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hbyrde36 · 11 months

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Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

Chapter 3

Ch 1 Ch 2 ao3 link

*Eddie - 1986*

Eddie wasn’t dumb enough to break into a house in Hawkin’s wealthiest neighborhood in broad daylight, so he came back later that night once it was fully dark. Steve’s house backed up to the woods, so he parked a few streets over, where his beat up van would be a little less conspicuous, and snuck through tree-lined backyards until he reached the Harrington place.

He came alone. The kids would be mad when he told them about this, if he ever told them about this, but he wouldn't risk any of them being involved if he somehow got caught.

Eddie tried the back door first, thinking it might be kept unlocked for showings. No such luck. Looking at the flimsy lock, he thought about it for a moment because honestly, sliding glass doors are super easy to break into, but he decided it would be best not to leave any evidence that someone had been here.

Windows were next, and after trying several along the back and side of the house, he finally found one that was unlocked. Jackpot. It was tiny, and looked like it led into a laundry room. He took off his leather jacket and battle vest, knowing it would be easier to squeeze through without the extra bulk. He tossed them both behind a nearby bush and hauled himself up through the small opening.

Eddie’s not sure he’d be able to accurately describe just how creepy it was walking around Steve Harrington's empty house, if anyone ever asked. It was dead silent, dark, and the little remaining furniture was covered in white sheets. It made him jumpy, he kept expecting something to pop out at him, like a bad horror movie.

It only got worse as he explored.

There was nothing to see, as far as he could tell, on the first floor. Not that Eddie knew what he was looking for, exactly. He figured he’d know it when he saw it. Shivering slightly, he headed up to the second floor, where all the bedrooms were likely to be.

An odd sense of deja vu overcame Eddie for a moment as he looked down the hallway. He shook it off, knowing it was just him scaring himself. The first two doors led to an empty bedroom and bathroom, respectively. There wasn’t so much as a toothbrush left behind in the bathroom and every surface was spotless. The third one he tried is where things got…strange.

He opened the door quickly, expecting to find another empty room and move on. Instead, he found the fully furnished bedroom of a teenage boy. Eddie’s jaw dropped. The bed was made up with a dark blue comforter, and nestled between the two thick pillows was a small well-loved brown teddy bear. It looked like one of those generic stuffed toys you might pick up at the last minute in a hospital gift shop.

A low dresser sat against the wall opposite the bed, along with a bookshelf that held more model cars than novels. There was a wooden desk and swivel chair, and hanging from the back of it was Steve’s old letterman jacket. Eddie turned slowly around the room, taking it all in. Apart from it being a little too neat for your average 18-year-old, and the frankly atrocious wallpaper, it’s exactly what Eddie imagined Steve's space to look like.

If he didn’t know better, and if the rest of the house wasn’t deserted, he’d think Steve had just stepped out for the day, that he might be back any minute. Eddie wondered why the boy’s things had been left like this, and what would happen to it all when the house sold. Out of morbid curiosity he checked the drawers and closet. Both were full of familiar looking jeans, sweaters, and polo shirts. Jesus, the whole room was a goddamn time capsule. He wasn’t sure if any of this amounted to a clue or anything, but it was definitely the kind of weird shit he was looking for.

Reluctantly, he left the room to explore the rest of the floor. There were two more doors to try. One led to the master suite, as bare as the rest of the house, the last opened up to a set of attic steps. Eddie wasn’t a big fan of attics, they tended to have bats, another thing he wasn't a big fan of, contrary to what his tattoo might imply.

It was dark on the stairs, and he cursed himself for not bringing a flashlight. It seemed like a reasonable decision at the time, he hadn’t wanted to risk someone seeing his light through a window and calling the cops, but it was almost pitch black up there.

It wasn’t as empty as the rest of the place, he could make out the shape of several boxes stacked in one corner and a small bed frame or cot along another wall. He tried to walk around a little, but quickly ran into a beam and almost knocked himself out.

Deciding it was too hazardous, and since he couldn’t see anything anyway, Eddie turned back towards the way out. He tripped over something and bent to pick it up. It felt like a book of some kind. He was curious but couldn't see shit, so he tucked it under his arm and went back down the steps. He'd get a better look at it later, in the light.

It was definitely time to go, he’d already been in the house for much longer than he planned to be, but as he passed Steve's door again, Eddie felt compelled to take one more look. As soon as he stepped inside, he saw headlights turning into the Harrington’s driveway. Shit.

Eddie ducked down. It was unlikely that whoever it was would notice him in a second story window, but better safe than sorry. He had to get out of there in case whoever it was decided to come inside. Who on earth would be viewing a house this late at night? No, it had to be something else.

As Eddie crouch-walked out of the room, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Steve's jacket. It was stupid, impulsive, and someone would almost certainly notice its absence, but he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing the thing and taking it with him.

He hid behind a half wall in the living room until he heard the car and its mystery driver pull away. Not feeling like climbing through a window again that night, Eddie left through the back, though he was unable to lock it from the outside. He’d already broken all the rules, so what was one mysteriously unlocked door.

Walking around to the side of the house, he went straight to the bush where he had stashed his jacket and vest, but they were gone. Motherfucker, he was so screwed! Eddie might not have been caught red handed, but he knew that his vest stood out, it was personal. If whoever found it was curious enough, they could easily find out who it belonged to. He didn’t waste anymore time looking, if he stayed here it’d only up his chances of getting snagged. He took off through the trees and sighed in relief when he finally reached his van.

It was after midnight when Eddie got back to the trailer. Wayne was working so at least he didn’t have to explain where he’d been. He set the two items he’d stolen down on the bed to look them over, going for the book first. It was an old Jcpenney Christmas catalog dated December 1983. Tucked in between its pages was a purple marker with some kind of pink fuzzy puff ball thing on the end of it. Too juvenile to belong to Steve’s mom, and he was sure the guy hadn’t had any siblings. Maybe a younger female cousin had left it behind? He supposed it could be Steve’s, he wasn’t one to judge, but he’d be surprised. Eddie flipped through the pages, taking note of the items that had been marked. A lot of girl’s clothes, some pretty pillows and blankets, more stuff for a bedroom, but also nail polish and a friendship bracelet kit.

It was curious. He didn’t know what to make of it, and although it probably had nothing to do with Steve's case, he still tucked it safely away in his nightstand drawer when he was done looking through it. Just in case.

He picked the jacket up next and held it up to his face, breathing in deeply through his nose. It was faint, but he could smell Steve's cologne on it. He didn’t know what it was called, only that Steve had been wearing the same fragrance since junior high. Eddie would recognize it anywhere. Under that was the faint odor of cigarettes, and sure enough, when he dug into the pockets there was an old pack with two very dried out cigs left inside.

Damn Harrington, I didn't know you smoked, Eddie thought. Little bit of bad boy in you after all, wasn’t there?

He checked the other pocket and pulled out a single polaroid photo. Eddie’s breath caught in his throat as he looked down at the face he hadn’t seen in over two years.

Steve was pulling a goofy grin, no doubt for the amusement of the little girl who joined him in the photo. She smiled wide, eyes practically shining with happiness. She had dimples, and very little hair. Eddie didn't recognize her, but something about the girl was familiar, like he'd seen those eyes before. He wondered if she was the person the puffy pen belonged to, and who she was to Steve.

He took out his wallet and stuffed the photo inside for safe keeping. The jacket, he folded carefully and tucked under a stack of junk in his closet to keep it hidden.

Eddie slept in late the next morning. On top of going to bed well past one in the morning, following his criminal escapades, he’d spent the whole night running from one weird dream to another. All of them starring Steve and the mystery kid from the photo. It’d been a while since he dreamed of Steve, though it used to be quite a common occurrence. It made sense, Eddie figured, he’d been so fixated on Steve lately, it was no wonder the boy was haunting his dreams again.

Rolling out of bed, he threw on the first items of clothing he could find. Normally he wouldn’t bother until after coffee, but the boys were coming over today and they didn’t exactly respect things like decent visiting hours, or knocking on doors. The last thing he needed was Dustin and all his friends busting into the trailer to find Eddie standing in the kitchen in nothing but his holey underwear.

When he did finally step out of his room, he was doubly grateful that he had taken the time to get dressed. Sitting on the living room couch was uncle Wayne, who should have been sleeping, all of the younger boys, and chief Jim Hopper, who was holding Eddie's leather jacket and battle vest in his hands. He didn’t know how he hadn’t heard this many people in the small trailer, he must have really been out of it.

All eyes fell on Eddie when he entered the room. The boys were sulking, Wayne looked worried and Hopper… well, Eddie didn’t know the man well enough to interpret his expression, but it looked a lot like Wayne’s. Which was weird. He had clearly been caught, Hopper should be pissed. Why wasn’t he being arrested right now?

Hopper rose from his seat and approached Eddie cautiously. He held the bundle of clothes out to him and Eddie took it, eyes wide.

“I think we need to talk.”

*Steve - 1984*

The early days at Hawkins lab were rough. Steve was stripped of everything, given a plain gray sweat suit, and tossed into a windowless room on arrival. He could hear Eleven screaming his name over and over again, as she was dragged off somewhere down a long hallway.

His accommodations were bare-bones. A small cot was shoved against one wall, covered in only a thin cotton blanket and a single pillow. There was a small writing table with a chair, and a toilet and sink sat in the corner. He spent the entire first day pounding on the locked door and demanding loudly to see his sister.

He continued to beat on the door long after his knuckles had split and blood began to stain its surface. He screamed himself hoarse but didn’t stop until Brenner came by for a visit, and a warning. “I’ll remind you, Steven, that you are only here at my discretion, as a courtesy. I would just as soon have you killed as have you released, if you continue to be more trouble than you’re worth.”

He stops banging after that.

Steve gave it a few days, but when there’s still no sign of El he started to panic. Not having many options, he briefly considered refusing to eat the meals he’s served three times a day, until he remembered that a hunger strike is worth nothing when your tormentors don’t care if you live or die. All he would accomplish is making himself weaker, and that wasn’t acceptable. He needed to stay strong, for her.

In the end, three weeks go by before the door opens and he is finally greeted by a set of familiar brown eyes. She was wearing clothing similar to his own and her hair had been freshly buzzed. The smile on Eleven’s face was dull, but present, as he surged forward to wrap his arms around her.

He pulled back after a few short moments and studied her face. “Are you okay? What did they do to you?”

She didn’t answer, instead she took him by the hand and led him further down the hallway. Two men dressed all in white followed closely behind.

They entered a room through a set of double doors. The guards remained outside in the hall, or would they be considered orderlies? Steve didn’t know, and supposed it didn’t really matter anyway, the bottom line was that they were being watched closely. Steve hadn’t seen much of the lab yet, apart from his own cell-like room, but after hearing eleven’s stories, he would know this place anywhere.

“The rainbow room.” He whispered, a little awestruck to be seeing it in person. It was just as she had described, the bright colors standing out in stark contrast to the white walls and floor. There were various games and activities set up at different stations throughout the room. Eleven went straight for the chess board and turned to look at Steve expectantly. He looked around for another minute, willing away the painful tightening in his chest, as he took it all in.

Finally, he joined her on the other side of the game board. “I don’t know how to play.” He said softly.

“I’ll teach you.”

She patiently showed him how each piece was allowed to move. He didn’t really get it, but that didn’t matter, she explained, it was just something to make them look busy while they talked.

Steve inclined his head towards one of the cameras in the ceiling. “Can they hear us?”

El kept her attention locked on the chess board as she answered. “No, there’s no sound. Only video. If we are too loud, the guards might hear from outside, but otherwise we can talk freely.”

He followed her lead, attempting to look casual, disinterested even, as they spoke.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to come see you. Papa wouldn’t let me until I agreed to help them put the monster back.” She said.

“Monster?” Steve asked, blood running cold.

“The day I ran away, I was looking for something, in the dark place..”

Steve nodded along. He didn’t really know what the dark place was, but he was used to this by now, not always knowing what she meant when she described something to do with her powers, but doing his best to follow along anyway.

“I didn’t find it, but something found me. A creature, taller than you, and it had no face. Its mouth opened like a flower. I shouldn’t have touched it. It screamed, and I was so scared. I pulled away too fast and I think it used me to cross over to this side.” She maintained a neutral face but her eyes looked haunted.

It was so hard not to react, to concentrate on their game, when all Steve wanted to do was comfort her.

“Is that how you got away? Because they were busy fighting the monster?” He asked.

“Yes. It’s been here all this time, they were able to trap it, but needed me to get rid of it.”

Steve ground his teeth. He could tell she blamed herself, but as far as he was concerned they brought her back here to clean up their mess. She wouldn’t have found the monster if Brenner hadn’t been forcing her to look for some mysterious bullshit. Why hadn’t they just killed the thing?

“I did it.” She continued, “but I was so tired after. I slept for a really long time. I needed to…” She trailed off. Her vocabulary had grown so much in their time together, but she still got stuck sometimes.

“Recharge?” Steve offered.

She let out a small smile. “Yes.”

“But you’re okay now? You’re sure?”

Before she could answer him, the doors opened and an unfamiliar man walked in. He wore a white coat over his brown suit, so Steve assumed he was another Doctor. Their time together was up, it seemed.

“Hey kiddo.” The man said, greeting El warmly.

Steve bristled, moving to stand in front of her.

“Please, Steve. There's no need for that. I’m not here to hurt her.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the man dubiously. He didn’t believe it, but he knew there was no point in arguing.

The man shook his head and offered Steve a smile that, if he didn't know better, he would say looked fond.

“I’m Doc Owens” He said, extending a hand. Steve shook it automatically, years of having good manners drilled into him making it a reflex.

“It’s okay Steve, I will see you tomorrow.” El said, stepping up beside him.

“Will she?” He was looking at her as he asked, but the question was directed at Owens.

“Of course, that was the deal. Eleven has agreed to continue our work in exchange for having you here, and getting a minimum of one hour of family time.” Steve had to squeeze his eyes shut. He would not cry in front of this man, but god did he hate this.

“What exactly is your work?” Steve asks.

“You’ll have to speak to Doctor Brenner about that. I don’t know what I'm allowed to tell you. I’m sorry.”

The thing was, Owens sounded like he meant it. Steve didn’t understand. Maybe he was actually a nice guy, or perhaps he was just a good actor. Either way, Steve filed the information away for later.

He does, in fact, get to see his sister daily after that. He cherishes what little time they get together, even if he is frustrated at her new refusal to talk about what she does when he’s not around.”

Steve also gets put to work, finally. It’s nothing exciting, cleaning mostly. He isn’t given a key card, for obvious reasons, so he has to be escorted to each new area when he’s done with the last, but it's fine. He doesn’t mind cleaning, had always found it therapeutic, and honestly he’s just happy to have something to do with his time because he was starting to lose his mind here. The new job also came with an exciting perk, the opportunity to learn the layout of the building.

Eventually, Steve starts having his own weekly sessions with Doctor Brenner. He imagines this is what therapy would be like, if your doctor was a manipulative sociopath, that is.

“I’m sure by now Eleven has told you what we do here.” Brenner began.

Steve had refused to speak at first during these sessions, but was again reminded of the consequences if he chose to be uncooperative.

“She hasn’t told me anything, but I'm sure you know that. I’m guessing you threatened her into silence with me?”

“We both know that’s not entirely true. She told you about the creature, didn’t she?”

Steve scowled. “You’re right, she did tell me how she had to save your asses.”

“Now, son, It was her mess to clean up.”

Steve snorted.

“You believe she has done no wrong, but I wonder. Has she told you about the man she condemned to death by sending him into that place?”

Steve wasn’t dumb, contrary to popular belief. He knew what Brenner was trying to do, and it wouldn’t work. There's nothing this man could say that would turn him against El, but he never knew what information would be important, so he decided to play along for now.

“No, she didn’t”

“Henry was an orderly here. He’d taken a shine to Eleven, but it ended in disaster. More than one life was lost that day.”

Steve was at a loss for words. He believed in El, even if she had done what Brenner was implying, there must have been a reason for it. If it was true, she would tell him one day, when she was ready. He refused to let this man get in his head.

It’s been almost impossible to keep up with the days, but Steve is pretty sure it’s Fall the first time disaster strikes.

He and El were in the rainbow room when the alarm started blaring. They’d been having a good time laughing and drawing jack-o-lanterns with silly faces for each other. Steve wasn’t certain, but he thought it was near Halloween. As they drew, he told her about the holiday, and how kids would dress up in costumes and go trick or treating. He wished, as he did every day, that they were back home so he could show her these things instead of just telling her about them.

The sound of the alarm is jarring to Steve, but Eleven looks stricken, terrified.

Before he can form words to ask what’s going on, the two men who were tasked with looking after them today burst into the room.

“Time to go.” One of them said, as he gripped Steve roughly on the arm. The second man grabbed Eleven. They were forced out into the hallway, where he shrugged off the man’s grasp.

“What’s going on?” Steve demanded.

Neither of the guards answered or acknowledged that he spoke, Steve knew they wouldn’t. He was getting really tired of all this cloak and dagger bullshit.

When they reached his room, Steve was shoved inside. He expected them to move on quickly, to take El away, but instead he could hear the two men arguing in the hall.

“She needs to be put in her own room.”

“We’re in lock down, her wing is cut off from this side!”

“Take her back to the rainbow room then.”

“There's no lock on that door!”

“Fine!”

The door to his room abruptly reopened and Eleven stumbled inside. Steve could hear gunshots and men shouting. It was distant but still too close for comfort, and they were sitting ducks in here, trapped. Steve pulled El over and sat her down on the bed. She was shaking.

“Sweetie, please. Do you have any idea what’s going on out there?” He asked, carefully.

She was crying fully now, and he felt awful for pushing her.

“I didn’t mean to do it, I told them it wasn’t safe!” She wailed.

Steve's stomach sank. “What isn’t safe, El?”

Her lower lip wobbled as she spoke. “I opened a door. To the place where the monster lives.”

It’s not good news, but Steve thinks if these people were able to contain the thing once, they should be able to do it again, right? He’s about to say as much, to reassure her, when the sound of many echoing growls reaches them. More than one creature then, great.

“Is that..” He trails off, looking at her.

El shook her head. “I don’t know. It sounds…I think they are something different.”

Before Steve could panic further, the door opened again, revealing a frantic Doc Owens.

“Kiddo, I know you have no reason to help us but we need you. There’s too many of those things, and you’re the only one who can close the rift.”

Eleven looked at Steve for a long time before she nodded. “I’ll do it.”

“But, El, sending back just one monster put you down for weeks. What if..”

“I’m stronger now. It’s okay, you don’t need to worry. I’ll be fine.”

He knew he had no choice but to trust her, but he didn't have to let her go alone. “I’m going with her, I'm not letting her face, whatever those things are, alone.” Steve said, turning to face the other man. It was a statement, not a question. He was determined not to let her out of his sight tonight.

To his credit, Owens quickly agreed. “I understand. Come on, we need to go now.”

In the hallway, Steve asked to stop off at the supply closet. He knew better than to ask for a gun or something, but he didn’t want to run around empty handed either. Along with cleaning products, mops and buckets, the supply closet also housed some old sporting equipment, things that must have been leftover from the days when they had let the kids outside for exercise. Steve snatched up the baseball bat he had seen collecting dust in the corner, and the three of them headed for the elevator.

Steve was wholly unprepared for the things he saw that night. Like a pack of wild dogs, these smaller creatures, who shared the same flower petal mouths as their taller counterparts, guarded the gigantic pulsing red portal in the basement of the lab.

Several men wielding automatic weapons covered Steve and El as they boarded a platform that would lower them closer to the center of the opening. Steve’s head was on a swivel as he tried to keep his eyes on all of the creatures at once. He didn’t know how many there were, he tried to keep track but quickly lost count.

More than once he was forced to wind his bat back and swing, hitting the creatures in the head with a sickening crack, as they tried to get to Eleven. As if somehow they knew she was here to stop them.

Steve watched transfixed, as this amazing girl, who he was lucky enough to now call family, reached her hands out and screamed. She threw everything she had at it, as blood poured out of her nose in thick rivulets, and slowly the giant rift started to close.

Eleven swayed, and Steve was forced to drop the bat to catch her. She kept going as he held her up. He offered her his strength the only way he knew how. He held her, kissed the top of her head, and told her he wasn’t going anywhere. He told her how amazing she was, and that he believed in her.

As soon as the rift was sealed all of the dog-like creatures collapsed. Unfortunately, before that happened one of them got a little too close and sliced its claw into Steve’s back. He ignored the pain and kept a firm hold on his little sister.

When it was all over he lowered El to the ground slowly, careful not to drop her. She had passed out once her task was done. He worried for a moment that she had given too much of herself this time, but her pulse was strong.

Steve laid down next to her to catch his breath. He only meant to rest for a moment but he was fading fast. He didn’t know how bad his wounds were, but distantly thought he might be bleeding out. He reached for El, so afraid to leave her here alone, and managed to drag her to his chest before the world went black.

Chapter 4

@penny00dreadful @buckleybarnes @steddie-there @yeahhhh-suga @goinsteddie @brbsoulnomming @the-s-is-silent @paintsplatteredandimperfect @estrellami-1 @herebedragons404 @epiclazershark @iaminmultiplefandoms @adaed5 @mentallyundone @hardboiledleggs @hotshot9 @manda-panda-monium @ellietheasexylibrarian @stxrcrossed186 @5ammi90 @meccaminayah

#steddie fanfic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #ao3 link #life is a game #steve harrington/eddie munson #alternating pov #steve and el sibling supremacy

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demonic-snake · 7 months

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Zolu

Fanfic

When the end

Grab his hand, squeeze his wrist so hard that the bones crack - if they could - and look straight into his eyes, swallowing saliva and trembling all over from fatigue and the wounds caused. “This is dangerous,” I want to drink too much, it’s difficult to speak. “I won’t let you in alone.” “Zoro,” he turns around, smiling unusually, barely noticeable, but confidently. - Everything will be fine. - Luffy... - Or don't you trust me? - I trust! It comes out of his mouth before he has time to think. This trust was strong enough, long enough to have become a part of Zoro himself, like a soulmate tattoo that was carved on his wrist, now burning as if it had been set on fire.

But you better not go there alone. I have a bad feeling. Luffy grins, causing a storm of emotions, not the most pleasant ones. I wanted to nail him to the ground and leave him lying there until it was all over, and then grab him and go to the ship. Together. But so far only the painful groans of the other nakama could be heard, and I just wanted to cover my ears, myself and him, because it was the captain who was most painful to hear. He grabs the hat from his head, first presses it to his chest, and then puts it on Zoro’s head, stretching his lips in a smile, too unusual, too alien, and turns around.

I’ll go there and definitely come back,” Zoro clutches the hilt of the katana in his hands and gets angry. “Listen carefully, Zoro. That's an order. “Zoro doesn’t like these words.” They sound like the captain is saying goodbye. Luffy says goodbye. - Take everyone and go to the ship. And he runs away without even getting a word in. And the tattoo burns, pricks, warming up the blood, causing you to convulsively grab your hand and hiss through your teeth. Sit on your knees, rip off your sleeve and get angry, angry, angry! Angry at shitty soulmates and shitty rules. The red, neat inscription “Take everyone and leave for the ship” is carved precisely on the veins on the wrist, as if calling for cutting right there. My hand hurts unbearably, more than my heart, which was squeezing from the realization that the captain... No, Luffy is leaving forever. - Come back, bastard! – The blood boils, as if heated by the heat of a tattoo. – Don’t you dare leave and leave the team! Stupid! Come back, mother! The voice breaks, trembles, fades away. My heart ached more and more, and only one thought was beating in my head: “If only it were a coincidence!” There are coincidences, but this is hardly a coincidence. Zoro would not go to another crew, would not bow his head to another captain, and would not listen to anyone's orders other than Luffy's. My legs refused to move, refused to stand. The body, like lead, froze, stopped trembling. And only a quiet voice, almost a whisper, made it clear that Zoro was not a statue. That he's still alive. - Captain... Luffy, don't go, damn you! Don’t... - The voice trembled. - Throw them away... Your mother... - Why the hell are you sitting here, idiot?! They pull the collar sharply, forcefully, leaving marks on the neck. Sanji irritably throws his cigarette on the ground and drags behind him a heavy carcass that refuses to leave this place. “Didn’t you hear the captain’s order, you idiot?!” Are you waiting for them to kill you here?! – Throws him forcefully onto the deck, risking breaking something. “Quiet your fucking pride and let the captain do what he’s going to do!”

