#I had to bring inferno back I’m sorry

[midoristeashop]

@sboochi ‘s storm-spirit hiccup!

I will take any possible opportunity to draw lightning you don’t even know

Anyway I love him and I will be drawing his shepard boyfriend soon

[mimsynims]

Fool For Love

part 6

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part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

~~~

Author's Note: Sorry it took longer than usual! The first bit I wrote was shorter than I wanted, so I kept writing - and now you'll get more than usual instead haha... (Sorry not sorry about sneaking in a bit of a side ship I have, but it fit in this part and I want Karlach to have her hot blacksmith - yay HeartForge!)

Thank you for the comments! <3

Oh, and as I think I mentioned before, this will of course stray from canon but I have and will use things that actually happen in the game too (act 1/2), just FYI.

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, minor Karlach/Dammon, eventual happy ending

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn't have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only... now you do. And you're not handling it very well, making a rash decision you will regret. Is there a way to undo it?

~~~

It’s eerily quiet when you get back to camp. Not that you expected your friends to still be awake, but the silence feels ominous.

Or perhaps it’s just your guilt making it seem that way.

You’re not sure breaking things off was the wrong decision — the jury is still out on that — but you regret how it happened. Regret being so harsh.

Regret not waiting until morning to have the conversation.

A noise coming from the direction of Gale’s tent snaps you out of your musings. Your body tenses up, readying for battle. Scanning the area, your hand drifts down towards a weapon that isn’t there. You must have dropped it sometime during… during. It aches thinking back and you can’t bring yourself to go back. Not now, anyway. 

You spot a flash of purple and instantly relax. Gale must be awake still. 

Perhaps the gods decided to be lenient after the night you had, giving you the opportunity to stomp out at least one fire you’ve accidentally started before it becomes an uncontrollable inferno.

“Still up, Gale?”

“Tav!” He smiles. “Yes, but I was about to tuck in for the night too.”

His eyes roam over you, but if he suspects what you and Astarion were up to after he and the others left, he doesn’t mention it.

“So, Gale…” You clear your throat. “I actually came over to apologise.”

“Apologise?” He sounds genuinely surprised. “Whatever for?”

“I think I might’ve given you the impression that I’m interested in more than friendship. And that was careless of me.” And apparently, you’re too much of a coward to admit that you used him. “I’m sorry.”

Gale takes a moment before he answers. “You were careless, yes. But I think I may have an inkling as to why.”

“Ah.” Of course he does. “For the record, the circumstances surrounding that… reason, have changed, one might say.” Because you were acting without thought, yet again. “Which doesn’t affect things between us — you and me, I mean. I value our friendship dearly, but–”

“Tav.” Gale holds up a hand to stop you. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

He sounds sincere, and searching his face, you find nothing to suggest otherwise. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, I did have a really nice time tonight.”

“Good. Me too.” A half-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I can’t pretend I wasn’t disappointed when you invited the others, but in retrospect, I think you did the right thing.”

“You’re a good man, Gale.” A hug seems inappropriate, so you place a hand on his arm instead. “I’m sure someone better and kinder than me is waiting somewhere out there for you.”

His smile turns wry. “And I’m sure you and your ‘reason’ can sort things out once you both stop being stubborn arses.”

It’s probably because you’re still a bit drunk and in need of sleep, but you can’t stop yourself from bursting out laughing. “I think we would need a miracle for that.” Gale isn’t wrong, both you and Astarion are often too stubborn for your own good.

You expect Gale to at least chuckle, but instead, his expression softens. “It seems a miracle we’re all still alive, so who’s to say we can’t have another?”

He sounds so serious you stop laughing just as abruptly as you started. The hurt from before resurfaces, because there’s a bigger obstacle than stubbornness in your way. “I think I would need more than one miracle to accomplish what you’re talking about, and I doubt that I’m that lucky.”

Because even if you would talk, he still doesn’t love you, and in your current miserable state, you doubt that he ever will. To your dismay, you feel tears threatening to spill. Perhaps you should’ve waited until tomorrow to talk to Gale, after all.

Gale comes closer and puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it, sympathy plain on his face. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

This conversation has taken a turn you don’t want to face right now — and with Gale, of all people — so you just nod.

“Thank you for your honesty, Tav. Now off to bed with you.” Taking a step back, Gale lets his hand drop, Gale. “We both need all the sleep we can get, I think.”

“We do, yes.” You turn to leave but not before giving him another smile. “Thank you, Gale.” You don’t elaborate, but you can tell that you don’t have to as he bows his head in understanding.

“Goodnight, Tav. Sleep well.”

“You too, goodnight.”

As you walk over to your tent to change before going to bed, you think you see movement in the corner of your eye, but when you turn your head to look, there’s nothing there.

“And now you’re imagining things,” you mutter to yourself. “No more alcohol for you until we’re somewhere safe.”

Whenever that may be.

The following days go by in a whirlwind of events, and even if you somehow would have plucked up the nerve to talk to Astarion, you never get the chance. 

First, it was Elminster showing up to talk to Gale. You’re still not convinced it was a good idea to let him into your camp — most likely not, considering the message he was here to deliver.

You know you probably should’ve waited to let Gale have the time to process, but he insisted you press on and next thing you knew, your party was in the Shadowlands, facing goblins and driders and Harpers.

And Jaheira.

Astarion has been ignoring you as much as he can since the night, but you could sense his approval when you refused to drink the wine Jaheira offered you. Perhaps you can mend things between the two of you, in time. You desperately hope so, because a part of you already misses the chats. His embrace. The connection.

Last Light Inn turns out to be a place with many familiar faces, but after the long day you’ve all had, you decide to rest before reacquainting yourself with everyone — with one exception. 

To your — and Karlach’s — delight, you find Dammon in the stables outside the inn building.

You hide a smile when Dammon lights up at the sight of the Karlach. He may be greeting all of you, but his eyes rarely leave the Tiefling, even when he talks to you and the others. It soothes your aching heart to know that things might work out for at least one of you, even if your own love life seems doomed.

Somewhere along the way, she’s become one of your best friends. She deserves nothing but happiness, and it feels like she’s one step closer when Dammon tells her that he can craft an insulating chamber for the infernal engine. It’s not a permanent solution, but it’s enough, for now, to finally allow her to touch people again.

You stand back as Karlach instals the chamber; Dammon looks at her so intently it almost feels like you’re intruding.

The chamber clicks into place.

“Go on,” Dammon says, lifting a hand. “Give us your hand.”

Circumstances aside, it’s a lovely moment, watching the two of them.

“Damn. I’m good.” Dammon laces their fingers for the briefest of moments. “And you — you’re very touchable.”

They’re both so adorable you wish you could grab the others and leave these two be. And perhaps you also wish that this could be you and a certain vampire that is currently looking everywhere but at you.

Letting go of Dammon, Karlach turns to you with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen from her yet.

“Tav! I can touch you now!”

“I’m so happy for you, Karlach! May I hug you?”

“Yes.” Her smile wavers with emotion. “Please.”

Her skin is hot against yours but it’s not unbearable, so you wrap your arms tight around her, glad to finally be able to hug your friend.

“Thank you.” She sounds close to tears. “Talk more back at camp, yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Karlach? I need to explain the bad news too.”

You can feel a hitch in her movements and when she pulls back, her smile is strained.

She listens to what Dammon has to say, but you’re not sure she fully accepts it. You decide to leave it, for now, not wanting to dim her joy more than necessary.

Back at camp, Karlach keeps touching everyone here and there — even a moody Lae’zel accepts it, albeit reluctantly — and her happiness seems to lift the spirit of the others, too.

When everything calms down for the night, you seek her out. You can feel Astarion’s eyes on you, and in a moment of bravery, you decide you’ll talk to him after you’ve spoken to Karlach.

“Karlach? May I come in?”

“Of course! You’re always welcome into my tent, Tav.” She’s ever-moving, still brimming with energy. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine.” You decide to get right to the point. “I’m actually here to talk about you.”

“About me?”

“It was impossible not to notice the chemistry between Dammon and you today. With everything that’s happened, and considering what the future seems to hold for us… I think you should seize the moment. Go and find him. Be happy, while we still have time.”

Karlach stops to look at you, uncertain. “You think he would want that?”

“I do. He looked just as smitten as you clearly are.” 

“He did, didn’t he?” Her expression turns a bit bashful. “I didn’t just imagine it?”

“No, definitely not. And we won’t be rushing out of here just yet, so if you find yourself inclined to spend the night with him…”

“Tav!”

You shrug, holding back a grin. “I’m just saying.”

“Right.” She nods to herself. “You’re right. I should go right now, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes. Go, shoo.”

She laughs. “So eager to get rid of me. Planning to seduce someone yourself, Tav? I’ve seen your looks towards a certain someone.”

You don’t bother holding back the curse as you both leave her tent. “Am I that obvious?”

“Yeaaah. But it’s fine, and I’m rooting for you.”

You look around, searching for the man in question. “Does that mean that everyone…?”

“Think so, yeah.”

“Fuck. Double fuck.” So everyone knows. And Astarion is nowhere to be found. Again. “He’s not here.”

“Wanna tag along to the Inn? Perhaps he’s there?”

You’re not sure you’ll be able to approach him if he’s there but not alone, but then again, there’s probably no use waiting in camp either. “Yes, why not?”

You tell yourself that if he’s not there, you’ll drink one beer — because gods know you need it — and then you’ll head back. It’s been a long day, and even with everything buzzing around in your mind like a swarm of hornets, you’ll probably have no trouble falling asleep the moment your head hits your bedroll.

It turns out that Karlach is right, Astarion is there. You spot him right away, sitting on a barstool, a goblet of wine in his hand. But he’s not alone. He’s sitting very, very close to someone. You can’t see their face, but the way Astarion holds himself, the way he moves his hand to touch their shoulder…

It seems he has found someone else to spend the night with.

As is his right, but the pain is more than you can handle. You won’t stop him, but it’s impossible to stay and watch it happen. The jealousy would break you. As unluck would have it, Astarion chooses that moment to glance over his shoulder, and before you have time to react, he sees you.

Leave. You have to leave. You spin around and flee through the door, almost bumping into one of the Harpers. You’re making a fool of yourself, but you’d rather have that than seeing a smug expression on Astarion’s face.

