” you rasped, rolling your hips as he pumped his hand inside, moving down to lick and kiss your sensitive neck. He continues moving against your bumpy walls, his darkened eyes watching you in the moonlight. You were always such a wreck for him and so easily too.

His fingers suddenly curled his fingers upwards, pressing into that spongy spot that you both loved so much. With trembling legs, you began subconsciously attempting to close your thighs but he wouldn’t allow it. It was embarrassing hearing your own soaked pussy being fingered and it was showing too. Your cheeks and body felt even hotter now, making you turn your head away from him. Your back arched off the ground as you began twitching around him, a wave of heat filling your lower abdomen as you began to get closer.

Closer…

“Oh, no,” Toji teased with a chuckle as he quickly retracted his soaked digits, sucking your juices from them without caring about how dirty the action was. “When you cum, I wanna feel it.”

You pouted, perching yourself on your elbows. “Asshole.”

Toji only smirked, unzipping his black jeans slowly before pulling his hardened cock out. He hissed from the feeling of his fingers on his neglected cock, squeezing his length in an attempt to replicate how you’d feel around him. It was almost too much now; The ache between your legs, the tears still threatening to fall from your eyes, and the way your boyfriend felt as he began sliding inside of you

He groaned, bottoming out against your cervix with practiced ease. His cock was throbbing inside of you, making it difficult for you to not cum on the spot. His hands found their way to your hips, his nails sinking into your skin as he began thrusting inside. He dragged his cock against your soaked walls, setting a slow, but deep pace. Embarrassment is clear on your features from the way your body reacts to him so perfectly. Like even your body knows you are his now and forever. He pulled out almost completely before pushing back in, intoxicated by the sounds of your moans. “Oh, baby, fuck,” he whispered with a rough voice as he threw his head back, pounding into your abused cunt even harder. “You feel so fuckin’ good… gonna miss this pussy so much.”

The sound of his hips meeting yours made him twitch inside of you again. “But she’s all mine, right? This cunt,” he rasped, emphasizing his words by pulling out and thrusting into you roughly. “belongs to me. Say it.”

“All yours, Toji. Don’t want anyone else,” you cried out into his neck as his fingers pinched your sensitive clit, dragging a loud moan from the depths of your throat.

“There you go, pretty girl. Give it to me. Show me how much that pretty pussy belongs to me,” he praised, taking your button between his fingers as he stroked it, coaxing an orgasm from you. It wasn’t long before his heavy balls were tight and sensitive, revealing how ready he was to finally pump his seed inside of you.

With a loud moan, you came hard around his cock, your pussy tightening on him so much, you almost pushed him out. His eyebrows furrowed as he focused on his own orgasm, basking in the way you gripped his cock like your pussy couldn’t possibly live without it ‐ like you were fucking made to be fucked by his cock. He thrust inside of you a few more times, his strokes lazy and uncoordinated as he finally spilled his hot, white liquid all over your bumpy walls.

“Making a mess all over my cock,” he growled, burying himself to your hilt before pulling out, denying you the feeling of fullness. He collapsed beside you, both of you panting, sweating messes. There was nothing scarier than losing the one man you truly loved, but if your relationship was meant to be, you knew it’d last. “Such a good girl…”You turned your head to look at his barely visible state with a gentle smile.

Everything would be okay because you were his and he was yours.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk hcs #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji headcanons #toji hcs #toji fushiguro hcs #toji fushiguro headcanons #kinktober #kinktober masterlist

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2023: October 28th

Day 28: Cuckolding, Aphrodisiacs, Temperature Play

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Restraints, gags, cuckolding, forced voyeurism, threats of violence, oral sex (male receiving), taunting, crying, vomiting, vaginal sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, cream pie

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Joel has never liked you man. Never. From the moment you and him hit town, he had known what type of man he was. He was slimy, unreliable, a cheat. Not only were those eyes of his wandering, but he was a greedy son of a bitch who had viewed himself as some sort of prize and had managed to convince someone like you that you needed him around. 

“You’re gonna sit right there and watch.” The fury in Joel’s tone makes the man struggle against the gag. His hands tightly bound behind his back and his body secured to the chair in his apartment. His lips hover near his ears and it’s too bad that the small, wicked smirk that he gives is seen by no one but you. “You fucked me out of my payment, Ben. What you owe me, now I’m going to get it other ways.” 

The muffled scream of protest is ignored as Joel straightens and saunters over to where you are waiting. He had come to you for payment and had been surprised when you had offered so much more than the credits that he had been promised. Nothing you offered had been worth anything, until you had finally offered him the one thing he couldn’t refuse. Yourself. 

Joel has a reputation. He’s a mean son of a bitch. Ruthless. It worked for him. The fact that few fucked with him, that the FEDRA agents even were wary around him, helped him survive. Let him do the things that he needed to do. He should have refused. Should have said that your pussy wasn’t worth the credits he was owed, but he would be lying. To you and to himself. 

He wants you. He wants to touch you and apparently you want to get away from the son of a bitch you are with. The fact that you were willing to let Joel completely ruin you in front of him, well that’s just icing on the cake. Ben had fucked Joel out of credits. Joel was going to fuck you and fuck him out of his woman. It was a fair trade in his mind. 

He listens as Ben struggles, shouting through the dirtiest cloth he could find to wrap around the fucker’s face. Knowing those ropes are cutting into his wrists, hearing the creaking of the chair but he knows it will hold. 

“She’s a pretty woman, Ben.” The hardness in his gaze softens slightly as he reaches out to cup your face, to touch you. “You should have known that if you fucked someone over, they were going to want her.” He looks back towards the man who is still struggling against his fate. “Now you’re gonna watch me take her.”

Your shiver draws his head back towards you and he looks down at you again. His silent question is private between the two of you. Despite being a somewhat cruel man in appearance, there are lines he will not cross and sexual force isn’t one of them.

Inhaling, you nod, your reasons for doing this are your own and he hadn’t questioned that. Just if you were serious and what you wanted him to do if you were. 

“Now, your man owes me a lot of credits, and I’m going to get satisfaction. One way or another.” He growls, his voice rough and uncaring. His hand tightens on your jaw as he lifts your chin. “First, you’re gonna suck my dick.” He informs you. “Then I’m gonna fuck in you in front of your piece of shit, cheatin’, swindling man.” 

Ben doesn’t need to know that Joel actually showered for this. In the man’s own shower, to make sure that he was clean. That you had told him that you wanted to get away from Ben but you never had the means. If he would get you away, ‘take you as payment’, that you wanted to do this. As a means of getting back at the bastard for his apparent sins. Whatever went on between the two of you hadn’t been pretty, but Joel didn’t pry. Wasn’t his business. 

He lets go of your chin when you nod and reaches for his zipper. The fact that you were already naked, already spread out on the bed when your man had walked in the door had been a calculated move. One that distracted him long enough to let Joel overpower him. Plus it was easy to get to the fuckin’ when you’re already undressed. 

Pulling out his hard cock, Joel groans as he pumps himself. “Didn’t think that I would get anything more than the pleasure of breakin’ your knee caps. Or maybe your hand. Hadn’t decided yet, but this mouth? This pussy?” He smirks and looks over at Ben’s wide, angry eyes. “Might be worth losin’ the credits you fucked me out of.” He tells him as he shuffles closer and grabs the back of your head. “Open up, little girl.” He orders, purposefully using the nickname that you had confided Ben had an affinity for. 

The angry, harsh shouting from behind the gag is ignored, the soft heat of your tongue distracting him. Making him groan when you run your tongue over the head of his cock and give him a pleasure that’s been a long fucking time since he’s enjoyed it. “Fuck.” He spits, watching your tongue circle the head and draw him into your mouth, starting to take him deep on the first pass. Your teeth slightly scraping just enough to make him hiss, but it feels good. 

He’s so distracted by the heat of your mouth, the way you take him deep until your nose is pressed against the hair above his cock that he doesn’t watch Ben. He’s forgotten for a moment until he hears a whimper. 

Looking over see the man closing his eyes, trying to block out the filthy, wet, sucking sounds as you give blowing Joel your all. 

“Open your fuckin’ eyes before I pop them out of your fuckin’ skull.” Joel barks, making you moan around him at the authority in his voice and Ben’s eyes spring open. Horrified that Joel might actually do that. “Watch how eagerly she sucks my cock.” He chuckles darkly, reaching down and grabbing the back of your head to start rocking his hips forward. Pushing deeper into your mouth. “When was the last time she sucked yours? Been a while, hasn’t it? That why she’s trying to suck my soul out? Needed a cock in her pretty mouth?” He huffs. “Sounds like you aren’t man enough to pay your debts or satisfy your woman.” 

 You moan around him, letting him push deep, his cock down your throat and he can tell you are enjoying it. Especially when you slide one hand between those pretty thighs to rub your clit. Joel groans in approval. Tears are leaking down your cheeks, but you are taking his dick like a pro. He wonders how long you had imagined cuckolding your man. Way too eager in suggesting this, and you keep glancing over at where he is tied to the chair. 

“Fuck, I should cum down your throat.” Joel grunts, twitching in your mouth at the idea. “But I want to fill your pussy up. Have you drip my cum while you walk around this apartment.” He knows you are leaving the asshole, but it drives the nail in deeper. 

Tears are sliding down Ben’s cheeks when he looks back over, making him smirk. “Is it worth it?” He taunts. “A few credits? You could have just paid me.” 

A gasping sob that is barely audible in answer has him huffing and Joel lets go of your head to pull his hips back. Pulling his cock out of your mouth. “On your knees, little girl. Give him a prime view.” 

You shuffle to your knees and Joel moves behind you. Making sure that Ben can see everything. You had wanted him to see everything. You had told Joel to fuck you rough. That you wanted to scream. He’s man enough to get a woman what she wants, and he pumps his cock again, wet with your saliva. 

“Fuck, such a pretty cunt.” He slaps your ass and looks back up at Ben once more. “Gonna look real good split open on my cock.” 

Guiding himself towards your entrance, there’s a renewed struggle from the chair a few feet away. The hopeless fighting that makes Joel grin as he pushes into your tight pussy in a rough thrust, making you shriek in pleasure. 

“Shiiiiiiiiiit.” Once he’s buried to the hilt, Joel immediately starts fucking you. Harsh, hard thrusts that push you forward and make your tits sway. Giving it to you exactly how you said you wanted it, Joel bares his teeth, watching his cock fuck into you as he holds onto your hips in a bruising grip. 

You seem to love it, your pussy clamps down on him so tight he thinks he’s gonna blow prematurely and your shouts of pleasure are loud. Loud enough that the people around you will hear. It’s not Ben’s name you are shouting, it’s Joel’s.

Ben is sobbing, forgotten in that chair while he watches you get fucked by Joel. Your face twisting in pleasure every time the bastard thrusts into you and he has rubbed his wrists to the point where they are raw. Unable to stop this. Unable to stop you from fucking this…monster. 

Joel groans, making sure that every thrust slaps against your ass, his balls hitting your clit and making you moan when he pushes your head down to the bed you are kneeling on. Giving this everything he’s got and fucking loving it. 

Your eyes are on Ben, watching him sob and cry. Making it even better when they roll back in your head when Joel’s cock hits deep and you moan again. Letting him see how much you are enjoying being fucked by the man he had fucked over. Sweet revenge. 

“Gonna, fuck, gonna knock off a few credits of your debt.” Joel tells Ben. “For every nut I bust inside your woman.” 

Ben retches, nearly throwing up behind the rag tied around his head and it makes Joel chuckle as he continues to jack hammer his cock into your cunt. You were right that he would find it disgusting. Somehow territorial about cum. 

“Maybe I should make you eat it out of her.��� He grunts, making your cunt clamp down around him at the thought. He smirks and feels that he’s getting closer, so he pulls you up to your elbows and then up against his chest. 

His grip on you is tight, harsh. One hand sliding down to your clit to rub it as both of you watch Ben. “You gonna cum for me, little girl?” The growl in your ear is meant just for you. He wants you to cum. To be completely satisfied while you’re being fucked in front of your man. “Gonna soak my cock and cover it in your sweet pussy juices? Let me wear you all day?” 

Your eyes roll back again and you gasp out a “Yes!” right before scream his name. Your cunt clamping down around him and your body twitching against his as you soak his cock in those juices he had been talking about. 

“Fuck, fuck.” Joel hisses, his own pace faltering, hips stuttering as he gets close to his own orgasm. “Gonna fill you up. Gonna wreck this little cunt.” 

The retching continues, but Joel is too lost in the beginnings of his own orgasm. Pumping into you in short, shallow thrusts until he is grinding deep. Painting your walls with hot ropes of cum as he groans harshly. Exhausted and completely blissed out as you take his cum in your still trembling cunt. 

He might have actually thrown up and had to swallow it. Ben’s face is screwed up in disgust and horror and to Joel’s utter amusement, he’s either pissed his pants or cum in them. He’s not going to find out, but it just solidifies how big a piece of shit this guy is when he finally opens his eyes again and sees the man sitting there. He looks so defeated. 

