#not realising that they still care about her

[satowooo]

i. imgonnagetyouback

The one and only son of the Gojo clan had fallen quite hard, completely and utterly, to a lowly woman who came from the dirt, and got his heart broken by her. Years had passed, he was still as angry since the day you left, but he only wanted you back.

contents. modern au, gojo satoru x reader, angst, not proofread.

Whether I'm gonna curse you out or take you back to my house, I haven't decided yet but I'm gonna get you back

next chapter

It was pathetic. The sight of Gojo Satoru, a well-respected son of the Gojo clan, was down on his knees right in front of you, begging you to stay, a daughter of a mere servant.

It made him look pitiful and weak, a miserable prince who had his heart shattered by a low class woman like you. But he didn't really give it that much of a thought, ever since he first laid eyes on you. He didn't care what people might've said from the very first time, and he proved it to you a million times as he stubbornly and desperately showed you how much he loves and adores you. So, begging down on his knees is not that much of a deal now, no?

“Stand up, please.”

But you were firm, closing your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. You hated seeing him like this, but you were left with no other choice. Your love for him could risk even the dangers of your life, and you were sacrificing him to save him.

“I do not wish to be with you any longer, Young Master.” You said, uttering his title in a whisper. “What we had was wrong. It was a mistake on my side. And I thought I was in love with you, but it was just a pathetic infatuation and I realised that another man best suits me, and it's not you.”

Your words were nonstop, every single thing that you uttered was shattering his heart into pieces. But Satoru furiously shakes his head, his hands trembling on your lap as his forehead falls on your knees.

“T-that’s not… T-that's not true…”

You remembered everything from that day. Every little detail, every word, every touch, every action, of what had happened stayed forever in your mind. It never fails to shatter you. To make you cry every single time that you thought about him as you lie in the confinements of your small room.

“I have done what you asked for. What else do I need to do–” A whimper escaped your lips as a hand flew over your cheek. Breathing heavily, you felt the sting on your skin as you looked back at the person who had been the cause of your pain.

“Pack your things, and never show your face again.”

Gojo Satoru haunted your dreams and nightmares. He managed his way in your heart, and refused to leave. He was the ghost of your tragic love story, you could only wish that you never should've picked up the pen. It's already been two years since you left, and even until now, your heart only beats for one man and it will always be for Satoru.

So what are you going to do when he comes up at your door, claiming what used to be his?

It all happened so fast that your head can't fathom how you ended back to the place of your nightmares. The Gojo clan's mansion. The place where it all started between the two of you.

Every corner of this place was filled with memories of you and Satoru, all the good and bad. But what you remembered most was the torture, the consequences you had faced for falling in love. You felt like all your scars were slowly tearing apart, opening the wound that was almost healed as you looked back to the man who stood in front of you.

You never should've been back in this place.

“I expect you to work immediately.” Satoru's voice was different. It was laced with authority and demand, not the sweet ones that you remember back when he was yours. “Remember, your family is in the palm of my hands. Try to escape, and you'll face the consequences.”

His eyes looked at you with anger, a pent up emotion that he bottled up all these years. His hands were balled on a fist by his sides, almost trembling, but he wouldn't let you see just how much you still have an effect on him.

Right now, all he feels is anger and hatred for what you did. For leaving him. For running off with another man. For loving him only to break his heart. For letting him hold on to your empty promises.

For those two years, he only loathed you and he's not going to be a forgiving man, he'll make sure you regret. He'll make you beg on his knees, the way he did for you.

“I expect you to be in my office in five.”

Now, you're back to square one. Working as his maid was already bad enough back then, so what's going to happen now that you're back to serve him again?

You can't help but notice how much he changed. Somehow, you can tell that he was still the same, only that he was only mad at you. It was obvious already how he's showing indifference only to you but not to anyone else. His bubbly personality that used to welcome you with warm embraces is now replaced with an angry demeanour of a man who cold-heartedly took you away from your family and took you back to the house where you suffered.

How unfair.

This was not your Satoru.

As soon as Satoru turned around and left you standing, he heaved out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. His heart felt like it was trying to escape from his chest. For the first time since you left, he finally felt his heart beating again.

All throughout those years that you were gone, he relentlessly looked for you. Trying to search your face in unfamiliar places, sometimes getting himself into trouble when he mistakes someone for you. Everyday, he was turning angrier and angrier when you never showed up, while all he needed was proper answers and explanations. He hated all the memory that you had left, and how it tore him to pieces that all of it was just a lie.

He couldn't believe you had the nerve. A woman like you with no name for herself, telling him that a relationship with him was just a mistake as you sought another man. Gojo Satoru was everything anyone could have asked for, so how dare a woman like you? How dare a woman he loved…

Everything comes crashing down into his mind once again. From the first time he saw you and how you've caught his eye. His heart starts to beat frantically, his breath caught into his chest, his tongue tied together. Satoru slumps into his chair as he closes his eyes, letting the memory sink in.

“Who is that woman?” Satoru asked an older servant, seeing your unfamiliar face walking around the garden in a maid uniform as he stared down at you from his window.

“That's [M/L/N]’s daughter. She's here to take her place while her mother is recovering.” The servant answered as she poured him tea.

Satoru watched as you walked quietly, your movements looked calculated and careful. He watched your finger touch a ragged cloth, gracefully cleaning the dirty tables.

From afar, he can see how your skin looked soft and pale. You were a bit thin and looked weak. He can only assume that he could break you with one twist.

Your face didn't have any emotion in it which intrigued him. Even your lips were downturned, like you hated every second of working in his place. You caught his attention in a matter of seconds, a curiosity growing inside him while he watched your every move.

He noticed the way your mood changed when his family's dog, a small golden retriever, came running to you. A smile formed into your face and he swore he could feel all the flowers blooming all around the place. Everything seemed to have lighted up, his heart began to drum in his chest as you kneeled down to the dog, petting and rubbing the cute animal between your hands.

What's so fascinating about you?

He swallowed hard. Satoru felt like a teenage boy realising that he was staring a little too hard. He felt like a stalker for watching you, shivering at his thoughts.

But he wanted to meet you. Something was pulling him to be close to your presence. A magnetic force was drawing him to come near, and it was the very first time that he ever felt like this.

But he'll take his time first. For now, he's going to settle on just watching you from afar, memorising every detail of you, until he is ready.

A knock on the door woke Satoru back to his senses. He straightened up on his seat, erasing the memories out of his head as he coughed. “Come in.”

But how can Satoru completely forget?

You walked inside in your maid uniform, the same dress that you used to wear, and it only took Satoru a matter of seconds for all your pasts to remind him of how much he loved you. He felt a pain in his chest, and for a moment, he wanted to fall back on his knees and beg for you to love him again. But even you had changed.

Satoru was also back to square one. He looks at you, reminded of the first time he had seen your face. The lack of emotion, the frown, the gaze that used to intimidate him, and the wall you had built between the two of you was palpable.

“Take a seat.” Satoru gestured over the chair in front of his table.

He watched you carefully as you stepped inside his office, striding forward with a sense of hurry as you obviously refused to seat. You stood in front of him, an emotion in your eyes that he can't seem to read.

“I have to get back to my family–”

“They are fine.” Satoru immediately cut you off, his voice ringing over your ear. He looked at you with a glare, venom laced in his voice as he says, “You are bound to stay here, as I said so–”

“You can't keep me here!”

Your scream shocked the both of you, but Satoru kept a straight face as he stood up slowly. He chuckled with malice, staring at your helpless state.

“What makes you say that I can't?” He smirked. “I own you now. Every single thing that's yours is also mine, even your family.”

Your eyes fell to the floor, your hands trembling at your side. Your knees felt weak underneath his gaze, burning and crushing your soul.

Everything he said was true. You were in so much debt ever since you left the Gojo mansion, your family almost falling apart if he didn't show up to take you. And now he's claiming every single bit of what's yours, not leaving a single piece behind.

Satoru made it clear when he took you here. He'll pay for everything to save you and your family. Your mother's hospital bill, your father's gambling debts, your brother's education, their food, house, electricity, and all their livings, because you couldn't pay them off by yourself.

So now you're trapped. He's got you wrapped around his fingers.

“You need me, Y/N.” You closed your eyes at his voice, shaking your head in denial. “You can't afford to live without me, and that's the truth.”

It was the truth, Satoru taking her away from her old life.

You were doing just fine when he was gone. But now you don't know anymore.

this is the part 1 of my mini (?) gojo series! i hope you'd like it and anticipate for what's next to come 🥺🫶🏻 [M/L/N] also stand for "mother's last name" in case you didn't knowww ^.^ I also hoped you understood the flashbacks and such.

this is just a prologue of the main story, sooo the real story starts at part 2.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #satorugojo #gojo fluff #gojo angst #satoru angst #satoru jjk #jjk gojo satoru #jujutsu #jujutsu kaien modern au #jjk modern au #jjk fic #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru angst #Spotify

[servicpop]

✶ ﹑ㅤtutoring seshㅤ﹏

NOW STARRING : adrien x bottom m!reader

「ㅤNSFWㅤ」ㅤtutor sesh w/ your deliquent situationship but he can't focus on the studying, only you!

✙ warnings — parents are home , manhandling(?) , obsessive 'n a little pervy adrien , slight hair pulling , bodyworship(?) , Adrien is a little silly in this fic

notes ,, this was supposed to be short but I got carried away ^^;

Adrien had called you over to his house for a "tutoring session." For past few weeks, Adrien has been near-failing practically every single class except for gym class and whatnot. Realising he needed to improve his grades or he'll never graduate with you, he called you on one faithful evening to come over and help him study.

Obviously you complied; it was nice to see Adrien showing some sort of motivation to improve, so you changed into some casual clothes and began to walk to his house. You had prepared your laptop, pencil case, and textbooks, all ready to put in a few hours of tutoring. When you arrived at his front door, you grazed the back of your knuckles against the wood and knocked once or twice, expecting Adrien to show up with a proud smirk like he always did.

But it wasn't Adrien. When the door swung open, you saw his mother. You've only seen her once or twice but never up-close like this. The words caught in your throat as you clutched the straps of your bags, trying to find the words that never came. As if heaven answered your prayers, you saw Adrien jogging down the stairs and to the door, leaning on the door frame with his arm held above his head.

"You came," He grinned, taking the bag from your shoulders as he pulled you inside by your wrist. He helped you take off your shoes cinderella style and neatly placed them beside the doorway. He was awfully caring right now. Your hands felt crammy as you took a glance at Adrien's mother watching the two of you interact, a small blush dusted your ears while you quickly turned away. It must've looked like you were dating with the way she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, mom, we'll be in my room if you'd excuse us," Adrien flashed a toothy smile at his mother before snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you to his side. As he walked you up the stairs, Adrien found an opportunity to tease you, "You nervous meeting my mom?" He asked, squeezing your sides playfully. You shoot him an unamused gaze and he lets out a hearty chuckle from that. Adrien's hand wrapped around his gold doorknob, twisting it before he halted for a second. "Uh, wait here for a second, I gotta clean up my room," he didn't even wait for a response before slipping into his bedroom and closing the door behind him.

"Shit," Adrien muttered under his breath as he quickly shoved the polaroids and photos of you from his desk and into his drawer. He couldn't let you see how god damn obsessed he was about you. He couldn't let you see the photos of yourself stained with a white sheen, no, he wouldn't want to scare you off.

Adrien finally emerged from his room, pushing the door wide open for you to come in with a smile. You didn't question it. As you walked in, you were instantly hit with the scent of his cologne and natural musk. It wasn't a strong enough scent to burn your nose but it would still take you awhile to get used to it. Besides the scent, Adrien's bedroom was relatively clean for a guy who was titled 'the school deliquent.' He had a few sports posters plastered on the walls and his shelf had a few trophies from his childhood. You spotted the baseball bat leaned up against the wall alongside with the volleyball and basketball resting next to eachother. Adrien was sure athletic.

As you two sat down beside your desk, you pulled out all the equipment needed for studying and turned to Adrien, "What do you wanna study?" You asked him and got a small shrug in response. Well, why not start with biology since you conveniently happen to have a textbook that covered the subject.

Around 30 minutes pasted and you were diligently teaching him about human anatomy, glancing over to see him nodding once or twice. You thought it was going well but Adrien on the other hand... He was too focused on the way your hands glided against the pages, tapping the pen against the paper rhythmically, and how your eyes fluttered to him ever so often. Shit, he was horny as hell right now. Just the thought of those hands intertwining with his as he fucks the intelligence out of you is enough to get his blood pumping to the wrong places.

"Adrien? Are you listening?" Your voice snaps him out of his twisted fantasies and he leaned in closer to you, his voice dropping down to a whisper, "You know, I'm a hands-on, visual learner..." That shit-eating grin spread across his face as Adrien pat his lap enticingly, trying to draw your attention to the print in his sweatpants. But knowing you, you wouldn't give in so easily — you were called here to tutor him, not anything else.

"Just answer one more question and I'll—" Before you could even finish your sentence, Adrien's arms wrapped around your waist and he hoisted you up from the chair, practically slinging you over his shoulder. His forearms flexed around you, making sure you didn't fall before placing you on his bed, the mattress dipped from the sudden weight. "Try to be quiet 'kay? My parents are home," He nipped at the shell of your ear before hastily undoing your belt and sliding your pants off. Did he care that his parents could come in at any moment? No, but it was much more exciting to see you try and keep quiet.

"Can we kiss?" Adrien's voice was almost whiny, his eyelashes batted at you innocently — even though he was far from innocent. Nonetheless, you didn't respond, you've set certain boundaries that prevented you and him from getting attached (even though you may or may not have broken it a couple of times). "No," it was a simple, sharp answer that Adrien grumbled at. He understood where you were coming from, he was a bad influence and you were this goody-two-shoes. But he couldn't deny the part of him that wanted something more than just meaningless flings. He huffed, murmuring a small, "How can I study the muscles of a tongue then?"

Scooping you up back into his arms, Adrien ignored your small protests and shifted your position so that your stomach would lay flat against his bed. His hands met the back of yours, pinning you down as he slotted each of his fingers in the spaces between yours. "What happened to studying, Adrien?" Your scolds were muffled by Adrien's pillow and seemed to fall short of his ears. As he held you down, he grinded his hips against your ass, groaning softly from the pure excitement he felt. It had been a few months since he was about to get his hands on you, your pictures just wasn't as good as the real thing.

"Calvin klein hm?" Adrien chuckled softly, trailing his hands from the back of your palm, to your shoulders, down your spine, and to the waistband of your boxers, "Next time don't wear anything." His fingers hooked the elastic before pulling it down and off your legs. You couldn't see what he was doing from your position, and every touch made your skin jump, he was so unpredictable. His fingers traced the curve of your ass before spreading them apart to see your hole. "This is the anus right?" He asked, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"—Yes," you hesitated to answer him, he was obviously playing games with you, but there was no harm in humoring him. You heard the faint rustling of clothes before you felt something prod at your entrance. You sucked in through your teeth, was he seriously going to do this with no lube? "Sorry, don't got any on me right now." It was like he read your mind and instead dipped his head down to lick a stripe over your hole. It tickled, and your body naturally jerked away from it before he grabbed your hips and held them down one more. Weirdo.

He shuffled behind you, placing two knees on either side of your legs and his fingers angled your hips a little bit up. The slight burn of Adrien pushing into you made your fingers curl around his pillow, gripping it like your life depended on it. He slowly pushed in, filling you up until his hips met your ass. Even if your skin was flushed against his, Adrien pushed impossibly deeper inside of you until he could feel his tip press against your prostate. His hands tightened around your waist, stopping you from squirming and forcing you to take it.

"Is this your prostate?" He asked, his voice slightly trembled from the pleasure that coursed his veins, he was trying so hard to control himself. This time you ignore him, you know well that he knew. From the lack of a response, Adrien let out a breathy laugh before he finally decided to move, pulling out almost all the way before slamming into you. Your eyes flew open and your knuckles grew pale from how hard you were holding onto his pillow, your whines were muffled quite well, thankfully.

Adrien groaned ruggedly as he pounded you into his bed, the headboard knocked on his wall with every thrust. "You're being so quiet," He chuckled, reaching a hand out to ruffle your hair affectionate before moving to grab your hand. You couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic enough with the way he kept slamming into you like it was a punishment. Everytime he pulled out, he cooed at the way your hole would suck him back in like it missed him. "Fuck, I just can't with you," He let out a shaky breath as he rolled his hips against you, pushing further and further, trying to reach places he couldn't before.

He was reaching so deep that tears began to blur your vision, everything felt so overwhelming but numb at the same time. He leaned down to press kisses on your knuckles as he held your hand tightly under his own. His hips were relentless, slapping against yours, you were sure he'd leave your bruised and sore tomorrow. It was like he completely forgot they weren't alone in his house. In fact, Adrien's fingers moved from your hand to your hair, threading them through each strand and grabbing a handful, tugging it gently so your head would lift from the pillow.

"Kiss?" He asked once more, his lips already ghosting over yours. At this point you didn't care, all you could feel was how Adrien was throbbing inside you and how your dick rubbed against his white sheets with every thrust. "Fine," you exhale and he took the opportunity almost immediately, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss as he pulled your hair back for more access. His tongue pushed past your lips, exploring your mouth while simultaneously keeping your moans contained.

The dim lighting, the way your eyes fluttered and threatened to roll back, his dick pulsing inside you, it was all too much for his perverted brain. "Gonna cum," he muttered against your lips, biting on your bottom lip. He his hands return to your hips and his head falls over your shoulder. You could feel your own orgasm building up as your body started to squirm, you cock growing sensitive from the constant rubbing against Adrien's sheets. Adrien paused his thrusting just to pull out completely and shove himself back in, causing a loud whine rip from your throat and you body jolting.

Your cum splattered across the bed as Adrien smiled against your shoulder, keeping you from squirming as he came inside you, filling you with his semen. With a few more wet thrusts, Adrien finally stilled, watching as his own cum bubbled around his dick as he nestled deep inside you. "We should do this again, hm? Next time we can study our chemistry," his arms snaked up your body to wrap them around your shoulders, capturing you in a bear hug as he looked up at you with a goofy smile.