Half-running towards camp, you decide it’s time to get over yourself. Astarion clearly has moved on — and so should you.

~~~

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump Day 29: Not Allowed To Die

Content warning: painful healing, temporary Whumpee death

The magic burned through them like lighting. Their body jerked with the feeling, spasming as once dead nerves were thrust back into new life. The feeling moved from their limbs inward, centering around a throbbing pain in their chest.

The magic focused on their heart. Whumpee felt phantom fingers circle their heart and press, forcing it to beat once more.

Whumpee’s mouth opened in a silent scream. They couldn’t breathe.

“Hurry, damnit!” There was a face above them. They were shouting, panic and exhaustion lacing their words. “I don’t–I can’t bring them back too many more times.” They felt hands digging into their shoulders, shaking.

“I’m trying!” Another voice, tense with concentration, responded.

The world smelled like burnt meat. Whumpee could see nothing but smoke in the sky, ash falling like snow. The forest was burning around them.

Through their tears, Whumpee saw a glow. Soft, warm, unlike the red of flames creeping in.

Glowing fingers dug themselves into the broken and bleeding hole in Whumpee’s chest, and Whumpee’s world went white with agony.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Someone was speaking again. Something wet dripped onto Whumpee’s face.

They could hear it. They could hear their bones snapping into place, feel burnt and dead flesh becoming raw and bloody. They could feel months worth of healing happening within seconds, concentrated and agonizing. It felt like their body was being torn apart all over again.

Whumpee felt their lungs, burnt beyond any natural means of repair, reform within their chest. They inhaled, shaking and desperate, and felt their lungs press into a pair of hands.

Whumpee screamed.

“Just a little longer, okay? You’re doing so good–,” the voice near their head spoke, voice trembling. Whumpee felt a hand brush against their cheek, wiping away tears.

Whumpee’s head lulled limply on their neck. They wheezed, and tasted nothing but ash and blood on their tongue.

“No Whumpee please! Just hold on–,”

The sound was fading, the world turning dark. The pain was becoming distant. Whumpee embraced it.

The world faded out, and Whumpee felt themselves die. Something grabbed them. Not their body, broken and laying dead on the forest floor. Something grabbed them, the soul that had finally separated from their flesh. It dragged them down, a vice-like grip dragging them back towards that inferno. Dragging them into that broken, burnt shell they’d just escaped. Bringing the pain closer. Whumpee couldn’t fight it.

Whumpee opened their eyes, body lurching, as magic willed their heart to beat once more.

“Please!” Whumpee sobbed. They just wanted it to stop.

“Just a bit more!” Those hands on their shoulders tightened, and Whumpee felt their magic tethering them to their body. “You’ll stabilize soon, you just need to hold on so they can heal you-!”

That healing, burning light returned to their chest. Whumpee didn’t have the energy to pull away. They could only scream as their body was rebuilt.

[blackbat05]

At my side

Fred Weasley x Reader

Plot: When you start to show cracks, a concerned Fred wants to intervene.

Genre: Angst/Comfort, PG-13

A/N: Haven’t been writing as much but when I do the trauma really shows?🤡 But in all seriousness, if you’re going through a tough time, I hope this piece can comfort you slightly. May there be better days.

Fred hears the door unlock, followed by the sound of you removing your shoes and coat. A loud groan emits from that rickety old chair at the dining table and Fred finds you slumped on the furniture, hand clasping a bottle of Butterbeer.

“Tough day?”

You give a wan smile and take a swig of the drink. Your head was still buzzing from the day’s events and you didn’t want to bring any troubles back.

“Dinner?” You asked, hoping to deflect the question. Fred tells you that Molly had sent over basil rice with tomato soup earlier in the day and had saved some for you. You notice that he’s still looking at you. Not wanting to crack under his gaze, you excuse yourself to wash up.

Alone in the bathroom, you find yourself heaving a sigh of relief. You go through the motion quietly and despite being clean, all you want to do is to curl up in bed and sleep the weekend away.

“Hullo love.” Fred appears at the doorway and you already dread where this is going. You have to act normal so you nod nonchalantly. Fred gets beside you.

“Everything okay? You seem sad.” Fred makes an astute observation.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just tired that’s all.” Your voice is a little too high pitched. You don’t want to tell him how you overheard malicious gossip at your temporary job as a healer assistant. Somewhere along the lines of how Fred was a successful, self-made entrepreneur and you were just there for the ride. It hurt even more because it was true.

“Sorry, Fred.” You interrupt. “I’m rather beat, I’ll go to sleep first.”

Before Fred can get another word in, you slip under the sheets and turn away from him. You’ve cried enough. You don’t want to make yourself weak in front of him.

***

Fred stops in front of the closed shop and leans naturally on the glass panel. Arriving at St Mungo’s, he’s greeted by staff and families buzzing around the reception area.

Holding a bag of food from your favorite Chinese restaurant, Fred sets off to find you. He gets off the third floor, and makes his way to the staff room where he’s sure to find you.

“She’s not going to move anywhere else! Not when she has that gorgeous ginger to provide for her.” A nasty voice emits from the room. Fred halts in his tracks and inches a little closer.

“I wish I could have her life,” another voice whines. “I would never have to worry about bills and have tea after passing time.”

Fred could smell the sarcasm from a mile away. The chorus of laughter only made his blood boil because he was no idiot, he knew that they were talking about you. So that’s why you were so gloomy yesterday. Fred has the urge to burst in there and give them a piece of his mind when-

“Fred?”

He turns around and you’re standing there holding a clipboard looking pale and shell-shocked. How much did he overhear from your nasty colleagues?

You manage to snap out of it and grab him by the wrist, pulling Fred to the lobby and out of earshot from curious eyes and ears.

“What was that? Was that why you were so sad?” Fred interrogates. “Tell me!”

You flinch at his accusatory tone. No. You will not be spoken to this way. The past couple of months had been hard on you. The passing of your grandmother coupled with the inability to get a stable job had took a toll on you. You were trying so hard to keep it together but sometimes, all you need is just a spark to start an inferno.

“Will you stop harassing me!” You snarl and Fred genuinely looks shocked at your sudden outburst. This wasn’t you. You were always bright and sunny despite whatever challenges that were thrown your way. The person that was in front of him was… downtrodden and beaten.

“I can’t deal with this right now.” Your hands are tightly balled into fist. “I’m trying so hard to feel some sort of worth at a job where my colleagues think I’m a rich skank mooching off her boyfriend and that I’m doing this job to simply pass time.” You find your shoes very interesting at this point in time. “So if you have nothing useful to say, please leave.”

As the words tumble out of your mouth, a part of you cannot believe what you’ve just said. You’re a horrible bastard. You can’t bear to look at the expression on Fred’s face so you turn and stalk back to the ward where your “beloved” colleagues were probably wondering where you ran off to.

***

You apparated a few feet outside of your shared apartment, letting out a sigh. You weren’t looking forward to the conversation to be honest.

Be a big girl.

You open the door to silence and for a moment you think that Fred is still at the shop.

“Hey.”

Crap.

You turn around to see Fred at the kitchen, holding two mugs. “Can we talk?” He asks gently. You nod and wordlessly make your way to the dining table.

“Thanks.” You accept the mug of hot chocolate and are pleasantly comforted by the warmth gushing down your throat.

“About just now,” Fred starts. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have turned up unannounced.” He fiddles with his hands, a sign that he still has more to say. “And I shouldn’t have been that hard on you.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, it’s me.” You blurt out. “I know you were concerned. I didn’t want to tell you because you’ve been really busy with the shop and honestly, I thought I could handle it on my own. Those nosy witches, they’re more bark than bite.” Your insult brings a small smile on your face and this humors Fred as well.

As you let your guard down, suddenly the weight of the world falls off your shoulders and your cheeks start to feel wet.

“Oh,” you summon a handkerchief, “I’m being ridiculous.”

“You’ve been too hard on yourself.” Fred frowns. “You’ve been through a lot. I wished I could have carried some of it for you.”

“You already have.” You hold his hand, thinking about how he insisted to be there for you when your grandmother passed away and never left your side once. As the tears rolled down your face, you realize one thing.

“You were there and I always want you to be by my side.”

You think about how if Fred was never there, you would have fought everything on your own. It wasn’t any easier now, but at least it wasn’t rock bottom.

Fred gives you a tight hug.

“Always.”

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Down to the Meadow

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 3

Series Masterlist             Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: swearing, descriptions of depression, descriptions of violence/gore (canon typical), more of Frank being concerned about what reader is eating (very vague ED references)

a/n: AHHHHH I AM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE! A huge thank you to the anon who reminded me that it was Monday LOL. I am so glad that someone else enjoys this story because I love writing it. This chapter delves into Franks trauma and mental state and I hope you all enjoy!

w/c: 5.5k

The dream evolved after the first iteration. Each time he closed his eyes, a new horror cemented itself into the sentient nightmare that was slowly consuming his entire life. 

As with the first dream, it started with you joining Maria in his standard nightmares. Your beautiful figure sitting on the carousel alongside his late wife and kids as those assholes gunned you down. A patch of red slowly spreading across your pretty white dress as your smile morphed into a face of horror. 

The weird thing was, his subconscious laced the nightmares with gorgeous, peaceful images of you. Like his mind was desperately trying to remind him that good things are easily ruined. 

You pulling cookies out of the oven. Then, you being blown to bits in front of him in the field. You laughing at a joke he didn’t mean to make. Followed quickly by your screams as the life drains from your face. 

You picking flowers in a sun kissed field, before a large black mass overtakes you, swallowing you whole. 

Though his resting mind was eager to pry him away from you, to spare you a terrible fate, his waking mind was yearning to let him wrap himself around your finger. The fine line he was treading started to look more like a noose—and he was weaving it himself. 

A cold, squishy object nudged Frank’s outstretched hand deliberately. Groaning, the Marine retracted his hand into the cocoon of sheets he had created in his uneasy sleep. A pitiful whine shattered the early morning silence and sent a white-hot strike of pain through his skull. 

Pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes, his throat twisted in a silent cry of pain. Prying his eyes open, he was blinded by the daylight, searing an imprint into his eyelids. 

Nausea burned in his gut as he contemplated opening his eyes again. He wanted nothing more than to lie here and rot all day, but Max clearly needed to go out. The thought of bringing Max outside the apartment right now was enough to make a gag rise in his throat. An idea rattled around in his skull, the pain of his hangover too intense for him to even remember that Frank Castle never asked for help unless he was on his death bed. Braving the sun’s unintentional inferno, he let his eyes slide open again. 

A hiss of pain escaped his lips and he drew a hand up to block the rays as best he could while he took in his surroundings. He had fallen asleep on his couch after making a mess of his apartment, but his phone sat prominently displayed on the coffee table amid a smattering of empty bottles. Grasping it for dear life, he sent a message as quickly as possible before shutting it off and letting his head fall back to the pillows. 

Frank: I hate to ask this but could you take Max out for me? I’ve got a bad headache. 

A vibration let him know that you’d responded, prompt as always. 

You: I’m sorry you’re not feeling well ☹️ I’ll be right over. 

Breathing deeply, Frank heaved himself off the couch, stumbling to the door to unlock it before retreating to his created sanctuary. 

Frank: You can let yourself in. Door’s open. 

Drifting in and out of a painful consciousness, Frank hazily remembered the door opening, a cool hand on his face, the same gentle palm offering him some extra strength painkillers and a glass of water, before all signs of other life disappeared from his apartment. 

When he woke again, you were returning with Max in tow—your ethereal form outlined by a halo of golden light as you crouched in front of him. Frank was vexed by the sight of the skirt of your beautiful dress pooling on the floor.

“Hey, big guy. Feeling any better?” Your voice was soft as your dainty fingers stroked his arm with a featherlight touch. 

Frank grunted in affirmation, not trusting himself to look at your dazzling eyes and risk seeing honest concern. There was no way his fatigue riddled mind could resist you, it was too dangerous. 

You gave him a small smile. “Well I took Max for a walk to and around Central Park, so he should be a happy camper for a while. Did you want me to stay?” 

Blood rushed to Frank’s ears. This is exactly what he was afraid of. Do not say yes. Do not say yes. Do not— “Please.” His voice cracked around the word, making him cringe. You fucking asshole. You piece of shit. 

“Hey, I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but tell it to quiet down. It doesn’t seem to be helping.” Your knuckles brushed over his cheek and he leaned into the touch, weakening your worried frown. 

“I just…I ain’t good company, sunshine. I shouldn’t let you stay, I can’t ask that of you.” Your pinched expression intensified as you listened to his deep grumble crack on the pet name he used for you. Cupping his cheek tenderly, a small smile slipped through as you reassured him. 

“You don’t need to be good company for me to enjoy being with you, Frank.” You shuffled closer to the couch, hand moving to scratch lightly at his scalp which made him groan in appreciation, eyes falling closed. 

Frank sighed, a strong sense of guilt ballooning in his chest “I don’t deserve you.” 

“Oh stop. You deserve to be happy. Whatever and whoever helps you get there, yah?” Your voice was definitive, almost stern, which made the corners of his lips twitch up in a smirk. 

“So bossy.” He murmured, his smirk growing as you gave his hair a small tug in retaliation.

“Can I sit?” You jerked your head to his couch and he nodded, sitting up to make room for you.

Ignoring his desire to let you care for him, he rested his arms across the back of the couch. The ghost of your body heat dancing over his exposed skin in an almost comforting waltz. It wasn’t a great placebo for your gentle touches, but it would have to do. 

You were quiet for a moment, worriedly glancing around the apartment. Empty beer and liquor bottles littered the coffee table. While you wouldn’t dare call Frank’s place “messy,” your rigid, grouchy neighbor was never less than meticulous. He’d mentioned his military background to you once, which would explain his precision and attention to detail. And that was why the litter seemed so out of place, you supposed. 

Preoccupied with brainstorming a way to assist, Frank nearly made you jump when he broke the silence. 

“Sorry I ain’t much fun.” 

You chuckled, poking his shoulder. “I already told you, tough guy, you don’t have to be fun. You can sleep more if you want.” 

“Nah.” Frank’s face contorted with a grimace making you giggle.

“Ok, have you eaten yet?” You tilted your head at him, darling smile persisting even though his place was a mess and he was a disaster. His doubt began churning again. She deserves better. Send her away. 

Frank just shook his head, both to clear it of the whirling thoughts and to answer your question, so you continued. “How does an incredibly greasy burger sound?”

The Marine groaned, “Like fuckin’ heaven.” 

Giggling, you took his hand. “I know a good diner not far from here. Join me for lunch?” 

“Sounds like a plan, sunshine.” Frank allowed you to pull him from the couch, appreciative that you took care not to jostle him too much. Armed with more painkillers and a pair of sunglasses, the two of you headed out for a meal. 

The amount of care you took, in the short walk between his apartment and your destination, to ensure his comfort on the bustling NYC streets was honestly outrageous. How someone could give two shits about a man that massacred people without trying was beyond him, but he was grateful nonetheless. Keeping a tender hold of his hand, you led him around the other New Yorkers with immense grace, your sweet face bright with a smile the entire time. Thinking it would be best for his pounding head, you refrained from making conversation, simply turning around to grin at him every once in a while. 