Joel squeezes your hip gently and pulls out of you, slapping you on the ass as you fall forward and he can see his cum dripping out of your cunt. He hums in approval and shuffles off the bed, tucking his wet cock away. 

“Get your stuff.” He tells you, making Ben’s eyes snap back over to him and he smirks at the shake of the man’s head. “Decided she’s comin’ with me. You don’t deserve a pussy that good.” He saunters over and grabs the back of Ben’s hair and yanks his head back while you scramble to dress and grab your things. You had already packed them, but that’s besides the point. 

“Shouldn’t have fucked with me, Ben.” Joel growls harshly. “Now, now I’ve fucked your woman.” He tells him darkly. “And I think I’m gonna continue fuckin’ her. You, you’re gonna sit right here and think about things. Might let you out of that chair in a day or so, might let you die in it.” He chuckles. “Haven’t decided yet.”  

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel the last of us

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Blackout

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~2.2k

Summary: You get your first taste of expensive tequila

A/N: Enjoy!

Warnings: drinking, slight angst, jealousy, vomiting  

It’s the incessant buzzing noise that pulls a reluctant Wanda from a deep sleep. She groans in annoyance as she rolls over and tries to pull the covers over her head to block out the sound.

Last night had been a lot. She isn’t exactly sure how a simple dinner with you and her friends had gotten so out of hand. She’d known better than to go along with her brother’s plan to play drunken truth or dare, but you’d seemed interested. Since she was still in the phase of your relationship where she did everything you wanted, she’d gone with it. Now that her head is pounding and her mouth tastes like expensive liquor, she wishes that she’d said no to you. She doesn’t even remember a lot of last night, but she knows that she’s not ready to think about it.

“Turn it off!”

Wanda frowns at the muffled voice and she forces herself to sit up and look for the buzzing phone. She spots her brother’s mussed hair first and she frowns in confusion when she realizes that she’s not in her room. She looks around and sees the mess of clothes strewn everywhere and dishes stacked on the dresser beneath the television. She looks back down to her brother and sees that he’s shifted to turn the alarm off himself. She barely notices this and instead focuses on the fact that they’re both shirtless and for some reason in bed together.

“What the hell? Why am I here and what happened to my shirt??”

Wanda’s looking around for her discarded clothes as Pietro groans and hides back underneath the covers. He remembers more than his sister apparently because the last thing they’d done before blacking out was jump in the swimming pool for some reason.

“You took it off ‘cause it was wet.”

As if this answered Wanda’s question she groans under her breath before finding her shirt is indeed still soaked. She has no idea why but she’s not going to worry about that right now. Her head is spinning and she has to squeeze her eyes shut as she stops mid-step and takes a deep breath.

“I don’t even want to know. I’m going to look for Y/n.”

Pietro just groans again before falling back into bed to sleep off the rest of his hangover. He shouldn’t have brought out the expensive tequila last night, or at the very least he shouldn’t have had so much of it.

Wanda stumbles out of her brother’s room with another groan as she clutches her dripping shirt to her chest. She looks both ways but there’s no sign of anyone so she just heads for her rooms. She figures you’re there, but she honestly doesn’t know what to expect after last night.

You’d only been to the compound a couple of times, but Wanda had invited you for dinner last night with her friends and you’d jumped on the opportunity. You were nervous of course, but you wanted to spend time with Wanda and get to know those closest to her. You hadn’t realized what you were in for when Pietro brought out a bottle of expensive booze. You didn’t drink much and you definitely overdid it because you somehow finished up the night in the pool downstairs in all of your clothes.

You realize when you wake up that your hair is still wet, and you groan under your breath at how fuzzy your head feels and how upset your stomach is. You don’t have enough energy to get up and find a glass of water, or pain medication, so you just snuggle closer to the body that’s in bed beside you. You breathe in deeply as Wanda shifts in her sleep, and you pull her closer before burying your face in her hair.

It takes longer than it should for you to realize something’s off, but you blame the amount of alcohol you had the night before. You’re still stunned that you’d managed to make it to the right room, but you realize later that this had less to do with you and more to do with your escort.

Nat had been the least drunk of everyone, but she had still been more than her normal tipsy. She’d watched as all of her friends had jumped or been pushed into the pool, but she sat at the edge and decided to play life guard for her too drunk friends. You’d been floating on your back and doing flips occasionally as Pietro kept trying to drown his sister. She eventually jumped on his back and tried to return the favor before you’d swam to the edge of the pool and tried to drag her in.

Needless to say you’d failed, but by the time you’d jumped out you’d been so drunk that you nearly fell on the cold concrete floor. You’d clung to Nat while calling Wanda to let her know that you were going to bed. She didn’t hear you but at some point, she turned and saw you walking away with the other redhead and she’d jumped out of the pool to follow. Rather she’d dragged herself out and almost tripped on the way to the door, and her brother wasn’t too far behind.

You’d left Wanda who went to make sure her brother ended up in the right place, and let Nat lead you to Wanda’s rooms. You were still soaking wet and only half dressed, and you’d shown very little interest in getting changed. Nat watched you collapse on your bed before sneaking under the covers with a loud groan. You’d started shivering and held your arms out as you waved her toward you.

“I’m cold. Come cuddle.”

This is all you had to say and Nat obediently got under the covers and tried to warm you up. You really were freezing, and she’d tried to leave and find another blanket to drape over you, but you’d latched onto her and made this near impossible.

Now that Nat was awake and far more sober than you, she realized that she should leave and look for Wanda. She’s not sure where she ended up, but the sound of the door opening makes her want to jump out of bed. You realize that the unfamiliar scent is Nat’s shampoo only seconds before the bedroom door is pushed open. Your body moves much slower than your brain and you’re unfortunately holding Nat close as Wanda walks into the bedroom.

All she sees is you half-dressed clinging to Nat, and she kind of loses it. The fact that Nat is fully dressed is probably the only reason that Wanda doesn’t try to drag you out of bed. She immediately regrets the volume of her voice as both of you cringe, and you jump in surprise.

“What the hell?! Y/n, get up!”

You jump clumsily to your feet, only to double over and squeeze your eyes shut at the sudden dizziness that overtakes you. Your stomach also decides that it’s going to protest the movement and you’re already planning a run to the bathroom when Wanda storms towards you. She redirects her glare toward Nat when she realizes you’re still very hungover, and you can’t help but cringe as your girlfriend continues to shout. At this point, Nat’s standing up as well because she’s sure that Wanda wants her out of her bed and away from you as fast as possible.

“What the fuck, Nat? Why were you in bed with her?”

Wanda’s pissed and it’s taking all of her self-control to not shove Nat back on the bed and throttle her. She’s only recently accepted the fact that you and Nat had history, and it’s way too soon for her to see you two so close, let alone sharing a bed. Her bed. She knows that you’re about to be sick and she figures you were as drunk as her last night, but Nat was the most sober of the group. Wanda wants to know why she had thought getting into bed with you was a good idea.

Nat raises her hands in surrender as she looks to you just as you disappear into the bathroom. She barely flinches at the sound of you cursing and vomiting before shaking her head as she tries to calm Wanda down.

“She dragged me into it because she was cold. She basically just slept on me. That’s it.”

Wanda’s still scowling as she thinks about you clinging to Nat for warmth, and her holding you in return. She’s always been a jealous person, and especially after learning about you sleeping with Nat, she’s had to hold herself back from keeping you from seeing her.

“Well don’t do it again. Get a blanket next time instead.”

You’re coming out of the bathroom before Nat can make a comment about how she’d like to see Wanda say no to a drunk you, and you just sigh and take a moment to taste the mouthwash you just drank. You’re only feeling slightly better, but you focus on Wanda who’s still looking upset and Nat who looked more fed up than anything else.

“Wands, where were you last night? Why didn’t you come back here?”

She opens her mouth to argue more about you ending up in bed with Nat, but you frown as you look at her for the first time since she arrived.

“And why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

Wanda frowns before heading to the dresser to grab the two of you t-shirts. She throws hers on before handing the other to you with a frown as she glances around the room. Nat’s started to head for the door and Wanda has to resist the urge to hold it open for her.

“I’m told it got wet somehow which is probably why you’re not either, detka.”

You look down as if you’d just noticed and you take the offered shirt with a groan. You look to Nat after you are fully dressed and you walk over to her with your arms held out. Wanda’s seconds away from protesting, but you speak up before she gets a chance. You hug Nat with a groan before following her through the living room and to the front door.

“Thanks for hanging around, Nat. I probably would have frozen otherwise.”

The redhead just nods before she decides to cut her losses and leave. She doesn’t want Wanda to start yelling at her again, and she really should go check on her sister. She smiles at you before patting you on the back as she walks out the door.

“Sure thing, kid. Next time though we’ll make yours a mocktail.”

You laugh at this before cringing at the sound and offering a small nod. You shut the door behind Nat and turn around to see that Wanda’s standing right behind you. You jump slightly before reaching out to hug your tired, hungover girlfriend.

“Where did you end up, Wands?”

The only response you get as you’re led back to your bedroom is a groan with a shake of her head. She’s not getting into this right now. First she’s going to be a little sick, and then she’s going to cuddle you for a while so she can forget about you being in bed with Nat. She sits you down on the bed carefully before she runs to the bathroom for a glass of water. She only just manages to hand it to you before she’s running back to be sick. You drink some water before standing up to see if Wanda needed any help. You hold her hair back as she continues to vomits and your other hand goes to rub her back.

“Maybe you’ll have a mocktail next time too?”

Wanda groans before she nods and stands up slowly. She tries not to look as she flushes the toilet and turns to you with a grimace. You offer her the water and she takes it and drinks too much before shaking her head.

“Yeah, then maybe I wouldn’t wake up in bed with my brother.”

You’re only half listening as your head continues to pound obnoxiously, and you’re certain that you heard Wanda wrong. You frown as you watch Wanda wander back into the bedroom to collapse for a while. She could sleep for the rest of the day, and she just might as long as you join her.

“Wait, what?”

Wanda groans under her breath before she shakes her head and opens her mouth to tell you what happened, but she’s jumping back up with a muttered curse. She really shouldn’t have had so much tequila last night.

“After swimming, I crashed in Pietro’s room apparently, and woke up with him stealing the covers.”

You aren’t surprised to hear this and you grab Wanda’s toothbrush and some mouthwash with a small smile. You’re going to have to brush your teeth too, but you have to find something for your headache first. God you’re not going to drink with Pietro ever again.

“Let’s get cleaned up and then sleep this off. Maybe we can dunk Pietro in the pool later?”

Wanda laughs at this as she grabs her toothbrush from you and nods in agreement. This sounds like a great idea.

“Deal.”

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x. you #silver springs drabble #silver springs au #mob au

[finn-m-corvex]

Whumptober 2023 Day 3 - "Make it stop."

Skybound angst time to shine! This is the first time I've ever tried to write Skybound anything so it was a brand-new experience for me! I don't know if I quite did it justice but I gave it a shot. Little disclaimer that all of these may read as a bit disconnected and that's mostly because I've written 30k words in like, less than a week and it's hard to keep things diverse. I'm def reusing phrases and words but oh well!

@splinnters your third tag of the day! Hope you're doing great man!

Words: 2.2k

He cried out as his head collided with the stone behind him, blood splatterings from previous beatings painted across the wall. Ducking his head, it took everything in him to hold in the meager scraps he had been given for lunch, and in his despartation he tried to tuck his legs up, flinching as the one weighed down by the vengestone ball and chain ached in response.

Another fist smashed into his face, and Jay felt his nose break under the force. It was far from the first time. Someone else grabbed his hair, yanking, holding his head up as he was punched again and again and again. The rough hands cradled his chin, fixing it in place and leaving Jay’s bloodied face on full display for the pirates in the room.

Pirates?

Why the fuck was he back here?

Jay tried to plead with them, but one of them drove their boot straight into his injured stomach. The bullet wound Flintlocke had given him screamed in protest, and this time Jay did vomit onto the ground, and his head started swimming when he saw tiny flecks of blood mixed into the bile. He couldn’t make out any of the pirates’ faces, but he didn’t know if that was because of how dark it was in his tiny cell or because of the vision loss in his left eye.

“Look at him, Flintlocke,” one sneered; it was the one pulling his hair. “Ain’t he such a cutie?”

“Quite right,” Flintlocke drawled, and the accent alone almost made Jay want to shit himself, “but I think he’d look a lot better if we roughed him up some more.”

“Would the captain be okay with that?”

“I think Nadakhan would give you extra if you did that,” and Jay could hear the smile playing on the firstmate’s lips. “And we all know how much pirates like extra.”

Everyone else started cackling, and the sound made Jay’s blood run as cold as Zane’s ice. He needed to get out of here; he didn’t know how he was going to do it, but he had to get out of here. Someone must’ve seen him struggling to get away, because his head was quickly slammed back against the wall and someone else’s foot slammed down onto his injured leg. Jay yelled but bit his lip, determined not to let them get another peep out of him.

He wasn’t breaking. He had survived this ship once, he could do it again.

Not again.

