#I was distracting myself by making this and now the sun is rising and I still feel awful

[ninyard]

exy fans + Twitter (the au where andreil gets outed)

[wandasaura]

THE BEST THING THATS EVER BEEN MINE

summary — when you take the dogs to the park, jealousy takes control when wanda gets too comfortable with someone else.

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, the chaotic duo of lucky and fanny, domestic fluff bc i couldn't help myself, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, mommy kink, biting, love bites, oral fixation, teasing, slight humiliation, brief dumbification, jealousy, bratty reader, thigh riding, mentions of fingering, clothed sex, punishment, aftercare, men/minors dni

authors note — the promised second part to love is a ruthless game. jealous reader finally makes her appearance as requested!

You decided very quickly that however curious you were about adopting a dog, you never wanted Wanda to agree with that decision. Although the sun was already peaking past the horizon when Lucky came scratching at the guest room door,  effectively rousing not only you, but Natasha from sleep, it wasn’t even eight in the morning. It wasn’t often you woke up with the Russian still in bed beside you, typically being the last one to wake and the first to fall asleep, and now that you had her warm and soft beside you, you weren't even able to enjoy her clingy cuddles like you wanted. Lucky was persistent, his whines and whimpers thin but effectively audible despite the heavy door trying its best to block him out. Wanda’s voice echoed through the house in tandem with the pitiful whimpers, trying to beckon the pup back downstairs, but the retriever was adamant about wanting you awake. 

Natasha groaned beside you, her face shoved into the pit of your neck where the impeding sunlight was darkest. Her hair tickled your cheek as she wiggled further into you, soft breaths fanning across the expanse of your shoulder. You giggled softly at the sensation, twisting into her arms until you were chest to chest, then leaning in to press a kiss to her clothed skin right above where her beating heart laid. You sighed blissfully, thankful that Wanda has managed to distract Lucky, but knowing that despite the reclaimed silence, you’ll be unable to go back to sleep now that youre awake and focused on Natasha. 

“I love you.” You whispered against her chest, laughing when her lips puckered against the skin of your neck and kissed you sweetly albeit sleepily. She was always affectionate, always wanting to assure you know how loved you are, but you’ve discovered that when she’s tired theres no amount of physical contact that can satisfy her. As if determined to prove that statement, she tugs you closer into her chest, fingers loosely threading into the knotted ends of your hair.  “Do you need more lotion on your wrists?” You question softly, untangling your arm from between your chests so that you can trace the tips of your fingers along her cheekbones. 

As if she wasn’t sure about the question, Natasha rolled her wrists in circular motions, testing just how badly the irritated skin ached from the aftermath of being restrained. You scoffed amusedly, deciding that her answer wasn’t going to be trustworthy when she finally did respond. You pulled yourself away from her chest before she’d even returned her gentle grip to your hair and lower back, though you giggled when needy fingers poked and prodded at your ribs trying to get you to stay. 

“Come back.” She whined, rolling into the center of the bed, and although she was covered by blankets, you could make out the soft rising and falling of her chest as she turned onto her back and finally peeled her eyes upon to drink in the sight of you still messy from sleep. Your hair was frizzy, cheeks flush and adorned with indentations from the pillows prominent and deep against your skin. You slept like dead weight, but Wanda’s rustling always found a way to tousle strands of your hair that she inevitably got caught between. You looked like sheer beauty as sunlight dawned upon your features. “Duckling.” She pleaded, arms outstretched and pleading with you to step close enough to touch. 

You smiled fondly but remained persistent, already turning toward the door and leaving Natasha to lay amongst the ungodly amount of pillows and thin summer bedding as you searched for the lotion Wanda used last night. When you opened the door, you were met with the indicative sounds of breakfast being made down in the kitchen. The clattering of metal and plastic made you smile, still not accustomed to how a house could feel so lived in each and every day. It was a mystery what the Sokovian would be preparing as she clattered around in the kitchen accompanied only by Yelena’s dogs, but desperately you hoped that it was something sweet; sweeter than the fruit that she’d been forcing you and Natasha to eat everyday for the past three weeks. 

The bedroom was two doors down and directly across from Natasha’s office. Deciding that a detour wouldn’t hurt the already pouty woman, you broke away from your intended path and verged off into the office where paperwork and files sat meticulously stacked on the left side of her desk. The right side was dressed in personal items, namely a picture of the three of you from the Memorial Day barbeque, and little trinkets that you assumed came from Russia. You’d have to ask how frequently she visited her native country, noting that some of the figures on her desk looked shiny and new. You smiled softly when you noticed a ring sat beside her keyboard, knowing that it wasn’t hers, but Wanda’s. You wondered just how many small traces of them existed within the others personal spaces, but that would have to be a scavenger hunt for another day. 

You smiled softly when you pulled open her desk drawer, finding your now voided contract at the top of the pile she kept. You don’t think she’d ever part ways with it, telling you that it’s a reminder of how far she’s come since you met her last year, and you can’t disagree with her logic. The sticky notes she keeps are right beside it, all annoyingly mundane and lacking bright colors. Wanda’s the one with the plethora of color options, which had thrown you for a loop when you’d initially assumed Natasha was the fun one. Either way, you pulled a single piece from the pad, reaching for a pen that was laid across her other documents. You didn’t have the time to dwell on what you wanted to say, settling simply for the three words you loved the most and a deformed smiley face that would surely make her laugh. Natasha always did find amusement in your mindless doodles, something you found extremely endearing. You adhered it to the monitor of her desktop, assuring that none of the glue residue touched the actual screen because she’d surely lose it. When you were satisfied that it was in a place she wouldn’t miss, you slipped back into the hallway and carried on into the bedroom, eager to be back in her warmth for at least a handful of minutes before Wanda called you both down for breakfast. 

The bedding had been stripped from the bed, all that remained was naked pillows and the fluffy mattress that begged for your weight to sink into it. The collection of your clothes that had adorned the hardwood floor were all missing as well, and you assumed that in her need to find order, Wanda had thrown them in the washer as well. She really was horrible at letting a mess exist for longer then a handful of hours. With the sunlight bleeding into the room, adding warmth the wooden furniture and floors, all that remained from last nights scene was the bottle of lotion on the nightstand table, the other toys and instruments already cleaned and back in the combination locked briefcase. 

You freshened up in the bathroom, not wanting to linger in your sleepy state for any longer then you already had, and the water you splashed against your face felt exquisite after receiving so many licks and kisses from Fanny and Lucky yesterday. With your hair tied up into a ponytail and the rest of your routine completed in full, you left the bathroom behind you, eager to find Natasha once again. 

The Russian was in the same place that you’d left her in ten minutes ago, sprawled out on her back with wild red curls splayed angelically against the pillowcases in a fashion that was reminiscent of a halo. You grinned sweetly, climbing over her body until you could settle against her belly, not saving her the experience of your full weight plopping down on her in seconds. You giggled at her grunt, calloused hands holding onto your thighs as she peeled her eyes open and looked up at you with faux annoyance. 

“Wake up.” You more or less demanded, your bright smile significantly more electric than it had been when you’d first laid your eyes on her that morning. Natasha couldn’t resist smiling back, and her hands reached to rub at her cheeks as she forced herself awake. She and Wanda always resisted rubbing their eyes in the morning, claiming that it was damaging and not the best habit, but you couldn’t be swayed, and secretly, Natasha found it adorable when your closed fists dug into your eye sockets like a sleepy toddler as you stretched out the muscles in your body only to curl up into a tight ball again. “Wanda’s making breakfast.” You informed her gently, unscrewing the cap on the lotion and squeezing a generous amount onto your palms in the same fashion that you’d seen Wanda commit to. 

Unlike last night when she was adamant that all she needed was cuddles from her ‘two favorite girls’, Natasha didn’t fight against you when you reached for her wrist and held it tenderly in front of your chest. You inspected the irritated skin, pleased that although it was red and adored with the faintest traces of ligature marks, the skin wasn’t torn apart nor angry. You rubbed the lotion into her skin tenderly, not wanting to further irritate the area, and Natasha appreciated your efforts as she sighed in relief. You giggled, leaning forward to brush your lips against the tip of her nose before you repeated the process on her other wrist. 

“Can I bite you?” You questioned randomly, breaking the silence that had come to sit overtop of your warm bodies as you devoted your full attention to Natasha’s wrists. 

Amused, Natasha’s lips settled into her infamous smirk that always had you weak in the knees. The green within her eyes was sharp and calculated as she watched you play and twist at her fingers now that your initial task had been completed. “You’re going to bite me anyways.” Her voice was smooth as it reached your ears, not outright refusing your request of biting down on her fingers, but not entirely compliant with the idea. You smiled down at her eagerly, wanting to have her full permission before you sunk your teeth into her soft skin. “Once.” She agreed, nodding her head at your unasked question. She was never able to deny you when you looked so sweet and eager sat against her, and after all of your efforts to make her feel loved since coming down from the scene, she didn’t really want to say no anyway. She could handle your incessant need to bite her if it would make you happy, however her permission didn’t come without an ultimatum. “Then I’m sending you off to Wanda.” 

You laughed at her threat, but nodded anyways, bringing her fingers up to your lips. You kissed them sweetly, your lips soft and barely there as you just existed in this soft moment with her. Your delicacy didn’t last for much longer, and the second she had relaxed against the bed, your teeth sunk into her skin harshly; harsher then you’d ever even consider biting Wanda. You giggled at her yelp of shock, scrambling off her lap and out of the guest room before she could think about retaliating. 

You raced down the stairs, throwing caution to the wind as you forced yourself to forget about all the lectures Wanda had bestowed upon you about how dangerous to run down them. Natasha was hot on your heels, her footsteps light and calculated as she called for you to come back to her. The sounds of Wanda rummaging through cabinets became clearer with each step you took toward the kitchen, and when she was in sight, already showered and dressed for the day, you wasted not even a single second before you were throwing your arms around her torso and hiding your face in her chest just as she had spun around to find whatever the commotion was about. 

Lucky and Fanny barked with glee as you unintentially riled them up, their tails wagging as they made laps around the island, knocking into the chairs that sat on one side of the counter after each successful lap. Wanda gasped at your tight embrace, but one of her hands fall onto the small of your back without hesitance. 

“Save me.” You pleaded, looking up at her with wide eyes that held mischief and chaos. You didn’t spare Natasha a single glance when you heard her enter the kitchen, more than certain that she wouldn’t do anything with Wanda present. 

The Sokovian hummed thoughtfully, her eyes sparkling as she looked down at you with adoration clear in her sage stare. Her pink tinted lips quirked upward into an amused grin, scrambled eggs on the stove momentarily forgotten about despite how they sizzled and begged to be removed from the heat. “What did you get yourself into, moya utenok?” She grinned, tracing a gentle finger against the slope of your nose that felt ticklish before it was gone and her hand cradled the back of your head protectively. 

“Nothing!” You shook your head frantically, clinging closer to her chest when you felt Natasha come up behind you, her hands cold as they ran up the exposed skin of your thighs. There was disbelief written across Wanda’s expression, the sunlight bleeding in from the open window practically a spotlight as it highlighted each and every freckle that adorned her naked skin.

“The little devil bit me.” Natasha exclaimed though her voice was perfectly level as she held her hand up for Wanda to see, the sunlight falling into the soft craters your teeth left along her skin. You couldn’t help but giggle, looking up at Wanda with a bright expression on your face. 

“She said I could!” You explained mischievously, your eyes bright and enchanted as the organic light reflected across your face. Your entire disposition wasn’t dissimilar to the state of Lucky and Fanny who had begun to chase each other through the house, still hyper on your own excitement, though now they barrled into glass doors and walls each time they turned to bark at the other. “I asked nicely and she said I could, Mommy.” As your voice raised three octaves, so did your height as you pushed yourself up on your tippy-toes and left a sweet kiss on the corner of Wanda’s jaw, attempting to pull her beneath your trap as Natasha gasped at the scene. 

“Do not play the Mommy card you little minx!” You shrieked in laughter when Natasha grew tired of caressing your thighs, her cold hands taking you by the waist and pulling you back into her chest, though your eyes still lingered on Wanda who merely shook her head in amusement at the sight. You attempted to squirm away from Natasha’s fingers that dug into your ribs, but her grip was persistent around your waist, not allowing you freedom. 

Your eyes closed against your will, your head falling backward as laughter filled the kitchen alongside the barks and yelps of the puppies who didn’t understand what was going on, but wanted to be a part of the fun anyways. Fanny’s tail drummed against your shin as she circled your feet, but you had no time to show any attention to the retriever as Natasha blew a raspberry against your neck. Your laughter ended abruptly when in that same spot, her teeth sunk into your skin. A choked moan slipped past your lips as her tongue shot out to ease the spark of pain before you could even recongize its presence. Your fighting stilled, body falling slack against her chest as she trailed kisses up your neck before biting again, this time just below your ear. A shuddered whine fell off your lips as you craned your neck to the side, eager for her to do it again. The position allowed sunlight to kiss against your features, warm and welcoming as you basked beneath it. 

Natasha’s arms stayed tightly around your waist, but her teeth never left another impression amongst the smooth expanse of your neck. You whined softly when you realized she had no intentions of continuing, a pout taking over your lips as you peeled your eyes open and looked up at her pleadingly. 

Natasha leaned down to kiss the tip of your nose, but her unbroken stare as dangerous and calculated as she maintained eyecontact, her hand cupping your chin to assure you didn’t look away before she was willing to let this moment fall away into just another memory.  “Don’t forget who you belong to, malen’kaya.” 

You pouted deeper, wriggling out of her arms at the first instance that she allowed, instead seeking out Wanda who was thoroughly amused at the stove, an apron half tied around her waist and dusted with what you could only assume was powder from the pancake mix she’d thrown together. The Sokovian didn’t hesitate to wrap you up in a one-armed bear hug, keeping you flush to her chest as she flipped a pancake with a matte black spatula. Even their utensils matched the aesthetic of the kitchen, sometimes it felt like they had everything so meticulously planned out that not even an apocalypse could throw them off. You nuzzled your face into her neck, inhaling that fresh scent of grapefruit that lingers on the collar of her t-shirt, eyelashes tickling her skin as you let your eyes flutter closed. “You’re wife’s being mean.” You sulked against her, your voice muffled and thin as you listened to her heart beat evenly in your ear. 

You yelped in shock when a warning tap langed against your ass, entirely unexpected and harsh within your soft little moment. Your head shot up from Wanda’s neck, searching for Natasha who looked down at you with a challenging gaze. “Do you want to try that again, little one?” She questioned, arms crossed over her chest as she stood beneath the unfiltered sunlight that allowed the green in her eyes to shimmer like a million stars. Your head shook feverishly, fingers curling into Wanda’s shirt as you held her tighter, your lips turning downward into a pout as your body finally caught up with what had happened and the ache in your ass settled over your mind. One spank always hurt more then multiple, you’d never be able to understand why. “No, who?” 

You shrank into Wanda, your bottom lip bitten between your teeth as you fought between looking at Natasha and hiding away in the woman who kept a comforting hand against the small of your back, her thumb rubbing soft circles over the thin shirt adorning your otherwise naked body. When the words finally fell off your lips, they were no louder then a whisper. “No Daddy.” 

“That’s what I thought.” She muttered, nodding her head curtly before she turned toward the refrigerator and sought out the pitcher of fresh juice that Wanda routinely assured was fully stocked at the start of each new week. This week, she’d gone with grape juice from the local farmers market, and it was particularly tart when you were least expecting it. You whined softly, digging your face into the lawyers neck, fingers still keeping a tight grip on her shirt. 

Wanda, feeling no sympathy for you, merely patted your back encouragingly. “You shouldn't have started a game you didn’t want to play, dorogaya.” You whined, shaking your head against her neck. Wanda wasn’t in the mood to play into your game, and her hand on your back trailed across your spine until it sat firmly against your hip, her ring clad fingers squeezing warningly. “Don’t get fussy with me. You’re the one who bit your Daddy. What did I say about biting?” 

You pouted, just wanting one of them to take pity on you, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards for you this morning. Lifting your head from Wanda’s neck, you met her eye and meekly muttered, “That you’d bite me back.” 

Smiling softly, Wanda kissed the top of your head, her lips lingering for a second longer than necessary, but you’d never complain, reveling in the soft touch. “Exactly. Now go help Daddy set the table. I was thinking we can take the dogs to the park today. Yelena left their leashes and I’m sure Natasha had a couple balls laying around here somewhere.” 

You’d never even considered taking the dogs out for a play, but as the suggestion rolled off of Wanda’s lips you nodded eagerly, tightening your grip on her shirt as you practically bounced on your toes and forced your chests closer together, practically one body beneath the radiant glow of summer sunlight. You’d miss it when fall came around, and the soft glow adorning your girlfriends skin dissipated into nothingness. “Can we go to the park with the big fields? Lucky will love that!” 

Wanda smiled at your excitement, glad to see a smile gracing your features again. “If you get your little ass in the dining room and help Natty, I don’t see why not.” She laughed, laying another little kiss on your forehead before you had the chance to untangle yourself from her completely and dart off in the direction that Natasha had trailed off in. 

“Deal!” You giggled in excitement, your sockless feet pounding against the hardwood floors as you made a break for the dining room, unintentionally colliding with Natasha who had only just turned around to grab the needed silverware for your breakfast of pancakes and eggs. You didn’t find it necessary to step away form the lawyers chest, standing right before her with anticipation clear on your smiley face. Your arms extended at your sides, palms raised toward the ceiling as you bellowed, “Natty, we’re going to the park!” 

“I heard, detka.” Natasha laughed at your excitement, gently taking your arms into her hands and holding them closely to her chest. Her lips pressed soft kisses against your wrists. “I also heard that you needed to help me with the table.” 

“Yeah.” The smile on your lips didn’t leave fully, but it dimmed as you pulled away and began the search for Wanda’a favorite cutlery, because leave it to the lawyers to have multiple sets all intended for different events and holidays. “Do you think Fanny will run away if we let her off the leash?” 