As you reached the diner, you pulled open the door for him before his outstretched free hand could touch the handle. Frank was always so chivalrous around you, it was time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. Smiling sweetly, you bit back a laugh at his narrowing eyes as he skeptically accepted your action. 

“Thanks, sunshine.” 

“Why of course, sweetheart.” You coated your voice with honey and Frank grumbled, furrow above his brow deepening. Bringing his calloused hand up to your lips, you placed a kiss on his knuckles before brushing over them with your thumb. “Relax, Frank. Let someone else care for you this time, hmm?” 

The tension on his face ebbed before evaporating. Poking his cheek, that was now dusted with a rosy blush, you giggled, pulling him towards an empty booth. 

Sitting across from you, Frank slid his sunglasses off to fully appreciate your appearance today while you read over the laminated menu. Dolled up in one of your signature floral sundresses, your hair was styled differently—pulled away from your face, revealing more of you to him. Natural light poured in from the window framing your booth, highlighting your slender hands and neckline that plunged deeper than normal. Frank found his eyes tracing the line of fabric down into the valley of your visible cleavage until your sudden movement spooked him from the trance. 

“Ooooo the red onion and goat cheese burger looks good. That must be new or I would have tried it before. What are you going to get?” You beamed at him, blissfully unaware of the way his thoughts lingered on your skin. Stuck in his own head, he wondered if your melodic voice would respond to his touches the way he wished it would. What would you sound like if he ran a hand over your thighs? Would you get louder once it became his tongue?

“Frank?” You took hold of his arm that was resting on the dull plastic table, startling him. Your pretty brow pinched, eyes running over his face for any sign of distress. “Are you ok? Is it too loud or bright in here?” 

“I’m a’right, sunshine. Jus’ lookin’ at ya, is all.” He grumbled, picking up his own menu as heat rushed to your face. 

“Oh, well, er—everything is good, so whatever you choose will be, um, good.” You stumbled through the sentence, trying not to dwell on Frank’s consistent compliments. 

A waitress eventually approached the two of you to take your order. Taking your cues from Frank, you ordered a strawberry milkshake with your burger while he requested a chocolate one—Frank seemed more than pleased about the addition to your meal and you weren’t quite sure why. 

While waiting for your food, you and Frank were looking out at the flow of people through the window beside you. You happily commented on their outfits, and what jobs you thought they held. Though it was clear you were being overly goofy to lighten his mood, he encouraged it—asking you to describe their personality and voice along with their job. 

Letting your lilting tone wash over him, he focused on the way your fingers fit so perfectly in his. Your thumb continued drawing patterns across his knuckles, even though your focus was outside. 

While you were giving a ridiculous impression of a man in a full suit that clearly thought he was tough shit, Frank felt a confession bubbling up in his throat. 

“Friday is my daughter's birthday. She would have been 18.”

“Oh, Frank…” The devastation in his statement made emotion well up in your own chest. “I���m so sorry.”

“Thought I owed ya an explanation. F’r the mess.” His hand circled towards himself lamely. 

“You don’t owe me anything. Not one single thing, sweetheart. I’m here for whatever you need, explanation or not.” You squeezed his hand again, looking at him with concern, but not pity. 

“I meant what I said earlier. You deserve better.” Keeping his eyes downcast, his heart plunged when your fingers stilled over the back of his hand before slipping out of his hold entirely. 

Closing his eyes in disappointment, he assumed he’d rightfully lost your support until he felt a burst of heat settle against his side as you wrapped him in an embrace. Your hand buried itself in his hair and he let you pull him into your neck. 

“You are exactly the kind of man I deserve, Frank. You’re allowed to grieve, and, honestly, if you showed no emotion that would be a huge red flag. It’s ok to struggle and it’s ok to ask for help. I am always always a door away if you need company or someone to talk to. I know I tend to dominate the conversation, but I have been told that I’m occasionally a good listener.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, stroking over the spot of impact gently when he subconsciously leaned into the contact. 

“I don’t doubt it, sunshine.” He idled in your hold before drawing back, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he moved away. “Her name was Lisa. She, um, she died in a shootout. Along with my wife and son.” 

Before he could continue, your waitress returned to your table. Thanking her briefly for the food, you positioned Frank’s food in front of him, picking up a fry. Watching you turn to him expectantly, he found himself telling you everything. For the first time in his life, he understood why Red felt so strongly about his religion. Confessing his sins to you lifted a burden that he had lived with for so long, he had previously assumed it was a permanent piece of him. He’d found a new altar to kneel at, and he wouldn’t give that up, he couldn’t. 

He talked for what felt like hours. Telling you about Maria, their meeting, their love, their marriage. He told you about Lisa and Frankie, how he felt like he had failed Frankie more so than anyone else because of the responsibility he’d unknowingly placed on the boy’s shoulders. While he didn’t go into detail about their deaths, he spoke about things that had haunted him silently. The pieces of his relationships with his wife and children that he kept so close to his chest, Curtis didn’t even know about them. 

By the time he’d picked his plate clean, he was exhausted. Revealing his fears to you was relieving, but it took so much energy. Running a palm over his face roughly, he drained the last of his milkshake. 

“I’m sorry, sunshine. That was…a lot.” 

“Don’t be sorry. I appreciate you trusting me with this.” Your words were genuine. “Let me finish my burger and then we can go home.” 

His heart fluttered at the small implication that his apartment was your home as well. You may not have intended it, but it’s warmed his chest nonetheless. As you worked your way through the rest of your food, you remained tucked into Frank’s side with his arm around your shoulders. 

Letting his arm fall to your waist, he stroked a thumb over your hip gently, making you smile. Popping the last bit of sandwich into your mouth, you fell more firmly into his hold. Studying his face with a small smile, you brushed a few strands of hair off of his face, eyes landing on his lips for a moment before you looked away. 

Flagging down your waitress, you started to hand over your card but Frank’s large hand settled over yours. Passing the waitress his card instead, his lips twitched in a tiny smile. 

“I got this one, sunshine. Could she get the rest of that shake to go?” 

You grinned at him, pressing another kiss to his cheek. 

Frank was sure he hadn’t smiled this much in years. The pair of you traipsed along the city streets, under the impression that the sunlight would do you both some good. Of course, he’d needed to persuade you and your adorably furrowed brow that his headache had faded and could withstand the bright lights and urban ambiance. You’d once again woven your fingers with his as you ambled along, this time threading your arms together too. The heat of your skin pressed to his was a drug unlike any other. He was infuriatingly drunk on you and his heart refused to do anything about it. 

Because it was you, with your brilliant smile and silvery laugh. He’d been constructing walls around himself for years, and you’d strode up with a basket of pastries, walking straight into his life and tidying it up like you had always been there. 

Stuck in his own mind, Frank failed to see the teenager sprinting down the sidewalk. His growing daydream of you cementing yourself into his life was shattered as your hand was abruptly tugged from his grasp, your body falling to the cement under the weight of the gangly teen who’d toppled you. 

“Oh gosh, are you alright, ma’am? I am so sorry! I didn’t see—“ 

“The hell?” Frank snapped at the kid, who turned white as a sheet as he stared up at the towering man. 

Kneeling beside you, Frank felt his heart constrict seeing the crimson-tinged scrapes on your elbows, small trickles of blood spreading from them across your pristine skin. Not to mention, your beautiful dress was splattered with the remnants of your milkshake, the styrofoam crushed against your chest. 

Snarling, Frank turned back to the boy, still crouched beside you, arm outstretched so you could pull yourself up. “Jesus, did ya even look where you were goin’? Or did ya just feel like injuring her and ruining her pretty dress.” 

The kid’s adams apple bobbed as he gulped in terror, wide eyes watching Frank’s movements as he backed away in surrender. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been paying attention.” 

“Yah. Ya should’ve. Fat lot of good that does us now, though.” Frank spoke tersely, feeling a hand rest on his bicep. 

Sitting up, you gave him a pointed look before smiling at the teen. “It’s quite alright, I just got scraped up, is all. Don’t worry about him, he’s a little protective. Are you ok?” 

Only you would be able to experience a mess like that and worry about the idiot that caused it. The kid nodded, breathlessly running his hands through curly, brown hair. 

“I’m fine, ma’am. I am so sorry, again, did you need help—“ Bravely (or stupidly), the boy stepped towards you with an arm held out, offering to help you up. Fists clenching, a low growl left Frank, scaring the kid back into his senses. 

“Sorry, er, have a good day!” The kid chirped fearfully, dashing away. You giggled, craning your neck to watch him disappear into the masses. Grabbing Frank’s hand with your own sugar-stained fingers, you allowed him to help you stand, brushing a knuckle over his cheek when you saw his fierce scowl. 

“I’m ok, tough guy. He didn’t mean it.” Giving him an earnest look, you withdrew your hand from his face, giggling when he slid forward on his toes to follow the warmth of your touch. Gently sliding your palm against his nape, you scratched at his hair—earning a deep, pleased rumble from him—and tugged him back into a moderate pace. “I would love to get this dress washed so it doesn’t stain, though. Let’s get home.”

Tense scowl easing, Frank gratefully let you guide him back to your building. 

“Frank, really, I’m ok! You don’t need to—“ You pleaded, watching the man pace around his apartment, grabbing various first aid supplies to tend to your shallow wounds. 

Frank ignored your bargaining tone, shuffling through his depleted kits for the supplies he sought.  Armed with bandages, saline, and cotton pads, he kneeled before your seated form on his couch. “Course I don’t need to. I want to. That bother ya?”

Sitting before him in a cotton shirt and pajama pants, he felt his heart clench as he studied your soft figure. You shook your head at his inquiry, looking at him with eyes filled with an unrecognizable emotion. Had he upset you? Was he being too pushy?

“No, it’s just…” You trailed off, eyes avoiding his own as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth. His stomach tightened, waiting for you to reveal that he’d pushed you away, but the sentiment never came. “I don’t want to be any trouble, Frankie.” 

Oh. Oh. It’s not defensiveness, it’s doubt. Guilt. He’d been so wrapped up in his own insecurities that he had forgotten you were fully capable of falling prey to your own. Setting the supplies aside, he took your hands, looking firmly into your eyes. 

“Ain’t no trouble. Not to me. Not when it’s you.” His words were honest and the short, strangled gasp that escaped you told him you weren’t expecting it. A hint of a smile ghosted over your lips, making his mouth twitch in tandem. 

Silently, he pushed up your sleeve and rotated your arm to expose the torn skin. Dampening a cotton pad with saline, he swiped over the injury as tenderly as he could, terrified of seeing you wince. Holding still, you smiled at him, free hand coming to rub circles over his back as he worked. 

Focusing his eyes intently on the wound, he ignored the growing warmth in his chest, expanding with your continued touches. Though he was staring at your ravaged skin, his thoughts were elsewhere—leading him to put too much pressure on the wound. Your hand gave a barely noticeable twitch of pain, but he cursed his existence anyway. 

“Shit, ‘m sorry darlin’.” Loosening his hold on you, he bandaged up the shallow cuts. You just smiled at him, tracing a finger over his chin. 

“No need to be sorry, Frankie. Thanks for taking care of me.” He blushed, grumbling out a dismissive response and returning to his work. 

Though the day had already worn him out, long strings of words spilled out his mouth. Stories pulled from him by your sheer magnetism. You gave reassuring touches and encouraging nods as he once again told you everything. How he’d been a trouble maker as a kid and ended up enlisting, the brotherhood he’d found in Curtis and Billy. There was no way your perceptive eyes missed the flinch he gave when mentioning his former best friend, so he moved on quickly. He spoke about coming home to Maria and the kids, dealing with the shenanigans of two elementary schoolers while struggling with PTSD, the way he’d grown to appreciate the quiet and the way he hated it now. 

While you were more than comfortable carrying a conversation, he’d never found more solace in letting someone listen to him. You remained quiet, but present enough to stoke the embers of his energy as he rambled, squeezing his arm when he stuttered and smiling softly at the anecdotes. With a sigh, he placed the final bandage on your skin and pulled your sleeve to cover it. You were silent for a moment, studying the fabric of your top before his doubt got the better of him. 

“I’m sorry, you can leave if you want. I didn’t mean—“ 

“Oh Frank,” Chuckling softly, you pulled him into a hug. While the gesture was unexpected, he was overwhelmed with gratitude as he melted into the embrace. Pulling back slightly, you pressed your forehead to his. “What on earth gave you the impression that I didn’t want to be here with you?” 

Snorting at his own lack of control over his fears, he nudged his marred, crooked nose against your pristine one. “Wanted to give you a route to escape, is all.” 

“Don’t want one.” You whispered, growing breathless as he ran his fingers along the soft skin of your cheeks. 

The two of you sat there, slowly melding together, for what felt like hours. A cloud of hesitation and want steadily growing around both of you as you desperately sorted out whether or not to make a move. Before either of you could act on your desires, a shrill alarm rung out—startling you so intensely you shrieked, nearly toppling off the couch. 

“Shit, sorry, honey that’s me.” Large thumbs fumbling over the screen of his crappy phone, he shut off the horrific noise and chucked the device across the coffee table. “You ok?” 

You were panting, on the edge of giggles at your clumsiness, but you nodded. “Something wrong?” 

“No, sunshine, nothin’ like that. My friend, Curt, he’s hostin’ group today. Asked me to come.” Frank wallowed in the disappointment of the ruined moment, cursing his own rotten luck for pushing you away. 

“Oh, I can get out of your hair. Sorry to keep you!” Standing from the couch, you made to straighten the fabric bunched around your waist but a hand shot out to wrap around your wrist. 

“It’s not for a couple a’ hours, if you wanna stay.” Frank’s dark eyes flitted over your face, scanning for any sign of required affection. Luckily, it didn’t take long for you to break into your signature dazzling smile and perch on the edge of his seat, practically sitting in his lap. 

“Course I’ll stay. I could make something for you to bring, if you’d like?” 

“Somethin’ like those addictive cookies?” Frank asked, raising a brow teasingly. 

Leaning in close, your murmur danced across his chin as you grinned up at him. “Tell you what, I’ll teach you the recipe, then you can bring them whenever you’d like. You have to be careful though, these are dangerous secrets I’m revealing to you, sir.”

Frank laughed, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I’ll take ‘em to the grave, sunshine.” 

Scrolling through your phone, you sighed as you switched apps yet again. Nothing was holding your attention and the boredom of it all was eating you alive. 

Biting your lip hopefully, you flicked your screen to your message inbox, heart sinking when you saw there were no new messages. 

You’d spent damn near 8 hours with Frank, yet you couldn’t help but mourn his absence this evening. It was well-known both to you and your loved ones that you were quick to get attached to people, especially if they were brooding or lonely. Leo always referred to this as your “penchant for strays” given your obsession with pitbulls and black cats in addition to society’s lone wolves. But there was so much more to Frank than his soft grumpiness. 

Frank was sweet and protective, and his actions were proof that cared for you deeply despite only knowing you a few weeks. Your face felt clammy just thinking about the way he patched up your minor scrapes earlier today. You wondered if his tender first aid skills were developed during his short time with his wife and children. 

It was no surprise to learn about Frank’s tragic backstory. Though you had done your best to keep his life private, you’d managed to piece together the key points of his service, his loss, and his downfall. Your conversations today had simply filled the gaps, and fueled your existing desire to learn more about him. 

