#i try to keep the canon where they are not emotional or soft

[urhoneycombwitch]

imagine being loved by me

🍯 honey flavour: your love has stood the test of time, thus far, but a party fit for a rockstar brings up some bitter emotions.

🐝 the bees: rockstar!Eddie x jealous!Reader

wc: 8k

cw: drugs and alcohol consumption, mentions of weight gain (eddie’s, in a positive manner), R has panic/anxiety attack, jealousy (talked about and resolved tho), softdom!Reader, softdom!Eddie, oral (E and R receiving), R has breasts + a V and referred to with she/her pronouns, P in V sex, cumming inside w/out protection

foreword: timeline is wobbly and may not align perfectly w canon bc I’m bad at math so shhhh suspend ur disbelief. based on this anon thank you v much anon <3

___

It’s the coldest January Hawkins has seen in ages. Snow banks sit high on the roadsides, air thick with snowflakes, three-AM fog brought in courtesy of the bitter wind chill. 

Under the yellow floodlight of a nearby streetlamp, your boyfriend is sucking down the last of a joint while you stamp your feet against the gravel parking lot.

“C’mon, Eddie,” you whine, crossing the arms of your fleeced puffer jacket, bouncing on your heels to keep the blood flowing. “My toes are gonna get frostbite.”

“A touch dramatic,” Eddie replies, unbothered. The cherry of the joint between his lips burns orange, casting a warm glow over Eddie’s cheekbones, the twinkle of snowflakes caught in his bangs. “I told you to go in without me, princess. Warmer in there.”

“Without you? As if.” You pull the pity card, and it works, ‘cuz it always does- that boy has got to learn how to say no to you, one of these days. 

Not today, though, because Eddie is tamping out the ember on the sole of his boot and crunching up the snowy path to sling an arm around your neck.

“Grub time,” he says against your hair, pressing his cold lips to the side of your forehead as you both make your way into Benny’s Burgers.

The heated air is a welcome relief, and save for a couple of old-timers at a side table, you and Eddie are the only customers in the place. 

Benny greets you both from where he’s flipping patties on the kitchen grill, waving a spatula at the corner booth- “All yours, kiddos. Want the usual?”

You and Eddie call out affirmatives as you sink into opposing seats, unwrapping yourselves from all your winter gear as you go.

“God bless Benny Hammond for expanding his night hours,” you say, piling your green scarf on the tabletop. “This is a good tradition for us, y’know. Post-band practice smoking and coffee- very rock and roll.”

“I concur.” Eddie tosses his knit hat at you playfully. “You, my lady, have the most rock ‘n roll soul I ever did see.”

As Benny approaches with two mugs of steaming coffee, you muse aloud, “Not sure if the amount of sugar you’re about to dump in your coffee is very metal, per se...”

“Y’hear that, Benny?” Eddie grabs a fistful of sugar packets and shakes them indignantly. “My girl’s trying to keep me on the straight and narrow. How’s a rockstar s’posed to live in these conditions?”

“Lord knows,” Benny says, sardonic, setting the mugs down and turning back to the kitchen.

Eddie winces as his hands wrap around the heat of the mug, and you notice right away. “Your fingers splitting again? I have that salve that you used last time, but it’s back at the trailer.”

He puts his hand face-up onto the table, and you slip yours into his, the deep fingertip grooves from guitar strings rough against your soft palm.

“I’ll live. Plus, it’s kind of metal, right?” Eddie runs a calloused thumb across the back of your hand.

You squeeze back, give him a wink. “Very metal.”

Eddie’s been working himself to the bone lately. Trying to stay in school and not drop out is a feat in itself, but compounded with the band practices that have only ramped up in length recently, it’s a lot to balance.

He hasn’t complained at all, of course. It’s not really in his nature.

In the past few weeks, however, he’s been imbued with this near-manic energy, a renewed sense of purpose. In between your own fitful sleeps you often wake in the early hours of the morning to find Eddie hunched over his desk, pen flying across his notebook as he reworks an old song or outlines a new one. Not that you weren’t proud of him before, but seeing him apply this newfound passion to his music has been a huge source of joy for you. 

And, if you’re being really honest, also a major turn on. I mean, the boy’s got swagger like no other, and you’re so glad he’s finally utilizing it on stage. Even if that stage is in the middle of a piece of shit dive bar. Still counts, in your book.

Benny drops off baskets of hot fries, a burger for Eddie, and a BLT for you. Methodic and familiar, you offload half your fries to Eddie’s basket as he slides his burger towards you for the first bite. 

After a few minutes of peaceful eating, Eddie balls up a napkin in his fist and raps the table with his knuckles. “So, uh. Kind of have some news.”

You slot the ketchup bottle back into its metal holder and look up with raised brows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looks suddenly nervous, knee knocking into the underside of the table as he bounces his leg compulsively. “You remember Paige Warner? Graduated in ‘81, brother is a baseball jock?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath- his unease is kind of setting you on edge. 

“What about Paige Warner?” you prompt.

“She moved out to L.A. for a job and she’s working this scouting gig for some bigshot record,” he continues, absently pulling the thin napkin in his hands into pieces, staring vacantly at the mess. “And she wants Corroded Coffin to record and send out a demo to the label.”

As the news sinks in, your jaw drops. “Holy shit. What?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s fidgeting with the paper scraps now, still not making eye contact with you. “She wants us to start recording next week. I haven’t told anyone else, yet, I wanted to make sure you were the first-”

You interrupt him with an excited little squeal (drawing glares from the old guys across the diner) and shove up from your side of the table to throw your arms around Eddie.

“Holy shit,” you repeat, laughing as Eddie pulls you into his lap- “Eddie, that’s amazing!”

“You think so?” he asks, your enthusiasm allowing his own to creep in; He slides his hands to your denim-clad hips, his self-professed favorite stress toy (well, tied for favorite with your thighs). 

“How come you were so nervous to tell me?” You ask him, gently, tucking his dark hair behind his ears so you can see his face better. “Were you thinking I’d react differently?”

He looks up at you wide-eyed, shakes his head- “No, no, I wasn’t worried about you reacting a certain way. I just… I’m just worried about what this’ll mean. You know. For us.”

“Us?” You echo, encouraging him to continue. 

Eddie squeezes at your hips, presses the crown of his head against your collarbone like he’s mustering up the courage to speak. “Yeah, us. I know L.A. isn’t your dream- shit, I don’t even know if it’s mine- but you didn’t sign up to go on the road like this. You’ve got college to consider, and-”

“So I’ll take a gap year,” you interrupt, putting a hand to his cheek to make him look at you again, and when he starts to protest, you talk over him. “No, Eddie, I’m serious. I don’t know what the hell I wanna do with my life yet anyways. Following my hot rockstar boyfriend to a new town sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

He shakes his head again, and you can feel his dimples spring to life under your hand as he teases, “Gonna be my little groupie?”

“And more,” you confirm, giving him a kiss (chaste, so as not to invoke any more ire from the grumpy other customers) and sliding off his lap to return to your own seat. “I’ll be your assistant extraordinaire, if you want. Or bodyguard. Make sure none of the other groupie chicks get too close.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, fondly. “You’re the only groupie I need, sweetheart.”

Settling back into your respective seats, you both work on the last basket of fries while chatting genially about the future. Eddie mentions getting an apartment in Los Angeles, so there’s less of a commute, which branches the conversation into the logistics of a cross-country move, and then on to more important topics such as the alleged coolness of west-coast parties. 

“Who’s your celebrity hall pass?” you ask, out of pure interest, dipping a fry into the well of ketchup. “Like, say you’re rubbing elbows at some famous muckety-muck’s party and someone catches your eye. Who’re you taking back to the motel for a slutty roll in the hay?”

Eddie snickers at your phrasing, then says, “I mean, preferably, my super hot girlfriend-”

You throw a fry at his head. “That’s such a cop-out answer. In this hypothetical, Joan Jett is in red leather petting up on you and you’re saying you wouldn’t take her up on a one-night stand?”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie, a real, proper one where he throws his head back. “Are you actively encouraging me to hook up with some bimbo at a random party? Without you? Unlikely scenario on all fronts, babe.”

This earns him another launched fry, and he squawks, trying to shake it out of its place caught in his hair as you reprimand him- “Joan Jett is not some bimbo, watch your mouth! And what I’m saying is, if you didn’t at least try to score us a threesome with her, I’d be pissed.”

“Okay, baby,” Eddie soothes you a tad derisively, likely a ploy to avoid more flying food- “if I meet Joan Jett I will do my level best to get her in our bed. Scout’s honor.”

He holds up two fingers and wiggles them obscenely, grinning when you laugh again. “All right, Nosey McGee. Who are you taking home from the party?”

You hum, eyes flicking up to the ceiling, contemplating the options. “I guess I could be talked into a night with Kirk Hammett.”

Eddie’s turn to launch a fry. “You slut,” he chuckles, “That was a way quicker answer than mine.”

“Okay, fine. If I meet Kirk Hammett, I promise to at least make a bid for threesome. Deal?” You extend your pinkie across the table.

Eddie loops his little finger into yours. “Deal.”

____

The memory of that cozy diner evening years ago fades as you shake yourself to the present.

You aren’t two highschool kids with lofty dreams, anymore- after Eddie’s recovery from all that Upside Down bullshit in ‘86, Corroded Coffin took off. Even though Paige didn’t end up coming through with any deals, Eddie and his bandmates fought like hell to get signed- and by the end of that year, a small record label in the heart of downtown Chicago had taken the bait.

Corroded Coffin turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to Arken Records; by the spring of ‘87, business was booming thanks to the help of Corroded’s debut album, The Banished Ones- their new single was a chart-topper for over 6 weeks. (Smash Hit magazine’s latest review was titled “Fresh Sound Rises from Dirt Nowhere.” You have the paper clipping saved in your ever-growing folder with “rockstar boyfriend!!!” handwritten in black ink.) 

And in a few weeks, the band will set off on their first real tour, starting in Chicago and ending with a bang in an already sold-out show in Hawkins- Dustin, Steve, and the rest of the gang with VIP front-row seats, of course. 

As much as you and Eddie have grown and matured in the past few years, the core of you both has remained the same. Eddie is still just as dorky, goofy, and caring as he always has been, while you’ve kept that tenacious spirit and quick wit that he fell in love with back in the early days of dating. Even now, with his popularity rising and his rockstar dreams on their way to coming true, Eddie constantly brings his focus back to you. 

Pillow talks in cushy hotel beds, late night ramblings over post-show whiskeys, holding hands in the back of yet another cab- when he could be talking about the thousands of exciting things happening in his own life, Eddie is asking about you.

Did you talk to Robin last night, sweetheart? How’s ‘ol Birdie doin? What do you wanna wear to that dinner thingy tomorrow… could go naked for all I care. In fact you probably should because of feminism and all that. Did you sleep okay last night? Let me look at ya. You thinkin’ any more about those applications you got?

You’d taken a gap year to support Eddie, which you were happy to do, but with ‘87 drawing to a close, he’s been more insistent lately that you take a look at all your college options. Honestly, you’ve been enjoying the adventures that come with touring way too much to consider going back to the rigidity of school. 

And plus, having the love of your life nearly bleed out in your arms in a parallel dimension has totally realigned your priorities. If folks thought you and Eddie were attached at the hip before… 

He’ll likely argue you into academia, eventually. He always rolls high on persuasion. Damn him.

For now, you’ve got a party to attend. 

Arken Records is playing host, on the last night of 1987- in celebration of Corroded Coffin’s success and to kick off the New Year’s festivities, they’ve rented out a house in east Chicago for the event. 

Well, house isn’t the right word. More like mansion. Vaulted ceilings tall as a church’s, huge windows overlooking the Chicago river, a grand chandelier with flickering candles in nearly every room. 

When you and Eddie had toured the place a few days previous, he’d made a joking complaint low in your ear about not having the time to fuck you on every surface. Your laugh had reverberated off the sweeping mahogany floorboards, mostly at the expense of Eddie’s poor publicist who’d happened to hear his comment. (Melanie had really been putting in overtime lately; you made a mental note to send her a very nice flower arrangement and vouchers for a spa trip.)

The party was in full swing by the time you and Eddie arrived, fashionably late, and he had been folded into the throng of other musicians and partygoers against his will pretty much immediately- which you’d expected. The last hour, he’s been throwing you piteous looks from his spot across the room, where he hasn’t had the chance to move an inch with the amount of people keeping the conversation going. You’ve slipped to his side a few times, refreshing his drink, letting him curl an arm around your waist as you perch on his knee, only half-focused on whatever story some producer is saying as Eddie’s hand trails up your thigh. 

You’re back on the nearest wall again, sipping champagne, taking it all in. There are probably over a hundred people crammed into this banquet room, bass thumping through the floorboards, tables shoved to the outer corners making space for a makeshift dance space. 

The air is hazy with smoke from various cigarettes and joints; as the night has progressed, the smell of freshly-applied cologne has been replaced with heady sweat as the dance floor calls more people to writhe and grind in groups and partners. Eddie is still stuck in the lone pod of living room chairs, surrounded by a rapt audience of people crammed in to hear him better over the blaring music.

He looks damn good tonight, in a cut-off black tee and his favorite ripped jeans, leather jacket hung on the chair behind him. Silver catches the light from every angle- on the chains at his hips, around his neck, glinting off his rings as he gestures animatedly mid-story. He’d asked you to do his eyeliner at the hotel earlier, and although it’s smudged and blurred at the edges now he’s still pulling it off. Tiny silver stars, hand-drawn with your eyeshadow brush, twinkle across his cheeks like freckles.

Eddie wanted to match with you, whined until you added a belt made of gold-plated stars to your outfit. You went simple, the gold to his silver- belt cinching your short black satin slip dress, delicate brass rings and bracelets around your fingers and bare forearms. The one piece of silver you are wearing is a chain around your neck, Eddie’s guitar pick nestled snug between your breasts. 

You still resolutely refuse to wear heels, even after Eddie’s stylist cajoled you into practicing on stilettos for a disastrous media training session last month- tonight you’re in a chic pair of Mary Janes with the slightest suggestion of a heel. Compromise. 

There’s a big laugh from the crowd in the corner again as Eddie knocks a hand into Gareth’s chest for emphasis, nearly knocking the younger boy off his seat. You stare unabashedly at Eddie’s forearms, biceps on full display; he’s filled out a bit since leaving home, his usually lean frame boasting a bit more weight and bulk now that he’s got consistent access to well-rounded meals. 

He’s looking healthy, down right glowy. You’re thinking about that smattered trail of dark hair that slides down the crest of his stomach, now with extra padding enough to sink your teeth into. As if he knows, Eddie catches your eye from across the room and winks, cheekily. 

You shiver and unconsciously press your thighs together, hiding your grin with another swallow of champagne.

The alcohol turns a bit sour going down, though, as a crimped-haired blonde girl worms her way to Eddie’s side, laughing a little too loudly at the joke he just told. When she places a manicured hand on one of his shoulders, the thin stem of your glass nearly snaps in your grip.

The thing about rockstars is they have crazy sex appeal. The thing about your rockstar is he’s only interested in you, something that has been proved many times over.

So why is tonight hitting you so hard? Why do you feel nauseous the longer Eddie lets some random woman’s hand stay on his bare skin when you know he’s going home with you, and only you?

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the overcrowded room, or the memories of Benny’s diner still lingering like a bruise in your mind. Hard to pinpoint exactly. All you know is that jealousy is gnawing like a thing raw and seeking in the pit of your stomach, and if you don’t get out of this stuffy room soon you’re gonna do something tabloid-worthy, like cry in the middle of a New Year’s Eve party.

By the grace of some god you make it across the dance floor and into a side bathroom unscathed, the pulsing sound of the party blissfully dimming as you shut the door behind you. Your mind whirls as you grip the gilded sink for stability, blinking hard at the tears beginning to form. 

You love having a boyfriend who’s larger than life. You love that he’s taking up space and getting to use that charm that was nurtured on the DM throne back in Hawkins. You’re so proud of him, you really are. 

You’re just starting to hate the way other people’s surface-level love of him makes you feel.

Because that’s what it is, right? Just surface-level, you reason with yourself- the level of intimacy that you and Eddie have is unmatched, something that the newly-formed masses of admirers won’t ever get to experience.

Christ, can jealousy give you hives? You grab a handful of paper towels and soak them in cold tap water, then press the damp bundle to your chest, breath stuttering.

You’ve never been the jealous type, or the overbearing type- it’s a new feeling, and maybe that’s why it feels so scary. The more you try to tamp it down, the more it rears its ugly head, making you, in turn, feel embarrassed for having such a strong reaction in the first place.

It’s a vicious cycle that’s only seeming to gain speed as you realize you haven’t yet managed a full breath since coming to your hiding spot. Your lungs are pinched and burning as you drop the soggy paper into the sink, leaning into the lip of the porcelain to steady yourself.

There’s a knock on the door, and you choke out “Just a minute”, not sure if the person on the other side can even hear you over the music when Eddie’s voice leaks through.

“Baby? That you in there?”

Against your better judgment, you open the door, and he crams in the small space, locking it again behind himself.

“There you are, I saw you leave and thought you were getting a drink or something but then you didn’t come back and- are you okay?”

He interrupts his own stream of consciousness when he notices the state you’re in. You give him a trembly smile, waving a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, all good. I’ll come back with you, just needed to pee.”

Eddie is not so easily thrown off the scent. He murmurs your name, sliding his hand into yours, looking at you with a wounded puppy gaze- fuck, you can’t have a breakdown. Not here, not on New Year’s in some knockoff-Playboy’s bathroom.

And certainly not in front of Eddie, who’s asking you to tell him what’s wrong, what happened, with an increasingly pleading tone that’s really, really not helping your whole Don’t Cry agenda. 

Hoping your voice doesn’t break, you clear your throat and pull your hand from his grasp. “Nothing happened, okay? I just had too much to drink, feeling overly sentimental or something. I’m okay.”

You think your white lie was convincing enough when Eddie reaches back for the door handle, that maybe he’ll rejoin the party and leave you to have a good cry, but after poking his head out the doorway briefly he grabs onto your wrist, tugging you to his side and hissing “Quick!”

And then you’re both making a break for it down the mostly-empty hallway, Eddie pulling you smoothly past a wall of expensive-looking oil paintings before going through a set of double doors that lead to the outside.

It’s December in Chicago, which means a light layer of snow covers the terraced garden that Eddie is leading you through, stopping at a stone bench flanked by two scraggly bushes. 

“Made it,” he huffs with exertion, dropping your hand to shrug his leather jacket off in favor of draping it around your own shoulders.

“You’re gonna be cold,” you sniffle, partly from the tears, partly from the crisp night air.

“Yeah,” he agrees easily, wrapping you in a hug. You press your forehead to his chest. “Got my girl to keep me warm, though.”

You stay like this for a few moments, his arms solid around you, breaths coming easier as the familiar smell of his tangy skin and that spicy bar soap he uses fills your senses.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, gently, holding you at arm’s length to study your face.

When you shrug, unsure of where to start, he lets go of you and walks backwards, taking an unflinching seat on the snow-covered bench.

You gasp despite yourself, reaching to pull him up even as he twists out of your grasp- “Eddie, jesus, you’re literally gonna freeze your ass off. Get up!”

But he’s solid in his seat, widening his stance, boots planted on the ground- “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, so you better start talking before my jeans freeze to the concrete.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist, but he’s giving you that look again, the one that cracks through the tough exterior every time, and you wrap your arms around yourself under the warmth of his jacket as you admit, “Okay, fine. It’s something. I’m just… having an overreaction.”

“To the shellfish?” he deadpans.

“No, asshole, to the blonde girl who was rubbing up on you earlier,” you snap.

Eddie blinks, genuine confusion in his voice- “There was a blonde girl… rubbing up on me?”

“She was petting your shoulder,” you continue, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the ground. “She was touching you, and I got- jealous, I guess.”

“Baby, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t remember her, at all,” Eddie emphasizes, spreading a palm flat against his chest in a gesture of sincerity, hair shifting across his shoulders as he cocks his head to the side.

His face is too familiar, too earnest for you to be able to say what you’re feeling without bursting into tears, so you turn on your heel, pacing a short loop in front of the bench, your breath hanging in misty clouds as you speak. 

“It’s not even about her, necessarily. It’s about me and my stupid emotions. I’m not usually like this- jealous, you know? Like, I’m so proud of you, and everything you’ve accomplished, and I don’t mind sharing you, really I don’t, it’s just…”

You pause in your pacing, let your head drop back to look at the inky black sky pinpricked with stars, and your next words fall out like a confession.

“I just feel like I’m in mourning.”

You can feel his eyes on you still, as you loose the feeling that’s been caught tight in your chest. “It sounds so dramatic, when I say it like that. But I think that’s what it is. I miss when it was just the two of us, in this little bubble where no one knew our names and we just had each other.”

As the words leave your mouth, you scramble to explain, to soften the blow, hands tightening around your upper arms as you turn back to face the boy on the bench. “And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, or, like, a total jealous bitch, because I really love you and I hope you know I’m not- are you laughing?”

Eddie tries his best to stifle the laughter into his fist when he sees how indignant you look. He rises from the bench, still a bit mirthful, pulling you back into his space. “Sorry, honey, I’m not making fun of you, I promise.”

You’re glaring at him now, and he ducks to kiss at the lines between your brow before pulling back and saying, “I think what you’re feeling is normal, and I don’t think you’re overreacting at all. Remember that asshole at the Smith Center party who kept trying to get your number right in front of me?”

“Vaguely.”

“I wanted to punch his lights out. Make a real scene, kiss you sloppy in front of some cameras.” Eddie cups your face in his hands, soothing his thumb against the wetness of your lashline. “What I’m saying is, I get jealous, too. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“But…” there’s a well of emotions that you’re drawing from, and it’s not empty yet, one nagging thought still surfacing. “But these girls that are coming on to you, they’re like… really hot. I don’t look anything like them.”