I wanted to bark something like “you don’t know a damn thing,” but my throat hurt from shouting into the void for so long. His mouth was dry, the wounds on his body burned mercilessly, and Chopper immediately ran to treat them. But the tattoo hurt more. My whole wrist ached with pain, I wanted to carve words into the skin with a katana, along with the veins, and watch the blood drip onto the deck. Convulsively clench your fist and close your eyes to fall into sleep, without any dreams, to wake up first early in the morning, when the sun was barely visible on the horizon, and rush off the ship to the quiet island. There was no fire, no screams, or anything else. Just like the captain. Squeeze your wrist, feeling the still burning tattoo on the skin of your palm, break into a run with your legs barely moving from the wounds, trying to shout out at least something. My throat hurt. The body was burning. It was getting dark before my eyes. Stand on your wounded knees next to the lifeless body, no longer squeezing a hand, but someone else’s hat, pressing it to your chest, and look at the words on the captain’s wrist. “Don’t you dare leave and leave the team!” So that's the moment he stopped hearing Zoro... Laugh. Quietly, barely noticeable, to hide the unbearable pain. Hang the hat on your face, hiding your tears, feeling like a lost child. A child who lost his mother somewhere on a crowded street, not knowing what to do next and where to go. He lost his captain. Your soulmate. A man whom he managed to love with all possible types of love: as a friend, brother, son and boyfriend. I lost the one I was going to follow my whole life. So, what is next?

#zolu #roronoa zoro #monkey d. luffy #zoro x luffy #fanfic #When the end #one piece

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magekate07 · 1 year

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The Rise and Fall of My 2022

Happy New Years Eve… or New Years, or belated New Years. It depends on when you read this.

2022 has been a rise and fall for me for me. When January 2022 arrived, I was looking forward to a lot of things: my first Art Fight, Craig of the Creek season 4, and finally posting my fiction stories after such a long time.

For the first half of the year, things were fine. I greatly enjoyed Art Fight, I posted my first fanfic on AO3, and COVID restrictions were lessening. I was flaying high on cloud nine…

Then towards the end of August 2022, I fell to the ground.

The HBO Max animation purge happened and several beloved animations got removed, including Infinity Train. As someone who grew up on animation and was inspired by the stories they made, I obviously was upset by the blunt disrespect.

During this time, I started to overthink. When Infinity Train got removed, it wasn’t just from the streaming service, but from every single post that acknowledged the show’s existence got removed from Cartoon Network’s social media. If cooperations could just remove something just like that, what was going to stop them from doing the same to all the fan fiction and fan art? As a reminder, I was overthinking.

My brain just kept coming up with these scenarios of armored guards breaking into my home and arresting me just for being an artist. Every sci-fi/psychological thriller situation was just going through my head, and my mentality just hit rock bottom. Hearing the next season for Craig of Creek got cut just made it worse.

Fortunately, I didn’t stay like that forever. I pulled myself together and I continued making my art. Watching cartoons like Dead End: Paranormal Park definitely helped, and at least Infinity Train came back on YouTube. Also, while Craig of the Creek is ending, season 5 and the movie are still expected to come.

I started to feel slowly better. The Planttober drawing challenge and Nanowrimo gave me time to relax and calm myself…

Then I was pushed back down even deeper.

This time, the cause was on a matter more serious. It started a few weeks ago when I discovered that an AI bot could be scrapping and mining through AO3 to use the writings for its “learning.” Some might argue that the AI is using others stories as “reference,” but it’s really just stealing passages that an actual human probably put a lot of heart into. It’s not just writing that’s being victim to this; drawings and pictures are seemingly targeted as well.

Seriously, my impression of AI really went down in just the span of approximately one month. Admittedly, when I first discovered AI generated art, I played around with it because I thought it was… neat. However, when I learned how they actually get their “inspiration,” I wanted nothing to do with it. I threw out all my AI generated images and vowed if I wanted art, then I’ll just do my own.

It doesn’t help that at the time, I was (and probably still) being continuously followed by porn bots that I keep blockings and reporting. I had to block around twenty of them in this month alone! Before I would only get them sometimes, but I feel like they’re out of control over the course of December.

Anyway, the discovery of bots going through art got me concerned, and I looked up copyright laws and how to protect fanfics (and other forms of art). It taught me a lot about those subjects, but I’ve picked up disturbing things as well. In my search, I’ve also read the experience of those who have had their writings (fanfic and original) plagiarized. The more I read about them, the more terrified I got. Then when I learned that stolen works could also be sold online under that name of the plagiarizers, that was for me. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

I knew deep down that plagiarism was a risk when someone posts their work publicly online, but to hear it actually happen to writers and artists was terrifying. I create things because I like it, and I post it online so I can share it with others; not so some thief can claim it for themselves!

That reality didn’t just crush me, it grind me to the ground. I just kept asking myself: what’s the point? Why do all this art anyway? Just to give up to story stealing pirate or a wannabe program? It wasn’t going to be on there forever anyway! So why bother? Everything seemed pointless. To be honest, being in this slump made me want to resort to what I did back then: just give up. Delete my blog, delete my fanfics; everything and it’ll all be safe…

However, I didn’t do that. I may have written a few vent passages and made some of my old posts private, but I didn’t delete all of it. Tumblr might not be the perfect website, but it’s the best place where I can show my artwork than at any other website, and I don’t want to give up on my fanfic; especially since I’ve only been on AO3 for a year and the current story I’m working on is just beginning. Yet, the risk of knowing what could happen still hurts me.

So, I’ve just been wallowing in my slump and paranoia: took a pause in working on my fanfic, constantly checking online to make sure my art hasn’t been stolen, and reporting and blocking every porn bot that dares follow my blogs. In spite of that, I have been doing things to help out as well: talk to my dad about my problems, do art for myself and not the public, and listening to music with really depressing lyrics. The last one actually helps a lot.

Yet, the one thing that’s been helping me the most is seeing and reading the works of other people who post their stuff online. I don’t know how aware they are of the risks and annoyances, but the fact that they still share their art despite those factors is inspiring. It’s encouraging me to keep going.

It’s been some time since I found myself in a slump, and I’m slowly feeling better, but not exactly out. The fear is still very much real, and all my pictures from this point will have watermarks (some might have multiple). However, the rate of both my writing and artwork are going to be much slower. I might not post art on here as much, given I want to deter the bots’ attention, and I want to create things for myself. It’s probably for the better in the long run.

That said, I will end with two PSAs:

PSA number one: if you find work that is eerily similar or exactly alike to someone else’s art, report it immediately to the original creator. It is not right for anyone’s work to be stolen; not by another person or an AI. The less plagiarizers are out there; the less anxiety there will be when post art publicly. However, be a hundred percent sure if you suspect the work has been plagiarized before reporting anything in order to avoid causing drama.

PSA number 2: report and block any bots. There as been a surge of them recently. This isn’t as serious given that the bots that are currently plaguing Tumblr are just… adult content, but they are annoying as flies! Just look out for any icons that show real life women, suspicious links, and user names that… just don’t seem normal (you’ll know it when you see it). Then report for spam and block them.

Thank you for reading this long post of mine. Don’t let things take you down. Happy New Years, and may 2023 be better for all of us.

((Fun fact: the stick figure illustrations was inspired by Alan Becker and his amazing animation. Also, it’s less time consuming to draw.))

#texts and illustrations #happy new year’s eve #happy new year #stick figure #2022 for me #a year in a nutshell #i hate bots too #watch out for plagurizers #hope things get better #probably need a social media break #2022 #last post of the year

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daedalmirage · 2 years

Text

purple hyacinth ♥ marigold ♥ r.e: well

Usually Marigold liked to say that she had a very good sense of reading people and situations.

Granted in meeting some people in their cohort that belief had been tested and shaken and stirred somewhat, but it was still something she held as a core belief about herself. Sure, she definitely wasn't psychic, but situational and personal awareness - how to flex and work with something, considering how others might - could get you a long way too.

Unfortunately if it came to it, Marigold had had no idea how the group at large would react to any kind of admittance of having part of their very motive written up and around her arms.

(Well. There were guesses to be had for one or two.)

She tries to keep herself her neutral as the surface tension post her admission breaks, though fails near immediately; as she moves her gaze from the professional exchange with Franz to Bella's miraculously filled again seat, one of Marigold's cheeks pinching as she bites the inside of her cheek to stop her expression getting too pained in another direction. Charles pulls her attention too, frown deepening as she struggles with the phone before appearing to ultimately do nothing- briefly raised to meet Inkyo's unplaceable look with that alarmed pain stifled again.

And then, well, Gawain and Ray's communication she'd never pretend to be able to understand. That was their thing, she had her own.

(Did she maybe expect more uproar rather than this quiet tension? Is that why it's settling so oddly under her skin? She's been a little too far from the manufactured, overdramatised reactions for some time now, so it's odd to expect.)

(Though maybe that scene of loud hands-over-mouth gasps and explosive reactions is all she ever can fall into?)

(She's tired.)

Though she has to offer Gawain something- voice softening ever so slightly in the best she can do for reassurance at this distance.

"...It doesn't hurt. I mean, yeah, I hope ink poisoning from markers isn't a thing like they always went on about in school, but I just... didn't wanna risk any of this stuff peeking out. That's why I've not been moving much."

Indeed it seems like with her jacket off there's a whole new range of motion available to Marigold, combing a hand through her hair and rolling her shoulders a couple of times.

As ever though, Tezuka has a whole neat batch of questions ready to go, and Marigold tilts her head towards him in a nod of acceptance. But first she ticks off one thing, looking to Franz and managing half of a wry smile.

"Aw, sorry, you guys don't have to worry. I didn't exactly think I would have the time to take everyone's secret hostage or something while I was there. I only read the one with the Mark information in it."

Speaking of.

"But okay, fine, you want a story?"

With her jacket now a mess in her lap and lacking its sleeves to keep ensuring those black bars were covered, Marigold opts to trace circles back and forth on the table instead; words carefully laid out one in front of the other, but with that same projection of announcement.

"...When Misery gave us that motive, the only thing I was thinking about was finding a way to get that information about this stupid mark. Cause Kei's right- even if I've always thought we're gonna find a cure here, I still wanna take anything we can get from Laplace. Ideally without anyone having to die, you know? I know I've been banging on this whole time about avoiding loopholes and stuff, but I just... I've been going nuts all week just trying to figure out the rules for this thing, cause it felt like Misery left a lot open."

(It's a flippant statement- but how is she meant to summarise a week of placing blocks between herself and others to avoid dragging them into less savory actions, curled up in bed wishing she could fall back asleep rather than churn through that whole introduction piece by piece again, the burst of adrenaline she'd felt thinking she had something that had only brought them here?)

She runs one hand down her face.

"And yeah, like I said already, I figured I had something good enough? So I got some break-in stuff together - you know, hammer, gloves, whatever - and went for it. That sleep drink was something I'd thought about really early on, so I offered to take Inkyo other drinks during the week so she wouldn't suspect tampering too much, annnnnnd its that easy."

It sounds like something that should have been drawn out with relish. But it was very matter of fact.

"So that's Inkyo out for the count, I break open the case, do all that stuff I just described about reading the mark stuff, buuuuut then the privacy thing goes off. And I don't wanna leave those secrets so easily open for anyone to grab while Inkyo's still out, so... so I stayed in the bookstore."

A deep breath.

"...And I did run into Nina. I dunno what she was doing there, if someone had chased her in or if she was running off or whatever, but... but she startled me really badly cause it was super dark there, so- so I ended up hitting her."

(Another sound that can't be forgotten easily.)

"Though I- I don't think I did anything fatal, I just hit her in the side and fought with her a bit, you know? I got out of there as soon as she- as soon as I could get her off me, if she was dying already, I- I didn't-"

Her voice breaks once, twice.

"Ugh, none of this was meant to happen! I was just gonna get the cure, apologise to Inkyo when she woke up, then tell you guys and we'd have something to actually work with! And now someone's dead, and I can't tell you the killer because I don't know, but like hell you're gonna believe that. It may as well actually be me, cause... cause I'm always just the bad guy, right? That's like my whole thing, may as well just... may as well just let you guys extend it to murder too."

#daedal mirage #ch3 #ch3 trial #marigold

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Note

I have a sentence for you...or a prompt. I don't know what I want you to do with it, but by god please do something:

"He doesn't have anxiety. He just has a god complex and no opposable thumbs!"

My darling nonny. First of all, what. Second of all, I love you and I love this prompt! I made the weirdest noise when I read it. I did not expect that second sentence XD

The thing is, I didn't know what I wanted to do with this prompt either...while being sober, so here's what my slightly tipsy brain came up with :D

word count: 2160

can be read platonic or romatic I think

content warnings: use of the name ‘Julian’ (not by Geralt), one very bad sexual innuendo (nothing sexual happens)

part 2

The spell hit Jaskier square in the chest, before Geralt had time to react and throw himself in front of him.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s eyes went wide, though not in fear but in anticipation, as they snapped over to the witcher. “Geralt, what’s happening?”

Helplessly but not overly concerned, Geralt watched as Jaskier’s arms took on an unnatural position, bent at his sides. The bard’s head started to bob.

Geralt blinked at him and turned to the young sorcerer that looked curiously at Jaskier.

“Why aren’t you more worried?” The mage furrowed his brows. “Shouldn’t he be terrified?”

He turned to Geralt, who only shrugged.

“This happens regularly,” Geralt replied and his lips twitched up. “Last month, he’s been hit by a truth spell and the month before, he drank a potion that made him invisible to all but Roach.” His smile turned into a grin. “That was a very peaceful time.”

“Excuse me?” Jaskier squawked, his head still bobbing. “You missed me!”

“I didn’t. I could still hear you.” Geralt turned his attention back to the sorcerer who stared at them as if they were insane. “So, what exactly does this spell do?” Almost casually, Geralt’s hand wandered to the sword strapped to his back. “It better not be anything actually dangerous.”

Jaskier might have gotten cocky with how easily Geralt was able to break curses with all the experience he now had, but that didn’t mean Geralt wasn’t prepared to fight anyone who meant to cause Jaskier true harm. Even if Jaskier thought himself near invincible by now.

“No, no!” The mage held up his hands. “It’s not dangerous. I swear! It’s just supposed to…” he swallowed, his eyes darting between Jaskier and Geralt, clearly trying to figure out which one was more dangerous: The armed witcher or the bard who didn’t seem to be bothered in the least by being cursed but seemed rather giddy at the prospect of finding out what was going to happen next – after all, curses made for the most exciting songs, according to the bard. “It’s supposed to make his appearance match his character.”

Jaskier opened his mouth, probably to say something along the lines of ‘I already am as beautiful on the outside as I am on the inside’, but instead of words, a loud cock-a-doodle-doo left Jaskier’s lips. For a second, he looked terrified, before his expression morphed into one of fury and he let out a tirade of what was probably supposed to be insults.

Geralt exchanged a look with the mage, drawing up one eyebrow, when Jaskier continued to cluck.

“Ah, well, you see,” the mage turned bright red, “Marx was quite sure that he,” he glanced at Jaskier, who suddenly shrunk, his hair turning bright red and rising up and turning into a coxcomb, “was a coward and would turn into a chicken.”

Jaskier gave the mage one final indignant glare, probably cursing his rival’s name, before his mouth turned into a beak and his face was no longer that of a human, capable of expressing such emotions.

“Your employer was wrong,” Geralt deadpanned. “Jaskier is anything but a coward.” With the corners of his lips twitching and a glint in his eyes, he added, “But he definitely can be a cocky bastard.”

Jaskier, the cock, fluttered with his wings in indignation and let out another crow, looking up at Geralt. Though Jaskier could no longer speak or make facial expressions, Geralt knew exactly what the pleading look Jaskier sent him meant.

Geralt knew a hundred and one ways to break a curse. But more importantly, he knew Jaskier.

And so, Geralt knew exactly what Jaskier needed him to do.

It was ridiculously easy to break into Valdo Marx’ quarters at night, even while carrying a rooster that never stopped clucking and fluttering his wings excitedly in one arm. Jaskier could count himself lucky that he hadn’t turned into a peacock. It might have been more fitting, if Geralt had anything to say about it, but it would have definitely made scaling the building and squeezing through the window together, much harder.

Once inside the troubadour’s rooms, Geralt set Jaskier down gently.

“Do your worst,” he said with a grin and watched Jaskier ruffle his feathers in excitement, before he darted across the room, tearing at Valdo Marx’ notebooks with his beak, tearing at the decorative pillows on the armchair and plucking the strings of the lute standing against a wall harshly enough with his claws that they nearly snapped.

Geralt grimaced at the sound, but leaned back against a wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest, watching in amusement as his best friend wreaked as much havoc in his rival’s rooms as possible.

The noise must have roused Valdo Marx from his sleep, for a muffled curse came through the closed door, presumably leading to the troubadour’s bed room. The sound of Valdo Marx jumping out of his bed and hasting towards his now destroyed living room was interrupted by Jaskier, who crowed again and fluttered his wings in an attempt to make himself taller, preparing to make an impression when Valdo finally saw him.

The door was flung open and a dishevelled troubadour appeared, staring in horror at the mess that was his living space.

“What in the name of –“

His eyes fell on Jaskier first, then he saw the witcher still leaning against the wall, pointedly casual. Realisation dawned on Valdo’s face, followed briefly by a flash of triumph, that instantly turned into regret when Jaskier began hacking at the notebooks with more glee than before, preening under the horrified attention of his new audience.

“Witcher,” Valdo said breathlessly. “Put a stop to this, this instant!”

Geralt lifted a brow. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I proved Julian is a coward.” He waved his hands through the air, his voice turning shrill with every second that his panic grew. “I get to see him anxious and he’s reacting very poorly and I have to face the consequences. I get it. I shouldn’t have hired that mage. Is that what you want to hear?”

Geralt let out a low hum, drawing it out longer than necessary, simply because he knew how much Jaskier enjoyed witnessing Valdo’s growing despair.

“You’re right, you’re the one who has to face the consequences for cursing him.”

Relief flooded Valdo’s face. “Great. Now make him stop!”

Jaskier looked Valdo directly in the eyes as he fluttered onto the table and ruined the remaining notes the troubadour had carefully arranged in neat piles on his desk in the least dignified way a bird could ruin something. Though Jaskier’s voice was stolen from him, the mess he left on the notes couldn’t have been a more obvious statement: Valdo’s songs were shit.

The slighted troubadour’s face turned red with fury.

“How dare you!” Valdo took a step towards the destructive rooster but thought better of it almost immediately. He settled on pointing an accusatory finger at Jaskier instead of risking coming anywhere near him. “You’re a cad and a coward! I should have known how poorly you’d react to being cursed – becoming panicked and being unable to control yourself!”

Geralt tilted his head to the side. “See, that’s the thing,” he said slowly, his voice even enough that only Jaskier would be able to tell how much he enjoyed this as well, “That’s where you are wrong. Jaskier isn’t a coward. His fluttering around and destroying things right now? He’s not having anxiety. He just has a god complex and no opposable thumbs!" Geralt gave Valdo a shit-eating grin. “And he’s got a crow to pluck with you.”

“He-“ Valdo visibly had to restrain himself. “Help me, witcher. You can’t just let this monster destroy my property. He…he-!”

“You want me to get rid of a monster for you?”

Valdo nodded eagerly.

Geralt exchanged a look with Jaskier and shrugged.

“I don’t work for free.”

Valdo spluttered. “You can’t be serious.”

Geralt remained silent and Jaskier took a threatening step towards the open door to Valdo’s bedroom, obviously with the intent of destroying Valdo’s bed in any way he could think of. Panic flashed across Valdo’s face.

“I’ll pay you!” he shouted quickly. “I – I’ll write a sing about you. If you help me, I’ll sing about…” his eyes darted around the room, clearly struggling to come up with something on the spot. His gaze found Jaskier, before he grabbed Geralt’s arm, licking his lips nervously, or perhaps in an attempt to look seductive, “ – about how masterfully you handle cock.”

Jaskier froze and Geralt could see the moment when Valdo realised that he had said the wrong fucking thing.

If cocks could look murderous, Jaskier definitely did in this moment.

Geralt couldn’t tell if his rage came from the prospect of Valdo writing a song about this encounter and making a profit out of it, or if he was indignant because Jaskier had had the exact same idea for a song. Or perhaps he had a problem with Valdo’s barely concealed attempt at compromising Geralt, something Jaskier himself had taken great joy in doing with the worst possible pick-up lines, since the day they had met.

Whatever the reason for his anger, Jaskier took a deliberate pause, in which Valdo had enough time to regret every decision that had led up to this moment, before he charged at the troubadour, fluttering his wings and jumping up into Valdo’s face, clawing at his curls and tearing at his lacy night shirt.

“Witcher!” Valdo screeched, not unlike a rooster himself, and waved his arms to shoo Jaskier off – unsuccessfully. “Make him go away! Break the fucking curse! I – I’ll pay you! Twenty crowns!”

“Seventy,” Geralt deadpanned. No one in their right mind would pay that much coin, but Valdo Marx was evidently desperate and his decision was helped along by the rooster, who’s beak came dangerously close to tugging at the troubadour’s moustache.

“Fine! I’ll pay you seventy crowns.” Valdo’s voice broke in his blind panic. He would likely be unable to sing the next day, from all the shouting he did. “Just get him off of me!”

Geralt waited another heartbeat, granting Jaskier a last moment of rightful – and undoubtedly petty – vengeance, before pushing off the wall, opening his arms invitingly.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier clucked in disappointment and pecked one last time at Valdo’s hair, before fluttering into Geralt’s arms.

The witcher left the troubadour’s rooms with his best friend, still in the form of a very smug cock in his arms, seventy crows richer and an experience he and Jaskier would laugh about many times over the next years.

As Geralt sat the rooster down on the bed at the room they had rented and let himself fall onto the bed next to him, Jaskier looked incredibly pleased with himself, preening and making noises, as if recounting the happenings, though Geralt had witnessed them first- hand.

When Geralt tilted his head in amusement, Jaskier seemed to realise that he still had no voice – or opposable thumbs - and let out a rather loud and obnoxious noise.

“Sorry,” Geralt said with a shit-eating grin, “I have no idea what you want from me. You’ll have to speak more clearly.”

Jaskier glared at him and fluttered closer to tug at Geralt’s hair impatiently.

Geralt chuckled and ran a hand over Jaskier’s soft feathers, making the bird-bard relax under his ministrations, though it was clear that Jaskier did so very reluctantly and would hold a grudge, if Geralt didn’t break the curse in the next five minutes.

Geralt hummed thoughtfully as he petted Jaskier.

“Just for the record, I thought taking revenge on Marx was a terrible idea,” he said, and when Jaskier clucked reproachfully, he added, “but it was quite impressive. And I had a lot of fun watching you.”

Geralt hadn’t known that cocks had the ability to look proud, but Jaskier somehow managed to do just that.

“In fact,” Geralt said slowly, already knowing that Jaskier would agree, once he heard Geralt’s full proposition, “how would you like to wait just a little longer before I break the curse?”

Jaskier pecked at Geralt’s fingers and glared at him.

“Come to Kaer Morhen with me,” Geralt said, flicking his fingers lightly against Jaskier’s beak. At his words, Jaskier perked up, cocking his head to the side curiously.

“Last winter, Lambert destroyed my room with a moon dust bomb. The damn silver shavings are still everywhere.” Geralt’s lips stretched into a wolfish grin. “I’m sure, as my ‘best friend in the whole wide world’, you wouldn’t mind returning the favour and wreaking a little havoc in my brother’s room. I couldn’t imagine anyone would be better suited for that job than you.”

Jaskier fluttered excitedly into Geralt’s lap and the sound he made in response to Geralt’s words could only be described as incredibly cocky.

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dodo-begone · 3 years

Text

Could you Not?

Pairing: Techno x Reader

Request: yooo remember a while ago when we were talking abt Techno hiding you from the yandere boys?? that would be hella neat to see ngl —

Word count: 1.9k

Warning: yandere, stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, panic attack at end

A/n: yan!minors are mentioned, that’s why there’s a yandere warning.

The day was predestined to be great; a day full of sunshine and peace. So many potatoes would be tilled, the dog army would grow exponentially and other calming hobbies.

Now let’s be honest, that isn’t the reality of things at all. Nothing is ever nice and simple. Life always needs to throw a curveball at people; keeping them on their feet, on edge for their entire existence. Techno was no exception from this rule. His life had been plagued by tragedy and hardships. It made him calloused and desensitized towards the world and whatever challenges it had to throw at him. Though nothing could have really prepared him for what came next. Well he actually did, in a way. Similar in reasoning yet very different in the reaction and how the problem was presented to him.