“Listen here, boy,” Flintlocke said, and his face was blurred even though he had crouched right in front of Jay’s sight. “We’re not looking for information. The only thing we want is to see that precious face of yours as bloodied up as we can possibly get it. And you know what that means.”

“No,” Jay breathed, panic rising when he saw the firstmate walking away. Flintlocke had never been friendly to him, but he always kept the rest of the crew in line. Without him here…”You can’t leave me here with them! Flintlocke!”

“Have fun, boy!” he hollered, flicking a two wave salute behind him that had Jay’s heart plummeting, “and good luck! We both know you’re going to need it!”

“Wai-” Jay didn’t even have a chance to finish his sentence before another fist was flying into his face at an alarming speed, throwing his head to the side and cracking his jaw. He coughed, spit flying from his mouth as the other pirate kicked him hard in the ribs. Jay felt something crack in his chest, and dark blood tinged the spittle dribbling down his chin.

His head was wrenched upwards again. “Aw look, he’s crying!”

Jay didn’t even realize that teardrops were rolling down his face until it was pointed out, but now that he knew they felt white-hot against his skin, but the shame welling up from inside of him burned more.

“Please,” Jay whispered, trying to dislodge the man’s grip on his hair, “you don’t have to do this.”

“Except I do, little boy,” a wicked grin filled with sharp teeth and breath that could melt acid, “because orders are orders. But I guess you would know that more than anyone, right?”

A metal pipe came flying in from the side that Jay couldn’t dodge in time. The blow sent him to the floor, reeling, gasping as his vision went white from the pain. He thought that it would’ve been the good ol’ one tap two tap system where they would hit him once, ask him a question and then hit him again.

It was not the one tap two tap system.

Again and again, the pipe came down with the force of a thunderclap, bruising and breaking his skin with resounding smacks, and Jay did his best to escape to no avail. Before long he was hauled up by his armpits and forced to sit there and take it as the pirate assailed his ribs, crack after crack as they snapped one by one. Jay was crying out with every blow, yelling when the pirate went after his knee, dislocating his kneecap with ease. He grinded the heel of his boot onto the kneecap, making Jay yell and sob with pain as the other pirate forced him forward.

Now bent in half, Jay tried to push himself back up, only to quickly give up once the man had started raining punishing blows against his spine. It stung against his still fresh lash marks from the most recent whipping, and Jay could feel his breath leaving as his face was pressed farther and farther into the floor. Never before had he been so glad for Wu to give him so much flexibility training.

One of the pirates was chuckling as Jay was finally given a reprieve. “Guess I can see why the captain likes you so much, eh? I don’t know a lot of men who can do the things you can.”

“Make it stop,” Jay gasped, and he was ashamed of himself for begging. Why was he begging already? Hadn’t he taken worse on this goddamn ship? “Please, make it stop.”

Sighing, the pirate with the pipe leaned down next to Jay’s ear, making him shudder in disgust. “You know as well as I do, boy, that there is no stopping once we’ve started. Now, care to sing for us a little more?”

Taking a hold of his hair again, Jay sobbed as his face was lifted off of the filthy wooden floor, and he barely had a second to catch his breath before it was being slammed back down into the planks.

But it was different this time.

The pirate kept smushing his face down. Jay could feel the blood coating the bottom of his mouth as blood was forced out of his nose, and he very quickly realized what the pirate was planning to do.

Jay was going to drown.

First Master they were trying to drown him in his own blood.

He thrashed in place, desperation forcing his already chipped nails to claw at anything they could grab until his hands were pinned under someone’s boots, standing painfully on top of his bruised fingers. Jay tried to thrust up with his hips and dislodge their grip on him, but the pipe just came back down with a harsh blow, and nothing he tried was working.

Vision blurring, Jay could feel his chest to constrict and turn in on itself, his awareness starting to fly away in a dreamy haze. He opened his mouth to yell, to cry, to beg for mercy but the only thing that filled it was his own blood. Choking on it, Jay tried to spit it out, but opening his mouth again only made it worse when the pirate pushed harder.

Nothing. There was nothing he could do.

Crying profusely, tears mixing with the blood rolling down his face, Jay let his vision go black, only praying that the ship wouldn’t be the thing to greet him if they ever let him wake up.

“Jay!”

What? Who was that?

Thinking that it was impossible, Jay opened his eyes, seeing the white walls of his room at the Airjitzu Temple greet him as he woke up. There was a hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently, and lips pressed to his hair before giving kisses to the skin behind his ear. Belatedly, Jay realized that the person’s other hand was rubbing soothing circles on his chest, and the flood of panic that had been overwhelming his senses finally subsided.

He knew who this was. “Nya-”

“I’m here, Jay,” she said softly, moving her lips down to his neck and pressing more feather-light kisses to his collarbone. “I’m here, so let’s just take a deep breath and try to relax.”

Inhaling, the breath got caught in the back of Jay’s throat and he started, hand going to his chest and checking for any injuries. Nothing fresh, but the raised bumps of his scars made his fingers tingle with repressed feelings, and Jay curled into himself as he started feeling like he was floating. He needed grounding and he needed it now.

“Do you need your gloves?” Nya asked, watching as his hands started shaking uncontrollably, his element threatening to encompass his fingers and sparking at the tips. Jay nodded wordlessly.

Reaching for the garments on his bedside table, Nya was quick to stuff his hands into them and make sure that they were secure, and relief crashed over his body when the pressure started giving him something to focus on and from the knowledge that his lightning couldn’t hurt Nya. Apparently Nya had been here longer than a few minutes, as she already had his weighted blanket out and ready. She unfolded it and spread it across the both of them, and Jay reached for her wrist when she moved to get out of the bed.

“Wait,” he said, feeling his voice crack with emotion. He didn’t want to be alone, “please, I need you here. I-I’m scared.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Nya said, and Jay sobbed from how gentle her tone was. “Sit up for me, okay? I’m gonna spoil you a bit.”

He did what she asked, sitting up and watching as she laid down against his headboard and boxed him in with her legs, crossing them over his waist and cushioning his head against her shoulder as he laid back down. Pulling the covers up and over both of them, Nya whipped out her phone and set up the kickstand so it would balance on Jay’s bed. Jay had his eyes shut, so he didn’t see whatever she clicked to start playing, but he immediately relaxed upon hearing the sound of his favorite Starfarer movie.

The sounds of Fritz Donnegon and his trusty crew washed over him, drowning out whatever remnant of the nightmare that still clung to his skin. He was flat on his stomach on top of Nya, and he was all too happy to just watch the movie as her hands started doodling random shapes across the skin of his back. At least he thought they were random until one of the lines was unmistakable: she was tracing his scars.

Both of them had spent so much time getting him readjusted to positive touch, and one of those exercises had been tracing the scars littering his back. Jay would sit crisscrossed on the floor with a stress toy or a pillow, doing whatever he needed to do to keep himself calm as Nya would rub her hands across his back from top to bottom. The memories brought back some joy, and Jay wrapped his arms around his girlfriend’s waist, only giving half his attention to the movie; the other hafl was going to the way her hand was carding through his hair.

“I think I wanna start growing my hair out,” Nya murmured, and Jay gave her as much of a surprised look as his sleep-adled brain could conjure.

“Any reason why?”

He was pretty sure he knew why, but Nya only shrugged. “No reason in particular, I just want to try something new.”

“Something new is always good,” Jay said, a large yawn escaping his mouth. The hand on his back drifted further up to his shoulderblades, and Jay knew that he would’ve started purring if he were able to as her short nails scratched the melt spot right below the nape of his neck. “I can do it too.”

“You hate your curls,” Nya chuckled, “even if I think they’re one of the cutest things about you.”

Jay blushed, and Nya giggled as the red stretched from his rosy cheeks to the back of his neck. She was quick to wipe his tear tracks away, kissing his forehead and then his cheekbones.

“Maybe I can learn to like them,” Jay said quietly, “at least, I think I want to start trying to.”

“And that’ll be good for you, dear,” Nya said. “It’ll be good for both of us.”

“Mhm,” Jay agreed, and he craned his head up to press a kiss to Nya’s chin. He kept trailing kisses downwards until he reached her breastbone, where he knew the scar from the poison still lingered under her shirt. He nuzzled against it, hearing Nya’s breath catch and her hand still on his shoulder. Having Starfarer play in the background wasn’t exactly how he envisioned this moment going, but Jay wasn’t particularly picky.

Until Nya had to go on and rain on his parade.

“We’re going back to sleep, Walker, that’s enough action for you.”

“But I didn’t even get to do anything!”

#whumptober 2023 #finn's writing #ninjago jay #ninjago fanfiction #lego ninjago #ninjago whumptober #whumptober day 3 #ninjago nya

[fawnandshadows]

First Dates + Ice Rinks

Gifting this one to my friend @tswaney17! Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas my love!!! I’ve enjoyed getting to know you so much this past year 🥹 I hope your December is warm and cozy and all good things <333

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: language, slight age gap

Rating: T

Azriel was going to vomit. 

As he stood on the porch to the Archeron house the flowers he bought were limp in his sweaty hand, and the lights posted on either side of the door caused little beads of perspiration to slide down his neck and forehead. 

Fuck, it was close to snowing and Azriel was at risk of a heat stroke. 

How long had he been standing here? Did he even knock? His hand was balled into a fist, but if he knocked, then surely someone would have answered the door by now? He raised his hand to knock again, but before his knuckles made contact with the wood, the door pulled open from the inside and Rhysand's smirking face was revealed to him. 

“What are you doing here?” Azriel said sharply, not expecting to see the face of one of his best friends before his date. 

“It’s my girlfriend's house,” Rhys said with an eye roll and opened the door fully for his friend. 

Azriel swallowed nervously as he entered the house and looked around. It wasn’t the first time he had been in the cute, colonial house…but it was the first time he had been in it to take Elain Archeron on a date. Their Christmas tree was up and decorated by the fireplace — a collection of ornaments they made in school and ones picked up throughout the years — and garland was wrapped around the wooden staircase. The smell of burnt sugar came wafting from the kitchen, where Feyre and Nesta were arguing. 

Azriel opened his mouth to speak, but a loud, booming voice called out of the kitchen 

“Fucking A.”

Cassian. 

“Is everyone here?” Azriel asked with a raised eyebrow, his free hand coming up to rub his temple. 

“Like we would miss this,” Rhysand said and clapped his shoulder. “It’s Elain’s first date…Which reminds me,” his violet eyes darkened as he poked Azriel in the chest. Hard. “You’re dating my girlfriend's sister.” 

Azriel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Not dating. It’s one date. She could tell me to fuck off by the end of the night.” Azriel said, his fingers clutching the plastic wrapped flowers. 

“Hopefully,” Rhys said darkly, probably remembering the half naked girls he had seen leave Azriel’s room in the early hours of the morning. The downside of living with your best friend. “She’s sixteen, Az,” His brother poked him in the chest again. “That’s three years younger than you.”

“Thank you, brother, but I can count.” 

Rhysand’s expression clouded at his tone. 

“Now’s not the time.”

Azriel took a deep breath to calm himself, and then another. The tension growing in the room as they stared each other down. 

It was the sound of soft socked feet pattering down the wooden steps that caused Azriel to look away, and his breath caught in his throat as he watched Elain scampering down the stairs. 

“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry,” She said as she rushed towards him, her cheeks flushed and golden curls wild around her face. “It took me a while to get ready and I wanted to greet you at the door to save you from,” Elain raised one hand to gesture at Rhysand who rolled his eyes. “Him, but I couldn’t find my skates,” She raised her hand to show off two well-loved white skates. “Hi.” She breathed with a smile. 

“You’re lovely,” Azriel said, loving the way Elain’s eyes warmed like melted chocolate and the way her cheeks rounded as she smiled. “These are for you,” He raised the bouquet to her and watched as her smile suddenly turned shy. “They’re probably not as good as the ones you grow, but the florist recommended them.” 

“My favorite,” Elain whispered as she took the bundle of red roses from his hands. Her eyes briefly meeting his before fluttering away. “I’ll put these in water and then we can go,” Her eyes drifted to Rhysand as she said, “Be nice.” 

Elain quickly spun, her black skirt flouncing behind her, and her tight-clad legs hurried into the kitchen, and Azriel could hear her whisper yelling to someone he couldn’t see, but two seconds later Feyre’s smiling face rounded the corner and greeted him. 

“Hi Az!” Feyre said, walking up and wrapping her arms around her boyfriend. Rhys didn’t seem annoyed by the interruption in the least, just happily amused as he tugged Feyre closer to his chest. 

“Are you here to supervise, Feyre Darling?” He asked, smoothing some of the flyaway hairs on her head. 

“Are you admitting you need supervision?”

“Most definitely.” 

The two smiled at each other and Azriel shifted from foot to foot, his eyes trained on the door. 

“She’s really excited, you know,” Feyre said softly, and Azriel turned to see her smiling at him. “She spent all day getting ready for you.” 

For the first time that night Azriel relaxed.

He looked at the kitchen and saw Elain walking towards him holding a thing of Tupperware, smiling brightly. 