Eddie frowns. “Are you seriously trying to make a case for yourself on the grounds of not being really hot? That’s not gonna hold up in court, gorgeous. I mean… have you even looked in a mirror recently?”

He lightly taps his knuckle against your head, trying to get you to crack a smile, but you’re not ready to give in yet. 

“You don’t think you’ll get bored of me?” you whisper, dropping your eyes from his consuming gaze to the wyvern inked on the inside of his arm. 

“Sweetheart…” Eddie sounds genuinely pained. The ink in his skin stretches as he slips a hand to the back of your neck, cold rings against your skin making you shiver. “I couldn’t ever get bored of you. Not in a million years. We've been through too much together for you to think like that, hm?”

He strokes his thumb down the column of your neck, those doey brown eyes on you again. “Now I’m not saying you shouldn’t ever be jealous, ‘cuz god knows it makes me hot under the collar when you are. But I’m sayin’ I never wanna make you feel like you need to earn me, okay?”

His thumb tracks back up to the hollow of your jaw, taps twice questioningly, and you nod, letting out a shaky, “Okay.”

When he kisses you, it feels like every other time- comfortable, grounding, familiar. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips, and you let him lick into your mouth, gripping at his arms, flushing hot as you give it back to him in spades.

With a short groan, he pulls back, a wet click as your mouths separate- “As much as I wanna jump your bones in this wintry wonderland, I think the snow might’ve actually frozen my balls off.”

You giggle, spanning your hands around the meat of his waist, kissing up into his mouth again- “Poor baby. Want me to warm ‘em up in my mouth?”

He gives a solid smack to your ass for that, his palm smoothing over the stinging skin with condescension when you yelp- “All dish and no take, baby? Not exactly fair.”

____

Despite your weak protestations that you both should probably rejoin the party, at least until midnight, Eddie insists on taking you back to the hotel. 

“This party blows, anyways,” he says over his shoulder to you as he leads you back through the halls of the house. “If I hear one more Tears for Fears track I might throw myself into the river from one of the hundred balconies in this place.”

He manages to track down Melanie with some effort, winding his way through the throng of people to where she’d been chatting with a reporter, plucking at her elbow to get her away from the crowd and into the quieter hallway with you.  

“We gotta scoot, Mel,” he tells her, really hamming up the charm as the young publicist widens her eyes. “Think you can get us a ride outta here?”

“Mr. Munson, you can’t just leave,” Melanie insists, frazzled. “Someone from Rolling Stone has been waiting for the last hour to talk to you, if you could just-”

“No can do.” Eddie shakes his head, mock-apologetic. “There’s been an accident. Of a personal nature.”

You manage to choke down your laughter as Eddie turns around to show off the dark stains on the back of his jeans. They’re just wet from the snow that he sat in earlier, of course, but it looks convincing enough to make Melanie blanch and pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll have a cab out front in ten for you both. Please keep a low profile until then.”

Eddie gives a sharp salute and you mouth an apology at her before she retreats to find a phone.

Okay, so maybe add a hefty bonus to that Nice Things for Melanie list of yours. 

____

One of the perks of having a rockstar for a boyfriend is the sweet digs- the label shelled out for Chicago’s finest penthouse suite; an entire luxurious upper floor with a private elevator, windows overlooking the far-below city lights, and a sunken bath big enough for two.

Also included? Soundproof walls.

A perk you’re very grateful for as Eddie walks you backwards into the room, sucking a mark with stinging teeth into your neck as you moan, then giggle breathily, admonishing- “Christ, Eddie, slow down. We have all night.”

Eddie pulls back just far enough to frown down at you, his hands slipping under the hem of your dress to squeeze at your ass. His rings are cold against your bare flesh, and he grins when you shiver. “Uh huh. Sure do have all night. You gonna take advantage of that?”

He wiggles his eyebrows, cheekily, but that smirk drops from his face in record time the second you shove him to the bed. As his knees give out in favor of sitting on the mattress, you steady your hands against his broad shoulders to swing yourself into his lap.

Eddie’s looking up at you, cinnamon eyes darkened with lust- it makes your stomach flip something awful. Your skin feels alight with heat as Eddie’s hands drip like water down your sides, then to your parted thighs.

You sigh into his mouth as his fingers trace the front of your underwear, the silk sticky with your arousal.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie says, equal parts admonishment and pitying as you squirm into his touch. “What’s got you this worked up, hm?”

He’s asking like he doesn’t know- like he didn’t tease you with filthy whispers and wandering hands in the back of the car the whole way here. 

“Whaddya think,” you scoff, not quite ready to give in yet, enjoying the thrill of being cagey as Eddie hooks a finger to tuck your panties to the side.

He grins, simmering, enjoying the chase just as much as you. His middle finger swipes through your folds and you shudder in his arms, hands tightening into the meat of his shoulders as he brings the wetness up to your clit.

Eddie rubs quick, steady circles until you’re mewling, bucking hips grinding down to seek more friction. You can feel the wetness seeping out of your core, dampening his jeans as he licks back into your mouth, capturing the soft noises you’re making as he winds you up.

“Can’t believe a pretty thing like you has anything to be jealous of.” Eddie noses at the spot under your jaw, and when you let your head fall back on a hinge to grant him access, he sucks another mark into the column of your throat. “‘M all yours, sweetheart. You gonna take what’s yours?”

Truth be told, your mind went fuzzy the second Eddie got his hands on your clit, the consistent build of pleasure sparking between your legs rather distracting. You’d almost forgotten how the night had started, but you let the jealousy and possessiveness creep back in as you push at Eddie’s chest.

He goes down easily, toeing his boots off and lying flat on the mattress; big hands settle on your waist as you rest your weight into him, warm cunt pressing against the bulge of his clothed cock.

At a light drag of your nails against his bare chest and across his nipple, Eddie groans low, squeezing your hips and rucking into you.

“You’re all mine, Eddie, right?” 

His pupils nearly eclipsing their soft brown irises, Eddie stares up at you like you hang the moon and stars every night just for him. “Yeah, sweetheart. ‘M all yours. Lemme show you.”

Eddie pulls at the backs of your legs, helping you shuffle up his body until your knees are dipping into the mattress at either side of his head. Your core hovers just above Eddie’s mouth- you can feel his breath speed up on the inside of your thigh at this new position. 

“Oh, fuck, Eddie- jesus… christ,” the last word ending in a moan as Eddie’s tongue licks a wet stripe through your folds. 

He pulls you closer with an arm over each thigh until you’re sitting on his face, his nose hitting your clit with each tilt of his head. You’ve got no idea how he’s able to breathe down there but you’re hardly able to hold onto that thought when his tongue has started plunging in and out of you.

Automatically, your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself- one hand goes to the headboard and the other ends up in his hair, gripping the roots hard. Eddie groans, sending vibrations that make your cunt clench around his lithe tongue.

“Like the taste of my pussy, baby?” you coo down at him, regaining some of your breath to give him attitude. 

Reaching a hand back to palm at his cock, you say “No one else can have you like this, hm?”

Eddie catches your eyes as he mouths wetly at your clit, then sucks it into his mouth. Your thighs shake around his ears, your orgasm unfurling in clenching ripples.

“Oh, yeah, Eddie, fuck, I’m coming- just like that, fuck fuck fuck…”

He doesn’t stop suckling at you until you’re gushing around his mouth, then pulling him off by his hair to make him stop.

Eddie heaves in a breath, kissing at the inside of your thigh, his lips and chin shiny with your release. “God, baby. Such pretty noises for me.”

“Mhm.” You shuffle down until your hips are aligned over his, then lean in to lick his mouth clean. “Gonna make some pretty ones for me, now?”

After helping pull his shirt off, Eddie whines softly as you press kisses down his bare chest, and by the time your mouth is pressing over that dark trail of hair that leads into his denim, Eddie’s begging.

“Please, angel, please- need your mouth. Do anything for it, baby, please…”

You rub your cheek against his bulge before pulling back to pop the button on his jeans, then help him shift them down and off his body. Once his black briefs join the growing pile of floor clothes, Eddie’s completely bare and at your mercy.

He gets on his elbows to watch as you mouth at the inside of his thigh, dark hair splayed around his shoulders, chest heaving when you ignore his leaking cock in favor of grazing your teeth against a sensitive spot. “Fuckin’- christ, sweetheart. Come on. Please?”

“Sound pretty when you beg,” you say, mildly, kissing across his heavy sack, hiding a smile when the contact makes him jolt. “Gonna do it some more?”

You keep eye contact as you take one of his balls into your mouth, watching his own eyes roll back so far you can see the whites of them as you use your tongue on him. 

“-yeah, baby, yeah- just like that- fucking, fuck, you’re killin’ me…”

Eddie sounds wrecked already, and a hot flush of pride courses through your body at the knowledge that he could come from just this and it’d be you getting him there. 

You mouth over to the other side of his sack, rolling the skin wiry with coarse hair against your tongue as Eddie moans above you. When your hand wraps around the base of his cock, starting to move in tandem with the pull of your mouth, Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched.

A line of drool breaks and hits wet against your chin as you straighten up, settling yourself into the V of his legs and using his thighs as handholds while you begin to kiss up the line of his leaking cock.

He’s got a gorgeous dick, truly. Thick and long, curving slightly to the right, a pretty blue vein snaking up the underside that you lathe your tongue against, seeking out the salty brine at the ruddy head.

Eddie moans, brokenly, white-knuckled hands twisting into the sheets. When your mouth closes around the tip, his elbows give out, leaving him flat against the mattress as you work his length further in.

“Oh my god. Oh, fuck, baby. Please don’t stop. Please. Y’feel so good…”

You hum around the stretch of him in your mouth, relaxing your throat to draw him in a bit more. The spiky jealousy from earlier really is your biggest motivator here; covetous, you’re thinking back to all those first times with Eddie- trembling hands under your bedsheets back in Hawkins, stilted voices and giggles to cover up the awkwardness of trying to learn the other person’s body.

No one will ever know him like you do. No one will ever have all that shared history, those fumbling nights that slowly turned to lovesick days; memories of him on his knees for you, learning all the little things that make you tick, memorizing the song of your body.

The boy is all yours. 

Your throat automatically constricts at the intrusion of Eddie’s cock slipping past your soft palate- his hips cant up, which you can hardly fault him for, patient as he’s been with your retrospective and teasing.

Before he can apologize you’re sitting up, wiping at the excess drool with the back of your hand and shucking your dress over your head, letting it and your belt fall to the floor with a soft clunk.

Eddie reaches for you again as you slide your panties down and off, and you let him help you up his body, your knees coming to rest alongside the lightly raised scar tissue at his sides. You stroke a hand down his chest, giving in to a moment of softness before seating yourself fully in Eddie’s lap.

His hands snap to your hips, a near-brutal squeeze as you sink onto his cock. The stretch is always an adjustment, but you’re so wet right now that he slides in easily, a breathy moan from the both of you as the walls of your cunt fit snug around his sizeable length.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” The crown of Eddie’s head is pressed back into the bed, veins in his taut neck on full display as your hips start to swivel, blunt nails scraping into the soft flesh of your waist. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck me.”

With your knees planted on either side of his body, you begin to bounce in steady, rhythmic earnest, going for gold, the desire to bring your boy to the babbling edge overtaking every other thought.

“Feel so good, Eds, so big… can barely fit…” There’s a wet squelch accompanying each bounce now, slick dripping down to the base of his cock, your vice of a cunt flexing with every movement.

“S’all you, baby,” Eddie rasps out, toes curling in the efforts to keep his orgasm at bay for awhile longer. “Got a perfect pussy. Takin’ me so well.”

He’s almost in delirium territory, with you chasing after that bright unwinding pleasure at both of your cores; your hips stutter, hands flat on Eddie’s chest to center yourself, a hunger that you can’t seem to satiate gnawing at the edges.

Eddie notices immediately, feels the falter in your motion and brings his hands to your forearms, rubbing a path up them soothingly- “What’s wrong, angel, hm?”

You’re not sure how to put it into words, wishing (not for the first time) that you could just rest your forehead against his and transmit all the complexities of your emotions through touch alone. 

Instead, you sigh out the name that you use when you’re done with taking, a name that lights Eddie up from head to toe as you say it- “Teddy.”

In one swift movement, Eddie slips an arm behind your back and flips you to the mattress, his hair a curtain around both your faces as he leans in to whisper against your mouth- “Teddy’s got you. Arms around me.”

You’re quick to obey, looping your arms around Eddie’s wide shoulders. He slides one hand up the back of your leg, pushing a knee up until it’s at your chest, mouth dropping open briefly when the new angle allows the head of his cock to kiss against that gummy upper wall of your cunt.

“Bored of you,” he huffs, recalling your words from earlier with disdain. “You’re talkin’ to the guy who memorized the first six chapters of The Hobbit just to recite for your bedtime.”

A quick thrust of his pelvis into yours has your stomach clenching in anticipation, brows on a tilt and knitting together as Eddie grins down at you. “Got a wicked attention span, baby. Lemme show you.”

He starts slow, agonizingly so, every inch of his thick cock dragging in and out, wetness pooling down your ass and probably the sheets, too; errant thoughts of housekeeping are rapidly erased as Eddie begins snapping his hips into yours in faster tempo.

He’s working to find that spot, the one that turns your brain to mush and is guaranteed to cause full-body muscle fatigue from the force of your orgasm. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pushing into Eddie’s chest, one arm still supporting your lower back as he laughs hoarsely, half-amazement and half-pride.

“That’s the spot, huh, sweetheart? Atta girl. M’all yours. Take it. Good girl…”

With each thrust, the wiry patch of hair dusted across Eddie’s pubic bone grinds slick and filthy against your clit. You’re so close to the edge now, a wave of pleasure cresting as you look up at Eddie.

There are two thin tracks of black makeup trailing down his face from where tears have made a mess of his eyeliner; rosy spots of flushed color in his cheeks, eyes like twin pools of chocolate, locked with yours as he rocks into you. 

He’s learned the song of your body so well, knows every chord to strike- his hand leaves your leg to grasp at your breast, calloused palm against pebbled nipple sending more shockwaves through your body, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you sing for him.

“All yours,” you gasp out, and it feels like victory when his hips stutter and the cresting wave crashes around you both at the same time.

The pleasure roils through your gut, clit throbbing and cunt spasming around Eddie’s cock as he spills into you. 

A wrecked, broken string of moans leaves you as you ride out the highs together. Eddie presses his forehead to your collarbone as he chants your name, twitching out the last of his spend, warmth blooming inside. 

The quiet that follows is filled with shaking breaths, soft kisses, murmurs of “good job, sweetheart” as you both float back down to earth.

Eddie stays in you for longer than usual, his draped weight a grounding comfort as you trail gentle fingertips up and down his skin, lovingly against the scars that interrupt the smooth flesh of his back. Through the closed windows, you can hear the distant sounds of car horns and the deep boom of fireworks. 

Sometime in the last foggy hour of lovemaking, 1987 has given way to a new year. 

Eddie pulls his heavy head up from your chest to press kisses to your collarbone. “Happy new year, lover.”

You tuck his hair behind his ears, hands squishing lightly at his cheeks to bring his face close enough for a kiss. “Happy new year to you. Hell of a way to kick it off.”

Eventually, Eddie extricates himself from the intoxicating heat of your body (with minimal whining) and brings a warm washcloth to tenderly wipe away the mess between your thighs. Once you’re both cleaned up, he stretches out against the sheets, pulling the covers up as you hook a leg around his waist and snuggle in. 

“So I was thinking,” he starts, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I wanna take a trip back to Hawkins. Before the tour.”

Your hand stills in its rhythmic circles against Eddie’s chest; heart in your throat, you tilt your chin up so you can gauge Eddie’s reaction. “...yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie picks up your hand on his chest, twining his fingers with your as his other hand settles on your bare hip beneath the sheets. “Could visit Wayne for a few days, fool around in that twin bed like we’re teens again.”

He grins at your giggle, taps playfully at your hip- “Gonna parade you around all our old haunts. You’ve gotten even hotter since we left, babe. Gotta really rub it in the faces of those Hawkins Tigers burnouts whose best dates are their own left hands.”

You snort, and Eddie looks pleased again, but then sobers a bit before saying- “I mean, I’ve got my piece of home with me. But I think it could be good, to visit. Just the two of us.”

You’re quiet for a moment, a longing for home that you’ve managed to ignore these past few years resurfacing. “Can we get high and go to that diner? I mean, Nell’s isn’t as good as Benny’s was, but I’ve been craving a Hawkins milkshake.”

“Christ.” Eddie hides his smile in the crook of your neck, dimples springing to life. “You could ask for the Mona Lisa and I’d find a way to get it to you. Fries and a milkshake, that all I need to keep my girl happy?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a contented noise as Eddie settles against your chest again. “That’s all I need.”

___

thank u thank u for reading if you made it this far have a little kiss from me to you <3 xx lulu

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie

[monamourbladie]

AHH OKAY SO.. this feels so weird typing out but IF YOU'RE COMFORTABLE CAN YOU WRITE LIKE PROTECTIVE/POSSESSIVE DAN HENG IL? idk how to describe it aaa like.. id imagine because he is a vidyadhara, they stay with their lovers for life, so he's be like very protective over his lover. maybe smut but its up to you!!!!!!!

Possessive Dan Heng/IL head canons

okay firstly i wanna say i was sitting on this ask for days bc i was trying to think of a possible plot but I couldn’t:( so i’m just gonna do some head cannons, i hope you don’t mind! I’ll be including some nsfw ones at the end too don’t worry :)) and thank u for being my first request on this blog hehe~

Dan Heng:

alright, so Dan is a very reserved and kept to himself kinda guy as we can see on the Express. he doesn’t show his emotions a lot and he’s kind of hard to read

you’re one of the few people that can read him like a book due to how close you guys are and how much he trusts you. like, even MARCH couldn’t get him to open up as much as he does with you

so when he’s upset, you just know. like it’s so obvious to you and you alone lol

so let’s say you’re out in Belobog and he’s speaking with March & Stelle when some guy comes up to you and starts chatting with you

initially he wouldn’t think much of it until he starts hearing laughter from you, and then all his attention is on you and him. like, why are you laughing at his jokes? what’s he even doing talking to you??

he’d just kind of keep his distance and just watch. nobody else really understands what he’s doing, but you can immediately recognize the coldness in his eyes as he’s glaring daggers at the man.

eventually he’d have enough when he notices him starting to touch your arm and he immediately walks over, keeping a calm & collected stature

“y/n! there you are, i was wondering where you ran off to.” he’s walk up behind you and wrap his arm around your waist, keeping you pressed close against him.

your cheeks would flush and you’d immediately lean into him, feeling better now that he’s here and can scare the guy off. “i was just waiting for our drinks.”

“and speaking with me. i was offering to give her a tour around Belobog, since she’s new,” the man said with a smile to her. dan’s grip would tighten around your waist and he’s grit his teeth.

your drink would be called and he’d move away for just a moment - (it helped that you were waiting by the counter, anyway) and grabbed your drinks for you, handing you one and kissing your forehead as he did so, “that’s sweet, but we already have a tour guide. let’s go.”

he’d grab your hand and fast walk you away, his heart almost aching from the exchange.

you always understood how sensitive he is about you dating him, since he’s been so heavily traumatized by his previous marriage in his past life. any scenario where you could leave him in any way terrifies him more than he wants to admit.

“was that supposed to be intimidating?” march would comment with a giggle as they walked over. dan simply sighed as he handed march her drink, “leave it, march.”

you’d look up at him with a soft smile and tilt his face to look down at you. you’d grin and kiss his lips longingly, “don’t worry, sweetheart. i was just being nice and keeping conversation.”

this eased his mind greatly - it’s not like he doesn’t trust you, he’s just extremely insecure and fearful about losing his loved ones, even to a random stranger in a planet they have no plans to stay on.

back at the hotel when you’re alone though? that’s another story. he doesn’t feel the need to keep his usual reserved facade up, and you know that.

the moment the door is shut, he’s immediately behind you, his arms trailing up yours as he peppers kisses up the back of your neck, “i hated seeing him speak with you, you know that?” he’d mutter against your skin.

you’d hum and close your eyes as you leaned into his touch, knowing this was going to be a pleasantly long night. “were you jealous, baby?” you’d playfully tease him.

he’d let out a low growl against your skin as his grip on you tightened, moving you in his arms so you’re pressing your chest against his own. he leaned down and started to kiss against your jawline up to your ear, “i don’t get jealous. i get protective.”

“you’re so jealous,” you’d giggle, moving your head so you could kiss his lips instead. he’d kiss you back harshly to immediately shut you up, beginning to walk the two of you slowly over to the bed as you’d kiss

he’d pin you down against the bed quickly, his kisses getting more feverish as his hands start exploring your body, “that’s enough out of you. you’re my girl.”

you’d squirm under his touch in enjoyment, cheeks flushing red from being called his girl. you loved when you got him to act all touchy, especially when he was riled up like this.

he would absolutely tease you all throughout the night just to get you so riled up that you’d just be panting and begging for him to finally let you have your release.

he’d click his tongue and lean in against your ear, his fingers teasing you unbearably slowly as you squirmed. he wouldn’t let you have your release until you cried out that you were his and only his, reaffirming him in the best way.

he’d lean down and kiss you heatedly as he pumped his fingers quickly to push you over the edge, “good girl, that’s right… you belong to me, no one else…”

youd cry out as he helped you through your high, “o-only yours, dan… f-fuck…”

there was literally nothing he adored more than seeing you a sobbing, moaning mess all because of him. part of you wondered if you should get him possessive more often if he would treat you so nicely afterwards…

Imbibitor Lunae:

if you thought dan heng was closed off and reserved, dan feng was another level. we all know everyone described him as cold and uncaring, but when it came to you? he was a total opposite and an absolute sweetheart.

he had his moments of being a typical brooding dragon, but the love he has for you is so immense that it outweighed every once of coldness in his heart and actions

it honestly surprised most of the quintet when he announced that you two started dating, because out of everyone they expected to actually get a girlfriend the high elder himself was last on the list — let alone a short life species such as yourself.

dan feng does not like showing any ounce of PDA in public by any means. in the public eye, he only would have his arm around you if you were walking around, or occasionally held your hand. he would never kiss you if he knew a lot of people would be seeing it

at least that’s how he acted early on in your relationship. this lead to most people thinking you were single, so it was not uncommon that you would have guys flirt with you right in front of him.

the first time dan feng noticed a drunk guy coming into you hardcore, it made his blood boil. unlike dan heng, dan feng was totally cool with showing off his angry side.

he immediately stormed right up and got between the two of you, resting his hand against your chest and glaring at the man, “i think it’s best if you leave.”

the man scoffed as he crossed his arms, “actually, it would be best if you left. i was having a great time with her.”

dan felt his blood boil and he glared at him, “that’s my fiancée, and i suggest you get away from her immediately.”