“She won’t run away.” Natasha laughed, dragging her fingers against the small of your back as she joined you beside the long dresser filled with different assortments of serving plates and utensils. She pointed toward the intended set, and you collected three forks and knives with a hum, unable to contain your excitement. 

-

The beating sun fell harshly against your sunscreen slathered skin, provoking sensations of warmth and comfort as you and Natasha chased after the softball she’d dug out of the garage. Lucky had decided that your game of fetch was no longer worth his attention, and had retreated back to Wanda’s side after you’d thrown the ball far off into the field for the umpteenth time. Your laughter bellowed through the park as Natasha bumped her hip against yours, sending you sidewalks on your walk to retrieve it. 

Although the grass was luscious and green, concealing many lost toys and objects, the lime colored ball stuck out like a sore thumb just inches ahead of you. The hours had rolled by quickly, afternoon soaking up the last of its stretches as nightfall became an approaching promise that no amount of pleading could stall. You’d spent the last four hours beneath the rays of delicate light, enjoying the practically abandoned park for what it was. Birds chirped at the very tops of tall trees, squirrels carried acorns across the sidewalk and scurried up the bench only to drop them and begin the process over again, only occasionally did another dog owner come trailing through and stopped for friendly conversation, but Wanda always responded eagerly. You hadn’t had a day this simple in weeks, spending most of your time either out beside the pool or trailing after your girlfriends as they tagged each other in to be CEO for the day. It felt utterly domestic to be beside them surrounded only by nature and traffic sounds, far away from paperwork and the house that had begun to feel confining. You soaked every second up eagerly, knowing it would end far too soon. 

You reached for the ball when you were close enough, batting away Natasha’s hands as she fought to retrieve it first. The Russian laughed loudly when you attempted to shove her body out of the way, yet despite all of your strength being put behind the shove, she remained perfectly in place. You huffed, but quickly your lips curled into a grin when the ball was safely between your fingers. Natasha merely rolled her eyes because you both knew that she had let you win despite her dirty tricks. You spun around to show Wanda, your smile wide with pride, but your eyes didn’t find the Sokovian alone beside the bench where the bag of treats and water was left. Instead, you found her in deep conversation with a woman she looked all too comfortable beside. 

You weren’t a jealous person, you could let a lot fall off your shoulders, but there was something about the way she was talking with the stranger that made your belly sick with envy. The green eyes you’d fallen in love with were creased around the edges, bright and full of radiant light as she continued on with the conversation that had her laughing. Her head was inclined to the side in that same dominating manner that she’d bestowed upon you mere hours ago, and although one of her hands scratched at Fanny’s coat, the other reached out to brush against the stranger's forearm. She wasn’t Wanda as she stood beneath the dark shadows branches on the tallest tree in the park projected, she was Mommy. Your smile fell quickly, the ball no longer anything interesting. 

Natasha’s hand falling onto the small of your back startled you enough for the ball to fall back into the blades of grass, slipping through your fingers like it wasn’t really there at all. You watched it slip into the tall blades, nearly concealed entirely, and you made no attempt to retrieve it as you turned your frown in her direction, the falling sun still bright enough to force you to squint as the light hit your eyes. The Russian laughed softly, her thumb rubbing softly against your clothed skin. “Got a problem, moya lyubov’?” There was a mischievous gleam in her equally squinted eyes, and you took the time to notice that surrounded by the clear blue skies and open fields, the color around her pupils was electric and undeniably green.

“Mine.” You huffed out, wanting to wriggle your body if only to make a point that you were unhappy with the entire arrangement happening before you. Your slitted eyes trailed over to Wanda once more, but the Sokovian was still oblivious to your heavy stare.

“Yeah, she’s yours, dorogaya. But, she’s also friends with Daisy.” Natasha smiled understandingly, her hand on the small of your back guiding you closer into her side. She wraps you up entirely, her cheek falling onto the top of your head as the both of you steady your glances on Wanda, and apparently Daisy. You decide quickly that you don’t like the latter. “She’s still yours, nothing is going to change that.” 

“I wanna go home.” You pout, aware that you’re being petulant, but not willing to change your mind as you detangle yourself from her arms and collect the softball without so much as a nod of acceptance from Natasha. 

It takes seventeen steps exactly to end up directly beside where Wanda’s standing with Daisy, you count each and every one as your feet pound against innocent blades of summer fresh grass. You’ll miss the softness that squishes beneath your feet when winter rolls around and everything becomes muted and harsh, but for now, you’re content to overlook the beauty of this moment in favor of getting out as quickly as you can. 

“Hey, utenok.” Wanda smiles sweetly down at you, her hand brushing against your forearm as she attempts to draw you into her side. You shrug off her touch, lips settled into a scowl as you make your way toward the bag packed with everything you could possibly need for not only the dogs, but for yourselves. You’ve been snacking all day, the tupperware of strawberries and pineapple nearly empty as you and Natasha had shoved your mouths full of the fruit an hour into your park visit. 

“We’re going home.” You say curtly, already holding onto the two solid purple leashes that would soon be attached to the solid black collars adorning the puppies necks. Wanda’s eyebrows raise not only in question, but in challenge, your dynamic having lingered in the air since that morning, but you weren’t willing to submit anymore. 

“Oh, are we?” She hums, both her and Daisy turning to watch you as you beckon Fanny and Lucky to your sides, fingers already clamping around their collars and clipping the leashes to them. You're as gentle as you can be, but Fanny’s wriggling around makes it harder to attach. You sigh in frustration, getting down on your knees to softly coax the retriever into momentary stillness. “That’s my cue Daisy.” Wanda decides to give into your decision, if only to uncover the reason behind your attitude if nothing else. You merely huff when Daisy says goodbye to not only Wanda, but you, her black painted fingernails wiggling softly beneath the setting sun before she’s back to jogging down the path, her ponytail swinging with every step she takes. 

“Nat!” You call for the Russian, watching her frolic through the field like you hadn’t told her you wanted to leave. The softball is between her fingers, and every couple of minutes she throws it back up into the air and lets it crash against her palm. Her sharp eyes find you smugly, but you’re in no mood to let her win. “Let’s go!” 

“I don’t like this little attitude, detka.” Wanda warns evenly, her eyes slitted into dangerous daggers as she peers down at you dominatingly. You merely huff at her stance, only able to picture her standing in such a way in front of Daisy. When you don’t bend like you typically do, she cocks her head to the side, green eyes begging to understand what’s happened in the last ten minutes. “What’s the problem, you were having such a good time.” 

Unable to help the eyeroll that follows her question, you don’t even bother looking up at her as you begin to set your pace for the entrance of the park, both leashes tightly between your fingers. “What does it matter to you.” You mutter, just barely able to step around her before her hand is grabbing onto your wrist and keeping you still. 

Wanda pulled you back to her chest, assuring that you wouldn’t move before she let her words slip against the softest area of your neck, chills falling down your spine as her breath tickled your sensitive skin. Her words were dangerous, calculated even, but all you could picture was her hand on Daisy’s arm when she should’ve been paying attention to you. “I would think about who you’re talking to like that, detka.” She warned, but you merely huffed and tugged your arm free. 

“Leave me alone.” You snapped, fingers curling possessively around the two leashes in hand. Lucky and Fanny, who had been more than thrilled to go on a walk, pulled at their leads with eager excitement, their golden tails wagging in tandem with the other. You didn’t fight against them, letting them lead you in the direction of the entrance, not even craning your head to assure that Wanda and Natasha were following. 

-

Much to Wanda’s annoyance, your attitude seemed to be around for the long haul. Dinner was an awkward affair, filled only with the sounds of silverware clanking against plates and the occasional comment from Wanda who had given you several chances to amend your little issue. You weren’t receptive to any of it, though each attempt dampened your panties that were now stuck uncomfortably to your throbbing core. Her hand had fallen firmly against your thigh halfway through dinner, and she spared you no ounce of pain as she squeezed the sensitive flesh each time you had the courage to roll your eyes at her or even worse, Natasha. The Russian had been merely collateral damage, but every time she chimed in at Wanda’s defense, you found yourself growing more annoyed, but worse than that, sexually frustrated. Despite the scene last night, neither of them had touched you, and with Wanda’s hand lingering so close to where you needed her, that fact had turned you into putty quickly. 

Yelena had come to pick the dogs up just after eight, only sticking around for long enough to inform Natasha of the grueling activities she’d been forced to oversee for her company’s annual donation fair. You’d never understand what it was that Yelena did exactly, but each time she talked about the job that kept her busy and moving, it was always with exuberant pride and happiness. You were happy for her little life that she adored, but you were even happier when she left and you could throw yourself at Natasha with a bruising and desperate kiss. 

Your arms looped around her neck, chests flush together as you swiped your tongue across her bottom lip, hardly caring that you were making out with the highest profile lawyer in the world right beside the open window. Anyone who was unfortunate enough to pass by could see how desperately your fingers curled into the curls at the nape of her neck, your hips having a mind of their own as you attempted to push your bodies into one. Natasha was more than receptive to your embrace, but the second you thought you’d won the fight for dominance, she backed you up against the wall, your wandering hands pinned above your head. 

“You’re not mine to have tonight, d'yavolenok.” Her hot and heavy breaths fall across your lips as she settles her forehead against yours, effectively ending whatever you had anticipated to come from the impromptu kiss. You whined, hips arching off the wall and pushing into hers, desperate to change her mind, but there was no winning tonight. The only way you were getting even an ounce of pleasure was through Wanda, and the Sokovian sat unamused on the couch, not even attempting to join in on the game you’d initiated. 

“I want you, Daddy!” You whined, pouty eyes searching for hers, but Natasha had already made up her mind, and as quickly as her hands had pinned your wrists, the touch was falling away and she was walking back toward the couch where her body sank in without protest. Wanda didn’t make any move to embrace the Russian, but it didn’t seem like Natasha had expected her to, because she curled into the arm of the couch and settled her attention on the television, entirely uninterested in your high pitched whines and stompy feet.  

“If you want something, I suggest you end your little tantrum and bring your ass over here, dorogaya. I will not tell you again to cut it out.” Wanda’s voice is stern and cold, but your feet find their way closer to her either way. You don’t ask before you settle into her lap, a pout on your lips as you press your face into her neck and hold onto her tightly. She doesn’t push you away like you’d anticipated, but you should’ve known by now that Wanda would never push you away, still the fear lingers in your mind anytime you push against her authority. Instead of handling you harshly like you’d thought would happen, her hand comes up to cradle the back of your head tenderly while her other hand settles on the small of your back beneath the t-shirt adorning your torso. Her skin is warm, not entirely cold but not exceedingly hot either. She feels perfect against you, but there's more that you want, and she’s making no indication that she’s going to give it to you. “Do you want to tell me what’s got you so fussy?” 

When you don’t answer, Wanda’s fingers tangle into your hair and pull your face away from her neck sharply. A guttural moan falls off the tip of your tongue as your head cranes backward and your eyes flutter closed. Your hips, still with a mind of their own, twitch against the thigh you’ve found a seat on, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your lower belly that rages with a fire demanding to be extinguished. “I made myself very clear, utenok. I’ve been very lenient with this attitude of yours, do not be so foolish as to think I won’t have you over my lap in the next thirty seconds.” 

You whined at her words, hips still grinding against her thigh. You’d never found yourself in this position before, never desperate enough to search for release against her thigh adorned with only freckles and the lingering presence of sunscreen, but there’s not a single coherent thought in your brain that tells you to stop and maintain the little dignity you have left. Your shorts are thin, your panties even thinner as they become soaked through entirely, and each pass of your hips against her skin feels beyond pleasurable. “M-Mine.” You just barely get the words past your lips before Wanda’s pulling at your hair again, provoking a shuddered whine that sounds entirely too high-pitched to have fallen from your lips. 

Wanda’s silent for a moment, but when she speaks again, your cheeks flush pink and you whine in embarrassment. Hearing her verbally address what’s been bothering you makes it seem so pathetic. “Is this little attitude of yours about Daisy?” She questions, the hand in your hair slipping away to instead hold tightly to your chin, forcing your eyes to meet hers beneath the lamplight drowning the living room. 

“Mine.” Your whimper is soft, entirely breathy as you search her eyes, pleading with her to understand. Wanda merely hums, a soft smile gracing her lips that had been pressed into a thin unimpressed line before she’s drawing you closer and slotting her lips against yours in a passionate embrace. You groan into her mouth when her tongue, hot and light, swipes across your bottom lip. You don’t fight her for dominance, instead allowing your lips to fall slack and accept the presence of her in your mouth. She searches every part of you with passion, her hands falling down to your hips at some point, dragging you against her thigh with intent, helping you find a steady rhythm whilst simultaneously distracting you with a bruising and head swimming kiss. 

You only pull away when you can’t handle both sensations of pleasure at once, your head swimming in fuzzy thoughts as your hips begin to stutter desperately against her thigh. Your shorts are equally as drenched as your panties, and you’re sure that with each forced drag of your hips she can feel the wetness seeping into her skin, hot and sticky with desire. You’re so painfully close, but the stimulation isn’t enough. “M-More.” You pant, head thrown back as your eyes flutter closed, your fingers tangling into her hand that’s hanging loosely down her shoulders. 

Wanda merely laughs at your desperation, the sound cruel and entirely condescending as it pairs with your desperate whines and moans. “Oh, honey. Did you really think I was going to give it to you easily? My poor little duckling, no. Either you cum on my thigh, or you don’t cum at all. Only good girls get what they want.” She taunts, dragging her teeth against the expanse of your neck, humming in contentment when you release a shaky sigh, your fingers grabbing at her desperately. 

“I-I can’t!” You cry out weakly, your hips losing their rhythm as you try to chase the pleasure that's ebbing away with each failed thrust. Her hands have stopped guiding you, sitting heavy on your thighs that frame her waist. 

“My dumb little baby needs Mommy’s help with everything, huh?” The Sokovian ridicules, but her hands find a home on your hips either way, beginning to guide your pace again. She’s ruthless, quick with her motions and entirely controlling, but it gets you back at the top of that mountain of bliss in seconds, and your whines of frustrations become moans of desperation. You’re so close, so painfully close that you can taste the wisps of pleasure that dance across your vision, but it’s still not enough. Wanda’s enjoying herself entirely, each rock of your hips forcing your body to roll against her own dripping core, and the sounds of Natasha’s moans fill your ears albiet vaguely, your own pleasure drowning out the sounds of hers. Still, you don’t even have to look at the Russian to know that her hand has disappeared beneath her shorts and her fingers are glistening with her own arousal. “Come on, detka. Cum for Mommy, be a good girl.” 

Your moans become frantic when Wanda flexes her thigh beneath your weight, giving you just the right addition of something more. Thatall it takes for you to fall off the edge and cum on her thigh, your panties absolutely saturated in pleasure when you finally stutter to a stop against her chest. The Sokovian’s moans are broken and soft as her head tips backward and she meets the same fate as you. You sink against her chest, pushing closer into her as you whimper in sensitivity, trying to wiggle away from her thigh and settle fully in her lap. 

“Mine.” You whisper against her skin, inhaling the traces of grapefruit that have dissipated throughout the day, but if you focus on her scent hard enough, the faintest tinge of fruit still linger around the collar of her shirt. Your hand searches for hers, and she allows you to grab onto it easily, guiding up to your lips as your eyes flutter close and you embrace the darkness that comes with it. Her thumb is heavy against your tongue as you bite at it softly. 

“All yours, detka. Just yours.” Wanda promises, her lips ghosting across the top of your head when she adjusts the position she’s in so that she can lean against Natasha’s chest, assuring that you're safe against her chest as her own eyes flutter closed. “Nothing is going to change that.” 

The hand that isn’t held captive dips beneath your shirt again, and her nails scratch soft lines across your spine as you melt further into her, eyes only peeling open when you become desperate to hear the same reassurances from Natasha. “Mine.” Your words vibrate against Wanda’s skin, and the lawyer smiles fondly down at you.  “You’re mine, sweetheart.” Natasha’s hand falls gently onto your cheek, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone as she holds you tenderly. “You’re ours.”

[amor-ad-nauseam]

Somethin’ Stupid (pt. 2)

Pairing(s): Sam Winchester x reader

Summary :You two are pathetic for each other, so much so that Dean can’t help but take notice. Maybe, just maybe his “playing wingman” will work out alright…

Word count : 3.5k

Tags: Reader and Sam have a crush on each other, fluff, no use of y/n, reader uses she/her pronouns, carheartt!sam, heavy make out, kissing, fade to black, almost smut.

Notes; While this does read as a fade to black i may or may not have gotten a little carried away with myself and wrote part of the smut scene… it’s not included here but if y’all want that lmk!! I am so sorry about how late this is coming out! i’ve been very busy with back to school preparations. Notes and reposts are greatly appreciated

part 1 part 3

“Rise n’ shine, Sammy!” Dean announced, clapping Sam on the shoulder.

Sam flinches awake and like a row of dominos, the guitar that was in his lap is sent tumbling to the floor - creating a harsh cacophony of strings and wood.

The sound causes you to jolt from your slumber. You shoot up in bed in a flurry of confusion. “I’m up! I’m up! Where’s the Rugaru!?” You shout, whipping your head around the room.

“Woah, Good Morning to you too,” Dean chuckles, punctuating the sentence with an obnoxious bite of beef jerky. Sam makes a face. “Want some?” He points the jerky at Sam.

“Hey, Dean.” Sam sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He runs his hands down his face. "I’m good, thanks.”

You visibly relax as the real world comes into focus. “Morning, Boys.” You say as the adrenaline wears off. Sam was still across from you, now flashing an apologetic smile and Dean was well- Dean, but in a cowboy hat. That wasn’t too unusual for him. Dean nodded a hello.