Puffy stood at his door, struggling to hold someone the size of her. They were thrashing around, screeching to be released from their confines. She looked exhausted and beyond worried. There were few words to describe her state. Sadness painted her face like clouds painted the sky; it was evident with every feature of her face, every movement of her brow and reddening eyes. Pants escaped her lips and the struggling wasn’t helping her catch the escaping breaths.

The person Puffy was holding wasn’t any better. They looked malnourished, dirty, panicked, stressed. Those were just the obvious and quick observations. There were probably so many other hidden issues with this person. Honestly, Techno didn’t want to deal with them or Puffy. He was absolutely done dealing with people.

He’d have to get over it though, as Puffy asked him to care for this mystery person. She pleaded so much, saying that if they couldn’t stay with him, they’d be in terrible danger. Techno was her only option in protecting this person. There were some horrible people looking for the person in her arms and she couldn’t protect them on her own. Honestly he was only half listening. He really didn’t want to hear about another person’s sob story and how they so desperately needed his help. How they just couldn’t make it without his help. Occasionally Techno nodded or gave a “mhm” to indicate he was listening. Because that’s the polite thing to do, even if you aren’t listening. It shows you are listening and seems polite. Though he should’ve paid a bit more attention because the next thing he knew a fucking child was getting shoved into his arms.

They were so tiny that they could qualify as a child. So frail, too skinny, hair matted and looked too pale for their natural complexion. Horrified couldn’t even describe how he felt; he did not want to be holding this person, they looked so fragile and could be hurt so easily. Plus they were screaming and crying, still fighting to get out your captor’s grip, which was currently him. Distressed and crying people weren’t the most pleasant to be around especially when you’re a seven foot tall, socially awkward piglin hybrid.

Techno tried to return them to Puffy’s possession. She refused, pushing them further into his hold. She kept insisting that he let them stay with him, at least for a little bit. There was little time to prepare a place for them to stay and they needed the constant protection and some care. Techno kept arguing with Puffy, saying that he really didn’t want, need or have the time to care for them.

It wasn’t long when Puffy finally ended the argument with one phrase; “you still owe me an IOU.”

_______________________________________________

“So is this it,” Techno reluctantly asked, gently bouncing the slumbering stranger. It was and wasn’t surprising how worn out they ended up after the argument. Half-way through the arguing and accommodations, they finally calmed and soon fell asleep. Though they were violently shivering; this conversation couldn’t keep going like this. They both looked at them and looked back at each other.

“Yes. Please,” Puffy whispered, gently putting her hand onto their arm. “Please take care of them for now. You don’t have to care for them long. I just-i just need some time to set them up a place and some help. There were few options to go with and you were the best one.”

Silence settled over them once again. Techno sighed, building his resolve to care for another kid. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Puffy awarded Techno with one of the most relieved smiles he had ever encountered. She was visibly relaxed, not holding herself up like a puppet who’s tense strings were being tugged. “Now get going Puffy,” Techno ushered. “I can take it from here.”

With that, Puffy started her trek back home, through the unforgiving tundra. As Techno watched her walk away, he wondered how she managed it. How she could carry someone the size of herself for god-knows how long.

He couldn’t ponder long. The person in his arms was still out in the harsh cold and definitely not dressed or prepared for weather like this. A very vulnerable position. With that, he opened the door with his foot and brought the two of you inside.

There weren’t many places to lay someone down. The floor was an option, but it was probably super cold. Techno wasn’t too sure, but he also didn’t want to risk it at the moment. Scanning around reveals a small issue; Techno’s reading chair is the only place to sit that isn’t the damn floor. Crackling fire brought his attention to the welcoming presence of the hearth. So either the floor with the fireplace or the chair which was a decent distance from the fireplace. Was it really a question at that point?

Walking over to the fireplace, Techno tried to disturb the person as little as possible. He started to slowly place them onto the ground. They wouldn’t really notice if they were as exhausted as they looked. When they touched the ground, they stirred and groaned at the change in temperature. Swiftly Techno place them on the floor and held his hands up; a way of saying “okay i’m not touching it so it shouldn’t break now- don’t break”. After a few moments of stillness, Techno deemed himself to be in the “all clear”. With that, he walked off to a different part of the house. He had to start setting up a room for his new guest. And get them food and proper clothing-

A ruckus from the living quarters disturbed him. Oh god what was going on now? Without much thought, he ran to the noise. When he arrived, he frantically looked around. He was looking for anything, but more specifically a danger. But it was much the opposite.

There, at his front door, trying to get out like their life depended on it, was that stranger. Well, it wasn’t a stranger. He couldn’t keep forgetting that. It was ______. Though it was hard to do that; they looked so different. Panic seemed to just possess them; their eyes were wide and bloodshot and their face was even paler than he remembered them in their pale state. Which was an odd statement but it was oddly true. He hadn’t thought that you could get any paler, yet here you are proving him wrong.

You two were in a stare off- trying to figure out what to do. It would be somewhat hilarious if the situation wasn’t so serious; a person trying desperately to get out of someone’s house in some of the most comical positions while a seven foot piglin just awkwardly stared from the other side of the room. The semi-trance was broken by you. Tears started to fall down your face, body started to violently shake, and then you started to try and destroy the door with your body.

Techno was holding you in a heartbeat. Once again, you were dangling and struggling to get out of his grasp. Last time it wasn’t his grasp you were trying to escape, but it was all the same in the end. Your crying soon reverted back to sobbing and screams. Flinching, Techno contemplated just dropping you. Yet he couldn’t; you were trying to escape and that wasn’t a good idea.

Carrying you around the house was a challenge; you were swinging what little weight you could and it was working. He barely got to the other end of the room before he got fed up with your little tantrum. Without a second thought, he just dropped you like a bag of potatoes. The moment you hit the ground, you scrambled to get as far away as possible. That leads you to a corner. You kept an eye of him yet curled up so much. He couldn’t tell if it was because you were cold or scared.

“Please let me go back.”

That catches Techno off guard. It was obviously you voice; he wasn’t talking and you were the only other thing that could talk here. Yet it didn’t sound like you. Your voice was now so gravely, scratchy and heavy. Like you hadn’t properly talked in a while. Though your crying definitely wasn’t helping. Even taking that into consideration, you sound way worse than someone who is just crying and occasionally screaming.

“Excuse me,” he mumbles, staring at you. Waiting for you to answer or proof that he was actually imagining stuff. It could’ve easily been a voice though-

“I said please let me go back,” you sniffled, turning to look at him more. Your eyes held such sadness, besides the tears. The yearning in them hurt. It was obvious you were missing something.

“Go back where,” Techno prodded. He tried his best to make it gentle so you wouldn’t close up again. So he slowly sat on the ground with you, scooting towards you as a pace you could easily stop.

“Back to my friends, obviously,” you stated, keeping a steady and guarded eye on Techno. “I want to go back home. Back to Tommy and Tubbo and Ranboo an-and Purpled.” Suddenly you started to cry much harder. So hard it was practically impossible to speak. Only hiccups and gasps left your lips.

“Let me go, I won’t bother you again.” You kept repeating that phrase. Even rephrasing it, but it was muffled. Well not muffled, but extremely hard to hear through your crying. Techno let you keep saying that in hopes you tire of it, yet it seemed to have the opposite effect. You only started to say it more clearly, louder, and more assertively. It was obvious you were bound and determined to go back to wherever the hell you were before.

“Hey kid,” Techno does his best to stop your babbling. The pleads had just digressed to nonsense, so it was more accurate to call that mess babbling. “I can’t do that.”

His answer wasn’t well received. It only made you sadder and madder; you even deployed the puppy dog eyes. You really wanted this.

“It’s not safe with them,” he reiterated. “You look sickly too. Did you not care for yourself with them?”

Silence consumed you; maybe now you were finally thinking more clearly.

A meek “no” left your lips. Realization seemed to hit you, at least somewhat. It was a step forward, and Techno was taking it wholeheartedly. Anything was progress and he just wanted this over. Some of the voices whispered that they wanted you to get better, but he ignored them.

“Then it’s settled. You’re staying here.”

#tw: yandere #tw: stockholm syndrome #c: techno #techno x reader #technoblade x reader #dsmp!techno #mcyt x reader #mcyt shipping #dsmp shipping #dodo writing #tw: kidnapping #c: puffy #tw: panic attack #dsmp x reader

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proserpina-magnus · 3 years

Note

☘️peter pettigrew

Hii! Like my other nsfw alphabets, this is a bit choppy and horribly edited. I hope you enjoy, mwah.

Peter Pettigrew Nsfw Alphabet

Reader: tried to make it nb as much as possible

Warning: pure smut and no editing.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Super sweet and gentle, definitely encourages you to take a nap and he'll bring you a snack or get you some water. He’ll rub your back and kiss your hot skin to cool you off. He definitely loves giving you praises and he’s spoil you rotten with his words.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your hands, for some odd reason he just finds them so cute whenever you grip his hand for support as you climax or hold his cock.

His favourite body part on himself delphiers between days, but he’s usually very fond of his eyes. He’s very fortunate that he can look at you in such a lewd manner.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He usually always cums in a condom, but he loves cream pies. He, not so surprisingly, likes giving you oral for the exact reason he can taste you, he actually thinks he’s addicted to it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s ashamed to admit, but once he was talking to James about a certain time when he fucked you in the library and James got a hard on. He swore he wouldn’t tell and it’ll be their secret, but he always felt guilty for sexualizing you like that.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s okay, he knew some of the terminology due to the other Marauders but with actual hands on experience; he had no idea. He felt a bit nervous during your first time but he didn’t need much help, he’d just pay attention to your reactions and get a clear view of what you’d like and focus on that.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes when you ride him, he likes to hold your hips and just let you use him for your heart's desire. If he had to choose another, doggy would be his favourite.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Peter doesn’t know he’s being funny until you have to stop and laugh, he’ll be confused on what he’d say and get a goofy smile on his lips while watching you laugh. Sometimes just the first awkward start of sex and the small giggles feel better than the serious times, but Peter can be really gentle and intimate if he wanted to be.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s somewhat groomed, he doesn’t necessarily care for your hair down there or his own. It’s a bit darker than his head hair, but he trims it sometimes just to keep it neat.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Lots of neck kisses, he needs to constant “I love you’s” during sex even if it’s rough. He’s actually pretty gentle during some moments and cares about your pleasure over his.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He actually never liked it, he likes your mouth a lot more even if it was just for cock warming. He’d enjoy your hands better than his, but he also has a somewhat size kink and seeing your much smaller hands take his cock please him a lot more.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

There isn’t necessarily a set number of kinks, he’d love to try anything that isn’t too “weird” as he would call it. He never really likes to stick to one kink, more like spreading them out depending on his mood. One day he’d want to tie you up and the other he’d let you do whatever you wanted. He adores pillow prince(ss) though.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere, he’d fuck you in honey dukes, the three break sticks, closets, near the black lake, behind trees and bushes, his bed, your bed, his friends bed, shower, desks, professors desks, anywhere anytime.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Feminine clothing, something about it makes his head spin and he just loves fucking you in dresses. He also has a clothes kink, he’d love to fuck you in his clothes. Don’t even get him started on if you ever decide to wear sexual clothing, it’ll drive him crazy.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Major dom and sub roles (like day to day life style) feels him out, he can’t distribute or give out rules, he doesn’t like that type of control over someone or giving someone that control of him. He likes some parts of d/s and he’d definitely be comfortable with some aspects, but not full on life changing.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers receiving oral sometimes, but he doesn’t expect it everytime. He loves giving, since he feels like it’s the only thing he’s good at. He’ll run his tongue and suck your sensitive flesh until he’s satisfied, giving you oral is more of a pleasure for himself.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Peter’s sex is soft yet rough, sometimes he just takes his time with dragging his cock deep inside of you and pulling it out. Others he just likes to bend you over and fuck you till your dumb. Sometimes he lacks compassion for how you’d take his cock, yet after he’s careful to check you over and soothe out any aches.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Only thing he looks forward to on school days. He’s already emotionally tired but getting a good fuck in a empty classroom or a bathroom stall always helps him get through the day, especially if you tell him you’d wait for him in his dorm later that night.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

It depends what the risk is, Peter likes to fuck you all over the place if he can. He definitely been given warnings by prefects way to many times.James and Sirius always say his animagi should be a bunny with all the fucking they catch you guys doing. Greatest risk he ever took was fucking you during a quidditch game behind the bleachers.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go for a couple of rounds, depending if it’s just oral or penetration. He can spend hours just focusing on you, exploring your body and roping out orgasm after orgasm.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He definitely likes using a vibrator, dildos aren’t really his thing. He does have a few anal plugs, but he doesn’t use them as much as he would like too. He usually uses them for your pleasure, but he wouldn’t be opposed to having a cock ring on.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s actually a huge tease, he likes to place his hand on your thigh during class and just mindlessly rub his thumb right near your goods. He gives a dumb look like he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but his smirk whenever he catches your heavy breaths are apparent he knows exactly what he’s doing.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

The whimpers are the best part, he rarely moans, just mumble’s of “oh fuck” and heavy breaths. Especially the early morning sex, because his sensitivity is heightened and he’s just making gurgled whined and deep groans.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Honestly, he’d probably want to fuck you infront of his friends. Especially the days when they flirt or tease you, he’d just get this immediate thought to show them that he isn’t sharing you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I’d estimate a good 7-9 inches, the exact number isn’t known but all I can say is the girth is the best part.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s in and out, most months it’s normal for a teenage boy but other months he can go days without it, sometimes even weeks. But on the months he’s active, sex is a pretty regular thing everyday to day.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Peter is nocturnal, so it rarely depends on what time of day you guys had sex. If it’s on the weekends during midday, he probably will take a nap until dinner. If it’s in the morning… I don’t even think he could stay awake long enough to finish. But late at night it’s a whole new thing, he would probably cuddle you for a few moments until he knew you were asleep and work on his assignments and homework.

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#peter pettigrew #marauders #young peter pettigrew #james potter #young peter pettigrew smut #marauders smut #peter pettigrew x reader #peter pettigrew x you #peter pettigrew headcanons #peter pettigrew smut #marauders headcanons

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txbbo · 3 years

Text

I've been debating making this because this is definitely not what my blog is known for and I was worried that people wouldn't want to see it, but with the amount of shit im seeing on twitter it's compelled me to make this because I'm so frustrated.

I feel like I could make 100 posts about 'Cancel Culture' and it wouldn't be enough, so I'm just going to focus on what caused me to write this tonight - the Tommy situation. *Warning for a VERY long post below*

To be clear, Tommy has been in 'hot water' on twitter for the past couple weeks, roughly starting with the KSI collaboration where he made a joke about dream stans.

Last week, when the SBI 'exposing account' got made and twitter hyped it up, someone made a Tommy account and made a thread of things he needed to be '''educated''' on: https://twitter.com/idktommyinnit/status/1379158964148002821?s=20

I'll let you read it for yourself (and come to your own conclusion) but to me.... half of this stuff does not require a twitter thread? Breaking it down accusation by accusation:

1) 'The Mexican accent' - the clips show he is clearly only doing it when copying big Q (who famously exaggerates his own accent) and there is zero malicious intent (Big Q is also IN the 3 clips mentioned in the thread, and obviously didn't tell Tommy it was offensive). There's debates in the comments from people who think it is offensive and people who don't, so I'm not trying to pick a side. To avoid accidentally offending anyone, maybe it is best for him to stop, but the way twitter acts as if he was purposefully doing this to offend people is just not true.

2- 'Making a slave joke' - Even saying that feels wrong, because it suggests Tommy is doing something awful. Instead, they are referring to the 'bit' that Tommy, Techno, Tubbo and Ant were involved in, when Tommy and Techno took Tubbo and Ant as their slave. People are taking this vod and using it to accuse Tommy of being insensitive to Black people, but I think people are just assuming the worst. Slavery existed long before the transatlantic slave trade and still exists today. This is a role-play server - Tommy 'forced' Ant to work for him and used the word slave, which to me is exactly what was happening? People 'murder' others on the SMP, people 'kidnap' on the SMP, people are 'terrorists' on the SMP, and all happen without issue. To add, Ant is a WHITE man. Tommy taking a WHITE man as a slave is not something uber problematic.

3- 'His reply to Techno's 'murder is bad' tweet'. - I get people saying that Techno's initial tweet was insensitive, but saying Tommy's agreement to this from almost over a year ago is something notable and worth addressing is just super nitpicky and is clearly only in there to pad out the thread. It also makes me wonder what other CC's interacted with it and if THEY should be cancelled too (according to twitter).

4 - 'The saying slurs' tweet / jokes about 'whats the worst word you know' - This one I can kinda see how people might not like it. However, it's clearly a 'poke' at his friends, making them seem like bad people. To me, its in the same vein as 'Tubbo is a Tory' or when Tubbo shoots back that 'Tommy is a Nigel Farage fan'. They're obviously not, but its making fun of your friends by saying they are, and mockingly making them out out to be bad people.

5- 'Covid jokes' - People are taking jokes he made about him 'having covid' and saying he shouldn't joke about this, even going as far to linking it to asian hate crimes. I don't even know how to explain that that this is just? not a 'cancellable offence'? I'm sorry but if I hear anyone in my family coughing I make a little joke that 'they better not have covid' and I know other people do. I have someone in my family who is extremely vulnerable to Covid and if they caught it, would quite literally die, but I can understand that jokes like these are harmless. The whole internet had a running joke that we were in a 'panoramic' or 'Panera' or 'insert any word that sounds like pandemic.

This thread got a lot of attention and anything he tweeted afterwards was spammed with the link and there were so many people upset that he hadn't addressed it. I saw so many people say how 'upset' and 'disappointed' they were in him.

Going on to today, this happened: https://twitter.com/khasiid/status/1380611890104139776?s=20

I get it, it looks bad. But for context (which the tweet doesn't give), the reply was only up for less than a minute. It was obvious to me, even BEFORE Tommy addressed it in his stream (clip here: https://twitter.com/cowrpse/status/1380640046202593283?s=20 ) that it was a mistake. In the clip, he clearly acknowledges his mistake and seems embarrassed. To me, this situation should just be laid to rest because a mistake does not need this much attention, but twitter disagrees.

In case it wasn't obvious by now, the tide is turning against Tommy and people are less willing to ignore genuine mistakes and assume the worst.

Today, during his birthday stream people were clearly already waiting for him to mess up. Around half way through, he started saying 'finna' out of context and Tubbo joined in. This led to tons of tweets telling him he was misusing AAVE, and while there were plenty of people willing to be patient and educate, there were also people seeing this as an example of him being a 'bad person' and someone who should be 'without a platform'. I think people forget that not everyone has the same internet upbringing as they do. In general, I think its noted that the misuse of AAVE is something that has just recently been brought to attention. I learned about it through tiktok and stan twitter, and I don't think it's unimaginable that a British 17 year old boy (who is not active on either) has never heard of 'African American Vernacular English'.

Just for a fuller picture, today has also brought about another 'criticism' that I just had to address.

1) 'Tommy made a KKK joke' - Like the 'slavery' point, saying this is extremely misleading. It makes people think the worst. Here's the clip: https://twitter.com/ghostburz/status/1380673589612011522?s=20

Here, Tommy and Tubbo are both joking about Tubbo's 'bit' of naming his alt streams 'aaaaaaaaaa', 'bbbbbbb', 'cccccc', etc and how it would've been bad if it was 'kkkkkkkk' (for obvious reasons). That is literally it. It is a less than 20 second clip. Acknowledging that people woulda thought about the 'KKK' is not him 'not understanding Black issues', its a throwaway joke about the obvious.

Lastly, someone on twitter has made a tommyinnit (address asap) doc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1tZEZtBzikS-EYYkssfFtwVOoFqOwCK0zhStLe6H1wCc/edit

I've basically already covered everything in this document, but I wanted to mention how extremely 'guilt trippy' the whole thing is. I struggled to come up with the perfect word for the situation, and I am open to hearing other peoples opinion, but as I have mentioned none of these things Tommy has been accused of were done with malicious intent, and some I believe don't even need addressed at all.

'slavery is a source of astronomical trauma for black people, and isn’t something to be taken lightly if you’re to look into the horrors of the slave trade."

and "Oftentimes they are the last words we hear before we die and it really is not Tommy’s place to joke about words that affect us so negatively."

Are extremely emotional words for a 17-year-old boy to hear on his birthday, for stuff that I believe has been taken out of context and blown out of proportion.

I really feel bad for him, because such a large proportion of twitter (which ofc is the loudest side of the fanbase) is angry at him and is demanding (as the document says) ''either a stream or twitter thread/twitlonger to addressing this' and 'a long and serious apology instead of a short statement pre-stream'.

We all know how twitter works, and unless his apology is perfect (which to me means apologising for stuff that he should't have to, as explained in the thread), twitter will continue with this weird hyper focus on everything he does, and it's not going to end well.

Twitter's mentality of 'putting everything this person has done that could ever be considered problematic' into one neat little thread is so unhelpful and counter intuitive. I got overwhelmed reading some of the stuff people were saying about him, I can't imagine how he feels.

I feel like I have more to say but at risk of writing an essay longer than my actual work I have to do, I'm going to end here.

#this was incredibly cathartic to write #turns out im not just a c! Tommy apologist LMAO #tommyinnit #dream smp #tommyinnit neg #tommyinnit critical #tommyinnit crit #Tommy crit #Tommy neg #twitter neg #cancel culture #mcyt crit #mcytwt crit

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filczi · 3 years

Text

IT STARTED WITH A KISS HOW DID WE END UP LIKE THIS.

AN: Before we start. I just want to quickly mention that this is my first story since 2019. It’s not perfect in any way - grammatically and stylistically - English is not my first language. I truly attempted my best to make it look good for a “reader's” eye so many times I honestly can’t look at this story anymore. I’m a perfectionist who spends hours crying fat tears over this while trying to edit it.

PLEASE LIKE & ENJOY < 3 send me a lil message what you think about my first child of many.

WARNING: I never completely watched “Defending Jacob” | age-gap between characters, slight 18+ content.you read at your own risk. Both Jacob and the reader are adults in this story. 6,5k words.

Happy early valentines day since I'm v sick at home < 3

He has a wife.

Surprisingly, this is the first thought of realization that your brain decided to process from all the things happening around you. The second your feet cross over the threshold of the most intimate looking living room that you ever had the chance to be inside. It feels like a fresh whiff of air or a train coming your way with all force - knocking out of you any sense of brain maturity you previously held.

The moment your eyes settle on him. He’s there. The head of the house. Just like you heard Jacob calling him playfully while you spend late evenings together, drinking instead of studying for upcoming exams. Always managing to comfort one another by telling outrageous family stories which happened over the weekend you’d spend apart with your own families.

Standing all the way back in the kitchen area, cornered by some individuals in important attire, engrossed in a vivid conversation that required a lot of hand gesticulations and insulting words. Unfazed statue of an attractive man whose beauty cannot be surpassed by anything you’d seen in this world. Propped against the edge of the kitchen counter behind him, nursing a bottle of what seems to be a beer in one of his hands, while he calmly observes the scene in front of him with a stoic expression.

You blink a couple of times, just making sure of the conviction you made that this man looks like he rather belongs in a movie scene or on the cover of the magazine not in depressing Newton, Massachusetts.

“Honey, come here for a moment. Jacob bought a guest.”

A lovely, nice wife.

You subconsciously add when the mature woman moved into your point of view, effectively making you lose your train of thought, you can still hear your best friend’s moans after his mom's affectionate attention.

“I’m Laurie, sweetheart.” she quickly introduces herself before her hands develop you in a tight welcoming hug, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs.

Laurie is a beautiful neat-looking woman, whose eyes spark with uncontrollable joy that Jacob already told you so much about, including the ways he could always make her forgive him for everything he managed to break as a child - or not. She’s giving you the idea of a perfect mother example, that kind of woman you’d like to become one day when you think about your own family, the one who always held her head high, no matter the obstacle she’s about to face on her way. The one giving warmth and light towards the family fire. That gives the warmest hugs of them all and cheeks so bright and sparkling as if she smiles like this all day.

“Mum’s a huger,” Jacob shrugged his shoulders at the look you gave him when his mother disappeared the second after promising to fetch something delicious for you after the long journey you both went through.

“And that's your--” you quickly pointed your head into the exterior of the house, trying to discretely indicate the place Jacob’s father was occupying. Not refusing yourself to cast another glance at the visionary man whose identity was still somewhat unknown, or you just couldn’t bring yourself to believe it.

Please, don’t be his father...

“Head of the house,” Jacob jokes again, gently swaying on his feet visibly getting annoyed at something. He furrows his brows for a second before addressing you again “you know, lawyers never sleep, there’s always a cause worth fighting for.”

You nod your head in silent understanding, knowing how much Jacob went through when he was younger and how much his entire family paid for that.