“or what?” the man spat back. “for being her fiancé, you certainly don’t act like one.” without thinking, dan shoved the man against the wall, his arm pressed firmly over his chest, “you have some nerve to speak to your High Elder in such a way. I told you — stay away from her. you should be thankful i’m not throwing you into the Shackling Prison for being an ass.”

the man’s eyes widened as he started sobering up enough to realize how badly he fucked up. he squeaked and nodded furiously, “i-i’m so sorry, your highness! it won’t happen again!”

he’d step back and let him run off quickly. turning back to you he saw your cheeks burning red with embarrassment, and his demeanor immediately changed back to stoic. he approached you and began to walk away with you, his hand wrapped around your waist, “i believe i owe you an apology. i didn’t realize i wasn’t acting as much of a fiancé as I thought i was.”

and ever since that day, he made sure he always had his arm around you in some way, and made it very, very clear that you were his fiancée.

he’d pretty much be the same as dan heng, except way more passionate and dominating about it. he’s not afraid to entirely let his guard down in private with you, especially about anything sexual, so absolutely be prepared for a long, pleasure filled night

he’d be very dominate but definitely a pleasure dom … most of the time lol, other times he’d just be absolutely rough with you if he was really, really feeling jealous or possessive

he would not be afraid to leave a lot of marks - it made him proud that others would absolutely know you’re taken just by one glance at your neck, and he wasn’t ashamed of it, either. he knew he fucked up early on, and he made sure to always make up for it, especially in bed

and yes — part of the reason why he’s so protective over you is because you are a short life species. it absolutely destroys him that while you will grow old and spend the rest of your life with him, he cannot share the same blessing with you, and he absolutely hates himself for it. it’s not fair.

that’s why any time anyone tried anything with you, he’d get so angry over it because how dare they flirt with his one and only?

he also gave 0 fucks that some vidyadharans did not approve of you, in fact he loves to flaunt it in their faces now and kiss you at public events when he hears people murmur about the high elder and his “short-life woman.”

moral of the story, don’t fuck with the high elder’s woman or you’re a dead man

i hope this is what u had in mind alenfhehddhhd thank you for the request 🫶🏻

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #masterlist #dan heng #dan feng #imbibitor lunae #dan heng x reader #dan feng x reader #imbibitor lunae x reader #dan heng il x reader

[tojisun]

WIP: still your passenger (re: deftones)

simon ghost riley x gn reader

!! angst; canon-compliant // i rlly loved this one but writers block hit me bad every time i try completing it :< might pick it up one day (hopefully!!)

there’s a new medic in the base – a pretty girl with a pretty smile, pretty eyes, pretty laugh. she’s beautiful, perfect with her auburn hair and her chestnut eyes; striking with her trimmed waist and sloping curves. 

you’ve only met her once when you needed an aspirin for your fever and never more after that, after all, there’s really not much of a reason for a base assistant like you to visit the station. so all that you’ve heard about her came from privates and base operators, greedy in the way they took in the sight she makes and how darling she looks. you can’t really blame them, not after seeing her; seeing how she is a beam of something soft and tender amidst their chaotic group.

it had been soap who started giving you the specifics.

her name’s erin, a lass hailing from yorkshire. the only family she’s got is a younger sister, anna, who is in university for astrophysics. 

“they’re a family of smart nuts,” johnny mused as he spun his shot of whiskey. “can you believe it? she’s pretty and wise.”

you oohed and aahed before telling him to remember to keep it in his pants because erin, beautiful and darling and gentle erin, is an important member of the squad. that she is necessary in the base; having been sought out for the very reasons that got johnny acting like a fool.

“of course i’ll keep it in!” johnny whined, bumping his head on the counter. “i don’t want to anger LT, y’know?”

cold dread washed over you upon hearing what he said, the quiet thrum of the alcohol being chased away by the slice of his words. you felt like bleeding, like you’ve been cut open and doused with ice, blistering chill creeping up from the softness of your lungs to your stuttering heart. 

“oh?” you remember asking, your voice startlingly void of emotions. “why would he be angry now?” your hands trembled and so you hid them from view, clenching them on your lap instead. 

johnny turned to you and quirked up a secretive smile. “why else?”

the weight of your grief pressed onto your chest, threatening to crack the columns of your ribs. you felt afloat, untethered, and you blinked back the sudden prickling you feel in the back of your eyes. 

you laughed with johnny, trying to smother the ache. trying not to drown in the harsh pools of your heartbreak.

because of course.

of course. 

you and simon are friends, but nothing more. nothing beyond the hushed voices and whispered ‘i’m glad you’re safe’ pressed onto each other’s cheeks because neither of you made things official anyway. no risks were taken, no promises to break. 

everything with him was just physical – chasing the cold nights away with the warmth of each other’s bodies pressed onto each other, fighting nightmares with each other's touches. 

sure simon cradled you in his tender embrace but that was all. just a temporary passion despite your everlasting yearning. 

“y’ready to go back to the base?” johnny asked and you said yes, another lie that dribbled from your trembling lips. because after that night, you knew that things were never going to be the same.

—————

ignoring simon was easy. it’s not like you needed to do much to avoid him, anyway, not with the way he was gravitating around erin. any other day it would have been laughable how simon followed her around like she’s got a bear of a man for her shadow but, well. seeing him be so taken by her makes you ache. 

the sparse moments he has that were sometimes spent with you were now overwritten by his visits to the facility where erin usually is. everyone who didn’t know that ghost was smitten over the new medic certainly knew now; he had long stopped making it a secret and instead, began to posture over those who tried pursuing erin. 

he was never a jealous man. that was until her, you guess.

and it’s not like you can fault erin for how simon acts, because could you blame him? could you blame anyone for that matter?

erin was, is, beautiful. she had a laugh that sounded like wind chimes and had a sparkle that perpetually made her eyes look brighter. she was soft even after seeing everyone’s troubles or their anger, always a beacon of tenderness amidst their bleeding wounds. but she was also fierce, a fighter with a bite that no one expected, but maybe you all should have because no one would ever survive being out in combat if one isn’t strong, anyway.

erin was, well, she was someone you knew simon needed in his life.

so, again, could you really blame him?

you have always known simon. you have always understood past his pretences – he wanted to settle. he wanted a life beyond the fight; wanted a family to come home to. 

he’s told you this so many times, hasn't he? murmured his wishes and desires at the top of your head as he cradled you in his arms, letting the exhaustion of the day bleed away from your pores as you shared a breath with him; he had waxed poetries for a distant future, one you have always thought you would have been a part of. 

one you thought you would have shared with him.

but you knew. despite your self-reassurances that you meant something to simon, you knew that when he envisioned his life, his future, it was one that did not include you.

it hurts, you thought to yourself as you pressed the back of your palms over your eyes. it hurts.

but how could it? how could you hurt over losing something that you never even had in the first place?

#suns.f #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley angst #erin - but NOT the dbf!simon one #suns

[joelmillers-whore]

The Only Thing I Did Right

summary: after a patrol gone wrong, joel races to get you back to jackson. while the doctor tries to save you, he wrestles with the guilt of letting you down.

pairing: joel miller x reader 

word count: 2.6K

series or one-shot

warnings: mature, language, joel x female!reader, no mention of Y/N, canon timeline (sort of), jackson era, post-outbreak, soft joel, hurt/comfort, minor descriptions of blood, joel thinking everything is his fault, tommy is there briefly, mentions of drinking and/or alcohol dependence, happy ending don’t worry, angst if you squint

A/N: i meant for this to be a short drabble because my creativity has been waning lately and i’m a little burned out to be honest, but i got carried away, but what else is new. anywho, enjoy this lil fic. let me know if ya’ll would like to see another part of this or maybe an interconnected one-shot series, i would be down. i really enjoyed writing this. also, i am still trying to power through this sickness i have suddenly, and i don’t think i’ll be able to post hard light chapter two this week.

I've Got Nothing Left To Hide

“Where’s it hurt?”, Joel asked, in a low, almost inaudible voice. He tried to keep his tone calm, trying to keep you calm, but his mind was flustered, and he was on edge, and he was pretty sure that you could see right through his charade. 

He swallowed thickly, past a lump that was stuck in his throat. His eyes darted all over you, tracking every movement, every laboured breath, and wince.

It had been decades since he had felt like this; the constricting of his chest, the shallow and unsure breaths that he was letting out, and the staggering way his heart clenched, a silent prayer on his lips, asking any God who would listen to spare you. 

It all felt so overwhelming and a little too familiar. Images of Sarah flashed through his mind, dredging up demons and emotions he had thought he had left in the past.

He had never been so afraid of losing someone he loved, not since Sarah, but here he was now, feeling like he was about to collapse at any minute, terrified of making the wrong move and losing you.

He swallowed again, harsher as he concentrated on his breathing. 

He hadn’t let his mind drift to thoughts of his daughter in a long time, his chest burning in that familiar way each time that he did, squeezing to the point of pain.

He let an idle hand drift to his chest, right above his heart, and gripped it, trying to will it subconsciously to slow down. But it was no use. 

There were very few things in the world that made Joel feel as if the ground was collapsing underneath him, and thinking of Sarah was definitely one of them.

Whenever he found himself thinking of her, thinking of how he couldn’t save her, the breath from his lungs evaporated, and guilt slammed into him with enough force to destabilize him.

But seeing you like this, the woman that he had promised Tommy that he would watch over and protect, writhe in pain as blood pooled under your shirt, that was another thing that he couldn’t bear to witness. 

You looked so helpless, lying in his arms, looking up at him with droopy lids, a faraway look in your eyes.

He cursed under his breath, knowing that you were injured because of him, because of his carelessness.

You were going to be another person he couldn’t protect and he didn’t know how much more of that he could take. 

“‘M fine”, you said, weakly, your breath coming out in stunted gasps. 

Joel shook his head, tempered anger coursing through his veins, “Don’t pull that brave shit with me”, he bit out, harsher than he intended. He gripped you tighter in his arms, holding onto you for dear life. “I know it hurts, so just tell me”. 

He watched as tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, you tried to blink them but the motion only made them fall, coating your cheeks.

Joel lifted a hand, wiping them away. He hated to see you cry, he couldn’t stand it, it broke his heart.

He left his thumb on the apple of your cheek, thinking that maybe the sensation would bring you some comfort, thinking that maybe it would bring him some comfort. 

“Am I going to die, Joel?”, you asked, a slight tremble in your voice. 

Joel shook his head, adamantly, “Not if I can help it”. 

You faded in and out of consciousness as Joel debated his next move, trying to figure out how he was going to get you back to Jackson.

He clutched the hem of your shirt, the material sticking to your stomach as he peeled it from you.

He visibly cringed as he eyed your wound, the punctured flesh dispelling crimson red at a rapid and borderline concerning rate. 

He couldn’t wait around any longer, couldn’t wait for the next round of patrol to find them, if they even came out this far. So, he took matters into his own hands, his muted internal clock ticking down the more he looked at you pale in his arms.

He scooped up your limb body, pressing you flush to his body, determination and adrenaline pumping through him, the driving force propelling him into action.

There was only one thought in his head; get you back to Jackson, by whatever means. 

As he stepped out of the small cabin, Joel noticed that the sun was slowly starting to dip beneath the horizon, the pop of blistering orange making him anxious.

Night would come quicker than either of you wanted and then the real challenge would begin, trying to navigate through the dense forest and get back to the community in the dark.

You were trembling in his arms, shaking so violently, from either the bitter cold or the loss of blood, that he thought that he was the one who was hurting you. 

“Can you ride?”, he asked, urgency in his voice. 

“Dunno”. 

Joel couldn't risk injuring you further, but he also couldn’t waste any more time, so he made an executive decision. He had been making a lot of those on your behalf today, and his most recent had gotten you in this position in the first place, it was his fault.

If anything happened to you, he wouldn’t ever forgive himself. 

He placed you tentatively on the ground, his arm sneaking around your waist to stabilize you as he untied his horse from the post. 

“Alright”, he bent slightly, grabbing your foot and placing it in his hand, “Nice ‘n easy now”. 

He could see the strain on your face, the pellets of sweat sticking to your hairline as you used as much strength as you could, hoisting yourself up and onto the horse. You’d let out a strangled groan as you got situated.

Once he knew that you were on, he hopped up, grabbing the reins and digging his heels into Shimmer’s body, spurring her into a run, his motivation to get back to Jackson making his heart race. 

The only solace that Joel took from not being able to see you from the position he was in, was that he could feel you gripping him from behind, your arms latching around his waist, your cheek flush with his back.

He could feel your chest rising and falling against him and his pulse softened, knowing that you were still fighting, still holding on for him. 

He had pushed Shimmer to her limits, getting you both back to Jackson in record time. The sequence of events that followed had been a blur to him.

The gates had opened immediately, the guards recognizing him even in the dusk.

He remembered screaming his throat raw, begging someone for help as he carried you into town and to the doctor.

He’d watched on, helplessly, as they quickly began working on you. Blood and cloth blurred his vision, making his stomach twist with queasiness.

He had to leave the room, too overcome with emotion and nausea to be of any help to you. 

When he stepped outside of the small makeshift clinic, the frigid air pierced his lungs, drawing out a long and aching breath, striking him so sharply that he stumbled forward.

He had gripped a wooden post for support, digging his palms into it for purchase, closing his eyes.

He tried to get a handle on his breathing, but it was no use. He felt the bile creeping higher in his throat, until he couldn’t hold back anymore.

It poured out of him, leaving his mouth dry and his head spinning. It was a visceral reaction, his worry over you, over what he had let happen. 

He cursed Tommy for entrusting him with you, something so precious. He knew things could have turned out worse, and he was glad that they hadn’t been, but he couldn’t get over how bad they were right now.

How shaken to his core he was that he had allowed this to happen at all.

Joel couldn’t stand to be there anymore, just on the other side of the door that led to you, powerless while the doctor patched you up. So, he did the one thing he had always been good at, he left. 

Snow crunched underneath his boots, growing louder in his ears as he walked away from the clinic. He thought that a drink might help calm his nerves.

A part of his brain wanted to forget that this day had ever happened, and another part told him that no amount of alcohol would repair the guilt that was nestled snuggly in his gut. But he could try. 

Joel didn’t know how long he had been at the Tipsy Bison, he had lost track of time after the third or fourth whiskey. He blew out a shaky breath, letting a hand drift over his haggard features.

He had been running on adrenaline the whole day and now he was crashing, feeling the exhaustion settle deep in his bones.

But he couldn’t rest, he didn’t deserve to, not when he didn’t know if you had made it or not. 

A jolt of horror shot through his body, making his stomach twist in knots. What if you hadn’t made it? He licked his dry lips, closing his eyes as he felt a prick form behind his eyes. 

Joel was startled by a firm hand on his shoulder. He twisted slightly to see who it was, his face dropping further when he saw that it was Tommy.

He didn’t have to look at his brother for long to get a read on his expression. What he was thinking.

He was pissed and rightfully so. He had failed you and now he was waiting for Tommy to lay into him, chastise him for being so fucking stupid. 

“She’s askin’ for ya”, Tommy said, keeping his voice soft. 

Joel turned around in his seat fully to look at Tommy, surprised that he had gotten to his feet so fast. He snorted out a laugh, seeing the fucking relief that was surely on Joel’s face.

Tommy clapped his shoulder again, almost to stabilize him. Joel couldn’t look his brother in the eye, guilt bubbling and breaking the surface, making his skin sting. 

“‘M sorry”, he mumbled, “I should’ve been there, I should’ve gotten to her quicker, I shoulda done something”. 

Tommy shook his head, “You couldn’t’ve known that would happen, Joel. So stop blaming yourself”. 

Joel scratched at his facial hair, running his hand along his jaw, pondering Tommy’s words. 

He continued, “You protected her with your life, brother. I couldn’t ask for more than that”. 

Joel felt emotion clog his throat. Tommy wasn’t angry with him like he suspected he would be, he was grateful even. Something unfamiliar unfurled in his stomach, something that felt like acceptance. 

A long beat stretched between them, “Go see her”, Tommy finally said, a smile pulling at his lips. 

He led Joel out of the bar, leading him back to the clinic to go see you. Tommy stopped short of the door, motioning for him to continue without him. Joel nodded curtly, slipping past and entering the small, single-room cabin. 

Tentatively, Joel inched closer to the bed that you were in, walking on the balls of his feet, uncertain if you were awake or not. You were lying down, stretched out with your back to him, He sat on the edge of the bed, seeing you turn toward him, a grin on your face as you looked at him. Joel’s face heated under your gaze.

He didn’t deserve that smile, he thought, but he would take it anyway, if you were willing to give it to a man like him. He reached out, stroking your face softly with the back of his fingers. 

“Hey, darlin’, how ya feelin’?”, his voice was throaty, raw. 

His heart hammered below the surface as your eyes locked with his, pining him to where he sat. He didn’t want to breathe too loudly or make any sudden movements, too afraid that he would break the spell. 

“Better now”, you croaked. 

Everything collapsed at once inside of him; his resolve, his strength, his pride. He couldn’t fight it any longer, how fucking happy he was that you were still here, still with him. 

“What’re you smiling at, hm?”, you asked, arching a brow. 

Joel shook his head, his explanation dying on his tongue. He had never been one to lose his words but right now, being so close to you, he wasn’t sure he knew how to speak anymore.

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him back to the moment. Your hand was freezing as it touched his skin but he didn’t mind. 

His smile disappeared as your eyes scanned his face, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry—”, he started, but you shook your head. 

“It was my fault, Joel. Don’t you dare apologize for my fucking mistake. I won’t hear it”, you said, your tone firm. 

Joel wanted to argue, to tell you that it was his fault but he didn’t have the heart, not when you were only just beginning to heal up, still looking weak and pale.

He could wait for another day to have it out with you. He just nodded instead, and you hummed, content with him seemingly letting it go for now. 

Your hand was still on his wrist and he felt a strange sense of calm. 

“Come ‘er”, you whispered, tugging on his wrist lightly. 

He wasn’t sure what was happening until your lips were on his, soft, pliant, and full. The kiss was sweet but it only lasted a minute. He pulled back, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Thank you”, you said, eyes shining as the light hit them, making them more beautiful than he thought was possible. 

He nodded quickly, head still spinning from kissing you. It had been a thank-you kiss and he shouldn’t think more of it.

But goddamn it, he wanted more. He wasn’t mad or upset that you had kissed him, honestly, he had been meaning to do it for months now.

If a kiss filled with gratitude for saving your life was all that he could get, he would accept that, he didn’t want to push his luck. 

You noticed the uneasy look on his face, shifting in the bed and using your dwindling strength to sit up.

Now you were the one with creased brows, your eyes darting over his face, trying to find your answer. Realization struck your features. 

“If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry, Joel. I just didn’t know how else to say it”. 

Joel felt like a jackass, that wasn’t what he meant at all. 

“That’s not— that’s not it, darlin’. I just didn’t think you’d want to kiss an old man like me”. 

His chuckle was thick with depreciation, but you just shook your head, eyes gleaming with something he didn’t recognize. You chewed your lower lip and Joel couldn’t help but stare. 

“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while actually”, you admitted. 

Joel’s head snapped up, searching your eyes. You were sincere and he knew it. That was the confirmation that he needed, the hope that lit a flame in his chest. You wanted him too. 

A deep chortle escaped Joel’s throat, his face neutral as he leaned in closer to yours. “Then I guess we better make up for lost time then”. 

Joel pressed his lips into yours, moulding to the shape of them as he gripped your face in his large hands, letting a groan slip into your mouth. You pulled back with a giggle, fisting the hair at the base of his head.

Your smile was a thousand watts and Joel couldn’t look away. His grip on your face tightened a little more, making sure that this was really happening to him. 

He couldn’t believe it but he dove back in regardless, wanting to soak in as much of your love and light that you were willing to give to him.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #writeblr #ao3 writer #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #tommy miller smut #tommy miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #joel miller x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #i love pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #fic recs #my fic

[flonkertn]

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : rafe cameron x reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : pure fluff, proofread like once so apologies for any mistakes!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.5k

𝐚/𝐧 : this is my first time publishing any writing so feedback would be greatly appreciated!! these hcs are mostly fanon!rafe but i tried to incorporate some of his canon traits. for the most part, i just wrote about scenarios/pieces that came to mind and sprinkled in some of my own fantasies (also that butterfly took so damn long i nearly gave up)

𖡼 he hates the fact that you work, it’s not that he values tradition, but he longs so desperately to provide for you, to take you away from the stress of your job and have you relax at home all day. he wishes he could come home after a long day and find you curled up on the sofa, asleep or covered in a blanket watching a show or cooking a meal for you both and feeding him a spoonful to make sure it tastes just right. he begs you to quit work and let him care for you and treat you all day every day by simply letting you do nothing.