“Eh, more for me,” Dean shrugs with another bite. “Anywho,” He bends down and retrieves the guitar from the floor, now with a newly popped high E string. He hoped the motel wouldn’t charge him extra for that. “When’d you become Springsteen?” He smirks.

Sam was in no mood.

Then, his eyes lit up.

“Hey, Dean, what’s that, uh, mark on your neck?” Sam said, a grin only capable of being mustered by the most annoying of little brothers appearing on his lips.

“What mar- “Dean slid his hand down the length of his neck, stopping about halfway in sudden realization. “Oh- “He clears his throat. Mumbling something about getting banged up pretty badly, he dismisses himself to the med kit in Sam’s bag.

“Oh, and that explains why you’re just now getting back at, uh,” Sam glances to the alarm clock. “7am? from a simple salt-n-burn?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean scoffs defensively. “Cause you see, Sammy, I was actually doing my job.”

The early morning sun filtered in through the blinds and for the first time you realized that the wood paneling on the divider and both doors were made to look like a saloon door. Damn. They went all out with this whole cowboy theme. On the bright side, the sun gave everything a warm almost fiery glow. Despite the rather cozy atmosphere of the room, Sam and Dean were still going.

Only two things in life are certain: taxes and the Winchester’s arguments.

“The job that requires you to receive hickeys from girls in bars?” Sam laughed. He was now stood by the foot of your bed, stretching the tension from his shoulders. Man, even through a t-shirt his back muscles were attractive- carved like a Greek statue.

“Okay, when you say it like that it makes me sound like a hooker.”

“Maybe you are, Mr. hard worker.”

“Don’t objectify me.” Dean rolls his eyes, feigning offense . Dean was leaned over the dresser, looking in the mirror as he tried to cover a small purple mark on his neck with a square gauze patch.

He definitely wasn’t winning this one.

As if suddenly remembering something, his head perked up and he set his sights on you.

“How’s the leg?” He asked, looking at you in the mirror. He did genuinely care about your wellbeing, but it didn’t hurt that you were also a good out.

“Hm?” You were a little distracted; you’d almost forgotten about your leg entirely.

“Oh right. It’s fine really,” you swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

When you look down you find the bandage that was once around your thigh, half undone, twisted about and just an overall mess.

“Right, fine.” Dean chuckles.

“Woah, you okay?” Sam questions.

Before you know it, Sam’s closing the distance between the two of you and the roll of gauze is sailing through the air from Dean’s palm to Sam’s.

“Damn, I thought you were better at the whole first-aid thing, Sammy.” Dean remarks, happy to flip the situation back on his brother.

“I am,” Sam takes a seat next to you. He’s warm. And close. Too close. “But someone.” Damn he smells good too. Like a brand-new book. “Wouldn’t let me.” He said with a teasing expression.

“Hey, I didn’t do too bad.” Your cheeks flush.

“Riiight.” He gently tugs at an end of the bandage, and it unravels like a loose thread in a pair of jeans. “Not too bad at all.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” You reply, your face contorting to an attempt at annoyance.

“Hey, cheer up.” Sam smiled.

You couldn’t help but smile in return.

He gently slid his hand to the underside of your knee and placed your leg over his lap just as he did the night prior.

While you were busy tossing the wrinkled bandage into a small barrel-shaped trashcan near the sofa-chair, Sam took the opportunity to let his gaze linger. He drank in every detail of your appearance, hoping to seer it to memory.

For some reason, 3 things in particular stuck out to him: You never bothered to put your hair up last night, the way squinted as the sun reflected directly into your eyes, and the fact that you were still in his Carhartt. That last one especially made his heart beat a little harder.

Your lovely chaotic hair and the sun shining on your face inspired countless fantasies. Some as simple as kissing the tiredness from your expression, others, he felt bad for even thinking.

The minute you turn around his eyes are once again glued to your leg and you’re none the wiser.

“How’m I lookin, doc?”

Dean with his shirt tucked beneath his chin was rubbing ointment on what he wasn’t quite sure if it was another hickey on his abdomen or an actual bruise. Upon hearing your question he perks up, ready to make a dumb Looney Toons reference when Sam of all people beats him to the punch.

“Ah, just peachy, Bugs.” He replied in a nasally imitation of Daffy Duck.

“Huh.” Dean mumbles with some small shock. He watches the two of you from the mirror's reflection. He knew Sam had a thing for you, but this, this was something else.

The way the two of you giggled and just almost leaned into each other with every joke- pulling away in shy stupidity each time you got too close. The lingering eye contact, how Sam’s hand looked almost reluctant to leave you, the way one of you would stare when the other wasn’t looking. The whole thing left his stomach feeling like a pot of warm honey.

Damn. You’ve both got it bad.

An idea.

“Hey guys,” He chimed in.

“Hm?” You and Sam said in unison.

“Oh, sorry no you go- “you said.

“No, it’s okay you- “

“Well, you did fix me up it’s only fair- “just then you realized that your leg was still in his lap. You quickly pull away and smile apologetically. Sam does the same.

Dean just about face palms. You two are hopeless.

“Guys.” Dean clears his throat, capturing both of your attentions once more.

“I'm gonna go out and uh, do something.” Dean said with heavy emphasis on “do something.”

“Oh, okay..?” you said with confusion

“Oh, uh, need help with that?” Sam added, eaqually as confused.

“No! no, sorry…heh… I just mean that you both should stay here while I go make a move.”

“You… feelin’ alright, Dean?” You question.

“He’s still hungover I think.” Sam leans in and mutters.

“Y’know,” Dean turns his attention straight to Sam. “Making a move is always the right thing.”

“…So, you do want my help?”

“No, damnit,” Dean sighs in defeat. “M’goin’ on a coffee run.”

“Oh… okay…” Sam replied. “In that case, make two of ‘em decaf.”

“Aw you remembered?” You say with an expression reminiscent of a teen girl with a crush.

“Yeah, I know how it makes you jittery.” Sam replied, sounding embarrassed.

Dean watches as the two of you sit there smiling like idiots.

Yeah.

Extra hopeless.

- -

The latter half of the day is spent with Dean acting strangely and you and Sam struggling to figure out why.

A couple of theories arose.

“Maybe he is hungover.” You quietly conceded after Dean stretched his legs across the diner’s booth seat when Sam tried to sit down- forcing him next to you.

“Nah, he’s mean when hungover.” Sam replied.

- -

“Maybe we did something?” You suggested when Dean pulled the same diner stunt later at the library.

“Like what?” Sam replied as he studied Deans relaxed demeanor.

“Dunno. Maybe it’s 'cause we bailed last night?”

“C’mon we didn’t “bail”, you got stabbed and we all know if one of us didn’t stay with you, you’d come crawling back to finish the fight.”

“Fair enough.” You shrugged. “Well, I’m fresh out of ideas.”

“Me too. Just can’t figure out what would make him not tell us details on a case, it’s not like him.”

- -

You also happened to notice that Sam grew increasingly grumpy as the day dragged on.

Whether that was due to Dean, or his uncomfortable sleeping situation last night was lost on you.

- -

“Maybe he got roofied?” Sam mumbled when it seemed as though Dean couldn’t walk in a straight line- continually bumping into you - shoving you straight into Sam.

“Can’t be, after that whole witch thing he’s really careful with his drinks.”

“Hm…”

- -

“Mid life crisis?” Sam proposes in a hushed voice from the huddled corner of a motel lobby.

Dean had bought two rooms instead of the usual one accompanied by “we’re livin’ offa credit card scams and prayers. Besides, we’ve all pretty much seen eachother’s junk anyway.”

“He’s 30” you replied while watching Dean flirt with the woman behind the counter.

“With this job and his liver, it’s midlife.”

- -

Finally, the night had rolled around.

“Been dazed and confused for so long it can’t be true~”

The radio humming as the Impala raced down the road.

Normally, nights like this would be relaxing. Windows rolled down, the sounds of the cold and buzzing night mixed with the same five albums Dean rotated. Empty back roads and the three of you endearingly out of tune as you sang along.

But this night was simply and plainly, dead.

The air in the car had a tension not even Page and Plant could cut through. You all silently sat in your unassigned-assigned seats: Dean driving, Sam shot gun and you in the back watching the night woosh by.

It all came to a head earlier when Dean notified you and Sam that you two were on stake-out duty. You watched as Sam’s expression visibly changed into one of suppressed nausea. Sure, stakeouts usually sucked ass but did the thought of being alone with you really drive him to the point of sickness?

You breathed a sigh, sinking further into your seat at the memory.

Sam steals a glance at you in the rear view- you looked sad. Guess you weren’t too excited at the thought of a stakeout either.

The car stops about 50 yards in the underbrush in front of a dilapidated old building in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.

The light previously provided to you by the stars was dimmer now due to the thick miles of pine trees stretching high above- looking as though they could touch the sky themselves.

“Aaand we’re here,” Dean said, switching off the ignition

“Mind telling us where “here” is exactly?” Sam quipped.

“Like I said, it’s a nest.”

“Yeah. That’s the problem. That’s about the only thing you’ve said.”

“Okay, fine- look, We’ve had a lot of duds lately and I didn’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up if it wasn’t the real deal.” Dean shrugs.

Dean was an incredibly good liar. Or as he liked to call it, thinking on his feet.

“Wow you are s- “

“Such a great older brother, I know. I’m gonna go walk the perimeter, shouldn’t take too lo-“

“Great I’ll come with!”

You watch as Sam quickly follows after Dean- not even letting his brother get the words out before he’s on his feet and out of the car like he’ll catch the plague if he’s alone with you.

Yeah. Stakeouts really sucked.

From inside the car all you could hear were Sam and Deans muffled voices, but even still, you could tell they were arguing…

“I’m not an idiot, Dean. I know what you’re doing.”

“Well I’d hope so,” Dean chuckled, holding his newly sharpened machete upward to inspect it. “Dad’d kill us if we ever even thought about going in dull and halfcocked.”

“Y’know you’re not the most subtle guy in the world.”

Sufficiently satisfied, Dean re-sheathes the blade and hooks it onto his waistband. “Dunno wacha talkin’ ‘bout, Sammy.”

“You forced me to sit next to her.”

“Leg got bruised las night, had to keep ‘er elevated.”

“Got two rooms?” Sam quirked a brow.

“So? What if i wanted to bring someone back?”

“Dude, you practically threw her into me.”

“Again, the leg. Can’t walk straight.” He shrugs, grabbing a vial of dead-man’s blood and putting it into his pocket.

“Alright, cut the bullshit. I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. She’s not into me and i’m-“

“A dumbass.” Dean says sharply.

“E-excuse me?” Sam says, caught off guard.

“The girl is head-over-fuckin-heels for you. you must be a dumbass not to see it.” Dean points an accusing finger at him.

“I-“

“I see the way you look at her, hell, you busted out the guitar for her! ah- don’t give me that look, it was obvious. “

“Okay, fine, you got me Dean.” Sam throws his arms up in an exasperated manner. “I have feelings for her.” He pauses. This is the first time he’s said it aloud. His eyes go to his shoes. “Doesn’t mean she feels the same way.”

“Christ.” Dean slams the trunk, shoves his hands in his pockets and walks around the side of the car. Sam gives a puzzled expression. Dean jerks his head. “Watch this,” Dean says.

With the back of his hooked middle and index finger, Dean knocks on the back window of the Impala.

“Hm?” You lift your head from the book in your lap.

It’s a quick set of movements, but obvious, unthought action: your eyes first land on the source of the sound, Dean. He waves. You smile.

Then, all in the fraction of a second you look at Sam. Your smile falters. A short, flustered breath escapes your nose.

Your eyes go back to Dean, your lips curving into a poor attempt at a casual smile.

“See?” Dean says once you turn your attention back to your book.

“See what?” Sam replies, his voice growing annoyed and incredulous- having not picked up on anything out of the ordinary.

“You really make me wanna punch you sometimes.”

“Wha-, you know what, Dean, is this case even real? Cause if it’s not let’s just go back to the motel and-“

“Okay, Okay.” Dean pushes his arms in a ‘calm down’ motion. “It’s real, Columbo. Here,” He reaches behind his back, past the sides of his coat and pulls the local newspaper from the waistband of his jeans. “Happy now?”

Sam’s eyes skim the headline: Reports of “Cult like behavior” spotted near the old McCrowe house.

Below is a photograph of the dilapidated home they were parked in front of.

“Yes, but, h-“

“How do you know it’s real? Ya don’t. But i know you couldn’t take the risk; Even if you tried.”

Sam frowns, combing a hand through his hair. Dean smiles. “Go get ‘em, tiger” Dean says, patting his brother on the shoulder.

"You're an asshole."

Dean walks away with an extra bounce in his step. Sam frowns, again.

After taking a long moment, partially to regain his bearings, partially waiting till his brother disappeared around the bend, Sam pulls open the door.

“…Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

That wasn’t awkward at all.

Leaves crunch beneath your feet, and the book carried at your side rhythmically beats against your hip as you walk.

“So… figure out what’s up with Dean?”

“Oh, uhm,” He tosses the newspaper onto the dash as he slides into the front seat to cover his hesitation. “Nope. Not a clue.”

“Eh, I just hope he sorts himself out. If he keeps walking like that i think i’ll be bruised soon.” You chuckle at your own joke. “Guy’s got hips like Shakira, they do not lie.”

Crickets. Literal crickets fill the beat of silence after that joke.

You knew it was bad but damn.

“Ookay… tough crowd,” You mumble.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Sam said as if he were snapping out of a trance. “yeah heh, Shakira.”

You simply resign yourself to the book in your lap, every once in a while, taking a glance at the house ahead.

Meanwhile, Sam’s gaze never leaves the house for a moment. He had an expression you couldn’t quite place and an almost glazed over look in his eyes.

“Hey, i’m gonna go catch up with Dean, you’ll be fine right?” He says suddenly.

“No,” You slam your book shut and turn straight to Sam. “Sit your ass back down. we need to talk.”

“I’m sorry?”

The words come barreling from your mouth like a falling knife, sharp and unpredictable. “You have been super weird all day- I swear it’s hereditary- Dean acting strange, that i can deal with, but you? i-i don’t know what to do with that.”

A sinking sort of realization sets in. “I- god i’m so sorry.”

“I mean, did i do something? ‘Cause if i did i’m terribly sorry-“

“No, no, you didn’t do anything i swear.”

“Then what is it? i thought things were good and then- Look, if there’s something wrong just say the word and i’m there.”

“i know that but-“

“I’ll listen if you need it, i’m your friend and i wanna help.”

“That’s the problem.”

A beat of silence.

“That you’re my friend, just, my friend. That’s what’s wrong."

You feel your mouth going dry.

The words come tumbling out of Sam’s mouth much faster than he can think. “I-I knew from the moment i met you that you were this super cool and sweet and pretty but also badass at the same time kinda person and then it sorta spiraled into a crush, -which was innocent enough- so i thought it’d go away but then it didn’t and then-“

Every word, every thought, every action, everything within Sam is cut short and fades off when your lips collide with his. Your hands cup the sides of his face. His eyes widen before slowly dropping shut.

A moment later the kiss breaks and you’re sat there, staring dumbly into those gorgeous hazel eyes. From this new vantage point (the middle of the front seat) the gaps between the pines overhead is greater, allowing for starlight to filter in. The parts of his face not obscured by the shadows of his hair were illuminated in perfect detail. The soft edges of his face look almost sharp given the looming shadows, that detail though, is contrasted by the rosy blush spreading on his cheeks.

“…I wanted to shut you up,” You blink. “But I should’ve asked, i’m sor-“

The last of your attempt to apologize is muffled as Sam’s lips crash into yours.

His hand rests on the far side of your neck, his thumb moving across your cheek. The kiss grows in intensity, his tongue licking at the seam of your lips, your breath short and hot on his face. You drop your hands from his jaw and begin to slide them down his torso, eliciting a low growl-like sound from him. You both grow in fervor, the kiss bordering the fine line between sweet and desperate.

His tongue pushes past your lips and begins exploring you with warm desire. A soft sound escapes your throat at the feeling, his body growing warm, breaths shaky, and his tongue needly licking at the inside of your mouth.

Sam pulls away but only for a moment. He takes a quick survey of your face: lips red, breathing coming out in short pants, hair messy and all of you elucidated by the stars outside. You were no longer a reverie- some fantasy far out of reach. You were right there, lovely and more attention capturing than any star. So he says the thought that’s been on repeat in his mind since the moment he met you. What he’s thought on a thousand breathless afternoons when the sun shines just right on your face: “I love you”

“I love you too.” You reply without missing a single beat. you don’t have to think about it, not even for a second. You love him.

Taglist: @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillies444lola @wowzabowza69 comment to be added/ removed

[shitsndgiggs]

maybe a arda guler x physio reader whos also turkish but it takes place in the beggining if the 23/24 season so when he first came to madrid and yk he got injured so he ends up spending a lot of time with the physio and starts to confide in her bc shes turkish too

THE ROAD TO RECOVERY - ARDA GÜLER

When Arda suffers an injury in the beginning of the season, he requires extensive rehabilitation

Arda Güler x turkish physio! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The sun was rising over Real Madrid’s training complex. The new season had just begun, but the air was heavy with concern.

Arda Güler, one of the club’s most promising young talents, had suffered a partial tear of the internal meniscus in his right knee.

After numerous consultations with various specialists, including myself, the decision was made to proceed with surgery.

Following the successful operation, the real challenge began: Arda's recovery. I was entrusted with overseeing his rehabilitation program, and given our shared turkish heritage, I felt a special responsibility to support him not just physically but emotionally as well.

On the first day of his post-surgery rehabilitation, I found him seated on a treatment table in the physio room, his knee wrapped in bandages.

He stared at the floor, his usually bright eyes now clouded with worry and sadness.

"Merhaba, Arda," I greeted him gently, trying to catch his eye. "Nasıl hissediyorsun?"