“I’m going to be such a dick now, but I really have to pee,” Jacob complained under his breath before throwing a longing glance towards the stairs leading to the first floor of the house. You guessed that’s where the bathroom is. "mom will be back in a second and she’s going to show you the guest bedroom, just sit and ignore the legal gibberish coming from the kitchen.”

“But--” you instantly panicked. “please, don’t leave me here alone.”

“Relax, you’ll be fine here. He’s not going to eat you, he doesn’t even know someone else besides his friends is home that’s how into work he usually is.”

Sending you a reassuring look, your best friend quite literally rushed through the hall and up the stairs as if he was on fire.

It’s weird to finally be in the house you heard so much about from Jacob's stories. Where you can see everything by your own eyes, the place your best friend grew up in and had his first memories from - home.

“Girlfriend?” It seems like you can't breathe, as you hear a deep masculine voice at the side of your ear completely throwing you out of your thoughts,

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re my son’s girlfriend? It's your time to smile now, gently tipping your head back you let bubbles of amusement fill you,

“No, we’re friends. I thought Jacob told you, Mr. Barber that-”

“Andy.” the tall male corrected you instantly,

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s okay to call me Andy. I don’t care,” the broad man shrugged his shoulders at you.

You feel like your head is in the cloud and your ears are stuffed with cotton wool.

He has a wife,

“Alright.” You try to clear your throat before speaking again. “I thought Jacob told you-- his parents that he’s bringing a friend for a weekend.”

“Ah nice there, trying to avoid calling me by my name, I’ll give it to you.”

You didn’t even know you could flush crimson so easily, before you met Mr. Barber, or rather Andy no other men made you feel like this.

He was even more magnificent from up close as if it’s even achievable. Every detail of his face looked like it was fractured by God himself, who certainly put a lot of work into making such a masterpiece a living human being. Casting a shy glance at his pretty face, coated with a few days overgrowth beard that looked almost too scandalous to carry, to the way his broad shoulders moved with every breath he took, stretching the dress shirt he was currently wearing like painting on the canvas. Wide and big forearms looking like a superhuman in every definition of the word possible, to the way his hands spread, including the color of his creamy skin peeking out from the rolled-up sleeves of his white crispy shirt, and fingers...

God, his fingers.

Thick digits wrapped each by each around the same bottle of the beer you have seen him holding during the second you stepped your foot into his house. Ceremonially holding the neck of the bottle as if it's the prices thing in his possession right now.

“You know how boys are” the man in front of you shook his head before you realized.

“I’m so sorry I forgot to introduce myself, I’m Y/N”

The chuckle that seeped out of Andy’s chest could have you on your knees if he wasn’t your best friend’s father in any type. He shook his head at you, eyes squinting in hidden adoration as he took a step back before placing the already forgotten and empty bottle on some random shelf with pictures and materials on it.

“Alright little girl, have it your way then, I’m Andy Barber, so nice to meet the only female friend my son has,” there’s this certain nip in the tone of his voice that makes you believe you just discovered something new about your best friend’s father no-one else your age possibly had before.

You bit onto your tongue the second his hand developed around yours completely taking you off the guard, warmth scattered across your entire body, almost letting you let a mewl out of your own the second his skin tasted yours. Fingers wrapped across yours like it's a beautiful lover's symphony, and maybe you just imagined the way the surface of his fingers brushed delicately across the bone of your knuckles for a few times before he squeezed your hand again - successfully knocking the air out of your lungs this time.

He has a wife.

Your subconscious warns you urgently, striving to immediately destroy the idea of any incidents happening shortly before they even have the chance to push any roots into your brain, as you feel your head shutting out on you, you feel completely dumb the moment you finally got the chance to stand face to face with your best friend father.

He called me a little girl not even two seconds ago.

“I can show you the guest bedroom if you’d like to.”

You send a glance towards the expanse of the kitchen again, where a lot of mature men fought nevertheless with one another. It was hard to understand what everything was about as in the middle of common English terms law language appeared that you knew nothing about.

“Aren’t you working?” you asked sheepishly, nodding towards the group of a man with a lot of papers in their hands, “Jacob said you do that a lot--”

“So you talk about me with my son huh?” there’s that cheeky smile of his again.

“I-no.” you shake your head before squirming at the intensity of his gaze on you. “he was just talking about how hardworking you are Mr--Andy.”

Andy hums under his breath, giving you the idea that he’s definitely thinking about what you said before smiling under his breath for one insane second before coming back to being all serious again. He breaths out quietly, brushing the side of his beard with one of his hands before setting on a scowl on his beautiful features.

“I’m going to show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

“But Mr. Barber, you don’t have to I don’t want to cause any trouble, you’re working.”

“Y/N, stop being a brat and come with me I'm not taking no for an answer, Laurie is already picking groceries from the store to make you nice filling dinner before bed so c’mon.”

“I thought your wife was just---”

Andy snickered under his breath before giving you a hand ahead giving you a silent sign to walk up the stairs ahead of him.

He wanted you to lead?

“That’s how Laurie is, you can’t expect anything from this woman.”

Turns out the guest bedroom you were supposed to spend a few of the next weeks in was nowhere near ready for anyone’s arrival. It looked a little bit neglected but nothing you couldn’t cope with. You insisted Mr. Barber that you can change the sheets of the bed yourself, and try to tidy up a little here and there but the man of the house insisted on helping you with everything you could have encountered on your way.

Firstly, you never expected him to change the bed sheet for you since you were completely capable of doing it yourself, but you couldn’t complain since you got the chance to see the way his muscles work underneath the dress shirt he was probably wearing all day already that looked a little bit maintained. but you couldn’t complain about the view for sure.

“Why are you looking at me like this?” he asked you since the only noise of the room was the ruffled sheets in his hands,

“Well.” you swayed shamelessly at the tops of your heels, not understanding why but being alone with him made you drop your shyness, “It’s nice to see a man knowing his way with things.”

The silence in this room was almost unendurable.

Did I fuck up?

“I know my way with things, yes.” he nodded his head in confirmation to your words.

“I live alone with my dad and I just can’t bear to look how much he despises to do it.”

He narrows his eyes at you in silent question,

“Changing the sheets I mean,” you laugh wholeheartedly at him before continuing “since I can remember it was my mom’s duty.”

“So now, you’re expected to do it for the rest of your life?” he rose his sharp eyebrow at you.

“I mean yeah I guess, it's not that hard,”

“But if you had a boyfriend or husband you’d do it for just as your mom did it for your father?”

“I wouldn’t mind my future husband to do it from time to time,” you mumbled under your breath, not being sure why imagining a man kindly similar to the man in front of you.

Andy hummed in understanding before throwing you the already prepared pillows.

"When a man is capable of doing household chores, he is also fully capable of taking care of you in any situation you want him to," Andy stated before pushing the corners of the bed sheet into the rightful position on the mattress.

“Take it as advice from a married man,” he grants you with a quick wink before finally moving away from your temporary bed.

Secondly. You wouldn't expect the sheets to smell a little musky and rather too expensive to be a laundry detergent from the grocery store down the street.

The subtle yet overpowering scent that wasn't belonging to your best friend rooted into your brain but still, that didn't stop you from nuzzling into the comfortable fabric right after Mr. Andy left your bedroom a while later, before muttering:

“Dinner will be probably ready in two hours or so, take your time settling in. My bedroom is down the hall across the bathroom, Jacob’s room first door from the staircase, you got it sweetheart?” and when you let out an almost visible nod he left you with a little praise.

He called you a good girl.

It’s the delicious smell of food that manages to wake you up from your slumber. Abruptly pushing yourself up, making sure to correct the glasses that are falling from the bone of your nose to a straight position before glancing back at the screen and sighing in defeat at the lack of words you wrote for the past two days.

You thought about pushing some of your assignments and finishing them earlier before you and Jacob focus on the main paper that takes the most of the year credit. Your stomach grumbled, demanding to be properly fed, making you wince at the emptiness you felt before actually deciding on closing the barely started document - maybe, a good portion of food and an even better night of full sleep made everything better. You still had time to turn it up, you just had to make the best of it first,

Gently closing the lid of her laptop and throwing the device onto the plush covers of your temporary bed, that seemed to cry out for you whenever you looked back at it. Seeing all the velvet sheets and fuzzy pillows scattered across the mattress that smelled almost heavenly...

Stumbling through the threshold of the living room, as the delicious aroma of freshly prepared food completely overthrown your senses and stomach grumbled in need again as you see the prepared and decorated kitchen table,

You'd rarely used to eat properly since the day you moved out of your house. It’s a nice sight to see when there are no left-over packages of pizza or overused glasses of alcohol from when your dad used to have a little too much on Friday nights.

There are four pieces of dinnerware set on the table and you’re not even sure how Jacob's parents were in possession of such things since family dinner wasn’t a normal thing for them.

Scrunching your eyes at the scene in front of you as if the overly decorated table burned your eyes you stepped past it and towards the kitchen,

“Hope you don’t mind--” You hear the voice from the other side of the kitchen, looking into the direction from the voice of your roommate comes in you the half-part of your friend sticking out of the cabinet, still looking for something to prepare. “It’s spaghetti night.”

“Hmm, fancy.” you joke under your breath as Jacob's head extends from the hidden place to look at you. “where’s your mom I thought she was the head of kitchen space?” you responded before scooping some drained pasta from the bowl right beside the sink before the Chef noticed.

Eyes wondering over the prepared food as the dark-haired boy moved to season his special version of tomato sauce,

“Stop picking,” he grumbled before taking a ragged breath in, “they've had a fight again, and now dad left somewhere I don’t know if he’s going to attend dinner.”

“Oh I'm sorry, I thought your parents... you know... I love your mom. They look like a happy family.”

Jacob immediately snickered under his breath before pushing the wooden spoon mindlessly onto the counter. “Mom and dad are currently in separation, this whole family gathering was made for you so you’d think we’re a normal family.”

Your stomach churned uncomfortably, and this time you weren't sure if it’s because you’re still hungry.

“Jacob I’m so sorry--” you whispered quietly, thoughts neglecting you for your individual family issues or what was left from it, “If you want we can go back--fuck, I can drive back--”

Jacob's eyes narrowed curiously at something behind you before he shook his head and spoke again, “can you put it on the table?”

The intense clutter of feet makes your eyes twitch and you’re definitely trying to be on your best behavior and stay as quiet as it’s only possible as the loud ramble goes off in the corridor and right after the front door snap shut behind him and the voices go through every single corner of the spacious house, you know it’s already over for you. Because there he is - tall, with his figure a little bit more taken care of since the last time you’d seen him, looking a little bit more like a husband, with his hair styled in a way that suits him a little more than you’d expect as his head lacks those fuzzy curls you remembered so well from few houses before.

He definitely took a shower,

Pushing your bottom lip out quietly studying him from your place at the table,

With Jacob's mom immediately switching into the “host” mode, still trying to keep up the appearance of the perfect family, ushering Mr. Andy inside the living room, urging him to finally sit down at the table and devour delicious dinner.

He’s nice and polite, you note from the first minute of the genuine conversation with his wife? hold with him, as he seems to be listening to every word that leaves his lips and joking around with your best friend trying to ease on the nervous atmosphere because he knows it too - how tense the situation around the table changed.

Does he know that Jacob told you everything?

“Mr. Barber” you acknowledged him when he finally took the place at the table, with a big smile on his face he took the place to sit right beside you – what are the fucking odds. You thought to yourself. dressed up nice, in a stripe button-up shirt, with a few top buttons free, as you notice the black jeans that seem to fit his figure incredibly well - too well for your liking.

That little smirk at the corners of his mouth makes your eyes twitch with annoyance in such an easy way to make you annoyed already. His green eyes are observing you and he's fully taking his time to run his eyes all over the top of your figure, noticing a fitting white top, that suddenly felt too tight on you.

Throughout dinner, he never backed down his look towards you, and the worst part of it, you could feel the burden and heat of his eyes against the profile of your face during the entire feast, completely losing the rest of your appetite not even halfway through the dinner, and now aimlessly played up with your fork and the pasta rolled up onto the cutlery before pushing it back against the plate.

Perching your head up with the help of your hand you listened to the excited conversation that was held against the table, only to let it out the second after through the other ear.

Mr. Andy pushed his legs to the side of his chair, his front coming towards your side as his long forearms dropped over the side of your chair. You're not sure if he did it on purpose but from time to time you could feel the pads of his fingers brushing through the baby hairs on your neck, the locks you had formed every time you skipped a hair day and just decided to keep them up to stop bothering you as you took your nap. And every time the knuckle of his hand touched something of yours the sudden shiver rushed through your body making you squirm in your seat and ultimately lost the last attempts of gaining back the courage to finish dinner,

Then, there’s a sudden and completely unexpected question making you completely freeze in your spot. “So, how're the studies going Y/N?”

You're immediately thrown out of your thoughts at the sound of Mrs. Barber's voice, then the sudden silence appeared and you knew everyone was listening and looking at you right now. Cringing to yourself in your mind, you perched yourself more comfortably on your chair, keeping in mind to keep your back straight and not lean against the back of it.

“Pretty good” your voice came out more croaky as you'd want to, gently couching down the bile formed in your throat, you pushed your plate out of the way, to reach for the half-empty glass of red wine.

Before taking a small sip, “lot's of assignments” you shrugged your shoulders yearning for the red nectar. You'd hope it's gonna help you find the sleep you need and new power for the morning to start finished the pointless papers for your professor.

“Y/N has been working day and night on her term papers, she wants to be on top of her class grade.”

From the side of your eye, you could see a movement on your right side before Mr.Barber leaned a little bit forward in his seat as if trying to do it “unintentionally”

“So, you’re an ambitious girl huh?” The heat of his breath and the tone of his voice makes your posture stiffen like a new repaired spring, he murmured it in such a way as if he was talking to his lover right before going down to devour the last bits of her, his hand perched itself on the edge of your seat, gently gripping onto the white decorating pillows Mrs. Barber spends a fortune on because in her option they perfectly matched with the curtains in the living room, the heat of his hand that’s coming onto the side of your legs makes you instantly push it away in a jerking motion, away from the sudden and completely unexpected heat.

“You could say that” you whispered back to him, not even taking your mouth out of your wine glass, lips gently brushing over the bitter liquid when he openly laughed, his chest brushing against your sleeveless arm making you lean away from him but before that Andy innocently threw his arms across yours and shoved you against the heat of his chest trying to make it look as if both of you are just joking around like good old friends you’re definitely shouldn’t be.

He tuts under his breath, “I love to push your buttons, you're so easy to work up, It's almost funny.” before his fingers ghosted over the side of your collarbones as if he was taking in what's in front of him, taking his time to memorize every aspect of her with his eyes.

Biting your tongue to the point where it could bleed when Mrs. Barber looks at you with such a smile you’re not even sure what you’re supposed to do.

“What's wrong? You're not hungry?”

Oh, I am. But the dish I want was not offered in the menu.

“No, everything is fine I just have to use the bathroom really quick, if you excuse me.” You quickly stood up from your place,

“Remember that you’re cleaning after dinner,” Jacob called out after you before he proposed another glass of wine for his mother awaiting glass.

“Jacob! Y/N is our guest, don’t treat--”

“It’s completely fine Mrs.Barber, it’s a tradition of ours” you waved her hand in the air before letting him know that you still remember their deal before you muster one last glance towards the dark-haired man, who’s still looking at you with a slight grin on his gorgeous face.

Your fingers are tightly gripping onto the edges of white porcelain sink as the cold droplets of waters cover her skin in different directions you’re gazing at her reflection in the mirror, with a scowl because of how stupid you could he be to let him get under your skin already on the first night.

You hear the dinner is still lasting as its best as the sudden and happy cheers reflects through the exterior of the walls and you can’t help but feel your heart tings a little because you know how much you could give to spend time with your own father. You considered yourself a bad friend, Jacob was the opposite, the bubbly exterior of her friend sometimes coming off on her but she preferred a silent house, silent night in, with a bag of chips and glass of wine at her lap and maybe if the landlord of their apartment building would let them, she would have a cat by her side too.

The sudden knock at the wooden material of the door has your head spinning, you’re not sure if you want to talk with Jacob. You knew you promised to be on your best behavior but knowing that Andy is constantly playing with you just for his humor is making your blood boil – you’re letting him do this all because of how off guard he caught you.

“It's taken” you called out grumpily, pushing the material of the towel against your face to rains it from the water but the knocking didn't stop there.

“What the fuck?” you grumbled again, irritation coming out of you in waves, “do you seriously can't hold it for two more minutes?” you tugged at the door handle with such a force and swing the doors open only to see someone you least expected.

“Do you mind?” you asked sarcastically, noticing the hold he still had on the white exterior, his palm was big, she took notice about his fingers, wide and they probably hold a lot of power in them.

Not that you cared.

“Laurie told Jacob to check up on you since you're taking so long--” he aimlessly told her, standing in the exterior of the room completely blocking the lights from the corridor

“How nice of you,” you mustered with a sweet fake smile to form on your lips, noticing how much he hated when you did that, his jaw immediately ticked, with a vein coming out at the side of his throat and his teeth tensed together.

“Stop being such a brat.”

You shockingly rose your eyebrows at him. “Excuse me? Repeat that?” You dared.

Andy chuckled under his breath, fingers pushing against the door to open them even wider before he moved his feet a little forward coming into the room with you, his eyes narrowing and face coming dangerously close.

The dark dimension of his green eyes made your stomach churn with something you couldn’t even name. This guy was making you so confused.

“You heard me.” he grumbled, voice low and gratingly with something else, “you're acting like a fucking brat.” he spats out the last words as her back got shoved against the bathroom wall, right beside the towel cabinet.

Your mouth opened in shock.

“How dare you run your mouth on me,” you growled out, fingers coming to tip onto his chest, aimlessly pointing at the bare skin. “your wife and son are downstairs and you already have the audacity to---”

Andy shook his head, fingers shifting onto her forearms to turn her back flat against the wall before taking a step ahead, his chest completely flush against yours as your breathing quickened due to his proximity. “Shut up--” he ordered and to her surprise you instantly did.

He immediately picked her behavior up, “Hmm-” his nose skimmed the side of her jaw and she could swear her toes curled when his cologne overwhelmed her senses. “just as I've said. Good girl.”

You could swear to God, your heartbeat was about to rip out of your chest, and it was almost embarrassing. You were sure Andy could hear it beating due to how close she was.

Your mouth opened in a sudden urge to let out a puff of air when his tongue skimmed out of his lips to taste the sweetness of your skin. The gentleness and skill he operated with had your brain turning into mush,

“M' sorry.” he whispered into the hollow of your neck, taking a deep breath of you “couldn't help myself with you.” and then his tongue runs against the stripe of your throat towards your jaw, and you could swear that your legs are giving out under the weight of them.

“Oh my god--” you’re almost squealing to yourself when the rough palms of his hands push against her shoulder blades you’re able to feel every part of him on yourself, or maybe every part of you on him, it's like you got turned into one. The hotness that’s building inside and in every place his hands keep touching.

“Mr.Barber--- what are you--” and then you’re gasping, as his teeth grasp onto the edge of your lips pulling the flesh back only to completely get lost into the feeling of the plump sweetness of your taste. You let him in, eagerly waiting for his tongue to battle with yours in soft dominance, as his hands wander over her whole. They knead every flesh on his way, he's taking everything you have in offer for him. igniting inside of her the fire she never knew she possessed.

“It’s Andy, doll.”

Breathless – both of you – as he lets you take a time to breathe, fingers skimming along the side of your calloused cheekbones,pads of his fingers tracing the reddened skin of your lips and he can't help but smile when he observes your chest moving in need for air and eyes wild and ready for everything.

“Please.” neither of you were expecting the word to come out your mouth, it shocks you but it's there, let out into the silence of the bathroom. You don't want to take it but and you damn hope he won't turn away from you.

“What my doll wants, hmm?” Andy muttered under his nose, you had to take a second to rethink what he said was even real and it wasn't a figment of your imagination, “you want daddy to touch you? You’re going to be my good girl?” he cooed calmly, before letting his hands drop from your body, leaving you cold and needy.

What?

He's sending you one last look, his mouth quirks in humor when he notices how displeased and angry you can be in a second. Before he turns away from you and heads right towards the door.

You act before you think, and there’s something inside of you that is screaming at you by doing such a thing but your hands grip his massive arm in panic, tugging him back to face you again. His eyebrows rising in silent question before you take courage to mutter

“Please.” you’re whining like a lost puppy, gently carding his hand in yours and tugging him back to your previous position. As your eyes continue to shine with need.

Andy’s furrows his brows for a moment, head-turning, and if you didn't know him before that way, you’d say he looks like a damn cute, confused puppy. “You want daddy’s fingers?”

Biting the corner of your lips your not even sure if you’re able to say it out loud, You love how rough he looks now, giving you a different side of his physique you never gets a chance to see before. You’re wriggling under his stare, not feeling comfortable at all. The silver wedding band on his fingers is tempting you, you can’t help but imagine how would it feel inside of you, how the whole idea of getting a married man to touch you entice you.

A few hours ago you absolutely treated him like your best friend's father and now you’re willing to push even further? Were you ready to look at him from a different angle? Are you ready to risk years of friendship over a married man?

You swallowed quietly as Andy still looked at you expecting the answer, his knuckles gently grazing over the naked skin on her arm, turning it downwards to til he touched outside of her wrists making her brain turn into a mush.

“You know what---fuck you,” you grumbled annoyed, finally coming back into your senses but that's not what Andy was expecting. You hurried away from him, making sure to keep a distance in between both of you before looking him straight in the eyes, a silent challenge for him to take. “don't you ever touch me again,” you scowled before pushing a finger into his direction, trying to threaten him enough

He pushed the air out of his lungs painfully slow, too slow for her liking because you had a feeling something was building inside that he was about to let out on her. “You were doing so good--” he muttered to himself, shaking his head and turning his back to you and marching towards the door, and when you thought he's about to leave you observed the way his palm pushed against them making sure they're closed before his fingers cleverly turned the lock closed with a sudden click

Your stomach immediately churned in excitement you didn't even know you should feel the moment he leaned his broad shoulders against them. Crossing his large arms across his chest he spends a good second just observing you from when he stood.

“Acting like the brat you are,” he clicked his tongue at you, and arrogant behavior coming out immediately, he acted like a boy whenever he didn't get what he wanted, and you got the first example of it. “since the first minute you-” he shook his head as if his memories of their unsuccessful first meeting flowed his memory

“Maybe you should make up your fucking mind--” you then threw your hands up annoyingly, “calling me a good girl only to change it to brat the second later. Is that some kind of kink of yours?”

Andy chuckled under his breath, his eyes squinting in hidden adoration for you before his entire posture changed immediately.

“Better watch your fucking mouth,” he hissed at her, “because I'm sure you won't like the consequences.”

You narrow your eyes at him subconsciously screaming at yourself to bit onto your tongue before speaking but it’s too late, your change of posture challenges him, you see it in the way he curses under his breath before all you see is him charging upon you.

Fingers digging into your jeans, as you gasp in shock the second you feel your jeans loosening on your body, the stoic expression of the man in front of you is enough for you to fumble with your tongue, knowing in the back of your mind the apology words you know but it’s too late. Thick digit, you feel it coming down the front of your pants, marching through the material of your panties without not even a fumble, you feel his skin on your skin playing with your fold and you swear your knees are giving up on you the second he finds his right place in between your legs - you look down on him, mouth opened in shock by the sudden situation, his entire fist pulled down inside your pants making it as his job to destroy you.

“Oh my Go--” you squeal as a warm finger push into the right place between your folds, sliding in without harm as you close your eyes in embarrassment at how wet you are for him.

Andy’s breath palms upon your face, he’s thrusting his body onto yours gently muttering sweet sugar-coated praises toward you but all you can hear is the blood that finally reaches your ears.

“Please don’t make me come for the first time in your wife’s bathroom” you whine through the pleasure that’s completely taking over your senses. You’d still plead to him, hands grabbing onto the one that’s been working on your pussy with such a precision you feel like crumbling out into a creme in his home bathroom. While he supports his entire body weight on the tiles behind your curled up from bliss body.

Andy just chuckles into your hair, granting you with a quick kiss to your sweaty forehead before circling his finger harder onto your clit, just as a loud moan escapes your lips. Andy tugs his fingers out of your pussy, your entire body is tingling, stomach churned into much when he holds your entire weight before you can tumble to the ground.

And then within a blink of her eyes, he sends her one last look as if saying “it's not over” and turns around again catching a glance over the worked up muscles on his back moving with every step of his silhouette when he yanks the door open and marches down the corridor as if nothing had happened.