𖡼 when you do have a bad day at work, he’s devastated (but also very smug). he runs you a bath and slowly takes off your clothes, wiping your tears as he does so if it’s been an especially unpleasant day. he sits you in the tub and tells you to wait, bringing in a bottle of wine or champagne (or just straight vodka who knows) and lighting a candle before quickly stripping off and sinking into water. he pulls your legs up so that they rest on his body and rubs your feet whilst you tell him about your day, having you let all your emotions out here and now, nodding along and chipping in with a “i know, baby” or a “i’m so sorry, love”

𖡼 he loves surfing and any other water sports, he just needs to be on the sand and by the ocean, but he knows that you sometimes aren’t in the mood for something so thrilling or dangerous. so there’s days where he takes you down to the beach, playing with your hair as you read a book leant against a palm tree and constantly asking if you’re thirsty or hungry, running off to get you anything you mention before you can even finish the word. as the sun sets he gets a paddle board, sitting on the edge and rowing through the soft waves as you lie down in front of him, head plush on his lap as the sun hits your back, perfectly highlighting the drops of water that have found their way onto your skin.

𖡼 he hums, like all the time. it doesn’t matter what he’s doing, wether he’s pottering about or cooking or literally just walking down the corridor, he’s humming a tune. it’s so soft and quiet that you can’t hear it unless you really listen, but he makes sure to be a little louder when you’re lying your head on his chest at night, his hands gently massaging your hips as your body rises and falls in unison with his heavy breath, his heartbeat echoing in your ears as you fall asleep.

𖡼 he loves to wake up the same time as you, he wants to lie with you for ages whilst you both get your bearings and keep asking you for five more minutes whenever you try to get up. if he wakes up before you and has nowhere to be, he’ll just go back to sleep, or at least pretend that he has, just so you can take your time and eventually wake him up with kisses.

𖡼 he’s always late because he’s too busy watching you get ready. sometimes he’ll stay lying in bed if you’re out before him, lazily watching you as he props himself up on his elbow, a smile pulling on his lips. the way you hum to yourself and hesitate before each step of your routine trying to remember whats next is so satisfying to him. he does the same on a night, rushing to get ready just so he can sit and watch you, often placing himself behind you and planting kisses on your cheek and temple and neck, all the while staring at you through the mirror, waiting for your cute little smirk when the two of you make eye contact. each time you ask him what he’s doing, his answer is the same.

“jus’ tryna memorise it. what if you want me to do it for you when you’re too tired?”

𖡼 he likes to be impossibly close when you sleep with one another. even when you can hear the soft snores escaping from his lips, his arms are wrapped around you or fingers tangled in your hair or body beneath yours. even if he just gets to have a hand on you, a fingertip, it’s all he needs to fall asleep, and he always makes sure to help you. his hands find your waist as he rubs against your sides, grazing your skin up and down or smoothing his touch in soft, slow circles. his breath falling warm on the back of your neck or against your ear and calming you into a deep sleep.

𖡼 his camera roll is FULL of you. like he genuinely runs out of storage sometimes because he can’t stop taking pictures and videos of you. he’ll go through it with you as well. you’ll be lying in bed reading or just waking up and he’ll mumble something with a smile on his face.

“look at this one, babe”

he rests his phone in front of you, a candid picture from the night before filling your eyes as a wide grin is plastered on his face behind the screen.

“aren’t you beautiful? my perfect girl.” he murmurs as he pulls his phone back to him, staring at the photo for a minute more and smiling to himself, before swiping onto the next item and repeating the process.

𖡼 most of his camera roll, however, is pictures of you sleeping. not in a creepy way, he does sometimes take a picture of you in bed when you just look too perfect to forget, saving it just for his eyes, but he can’t help it. a large amount of these pictures are the times when he does have to get out of bed before yourself, he has a stupid meeting or a stupid mistake to fix that pulls him away from you. he’ll creep out of bed and quietly get ready, scrunching his nose and squinting his eyes every time an action is louder than he wants it to be. just as he comes in to kiss you goodbye, he has to stop and look at you. you’re so beautiful. your hair sprawled out against the pillow and tangled in your mouth. the faintest snores falling from your nose and the duvet he’d only just neatened up is already disheveled from your movement. he can’t help but snap a quick picture of you and press his lips against your forehead, lingering there for just a little too long.

𖡼 he keeps a picture (or twelve) of you in his wallet. he keeps them everywhere. he just needs to look at you all the time. a keyring with your face attached to his keys. his wallpaper(s) on his phone and work computer are all you. his desk is covered in framed pictures of you so he can sit staring at your face and your smile, head resting in his hands whilst he avoids work and thinks of how he can treat you that night, desperate to spoil you.

𖡼 Rafe will never argue with you, he never even raises his voice at you if it isn’t laced with excitement. despite his short-temper, and his impatience and (at times) his arrogance, he refuses to show you that side of him, or at least direct it to you. if he does disagree with you or he feels something coming on, he’ll simply excuse himself, muttering “jus’ one minute” and squeezing your hand gently before walking into a separate room. he sits there, trying to slow his breathing and pressing his forehead into his palms to try and gain some perspective and, if nothing else, calm himself down. the first few times he did so you just stood there confused, eventually following him and peeking round the corner of the door, to which he’d raise his head and rush over to you, practically chanting the word “sorry” and kissing your hands as he pushes you out. you soon realised he needed the time and space to gather himself, and left him alone until he was ready to carry on the conversation, greeting him with a wide grin each time he came back to you.

𖡼 his hand(s) are on you at. all. times. it started as an act of protection, to ensure nobody tries it on with you in public but he’s become so accustomed to it that it’s now a constant. he’ll walk around with a palm spread across your lower back, arm swung around your shoulder, fingers intertwining with yours, hand squeezing your side, and it only gets more intimate at home. tracing patterns on your back, grazings his fingers against your thighs, peppering kisses on your stomach and cheeks and jaw and nose. he acts as though he’d die if he didn’t feel you against him for more than five seconds.

𖡼 he can read you like a book, literally nothing gets past him. you could walk into a room, a smile plastered on your face, not a hint of sadness around you in a meter radius, and Rafe would still be asking what’s wrong. before you even realise you’re upset he’ll be comforting you and insisting you tell him what’s got you “so worked up.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @sadfury

#rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe x reader #rafe #outer banks #drew starkey #headcanon #rafe cameron x reader #fluff

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

I’m back with my Hunter brainrot, thanks to your kinktober post 😅 I hope this is ok to ask:

Can you write a Hunter x f reader where the prompts "I can't risk losing you again." and "Don't you see that I'm hurting?" Are used?

And can it be fluffy with feelings? It would also be cool if it’s NSFW or steamy but that’s honestly up to you. I love your work sm <3 take care

Thank you so much, anon! Sorry for the delay; I was trying to work out how to get the line prompts in while keeping it fluffy/sweet/steamy. There’s a tiny bit of angst, too.

I hope this is okay! <3

Safe with You

After you were snatched by locals on a recent mission, buried feelings bubble up to the surface, and neither of you can fight them back any longer.

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: canon typical violence, hurt and comfort, light angst, feelings and softness, friends to lovers (this trope with this man 🤌), squint for possessiveness, fingering, praise/encouragement.

Rain pelted against the large barracks window, the grey skies a common sight on Kamino. But Hunter’s attention wasn’t on the brewing storm outside. Dark eyes watched as you moved around the room with a slight limp to decant the contents of your pack onto your cot.

Six months you’d been with them. Six months as their civilian handler. You were supposed to report to the Kaminoans on their missions and provide them with whatever they needed to ensure they returned safely each time. The long necks couldn’t have anything happening to their ‘experimental assets’ after all. You weren’t meant to be in the field with them, yet you’d insisted.

And now you were hurt.

Jaw clenching, Hunter tries to forget the panic that had consumed him when you'd sent a distress signal during the middle of the last mission. They’d left you on the Marauder at a safe distance and able to assist if needed, but the locals had found you and weren’t too happy. Your scream of his name over the comms as you’d been dragged out of the ship had turned his blood to ice and would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Before he could stop himself, Hunter was up on his feet and across the room, reaching out for you, selfishly needing to triple-check that you were okay.

You startle as warm hands grasp your wrist, your heart rate spiking as fear simmers in your veins for only a second until you look up at a familiarly handsome face. Try as you might, you were still a little shaken. The locals hadn’t hurt you – your injury was self-inflicted, having smacked your hip on the bunk racks as you’d tried to kick yourself free of their grasp – and that had been their only saving grace when Hunter had stormed their small village with a blaster in one hand and his vibroknife in the other, demanding to know where you were. The relief that had crumpled his face as you’d been yanked out of a nearby building would forever be etched into your memory.

For a moment, you can only stare into his eyes, watching a mired of emotions flicker across his face before his hand shifts to your chin to tilt your head from side to side, double-checking for any marks. “I’m okay, Hunter.” You tell him softly, shifting your weight onto your good leg. “I don’t blame them.” You’re touched by his concern, warmth seeping through your body.

Hunter shakes his head a little, a hard glint in his endless brown eyes. “I do. You’re hurt.”

“Like I said on the way back here, this is self-inflicted.” You repeat, gently taking his wrist to pry his hand from your face. He didn’t need to worry so much – you’d been through a lot worse.

Hunter isn’t backing down that easily, not when something is clawing at his chest and demanding that he be sure you’re okay. “Let me see.”

You pause, blinking a few times at the commanding tone he’d slipped into so effortlessly. It was easy to forget at times that he was in charge. “Hunter…”

“Please.” He remembers his manners, softening his tone a little. He hadn’t meant to come across as harsh or rude, but that strange feeling in his chest wasn’t easing.

“There’s nothing to see. I’ve probably just pulled a muscle. It’ll be fine in a few days.” You point out.

Hunter takes a deep, shaky breath. “You don’t know what it was like hearing you scream out for me.” He pauses, swallowing, the memory replaying on an endless loop in his mind. “Nothing mattered other than getting to you. And I was too slow. You were gone when I got back. But your scent…” His jaw clenched, brows drawn down into a pained frown. One of his hands moved to cup your face, the light drag of his thumb across your cheekbone tugging at your heart. “So sweet but tainted with fear…” He trails off, remembering how relentlessly he’d tracked you down, pushing his senses further than ever before, searching for every little trace of you, desperate to have you back. “Don’t you see that I’m hurting? Please. I need to see that you’re okay.”

You couldn’t deny the worry you saw in Hunter’s eyes, something that rarely surfaced in the stoic soldier, and his words struck a chord with the unspoken connection that had grown between you during your time together. With a small sigh, you nod, giving in to his request.

“Alright. But I promise you, it’s not as bad as you think.” You gently guide him to sit on your cot, lowering yourself next to him and lifting your shirt enough to reveal the purpling bruise on your hip. It wasn’t anything serious, just a painful reminder of the close call.

Hunter’s eyes narrow as he inspects the bruise, his fingers brushing lightly over the discoloured skin. His touch is surprisingly gentle, and for a moment, there’s silence in the room, only the distant rumble of thunder and the patter of rain against the window breaking the stillness.

“I told you, it’s nothing major.” You reassure him, studying the deep furrow in his brow. “I appreciate your concern, but I can handle a few bumps and bruises. It comes with the territory.”

Hunter remains silent, his gaze fixed on the bruise as if trying to will it away. Then, without a word, he rifles through the contents of your pack that you’d dumped out, grabbing a small tube of bacta gel. Wordlessly, he begins to apply it to your bruise, his movements deliberate and tender.

“You shouldn’t have to endure this.” He mutters, almost to himself, his fingers working the gel into your skin. “You weren’t made for this, yet you willingly put yourself in harm’s way. I can’t…I can’t risk losing you again.”

His admission catches you off guard. The weight of his words hangs in the air. The bond between you has evolved, whether you intended it or not.

You place a hand over his, pausing his ministrations. “I’m here because I choose to be. I believe in what you and your brothers are fighting for. I want to help in whatever way I can. I want to protect you. You’re not the only one who would go to great lengths for someone they care about.”

Hunter meets your gaze, his expression softening. At that moment, you realize that the storm brewing outside is nothing compared to the one raging inside Hunter.

You watch as he sets aside the bacta gel, knowing you’re at a crossroads and that whatever you say or do next will tip the scales. His eyes lift to meet yours, and for a moment, the silence lingers until his gaze dips down to your lips for the briefest of seconds. 

You move on instinct. Leaning in, your hand cups his cheek, guiding his face towards yours. As your lips meet in a tender kiss, you feel him respond with relief and desperation, as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. His hand finds its place on the small of your back, drawing you closer as he deepens the kiss.

Warmth licks through you, and you let out a small noise of surprise as Hunter pulls you carefully onto his lap, shifting you so that you can straddle him. His hand still supports your back, the other cradling the nape of your neck as his tongue presses forward, sliding between your lips to taste you.

Your soft moan is muffled by his mouth, tongue meeting his, body going pliant. Hunter’s lips are firm and confident, every fragment of his adoration for you poured into the kiss. 

He wants to drown in your scent, to block out the rest of the galaxy and focus on nothing but you – the sounds you’re making, the racing of your heart, the taste of you that he’ll never get enough of. Cautious not to jostle you, Hunter stands, cradling you to him, smiling against your lips as your arms and legs wrap around him. As you cling to him, he carries you across the room to his bunk, laying you down gently on his sheets.

Sinking into the softness of the mattress, you gaze up at Hunter as he settles above you, careful not to rest his weight on you. Soft lips return to your body, dragging down your throat as his fingers creep under your shirt, dark fabric pushed up as he traces the curves of your body, the rough pads of his fingers against smooth skin. He’s already half-hard just from kissing you, but he studiously ignores it.

You are his priority. You always have been.

He shifts, working his way down your body. Reverent kisses pressed to your exposed belly, lips lingering around your injured hip, still shiny with bacta. Endless brown eyes flit up to meet your gaze, stealing your breath. Reaching down, you cup the inked side of his face, watching as his eyes flutter shut, head tilting into your touch, lips ghosting the palm of your hand in a feather-light kiss as he reassures himself that you're okay. Tears prickle at your eyes, heart aching at the sweetness of the gesture.

Fingers reach the waistband of your pants, already sitting low to not press on your hip, and there's a silent question in his gaze as he looks up at you.

With a small nod, you encourage him, and Hunter slowly pries your pants down further, eyes flitting between yours and the expanse of skin slowly revealed to him. He sees every emotion painted on your beautiful face, like a masterpiece he’s dedicated his entire life to studying.

Your pants hit the floor, Hunter’s lips trailing a path back up your body, soft kisses and gentle nips laved across your thighs and stomach. One arm returns to supporting his weight above you while the other hand smooths across your body, committing every part of you to memory. He could spend an eternity mapping you, losing himself in every nuance of you. Your honeyed scent fills his lungs, overpowering the lingering smells in the barracks.  

It’s the sweetest torture you’ve ever experienced, the soft drag of his fingers across your body, the warmth of him so close, those eyes that have drawn you in since the very beginning. He dips down for a delicate kiss, fingers sliding across your thighs. They part without protest, and the deep rumble of approval that flees his lips sends a shiver through you.

Tentatively, he drags two fingers across the front of your damp panties as your kiss breaks. “So needy already, cyar’ika.” He croons, marvelling at the whimper you let loose. “Should probably do something about that, eh?” He adds, catching your clit with his next stroke, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

All you can do is nod, heart racing as you look up at him, trusting he’ll take care of you.

A smile passes over Hunter’s lips, and his fingers dance under the waistband of your panties, sliding down through your slick folds. Drawing lazy circles around your entrance, he goes to press a digit into your warm heat but pulls back at the last moment. Your brows furrow, and the small whine of frustration you let out makes him chuckle. “Patience, mesh’la.” He admonishes playfully, dragging his fingers up and over your clit again, making you gasp.

It’s maddening. But at the same time, oh so delicious. One of your hands grasps at the sheets of his bunk, the other grabbing onto him, anchoring yourself as his fingers stroke across you, cataloguing each spot that makes your hips jolt or pulls a little sound from you.

The delicious torture comes to an end as he finally presses a finger into you, another sliding in beside it. A soft moan escapes you, muffled as Hunter presses his lips to yours, crooking his fingers until he finds the right spot.

Stars erupt in your vision, kiss breaking as you tilt your head back, letting out another moan as pleasure curls through you. 

“There it is.” Delight warms Hunter’s voice as he finds the spot, fingers moving, watching enraptured as you react to his touch. Leaning closer, his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. “You should see yourself, cyar’ika. So beautiful.” He whispers, revelling in the way your heart rate spikes at his words, how you squirm and cant your hips to chase the pleasure he’s giving you. “That’s it. Take what you need.” He encourages.

Eyes sliding shut, warmth builds in your belly with every brush of his fingers against that sensitive spot inside you, with every soft word he utters. You grind down against his palm, the added pressure on your clit making your head spin as his fingers slide in and out of you.

Hips rolling, you’re grateful for the bacta gel that’s numbed the earlier ache, and you whine as Hunter’s teeth graze your earlobe. Warm puffs of his breath caress your neck as he dips down, dragging the flat of his tongue from your clavicle back to your ear, making you shiver. “Keep going, sweetheart, you’re doing so well.” He murmurs, a low rasp to the smoky voice you’ve grown to love.

Breath stuttering, you cling to him, desperately rocking against his hand. Your fingers twist the sheets as the pressure builds and builds. “Please...” You whine, eyes opening to find lust-blown brown gazing right back at you.

You ask so sweetly that Hunter can’t do anything but take mercy on you. Ensuring his fingers continue pumping slowly in and out of your tight heat, his thumb makes contact with your clit, and the cry you let out is magnificent.

“Yes, yes, like that…” You babble, eyes falling shut once more as he works you into a frenzy. Lips parting on a silent gasp, you finally tip over the edge. Trembles skitter through your body as you give yourself over to it, letting yourself be swept up in the moment.

Hunter has seen a lot in his few years – sunrises on pretty planets, families reunited, millions of stars shining in distant pockets of the galaxy. Still, all of it pales compared to the sight of you falling apart beneath him.

Working you through the high, his hand only stills once your beautiful eyes open once more and, holding your gaze, he slides his fingers from you, dragging them up to his mouth. The taste of you explodes in his mouth, and he groans, lapping at his fingers as he cleans away the evidence of your release.

Ragged breaths escape you as you come down from the high, watching the way the man you adore savours the taste of you. Exhaustion starts to creep through your body, the adrenaline of the day wearing off and the intensity of your orgasm stealing what little energy you had left. “Your turn…” You mumble, hand sliding down his body towards the thick length straining against his blacks.

Hunter gently captures your wrist, guiding your hand back up before peppering your pulse point with light kisses. “Promise me that I can teach you how to defend yourself better. And that you’ll always carry my spare vibroknife.” He makes a heartfelt request.

You attempt to protest, but seriousness settles over his expression, a stark reminder of how shaken he’d been earlier. “Tomorrow morning, I’m returning the favour. Then I’ll promise you anything.” You finally conceded.

A soft chuckle escapes him. “Deal.” He agrees, sealing the pact with a gentle press of his lips to yours. Carefully, he shifts you, pulling the sheet up, cocooning you in warmth. “There’s my girl.” He coos, watching as your eyes start to droop, lids heavy.

Half-awake, you mumble. “Yours?”

“Mine.” He confirms tenderly, smoothing your hair from your face, the ache in his chest finally easing as you rest safely in his bunk.

#Soarings Ask Box #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #star wars #the bad batch hunter #sergeant hunter #hunter x you #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter bad batch #fluff #soft smut #friends to lovers

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

And So You Thought... Word Count : 5.7k TW : depictions of gore ; reader doubts ; zombie apocalypse ; kind of episode 1 & 2 spoilers, but also canon divergence by a lot ; Suhyeok being a really good boyfriend ; Request : Anonny asked "Can you write a Su-hyeok x reader angst to comfort?"

“I was gonna go play basketball before lunch was over... or do you want me to wait for you to finish your lunch? I can stay with you until you’re done, and we can walk back to class together.” Suhyeok sat beside you at the lunch table, his chin resting against his knuckles as he watched you, the feeling of his eyes on your face had you burning up under his gaze, but you quickly shook your head, giving him a tight lipped smile as you swallowed down the the food that you had been chewing. 

“I’ll meet up with you in class, don’t worry.” It was your usual response considering he asked every day, and you thought that at some point he’d expect what you were going to say and just stop asking, but maybe he expected you to one day just agree to let him sit beside you until you were finished so he could actually walk you to class. 

A soft hum drifted through his lips as he finally stood up, pressing a swift kiss to the top of your head before ruffling your hair. “Try to focus on eating your lunch instead of reading, jagi. It’ll keep your food from getting cold.” He teased, causing you to whip your head around and stick your tongue out at him which had both him and Cheongsan laughing. “Try to at least finish by the time Onjo and Cheongsan finish so you can walk up with them, okay?” He was right back to being serious and you simply nodded your head in agreement before looking back down at the pages of your book as he walked away. 

With your lunch barely finished, you pushed away from the lunch table, only closing your book long enough to empty your tray in the garbage. “You’re not walking with us? We’re almost done if you want to wait…” Onjo called out to you as you walked by the table, but you simply shook your head, opening your book once more as you headed to the door. 

The sound of screaming sounded from outside, and when you lifted your head you saw a swarm of students rushing towards the doors, the glass cracking as they slammed their fists against it to try to get in. “What the hell…?” You whispered to yourself, frozen in your spot as the glass shattered and the students fell to the floor in front of you. It wasn’t until you saw someone… or something that had once been a someone come running towards the lunch room, they seemed rabid, and you were stunned into silence when you saw one of these… things bite into someone, tearing their flesh from their neck, the chunk of skin dangling from the mouth of this once student. 