"What's with you and being so corny?" You groan, pushing his face away from you.

a/n: i luv adrien sosososo much ... wish he real ,, also not sure if he was a bit ooc here ,, a bit sillier than usual but I hope you guys like it ♡

#servicpop — fics/drabbles #bottom male reader #oc x male reader #x male reader #oc smut #mlm ns/fw #sub male reader #top character

[kenntolog]

hihi!!

i saw ur inbox was open so could i request drunk loser gf and cool bf sukuna taking care of her? maybe them going to a party together to get her out of her shell a little? ofc it doesnt have to be that, whatever u think is good!! thanks!

𝝑𝝔 an: hey hey!! i hope u like this!! i started kinda feeling insecure about my writings ngl, i have no idea why :(( ignore any typos or grammar errors, ill edit a little later.

read more here!!

cool boyfriend sukuna is so sure that his loser girlfriend won’t even try to get drunk at the party at his teammates house, it’s actually kind of funny, because that is, in fact, true.

somehow the cups of water you are getting from the kitchen taste a little bit stronger and you ask a random girl for something more sweet and, well, drinkable for you. a not so trustworthy looking pinkish mix is then shoved into your hand and when you take a sip of it, it actually doesn’t feel that bad so you just continue.

all that whilst you’re roaming around free of sukuna, since he wanted to have some fun with the boys and you didn’t want to hold him back. sukuna himself would never think of you that way, but he still lets you be so you can get out of your comfort zone a little, without his constant support. you kind of agreed with him on that, feeling a bit embarrassed.

so of course it’s a surprise for sukuna when about an hour later geto tugs him away with a concerned look in his purple eyes, saying it’s about you and how he ‘needs to see this’. he is not drunk, since he has to drive you both home, not even that tipsy, he just had a few cups of beer and maybe a shot, so he is able to function properly. and he gets a little worried.

and then he finally recognises your face in the room, body stilling in shock as he watches you.

on top of a small table with some other girl, your arms around her waist and hers around your neck as you both sway, jump and push into each other seductively, dancing to the beat of a catchy, well-known song.

he can’t take his eyes off of you. although a little clumsy and untrained, compared to the girl’s movements, yours still make him and seemingly other people somehow hypnotised.

sukuna must admit, he is mesmerised too because you’re his pretty loser girlfriend, you know? you don’t ever do stuff like this, you were even reluctant to go to this party since it’s not your cup of tea. how come you’re so different when you’re under the influence of alcohol? he has no idea.

it doesn’t take long for you to notice him and clumsily jump down from the table right into his arms. smiling wide and bright at him with sparkly eyes as you hang off of him, letting him tug you around and just giggling into his chest while he gets a little frustrated with you because your limbs seem to be very cooperative when you’re drunk.

only your arms seem to be permanently glued around his neck, your lips pecking the sensitive skin, which kind of bothers him. that slight rasp in your honey-sweet voice, the dazed look in your eyes, your loud breathing — it makes him want to devour you…

he still has to get you home, though, so he promises himself to get back at you later.

the ride to your place is surprisingly silent. it seems like you’ve finally spent all of your energy and chose to curl on his passenger seat, looking out of the window while one of your hands held tightly onto his.

getting you out of clothes is one of the harder trials it seems; you are stronger than you look like, sukuna realises that when you pull him onto yourself while laying on the bed as soon as he finishes changing your clothes. legs wrapping around his waist along with your arms around his neck, you let him smother you into the sheets while he curses you quietly and responds to your affections with small kisses of his own. sukuna can’t resist you, ever.

washing your makeup off is a relatively easy task, yet brushing your teeth is a whole other level. sukuna wouldn’t bother if it was for himself, yet he does it for you since you’d hate to sleep with your mouth still dirty.

but you make it so hard!! hugging him close to yourself, he can barely push you away because you’re stuck as if permanently glued so he opts on cupping your jaw to move your head slightly to be able to put the brush in your mouth. you whine at the sudden intrusion, brows pinching in the middle as you try to pull away.

“‘kuna~”

“stop acting like a baby,” he rolls his eyes with a ‘tsk’ and shakes you a little.

bad idea. tears spring out of eyes as they scrunch and your still foamy mouth parts slightly in a childish cry. oh he hates to see you cry.

sukuna kisses your forehead gently as he puts away the toothbrush, “shh, sorry, ‘m sorry, baby,” he gently pats your back, urging you to spit out the remains of toothpaste, “c’mon.”

you do as he says, giving him a pouty look, and continue clinging onto him. sukuna shakes his head and offers you his hand, to which you immediately hug his whole arm and let him lead you to bed.

clinging onto him like a baby, truly living up to your nickname, you lay on top of him, clean and satisfied while sukuna slowly rubs your back. tiredness and exhaustion get the best of him, so he is unable to fully catch on to your lovely monologue filled with your honest words that accentuate your love for him, however the last thing he hears is ‘love you, ‘kuna, you’re the best’ and it’s enough to bring a pleased smile on his face.

#— miya writes! #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #jjk sukuna #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna ryomen fluff #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you

[green-alm0nd]

Love your writing so much! Can you please do some separate headcanons of the bad batch who get assigned a female!general who’s super sweet and a total scaredy cat? Because of this, they’re SUPER protective (and jealous) of their dear general, especially when it comes to other regs! And of course as time passes, they begin to develop a crush on her

Hello! Of course I can! :p

[The Bad Batch x Jedi!fem!reader (headcanons)]: "I could never choose to love another"

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Summary:

In which the Bad Batch member you're in love with falls for you too.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: protective Batch, jealousy, fluff, Crosshair having a panic attack, and that's pretty much it. Not proofread.

Enjoy!

A/N: Thank you <3 and I hope you enjoy your request!

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HUNTER:

When Hunter first heard of becoming a general's squadron, he couldn't believe it. He and his brothers had been rejected by the Republic (in general), and suddenly, someone wants five clones on their squad? Unbelievable.

However, Hunter knew you were different when you first showed up and tripped over your own Jedi robe, got up, smiled and extended a hand to him. There was something in your eyes that made you different from the rest of the Jedi.

The more time he spent with you, the more time he got to meet you. At first, it was the usual jokes to break the ice; usual, playful banter; calm nights talking to his brothers... That's when Hunter saw your sweet side. There's a point where he started calling you by your real name whenever you were alone.

He literally became your protector, keeping you out of trouble whenever he could, avoiding food cantina fights so that you wouldn't get hurt, etc. he know you can defend yourself, but there was always something that made him protective over you and his brothers.

Another reason you gave Hunter to be more protective over you was the fact that you got scared pretty easy. And, cherry on top, whenever Hunter saw you with regs, he'd become jealous and probably try to get you away from the regs as much as possible.

He didn't make it super obvious, of course. Then, he realised he might have fallen for you. However, he knew it was unprofessional, so he'd keep it to himself.

Though, he could not hide the slight blush that came over his face whenever you teasingly brushed your fingers against his calloused hands.

ECHO:

Now, Echo was happy his squad assigned to a new general. Ever since Skako Minor, he felt like the Republic had done little to nothing to try make him feel normal again. However, he was insecure about his general seeing him and rejecting him in some way.

Nonetheless, he immediately feel for you when he saw your bright smile, as your eyes came in contact with his.

Unlike Hunter, who took a long time to realise he had fallen for someone, Echo had the love-at-first-sight type of problem and he swore he'd keep it to himself. It was unprofessional and you were his general.

He found it endearing to see how scared you were of basically everything: bugs, surprise hugs, animals... However, that did not stop him from blushing every time you jumped in surprise and held his shoulders for support.

He's definitely protective over you, but he knows you can handle things. He trusts you completely and knows you won't get in trouble. He's not possessive nor jealous in any way (he's too sweet to be possessive).

Yet, he still feels a bit jealous when you prefer talking to the regs and sometimes will try to make a friendly conversation so as to keep you with him.

Again, Echo knows what he's doing. He knows he shouldn't confess to a person that's a higher rank than him.

But, his face turns red when your hands rest on his waist for a few seconds.

WRECKER:

Let's all be honest, Wrecker does not care who you are, as long as you like hugs. Because Wrecker gives lots of those.

When he first saw you arm wrestling a reg and you won, this man was ready to spar with you for the rest of his life. You were also very nice and polite.

I reckon Wrecker laughs when you get scared. Though, he does become serious and protective when there's something truly menacing happening.

He will not be bothered to beat up any reg if they're disrespectful or just mean. You're one of his only friends besides his brothers, and he feels the need to protect you.

He found out he was probably in love with you because 1) He asked Tech, and 2) He felt something pleasant in his stomach whenever you laughed.

Wrecker won't hesitate to show his love for you: whether it's by hugging, congratulate you for anything you do, let you sleep with his tooka doll...This man is not ashamed of showing how much he loves you.

He knows he shouldn't date someone in the middle of the war, but he can't help but hug you from behind and wishing you good luck whenever you go on a mission that's not with them.

TECH:

At first, Tech did not care who you were. To him, you were just another Jedi general. He hadn't heard from you, so he thought you'd want Clone Force 99 for their strength and not their personality.

Tech didn't pay much attention to you at first. But, one day, he started rambling about hyperdrives and noticed you listening. You were paying full attention and he couldn't help but blush a little.

This smart clone will be a tad surprised at how much of a scaredy cat you are. Maybe, you'll receive a comment or two from Tech, though they are harmless.

This is one of the reasons why Tech became overprotective. He started placing you behind him whenever something -or someone dangerous would happen to be there.

And, around the regs, Tech will get into a verbal fight whether they're mean or not. He registers the feeling he feels as jealous, and he will try anything to get rid of it.

That's when he realises that jealousy is laced with having feelings for someone. And he figured it was you since he felt jealousy when you were with other regs.

Tech knows he's risking his and your position if anything happened between your two, so he'll stick to telling you how beautiful you are through flowers.

CROSSHAIR:

Like Tech, Crosshair doesn't care either about who you are. He figures you didn't want to be a general for Clone Force 99 and you'd probably run away out of fear when you saw them.

At the sight of you, he couldn't deny you were beautiful. And he was genuinely surprised at you kindness, making him slightly fond of you the more time you two spent together.

Time passed, and he hated you for making him feel weird stuff on his stomach, yet he admired your sweetness towards anyone you met. This made you naive, but also endearing.

Cross will mock you for being a scaredy cat, but in reality, he will become more protective of you. Whenever a reg approached you, he was right behind you. He will listen what you are talking about, and, if things went bad, he will immediately come out of the shadows to protect you.

When he realises he's fallen for you, he tries to deny it and refuse to accept him. But the way you smile, the way you fight, and the way you are in general will keep him grounded.

There's a point where he won't deny it, and give subtle touches or a gentle nudge whenever he's around you.

Crosshair does not give a damn about the rules and the order, but he knows you'd risk everything, so he keeps his hands to himself most of the time (besides when he's doing the things from the prior paragraph).

However, the annoying butterflies will appear again when you stand opposite him whenever he's having a panic attack and you help him.

----

I hope you like it, anon :p

#the bad batch #star wars #bad batch #the bad batch x reader #star wars tbb #bad batch hunter #hunter the bad batch #tbb tech x reader #tbb #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb echo #tbb echo x reader #crosshair the bad batch #crosshair x reader #the bad batch headcanons

[natashaslesbian]

For You

Summary: You’ve been going through a rough patch with your moms for a while, after a big argument you finally tell them how you feel.

Word Count: 1.2k

Parings: (Wandanat x Daughter!Reader)

Warnings: none I believe :)

————

The walls shook as you slammed your bedroom door shut, the tell tale sign of another fight with your moms. Most teenagers have arguments with their parents, who usually have high expectations of them. But being the daughter of the Black Widow and the Scarlett Witch meant that your expectations were set much higher. Growing up your moms were your best friends, you spent every second with them, it was the three of you against the world. You had a magical childhood and all your school friends were jealous of your home life, however after your 13th birthday Natasha and Wanda decided that it was time for you to start training alongside Peter. It was nothing extreme, a few hours a week in the gym and some basic self defence. As Peter progressed you soon fell behind, not only disappointing your teammates but also your mothers.

You let out a sigh as you slumped down onto your bed, rolling over to face the wall incase of any unwelcome visitors. You replayed the row in your head, Natasha’s words loud and clear in your mind. “Why can’t you be more like Peter, he’s doing so well, he puts so much work into his training, he’s not lazy like you!” She had shouted across the room. That was your final straw. If only they knew the effort you held within you, they just didn’t care about it as it had nothing to do with being an avenger. As a kid you loved to draw and paint, and as you got older it became a favourite hobby. At first your moms would take your cute little drawings and put them around the compound to be admired but as they transitioned back into work and long missions they didn’t really have the time to appreciate your art anymore and very quickly they forgot about your favourite activity.

A knock at the door arrived as another tear slipped down your cheek. “Go away” you huffed. Shortly after came a gentle click of your door. “Who said you could come in?” You asked. Your mom didn’t say anything just yet, she simply walked over to your bed and took a seat next to you. “Y/n” Wanda said “I- I’m sorry. I hate when we fight kiddo” she said as she reached for your hair. “Mama started it” you replied as you pushed away her touch. “Baby mama didn’t mean what she said. We had words after you left and she knows she was wrong, she’s gone for a walk to calm down” your mom said as she shuffled closer. “And I know that I was wrong too” she said, causing you to look up at her. “I shouldn’t have shouted like I did” Wanda said with a hint of guilt in her eyes. Your mom never usually shouted at you, she was normally the calm one although still echoing everything your mama was saying.

Wanda’s vulnerability made you think for a moment. You had always hidden how you truly felt, putting on a tough act so you didn’t disappoint your moms even further. When Wanda had come to see you, you were prepared for round two with her. But the delicacy she had entered the room with caused something in you to shift. “Why am I not good enough for you and mama?” You cried out, the sight breaking Wanda’s heart. “Baby don’t say that!” Your mom cooed as she pulled you up into her embrace “you are good enough for us darling” she said. “You just want me to be like Peter” you sobbed “you’d rather him be your kid” you tried to push away from Wanda’s hold, but she tightened her grip around you, “we don’t think that y/n” she said. “I know I’m not as good as him at combat and weapons and stuff but I am good at other things! Why can’t you see that? I’m trying so hard to make you proud of me but nothing I ever do is good enough!” You cried.

Without realising, a second pair of arms had been wrapped around you, a steady hand was trailing through your hair. “Mama?” You mumbled as you looked up to see her green eyes. “I’m never gonna be good enough for you am I?” You said as you melted into her arms. Natasha had been stood outside your room for a few minuets listing to yours and Wanda’s conversation. She felt so guilty when she heard what you said and came running to your side, crying along with you. “Oh my little spider, look at me” Nat said as she cupped your cheeks, bringing your gaze towards her. “I promise you’re enough baby girl, I’m so sorry I made you feel like you weren’t. Your mom and I are so proud of you but we’ve been blinded by our own want for you to become an agent. But it’s not what you want is it?” She asked. You looked at her confused for a moment, finally starting to calm down again. “Your artwork” Natasha whispered.

“Mama you remembered?” You asked. “Of course we did sweetie” Natasha said “baby you’re a fantastic little artist we loved when you used to bring us all your drawings” Wanda said as she brushed your hair back from your face. “But I thought you didn’t care anymore, you just wanted me to focus on being an avenger” you cried “you never had any time for me” you mumbled as you laid in your moms arms. “You’re right baby girl and mama and I are so sorry” Wanda said as she kissed your forehead. “Y/n being an agent and an anger is all your mom and I have ever known” Natasha said “we’ve not put being mothers first and we know that now. We thought we were putting you first by pushing you into training but we weren’t and we are so sorry” she finished. You sat up so both your moms could see you, you took a deep breath as you prepared to tell them the truth “mom, mama” you whispered “I don’t wanna be an avenger” you cried out “I’m sorry” your moms both scooped you up immediately, both now crying with you.

“We know that now sweetie” Wanda calmly said “you don’t have to be sorry” she said. “I don’t wanna disappoint you” you mumbled as you wiped your nose “dekta you could never disappoint us” Natasha said “this is your life and you’re old enough now to decide how you want to live it, all we want is for you to be happy” your mama said. It was like a breath of fresh air had hit your bedroom, everything you had wanted to say was finally out in the open. “I think I know what I wanna do” you said looking up at your moms “what is it darling?” Wanda asked “after I finish school, I wanna go to college, to study art. Is that ok?” You sheepishly asked. “Oh y/n of course it is” Natasha said “it might be expensive though” you frowned “well that’s what uncle Tony is for” Your mama giggled “and besides we’ve got some money put away from you, it’s plenty enough to get you where you need to be” Wanda said “really?” You asked, trying hard to hide your excitement. “Really baby” Natasha said “whatever you need, we’ll sort, we’re your moms and that’s our job” Wanda said as she ran her hand under your chin. “I love you mom” you said to Wanda “I love you mama” you said to Natasha.

————

Taglist<3

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904

#marvel #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #black widow #marvel fic #nat x reader #avengers #natasha x daughter!reader #wanda x y/n #wandanat #wanda x natasha #wanda x reader

[clusterbuck]

How about number 20 for Buck/Eddie, because clumsily flirting seems very much in their wheelhouse?

ohhh boy is it ever

every guitar-string scar on your hand

different first meeting | bar singer buck | 1.4k, T | ao3 | send me a blossoming romance prompt 🌸

Eddie stares down at the text on his phone screen.

Christopher is in good hands, I promise. Don’t you dare try to come home before 9pm. I know you don’t think so, but you need a break. 

He’s regretting letting his coworkers into his life right about now. He doesn’t know how to tell Hen that nothing about a night sitting alone in a bar sounds relaxing to him, but her heart is in the right place. The least he can do is make an effort.

The bar he’d picked is on the quieter side, some ways off the beaten path. Not the kind of place tourists go to for the glitz and glamour of Los Angeles, but it’s nice enough. He can sit here for a few hours, nurse a couple of beers until it’s late enough that Hen will let him back into his own house.

It’ll be fine.

Except—

Just then, a man walks out of some back room carrying a guitar and a microphone stand, and Eddie sighs. 

Live music doesn’t exactly fit the quiet night he’d hoped for. 

Can I get an exemption if there’s a guy about to start playing guitar in the bar? he texts.