He looked up briefly, his voice barely above a whisper. "İyiyim," he replied, though the sadness in his tone was unmistakable. "Biraz ağrım var ama iyiyim.

"We'll take it slow and steady," I assured him.

He gave a small nod, his expression softening slightly. "Teşekkür ederim," he murmured.

Over the next few weeks, Arda and I spent countless hours together. Our sessions were intense, involving various techniques to treat his muscles, joints, and the nervous system.

I used a combination of manual therapy, stretching, and strengthening exercises, always ensuring he felt comfortable and supported.

Our conversations provided a welcome distraction from the physical pain. We talked about our favorite turkish foods, shared memories from back home, and discussed the challenges of adapting to life in Spain.

I became more than just his physiotherapist; I became his confidant.

One afternoon, as I guided him through a series of leg exercises, I could see the frustration in his eyes. “It’s hard making new friends.” he admitted, his frustration palpable. “Most of the time, I can’t even understand what my teammates are saying.“

I nodded understandingly. "Bu normal, learning a new language takes time" I said. “I’m sure it’s comforting to have someone who speaks the same language as you.”

He sighed in relief. "Evet, it feels good to talk to you“ he said, his shoulders relaxing.

“I’m here for you,” I replied softly. “We can talk about anything.”

As the weeks turned into months, Arda’s progress was remarkable. His dedication and resilience were inspiring.

One day, as we were wrapping up a session, Arda looked at me thoughtfully. “I miss my family and friends,” he confessed.

I gave him a reassuring smile. “You have a new family here, Arda, Your teammates and me,” I said.

He smiled, his eyes reflecting gratitude. "Bunu duymak güzel," he replied softly.

Our bond grew stronger with each passing day. I was not just helping him heal physically but also providing emotional support. We often joked to lighten the mood.

One day, as Arda finished a exercise, he asked me with a grin. “What other sports do you think I should try? Maybe dance?“

I laughed, shaking my head. “Definitely! Maybe you could become a ballet dancer” I teased back.

He chuckled, the sound a welcome relief. “Even the thought of me in ballet shoes is funny,” he said, laughing.

As Arda's recovery progressed, we reached a milestone – his return to light training with the team. He was both excited and nervous.

“I believe in you,” I said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I know you will get trough this successfully and score many goals."

"Teşekkür ederim," he replied, his voice filled with determination. “Your support means a lot to me.”

In the weeks that followed, Arda's confidence grew alongside his physical strength. Our conversations became lighter, filled with jokes and laughter.

One day, as he was finishing a particularly tough exercise, he turned to me with a soft smile.

"Sen olmasaydın, bu kadar ilerleyemezdim," he said playfully.

I laughed, shaking my head. “It was all of your determination that helped you,” I replied.

As he continued his recovery, our bond only deepened.

Arda knew he had a long road ahead, but he also knew he wasn't walking it alone.

[kaidabakugou]

PAIRING: BAKUGOU KATSUKI X F! READER

WARNINGS: food play (ice cream) | nipple play | temperature play | oral sex

WORD COUNT: 2.5K

A/N: wrote this for myself as a warm up and ended up not writing what i was warming up for so i decided that you could read it too instead :) plus canva was being cooperative with banner making for once so i got excited, pls enjoy and hope this helps you cool off a bit from this horrid heat! ♡

It was a hot summer day as the sultry sun of Musutafu kissed your skin with its warmth. Laying on the chaise lounge chairs by the pool of your home while the upbeat yet chill melody from your favorite summer playlist vibrates through the speakers as you relax deeper into the cushions. The recent rise in temperatures had you feeling suffocated to the point of almost tears so you thought that a serene day by the pool with your husband could be refreshing for the both of you. Currently waiting for his return from the kitchen, where he went to get you both something to help you cool down further. Returning shortly with two vanilla ice cream popsicles you’d purchase earlier as he hands you one before sitting by your legs on the edge of the lounge.

Making quick work of it when he does as the popsicle was already melting under the weight of the sun, your fingers beginning to feel sticky as ice cream started to dribble down the wooden stick and onto your skin while your tongue lapped at the top, all while Katsuki watched - his own fingers getting coated in stickiness, as he found himself unable to take his eyes off of you. Not that he ever could, but something about you in the summertime always sparked a new wave of emotions when he's around you.

The warmth that radiated from your body along with the aroma of your sweat when he hugs you after a hot day, the little to none clothing exposing your skin allowing him to devour you with his eyes while doing mundane activities, finding you sprawled and passed out naked on the couch on random afternoons when he arrives home after a short shift, unable to resist you as he finds himself more and more infatuated with you with every passing day. 

Just as he is right now, completely hypnotized by you as his eyes roam every part of you, the thin layer of sweat along with the added shine of the sunscreen making your skin glow against the sunrays, the newly developed tanned bringing a different sparkle to your eyes every time you meet his, the way your bikini hugged every curve so perfectly, how the unruly hair accentuates your features in newfound ways. You probably found it all a nuisance, but in his eyes, he thought you looked ethereal.

And the more he observed, the more his swim shorts began to feel tighter against his frame, an occurrence that had become more common with the hot weather as he was sure his cock had a mind of its own every time he was near you. And when his eyes fixated on the way your tongue swirled around the tip of the popsicle, he found his throat going dry at the scene regardless of the ice cream quenching his thirst, but Katsuki was thirsty for something else. 

Smirk already plastered on his face when your eyes meet his again, a confused look adorning your features when you address him. 

“What's with that look?”, you ask before taking another swipe of your tongue to the ice cream. 

“Nothin', just looking at you”, taking a taste of his ice cream as well, catching the creamy liquid melting on the side with his tongue before it could fall on his hands.

You, on the other hand, were not as quick as you found yourself distracted with your lover, and now droplets of ice cream were falling against your chest. The icy touch of the sugary liquid gives you some relief against the scorching heat, yet still reaching for your towel to clean off. But a large hand wraps in yours before you could even reach it. 

“Allow me”, the gruff voice of your husband fills your ears over the music in the background as his hot breath hits your skin when he leans forward to lick at the spilled ice cream.

“Wouldn't want it to go to waste now, would we?”, he adds with a cheeky grin on his face, one that grows wider when you match it, already knowing where his antics are going.

Allowing another drop of ice cream to fall on your chest as he watches it trail down your skin, tilting his own popsicle over you for more to spill and travel along the valley of your breasts. Licking the sweet liquid up just before it could disappear behind the middle strap of your top as his fingers began to dawdle against it, slowly caressing the fabric while he admired the way it hugged the roundness of your tits. Giving one of them a small shake in his grip before running his fingers down your side to reach your back as you lift yourself a few inches from the cushions to allow him access, his digits tangling with the straps securing your top before slowly pulling them loose. Causing the fabric to teasingly slip from your skin and reveal your pretty tits to him. 

His mouth watering at the sight as his cock now strains fully erect in his shorts, feeling it jump when you settle back against the cushions once more, tilting your head with a new lust-filled glint in your eyes as you bring the melting popsicle down to your nipple, circling it as it begins to pebble under the cold sensation. An amused cough resonating from your husband’s throat as he stares in awe at the small show you're putting for him.

“I swear you're gonna be the death of me one day, woman”, he laughs before diving into the inviting treat. Lips wrapping around you as his tongue makes quick work at licking the sugary liquid against your skin, causing a moan to rumble in your throat from the delicious contrast in temperatures. The ice cold touch of the ice cream mixed with the sultry hotness of his mouth has your stomach flooding with an array of emotions as arousal begins to pool at your core. 

Tilting the popsicle in his hands over your skin again, as the neglected dessert pours down onto you and travels past your chest and along your abdomen with Katsuki’s hungry tongue following shortly until the liquid pools at your belly button, filling it up before his tongue delves inside.

Vermillion irises finding a newfound captivation when they fixate on the wet patch of your bikini as he lowers himself to press his nose against the fabric and take a long inhale of your soaked pussy through it. Eyes rolling to the back of his head behind closed lids while his hand reaches for the knotted straps that lay pretty against your hips whilst you reach for the other one with your free hand, feeling desperate to feel his tongue devouring your skin once more.

And when your cunt is finally revealed to him, he feels he might do just that, devour you whole. With the way your pretty pussy glistens under the sun and those lustful eyes you're shooting at him, the carnal need to have you coming undone on his tongue for the neighbors to hear rapidly builds inside him. 

But not before teasing you a bit as he settles between your legs, broad hand pressing against the back of your thigh to encourage them to spread further for him, admiring the pretty view before slowly pressing the melting popsicle against your clit. The sudden rush of cold makes you moan as he circles the growing nub with it, covering it with cream before leisurely dragging it down through your folds as droplets begin to run down your skin and pool at your rear for the cushions to absorb. 

Lifting the popsicle from your skin but letting it hover above your cunt for it to continue melting onto you as he takes a moment to admire your pussy covered in smooth white before diving in to lap at the sticky mess. His hot breath working to bring you closer to the edge as the knot in your stomach builds when he speaks against you.

“Hold still, beautiful… gotta clean you up”, he growls into your pussy as he hungrily licks and sucks at the creamy sweetness from both the ice cream and the flow of juices that rushes out of your cunt when the knot inside of you finally bursts and you gush right into his awaiting tongue as he eagerly swallows your release. 

The melody of your moans filling the space leaves a satisfied smirk on his face while he licks the remaining ice cream from your skin as he is sure that the neighbors probably heard how good he makes you feel.

The soft pads of your fingers against his blonde locks urging him forward is the only thing that stops his hypnotized licking as he presses a sloppy kiss to your clit, a habit of his as a way of saying goodbye for now to his favorite meal, before crawling over your body to capture your lips in his. Tasting your release mixed with the ice cream on his tongue as you continue kissing while slowly lifting up from the lounge to flip your bodies so that Katsuki could now lay against it while you straddled him. 

The ice cream in your hands now dripping over his chest as you feel his breath hitch against your lips with each drop, causing you to smirk into him before releasing a giggle when you feel cool and sticky fingers travel up your thigh towards your rear following a light spank to it. Breaking the kiss to trail kisses down his chin and along his neck, the subtle scratch of his incoming stubble tickling your lips as you continue to travel down his chest where the ice cream is as your eyes look for his to find them already on you before your tongue darts out to lick away at the sweet liquid.

A groan threatening to escape from deep in his chest when your hot tongue laps at the cold fluids mixing with his sweat as warmth returns to his skin from how aroused your wet touch is making him, his cock feels like it might burn through the fabric of his swim shorts the more it twitches against it, fighting for some release. 

And when your hand travels down the contour of his muscular chest, your nails gently scraping against his skin as they travel down the curves of his abs onto the waistband of his shorts to press against his clothed cock, he can't contain the moan that vibrates from his throat - his resolve always so easily weakened when it came to you and being under your curious touch - as his thighs begin to clench when you apply more pressure to the palm of your hand whilst rubbing his throbbing cock through his shorts, the heat radiating from it making you smile against him, finding it amusing how turned on he could get when you took the lead like this.   

“Fuck, baby - you're heating up”, you whisper against the juncture of his neck as you press your lips onto his warm skin, trailing kisses up towards his ears, the tips of them red under the weight of the sun.

“Let me cool you down, yeah?”, sucking his earlobe into your mouth, the skin feeling hotter than his body against your lips as you swipe your tongue on the delicate skin before leaning down to settle between his legs, not wanting your teasing to outlive the fleeting lifespan of the melting ice cream in your hand.

Your fingers hooking around the waist band of the swim shorts as you begin to pull it down from one side while he aids you on the other, his popsicle long gone under the heat of the moment. When his cock is finally released, the thick vein of the underside of his shaft is already throbbing with need, leading up to an alluring red tip adorned with a steady flow of precum that travels down his cock to pool around the base - so wet and needy you can't help the rush of drool that threatens to spill past your lips at the delicious sight.

Sneaking a small lick to his tip to get a quick taste of it before the vanilla overpowers it. Sucking the remaining ice cream into your mouth before discarding the wooden stick on the cushion next to you so your hands could grip at his warm thighs as you tilt your head back for the creamy glob of white to lay on your tongue as you press against the top of his pulsing balls and slowly drag it up his shaft. A hiss escaping him when the cold mixture hits his sensitive skin before a wanton moan erupts from him when you wrap your mouth around his hot tip. 

The difference in temperature driving him insane as he feels he might cum at any moment, Bakugou never thought the feeling of your mouth could get any better, but low and behold he was mistaken.

Making quick work of his cock before the ice cream completely melted in your mouth, you press your tongue against the throbbing vein of his cock as you take him deep in your throat, the ice cream working in your favor to take his full length while your sticky hands massage his heavy balls, something that always worked wonders when bringing your lover closer to the edge. 

And with the way you were devouring his cock, the flood of arousal in his gut bursted as soon as it built, the wet noises of your mouth slurping on the sweet cool liquid dripping past your lips and down his balls in your warm grasp while his tip rubs against your hot throat is the last push he needs as his fingers tangle with the damp hairs at your nape to press you against him as he buries his cock deep inside of you. A river of creamy white filling your mouth between the ice cream and his cum as rope after rope of hot release stains your throat. Swallowing every drop the best that you could while savoring the tasty mixture of sweet and salty against your tongue. His hips thrusting with every drop that's spilled into you before they slowly settle back down onto the cushions.

Blunt nails gently draw circles on the back of your head as he slowly pulls you off of his cock, a creamy string of saliva connecting you as you slurp it while following it towards his tip where you press your lips in a sloppy kiss, your own way of saying a temporary farewell to your favorite treat before his hand urges you forward to lay on his chest. Bodies sweaty and sticky as the faint smell of vanilla and sunscreen fills the air, while Katsuki cradles your face in his palms.

His thumb brushing away a stray tear of your temple as he takes a moment to admire the hazy look you get after sucking his cock, your pupils almost in the shape of hearts and Katsuki swears it might just be one of his favorite views before pulling you close to press his lips against yours to taste himself on your savory tongue. Deciding to remain wrapped against each other a while longer under the warmth of the sun before heading inside to wash away the muggy feeling before dinner.

[lunajay33]

New World🪵🍂

Summary: You grew up in a crappy town with one friend who kept you going, everything started to fall into place, that’s until the world ended and the dead ruled the world

•Masterlist•

I just came home from teaching, throwing myself down on the couch, usually Daryl stops by every night for supper and it’s been a tradition we have continued every night since I came back from college

I hated leaving but I needed to get out of this shitty town for a bit, and when I got the opportunity to come back and teach I had to, I couldn’t be apart from Daryl, my best friend, anymore

We’ve been friends since his mom died, my parents told me about his mom and so the next day in school I sat with him at lunch and from then on we have been inseparable, sure he was a hard nut to crack but after that he was the sweetest kindest person I’ve ever met

As I got up to start dinner the door burst open and Daryl and Merle came running in frantic

“Guys what’s wrong?” I asked worried

“Ya need to get yer fine ass movin” Merle laughed

I never liked Merle he was a terrible person and a terrible brother

“We need to go..now” Daryl said grabbing a bag off my counter and throwing a bunch of food in it before taking my hand and dragging me to his truck while Merle got on his bike

“Daryl what’s going on you’re scaring me” my voice trembled as he started up the truck and followed Merle down a back road out of town

“Shits happenin, people are dyin, comin back and eatin everyone, we just gotta get outta here” he said taking my hand in his

“Oh god…..well where are we going”

“Up to that quarry I took ya to last summer, it’ll be far away enough from the city and we got fresh water, don’ worry sunshine I’ll keep ya safe” he said giving me a reassuring squeeze

It was silent for most of the drive all I could hear was the blood pumping in my ears, how could this be happening? What was going to happen now, everything was just falling into place, me and Daryl were just planning to go on a trip to Tennessee too but I guess that’s down the drain

Everything I imagined for my life felt like it was slipping away

“Remember that first day we became friends?” I asked trying to distract myself

“Yeah, ya came and sat with me at lunch, had that green dress on and lil matching bows in yer hair, ya were my first friend, glad ya came up to me that day” he smiled looking at me

“I’m glad too, you were so scared and a blushing mess when I was talking to you, it was adorable then I gave you my cookies and you finally opened up to me” I laughed remembering him snatching my pouch of cookies when I held it out to him

“I wouldn’ cute” he groaned

“Come on Daryl you were adorable you still are” I teased loving how he was getting red

“Stop that” he gentle pushed me making me laugh

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

After a long drive we finally made it to the quarry only to find a few people already camped out but thankfully they allowed I three to stay given Daryl and Merle’s hunting abilities

As daryl and Merle were setting up the tent I went around getting to know everyone and asking them what they knew about everything, it’s been scary everyone’s experience and lucky I had Daryl to get me out safely

As the sun got closer to setting I and the air was cooling I helped Lori clean some fish as she laid it over the fire

“Do you need anymore help?” I asked tired

“No dear you go relax for now we will come get you when everything’s ready” she smiled

I smiled and nodded as I made my way over to the tent, unzipping it I found Daryl and Merle having a heated conversation

I stepped in and took my usual place next to Daryl on his sleeping bag

“What’s going on?”

“There’s lots of folks here I say we jack all there stuff and get outta here ‘fore the sun rises” Merle said smirking

“Come on Merle these are good people we need to stick together and we are in a good place can we just see how things go I don’t wanna leave”

“Damn pussy, I knew we shouldn’ have come and got ya” he groaned as he left the tent

I sighed and turned to look at Daryl and of course he had a defeated look

“It’ll be okay Daryl! I’ve gone around and they seem like a good group to be with everyone carries their own part, we can make it work” I smiled trying to cheer him up

He didn’t say anything which was typical but I was fine with that I knew he wasn’t much of a talker I just hoped my words got through to him a bit

“So…..where am I sleeping tonight” I asked trying to avert the conversation

“Ya can take my sleepin bag I got a blanket I can use” he said looking back at the little thin blanket by the sleeping bag

“No daryl it’s your sleeping bag I can take the blanket”

“Nah ya ain’t doin that”

“Well….i mean the sleeping bag is big enough for us both to fit” I said feeling the heat rise to my cheeks, but it’s not like daryl and I have never shared a bed, we’ve had many sleepovers as kids when his dad was being an ass but this felt…..different

He shrugged his shoulder “sure might get cold tonigh’ anyways” always the survival man

“Okay umm….dinner should be ready soon we should go set up around the fire” i said standing up and pulling my shoes back on, I looked back at him and he was just staring

“Ya coming?”