“Come on! Move!” Cheongsan shouted as he grabbed the bag of your sweater, yanking you away from the doors and the hoard of students and used to be students. “Go! Go with Onjo!” He screamed, pushing you towards her as he pushed back the crazed students that had no emotions in their eyes, their teeth bared as they snapped at Cheongsan and anyone else that ran past them. 

“What the hell is going on?!” You screamed over the commotion in the lunch room as you and Onjo tried to find anywhere to go, a way to escape the chaos and the horror that was unfolding in front of your eyes. 

There was no response, and everything was moving so fast yet so slow as you both watched people that you used to chat with in the halls getting attacked by these vicious students, or pushed aside by other students that were just as scared trying to find a way out. “I… I don’t know… Cheongsan!!” She called out his name, calling him over as she pointed to a window, seemingly the only means to an escape from the lunchroom. 

“Go! Go go go!” He shouted back, rushing over to where you and Onjo stood, dodging everyone and everything that came towards him until he reached the both of you, pushing you both up through the window. “We have to get up to the classroom…” He panted out as he climbed through the window after you and Onjo. “Let’s go.” 

“Suhyeok…” You whispered, your heart sinking as you thought of your boyfriend that had left before you, hoping that he had made it to the classroom already, that he was safe. “What’s happening…?” 

Cheongsan shook his head, pushing you forward as Onjo tugged against the sleeve of your sweater, pulling you forward. “We can ask questions later, we need to get somewhere safe. Suhyeok is fine though… I’m sure of it.” The way his assuring words were simply tacked onto the end, it wasn’t as reassuring as you assumed they were supposed to be, but you didn’t really have the time to ask anything else or prod more as the sound of snarling and screaming grew closer, proving that whatever was going on, it was happening everywhere on the campus. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cheongsan and Onjo slammed their fists against the door to the classroom as the hoard of used to be students rushed towards them. Gyeongsu quickly opened the doors, allowing them to come in and catch their breath. “You made it… Oh my god!” Suhyeok exclaimed when he saw the two bracing themselves against their knees, sweat dripping from their foreheads, but his smile quickly fell when he looked behind them and saw that you weren’t there. “Where’s Y/N?” 

His voice was flat, and his steps were quick, carrying him to the door to look out the windows, wishing to find you somewhere in the multitude of monsters, but also praying that you weren’t there, for your safety and his own sanity. “She was… she was right behind us…” Onjo stammered out, standing up straight and spinning around as if you’d miraculously show up right behind her or beside her. “I knew she was there… Right Cheongsan?” 

Cheongsans head nodded quickly, his eyebrows furrowed as he silently questioned where you could have gone, or what could have happened while the three of you were running up to the classroom. “She was, she really was. We had to run and… Maybe she got caught up somewhere… Maybe she’s hiding somewhere. She’ll be okay…” 

Suhyeok felt like his heart had fallen into the deepest pit of his stomach, his knees buckling as he leaned against the wall to hold himself up. “I need to go find her… She can’t be alone… She’s… I need to find her.” And, as if like a zombie himself, he started walking towards the door, his thoughts focused only on you, finding you. 

“Hey! Hey, stop!” Gyeongsus voice was panicked as he tried to keep the door shut while Suhyeok tried to open it, the sound of the struggle drawing the attention of the zombified students towards the classroom. “She’s fine! You need to just calm down. We’ll find her! Right now we need to think of what we’re gonna do while we wait to be rescued. I’m sure someone called the police or something, and they’ll find her too… Just be patient.”

Patience… It was a crazy thing to be expected to have right now with everything that was going on. “How can I be patient at a time like this? Y/N is somewhere in the school… She’s probably alone and scared…” His jaw was set, he looked like a man that was about to risk it all, but he knew that doing so would risk the lives of everyone else in the room. “Why didn’t you look after her? Why didn’t you make sure she was with you?” His voice was low, filled with fear that he felt not knowing where exactly you were, laced with the anger he felt towards Cheongsan for not protecting you. 

“What do you mean? How was I supposed to protect her, Onjo, and myself?” Cheongsan retorted, and it was obvious that he was on the defensive, especially considering the fact that it seemed like Suhyeok was blaming him for you not being there right now. “Why weren’t you there to keep her safe, to get her out of the cafeteria? Huh? What was so important that you had to leave early? Hmm? Is it because you had to meet up with Namra again?” The sudden accusatory question had Suhyeok jumping out of the chair that he had settled in, his ears burning a bright red but his nostrils flared with his anger. 

“Don’t.” He practically growled through gritted teeth, his finger pressed against Cheongsans chest. “I’m not with Namra, I can’t believe you’d accuse me of that when my girlfriend is literally missing.” 

Cheongsan chuckled humorlessly, stepping back from the prodding fingertip of Suhyeok, his lips pursed as he looked between his friend and the girl in question, the class president standing in the back of the room near the windows, her hair creating a curtain to shield her face, or maybe to block out the scrutinizing looks of everyone else in the room. “I never accused you of that… You’re the one who brought it up, not me.” 

Syhyeok huffed loudly, taking a step towards Cheongsan, only for Gyeongsu to step in between them, placing his hands against both of their chests. “Stop it, both of you… Seriously. The last thing anyone needs is the stress of the two of you fighting. Just cut it out.” He said, already sounding exhausted. “Can we just try to figure out how to get in touch with someone… anyone? The police should have been here by now if someone called… Them or the fire department… Where are they?” 

“We need to find a phone… Does anyone have a phone… Anything? Anyone?” Daesu asked, standing in the center of the room. “I mean, there’s not much else that anyone can do, right?” Suhyeok nodded in agreement, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he turned away from Cheongsan. “Someone in the class has to have kept their phone…” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had managed to make it to one of the empty rooms, barricading the door and shutting the curtains before finally allowing yourself to break down as you tried to process and comprehend what was really going on. You didn’t fully understand it, and you probably never would, but based on the absolute chaos and the scenes of havoc that you passed by while you had been running with Cheongsan and Onjo… It looked like a scene straight out of a zombie apocalypse movie. The only question was… What had caused it? When did it even start? Everything had seemed perfectly fine while you were at lunch and even before you had gone to the cafeteria. 

Now probably wasn’t the time for you to be trying to rationalize what was happening, and it surely wasn’t the time for you to be trying to figure out a timestamp for when it had happened. You needed to find a way to get to the others. Did they even notice that you were gone? Did they even care? Was Suhyeok somewhere safe? Had he met up with Cheongsan and Onjo? Did he care that you weren’t there? 

So many questions were running through your mind, and while they weren’t the best questions to be asking yourself, the noise in your own head was blocking out the sounds of screams coming from outside and the stomach turning guttural noises that were coming from the zombie-like students out in the hallway. You weren’t sure what was a better noise to be heard to be quite honest. 

Maybe Suhyeok had met up with Namra again, just like he always did after lunch. He didn’t think you knew, but you heard around the school the rumors that the two of them were seeing each other on the side. You never wanted to believe it, but you couldn’t help but wonder if that was the reason why he hadn’t come back to the cafeteria to try to help you… Maybe he was helping Namra instead. 

A loud thud against the door to the broadcasting room had you jumping out of your mind, back into the situation of the present which wasn’t at all better than the doubtful thoughts that plagued your brain. “Shit…” You muttered, cursing yourself for falling behind when you were with Cheongsan and Onjo. You had tripped once, and they were gone before you knew it, leaving you to either try to catch up with them and potentially get caught by one of the “zombies”, or run into the empty room in the hall and hope for someone to come find you. 

The worst part was that you didn’t even know where exactly you were right now, you didn't know what floor you were on. You had been running so fast, all you wanted to do was get to safety, and now you didn’t even know the room number of your safe haven was. Your phone had been taken at the start of class along with everyone else’s, so you didn’t even have a way to get in touch with anyone else either. You felt stranded, and you were trapped, and you didn’t know how long you’d be stuck in that room, but you hoped that someone would come rescue you. 

Running had been exhausting, and you at some point had fallen asleep against the wall in the corner of the room, leaving you with the worst neck cramp when you finally awoke. The funniest part, if you could use that word to describe it, was the fact that the nightmare that had startled you from your slumber wasn’t even about the zombies that hungered for your flesh that stood just a few feet away outside the wooden doors. No. Your nightmares were about Suhyeok and finding him with Namra, about him falling out of love with you, that is, if he even loved you anyway. 

The sky outside had turned dark, the moon now hung high, surrounded by stars… If you could just stare at the night sky forever, you would surely be able to forget about the hell that you were currently living in. No one had come to find you yet… Were they waiting for you to come to them? They wouldn’t expect you to go out on your own, right? No, if they really cared about you, they’d come to you… Maybe they really had forgotten about you. It didn’t matter though… Not them… They might have forgotten… But someone was bound to come soon. Someone had to come… You’d be okay, and you’d get out of there, with or without them. 

The front door to the broadcasting room opened slowly, and you could feel your heart stop and your stomach drop as you silently said your final goodbyes to everyone, the sentiments mixed in with curses at yourself for being foolish enough to not barricade the front door along with the back. “Y/N?” The voice was no more than a whisper, but it was familiar, and in the current situation, it was almost angelic. Someone had come to save you, and while it wasn’t who you expected, they were almost better. “Oh, thank goodness you’re alright… You’re okay, aren’t you?” 

You lifted your tear budded eyes to look up, nodding your head slowly in agreement. “Ms. Park…” You whispered the name, wondering if maybe the sight of her was nothing more than a vivid hallucination brought on by a mixture of exhaustion, dehydration, and hunger. “Are you okay? Do you know what’s happening?” 

A saddened breath left her, one that sounded almost pained as she blocked off the front door of the classroom and moved closer to you. “I’m okay… I don’t understand but… Have you seen the others? Is everyone else okay?” Her question had you dropping your gaze and shrugging your shoulders. You knew nothing. “It’s okay… Just… I’m glad you’re okay.” She looked around the room for a moment before heading into the recording room, and before you could question what she was doing, a loud crackle came over the intercom system. 

The way she spoke, the speech that she made… Had she thought of it on her way to the room? It sounded like a farewell, like she was saying goodbye to everyone. Did she know something that the rest of you didn’t? How much had she seen on her way here? Was everyone able to hear her? The thought had you pushing yourself up off the floor and running into the recording room, asking her with your eyes if you could say something, and she quickly took a step back for you to take her place in front of the microphone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Uhm… Hi… I’m still here… I’m still alive…” Ms. Parks voice had seemed like a god send, to know that there was still someone in the school that could help, that could call the authorities, but hearing your voice… It was like hearing an angel, and that’s exactly what Suhyeok thought as his feet carried him closer to the intercom speaker, his hand reaching up to the little box in the corner of the room. “Suhyeok… Cheongsan… Onjo… If you hear this… I hope you’re okay. I’m okay… Stay safe… I’ll see you all soon I hope…” 

And then the speaker went silent, and while Suhyeoks heart had soared at the sound of your voice just a mere second ago, now the lack of it had his heart breaking and fresh tears brimming along his lower lashes. “She’s alive… Did you hear that? She’s alive…” He murmured, his hand still pressed against the speaker box, wishing that you’d just get back on and talk to him, even if you couldn’t hear his responses, he needed to hear you, to know that you were okay still, he needed that constant reassurance. “In the broadcasting room… They’re in the broadcasting room. We have to get there.” 

He was rushing towards the door, and once again, he had to be held back by the men in the room. “Let’s wait for morning to move. We won’t be able to see if anything comes at us in the dark. She’s been fine this whole time, and now she’s with Ms. Park… She’ll be fine for a couple more hours. You’ll see her again.” Cheongsans voice was strained as he helped to hold Suhyeok back, but he finally went limp, his entire body loose in Cheongsans arms. “We need to get some rest if we’re going out there… Everyone just… Try to get some sleep. We’ll move to the broadcasting room in the morning.” 

It sounded so easy when it was said… Just getting to the broadcast room, it should have been as easy as going downstairs to the next class… But it proved almost impossible considering the hallways were swarmed with zombies and even the slightest sound drew their attention. It was like walking out into a war zone and there were enemies everywhere. 

Some faces were familiar, bringing a pang of guilt to Suhyeoks chest whenever he had to fight one off. It was hard to fight any of them, knowing that just 24 hours ago these were the same people that had smiled and waved to him, these were the same people that he had conversed with in the hallways on multiple occasions, and now these same people were rushing after him with dead eyes, fueled only by their hunger. The only thing that was keeping him moving forward now was the thought of you waiting for him, and he knew he had to get to you, he had kept you waiting long enough. 

“We can’t keep going, there’s too many!” Wujin shouted as he and the rest of the guys tried to fight off the hoards. “There’s a classroom right here! Come on! We’ll just wait it out!” He screamed to Suhyeok who was still trying to push forward to get down the next set of stairs. “Come on!” He screamed, shoving back the zombied students before sliding open the classroom door, letting the girls run in and then following behind them into the room. 

“Fuck!” Suhyeok shouted, kicking back one of the desks in frustration before going over to the window. “She’s waiting for me… she called for me… She probably thinks something happened…” His fingers ran through his hair as he leaned his head against the window pane, breathing heavily from the physical exertion of just getting down one floor. “What if something happened to her while she was waiting for me…?” 

Cheongsan shook his head, patting Suhyeok on the shoulder. “I’m sure she’d rather wait a little longer to see you than to see you as a zombie. We’ll get down there, but we need to be smart about it. Okay?” Suhyeok swallowed thickly, hating the fact that Cheongsan was right, but not arguing against him because he was right. He knew that if the roles were reversed and he was the one waiting for you to come to him, he’d want you to be safe and smart with every move you made. “I’ve got a plan… let’s just wait a little longer, and then I’ll see if it works.” 

Joonyeong reluctantly tapped both of them on the shoulders, his lips pulled into a thin line as they both turned to look at him. “We’ve got a problem…” He whispered, turning his attention towards the windows that lined the wall looking out towards the hallway. “One of the windows broke… well… two of the windows broke…” Both of the men’s eyes widened as they saw the hands of the zombies, their snarls louder than ever now. The plan couldn’t wait… They had to move, and they had to move now. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“None of them have come yet…” You mumbled, your knees folded against your chest in the corner of the room, the corner that had essentially become your own, the small space somehow making you feel safer. “Something must have happened.” 

You knew that being pessimistic wasn’t the right way to be at the moment, everyone needed to be as optimistic as possible, but sometimes a little bit of pessimism went a long way. When your mind was so filled with negativity, the slightest positive thing that happened seemed more amazing than ever. It was a shit way to look at things, but it was how you got through most days, and right now, you felt that that thought process was appropriate. “Hey, don’t think that way.” Ms. Park spoke softly in response, and even though her words told you to think differently, you could see it in her eyes, she was being just as pessimistic as you were. “I’m sure it’s hard for them to get down here… Let’s just… Hold onto hope.” 

That was the hard part though, holding onto hope, it felt like you had been holding onto it forever, your hands were growing tired, your nails were digging into your palms. Why hold on when you could just let go? “Sure… Hold onto hope… Let’s do that.” You mumbled, letting your head drop forward to rest against your knees. There was no sense in being hopeful. The lack of first responders, the lack of literally anyone coming to get you, Ms. Park, and whoever else might be left out of the school… You had given up on having hope. 

You were about to get up, head into the recording booth to have a couple minutes to yourself, the only place where you felt you could lose what was left of your sanity in peace, when a loud banging came against the window. It didn’t make sense, it looked like the end of a firehose, and while your interest was peaked to see who had thrown it, Ms. Park had immediately stood in front of you as if she were blocking you or protecting you from something. “Stay back… Okay?” She held her arm out in front of you as you nodded your head, taking a step back yourself just to be on the safe side, but then you saw a pair of shoes, and pants, and… maybe this was far fetched, but you were quite sure that a zombie student wouldn’t be able to climb down a hose ladder so well, or at all. 

And then, as if on queue, Gyeongsu appeared outside the window, his eyes wide when he saw you and Ms. Park standing there, and it took no more than a second for you both to rush to the window and throw it open, pulling him in to safety. “Y-You’re okay, right? What’s happening out there? What’s going on? Where is everyone?” You had so many questions, but he simply shook his head, leaning back out the window, much to your worry, and then shouting up to someone to come down. “There’s others with you? Is it Onjo? Cheongsan? Who all is with you?” 

But one by one, your questions were answered as everyone climbed down, being helped in by you and Ms. Park until the last person arrived. 

“Y/N…” Suhyeok whispered your name as if it were a prayer leaving his lips, his hands bloodied, reaching out to grab your face, turning your head this way and that before grabbing your hands and looking them over. “You’re okay… You’re really okay. I was so worried about you, and I wanted to look for you, I wanted to find you… Cheongsan wouldn’t le-” 

He had talked enough, and the only thing you wanted in that moment was to be held by him, to know 100% that he was real, that he had really made it, that he was okay and you were okay and you’d both be together from here on out. “I didn’t think you’d come…” You whispered, moving away from his chest to look around at everyone in the room, all of their eyes on you and Suhyeok at the moment, but there was one pair of eyes that had you stepping back and looking up at him, your eyebrows furrowing and your smile wavering. “You didn’t come back to the cafeteria… Why did you have to leave anyway… You always have to leave…” You took another step back, accidentally bumping into Wujin who grabbed onto your shoulders to steady you, but quickly dropped his hands when Suhyeok casted a glare in his direction. 

“I thought Cheongsan would have been able to get you up to the classroom, I thought you’d be okay. I didn’t… I wanted to go back and find you, but I thought you’d be safe with him. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you… I should have been.” You hated the fact that everyone was staring at you, and even though you couldn’t see them doing it, you could feel the heat of their eyes on your back and it was making you uncomfortable. “I was gonna go play some basketball after lunch… That’s why I left early… The weather was nice and, I just thought I’d do that before class…” 

You nodded your head, keeping your eyes down as you reluctantly began your walk back towards him, a pang of guilt in your chest for the assumptions that had filled your mind. “But you saved Namra… The two of you climbed in through the window together right before Cheongsan and Onjo got into the class.You were holding hands and everything.” Daesu exclaimed, and everyone in the room let out a collective groan of annoyance at his sudden urge to announce it. “Sorry…” He muttered, realizing just a second too late that he shouldn’t have said anything at all, but the damage was done and you froze in place in the middle of the room. 

“You… saved her?” You whispered, letting the words roll off your tongue as if you were testing them, tasting them, and you hated the bitter aftertaste they left in your mouth. “Y/N… jagi… listen…” He tried to speak but you shook your head faster, your eyes squeezed shut as you held your hands up, not wanting him to get close to you. “No… No, I get it… She’s worth saving. Heaven forbid something happens to the class president… You couldn’t possibly let that happen, right? Make sure she’s safe, wouldn’t want her to be alone… Just leave your girlfriend to fend for herself, by herself… No, that’s fine.” 

It felt like the room had shrunken to twice the size it once was, you were surrounded by a group of people who clearly didn’t give a single shit about what happened to you, and you didn’t want to be around them. “Where are you going? Y/N, wait!” Suhyeok called after you when he saw you walking off, but you silently flipped him off before slamming the door to the recording booth and sitting at the desk, thankful for the silence of the room. 

“Should… Should someone talk to her? I can go?” Wujin raised his hand, looking around at everyone for some sort of acceptance to his offer, but he was only met with the scrutinizing gaze of Suhyeok. “What? I mean, she clearly doesn’t want to talk to you… Me and her, we’re kind of close, and… Maybe she’ll talk to me. I’m sure you all would rather her be on talking terms with someone just in case we have to move again… At least she’d go with us…” 

Suhyeok scoffed, stepping closer to Wujin until the toes of their shoes touched, glaring down at the boy. “If she won’t talk to me, she’s not talking to anyone. I don’t want you around her… Don’t think that I don’t see the way you look at her… And I’m sure you’re hoping that because of what your stupid friend said that you’ll be able to have some sort of chance… But whatever she might be thinking, and whatever you’re thinking… It’s not true… Don’t get your hopes up. I love her, and only her… I’m not letting her go.” And with that, he moved him to the side, going straight for the recording booth and walking inside. “Jagi…” 

“I don’t want to talk right now…” You mumbled, curled up in the little desk chair, making yourself smaller so that no one could see you over the back of the chair through the booths window. “I came in here because I wanted to be alone… You’re ruining that for me.” 

Your words didn’t stop him from coming closer though, his arms practically caging you in on the chair when he placed his hands on the arm rests. “Do you really think that I left you in the cafeteria on purpose… That I knew this would happen once I was gone?” Of course you didn’t think that, no one could have known that something like this was going to happen, it was completely out of everyone’s control. “I was terrified… I didn’t know what was going on, and I wanted to get back to the cafeteria so I could save you. I couldn’t make it though… I would have died.” You winced at the thought of anything happening to him, the tension in your body slowly fading the more you listened to him talk. “I saved Namra… I did… But that’s just because I came across her on my way to the classroom. It’s not like I was looking for her… I was trying to get to safety… And I was hoping, praying… That Cheongsan had you, that he’d bring you back to the classroom, or that he at least had you somewhere safe with him and Onjo.” He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, shakily as he moved his hands from the arm rests to grab your own, lacing his fingers between yours. “When Cheongsan came back without you… I had never felt more scared than I did at that moment… I felt like shit, and I wanted to come find you, but they stopped me. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I’m sorry I let you down… But I love you, and I don’t want to leave this room, or any other room unless you're with me, unless I’m holding your hand… So please, come back out?” 