“I baked us cookies,” Elain said bashfully, handing Azriel the container as she pulled on her navy peacoat. “And they were upset I didn’t give them any, so they’re making their own. I promise I didn’t burn them.” 

Just then the shrill fire alarm sounded, and Cassian’s loud voice yelled, “It’s ok!”

Azriel turned to look at his date, watching as she tied up her converse, and said, “Should we leave before someone catches on fire?” 

She nodded and clasped the hand he held out. 

——

“You’re good at this.” Azriel said, delighting in the way Elain beamed at his compliment. Her gloved hand clutched his tighter, and Azriel suddenly felt a burning hatred for whoever invented mittens for keeping Elain’s hand away from his. 

“Do you want to know a secret?” Elain whispered conspiratorially, leaning into him just a little. Azriel raised his eyebrow, silently indicating for her to continue. “I was going to act like I’ve never skated before,” Her cheeks turned red and Azriel knew it wasn’t from the cold wind. “Just so you could teach me.” 

A smile bloomed on Azriel's lips as he gazed down at her, silently declaring her the cutest person on the planet. 

“And why didn’t you?” Azriel asked, using their joined hands to tug her closer. 

“I forgot,” Elain admitted, blushing harder. “You looked really handsome and I was so focused on not embarrassing myself that I forgot my plan.” She laughed at herself and Azriel felt his heart lighten in his chest. 

“Was there more to this plan?” Azriel asked, slowly maneuvering Elain so that she was skating backwards and that both of their hands were connected between them. Her cropped purple sweater showed the barest hint of her belly, but Azriel tried not to focus on it. 

“Yes,” Elain said, her smiling growing and splitting her face. “Obviously, I was going to be so bad at skating that I needed your hands on me at all times, for my safety. And then when it was time for our cookie break, I was going to — “

The sound of tires turning over snow and the blare of an overly loud stereo followed by the opening and slamming of doors caused Elain to break off. The rush of voices redirected Elain’s attention, and Azriel watched as her face fell — like something was snuffing out the light inside of her. 

There were maybe three other people using the outdoor rink, and Azriel didn’t relish the thought of a big group disrupting their date, but Azriel wondered what she could have possibly seen that caused her expression to dim. He looked over his shoulder and saw bright, blonde curls attached to a tall, curvaceous body and nearly stumbled. Elain’s small hands pressed into his chest to keep him upright. 

“Do you want to say hi?” Elain offered in a small voice, her eyes cast down to her skates. 

“No.” Azriel said firmly. Silently cursing whatever God hated him. 

“Az! Elain!” Mor called in a bold, friendly voice. 

Az looked back again, and calculated how realistically he could play off as if he didn’t notice her, but she was nearly six feet tall and wildly gesticulating — Azriel didn’t think it was likely. 

Mor leaned over the barricade as she waved to them, her party of people hanging behind her. Her long, red, woolen coat made her stand out even more. 

“We don’t have to…” Azriel said, trailing off as Elain shook her head. 

“We don’t want to be rude,” Elain said meekly, and Azriel wanted nothing more than to make her smile again. “Do you want to?” She nodded at their hands, suddenly unsure  

“Of course.” Azriel said, squeezing one of her hands tightly while dropping the other so that they could skate over. 

A small amount of tension left Elain’s frame as they skated to Mor.

Mor leaned over and engulfed them in a hug, one arm around each of their necks. 

“I haven’t seen you guys in ages,” Mor exclaimed, hugging them tightly before pulling away. “Where’s everyone else?”

“At home,” Azriel explained to Rhys’s cousin. “We’re here together.” He raised their clasped hands to her. 

Mor’s mouth formed a surprised o. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Mor said, forcing a smile. She pulled her arms away and made a shooing motion with her hands. “Pretend like I’m not even here.” 

So they did. They skated away, but the ease between them was gone and an awkward, heavy weight settled between them. Mor had presence more than she had anything else, and even though it wasn’t her intention, she kept interrupting them. Her voice would carry over to them, or she'd skate by and accidentally brush into them. She was just there. 

The ride home was quiet. Elain sat in the passenger seat with a half full container of cookies on her lap. No one was talking except for the DJ on the radio introducing the next Christmas carol. 

They were about five minutes from the Archeron house when Azriel pulled off to the side and put the car in park, with one arm behind her seat he twisted to face her. 

“We need to talk about this.” Azriel stated, noting how Elain wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Talk about what?”

“About how my ex-girlfriend interrupted our date.” Azriel said in an even tone. 

“Well, you guys broke up, right? It’s in the past?”  Elain asked uncertainly, her fingers traced the lid of the container.

Azriel bit his lip and stared at Elain intently. He recalled those months vividly — after years of silently pining after Mor she finally agreed to go out with him. They dated for only two months before Mor broke up with him, and a week later she introduced her family to her new girlfriend. It stung, that he could care for someone so much and be so easily replaced, but he was glad she was happy. Truly. He just hated himself for being so blinded by his childhood crush that it made Elain question him. And after the breakup he lost himself in casual hookups - and he didn’t bother hiding them. Inwardly, he cringed, knowing how it must look to Elain.

“Yes,” Azriel said confidently, not hesitating to lean over and take her hand. “I like you, Elain, there’s no one else I would rather be with.” 

“If you say so…” Elain said, forcing a smile. 

Azriel thought for a second on how to convince her, and only one thing came to mind. So, without a second thought Azriel dropped his lips to hers. Not kissing her the way he wanted to, with the full force of his emotions, he held himself back. Just pressing his lips to hers. But it was enough, he felt Elain melting at the contact. He himself felt lighter. 

“I wouldn’t waste your time, Elain, and I wouldn’t waste mine,” Azriel said, leaning his forehead against Elain’s. Her soft pants caressing his face. “I want to be here with you. Do you believe me?”

Elain nodded, a small smile on her lips. 

Azriel was about to pull back, but Elain lunged at him. Her lips frantically moving over his and after a moment of surprise Azriel couldn’t hide his smile. It was an awkward kiss, to say the least, Elain hungrily moving her lips against his, but Azriel’s lips were pulled back because he was unable to stop smiling — she was basically kissing his teeth. Skillful or not, it was the best, most memorable kiss of his life. 

“If we don’t get back,” Azriel whispered, pulling back. “I’m afraid Rhysand might have an aneurysm.” 

Elain nodded, but kissed him again before he had the chance to pull away. 

By the time they broke apart their lips were bruised and the windows fogged and misted over. 

“Ready to go home?” Azriel asked, catching his breath. 

“No,” Elain admitted with a small smile. “But it’s a Saturday night, what do you say to watching some Netflix?” 

She wasn’t ready for their night to be over, and neither was he. 

“I’d love to, but I can guarantee my brothers will be overbearing assholes.” Azriel said. 

“Well, just shove your tongue down my throat and they’ll be too uncomfortable to say anything.” 

Azriel choked on his laughter. 

“Baptism by fire?” 

“Exactly.” Elain said and placed a kiss on his cheek before settling back into her seat. 

Azriel shifted the car into drive, his hand on her thigh as he drove them home. 

____

@thefangirlofhp @sakurakittypeach @nikethestatue @tswaney17 @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyredarlinq @alwayssara @nyxreads @rinadragomir @secretpuppyflower @captainbrucebanner @ultadverb @irisesforelain @shedoessoshedoes  @magnolia-blossom87 @sheena-beene @nivem565 @casuallivi @rhysiedarling @elain99 @athena-85 @swankii-art-teacher @nyxreads @reverie-tales @jujugirlfrombookstore @shadowflorecita @shy-violet-soul

#elriel #elain x azriel #elriel fic #elain archeron #azriel #elriel fan fiction #fawnandshadows writing #cozy days and snowy nights #i have so many modern aus planned #i'm so excited #elain x az

[spoodrm4n]

The Great War

Pairings: Will Byer x Mike Wheeler 

Warnings: S4 spoilers, angst!!

Summary: The party figures out the key to stopping Vecna, but it comes at a price Mike Wheeler isn’t willing to pay. 

Word Count: 2.2K

“This doesn’t make any sense! Why would the Upside Down still be connected to our world even if the gates are all closed?” Lucas groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. The five of them; Lucas, Dustin, Mike, Will, and El all sat in the Wheeler’s basement, attempting to uncover a solution to the problem at hand. Dustin sits on the coffee table in front of the couch who seats Mike, El, and Lucas. Will had taken his place on the floor by Mike’s legs. 

“Maybe there’s some demobats or demodogs that we didn’t take care of?” Mike suggests, shoulders raising in a shrug. Dustin shakes his head, eyebrows drawn together.

“All of the Upside Down monsters die whenever the gates close. Creel wouldn’t be able to gain any power through them.” Dustin debunked, now pacing back and forth in front of them. 

“So, maybe there’s other gates? Nancy said she went through a temporary gate when all of this started, maybe he can just make temporary ones?” Lucas says, leaning forward in his seat. 

“That still doesn’t make sense. He shouldn’t be able to do that unless there’s a connection here…” Dustin trails off. He stops pacing and stands there for a second before he’s snapping his fingers and walking back and forth again. “Maybe Henry has a connection here– like a spy! Remember when Will got possessed and the Mind Flayer was using him? Maybe it’s possessed someone else.” Dustin speeds through his explanation but Will catches every word, dread settling in the pit of his stomach. The pieces are beginning to align themselves. El turns to look at Will, realization already settled on her features. Lucas, Mike, and Dustin miss it and continue. 

“So we just have to find the person who’s been possessed and sever the connection!” Mike simplifies, but Lucas is shaking his head. 

“There’s no way we can find them. We don’t know everyone in Hawkins and even if we did, not well enough. Mike was the only one who realized that Will wasn’t really Will.” Lucas points out, eyebrows raised and awaiting a response. 

“But the only way the Mind Flayer can possess someone is if they’ve been in the Upside Down.” Dustin adds and the ball is rolling again. Will and El stay quiet.

“We know a handful of people who have been in the Upside Down: Steve, Nancy, Robin, Will, El, and you too Dustin.” Lucas counts off. 

“But we know them and none of them have been acting off. Even if they had been, none of them have a connection with the Upside Down, the only ones that have a connection are El and…” Dustin stops for the second time, but this time it feels final. Will watches the color drain from Dustin’s face as their eyes meet and Will knows that Dustin has figured out what him and El have. Mike and Lucas’ eyes follow Dustin’s gaze, faces concerned. 

“Will is the connection.” El finally speaks up, voice small. The room is silent and Will wants to vomit.

“We need to sever the connection.” Lucas whispers and Mike is whipping his head around to face the latter. 

“No way, Will’s not even possessed anymore!” Mike argues, whipping his head around to face Lucas. 

“He is not, but he is still connected to the Upside Down in a way that even I am not.” El tries but Mike won’t accept it. 

“This is insane! Are you guys even hearing yourselves?” Mike is almost yelling, hands motioning wildly in front of him. Will is turning to face Mike now, a determination set in his eyes that makes Mike want to cry. 

Mike knows that look. Mike has seen that look whenever Will makes a reckless, selfless decision in D&D in favor of the party. He’s seen that look whenever Will has taken the brunt of the bullying for the sake of his friends. He’s seen that look when Will had come back from the Upside Down for the first time and has told everyone he was fine. He’s seen that look when Will has agreed to do whatever the rest of the party wants to do instead of speaking up for himself. He’s seen that look when Will has been face to face with the most terrifying creatures the world has to offer. Mike knows that look and he hates it. 

“Mike–”

“Will, please.” They say at the same time and their eyes stay locked on one another. The rest of the party stays silent as the two stare at each other, pleading silently with one another. El grabs Lucas and Dustin, guiding them upstairs to leave the two alone. The three shoot one last worried glance towards the two before exiting the basement. 

“Mike, this isn’t your decision to make.” Will sighs, moving to sit on the coffee table in front of Mike. Their knees touch and they keep eye contact. 

“I don’t care! We can’t just-just–” And Mike can’t even finish the sentence. Nausea crawls up his throat. 

“Just think about how many people it would save. The whole world is in danger, Mike. I am just one person. One very unlucky person,” Will chokes off something between a laugh and a sob. Mike’s heart drops.

“There has to be another way. This shouldn’t be on you. You didn’t ask for any of this!” Mike’s frustration spills out, tears brimming his eyes. 

“I know, Mike, but it’s on me anyway. I’d rather it be on me than anyone else.” Will’s voice is steady and level and Mike doesn’t understand because Will should be devastated. Will should be screaming and sobbing and arguing and he’s not. That’s what scares Mike. 

“I can’t lose you.” Mike breathes, arguments crumbling and tone now soft. And Will laughs bitterly. 

“Haven’t you already?” Mike’s been slapped in the face before, but Will’s words give him more whiplash than he’s ever experienced. Anger bubbles up his throat and he doesn’t stop the words from pouring from his lips. 

“I know you lied.” He’s changed the subject and Mike can see the words Will had planned die on his tongue. 

“Lied? When did I lie?” Will stutters out, hands white knuckling the edge of the coffee table. 