Despite your unassuming, feminine nature, you couldn’t help but empathize with Frank and his violent past. His actions didn’t scare you, revenge was something you’d dealt with intimately throughout your life, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful that so many dangerous individuals were no longer around to terrorize your beloved city. 

Learning more about his past had only drawn you to Frank even more, as if learning about each segment of his being only strengthened the invisible current that washed you repeatedly against his rocky cliff side. His violence wasn’t unnerving to you, simply more evidence that this man was exactly as passionate as you’d interpreted him to be. 

“The Punisher” they called him. The name was brutal, absolute. It wasn’t the image of the vigilante that you’d settled on. Yours was complicated, human. Just a man who loved his family so deeply that he was willing to bring hell to the people who took them away. His journey was one you couldn’t fathom, yet you understood. 

So you continued to pursue a friendship, maybe allowing it to blossom past traditional platonic boundaries, but how could you resist. Spending time with him meant time flying past, sharing bubbling laughs and stupid jokes with a man who looked at you like you hung the moon. When Frank was with you, his attention was deliberate and profound. He was focused on you and only you, even when surrounded by a myriad of other people and stimuli. You basked in the intensity of his gaze, letting it warm you from the inside out like a bright flame on a dark night. Did the world really expect you to not stoke those embers? 

As if your thoughts had summoned him, the unique text tone you’d assigned to Frank’s number sounded, igniting a bright smile on your face. 

Frank: You might have created a problem for me, sunshine. These guys want me to bring cookies every week now. 

You: All good things come at a price, sweetheart. Did you really think that you didn’t need to sell a piece of your soul to make cookies that good?

Frank: Pretty evil of you not to warn me. I’m starting to think this was your plan all along. 

You: Damn! You found me out. What can I do to make it up to you?

Frank: Do me a favor? 

You: What’s the favor?

A firm knock on your door startled you, making you drop your phone. Tilting your head quizzically, you shuffled over to peek out the peephole, grinning when you saw who had knocked. Pulling the door open, a very stern looking Frank—contrasted by the wiggling, excited pitbull at his feet—stood before you. 

“Hey there, sweethearts! C'mon in!” Beckoning the pair into your apartment, you led them to the couch, happily letting Max jump into your lap. 

“You’re spoilin’ him. He’s gonna think any furniture is fair game.” Frank’s gruff voice held a tinge of amusement but his face held a whirlwind of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. Clearly, he was avoiding something. 

“He’s the bestest boy, Frankie! He deserves to sit on the couch with me!” Squishing the pit’s face, you gave Max a kiss before looking at Frank expectantly. “Sooo…you needed a favor?” 

Looking away from you, Frank sighed, rubbing at his nape. “Yah, shit, I hate to ask this, sunshine. I, uh, I was hopin’ you’d be willin’ to watch Max for a few days for me?” 

Your heart pounded, body flooding with concern, and slight excitement. “Of course, Frank. Everything ok?” 

He nodded, slouching forward so that his elbows rested on his knees, still refusing to make eye contact. “Yah, just a business trip, nothin’ crazy. I just wasn’t expectin’ it and couldn’t get him into his usual place. If you don’t wanna do it—“

“Frank,” You placed your hand on his forearm, stroking his skin softly as you tried to encourage him to relax. “Of course I’ll watch him. That’s not an issue. I’m just worried about you is all.” 

Frank snorted quietly, letting you take his hand and pressing a delicate kiss to your knuckles. “No need to worry, sunshine. I can handle myself.”

Sliding out from under Max, you strode over to the broad man on your couch and knelt before him, taking his other hand. “Never said you couldn’t, sweetheart—but I’m going to worry about you anyway. Anybody going with you on this job?” 

“Nah, just me. Why, you gettin’ jealous on me, darlin’?” Frank smirked at you and you shoved his knee, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest at the new nickname. 

“You wish, Castiglione. I’m cool as a cucumber.” Mirroring his tender affection, you pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Just don’t want you to forget about me while you’re out galavanting, is all.” 

“Don’t think that’s possible, sunshine. I can’t stop thinkin’ about ya.” Frank murmured, finally meeting your eyes. The two of you hovered mere inches apart, tension growing around you in a thick fog before Frank cleared his throat, dissipating it. 

“Anyway, I can leave a key with ya, if that’s not too weird…” 

“Yah, yah.” You let go of his hands, standing up to brush off your dress. “That works, Frankie. When do you leave?” 

“Well, uh, now. If you’re truly ok watching Max?” 

“I’d be honored. Just…promise me you’ll drive safe, sweetheart.” 

Frank’s gaze was fervent, drawing you in and pushing everything else away.

“I promise, sunshine.” 

Thank you for reading!! Comments and reblogs are incredibly appreciated!

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𝟣𝟣:𝟣𝟣⎹ 𝓞.𝓐.

❝ ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ⤻ fire force / kinktober 2022 / @dollsanime-library

❝ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ⤻ obi akitaru x reader ( f )

❝ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ⤻ nsfw! none of my writings are meant for anyone under the age of 18, and any minors interacting will be blocked on site.

❝ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ⤻ basically all smut, somnophilia ( kinda ), fluffy smut, SAFE sex, fucked to sleep

❝ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⤻ 1.7k / mini musing

❝ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴇ ⤻ i do not consent to having my work reposted / translated / stolen in any capacity for any reason. please reblog and leave a comment to support content creators! my work is very rarely proof read so mistakes may be present. all characters / pairings i write for are 18+ with no exceptions.

you were roused into a state of blurry consciousness upon feeling the familiar weight as Obi slid onto the bed. he always tried to be as gentle as possible, but his size makes him less than stealthy. besides, even when he didn’t want to wake you, he had to pull you close to him.

you shift, inching back with your eyes still closed as his rough hands ghost over your biceps, his lips finding your shoulder and littering it with slow, easy kisses. “So good to be home.” he whispers, more to himself, but you smile, sleepy, and hum against the pillow. you were half on your belly, one leg bent up towards you while the other was extended, and you could feel the wall of warmth that was Obi from your shoulders to your feet, but he was holding himself up with his elbow, so as not to crush you, only applying the faintest bit of his weight on your back. he smelled like soap, and you could feel the damp tips of his dark tendrils as he worshipped you with kisses— he’d no doubt showered at HQ before heading back to you, which you didn’t mind. the less time that he had to smell like an inferno around you, the easier it was to savor the moments he was home. you spent oh so much of his time away filled with dread that he might never come back, the last thing you wanted was to be reminded that he was on the brink of death before crawling into your bed.

he was naked, too, as Obi usually slept, only there was a prodding at your thigh— that familiar firmness when Obi missed you too much at work. “What time is it?” you mumbled, reaching back to pet at him. your uncouth hand blindly rubs at the dips in his abs, but you start to shift.

he stops you with a soft, “Shh…” and wraps his larger hand around yours, bringing it up to his lips, kissing each knuckle with delicate, butterfly kisses, “don’t get up, sweetheart.” he whispers back, “‘S late.”

“Someone… didn’t get the memo…” you murmur, melting back into the mattress, but you poke your butt out to nudge his hard on as if showing him what you were referencing.

he chuckles, and it’s low and husky. he wants you, and you can hear it in his baritone. “Sorry, that’s my fault,” he replies, sheepish, “I thought about you all day. How soft you are—“ he pauses, lips coasting over your shoulder and to the sweet spots on your neck. you mewl in content. “How… good you smell…”

“Obi…” you breathe out, squirming. you could always sit up, roll over and pull him close, wrap your legs around his hips and let him bury himself in you. hell, you’d even wake up to ride him if that’s what he wanted, sleepy or not. but he’s already reaching for one of the fluffy pillows on his side of the bed, “I can—“

“You don’t have to do anything, sweetheart.” he interjects, “Let me take care of it.” he hooks a strong forearm around your midsection and gingerly pulls your lower half up off the mattress to slide the pillow underneath, propping you up for him, and he whispers, needy, against the shell of your ear. “I’m gonna fuck you back to sleep, baby, All I want you to do is snuggle up and enjoy it.” you can feel his hips grinding against yours as he tells you, his cock poking against your flimsy panties, and the hand under you slips beneath the waistband to rub your clit in slow, lazy circles. it was incredible to you; even in the dark, while he was needy and getting inside you was the only thing on his mind, he could still find your clit so easy— he could tease the sensitive nub just right. you moan, sleepily. your body wanted to keep resting, but the attention he was giving your core was just stimulating enough to get you wet. “There’s my girl.” he whispers again, feeling your slick start to glue his fingers together. “She missed me, too. I can feel it.” he wasn’t wrong. even as you snuggled against the pillow, your back arched for him, and your hips wanted to rut and ride his fingers.

“Hurry up,” you whine, muffling yourself with the pillow. you cheeks were hot with a blush, even though you knew he couldn’t see. he had to be able to hear the shyness in your soft plea. you were impatient, needy yourself, and you sounded pathetic. “Put it in…” your core throbbed with desire, squeezing around air, and your lower belly was tied in knots. “Obi…”

“I’m coming, sweetheart,” he mutters, his free hand reaching over you to fumble with the bedside table, grasping the knob on the drawer to pull it open. then, he blindly rustles about the contents of a box, retrieving a prophylactic in a chrome wrapper, “just about ready.”

you knew he didn’t much care for condoms, and neither did you. and even though you’d been dating him steady for a while, he always kept them by the bed. he never once forgot to put one on, even when you were so overtaken by lust and the need to feel him that you would beg him to just hurry and fuck you, he would always remember. you’d asked him one time why he even bothered with them at this point; you’d be content to take him raw whenever he wanted, but he’d just kissed the tip of your nose and replied, “I’ll always take care of you first.”

you knew he didn’t want to keep you up, but the longer he took to grip the wrapper with his teeth and tear it open, the more impatient you became, pushing yourself back against his erection to rub against it with a hapless whimper.

“You’re so goddamn cute.” he whispers, eyes dark as he stares down at your drowsy display, dragging your ass slowly against his cock, sliding the rubber onto his length, ensuring it’s snug and secure. then, he shifts again, laying against you once more, using his fingers between your legs to pull your panties to the side whilst the other takes hold of himself by his base and guides the tip to your treasure. the insertion elicits a thick exhale against the back of your neck, Obi is blissed to be able to feel your walls clamp around him, pulling him deeper. you whine, too, that familiar, sweet stretch much slower tonight. “Happy now, sweetheart?” it’s half a tease, half a genuine inquiry; Obi releases himself to reach up and turn your head to the side, planting a soft kiss against your lips when you nod and mumble a happy mhm, “Yeah?” he whispers against your lips, and you nod again, lazily smacking your lips against his mouth to kiss him back. “Me too.” his fingers linger against your cheek, petting it, before he carefully guides it back to the pillow and you nuzzle against it.

you’d been apprehensive at first; you’d not expected to find yourself even drowsier once he was inside you. you thought, for sure, you’d be wide awake, and ready to scream his name until your throat was sore. however, that wasn’t the case at all.

the rhythm he fell into was slow, a lullaby of deep thrusting. he didn’t hit a limit, he didn’t bottom out, and the consistent rocking had your body feeling heavier. sleepier.

“Obi…” you moan, but it’s slurred. drunken.

he allows both of his hands to careen around your body, pulling your pajama top up so he can pepper your shoulders with kisses, before tracing your spine with them, mouth open, panting hot air against your skin and raising goosebumps. “Shh, shhhh,” he replies in a partial moan, “don’t talk, sweetheart. Don’t think… just enjoy it for me.”

you could do that, you thought, allowing yourself to sink, limp, between his massive strength and the sturdy mattress.

“You feel so good, love,” he whispered, kissing wherever he could move your top to find a bare section of flesh, “my best girl, taking me so slow and easy.”

you tried to reply, show some gratitude for all of the praise, but you could only muster a soft, wordless babble as sleep takes hold of you, and claims control over your mind.

“Go ahead,” he urges; Obi must’ve expected you to be fighting it, “go to sleep, baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you…” even though his hips twitched, and he so desperately wanted to speed up, to grip your waist and drive himself home over and over until he was dizzy and spent, he doesn’t. he holds that same, slow pace, savoring each thrust and the way the bulging veins on his cock rubbed against your walls, causing them to flutter and tighten.

his jaw tightens, grinding his teeth, one hand gliding down to caress your bent leg from calve to thigh, while the other pets your hair, as if he could never get enough of the feeling of you. and he couldn’t. “That’s it… Gonna give you very, very good dreams tonight, sweetheart.” he coos, feeling your breathing start to even out as you drifted off. in contrast, you clench around him even tighter, a telltale sign that your orgasm is close. his forehead dips to rest between your shoulder blades, closing his eyes. his breathing is ragged, his body wants more, but he wouldn’t dare ruin the softness of your lullaby.

[soapyghost]

Sparks

Firefighter Price x Fem! Reader

I honest to god did not expect this to get the love it did?? So thank you??? I’m blown away. Also this chapters kindaaa short- and its the epitome of slow burn and I am not sorry. It will get more- angsty soon ehehe. Also I did my best to try and remember everyone who wanted to be added to the tag list and I am so sorry if I forgot anyone! Let me know if you want/ed to be added!

Warnings: hinting at a super gross manager being gross - Mostly fluff. Swearing. Character developments babyyyy

Taglist: @330bpm-whiplash @blueoorchid @deadbranch @sofasoap @c0wb0yenthusiast @emmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaa @fruitymoonbeams-blog @averyyreads @lostmypopsicle @jxvipike @moonlighting87 @amatis-gray

A week had passed since the fire in your apartment complex. It had taken a couple days before you were able to go back to your apartment to search for any belongings that may have survived. Luckily your phone somehow managed to survive the inferno, lord knows you didn’t have the money to replace it.

After about 2 days of staying at the hotel, your best friend April was generous enough to let you stay on her couch until you could get enough money scraped together for a deposit on a new place. As nice as the hotel was, you felt terrible about the possibility of racking up a bill for Price. No matter how much you begged the receptionist she would not let you pay a dime for the room, stating that John had given her strict rules to not let you.

The images you managed to squirrel away in your mind of the egnima known as John Price would not stay hidden back there. You weren’t ready for a relationship- not after your ex. And yet, you still woke up every morning in his jacket, the smell of him was vaguely noticeable underneath the overpower scent of smoke.

You had just moved out of your ex boyfriends house and into your apartment, on the opposite side of the state. Well, your ex apartment now. The idea of having to start all over brought tears to your eyes. You had been here less than a month and already things were turning into a shit show.

Today was your first day back at work after the fire, your new manager, Sheppard or Shep for short, was surprisingly kind about the situation. He completely understood and let you take some time off to get your things together. You didn’t understand why the other waitstaff disliked him so much. They always whispered about how cruel, rude and dirty Shep was.

As you rushed into the restaraunt to start your first shift back you were taken aback to see none other than John Price and the entire crew. As you made your way passed his table your eyes locked- and that perfect smile crept upon his face. His smile felt like rays of sunshine. Like a breeze on a summer day.