His thumb brushed lightly across the back of your hand, and you finally took the time to notice the dried blood that stained his perfect skin, the crimson blotches that covered his once crisp white button up. He had been through a lot to get here, not just him, but everyone else. You had been lucky enough to be in the safety of the broadcasting room, and you had been fortunate enough to have been found by Ms. Park. They had gone through hell just to get to this room, but they had made it, and you couldn’t forget the look in Suhyeoks eyes when he had first seen you when had climbed through the window. If he didn’t love you, his eyes wouldn’t have become glassy, his bottom lip wouldn’t have trembled when he took those final steps to close the distance between the two of you, a distance that had felt miles long instead of a couple floors away. He loved you, and you could feel it when he had wrapped his arms around you, when he had cupped your cheeks, and you could feel it now as he held your hands. “I love you… I’m sorry…” You whimpered, feeling the fresh stream of tears begin to trickle down your cheeks, the overwhelming emotions from everything that was going on were finally being processed, and all you could do was cry, but he was there, and he made quick work to wipe away each tear with steady fingers and gentle swipes of his thumb. “If we get out of here… We should go on a really nice date… Maybe a picnic if the weather is nice…” You whispered, placing your hands over his as they grazed along your cheek. 

A soft chuckle left him, vibrating his chest, and the sound was so strange, yet so welcomed at such a time that you didn’t want it to stop, you wanted to hear it for hours, it was so… soothing. “When we get out of here… I’m going to take you on the best date… I’ll go anywhere with you, just say the time and the place… As long as you’re there, I’ll be there too.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips, one that seemed to last longer than usual, but not as long as you had wanted it to. “Let’s get back out there… We’ll figure out what we’re doing, and then we’ll start planning those dates.” 

#all of us are dead #aouad #all of us are dead x reader #aouad x reader #aouad x you #lee suhyeok #suhyeok #lee suhyeok x reader #lee suhyeok x you #suhyeok x reader #suhyeok x you #suhyeok imagines #suhyeok scenarios #suhyeok drabbles #suhyeok headcanons #aouad imagines #aouad scenarios #aouad headcanons #aouad drabbles #aouad angst

[gaysindistress]

Limits of a Fae Heart - six

Pairings: Azriel x Reader

Summary: With war looming over their heads, the Inner Circle is desperate for a solution. The one they found comes in the form of a resurrected female who’s fated to not only their Shadowsinger but once to their enemy as well.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: cursing, blood, gore, fighting and war canon level violence, detailed emotional description of torture. Reader is tortured but the description is more focused on her emotional state rather than the physical actions. The king makes an appearance so that’s a whole warning in itself.

One | two | three | four | five

A/n: I did things a little differently for the final part and the last half of this is in Azriel’s pov. It’s marked with his name as the heading so it’s clear when it switches!

taglist: @isa1b2h3 @dr4g0ngirl @sidthedollface2 @p4ndawrites

Time stands still.

The minutes cease to pass and the hours come to a halt.

The light of day fails to pass through the barred windows, blanketing this cell in darkness.

The places shadows may have danced are nothing but voids of that same darkness.

Night and day bleed together with no marker of the passage of time that occurs.

Food comes at irregular times to prevent me from gaining a sense of time.

Time stands still after what feels like a millennia of isolation and solitude.

The King made his presence within hours of Azriel and I drifting to sleep. He called for me from the war camp and beckoned me to him as he waited for me with a cruel smile. Taunting words and terrifying threats were thrown at me but none shook me to my corner than the sight of seven Ravens converging upon the tent where Azriel slept. Whatever magic the king had used to hide himself from us extended to his warriors, rendering Azriel defenseless as he slept completely unaware of the dangers that lurked around him. The bond begged me to wake him, warn him at all but I pushed it down and forced it to be silent as I faced the king. Any attempt to wake my sleeping mate would ultimately lead to his brutal torture and death.

The king glowered at me as he watched me try to scramble a plan together but seemingly to no avail. The shadows that had bound me the night before followed me and anxiously waited for me to give them a command in the treeline behind me. As the king told me of his plans to take Prythian by siege, I sent the shadows away and told them to hide until we left. They cried and writhed from their place in the trees but didn’t rush towards me.

“Tell him that everything will be okay. Tell him to not worry about me. Tell him everything you hear now and take him back to Velaris. Make sure that Rhysand gets the information he needs and keep Azriel safe. Do not let him come for me; matter what he does or says, do not let him come for me,” I’d whispered to the distressed creatures and they listened. Their cries of agony and anguish could be heard for miles but they listened to me and did not find their singer until the King took me back to Hybern.

Now it is here in Hybern that I’m facing the consequences of my actions; the effects of allowing myself to feel anything other than suffering. With my arms held up by chains and my wings outstretched in a painful way, having been bolted to the ceiling above, I'm forced to kneel on the unforgiving stone floor of my cell. Whatever blood that coursed through my veins seems to become solid as it has stopped leaking from my wounds. My breathing is so swallow and soft that anyone passing by would assume that my body was left up as a warning to all other prisoners.

However those who know better, those who know what other signs of life to watch for, don’t dare to come any closer to me, the beast of his own making.

A male appears at the entrance of the cell with a disgusted look on her pale features. Moving as he is one with the air, he flicks his wrist and the gates unlock before he steps into the cell. The smell makes him wrinkle his nose and hold his head higher to block out any stench. As if you escape the stench of death and blood in a place like this.

I'm at the center of the room, unmoving but chuckle lightly when I sense that he’s near.

“Come to torture me some more?” I ask.

The King of Hybern sneers at me for speaking to him and with another flick of his wrist, I groan out in pain. My body tenses from the pain that was inflicted upon it but aside from the low groan, I make no other indication that his actions harmed me.

“I need answers.”

“Ask and I’ll decide if I’m feeling generous today.”

He stalks around me, ducking under my massive wings, dragging a sharp blade nail down the sensitive and aching muscles. Once again I can’t react even though we both know that the pain threatens to take my consciousness.

“That little Shadowsinger has ruined you,” he sneers again as he finishes his predatory circles and kneels down to get a better look at my face. “He’s made you think that you have any value outside of being my little spy.”

I lift my head only enough to lock eyes with him, my irises flickering with rebellion and hatred as I speak, “I’m not your spy anymore. I haven’t been for years now otherwise you wouldn’t be pulling risky moves trying to one up a pompous High Lord and his band of friends.”

The king cuts me off with a dagger through one of my wings but I only howl out in laughter, throwing my head back to fully reveal my face to the guards at the entrance. They shrink back when they see my face covered in dirt and caked in blood. My features are severe and sharp thanks to the thick layer of filth but achingly beautiful nonetheless. Arched brows raise at the King’s frustration and a laugh ghosts on my lips. My flaming eyes never leave his as I smirk at the attempt to hurt me and gather information.

“Do not speak to me like I’m some foul beast.”

My voice is harsh but soft, calm but chaotic, dark but light as I speak, “The only foul thing that I know of is you, the Failed King of Hybern. Or do you simply prefer your highness now? I’m not privy to the gossip of the world anymore.”

The King pulls a face of coldness and stone the moment I start speaking again but it falters at the last name that I call him. His eyes flicker with disgust as he poses his own question, “Who are you to demean and belittle me for my actions? Have you forgotten that you were…”

A smirk widens across my face as I cut him off, “There will come a day when all those you have come to trust will turn on you and you will be forced to become the male you truly are. And when that day comes, I will happily watch you burn the world you’ve come to love.”

Death hadn’t been a sweet release from the torment I lived through under the King’s violent rule nor in the arms of a male I thought I loved more than myself. Instead I spent years in limbo on my island, never fully dying but never fully living. The only reprieve I’ve found in it all is the fact that I can’t feel the bond to the king anymore. There is nothing where that jagged line used to be and it’s been silent in my head where he used to torment me day in and day out.

However it’s rather short lived.

Now as I’ve been brought back, life is proving to be just as painful as before. What little peace and joy I’d thought I’d found was destroyed when the king took me. I don’t know how long it’s been but I’ve felt nothing but my own suffering and Azriel’s through the bond. Every second of every day I feel his despair as he searches for me, tugging at our thread in attempts to reach me. I feel his disappointment and heartbreak when I don’t respond, when I can’t respond. Not a moment goes by in this cell where I don’t feel every single step he takes towards a complete downward spiral.

A downward spiral of my own is fast approaching as I awake to the sounds of battle surrounding me. Fallen warriors scream from their lethal wounds while monsters created by dark magic laugh as they devour all around them. A female’s earth shattering scream follows the sound of bones cracking. I snap my head to the side where I see Nesta holding a broken Cassian while the King looms over them. He turns to look where the Ravens deposited me in a heap of torn flesh and weeping wounds.

“Come,” he beckons to me and I feel the sharp teeth of his naga hounds sink into my wings and drag me towards him.

Nesta’s eyes are wide with panic as she looks between Cassian and me but she hardens her face and stares at the king.

The hounds halt with a jarring tear to my wings and I let out a shaky cry. One comes to stand before me, holding eye contact with me as it just stands there. I have half a mind to tug on my bun but something tells me that it wouldn’t work. The hound lets its jaw drop as a deathlike scream rips from it and through the still tense air around us.

The call of inevitable death.

This is the long awaited end that I thought would never come and I can’t help but welcome it.

I’m tired.

So tired.

There is only so much of myself I could’ve given and I reached my limit the day that the king left me on that island. I reached that limit years ago and now I welcome the release even if by the jaws of a naganound. What a sweet release it would be to allow myself this one peace, a peace that no one can take from me now.

The hound shutters while several more start to circle me. I can feel their eyes boring into me, begging their master to give them the command so they can attack finally. They grunt and growl at me. Their unspoken message is the same as the one that sings from my heart:

Give in. Give up. Let it take you. Give in. Give up. Let it take you. Give in. Give up. Let it take you.

I don’t see the king give the command until they descend upon me like starving wolves who haven’t eaten a good meal in months.

I barely feel their teeth or their claws as they rip and tear at my body. Like true servants of the king, they attack my wings first and shred at the membranous limbs. My vision becomes blurry as tears fill my eyes. Agonizing pain radiates from my back and threatens to crush me but I don’t move. My pulse races even though I tell it to calm down. It’s half panicked, half confused but knowing all the same. I can’t stop this.

Nesta and Cassian can’t help either. Azriel…

Sweet sweet Azriel.

He is nowhere to be seen and I thank whatever gods and goddess that are listening that he isn’t here.

My ears fill with the sounds of tearing flesh and the squelch of blood while an endless sleep begs for me to close my eyes. My head feels light, everything around me starting to spin and darken. A feeling of nausea creeps up as the coppery smell of my blood invades my nose.

I let them tear my wings from my body no matter how much pain it brings me. I had loved them, cared for them, and protected them my entire life. They’ve been my prized possession for so long, a symbol of the strength that I’ve created and wielded. A symbol of my strength and mine alone. I hated them at first because of who wanted to take advantage of them but as I learned to exist with them, I learned to carry them with pride. I never forgot that it was my wings that landed me in the clutches of the king but there is a dignity in creating good out of evil and I had done that with them. I had created good with these wings no matter how evil others wanted them to be.

A weight is dropped from my back and I hear two thuds in the mud around me. The nagahounds stop their assault on me once my wings hit the ground and move their attention to them. Every breath I take, albeit ragged and shallow, sends waves of throbbing pain through my back and chest. It’s exhausting and I feel truly sick as I watch them play with my wings like they’re toys. Sweat is pouring from my forehead, my hands are clammy and trembling and my teeth are gritted. For a second I consider listening to my body which is telling me to let go, to give up and fall in the arms of that endless sleep. I take a deep breath, then another and then another. It becomes harder and harder to swallow the pain, to ignore the sensations and the voices soothing me to sleep.

So I stop fighting it and allow it to take me.

A state of calm returns to my mind and a warmth washes over me. I drop my head into the mud and it threatens to drown me but my inner peace won’t let me care. With hooded eyes, I stare as the nagahounds continue to tear my wings apart.

I feel nothing.

After what seems like forever, I hear the muffled sounds of those deathlike screams and someone calling my name. The voice calling my name begs for me to keep my eyes open and stay with them.

It’s useless to call me back from the brink of death but this voice does it nonetheless. Strong arms lift me and I’m cradled against an equally strong and blazing warm chest. A gentle wave of cedar and chilled mist scent washes over me as I let my heavy head rest between their jaw and shoulder. Whispered gilded words of reassurance take the place of the sounds of my wing’s destruction. My eyes flutter closed as I let myself find another peace in the embrace of these familiar arms. I barely feel us winnow from the battlefield before everything fades to black.

Azriel

What the fuck did that bastard do?

What could have possessed him to do this to her? To my mate?

Her rapidly cooling forehead against my neck feels like a blade slicing through my skin and it takes everything in me to not winnow back to the battlefield and slaughter the king.

Her breathing is slow, too slow and her pulse is so weak. Fear grips my insides as I winnow us into the Town House. I almost crumble to my knees when I’m wrapped in the familiar scent of my home and it gently whispers to me “you’re safe. Rest easy now.”

“Madja!” I shout into the air, hoping that the healer remained here. Madja peaks her head out of the sitting room and curses under her breath before disappearing back into the sitting room.

“Azriel,” she calls appears at the doorway, waving me in. As soon as I enter the room, she orders me to set y/n face down on one of the couches and hands me a pair of scissors to cut away the rest of her shirt. The scissors tremble in my hand as I gingerly cut at the bloody fabric and expose the mess of torn flesh and muscle. The healer glances at my shaking hands and puts hers on them, stopping them for a moment. Gentle brown eyes watch my chest rise and fall rapidly and her brows furrow even more.

“If this is too much, I can call someone else,” she tells me in her ever soothing tone.

I shake my head, strands of hair falling into my and add to the wild look I no doubt have about me. She doesn’t seem to want me there anymore but she permits me to stay and takes the scissors.

“Fetch me a basin with fresh water and a cloth please.”

She’s giving me a task so I don’t become frozen in shock. It fails the moment my hands are emptied. With nothing to ground me to this reality, all I can do is stand there and stare at y/n’s back where her wings once stood tall and proud. Her usual comforting cent is fading around us. Her aura is cooling. Her breathing is even slower. Her pulse is too weak for me to hear.

It’s all fading.

She is fading.

Madja gives the task to the town house instead and instructs me to sit. A chair appears behind me and with a flick of her wrist, she urges me to sit. I do. Fall more like it though.

I’d been cutting down several Ravens when I felt her side of the bond awaken again. The wall that had been separating us for weeks now came crumbling down and I was hit with every ounce of emotion that had been kept from me. Being hit with weeks worth of her suffering and yearning to be home nearly dropped me to my knees. I’d sent my shadows out to find her and within moments, I was on my knees in front of her with tears in my eyes.

Even alone Madja makes quick work of cleaning and bandaging the base of her torn wings. Once satisfied with her work, she moves on to the smaller but no less significant claw and teeth marks. My shadows nuzzle against me, making soft whining noise and distracting me from the wreckage of flesh before me. I drop my forearms to my thighs and let the shadows wrap themselves around me. Their embrace is the closest to a hug they can give me but I’ll take it.

“Is she alive?” I find myself asking before I realize it.

Madja looks at me with raised brows, “You can hear her heartbeat can’t you?”

I barely spare her a glance from beneath my lashes.

Thump thump.

Thump thump.

Thump thump.

I can hear it. It’s faint but I can hear it.

“Azriel,” Madja starts, “she’s lost a lot of blood. Her wings were quite literally torn from her body, there’s no telling the true extent of her injuries just yet.”

I lift my head with tears pricking my eyes and her tone softens. “But she’s alive. She will have a lengthy recovery ahead of her but she’s alive and most importantly she has you to thank for that.”

My jaw tightens and I bring a hand to rub at the taunt muscles. Flicks of blood paint the tan skin of my hand but I ignore them.

“I didn’t do anything. I let her be taken and held prisoner for weeks.”

Madja sighs and stills for a moment. She simply stares down at the unconscious Fae on the couch. “There was nothing you could’ve done to prevent it and you know that. Do not commend yourself for things that you had no control over.”

A small gasp muffled by couch cushions draws all of our attention as she dips down to look at y/n’s face.

“Easy,” Madja mutters to her as she places a soft hand on the back of her head, “don’t try to move or you’ll hurt yourself more. You’re in Velaris and safe now.”

My shadows skitter around me and beg to go to my mate. I don’t let them and wait for Madja’s signal. She asks her if she would like to go to her room and there’s a weak but clear reply.

“Where is Azriel?”

Madja’s brown eyes flicker to me and she nods so I stand and walk on unsure legs to kneel before y/n. Even through the dirt and blood, this female is beautiful beyond compare and she’s looking at me like I’ve hung the moon and stars just for her.

“Azriel,” she whispers as tears start to fall and tentatively reaches a hand out to touch my face. It causes her a great deal of pain and she winces before dropping it and settling on grabbing my hand instead.

“I’m sorry. I'm so sorry,” I find myself repeating over and over again as I brush back her hair and squeeze her hand so tightly it might break.

She smiles at me in a way that completes me but also destroys me. I let all of this happen to her and yet she’s still happy to see me. “It’s not your fault,” she tells me. “You couldn’t have stopped me and I didn’t want you to.”

I want to ask her how it all happened, how did the king manage to take her that morning at the war camp but I can’t find the words. None of it seems to matter now that she’s here and he’s gone.

“Is he..is he dead?” She asks in that small, broken voice.

I nod and the sobs finally break free from her. Against my better judgment as well as Madja’s, I help her to sit up and pull her into my arms, careful to not touch her wounds. I guide her into my chest with a hand in her hair and another around her waist, gripping her thigh as she clings to me and sobs. Relief washes over me both my own and through the bond. My cheek comes to rest on her head as she hides her face in between my collar and jaw.

I’ve come to realize that in all of my 500 years, I’ve never known comfort and safety like I do now. Quite frankly I don’t know much at all but none of that matters when my mate, my sweet girl, my y/n is in my arms.

#limits of a fae heart az x reader #az imagine #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #az x reader #a court of thorns and roses

[grandlinedreams]

hello!! I've been reading your law works recently, and I absolutely love the way you write him- you just capture his character so well :,)

hopefully it's not too much to ask, but can you write about law/reader soulmate au? I don't have anything too specific in mind because i'm really not too good with making prompts 😔

maybe a bit angsty though? I would also prefer if it was in the canon setting, but modern au would be fine too :)

Thank you in advance!!

OH I'M A SUCKER FOR SOULMATE AUS as I've said before I think dkdjs my brain's still booting up for the day but absolutely!! Couldn't resist adding the quote I was thinking about yesterday because Law is so Kaz Brekker coded istg

[Heads up!: talk of soulmates/red string of fate, little bit of angst, fluff, the 'fell first vs fell harder' trope]

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

The question makes Law pause where he's in the middle of reading about a blood-borne pathogen, looking up and over. Splayed out over his bed with your own book in your hand, you stare back. He frowns.

"Why are you asking?"

You shrug. "It's in this book," you say, "It's talking about how there's different ways to look at it. If they're two pieces of the same soul just separated and always trying to make it back to each other, or if something called a string of fate ties them together."

Law makes a noise in the back of his throat. "That sounds ridiculous."

"So you don't believe in them?"

"No." He watches you for a moment, studying you. "Do you?"

You hum, lifting one of your hands and focusing on your pinky. You can almost see it, the neat knot of red tied around the knuckle, string that loops and weaves aimlessly through the air. If such a thing exists, you wonder where it leads, then about where you wish it would.

"No," you answer at last, "I suppose I don't."

ㅡ

If Law lets himself think about fate tying you to him with red string, it's far less romantic. But there must be something that keeps you in his orbit, silent pull to bind you to him.

It scares him. Scares him for how badly he wants to let you in, expose soft underbelly and trust you won't sink your teeth in and rip it all apart.

The push and pull is how he copes with it even though he knows it's unfair to you ㅡ taunts you with what could be, then pushes you away. Open and shut, over and over.

You're tired of it, he knows that. So he apologizes, not sure what exactly he's sorry for. Sorry that he only knows how to take and less how to give, that he only knows how to lose.

You understand that. He knows, you've told him before. But even you have your limits. "I will have you without armor, Law," you tell him, "or I will not have you at all."

He knows it isn't fair to you. But he wishes things were different, that he were different ㅡ and that when he lets himself think about that red string, it wasn't wrapped around your throat.

ㅡ

Law's emotions are a house of cards and his defenses a glass house ㅡ and all it takes for both to crumble is, of course, almost losing you.

It's through no fault of his own, but he still feels sick as he dabs at the blood threatening to drip down into your eye.

"What you did was beyond reckless," he scolds sharply, wraps soft worry in barbed wire, "if you'd stuck to the damn plan, you wouldn't have gotten hurt."

"Sometimes you have to improvise." He gets the feeling you're not just talking about the situation at hand, but he doesn't care to analyze it at the moment.

"Whatever. You sound like that idiot Strawhat." He wants to keep scolding you, hammer home just how dumb you've been ㅡ but you're watching him, and the thin rubberband of his patience snaps.

The kiss is far from gentle. It's messy and clumsy, tastes a little like blood and gunpowder, but that hardly matters when you're kissing him back with the same kind of desperation.

ㅡ

Law doesn't put much weight in the idea of soulmates. It's a romantic connection at best and baseless for proof at worst, straddling somewhere in the middle.

But he supposes he does like the idea that you've always been meant for him, and he for you ㅡ that orbit gets easier to accept when he puts it that way. Or perhaps the atoms that make the two of you up have simply existed together for long enough in the grand scheme of things to echo through, even now.

You laugh when he tells you that, reaching to tug at a lock of his unruly hair. "Putting a scientific spin on it takes the romance out of it, Law."

His eyes flick to your lips and back. "Does it matter?"

Your expression turns thoughtful. "No, I suppose it doesn't." If you want to say more, Law doesn't know because he leans in to kiss you.

Be that you're a soul split in half trying to reunite or truly woven together by a thin red string, Law doesn't know.

What he does know is that you're in his bed, kissing him back, and that's all that matters.

#ㅡmine. #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #ㅡanswered. #anonymous #–ml: law.

[softlyspector]

Bec I have daddy issues…

Could you maybe do a tiny blurb of Joel comforting the reader after a night terror? Idk if he’s canonically soft enough for that but I choose to believe that he is.