“About the painting. El didn’t know what you were painting. She thought it was for a girl.” Mike sneers, venom laced within every syllable. 

“I-I didn’t lie–” Will starts but Mike doesn’t let him finish. 

“All that stuff you said about how El needs me, how I’m the heart, how I make her feel like she’s not a mistake.” Mike recalls, tone bitter on his tongue. His leg is bouncing and rubbing slightly against the fabric of the couch. Will’s eyebrows furrow and he nervously taps his thumb against the wood of the coffee table.

“That wasn’t a lie! Not all of it, at least.” Will adds, arms crossing over his chest. 

“What do you even mean? You still lied to me, Will! You made me feel stupid! You’ve never lied to me.” And Mike is angry, but he’s also so confused. Will has never lied to Mike. 

“That stuff is still true– it just isn’t true when it comes to El.” Will says the last part almost as if it’s a question, anxiety riddled within his tone. Suddenly, Mike is aware of what Will is saying and what he’s implying. 

Oh.

Will watched the pieces come together in Mike’s expression. His eyebrows slowly raise and his lips part, mouth forming an ‘o’.

“I shouldn’t have lied, I’m sorry, but I… I just couldn’t.” Will doesn’t have to explain what he couldn’t do to Mike. Mike understands. The last year has been an internal struggle that Mike has cried about countless nights and here Will is in front of him, telling him that it’s okay because he feels the same way. 

“Is it true? Everything you said?” Mike is grasping at the straws Will has thrown at him, desperate to assemble an answer. Will swallows and Mike can feel the anxiety radiating off of him. Will dares a glance up at Mike.

“Yeah. I would never lie to you.” It’s barely a whisper but Mike hears it. Mike hears it and his world is crumbling because he’s just gotten Will back and he’s about to be ripped from him and he can’t do anything to stop it. 

“You can’t do this, Will.” The anger has dissipated and in its place leaves melancholia. The mood has shifted again and Will is leaning forward, elbows meeting his knees and face closer to Mike’s. 

“This started with me and it needs to end with me, Mike. We can’t change it if we wanted to.” Will’s voice is shaky in contrast to the firmness his tone held earlier. 

Will is terrified; he’s sure that Mike and the rest of the party can see right through the mask he’s wearing. Will doesn’t want to die, but he wants this to be over. He wants his family and friends to be able to finally live in peace. He wants them to be happy, even if the price is his own life. It’s a price he’s ultimately willing to pay. 

“We’ll think of another way! We just need a bit more time–”

“Mike. You and I both know that we don’t have anymore time and that this is the only way. It’s fucked, sure,” Mike has only ever heard Will curse twice; once when he flew over his handle bars down a gravel road and a second when he had woken up from a nightmare. “But this is the way it was always meant to end, I think.” 

“I can’t lose you.” The sob that accompanies his words sounds pathetic, but Mike can’t bring himself to care.

“I’m sorry.” Mike realizes it’s absolutely insane for Will to be apologizing to him right now. Will is the one who has to deal with the thought of dying in the very near future. Will is the one that has the weight of the world on his shoulders right now, not Mike. Mike can’t help but be selfish when it comes to Will. He always has been. 

Will stands and sits beside Mike, torso facing him and arms circling around his shoulders. Mike lets himself be pulled into Will’s chest. Will isn’t the frail, small kid he used to be. He’s grown into himself. His shoulders are broad, his arms are strong, and he’s built well. Even then, he still feels like home to Mike. 

“I love you.” Mike has never thought a sentence through in his life and he doesn’t have to think this one through. It comes so naturally to him. There’s been times where he’s had to bite his tongue to keep the endearment from slipping out whenever he’s with Will, but this time he doesn’t have to hold back. 

The room is silent and it takes Mike a minute to pick out the quiet sound that is Will crying. Will has always been a silent cryer, never wanting to draw attention to himself; which makes the sudden choked off sob that comes from him even more startling. It doesn’t stop at one, Will is full on breaking down now and Mike can only hold him tighter. 

“I’m s-sorry.” Mike grimaces, tears rolling down his own cheeks as Will buries his face into the crook of Mike’s neck. 

“Will,” Mike’s voice is soft, a tone that Max had previously deemed his ‘Will voice’. His hands find Will’s cheeks, gently guiding him to where their eyes meet. Will rests his forehead against Mike’s, swallowing sobs and bitter tears dripping down his face. 

Mike still thinks he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“Breathe with me,” Mike demonstrates first and Will follows his lead, slowly rising above the waves of fear that consumed him. They stay like that for a while, breathing in each other. Will’s eyes are closed now and Mike can’t help but continue to stare. They’ve intertwined their hands in Mike’s lap and his thumb rubs the back of Will’s hand soothingly. 

He drinks the moment in because he knows that he won’t have Will forever. After a second, Mike is closing the distance between them and their lips meet. Will doesn’t pull away, but does the opposite. He’s leaning in, head tilting slightly and Mike lets go of Will’s hands to cup his cheeks. Will’s own hands find their way into Mike’s raven black hair, fingers tangling in the strands and hands nudging him ever so slightly more forwards. 

Will tastes like warm tears and strawberry chapstick. There’s a mix of dread and love between them and it draws Mike in, but also makes him scared of the attachment. 

They’re pulling apart before Mike can further fall into the comfort that is Will and reality is an ice cold bucket of water being dumped on his head. But then–

“I love you too.” Will breathes and Mike is surging back in for more. This kiss is different. There’s a sense of urgency behind it. They know that there’s only a limited amount of time between them now; almost like an alarm clock ready to wake them from a nightmare. 

Mike has never been more determined to prove someone wrong in his life. 

“We will figure this out. I won’t lose you.”

#byler #byler fic #byler fanfic #mike wheeler x will byers #will byers x mike wheeler #mike wheeler/will byers #will byers/mike wheeler #stranger things s5 fic #will byers is the connection #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #byler angst

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Chapter Seventeen

Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Y/N Burgess is the granddaughter of Alex and Paul, and after having spent so many summers at their manor and always wondering why she was forbidden from entering the basement, she descends the steps into the world of the Order. She broke out the being that had been trapped in that glass cage, but what does he want with her now that he is free?

Warnings: Language, Reader Woke Up Chooses Danger and Ignores Morpheus, Vomiting.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Female!GranddaughterReader, based on Netflix’s ‘The Sandman’, Reader now has long-ish hair for plot reasons (Just so Morpheus can tug on it later).

Word Count: ~2.2k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

“You are going to do what!?” You hissed at Morpheus as Matthew looked between the two of you. “Are you mad?”

“Do I appear to be angry with you?” Morpheus questioned and out of the corner of your eye, you literally saw Matthew wing palm himself.

“That’s— no, Morpheus, you do not appear to be angry with me. I, however, am.” You corrected your previous statement, pinching your forehead with a deep sigh. “You barely have any of your power back and your idea is to march into hell and demand that your helm be returned to you? Have you forgotten what is in hell?”

“Of course not, which is precisely why you must remain here.” He rebutted, his eyebrow arching. “Your necklace protects you from being found, but it does not protect you from their physical attacks should you find them.”

You snorted in disgust and rolled your eyes hard, nearly seeing your own brain if you might add…

“Morpheus, have you ever had the mind that maybe people other than your self-centered idiocy may actually care for you?” You questioned him, you voice near a hiss. You actually managed to take him off guard for a moment. Good. Someone needed to remind him that people other than himself cared about him. Self centered git.

“Your words change nothing, Y/N,” Morpheus spoke, stepping up into your space and towering over you as if to establish dominance or at the very least, make a point. You were growing accustomed to smacking him the face with words of reminder, but Morpheus had eons to prefect his self centered ways. Morpheus right, mortal wrong. Ex-mortal, actually, but that hardly mattered to him.

“Clearly, your ears stop working after a period of argument.” You spoke under your breath, turning back to the table and dropping your body into one of the chairs. “Fine, go and get yourself killed for all I care.” You grabbed the book and opened it to the place you had left off. “See how that works for you.”

You could feel the smoldering glare in the side of your head, but it no longer bothered you. Certainly not after he went all caveman on you because Desire went and pushed one too many of his buttons… the mark he had left was obnoxiously large and was a near constant ache in reminder. Who was the emotional being in this relationship? Certainly not you.

“Matthew, come.” Morpheus finally spoke. Giving the pair a side eye, you watched as Morpheus’s sand swirled around them both in a vortex of sparking gray. Then they were gone.

“Pompous arsehole,” You muttered beneath your breath, reaching for the cup of tea you had made earlier and taking a sip. “I’m not coming to the rescue when you inevitably get yourself in trouble.”

You grew bored of reading fairly quickly, taking to the tele once more and boredly flipping through channels to find something to watch. Nothing appeased your mind and you turned the tele off. Tossing the remote to the side, you stretched out on the sofa and dropped your legs over the side of it, kicking your feet out. Did Morpheus really expect you to stay on the sidelines and twiddle your thumbs while he went out on his crazy trips? You were a human, not a servant. You didn’t sit and stay like he expected…

Wait… you sat up on the sofa, your eyebrows pinching together. You were bound together, your life tied to his and no longer exactly mortal… let alone human. You got up and hurried into the bathroom, taking a position in front of the mirror. Normal human eyes stared back at you. Mundane. Perhaps a little tired. You tugged on the bond you could feel and watched as your eyes morphed into silver. Another, stronger, tug… and they were blazing. Your lips twitched.

You weren’t entirely defenseless. No, Morpheus had forgotten that in his endeavor to get his tools back. You might have zero idea on how to use them, but you liked to think you were a quick learner. Holding up your hand, you concentrated on tugging on your power source and watched in fascination as that swirling sand that you had seen Morpheus use, whirled around your hand. Watching in further fascination as it swirled in the air, you slowly learned how to manipulate and control it. You didn’t know what type of damage it could do but hopefully a show of it would be enough to chase off anyone stupid enough to go after you.

Now if you could just learn how to teleport yourself via the sand and you would be able to do anything. With or without Morpheus’s not needed approval. Releasing the swirling sand, you look a breath and held onto the bathroom counter, clearing your mind and picturing following Morpheus. Or at least finding him. Your gut churned and you felt sand start swirling around you. Wind wailed around you and for a few moments you felt like you were tumbling through open air. Then a jolt ran through your body and solid ground returned to your feet. Hunching over as your stomach rolled, you heaved for a few seconds, your meager breakfast coming up. Blinking as dust fluttered across your eyelashes and opening your eyes, you saw that you were standing on a desolate hill looking down at a line of souls slowly shuffling forwards, all carrying torches. This wasn’t Morpheus, but it was probably close enough…

“Well that’s new.” You spoke out before looking in the direction the line of souls were walking in. No doubt the line would lead you further into hell, but perhaps not to your desired destination. It was start though. Venturing forwards, you followed them through the desolate landscape until you found a cave. Bodies were embedded in the walls, occasionally moaning and writhing. Your eyebrow rose, and you moved towards the gong looking object. The gate at the end of cave was secured shut and most likely not open unless by its own will. You looked over the gong shortly before hearing rock shift and move. A gnarled hand held out mallet, there was an eyeless face mottled with rock and moss looking at you. You took the mallet. “Thank you,”

You didn’t hesitate to smash the mallet against the gong, halting all moans in the cavern, leaving the open space deathly quietly. Then the gates started creaking open. You wanted to head immediately through them with purpose and stomp your way through hell until you found your idiot and talked some sense into him. Or perhaps yelled. But there was a warning siren blaring in your mind to tread carefully, lest you step on a snake. So you stayed in your place and waited. For what, you didn’t know. But then you heard it. Howls. Your eye twinged, holding off a flinch in memory of what took place in Fawny Rig. You stood your ground as hell beasts emerged from the shadows past the open gates. Their red eyes glowed ominously and their maws opened to reveal their sharp teeth dripping with drool and blood. Your eyes blazed silver.

“Stay your teeth, hell beasts,” You snapped, your voice sharp with no hints of fear seeping into it. A fact you were very proud of. “I am not here to challenge you or seek retribution, I merely seek out my bonded.”

More growls, but several of them backed down as a larger one prowled forwards, it’s claws clicking on the rock cavern floor. You recognized that one. It’s eye was far from behind healed, but it looked better than when you had seen it last. The hell beast snarled and growled, showing it’s vicious teeth.

“Least of all with you, hell beast, I have no quarrel with you unless you wish to pick a fight with me once more.” It snarled at you, an even deeper growl emerging from its open maw. Then it’s red glowing eyes burst into hell fire, showing how angry it was. Your own eyes flared to life, silver shining brightly in the dim and undertone of hell. Even more, the ruby resting between your clavicles glowed brightly, emitting a bright scarlet light that lit your face up. The hell beast’s ears flattened against it’s shadowy head and a hiss emerged from it’s throat. Remaining in place, you stared it down. “Put your teeth away, I’m not here for you. I’ve come for another and I believe you know who I seek.” It’s ears slackened slightly and it’s vicious bare melted into a snarl, it’s smoky figure shifting into one less tense.