Hen sends back an eye-rolling emoji. Music is a good thing. Give him a chance. You might even enjoy it.

Yeah, and pigs might fly, Eddie thinks, but doesn’t text back. Hen is doing a nice thing, he reminds himself. She’s doing a nice thing for him, and the fact that she doesn’t know him very well doesn’t take away from that. 

He hasn’t been at the 118 for very long, but from his first shift he could tell they’re family, the kind of team that takes care of their own. Still, they never pried, just waited for him to open up to them on their own terms, and Eddie was surprised when he realised how much he wanted to. It’s been a while since he’s had real friends.

He’s grateful for all of them, but especially Hen—and not just because Hen has a wife, and every time Eddie’s met Karen he’s remembered that one of the things he promised himself when he left Texas was that he’d let himself be his full self.

He hasn’t come out to Hen or anything, partially because he doesn’t know what he would say, exactly. I’ve never so much as kissed another man but I was fifteen when Brokeback Mountain came out and it woke something in me that never settled down since and I kind of want to know where it leads seems a little too wordy. 

But sometimes, Hen looks at him and Eddie thinks maybe she knows anyway. Or suspects, at least.

The man with the guitar strums a chord. Eddie expects the bar patrons to quiet down and listen, but the man’s would-be audience barely even bats an eye. Something flickers across the man’s face, but it’s gone before Eddie can figure out what it is, replaced by a smile almost as bright as it is empty.

“Good evening, folks,” the man says into the microphone, smiling that polished smile. “My name is Buck, and I’m going to be with you for the next couple of hours. Let’s have some fun!” 

No one in the audience reacts.

Buck launches into a cover of a song Eddie doesn’t recognise. He can tell that Buck is good, though—he has a nice voice, and his fingers are sure as they find the chords against the neck of the guitar.

Eddie has a brief vision of Buck’s nimble fingers pressing into his skin, and blinks against the heat rising on the back of his neck. Only now that this first observation has crept in, Eddie notices more: the slight curl of Buck’s hair at his temples, like he’d tried to tame it and failed. The birthmark framing his left eye, and the tattoos running along his arms. The black t-shirt he’s wearing, and the way his biceps threaten to burst out of the sleeves when he strums the guitar.

The blush creeps up his neck and across his cheeks, and Eddie looks away, taking a deep breath.

When he turns back, Buck is looking right at him. He grins, and Eddie’s never met this man before but he knows that this smile is the real deal. 

The song ends. Most of the audience barely reacts, but Eddie applauds, and gets a wink in return. His face, he’s pretty sure, must be bright red by now, and he takes his phone out just to have somewhere else to look.

Before he can think better of it, Eddie opens his text thread with Hen. Well, at least he’s hot, so there’s that. He turns his phone facedown as soon as he’s hit send, not quite believing he just did that, but picks it up again immediately when it vibrates.

Hen has sent an entire row of eyeball emojis, followed by Damn, Eddie, get it.

The phone vibrates in his hand, and she adds, If you want to get it, that is. I’ve got Christopher as long as you need. 

Eddie can’t help the grin that slips out, and glances up at Buck again. He’s moved on to something Eddie vaguely recognises, and he lights up when he notices Eddie looking. 

I might want to… move in the direction of it, he tells Hen. Then he adds, Besides, no one else here is paying attention to him. I feel bad.

Mhmm, Hen texts back. I’m sure you do. 

One chorus later, his phone vibrates again. Have fun, be safe, make good choices.

Eddie rolls his eyes and puts his phone back in his pocket, but he can’t help the giddy feeling rising like a bubble in his chest. 

Buck plays on. The audience continues to mostly ignore him, and as the night goes on, the crows begins to disperse. But Eddie stays rooted to his seat. Buck stops pretending to play for anyone but him, and slowly, he grows used to the weight of Buck’s eyes on him. By the time Buck plays his final chord, Eddie is more than certain he wants to replace it with his hands.

But Buck is packing up, and Eddie finds himself suddenly nervous. Maybe Buck was only looking at him because he was the only person in the audience who seemed to give a damn.

Or maybe Buck was looking at him, but he’s looking for something other than a thirty-something gay man with no real experience of what it means to be gay. Maybe Buck just wants someone to take into the back alley for fifteen minutes of fun. Eddie doesn’t know if he knows how to do that.

Then Buck glances over at him, and his smile is warm, inviting, almost shy. Eddie gathers every speck of courage he’s ever had and gets to his feet.

“Hi,” he says, when he reaches Buck. “You were really good.” He swallows. “Do you, um, do this often?” Then he blinks, and flushes so hot his face must most closely resemble a tomato. “I mean—I didn’t mean that like a line. Like hey, handsome, come here often? Or—I mean—it’s not not a line—I just didn’t mean to—”

Now, Eddie thinks, would be a great time for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Buck cocks his head, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What, so you don’t think I’m handsome?”

“No!” Eddie yelps, then his eyes go wide. “I mean—‘no’ as in—I do think—” he groans, runs a hand through his hair. “Christ, I’m fucking this up.”

Buck takes a small step closer, almost like he’s testing to see if Eddie will flinch back. He doesn’t.

“I think you’re doing just fine,” Buck says. “You even have an advantage over me.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “What’s that?” 

“You know my name, but I don’t know yours. Can’t exactly keep calling you Hot Stranger, can I?” 

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat, and it takes a couple of seconds for him to be able to splutter out his name.

Buck grins, delighted. “Well, Eddie,” he says. “Want to get out of here?” 

Half-hearted fears try to rear their heads—worries that Buck might expect more than Eddie is prepared to give—but they die down almost as soon as they pop up. They just met tonight, but there’s something about Buck that makes Eddie feel like he can trust him. Makes him feel safe. 

So he takes a breath and lets himself relax, lets his face split into a smile. “Yeah, Buck,” he says. “I’d love to.” 

#911fic #buddie fic #meadowlioness #ask emma #emma writes

[rosescarlette]

- Monthly subscription.. -

"Darling.. why is the back of your pants red?"

Zhongli had asked. You got your period... And that's when you realised and we're embarrassed. You tried to cover it up by saying something silly but your husband's senses are quite sharp and he immediately knew you were bleeding by the smell.

"Is that blood?! I- we need to take you to Doctor Baizhu! Immediately!"

"Hey hey it's fine! It's just something I go through every month.."

"EVERY MONTH?!"

You weren't quite surprised by his behaviour. After you knew he was an archon, you came to know that he doesn't understand humans much even after he tried to mingle with his people. He immediately panicked.. he tried to get you to the pharmacy.. but you refused. He didn't understand how bleeding every month is normal. He was seriously very worried and thought it wasn't normal and immediately rushed you to the pharmacy.. (Ofc you changed yourself)

"Mr. Zhongli I'd say she's perfectly fine. Why did you bring her to the pharmacy?"

"How is bleeding every month fine?? It's serious! It's like some chronic disease!"

Baizhu immediately laughed and was very entertained by how zhongli was acting. Zhongli was quite confused on the other hand. Did he ask anything embarrassing? He was pretty sure he had asked reasonable questions.

"Ah.. let me guess. Mr. Zhongli doesn't know about this?"

Baizhu asked you with a smile. He knew immediately when Zhongli had kept asking ridiculous questions, he didn't know much about the human body. You immediately sighed and told Dr. Baizhu that he indeed didn't know. That's when Dr. Baizhu had told Zhongli about how women's periods work. And both of you went back home. When you went back home. Zhongli still had a face where he was very shocked. He immediately started asking questions.

"So.. you suffer for EVERY MONTH?!"

"Yeah that's quite the short way to put the misery."

"PARDON?!"

"Yes? What's so shocking?"

"Darling you better tell me more about this.. I NEED to know more so I can take care of you PROPERLY."

"Eh..? Zhongli it's fine you don't have to.."

"No I HAVE to."

"Alright fine. I can't keep putting up with your stubborn as- *ahem* anyways."

Trust me he did give you quite a death glare to stop you from swearing. After you had told him everything.. he was just flabbergasted. He wanted to know more now. And the part where you mentioned that you get period cramps where it hurts like HELL. He wanted to know what would subside the pain and how to ease your uneasiness.

When you were removing your bedsheets to clean them. He immediately stopped you.

"Zhongli.. what are you doing now?"

"I want to take care of you. Please... I can't see you in pain."

"Uh I am fine now.. Can I do some work?"

He immediately said "No."

"Hey that's not fair! I want to do some work too!"

"Darling just rest-"

And when you keep protesting he doesn't mind at all by keeping the bedsheets aside and he immediately picks you up in a bridal style. You immediately flushed.

"H-HEY! PUT ME DOWN!!"

"No."

He kept you in his bedroom where you can sleep for the time being. You can't do anything.. he's stubborn and will just use his strength to stop you from doing anything.

You sighed and decided to take a rest in his bedroom after all it was cozy and neat and of course expensive.

In the time you slept... Zhongli had changed the bedsheets of your bedroom, did the laundry, made your bedroom very cozy. He was trying his level best of the knowledge he had to make sure you don't feel any pain or discomfort. He even organised your room so that things would be a little easier for you. When you woke up he was making some tea which soothes the pain of period cramps. Honestly you didn't know how to react.. he had quite a serious face while he was doing all these things. You decided to go to your bedroom.

When you got to your bedroom you were surprised that everything was neat and organised. EVERYTHING. The room itself was tidy. You immediately went to ask him what he was doing and he replied with a smile and gave you a cup of tea.

"Drink it.. it soothes the pain of period cramps my dear."

"Thanks.. and why did you clean my room? You know you didn't have to CLEAN everything in the room.."

"If it was for you. I'd do it. I'd do anything for you just to be happy."

"Oh silly zhongli."

He absolutely didn't mind. He would love to do anything for you. ANYTHING. And.. of your period pains were worse at night.. be sure to tell him! He would immediately go get a heating pad and something to eat, to replenish your lost energy of course. And if you want him to hug you while you are asleep just speak so and it's done. He would absolutely love to have you in his arms. He's quite a big spoon so expect your position to be as a teddy bear compared to him.

He also noticed your pattern of mood swings. And he knows quickly to deal with them. You don't know how this guy is managing you at this point. Because you wouldn't even handle yourself.

"Dear I am going to get some stuff do you want anything?"

"Just ice cream and some chocolates please!"

"Of course."

He'd get everything more than it was needed because he knows how unpredictable you get with food. And he makes special dishes that help you get energy and your strength back.

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

Am sorry for not posting in a while :'( my mental health and my life at my house wasn't quite good. I am very Grateful for all of you trying to be patient with me! :D

#genshin x reader #zhongli #zhongli fluff #zhongli x reader #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x you #genshin morax #genshin characters x you #rex lapis x you #rosescarlette #rosescarlette's diary #genshin fluff #fluff #genshin morax x you

[thewickedkat]

long post incoming; meta enthusiasts may wish to digest this in chunks.

i am so completely exasperated with Laudna as of the latest episode. however, i temper that exasperation with my enjoyment as a viewer; indeed, i am feasting on the conflict, thinking finally, some good fucking food, because i think (and have always thought) that Laudna is terrifically interesting as a character and she presents wonderful opportunities for growth not only on her end, but as a catalyst for others.

that being said. the sword. how she handled it. how she handled her own trauma bubbling up, how she handled (or didn't) Delilah, how she handled Orym and Chetney and Dorian and the whole miserable mess she made.

it was selfish. there. i said it. you may disagree with me, i care not, but her course of action was terribly selfish and destructive.

i know many people out there have been likening her behaviour to that of an addict's (and there are many common factors there: the hiding, the lying by omission, the shame, the acquiescence to bad behaviour), but i think in some ways that to do so is reductive, and also removes agency from Laudna herself.

she is allowing her trauma to almost make her decisions for her, allowing it to define her, and she is not giving herself the opportunity to realise that growth beyond it is possible--or, perhaps, she does realise this and is simply too afraid to reach out and grasp it. i think even if Delilah weren't trying to subsume her, Laudna would still be self-sabotaging and self-destructive and still try to hide the parts of her she felt were undesirable; Delilah in many ways simply makes it easier for Laudna to do so and, if pressed, provides a rationalisation for Laudna's choices and actions (as in 'it wasn't me, it was her, she made me do it).

first and foremost, Laudna was a victim of heinous trauma, being murdered and then being put on grotesque display. then she was further traumatised in coming back from the dead and being forced to isolate herself from people for many years, with only Delilah's honeysweet venom dripping into her ear for that time. then she is murdered again as an object lesson for the woman she loves, then stuffed down so deep into her own psyche by the one who first killed her; she is fought for and brought back by her friends...who then seem to do little to check in with her, to make sure she is stable, or coping, because they each have their own baggage and oh by the way, the world is possibly ending. to be fair, there is little time for therapy and stability when you are literally running from crisis to crisis and trying to stop something you haven't even conceived of in your nightmares.

she feels dismissed, often, minimised, and she never developed healthy people skills or coping mechanisms (i am sorry but as much as i love Pâté, a dead rat does not a support group make). so she lashes out, has poor emotional regulation, and Does Crappy Things. so i also understand when she said 'what else have i to give, but myself?'

all that being said. what she did with Orym and the sword was fucking selfish. she is behaving like a child, as if she is the only one whose tragedies matter; she's playing Oppression Olympics, and can i just point out that Orym was the one to say 'i'm sorry' but Laudna never apologised for accosting him while he slept and hurting him? saying 'i didn't mean to hurt you' is not the same, because that implies that if she had not hurt him, stealing from him was perfectly acceptable and reasonable.

i don't believe her when she said 'i accept responsibility' because that means one must accept the consequences of their own actions, and right after she said that, she argued with everyone, told the oldest member of the Hells that he had no right to talk about loss to her, and then fled. that isn't accepting responsibility; that is mouthing platitudes in the hopes you will sway others to your point of view and when it fails, leaving in a huff like a child having a tantrum.

she didn't even bother to ask Orym why he kept the sword. she just tried to take.

Laudna often reacts from a place of fear: of pain, of more trauma, fear of inadequacy, of loss. all of these fears are valid. they are understandable, given all that has happened to her. but just because her fears are valid does not give her the right to make others pay for her emotional baggage. this is what makes her behaviour in ep 95 selfish. all of her actions in the back half of that episode are things she chose to do, and now she must sit in the mess she made. Laudna seems to be falling into the same mental rut that many victims fall into when their trauma isn't dealt with in a healthy fashion: they start fucking others over, as if being a victim excuses it. it does not.

and before others come for me, i say that as one who used to do the same fucking thing but i was lucky enough to have therapy. Laudna doesn't have that luxury--none of the Hells do. there simply isn't time to make space for any of their issues, not just Laudna's. Imogen is still wrestling with her mother; Fearne is wrestling with her parentage; Orym is just trying to keep his feet under him and do what he feels is right without betraying anyone he cares for (yes, including Laudna, shut up); Ashton is still trying to process the loss of Fresh Cut Grass (for gods' sakes, the crafting night was a fucking wake for the lil guy); Dorian just lost his brother and watched his friend succumb to a Betrayer God that turned her into a monster; and Chetney? Chetney is an old man who, i personally think, can pick his battles and knows how to compartmentalise better than any of these kids.

Laudna is not unique in that she has suffered horribly. no one is saying she hasn't, but her behaviour implies that she believes they are saying that. her actions imply she believes not only that she does not trust her friends (thanks, Dorian), but that acknowledging others' losses somehow negates hers. there just isn't time to healthily process any of this, which sucks. it does. i do think her friends love her, care for her deeply, and i think part of the reason they haven't checked up on her as much as they could is because a) they're afraid that her problem with Delilah is much worse than they thought (duh, it is); b) they can't fix the Delilah Problem right now even if they were qualified to do so (even Pike couldn't scour that bitch out of Laudna, she said as much); and c) they run the very substantial risk of wholly alienating Laudna if they press the issue too hard, thus not only losing an asset in the fight against the Vanguard and Ludinus, but also a friend and lover.

it's shit, all around, we all know that. but to pretend that it's okay she did what she did to Orym--or worse, somehow transfer responsibility from her onto him and make it his fault--is infantilising and disingenuous at best, and more than a little insulting.

#critical role #cr discourse #cr meta #laudna #orym did not vote for the leopard-eating face party and then wonder why his face got eaten okay #if laudna is a whole grown-ass woman in charge of her own destiny then she can own the consequences of her actions #she is not a soft uwu bean who can do no wrong for fuck's sake

[deathbxnny]

Platonic Dan Heng, Welt, & Gallagher with a teen!reader that’s like Homura Akemi (From Puella Magi) but like they have a boss fight where reader is similar to Homulily (aka Homura’s witch form). Maybe after they’re defeated or when fighting them!

♡´･ᴗ･`♡

I absolutely love Homura, so I got really excited seeing this request, Anon!! I hope you'll like this!!<33

Content: Kind of spoilers for Homura's abilities as a witch?, vague descriptions of her abilities/appearance, angst, hurt/no comfort, blood, reader used to be under their care in some way, bossfight against reader, reader turns evil for unknown reasons, reader dies in two of them

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

》GALLAGHER

Gallagher didn't know how it all turned out this way, and yet, he perhaps should've seen it coming too. He usually did. Now, standing before your twisted and near unrecognizable form, he found himself hesitating to protect the very place he was created to watch over all those years ago by Mkihail. But perhaps the old man should've also just taught him how to deal with the heartbreak he experienced at the realisation that he now had to fight you. The very kid he took under his wing.

Gallagher wasn't the type to plead and complain, however. He flicked his lighter open, deciding that things would come the way they should and needed to. What was another loss in the end? You were in pain under all the layers of hate you had become, a twisted witch as you called yourself. Someone who had to get rid of the rats that plagued the world cleanse it from the evil. Unaware that you had become the very thing you hated. He pitied you, deciding it was best to end it here by his own hands before someone else did.

You raised your arms in anticipation, your voice screeching in need for battle, and he simply chuckled. You were never the type for theatrics before you turned into this... but things have changed. He decided to play along with you one more time, as he summoned a Meme, unaffected by what may happen as he was assured he'd win. Even if it meant losing you.