“Well if it isn’t Y/N” Price bellows, drawing the attention of the whole restaraunt to you. Soap looked at you and waved, “glad to see you alive lass!” You smiled weakly back at him before glancing over to the paramedic who wrapped your hand. “Hows that hand looking” he asked, nodding at your right hand which was now bandage free.

“It’s much better. Thanks” you say, holding it up breifly. You’re positive your face is about as red as the tomatoes on the omelet Soap had infront of him. Your blood runs a cold as your eyes glance over the party and see the man in the balaclava- except this time it has a skull on it.

Who the hell wears that out in public! A shiver runs through you and Price seems to notice. “So Y/N what brings you here” he says, taking your attention away from his terrifying counterpart. “Oh uhm well. I work here” you reply, ”and if I don’t get back to clock in I might not have one much longer. But I’ll be back out!” “Good. Because you haven’t been properly introduced to the 141 house” he beams, gesturing at the men at the table with him.

With that you slip through the kitchen door and back towards the lockers. You press your forehead onto them to help cool your face down so maybe it won’t give away your embarassment. Why is he here? Does he know you still have his jacket? Oh fuck.

“You alright Y/N?” Sheps voice booms, pulling you from your daze. He drops a hand on your shoulder and looks down at you with concern in his eyes. “Yeah yeah. Sorry. I just.” You sigh, trying to collect your thoughts. Did you really want to trauma dump on your boss? His hand raises to cup your cheek, causing you to flinch.

“That crew was the one who saved me from the fire” you say, turning your face away from his hand. Something flickers in his eyes, just for a second, anger? Jealousy? Rage? You’re not sure what it is but before you can place it his eyes change back to concern. “Oh. Well. What a coincidence!” He forces a chuckle and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll see you out on the floor in 5” he states, before turning curtly and walking out.

You blink a bit, startled by his sudden change, the rumors about him being a piece of shit seemed a lot more plausible now. Shaking your head, you open your locker and stuff your purse in it before throwing up your hair into a ponytail and heading back out to the front.

Lucky for you, the 141 were not in your section today. But that didn’t stop you from stealing glances over at their table in between taking care of your own guests. When you had finally taken care of your section, you decided to venture over to be introduced to the whole “squad”.

“Hey yall didn’t have to wait for me guys” you say, noticing the empty plates.

You sauntered over, catching the Captians eye before flashing a small smile, “sorry for making you wait boys” you say, noticing they had long since finished their breakfast. “Oh luv’, you ain’t gotta apologize to these muppets” Price replies, his accent thick. “Hey who you callin’ a muppet, Cap?” Gaz questions, his eyebrows furrowed in mock anger.

Price laughs and you swear that must be what heaven sounds like. “But I wanted to introduce you to everyone. That as you already know, is Gaz. Best paramedic this side o’ the town” he says, voice full of pride. “That shaggy man is Soap. Don’t ask” he quips, before you could even open your mouth. “Strange name for a strange guy” you giggle. Soap brings his hand up to his chest feigning pain, Price let’s put a small chuckle at that. “Those two are Alejandro and Rudy. They keep us well fed at the house and are pretty decent at their jobs” John says, gesturing to the two men at the other side of the table from him. Both men wave and flash you big smiles. “And this,” he says, gesturing to the terrifying man in the skull balaclava, “this is Ghost.”

Ghost simply grunts, “can we go now captian. We have shit to do” and begins to stand. “Ghost. You need to learn to relax once ‘n a while.” Price reprimands him. Before you have a chance to say anything or greet the team, Sheppard voice booms, “Y/N what are you doing? Get back to your section”. You whip your head around to see the face of your extremely angry boss.

“Shep, cut her some slack eh?” Price retorts, his face contorting into anger. What happened between the two of them? “No no he’s right” you smile weakly, trying to alleviate the obvious tension in the room. “Go Y/N” Shep says, before coming up behind you and putting his hand on your lower back and pivoting you away from the table.

“Sheppard. You don’t need to move her” Johns voice rises slightly, “she was going”. The temperature in the room was rising. “Boys it’s fine. Really. I’ll see you around yeah?” You say, voice quaking. “Of course luv” Prices says, relaxing slightly, “Cmon boys. We have shit to do back at the house.”

At this, the 141 house gathers their stuff and begins heading towards the door. Price and Sheppard exchange a death stare from across the room, causing goosebumps to form all over you. Now you had to know what happened between them.

You smile, feeling your heart slam in your chest at the thought of them leaving. Would you ever see them again? This is stupid. Just because John Price saved you from a burning building doesn’t mean he wants anything else to do with you. It’s his job. Just like it’s your job to serve them food. “Alright boys, you have a good rest of your day alright?” You say sweetly. Desperately trying to cover up how nervous you are.

The boys all give you a wave goodbye as they head out the door. John flashing you a smile before saying “it was good to see ya again, Y/N”. Now your heart feels like it’s about to smash through your ribs, he’s glad? To see you? You nearly melt as you whisper “you too John”. His eyes crinkle as his smile widens ever so slightly before heading out the door.

Seeing the boys climb into the fire truck and head out of the parking lot you felt a bit giddy. It wouldn't be the last you would see of John Price, if he knew your manager it had to mean he frequented your restaurant. A small smile crept on your face at the thought, but it was quickly wiped away by the shouting of Sheppard telling you to stop standing around.

You return to their table to help your coworker clean it up when you see it. Written on the back of the receipt in probably the worst handwriting you’ve ever seen, was a phone number and a simple message:

"Incase you ever want to return that jacket- John Price"

[dollwrites]

𝟏𝟏:𝟏𝟏 — 𝐨𝐛𝐢 𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐮

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, somnophilia ( kinda ), fluffy smut, SAFE sex, fucked to sleep, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ call me daddy by 11:11

you were roused into a state of blurry consciousness upon feeling the familiar weight as Obi slid onto the bed. he always tried to be as gentle as possible, but his size makes him less than stealthy. besides, even when he didn’t want to wake you, he had to pull you close to him.

you shift, inching back with your eyes still closed as his rough hands ghost over your biceps, his lips finding your shoulder and littering it with slow, easy kisses. “So good to be home.” he whispers, more to himself, but you smile, sleepy, and hum against the pillow. you were half on your belly, one leg bent up towards you while the other was extended, and you could feel the wall of warmth that was Obi from your shoulders to your feet, but he was holding himself up with his elbow, so as not to crush you, only applying the faintest bit of his weight on your back. he smelled like soap, and you could feel the damp tips of his dark tendrils as he worshipped you with kisses— he’d no doubt showered at HQ before heading back to you, which you didn’t mind. the less time that he had to smell like an inferno around you, the easier it was to savor the moments he was home. you spent oh so much of his time away filled with dread that he might never come back, the last thing you wanted was to be reminded that he was on the brink of death before crawling into your bed.

he was naked, too, as Obi usually slept, only there was a prodding at your thigh— that familiar firmness when Obi missed you too much at work. “What time is it?” you mumbled, reaching back to pet at him. your uncouth hand blindly rubs at the dips in his abs, but you start to shift.

he stops you with a soft, “Shh…” and wraps his larger hand around yours, bringing it up to his lips, kissing each knuckle with delicate, butterfly kisses, “don’t get up, sweetheart.” he whispers back, “‘S late.”

“Someone… didn’t get the memo…” you murmur, melting back into the mattress, but you poke your butt out to nudge his hard on as if showing him what you were referencing.

he chuckles, and it’s low and husky. he wants you, and you can hear it in his baritone. “Sorry, that’s my fault,” he replies, sheepish, “I thought about you all day. How soft you are—“ he pauses, lips coasting over your shoulder and to the sweet spots on your neck. you mewl in content. “How… good you smell…”

“Obi…” you breathe out, squirming. you could always sit up, roll over and pull him close, wrap your legs around his hips and let him bury himself in you. hell, you’d even wake up to ride him if that’s what he wanted, sleepy or not. but he’s already reaching for one of the fluffy pillows on his side of the bed, “I can—“

“You don’t have to do anything, sweetheart.” he interjects, “Let me take care of it.” he hooks a strong forearm around your midsection and gingerly pulls your lower half up off the mattress to slide the pillow underneath, propping you up for him, and he whispers, needy, against the shell of your ear. “I’m gonna fuck you back to sleep, baby, All I want you to do is snuggle up and enjoy it.” you can feel his hips grinding against yours as he tells you, his cock poking against your flimsy panties, and the hand under you slips beneath the waistband to rub your clit in slow, lazy circles. it was incredible to you; even in the dark, while he was needy and getting inside you was the only thing on his mind, he could still find your clit so easy— he could tease the sensitive nub just right. you moan, sleepily. your body wanted to keep resting, but the attention he was giving your core was just stimulating enough to get you wet. “There’s my girl.” he whispers again, feeling your slick start to glue his fingers together. “She missed me, too. I can feel it.” he wasn’t wrong. even as you snuggled against the pillow, your back arched for him, and your hips wanted to rut and ride his fingers.

“Hurry up,” you whine, muffling yourself with the pillow. you cheeks were hot with a blush, even though you knew he couldn’t see. he had to be able to hear the shyness in your soft plea. you were impatient, needy yourself, and you sounded pathetic. “Put it in…” your core throbbed with desire, squeezing around air, and your lower belly was tied in knots. “Obi…”

“I’m coming, sweetheart,” he mutters, his free hand reaching over you to fumble with the bedside table, grasping the knob on the drawer to pull it open. then, he blindly rustles about the contents of a box, retrieving a prophylactic in a chrome wrapper, “just about ready.”

you knew he didn’t much care for condoms, and neither did you. and even though you’d been dating him steady for a while, he always kept them by the bed. he never once forgot to put one on, even when you were so overtaken by lust and the need to feel him that you would beg him to just hurry and fuck you, he would always remember. you’d asked him one time why he even bothered with them at this point; you’d be content to take him raw whenever he wanted, but he’d just kissed the tip of your nose and replied, “I’ll always take care of you first.”

you knew he didn’t want to keep you up, but the longer he took to grip the wrapper with his teeth and tear it open, the more impatient you became, pushing yourself back against his erection to rub against it with a hapless whimper.

“You’re so goddamn cute.” he whispers, eyes dark as he stares down at your drowsy display, dragging your ass slowly against his cock, sliding the rubber onto his length, ensuring it’s snug and secure. then, he shifts again, laying against you once more, using his fingers between your legs to pull your panties to the side whilst the other takes hold of himself by his base and guides the tip to your treasure. the insertion elicits a thick exhale against the back of your neck, Obi is blissed to be able to feel your walls clamp around him, pulling him deeper. you whine, too, that familiar, sweet stretch much slower tonight. “Happy now, sweetheart?” it’s half a tease, half a genuine inquiry; Obi releases himself to reach up and turn your head to the side, planting a soft kiss against your lips when you nod and mumble a happy mhm, “Yeah?” he whispers against your lips, and you nod again, lazily smacking your lips against his mouth to kiss him back. “Me too.” his fingers linger against your cheek, petting it, before he carefully guides it back to the pillow and you nuzzle against it.

you’d been apprehensive at first; you’d not expected to find yourself even drowsier once he was inside you. you thought, for sure, you’d be wide awake, and ready to scream his name until your throat was sore. however, that wasn’t the case at all.

the rhythm he fell into was slow, a lullaby of deep thrusting. he didn’t hit a limit, he didn’t bottom out, and the consistent rocking had your body feeling heavier. sleepier.

“Obi…” you moan, but it’s slurred. drunken.

he allows both of his hands to careen around your body, pulling your pajama top up so he can pepper your shoulders with kisses, before tracing your spine with them, mouth open, panting hot air against your skin and raising goosebumps. “Shh, shhhh,” he replies in a partial moan, “don’t talk, sweetheart. Don’t think… just enjoy it for me.”

you could do that, you thought, allowing yourself to sink, limp, between his massive strength and the sturdy mattress.

“You feel so good, love,” he whispered, kissing wherever he could move your top to find a bare section of flesh, “my best girl, taking me so slow and easy.”

you tried to reply, show some gratitude for all of the praise, but you could only muster a soft, wordless babble as sleep takes hold of you, and claims control over your mind.

“Go ahead,” he urges; Obi must’ve expected you to be fighting it, “go to sleep, baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you…” even though his hips twitched, and he so desperately wanted to speed up, to grip your waist and drive himself home over and over until he was dizzy and spent, he doesn’t. he holds that same, slow pace, savoring each thrust and the way the bulging veins on his cock rubbed against your walls, causing them to flutter and tighten.

his jaw tightens, grinding his teeth, one hand gliding down to caress your bent leg from calve to thigh, while the other pets your hair, as if he could never get enough of the feeling of you. and he couldn’t. “That’s it… Gonna give you very, very good dreams tonight, sweetheart.” he coos, feeling your breathing start to even out as you drifted off. in contrast, you clench around him even tighter, a telltale sign that your orgasm is close. his forehead dips to rest between your shoulder blades, closing his eyes. his breathing is ragged, his body wants more, but he wouldn’t dare ruin the softness of your lullaby.

[honeeslust]

Reanimated : Dawn of a new day

🖤 MANGA READERS, SPOILER ALERT!!

🖤 I was not going to complete this let along post. By my crew stay hyping each other up so here goes.

🖤 I’m sorry but it’s starting out hella angsty and slow but I promise it’ll be worth it

🖤WC just under 3k

You hurled yourself toward the calamity. Pushing off with everything in you to reach him. You came upon his broken body, his lower half severed and you dropped to your knees when the lifelessness in his eyes punched you squarely in the gut, knocking the wind from your lungs. This wasn’t real. You pushed your ear against his chest, hoping to find the beautiful rhythm that should’ve been there. Instead it was cold. Instead it was silent. This is NOT real. You’re fine, you’ll heal. Each breath you drew in was agonizing. You repeated it. You’re fine. You’ll heal. An inferno burned a hole into your heart. The tears you hadn’t known were there fell into his face. Your angel's sweet face, void of any life. The burning reached your throat and you lay your sorrowed head upon his chest once more. Willing all of your power to do you this one courtesy, even if it would overtake you. You lie there upon him. You're fine....you listen. The energy you summon, dissipates, with nowhere to go, no life force to cling to. You'll heal… you wait.

…

You put him back together and began what would be months of attempts to restore his life. But there was only letdown after letdown. As disappointing as every failed attempt had been, you weren't able to look past the way you still felt him everywhere and in everything you did. You knew there was something you were missing. It wasn’t until that day. you were home, in the bed you once shared, clutching the Lapis Lazuli heart shaped gem to your chest as your tears soaked the pillow. You brought the stone to your tear soaked lips and placed a sorrowful kiss to the edge and whispered Satoru, where are you? In that moment you were struck with a familiar notion. Something he had told you when he gave you that necklace. It played in your head like you were hearing him say it for the first time. You’ll always have a part of me, as long as you keep this with you. Your chilled body trembles as his words resonate, sparking you to see what you had been missing.

…

After months of storing up your cursed energy. Along with what remained of his contained in the gem, it was finally time to reanimate him. You placed the stone upon his chest. Closing your eyes hoping against hope that this would bring him back to you, you began to chant the incantation. You repeat the words, imbuing each syllable with your power, focusing on the energy that flowed from within.

You open your eyes to be met with his cold body remaining as it were. Taking an exasperated breath, you silence your mind and begin again, only to be met with the same disappointment each and every time you were to lay eyes upon his stil frozen form.