Claws still clicking on the stone, it turned in place and looked into the mottled darkness ahead. A clear signal to follow. You stepped forwards, walking up to it with purpose. It started moving forward and you found yourself falling in step with it as the rest of the hell beasts fell in step behind you. Moving forwards, you passed through a thick wall of grey smoke and emerged in a forest of soul trees, bodies writing and moaning within the trunks. It was hard not to look around with wide eyes and gawk at everything. This was hell. But you noticed that upon passing that veil, the hell beasts smoky mirage had faded to reveal a pitch black dog with collars of sparkling onyx. It had three heads.

“Cerberus?” You questioned softly with a frown. It had been Cerberus that was sent after you? But it was your understanding that the dog guarded the gates of hell. Why would Lucifer have their hound stray from it’s post. The head closest to you swirled to look at you. It was the head that had the injured eye. Looking into the dogs good eye. You frowned, knowing that it had only been following orders like a loyal hound. “Apologies for the eye, but you scared the hell out of me and I didn’t want to die.”

Cerberus’s good eye on that head blinked at you and the hound then let out a small whimper. One of the other heads snapped at that one, obviously not likely the moment of weakness. You were rounding on that one instantly.

“Enough!” You scolded the one that had snapped. It’s ears drooped at your scolding and the remaining head let out a soft growl. Clearly not amused by the other two’s actions. “Let’s just get along, shall we? Neither of us have full autonomy over our actions. I’d rather put it in the past.”

All three heads let out a huff in agreement as you broke through the withering forests to a stretch of arches decorated by spikes and skulls. What amused you was the many crosses planted in the ground. You thought demons feared the cross? Clearly not down in hell if they had them decorating the entrance to Lucifer’s castle. You traveled beneath the many arches to arrive at another veil of smoke, this one even thicker than the last and more obscure. You couldn’t see what lay beyond it. But Cerberus didn’t seem to be interested in stopping so you continued forwards, entering the veil.

The smoke filled your lungs like a heavy weight, dragging your mood down to despair and pain. You almost wanted to stop right there and curl up in a dismal ball of repression. Was this an effect of hell? It must be but you weren’t going to let it push you down and back from your wants. So you pushed forwards and stepped free of that oppressive wall of smoke. Blinking rapidly, your eyes widened at the looming castle stretched out in front of you. Dry lightning cracked behind it, ominous and threatening. Cerberus turned his three heads to you and you met the dog’s three sets of gaze.

“I’m not stopping here,” You spoke. “But I feel that I should first greet your realm’s sovereign. It would be rude of me not to and I have a feeling that we’ve already gotten off to a more than rocky start. It would also be nice to know why Lucifer wants me dead.”

One of the heads, the stern one, dipped and he started walking up the narrow path that wound and curved its way up to the forbidding black castle. Once again following, you glanced over your shoulder and saw that the hell beasts that had been following quietly behind you, had all shifted and morphed into various looking hound like creatures, some more vicious looking than others. Their true forms were far from as frightening as the ones you were used to seeing in your dreams and nightmares. Returning your eyes to the path in front of you, you did your best to ignore the crunching of skulls and flesh beneath your feet, thankful that you weren’t walking through this domain barefoot. Making it to the large gate which had a glowing red pentagram inscribed on it, you looked down at Cerberus, wondering what to do now.

The dog kept its heads facing forward and only moments later the large doors echoed and boomed, slowly creeping open just enough to allow your passage into the castle. Stepping forwards, you heard a new squelch and glanced down. Red liquid was seeping from the ground, staining your leather boots as you walked. It was even splashing against Cerberus’s fur. Blood most likely. Your eyes focused forwards, Lucifer was not going to scare you off. Not now and not ever. You pushed forwards, bound and determined to seek out Morpheus.

Date Published: 10/10/22

Last Edit: 7/8/23

Previous | Masterlist | Next

#morpheus x reader #dream the endless x reader #dream of the endless x reader #sandman x reader #the sandman netflix #morpheus #dream of the endless #dream the endless #the sandman #lord morpheus

[1d1195]

The Balcony Extra I

You can read the rest here: The Balcony

~2.2k words

This is the last update from the last round of voting. I'll have a new round of voting posted soon. I have some really fun ideas for the next set :)

Warnings: vomit/sick (it's not described, more so mentioned. But just to be sure.) I promise it's really not going to continue to be a theme with my writing. I just didn't know what to do with them tbh. I hope you enjoy--particularly this sweet anon who thought about them two years after I first wrote about them 😭💕

It was overwhelming and Harry swallowed watching as she mopped up his mess. He wanted to scoop her up and put tuck her into bed like the day he burst into the very apartment they were in now protecting her from her ex.

The balcony was still their favorite spot. Now that Harry had moved into her apartment officially, they only had one. There was something about having two, the will-they-won’t-they kind of vibe. When they shared Chinese food across the slatted posts or when she straddled the rail to get back into her place when Harry got home late. There were so many pieces that felt like they were missing now that they only had one. They put plants on tall tables (even a small lemon tree) to make a wall for their new neighbors.

They were squished when they were out there, two little seats and their space heater along with all the plants made for very little room. It was cozy and they loved it, but it was different. Working from home was different. Everything was different. Good. Perfect, even. But different.

It had been three years of their routines and schedules. Interrupted by weekend getaways, work trips, girl’s nights out, and family holidays. The sex was incredible as that very first time. She still did chores in an oversized shirt that barely covered her underwear. So, chores took twice as long when Harry noticed because he reminisced and thought back to the days when he was falling for her from afar (even if afar was just one little half wall between them).

Harry returned from the office and found her laptop open on the island while she continued cooking. She had been fighting a stomach bug, so it was good to see her cooking. Soup by the looks of it. Something so as not to upset her further.

“Hey kitten,” he called gently putting his keys on the table by the door and slipping his shoes off.

“Hi, Harry,” she sounded so sweet, so smiley. It was his favorite way to be greeted. “Sorry, guys, it’s dinner time,” she told her laptop. Harry blushed, feeling bad he interrupted her call unbeknownst to him and that he called her kitten in front of her students. “Check out the notes on Blackboard.”

Sorry! He mouthed.

She shook her head easily with a smile. She said her final goodbyes to the people on screen. Once her laptop was shut, he felt relief that he could freely chat with her. “I had extra office hours because I’ve been sick and out for the count,” she explained and turned back to the stove. “I told them I had to make something to eat at the same time or I would die so they also got my cooking show in addition to math help.”

Harry looked at the face of their fridge with a dry erase marker filling the silvery complexion with complicated equations that he didn’t understand. He snorted and she smiled shyly. “Sorry, I’ll clean it.”

“Don’t,” he shook his head. “S’cute,” he assured her. It was. The way her brain worked, even thinking to draw on the fridge was adorable. It was so cute Harry wanted nothing more than to frame the door of the appliance and put it in the living room. He put his lunch Tupperware in the sink and turned back to her stirring the soup. “Y’okay?” He asked.

“Yup, only threw up once since this morning,” she sighed and shook her head. “I hope you don’t get sick.”

Harry didn’t even feel an inkling of feeling unwell. They had eaten the same foods for the last few days, so food poisoning didn’t seem suspicious either. “I think I’ll be alright,” he cupped her face and pressed his lips on her forehead. She didn’t feel warm or clammy. “Y’feel cool,” he murmured turning to the fridge and filled his water bottle from the spout.

She shook her head returning to stir the soothing mixture on the stove. “It’s so weird. I don’t feel sick until I’m actively sick, you know?” She shrugged. “Oh, well.”

It was hard to believe that two heavily educated people didn’t figure it out sooner. But the moment it popped into his head Harry gasped. He dropped his bottle, and the ice and water covered his socked feet. “Shit,” he whispered.

“I got it!” She hurried to the closet with their cleaning supplies. Harry picked up the ice cubes and tossed them into the sink. When she returned with the mop, Harry was staring at her. Like he had never seen her before. It wasn’t earthshattering for her. This moment. The moment he realized. It didn’t matter. He would have it for himself. This perfect, beautiful girl that he was so lucky to know...

So lucky to live with and be with and to have her worry about him.

It was overwhelming and Harry swallowed watching as she mopped up his mess. He wanted to scoop her up and put tuck her into bed like the day he burst into the very apartment they were in now protecting her from her ex.

He tried to refill the bottle, but he nearly overfilled it again, his hand getting wet. “You sure you’re not getting sick?” She asked dragging the mop over his feet playfully at the second, minor spill. He shook his head, swallowed.

“No, sorry. Distracted.”

“I got dinner covered, you can go lounge if you want,” she smiled sweetly. “I was laying down most of the day. I feel like a bum. I was thinking about going to the gym after I eat just to feel productive.”

Harry shook his head. He didn’t want her lifting anything, didn’t want her running on the treadmill, or stepping on the stepper. “Y’don’t need to, kitten. M’jus...” he trailed off. He didn’t know if he was right, it was an assumption. “Jus’ a little tired. But y’should sit,” he suggested. “Y’don’t feel well.”

She shrugged. “I feel alright now. I feel lazy.” Harry didn’t want to tell her that growing another human inside her was the least lazy thing she could do. As far as he was concerned, she could do nothing for the next nine months. His eyes dropped to her stomach briefly, like it would suddenly round with the baby he suspected was forming. She didn’t notice.

He was adamant. “Y’not lazy,” he assured her. “Why don’t—”

“Here taste this,” she held a spoonful of the soup out. “Does it need more salt?” She asked. With his gaze locked on her eyes, he let her feed him.

“S’good,” he promised.

She tilted her head at him. Her eyebrows pinching together. “You sure you’re okay?” She repeated.

He nodded. Trying to remember everything about the moment. She didn’t know, he did. It was surreal. There was going to be a little one that looked like him, looked like her. They were going to be parents and she didn’t even know. “M’okay.”

She shrugged and grabbed two bowls out of the cabinet and then returned the broom to the closet. Harry grabbed the edges of the island counter and took a deep breath. They would have to abandon the apartment. The balcony. It was going to be hard, but it would be so worth it.

How did she not know?

When she returned, she ladled soup into the bowls and handed Harry his before she situated herself on the stool behind the sink. “Do we have any plans this weekend?”

Making a baby registry? Telling his mum? Finding a house and decorating a nursery? “Nothing comes t’mind, kitten,” he murmured sitting beside her.

“Louis was wondering. He wants to go out and drink or something.”

“Uh...” he swallowed. “M’not really in a drinking mood.”

“You’re not in a drinking mood?” She repeated. “You know you’re not going to be in a drinking mood three days from now?” She asked. “Harry,” she rolled her eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

He took a deep breath and turned to her. “Do y’think y’might be pregnant?” He asked.

She dropped her spoon back into her soup and spun to face him as well. Their knees bumped together. “Am I what?”

“Well...y’don’t feel well. But only when y’actively don’t feel well. Then...I don’t remember y’having bad cramps since June,” he reminded her. It was over two months ago. “I don’t feel sick,” he told her.

He watched her pretty face and now wild eyes process all Harry’s logical assumptions. She jumped from the stool and ran to the bathroom slamming the door shut. He followed her immediately. Knocked gently. “Kitten?” He asked nervously. “Are y’okay?”

She didn’t answer.

“Kitten?” He repeated knocking again. He hadn’t anticipated a negative reaction. She wanted kids. They both did. They talked about it many times over. “Baby?” He hummed. “Can y’tell me if y’okay? Need something?”

“I just...” she sounded scared. “I just need a minute.”

“Okay, okay,” he nodded; nerves made sense. “Are you alright?”

She didn’t respond for a moment. “I don’t know.”

“Can you open the door?” His voice started to hitch, worry plaguing him immediately. Poor thing.

“I’m peeing on a stick, Harry. Please just...” she sighed. Frustration was heavy in her tone. He was surprised she already had a pregnancy test there. He would have to ask about that later.

“Kitten,” he gently tried the door, but it was locked. “What’s—”

“Harry, I just need a minute!”

He stepped back from the door and leaned against the opposite wall. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited silently. He heard her sigh repeatedly. The shuffle of her perhaps pacing the small bathroom floor. The sound of the toilet flushing. More moments that he would memorize for eternity.

The three minutes felt like hours. He wanted to see her, wanted to know what was wrong. A timer went off from inside the bathroom. He pushed off the wall and she opened the door holding the plastic stick out to him. “I can’t look.”

“Kitten,” he frowned grabbing it from her and sticking it in his pants pocket without looking. “What’s wrong?” Harry was still in his suit pants. No jacket. The sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was so pretty. It was unfair. She kept her eyes at his feet. Still damp from his water spill.

“You have to look,” she whispered.

“I will, but y’have t’tell me what’s wrong, kitten. Y’making me nervous.”

“We’d have to move,” tears welled in her eyes.

“So?”

“So?” She sniffed. “This is where we fell in love. It’s where we had sex for the first time. That balcony is more important to me than the entire square footage of this place in total.”

“Kitten,” he frowned.

“Don’t you care—”

“Baby,” he shook his head. Before she could finish her question, he pulled her toward him. He was gentle as he squeezed her, fearful of the baby being squished between them. “Of course I care ‘bout that.”