》WELT YANG

This isn't the first nor the last time he had to fight against someone he cared for, and yet something about it still hurt him deeply. He thought that switching worlds would save him from that heartbreaking fate, yet you proved him wrong. You were a child that was taken in and raised by the express, a young teen that deserved to live a bright life despite never having gotten as far due to the consequences of your own actions. You turned into a witch, a grotesque monster that rivaled the strength of what he had seen in honkai abominations, and yet he still couldn't find it in his to hate you. Even if you attempted to end him through your own hate as well.

The fight was still unfair, however, as despite most of his Herrscher abilities being sealed, he still was able to beat you with the small fraction he still had. You were too young to control your abilities properly, too confused and disoriented with the sudden surge of power and strength beyond your own means, until it ultimately ended you. He simply stood over you as he watched you fade away into the morning sun, your body retaining it's original form, yet even then, did he not call onto the Astral Express. They didn't need to see you like this. They didn't need to try and save someone they couldn't.

And so as you took your last breaths, your hand weakly reached up to turn back time once more, yet he stopped you by placing his hand on yours and shaking his head silently. He figured you out at last. You couldn't help but smile for the first time at that bitterly, as you finally allowed yourself to rest with a final sigh in defeat.

》DAN HENG

Dan Heng knew things were getting bad when you forced him to take on his true form to deflect a near devastating attack from you. He had to stop you, save you. But he was running out of options, and you were relentless. You didn't give him a moments rest. You didn't let him think or regroup. You didn't let him call for help from your other companions. He couldn't do anything but dodged anything you threw at him seconds before it hit him, yet his heart couldn't allow him to attack you back.

His mind ran rampant with memories of you two watching over the Databank as he taught you everything he knew. You were like a younger sibling to him, a part of the family he was able to build when the Astral Express became his home all those years ago. And now it was all coming to an end right before his very eyes, when you began charging up an ability he knew would end him and perhaps even more if he didn't stop it.

He scared himself with the thought that ending your young life would be a form of mercy. He felt disgusted at his own thoughts, wondering if he had even learned anything at all from his rebirth, and yet he still pierced your witch form's heart with a swipe of his hand, knowing you couldn't survive it. But it was alright, as a part of him died with you too.

Okay, so this one was lowkey sad to write... but I enjoy the angst, so I hope this was fine for you, Anon, and thank you again for the great request!!<33

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr dan heng #hsr dan heng x reader #hsr welt #hsr welt x reader #hsr gallagher #hsr gallagher x reader #welt x reader #welt yang x reader #gallagher x reader #Gallagher #dan heng x reader #Dan Heng

[daydreamtofiction]

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 12: Mercy

Contents | Part 11 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Ben x Female Reader) Adapting to your new normal comes with some disappointments. But you can always count on your priest to lift your spirits.

Word Count: 5.7K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, religious imagery & desecration, explicit sexual content including oral sex (giving). Readers must be 18+

A/N: Thank you all so much for your patience, I'm so happy to be posting again. I'm not entirely happy with the writing in this chapter, it's definitely not my strongest work so I apologise in advance if anyone notices a drop in quality. I'll be back on top form in the next one (I hope).

This part includes a little nod to Fleabag S2, the original inspiration for this story.

His kiss was like a bruise, an aching reminder of a heady collision. And much like a bruise, you couldn't help but touch it; poking and prodding with fascination at the memory of an impact just beneath your skin.

The evening sun gleamed golden through the cloudy bus window as you rested your elbow against it, running the tips of your fingers across your lips, keeping him close to the surface. You hadn't wanted to leave the church. You weren't sure he wanted you to leave either; the pressure of his body against yours, pinning you to the wall of that quiet, narrow corridor like he wanted to keep you there forever. And you probably would have let him. 

The bus shuddered and jerked over the uneven road, the windows rattling, passengers swaying in a lazy unison. It was all so mundane, so normal and unremarkable, yet somehow these were the places that felt strange now; existing somewhere that didn't hold the weight of your sins.

You almost missed your stop, fumbling to press the bell and staggering down the aisle as the driver came to an abrupt halt. The air outside was cooler, a gentle breeze providing relief from the mid-spring warmth. You thought of rain as you walked home, breathed slow as you pictured it hammering the roads and gathering in murky puddles; angry grey skies and fierce winds that carried the scent of salt and earth. 

There were new decorations in the front garden of your mother's house. Small lights lining the path, a bird feeder and ornaments shaped like squirrels and rabbits tucked amongst the flower beds. You ducked to avoid a new hanging basket over the front door, letting yourself inside and checking your reflection in the mirror on the wall as you kicked off your shoes. You leaned in closer, examining yourself for a moment, trying to figure out what it was he found so irresistible about you.

"Is that you, Ellis?" your mother called. 

"Yeah it's me," you replied, following her voice into the dining room. 

She was sitting at the table surrounded by artificial flowers, plastic leaves and Baby's Breath. Her glasses slipped down to the tip of her nose as she fiddled with a roll of wire, cable ties hanging from her mouth and a pair of scissors in her hand. 

"What are you doing?" you asked. 

"Making a wreath f'th front door," she mumbled, the ties still between her teeth. 

"You're a few months late..." 

"A spring wreath." She rolled her eyes, taking the ties out of her mouth. "There's dinner for you in the kitchen. Didn't realise you wouldn't be back in time." 

"Oh, yeah sorry I should've told you I'd be late."

"Work?" 

"No, the er... I was at the... church." 

She pushed her glasses onto her head, looking up at you with pursed lips. 

"What?" you asked with a nervous laugh. "I just... I like helping out there." 

"I didn't say anything.," she replied, holding her hands up in surrender. "I don't care what you believe in, as long as you don't get involved in one of those cults. I can't be doing with ending up on the news." 

You laughed again - a breathier, more genuine laugh - and sat down beside her, watching as she tucked flowers into loops of wire, arranging them until they looked just right. 

"I think he's good for you," she said. 

"Who?" 

"Your priest friend. He's a good person to have in your life. I think you need it; someone virtuous, moral."

Moral. You thought back to the night in the rectory, the things he'd whispered in your ear as he parted your legs, how his hands seemed most comfortable on your neck. You thought about the scuffs on his knuckles after he punched Alfie in the face for daring to come close to you, his fantasy of you kneeling before him at mass, the 'fuck it' he'd growled before kissing you not even an hour ago.

"And I'm not saying you're not those things," she continued. "But it's just... I suppose it's nice to know you've got a friend who's such a good influence, you know."

"Wow, and suddenly I feel ten years old again," you muttered sarcastically.

She tutted and elbowed you gently, pulling her glasses back down again.

You stood up and made your way into the kitchen where a plate sat alone on the tidy counter. You peeled back the foil on top to reveal a lukewarm dinner, not bothering to heat it up before returning to your seat in the dining room.

"Have you spoken to your estate agent friend yet?" your mother asked as she snipped the stem of an artificial sunflower.

"Mm," you began, trying to speak through a mouthful of food. You swallowed it quickly and continued. "I told you, he works in sales. Big stuff, you know, like multimillion pound stuff. I'd have more luck on Rightmove." 

"And have you?" 

"Nope. I've been checking constantly. Zoopla too, and On The Market and Prime Location and-"

"Okay, alright, I get the point." 

"Are you in a rush to get rid of me or something?" 

"What? No, no of course not. I just- I worry. You're my youngest, you know I worry." 

"I know." You sighed, pushing your fork around the plate.

"It's funny you haven't found anything though. I'm always seeing signs on places to let, especially near the town centre." 

"Oh no, I've found a couple of flats that'd be perfect. I just can't afford them. I mean, you're talking deposit, rent upfront, fees, furnishings... I haven't even managed to pay my phone bill this month, it's going to take me ages to save up." 

She let out a long, deflated sigh. "I wish I could help." 

"You can help with the phone bill if you want?" you joked. 

She chuckled, holding up the half-finished wreath to examine her work. 

The next week passed in a bland, monotonous blur. Each day a repetition of the last; go to work, waste the morning scrolling on real estate websites, eat the sandwich your mother packed for you, fix your posture whenever Dawn walked past your office. Then you'd get the bus home, accidentally head butt the hanging basket on your way into the house, eat dinner at the dining table and disappear into your childhood bedroom for the rest of the night. 

You were lying beneath your Care Bear bedsheets, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, remembering how you used to pick out patterns in them whenever you couldn't sleep. You loved Friday nights; going to bed knowing you wouldn't have to wake to the blare of an alarm, the buzz of your phone against the bedside table, to know you didn't have to look at any more baby pictures until Monday. No more tiny humans stuffed into wicker baskets, pudgy cheeks and scarily bendy limbs. 

Moonlight melted through a gap in the closed curtains, the lilac material swaying gently in the breeze seeping through the open window. You rolled onto your side, the small single bed creaking as you moved, and for a moment you found your mind wandering to the bed you'd left behind at Gina's house; wondered if they'd ever slept together beneath your sheets. 

No one had been there when you went to collect your belongings, but still your father stood watch like a bouncer as you slogged box after box down the stairs. It was all in storage now. Everything you owned sitting in your father's garage, biding its time, waiting for a place to belong. Much like you; tucked away, collecting dust.

You reached for your phone, squinting as the screen came to life in the dark. You opened a new message and began to type before deleting it, then typing, then deleting, then typing. The cursor blinked as you stared at the blank text bubble, like it was waiting for you, ticking like a clock or the tapping of an impatient foot. 

So what exactly do priests text about? you finally wrote, pressing send and putting the phone face down on the nightstand. 

There was a buzz soon after. You grabbed it immediately. 

I see you finally paid your bill, the message read. 

You smiled.

How did you know it was me? you sent. 

Educated guess.

You began to type, but you paused when you saw he was typing too. Then he stopped, then kept writing, then stopped again. You wondered what he was so hesitant to say, what thought he couldn't find the words for. 

Do you need any help at church this weekend? you wrote.

Ok now I'm not so sure this is actually Ellis..

Hey, I'm just trying to get back in the Lord's good books. 

Were you ever in his good books to start with? 

You giggled, fingers absentmindedly finding your lips and running softly back and forth over them, searching for an ache, the tingle of a kiss that was beginning to fade.

A breeze carried the faint sound of music across the church grounds, the evening sun still bright and warm as you walked across the plush grass. Your hands were planted firmly on your backside, holding down the bottom of your summer dress as the wind tried to lift it. 

There was a signboard outside the entrance to the function hall: Parish Singles Mixer This Way. You held back the urge to laugh, taking a moment to compose yourself before walking inside where June's eyes immediately trailed the length of you. 

"Hello," you said awkwardly. 

"It started at seven, you know," she said, glancing down at her watch. 

"What time is it now?" 

"Half past." 

"Oh. Sorry. Well I suppose it could be worse; at least I'm sober." You breathed out a laugh.  

June's face remained sullen. You cleared your throat. 

"I'll just... see you inside," you said.

You walked past her and stopped in the doorway, pressing your lips together as you took in the sight of the decorated hall, the round tables covered with paper tablecloths and sprinklings of shiny confetti. 

Music played from a large speaker at the back of the room. A church volunteer named Keith was sat beside it with a laptop, like a DJ who'd forgotten his equipment. Men and women filled the space, dressed in their best shirts and loveliest dresses with name tags on their chests. Some talked in pairs, others gathered in large same-sex groups like nervous teenagers. 

You didn't realise your mouth had opened, gawping slightly at the wonderfully pitiful scene before you. You'd never been to a single's night before, but you were certain they weren't supposed to look like this. 

You turned to a table beside you where a stack of blank name tags and a box of markers sat neatly. You took one and wrote your name, sticking it to your left breast with a crude slap.

"This started half an hour ago, you know." Father Benedict's voice was like silk in your ear, so smooth you didn't even flinch at his sudden appearance behind you. 

You turned and looked up at him. "You religious folk are weirdly concerned with punctuality." 

He smiled, eyes flitting down to your chest then back up to your face. "Why've you put a name tag on?" 

"Isn't that what they're there for?" 

"Yes, for the singles." 

"I'm single..." 

There was a long silence. You watched as his throat bobbed with a hard swallow, eyes closing with a slow blink and a smirk forming in the corner of his mouth. 

"Catholic singles," he said. 

"Ah, so that's why it feels like a high school prom in here." You paused. "Actually no, it doesn't. People got so drunk at my prom they were throwing up outside, and I know of at least four girls who got fingered in the toilets."

"Were you one of them?"

You hit him hard on the arm. He chuckled, pulling at the white collar around his neck, his gaze staying on you for slightly too long. 

It was like you'd been holding tension in your joints all week and they'd finally loosened in his presence. Like his desire was a salve that provided relief, a lingering stare that could soothe any ache.

"Hi, by the way," he said.

"Hi."

"I wasn't sure you'd actually show." 

"Are you joking? And miss this inevitable disaster?" 

He smiled. "I'll have you know I held one of these events at my last parish and it was a huge success." 

"Oh, you fingered someone in the toilets?" 

He rolled his eyes.

"You got fingered...?" 

"Stop saying fingered," he whispered, holding back a laugh.

"Sorry." You lowered your gaze apologetically, before looking back up at him with a slight smirk.

His chest expanded with a slow, deep inhale, his eyes fixed on yours, switching focus from left to right as though searching for something behind them. Eventually he cleared his throat, straightening his posture and slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers. 

"I need to get this mixer actually mixing," he said. "Would you mind manning the drinks table for a bit?" 

You nodded with a quiet laugh. "Sure." 

He wandered off through the hall, stopping to talk with people, shaking hands and breaking ice. It was captivating to watch someone navigate a crowd with such ease; to charm even the most shy people out of their shells and have them willingly follow. 

The drinks table was a sad affair; a stack of plastic cups and two pitchers of lukewarm, watered down juice. You pulled up a chair and sat down behind it, scanning the room, your gaze falling on a couple who seemed to be hitting it off. She laughed at something he said, reached out and touched his arm. He ran a hand through his hair, the blush of his cheeks so pink you could see it from across the room.

"Excuse me, would you mind if I got myself a drink?"

You looked up to see a man pointing to the cups. You shook your head and gestured for him to go ahead. He was wearing a bowtie, the sleeves of his shirt slightly too short for his long arms as he reached for one of the pitchers. He appeared around your age, but his sheepish demeanour made him seem younger. You narrowed your eyes to read his name tag - Abel - you laughed. 

He shifted uncomfortably. "D-did I do something funny?" 

"No, sorry." You waved your hand. "It's just... Abel. My brother's name is Cain. Y'know, Cain and Abel." 

"Ah." His laugh was laced with relief. "He's not here is he? I'd have to run and hide." 

"Oh no, he's dead." 

There was an awkward silence, his eyes widening as he struggled to find an appropriate response.

"Oh, you were making a bible joke," you said. "Sorry, I just got it." 

He relaxed again, exhaling a weak laugh and taking a large chug of juice.

You glanced over at Father Benedict as he tried desperately to introduce people to one another, your eyes trailing down to his backside. 

"So are you a volunteer or a... single?" asked Abel, snapping you out of your lecherous daze. 

You shrugged. "Both, I suppose." 

"Oh, cool." He hovered at the table for a moment, scratching the back of his neck as he looked around. "I don't really know what I'm supposed to be doing." 

"By the looks of it, no one does." 

He laughed. "It's a bit embarrassing really, isn't it; needing a special event just to meet someone." 

"Church people, they're a picky bunch." 

He laughed again, more heartily this time. 

"Hi guys," said Father Benedict as he approached the table, ducking down to count the bottles of juice near your feet. "How's your evening going?"

"It's alright," said Abel, gesturing towards you with a smile. "Better now I've met Ellis here."

You smiled back politely.

Father Benedict straightened to his full height, hand finding the back of your chair with a tight grip as he looked down at you. "Oh really?"

You tilted your head back to meet his gaze, surprised to find flecks of jealousy in the lines of his face. 

"That's nice," he said, back teeth pressed firmly together. "But I actually need to borrow you for a second if that's alright?" 

You turned back to Abel. "Sorry." 

"Oh, yeah no it's- no problem. We can chat in a bit." 

You nodded, watching as he wandered off awkwardly through the crowd.

"What's up?" you asked, turning your attention back to Father Benedict.

"Could you refill these jugs?" He lifted a large bottle of cordial onto the table. "What's that about?" 

"What's what about?"

"Him."

"Oh, his name's Abel. He seems nice." 

"No, I know who he is, he works at the school. I meant what were you doing talking to him?" 

You narrowed your eyes. "Are you jealous, Father?" 

He glanced over his shoulder at him, then back to you. "Nah, he's not my type." 

You scoffed quietly and stood up, wrapping your fingers around the bottle lid and attempting to turn it. It was tight, stiff, making the palm of your hand ache as you tried to force it open.  

"I think he's nervous," you said. "Says something when I'm the most approachable person here."  

"Or maybe he just fancies you," he replied, taking the bottle from you and opening it with an easy twist. 

"Maybe." You paused. "Would that bother you? If he did?" 

He pressed the tip of his tongue to his top lip, the corner of his mouth curling with a slight smile.

"I can't control who fancies you, Ellis. I just hope you remember the promise you made..." 

"No one touches me unless they're worthy?"  

"That's the one."

"Including you?" 

He looked down at you, throat bobbing with a slow swallow. "Including me." 

"So... That kiss last week..." 

"Oh, that wasn't because I think I'm worthy. That was because I have no self control."

You exhaled a laugh through your nose. "How's your self control doing tonight?" 

"It's hanging on... By a thread." 

"It's the dress, isn't it." 

He bowed his head, chuckling quietly as he walked away. 

And as quickly as it had dissipated, the tension returned again. But this time it wasn't in your joints. It was in your chest, your core, in the swelling heat between your legs. You licked your lips and sat back down. 

Abel was talking but you couldn't hear a word, chewing on the rim of your plastic cup as you stared past him, eyes fixed on your priest and the woman he'd been chatting to for far too long. 

"Ellis?" 

"Hm?" 

"I asked you a question," Abel laughed. 

"Sorry, what did you say?" 

"I asked when your last relationship was." 

"Oh, er, it was recent." 

He nodded with interest. "How recent?" 

"Like... recent recent. He cheated on me, it was a whole thing."

"Oh, wow, I-I'm sorry to hear that." 