“Ya I’ll be out soon” he said grunting as if clearing his voice

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

Daryl’s pov

Me and Merle were coming back from hunting when we safe people on the sidewalks being torn apart, guts everywhere, people screaming and and we knew we had to get outta here

“We gotta get away from these things, we’ll stop by the house get some shit, my bike and we will head to the quarry” Merle said speeding to our crappy house

After we got everything I stopped Merle

“We gotta get y/n, I can’ leave her”

“Nah leave that slut here, just gonna slow us down”

“Man im gettin her, ya either follow me or not but im gettin her” I groaned as I hoped in the truck and drove off the her place

After I got her she was so panicked but tried not to show it but I could see it in the way she acted, I’ll do anything to keep her safe even if I gotta but my life on the line, she everything to me and has been the only one to keep me going, she’s my sunshine

~~~~~~~~

Normal POV

I got a seat on a log pushed up close to the fire some were sitting around as there was two fires going to keep the flames not as big

Finally Daryl came out and I pat the spot next to me while he laid a blanket over my shoulders

“Thank you” I smiled he always showed his friendship to me in little ways and they always made me feel warm inside

I handed him a plate of fish and some random vegetables the group has found

“So y/n, how long have you guys been together?” Jacqui asked startling me with such a question

“What?”daryl asked confused

“You and y/n, you’re a couple aren’t you, you both seem like the perfect couple” she smiled

“Oh no he’s my best friend, been friends since we were 9, barely been apart”

I looked at Daryl and he was clearly uncomfortable and the people around us could sense it as well so they carried on with their own conversations

After we finished eating he stood up and left towards the tent, I sat my plate ontop of his and thanked the girls for supper and headed of towards the tent as well

“Can I come in?” I asked at the tent door

“Ya” he grunted as I heard him shuffle around

I unzipped it seeing him changed into more comfortable clothes sitting on his sleeping bag

I zipped the tent back up and smiled

“Maybe I should have packed some clothes quickly before we left now I gotta sleep in jeans”

He shuffled through his bag and pulled out one of my big night shirts

“Where’d you get this?” I asked confused

“When ya come over for the night sometimes ya left a few things and I kept them just incase, thought I’d bring em along” he shrugged

“Thank god for those sleepovers then, mind if I change in here?” I asked taking the shirt from him

“Sure” he turned as I started to unzip my pants and pull off my shirt, quick to haul the oversized shirt over my head as I came down to the middle of my thigh

I folded up my jeans and “day” shirt and laid it by his bag

“K I’m done” he turned and started to crawl his way into the sleeping bag

He opened one side and waited for me me to join, it was snug but with the chilly night air god was it warm, I turned so my back was to his chest so we could fit more comfortably and he laid his arm over my waist

“Where’s Merle?” I asked not having seen him all night

“Said he was going down to the quarry must have wanted to get his own fish er somethin?” I hummed in understanding feeling my eyelids getting heavier

“Daryl….please don’t ever leave me” I said finally understanding the weight of everything and that this is probably gonna be our forever world now

He grabbed my waist and held me closer

“I ain’ never leavin ya”

My heart felt a bit later after such a strenuous day

“Good night Daryl” I said as I laid my hand ontop of his

“Night sunshine”

—-///—-///—-///—-///—-///—-

How is everyone liking the first chapter of this new series! I’ve very excited for this story! If you wanna be part of the taglist lmk!!

Taglist: @ghostboneswrites

Part 2<-

[dani3lricciard0]

Dancing With The Devil

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Summary: Rose is Lando's childhood best friend, who has finally landed her dream job as the social media admin for the McLaren Formula 1 team. On her first day of the job, she meets McLaren's new driver, Daniel Ricciardo, and they are off to a rocky start.

Warnings: None for now, but it will get spicier in future parts

A/N: This is a bit of a long one, but is mainly setting the scene for the rest of the chapters. It's my first time writing an enemies to lovers vibe like this so all feedback is welcomed!

Chapter One - First Impressions

next

15th February 2021

The sleek, modern architecture of the McLaren Technology Centre stretched before you, its glass panels gleaming under the setting sun. You took a second to breathe while taking in your surroundings before stepping inside. Today was your first day as the social media admin for McLaren. You'd dreamed of working in Formula 1 ever since you were a child, spending most of your weekends at karting tracks watching my your best friend, Lando Norris, working to achieve his own dream of reaching Formula 1. The excitement and nervousness churned within you as you adjusted your camera strap and checked your phone one last time, heading towards the entrance.

The launch of the MCL35M was in full swing, with engineers, drivers, media, influencers and other guests buzzing around the latest McLaren masterpiece. You manoeuvred through the crowd, taking a few quick pictures, but desperately searching for a familiar face.

Eventually, you spot Lando talking with his engineers, his infectious grin greeting you as you approach.

"Rose! You made it!" Lando exclaimed, pulling you in for a brief hug. "Welcome to the team!"

"Thanks, Lando," you replied with a smile. "I can't believe I'm here."

"You're going to kill it," he said confidently, bumping his shoulder into yours, before walking you around the event, introducing you to key team members and ensuring you felt at ease.

As the event progressed, you immersed myself in your new role, capturing candid moments of the team and guests, documenting interviews, and the stunning details of the newly unveiled MCL35M. You were having so much fun, it didn't feel much like work at all.

You found a chair to sit and review some of the pictures and videos you'd taken so far, when you heard someone clear their throat above you. You looked up to find Daniel Ricciardo, Lando's new team member, looking down at you with an unreadable expression. God, he's beautiful in person, you thought.

"You ever put that phone down?" he quipped, his Australian accent laced with a hint of mischief.

You straightened, caught off guard by his casual jab. "It's kind of my job," you retorted, attempting to maintain an air of professionalism.

Daniel scoffed, taking a sip of his drink. "Sure.. but don't you think you're missing out on the real action, looking at everything through a screen?"

You bristled slightly at his comment, not understanding where the hostility was coming from considering this was your first interaction. "Without this screen, no one outside of this room would get to see any of the action. I'm here to make them feel connected to the team."

Daniel leaned closer, giving you a whiff of his cologne. It would have been intoxicating if you weren't so distracted by the way he was making you feel like you were doing something wrong. "Seems to me like you're here for virtual validation. What are you, an influencer?" he said, his face twisting into a smirk.

You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling the irritation rise. "I work for McLaren, asshole," you state firmly. "I'm the social media admin, today is my first day."

His smirk faded slightly, replaced with a puzzled expression. "Oh, so you're not just here for the followers?"

"No," you replied tersely, crossing your arms defensively. "I'm here to promote you, make you look good. Seems like I have my work cut out for me."

Before Daniel could respond, Lando appeared behind him and smiled down at you. "Hey, guys," he said, oblivious to the tense atmosphere he'd just walked into. "I see you've met my best friend," he said cheerfully, clapping a hand on Daniel's shoulder.

Daniel's demeanour shifted almost imperceptibly, his mind whirring with cynical amusement. So, that's how she got the job, he thought to himself, a flicker of understanding colouring his expression. He glanced at you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he replied to Lando.

"Ah, yeah," Daniel replied casually, flashing a charming grin. "Just getting acquainted with the new social media whiz here."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Daniel's thinly veiled sarcasm, but kept your mouth shut for Lando's sake.

"That's great," Lando said. "Rose is going to do great things here," he said proudly.

"Thanks, Lando," you replied sincerely, grateful for his support despite his complete lack of awareness. With that, Lando excused himself to greet other guests, leaving you and Daniel in an awkward silence. You turned back to your work, feeling Daniel's gaze on you but choosing to ignore it, hoping he'd take the hint.

Soon enough, he sauntered off to mingle with other guests, and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. You couldn't help but feel disappointed at your first interaction with the Australian driver, who had always seemed like a genuinely nice person. You sighed, deciding that perhaps that was all a product of the marketing teams for his previous F1 teams. You really did have your work cut out for you.

As the event drew to a close, Lando found you once again. "Hey, you," he beamed. "A few of us are going for a drink if you wanna join?"

"I'd love to," you replied gratefully, eager to relax after a busy day.

As you settled in to the booth at a nearby bar, Lando held up his glass. "To Rose," he smiled across at you. "Congratulations on your first day." Everyone raised their glasses towards you, offering you their congratulations. You got to know everyone, feeling a real sense of family among the team.

Mid-conversation, Daniel sauntered into the bar, approaching the booth. "Hey, everyone," he greeted, exchanging nods and hellos with the team before settling in next to Lando.

"Daniel, good to see you," Lando greeted warmly. "We're just celebrating Rose's first day with the team."

Daniel's eyes briefly flickered to me, an unreadable expression on his face. "Oh, Rose, I almost didn't recognise you without your nose buried in your phone," he remarked, with that awful smug expression crossing his face once again.

You roll your eyes at him, the irritation you felt towards him earlier returning instantly. "Believe it or not, work isn't the only thing I do."

"Right, work. Must be nice working with your best bud here, eh?" He says, tilting his head towards Lando. "Always good to have friends in high places."

Your expression tightened, detecting the jab in his words. You resist the urge to react impulsively, knowing it won't help your cause. "Sure, connections matter, but so does competence," you reply, voice tinged with frustration.

Lando, finally sensing the atmosphere between you and Daniel for the first time this evening, gently placed his hand on the table. "Okay, we're meant to be celebrating! I think it's time for more drinks," he suggested with a bright smile, attempting to diffuse the tension.

As Lando headed to the bar, the conversation shifted to the upcoming season. They discussed the challenges of the new regulations, the dynamics within the team, and the potential of the new car. You found it difficult to engage fully, your mind still preoccupied with Daniel's pointed remarks.

Daniel sat back in his seat and took a sip of his drink, turning his head towards you. "So, Rose, tell me more about how you landed this gig." he quizzed, voice tinged with doubt.

You sighed inwardly, steeling yourself against his probing. "I went through the hiring process like everyone else," you replied evenly, keeping your tone neutral.

Daniel raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, but you must have had a leg up, right?" he pressed.

You looked into his eyes for the first time since he sat down, your frustration reaching a new level. "I don't know what you're implying, but I earned my place here," you asserted firmly.

"Sure, but sleeping with a driver must have helped." He said, nodding towards Lando.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh come on, no need to be embarrassed. You're not the only one," he said with the smirk that seemed to be permanently etched into his features.

"You're disgusting." you shot back, the words slipping out louder than intended as you pushed back from the table, rising to your feet just as Lando returned to the table with a tray of drinks.

"Woah, everything okay over here?" he asked, glancing between you and Daniel.

You met Lando's gaze, your frustration evident. "Yeah, I think I'm done here," you replied avoiding Daniel's gaze, knowing he'd be relishing in your outburst.

Lando's expression softened with concern as you grabbed your bag. "Are you sure? It's still early," he said gently, placing the drinks on the table.

You nodded, trying to muster a reassuring smile. "Yeah, it's been a long day. I just need to get some rest."

"Okay, get home safe," Lando said, pulling you in for a hug before you said your goodbyes to the rest of the team. Daniel leaned back in his seat, not looking at you. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes - a hint of regret or realisation, perhaps.

Outside of the bar, the cool night air offered a moment of relief. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, trying to shake off the tension that had built up over the evening. This wasn't how your first day was meant to go.

Driving home, you reflected on the evening's events. This was your dream job, and you were going to fight to prove you belonged here. You knew from the get-go that this was a male dominated sport, and you weren't about to let Daniel Ricciardo, or anyone for that matter, make you feel like you didn't deserve your place. His scepticism was just another hurdle to overcome.

[bellaxgiornata]

Borrowed Time |1: Savior|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Nurse!Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.8k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; heavy angst, hopeful but no happy ending, canon-typical violence, death

Summary: While walking home after your night shift at Metro-General Hospital, you meet the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen by chance when he saves you. Your brush with death leaves you contemplating the concept of fate and predetermined events, but Matt insists God wanted him to save you that night. Though you can't help but wonder if you really were just living on borrowed time...

a/n: So this mini series is what happens when I'm asked if I can write angst that doesn't have a happy ending (which I am admittedly struggling to stick to myself). The idea has been rolling around in my head for a couple of months and I'm now finally throwing it out there. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @1988-fiend @danzer8705

Resting your aching body against the wall, you stayed clear of the doors leading into Metro-General Hospital's emergency waiting area. The room was at its usual capacity for this time of night, most of the plastic chairs already filled with people who looked miserable for one reason or another. Over at the check-in counter you could hear the agitated voice of someone arguing with one of your coworkers, though you were far too tired to focus on what was being said.

From your place inside the hospital, you could already hear the approaching wail of another ambulance's siren, no doubt on its way to deliver someone else to the emergency room from yet another incident this evening. But at least for tonight, you were done worrying about what else was happening in Hell’s Kitchen.

Eyes heavy from the long and understaffed shift you'd just finished, your fingers sluggishly placed a single ear bud into your left ear–the same thing you did every night before you walked back to your apartment building. The unforgiving fluorescent lights above only continued to grow the pounding headache you'd had for over an hour now as your fingers put the small device in place, your other hand already searching inside of your bag for your phone. 

Despite working second shift and finishing up late at night, you always walked home from the hospital. Your apartment was only two blocks away, so paying for transportation seemed like a waste of your hard earned money, and waiting outside for a bus near midnight seemed like an unnecessary danger and a waste of time. 

Truthfully you hated the walk home at the end of every shift. The streets of Hell’s Kitchen were dangerous, there was no doubt about that. Working as an ER nurse certainly gave you enough insight into what things happened in the city once the sun went down. The pepper spray you carried on your keychain was only a mild comfort during your walks, because usually you were still always on edge. So generally, every night on your walk home, you preferred to pop a single ear bud into your ear and listen to some upbeat pop music in an attempt to distract yourself from your own rising levels of fear. You could still hear your surroundings, but listening to cheerful music certainly helped ease your anxiety, making every passing figure appear less like they were about to stab you and run off with your bag.

Pushing off the wall with a tired sigh, you made your way towards the exit. You searched your phone for your usual playlist as you approached the door, pushing it open with your shoulder as you focused on your phone screen. Stepping out onto the sidewalk and into the somewhat humid summer night, you were already hit with that usual sense of unease. The ambulance you’d been hearing finally came into view farther down the street just as you pressed play on your phone. The sound of a familiar song started in your ear, helping to drown out the shrill sound of the sirens.

Turning in the direction of your apartment building, you began your walk back home. As you went, you slipped a hand into your bag, feeling around the bottom of it for a minute. Eventually your fingers landed on your keyring and you pulled it out. Hand curling around the can of pepper spray attached to it, you clutched it close to the front of you, ready to use it if necessary.

Your sore, tired feet protested each step you took along the pavement as you made your way back home. The shoes you always wore to work were in serious need of replacement, the soles of them no longer padded and comfortable anymore, worn down from constant use shift after shift. There was already a blister forming on your little toe from today and you knew it was going to make your shift tomorrow incredibly uncomfortable.

A few minutes into your walk you eventually approached the corner of the block where you needed to turn. You spotted a man appearing around it, headed straight towards you. He was dressed in a dark sweatshirt with his hood pulled up over his head, something that seemed out of place in the heat of the summer night. The man's upturned hood also made it impossible to see his face and whether or not he was paying any attention to you in return. It didn't help that his hands were stuffed into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, making it difficult to tell if something else was stuffed inside of it or not. 

Fear shot through you the closer he neared, his face still obscured. Your fingers curled further around the pepper spray in your hand and you wondered if you'd need to use it. When he came within a few feet of you a moment later, you forced your eyes to stay focused ahead of you, though in your peripheral you kept an eye on him. You held your breath when you finally passed him, continuing to hold it a few seconds longer until you'd made your way around the corner. Glancing back over your shoulder, you were grateful to see the man hadn't turned back around to follow after you. Releasing the breath you'd still been holding, the tension eased from your body just a little. At least whatever he might've been up to tonight, he wasn't interested in you.

Attention returning ahead of yourself, you continued down the street all the way to the crosswalk at the opposite end. Fortunately the light was in your favor and you didn't have to wait on the sidewalk when you reached it, but just as you stepped out into the street to cross it, your can of pepper spray slipped out of your sweat-dampened hands and clattered down onto the street. With a groan you hurried forward into the road after it, wincing as your feet ached at your hurried steps. You'd barely managed to bend down and pluck the keyring from off the pavement before you noticed a bright light out of the corner of your eye. Turning your gaze towards it while still bent in half, it took your brain a few seconds to process that the bright light was a car's headlights–a car that was barreling straight towards you far too fast for the red light it was approaching.

Panic hit you fast and hard, the upbeat song playing in your ear seeming like it had abruptly faded into the background as adrenaline shot through your veins. Feeling as if time had suddenly slowed down, you began to stand upright, prepared to run out of the way of the oncoming car headed straight for you. Though by the time you'd righted yourself, you knew you'd never be able to move entirely out of the way in time. The car was far too close and moving incredibly fast.