You kept this up for hours but there was only so much time before he’d begin to decompose. Feeling lower than low, you enclose your fingers around the pendant once more. Releasing a heavy breath, your heart beat stuck in your throat, you stifle the sob threatening to erupt from your chest as it heaved heavily in distress.

Storu, I can feel you everywhere, please please please. Come back to me. Again you repeat the words, holding your breath as you open your eyes. And then, for only an instant, there was a twitch. You froze as if any movement on your part would interrupt whatever current had finally flowed into him.

You waited and waited. And still. Nothing. Your nails etched the icy steel slab he lay upon. Fuck. You hissed, the tears rolling angrily and hot down your face. Fuck fuck fuck. You slam your fist into the table, the metal warping around your knuckles. Shoving his tray back into the wall. You storm out of the lab.

Later in the shower, you’re angrily stripping from your medical dress and hurling yourself into a scalding shower. With no one around to hear, your anguished cries rang out into the lonely home you once shared. Despair was a brick in your stomach that you couldn’t dislodge now matter how much you howled and cursed everything in existence. You accepted that he wasn’t coming back. You accepted you’d never be whole again. You accepted that your every happiness would always lie in being in his arms and to never know that feeling again, you would never be you again.

By the time you dragged yourself from the floor of the now cold shower, it had already been hours since your last attempt at easing the dead. You carried on, lying on the floor of your closet, wrapped in his jacket, his sweater in hand, clenching to it for life as you inhaled what remained of his scent. It wasn’t too long before your wails seemed to echo through the walls of your lonely home. But then, there was a tapping sound, a sound as if someone were rapping against metal. You sat up, straining to catch every distant echo in the silence.

And there it was again. Clamoring to your feet, you ran as fast as you could. Down the hall and forcing open the doors with a forceful blast. Looking around you first noticed the room, not as you left it, the latch to his chamber was open, the slab vacant of his body. Your heart erupted into manic spattering as you twirled, hurling your line of sight in every direction as you looked for any sign of him.

And then you felt it, the prickly sensation on the back of your neck. It was him. You turned. Eyes wide open with bewilderment. You forced yourself to blink. After every sleepless night and every hurtful awakening to a world where he simply didn’t exist, you were stuck silent and still. Reaching for him you stopped short of a hair, scared that if you actually touched him, he’d evaporate on the spot.

Your fingertips touched his skin. he was icy, shaking even. Following your hand up and along his arm, you trailed it down his strong chest. Amazed that you could feel flesh flourished with life. You will yourself to look at his face, your breath catching when it was met with his icy blue eyes. Storu. You started, stepping a bit closer. Storu , you’re awake you said hoping to hear him answer but he doesn’t. He only looks down at the hands you had pressed to his chest. Storu, can you hear me? Nothing. Storu it’s me do you recognize me? His brow curls questionably. You know me, don't you?

He reached for you, the icy glow of his bottomless ocean eyes reaching deeper into than they ever had before. His hand lands weakly on your shoulder as he steps to you, his pulse building even faster than your own as the realization sets in for you both. Just as he were to speak, his immense frame collapsed forward, your body taking on his weight as he fell unconscious and into your arms. You held him close, tearfully pleading for him to stay with you and you went to your knees. When you lay him down he finally glanced up at you from your lap, the smile on his eyes calming you as your fingers sifted through his silvery soft hair. You knew he had returned to you.

…

After that day, you adjusted to this new version of Satoru. It was like watching an alien trying to adjust to being a human. And everything you did was fascinating to him. Like he was learning you. But as much as you looked into his eyes reminiscing on what was, he only seemed to look back at you with such faint familiarity. He couldn't speak. Only managing a simple nod for yes and shaking his head for no.

Most days, he kept right at your side, following you around like a floppy eared little puppy. only it was a 6 foot 3 Angel eyed gant who watched your every move and always seemed to be reaching after you. It was like he couldn't stand not to have you by his side. It was always cute to you and you would take his big hands into your own, hands to yourself Satoru, you’ll get a headache if you don’t wear that, remember?, you smiled trying to let him down gently so you could get on with your work. He pulls the blindfold from his eyes and as his hands are after you again.

This time when you tried pushing his hands off of your waist, he only held tighter. A glimmer of something else in his eye when he pulled you closer to him, his wide eyes imploring you to stay. Your cheeks burned. It was your Satoru giving you that same mesmerizing look after all. He reaches for your face, the pad of his thumb affectionately grazes the corner of your mouth. His lips part and his voice croaks out, so sweet.

Before you could respond, he cupped your face in his hands, the words coming together to fall upon your lips, his own following just after as he pressed a clumsy sweet kiss to your mouth. A moment passed. Satoru, you breathed before kissing him back.

It could've just been muscle memory but you swore the way his hands found their way around your ass and squeezed appreciatively, that he knew his way around your body. He proved it to you, taking you up into his arms and knocking everything to the floor to make room for your body. He placed you atop the table forcing you to lie back with an indelicate shove, his slender waist being hugged by your thighs while his hand bagan to squeeze and prod every familiar curve of you.

His touch was almost speculative, his eyes always looking to yours as he dragged his lips along your inner thigh, his jagged breath so warm you felt the heat through your jeans. He seemed so pleased when you writhed and moaned, every nerve ending in your body so sensitive as it had been forever since you felt his touch. His hand moved up the center of your chest, coming to rest over your throat. He cocked his head, seemingly intrigued by the way your breath faltered when he squeezed gently. Storu, you gasped, Can you remember the way I felt. He nods. Show me.

If you were a stronger woman, you would've stopped him there, but his touch was too good not to enjoy. Especially now that he assumed what was once his favorite task, peeling your body out of your tight jeans and eyeing you like he would devour you. His eyes fixed on you, he trails his curious tongue along the inside of your thigh, leaving you to shudder from head to toe. He does it again, dragging the reddened tip along your skin until you were a trembling mess burning with need for more of him.

Show me what you remember , you pleaded desperate for more of his inquisitive touch. His lithe fingers slipped your panties to the side, and he buried his face between your legs, his mouth hot on your aching sex as he took his first taste. Your toes curled as he dragged his slippery pallet through the plush wet folds just the way he remembered doing so many times.

As he circled the tender bit that was screaming for his attention, your hand covered your mouth and you squeezed your thighs around his head, overly susceptible to each and every slow lick he placed to either side of the vibrating bundle of nerves.

This time when you met his eyes, they were dark, almost greedy. He pulled your hand away from your mouth, shaking his head as if he didn't want you hiding the sounds you were making for him. His palms were hot against your thighs as he spread then wide again.

Normally he'd be praising you, how sweet you are pretty baby and just so wet for me pretty girl. But this time it was his appreciative moans into your pussy as he savored the taste of you. You clawed at his hands that kept your pretty kitty spread wide for him. This was him in essence. Drunk off what he could do to you. Sucking that fat wet clit between his rosy lips and grinning ear to ear when your hips arched toward him as you came harder and harder into his awaiting mouth.

When he finished sucking up every last drop he arose, your slick essence still hot on his lips when he kissed you. Your hands tugged at the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down to reveal that heavy cock. It sprung up excitedly like it was happy to see you and immediately you were falling to your knees.

You kissed the blushing tip with eager lips leaving the honored one to shudder. You took him into your mouth, his length immediately making you gag as you sucked down his shaft. You bobbed and rolled your neck, working every mouth-watering inch pridefully as he palmed the back of your head and his hearty groans drove you to suffocate yourself with it.

He flinches like it’s the first time he’s feeling your throat enclosed around him. He pushes himself as far as he can go and his breathily little whines had you looking up at him as you devoured that dick that you missed so much. Your tongue massages that luscious vein as it twitches and his hot cum unloads, coating the back of your throat. You left him dazed and confused, shaking as you pulled his sweats down. You get them around his ankles, and help him stumble out of them.

A mute Satoru isn’t something you're used to. But the innocent look in his eye when stroking his half hard length until it was hot and throbbing in your palm once more, you lay back with your legs wide, inviting him in. You became ravenous. Come here, I need to feel you Satoru. You know what to do right? You asked, tucking you rosened lip between your teeth. He nodded, and it had you chilled from head to toe.

His hands slipped down your thighs as he aligned himself with your writhing form. He lay that heavy cock on your pussy, awe-ful eyes gleaming at you as he nudged the tip against your cunt that was literally grabbing for him. His blushing peak dove inside, making you moan his name and tears instantly welled in your eyes. But you couldn’t look away, he moved, so fucking slow you thought you’d die if he didn’t fuck you hard on the spot. Ohh fuck, all the way Storu. You hissed, hooking your leg around him. He shook his head, his mouth agape and he began to swirl his finger over your clit. Your body arched as he toyed with you like this until you were clawing at his arms trying to pull him in deeper.

He grinned, grabbing you by your neck effectively pausing your little tantrum and causing countelss butterflies to stir in your stomach. He filled you up as slowly as he wanted. This was him doing what he’d always done best. Tease you until you are desperate. He held your neck and he held your leg, keeping them spread apart so he could see how you welcomed every velvety inch with a gush of wetness already seeping out of your needy little cunt.

He bottomed out with a satisfied groan. Mmm ohh my fucking god I needed you so bad fuck. Please fuck me. Again he was shaking his head, his hips drawing back slow so he could watch himself spreading you open all over again. You were taking him so well that he had to move now. Satoru's lean frame was decorated with beads of sweat, the scars adorning his body only making him look even more delectable than he already was. He gripped your neck tighter, leaning over to kiss the drool that poured from your mouth as it hung open. You found your own little piece of heaven as the honored one's cock made a home in your guts.

My —sweet he whispers, his tongue curling around your lip when he squeezes your throat. Your body is bouncing underneath him now, his fingers fumbling at your tits as watches the way your impending release makes your eyes wide and starry. You nails cut into the harsh metal slab he fucked you on. Your stomach caved as you gummy walls clamped down tight around his engorged length that was getting ready to detonate into you. gunna make me c cum Storu, to this he nods, standing on his toes as he stroked every rigid inch of his cock with your cushy embrace. He shuddered, his hands finding a place around your hips so he could rag doll you. Fucking you off the table until you were running.

Your teeth gnashed as he folded you on your side, his thick bicep encasing your thighs as he plowed into you. Imma come for you . He tried to make the words but all he could manage was the most delectable guttural soul pleasing moans into your ear.

Absolutely dickmatized, your breath caught in your chest and every muscle in your body contracted as the heat between your legs spasmed around his dick. He himself couldn’t help but let go. He was In your ear again, mmm sweet sweet, so sweet he breathed as he leaned into you, forcing you to take all of him and his honored elixir. You were damn near fused to him, nothing between skin but sweat and elation. And you found yourself floating among the stars when you looked into his impossibly blue eyes again. You couldn’t believe it. But you actually raised the dead

From the main honey pot 🍯

Thanks for the encouragemennt @biscuitsngravie- thanks for helping with the title @callm3senpaii @i-literally-cant-with-this @ryomens-vixen @littlemochabunni

[foulbearobservation]

Lilith dies on a cold morning, held in the hands of those she loves.

Heat doesn’t bother Lilith anymore. A silent reminder that she isn’t dead. Can’t really say that she’s alive either, instead she’s here. Writhing underneath the frigidity of the divinium buried deep within her chest cavity. She can feel the heat building within her, an attempt by cells that are no longer hers to heal the damage.

Camila’s above her.

There’s blood on her cheek, smeared where Lilith had grabbed her. It’s small, dark red flecked in small stars of blue, just underneath the curve of a cheekbone. Discolored skin underneath her left eye, an angry red blossoming across her orbital cavity, her eye. She’s beautiful, distended above her, and some irrational part of Lilith wants to reach up and kiss her.

Fingers twitch within her, and her body reacts. Torso chasing after blood-soaked hands, begging to be touched, to be full of something. Lilith rolls her head back as smooth gloves trace over exposed scales.

A whimper escapes from parted lips.

“I’m sorry,” Camila breathes, barely audible underneath the steady and slow heartbeat filling her head.

“It’s okay,” Lilith gasps.

There’s a gentleness to the way Camila reenters her, reverence in her movements. Lilith feels her brush against the curve of her rib cage. Closes her eyes as another piece of divinium dislodges itself from muscle at the coxing of fingers. Shivers as heat rushes in to replace it. It’s warm and familiar and she wants to stay here. Suspended on the cusp of death, and she wonders if this is how Shannon had felt.

“Lilith,” the voice above her calls, a hand warm against her jaw. The blood’s sticky as it sinks into the pores, “Open your eyes.”

She obeys, simple and easy, eyes fluttering open to see Camila leaning over her. A slight indent forming across her forehead, Lilith’s hand comes up, draws a thumb across it. If only to soothe the skin, to say yes, I am here. Small stars blink to life across skin. There’s something striking as the blue reflects in Camila’s eyes.

“Don’t close your eyes please.”

“Okay.”

Another set of hands gently brings her arm down, they’re cooler than that of Camila. Gentle and firm underneath her scales as they crack a few. It burns as they brush them aside, a sudden cold wetness across the plane of skin.

“I’m sorry,” Beatrice whispers, breath warm against Lilith’s ear. Slight warmth builds in her stomach, heavy and hot, an inferno building in the cracks of coldness.

“Bea,” Lilith says, nearly begs as frigidity slips underneath her tissue. It sits cold amongst the heat of veins. A shock that would have taken her breath away if hands weren’t already wrapped around the smooth tissue. There’s a throb as it’s pulled as quickly as it arrived. Her fingers grasp at the curve of Beatrice’s hip, finding purchase against the bony portion of her crest.

Beatrice’s lips are warm against hers as she tugs the other woman towards her. Sweet as she remembers, not overbearing but pleasant like honey. Another divinium piece pulls itself from muscle, and she moans against Beatrice’s mouth. She follows those lips as her lover pulls away. Blue fills the cavity of the van as Beatrice braces herself against the ceiling. Constellations lighting up the night, strange and familiar, a latticework hidden in Lilith’s life blood. The bag of saline cascading distorted blue where Beatrice clings to it.

“I’m here, sorry,” Beatrice reassures, cold hands joining warm ones on her chest. Lilith shutters at the contact.

“Please,” Lilith prays.

Lilith dies on a cold morning, Camila’s hands buried deep in her chest cavity, Beatrice attempting to stabilize her.

She’s full as Beatrice takes over for Camila. Her fingers fishing for pieces of shrapnel. It doesn’t hurt as she would think, to be full of something is better than the relentless coldness. To be full of someone like Beatrice is all she craves, to be the center of her attention, on the other end of her knife point. It’s what she deserves, it’s what she was created for.

Her head rolls into Camila’s touch as her fingers drag across cartilage. Pads pressing into the pulse point, counting slowly.

Her heart stops, briefly, as Beatrice wraps her hand around it. It squeezes, stops, and there’s finally silence in Lilith’s ears. She’s not afraid. Dark red nearly black hands pull out of her chest cavity. Lilith watches Beatrice holds a large piece of shrapnel aloft, she wants her back. After a second, her heart begins to beat again.