Also I love your writing you bless me everyday w your words

Joel Miller + comfort after a nightmare

A/N: I think Joel is canonically soft enough to try to offer comfort if he already cares about someone (at least from the show). He's a caretaker to his core, so I think that would be something he'd do. And if there's anyone that's gonna soften up a character its gonna be me babeyyy.

When you jerk awake, Joel is hovering over you.

He's not touching you, but you think he might have been a second before. Your shoulder aches with warmth, like Joel had been trying to shake you awake.

"Sorry," you mutter, keeping your voice low as you sit up. "Was I making noise?"

"No," he answers, sitting back to give you space.

The room is dark and quiet, a soft snow peppering down outside. The house creaks, settling into the cold, into the wind that howls beyond the glass.

You nod, choking back the feelings flooding your chest, the dregs of panic still ebbing away. A throbbing pain settles at the base of your skull, a kicking kind of ache that sends the remains of the dream, the nightmare, spinning through your mind.

"Just movin' around a lot," Joel continues, the cut of his voice just edging on worried.

You hadn't expected him to say anything else.

You want him to let you have this moment in privacy, to lie back down and pretend he can't hear you struggling to catch your breath.

Joel is looking at you, but you can't meet his gaze.

"Sorry," you say again, trapping your arms around your body when you lean forward, dropping your head down. If you just held on tight enough, you wouldn't fall apart, that ache in the middle of your chest wouldn't consume your heart.

"It's alright," he says. The warm swell of his words soothes you. "Ellie still gets 'em like that sometimes. She'll wake me up with her yellin'."

But you aren't Ellie; you aren't a child. "Right," you say, a sour feeling worming around your belly. Usually you're able to shake the dreams off easier. Tonight it lingers. "I didn't mean to wake you," you manage. Before he can say anything else you lie down and roll so your back faces Joel.

You stare at the snow through the window, knowing you won't go back to sleep. The guilt and embarrassment for having not only woken Joel, but let him see you so frazzled, sits heavily on your chest.

It's a thick snow, the kind that obscures and never fully settles. The blinding kind of snow, that makes the world feel small.

A long few minutes pass before Joel finally lies back down behind you, the mattress creaking beneath him as he shifts. You wonder what he's thinking, why it took him so long to lie back again.

You squeeze your eyes closed, willing the tears pressing hotly at the back of your eyes to dissipate. It feels a little like battling a storm, like fighting something formless, colorless, indefinite, and undefinable.

A long moment passes while you wait for Joel to fall asleep again, or roll over onto his side, or at least stop thinking so damn loudly.

Instead, you feel one broad palm slot gently against your spine. You freeze, but he doesn't remove his hand. The light pressure increases, firmer against your shoulders and back.

The warmth of his palm through your t-shirt is comforting. "It's alright," he repeats, like he knows exactly where your head is, as his hand trails down your back and then back up.

Your breath hitches with suppressed emotion, both from the dream and Joel's hand against your spine, soothing you as carefully as he can.

It's odd. You've watched him commit unbelievable, unimaginable violence, and yet he's capable of moments like these, small acts of unending, enduring love.

That violence, too, you suppose, was for love. Love for Ellie, and Tommy, and Tess, and even you.

You don't turn, don't move, but you do close your eyes. The memories, the images of the nightmare, don't come so quickly this time. The knot in your chest loosens, and the cold fingers gripping at your insides fades.

Joel slides closer behind you, his chest pressed to your back. He slides his arm around you, pressing the flat of his palm against your sternum. The pressure of it helps, and your breathing eases.

You hadn't realized you were still struggling to catch your breath. You suck in a breath, and open your eyes again to stare at the snow.

"It's alright," he soothes once more, his gruff voice like honey in tea.

You still don't answer, and instead curl your hand around his, linking your fingers through the backs of his and squeezing tight.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

[sprout-fics]

Not sure if this has ever been asked before, but what are your softest NSFW thots about Ghost? Everyone always depicts him as super rough and super dominant but I like to think that can coexist with a softer side to him with a partner

TW: Mentions of comic canon sexual assault

I actually have a lot of thoughts about this. I think there’s layers upon layers of complexity to Simon’s relationship with sex. I think it is entirely possible for him to be lean and mean and very dominant in bed. I think for him it’s a way of exerting control, which is often a coping mechanism for trauma, especially sexual trauma if we’re going by the comics. I think in some ways Simon might hide behind this rough and rowdy aggressive persona in bed because it makes the noise in his head die down. It’s a way to cope. Granted, he’s had to learn a balance between making the static die and actually inflicting harm. I think he may pretend it’s healthy when it actually isn’t. He doesn’t really try to examine it though, because what works works and he isn’t really long for this earth anyways.

That being said, I think Simon still has emotions that run quite deep. They’re tangled with the static, and it’s easier to ignore them than to try and separate them from his trauma. It takes a monumental amount of trust for Simon to let his guard down to the point where he drops the mask both literally and figuratively. He can show his face, but the contents of his soul are something else entirely. He needs someone patient, someone who can understand and knows how to make sure he doesn’t pull away into himself. 

I think the first time there’s slow, soft sex between you and Simon he nearly cries. It’s this full release of emotion that allows you to let him know he’s still human, he still can feel deeply and get to experience good things, that he can be loved. The pure relief of it is overwhelming, chokes his throat as you treat him the way he deserves. Even then there’s an ounce of control there that he’ll never let go, he’ll always keep it close to him as a result of the things that have happened to him. With you, however, it’s softer. Less. Quieter. The sounds of you and the press of your flesh against him doesn’t drown the static, it reduces it to a distant, faint buzz that he can ignore as long as you stay by his side.

#I could probably write an essay on Ghost's relationship with sex tbh #At least how it is in my head #simon ghost riley #simon 'ghost' riley #thursday night thots

[macravishedbymactavish]

Hugging Headcanons (COD Ghosts x GN! Reader)

TW: Rorke. Mentions of the canon Ghosts ending, illusions to torture (nothing graphic)

| Blog HQ | MW2 Version |

David "Hesh" Walker

As we all know, Hesh is very, very open with his emotions. Both negative and positive, it's very easy to see what he's feeling at a glance.

Which means he is also very open to tell you how he feels for you (after months of pining and annoying Logan about it. Who was ready to spill his brothers secret for him, just so he could have one night without hearing about you)

Not only tells you how much he loves you, but also shows it through his hugs.

Normally quite goofy, a lot of times ending in you laughing while pushing against his chest. Trying to create space between the two of you as he only pulls you tighter.

You two also have your fair share of serious, loving hugs when the moment calls for it.

Loves watching you jump then immediately relax when he surprises you and hugs you from behind. Has almost gotten nailed right in the nose for it though.

Will hug you everywhere and anywhere that it's safe. No regard for who's watching, or your surroundings (the exception being if the surroundings/situation is dangerous)

Hesh has developed the habit of seeking you out when he needs a pick me up. Especially when his head gets a little too loud, and life becomes a bit overwhelming.

Maybe it's the feeling of security when he's wrapped up in you, but he finds it easier to deal with his emotions when being held by you. These moments seem to help him find clarity in his thoughts, and help him gain new perspective.

Especially when he's dealing with problems or topics he feels hopeless and lost about.

Hesh is just all around more level headed when he can hold you and slow his brain down for a few minutes.

Keegan Russ

He's antisocial, appreciates having a decent amount of personal space. So 1 of 2 things happens:

If you're like him, and don't particularly like people being too close. He respects it, and finds it rather endearing watching the journey of you getting a little bit closer to him each day. To the point where standing beside one another comfortably is the norm.

If you're not like him, and love being up close and personal he'll eventually form a soft spot for you. Initially gets annoyed, but holds back the attitude because he does like having you around. But maybe over there.

Don't ask me why, but I get the vibe that while he wants to hug you sooner, he doesn't. For what reason? Nobody, including himself can figure that one out.

The first hug would be work related. Whether that be a heroic "oh shit" moment where he's doing something like the clichè cover your body with his. Except far less dramatic (nobody got hurt).

Or a way to not get caught when trying to go undercover.

No, those aren't 2 Ghosts. Just a couple of overgrown teenagers loving up on one another in that dark alley. It's fine.

After that first time however, he's hugging you during every quiet moment the two of you have together.

If you're shorter than him, he's going to rest his chin on your head and hold you tight into his chest. He always feels like you're this delicate thing that needs to be protected within his embrace (even though you're not and would likely chew him out if he ever said that out loud).

If you're the same height or taller -- he loves pressing his face into your neck. It brings him unlimited comfort doing this, but he'll deny it to no end if anyone asks.

Thomas Merrick

Another guy that gives me bear hug vibes (like Price). Not overly obnoxious, but if the situation or mood calls for it he's holding you tight and considering the idea of not letting go.

Otherwise very casual with keeping physical touch. Arm around your shoulders or waist when you're sitting next to one another or walking together.

While very private about his personal life, he unconsciously wants to keep in some form of physical contact with you.

Has totally done that thing where he rests his cheek on your head, just relishing in the moment.

Especially on long rides back to whatever destination. He's gotten a couple curious looks from the newest Ghosts for this (in his defense, Logan did think it was adorable. Hesh ruined it by showing his clear confusion because Merrick's a softie?!)

They were promptly shut down by one of the other guys giving them a look of warning. Just let the man have his small moments of peace....in peace.

Call him old fashioned, but he loves when he can hold you close and slowly dance with you. Music is totally optional.

He may or may not have imagined the two of you like this on your wedding day (if marriage is in the cards for you two).

While he can come off as hot headed, and loyal/defensive to a fault (literally slamming Hesh into a wall for stepping up at Keegan) I want to say he's actually fairly laid back at home. If he needs to step in and ensure you're okay, he will in a heartbeat.

But otherwise? Totally content just lounging around with you in his arms.

Merrick also appreciates when he's the little spoon. Or being hugged from behind. Something about the feeling warms his heart in ways he can't (and won't) describe.

Logan Walker

In the beginning, you're going to have to initiate most of the hugs. While he loves them, he overthinks it too much and talks himself out of it.

Loves (and I mean LOVES) being hugged by you. Everything in the world just lines up during the time he's being held by you. Nothing bad can happen to him when you're hugging him.

The first time he hugged you (was a "from behind hug" where he rested his chin on your shoulder) you could've swore your heart might've exploded.

His confidence eventually progresses to greeting you (when appropritate, nobody dying for hugs here) with a hug and forehead kiss becoming the norm.

Hear me out on this, beach date with Logan. Hanging out by the water when he hugs you from behind....then promptly dunks you both under the water.

He'd be fully clothed and dripping wet with you, but would have such a mischievous smile on his face for the rest of the day.

That was the most fun I've had in a long time. He would tell you later that day, waiting for the sun to dry you both off.

Little does he know you're probably plotting his revenge.

Post-capture, this would be one of the first things he finds to come back naturally. They wiped most of his mind and memory, but the feeling of you in his arms and vice versa seems to be ingrained in his muscles.

Even when the world becomes a bit too much for him to handle, the comfort of your hugs grounds him and wipes his mind for a second

Elias Walker

Throwing him in here to say it would only happen under 3 circumstances:

1). You become like a third child to him

2). You are in desperate need of some familial comfort

3). You were almost seriously injured/killed on a mission and thank God you're okay. Remember how he pushed Merrick off Hesh in the helicopter scene and immediately went to calm Hesh down? I'm thinking that kind of vibe.

I don't know, he's the dad of the game and I like the idea that Mama Walker was his soulmate. He has no interest in filling that role. He's content with his sons and team filling his heart

No matter what situation causes the chain reaction leading to a hug -- it's filled with comfort and understanding.

Like hugging a parent who truly cares, and wants the best for you. Leaves your conscience feeling lighter and your soul a little warmer

Gabriel Rorke

If you're on hugging tier with this man, you're special. Like....extremely special to him.

Maybe it's my overtired brain (that initiated this idea), but I could see you being the one and only tie he has left to life pre-federation (like with Logan - the feeling of holding you and being held is muscle memory. It evokes an unconscious reaction within him).

If you were by his side on the Federation:

He'd seek you out for some form of comfort, especially after capturing Logan and starting that process. No matter how brainwashed he is and hellbent on revenge, he knows first hand how terrible the conditioning process is.

For a kid he's never met, he feels horrible for doing this to him. But duty calls and you gotta do what you gotta do.

Especially on nights when he can't get the sound of the screams and agony out of his head...and his body aches in the same way it did years prior -- he seeks you out. Relishes in the feeling of you holding him and helping him forget about the atrocities.

If you're not part of the Federation with him:

I feel like you two would cross paths in the battlefield. Which would go 1 of 2 ways:

1). You get spared, he can't quite place the details but he recognizes you as someone vastly important in his life. All he wants in exchange for your freedom is a hug -- because apparently those were really important to him at one point before all this

2). You don't get spared. Again, some part of him screams and deep dives to try and remember who you are. Details are blurry or redacted within his head; but acting on instinct he pulls you close. Despite everything, you get your last moments alive in the arms of someone you once loved.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @ai-luni @v1naco @bowtruckleninja

#call of duty ghosts #logan walker #david hesh walker #thomas merrick #elias walker #gabriel rorke #keegan russ #cod ghosts #cod ghosts headcanons #call of duty ghosts headcanons #logan walker headcanons #david hesh walker headcanons #Keegan russ headcanons #thomas merrick headcanons #elias walker headcanons #gabriel rorke headcanons #cod ghosts fluff

[sentientfunfetti]

dollhouse wally/reader headcanons !

(dollhouse wally is made by @/itskorrychang on twitter + instagram. i’m unsure if they have a tumblr. go support them!)

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED !

CW// YANDERE/POSSESSIVE THEMES !!!

-

-

-

i’m pretty sure this is canon but when i first saw it i had to expand on it more. he would call you things like: pretty thing, beautiful/beauty, gorgeous. nice words like that. he wouldn’t use ‘vulgar’ words like ‘hot or sexy’ to describe you. too unimaginative.

loves the feeling of your skin on his. you’re so warm and soft against him and he loves it. doesn’t even mind if you have body hair, even if that would be a bit weird to other people. it just adds onto you and he would find it immature if someone else complained. touch starved as well. being alone for so long does that to people. he just loves physical contact with you in general.

would definitely do things the old fashioned way. he would mail you a love letter and hope you get it with baited breath. if you say yes then expect him to stumble over his words all while trying to keep his composure. if you ask him who delivered it to your mail box, he would say eddie.

he would brag to barnaby about you. since he believes that the dolls hes made of his dear neighbors are real and listening he would sit barnaby down while you’re away and brag to him about you. sometimes barnaby responds. maybe one day he’d allow you and him to meet?

definitely possessive. doesn’t like to see his pretty thing wander far from him. even of he has to keep you in the dollhouse himself, he’ll do it if he needs to. he’d hate to see you get hurt, and the world is harsh and cruel out there. it would be best for you to stay with him…completely…forever. where you’re safe.

sometimes spends moments of you two spending time together just…staring at you. he loves the way you look. your hair, your eyes, the way your face crinkles up when you smile. it all makes him lightheaded and fuzzy. if he made a doll of you he would show you with pride and point out all the fine details that he captured of you, even the ones you haven’t noticed.

doesn’t like it when you see his ‘cracks’ or flaws. he would like to appear to you as flawless as fresh porcelain, but unfortunately sometimes you make him just a tad too emotional and he starts to show his true colors. he just hopes you don’t hate him or think bad of him. you’re the first visitor he’s had since the others abandoned him…he really would love for you two to be together for as long as possible.

makes you small gifts all the time. really is an arts and crafts kind of guy. he loves seeing your face light up when he gives you dolls or other things he’s made by hand. he also does embroidery and makes doilies. tends to do it when you’re away to pass the time until you come back. he would try and teach you how to do it too.

on the flip side, if you gave him a gift— well he’d just melt. he wouldn’t know what to do. even the smallest gift would send him into a flurry of “oh neighbors” and “i love you”s. he would tear up a bit and immediately put it somewhere where he can see it anytime he wants to. it would be precious to him, no matter how well made.

isolation breed abandonment issues. he wouldn’t like you leaving his side that much, and if you do he would wait patiently until you get back. he isn’t the kind of guy to set a curfew, as you’re your own person and an adult but he would definitely expect you to be back before nightfall at least.

would allow you to call him ‘dolly’, simply because it amuses him.

doesn’t sleep that well and has trouble sleeping, he usually spends that time alone but when you’re around he likes to watch you sleep. he stands over you with his arms folded behind his back, or sits on your bed and watches over you as you snooze along. he’d brush your hair out of your face, or whisper to you as you sleep. things he would probably never say to you if you were awake. he’d also take that time to study your face more closely for his doll of you. more time to look at you the better. you look so peaceful and it brings his heart joy to know you’re here with him, and safe. if you’d allow him, he would love to cuddle you while you sleep and would do the same either way.

author’s note ⊹˚. ♡

these were just silly little ideas i brewed up! i’ve been having real bad brainrot of dollhouse ever since i saw him and i haven’t really seen that much content of him around and that’s a shame because his design is absolutely incredible.

i’d also like to take this time to mention that my requests are open! as long as you follow my guidelines, we should get along just fine. i can’t guarantee i will get to every one but i can try! hope to see you soon, neighbor.

#welcome home au #welcome home #wally au #wally darling #wally darling x reader #wally darling x you #wally darling headcanons #head canons #first post #new to tumblr please be patient #dollhouse wally #dollhouse welcome home au #possessive wally darling #yandere wally darling #yandere wally x reader #yandere wally darling headcanons #yandere welcome home

[mirrorsmoonlight]

☆ ~ i know they’re losing

pairing: platonic!mizzen x mentor!reader summary: for the last assignment of the year you and the other top 23 students of the academy were assigned a tribute to turn into a spectacle for the watchers; you just wished you didn’t get the young boy with such soulful eyes. warnings: canon death, second person, scenes used from the movies (besides some changes I made) based on the song ‘i bet on loosing dogs’ by mitski

my baby, my baby

you’re my baby, say it to me

the first time you looked into those soulful eyes were when they were filled with tears, the emotional distress not hidden from watching eyes of the capital who only smirked and chuckled at the illuminating picture.

“district 4 male tribute, goes to (name) (last name),” you could vaguely hear the giggles coming off your classmates at your misfortune but you payed no mind, only looking at the bottom of the screen where it held his name; Mizzen.

baby, my baby

tell your baby that i’m your baby

you decided that the best way to gain his trust would be by proving yourself. so here you were, on the platform waiting for the district 4 tributes to be escorted out of their section of the train with a couple bottles of water and an assortment of wrapped goods.

when they did, the first that stepped out was festus’s tribute—radiating a threatening aura that almost made you back off—before mizzen popped his head out which made your confidence spike, knowing you would take your chances with coral if that meant keeping him fed.

“excuse me,” your voice was soft and your touch even softer as you tried to get the attention of the peacekeepers escorting them, at first not even gathering their attention but the two tributes instead which caused them to stop in their place.

the men clad in grey looked towards what gathered their attention, making them stop in annoyance, your crimson academy uniform alerting them of a possible reason you’d be here.

glad you had gotten the recognition you needed you hastily stumbled out the words before they were transported into the other car waiting just a few feet away, “i brought something for my tribute, i would like for them to have it before they’re taken away.”

despite their obvious reluctance they knew you came from a family that held a high place in society, which meant if they didn’t oblige they could possibly loose their job (if you decided to be petty), so they hesitantly gave you a nod which caused a smile of appreciation to bloom on your face.

quickly, you pulled out two wrapped sandwiches—grilled cheese and turkey—and a bottle of water before making your way infront of mizzen who coral was ultimately guarding, “i didn’t know what you liked, but i know this is better than starving.”

and when mizzen didn’t immediately grasp your offerings, you shot a look to coral trying your best to show you didn’t mean any harm, hoping to persuade her so she could lower her guard on him. there was a prolonged pause before she stepped away, mizzen eagerly grabbing the food before looking up at you.

you smiled at him one last time before leaning close to his ear to whisper to him, “i’ll come find you again soon to bring you more food. i’ll see you later, alright?”

and as the peacekeepers led them into the cattle car you could almost make out the childish smile he shot your way in thanks.

i bet on losing dogs

i know they’re losing and i pay for my place

by the ring

his form was jittery as you entered the arena, his eyes consuming every inch of the place where his body would take it’s last breaths if he didn’t emerge as the victor. the swirling thoughts in his brain making him oblivious to the fact that he had desperately grasped onto your hand.

at first, shock coursed through your body but seeing the far-away look in his eyes you let him grasp onto you for comfort, gently leading him around the arena as you scoped out for places he could hide or when he needed it to have the advantage.

only minutes after, your attention was averted to the shakiness under your legs just before a burst of dust tumbled down. immediately taking action, you tugged on the hand you were holding so you could lead him to safety, completely disregarding yours…disregarding that a piece of debris was coming right for you.

the impact was rough, causing your hands to break apart as the rubble casted it’s weight over your legs. but when he looked back with fear in his eyes all you did was call out to him to run.

and when your eyes were slipping shut, the last thing you saw was mizzen desperately fighting the peacekeepers hold as he called out for them to help you.

where i’ll be looking in their eyes when their down

i’ll be there on their side

all you could do was watch from the screen as the holographic snakes broke out of their confinements and slithered across the dirtied arena floor. mizzen’s pace slowing for just a second as exhaustion finally caught up to him, unknowingly giving the snakes an open opportunity for another kill. tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as wave after wave consumed his body.

the venom was quick to kill most of his nerves, enough that instead of seeing coral looking back at him he saw you. a desperate plea leaving his lips in his final moments, “(name!!)”

i’m losing by their side

“and there goes merciless mizzen!” lucky flickerman excitedly announced, “have a good summer (last name)!”

you hastily got up from your chair, head up high until you were fully out of everyone’s view. only to quickly cover your mouth to quell the beginning of your anguished sobs, as you stood alone outside—those soulful eyes now dark and void of life.