You swallowed hard, bracing yourself for the inevitable impact as you attempted to lunge forward in what seemed a useless attempt to dart out of the car’s way. Heart slamming heavily into your ribcage, you found yourself yanked surprisingly and quite sharply backwards. A shriek flew out of your mouth as you stumbled back unexpectedly. In the street before you, the red car zoomed past where you'd been standing just a fraction of a second ago, a harsh wind brushing past you with it.

Breathing hard, you stood there frozen and wide-eyed staring at the space you'd just been standing in moments ago. That car had almost hit you. With how fast it was going, it'd have most likely killed you on impact. Yet somehow here you were still alive and breathing, feeling the buzz of adrenaline in your veins as your heart jack-hammered away in your chest.

It was a few seconds before you registered a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and something solid pressed to the back of you. Glancing down, you saw all black. Black gloves and black long sleeves covering thick forearms. Confused, your head darted up and over your shoulder only to come face to face with a black mask and a deep frown mere inches away from you. Your eyes widened even further the second you registered who it was that had clearly just saved your life. 

The masked man's face shifted down towards your own, his head tilting to the side. His lips twitched at the corners for a moment before he spoke. 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

His voice was lower than you expected it to be, the sound of it causing the hair on the back of your neck to prickle. His arms were still around your waist and it took you a moment to realize it was because he was practically holding you up. Your legs felt weak and useless beneath you as you slowly became aware of them once more.

“I–yeah,” you breathed out. 

Gradually the sensation in your legs came back to you and you carefully tried to shift your weight forward back onto your feet. The masked man loosened his hold around you, though he still kept his hands lightly resting on your waist as if he was ready to catch you if you fell. 

“Should be more careful,” he told you. “And you shouldn't be walking around alone this late at night in Hell’s Kitchen.”

Blinking hard a few times, you ran a hand across your forehead. Your mind was still reeling at almost having been hit by a car and miraculously being saved at the last second, yet here your savior was chastising you. 

“It's not exactly like I make a fortune at Metro-General,” you muttered, voice coming out with less bite than you'd intended. “Can't exactly afford transportation and I can't exactly control being placed on second shift.”

The man's head tilted curiously to the side again, almost as if he was analyzing you. Meanwhile you took the moment to try to calm your still racing heart as you took a shaky step back up onto the sidewalk, his hands leaving your waist as you moved.

“You're a…?”

“Nurse, yes,” you answered stiffly. “Believe me, I don't choose to walk around this late at night for the thrill of it. And it seems counterintuitive to walk a block in the opposite direction of my apartment building just to wait for a bus at a poorly lit bus stop for the length of time it would take me to walk home instead.”

The masked man's lips curled into something like an amused grin as he stepped up onto the sidewalk beside you. Your eyes narrowed back at him suspiciously, one hand resting on your chest over your still rapidly pounding heart.

“For someone clutching a can of pepper spray in a death grip, you sure have a lot of fire,” he mused. “Generally people are more grateful when I save their life.”

“Yeah, well, generally when I'm helping to save someone's life, I'm significantly less rude about it,” you retorted. 

His grin shifted into a full-on smile, one that was oddly disarming considering he'd just been scolding you. Feeling a little awkward for snapping at him, especially because he had just pulled you out of the way of certain death, you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“But thank you,” you continued. “You uh, you saved me. That car certainly would have hit me if you hadn't pulled me out of the way. I just…wasn't expecting the lecture that came with the rescue.”

He laughed lightly, nodding his head. Once more you eyed him suspiciously, not having expected his sudden shift in demeanor to something more friendly so quickly.

“Usually the people I'm rescuing aren't already walking around in a state of panic,” he said, gesturing a gloved hand towards your pepper spray. “Figured maybe you didn't fully understand the dangers of this city after dark. Besides the cars, I mean.”

“Believe me,” you assured him, “I'm well aware of the dangers. Working in the ER has shown me far more of this part of the city than I care to see sometimes.”

“Then how about I walk you back to your building?” he asked. “Just to make sure you get home safe?”

Your hands fidgeted with your keyring, nervously toying with a key as you contemplated his offer. Was it safe enough to trust him? Especially to lead him back to your building where you lived? 

Of course you'd read about the masked man in the paper a few times by now–The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen they'd taken to calling him lately. You'd also seen a few of his victims firsthand enter your hospital in quite poor shape on more than one occasion. But he always seemed to help those in need, never brutally beating an innocent person. And never killing anyone, either. 

Plus, he had just saved your life.

As he shifted on the sidewalk during your contemplative silence, the streetlight above caught his dark pants at a different angle. Your eyes dropped down, noticing the cut along the outside of his thigh. There was a slash a few inches deep down the side of his leg that had torn through his pants. You winced at the sight, raising a hand and pointing a finger at the injury.

“Maybe I should walk you back to the hospital,” you offered. “That gash looks like it could use stitches.”

The vigilante shook his head, waving a gloved hand at you. You immediately frowned at the gesture as you glanced back up at his masked face. 

“Nah,” he replied. “I don't do hospitals. I'll just clean it and stitch it myself later. I’ll be fine.”

Your mouth fell open instantly as you stared at him in utter disbelief. Was he serious?

“So what, you're just going to continue walking around like that the rest of the night?” you asked him. “Aggravating the injury and risking infection?”

“I'll be fine,” he repeated. “Now, would you like me to escort you back home, or would you prefer to continue clutching that little can of pepper spray for protection instead?”

Standing there for a moment, you stared at him in bewilderment. Who the hell was this guy? Avoiding medical attention and pulling strangers out of the way of speeding cars just in the nick of time? How had he even been close enough to stop that car from hitting you? And then here he was having the audacity to joke with you after the fact?

Eventually your eyes dropped back down to the gash in his leg, bright red blood glistening along his dark pants in the streetlight. Maybe it was the nurse in you or maybe it was because he had just saved your life, but you found yourself speaking before you could think through what you were saying. 

“You can walk me back to my place and let me tend to that gash,” you told him. “Because you'd be an absolute idiot to keep walking around with an open, bleeding wound.”

The Devil smiled wide beneath his black mask at your response. You couldn't deny that he had a nice smile, whoever the hell he was.

“Bossy,” he teased. “That was certainly unexpected. I suppose that'll just make for an interesting walk to your place then.”

You rolled your eyes at him before gesturing him to follow after you with a hand. “Come on, Spirit Halloween,” you ordered. “My place is just a block further this way. And you better not pass out from blood loss on the way,” you warned him, beginning to cross the street and continuing to make your way back towards your building. “Because I can guarantee I am too damn tired to carry your ass anywhere.”

Behind you, the Devil rumbled out a laugh. Biting your lip, you tried to fight back a smile at the pleasant sound. He certainly didn't seem like much of a threat to you at least.

“Spirit Halloween?” he asked, amused.

“Yeah,” you replied off-handedly as you double-checked for speeding cars while you made your way across the street. “Because you look like a knock-off version of a child’s Halloween ninja costume dressed like that.”

Slipping your pepper spray back into your bag, you heard the masked man let out another surprised, warm laugh. The smile slipped onto your face at the sound this time and you were glad he couldn’t see it. Though you knew if it wasn’t for this curious stranger now following you home, you'd surely have been dead minutes ago. It was almost as if you'd been given a second chance because of him, and you figured the least you could do now was repay his kindness with some of your own.

[acozysoulwrites]

Spider monkey | Sun Wukong x reader

Requested by @kaycode1999 : Could you do one where the reader and Monkey King somehow end up doing the spider-man kiss?

a/n - I loved this idea so fuckin much…

"Just a little bit further" Monkey had said over three hours ago.

You were accompanying him on his journey to defeat one of the most powerful demons in the land. Monkey really didn't want his only… companion (other than stick) getting hurt or worse... killed. However, you were insufferably stubborn.

"Monkeyyy, how much longer" You groan, your feet were aching so badly that you thought you might fall over right here on the path.

The tree leaves rustle and you glance to your left. A quick, red blur passes through a gap in the treeline and you roll your eyes.

"Just a feeew more miles" Monkey calls.

He was lucky that he could swing through the trees, honestly, any other form of travel would be better than walking right about now.

You groan and force yourself to take another step.

"Hey... cheer up, wanna play a game?" Monkey lands next to you with a sly grin plastered on his face.

You aren't sure if you should say yes, but a distraction would do wonders at this point.

"Anything to make this awful hike move faster," You say.

"Great! I'll hide, you seek, but keep walking okay? We don't have all day you know"

Your lips part to speak, but before you get even a mumble out, Monkey has disappeared into the trees with a sneer.

Some time passes as you walk along the path and you haven't heard from Monkey in a while. Only the faint sound of him swinging through the trees could be heard.

Suddenly you hear a loud thud from behind and spin around, ready for a fight. When you don't see anyone, your eyes drop to the ground. Laying there in the dirt is a twig. You spin around and nearly scream.

"Hey," Monkey says, his voice sultry, a smug grin on his upside-down face.

Monkey hangs from a tree, his tail snuggly wrapped around a thick branch that overreaches the road. "Found ya" He coos, reaching out to boop you on the nose.

Your faces are just inches apart, and you can't deny the heat rising in your chest. The two of you had never been this close. His temperature was rising as well, you felt it radiating off him.

You roll your eyes. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Giving myself away, duh. I'm way too good at this whole hide-and-seek thing. You'd never have found me" He boasts, yammering on and on. However, your mind was only on one thing.

You slowly lean in, all the while Monkey still goes on about his perfect hiding skills.

"I mean, c'mon... At least pretend like you know where I am- mmm" His eyes go wide as his words come to a satisfying halt.

Monkey doesnt pull away, instead, he leans into the kiss, his tail losing grip slightly as his body fills with sensations. The hair on his neck stands up slightly as you pull him closer.

"W-What was that for?" He mumbles when you pull away.

"Oh, well you wouldn't shut up, I had to think of something" You tease, this time booping his nose, you smile sweetly as you walk past him.

"What- I-" Monkey hangs there, mouth agape. His heart is beating so fast and he isn't sure if it's because of the stunt you just pulled or if there was too much blood rushing to his head.

He hops down from the tree, his shock still visible. "Hey! You can't just walk away after that, Pebble" He calls, running to catch up with you.

“Try me spider monkey!”

[mundrakan]

Prompt: Time turner

@wolfstarmicrofic - 292 words

Only one turn. Sirius plays with the small trinket he nicked of that bushy-haired girl, while she was distracted. He'll make her find it in the morning, but tonight... The thing spins, and things run past him, the sun rises again, the grounds refill with people – and he stays hidden. He couldn't follow Remus before, had to keep watch of Harry, but with that done, his hands are free now. So he runs, follows his love lost out into the forest, beyond the walls, beyond the safety, to the places of their youth. Where they hunted together, where they fell in love.

Remus stops by the tree where they kissed first, where Sirius carved their names in with a knife – and cut himself in the process, because he was so bad with Muggle things. There Remus stops, his hand resting against the long healed wound in the bark.

“I figured I saw you.”

Sirius halts, dog turns to man, his hands shake. “You didn't.”

Remus nods slowly. “Very well. But I'll never forgive you, if you hurt the boy.”

“The boy...” Sirius sighs. “I wouldn't forgive myself, if I hurt Harry.” It's just a nervous tick, his fingers jerking, as if they were buried in Remus' thick woolly hair again. “Or you.”

Remus turns only slowly, looking past Sirius, not at him. “In that case... don't get caught. That would hurt me.”

Siriu swallows. Part of him wants to hurl at him that it clearly hasn't hurt the past twelve years. Part of him is relieved. The winning part holds on. “I won't. And maybe...” Maybe when he can prove his innocence, at least to Remus, he might have a chance to touch him again. Just this once.

[eds6ngel]

♀️the price of womanhood

i want to thank @thefreak0fhawkinshigh for giving me this idea !! their thought about eddie being mad at the price of female hygiene products gave me this wonderful idea <33

warnings: fem!reader. afab!reader. she her pronouns. period talk. mentions of sex. reader is mentioned as petite and has size medium underwear. established relationship. r and eddie are both mid-twenties. swearing. eddie being a lil feminist. fluff. comfort. robin cameo!! [1.9k].

Robin groans as she hears the frantic knocking at her apartment door, lifting herself from the comfy space on her couch as she attends to the visitor.

Twisting the knob, she pulls open the door to a worn-out looking Eddie Munson. His breath is heavy, hair disheveled as it seems he ran to her apartment.

“What do you want, Munson?”

“Okay,” he breathes out, “I need your help.”

She huffs, signalling with her arm to let the young metalhead in, wondering what was so desperate that he came to her for help. Couldn’t he just ask his girlfriend?

Unless, it was a girlfriend problem.

You woke up to Eddie curled up next to you, head slotted in the gap between your head and shoulder.

However, a sharp pain at the bottom of your stomach distracts you from your calmness. You hiss at the intrusion, carefully lifting Eddie’s arm up and moving yourself off of the bed.

“You okay, princess?” Eddie grumbles from behind you, eyes still closed from where the sleep was not allowing him to arise.

You turn your back towards him, leaning down and stroking his hair, his eyes squinted a little, getting used to the sunlight. “I’m just heading to the bathroom, okay? I’ll be back, I promise.”

He hums in response as you place a tender kiss to his hairline, rising from the bed and heading to the bathroom.

You sit down on the toilet, letting your bladder empty as another pain hits you suddenly. As you collect the toilet paper in your hand, you wipe, lifting the paper to see it stained red.

Your period had started.

However, as you look up to grab a pad from your usual stocked-up pile, the shelf seems to be empty. You were out of sanitary products.

You huff, your flow being a little heavy, you go the old-fashioned route: stuffing your underwear full of toilet paper. It would have to do for now.

You return to the bedroom, heading over to yours and Eddie’s shared closet, beginning to choose an outfit.

Eddie groans, “Thought you were coming back for morning cuddles.”

“They’ll have to be put on hold baby, I’m out of pads. Need to go to the store quickly.”

The mention of the word “pads” alerts Eddie, him suddenly coming up behind you, putting his hands on your waist and moving you out of the way.

“As your boyfriend, my girlfriend deserves to relax whilst I take on the job of retrieving her sanitary products,” he tells you in a put-on posh accent.

You giggle, “You make periods sound so glamourous.”

“A regular, manageable cycle is a good sign to me,” he replies, pressing a kiss to your cheek and throwing on a black t-shirt, taking a pair of jeans from out the drawer.

“You need anything else whilst I’m gone, sweetheart? Heating pad, paracetamol, lemon water?”

You smile to yourself. God, he was so understanding.

“I can get the heating pad myself baby, don’t worry. You concentrate on the sanitary products.”

“Okay,” he says, throwing on his infamous pair of white sneakers and doing up the zip to his trousers. He does a once-over in the mirror, shaking his head like a wet dog to get his hair semi-presentable.

You’ve already made your way to the kitchen, switching on the kettle and patiently waiting for the water to warm.

You wince as another cramp hits you, Eddie coming into the room and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, tenderly massaging the bottom of your stomach.

“It’s manageable,” you tell him, already knowing what his question was gonna be. You’d become accustomed to the routine by now, you and Eddie taking this monthly trip around the sun many times.

“Okay,” he mumbles into your neck, “I’ll be as quick as possible, okay?”

You hum as he presses a kiss to your neck, letting go of you as you hear the keys jangle, him unlocking the door and heading to the store.

As Eddie stands in the sanitary products aisle, he is overwhelmed by the amount of products. Why were there so many options?

The brand you bought were called Always, wasn’t that enough knowledge to know?

Extra heavy overnight. Okay, you don’t need overnight, scratch that off the never-ending options.

Extra heavy flow. Heavy flow. Regular flow. With wings. Long super. Extra long super. Why the fuck were there so many different types?

He huffs as he quickly thinks of someone he could ask for help. Someone who lived a mere five minutes from the store.

Eddie went on an extremely long ramble about his problems, Robin realising what the issue was after one sentence. But, she let him talk regardless. It was funny seeing him stress out.

“Okay. So basically, Y/N needs pads, but you went to the store with no knowledge about her menstrual cycle apart from the brand name of her pads.”

Eddie groans as he places his hands over his face, “Yeah, I know. I sound like a fuckin’ idiot.”

Robin snorts, “Don’t worry, you’re still doing better than Steve. He just picked up a random one. Like, thanks dude, the extra thin, light flow ones are really gonna help me when I evidently have painful cramps.”

“So… Painful cramps means heavier flow?”

Robin nods, “Yes, usually. Are her cramps bad?”

Eddie shakes his head, recalling the conversation from earlier, “No, she said they’re manageable. They usually are. Sometimes they get bad, but she’s never bought a different packet.”

“Good to know. What’s her size?”

“I mean…” Eddie coughs, “She’s a petite girl, so her pussy kinda matches that—“

Robin looks at him in disgust, “Not the size of her vagina, you dickwad! The size of her underwear!”

“Oh, um… I guess a medium?”

“Right,” Robin thinks, “Size 1, Regular Flow. That’s your answer.”

“Great,” Eddie smiles, before contemplating something else, “Wait, what about the wings shit?”

“What about it?” Robin questions.

“Well, do I need ones with wings?”

Robin huffs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “That’s a personal preference thing dude. Does she buy ones with wings?”

“How am I supposed to know?” he asks, as if the answer is obvious.

“Just get her some with wings. Better to be safe than sorry.”

“Okay,” he breathes out, “Thanks Robs, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Great, now go. I have a date to get ready for,” she says, turning her back to him.

“A date?” he questions, “It’s 10AM.”

“And I need to look perfect, Munson!”

He laughs as he shakes his head, closing Robin’s front door behind him and heading back to the store.

Always Infinity. Size 1. Regular Flow. With Wings.

Eddie searched throughout the shelves of sanitary products, looking closely at the labels as he comes across the correct product.

“Thank fuck for that,” he mutters to himself, grabbing two packets in his hand, knowing that would last you a couple of months, before heading to the checkout.

The woman scans the items, Eddie waiting patiently before she tells him the price. Something he was not ready to hear.