The night had crept up slowly, darkness turning the windows to glossy, black mirrors as the coloured lights inside the hall glittered against them. The atmosphere had relaxed; the room buzzing with joy and laughter as connections formed and inhibitions melted away. You wondered how many weddings would come from this evening, how many love stories you'd witnessed the birth of.

The woman reached out, brushing something off Father Benedict's shoulder, smiling and continuing to talk as though touching him was the most natural thing in the world. You bit the inside of your cheek.

"Ellis? You've disappeared again," Abel laughed. 

"Sorry. Sorry, I- I'll just be a minute, I have to..." you trailed off, standing up before he could even respond and walking quickly across the hall.

You tapped Father Benedict on the shoulder and the woman stopped talking, turning her head slowly to look at you. 

"Sorry for interrupting," you said.

"No need to apologise," he replied, placing a hand on your back as though he'd forgotten where he was. "Ellis, this is Meg, she just passed her training to become a lay minister." 

"Oh, congratulations," you said. 

She gave a wry smile. 

"Meg, Ellis is a... friend of the church." 

"Acquaintance, really," you said. "Friend is a bit strong." 

He rolled his eyes, prodding his fingers firmly into your back.

"It's nice to meet you, Ellis," she said. 

You nodded before turning to look up at Father Benedict. "I was just wondering if you wanted me to go around and clean up the empty cups?" 

"That'd be great." 

You allowed your gaze to linger on him for a moment before conceding and walking away, listening to Meg talk again, as though you'd never interrupted them. 

The bin bag was making your palm sweat, the shiny, black plastic sticking to your leg whenever you moved. You groaned and kicked it away again, reaching for a collection of used cups rimmed with lipstick. You threw them in the bag and moved to the next table, catching the eye of a man who flashed you a hopeful smile. You smiled back politely and kept walking, peeling the name tag from your chest, crumpling it in your fist and throwing it away. 

You threw another few cups in the bag and peered over at the spot where Father Benedict and Meg had been standing, but instead of the tall, dark priest, a young woman stood in his place. You furrowed your brow, scanning the room for him. He was gone. 

You felt something cold on your foot, looking down to find a quickening stream of juice dripping from the bag. You swore under your breath, grimacing as you marched it at arm's length out of the hall and into a small, quiet stock room. You shoved the bag into a bin in the corner and grabbed a roll of tissue, unravelling more than you needed and bending down to wipe away the sweet, sticky mess trickling down the side of your shoe. 

The door opened suddenly, making you jump in fright, losing your balance and falling back onto the floor. Father Benedict's deep, throaty laugh thrummed into the quiet space. He made his way over to you and reached out his hand. 

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

You blew out a breath and took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. "The bag split." 

"Ugh, are you alright?" 

"I think I'll survive." 

He took a step back towards the door, leaning against the frame as he listened to the muffled noise seeping out of the hall. 

"Tonight's going well, don't you think?" he said proudly. 

"Mhm, I see at least one person's getting fingered in the toilets," you replied sarcastically. 

His brows came together over confused eyes. He thought for a moment, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to you.

"Wh- Meg?"

"Yeah, you seemed to really be hitting it off in there."

He pushed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, holding back the urge to grin. "She's moving to my old parish next month, wants me to recommend her to the minister there. That's all." 

"Oh. Good luck to her."

"Now who's the jealous one," he teased. 

You rummaged through a cupboard near the bin, pulling out a roll of fresh bags. He cocked his head as he watched you, analysing you.  

"Are you okay?" he asked.

You blew out a puff of air, lifting a stray lock of hair out of your face. "Well, considering I'm a grown woman who lives with her mum, my capacity for 'okay' only stretches so far."

"Fair enough," he laughed. "And you haven't had any more trouble from what's-his-face, have you?"

"No, I think he's scared of me since you gave him that nose job." 

He covered his eyes with his hand, dragging it slowly down his face. "I still can't believe I did that. I don't know what got into me-"

"It's okay. I found it quite sexy." 

"Why am I not the least bit surprised?" 

You smiled, bowing your head as you tried to tear a bag from the roll. 

"Here," he said as he walked over to you.

You watched his hands as they gripped the plastic, ripping it apart with a forceful pull. He handed a bag to you and tossed the rest aside. 

"Thanks," you said, clearing your throat as you looked up at him. 

The last time you were this close, he had just kissed you; his breath ragged, eyes burning with a heat you could feel beneath your skin. You'd spent every moment since wondering what might have happened if you'd stayed, if that single thread of self control had torn under the weight of his desire.  

He swallowed, eyes flitting down to your lips, and in that moment you knew he'd been wondering the exact same thing. You shivered as his hand settled tentatively on your hip, your breath shaking as his fingertips moved to graze your thigh beneath the hem of your dress. 

"You took your name tag off" he said quietly. 

"Yeah," you replied, barely whispering. "You were right, I shouldn't have been wearing it." 

"Why?" 

"Because I didn't come for the mixer..." 

"Then why did you come?" He shifted closer, enough for you to feel his breath on your face, the tickle of his touch travelling further beneath your dress. 

You could feel goosebumps puckering down your arms, desire blooming deep in your core. You welcomed his caress, leaning into it, granting him access to your body like a gift. You gazed up at him with heavy lids, breaths turning shallow as he leaned forward, bringing his lips inches from yours. 

"Why?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble in the base of his throat. 

"Probably the same reason you keep inviting me back," you whispered.

Your lips met in a slow, heavy kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth without any hesitation. You sighed against him, eyes closing, losing yourself in a taste you'd come to crave. It didn't matter that beyond the door was a hall full of people, that if anyone saw you it would mean the end; not just for him, but for you too. In this moment, all you cared about was the feeling of his hands on your skin, the groan that escaped him when you gently sucked on his bottom lip. 

"Hi June, I'm looking for Ellis," Abel's voice echoed from the foyer. "About this tall, she's wearing a dress with flowers on?" 

You pulled apart quickly, foreheads resting against each other. 

"Fucking hell," you hissed.

"Another holy intervention," Father Benedict muttered.

"No, just a man in a bow tie," you sighed.

You were crouched behind the drinks table. Partly because you had to pack everything away, but mostly because you were hiding. 

Abel was nice. Funny, well-intentioned, handsome if not slightly gawky. And maybe in another world, you could have given him a chance; gone for coffee, held hands as he walked you home, kissed goodnight on the doorstep. But in this world, there was a priest. 

You peered over the table, watching as the singles sat in groups around the room, cards stuck to their foreheads and pens in their hands. Abel was sat amongst them, playing opposite a shy, giggly woman, her long blonde hair tucked behind her ears. You smiled and sank back down behind the table, breathing out a sigh of relief before packing up the last few cups into a large cardboard box. 

You walked out of the hall and down the path towards the church, the box obscuring your view as you lugged it in your arms. The night air was cool, the breeze carrying the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass through the air. You'd always preferred the colder months, but there was something about the air when spring turned to summer - the way it smelled, how it sat on the skin like a gentle embrace - that always reminded you to breathe, to fill your lungs to the brim and savour the feeling. 

You pushed through the side door of the church with your hip, letting it swing closed behind you as you stepped inside. You walked down the quiet corridor, the air still close and suffocating from the day's heat, and with a tired huff, you dumped the box on the floor inside Father Benedict's office.

"Father?" you called out, met with nothing but silence.

You couldn't help but wander down to the chapel, the dark, echoey space so still and serene that even your exhales felt out of place. You paused to bask in the solitude; the smells you'd come to find comfort in, the feel of the carpet beneath the soles of your shoes. You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep breath, when a sudden shiver rolled down your back at the sound of footsteps behind you. 

You turned around, eyes settling on a tall, dark frame emerging from the corridor. He stopped just beyond the threshold, standing with his hands in his pockets, the flash of white around his neck still visible even in the dim light. 

"I couldn't remember where you said to put the stuff so I threw it in your office," you said. 

"Threw it?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"If you want the job done well, pay me." 

He chuckled before looking around at the empty pews, the darkness beyond the stained glass windows. You watched as he made his way to the altar, walking leisurely, hands still in his pockets. He turned on his heels to face you, gesturing with his head for you to come to him. 

You didn't question it, doing as he instructed like an obedient servant, following orders without a single word. Your heart began to race as you stood before him, the fluttering in your chest mirrored by a rippling deep in your stomach the moment your eyes met. 

"Kneel," he said calmly.  

You hesitated, eyes flitting around the church. 

"It's just us," he said.

"And him..." you replied, nodding to the statue of Christ behind him. 

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn't concede. You swallowed hard, lowering yourself slowly to your knees, ignoring the burn of the rough carpet against your skin. 

You reached up, each action careful and considerate, like you feared you'd startle him back to sense if you made any sudden movements. He kept his eyes on you, gazing down as your fingers found the buttons of his trousers, releasing each one with a gentle pop. He placed a hand on your face, thumb pressing to your bottom lip and dragging it down to reveal your tongue. You stuck it out willingly, watching shadows form in the angles of his face as he pushed it into your mouth. His eyelids fluttered slightly as you sucked on it, and you held back the urge to smile. 

You parted his fly and slipped your hand beneath the fabric of his underwear, gripping the base of his cock and releasing it eagerly. He was hard, rigid and pulsing with even the lightest graze of your fingers, but he remained calm, unwavering in his composure, only the slight quiver of his breath giving him away. This was his fantasy - he'd already told you - and you'd wanted so desperately to make it come true. 

You flattened your tongue and dragged it up the underside of his length, drawing a deep groan from his throat as he moved his hand back to the side of your face. You'd never much cared for giving blow jobs; finding them boring, awkward, an unsexy act that left you with an aching jaw and numb lips. But the arousal pooling between your legs was undeniable, the tingle of your hardening nipples making you shudder with excitement. You slid him into your mouth, sinking halfway before pulling back and glancing up at him, seeking approval, wanting to be led. 

He inhaled sharply through his nose, letting his head fall back as you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, wrapping your fingers around it before taking it back into your mouth. You moved at a steady pace, drawing him deeper each time until you were struggling to breathe. He took your hair in fistfuls, guiding you gently, his rich moans pouring over you like warm, sweet honey.

You felt a hard prod at the back of your throat, the sensation making you gag, choking back a cough as you pushed his hips back to catch your breath. He buckled at the sound, swearing under his breath as he struggled to stay upright. He liked it; the sound of you gagging, the rush of thick saliva coating his cock. 

You reached up and took both of his wrists, moving his grip to the back of your head before dropping your hands behind your back. He groaned in delicious realisation, the silent permission to use your mouth unlocking a forcefulness that took you by surprise. 

His fingers tangled in your hair as he thrust into your mouth. You held your breath as he sank deep, pulling back and repeating the action with a quiet growl. You fought the urge to move your hands and take back control, keeping your fingers clasped tightly behind your back, trusting him not to push you too far. 

Your eyes were watering, nose running, spit escaping from the corners of your mouth. You were certain it was the most unattractive you'd ever looked, yet there was a thrill in letting go; the veneer of uncertainty shattering with every snap of his hips. 

A string of incoherent whispers spilled out of him as he came, cock throbbing against your tongue and coating your throat with his rapture. You gasped when he slid out of your mouth, as if he'd been holding your head below water and had finally brought you up for air. 

He cupped your face, staring down at you in awe. You wiped your mouth and chin with the back of your hand as you gazed up at him, your breathing still rapid and uneven, swollen lips parted in awe of his beauty. He tucked himself back into his trousers, not bothering to button them before kneeling with you and running his thumbs under your eyes, swiping at the smudges of tears and mascara that had pooled there. You reached up instinctively to hold his forearms, balancing yourself, as he continued to wipe away the mess he'd created, his movements so gentle and considered it was hard to believe he was capable of anything other than tenderness.

"Stay with me tonight," he said softly.

You nodded, unsure how you would ever be able to leave him again.

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#benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch imagine #benedict cumberbatch smut #benedict cumberbatch fanfic #benedict cumberbatch fanfiction #priest!benedict #priest kink #hot priest #fanfic smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic writing #smut writing #smut fanfiction #smut #eventual smut #lemon #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch x you #benedict x reader #benedict x you #fanfic series #sherlock smut

[duskandcobalt]

Everywhere, Everything: Chapter Five

Chapter Summary: On her last night in Velaris before she heads home, Elain and Azriel finally gets a chance to talk about what's going on between them.

Word Count: 5.9k

Missed the first four chapters? You can find the Masterlist for this fic here 🥰

A/N: As always, thank you for all the love on the last chapter of this fic. It's always so much fun to hear what you guys think. An extra thank you for your patience with me in getting chapter five out. This past month has been a rough one and I haven't been writing much because of it but I finally managed to sit down and finish this chapter and I'm happy with how it turned out. I hope you are too. As always, I must remind you that this is a slow burn and we must get through a heavy dose of angst before we can reap our reward. The good news is, the reward is coming very soon.

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

The first time Elain had sex with Graysen was also the first time he’d asked her about the necklace. 

It was the last week of January and he’d invited her back to his apartment after he’d taken her out to dinner at a glamorous hotel that offered unbelievable views of the city for their fourth date. She’d seen the invitation for what it was. Knew exactly what he had in mind from the way he’d lowered his voice to ask her, the pad of his thumb sliding over her bottom lip. Elain had only hesitated for a moment before she’d accepted his offer, Nesta’s voice in her head from a night years ago when she imparted some wisdom to Feyre after a particularly bad breakup, her hands on Feyre’s shoulders as she looked into her teary eyes. 

“Fey, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” 

Elain had laughed at her sister’s advice at the time but standing there outside the restaurant that night, looking at Graysen as snowflakes drifted lazily from the dark winter to sky to cling to her hair and eyelashes, she’d decided that she wanted to put Nesta’s advice to the test.

She’d spent weeks in a daze, unable to sleep as the memory of Christmas night played on repeat in her mind as if it was some sort of faulty film reel incapable of moving past a certain scene and insistent on torturing her. She had grown sick of it - sick of the guilt that consumed her for still daring to think of Azriel. For wanting him again even though she had been the one to leave. 

Dating Graysen had only done so much to take the edge off, providing her a few hours of distraction each week, but she needed more. She needed to attempt to replace the phantom feeling of Azriel’s weight on top of her, the feeling of him inside her.

In a way, sleeping with Graysen had helped. She’d always liked sex. She enjoyed being close to another person, appreciated the immediate intimacy that came with having a pair of hands gripping her hips and someone’s lips on her skin. In the few times that she’d pondered what Graysen would be like in bed, she’d suspected that he would be much like the other guys she’d been with over the years and she’d been right. 

His initial careful kisses had quickly progressed to deeper, bruising ones. The gentle hands that had slowly undone the zipper on the back of her dress had transitioned into firm hands that held her down and maneuvered her whichever way he liked, taking her how he wanted without taking a second to even check if she enjoyed the things he did.

Elain was used to this treatment. The rough sex. She’d come to like it - crave it, even. But every now and then, there was an occasional moment where her partner would leave and she’d be left by herself in a cold bed, thinking about things a little too long until angry tears welled in her eyes at the realisation that most of the men she’d been with felt entitled to do whatever they wanted to her. That no matter how respectful they may have been towards her or how much they genuinely liked her, they all seemed to get off on debauching a girl that was otherwise quite reserved. Graysen had been no different and because she’d always desired touch, she couldn’t help but take it however it was presented to her. 

Graysen had taken the small golden pendant in between his fingers minutes after they’d finished, propping himself up on one elbow until his shadow loomed over her. His thumb had dragged over the engraving on the front - smoothing over the intricately detailed rose- before he flipped it over to study the back, turning it this way and that until it caught the little bit of dim light streaming in his window from the streetlamp outside. 

“What’s the deal with this?” He’d asked her, the slightest edge to his voice. “You never take it off.”

Elain had tried her best not to freeze at the question but she couldn’t help the way her heart stopped for a split second before her heart rate picked up again, slamming against her chest like an anvil. She gently took the pendant back from him, easing it out of his grip to press it tight against her chest until she knew it would leave an oval shaped indentation on her bare skin. It was a grounding tactic, something she did to bring herself back into her body whenever her anxiety veered out of control.

What was she supposed to tell him? How could she begin to explain the necklace that she’d worn religiously every single day for the last four years? The sentimental value that such a small object held? 

She couldn’t exactly tell him that every time she touched it, she thought of the hands that had made it just for her, thought of the way those same hands had grazed her skin the night Azriel had fastened it around her neck and all the things those hands had done to her the last time she’d visited home before she started dating Graysen. When she’d been propped up on Azriel’s kitchen counter and splayed out in his bed. 

There was no simple way to explain that she’d never mustered up the courage to ask whether the tiny ‘A’ he’d engraved on the back stood for her last name or his first. 

Instead, Elain had settled for the most honest answer she was willing to give him at the time. 

“It was a birthday gift from a friend back home.” 

She’d never thought that they’d get to the point where she’d have to divulge exactly who that friend was, let alone have that friend and her boyfriend in the same room together. She’d been a fool to think that Graysen wouldn’t put two and two together and last night she’d been well and truly caught out. She’d stood in front of him like a deer in headlights, one arm wrapped defensively around her stomach while her other hand clutched the necklace tight in between her fingers as if she was afraid that he’d reach out and pry it right off of her. 

“Is he or is he not the friend that gave you that necklace, Elain?” Graysen had asked her once more, his lips pressed together in a firm line. 

Elain had hesitated for a moment but she knew there was no way around this. There was no lie she could possibly make up to steer him away from the truth. It was plain as day who had given her that necklace and so all she could do was just nod silently and try to keep her hands from shaking.

“Unbelievable,” Graysen ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the short strands. “He’s not just a fucking friend then, is he? Didn’t seem like he goes around making jewelry for all of his friends.” 

He was right. Azriel had never made anything for anyone except her. It was something that Feyre and Nesta never let him forget.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Elain took a deep breath, dropping her necklace back down and crossing her arms in front of her chest. “A friend made me a necklace for my birthday. There’s nothing else to it.”

“Did you date him?” He’d asked, his gaze unwavering as he stared her down. Daring her to try and lie to him.

“No.” Elain answered easily and honestly. “We never dated. Never even came close to it.” 

Even if she’d spent plenty of time daydreaming of what it would be like to date Azriel, she’d never pursued anything more with him for reasons that were all too complicated to explain.