#🎣. starfish saturdays #🕊️🐍. tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas x reader #tbosas x you #tbosas imagine #mizzen tbosas #mizzen #platonic x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #coriolanus snow #coral tbosas #lucy gray baird

[huramuna]

wine red, tears gold - chapter 4.

king aegon II x baratheon ofc

previous chapter | next

a 'what if aegon didn't get poisoned and the greens technically won the dance but at what cost' au. basically aegon, alicent, otto and jaehaera are the only greens alive. and larys i guess. someone get rid of this guy.

word count: 3.5k

please follow & turn on notifs for @huramuna-fics for my fic postings

content: smut (specifics below cut), canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, angst, fluff, arranged marriage, touch-staved aegon, aegon isn't a r*pist in this au but he is still a bad person and has his vices, ofc and aegon need to go to therapy together, justice for jaehaera, awkward sex, kind of a slow burn, infidelity

this comes from the inside - the living tombstone • oblivion - grimes

warnings: p in v, creampie

Being close with another person can be such a precarious thing. Not just in emotional closeness, but physical as well. 

Lyanna never much liked being touched, not even as a child. She would shy away from courtiers pinching her cheeks, from her mother’s outstretched arms, from her father’s heavy hand upon her shoulder. Being touched felt like a burden of sorts, as if someone expected reciprocity from putting their hands on another. 

She never wished to give it in return. 

Since moving to the Red Keep, she has changed— in more ways than one, of course. She quite liked being touched now by her good mother, Alicent’s touches were soft and warm. Mayhaps it was because the queen mother was there to hold Lyanna at her lowest, and she found some comfort in her arms that she never derived from her own mother. 

Then there was Aegon. His touches were… confusing. He seemed much at war with himself, like a stray dog wishing for affection, a scratch on the cheek or pat of the head, but didn’t know how to ask, how to convey he wanted it. His proposal to Lyanna of exchange of pleasure for nurture was a strange one, to be sure. 

It must’ve been the wine, that would be why she had said yes, wouldn’t it? 

Certainly not the fact that her husband seemed… jealous. Jealous of a Dornish prince putting his hands on her and making her laugh. Aegon, being the same one who had said she wasn’t a beauty that men go to war for. Aegon, who couldn’t even flow in the same atmosphere as Lyanna for weeks. Aegon, who fucked a whore the morning after their wedding and many days besides. 

That Aegon— was jealous? 

The notion of it seemed humorous to Lyanna, as if she held some great power over him, reducing him to his knees before her. 

All for a touch. 

In truth, it was more than just a touch. He had fallen asleep with his head in her lap, snoozing softly. Lyanna wriggled down, trying to get comfortable. As much as she detested Aegon, at least she thought she did, she didn’t want to wake him. Not when he seemed so at peace with his pathetic prize. 

He was a heavy sleeper. She managed to lay on her back comfortably and adjust his position to where he was strewn across her stomach and chest. Lyanna watched him for… who knows how long, being lulled into some sense of relaxation by his weight and warmth on her, coupled with his rhythmic breathing. He was like a living heavy blanket. 

Her fingers threaded through his hair, smoothing small circles upon his scalp absentmindedly, as she fell asleep herself. 

When she awoke, he was still there— albeit, shifted slightly. He clung to her like a second skin, his leg thrown over hers, his arms draped over her chest haphazardly, still deeply asleep. Lyanna’s breaths fanned over his hair, his head resting under her chin. Whatever spell she had been under the night before had (almost) worn off, the novelty faded. 

Gently, more gentle than he truly deserved, she roused him. “Aegon,” she murmured, “Aegon, it's morning— I must get ready soon.” 

“Morning…” he hummed drowsily, lips pressed to her neck unknowingly. “No… I will sleep more.” 

Lyanna rolled her eyes; it was like dealing with a child rather than a King. “Laze around if you must, husband,” she began to pry him off of her. “But I have duties to attend to.” 

“Duties can wait, wife,” he blinked, supplanting his chin upon her chest and looking up at her in a way that made her heart wrench. He looked Gods awful pathetic, like an abandoned puppy. “Stay longer, please.” 

“… I have things to see to, Aegon. I don’t wish for your mother to be cross if I’m late to break our fast together.” 

He let out a huff, rolling off of her. “May I at least stay until you leave?”

“I suppose. You can help dress me. Do you know how to dress a lady?” Lyanna asked, getting up from the bed to open her wardrobe. 

“Ehm— I know how to undress a lady.”

“My Myrish silk from last night begs to differ.”

“Well, you have too many layers, too many loops and ties. This is why whores are so much easier, they’re practically already naked.” 

Lyanna shot a glare at him. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t remind me that you frequently lie with other ladies.” 

Aegon came up behind her, a bit taller than her by a head, poking his nose into her neck. “Why? Are you jealous?”

She scoffed. “Jealous? Jealous like you were of Prince Qyle?”

“I don’t get jealous,” he grumbled, backing away from her and folding his arms over his chest. “I just don’t think it was appropriate the way he was touching you— like you were a whore.” 

“You love that word, don’t you?” 

“Mayhaps. I quite like other words, too. Slut, cunt, bitch— the list goes on.” 

“You’re truly an ignorant, beautiful creature, Aegon. It’s a wonder to me that you survived infancy.” 

“You think I’m beautiful?” 

Lyanna let out a snorting laugh, it was undignified and unladylike— but real. Even more real than the laughs that Prince Qyle evoked from her the night before. She stayed turned away, sorting through her clothes. The noise she emitted, raucous and loud as it was, made Aegon smile for half a moment. He quite liked when his wife laughed— and he had been the one to do it this time. 

Aegon ended up not helping her dress, as he took one look at the configurations of a corset and left. 

That was fine by Lyanna, in all truths. She descended to the Queen mother’s chambers and broke her fast with her, as was her daily routine. Somehow, in the middle of their eating, their conversation turned to the topic of sex. Lyanna didn't feel much embarrassment talking about most things with Alicent, as she was a good conservationist– but sex was one of the things Alicent was… hesitant to talk about, all things considered, and Lyanna wasn’t exactly an expert. 

Poking into her soft boiled egg with her spoon, Lyanna listened intently to Alicent.

“You’re the only one I would talk to such things about, dearest,” Alicent hummed, dragging her utensil through her own bowl of coddled eggs, “I never much liked it with… the late King. ‘Twas my duty, after all. I can only hope that, ehm, Aegon makes it less painful for you.” 

“... he does fine, I suppose,” Lyanna murmured, prying the soft white of the egg from the shell and balancing it on the spoon. “... truthfully, we haven’t…” she rolled her shoulders to enunciate her meaning, “Laid together in a way conducive to making an heir– not since the wedding night.”

The queen mother perked a brow, crossing one leg over the other. “So you are doing such things in… other methods?”

“Only once– last night, in fact,” Lyanna admitted softly, poking the bite of egg into her mouth, wiping away an errant drop of yolk from her lip– to which Alicent was watching intently– “After the banquet. Was Aegon… jealous as a child?”

Alicent cracked a small smile, leaning back in her chair. “I’m not sure that he was jealous in the way that some may think. He wasn’t so much envious of what others had that he wished to covet, but rather what others were, comparatively to him. Rhaenyra was his father’s favorite, Aemond was the better swordsman, Helaena more beloved by my father– he was always the odd one out.” she blinked profusely, picking at the hem of her sleeve. “Why?”

“He… followed me to my chambers after the feast and started spewing heinous accusations about Prince Qyle and I.” 

“And this… led you both to the bed?” Alicent took a long sip of her tea, her eyes not leaving Lyanna’s. 

“No– my boudoir chair, actually.”

The queen mother’s cheeks reddened softly. “Oh my– I cannot say that’s something I experienced. Was it… pleasurable at least?” 

“It was certainly enlightening– that he may not be as useless as I thought,” Lyanna paused. “That I may not be as repulsive to him as I thought I was.” she spoke a bit quieter then, the subject still tender to her, a wound not yet fully scarred over.

“It’s his blood.” Alicent replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

“His… blood?” 

“The blood of the dragon– Targaryens have dragon’s blood in their veins, which runs thick and hot when situations become… precarious. It may be any sort of situation that might give you or I an adrenaline rush, good or bad– but for them, all my children included, it’s like igniting the spark to a wildfire. Some sort of primal, uncontainable thirst for… whatever it is that spurred them. For Aegon… he quells his blood with wine and whores,” Alicent frowned slightly at the notion, the corners of her eyes crinkling into a silent apology, “Jealousy could very well be one of the things that whipped him into a frenzy– mayhaps you should use such a thing to your advantage? Of course, I won’t condone adultery, my dear– but the illusion of interest in someone else may have Aegon more… inclined to lay with you.” 

Lyanna sniffed slightly, putting down her empty egg shell. “I wish he would just want it without me having to… set him on fire, or however it’s put.”

“Men are– for the lack of a better word– stupid, Lyanna. They are blind to the things they need the most.” 

–

Lyanna spent the rest of her week planning on how exactly to make Aegon jealous. She didn’t really understand how to put on such airs of that extent– acting confident was one thing, but feining attraction for another person was different, wasn’t it? She didn’t consider herself a massive flirt, either.

They sat in the dining hall, entertaining a visiting lord from the Reach, some Tyrell or Redwyne or other, who promptly gave Lyanna a bouquet of beautiful flowers. She was delighted at the gesture, not because she really enjoyed them, but because it would be easier to start her ruse. 

“Oh, thank you, my lord– these are gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous,” she hummed. She was wearing a green dress that, somehow, matched Aegon’s deep green tunic that eve. “How did you know that sunflowers were my favorite?” 

“Ah, your grace, the sunflower is my favorite as well,” the lord smiled heartily, chattering on and on about sunflowers. “It very much reminded me of your radiance, my queen.”

His audacious compliment earned a warm giggle from Lyanna, her face blistered with a blush– half of the blush was from real bashfulness, as she wasn’t used to receiving such compliments. She knew it was false, of course. She was more reminiscent of a plain dandelion than a sunflower.

The dinner consisted of Lyanna talking to him, making much smalltalk and overall, talking to him more than she’d talked to Aegon in their entire marriage. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her husband practically stewing, rolling around a brussel sprout around his plate with the tip of his knife, an inhuman heat blistering off of him in waves.

Apparently, to Aegon, enough was enough– his hand slipped from his goblet of wine, drenching the front of Lyanna’s dress. “Ah– my dear, I’m so very clumsy,” he crooned, “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” 

Lyanna nodded slowly as her husband looped his arms around her and led her out of the dining hall. She murmured some apologies to their guests, citing that they would return soon. Aegon led them down a corridor, not far from the hall, into a closed off enclave, where he closed the door. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he grumbled, spinning her around so that her back was pressed against the stone wall in the close quarters of what was basically a servant’s closet. “You’re egging me on purposefully.” 

Tilting her chin up defiantly, she spoke nonchalantly. “I have no idea what you’re speaking of, husband, truly.” 

Aegon gave an unamused expression, his mouth wrought into a thin line. “I’m not even that drunk and I could plainly see you letting that… absolute peon of a Lord come onto you.” 

“So? He fancies me and gifted me a bouquet of flowers– I don’t see anything terribly wrong with that. It isn’t unheard of to pay homage to their queen, is it?” 

His hand shot out, gripping her chin and jaw. “I don’t– You– you’re so fucking frustrating!” he growled, raising his voice. Their noses were touching from their proximity, their breaths intermingling. It was the closest they’d ever been.

Footsteps echoed from the hallway, to which the both of them froze. They came past the closet, then descended back down the corridor.

“This is scandalous.” Lyanna murmured.

“How? We are husband and wife, simply having a chat.”

“We are the king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms, not… animals– I’m sure that anyone who opened this door would see you… pinning me against a wall. I’m not sure much could be left to the imagination there, Aegon.”

“You really should get the stick out of your arse, wife.”

“Mayhaps it would do better up yours, then?”

“Careful, I may actually enjoy that.” he grinned, the expression lighting up his usually solemn face. Lyanna considered him quite handsome at that moment. 

“You’re vulgar.” she quipped back, biting down on the soft part between his thumb and forefinger gently.

A sound akin to a breathy moan came from Aegon’s mouth at her bite. “And you call me an animal? You’re fucking biting me, you cheeky minx.” 

“Yes? Well, if you are to drag me to your level– we are both animals then.” she stared at him with wide eyes and she wondered if he could feel the beat of her heart. It felt like it would abscond from her body at any moment. Her heavy chest fell and rose in weighty breaths. 

“That lord is quite wrong, you know,” Aegon whispered, his lips dangerously close to hers– they hadn’t kissed since the wedding ceremony, and even then it was a quick peck – his mouth quirked into a smug grin. “You aren’t a sunflower. You’re a sweet little rabbit. I quite like rabbit, you know. They’re delicious, succulent,” he paused, leaning forward and speaking against her lips, “Tender.”

It was unsure who closed the gap first, but their lips fused together into a ferocious kiss. They both tasted of a deep, rich wine. It was a fight of tongues and teeth, a battle where they both wished to devour one another– Lyanna’s hand tugged at his white curls, nails scraping against his scalp as he held her face in a vice-like grip, as if he was afraid she would dissipate from his clutches at any moment. His lips were soft, surprisingly, where she had expected them to be rough and chapped. His skin pressed against hers and the slight growing stubble upon his cheeks tickled her in kind, her lips perking into a smile as they kissed. 

The once silent closet became a cacophony of small sighs and gasps from both the king and queen. Aegon’s free hand trailed to the small of Lyanna’s back, resting right in the divots above her bottom, his fingers splayed out in exploratory fashion. His repose was short lived, as he grabbed the fleshy globe of her arse, emitting a pleased hum of surprise. They parted for a moment to breathe, as it was wholly necessary– if they hadn’t needed to breathe, they wouldn’t have parted at all, reveling in one another’s taste for hours.

“I forbid you to cut my dress, Aegon,” she whispered in a playful warning, staring at him with a look that couldn’t be described as anything else other than fondness. “I refuse to go through these halls with my garment sliced to shreds.”

“But you love it, don’t you? You quite liked it last night.”

“Aegon.”

“Fine,” he acquiesced, his hand retreating from her face to unbuckle his belt. The light of the closet was dim, close to none– the soft flickering of the sconces outside of the corridor bleeding in through the cracked door. She couldn’t see what he was doing, really, but she heard the soft grunts coming from him as his fist slid against his length. Giving her ass a playful squeeze, he used his other hand to ruck up her skirts, the pad of his thumb swiping down her underclothes. “Lovely.” Aegon practically purred, hooking his finger and sliding the wet garb down her legs.

The air was cold against her bare sex, causing her to shiver. She chased the warmth of his body as he adjusted himself, parting from her closeness for just a moment, making her all but whimper. 

They didn’t need words, despite their new trend of back and forth quips– and it was nice to not have to say anything. She let him take the lead, as he was more experienced than she. His legs were between hers, keeping them open as he glided his member between her folds, gathering the wet slick that had been ruminating since they came to the closet, then he slid into her. Lyanna stifled a gasp, the sensation still so unfamiliar– it wasn’t painful like before, as she was prepared for it now, but it was a feeling of stretching she wasn’t used to. 

Aegon, in turn, huffed a moan into her neck, murmuring something in broken High Valyrian under his breath. He sheathed himself to the hilt inside of her, resting both hands on her hips, which had the perfect little clefts for handles, he noted. He didn’t move right away, savoring the warmth and tightness of her, squeezing around him like she was all but made for him. 

“P-please,” she whispered, so quietly, into the shell of his ear.

He set a wonderfully slow pace, which only sped up with each kiss they shared, their tongues mingling and dancing to the soft sound of Aegon’s heavy stones smacking up against Lyanna’s core. Their cacophony became a full on symphony of wet, slapping noises, coupled with their borderline obscene sounding kissing as they moaned into one another’s mouths.

 It felt like something of newness for both of them as Aegon’s thumb came up to circle at her clit– Lyanna was experiencing a fullness and indulgence in having her husband slotted in her so deliciously. Aegon was experiencing something akin to euphoria at the fact that he was fucking someone who wanted him, whom he did not pay, and was not doing so out of duty. He had been a bit hesitant on the latter at first, but there was no way in the Hells that she was faking such debaucherous, beautiful little moans. This was sensual ecstasy and closeness that they’d both never felt before in their lives. 

Lyanna’s whining became more pronounced as Aegon’s attention on her clit came to fruition– she clenched around him like a vice, feeling a small dribble of wetness soak around his cock. This act alone brought Aegon to his own completion, the wetness of her slick now mingling with his seed as he spilled inside of her, deep enough to hopefully take root. He bit onto the lobe of her ear gently as he came, whimpering. 

Lyanna quite liked that sound– of her husband whimpering into her ear as he emptied himself. It made her put both hands on each side of his face and kiss him again– but soft, like his little whimpers. It wasn’t something born of lust, but something completely different. Something that they both really couldn’t name yet.

Coming down from both of their highs, Aegon quickly situated himself back into his trousers– but not before reaching two fingers to his wife’s folds and pushing back in the seed that threatened to leak from her.

“Aegon,” she keened, dangerously close to overstimulation as he gave a cheeky flick to her wrought-over clit. “E-Enough– too much…” 

“I couldn’t resist,” Aegon chuckled as he pulled her undergarments back up, snug once more against her. “I don’t suppose we are returning to dinner?” 

“Gods– I don’t think I can. I am still reeking of wine and I won’t be able to look them all in the eyes when we come back looking as if the cat just ate the canary.”

“Or the dragon ate the rabbit?” 

“... I am sure I can feign sickness just one time– what do you think? Mayhaps we should retire early tonight.” Lyanna flattened out her dress.

“... we?” 

“Yes– we.” 

“We as in… me and you? In the same room? Together?” 

“That is what ‘we’ means, Aegon.” 

“... I suppose I could be convinced.”

–

They did indeed retire early that night, but not before going for round two, then three. A thoroughly fucked out Lyanna rested in bed, her body riddled in hickies of Aegon’s doing, her fingers tangled in his hair. She was well and fast asleep, Aegon noted. 

He loathed to untangle himself from her– she was so nice and warm and soft… but something inside of him nagged. Something broken and heinous tugged at his humanity, willing him to get out of bed and dress, donning his usual thick black cloak.

Off to the Silk Streets. To sate the broken parts of him and to quell the incessant nagging within his head.

Your fault, your fault.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii targaryen fluff #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii #aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #my writing #wine red tears gold

[yanderes-galore]

Noob saibot yandere hc please!

Sure! Here you are!

Yandere! Noob Saibot (Bi-Han) Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Manipulation, Violence/Canon typical violence, Murder mentioned, Kidnapping, Overprotective/Possessive behavior, Mentioned phantom touching in your sleep in one line, Forced companionship.

When Noob was still known as Bi-Han he already had a ruthless and cold personality.

A fitting personality for Sub-Zero.

He was never all that compassionate and very quick to kill his enemies.

When he's killed by Scorpion he somehow gets even worse.

He is also shown to be arrogant as Noob.

As Noob, Bi-Han no longer utilizes ice and instead uses shadow and phantom attacks.

Noob uses his powers to play tricks on his enemies, such as teleportation and doppelgangers.

Noob supposedly still has memories of his life as Bi-Han, so this is how I think he'd have an obsession:

You'd have to know him or be Bi-Han's darling before he died, that way when he comes back as Noob he has a reason to pursue you.

Oh, and it's scary too.

You thought having Bi-Han, a ruthless Sub-Zero that could kill in an instant if someone looked at you wrong, was scary enough?

Well, now you have that same person capable of lurking around every corner as a shadow in your life.

He'd watch your every move… right up until it's time for him to strike.

I feel Noob would just be worse than Bi-Han.

He's even more ruthless and arrogant due to his newfound strength and stealth.

I never mentioned he can use invisibility, did I?

Yeah, as if things weren't bad enough….

Noob's attachment relies heavily on how Bi-Han felt for you.

Be it a sibling from his clan that he had a soft spot for, or maybe even a potential lover he never got to pursue…

Noob will do anything to “reclaim” you.

He doesn't seem like the person to be all that emotional, even around his darling.

Even when he knew you before his death he's more possessive than caring.

He is power hungry and arrogant, leading to him feeling you belong to him.

After Bi-Han dies and becomes Noob, he probably stalks you for a long while before taking you anywhere.

You may think you're finally free…

However, this is merely the calm before the storm.

While you try to get used to life without Bi-Han breathing down your neck, Noob's crawling out from Netherrealm.

You'd feel eyes on your back and perhaps even phantom touches when you sleep.

Noob is careful to merely be a shadow in your life until he's ready.

It is to be expected that those he does not like around do not live to tell the tale.

They are greeted by a furious and vengeful wraith before dying an agonizing demise.

Noob does it for the good of both of you in his mind, even if his actions leave you devastated.

That goes for a lot of what he does for you.

He cares more for himself than your opinion on it.

If he wants to have you, he will.

He's taking you in to care for you, even from beyond the grave.

Yet you still fight him?

You poor thing.

Eventually Noob will decide it's time to take you away.

Where, you ask?

Well, where else does Noob have to go?

You'll probably be dragged to Netherrealm with him.

That or he manages to work out a private home to keep you.

Either option is essentially the same, Noob finally reveals himself from the shadows to confront you.

He'll remind you of who he was before everything… then he'll tell you it's time to go.

Maybe he'll give you some affection to convince you.

He isn't a big one for it… Yet right now he can't resist the warmth of holding you in his arms and kissing your forehead.

You can't fight him, he's stronger due to being a wraith.

That alone makes him swell with pride.

Finally… After so long, Noob (Bi-Han) has you once again in his arms.

Not even death can take you from him.

#yandere mortal kombat #yandere noob saibot #yandere bi-han