“Then—”

“Kitten,” he tutted. “We’ll get a house with a balcony. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll make sure y’have whatever y’want. Y’can’t be sad ‘bout that.”

She sniffled more, only solidifying Harry’s assumption without even looking at the test in his pocket. “But this is...” she sniffled. “I love it here.”

“I love it too, kitten. But we need more room if we have a baby. A lot of babies.”

She frowned, pulled from him slightly. He wiped his thumbs below her eyes to rid her of the wet tears that soaked her cheeks. “You must think I’m ridiculous,” she pressed her forehead against his body again. He wrapped his arms around her again.

“No more than usual,” he chuckled into her hair and reached for the test in his pocket. He looked at it over her shoulder and smirked. Returned it back to his pocket.

“What’s it say?” She mumbled into his shirt.

“I love you,” he kissed the top of her head.

“It definitely doesn’t say that.”

“Y’don’t think your pee could love me?”

“Harry!” she pinched his sides at his silliness.

“Say it back, first.”

“It’s going to be really unfair that you knew I was pregnant before I did,” she grumbled.

He pushed her away again just far enough to meet her gaze. He smiled at her, that lazy smile he had about him that made her blood warm throughout her body. She forgot why she was grumpy with him. Even if it wasn’t that serious. She already knew what the test said in the pit of her stomach. The swing of her mood flipping like a switch. His expression was soft. Like he was holding a crystal vase from the seventeen hundreds and if he looked at it too hard it would break.  “Say it,” he whispered.

It was like she wasn’t in control of her own voice or movements. Not that she didn’t want to say it. She did. All the time. So, it was easy to whisper, “I love you.”

For the third time he pulled her back to him and kissed the top of her head. “We’ll have t’see if we can find a baby swing for the balcony.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter @kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @harryscherri @indierockgirrl

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles blurbs #harry styles imagines #harry styles x y/n #one direction #one direction writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #⭐️ #the balcony

[mochie85]

Just Breathe - Chapter 3

Just Breathe Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: Zephyr just wanted to be left alone. That's how she's been her whole life. Abandoned, unwanted, and angry. Oh so angry. While taking her revenge on the people who have wronged her, she gets caught by the Avengers and is given the opportunity to either work with them or be kept prisoner by them. Pairing: Loki x Female Villain(~ish) Reader Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Angst, history of trauma, some cursing, torture, captivity. A/N: This one is dark y'all. I haven't written in a while because, between this and the TH&TH series I'm writing, it took me in a whole depressive turn. But I hope you enjoy it. Edit: A big thanks to Inkywinds on AO3 for the German translations.

"You make me come. You make me complete. You make me completely miserable."

The next couple of moments were a blur. They happened so fast that anyone you asked would’ve had a different version of what transpired.

“Zee. Please. You need to calm down!” Loki tried to pacify you.

“If you tell me to calm down one more time, I swear to your gods I will blow up this whole building!” You took in a lungful of air and blew it against Loki pushing him up against the wall. The attack caused alarm in the people watching from outside.

Bucky opened the door trying to get in but the gale force winds were too strong for him to push the door open. You stopped when you need to catch your breath. Loki took this opportunity to transport himself behind you and cover your mouth with one hand and wrap your arms tight into yourself with the other.

Bucky took this as a sign to finally enter. Sam followed suit, “Are you ok, man?” Sam asked Loki. Loki simply nodded his head.

“Get Rogers down here now!” He commanded Sam.

When you saw Bucky approach, you started screaming in Loki’s hand. You moved and squirmed trying your hardest to get out of his grasp. You didn’t know what you were going to do. Get your well-deserved revenge and attack him? Or, run away, scared that he was going to hurt you again the way he did so many years ago.

The closer he got, the more hysterical you seemed to get. Loki noticed. “Barnes, I suggest you leave the room this instant. Unless you’d like your funeral pyre where you stand?” Bucky was confused but started backing away slowly. As soon as he left your sight, you broke down crying in fits.

“I’m going to take my hand off your mouth slowly, darling. Please don’t hurt me.” Loki eased his hand off your lips. His fingers were wet from your screams and tears.

“Why did you let him go?! Why did you restrain me?” you yelled at Loki. You squirmed in his arms. He still had not let you go. “Let me go! Let me find him!”

“And do what, Zee? What is going on? Now I know I’m not your favorite person…” you growled. “…But I’m the only one willing to help you here. Especially since you’ve isolated yourself from everybody else! So you either tell me what’s going on or you go back to the cell downstairs for everybody’s safety!”

“You’re just as bad as he is!” you growled to him. You turned in his embrace to face him and started beating at his chest. Tired and shaky. Crying and exhausted, you fell limp in his arms. Loki caught your body and picked you up, placing you back on the gurney.

You wailed, loudly. You turned over to the other side, your back towards Loki, not wanting to face him.

Loki started in a soft voice, “Darling, I…”

“Beg. You wanted me to beg. To see in my mind. To know what happened. OK then. Do it! See what happened. See why I hate him so much!” You gritted between your teeth.

Loki found himself inside a padded room. It smelled of urine and vomit. He looked around, noting the small dimensions, and the dim light suspended from the ceiling. He heard small grunts and punches from behind him and turned.

He saw you crying with your hands up to defend yourself from an attacker. “Pick her up!” He said. Then Barnes stepped into the picture.

But it wasn’t Barnes. It was The Winter Soldier.

He held you up by your throat with his left metallic arm. As if you were nothing more than a ragdoll. They had gagged you so you couldn’t breathe out. There was an oxygen tank in the corner with a mask ready in case you decided to stop breathing. By the looks of the blood and snot on the mask, they’ve used it on you several times already.

“So, my little kleiner lufthauch. For every mile you seized while you ran away, The Winter Soldier here will beat it out of you.” You screamed harder. Barn’s metal arms held onto you tighter. “Maybe then you’ll reconsider before you try to escape again.”

The last images Loki saw were Barnes’s dead eyes focused on forming his fist as he raised them to your screaming figure below.

Loki was furious.

The suffering you had to endure while you were captive under HYDRA was appalling and inexcusable. Just then, Rogers walked in with Barnes and Wilson trailing behind him. Loki turned and grabbed Barnes by the throat. Just like he saw in your memories.

At once, the Captain and Wilson were on high alert. They got in their defensive positions and tried to stop Loki.

“What are you doing?!” Rogers said trying to grab Loki’s outstretched arm.

“He. Hurt. Her!” Loki growled with each syllable.

“Loki let him go!” Wilson yelled, trying to get through to his reasonable side. “You know Bucky! He would never do that!”

“Bucky won’t. But the Winter Soldier has!” Loki answered. Bucky’s metal arm grabbed Loki’s wrist. Squeezing, hoping to get him to loosen up.

Roger’s turned towards you. “Is this true, Zee? Was Bucky there when you were captured by HYDRA?”

You turned your head towards Steve. Your eyes were watery and red. You silently nodded your head and turned back to watch the scene unfold.

Loki attacked your abuser for you. Without question. Without hesitation. No one had ever defended you before. No one had ever fought for you before. You were always left to fend for yourself.

“Mark my words, Roger’s if he goes anywhere near her, I will bring forth a hell you’ve only ever read about in books.” Loki let go of his tight grip on Bucky’s throat. He turned towards you. His eyes were dark and his jaw tightened. “Come,” was all he said as he held out his arms, blocking the sight of Bucky behind him. He pointed towards the door, ushering you out. “You are not to stay here a moment longer.”

You slowly got up from the gurney and made your way towards the exit. Loki was dutifully blocking your view of the metal soldier behind him.

“Wait!” Bucky yelled out. Loki quickly turned to stop him. Bucky backed away, his hands in the air. “Look. I-I just wanted to say…I’m sorry. I don’t remember much from back then. I try to forget.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses!” You said behind Loki.

“I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James ‘Bucky’ Barnes and…if you’ll allow me to…to make you a part of my efforts…to make amends.” A short silence hung in the air. Everyone was looking at Bucky. But bucky was only looking at you.

“Two broken legs. A broken jaw. Two ribcage fractures. A dislocated shoulder. Mental and emotional trauma to last five lifetimes.” You listed off softly. “My bones have already healed. My trauma has made me stronger. There is nothing, NOTHING, left for you to make amends with soldier.” Then you walked off, resisting the urge to run, towards your room.

Loki followed quietly behind you making sure Barnes or the other soldiers didn’t harass you. As you opened your door, you paused at the threshold. “You can come in if you’d like.” You pushed the door wider and left to go to your closet.

You heard him step in and close the door behind him as you grabbed the few items of clothing and secret weapons that you were hoarding. You set them on the floor by your bed, as you reached for your duffel bag underneath it.

“Huh. I always wondered where the missing blades went.” Loki said watching you from the door. “If you don’t feel safe, I can keep watch for you. You don’t have to run away.” He offered.

You stopped packing and looked at him. “You’d do that? Stay here all night? While I slept? What would make you think I would trust you?” You couldn’t help the snark that came out with that last question. You didn’t mean to offend. You were just shocked and curious.

“Would you feel better if I stayed outside then?” Loki said pointing to your door. You got up from the floor and walked over to him.

“No one has ever tried to make me feel safe. Secure me. Detain me. Lock me up and use me. Why? Why would you be any different?”

“Let’s just say…that our pasts are quite similar, in some regards.” You got closer to him, walking slowly. He watched you warily. “I feel a sort of kinship with you if I’m being honest.”

You reached your hand up to caress his cheek and he winced and backed away. You froze at his reaction. “Sorry, darling, but the last time you tried to kiss me, you stole my breath away. Quite literally.” You both chuckled. “So you can see why I’m a little hesitant to let you so close.”

“I’ve been nothing but vile and angry towards you. I’ve hurt you so many times and in so many different ways. I won’t apologize for the way I am.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“But I can promise that I’ll work on it.” You whispered to your left, not really looking into his eyes.

Loki groaned internally at your words. You looked so innocent and meek. The complete opposite of the narcissistic know-it-all who always had to have the last word. No trace of the wild-wind spirit that upended his life.

His jaw tightened as he started to stifle the electricity jolting through his body. He couldn’t help but be attracted to you even more. You! The one who caught his attention the moment you walked into the building with handcuffs and armed escorts. The only one who can, not only resist his charms but serve them back to him as well. The only one who can best him in combat and make him stop breathing altogether.

“You are insufferable!” Loki said in a steady voice. Not wanting to cause you to panic. “You’re arrogant and demanding. You make me completely miserable!” He said. Each word makes you slightly wince inside.

“But you still come anyway.” You countered.

“Yes. Because I’m arrogant enough to think that I can help you. We insufferable lot need to stick together. Lest we become one of them.” Loki pointed out to the hallways, referencing the other heroes in the building.

You smiled at that. Just earlier, you scoffed at him in the gym for lumping you two together. Saying that you were Avengers and that you needed to stick together. You hated that idea. But now, being lumped with him is not so bad.

“I can’t stay here, Loki.” You looked up into his eyes. “I can’t stay knowing that he’s in the same building as I am. I’ve spent my entire freedom hunting down those who wronged me and getting revenge for what they’ve done. He would’ve been the last one. And now, I come to find out that he’s being protected by Earth’s mightiest heroes!?

“I give up. I’m tired. I just…want to go away and never have to think of this place or these people ever again. This was only a means to an end. You know I wasn’t going to stay here.” You finished.

“All right.” He said pacifying you, rubbing his hands up your arm. “Then I’m coming with you.”

“The hell you are!” You yelled. Your rejection stung him. “Loki, I will not have you risk your immunity over this. This is my fight. It’s mine to give up. So, I will.”

“Darling, I don’t want to be here any more than you do. Frankly, if you leave, it wouldn’t be as much fun.”

“Loki. Stay.” You said shaking your head. You went back to your duffel and continued to pack. “This won’t be fun. This isn’t some type of vacation I’m packing for. This will be me trying to make ends meet. Trying not to get caught by both HYDRA and now SHIELD. You would get sick of this life.”

“And how would you know what’s best for me? What would you know of my life!?”

“Because I don’t want this life for myself! I wouldn’t wish this on anyone!” you yelled back. “Don’t make me incapacitate you again, Loki.”

“I’m going with you! And that’s final.” He ordered. Just then, you took a large intake of breath and blew it in his direction. Loki anticipated your attack and put up a barrier, enclosing you inside. The wind you created blew around you mercilessly and tore through your hair. Your clothes holding on tight against your skin as they were blown in every direction. All of it, encapsulated in his barrier.

When your lungs were depleted of air, the wind stopped. Heat rose, but quickly dissipated as you started to breathe normally again.

Loki took down his shield. “Are you done with your tantrum? Good. Let’s go.” With that, he twirled his hands, making your duffel disappear. He opened your door and ushered you outside towards the elevators. Towards your freedom. Towards your new life.

You stood at the doors of the elevator, waiting for it to open. “You don’t trust me do you?” you asked Loki, breaking the silence. “You anticipated my attack.”