Lilith tastes sweetness beyond compare as Ava leans over her. Lips soft as they take hers, hands burning as they rest against the sides of her head. Everything burning underneath the touch of scaredness. It’s gentle, the way Ava asks for more, how she hooks her fingers underneath the mandible. Heat racing with each kiss, settling into circulation.

Another pull, another bump as the driver turns a corner. There’s a whimper, a soft hush, and Lilith’s eyes flutter shut. Allowing the warmth of divinity to course through her, falling into the rhythm of Ava.

“Lilith,” Ava breathes in the moments she pulls away, “you’re going to be okay.”

Lilith dies with the small pinks of sunrise. Beatrice’s hands salvaging the mess of sinew, bone, and divinium. Camila, attempting to stabilize her, her hand grasp around the curve of Lilith’s wrist and cartilage. Ava putting her faith in her, coursing salvation through her.

Lilith finds salvation in the back of a van, in the hands of those she loves.

It's fitting then, that they do not allow Lilith to die in a way that matters. That they drag her back from the edge, as they always do.

Lilith wakes slightly at some point in the dark, when someone climbs into the hospital bed with her. She catches just faintly a soft, chiding, "Ava" followed by a sigh when the figure next to her doesn't move. A slight giggle from... someone (Camila maybe? It takes her longer and longer to put herself back together every time. Her mind always comes back to her last.) convinces Lilith's fight or flight reflex that she's safe here.

Lilith wakes, somehow alive, beautifully fully conscious at last, when afternoon light creeps through the curtains.

Ava is curled up under her left arm, drooling slightly onto her hospital gown. Beatrice has pulled a chair next to Lilith's bed and washed up. Her hands, now holding a book that she isn't focusing on, hold no trace of the dark red lifeblood they did in the van. She has her legs kicked up onto the edge of Lilith's bed, Camila is laying on top of Bea curled up in an oversized sweatshirt that Lilith vaguely recognizes as her own.

Beatrice is staring directly at her, book laid softly on Camila's back. "How are you feeling?" She whispers.

"Like I died and went to heaven." Lilith croaks out.

Lilith lives, then, in the way Beatrice's mouth curls into a smile.

"At least Saint Peter still has sense and sent you back." The joke is comfortable, a well worn exchange between them. "Return to sender."

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Crossing Lines || Andy Barber

Andy Barber x defence lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: Your marriage is stagnant but then Andy comes along and reignites a fire you thought was long gone. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, cheating (this is fiction, we don't approve of cheating here) WC: 1771

Your job as a Defence Attorney was extremely time consuming. In Newton, Massachuesetts it was mostly spent defending wealthy men and women with their divorces. The small city rarely had any high profile cases. Still, the above average rate of divorces kept you working late and missing more time with your family.

“Honey, I’m home.” You called out as you stepped into your modest home, on a modest street, full of modest people. 

The quiet of the house was heavy and you sighed as you dropped your keys into the bowl beside the door. You dipped your head into the living room but found the tv off and the room empty. Making your way upstairs, you checked your son’s room and found him fast asleep, his homework splayed across his desk. After a quick check and a few corrections on the pages, you placed a soft kiss on his head and wished him sweet dreams.

“You missed dinner.” Your husband stated without emotion. “Your parents say hi.”

“I’m sorry, I got caught up with-”

“The case.” He scoffed. “It’s always the same, always an excuse.”

“I said I was sorry.” You sighed as you pulled your office clothes off and dropped them in the laundry hamper before going to wash your makeup off. “How was Jamie’s day at school?”

“Ask him tomorrow when you are home in time for dinner.” 

When you stepped out of the bathroom ready for bed your husband closed the book he was reading and placed it on the bedside drawers. 

“I hate to sound like a broken record.”

“So don’t.” You cut in as you pulled the blankets back and climbed in.

“But I married you with the intention of actually seeing you, being with you.” He said, rolling over to face you. 

“You want sex? Is that it?” You asked plainly, reaching for his hand and bringing it to your breast. 

“I want intimacy, I want my wife.” He corrected but you knew his game. Every few weeks he would make a big deal about missing out on time with you but suddenly the need was gone with a quick round of sex. 

You coaxed him closer and felt his erection digging into your skin. “Come on then, have your wife.” 

The spark that had been a raging inferno when you met 10 years ago had lost its heat after graduation, marriage and then having a child. It was now a rapidly cooling ember and you didn’t know how to save it without sacrificing your career, something you had worked so hard to get. Even the sex couldn’t stop your mind from wandering to the office, the work you had piling up and the list of to-do growing with every thrust. 

A few moans here, a kegel exercise there and your husband stilled above you, a grunt exerting with his release before he collapsed to his side of the bed. You weren’t sure if he believed your fake orgasm or if he just didn’t care anymore but after his quick trip to the bathroom he was sound asleep. 

You left him to his rest as you showered away the mess he had spilled between your legs and took your own pleasure for yourself, biting your lip to suppress the real moans that crawled from your throat. The real orgasm finally gave you a moment's peace from your thoughts, chasing away the pressure you were facing and allowing you to climb into bed and sleep without the fitful dreams that plagued you.

Three Months Later “Good morning, Mrs Y/L/N.” 

You spun around at the deep voice, nearly losing the stack of files in your arms as you did so, and found the Assistant District Attorney reaching out to help straighten the pile so they wouldn’t fall. 

“Would you like a hand?” Andy offered, placing his empty coffee cup into a rubbish bin so he had both hands free.

“I can manage, thanks Andy.” You smiled but it failed slightly when you noticed the crease on his forehead. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah…no. It’s just a case, you know how it is.” He shrugged before noticing the doors to Judge French’s office open. “I better get in there. It was good seeing you, y/n.”

“You too.” You smiled and watched him disappear into the room. 

Despite being on opposite sides of the courtroom, Andy was one of the few prosecutors who didn’t look at you like you were an evil incarnate for defending the people you did. He was always polite and made conversation, even out of work when you would occasionally pass him in the street. 

When you came out of your own meeting, where yet another divorce came to an amicable end that was settled out of the courtroom, you found Andy pacing the corridor with his phone to his ear and his free hand tugging at his tie. A frustrated growl caught you by surprise, not expecting such a feral sound to come from the relatively softly spoken man, and he ended the call as he dropped to a bench seat. 

“You look like you could use a coffee.” You said as you stopped in front of him. 

His eyes traced your body as they turned up to meet you and he sat up a little straighter before clearing his throat. “Only if it's half whiskey.”

“That bad huh? Wanna talk about it?” You asked as you took a seat next to him, knowing you had some free time before you were due in court that afternoon. He gave you a look that made you chuckle and you held your hands up in surrender. “Yeah, I figured, but the offer is there if you ever need it.”

“I could still do with a coffee.” He admitted as he silenced his phone from the call that popped up. “If you have time.” 

“For coffee, always.” 

The trailer parked at the curb had a queue but somehow Andy was able to skip it and took the two steaming cups from the vendor, handing you one as you began to wander along the sidewalk away from the courthouse.

“How was the dinner party last week?” Andy asked as you walked along, his shoulders brushing yours every so often when another pedestrian would pass by. “Laurie said she had a great time.”

“I’m assuming it went well but I have to admit I missed it.” You sighed, remembering the fight that night when you got home. “Had hell to pay for that too.”

Andy laughed knowingly and nodded. “This isn’t exactly a 9 to 5 job.”

“And he knew that when he married me. I don’t know what he was expecting, I put my career on hold for two years after Jamie was born but I think he thought I would quit and play the housewife.” You huffed and took a deep breath to calm the fire erupting in your belly. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear about my struggling marriage.”

“By all means, please vent.” He offered sincerely, looking at his phone that showed Laurie ringing once again before he silenced it. “It stops me from having to think about mine.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” He murmured as he threw his jacket over the back seat and began unbuckling his belt. 

“I know.” You agreed, pulling your skirt over your hips and climbing onto his lap. 

“But you feel so good.” He moaned as his hands pulled you down on his cock, impaling you as you gripped his shoulders.

What had started off as a one time mistake quickly turned into a weekly mistake. There was an understanding and acceptance he had about your job that your husband never would. There were no expectations. It was always spontaneous. 

“This is the last time.” You murmured against his lips as he bounced you on his dick, his large hands gripping the meat of your ass. 

“You said that last time.”

The windows were misting from the heat your bodies were producing in his car, the dark woods empty except for the black sedan parked with its lights off. The only light came from the moon but it was more than enough to see Andy’s handsome features and you brushed your fingers through his dark beard that you had felt tease every inch of your skin. 

“I mean it this time.” You weakly asserted, more for yourself than him. “This is crossing so many lines.”

“I know.” He swallowed as he stole your argument in a feverish kiss that left your lips burning. “But you make me feel things I thought had died out a long time ago.”

You knew the passion he was talking about, you felt it too. It wasn’t just between the two of you either but it was changing all aspects of your life. You had more fire to fight for your clients, you took more control over your schedule and made time for your son. The sun felt warmer, the sky more blue. The only cloud was the strained relationship with your husband. 

“I’m going to file for divorce.” You blurted out before you could stop it, his movements freezing beneath you.

“What?” He blinked as he tried to clear his head and think properly. “Why?”

“Because I don’t love him.” Finally having the clarity you had been missing all year. “He’s a great dad but that’s not enough for a marriage.” 

“I get that but is this because of me?” He frowned as you cupped his cheeks and stroked his smooth beard with a shake of your head. 

“You helped me realise the truth but this isn’t your fault.” You began to roll your hips slowly, relishing in the feel of his body as his eyes fluttered shut. “This has to be the last time.”

You felt empty as you sat in your car and watched him drive away. Everything in you wanted to grab your phone and call him back but it was better this way. He had a lot to think about and you would give him the time he needed, you would be busy settling your divorce for the foreseeable future anyway. 

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you felt his lingering kiss on your lips and knew the next time you saw him it would hurt more than it did now. You wouldn’t have the sweet ache between your thighs to remind you of the nights spent with him, you wouldn’t have the swollen lips from his desperate kisses. You could only hope that he felt what you did and found his way back to you.

[peppercheeni]

i wonder what would have happened if frank had been shot instead of bill and how bill would have reacted

okay, I wanted to do some "light research" & got waaaay too invested...

so I turned this response into a mini-fic lol

I'm sorry it took so long, but I hope it was worth the wait! :')

“Get inside!”

Frank squints through the relentless downpour, sifting his focus constantly to avoid the intrusive glow of the flames beyond the fence. He can make out Bill’s silhouette – a dark shape in motion, carved out sharply against an orange inferno. 

Keeping himself low, Frank is acutely aware of shotgun blasts echoing through the air; his fingers instinctively tense around his own firearm. He sees Bill stagger sideways then and a pang of adrenaline propels him forward, into a swift and careful dash across the street.

Ever obstinate, Bill reorients quickly and returns fire. When Frank reaches him and presses a stabilizing hand to his back, Bill jerks away as if he’s been burned.

Frank gives Bill a once over and, though he knows they’re not out of the woods yet, sighs in quiet relief when he can’t find an obvious entry wound. “We need to get inside,” He transfers his gun from his right hand to his left, preparing to wrap his dominant arm around the other man’s waist and drag him out of the street. 

“No!” Bill shoves him away with rough, frantic movements. “No! Frank, FRANK–”

“INSIDE! NOW!” Frank meets Bill’s gaze - icy, furious, and then, very suddenly, something else - something feverish and erratic. Bill's no longer yelling, but the way he’s stiffened mid-action, fear pooling in his glossy eyes; it’s deafening somehow. 

Frank is aware of how his body jolts off-kilter, how he tenses involuntarily and shuffles his feet in an attempt to regain stability, but it is in a numb, detached way, like falling underwater. The arm he’d intended to grapple around Bill’s midsection flails off-course and, for a long, dreadful instant, he is drowning in a sea of vertigo.

It’s the strong, firm grip on his forearm that brings Frank back to the surface. 

He feels himself jerk upwards and crash clumsily into Bill’s side, and his feet are on solid ground again.

Frank doesn’t have to pull now; Bill’s moving with him, arm hooked around Frank’s ribcage, magnetizing their torsos together and plunging them towards the house as a unit.

As the two men tumble through the entryway and into the dining room, lightheaded and quivering with adrenaline, Frank’s head droops, his gaze naturally falling on a blotch of crimson staining Bill’s shirt. And then the dread returns, slamming sensation back into his body so violently, his knees fold beneath him.

“Frank–”  Bill is fully supporting him now, and perhaps he has been this whole time, Frank realizes, unable to lift himself from where he sags against the other man’s heaving chest. There’s pain too – a burning pain in his right oblique, hot and all-consuming.

“I-I’m ooh-okay,”  Frank hisses, and he knows before the words leave his mouth that he isn’t selling it. 

Bill is hoisting him onto the table now – 

Bill, who is red in the face and shuddering with excretion –

Whose hands tremble with stubborn, anxious energy – 

Whose breath comes in short, agonized gasps – 

Bill, who lowers him down so gently and cradles his head to prevent it from knocking against the wooden surface –

“We…We g-got this…”  Frank murmurs, head lulling back, fingers searching blindly for Bill’s hand.

“H-Hold here,”  Bill’s voice is gruff and breathy as he takes Frank’s hand and presses it firmly against the wound in his side, reigniting the raw, fiery agony. Frank takes a sharp breath and shakily exhales out the urge to scream, instead pressing his lips together in a low whimper. 

But it’s okay, he’s okay. The pain will keep him anchored, keep him conscious; it will keep him here with – 

Bill pulls his hand away, and the motion feels so sudden and devastating, it shatters his thoughts into shards. There’s a steady panic building in his chest, as he imagines Bill grabbing his gun and running back outside – outside to finish off the intruders – and leaving him inside, alone and bleeding out.

“B-Bill…?”  

Frank crams his hand more tightly against his abdomen, moaning in anguished trepidation. Above him, the ceiling is a blurring swirl of lights and shadows.

“BILL!”

An urgent clamor of steps signals Bill’s return. Frank releases a strangled breath once he can sense his partner’s familiar presence next to him, tears trickling from the outer corners of his eyes and down the sides of his face. His eyelids droop with heavy relief.

Under less strenuous circumstances, he may have felt foolish – even embarrassed – for being frightened Bill would leave him alone like this, incapacitated and strewn across the table – their table – where they’d shared their first meal. 

Frank can trust Bill to take care of him. He feels such security at this thought – this truth, really – that he relaxes into exhaustion’s treacherous grasp, eyelids bowing into irresistible darkness.

CRASH

The clatter startles Frank awake and he jerks upwards convulsively. Really, he hardly gets his shoulders off the table before flopping back down uselessly, racked with the vengeful reminder of his circumstances.

It is there, trapped between a trawl of fatigue and a scourge of pain, that Frank wonders if he’ll ever come back from this. He supposes, if he doesn’t, he won’t be here to find out.