“But you’ve fucked him.” 

He hadn’t phrased it as a question. It was a statement, his shoulders squared and his voice sure. 

Elain had hesitated a second too long and she watched as something settled in his eyes that made her realise that he’d been hoping he’d been wrong and was sorely disappointed to find out that his assumption was correct.  

“How many times?”

She had scoffed, shaking her head. Couldn’t believe that he would have the audacity to even ask her that question. 

She’d been about to open her mouth to argue back, to ask him what number would qualify as too many times or if knowing how many times she’d slept with Azriel would affect anything, but the sound of footsteps running down the hallway caused her to pause. 

She’d been saved by her nephew who had popped his little curly-haired head around the door to Rhysand’s study to innocently ask if she’d read him a book before bed.

Elain hadn’t even spared a second to look at Graysen again before taking Nyx’s small hand and allowing him to lead her up the stairs to his bedroom where he spent entirely too long picking out his book for the night. 

She slipped out of Nyx’s room an hour or so later, only padding down to the kitchen to say goodnight to Feyre and Rhys, before heading back upstairs. She’d been simultaneously relieved and disappointed that Azriel had left just ten minutes before with Nesta and Cassian. 

Elain had tiptoed into the room she and Graysen had taken over for the weekend, had quickly changed and silently crawled into bed, facing away from Graysen who excused himself to bed not long after their ill-fated conversation. He’d sidled up to her after a couple minutes, pulling her back against his chest while one hand slid up her stomach to cup her breast. 

“Gray,” she tried her best not to flinch away from his touch. “We can’t. Not here.”

“El,” he muttered into her hair. “Come on.”

“Thought you were mad at me,” she couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her as the hand that wasn’t circling her nipple dipped under the waistband of her underwear.

“You can’t blame me for being jealous when someone else looks at you like that.” His teeth scraped over the sliver of skin that the stretched out neckline of her shirt left exposed.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of,” Elain whispered, biting down on her lip as he turned her around and pulled her on top of him. 

He ground his hips upwards, letting her feel him hard against her. “Prove it to me.” 

She wasn’t particularly in the mood for this but she relented, allowing him to lift her shirt over her head before she bent down and pressed kisses all the way down the center of his chest. 

This was the opportunity she needed - not to take her mind off anything that had happened that day. There was nothing that could keep those memories at bay. It was simply a distraction, exactly what she needed to hopefully keep Graysen from asking more questions that she wasn’t ready to answer.

She’d give him this, let him have her just how he liked while her mind wandered elsewhere. To a place where the hands on hips weren’t his but someone else’s. To a night that featured her fingers buried in dark hair while a pair of hazel eyes looked up at her from between her thighs. It was wrong - so unbelievably wrong - to think about someone else in a moment like that. But she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t bring herself to feel guilty as she let herself get lost in the fantasy of tattooed, golden skin sliding over her own bare skin.  She was only thankful that Graysen’s hand was over her mouth to keep her quiet because if it hadn’t been, she would’ve had to fight to keep a different name from slipping out from between her lips. 

One more night. She just needed to make it through one more night and then she could go back to her new city and do what she did best - pretend that the life she had in this town, and the person that she was when she was here, didn’t exist at all. 

…

A few months before their wedding, Nesta and Cassian had moved to a sprawling property on the outskirts of Velaris that featured a gorgeous ranch style home complete with the porch of Elain’s dreams - one that wrapped around the entire perimeter of the house and featured a built-in swing to the right of the front door. It was picture book perfect and it helped to ease the loss both Feyre and Elain felt when Nesta moved… even if she was only a forty-five minute drive away. 

Elain had always looked forward to spending a weekend at Nesta and Cassian’s. She and Feyre would pack a bag and head up to their cousin’s house where the three of them would sit shoulder to shoulder on the swing, a thick blanket draped across their laps as they watched the sun set over the mountains. If they were lucky, Cassian would bring them snacks and drinks until either bugs or the cold sent the three of them heading back inside. 

This time, instead of a gossip filled car ride with her sister, Elain and Graysen had made the journey in almost complete silence. She had hoped that they’d made their peace last night but when she’d awoken this morning, it was clear that there was still some awkwardness lingering between them… perhaps at the knowledge that the subject of their argument would be sharing a wall with them tonight.

He hadn’t left her alone for even a second since they’d walked into the house to find Azriel already there, a dish towel slung over his shoulder as he chopped onions for whatever it was Nesta had on the menu for the evening. Even when she went to greet Azriel with a hug, deciding that it would be more suspicious if she greeted him any differently today, Graysen’s fingers had stayed on her back.

She remained patient with him, pushing aside the anxiety she felt at his constant proximity. She did her best to reassure him any way she could that he had nothing to worry about, all the while hoping that maybe she could convince herself of the very same thing in the process.

There had been no ducking out of his arms or dodging his kisses tonight. There had only been soft smiles and reassuring touches at all the right moments. Still, she couldn’t help that as she stood around the kitchen counter with her family - her attention had shifted, catching the subtle flex of Azriel’s forearms as he leant forward, his hands wrapping around the lip of the counter as he spoke to Cassian.

It was the smallest movement, barely noticeable, yet it triggered something in her brain that thrust her straight back into the memory that she’d tried and failed to avoid for the past few months. 

Suddenly, she couldn’t concentrate on anything else, unable to tear her eyes away from the familiar ridges and veins of his hands. The heat of Graysen’s palm flat against the middle of her back faded into nothing as she remembered the taste of cinnamon and cream. Remembered the way she had once been perched on a counter so similar to the one they were currently standing around. The easy way Azriel had slotted himself between her knees, her dress rising up her thighs. The feeling of his fingers dragging up her legs until they slipped under her hem. The gentleness with which he’d touched her. She swore she could feel his breath against her neck. Swore she could hear the things he’d whispered into her ear that night. 

“Helloooo… Earth to Elain!” Feyre’s voice brought her back to reality, her sister’s hand waving in front of her face as Elain’s vision cleared and she attempted to remember where the hell she was and what she was doing. “I asked if you wanted another drink?” 

Elain could only nod, afraid of how her voice might betray her if she attempted to speak. It didn’t help that she was all too aware of the way Graysen watched her, blue eyes once again filled with the suspicion she’d been working so hard to keep at bay as he  tracked her gaze to the pair of hazel eyes that were now staring directly back at her from the other side of the counter.

She readily accepted the margarita Feyre handed her, not wasting any time before downing half of it in one go. She’d never needed a drink more in her entire life. 

… 

Azriel stood directly outside the kitchen. He hadn’t turned any lights on when he’d wandered out a little while ago so it was just him, the stars, and the tiny smoldering ember of amber light flickering at the end of the lit cigarette slotted in between his index and middle finger.

He was utterly exhausted, eyes bleary as he tried and failed to link the stars together to form a constellation. He’d tried to fall asleep but he was too distracted by racing thoughts of the way Elain had looked at him from across the kitchen counter. The fleeting want that had appeared in her eyes - there and gone in a second, a lingering blush on her cheeks the only evidence that he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. He told himself it was just the margarita in her hands that had caused the sudden rush of heat to her cheeks but he knew her better than that. He knew all her tells. 

That’s why it had hurt even more to see her disappear down the hallway and into her room, her piece-of-shit boyfriend in tow. Azriel didn’t know how long he’d lasted laying in bed before he’d gotten back up and stumbled outside, too paranoid about each and every noise that he could hear from the room that shared a wall with the one he stayed in each time he found himself crashing at Nesta and Cassian’s for the night. 

If Graysen had been annoying at Nyx’s party yesterday, he’d been ever worse this evening because he’d scaled up the charisma and had seemed hell bent on befriending Azriel only to then become increasingly quietly irritated when Azriel made it clear that he was completely disinterested in anything that even remotely hinted at any sort of camaraderie.

He’d also taken to being even clingier with Elain. Hadn’t given her even a second to breathe all night, trailing behind her every chance he got, pulling her back into his side any time she strayed more than a few inches away. Even stranger, Elain had seemed intent on appeasing him and had stayed faithfully by Graysen’s side the entire time. She hadn’t even disappeared for a moment alone with Feyre and Nesta to talk about whatever the hell those three talked about whenever they were left alone together. All Azriel knew was that it usually resulted in raised voices, either in the form of an argument or incomprehensible half sentences interrupted by high pitched giggles as they all spoke over each other. 

Azriel saw Graysen’s overbearing behaviour for what it was - insecurity. 

Insecurity that came with a front row seat to the realisation that his prized girlfriend had an entire life before him. Without him. That she had family and friends that cared about her. 

Azriel had a feeling Elain’s life in Meadowview revolved heavily around Graysen. They probably spent time with his friends. Went to his favourite restaurants. Did his favourite activities. He wondered if she’d managed to retain any part of herself when she was halfway around the country, isolated in a bubble with Graysen, with no real escape other than her job. 

Maybe it wasn’t fair to jump to conclusions, to assume that she hadn’t been able to maintain a sense of self. He hoped for the best, desperately wanted to be wrong, but he knew her too well to know that he most likely wasn’t far off.  

He wanted to talk to her about it to try and decipher for himself exactly how she was doing but he hadn’t been able to get her alone - either because she’d been avoiding him or because of the five foot ten, blonde, walking trust fund  who’d been glued to her hip for the past eight hours. 

That’s why when the lamp in the kitchen switched on, the soft golden glow illuminating the window over the sink, it felt like a prayer was answered. 

He didn’t know exactly how he knew that she’d been the source of that light or that she’d be the one to walk outside but he knew when he turned to look, she’d be there - hair gilded by the light behind her. It was something about the gentle way the storm door creaked open, the feather light footsteps against the wooden floorboards. Something about the even, familiar rhythm of her breath.

He’d managed to get in one last deep drag of his cigarette before she was standing beside him, close enough that her arm brushed his. She reached up, lazily taking the cigarette from his fingers. She studied it and for one singular moment, he wondered if she’d surprise them both and take it between her lips. But this was Elain and so all he could do was huff out an amused laugh as she frowned, letting the cigarette fall to the floor until she could snub it out with her slipper covered foot. 

“Filthy habit,” Elain muttered. 

It was only then that he really allowed himself to look at her. He was thankful for the little bit of light from the kitchen lamp as his eyes traveled from her feet and up her bare legs to the hint of lilac shorts that he could only see the ruffled hem of because they were largely covered by the sweatshirt that fell right down to the top of her thighs. 

It was a Velaris University sweatshirt that at one point had been black but now resembled a faded gray and included a smattering of tiny holes around the stretched out collar. That sweatshirt had been missing from his closet for the better part of a decade. She’d had it in her possession for so long that Azriel wasn’t entirely sure that she would even remember who its original owner had been. It’s why he didn’t let himself read too much into her wearing that particular sweatshirt while sharing a bed with someone else. 

His eyes continued their journey upwards, over those full lips and the perfect slope of her nose. All the way up to drowsy, brown eyes and the tousled hair that he hoped and prayed was just the result of a restless night’s sleep and not the other option that sprung  to mind. 

Her eyes were fixed on him, clearly drinking in the sight of him just like she’d done when he’d first walked into Nyx’s party. 

There was a beat of silence between them, neither of them really knowing where to begin now that they were alone together. 

“Hi.” Her voice was barely a squeak, nervous and high and he couldn’t stand it. Hated this awkwardness between them. Hated that she felt any level of unease around him. 

“Trouble sleeping?” He raised an eyebrow, offering her a slow, sleepy smile that he hoped would work to put her at ease. 

Satisfaction settled in his chest when he saw her shoulders relax a little, at least a fraction of the tension she held within her melting into the night. 

He fought the urge to reach out and touch her, to place a hand on the back of her neck and slide his thumb around the knot he knew he’d find there. He resisted the temptation to tuck her hair behind her ear so he could see her face without it being half hidden in shadows. 

“Yeah,” Elain nodded. “Couldn’t get the fan to work and I need…”

“The white noise,” Azriel finished for her, another wave of satisfaction flowing through him at the first upward tilt of her lips. 

“What about you?” Elain asked, her gaze still focused straight ahead. “Trouble sleeping?”

“Something like that,” He replied, schooling his expression into one that would hopefully hide the real reason he was awake. “At least it worked in my favour this time.”

“What do you mean?” 

“It means that I’ve been trying to get a minute alone with you for two days now.”

“Oh,” she bit her lip. “Well, yesterday was so busy with all the kids and then tonight has been a lot as well…• 

“Yeah,” Azriel laughed, leaning into her just enough for his arm to press against hers. It was meant to be an innocent, playful touch yet it still managed to send a spark straight down his spine. “It was the kids that were keeping us from talking and definitely not because you’ve been actively avoiding me.” 

“I didn't think it would be so obvious,” Elain groaned, glancing up at him from the corner of her eye. “I was hoping you wouldn't notice.”

“I notice everything about you, Lain.” He adjusted his stance slightly, pivoting at the waist so he was turned towards her. “Always have.” 

There was another second of silence as she looked away from him, nervously running a hand through her hair. “You can’t say things like that.”

“It’s true, though.” He shrugged, choosing to move on with the conversation before she could ruminate on that any further.“How have you been?”

“Thought you noticed everything about me.” He could practically hear her smirk even through the sleepy rasp of her voice and he loved it. Appreciated the fleeting moment of playfulness. Of normalcy. “Shouldn’t you know the answer?”

“I want to hear it from you.”

“I’ve been good,” Elain still didn’t look at him. Her eyes were focused steadily, stubbornly ahead. “Meadowview is good. Work is good. Everything’s good.”

“Say good one more time and maybe I’ll believe you.” He hadn’t missed that she’d neglected to mention her boyfriend.

“Funny,” she rolled her eyes. “How have you been?” 

“Fine,” he shrugged. Then, before he could stop himself he asked her one of the questions that had been haunting him since last night. “Why have you never told me you didn’t like when I called you  ‘Lain?’” 

Elain paused, her brows furrowing. She clearly hadn’t expected that question from him. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Last night… Graysen said that you didn’t like it when he called you that. You said that you preferred to be called ‘El.’” 

She ducked her head, the bridge of her nose wrinkling as she looked down at her feet. A surefire sign she was embarrassed by something. “I only like it when it’s coming from you.” 

He bit back a smile, rocking back on his heels in an attempt to dull the sudden rush of emotion he felt at her admission. 

“Thank god.” He pressed a hand to his chest in a show of relief. “I’ve been worried that I’ve been unknowingly pissing you off for the past ten years.”

Azriel chuckled, teeth dragging over his lower lip as she turned to look at him. She gave him a wry smile and a shake of her head and though he wanted to live in this moment forever, he couldn’t put it off any longer, there were far more pressing matters to discuss.

“Lain,” Azriel let out a breath, his smile slipping into something more serious. He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “If you’re upset or if I misread the situation that night, I’m sorry but just tell me so I can -”

“Azriel, we can’t.” She whispered, cutting him off before he could even get out everything he wanted and needed to say.

“What?”

“I can’t… we can’t talk about this.” Her voice was strained, her hands twisted in the cuffs of her sweater.

“We have to talk about it, Elain.” He insisted. “It’s been months of silence and we can’t keep going like this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she swallowed, shoulders once again tensing as she turned to face him. 

“You can’t be serious,” Azriel couldn’t keep the exasperation out of his voice. 

Even with such scarce lighting, he could see the blush that crept up her neck as she defensively crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

“Nothing happened. It’s fine.” Elain said, her voice low. “It was just sex. We got caught up in the moment and that’s all it was.”

“Just sex,” Azriel shook his head. “You wouldn’t have left and stopped talking to me if it was just fucking sex.” 

He’d always prided himself on maintaining a mask of cool composure around other people but it always seemed to falter around Elain. He couldn’t hide from her. Had never felt the need to. This was no exception.

“I didn’t -”

“Don’t.” He interrupted her. “Whatever you’re about to say about not cutting me off or about things being fine between us, it’s absolute bullshit and you know it.” 

“Azriel,” Her voice broke, splitting his name into two halves. “I shouldn’t have left and I know that and I’m sorry but I just can’t…”

“Do you regret it?”

“What?”

“Do you regret it?” He asked again, making a point to look directly at her. “Sleeping with me. Do you regret it?”

Azriel watched as she closed her eyes, one hand of hers coming up to clutch at her necklace as she took a deep breath. It felt like a lifetime before she finally spoke. 

“I only regret it in the sense that I can’t stop thinking about it.” He could barely hear her over the crickets and the frogs and whatever other nocturnal creatures occupied the field around his friends’ home. “I only regret it because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t make sense of her saying exactly what he’d hoped but never dreamed that she’d go as far as admitting it. Suddenly, he didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. It was involuntary, really… the way he reached for her. One arm extending, his hand mere inches from her hip. The tips of his fingers just grazed her sweatshirt before she stepped back, just out of his reach. 

“Az.” The pounding of his heart came to an abrupt stop in his chest as he watched her eyes fill with tears. “It happened and it was good and I promise you I don’t regret it but I can’t do this. We just can’t…” 

“Just tell me why you left then, Lain.” He pleaded. “Full, complete honesty. I just want to know why you left without saying anything. I thought - everything was fine when I fell asleep.” 

“It doesn’t matter now, Az.” She wiped away a stray tear. “What’s it going to solve? What’s done is done.”

“It does. I need to know. I need to understand.” 

“I don’t know why. I wish I did but I don’t...” she started. “I panicked and then I realised how awful I’d been for leaving like that and I thought you’d be upset.” She took another deep, wavering breath. “I thought you hated me.”

Her voice was once again so small, so timid. It shattered every part of him. 

“Elain,” Azriel reached up and tugged at his hair just so he had something to do with his hands. Too afraid that he’d reach for her again. “If I were capable of hating you, this would all be a whole lot easier.” 

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, tears falling faster now. “I’m so sorry that it’s like this between us but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this.”

“I just want my friend back, Lain.” He said gently. “I’m not asking for anything more than to have you back in my life as my friend. I miss you so fucking much and if the only thing that’s stopping you from talking to me is what happened between us that night then we can forget it. If that’s what it takes, we can agree to pretend it never happened.”

“It’s not that easy. You know it. I know it. It’s been months and I can’t forget it.” She shook her head. “It’s just easier this way, Az. You and me… we just can’t be friends the way we were. Not right now at least.”