“That’s $15.”

Eddie almost choked on his own saliva, his wallet in his hand, ready to give her a $5 bill at most. “I’m sorry?” he splutters out.

“$15. Do you not have the money, sir?”

Eddie’s eyebrows are raised to the top of his forehead, showing the endless creases as he rapidly blinks. “No, I-I do. Yeah, um…” He takes out another $10 bill along with his planned $5 and hands it to the cashier woman.

She puts it in the cash register, smiling at him as she basically tells him with her eyes that it’s time for him to leave.

“Uh… thank you,” he awkwardly smiles, turning his back and heading out towards his van.

Fifteen fucking dollars.

The sound of the front door slamming shut signals the arrival of your boyfriend. You slowly rise from the bed, placing your heating pad on the bedside table and greeting Eddie in the kitchen.

“Babe, I am so sorry. I had no idea what I was doing, so I had to go to Robin’s to ask her for help, and then I still didn’t know if that’s exactly what you wanted, so I’m sorry if I fucked it up—”

You cut off his rambling with a kiss, him cupping your cheeks as you lean your forehead against his. “It’s perfect, thank you for doing this.”

You looked down at the two packets of pads, picking them up in your hands, “The size and flow are correct, so that’s the main important thing. For next time, I buy the cotton ones, but the infinity ones are good for now,” you smile.

“Okay, as long as you can use them,” he replies, you rushing to the toilet to replace the soaked through tissue with a much comfier sanitary towel.

As you come back, Eddie lets out, “Can we talk about the price of that shit though?”

“Oh yeah,” you shrug, “Well, I’m used to it.”

“You fucking shouldn’t be!” he exclaims, “That shit cost me fifteen dollars! I mean, you don’t even ask for this, this is just a part of growing up for you. How are a pack of condoms, which aren’t even necessary to me, only three dollars more expensive? Like, that’s such bullshit.”

You softly laugh at Eddie’s outrage. It wasn’t common for you to see men act like this towards the price of having a period. You 100% agreed, but, sometimes you don’t realise how it seemed from an outside perspective. You’d been doing this for well over ten years, your bank account was used to the monthly spending.

“God,” he breathes out, “I would hate being a woman. Like, imagine having to bleed out of your vagina every month for not conceiving, and then having to go on some form of birth control regardless because of how painful your cramps are or because you are having sex. And then what do men get? The least reliable form of contraception. So, women are pretty much punished for being women.”

You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck, “That’s the price of womanhood baby. Very feminist of you to talk like that, I must say.”

“If that’s what feminism is about, count me the fuck in,” he straightforwardly admits.

You giggle, placing a soft kiss to his lips, “I love you. Thank you for getting these for me, and thank you for having a rage about the price of menstrual products.”

“I love you too,” he mumbles into your neck, “I’m sorry you have to go through this shit.”

“It’s okay… I’m used to it.”

He leans back, cupping your face in his large, ringed hands, “You shouldn’t be. You’re very brave for having to deal with this. Very, very proud.”

You smile back, “I’m proud of you for going out of your way to learn all of this stuff. Not many men do that, you know?”

He hugs you, “Well, they should. It’s the least I could do in comparison to what you go through.”

You look up at him, “Thank you for understanding.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

i do truly believe this is canonically accurate. eddie munson is a lil feminist.

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

Twitterpated (Vil x Rook)

Note: This piece takes place during Vil and Rook's first year at NRC

Silken skin; sun-kissed hair,

Cascading into a lavender wave;

Beautiful eyes, with an enrapturing stare; 

All of him, I achingly crave. 

I come on bended knee, 

And ask, plead to the beauty,

“My all, I beseech thee:

Bid me to do your every duty. 

Use me as you see fit;

My life and soul,

Every single bit,

I give myself whole.

I will follow you,

To any inch of earth; 

Anything, I will do, 

To prove to you my worth. 

Beauty, it is you I love;

My king, the truth lays bare, 

From hells below to heavens above,

I am forever yours, mon cher. 

Birds chirped high in the trees and atop sprawling buildings, accompanied by the rustle of leaves and distant chatter. The man knelt before the bench breathed not a word as he awaited the beauty’s response. It was a sweet kind of torture, not knowing what he would say. Though a rejection, perhaps a swift kick of a heeled shoe, would wound him so, with it would bring its own form of beauty. No matter the outcome of this bold proclamation, Rook would take it gracefully as any man could. He kept his smile and gaze aimed at the man before him, waiting patiently, with bated breath. 

The response he received was not what he expected at all. “It needs work,” commented the vision sitting elegantly upon the bench seat. “The pacing was a tad off, as well as some of the verb tenses. If you would write the poem down, we can go over it to see where you can improve.” 

Ah, so he thought Rook was presenting him with a simple poem. Vil Schoenheit, the man who the Savanaclaw first year had been smitten with the moment he laid eyes on him, believed Rook was silently asking for feedback and advice. This was not the first advance the beautiful young man unknowingly rejected; Rook surmised a guess that it was far from the last. A feeling of disappointment took hold around Rook’s heart, yet it was combined with a sense of admiration. To think this prodigy of the stage would so willingly offer him aid - ah! Magnifique! He oh-so loved him. 

Despite the dismay burrowing in his gut, Rook’s smile morphed into a grin. He rose from his place on the paved path and put his hat, which remained over his heart for the duration of his confession, atop his head. The first year did it in such a manner that it would not obscure his sight. Rook didn’t want to tear his gaze from the beauty. “Merci, Roi du Poison! Rest assured I will hang onto every word.”

Vil’s smirk took the hunter’s breath away. “Are you certain you won’t be distracted? Your eye does tend to wonder when something interests you.” 

Nothing could interest me more than you, ma beaute - is what Rook yearned to say. However, as the actor still appeared unaware of his true affections, he didn’t dare utter the words aloud. “I swear on my life that I will not stray from your teachings.” 

Vil let forth a small giggle, accentuated by his hand coming up to lightly cover his mouth. And he did it so gracefully, too. Ah! Rook could feel himself grow faint. No, he must resist! Not only to keep his word, but also to not scare the pretty boy. 

The last time Rook passed out due to an overwhelming show of Vil’s own beauty, Vil had been beside himself with worry. Rook remembered the scolding he received upon his waking fondly. Great Seven, Rook thought he’d died and awakened in the afterlife, being greeted by an angel the moment his eyelids fluttered open. Apparently his grin was so drunken, so lopsided, that the nurse thought him intoxicated. Yes, they were right, in a way. To be enraptured by such an ethereal sight often had that effect on a person. 

Rook watched Vil rise from his seat. He now had to tilt up his head to face Vil, the heels of the beauty’s shoes making him even more taller than he already was. It felt nice to be looked down upon by him. Whether you take that as degrading or not is up to you. Either answer is most likely correct. Vil could spit in Rook’s face and the freckled man would thank him - perhaps, if he were feeling bold, he’d ask for another. Surely you understand? 

“Meet me at the library tomorrow, four p.m. sharp.” Vil slightly tilted his head to the left. “When I’m done with you, you’ll put the common poet to shame.” 

Use me as you see fit - so said Rook when he recited his love poem. He meant that with his whole heart. He nodded eagerly, practically beaming as he said, “Tres bien! Besides my poem, should I bring you anything else? I could bring some of my others.”

For Vil, Rook would do anything. His Roi du Poison need only ask, command, demand - however he might utter the task. Rook Hunt would see it through to the end. He would go so far as to abandon his dorm and become the beauty’s lap dog, should he request it. 

…No, actually. He didn’t have to. Why hadn’t Rook thought of that before? He would start the process that very evening! 

[ladyinred2248]

King of the North, Finan x Reader, Part 4

Warnings: Mature. Minors DNI. Violence.

The sun rose the next day under a still cover of clouds, the weather from the previous day still lingering and a light drizzle of rain covering the roof of your tent. When you woke, your first thought was to speak to Uhtred and seek his guidance, as you already knew that the next turn of events wouldn’t necessarily be in Finan’s favor. Finan had you completely entangled in his arms that morning, so you slowly slid from underneath him, and smiled when you heard a sleepy groan and he moved to lay on his back. Finan was sleeping more soundly than you had ever seen before and you didn’t desire to disturb your beloved’s peace, so you took advantage of the early rising and left your tent quietly to search for Uhtred.

During tumultuous times, Uhtred was always the first to wake, making the men wonder if he had ever slept at all on certain nights. Your intuition was right as you stepped out of the tent quietly and caught sight of Uhtred sitting by himself beside a still smoldering fire. You approached him slowly so as to not startle him, and he gave you a sweet smile when his eyes met yours.

“Lady,” Uhtred smiled, gesturing his hand out to the seat beside him, “Sit with me, hm?”

You returned his smile, and as you took a seat next to him, he grabbed your hand and bestowed a respectful kiss to the back of it, which made you chuckle. Uhtred was always very kind to you.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, before you had a moment to greet him with words.

You sighed, his blue eyes piercing through yours, making it difficult to hide the thoughts circling in your mind.

“I am well, Lord.”

Uhtred narrowed his eyes slightly, looking at you almost suspiciously with a smirk. “Tell me the truth, lady.”

You chuckled again, his gaze coming down on you still somewhat intimidatingly, per usual.

“I am scared half to death, Lord.”

Uhtred grabbed your hand in his again, now squeezing it as he spoke, “I will make this right. No harm will come to him, I swear this to you.”

You bit your lip, your eyes watering slightly at the vulnerable essence of the conversation, “Lord, it’s not your burden to bear. Perhaps I can convince Alfred to forgive him, and offer myself as consolation.”

Uhtred laughed then, squeezing your hand and shaking his head, his Danish mixed accent lingering on his words, “Lady… are you mad? Finan would much rather die than hand you over… again. Do you know nothing of the Irishman?” He said with a chuckle. Uhtred’s grin made you smile in return.

“Lord, I…” you stuttered, then began to laugh along with him.

“Lady, you are finished being a pawn amongst men. I forbid you to involve yourself in this any further. Let us handle it.”

You nodded to him, leaning your head on Uhtred’s shoulder as the two of you fell into a comfortable silence.

Uhtred had spent many hours contemplating the situation by the fire before you woke that morning. He had decided that he would indeed take Haestan to Domnal’s encampment, but he would deceive the Scottish Prince by making him believe that Haestan and the Danes had captured Uhtred and his men, and therefore threatened your life. Then, Uhtred would turn on Haestan at the last second, and in turn King Alfred could be saved without harm. He only hoped that Domnal and his men could jump into battle with ease. Uhtred groaned and rubbed his eyes as he went over the scenario over and over in his head.

Later that morning, Uhtred, Finan and the others sat alongside Haestan and the Danes for deliberation before moving forward on their journey. Finan didn’t let you stray far as you sat closely behind him, his hand intertwined with yours.

“We need to create a diversion,” Uhtred said to Haestan confidently, “We will act as your prisoners and the Scottish Prince will become unnerved, acting in the best interest of the Princess. When he is fully distracted, your men can abduct Alfred from the camp. Understood?”

Haestan chuckled, somewhat darkly, before standing slowly from his seated position. “Uhtred, that would be a great plan, except that… you already are my prisoners.”

Uhtred glared at Haestan, standing from his seat slowly, eventually drawing his sword as the challenge became evident. He then looked to Finan, who held Uhtred’s eye contact as he took your hand tighter in his, standing you up with him and still holding you behind him as he drew his own sword in anticipation.

Finan turned his head, whispering to you, “Stay behind me.”

You wrapped your arm around the torso of Finan’s armor, his body acting as your shield as you felt your hands start to tremble. Haestan’s fleet fell out of the forest, now surrounding Uhtred and the others, the deception seemingly never ending.

Haestan stepped closer to Uhtred, and the Lord would have moved to attack him if not for the overwhelming number of Danes beginning to surround you all.

Haestan’s confidence grew with his large Danish fleet, speaking to Uhtred with arrogance. “Why would I settle for only one prize, when I have two - no, three - standing right in front of me? The Dane Slayer… the Broken King… and the Scottish Princess.” Haestan said, then spoke softly and mockingly to Uhtred, “What kind of reward do you think that would grant me?”

Uhtred looked to you, seeing the fear in your eyes and dark fury once again in Finan’s. The two of you will not die here, he thought, Not here.

Uhtred had every desire to fight Haestan’s men, but one man against four or five had no desirable outcome. Uhtred sheathed his sword, raising his hands up slowly as he glared at Haestan angrily, the words slipping off his tongue with disdain, “You know the King of Wessex is worth all of our lives and more. We will take you to him, as promised. Tell your men to put down their swords.”

Haestan looked to Finan, who was still braced and willing to kill any one of them. “Yours first, Uhtred.”

“Finan, put down your sword.” Uhtred commanded sternly but calmly, witnessing Finan’s chest coming up and down with rage, “Put it down.”

Finan hesitantly sheathed his sword, then pulled you by your hand to stand you in front of him now, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly.

Haestan chuckled. “You obey… or she dies. Your choice, Uhtred. Now…prepare your men. You will take us to Alfred.”

Uhtred wanted to slit Haestan’s throat at this moment, his adrenaline and rage showing in his face and tingling down his arms. He nodded to him, then to Finan, as the Danes gave them space to prepare their horses and belongings. They were now keeping close watch on you all as hostages.

Uhtred’s men made haste to prepare for the journey, and Finan was quiet in contemplation. This was an impossible outcome. The Danes would take Alfred, but would they not still turn on you all in the end, easily killing you or using you as leverage?

“Lord, the plan can still work,” Sihtric whispered, “Domnal’s men will be ready.”

Uhtred nodded, taking his belongings to his horse and watching you and Finan in the distance. “We must be careful. The Danes could take her and kill her at any time. Defend her with your life… she will be the key to the end of this.”

When everything had been prepared, Haestan commanded the Danes to bind all of your hands, to which Finan became enraged.

“No,” Finan growled at Haestan, “No more of this. She will be treated with dignity, or I will cut your throat where you stand.”

Haestan shrugged off Finan’s intimidating stature, though did not wish to be challenged by him, as it would very possibly end his life.

Uhtred smirked at Haestan, agreeing with Finan. “No ties. We are already under your control.”

The journey to Domnal’s encampment was short, only taking a full day to reach them. As dusk settled, Haestan and only twenty of the Danes, along with you and the others, approached the camp. Domnal had already caught the sight in the dark from a distance, commanding the men to make form and prepare themselves for an ambush. He was relieved when he caught the sight of you sitting on your horse in front of Finan, but stirred nervously at the fleet of Danes surrounding you.

Haestan approached Domnal on his horse, who scowled at him as he walked closer.

“Ah, The Scottish Prince,” Haestan said, “You have something we want. In exchange for your people, of course.”

“The King of Wessex, I presume? He is of no use to us.”

Haestan dismounted his horse, stepping closer to Domnal now, both of them eyeing each other with intensity before Domnal brought his gaze towards you and Finan.

“Your Grace,” Domnal nodded to Finan, “Have the Heathens harmed you in any way?”

Finan sighed. “No, but we are their prisoners. Let them have the King of Wessex… and they will be on their way.” Finan looked to Uhtred, who nodded in agreement.

Alfred struggled with the guards who grabbed him and brought him over to Haestan, scowling at the lot of them, and when he met Finan’s gaze, he spat on the ground and spoke strongly. “You will die for this. With my last, dying breath. You will die.”

Alfred’s words made your body shudder, but Finan simply held his gaze until he was out of sight, seemingly unphased by his threats.

Finan looked to Uhtred again, and they spoke with their eye contact as they usually did before Finan dismounted his horse, his strong arms coming around you to help you down as well. Finan took his hands to cup your face, bestowing you with a searing kiss, which you returned gladly, deepening the kiss by taking your hand up to the back of his neck. Finan pulled away from you suddenly, and you noticed Uhtred’s hand came to rest at the handle of his sword. Your heart immediately began to race.

“Domnal,” Finan said in a low, commanding voice as he began to guide you closer and push you toward your cousin, “Take her. She is to be defended with your lives.”

You immediately struggled as Domnal took your arms. Finan’s words had rattled you to the bone as the unexpected events unfolded before you.

“No!” You shouted, struggling to breach from your cousin’s hold as you turned, reaching for your lover, “Finan, no!”

Before he could hear you, Finan had already unsheathed his sword with a startling, raking sound and the fight between the Danes had emerged before your eyes.

The clanging of swords and weapons along with the shouting of men was deafening, and before you had time to think, Domnal had dragged you to the area where the tents were and left you with six guardsmen. Your cousin drew his sword and jumped into the battle, searching for Finan, eager for the next command as his mind was reeling from the sudden attack.

You heard the shouting of your lover in the distance, you could make out his voice in any circumstance.

“Save the King of Wessex!”

Domnal knew then that Finan’s intention was not to surrender Alfred to the Danes, much to his dismay.

Despite your cousin’s command of staying outside the battle lines, you trudged closer, the guardsmen commanding you to stay close as they followed you.

You had only been granted the opportunity to truly witness Finan’s sword craft once, and you imagined that the death toll would rise rapidly in these fleeting moments as you witnessed him disarm and brutalize one Dane after another, giving commands to the band of Scots-Irish warriors, your cousin coming to stand at his side, ever loyal to him and guarding his back.

Uhtred stayed close to Finan, searching for Haestan who had now withdrawn and most likely had Alfred in his clutches.

“Haestan!” Finan yelled, “Ya coward, come and fight me like a man!”

Haestan emerged out of the crowd slowly, Alfred held in front of him and a seax held to his throat.

“Here is your godly King!” Haestan growled, “Make your choice!”

Finan hesitated, Alfred’s pleading eyes meeting his, a slight shake of the King’s head commanding Finan to stand down.

In a split second, Finan drew his dagger and threw it towards them, Alfred’s eyes widening with fear. The dagger hit Haestan in the shoulder with skilled precision, knocking him backward and causing him to lose hold of Alfred as he yelled out in pain. Finan ran to them, grabbing the King of Wessex and motioning to stand in front of him as the Danes circled.

Another Dane was able to grab hold of Alfred, knocking him to the ground with ferocity and standing before him now, his sword in both hands and ready to pierce it straight through his heart. Finan moved quickly to lunge at the Dane, killing him in one swift strike as Alfred breathed raggedly, his eyes full of fear. Finan offered him a hand, and after a moment, Alfred’s hand met his own, and he helped the King to his feet.

>>> Part 5

Taglist: @gemini-mama @persephones-journey @whitedarkmoonflower @alexagirlie @justanother-sihtricgirlie

@ficnation @bcon24

[tortillamastersblog]

꧁ Angels Don’t Cry | Mor ꧂