“D-Dn’t…” Frank mumbles, brows furrowed in agonized concentration, “Do n-naht go b’ck ow-out therer…” Distantly, he is aware that Bill’s saying something in response, touching his hand – but all Frank can hear is the familiar hum of his voice; all he can feel is the ghost of Bill’s skin against his own.

And then he’s sinking again – collapsing back into that empty, terrible, ethereal abyss.

---

Bill’s hands tremble wildly as he pours alcohol over one and then the other. Almost on its own accord, the bottle tumbles from his grip, and Bill can only watch as it hits the ground, hemorrhaging whiskey all over the floor.

Frank utters a strangled cry, loud enough to pull Bill’s eyes away from the mess below. He isn’t quite fast enough to stop Frank from banging his head back against the table.

“FUCK!” 

Bill rubs his hands together, fretful and agitated and, GOD, what is wrong with him? He knows exactly what to do, he has everything he needs; hell, he’s even patched a gunshot wound before. So why now, when it matters fucking most – when Frank NEEDS him – are his always-steady hands suddenly quaking like those of a frightened school boy? 

“D-Dn’t…”  Once again, Frank’s voice pulls Bill out of his head and, this time, he forces himself into action. He clasps his left hand over Frank’s hand – now limply draped over the wound – and renews a firm pressure. With his right hand, Bill digs through the first aid kit.

“Fr-Frank, I…”  Bill knows he’d be wise to keep his partner talking, but his own words drag on his tongue with the heft of an anchor in the sand, “Oh…oooh…okay…al-almost done…”

Sweat drips down Bill’s face as he finally rips a roll of gauze from the kit.

“Do n-naht go b’ck ow-out therer…”  Frank slurs, chest heaving with the effort of it. 

Do not go back out there. 

"I'm right here, Frank," There's a certainty in Bill's voice now, a replenished sense of resolve, "I'm not goin' anywhere." 

When Bill had needed him most – even before he knew just how big of a need he’d truly had – Frank was there, always. And Bill would be damned if he didn’t return the favor now.

[haruchiyos]

medieval fantasy w kamisato ayato the only man ever !! congrats 2 your milestone, beloved !! here’s a kiss and toasting for many many more to come !!

A Love Forged in Peace but Destroyed in War

Ayato x gn!reader

Content warnings in tags — contains spoilers

Despite years of battle, Kamisato Ayato never could quite get used to the sensation of blood on his skin. When fresh, it was slick like oil and warm. The liquid burnt him: not by way of heat, but rather its vitality. Liquid life. It sank deep within his pores, poisoning him with the heavy reminder of what it means to take a life. 

Emotion was considered unbecoming of an Elf, especially those of the high court. “Don’t do this.” The plea was desperate. “Take counsel with your uncle; urge him towards peace; we can negotiate beneficial terms for both sides. This war is purposeless.”

In the midst of the calamity of war— its death, its cruelty, its carnage — he still found your gaze to be one of the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, no matter how hollow. “It’s futile. All of his advisors spoke against the decree; not a single soul within our lands condones his thirst for power. Yet, he cannot be reasoned with and we cannot disobey.” Your voice rang though the madness: through the mantra of clashing steel and choked screams.

For once in his life, the King didn’t know what to do. “Pleas—“ Your blade came down hard against his cross guard, but he was quick to counter. Lunging, Ayato drove forward in an offensive, and an ill places body sent you tumbling to the blood soaked muck in a failed attempt to evade. The point of his blade froze at the base of your throat. “Surrender and I will offer you sanctuary from his madness.” He states in desperation rather than mercy.

For a split second you consider his offer, but the shout of one of your soldiers brings you back before you could sink too far into false hope. “General!” The chaos halted, but was immediately followed by the sound of bows being drawn.

“Stand down!” The words escape you without thought. Despite the danger to his life, Ayato never once broke your gaze. Heartbeat roaring in your ear, you swallow. “My loyalty lies with my people; I could never abandon them — not even for you.”

Pain flashes in his cyan orbs and you find yourself resenting the look. Not because his attachment offended you, but rather seeing his anguish made breathing nearly impossible.

“I would protect you. Do all within my power to help you liberate your people — I give you my word.” The tears welling in his eyes cut deeper than any blade ever could. If decades of knowing him had only taught you one thing, it would be that Kamisato Ayato never let emotion cloud his judgement. Endless hours spent talking child to child, teen to teen, young adult to young adult, letting the weight of royal titles and responsibilities slip away in exchange for the opportunity to truly see the other. And in that time, the spark of love found kindling and grew and grew and grew into a raging inferno so large it threatened to consume the both of you. But peace eventually gave way to war, and it’s cruelty reduced the flames of your love to mer embers.

Kamisato Ayato may never have been able to grow accustom to the feeling of another person’s blood on his skin, but he found that the sensation of his own to be tolerable. He much preferred it over your own blood. And so, as the liquid began to seep from the juncture of your blade and his abdomen, nestled skillfully between the seams of his armor — he was relieved that he’d never have to feel it.

A scream slices through the air, but it isn’t his. Anguish drives it’s own dagger deep into your heart in return and you welcome it with open arms. “I’m sorry.” You sob, driving the sword further into his body.

“I love you.” He chokes, and you curse him for the forgiveness in his gaze even as his life drips down the hilt of your blade onto the battlefield. “I’ll always love you.”

Darkness clouds his gaze as Ayato takes you in one last time. And he prays that in the next life you share, he will be able to hold you like he always wanted to.

“I know.”

[fishnamedsushi]

Sith AU Snippet

[aka, trying to dust off the writing cobwebs and dark Dom Obi-Wan and bratty sub Anakin are great inspiration 🔥]

Obi-Wan’s apprentice was frustrated. Anakin’s discontent was like a slow, heavy banked fog, drifting through the corridors and settling itself inside the walls, the furniture, all the spaces in between. Even the non-Force sensitive officers aboard the Vengeance could feel it, though of course they didn’t know it for what it was. They pulled at their uniform collars, suddenly finding it hard to breathe, and flushed high in their cheeks even though the atmosphere was starkly cold. Dooku didn’t comment on it outright, though a raised eyebrow communicated his thoughts of Obi-Wan’s disciplinary stylings quite clearly when they passed one another in the halls.

Obi-Wan simply smiled back at him placidly. He’s mine to do with as I see fit, he said through the training bond they shared. This is so, said Dooku. His words, like all his thoughts ever since he found Obi-Wan abandoned to the AgriCorps as a youngling, slid into his mind like fine durasteel, all dignity and sharpness. But take care that you don’t let things get too out of hand, or else you risk drawing the attention of more than a few officers. Obi-Wan grimaced. Sidious had always held an unsettling fascination with Anakin. It made his teeth itch, and not for the first time he let himself feel a swell of pride as he thought of how he and his Master were undermining the man’s efforts at bringing the galaxy to heel. He would admit to the brilliance of mass indoctrination, of hiding in plain sight, but slaughtering the Jedi from behind a desk? How uncivilized. When the time came, Obi-Wan fully planned to deliver the killing blow himself, staring all the while into Qui-Gon Jinn’s eyes, those eyes that had once laid on a child with copper hair and too much emotion and found him wanting. He’d plunge his saber into the man’s chest and watch gleefully as he died. Dooku laughed softly. The Jedi are foolish, Apprentice. Their Code is the only thing they can see. Their Code and their fear. But we know better. Obi-Wan inclined his head in agreement. Thinking of the Jedi always tore at his self control. He felt little more than animal, sometimes, if he let himself spend too long in those memories. And why should he, when things were so much sweeter here? He let his bond with Anakin open just a little - he’d been ignoring his apprentice’s insistent knocking for over an hour, and Anakin had eventually given up his forceful shouting for gentle taps, heated whispers that slid down Obi-Wan’s spine like mist. I’m sorry, Master. I messed up, I swear I won’t do it again. Please, Master. Let me… Obi-Wan sent back a gentle warmth. He felt Anakin’s sudden excitement, his shivering want, his heartbeat kicking up fiercely now that Obi-Wan had actually responded to him, his muscles burning as he strained against his bonds. Oh, but his Anakin was always so delicious in his desire. So much fire, so much power, and he placed it in Obi-Wan’s hands time and again. The control was intoxicating. Are you quite sure you’ve learned your lesson? he teased. I seem to recall a very similar conversation just a few weeks ago. I promise, Master, I promise… Well then, Obi-Wan demurred, I suppose you’ve been reprimanded sufficiently for today, my darling. The heady intoxication of Anakin’s power was making it hard for him to concentrate. He resisted the urge to reach down and adjust himself, instead focusing on the journey in front of him, his long strides eating up the distance to their quarters, to where Anakin’s eager pleasure shone like an inferno or a collapsing star. Anakin writhed, his breathing getting louder in Obi-Wan’s mind as he sensed his Master getting closer, his thighs aching from how hard he was squeezing them together. I can feel you, he whispered. Master, I’m so close. Please, hurry.

[voicelesshatred]

@protectoroflegends​​ :: "Your sister sure looks at you fondly," Lara said to Caim, sitting near him by the fire. "I take it you two are close.  The priest also told me that your kingdom was destroyed by The Empire. I'm so sorry to hear that. I can't imagine what that must have been like for you both."

【His desire to speak had surfaced from the observation. Lara was far from the first to bring up the subject of his little sister. Why did they all feel the need to comment upon her so? As far as he knew, whatever gazes Furiae had cast were the same as his; they had missed one another since her unfortunate affliction had forced her into isolation. Was it so startling that she would miss him and he miss her? Caim’s sights turned, his exasperation with the topic rather clear despite him nodding in agreement at the notion of them being close. The Goddess was... is family. The only one of his house he had left. At times in the past, Furiae was much like his shadow. He recalled being irritated with it yet never spoke such.

A hint of sadness flickered upon his face, brief and fleeting like the pyre’s windswept embers. Again had it been buried beneath his anger overwhelming. He hated thinking back upon the days when he was filled with childish dreams of bringing glory to the kingdom at his father’s side. The gentle warmth of the sun’s rays upon his body whilst he sparred with Inuart. All rendered to ash by the inferno brought by the Empire and the obsidian demon that devoured his parents... that smirked at him and his sister with glowing crimson eyes as it let them live... Scowling, Caim stood. A shake of the head, derision to the lost adventurer’s condolences. Upon the ground between them did he scrawl a message with his ever-present sword:】

DO NOT IMAGINE IT.

【A half-gloved hand rose in a beckoning motion. Although he wished to forget those halcyon days, that lost elysian peace, Caim could not. Rage coaxed him to act and he surrendered. Certainly there would be some semblance of the Empire nearby. And he fully intended on finding them. As she was unfortunate enough to rouse this bloodlust again, he found it only fair that she accompany him. Besides... she was a talented arbalester, a boon. Why not have her join him?】

[thefamilyeldritchabomination]

Chapter Six: In Old Yellowcake Pt. 4

 Gluttony paused in silence as he nibbled on his fingers a bit in thought. There was a whimpering sound from Gluttony as he pieced together the best way to explain Dante to the new person. Though patient, Dolly did grow a bit worried at the long wait for the explanation on who Dante is and wondering just what sort of awful corpse lady this Dante was. The pause came to an end as Gluttony took his fingers out of the mouth and was ready to speak. “Dante is our leader, she fed us kibbles to make us look like people, gave us home, gave us names, and promised to make us human if we do a good job on bringing her the stone. Dante made Pride and Greed, but Greed didn’t listen to Dante and got put in jail by Envy. Dante is a good lady, but she is scary if we make her mad. Dante is mad right now at Envy, Envy is on their last chance.” Gluttony explained to the best of his ability about Dante.  

 “What would happen to Envy if they lost their last chance?” Dolly asked, becoming pretty unnerved by Dante. “Scary things, very scary things.” Gluttony whimpered as he averted his head away to look out on the street. 

 The truck managed to make it out of Central without much incident as Dolly carefully reached over to give Gluttony a pat on the back to comfort him after asking. Gluttony twitched his nose a bit at Dolly as he relaxed a bit after not being asked about Dante.

 “You don’t smell human, but you don’t smell like homunculus. What are you?” Gluttony asked, now curious about what exactly Dolly is.

 “To be fair with you, I’m not sure either, I wish I knew. If I ever do find out though, I promise that I’ll tell you first.” Dolly replied as she clutched the backpack a bit. “Oh, okay, I’m sorry.” Gluttony said as he in turn pat Dolly on the back. “It's alright Gluttony, you’re a nice person.” Dolly said, smiling warmly to brighten things up on the most likely explosion hazard vehicle.

 Gluttony smiled at that for a bit as a small trinket-like sound ringed softly on the wood plank. Both Gluttony and Dolly looked down, ducking a bit to get a good look as a small silver nugget fell into the truck. “I wonder how it got here?” Dolly asked, perplexed a bit at where a silver nugget could’ve come from. “Maybe it was a bird?” Gluttony reasoned as he looked at the nugget of silver. “That’s a pretty good possibility..good thinking Gluttony.” Dolly agreed with Gluttony, siding with the bird theory.

 It was a good thing that both Gluttony and Dolly had ducked when they did to observe the mystery nugget of silver when the roof to the truck came flying off. The creaking rusted sheet of metal went flying, taking down a few trees before it came to a stop. The familiar sound of silence had returned as Dolly and Gluttony stared vacantly at their narrow escape from the wrathful roof. There was a commotion in the front at the sudden runaway roof as Lust poked her head up from the opening. “Gluttony, Dolly, are you two alright!?” Lust asked frantically as she did the check up, Greed was frozen a bit at the fact they were in an actively decomposing car. “I’m okay, we found a silver nugget.” Gluttony said, trying to avoid thinking of the near painful decapitation that almost took place as Dolly gave the thumbs up on being alright.

 “Seriously, I want to not explode, Envy!” Greed yelled out, their avaricious nature screaming for self preservation. “You’re a homunculus, you’ll be fine with a little explosion and you have the ultimate armor. Also it’s a boon to our target, he now has a sunroof to this miserable truck.” Envy dismissed Greed, all their fucks having gone away quite a while ago. “Carbon is a highly flammable and explosive element, Envy.” Greed said, not liking the idea of being the most combustible member in this truck of horrors. Envy just shrugged as they kept driving the truck to their pick up point, a bit of themself wishing the damn thing would explode just to watch Greed toil in the inferno. Because Greed didn’t want to be going through a horrific cycle of constant burning and explosions, he willingly gave directions to the meet up point as they pulled up to a clearing off a dirt road. The moment the disaster truck had stopped, Greed was the first in getting out and clutching the earth beneath him. It was a relief to Lust to finally be out of that truck as Envy just casually walked out of there like it was just a simple Sunday drive. Gluttony and Dolly were more than happy to get out of the back of the truck, Gluttony getting to keep the tiny shiny nugget of silver. “Freddy is going to have a meltdown when he sees this…” Dolly said, taking in the view of the now roofless truck. “He should be grateful that he got an upgrade on this miserable machine.” Envy sneered as they prompted themself to the side of the tree. “You’re a MONSTER, Envy!” Greed finally got to say as he stopped worshiping the stable ground of the earth. “Well, it looks like you learned nothing from being sealed up.” Envy calmly replied, clearly wearing the monster label proudly. Gluttony was showing Lust the silver nugget that was found as Dolly realized how long Dorian had been in the bag for. Feeling the backpack rustling about, Dolly looked at Lust as she clearly was the least volatile. A need had to be met and Dolly took the risk on Dorian’s behalf.

 “Excuse me, Lust? Would it be alright if I looked around in the woods for a bit?” Dolly asked as she kept the backpack full of rage clay calm. 

 Envy snapped their head around upon hearing that question, disturbing all with how quick the reaction was. Dropping the Freddy disguise for their preferred form, Envy started marching over to Dolly with their bitter eyes looking right at her. Lust had no time to answer as Envy went to fill in the answer for Lust.