“You don’t mean that, Elain.” His nails dug into the palms of his hands. “I know that’s not what you want. Look me in the eye and tell me you mean it.”

He waited for her to seal their fate. To look him in the eye and tell him that she’d meant every word. That she really wanted nothing more to do with him. But she didn’t look him in the eye. Didn’t really look at him at all. She only stepped further back, her gaze fixed on some arbitrary spot above his right shoulder.

“I miss you, Azriel. More than you know.” Her voice broke as she began to turn away from him, walking towards the door. 

“Wait,” he followed behind her, his fingers closing around her wrist to stop her from reaching for the handle of the screen door. 

She didn’t pull away from him this time. Didn’t try to step back. She just twisted around to face him fully, her pulse rapid under his touch. 

“Do whatever you need to do.” The words left him in a rush. “ Go home, think about things. I can handle you being with someone else, I’ve done it for a decade… but please…. please don’t stay with someone that doesn’t make you happy just to prove a point to yourself or to me or to anyone else.”

There was another stretch of silence to accompany the crease that formed in between her eyebrows as she mulled over his words.

“Goodnight, Az.” She stepped forward, her chest against his. He released his grasp on her wrist  just in time to wrap his arms around her waist as she reached up on her toes and slung her arms loosely around his neck. Every part of her pressed against him for a split second. It was over before it began but he felt the cool, dampness of her tears against his cheek as her lips brushed his skin just once before she pulled back from the hug.

He let her go, his fingers slipping slowly from her skin. “Goodnight, Lain.”

Elain disappeared inside the house and the kitchen light flickered off a few seconds later. Azriel turned back around, sitting down on the porch step after pulling a stray cigarette and lighter out of his back pocket. He closed his eyes and counted to sixty. When he opened his eyes again, he was right back to what he’d been doing fifteen minutes ago, before she’d come outside. 

Once again, it was just him, the stars,and the dim light from the lit end of his cigarette. He didn’t know how long he stayed out there going over what just happened but he was still there, staring up at the sky and rehashing answers to questions he couldn’t decide if he regretted asking when the sun began to rise.

#elriel fic #everywhere everything #my writing #elain x azriel #elain archeron #elriel #modern au #azriel #acotar fanfiction #elriel fanfic #as always posting this and running off to bed bc im nervy hehe #it's 1:45 am and i have work in the morning why do i do this

[ninyard]

Came here from your in universe tweets posts and have just realised you're also Irish.

What are your thoughts on Kevin Day seeming so American through and through? I personally wish Nora had given him an accent or something seeing as he was raised by his Irish single mam. Like I kinda wish there had been some cultural differences there even if it was done badly.

However I think Nora was very on point with the fact that if somebody was going to make a very violent stickball sport it would be an Irish person.

I don't know anybody IRL who's read aftg and I would love to hear somebody else's thoughts on Kevin's Irish heritage lol

I wrote these silly little hcs about Kevin’s childhood in Ireland but a lot of that is kind of dependent on Kevin having had more of a childhood in Ireland (which I don’t think happened but I haven’t got a clue what the timeline of Kayleigh being in Ireland to Kevin being born is tbh)

Personally I wish Kev was a little more Irish and I also think the Irish mammy thing would’ve had a HUGE influence on him (again depending how old he was when she died). She would’ve been his best friend if he’d grown up with her. Also the internalising of his problems is VERY typical of an Irish man but I’d like to imagine Kayleigh tried to break the cycle of that mentality in sons/first born sons and it was destroyed by the Moriyama’s.

Things I would maybe like Kevin to have/do:

- just a little bit of an accent. On certain words, or if he’s drunk or tired, or if he’s speaking with an Irish person, his accent QUADRUPLES in intensity.

- burns in the sun SO EASILY but also wears shorts when it’s barely even hot at all

- he drinks tea when it’s cold because it’s comforting and it reminds him of his mam. It’s the one indulgence he allows himself because she took her tea sweet so he heaps two teaspoons in when he feels like he needs a hug

- I’ve mentioned it before somewhere but I believe that Kayleigh was from the west, from a gaeltacht area and spoke fluent Irish, and raised Kevin to be bilingual until she passed, and he never continued and honestly probably forgot it. He remembers little words here and there but really not much at all.

- right after he graduates he spends an entire summer in Ireland before he starts with his pro team. It’s a silly decision for his exy career really because he could use all of the professional practice he can get, but he needs it. He goes back to Ireland and visits all of these places he doesn’t remember, the places where Kayleigh grew up and took kev when he was a baby. Maybe his grandparents are still alive, and his grandfather plays hurling with him, and they speak to him in Irish, and he spends the summer learning and just relaxing and reconnecting with his roots. Maybe his grandmother has a box of Kayleigh’s old things and for the first time in his life he holds something belonging to his mam other than his letter. Her jersey with her original IRE National Court number on it from the Olympics just a few years before she died, and some photos he’d never seen before. I’d really love for him to just be able to know his mam better somehow. I feel like he deserves it!!!

(He comes back with the most obnoxious Irish American accent after that summer and he gets ROASTED for it. But he doesn’t care, because he feels so much closer to his mam having spent that much time at home)

I am CERTAIN that Kayleigh was inspired to create Exy by watching hurling. There’s no way she wasn’t. Exy is the bastard sport of lacrosse, hockey AND hurling.

#maybe he joins a local hurling team for a couple of months #idk! Irish person thoughts! that will probably not translate to a wider audience #but I’m so passionate about kevs roots #also I can’t believe there’s another Irish person alive who’s read AFTG #where have you been

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[tulipsforyourlips]

✧˖°. i found you ✧˖°. (8)

|| the sandman x dead boy detectives ||

SUMMARY: You run the dead boys detective agency along with your two best friends. And somehow two ghosts and a living girl make it work. Until you dream one night, of dream himself.

PAIRING: dream of the endless x fem!reader

WC: 2.8K

WARNINGS: angst, violence, blood, mentions of sex (only mentioned)

PART 8 ✧˖°.

Dream's coat pooled around the bottom of the stairs that led to his throne, while his head ached with past memories.

"Promise me"

"Hope I,-"

"Promise Dream."

"I promise."

And ached more as new joined them.

"You promised, Dream."

He had given up fighting the turmoil raging inside him long ago and let the madness consume him.

"You promised, Dream."

"I am not Hope!"

"You promised,"

"You promised, Dream."

"Boss!" Matthew's entry pulled him to the painful present.

"You summoned me?"

"I want you to keep a check on Hazel in the waking world," his voice was polished with stone as he spoke, "do not let her out of your sight unless I command you so."

"On it." After hesitating a moment, the raven asked, "she still hasn't visited the Dreaming?"

"No."

"If I may ask, what happened between you and her, boss?"

Dream lifted his head and the way his eyes glared, had Matthew realize he had gravely overstepped. Without squandering a second, he flew away.

You leaned your head on the wooden jamb of the window whose ledge you were currently perched upon. You dangled a feet below as you sucked in a breath, feeling the wind on your face against an effort to dismiss exhaustion away. Wounds from your week prior 'adventure' still marked your body. Set on your mission to avoid Dream, and stubborn as you were, you had completely forsaken sleep. Eyebags had begun painting the underside of your eyes a rueful purple that complimented the scar forming on your cheekbone. A pair of wings fluttered alongside you as your friend and raven dropped in your lap.

"You are looking cheerful," he cawed.

"Thanks Matthew. Did Dream send you?"

"What? No! What, a friend can't check up on another?"

"Sorry, I just am really not in the mood to endure him."

"You won't tell me what happened, will you?"

You sighed. "It's complicated."

"Never heard that before," he retorted. "He misses you, you know?"

Like hell he does. "I don't care."

"He needs you Hazel, I need you, the Dreaming needs you."

"Yeah okay."

"Listen! I don't know what the fuck happened to make you both so hurt but you cannot turn your back away from humanity and let it simply perish because of a feud between two emo people," Matthew gushed. "Please,"

A bitter smile gripped your lips. "I wish I could help, Matthew I really do."

"Then-"

But the raven never completed his sentence and disappeared into the wind.

"Did Edwin mix something in my morning coffee or were you just talking to a crow?" Charles squinted his eyes.

You were about to correct him when you realised you probably shouldn't. "The former." You swung your legs inwards and jumped onto the floor. "It's 3 in the morning, why are you up?"

"I am a ghost. Why are you up?"

"Back to my healthier sleeping schedule. Heading to bed."

"Brills."

Charles looked like he wanted to ask something but then apparently decided against it. There was still a simmering tension between you both, following the events from that day. Reduced colossally, but visible in the air of the room.

"Goodnight," was all he said.

You tossed and turned in your bed, pretending to be asleep as you had been for the past couple of days so as to not arouse more suspicion. The boys had relatively left you alone and you were grateful for their patience. You knew you had to tell them, you couldn't hold it off forever. Just needed some more time. Fatigue powered by sleep deprivation numbed your senses as you slowly began to lose yourself to it. No, you shook your head and tried to keep your eyes wide open. Even after your stamina dwindled down to nothing, you kept fighting sleep.

The library of the realm of dreams encompassed your puny figure. Oh god, you must have fallen asleep. There was no use in trying to go back, you knew the limit of your abilities. Before you could panic over the possibility of encountering Dream, muffled voices reached your ears. You approached the gates offering passage to the throne room through the library. The voices became more distinct. At the sound of Dream's, your heart skipped a tiny beat. You had missed him, despite your relentless reluctance to admit so. The second voice belonged unmistakably to a female, but you knew Lucienne well enough to recognize it if it were hers. You chased the gap between the doors and you and listened intently.

"I can't do it sister, I won't."

Sister? Were you eavesdropping on a conversation between two Endless?

"Dream, you have to tell her."

"She's not ready, we can wait."

"You mean you can. The world cannot."

"We will manage without her having to know."

"You cannot be serious Dream," the other endless groaned. "Either you tell her or I will."

Zero chance the 'her' was you, right? right?

"Please, I can't." The crack in Dream's voice made something uncomfortable crawl in your stomach. "I can't go-" you couldn't make out the rest. Stupid gigantic doors.

Silence haunted the room on the other side. You pressed your ear against the gateway to better understand the heated discussion when the gates suddenly propelled outwards. You hastily hid behind a towering bookshelf. A woman appeared in the library. From your place, you couldn't make out the details of her appearance. The doors swung shut behind her. You watched as she huffed a breath. It must be a task having Dream as your sibling. Your mind was racing, trying to solve the puzzle of which Endless was she.You stepped your foot backwards, and big mistake, a pile of stacked ledgers came undone on the ground and with a rapturous noise. Brills. You peeked your head out from your poor hiding place, and with a jolt, your eyes met Death's. It seemed the puzzle was solved and your heart accompanied your mind in the sprint.

"Hi," you squeaked.

"Hi,"

You emerged from behind the shelf, fully revealing yourself. It felt weird, being this close to the Endless, one that you had been running away from for years.

"I'm-I am Hazel."

She studied you for a moment before making any indication that she had heard you. Noticing the colour on your face whiten, she said, "Relax, I am not here to take you."

"Yeah-no no I know. It's just that-" What? Were you scared? Were you starstruck? Seriously Hazel, woman up for once in your life. "It's an honour just being in your presence. You are Death," you enunciated her name. "How does a mortal like me deserve to have that chance?"

Death smiled and in that moment you knew why she was chosen to assist souls in their departure. Who would fear Death when it smiled upon you with such kindness? "The honour is mine, Hazel."

And with that confusing statement, she walked away, leaving a befuddled you alone in the library.

"Wait!" You called. "My friends, um two ghosts- Charles and Edwin, why do you spare them?"

Death turned in your direction. "Question for another time, darling."

The carpet cushioned your head as you flipped through the pages of some ancient text Edwin had handed you over to decode while him and Charles talked with their client. You thought you heard a fluttering of wings and you looked outside but you were received by an empty sky. You'd told Matthew to quit following you everywhere all the time but you still had your suspicions that he hadn't listened to you. You stretched your legs up in the air and they stuck against something, followed by a crashing sound as a jar tumbled onto the floor, its lid strewn away. And to your horror, the jar was very familiar. It was the same vessel Charles had trapped that one demon into. Why the fuck wouldn't they dispose it of instead of keeping it as a trophy in the living room? A hideous creature emanated from it and began panting right overhead you. It reeked and you felt revolted to your core. You swiftly scanned Edwin's desk for incantations that could banish it away and located some papers scribbled with them. You swiftly got up on your feet and were about to grab the papers when claws tightened around your ankles, dragging you back. You tried to hold on to the edge of the desk, but its brute strength was no match for yours. Your back collided against the coffee table and a groan escaped you as glass shattered beneath you. The demon pushed you against the floor, and hardened its clasp around your neck, strangling the breath out of you. Your hands flailed around and you grasped a piece of broken glass. And plunged it into its chest. Blood dripped from its mouth onto your face and you grimaced in repulsion. You threw its body off you and got up. Just as you were about to clean your face, a gurgle sounded and you whirled around to see the demon back on its feet. The audacity of this bitch. It advanced towards you at a frightening speed and you closed your eyes, thinking Death would not have anticipated such an early reunion. But when the contact never happened, you fluttered your eyes open to see Dream standing in its place, a worried expression lacing his face. There was no trace of the demon anywhere, well, except the mess of broken furniture it had left behind.

"The blood's not mine," you said timidly.

He was mere inches apart from you and closed even that distance as he wiped the blood off your face with his sleeve.

"Thankyou, for saving my life, again."

"You need not thank me for it."

He stepped away once you were rid of the blood and you missed the warmth of his closeness.

"Hazel, I am sorry-"

"It wasn't your fault."

"No, it was." He took your fingers in his. "But I tried Hazel. I couldn't locate you. I opened portals everywhere while I searched for you. I am sorry it took me so long to reach you, and I am so sorry I put you in such a situation in the first place." There was a pleading in his eyes, for you to believe him.

And you did. It wasn't everyday the Dream Lord apologized to a human, or to anyone in general. "Dream, I, I am sorry I got mad."

"You had-have every right to be."

"No," you smiled softly. "I am not anymore."

Just then, the mirror glass distorted as two ghosts tumbled into the area. You dropped your hands in a flick of a second.

"Woah, which tsunami hit this place?"

"The demon escaped." At their alarmed state, you added, "but not to worry, the threat is contained."

"And who the hell is this wannabe goth?" Charles piped.

You coughed. "Hey guys can I talk to you for a sec?" You tried to holler them away from Dream's intimidating presence.

"Is he? Is this him?" Edwin quizzed.

You slightly nodded your head in the affirmative. "Now, if you both could-"

"You aren't that old," Edwin assessed him from top to bottom.

"He does have an aura about him. Personally, I dig this look." Charles motioned to his choice of wardrobe.

He was talking to an endless! "Guys!"

Dream whispered to you, "Should I-"

"No! Do not dissipate into thin air. You will just spook them and leave all the explaining to me," you hissed back.

"Introduce him, won't you?" Edwin raised his brow.

"This is Dream,"

"Who the fuck names their kid Dream?" Charles questioned.

What sins had you ever committed to deserve this? You balled up your hand into a fist, itching to punch him right in the face.

"He can hear you!" You whined to Charles.

Unbeknown to you, Dream had never been this thoroughly amused in his life.

"Oh." Charles mouth hung open. "He can see us?"

"Yes. He's been through some pretty traumatic experiences. Don't ask."

"Sorry mate, hi, nice to meet ya," he told the Endless. "It's just that you had really taken us off guard. Because with her reluctance to ever let us meet you," As you can see why, "I thought she had just made you up. She doesn't shut up about you by the way," Charles winked.

Why would he say that? Your eyes widened and red poured into your cheeks.

"Not that I blame her, you are a decent looking fellow and-"

"Charles! Charles! Another time, we were just heading out anyways." You pulled on Dream's coat.

"Yes, we were."

"But I made coffee." Edwin appeared with three mugs in his hand.

"How-When did you even-forget it," you gave up.

"I don't drink coffee."

"Everybody drinks coffee," Charles stated as a matter of fact.

"I do not require mortal sup-" You elbowed him in the ribs. "What I mean is, I would love some coffee."

"Thankyou," you mouthed to him.

"So, what do you do?" Edwin began his interrogation.

"He works in finance, yeah, he's a finance guy."

You took a sip from your mug.

"I have to ask mate, how does a handsome rich guy like you date someone like her?"

You choked on your coffee and Edwin patted your back as you wheezed.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I am fine." You shushed him away.

Charles bloody Rowland, count your hours.

A smile tugged at Dream's lips.

"It's a lengthy story," he replied.

"We have the night."

"No, we do not. Don't you two have cases to solve?" You tried to steer the conversation to anything but this as embarrassment reddened your face.

"Unfortunately we do," Edwin admitted.

"Alright then, bye bye."

"Rude," Charles muttered.

But you couldn't care less. The boys went to the study, leaving you alone with the Endless. You stood up, wanting to get out of here, but as you did, a searing pain shot up your leg.

"I can't make the trip down the stairs with my injured leg," you told him.

He looked at it with concern. "We could go to the Dreaming,"

"Are you-how would it look if both of us just vanished into nothingness?"

"Fair enough."

Having no other option, you led the King of Dreams into your bedroom. As you were closing the door, Edwin popped up his face in the space between.

"Don't do it in here."

"Woah okay, calm your horses."

"Don't listen to him, Haz," Charles whispered from behind him.

"I am not having sex with him!" You shouted in a whisper.

"Just use protection," Edwin advised.

"All the best!" Charles gave an excited thumbs up.

"What the fuck is wrong with you two?" You whispered.

"Be-"

"Okay bye!" You shut the door in their faces.

You turned around and exhaled a breath. "Sorry about them,"

"It wasn't a problem." Amusement glinted in his eyes.

You found it difficult to wrap your head around the fact that an Endless stood in your bedroom, which was littered with books and clothes. You rounded up a handful of them and shoved them haphazardly in your closet.

"Sorry about the mess. I usually-no never have people over."

"Like a date?" He perked up his brow playfully.

His question took you aback slightly. "I am sorry, it was- I needed a cover for why I was always absent."

"And so you told them we were dating,"

"I didn't mean to-"

"Relax mortal, I am simply messing with you."