It takes you some time to understand what's happening, as the place falls into complete tranquility but the sparkles in the air, are telling you that nothing you’d seen and heard tonight was imagined – even when you really want to believe it.

Hearing the pad of his heavy feet stops against the wooden floor before his voice tells and assure your best friend and his wife that everything is alright with you.

But was it? Now when you think about it, that you have to spend the rest of the weekend break with the guy who’s your best friend's father who just fingered you for a few minutes with you in his own bathroom.

And it was only beginning.

The wrong never felt so right.

an2: send me a lil’ message what u think of this < 3

Jacob, after finding out his best friend is fucking his father:

#chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans one shot #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #andy barber smut #andy barber one shot #andy barber x reader #andy barber imagine #andy barber #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers one shot #filczi #it started with a kiss series #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill smut

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elidereads · 3 years

Text

You Came For Me (NSFW Elriel Fanfic)

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Summary: The night after Azriel rescues Elain from Hybern Elain goes to his tent to make sure he's okay.

Word Count: 5,800

Warnings: NSFW

Notes: This is my first fanfic. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated it. 🖤

AO3

She couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she shivered remembering the things she was trying to forget, the feelings she wanted to scrub away. She couldn’t make herself trust that she was safe. She tried to focus on Nesta’s steady breathing and failed. Sounds that had once assured her of her safety now felt meaningless. Nesta had always been her safe haven, the only person who wouldn’t fail her or leave her. But the last time they had slept in this tent Elain learned that she was not safe. The cauldron could find her anywhere.

Not that it was Nesta’s fault, really she only had her own stupidity to blame. Her heart and mind warred with themselves, trying to decide what feeling made her cringe more, fear or shame. If she had allowed herself to see what everyone else saw, that Graysen now detested her, then she could not have been so easily lured. But last night she hadn’t wanted to accept that his affection could be anything but true. Even now a part of her brain defended him, reminding her that Graysen had been the one to lead her to the cauldron, is was the cauldron acting alone. She felt an internal embarrassment for continuing to defend Graysen to herself, that she allowed her stupid heart to create some hope that wasn’t there. She was pathetic.

Everyone in her village had grown up hearing terrifying stories of the Fae above the wall. She had always believed them to have godlike strength. Nothing could, or would, break them. Often she envied them. She was always the meekest of her sisters. Everyone assumed she lacked an opinion on anything, just doing whatever her sisters, mostly Nesta, wanted. In reality she lacked confidence in herself, she always told herself that letting her sisters lead made them happy, why should she push back. But she could imagine herself gaining everyone’s respect by becoming Fae or revealing some secret magic. Now, that secret dream made her feel even more pathetic. She had become Fae and had gained no one’s respect. She was still told what to do more often than she was asked her opinion. The lack of any transformation into the strong female she had imagined she truly was only added to her shame. No, even as Fae she was pathetic and boring. Perhaps Graysen had tired of her before her transformation, he just now had an easy excuse to end their engagement.

How many times did she need to suffer embarrassment in front of these people she barely knew? Starting with Graysen making the very public proclamation that he did not want her. Then, she made herself a further fool by wandering off and getting herself captured. In some ways it would’ve been easier if she had died in captivity. Then she could have been spared everyone’s pity that was so palpable she could almost see it hovering over them as they looked at her. But no, because of her stupidity she had to be rescued forcing Feyre and Azriel to risk their lives to save her.

Azriel.

Although now she thought very courageously about her death she had to acknowledge that that had been a very real fear just a few hours ago. She would swear she felt the world shift when she saw Azriel appear in the tent in Hybern’s camp. She had never felt relief like that. His presence had a way of making her feel like the person she imagined herself to be, certain, fearless. He looked at her as if he knew her. Well maybe not her, not the her that everyone saw, but the her she wanted to be, the heroine in her daydreams.

She exhaled loudly and rolled over, trying again to fall asleep. Mother, she was pathetic, creating some romantic scenario in her head where Azriel was the one person who saw her. He was probably the angriest with her. He suffered the most injuries attempting to rescue her. Would he resent the fact that he was injured before the battles had even begun? All because Elain couldn’t let go of her fiancé. What if Azriel’s injuries hindered him in the battle? What if because of Elain’s rescue he couldn’t fight as well and he …

Elain sat up quickly.

No she couldn’t think this way. She would have to speak to him, ensure he was fully healed before he could be allowed to fight. Surely the others had thought of this but if they hadn’t, she wouldn’t allow that to happen, couldn’t allow it. If there was a time for Elain to speak up it would be now. Well not now, not in the middle of the night with everyone sleeping, but now in there proverbial sense. Would he be angry with her if she was the reason he couldn’t fight? It didn’t matter. She was sure he was angry with her anyways.

Maybe that was why she couldn’t sleep.

She slowly pulled back her blankets and set her feet on the ground. Keeping her eyes on Nesta the whole time, making sure she didn’t stir. She pulled a blanket off her bed and wrapped it around herself as she moved towards the entrance of her tent. A part of her brain was warning this was a very bad idea. If she was worried about everyone being mad at her then she should definitely not make it worse by wandering the camp at night. Again. But another part of her brain, likely the sleep deprived part, was urging her on. Telling her a conversation with Azriel was the only way she would be able to calm down and get any sleep. She slowly pulled back the tent flaps and, with one more glance at Nesta, Elain slipped out.

She was almost positive Azriel’s tent was to the left of theirs and Cassian’s to the right. Too soon she and began to doubt herself. Was he sharing a tent with Cassian? Or Mor? Possibly even both. This was a bad idea. She couldn’t even knock and announce herself because how did you knock on a tent. She would just need to go right in.

She began to turn back to her own tent suddenly Azriel was there at the opening, catching her off guard and leaving her standing there speechless, like an idiot.

“Elain?” Azriel seemed to exhale her name after a few seconds of silence.

“How did you know I was here?” A perfectly appropriate greeting.

“My shadows. They patrol while I sleep. They told me you were outside my tent but I didn’t … are you okay?” Azriel’s eyes narrowed as he ran his gaze over her, looking for a source of harm.

“Yes. I’m okay. I just … I wanted to see you. To apologize.” Azriel gave her a look of surprise as a wind whipped through the camp causing Elain to pull the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

“Come in. Please.” Azriel quickly opened the tent further and stepped to the side so that Elain could get out of the cold.

At first his tent seemed smaller than hers, but she saw that was due to the amount of things he had inside. Not that he was messy, but he had a desk covered in neat piles of paperwork. Armor on a dummy in the corner and an impressive display of knives lied out on a small table top. A fire burned near the middle of the tent, immediately warming Elain as the tent flaps closed.

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked again.

Elain turned away from his things scattered throughout the tent to look at him. “Yes. I promise you I am okay. I couldn’t sleep and I wanted to … I hope I didn’t wake you. Were you asleep?”

“No I wasn’t asleep. I was reading.” He motioned to his desk of papers and Elain caught him wince as he lifted his arm.

“Please sit down. I’m sorry I made you get up. Are you okay?” Everything came out in a rush. Gods. What was she thinking coming here and bothering him in the middle of the night. She touched his arm, gently guided him to a chair and sitting herself down across from him.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.” She noticed how he slowly lowered himself into the chair.

“You’re not okay you’re hurt.” Elain reached to touch his bandage before catching herself, leaving her hand hovering between them. “Is there anything I can get you? Maybe some tea?”

“I’m fine. You don’t have to get me anything.”

“Please. I would like to help.”

Azriel paused, ready to repeat his no, before seeing that accepting the tea from Elain would help her more than himself.

“Some tea would be great. Thank you.”

Elain busied herself bringing water to a boil over the fire and, after Azriel’s shadows brought her the dried tea leaves, making a pot for the two of them.

“Cups?”

“Over there. There are drawers under the table with the knives. They should be in there.”

“Thank you.” She located the cups as the tea steeped in the pot. As she poured the tea she realized how calm her body not felt. Perhaps she shouldn’t have come here. She suddenly felt exhausted and very ready to sleep.

“Here.” She set Azriel’s cup on the table in front of him. She blew on her own and began to take a sip before thinking better of it and setting it down. Finally, with nothing else to busy herself with, she looked at Azriel. He was already looking at her.

She wasn’t sure where to start.

“I’m sorry.” She decided to lead with the phrase she couldn’t stop repeating. “My foolishness put Feyre and you in danger. I will never forget myself for that.”

Azriel closed his eyes, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. “You have nothing to apologize for. It isn’t your fault the Cauldron tricked you.”

“If I hadn’t been such a fool about Graysen it wouldn’t have been able to trick me so easily.”

Azriel shook his head. “It is not foolish to believe the best about the person you love.”

Elain grimaced. “I don’t love him.”

“You don’t?” He responded, slightly tilting his head to the side.

“Well,” she blushed. “Perhaps a part of me does but no … not anymore. I see the situation for how it is. How everyone else sees it.”

Something in that statement made Azriel pause. He looked away from her, as if considering something. “Does it matter how everyone sees it?”

“A few weeks, even days ago I would have said no. It only matters what we, or I, felt but …” She gestured in a direction that she believed was south. “Before today I thought everyone was wrong and didn’t understand what we had. Now it appears I was the only one wrong. When the majority of the people in your life disagree with you, at some point you have to admit it’s probably you who’s wrong. Don’t you?”

Azriel didn’t say anything from a few seconds, continuing to stare at something on the ground, before responding. “That logic makes sense.”

They lapsed into a brief silence where Elain attempted to drink her tea again. This time only slightly burning her tongue before turning back to her next question for Azriel.

“How bad are your injuries?”

“They are fine.”

“I could see you grimacing as you sat down. Please Azriel, be honest with me.”

He raised his head when she said his name and met her eyes. “They are bad, but I have had worse. Rhys, however, has already implied that he doesn’t want me in the battle if it starts tomorrow.”

Elain started to apologize again but he waved her off.

“It’s fine. I don’t plan to listen to him. I will be fine.”

That caused her to gasp. “You cannot fight tomorrow. Not if it’s not safe.”

He offered her a grim smile. “I don’t think battles are ever considered safe.”

Elain did not return the smile. “You know what I mean. You are already injured from rescuing me. You’re already vulnerable. If you were to hurt yourself more, I couldn’t…” She trailed off, not being sure what it was she “couldn’t”.

“I will be fine. I have seen many battles and survived.”

She felt her anger grow, both with herself and his casualness. “You shouldn’t have rescued me. You are more valuable than me. Your life means more than mine.”

His grim smile quickly changed to something close to a glare. “My life means nothing compared to yours.”

Instinctually she reached out to touch his arm, wanting to offer him comfort in any way she could. “How could you say…” But when her arm touched his she was too overwhelmed with images to speak.

They reminded her of the dreams she had been having. Ever since she was Made every night she dreamed like she never had before. Dreams that were as vivid as Feyre’s paintings. Sometimes that how they started. She would be looking at one of Feyre’s paintings and not realize she was dream until it came to life or pulled her into it. Some of the dreams were filled with light, the warmth of the sun, the feeling of a new day. Some filled with shadows and whispers, hidden objects that she could never find clearly.

Surprisingly the dreams of the sun were the ones that preceded her worse days. Days filled with anxiety and unease that made her long to go back to sleep but also made her afraid to. These are the days she spent her time in the garden. Dedicating complete focus to her plants and flowers, working through meal times and until the night was so dark she could no longer see the roots. It wasn’t until day turned to night that her heart stopped racing.

But now she was sure she was not asleep. She could feel Azriel’s arm and hear the crackling of the fire in his tent. Smell a combination of musk and sweat that she noticed whenever he was close. But what she saw was out of place with the war time tent.

Golden, barely-there sunlight coming in through the windows. Another fire in a different hearth. Windows left open, light grey curtains blowing in the breeze. A garden could be glimpsed through the windows full of red roses. A soft moan that sounded vaguely familiar. Was it her own? She looked around to see white sheets were gripped in her hands. She felt a heat climbing through her body starting at her core. She felt something between her legs. She moved her gaze down her body. Heavy breathing moved her peaked breasts up and down as she tried to find air. Scarred hands on her hips. A head of dark hair between her legs. Another moan. She couldn’t help but move her hips in time with his tongue.

Her dreams had never felt this real.

“Elain?” She heard someone call her name, but she wasn’t sure who. She could still feel a tongue moving between her legs, bringing her to the edge of something she had never felt before. Her body began to shake at the feeling, getting closer and closer to a feeling that wasn’t familiar with but was desperate for.

Then her body was truly being shaken.

“Elain!’

Her eyes fluttered. Had she closed them? She tried to focus on why she was shaking.

“Elain? Are you okay?” The scarred hands were no longer on her hips but on her arms. Holding her firmly, shaking her gently. Azriel’s head was no longer between her legs but looking her earnestly in the eyes.

“I … yes. I think. I’m okay.”

“Did you have another vision?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Have you been having many?”

“I’m not sure. I have dreams every night, but I’m not sure if they are visions. They aren’t like this.” She motioned to the air as Azriel lowered his hands.

“What was this one of?”

She hesitated.

“Even if it doesn’t make sense it may be important, for the war.”

“It was of us.” She couldn’t help but answer.

Azriel gave a brief pause, concentrating on keeping his face neutral. “Who do you mean by ‘us’? You and me?”

Elain nodded.

“What were we doing?”

A description of the images flowed out of her. “We were in a house, I’m not sure where. It was peaceful and beautiful. There was a garden outside. We were in bed.” She could feel a blush creeping up her chest to her cheeks. Why did she answer his question. She could have deflected. She must not be fully awake.

Azriel’s cheeks began to blush as he sat up straighter. “Oh. And what were we doing in bed?”

Was it a repercussion of the visions that they had to be spoken whether she willed it or not?

“We … your head was between my legs and you were…”

Azriel stood up suddenly, effectively cutting her off. “I got it Elain. Thank you.” He quickly walked over to the fire and angled himself away from her.

After a few moments of taut silence Elain braced herself and stood. “I don’t know why I said all that. I’m sorry I’ve made things uncomfortable for you. I will go now. I’m glad you’re okay.”

But before she could make it more than a few steps Azriel was behind her. Placing his hand gently on her arm, quickly dropping it as she turned around to face him.

“It’s okay. I know what it’s like being a seer. Some visions must be spoken.”

Elain raised her eyebrows. “Are you a …”

“No.” Azriel cut her off. “But my mother is, I know what it’s like.”

“Did all of her visions come true?” Elain asked, pink staining her cheeks again.

“I cannot remember if all of them did, but I believe most. Although, not often in the way she suspected.”

“Oh.” Elain breathed. The air filling with tension and words left unsaid, until Elain had to say something.

“I would not be upset, if this one came true.” She surprised herself speaking so boldly, but she supposed the vision of the possible future gave her courage that her feelings would be reciprocated.

“Elain.” Azriel repeated her name in a rough tone she hadn’t heard him speak before.

She wasn’t sure who moved first.

His scarred hands were on either side of her cheek, pulling her towards him.

Her hands found his shoulder blades, pulling him to her.

A few touches they had shared before. His hand on her elbow. Her hand on his shoulder. Their fingers brushing. Always they had been gentle, reverent even.

This time their lips clashed. A different kind of reverence, as if their bodies were made to worship one another’s.

The line between sin and sanctification had never been so thin.

With Graysen Elain had been always been demure, unsure of herself. She had rarely felt much pleasure of her own and had the vague impression that he didn’t expect her to have any.

With Azriel she felt uninhibited, she could be herself with him. Elain Archeron, the naive, mortal girl and Elain Archeron, the high fae, the seer. Either way Azriel knew her and accepted her. It drove her confidence now.

Her hands moved to his chest, broad and firm. She had been held against it many times when he winnowed her, but she would never forget how it felt earlier today when he rescued her from Hybern’s camp. Now she allowed herself to give into the temptation she had felt so many times before and ran her hands over it. Unbuttoning the top of his tunic.

His tongue ran across the seam of her lips, urging her to open them for him. She did so eagerly and when their tongues met they both exhaled quiet moans. His hands moved down her hips, over her ass, gently squeezing before moving further down to the backs of her thighs. He bent slightly to get a hold of them and life her up. Pulling her closer to himself, so that their bodies were perfectly aligned. Her hands moved from his chest to circle his neck, one hand threading through his hair.

She felt his pause. His uncertainty in what she wanted next. She pulled his mouth away from his only far enough to speak. “Take me to bed.” Azriel emitted a louder groan before moving his mouth back to hers as if to claim her. After a few steps he was gently lowering her to the bed before positioning himself on his elbows above her, ensuring no weight was put on her. But she didn’t want to be treated so gently. She wasn’t afraid of the weight of him, of this. She pulled his neck down towards her as she lifted her hips up to his. Her body responding on it’s own.

Azriel shifted to one elbow so that he could move a hand to her cheek, gently, down to her neck. His hand circled her neck and he squeezed, lightly. Now it was Elain’s turn the moan, the idea of being at his mercy making her come undone. He squeezed harder before releasing and moving his hand down her body, pushing down her loose nightgown until her breasts were exposed. He broke their kiss to look at them.

“Gods.” He muttered before moving his mouth to her neck. Kissing and nipping until he reached her breasts. She arched her back, begging him to take them into his mouth. He looked up at her as his mouth hovered over her right nipple. His breath causing it to tighten, nearing pain. He kept eye contact as his tongue darted out. Barely licking the peak. Elain trembled and moaned his name.

“Azriel.”

It was his undoing. His mouth covering her nipple, a hand moving to the other. He sucked and bit until she couldn’t stop writhing beneath him, then he moved to her other breast and repeated his worshipping. She felt ready to explode from the feeling on her breasts alone, not to mention the hard length she could feel through his pants when she rubbed against every time his teeth closed around her nipple and she couldn’t help but rub against him.

“Take off your clothes.” She managed between breaths. She knew she was shaking too much to manage removing them herself, not to mention she wasn’t sure how to remove them from his wings.

He removed his mouth from her breast and lifted his head up so that he could look down on her and meet her eyes. He paused, as if he wanted to capture the moment like he was afraid that when he moved to take off her clothes she would suddenly disappear. She gently placed her hand on his cheek, hoping to offer reassurance through her touch. He lowered his head to place a gentle kiss on her lips but raising himself to stand at the end of the bed.

He made quick work of his clothes and she pushed her own night gown the rest of the way off her body. The soft blues of her gown melting into the dark greys of his clothes at the end of the bed. She barely had an opportunity to take in his hard length, standing straight at attention.

Then he was on her again. Without the barrier of clothes every inch of their skin is touching. Elain had never felt so alive. Like her skinning is on fire and freezing at the same time. Every inch of her taut and screaming for more of Azriel. In any way. In all ways.

He leaned forward to leave another kiss on her lips before moving down her body, leaving a trail of kisses between her breasts, her stomach, above her sex. When he was between her legs he looked up at her. “Is this what you saw in your vision?” He didn’t wait for her reply before his mouth was on her. He wasted no time kissing her legs, her thighs. Suddenly his lips and his tongue were between her legs, her sex, exploring her, feasting on all her. “Gods Elain.” Azriel moaned into her, causing her to write more. “What do I taste like?” She had to ask, had always been curious. Her question caused Azriel to moan again, she felt the vibrations in her core. His tongue dove into her, as if he was trying to distinguish her taste. “Sugar.” She laughed gently at his general assessment. Something, anything, sweet. She wondered how he would taste.

His tongue was unrelenting. Licking her up and down. Moving between her folds. Pushing into her. There wasn’t a spot of skin between her legs that his tongue didn’t touch. Over and over. Her hands moved to his hair, gripping it hard enough that she was sure he must be in pain. But he didn’t relented. She couldn’t help as her hips began moving on his mouth, riding his tongue. He brought one of his hands to her ass, helping to lift herself onto him. She didn’t spare a thought for the fact that they were only in a tent, did not stifle her shouts with the fear of being overheard. She became overwhelmed with the feeling that she was about the explode. Her body barreled towards some kind of release, but there was some a part of her mind that seemed to hesitate, fearing there was something she wasn’t doing right, that her sounds were too loud or her writhing too much.

As if sensing her hesitation Azriel moved his hand from her ass to her clit, rubbing it while his tongue moved inside her.

She saw stars.

Her hips bucking into him as he helped her ride out her orgasm. He continued to lick and suck her until she had all but stopped moving. Once he saw that she was exhausted he left one chaste kiss on her before moving back up her body until they were eye to eye. They held their eye contact until Elain lifted herself up to kiss him on the mouth, tasting herself as she did. “You’re right, like sugar.” She offered, surprised that her own voice was deeper and scratchier than usual. Hopefully that wasn’t an indication of how much she had been screaming.

Her declaration pulled another groan from Azriel as he moved to kiss her more deeply. After a few tangles with their tongues she pulled away, bringing her palm to rest on his cheek. “I’ve never felt like that before.”

“Never?” He asked with a slight raise of his eyebrows.

She laughed softly. “No. Never.”

He kissed her again, at first gently, before she was lifting herself to deepen the kiss. To take more of him in. She wasn’t done devouring him, having him. Tension began to find it’s way back into her body, her veins. The satiated bliss she felt just moments ago being replaced with the need for more. One hand remained on the back of Azriel’s neck, gently holding his mouth to hers while her other moved down his body. Over the planes of his broad chest, down to his solid stomach, further down until she could feel course hairs and then her hand found what she had been looking for, had been so curious about. The touch of her hand caused Azriel to hiss.

“Are you okay?” She began to feel embarrassed that her inexperience had somehow hurt him. She and Graysen had had sex yes, but there was no extra touching aside from what was needed. She had been content with what it was, but the orgasm Azriel had already given shattered all illusions of satisfaction she had had with Graysen. She now knew how much she had been missing.

Azriel moved his hips so that his hard length was again touching her hand. “With you I am always okay.”

Her lips turned up in a smile as she kissed him again, capturing his moans with her mouth and she touched his length with her fingers, her hands. Running them up and down him. Marveling at how hard he was, with skin smooth as silk. She wrapped her hand around as much of him as she could and squeezed, pulling another moan out of Azriel. He bucked into her hand once, twice. “Fuck Elain. Fuck.” He moved his mouth to her neck and bit down on the skin between her neck and shoulder, causing her to gasp as the pain and squeeze him harder.

Suddenly he was pulling her hand away from him. “If you keep doing that I’m going to explode.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” She went to move her hand back to him, but he caught her wrist.

“It just depends on what you want.” Azriel didn’t make it a question, not wanting to push her in any direction she didn’t want to go. He wanted to be sure it was completely her decision, her call.

“I want this. I want you.” She had felt that draw towards him, that longing, ever since he first showed up at her father’s estate. Cassian had been the Illyrian who had caused her paused, caused her palms to sweat and her legs to tremble with fear at his presence. But upon seeing Azriel in the doorway she had felt a calm wash over her and had somehow known that if Azriel was with Cassian, then she had nothing to fear.

“Have you ever?”

“Yes. With … yes I have.” She didn’t want to ruin this by speaking Graysen’s name. She didn’t want any thoughts of him in her mind ever, much less in this moment.

Azriel nodded, understanding, before lowering himself, lining himself up with her.

“Stop me if it hurts.” She nodded but he before he moved he looked her in the eyes and repeated himself. “Ask me to stop.”

“You won’t hurt me in any way I don’t want you to.”

He kissed her as he pushed into her, slowly, only a inch but still causing her to gasp. He pulled out slightly before pushing in further. Her gasps mingling with his moans. On the next push her eyes fluttered close, a pain mixing with the pleasure. He moved his left hand to where they were joined, his right staying by her head where is elbow was propped. He moved his thumb between her legs, above where they were joined, he rubbed her until she began moving on him, arching into him, wanting more.

Then he gave her more.

He pulled out nearly all of the way before sheathing himself inside her fully. Pushing her legs wider to accompany his hips. Her hips arching up further to meet his as she let out a loud moan. When he had allowed himself to picture this with Elain he had imagined going slowly. It was an image he had tried to stop himself from thinking but one what often came to him in the time between waking and dreams, when he didn’t have full control of his consciousness. But now that he was inside her, her perfect tightness surrounding him, all rational thoughts were gone and every instinct he had took over. He kept himself from unleashing completely, but only barely.

He squeezed her breast as he moved inside her. She pulled his hair. The sounds coming from her mouth were better than anything he could have imagined. No matter how much he wanted this to last all night he knew he would not last much longer. He raised one of her legs slightly, so that he could push deeper into to her and also be closer to her. He kissed her mouth, her jaw, her neck. Grazing his teeth down to her pulse point, he bit down, claiming her in all the ways he knew how.