“No, I don’t trust you. Not completely. Yes, I did anticipate your attack. You’re getting rather predictable.” He sneered at you.

You rolled your eyes back at him. The bell chimed and the doors of the elevator opened to two people on the lift.

“Zee?!” said the familiar voice in front of you.

⬅️Chapter 2 | Chapter 4➡️

Taglist: @alexs1200 @a-witch-with-words @britishserpent @huntress-artemiss @mischief2sarawr @user13cabs @one-oblivious-nerd @crimson25 @nopenottodayson @el-zef @immersed-in-mischief @lokiprompts21 @lokiprompts @lokisninerealms @lokisgoodgirl @luvlady-writes @michelleleewise @wheredafandomat @xorpsbane @lucylaufeyson3 @loopsisloops @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vbecker10 @michelleleewise @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @salempoe @xwhiteoleanderx @theaudacitytowrite @ficitve-sl0th @goldencherriess @ozymdias

#writing ideas #fic prompt #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki angst #mcu #loki laufeyson #loki fandom #tom hiddleston fanfic #loki x you #loki x reader #villain reader #anonymous request #Spotify

[georgiapeach30513]

Misguided Ghosts, Part 6

Summary:  Jakey is the sweetest

Pairings:  Jake Jensen X Reader, Jake Jensen X Charles Blackwood

Rating:  mature

Warnings:  language, implied sex, implied non con/dub con, implied ghost sex, mentions of voyeurism, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  2.2K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“And what are you going to be?” Jake talks to your belly as you struggle to finish breakfast.  “You’re going to be mine and your mommy’s precious sweet girl, aren’t you?”

No, he’s not.  Charles hops onto the counter behind you, and kicks at Jake’s arm.  You look down at Jake who had quit talking and tickling your belly to see him glaring behind you.  You got caught.  Are you ever going to tell my Princess what you’re doing?

“Jake, is everything okay,” you brush your hand against his cheek, and try to smile.  Jake seemed so preoccupied since you had been pregnant.  It was like he was always looking at something in the distance.  “Are you sure you want this?”

Haha, told you that you were caught.

“Giggles, I’m so happy.  Had I had known that you felt the same way I did, I wouldn’t have waited so long.”

Good save, dumb ass.

“You’re just…what do you see?” Jake stands up from the floor, and desperately tries to ignore Charles’ incessant laughter.  “Like just now, you were looking at something else.  Is it this house?  Is it because you don’t want to be here?”

“Stop,” he brings both your hands to his chest, and lets them rest on his heart, “It only beats for you and our baby.”

Sure, sure.  Bring up the fact that you have a beating heart.  You don’t find it funny that a woman that didn’t think she could get pregnant, now is?  You think your sperm did that?  We know that’s my hybrid baby.  Quit your babbling.

“And,” his voice gets louder, and your body flinches at the volume change, “This house is creepy and…”

Your handsome and sexy ghost has been fucking you with me every night.

“Giggles…we’re…we’re gonna be late.  We should eat.”

Fucking coward.  Can’t even tell her that our baby is going to be part ghost and part human.  You don’t want her to know that you enjoy fucking her with me.

“I’m just so glad that the baby has had such a good strong heartbeat,” he wraps his arms around you, settling his hands on your belly, while he rests his chin on your shoulder.  “You’re doing such a good job of growing this precious jellybean of ours.”

Oh god, gag me with a stick.  You’re sickeningly sweet.  Just look at it as a way to trap her to you.  Even if you don’t work out, she can’t leave you.  But you’re worried because you know that deep down that’s my baby.

Jake lifts his leg behind him, starting to swing it through Charles’ specter and the ghost rolls his eyes, I can’t feel that you nitwit.  Better eat.  Need the doctor to tell you we’re having a son.

Holding tightly to Jake’s hand, he leans down to kiss it before his head was back at the monitor, “Everything is normal, right?” He asks worriedly.  “This…this is our first,” it warmed your heart to hear Jake say that.  It was like he was wanting to have more once this baby was born.  

“Baby is growing great,” he pushes your stomach a bit, moving the wand around more, “And stubborn as a mule.  Go on, spread your legs.  You know,” he says, looking up at you and Jake, “Such a strange thing, me telling a not fully formed human to spread their legs so we know what sex they are.  Hehe,” god he was strange, but also the only doctor in the small town.  “Right.  Right there!  Ahh, look at it.”

“I am,” your eyes move over the monitor, and then up at Jake, “What are we looking at.”

“A taco.”

“What?” Jake shouts.  “She hasn’t had tacos because the smell makes her vomit.  What is our baby?”

“A girl,” snapping a few photos, he takes a towel to clean off the gel from your body.  “Should have guessed.  Girls are ladies, and they don’t like showing themselves off.  It’s okay, dad, you can always try again for a boy.”

“Jake?”

“A girl,” he whispers, looking down at you, and you could see why he was so silent.  His little lip was trembling.  “We’re having a girl.  And her heart, it’s beating good and strong?”

“Better than strong.  That’s one of the best heartbeats I’ve heard from a baby her size.  She’s always had a good strong heartbeat.  Okay, so…you two live in that creepy Blackwood house?”  Your squeal completely ignoring what he was saying, because you were having a girl with Jake Jensen.

“We’re having a girl,” you cry, sitting up, and pulling Jake over to you, “Jake, you were right.  We’re having us a girl.”

“And her heart?”

“Jake?  Her heart is fine.  He said it’s better than fine.  She’s perfect,” the doctor smiles, and nods at Jake.  

“I'm just…paranoid, I guess.  Can’t be too sure you know.  Everyone wants to make sure their baby is okay,” he clears his throat, finally embracing you in your hug.  “We’ve got to hang these on the fridge!”

“Your inflections on your words have been strange lately.”

“Strange man I am.  You know this.  Alright, come on.  Let’s go.”

Charles glares at the ultrasound photos on the fridge, looking at each one.  She was supposed to be a boy to carry on his name.  She was supposed to be a big strong boy.  She is now a…Hey!

His body was engulfed with the refrigerator door opening, “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

“You most certainly saw me there.  I make myself visible to you.  What are you doing?”

“My girlfriend wants strawberry milk.  Now…I could give her the strawberry syrup which is full of disgusting ingredients and is most likely what she wants.  But I could make some with fresh strawberries and sugar.”

“Just make her what she wants, and put a strawberry on the side.  Don’t make her more miserable.”

“You do have a heart,” Jake pauses with his words, and tells himself he was never going to refer to Charles having a heart again.  “Why don’t you join us in the bedroom anymore?”

“Why aren’t you fucking someone without a care?  She can’t get pregnant.”

He mixes the syrup in the milk, watching as the liquid turns into a pretty pink color before he spins on his heels to look at Charles, “You literally were just using her to breed, weren’t you?  You don’t care anymore now that she’s pregnant with my baby.  Which by the way, the baby's heartbeat is the best he’s ever heard.  How are we supposed to even know if your glowing jizz had any effect on my daughter?  Is there a DNA test for that?  To prove that your ghost sperm didn’t knock my Giggles up.  You pig.  You just played with her, and then you don't care?”

“You’re too sweet.  It’s disgusting.  You’re treating her like she’s a…”

“Princess?  You’re the one that calls her that.  You…you’re disgusting,” slinging the door to the fridge open, he grabs strawberries, and angrily cuts two.  “You, you came into me.”

“Please, don’t say it like that.”

“You used me just as much as you used her.”

“Oh god, let’s act so righteous,” Charles rolls his eyes, turning to walk into the living room and his chair, “And you knew about me.  By the way,  I used her a lot that first night, and even had her screaming my name.  Just ask her.”

Jake starts to say something else, but thinks better of it.  Looking down at the milk, he grabs the whipped cream, and swirls a mound on it.  Ignoring Charles’ snide comments as he walks up the stairs.  “Giggles,” Jake announces walking through the door, “We need a bedroom on the lower level.”

“But this room has the best view.  Aha!” You squeal as he hands you the drink.  “Jakey, it’s perfect.  Oh,” using the straw, you take the biggest drink, this was exactly what you and your daughter were wanting.  “And there’s a perfect room next to us for Miss Rosewyn Penelope.”

“She’s gonna have fun when it comes time to spell her name,” he removes his shirt, and settles down beside you.  Already scooting closer to your body.  Thankfully he was like a furnace, because you were always so cold.  His thick fingers rub over your belly, and you feel guilty.

“Jake, I’m sorry, I just have no sex drive right now.  I didn’t have morning sickness during the first trimester, and now I do.  And I want to have sex with you.  You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, and…”

“You mean more to me than just your body.  You’re growing our daughter.  I have no room to complain.”

“Why are you acting so off lately then?” You look down at him, thankful that he was the father to your baby.  You two were going to make the prettiest baby, and you hoped she had her daddy’s lashes.  So dark and full.  He doesn’t answer though.  “Is it because of what I said about the dildo?”

“What?”

“That…you know I had a fantasy of you and Charles, and…got off on it.”

“What if…you said that you woke up so worked up, and you needed to fuck something,” when he said it like that it was so crude.  I mean sure, you had such a vivid dream of Charles railing into you that first night.  But still thoughts of Jake kept flashing in your mind, too.  

Waking up in various positions.  Once with your legs spread wide, and you could swear that you felt his cock pushing into you.  “What if it wasn’t a dream?”

“Jake, I love you, but that’s stupid.  Charles is dead.  He died young, and ghosts aren’t real,” he lifts up off the bed, and stares at you.  His usually animated face is gone.  “They’re not real.”

“He was murdered.”

“Jake, stop.”

“We saw it in the library.  He was murdered.  He died shortly after that portrait.  Why couldn’t he be real?”

“So, let me get this straight, you think that first night I was here and having those wild sex dreams, he was actually fucking me?”  He shrugs his shoulders, but can’t meet your eyes.  “Why…why would you think that?”

“You said…you woke up with your ass in the air, and face on the bed, and your body was moving.  You could feel his thrusts.  And…I saw it, too,” your eyes go wide as you stare at him.  Sure, Jake had seen you naked multiple times, but never like that.  “Your body was moving like you were being fucked, and you were fast asleep.”

“How much did you watch?”

“I…Giggles, I shouldn’t have done it, but I wanted you so bad, and…I didn’t know you were asleep.  You were so loud, and the door was open, and I wanted to walk past it, but you were pointing right at the door, and…I felt him in me, too?”

“He fucked you, too?” You start laughing, because what else were you supposed to do?  This was beyond insane.  Jake who you had loved for years was getting a pass for that nonsense, because it was too raw to deal with it.  This was bizarre.  Ever since you had moved here it was strange and unusual.  No wonder you got this house at a huge discount.

“No.  He didn’t fuck me.  I felt him come into me,” you cock up an eyebrow, and he waves his hands, “No, like, he went into my body, like possession.  That’s why I didn’t like him.  It was too personal with that picture there.  It’s like he was watching our every move.  Still does.  Like he’s inescapable unless we move.”

“I want Rosewyn to grow up here though.  She would live in a castle, and…”

“Become friends with a sex crazed ghost?”

“Wait…that first night, it was all night, but in my dreams he was saying something about…ew, no.   Ghosts can’t have babies.  No.  No.  This conversation is over.  I’m tired, I’m going to bed.  We didn’t have this conversation.  We have a healthy baby girl growing, and we’re going to be parents, and we’re always going to live in this damn castle.  So unless you plan on pretending this ghost Charles is a figment of your imagination, or you're going to find his bones to burn or call the Winchesters, I don’t want to hear another word about this.”

She’s living in denial, Charles laughs at the foot of the bed, and Jake tries to ignore him.  She knows.  She still feels me growing in her.  Doesn’t want to admit the big bad ghost filled her up so good.  Got you believing that you’re the crazy one.  Neither of you are.  You won’t get rid of me.  I’ll haunt you forever because I’m growing in her.  You’re trapped with me.  And when that baby is born, I’ll be able to follow you around.  You couldn’t even tell her the truth.  Maybe I should.

His body flickers, but you were curling into Jake’s side.  “Jakey, I don’t want to fight.  I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispers, scooting down the bed.  “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you and our daughter.”

“I know.”

“Shh, get some sleep.”

And maybe one day she’ll feel like fucking you again.  You could just be like me and take, Charles stands off the bed, and starts to head back to his chair.  His home.  Where he felt the most comfortable.

I’ll never be like you, stopping in the doorway, he turns and stares at Jake who gives him a sinister grin.  I’m learning, too.  You won’t hurt my family.  You better change your attitude.  

Don’t threaten me, little boy.  Sweet dreams, Jake.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @sstan-hoe @infatuatedharleys @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @feyfantome @seitmai @stronginawayjbb @smile1318 @avengersalways @toozmanykids @elrw24 @lavender-annd-lilac @xcaptain-winterx @redbloodedgurl @andydrysdalerogers @bambamwolf87 @cjand10

#misguided ghosts #jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen x fem!reader #jake jensen x y/n #jake jensen x you #charles blackwood #ghost!charles blackwood #charles blackwood x reader #charles blackwood x fem!reader #charles blackwood x y/n #charles blackwood x you