You rolled your eyes. "Funny,"

A dry chuckle left his lips at that and irregardless how short lived, your ears had never heard a sound more beautiful. It was a drug, because you wanted to hear it again and again till the end of eternity.

"Dream,"

"Yes mortal?"

You gazed into his eyes, that mirrored the stars outside. The same way they did when he had first turned up in your room, a stranger, that you were bound to fall for.

I love you.

Dreamwent stone rigid before you, his features hardened and his teasing smile gone.

You shook your head. "Nothing."

Dream was set in statue, the only proof of his living the slight twitch in his jaw as he spoke, "you love me?"

"What?" Your heart was about to explode in your chest. Could he read your mind?

"You just said,"

What? Had you said it aloud? Oh no. Fuck fuck fuck fuck-

"Hazel, do you love me?" He lightly gripped your elbow. A sheen of glimmer coated his eyes.

You didn't respond, hoping the yearning in your eyes would be answer enough. Dream took a step back and with the next tick of the second hand on the clock above him, he was gone.

Shit.

Back in the Dreaming, Dream's fingers trembled as he held his sister's sigil.

"Death, I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil. I need you."

She appeared in a moment's notice.

"What's the matter, little brother?"

He turned around to face her. His voice was hoarse with unshed tears. "She fell in love with me." A solo tear glided down his cheek. "Again."

A/N: lol i'll let you guys figure out what that means. this was funnnn I had been foreshadowing it for the past seven chapters and i finally got to write it! ps: not proofread.

SERIES MASTERLIST ✧˖°.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detectives fanfiction #dead boy detectives fanfics #dead boy detectives x reader #dbda #dead boy detectives x you #charles rowland #edwin payne #charles rowland/edwin payne #charles rowland x edwin payne #charles rowland/reader #charles rowland x reader #edwin payne/reader #edwin payne x reader #the sandman #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream of the endless #dream of the endless/reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless x you #dream x reader #dream x you #morpheus x reader #fanfiction #tom sturridge

[mohabbaat]

how tf is taylor going to sing "but daddy i love him" (blech) at the eras tour like lmao r you really gonna talk about how ur fans are vipers when they paid for your concert? and the hypocrisy that she's totally fine with her fans sending hate and death threats to her exes and each of their exes and even innocent bystanders like joe's costars BUT the second they start calling her out for dating a racist islamophobe weirdo shes gonna get mad? like the only one bitching and moaning here is taylor herself lol. its even worse because she pushes herself into feminist conversations and movements (TIMES person of the year cover for #MeToo) and hails herself as a social justice icon while still refusing to speak up about actual issues while associating happily with terrible people like matty healy and jackson mahomes

bro her fans don't even care. she literally said they bitch and moan constantly, and most of them are like "queen!!! go of!!! you deserve to date whoever you want!!!", like you do realise she is dissing you right?? because you dared to call her out for dating a racist, creepy weirdo??? also, like even after so much backlash she didn't break up with him by choice. he ghosted her. if he hadn't, they would still be together. she truly is a poster child of white feminism who does not care about her poc fans and people need to realise that as soon as possible.

#anti taylor swift #asks

[kickingtheladder]

"Maybe he's OUR fucking demon now."

Crystal I adore you.

(And he really does become their fucking demon <3 <3 <3 )

I love this argument and this whole section of this episode. Crystal and Edwin are both very traumatised and having a bad time and yelling a lot! Charles is having a bad time because his bestest most important person and his new person that he is enamoured with are yelling at each other! No-one is wrong and everyone is hurting!

But they're being honest with one another! I feel like this is part of all three of them realising they can show each other the ugly angry sides of them and they won't be abandoned for it, that they can storm off after an argument and they will all still come back together afterwards (that ultimately they will still be loved). Crystal doesn't have her memories but we learn later she's never had people who really cared about her at all, let alone after she was mean to them and made bad choices. Edwin and Charles are devoted to each other but also because they are all the other has neither of them can face even potentially driving the other away! Charles has kept mum about his dad and his fears of becoming like his dad and not being a good person for thirty years! Edwin hasn't even looked at what his feelings about Charles are or talked to Charles about hell and the fact he maybe thinks he deserves it for thirty years! (He clearly has talked a bit about it, but given Charles has no idea what to expect when he goes to rescue him I really feel like Edwin was very much sugercoating the whole thing.)

All of them go through related arcs this season about being honest despite your fears that that honesty will make someone you care about turn their back on you, and I feel like this whole bit with this argument and Charles showing Crystal his parents and Edwin's "this MATTERS" is the beginning of that. Crystal tells them what happened with David after this! They're all working out letting each other in and I have a lot of emotions about it!

Anyway this got long and incoherent, I don't know where I was going with this originally.

#dead boy detectives #nattering about my dead boy detectives rewatch #truly it's all about the mortifying ordeal of being known #this does kind of make me want an absolutely vicious argument between edwin and charles in season 2 #they had tiffs in this season but nothing quite so vicious as crystal and edwin got (or even crystal and charles) #it would be awful but it would be amazing

[casual-violinist-fangirl]

Lullaby (2,705 Words)

More ba'buir Hunter? Your wish is my command!

This fic is heavily inspired by the song 'Kristoff Lullaby' from Frozen the Musical. If you want to read my short rant about how it suits a parent/child dynamic better than a romantic one, the link is here.

Omega experiences what Hunter calls 'the moment' and is reminded of the time that he realised Omega was more of a daughter than a little (big) sister. Lots of fluff and tiny baby Mina just for good measure!

As always, the link to my AO3 is here and the link to my masterlist on Tumblr is here.

--------

It was about a month into Mina’s life when it happened… when Omega had what Hunter liked to call ‘the moment.’ 

He had been woken up at around two in the morning; painfully early for him, but also unexpected. In the years since his retirement from fighting, Hunter had learned to enjoy a good night’s sleep and even though he was still a light sleeper, it was taking more to wake him now. For a moment he was confused as to why he was awake…

… until he heard the small whimpers of a baby coming from downstairs. Mina was up. Distantly, Hunter could also hear Omega humming a familiar tune that sent him spiralling back to a time when he had hummed the same song to soothe her to sleep after a nightmare.

Creeping out of his bed, he snuck downstairs and towards the living room; there, he spotted a sight that made his eyes water a little with sentimental tears.

There, in her pyjamas, was his daughter cradling her daughter as she swayed slowly and hummed a lullaby. Hunter could make out both of their heartbeats, Mina’s telling him that she had just fallen into a deep sleep once more. Omega’s, on the other hand, was slightly raised.

Hunter raised an eyebrow at this, wondering what could possibly be going on, but his question was answered when he heard small sniffle. His little girl was crying.

Coming out of hiding from his spot in the doorway, Hunter entered the room and went to stand in front of Omega. She had slow tears rolling down her cheeks and an unreadable expression painted across her face. Concern mounting inside of him, he reached out to brush away the tears with his thumb and smiled reassuringly at her.

“Everything okay, ad’ika?” he asked, trying not to sound too worried. “Everything okay with Mina?” He was met with silent nods as Omega smiled adoringly down at her daughter. Relief coursed through his veins, though that still didn’t answer the question of why she was crying. 

There was a moments pause, and Hunter was beginning to get fidgety before Omega eventually answered his question.

“I just love her so much, it’s like I can’t breathe.”

In that moment, Hunter smiled softly at his kid. His daughter, who he was pretty sure had caused most of his grey hairs, so completely and utterly in love with her own child. The thought made his heart swell, especially when he remembered the moment he had started thinking of Omega as his daughter rather than his little sister…

——

(Many Years Earlier)

Sunsets on Pabu were beautiful, Hunter thought to himself as he sat perched on the sea wall. The way the sun reflected off of the sea as it peacefully rolled in and out served as a reminder of how peaceful their lives could be if they accepted Shep’s offer of a place to stay permanently. 

“As a father, there isn’t a better place to raise a child,” he had said to Hunter as though the clone was a father himself. He didn’t correct the mayor, of course. It would be rude to correct someone who’s hospitality had been so great. And it’s not like this was the first time Omega had been mistaken for his kid. Only this time was the first time he had noticed Omega glancing at him with stars in her eyes as Shep made the comment…

In truth, he knew that the way he acted around the kid was different to the way his brothers did; Wrecker, Tech and Echo all acted towards her in a way he quite often saw in his interactions with them. Playful and teasing, lighthearted and caring. They were the ones she teased about being older than, the ones she played with or asked questions to. These interactions, once upon a time, had made Hunter jealous. How had his brothers managed to fall into the role of big brother so easily when all he could process around Omega was his stuttering heartbeat and the feeling of not being able to breathe unless she was safe? They were naturals at this, and it felt as though he was inadequate when it came to being the family member he wanted to be.

That was until the first comment had been made about Hunter being Omega’s father. She had gotten lost at the market and the wild terror in the sergeant’s eyes had alerted a kind shop-keeper. He had helped Hunter find the little clone, who had gone running into his arms sobbing and saying she was sorry for running away. She had been so little and so scared… it wasn’t long after their interaction with Cad Bane, so Omega was extra nervous about getting separated from her family. The shop-keeper smiled knowingly at Hunter’s thank yous, and had made the comment that had started the ball slowly rolling:

“Anytime. I’m a father. I know how nerve-wracking it can be to think your child’s missing.”

That night, Hunter had been mulling over the phrase as he tucked Omega into bed… that was something that she always wanted him to do, he realised. Never Wrecker, Tech or Echo. Always Hunter. Now that he thought about it, there were a few things he and Omega did that the others didn’t; she always asked for him when she’d had a nightmare and would curl up in his lap as he swayed his chair slowly. When she had grazed her knee, it was him she’d gone to and tearfully asked him to make it better. When she was ill, she wanted him and she clung to him like her life depended on it… Omega’s relationship with Hunter was different from the one she had with her other brothers, but that didn’t mean that Hunter was inadequate, not be any stretch. 

If anything, it made him special.

“What’re you thinking about?” a small voice pulled him out of his thoughts and into the present again. There, stood next to the sea wall, was Omega with a curious look on her face. She nimbly clambered over the wall and perched next to him, shuffling close so that she could hold him for support if she needed to. Hunter didn’t really know how to respond at first. How did one just turn to the kid that he’d practically adopted and tell her that he thought of her as his daughter? It wasn’t exactly a casual conversation to be having. 

“Just thinking about when we first met you,” he replied; not technically a lie. Omega nodded, her short, blonde hair waving in the breeze. “You’ve grown a lot since then, kid.”

Smiling, the young clone glanced down at herself. She was wearing her favourite outfit, the first one she had chosen and owned. She had sprouted not long after the fall of Kamino, which was a good thing really. She had needed new clothes and this gave them the perfect excuse to get them for her. Her favourite part of the ensemble was, of course, Hunter’s spare bandanna that she wore around her wrist. 

“We’ve had a lot of fun,” she replied with a small laugh. “I’m guessing you don’t regret letting me tag along all that time ago? I really thought you wanted to get rid of me when you tried to send me away with Cut and Suu.”

Regret washed over Hunter; he had never been so glad that Omega had chosen to come with them, even after he’d tried sending her away. He couldn’t imagine life without her now, though thinking about it made him go misty-eyed.

“‘Course not, kid. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he cleared his throat as he spoke. The little girl glanced up at him, eyes wide at his admission. Hunter smiled down at her as she shuffled closer to him, forcing him to put his arm around her. 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she whispered back, just loud enough for him to hear. “You’re not like the others… they’re amazing and I’m so proud to have them as my brothers but you’re different, Hunter.”

The man in question could feel his heart hammering out of his chest as he processed what was being said. Summoning his courage, he forced himself to remain calm as he tried to figure out what to say next. Turns out, he didn’t need to, because Omega wasn’t done talking; she buried her face in his side, nerves becoming apparent as she whispered a question that only he could hear. Hunter’s heart swelled and he blinked back the tears he could feel threatening to fall.

“Of course you can call me that, ad’ika,” he answered with a proud expression on his face. His little girl glanced up, stars in her eyes in the way that it had been when Shep had called him her father. She squeezed him tight, a grin on her face.

“Love you, buir.”

“Love you too, ‘Mega.”

That night, Hunter had tucked Omega into her bed in the house Shep had let them borrow. She had smiled sleepily as she wished him a goodnight and shuffled further under the covers. Her buir then went and sat in the living room of the home, his head resting against the back of the couch. His peace hadn’t lasted long, as not even an hour later, light footsteps padding down the stairs could be heard. Glancing up from his spot, he saw Omega pattering down the stairs and creeping into the living room like she wasn’t going to be spotted.

“Everything okay, ad’ika?” he asked, raising a concerned eyebrow. Omega nodded, wrapping her blanket further around her shoulders; she had Lula clutched in her arms as she clambered onto the couch and curled up next to Hunter

“Being in a bed is weird,” she whispered. “I can’t hear any of the normal sounds.” 

Hunter nodded his understanding. Being in a house was weird when all he and his brothers had known was the sterile labs on Kamino and the Marauder. He wrapped an arm around his kid, letting her curl further into his side as she settled once more. 

“You’re gonna get a sore neck if you fall asleep here,” he warned, but he didn’t really want her to move. Her response was a yawn and a shrug as if to say ‘I don’t care.’ Before long, Omega was drifting into a light sleep, her sleepy muttering only just audible.

“Goodnight, buir. I’m lucky to have you as my buir…”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Hunter summoned the courage to reply. 

“Goodnight, ad’ika. Sweet dreams.” He pressed a light kiss to her hairline before resting his head back against the couch cushions. His eyes felt heavy and his heart felt full. A short nap here wouldn’t hurt, he mused to himself as he too drifted off…

… of course, that short nap turned into a deep, deep sleep.

Hours later, Hunter distantly heard Tech and Phee whispering as they crept past the soldier-turned-father and his daughter. One of them, Tech he thought, paused for a moment.

“What?” Phee asked, trying desperately to keep her voice down. Even with his eyes closed, Hunter could tell that Tech had one of his small, knowing smiles on his face.

“I believe,” he started in an equally quiet tone. “That Hunter has finally realised.”

“Realised what?”

“That he isn’t Omega’s older brother… I thought it was obvious from the way he acted around her, but he has remained pretty oblivious until our arrival here.”

There was a pause and a gentle huff of laughter left Phee. “Pabu has that affect on people,” she replied, a smile in her voice and Hunter could just tell that she was making what Wrecker would call ‘heart eyes’ at Tech.

The pair continued to sneak through the house; Hunter decided that he would store that information for later and enjoy using it to tease his brother. For now, he just wanted this moment with his daughter to last forever.

——

(Present Day)

Hunter couldn’t help the smile on his face as  stepped forward and pressed a gentle kiss against Omega’s hairline. The baby in her arms stirred slightly, her face twitching at a brief discomfort before she settled back into a deep, dreamless sleep. Her ba’buir kissed her forehead too, before Omega offered her to him. He gently held the little girl in his arms, revelling in her tiny nose and little tuft of slowly growing blonde hair. Mina was definitely her mothers’ daughter, that much was for sure. 

“That lullaby you were humming,” Hunter mentioned softly as he glanced up at his daughter. “The one I used to hum to you when you’d had nightmares.”

In reality, Hunter had memorised the tune and hummed it most nights after Omega had been rescued from Tantiss… both times. It had become the soundtrack to his evenings spent trying to soothe his little girl to sleep. She had gone through a period of refusing to go to bed at all, and when she eventually did collapse out of exhaustion she experienced the most twisted and disturbed nightmares. Nights on Pabu were full of tears and battling sleep, all the while Hunter would soothe his daughter with a simple melody he had memorised and long forgotten the words. 

The woman in front of him nodded, clearly thinking back as well.

“I want her to know that it’s a comfort,” she replied. “That it’s a sign that she’ll never be alone and that I’ll never let anyone hurt her.” Hunter pulled a face, guilt filling him, but Omega stopped his thoughts short. “You don’t need to blame yourself for what happened to me, buir,” she insisted in a hushed tone. “It’s over now, and I have Mina and you and Crosshair and Wrecker and Echo.” She grinned. “Besides, your bu’ad doesn’t like seeing her ba’buir sad.”

As if by magic, Mina whimpered in her grandfather’s arms and he panicked a little before swaying with her and humming the same melody Omega had been. Before long, the tiny baby was asleep once more.

“I really am so lucky to have you,” Omega whispered as she observed Hunter with the baby. “Mina’s lucky to have you too, ba’buir.” She still teased him about his title of grandfather, even though he wore it like a badge of honour. Hunter rolled his eyes and smiled fondly at his daughter.

“And I’m lucky to have you, ad’ika,” he replied. “Mina couldn’t have a more perfect mother.” Omega snorted and went to protest, but he cut her off. “Omega. She couldn’t ask for better,” he insisted. His little girl’s eyes watered slightly as she smiled, taking Mina off of her ba’buir. She reached up and pecked him on the cheek before wishing him goodnight and heading back to bed with her now sleeping child. 

Feeling restless, Hunter decided that he was going to go and sit outside.

He eventually found himself outside, on the roof of their home; it was something he had started doing when Omega had been rescued from Tantiss for the second time. Watching the stars had always been soothing, and doing it from the safety of his home only improved the experience.

As he watched them tonight, he thought of his brother and the words he had whispered to Phee all those years ago. He smiled sadly as he thought about Omega and how much Tech had missed…

“Omega’s finally realised, Tech,” he spoke softly to the stars. “It’s finally hit her.” He chuckled. “You’d be so proud of her, I know you are.” 

It looked as though the stars twinkled just a little bit more as he spoke, almost like they were listening to his conversation and replying to him.

‘I’m always proud of her.’

Laying back and sighing, Hunter allowed the cover of the stars and the gentle, warm breeze lull him into a light sleep. He was sure that his back wouldn’t thank him later, but he couldn’t bring himself to care in that moment. His eyes heavy and his heart full, he fell asleep thinking of how lucky he was to have his family.

#the bad batch #sw tbb #tbb omega #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb echo #tbb crosshair #sw tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction #tbb fic #parental hunter #hunter is omega’s dad #space dad hunter #good parent hunter #good parent omega #new mum omega #family fluff #lots of fluff

[ecoamerica]

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