The sudden pain of his bite mixing with the wild pleasure she felt every time he reached a spot deeper inside her pushed her over the edge. She clenched around him, bucking wildly to ride out that final explosion of pleasure, moaning her first coherent words.

“Azriel.”

The feeling of her coming around him, the sound of her moaning his name, brought Azriel over his own the edge. He spilled himself inside her, glad for her clenching walls milking him till he was thoroughly spent.

He stayed on top of her after, catching his breath. Hearing her labored breathing in his ear, feeling her breaths gently moving his hair. He gently kissed her cheek, ending their passionate fucking with something so sweet she struggled to catch her breath.

Then he moved, pulling himself out her. She groaned at the absence of him. He got up and walked over to his wash basin. Dipping a cloth into the water before returning to her and gently wiping her between her legs. After he was finished he tossed the cloth back towards the bin. It landed on the floor near by and he didn’t bother picking it up. Instead he turned back towards her, taking her in as she lay bare in his bed, starting at her toes and ending with her eyes, as if committing her to memory. Then he brought his hand to his face, as if wiping at the shadow of hair covering his jaw. Finally he sighed, seeming to reach some internal decision, and picked up her nightgown from the floor and holding it out to her.

She frowned as she took it from him, hoping that he would lie down next to her instead.

But he caught her disappointment, as he seemed to catch all of the emotions written on her face.

“I don’t want you to leave. Never that. But if Nesta wake and you aren’t there, there would be hell to pay.”

She smiled at that truth. “Do you think I can get in without waking her?”

“I will put you in your bed with my shadows. She will never know.”

Elain pulled on her nightgown and picked up the blanket she had wrapped herself in to come to his tent before turning to face him.

For a moment they both looked at each other. Trying to read each other.

Finally Azriel broke the silence.

“Was that like your vision?”

She blushed. “Yes. Well. It was similar but we weren’t in this tent, we were somewhere else and I didn’t see us do everything.”

He offered one of his rare smiles. “Good. So we don’t have to be worried this was the last time.”

“No.” She agreed, returning his smile. “We certainly don’t need to worry about that.”

#elriel #elriel fanfic #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #azriel #acotar #fanfic #elain archeron #elide reads #elriel smut #a court of thorns and roses

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smallrainclouds · 3 years

Text

Made To Break

Yandere!Hypnos x reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 5k

Warning: Yandere bevaiour, dubcon/noncon, sex in later parts

No beta. Read at your own risk.

A/N: part one of two. Enjoy.

Your father was a fool.

But perhaps You were just as foolish.

💮

When the letter arrived, you couldn't believe that the same man wrote it.

Your father always wrote in neat, tight letters but the letters You got were loopy, large letters that fused together at odd parts.

You sat in your car outside your childhood home. The front yard was nothing but overgrown grass now. You could see the lack of care the home had gotten over the years in the cracks and chipped off paint. The overcast skies and trees with just a few leaves holding on only added to the depressing picture.

You bit your lip as you pulled out your father's letter from your bag.

With shaky hands, you unfolded it again for what must have been hundreds of times.

'My dearest child.

I gave it all up. I have found a way to eternity. But it cost me everything.

Forgive me.

I just wanted to see your mother again.

Father.'

"Madness. Simply mad." You murmured. You could feel the tears welled up in your eyes, you knew your father loved your mom. Her loss had slowly eaten him alive since you were a child.

Now he was just a body in a hospital room. It was unlike any coma the doctors had seen before.

The doctor, an older woman with short gray hair and sharp blue eyes, had felt more like a grandmother than a doctor.

But even with her kind face couldn't soften the blow that your father will likely never wake up again.

You sniffed as you used your hoodie sleeve to rub at your eyes.

"Okay. Okay. You got this. This was your home too." You tried to smooth yourself with little success. With a deep breath for courage, you made your way to the house.

When you got inside the dark house, you stubbed your foot on the piles of books by the door and they promptly fell over into a heap.

"Urg, fuc-owww. Okay, Y/N great start.Just amazing." You pulled out your phone. You could make the numerous texts from your partner-no, now your ex but you just bypass those for the flashlight.

You shone the light around, there was nothing but a big mess. Books and papers had overtaken the house and you can smell the old fast food bags that piled into the corner.

You could see on one wall, writing in wasn't in English and strange markings. A single gold and red eye stared back.

"Fuck."

💮

Hours later, you had made headway in the madness that was now your childhood home.

At least your room had been mostly spared. Only some odd books here and there. And the many, many dried poppies on your floor.

You tossed the broom on the floor as you flop down along with it. You didn't realize how bad it had gotten. You only got your room back to normal, let alone the rest of the house.

Guilt swelled in your chest, you should have been more aware. You knew your dad wasn't the most stable person which isn't good but this was something else.

But…

But...

You had been busy dealing with your 'friends' group, the breakup and the last of your exams.

You covered your face, you already cried three times today and you weren't not about to start again.

Your phone buzzed, and you couldn't stop the laugh. Speak of the devil.

You rolled over to your side and pulled your phone close to you.

You swipe away the message, you were not dealing with any of your former friends right now. Your cheating jerk of an ex could keep them all. You had far more important matters to attend to now.

You opened up the gallery app, you took many photos as you could with the last of the daylight left.

You zoomed in on the writing, you had thought it was nonsense at first but after a few more looks,you could see the repeated words. You just didn't know the language.

There was something deeply wrong in this house. You could swear you could feel something was in there with you. But if friend or foe you weren't sure. You tried not to think about how your only protection was your childhood baseball bat.

But what did your dad do? You normally are able to pick apart what your dad was doing but this was something else unknown. You kept checking the pictures with the creepy red and gold eye in hope of finding something.

Slowly you could feel tiredness sinking in your bones, and before you knew it, your eyes drifted shut.

💮

A warm hand cupped your cheek, and you pressed into it with a sigh. You couldn't remember the last time you were touched so tenderly. You think for a moment it was your ex but they never did that before.

The hand left but then you were lifted up against a warm chest. You heard murmurs as sleep pulled you under again.

💮

Rushing water reached your ears and for a moment, you thought you could hear the sounds of birds.

It took you a moment to notice that you weren't in normal clothes but a tunic that went over one shoulder. You saw a brooch with two wings in its place. You should be more worried but you felt too tired to care.

You turned your head with a yawn. Whose lap were You using as a pillow? Before you could look, a hand covered your eyes.

"Not yet, You still need more time." A man's voice... but You didn't recognize it. You made a questioning sound but he hushed you gently.

"Blood and darkness, you are just as beautiful as I remember."

You reached up and stroked his hand, trying to understand what was going on.

"I don't remember… you." You slurred quietly.

"I know. It's not your fault. All it matters is that I found you again."

His thumb rubbed your cheek, "Now go back to sleep. I will be there soon."

You sighed as you sunk back into sleep.

💮

You stared at your bedroom wall, not able to breathe. There was someone else here and they apparently tucked you in bed, blanket pulled up to your chin and all.

You took a breath and tried to listen to any sounds. You waited, surely you would hear footsteps or something.

But there were no sounds, none at all.

It took all of your nerves to get out of bed. You grabbed your childhood baseball bat, it was small but you could still get a good hit in.

You remembered you left your phone on the ground and turned to look for it. It wasn't there, not on your nightstand or desk.

'Great, some creep definitely got my phone.' you tighten your hold on the bat, and after listening for a moment, you slowly push the door opened.

Without saying a word, you slowly walked out though the house. You were sure you would find out who invited themselves in.

The mess was still the same, the writing on the wall was still there. You went through the house twice and found nothing.

You heard the sound of a single bird singing in the backyard. You followed the sounds, it almost felt like it was calling you.

The bat dropped from your hand and You couldn't stop the tears in your eyes.

The backyard had been overtaken by red poppies, there was almost no grass left. the singing stopped when you stepped outside. But a soft hoot had You stared up into the tree and saw a single little owl stared back at you.

It's eyes were light yellow.

💮

It was late morning now, the overcast skies have darkened and You are sure it will start snowing soon.

You had given up finding your phone. You s out of your bedroom.

"Fine, you can have it! Good luck guessing the password, you jerk!" You shouted into the backyard. There was no response but you didn't expect one. You had already tried to find the owl but it must have flown off.

You couldn't stand the smell of the old food anymore and tossed it. You found some tea that was still good and stood in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil.

You changed out your tight jeans and hoodie for a pair of much more comfortable jeans and an oversize sweater.

Thankfully, like your bedroom, the kitchen was also mostly clean. You found as many candles as you could, which wasn't many. Two kept the kitchen dimly lit.

You checked the light bulbs, nearly all of them had burned out. Just one more thing for you to fix.

You rubbed your face with a sigh, at least all the appliances were working. And you won't have to go without water either.

You flipped through your dad's notebooks in hopes of finding something. It was in the second notebook you finally found a name. It had been underlined and circled.

"Hypnos?" You murmured, "Who the hell is that?" It doesn't sound like a human name you heard of.

You made your tea, tucked the notebook under your arm. After cleaning off the big armchair and side table, You began going through the books in the living room. Nearly all of them were about ancient Greece, which you knew nothing about.

Your eyes went to the wall writings, that would explain why you didn't know any of the words.

Did your dad believe this stuff? You looked down at the open notebook in your lap. You skim some of the pages, the only name that came up was Hypnos.

"The god of sleep, huh?" You looked at the stacks of books. Why would your dad care about some god of sleep?

You keep looking though, and found a basic guide to Greek mythology. You flipped through the pages, "Come on Hypnos babe, where are you…"

You grinned when you saw the name in bold print. You skim past most of the information, but one part caught your eyes.

Despite being considered as a gentle and kind god, he has been known to strike others down. In the death of his lover by a human warrior (whose name had been lost to time) he had caused the world to go into a permanent state of sleep, never to waken again.

Only his mother Nyx, goddess of night, was able to talk him down or fight him depending on the storyteller and restore the world. In oral storytelling that has been recorded, it is said that he still uses dreams in hope of finding his lost love.

"Oh dad. No wonder." Your heart twisted, sad that your dad's last days have been spent on some myth. He must have been so far gone to think any of it was real.

But was he wrong? You stared out the window, knowing there was somehow a field of poppies waiting.

Your gut flipped, and told yourself it was just one of those freakish nature things.

💮

You didn't quite realize when you fell asleep. You sighed when you felt a hand touch your forehead followed by a kiss.

You tried to wake up, but the voice murmured something and you just hummed. Your eyelids are too heavy to open anyway.

When the arms scooped you again, you just sighed and curled against the chest.

💮

You felt soft grass tickle your face. You pushed yourself up quickly. You were in the tunic again and you could see a sea of poppies and other flowers surrounding you.

A thick fog of sleepiness tried to pull you back but you ignored it. Not again, damnit.

You stood up, your legs felt so wobbly like a baby deer. Dispise your best attempt, You fell on your knees, the call to sleep overpowering.

You gasped when a hand covered your eyes. You grabbed his wrist, "No, I don't want to go back to sleep." You could feel the fog of sleep growing stronger. You kicked at his legs but got nothing but air.

"I'm sorry, but not yet." His voice came next to your ear, you could feel his breath on your skin. You tried to move away but you fell against him. Your head lolled upward against a shoulder.

An arm wrapped around your waist and held you firm.

"Soon, I promise. I just have to handle a few more things. I will be here when you wake up." A kiss was pressed against your temple.

You wanted demand for answers but you were already falling back into the darkness.

💮

"Not again." You moaned. You sat up, the blanket pooled in your lap. What in the world was going on?

You were back in the oversize sweater and jeans. You press your fingers against your temple. Those kisses felt so real.

Are you going mad too? Just like your dad? You gulped, feeling so very alone.

An hour later and some crying, You somehow found the willpower to make it out of bed. Snow was falling down now and a healthy inch was already on the ground.

You made it to the living room when you saw him by the window, snow falling down against the glass. His sheer size made the living room seem smaller. He was reading one of your dad's notebooks in one hand, a quill floated around next to him.

Some part of you, deep inside of you knew were looking at Hypnos, God of sleep.

"It's you." Your voice cracked. His shoulders tensed up as he turned. Bright, yellow eyes stared at you. "Oh you were the owl too weren't you?" You said numbly.

He nodded slowly, "You've been crying again." He said concerned, his eyes scanned you up and down. He tossed the notebook to the side as he took a step toward you.

Unable to tear your eyes away, you grabbed for the first thing you could reach, a thick and heavy book. And with all of your strength, you launched it at his head.

"Blood and darkness!" He ducked to the side. You reached for another and hurled it.

"It's you!" You snarled, feeling like a rabid animal. "You did this! What did you do to my dad?! To my fucking phone?!"

The bastard ducked again. "Hey, I didn't do anything he didn't ask for!" He held up his palms, stretched out to show he wasn't a threat.

"I won't hurt you. I would never lay a finger on you, Y/N." His voice was soft, kind like he was dealing with some animal.

You stared for a moment, rage overtaking any sense you had. "You've been the asshole putting me to bed every night." You grabbed another book and hurled it. "How dare you!"

And of course, he sidestepped the book. Which just made you angier.

"I don't care if you're a god. Make my dad go back to normal. Or I will find a way to hurt you somehow!"

"He didn't tell you anything did he?" The god asked, a wry smile on his face. You picked up another book, and he just sighed. "Have you tried aiming? Sounds crazy, I know but maybe you could actually hit me this time?"

"You don't get to be disparaging, not with all the trouble you made for me." You gestured with the book as if it would help make your point.

You stood behind the armchair, using it as a shield. You knew you wouldn't win in a physical fight but you weren't going to make it easy for him.

Hypnos sighed, "No, no you're right. I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his curls, a soft smile on his face.

"I'm happy though, you are still as courageous as you always have been. I wasn't sure what I would find after all this time."

"What are you talking about? I have never seen you before. I think I would remember meeting an ancient god." You snarled, not enjoying whatever game the god was playing with you.

"Most people don't try to fight a god with books, my love. Not even other gods." Hypnos smiled.

"If I had something stronger, I would beat you with that. Be happy that I don't have my bat on me. You still didn't answer anything."

You pointed at the wall with writings. "I want answers and I want them now. You said we met before, when?"

Hypnos was silent, his eyes tracing the words on the wall. He stepped closer to the center of the wall, his fingers traced the words. "So that's where he messed up. I told him to check with me before doing anything." He murmured to himself.

After a moment, he looked at you.

"In your past life, you were going to be my consort. I've been looking for you for a very long time.."

You stared, quiet in your disbelief. He waved a hand toward the wall, "Problem is that the spell got messed up. I think your father was rushing and couldn't finish the spell the proper way. That's why you don't remember anything."

You shook your head, laughing "No, none of this makes sense."

"Y/N, stop hiding behind that ugly chair, and we can talk more about what happened." Hypnos' voice tried to sound calming, but you heard an undercurrent of eagerness. Of hunger to it.

You shook your head, "No, and don't take another step toward me. I can see what you're doing. That lighting thing your fingers are doing, Hypnos." You tighten your grip on the book, cursing yourself for leaving your bat up your bedroom. Not that it would be much better.

Hypnos' fingers abruptly stopped the magic spell. His smile faded and his eyes stayed on you, waiting for your next move.

You eyed him, you haven't been able to land a single hit on him but you didn't see any signs of super speed yet.

You might be able to get out of the house and into the car before he could get you. But what if he just could teleport or something you haven't thought of?

It was a risk you would have to take because since you saw him, he watched you like you were some prey for him and you didn't want to stick around to find out what Hypnos had planned.

The living room front way will be no good but the backdoor was in the kitchen, if you could make that, it would be a longer run but you would have far more chances for escape…

You dropped everything and took off like a shot into the kitchen. You almost sailed into the sink but used the motion for more speed.

You heard Hypnos yelled your name followed by something you were sure was a swear word in Greek.

The yard, full of poppies and snow greeted you, you hissed as your socks got soaked from the snow.

You almost made it to the gate, and past that, you could see your car.

Freedom.

You didn't see the root sticking out of the ground, but you saw it on the way down.

The breath knocked out of you when you slammed into the cold ground and mere seconds afterwards, you felt hands on your shoulders followed by a pressure against your back. Hypnos leaned down, his lips against your ear, and he spoke in must have been Greek.

"No. Nonono." You gasped, fighting for breath but he just shushed you. His fingers brushed against your cheeks almost lovingly.

Your eyelids slided shut.

💮

When you woke up, your fingers were curled against an unfamiliar red blanket. You sighed as your eyes drifted shut, you couldn't remember the last time you felt so….warm and safe.

You heard the sounds of paper moving around and your eyes fluttered open.

Hypnos must have cleared off the sofa and placed you there. You could see the written wall behind him, post-it notes dotted between the words and some of them were covered with lined paper, new words on it.

Hypnos was sitting on the ground, notebooks and paper surrounded him. A quill tip between his teeth, his golden eyes almost glowed in the dim lighting.

It took a moment of staring but you noticed Hypnos's cloak was gone. Your fingers tighten when you realize you were under his cloak. You took a moment to look at him as he kept reading the notebook

While he wasn't the broadest person you've ever seen, there was a solidness to him. You could see the lean muscles in his arms and shoulders. The gold bands he wore only highlighted the muscles.

You tore your eyes away. 'Jerk.' you thought even as your cheeks warmed.

"I don't like you very much." You spoke, voice rough with sleep.

Hypnos looked up to you, not saying anything. He took out the quill and twilled it between his fingers.

You rolled your eyes at him, unmoving your spot under his cloak. He stared, looking thoughtful for a second before he leaned toward you with a wide smile on his lips, "If you don't like me then you should return my cloak."

"No, it's mine now." The words slipped out your mouth before you knew it.

You blinked at his laugh. You thought he would be upset.

Hypnos chuckled fondly, "Word for word."

At your questioning look, he continued.

"You don't remember yet but the first time we met, you were trying to find medicine for humans. I think you were upset at me because you got lost in my cave. I brought you back home and I gave you my cloak so you could get warm."

You sat up against the arm rest, holding on to the cloak. Not ready to give up the feeling of safety yet. You bit your lip, not quite sure what to say.

His eyes glazed over, the quill still spinning between his fingers. His voice turned quiet. "You were so beautiful, so strong, so determined. You fought for humanity, not that they even remember, those worthless animals, the whole lot."

He seemed lost in a memory so you just waited it out, letting him talk.

"You hated the fact I took half of their lives away from them. And that I often took more."

His eyes meet yours, and his whole face softens. You flushed at the realization that you could make him do that, to have that much power over another being let alone a god.

"I couldn't give up the half, it was mine by birthright but I was slower afterward, let them have more time to themselves. And I never took more than half. The only reason I got called a kind god was because of you."

You stood up, still holding on the cloak and walked over to him. His eyes never left you, and you had to tell yourself to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

You kneeled next to him and after a second, you reached out to touch his shoulder. You were surprised at how warm he was, how human-like he felt. Maybe you were wrong about him.

"Hypnos. I-I I'm sorry you lost them. I can hear how much you love them, especially after all this time. But I am not whoever you think I-"

"How much I love you." Hypnos interrupted, his hand covered your own. "I never stopped looking for you. I just need more time to fix this." He waved a hand to the wall.

You shook your head, "I am not then though. You are just like my dad, always looking for a person who isn't there."

"No, your father was. The woman who birthed you died and is in the underworld now. You, however, are here in front of me." Hypnos leaned closer, he tightened his hold but it wasn't painful, it was almost comforting. "You are them, your eyes, your lips, your nose even the way you move and talk. You are them, given life again."

"How?!" You said despairing,surely even he could see what nonsense he was saying? "How could a god become reborn as a human? Or even go back to being a god?"

"There are ways. There is always a way." Hypnos replied darkly. He took your other hand and held them between his own warm hands. "You haven't even let me talk to you, to tell you what happened."

"I don't want to." You whispered, "I don't need to know what happened. I just want to know what it will take for you to understand that I am not them."

Hypnos didn't say anything for a few minutes and the silence grew heavy.

"Did he summon you?" You asked, trying not to feel guilty, looking at the swirls of words on the wall, in the middle of the circle was a single red and gold eye staring back.

Hypnos stared at the wall along with you, "He really didn't tell you anything did he?"

You dug out the letter from your front pocket. "This was the last thing he wrote to me. This isn't his normal writing."

Hypnos read the letter, his eyebrows rose and reread it again. "Blood and darkness, what a damn fool."

"Hey, that's my dad you know." You murmured, "Also you guys are both doing the same thing, you with me, and he with my mom."

"No, not nearly the same thing." Hypnos scoffed. You rolled your eyes at his words. You moved on, tired of this fight for now.

"Where did dad get this information anyway?" You asked.

Hypnos sighed as he rubbed his forehead. "From me. I loaned out the books I have for this kind of stuff. He told me that he could handle the translation since it had to be a two person spell, think of it as a bridge, your dad could visit your mom every time he dreamt. But I had to be on the other side to help build it."

"You trusted him? I mean you seem like you don't like humans."

"I didn't. This whole mess just proved my point. But…" Hypnos shrugged, "I knew you wouldn't let me just take you without making sure your dad wasn't alone. I wanted you to want to come back to me, especially after everything I've done."

You brushed your fingers along the cloak, "Are you talking about when you put the whole world to sleep?"

"And most of the gods." Hypnos added. "I still don't remember much of what I did. My mother or brother still hasn't spoken to me since then."

Hypnos looked so worn down, his brow furrowed and you wanted to smooth the stress away from him but you held back. You already let him touch you even if it made you want to run. Toward him or away from him you couldn't say.

"I've been so blinded by the thought of having you in my arms again, I didn't foresee him going rogue on me." He murmured quietly.

Hypnos fixed his gaze on you, but you looked away, cursing the flush on your cheeks.

"I took care of the stuff he wouldn't have been able to do. With the underworld and stuff. But he fucked up, he changed the spell without telling me. And he did it badly. He tried to bring her from the underworld and you can't do that, and now he has to deal with the punishment."

"Well, can't you just erase it? Or do a new spell? I mean, you are a god right? Do you even need this stuff?"

Hypnos slid his fingers under your chin, making you look at him. "Listen to me." His serious tone kept you from pulling away. "No one can't take the dead from the underworld. Not me, not Hades or even my mother. It's the cost of life. Right now, he is being punished for his pride and when he does die, there is a good chance he won't be able to find your mother."

You swallow, your heart breaking, "Is there nothing you can do?"

"I don't know." Hypnos said. "I was already putting my neck on the line just to let them have a link."

"What if I agree to go with you, to see if I am the one you are looking for? I will do whatever you need me to." You asked.

Hypnos didn't respond, his eyes glazed.

"Hypnos, please." You begged, "I can't just let him die like this-"

He spoke finally, "I will talk to Persephone. I can't promise anything. I'm still banned from the house after the 'Great Sleep'."

"Thank you! Thank you, Hypnos." You felt dizzy with relief and hugged him. You squeezed him, and buried your face in his neck. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." Hypnos chuckled, his hands on your back,"You might not like what you'll get."

#hypnos x reader #yandere #self insert #hades hypnos

104 notes · View notes

hidethisblogjfc · 3 years

Text

Sorry if this is terrible lol

Warnings- Mentions of stuffing, Scat, Eprocto, messing, brief mentions of omo (but I'm not really into that ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

Boxes from varying take out restaurants are littered around them, everything from Chinese from that questionable hole in the wall down the street, to a popular burger joint a couple blocks over. They aren't all from just one day, no, some of these are from dinner five days go. They've never been as good at keeping up with the cleaning as B is, or perhaps, A thinks, this slobby behavior is just a consequence the laziness that accompanies their...…over indulging.

By now, B has been gone on their overseas business trip for about five days, which means that A has two days to get everything back into unassuming order, though, part of A warns that maybe they should get around to it sooner, rather than later. Still, they ignore it, because it just feels so good to live out their fantasy, especially after keeping it under close wraps for so, so long.

A loves B, they do, with everything in them, but there are just some things that they're almost positive B won't get behind, and so, its been easier to hide their less than conventional desires; only getting an extra serving of fries as opposed to the additional burger or two that they want, or getting a large soda instead of that extra large milkshake. Usually, A wishes that they could take things further than just a handful of fries and sugary pop, they want to push their body, see how much they can eat before they're too full to move, become an almost permanent resident of the living room sofa, only giving the weighed down cushions a break when they lug their heavy frame to bed. For as long as they could remember, that's the life that A has dreamed of. But it's quite possible that B, who's notoriously clean, neat and healthy would be absolutely repulsed by just the idea.

And A loves B too much to lose them.

But they also wish they could have that life, that dream, with their partner.

But they can't.

Which is why when B came home one day, announcing that they're cushy job, would be sending them away for a week of seminars, the idea had bloomed in A's head; this was their chance. At first A felt a little guilty, especially when the first delivery guy had shown up, both arms filled with A's order, making a joke about how they must having been having a party, because conventionally, one simply doesn't order off half the menu unless there's company. And then, when they'd offered up the card that B religiously maintains for them, A had felt even worse; they were lying to the person they loved.

But then A popped that first egg roll into their mouth. The crispiness of the egg dipped shell crunching between their teeth, the explosion of flavors; oily, fried cabbage and carrots, melding with the saltiness of soy sauce and the juicy meat inside, had them moaning in pleasure. By the time the first delicious roll was through, and A glanced down at their lap, seeing that there were five more to go, all remnants of contrition seemed to dissipate. For the first time in years, they could eat without someone at their side, reminding them to take it easy so they don't make themselves sick.

That night, the first one after B's temporary departure, A had surprised themselves by finishing everything they'd ordered. Granted, it was past one am when they'd popped the last dumpling into their mouth, and they most definitely couldn't move after, but that was all part of the fun.

Things became even more fun when all that greasy food had started digesting, or at least, tried to. A was no laid on the sofa, the blue light from the television illuminating room, t-shirt bunched up at their chest and their hand splayed on their bare, bloated gut. Loud, deep belches plagued them for a while, the scent acting as a reminder of everything they'd scarfed down; eggrolls, noodles, orange chicken and stuffed dumplings, all washed down with two liters of their favorite soda, straight from the bottle.

Ever so often, A would groan following a protesting gurgle emanating from their over worked tummy, and eventually, those gurgles and that audible sloshing, slowly began making its rounds through their system. They weren't ready for the toilet yet though; fetid gas had just started being expelled into the chair, creating a humid cloud around them and joining their wet burps.

As much as it hurt though, and as foul as their gassy emissions were, A could hardly find it in their being to be remorseful. The gas continued through the late night, progressively growing sloppier, with a dangerous moisture accompanying each drawn out, bubbling fart. Yet, despite the symphony created by their ass, their gut didn't deflate one bit, instead it continued to press against the waistband of A's sweat pants, stained at the front with sauces from their adventurous dinner. A hadn't gone to bed that night, opting to spend the night dozing off in front of the television, occasionally rousing to drowsily rub large circles on their tum.

It was early the next morning when a particularly harsh cramp gripped their tummy, squeezing out a long fart, reminiscent of a liquidly gurgle from their ass, ended in a loud squelch. The new slimy warmth seeping past their crack and spreading around the seat of their underwear made what had happened glaringly obvious, while the musky air had taken on a new foulness.

Briefly, they'd contemplated standing up, and heading to the toilet like they usually would, but the feeling of their sloppy mess gathered in their undies brought an incomparable pleasure, and so instead of standing, A simply turned on their side, bending their knees slightly, so their butt wouldn't be pressed into sofa. A short, primal grunt pressed their lips together in a tight line as they pushed, a blort audible over the hum of a morning show as a larger batch of runny poop landed in their pants.

"Oh fuck," they hissed, reliving their bladder too, creating a dark wet patch on the front of their sweats to match to one at the back. The thick, pee soaked fabric clung to their thighs, while at the back, the mess made it pull away from their skin.

Their tummy groaned angrily, bubbling under A's palm as their load came effortlessly, soft lumps stretching the puckered, swollen lips of their anus. The semi-solid masses were occasionally interrupted by waves of pure mush, making a sickly burbling sound as it joined the impressive load in their underwear, making it wetter and heavy. It felt like waves of thick, warm sludge was just steadily flowing out of them, as if a tap had been opened.

Eventually when A stood, they could still manage brief, packed toots, though, unless they wanted to risk the integrity of the sofa, they'd had to finish up in the bathroom.

That, was going on five days ago. Now, A has let go even further, eating whatever they want guiltlessly, making their pants double as their bathroom, regardless of wherever they are in the house, and showering only when whatever they're wearing threatens to leave telling stains on the furniture. It feels like they're living an absolute dream; a slobby, smelly dream. Though, in two days, its back to normal.

Two days, forty-eight hours, countless minutes. It's a ways away, so A figures that they can get away with their questionable hygiene and eating habits for a while longer, and with that in mind, they linger among the clutter they've created, sitting in their eggy stink with the television playing reruns of their favorite show, as they wait for dinner to arrive, a generous selection from the bar-b-que place a couple blocks away.

It's late, and while their latest pair of sweats is a bit tighter than usual because of the perpetual bloat they've acquired over the past few days and even a little stained from misjudging a couple farts, A's pants are mostly dry and somewhat clean. They've already decided that they won't give a shower too much thought until the next morning, and the evidence of their latest raid of the snack cabinet is littered around them. It feels like heaven, that is, until from down the hall, they hear keys jingling in the door.

And there's only one person beside them with a key. The other person that lives there, A's unassuming partner; B.

They're early!

"Shit," in the haste to stand up, the pressure on their on their pudgy tummy pushes out a rumbling fart, only worsening the stench in the room, and suddenly, what mere minutes ago felt like ultimate bliss feels like a cruel punishment. B can't see them like this.

"A?" A can hear the curiosity peaked in B's tone, and they know its because the musky odor has long travelled down the downstairs hall of their condo, "Baby what's-"

A desperately tries to greet B nearer to the door, and hopefully stall, before they can witness their unofficial base of operations, but they're too slow and they're just pushing aside some of the empty boxes and soda cans when B enters, one of their carry-on's slipping from their shoulder and falling onto the typically pristine marble floor, jaw hanging slack in surprise. Cautiously, B probes, "Did you have a party or something?"

With their already dodgy stomach knotting with nerves, A shakes their head; B probably gonna figure it out anyway. A hasn't even though about it at this point, but B pays all of the credit card bills, just one look at the next one is gonna give away what they'd planned on hiding. Really, it's best they just tell the truth. "No," A croaks, wringing their fingers in front of their distended tummy, squeezing their musky cheeks closed to keep a barrage of nervous gas at bay.

The shock on B's face is unwavering, and it takes a moment before they're finally able to muster up their next questions, "You ate all of this? This is...…all you?" A is just noticing the slight scrunch in B's nose, and it only fuels the fear that the end of their relationship is inevitable. Why would someone like B want to be with A, they think and there isn't a way in their mind that this is going to work.

"Yeah," A nods, embarrassed.

B seems like they're about to say something, but their thoughts are interrupted by a buzz on the intercom;

A's food is here.

And they have a lot to talk about

#stuffing #eprocto #messing #scat kink #farting kink #probably definitely gonna write more of this

126 notes · View notes

riverscyberwife · 3 years

Text

The First Time She Met Daryl Dixon

Part of the 'Call Me 'Darling'' Series

(Daryl Dixon x unnamed female character)

The first time she met Daryl Dixon was not pleasant.

“Fucking Shit!”

It wasn’t long after the fall. The time of indescribable horrors. The day the dead began to walk the earth.

“You useless shit” a feminine voice rang out in exasperation, met only by the greenery that surrounded. Tears pricked at frustrated eyes as small, dirty fists beat aimlessly at the soft earth beneath. The roots of a nearby tree grazed along knuckles, breaking the skin there. An unintentional hiss left trembling lips as sad eyes observed the fresh blood appearing.

She had found herself alone in a dense wood somewhere near farmland in Georgia, drifting aimlessly, no destination in mind. Attention on the songs of the wild birds. The music of the forest being the only company had in days.

In dazed wandering, clumsy feet had met a large tree root protruding rather rudely from the ground. It met her right foot violently, causing herself to stumble harshly while holding the appendage prisoner. The attached ankle twisted painfully as her warn body was thrown forward and forced to spin, landing unceremoniously on her obnoxiously generous behind.

An advantage only when the clumsy feet betrayed her. Something that happened more often than her ego would like to admit.

A glare that could almost kill, along with some less than lady-like language was aimed at the battered ankle. It lay life-less and throbbing next to the offending root, almost mocking with its silence.

A twig snapped far too near for comfort. A rustling of leaves alerting to a nearby presence. In such a vulnerable position, the woman mentally chastised herself for becoming too distracted to hear the oncoming intruder. Almost definitely one of those undead fucks stumbling across a yummy young lady laid out like a buffet.

Her head whipped around to peer behind with enough force to cause the joints of her neck to let out a crack. A sound that went unnoticed as a sharp gaze found a man staring at the crumpled heap she currently was. He seemed alive enough as he pointed an intimidatingly large weapon at her head.

Is that a crossbow? The thought shot through her mind before returning swiftly to the danger that was presented. It wasn’t something you’d ever expect to see in real life, let alone have pointed at you. Far more intimidating than a gun it seemed due to its unexpectedness.

The man holding the weapon was rugged. Short brown hair and clothes had seen better days. Gaze locked with the most vibrant blue eyes. An intense silent battle taking place between said eyes and her own.

“Ya kiss yer mother with tha’ mouth?” His voice was gruff. Deeper than expected. It held a soothing quality even in its accusing tone.

“Not if she was alive” A deadpan tone returned, eyes narrowed as the gaze turned cold. He only grunted in response. A shiver ran unexpectedly down her spine. Probably just caused by the very pointy stick he had ready to be catapulted through her skull.

“What are ya doin’ round here?” he questioned more aggressively this time. The hints of playfulness had disappeared. This man meant business and she didn’t doubt he would shoot her with the intimidating weapon if he felt the need to.

“I’m having a teddy bears picnic, can’t you tell?” An overly sweet voice quipped back unwisely. Suspicious eyes only narrowed in return as the grip seemed to tighten on the bow.

“Okay” A tired sigh left dry lips. “I was just wandering, looking for her next meal and place to sleep. I fell over this damn tree”. Trying not to feel embarrassed by the statement, her gaze wandered the muscular upper arms visible due to the missing sleeves that seemed to have been forcefully ripped away.

“I take it by your defensiveness that your camp is near here” she queried. “Don’t worry, I won’t go near it.”

“Better not. Now get outta here before it ain’t a choice.”

Eyes rolled at his threat. “Not very welcoming are you?” The question was met only by silence.

“Fine, I’m going.” She stated as weak arms pushed herself to her feet, forcing the rapidly bruising ankle to take the weight. Attempting to ignore the pain in refusal to look weak in front of this rude man. The backpack that slid from aching shoulders during the fall was slung back into place and the dagger that had saved her life numerous times secured in a determined grip.

“Nice to meet you” her defeated voice rang sarcastically before turning and limping away as fast as able.

“Asshole”

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

Many months passed without a thought about the rugged man. Surviving alone could be very distracting after all. Jumping from abandoned house to worse smelling abandoned house with the hopes of a safe nights rest. Never knowing where the next meal would come from or even if there would be a next meal.

The weight dropped off at a concerning rate. Concerning only because there was a good chance of being eaten by the dead because her trousers fell down. What a way to go. She died as she lived. Falling over.

Eyes raked over the forest floor in search of life. Trusted dagger held securely in her dominant hand, poised ready to strike should dinner appear suddenly. An unexpected commotion seemed to begin somewhere to the left. Ears guiding rushing feet towards the sound in hopes of a large animal to catch. The grumbling of her stomach agreeing with the silent statement.

Upon the arrival at the scene, crouched down behind a shrub, her small body was easily hidden by the undergrowth. In immediate sight was the back of a man. Keen eyes would not have recognised him so immediately if not for the missing sleeves on the dirty brown shirt. He was facing off with four of the dead. A knife raised high in his right hand seemed to be his only weapon. A glance to the side revealed the crossbow a few feet away. Far less intimidating when not pointed at ones head.

Logic said he couldn’t reload the damn thing in time to shoot the fuckers one by one. She however had not been spotted by the dead and was only about 3 feet from the weapon.

Daryl began to panic as what felt like a never ending amount of walkers came at him. He couldn’t kill them all at once and his knife wasn’t doing much good. He’d resorted to desperately shoving them backwards.

The walker directly in front of him was big, standing at least 6 foot tall and charging with a purpose. It managed to knock him to the ground, the snapping jaws aiming to rip Daryl’s face cleanly away. It was prevented only by an increasingly weakening forearm to its neck.

Thick black blood oozed from the tear in its jugular, dripping grotesquely onto its struggling prays jaw and throat. Should Daryl open his mouth he’d be treated to a very unfortunate final meal.

‘This is it’ thought Daryl as he frantically felt around for the fallen blade. ‘I’m gonna fuckin’ die.’

Daryl’s rapidly beating heart seemed to stop dead as a bolt from HIS crossbow shot through the top of the walkers head to protrude from the now permanently dead man’s mouth. The sharp tip pointed directly between sky coloured eyes.

With a confused sigh, his head leant back to peer behind at the crossbow which lay exactly where he had left it. The unsightly corpse was shoved unceremoniously off of the hunter as he realised suddenly that there were no walkers after him.

It took a few seconds to come to his senses as he observed the 3 other walkers already dead on the ground nearby. Steely eyes flickered up to the small woman standing a few feet away, casually wiping a bloody knife on a large leaf. Confusion only grew as he stared at the calm woman who acted like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. A look of boredom on her face.

Smug eyes flickered to the side where the rugged man still sat stunned on the ground. An involuntary smirk forced its way onto her face. It was so difficult to keep the bored look when the handsome mans jaw was practically on the floor.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” This seemed to snap him out of his daze. His mouth clamped shut audibly as an irritated expression took over.

“Daryl” was all he said as he made his way slowly to unsteady feet.

“Well Daryl” she chimed nonchalantly “You’re welcome” before turning and once again walking away from the shocked man.

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

Most nights she dreamt of the undead. Snapping jaws, inches from her face. Dirty, broken nails on rotted flesh, grabbing at her skin. Thick black blood filling her mouth and claiming her lungs.

Sometimes she would dream of family. The life lived before. Laughing faces and sweet smiles. Little girls with pigtails and pink dresses. School days sat on the grass in the sun. Underage drinking in the park. Splashing in the cold sea. Golden sand between painted toes. Faces not seen in years.

And sometimes she would dream of the most beautifully pure blue eyes. Those eyes were the most haunting.

Stayed local to the area, familiar terrain was an advantage. It was only a matter of time until she stumbled across it. The prison. The opposing grey buildings would have been of little interest had it not been for the suspicious lack of dead ones.

Upon closer inspection there appeared to be crops growing in the grounds. A variety of luscious plants living in neat rows. Every so often a mop of brown hair would appear within the greenery. A slender teenage boy who tended the food.

Witnessing silently from the branch of a nearby tree, never daring to make a noise or risk being seen. People were after all, dangerous.

Many others appeared within sight in the hours observed. Some seemed to be on lookout. Some pierced the skulls of dead ones through the fence. Many simply socialised and basked in the sun. Although not terribly interesting, it was the most entertainment had in weeks. Quite like a trip to the zoo, watching them in their natural habitat. There seemed to be little of concern and just as the tired woman considered slipping away to find her own refuge for the night came the startlingly loud rumble of engine.

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

Far louder than that of a car, approaching the fence that opened in entrance to the structure was a motor bike. Another thing unexpected at the end of the world. The more shocking factor however being the slim figure and mop of brown hair that sat astride. The fear-provoking weapon strapped to a wing adorned back. Her rugged man.

Any idiot with half a brain would know not to approach the prison alone unless they desired an arrow through the head. But there was something about this man. The incessant need to see him again. To hear the drawl of his voice. To see that pretty face up close even in the snarl that was sure to be aimed at her. Luckily, Mr Dixon, hunter and gatherer extraordinaire didn’t seem to spend that much time in the prison. The outdoors suited him far better.

Daryl treaded stealthily through the thicket, bow aimed low and eyes alert. His ears strained in search of a living creature. He swore his heart leapt from his chest at the sudden noise slightly behind and above him. Startled feet spun so fast he stumbled.

“I like your hair. Suits you”

The feminine voice presented no unease due to the deadly weapon pointed directly at the source. A raised eyebrow prompted Daryl to lower the thing before accidentally shooting.

“Bloody ‘ell woman, where’d ya come from?”

“Bit of a personal question. Don’t you think? You don’t even know my name yet” the voice quipped with a smile. Feet landing gracefully on the ground in front of the alarmed man as she dropped from the low branch.

Daryl grumbled, dropping his eyes which only caused her grin to widen.

“What’s yer name then?”

“Can’t tell you that. Stranger danger.”

“Think yer the only danger ‘round ‘ere.”

“You think too highly of me, Darling.” Lips smirked as light fingers gently raised Daryl’s chin to meet devious eyes.

His shining orbs widened comically at the gesture. “Darlin’?!”

The outraged tone of the statement served to strengthen the ever present accent.

“Oh I do like that.” Smirk turned to a full grin. “Call me Darling.

----------

They couldn’t seem to keep away from each other. Well she couldn’t keep away from him anyway. He’d always go in search of food and the menace would always appear seemingly by magic. She intrigued the man and she knew it. The way his eyes followed her form was like he wanted to figure her out. Solve her like a walking puzzle.

She craved his voice. It soothed something inside her. Somehow made the state of the world forgettable. Hours were spent together without notice. He didn’t speak much but he always listened intently and usually had a smart remark to counter her regular jabs. Teasing Daryl Dixon was always her favourite part of the day.

He never asked where she was going, was staying or why she was always alone. He didn’t seem to want to burst the secret little bubble they’d made for themselves. Something both were happy to keep intact as curious eyes secretly watched the prison.

It was getting progressively more difficult to live alone in the wild. When Daryl went back to his cosy home with his friends at the end of the day her tasks were to go in search of food and a place to rest her head. She would never confess her struggles. He would want to help and her pride wouldn’t allow it.

At her lowest she found herself slumped in a corner of a dingy old house, curling in on herself. The small fire haphazardly made almost burnt out, the strength to go in search of more kindling evaded the weak woman.

Just as she hadn’t seen the face of her favourite person, her body hadn’t seen water in days. Food even longer. If this was how she was to go out then so be it. She’d survived this long alone and that’s all that mattered.

Her vision swam as black spots appeared. There was no control left of her body as it slumped sideways, striking her head against the wooden floorboards as unconsciousness consumed entirely.

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

Daryl panicked when she wasn’t at the usual spot. She was always there when he went to hunt. He had no idea how she knew when to find him but she did. He often questioned if she was real. This mysterious girl that no one else had ever seen could so easily be part of his imagination.

He remembered how Rick had seen Lori for so long after her death. He’d spent so much time alone out in the woods that it wouldn’t surprise him if his mind had made up the annoying woman that he couldn’t stay away from. No, she had to be real. Even Daryl’s mind couldn’t tease him like she did.

He began by wandering in the direction he had last seen her go as they parted, knowing there was a nearby town that could offer some food and protection. As gravel crunched beneath old boots in place of the usual dirt and neglected buildings began to rise on either side of the man, it became clear that the area was empty. Motionless walker bodies lay scattered around, each seemingly had received a knife through the head.

The smell was overpowering as the hunter contemplated why they hadn’t been burned. Perhaps she was only passing through. Perhaps she simply didn’t have the strength.

Tracks were clearly visible all through the town. Mostly bloody, they led into every single building. Daryl sighed. He was sure by the small stature of the print that they were hers. The woman that so desperately clung to his mind had clearly been here. Yet he had a feeling she was still here. She wouldn’t just leave him, would she?

Daryl could almost hear Merle’s voice echoing in his head, calling him a whipped little bitch. He scowled at the thought but just couldn’t stop. What if something had happened to her?

----------

Sharp eyes scanning the area, he could clearly visualise the woman clearing the place, killing walkers and scavenging for the food. His eyes drifted to the last house to the left. The windows were boarded and the door was shut. A trap lay set in front of the building. It was clearly the most secure place. His feet carried him almost involuntarily towards it. Towards her.

White light pierces blackness. Heart beat rising. Blood rushes ears. Footsteps sound a million miles away.

Gentle knuckles brush cheeks. Rough fingers press pulse point. Fluttering eyelashes attempt in vain to open.

The earth tilts sickeningly as her body is forced into sitting position. The sound of ringing slowly transitions to the calling of her name. The familiar voice causing an upturn of lips. Her rugged saviour.

Cold liquid is raised to parched mouth. Gulped down greedily without thought. Hands fly to grab the bottle. The best water ever tasted. An appreciative groan as eyelids are forced to rise. Blurred vision soon clears to reveal shaggy brown hair that begs to be touched.

His name leaves her lips in struggled whisper. His eyes are hard with judgment and underlying concern.

“Why the hell didn’ ya tell me?” some form of food is held to her chin.

She doesn’t take not what as her eyes shift away in shame and her arm weekly brushes it away.

“I don’t want your food”

“Well ya clearly need it. Ya look like hell.” His teeth grind in annoyance at the usually stubborn girl. Her head shakes in response, causing the black spots to momentarily return.

“I don’t need saving, Prince Charming.” He guffaws at the name.

“I aint no prince, nor ‘nything charmin’.”

She needed him gone. She couldn’t bear the look of pity in his eyes. The worry on his features. She wasn’t anyone’s problem.

“You shouldn’t be here. Just go back to your damn prison. The irritation clear in her voice. Almost missing the way his vibrant eyes widened.

Shit. She realised her mistake a split second too late.

“How the fuck do you ya know ‘bout tha’?” She’d never heard him sound so angry and even a little scared. Knowing full well that if they found she knew about their home that they wouldn’t just leave her alone. She was dangerous to them.

Nervous eyes flicker everywhere but at the face that stared her down.

“I’ve been watching. Had to know if you were dangerous.”

“An ya didn’ tell me”

“Would you have let me go?” It was Daryl’s turn to look away in shame.

“Nah. Would have to tell ‘em ‘bout ya” He sighed defeated.

“Exactly.” Their eyes clashed in a battle of wills, silently debating what would happen next. After a beat, his eyes shined in a way that determined a decision had been made.

“Yer comin’ with me” He stated assertively.

“No” she countered plainly, offering little room for argument.

“Wasn’ askin’.” Before further refusal could leave her, strong arms surrounded her. He rose to his feet, cradling the surprised woman to his chest. Her bag hanging from his right hand where it curled around her knees.

Her malnourished body was slow to react. Sluggishly moving to press at his firm chest in protest. He easily made his way out of the house and to the far end of the street where the bike sat undisturbed.

The fresh air aided in clearing her senses. The situation she was in becoming evident to her irritated mind.

Gently set down on the leather seat, she was released from the sure grip.

“Fine.” A resigned smile as the cogs of her mind began to spin. “I’ve got another bag though. Brown satchel. Must still be in the lounge.”

He nodded. “Alright, I’ll be right back. Don’ move.” Turning and jogging back into the house.

The moment his right foot made it over the threshold, the loud roar of the bike engine caused his heart to sink.

“Son of a bitch!” Fast feet threw him back out the door and half way down the street but it was too late. His mysterious girl was gone and so was his bike. A lone bag lay in the spot it had previously been in. His own bag containing the water and food he had offered her.

The walk back to the prison was long, made worse by Daryl’s rising anger. Refusing to interact with anyone upon his return, he had his way into the empty cell where he refused to sleep but went to for privacy. Throwing himself down onto the lumpy mattress, he glared at the underneath of the top bunk. His mind swirling with images of her devious smirk.

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

Two days later he was woken at the ass crack of dawn by Glenn frantically calling his name. As the sun had appeared over the horizon so had his bike, propped up on its stand just outside the gate. Next to it lay a cardboard box full of baby formula as an apology.

Daryl of course went looking for her, but she no longer appeared. Weeks were spent without a trace of her until another box of formula appeared outside the gates in the dead of night. Sat atop this one was a small stuffed elephant, the perfect size for little ass kicker. Soft and clean as if straight from a baby shop.

Next to it a small piece of paper. In loopy handwriting it read ‘Stop looking for me, darling. It makes me miss you more.’

He thinks he can let her go. Thinks he can carry on living. Barely thinking of her during the busy days but she appears in his dreams. Reliving the sweetest moments between them behind closed eyelids.

“Come back with me.” His sombre voice breaks the silence.

They had somehow ended up leaning against a railing on the edge of a rooftop. Forearms against cold metal, they basked in the glow of a setting sun. Features basked in orange light, he watched her shyly.

They both knew that they should retreat to safety before darkness fell but neither could bring themselves to leave the others company. Peace consumed them as they absorbed the view laid before them like a renaissance painting.

Her head tilted as her eyes searched his face contemplatively.

“Ya always leave me.” His dejected words caused an ache in her chest.

“Why won’ ya stay with me” He asks earnestly.

“I can’t” Eyes cast downward at the sudden urge to shed a tear.

“Why? They’re good people. Rick an’ Carol an’ lil ass-kicker...” His fists clench as the unfamiliar emotions stir within him. His stare fixed on the setting sun.

“Exactly. You’re a family. I don’t belong there. I can’t. I can’t lose anyone else.” Her eyes squeeze shut as pain consumes her.

“So I don’ mean nothin’ to ya?” His voice strains.

“You shouldn’t” Her voice is a soft whisper.

His head turns to question her answer but she’s already gone.

“Darlin’?”

He’s woken suddenly by the sound of Judith’s cries. Greeted only by the sight of the bunk above him. He decides he’s going to find her. He has to.

But he doesn’t. Because soon enough the sounds of gunfire and screams is all that’s heard as the prison falls.

A/N - Here it is, the first thing I've ever written recreationally. It was so much for difficult than i expected. I feel like i'm handing over a steaming pile of rubbish but here you go! I hope you enjoy.

@pandorahurtsx @winchestershiresauce @sunflxwerbullet @holliss @haruhey @lilythemadqueen @dixonextracts @daryloverdixon

#Daryl Dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x y/n

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marvelettesassemble · 3 years

Text

Safe House (Bill x F Reader)

Summary: When his family has to go in hiding Bill asks you – his coworker and spy for the Order - if they could stay at your safe house.

Warnings: Reader has problems with sleeping and feels lonely, small swear words, mentions of sex

Words: ~3.9k

A/N: I wanted to write a Bill story for a while, because there isn’t enough stuff about him. But this took me 3 weeks I think and I struggled. But its finished now and hopefully the next one will be better

You looked up from the little box in front of you after you had inspected the bruise-healing paste for a long time.

“Long time no see,” the tall guy in front of you said with a smirk on his face that you had almost forgotten existed.

“Weasley, what are you doing here? Last time I heard you were still in Egypt,” you sounded surprised.

“It was time to calm down a little bit and to stay closer to my family. I think I need a break from curse breaking and I’m currently on desk duty here in London.”

“So, you’re getting old. Maybe this paste would have helped you,” you tapped your finger on the box that you still had in your hand before you put it back in the stand. “We have to meet up for coffee sometime to see which one of us has the better stories to tell. See you around, Weasley.” You nodded at him before you left the shop owned by the twins of the person you just spoke to.

Back in the shop Bill Weasley picked up the exact box you had just put down and went to the register to pay for it. He was greeted by his brother George who told him he didn’t have to pay for it, he still had some paste in his office that he could have. “No, I want this one. It’s a gift, but if you’ll give it to me for free, I won't say no.” He winked at his younger brother and left the shop and disapparated. When he was at the burrow he opened the box and pulled out the paper you had put in there.

Your last stay had been in Spain and he was glad that he had recruited you for the Order as you were the perfect spy. Nobody suspected anything when you travelled in particular places or asked specific questions with you being a curse breaker just like him, but it could be described as kind of a freelancer. You didn’t stay at one place, which makes it even more perfect. He sighed and had to stop reading your neat handwriting as he was missing his old job.

While he stayed in Egypt and was busy getting from one tomb to another you had stayed at your family home in England. You started your research from home and when you had enough information or needed to gather information you travelled for a few weeks, maybe a month but not more than two and you always had your home back in Great Britain where you would come back to.

Him meeting you in public and making it seem like you haven’t seen each other for a while had been your idea. Owls had a tendency to get lost in these times and this was the safest way they had so far. His heart felt a bit heavy as he thought back to the times when he had to shield his eyes from the sun and he though his body couldn’t produce anymore sweat, but the excitement flowing through his veins when he thought of the unknown which laid in front of him. He missed those times when he could forget everything around him and just had to concentrate on the mission in front of him.

Long gone were these times, but when he looked at the watch in the corner and saw the faces of his siblings, he knew he had made the right decision. What was a little bit of freedom and excitement when he now had the chance to make sure his siblings were okay? No, he had definitely made the right decision!

He went back to reading your letter and noticed on the bottom of the parchment a code. You would meet him tonight and the letters told him where exactly.

“Hey carrot head,” you smiled brightly at him when he walked towards you. “I brought you something, I hope this will help your mom stuffing your mouth,” you nodded towards the big basket which stood next to your feet and was filled with carrots.

“Not my favourite,” he mumbled and sat down next to you. As it was getting dark he couldn’t really see you.

“What would please you more? Beans? Potatoes?”

“I loved mashed potatoes,” Bill admitted and he though he saw you nodding.

“Noted. Next time I’ll bring potatoes.”

“Why are you bringing vegetables?” He asked confused until you told you him you had a big garden. Your grandpa had taken a liking to growing vegetables and you had taken over and never really let go. Your sleeping schedule was a mess and so you enjoyed tending to your plants when sleep wouldn’t come. It was way too much for you, but you liked the work and you know the Weasleys were a big family.

“How come I don’t know where you live?” he wondered suddenly.

“Because it is a secret,” you whispered and then you started giggling. “And now to the important stuff, we don’t have all night.”

You noticed Bill playing with his earring. It was a reminder of his first job in Egypt and he refused to get rid of it despite everything his mother said. You had noticed that he started doing that when he was nervous. “What’s on your mind?” you finally asked when you almost got bored of watching him – almost.

“I might have to ask a favour of you,” he started but stopped.

“Okay, just ask. I do have the option of refusing, right?” you laughed but Bill didn’t join you. He was just so nervous. A few months had passed since you had brought him the carrots.

“There is a slight chance that the order is being compromised and if the headquarter falls... the burrow isn’t safe everyone knows where we live... I guess what I’m trying to ask is if you’d let my family into your home. I know it has been a safe house for decades, but I don’t really know how to make it and I fear I don’t have the time to learn it.”

You were quiet for a while. “Okay, but I’ll only let your family in, no one else. Bill, you have to promise me, no one else!” You put pressure on the last words, but you noticed that the man in front of you was relieved. He stopped playing with his earring and instead he hugged you. He caught you by surprise but then your arms sneaked around his torso.

“Thank you,” he mumbled and you felt how relieved he was.

The Order had taken many setbacks but the latest one was the death of Albus Dumbledore. You didn’t really know what or when it happened, you were on your own mission. So, when you came back to the Burrow and the first person you saw was Bill with scars on his face you were shocked, but it also made you realise that you didn’t have time anymore.

“Is it okay, if I touch your face?” you asked hesitantly. He nodded slowly and you took the seat next to him. Both of you stared in each other's eyes and you carefully put your hands on each cheek. You felt the rough skin beneath your fingertips, then closed your eyes and told Bill to do the same. You then thought about your home, the house and the fields, the massive garden and the small greenhouse, the little lake next to it and pushed that image towards Bill. You opened your eyes again.

“When it’s time you have to take your family and come there. It doesn’t matter when, you can apparate there now. Anytime, okay? I know I said only your family, but now that I know everyone my invitation also includes Harry and Hermione. You can gather them and come even now, but please don’t wait until it's too late,” you begged.

You had met the rest of the Weasleys at the Headquarter and you were surprised how nice and welcoming they were. The whole family risked so much for doing the right thing and protecting Harry, there was no way that you wouldn’t welcome them into your home.

“Now that that is out of the way you have to tell me how that happened,” your fingertips fluttered over the uneven part of his face.

Was there someone knocking? No one knew where your house was unless... You jumped up from the chair and placed the book hastily on the table. You were wide awake now and grabbed your wand and opened the door. The people in front of you didn’t look much better than you considering it was night time and they stood in their pyjamas in front of you.

“Come in,” you said and opened the door to let them all in. Bill entered first, followed by Molly who thanked you and Arthur who hugged you and didn’t stop thanking you either, then Harry, Ron, Hermoine and Ginny and then the twins. “Do you want tea?”

You agreed to have tea before everyone would head to bed and while you prepared the drink Bill filled you in. The ministry had fallen and they got a note from Kingsley so they fled and came right to your door. Your house wasn’t small by any chance but with that many people they had to share some rooms.

The next day three people were missing. Harry, Ron and Hermione had disappeared during the night and only left a little note to tell you all not to worry. This didn’t really ease anyone minds, but no one was really surprised. Everyone had a different way to deal with the stress. Yours was your garden that you tended to when you weren’t discussing your next moves.

You were currently in the green house tending to the tomatoes when the red head with the long hair joined you. “I have to leave soon. We need some supplies and I have to get some information. But I can’t leave when I’m the only secret keeper, so I’m still doing research how to get another secret keeper.” you informed him when he grabbed himself some gloves and pulled them on. They were too little for his big hands but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you sure you want to go? We don’t know how safe it is,” he admitted and pulled some we weed from the soil.

“I’m a big girl, I can look after myself,” you said with more confidence than you actually had. “Will you help me with my research?” You spent an hour together in the green house, sharing stories from your curse breaking days before you made your way inside to start your research. Arthur joined you and you spent the day between books before Molly called you for dinner.

Despite everything that was going on it was an enjoyable dinner. Molly had made a soup from the vegetables from your garden and the twins did most of the talking. You continued the research after your meal and you noticed how your eyes started to get heavy when Arthur announced he found something.

Bill and you walked over to him and after a short discussion you were sure that he had found what you were searching. “So, you’re going to tell me that Bill would have been the next secret keeper as I’ve already showed him how to get here and we spent the whole day searching for nothing?” you asked not really believing what you had just learned. It was that easy?

“Well, I guess that I’ll go tomorrow. Maybe you should write me a note what you need so I can get that,” you said still buffed. You said goodnight soon and left the two Weasleys in the room to make your way to the bed.

“Did she just made me the second secret keeper without knowing it?” Bill said when it was just him and his father.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think she is mad. She wanted to do it and she’s just exhausted, poor girl isn’t really sleeping. I hope she gets enough rest so she’s fit tomorrow.”

Bill was fumbling with his earing again and mumbled that he wished he could accompany you.

“Because you want to get out of the house or because you want to make sure she’s safe?” his father asked and pretended to still look in the book so his son wouldn’t feel to pressured.

“Both,” admitted his eldest son.

“Maybe you should just tell her?” Arthur closed the book and put it on top of the other ones they had used.

“Dad, we’re at war. We live in her house because they’re searching for us. I don’t think that this is the right time.”

“Then what is the right time?” Arthur put his hand on Bill's shoulder and squeezed it lightly before he let go and made his way to the bedroom he shared with his wife.

The next day you left after everyone had told you what they needed. You were gone longer than you anticipated and when you reappeared you had to take a deep breath. Bills long hair was flowing around his head and you watched him putting it behind his ears before he picked up the axe again to chop some wood. The noise of the axe hitting the wood carried over to you and you watched him for a while. You thought that you could get used to coming home and seeing him first thing. Suddenly he turned around and when he saw you standing there he let go of the axe and walked over to you.

“Is everything alright?” he asked when you were in earshot.

“Yes, can you help carrying these inside?” you pointed to the bags at your feet. He picked them up so there was only one left for you. “You coming?” he asked when he took a few steps towards the house and noticed you hadn’t followed him. You nodded and walked quickly so you could walk by his side.

The warm air engulfed you when you entered your home. You walked into the kitchen and put the bag on the big table next the ones Bill had already placed there. It didn’t take long for the other to noticed that you came home. You didn’t just bring groceries and clothes but also information you needed. There was a lot to talk about so you found yourself in the living room when it was already dark outside. The once loud conversation turned quiet when Arthur und Molly retired first. You got tired and while you still heard the conversation in the room you started to fall asleep. You were rolled up like a cat, your feet touching Bill's thighs and your head uncomfortably on the arm rest, but you were finally asleep.

“Did you know that a good shag helps with sleeping problems?” Fred asked not really directed at anyone, but Bill sent him a death glare none the less.

“Would you shut up?” Bill made sure his brother didn’t wake you and you were still out like a light next to him.

“What? It’s not like I offered myself. Although I did say a good shag,” Fred put his hand on his chin as if he was still contemplating before he had to dodge the pillow his older brother was throwing at him.

George caught the pillow and placed it behind his back. “What my brother is trying to say: Will you finally make a move? Maybe it will give you both a little bit of peace."

When Bill looked at you and noticed the awkward state you fell asleep in he decided to wake you up. You excused yourself for falling asleep but the other Weasleys just told you to go to bed and get some rest. When you made your way outside the room you grabbed the armchair to stabilized yourself without noticing that it was George's arm instead. Three worried glances followed you out of the room.

“Seriously, we have to make sure that she finally sleeps, especially when she’s the only one who can leave. Last time I went to grab some water and saw her cooking apples at 3am because she couldn’t sleep,” Fred said. George rubbed his arm and told them he had also met her in the kitchen when he couldn’t sleep anymore.

Bill surprised you that night in the kitchen and you almost threw the spoon in your hand as you hadn’t heard him approaching you. Surprisingly he stayed calm but you were freaking out. You started apologizing over and over again. You were tired and you were preserving vegetables.

Instead of scolding you he just asked how long you’ve been awake and you admitted that you couldn’t sleep after you went to your bedroom. “You need to get to bed,” he said and turned off the stove, put his hands on your shoulder and stirred you in the direction of your bedroom. You were beat and didn’t protest until you laid in bed, Bill sitting next to you and when he started talking about cauldron thickness you soon fell into a deep sleep.

Without you knowing it the Weasleys started to stick closer to you. When you usually were alone tending the garden suddenly Fred and George helped picking up the apples. Arthur gathered the fallen leaves while you picked up the fallen branches and pilled everything for the animals. You and Molly prepared the dinner together and every time you left Bill welcomed you home as he waited in the garden. You couldn’t deny that you heart beat faster every time you saw him standing in front of your house.

Another thing you noticed is that every evening you all sat together in the great living room and the others noticed that you always fell asleep when someone sat with you in the evening. You often played board games and it was then you noticed that you had felt lonely all this time. You loved the noises around you, the feeling that there was somebody else by your side. This was what had been missing all this time. The big house was just too much for one person. Without realising you had grabbed the hand next to you and Bill squeezed your hand shortly before his thumb swiped over your hand. “Is everything alright, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Yes, everything is alright.” You loved the feeling of your hand in his warm one and you didn’t let go of his hand even when you fell asleep sometime later that night. But still when you laid in your own bed you couldn’t find sleep again. Suddenly an idea struck you and before you could tell yourself how dumb this idea was you jumped out of bed and walked through the hallway to another door and knocked. When you heard a response, you opened the door and quickly walked so you wouldn’t wake another person. Bill had sat up in your old childhood bed. It was strange seeing him in the bed that been yours when you were a kid and a teenager.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked and your heart leapt at the pet name he used.

“It’s dumb, but... ugh, I wanted to ask you, if... ifIcouldsleepwithyoutonight,” you mumbled the last part so fast Bill wasn’t sure if he had understood you correctly.

“You want to sleep with me?” you could hear the smirk and that he didn’t sound as sleepy as before. But he knew you better than you thought because he told you to come over and he lifted the duvet for you. “Come here,” he said and walked quickly over the cold floor into the warm bed. A soft sigh left your mouth when you were surrounded by warmth.

Both of you laid on your back on each side on the bed and you let your hand find his before you fell into a deep sleep. You slept the best you’ve had for a long time, but same couldn’t be said about Bill. He couldn’t find sleep again with you laying next to him, your hand touching his. He wanted to pull you into his arms. Maybe he could sleep with his face pressed into your hair? But he didn’t want to wake you or make you feel uncomfortable so he stuck to this position with his thoughts going wild.

Bill pretended to be asleep when you woke up the next morning and gave you a few minutes before he left his room. But when you stepped into the hallway and closed the door quietly behind yourself George was greeting you with a shit eating grin on his face. “Morning,” he said without adding anything else. “Oh, shove it,” you said and walked past him towards your room. You didn’t see the point in telling him nothing had happened between you and his brother.

When Bill entered the kitchen his twin brothers were already there and of course George had told Fred what he had witnessed this morning. “So, did the shag help? Or were you too busy to even think about sleep,” Fred wiggled his eyebrows.

“Nothing happened,” Bill said and grabbed a cup.

“Too bad, so I think I have to offer my services then.”

“What services?” you asked when you entered the room.

“Fred wants to expand our services for the shop,” George cut in.

“Tell me more,” you said after you filled a cup and sat down next to the trio. It didn’t take long for them to come up with something so they didn’t have to tell you what they really talked about.

Days passed, then weeks and it was an unspoken rule that you end up in Bills room after a failed attempt of going to sleep. You soon noticed that you couldn’t fall asleep because you didn’t want to be alone. And then it took a few days until you noticed you didn’t want to be without Bill. He made you laugh more and more. Like when you saw him pulling on a lumberjack jacket and asked him what he was doing. He had replied that he you needed more fire wood and you watched him through the kitchen window. You had seen how he picked up the axe without a problem and as if he had known that you were watching him, he slapped his butt with his free hand which caused you to laugh out loud and you had to hide behind the wall so he wouldn’t see that you had been watching him.

You also noticed that every night before you would leave the next day hugged you a little more and pulled you closer to himself. And when you came back, he still waited in the garden and grabbed your hand to guide you back to the house. Everyone noticed this but nobody commented on it. They noticed in the tentativeness when you grabbed his hand after hanging up your coat that the two of you hadn’t talked about what was happening between you.

And suddenly there wasn’t time to talk about it anymore. Suddenly the war was right in front of you with maybe the biggest battle and you had to get out of your hiding place. But in the way that Bill grabbed your hand with such determination and when you pulled you to himself and pressed his lips desperately against yours before you had to leave made you realise that you were in this together.

#Bill Weasley #Bill x Reader #Bill Weasley x Reader #marvelettesassemble #Bill Weasley Fanfiction #Weasley x Reader #bill weasley ff

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asset35-maya · 3 years

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Another ask if you feel like it, because I love the way you did the last.

Gavin helping Nines through either a Bad Texture Day, or a meltdown because one of his routines got disrupted.

Autistic and Human Au again please

<3 <3

Another bright morning. Another sunny day. Another painful struggle for Gavin Reed to drag himself out of bed. Luckily he knew he could always count on a warm breakfast waiting for him in the kitchen… along with a gentle kiss on the left cheek.

The very thought ought to make him smile, but this morning, he had a headache. A rather nasty one. Well actually, it was a hangover. And his own fault for thinking he could get away with downing that much red wine.

His new fiancé had warned him, but Gavin couldn’t be stopped from celebrating. Not after finally bucking up the courage to get down on one knee and having the proposal go spectacularly well.

Gavin had carefully researched how best to balance the element of surprise with giving Nines enough time to internalize and deliberate the request. He didn’t at all doubt Nines’ commitment to their relationship or willingness to marry him... but he knew that spur of the moment decision-making didn’t always blend well with autistic thought processes.

After asking around in online help forums and talking to their close friends, Gavin had figured it out. The proposal ended up being simple and domestic, yet a 100% charming.

Since Nines loved to cook and Gavin always brought home the groceries, he decided to create a long trail of clues using notes tacked to different items on different days. It was a slow build but when Nines finally retrieved the ring from within the box of Cheerios, the deal was a good as sealed.

They kissed over the brown paper bags and Nines whipped up a splendid meal with all the fresh ingredients. Gavin had brought home lamb shanks and the fanciest figs he could find from the Mediterranean aisle. He also broke out his birthday wine that he’d been saving for a special occasion.

Life wasn’t perfect for the two of them, but in that moment it sure felt like it.

Still blissed out despite the throbbing in his head, Gavin stumbled into the kitchen. He yawned as he noticed the mugs of tea steaming on the countertop. Nah, he’d need something way stronger to ward off his pounding headache.

Unthinkingly, he sidestepped Nines and flipped open a cupboard door. He reached for the jar of instant coffee and let the door slam shut. The second Nines flinched, Gavin’s actions caught up with him.

“Sorry babe, I’ll get out of your way.”

Nines nodded stiffly and turned his attention back to the bacon in his frying pan.

Gavin sheepishly poured hot water from the kettle into the spare mug. He tried to be as quiet as possible, but he couldn’t avoid the spoon tinkling as he stirred the coffee powder into the water.

Nines suddenly dropped his spatula and marched towards the side counter. He grabbed one of the mugs and dumped the tea down the sink. In the few seconds his back was turned, a burning smell came from the stove. Nines scrambled to turn it off and in his haste, dropped the beloved cat-shaped mug. It cracked in two, splitting diagonally across the cute little face.

Gavin knew what was going to happen before it did. A cruel reminder that despite the glorious night they’d shared, their life was indeed far from perfect.

Nines’ breathing turned shallow. He sunk to the floor, fighting the sobs that threatened to break free. He kept his eyes fixed on the broken fragments. A few moments passed, and then Nines lost all composure.

He cried like he’d lost everything. As if the roof had caved in… as if the sun would never shine again… as if the world had ended. Maybe none of that was even remotely true, but it sure felt like it.

Gavin knew. Gavin understood. And it hurt. Even if he knew it would pass, even if he knew Nines would eventually be okay. It hurt to see his lover in so much distress, especially if he was the cause, however inadvertently.

Silently, Gavin sat down on the floor in the same spot at the edge of the kitchen. He made no attempt to approach or coax or calm Nines. He just sat and watched him go through it for a moment.

“I- I- I’m s-s-sorry… Ga-Gav-in…”

“Shhh… don’t be. Don’t be sorry, Nines.”

“I ruined… I ruined breakfast. Like I ruin… everything.”

“Mmm… not everything. Breakfast yes, and that’s my fault, but not everything.”

“I ruined that mug forever.”

Nines pointed at the ceramic pieces on the ground. Tears streamed steadily down his face and his chest shook with the effort of trying to talk and breathe though it all. Gavin’s throat clenched with guilt. His own eyes felt rather warm and wet, but he blinked rapidly to clear them. It wasn’t about him. He now had to focus and help Nines move out of his current headspace.

“Well babe, this mug is never going to be the same, that’s for sure… buuuut we can use it for something else, right? You’re always gushing about upcycling! Could we maybe glue the pieces together? Turn it into a pot for one of your plants? A cat with leaves growing out of its head sounds neat.”

Nines sniffed.

“A cat with a huge crack in its face.”

“Or… a scar on its nose. Just like me.”

Nines pointed to the other mug on the counter.

“What about that one?”

“We could stick plants in that one too.”

“But it’s not broken.”

“Yeah it’s perfect. Just like you. And nothing’s ever gonna split you and me up, so who the phck are we to keep these mugs apart? Both of them are going in the garden. You just tell me which herbs you want in them later, okay?”

Nines wiped his face with the back of his hand. His breathing was steadier. Gavin could see that providing a distraction had worked and Nines could now slowly collect himself. The only trouble with using rational paths like this one was the risk of making Nines feel silly.

“I’m a mess. I couldn’t let things be… normal… for like 24 hours. You went through all that trouble to propose and I just had a meltdown over a fucking mug. I don’t know why you even want to marry me.”

“Nines... There’s no such thing as normal. We both know that. So let’s not strive for the impossible, okay? Phck normal.”

Nines looked up and met his eye. That was a very promising sign. Gavin decided to push a little further with humor. If it worked, they were in the clear. If not, he’d try something else. Whatever the outcome, he wouldn’t give up. Never. Not when it came to Nines.

“And if you really need a list of reasons why I wanna marry you, just go back and read all the little grocery notes. Come on! I didn’t pour my heart out for the love of broccoli and canned beans.”

The corner of Nines’ lip twitched. He closed his eyes and leaned his head wearily against the cabinets. Exhausted. He held out a hand.

Gavin was beside him in a flash, gently placing his opposite hand into the outstretched palm and squeezing as much reassurance as he could into it. Nines reciprocated weakly and their matching rings clicked against each other.

A moment passed with Gavin resting on his haunches. Then Nines made a valiant attempt to stand. It wasn’t very successful... Patient as ever, Gavin waited until his hand was dropped.

He pressed a soft kiss to Nines’ forehead before wrapping one arm around his back and slipping the other beneath his knees. With practiced ease and balance, Gavin stood up… stepped over the broken halves of the mug… and carried Nines into the living room.

A plan had already formed in his mind.

He would give Nines his tea.

They would watch some Sunday morning cartoons.

They would get some hash browns and McGriddles delivered home (because it was still early enough).

Gavin would throw out the burnt bacon and carefully glue the broken cat mug back together.

Nines would pick out the herb cuttings to plant into the two matching mugs, though Gavin had a pretty good hunch it would be rosemary and thyme.

As difficult as it was, life would go on... and they would buy new mugs. Maybe a bigger set... because accidents happened and there was no need to dwell on them for too long.

There would be more bright and sunny mornings to spend together.

They would get married someday.

And maybe things would be okay. Or maybe they wouldn’t. Who knew. Who cared.

Their life wasn’t perfect… but it definitely was beautiful.

@rjhpandapaws

#human au #reed900 #gavin reed #gavin900 #rk900 #dbh rk900 #dbh nines #dbh writing #my writing #thanks for the ask!

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