Pairing: Mor x reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture, injuries, blood, kidnapping, vomiting and explicit language

Summary: After Hybern’s defeat, the Inner Circle makes a grave discovery in the late King’s dungeons. . .

Next Part | Masterlist

________________________________________________

It’s still dark outside, but a sliver of silver light at the horizon tells me the sun will rise within the next hour.

For the past weeks now, ever since being rescued from Hybern, I’ve woken up in the early hours of the morning to watch the sky turn pink and orange.

It reminds me that a new day is about to begin and that my life didn’t end when I was taken from Windhaven before the first war.

I was a youngling then, but a lot of time has passed since and the things I’ve endured and seen over the last five centuries have turned me into someone I don’t recognize.

I don’t know who I am anymore. I just know that Azriel is my half-brother (something I was told by the King to torment me even further) and that the Night Court is my home, but the inner circle isn’t exactly my family yet.

Not even Azriel. He’s my brother, yes, but he’s doesn’t feel like family yet.

The only family I ever had was my mother, but she’s been dead for a long time now and I have nothing but my own memories to remember her by.

I sigh and lean my head against the windowsill, letting my wings lazily brush against the carpeted floor.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Having heard his heartbeat in the shadows, I don’t flinch when Azriel steps into view. He’s dressed like me, wearing a simple black sweater and a pair of sweatpants, obviously having gotten out of bed not too long ago as well.

I direct my attention back to the rising sun and nod. “Yup.”

Silence.

Then—

“You haven’t been sleeping properly.”

I cringe, feeling my wings twitch involuntarily. There’s no point in denying it, but I’m also not going to admit it, so I just stay silent.

“I understand,” he goes on softly, “and. . . I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

Being a man of few emotions and even fewer words, I’m surprised to hear such compassion in his voice. I turn to look at him only to find him already next to me, also looking out of the window.

In this moment, I can’t put into words how grateful I am to have met him. He understands what I’m going through like no one else and he always seems to know when I’m in need of his comforting company.

Even when we’re not talking, like right now, we understand each other on a different level.

The only other person who comes close to understanding me is Feyre.

She’s calm and kind, and she’s offered to teach me how to paint a couple of times now, claiming it could be a good way for me to process what happened and escape from the real world for a bit.

So far, I’ve not taken her up on the offer, but I can see myself actually letting her teach me in the future once I’ve settled in properly.

“So, will I be seeing you at training after breakfast again?” Azriel asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

A week ago, he convinced me to join him on the roof to train alongside Cassian and Feyre. The exercise has been a great distraction and a good way to blow off some steam, not to mention it’s always good to know how to fight and defend yourself.

“I guess so, yes.” I shrug and by the awkward silence that follows, I know he wants to say something else.

It takes a couple of seconds for him to actually spit it out, and when he does, I know why he was hesitant. “Cassian actually suggested we try to get you to fly today.”

Flying. . . I immediately shut down at the idea of it.

Having been kidnapped as Hybern’s trophy, they didn’t dare clip my wings, but they bound them and locked me in a cell.

I was only taken out every so often when they either wanted to torture me, make fun of me, show me off to their allies, or wanted to fulfill their unspeakable needs.

Now, I’m free and my wings are no longer bound, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to fly yet. I don’t know why because there’s nothing wrong with them (they’re just a little weak), but every time I even just think of using them I get all chocked up and I shut down.

“Az. . . I don’t know. I-I can’t,” I admit quietly.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he assures me and then we go back to watching the sun rise in silence.

As soon as it’s over the horizon, Azriel smiles and squeezes my shoulder in encouragement. “I’ll see you up there.”

I nod and watch him vanish in the shadows before getting ready for the day. I make the bed, brush my teeth, and eat some of the breakfast that magically appears on the desk next to the window.

Then I get dressed and as if on cue, Feyre knocks on my door just as I finish strapping my dagger to my thigh.

“Ready?” she asks with a genuine smile and I nod, following her up to the roof wordlessly.

Cassian ended up missing training because he had to run some last minute errands with Rhysand which left Azriel, Feyre and me to train alone.

We worked on our sparring skills and then moved on to some disarming techniques before finishing the session with conditioning sprints.

By the time we were done, Feyre and I were both red-faced and sweating despite the cold while Azriel was barely out of breath, snuggled into his thick sweatshirt.

Winter Solstice is in four weeks, meaning it’s freezing outside and even though it hasn’t snowed yet, I know it won’t be long now until the first flakes fall and cover everything under a soft, cold blanket.

Now, with my legs burning and my stomach growling for some more food since I skimped out on breakfast, I make my way to the kitchen where Nuala and Cerridwen are already working on tonight’s dinner.

It’s going to be big because the entire inner circle is invited and because the last dinner was hosted at the Town House, tonight’s will be hosted here in the House of Wind.

To my surprise, the twins aren’t alone and when I walk in, Elain smiles shyly and drops her chin in greeting while the others go on working quietly.

“Hello,” I say with a small smile of my own. “I see you’re all hard at work already. . .”

Nuala continues kneading the bread dough but looks up to meet my eyes. “Yes, there’s much to be done, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

Elain and Cerridwen hum in agreement.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not. Your food is always amazing.” As if to prove a point my stomach growls and all three of them smirk my way.

“Are you hungry?” Elain asks with a knowing look and I nod my head as she wipes her hands off on her apron. “Let me fix you a plate then.”

“It’s okay I can just—“

“It’s fine,” she cuts me off and vanishes in the pantry before I can object again.

I came here to grab a snack like an apple or a handful of nuts, not eat a whole three course meal, but I guess there’s no point in trying to stop Elain again. Especially when she re-emerges from the pantry with a plate laden with smoked meat, a slice of bread, a couple cheese cubes and a handful of grapes.

“Here you go.” She hands me the plate with another shy smile and I can’t help but bow playfully.

“Thank you. This really wasn’t necessary, but the effort is appreciated greatly,” I say honestly which makes a faint blush appear on her cheeks.

She quickly turns back around and resumes decorating the pastries she was working on before, which I take as my cue to leave.

Thanking all of them once more and offering my help in case they need it (they don’t), I go back to my room and eat on my bed while toeing off my shoes.

Elain is sweet like Feyre, but she’s definitely more introverted. She doesn’t talk much, like Amren, but when she does, she’s always sincere and honest. It’s something I appreciate a lot, having been lied to almost all my life, and even though I can’t see myself catching romantic feelings for her, I do believe that we could become great friends.

I eat and undress at the same time, my muscles weak from exhaustion, before placing the empty plate on the table by the window.

It vanishes almost instantly like all the empty plates and cups I’ve placed on it over the last weeks, leaving me to go about my business without having to worry about returning dishes.

I go into the rooms adjoining bathroom and sigh when I see that the house has already filled the bath with steaming water and mountains of bubbles.

I swallow the last cube of cheese and take off my undergarments before sinking into the hot water.

My wings twitch at the instant relief that flows through me and I sinking down even further until the water is all the way up to my chin.

I sit like that for over half an hour with my eyes close, the lack of sleep catching up to me, before scrubbing myself clean and getting out to dry off.

I unplug the drain and return to my room where I get dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

Then, just like every day after training and taking a bath, I make my way to the library.

Some days I find Nesta there, lounging in a chair and reading as well, but we never really speak. We simply tolerate each other, and since I share her liking for books and leave her be, she never lays into me the way she does with the others.

Today, however, as I make my way to the library I pass an unfamiliar door that stands slightly ajar. I’ve seen it before, but never bothered to go inside since it’s not polite to snoop around.

What I see inside the room though catches my attention and I can’t help but push the door open further to get a better look.

Standing in the middle of the otherwise empty room on a beautiful handmade carpet is a black grand piano. Its polished surface glints in the daylight that streams in through the uncovered windows, and it’s almost as though its beckoning me to come closer.

I’ve never touched a piano, or played an instrument for that matter but even in Hybern when I attended festivities (more like chained to the wall and forced to watch all the atrocities the King committed in the name of having fun) I’d been mesmerized by the music.

Looking back over my shoulder, I note that there’s no one around, so I slip into the room and close the door behind me.

I take tentative steps toward the instrument, feeling like someone will burst in any second to demand an answer as to what I’m doing, but no one comes, so I hesitantly take a seat on the bench.

I’ve never heard someone play, which either means the room is soundproof or no one’s ever played. I choose to believe the former because I really want to try and play and I’d be embarrassed if anyone heard.

I set mine fingers on the keys after opening the lid over them. They’re smooth and cool beneath my fingers and when I play a random note I jump slightly, not having expected it to be as loud as it is.

I play another note, pressing down on one of the black keys. This time I don’t jump and as time goes I start experimenting with different melodies and rhythms.

It’s far from being any good, but it makes me feel a little less empty inside.

By the time I stop, the sun has set and I realize I should probably be getting ready for dinner.

I quickly close the lid over the keys and sneak out of the room unnoticed. It’s not like I’d be in trouble for using it, but I don’t want anyone to know yet.

This is one of the first things I’ve had all to myself in a long time and I selfishly want to keep it that way a little longer.

Just as I think I might have gotten away with it though, I stumble into someone right as I’m rounding a corner.

“Mor,” I breathe, my wings flailing as I try to steady myself and her.

For a second she holds onto me, her fingers curled around the front of my sweatshirt, but then she pushes me away and steps out of my embrace. She’s already dressed for the dinner, wearing a revealing red dress that hugs her curves perfectly. Her hair cascades down her back in soft curls and the bracelets on her wrists jingle when she moves her arms.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her brown eyes scrutinizing me. “Why are you sneaking around?”

I open and close my mouth like a fish out of water until I manage to stutter, “I-I’m not. I just came from the library.”

Raising an eyebrow, she scowls at me. I’ve always had the feeling she’s doesn’t really liked me because her eyes are always on me like I’m some kind of prey and whenever I say something she clenches her jaw. “The library? Interesting because I just saw Nesta and she said she didn’t see you there today.”

I open my mouth again to defend myself with a little white lie, but then Feyre’s voice echoes through the house calling for Mor.

Brown eyes roam over me once more and then she’s gone.

I close my eyes and take a steadying breath, feeling a weird tug in the pit of my stomach as I listen to her retreating footsteps.

She is beautiful. Divinely so, but that doesn’t change the fact that she hates my guts for some reason. It does however make my stomach tingle inexplicably every time she’s near me.

I grit my teeth at my body’s reaction to her and reopen my eyes before hurrying to my room and getting changed for the dinner.

“I honestly don’t know what happened,” Rhysand says which makes everyone at the table laugh.

He was just telling us about the time he, Azriel and Cassian were kicked out of a pub a long time ago.

Amren grins and takes a sip of her wine. “Cassian ran his fat mouth again, that’s what happened.”

Again, laughter fills the room and even though he flips Amren off, Cassian laughs too. Nesta slaps his hand out of the air and intertwines their fingers under the table, sending him a warning look which only makes his smile widen.

“Anyway. . .” Feyre clears her throat and changes the topic. “Have you guys heard about the Hybern spy that was caught in Adriata yesterday?”

My ears perk up at that and I set my fork down. “Why would Hybern send a spy to the summer court? I thought the king’s niece from the continent was trying to establish a peace treaty now that she’s taken the throne?“

Azriel goes to say something, having a pensive look on his face, but Mor beats him to it.

“Why indeed would Hybern send out spies?” she asks, looking directly at me with challenging eyes.

Taken aback by her not so subtle accusation, I bite the inside of my cheek to stop the hurt that curses through me from showing on my face.

Me? A spy for Hybern? After everything they did to me?

I swallow thickly and look down at my plate. If she knew what they did to me, she’d never say something like that.

Everyone has suddenly gone deathly still and for a second I contemplate just getting up and going to my room, but then, out of all people, Elain comes to my rescue.

“I don’t think the spy was there on Irene’s orders. If he even was a spy, that is. It could just be one of the soldiers who escaped Hybern after the war to avoid the consequences of fighting for the king,” she argues which gains hums and nods of approval.

I look up to smile thankfully which makes her cheeks turn a faint shade of pink. She smiles as well and ducks her head before cutting a piece of asparagus on her plate and eating it.

Azriels eyes dart between the two of us for a moment before his gaze lingers on me with a raised eyebrow.

I just shake my head in silent answer to his unvoiced question which makes his shoulders relax.

I know he likes Elain, I can see it in the way he looks at her even though he thinks no one notices, but it’s like I said. Elain is sweet, but she will never be more than a friend to me.

“Yeah, I’ve spoken to Varian—“ Feyre begins, but she’s interrupted by Mor who, once again, glares at me.

“Maybe,” she says, “but if I were Helion I’d still lock him up and get as much information out of him as possible. He’s a danger to all of Prythian whether he was spying or not.”

My eyes burn with unshed tears and I drop my cutlery to bury my hands in my lap. If it wasn’t clear before, now everyone at the table knows she’s not just talking about the spy.

She’s talking about me. She thinks I should be locked up again.

The memory of my old cell makes me physically recoil and without thinking, I jump to my feet and slam my napkin on the table before rushing out of the room.

I wake up in the middle of the night, screaming at the pain cursing through my back and wings.

“Stop! Please,” I groan, tossing and turning while clawing at my back.

Within a second my door flies open and Cassian and Nesta rush in with horrified looks.

“What’s happening?!” Cassian exclaims, rushing to my side to check me over for injuries. “What hurts?”

All I can do is whimper in pain which seems to alarm him even more as he frantically runs his hands over my back.

“What is it?” he asks again, but I can’t manage to reply.

Nesta’s eyes flickered all over me before she rushes out of the room, calling over her back, “I’m getting Azriel!”

“Please,” I breathe again, my fingers digging into my own shoulders. “Make it stop.”

Cassian, still running his hands over me to find the source of my pain says, “I’m trying! I’m trying, but I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“No, you’re not doing it right,” the king says with furrowed eyebrows. “Give me the whip.”

I watch over my shoulder helplessly as the soldier hands the bloodied whip to the king.

The onlookers cheer and laugh when I slip in the pool of blood at my feet, trying to stay upright. I squeeze my eyes shut and squeeze my bound hands into fists above my head.

I can’t take much more, and the king knows that, but before sending me back to my cell to heal he wants to have his own little fun.

“This-“ he raises the whip in demonstration to hype up the crowd- “is how it’s done!”

I howl in pain and arch my back at the memory of the whip slashing my back and wings.

Then, not a second later, Nesta storms back into the room with Azriel in tow. He’s not the only one she’s apparently managed to wake however because following Azriel is Feyre.

They rush the side of my bed and hold me down to stop the thrashing.

“What is happening?” Nesta asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“I-I don’t know!” Cassian stutters.

Azriel crouches down next to the bed and cups my cheeks. I’m faintly aware of the touch but the king’s face and how he brought the whip down on me again and again keeps replaying in my mind, making it difficult to distinguish between reality and memory. “Talk to me, Y/N,” he pleads.

“Here let me try,” Feyre says squeezing past him to kneel next to the bed. Her clear blue eyes roam all over my face and before she raises her fingers to my temple she whispers, “I’m sorry.”

Then, its as if the barrier around my memories shatters and I scream again, reliving everything that’s ever happened to me in Hybern: the flogging, the humiliation, the unwanted touches all over my body, the beatings, the branding. . . Everything until the last wave of pain ripples through me, leaving me shaking and crying.

“What did you do?” I hear Nesta say and when Feyre doesn’t answer I open my eyes slowly.

For the first time since waking up, my surroundings are clear and when my eyes land on Feyre my heart sinks at the sight of the tears on her cheeks.

She obviously just saw everything I also saw which means she now knows the full extent of what was done to me.

I’ve revealed bits and pieces of how I was treated since I got here, but the only one who’s really known how deep my scars actually run is Azriel. That was until just moments ago because now Feyre knows as well.

“Y/N. . .” she whispers, taking my hand.

I just sob and squeeze my eyes shut again. A moment later, I’m pulled into a tentative embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I didn’t— We didn’t know how bad— I mean, Mor— she shouldn’t have—“

She sniffles and apologizes over and over again.

“Stop,” I croak. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have let Mor talk to you the way she did at dinner. I shouldn’t have left you alone to deal with your trauma, I know how isolating it can feel. I shouldn’t—“

“It’s okay,” I whisper, opening my eyes again only to notice that we’re the only two left in the room. “You didn’t know and you barely know me.”

“I do now though,” she argues. “And I will do better. I promise.“

I force a smile and nod. “Thank you.”

Then, silence settles over us and Feyre doesn’t take her arm off my shoulders.

My back and wings no longer hurt because the wounds healed a long time ago and there wasn’t actually a reason for them to hurt in the first place. Yes, the scar are a little sore sometimes, but they never sting like the actual wounds did.

I’m honestly a little embarrassed because I don’t like people seeing me this vulnerable, but there’s nothing I can do now but hope that no one ever brings it up again.

I know Azriel definitely won’t unless I talk about it first and Nesta won’t say anything about it either, but Cassian? Let’s just say he can be a little insensitive sometimes whether he means to or not.

“Feyre?” I whisper.

“Yes?” She squeezes my shoulders and looks at me with kind eyes.

“Could you not— you know— talk about what happened tonight? What you saw, I mean. . .” I ask hesitantly.

“Of course,” she assures me with another squeeze.

“Thank you.” I lean into her embrace a little more. “For everything.”

“Don’t thank me,” she whispers. “You’re family now and we’re here for each other no matter what.”

Blinking away a new wave of tears, I smile weakly and nod.

Family. . . They really are starting to be my family. Maybe not all of them yet, but definitely Azriel, Feyre and Elain.

The three of them tried to cheer me up after dinner and told me that what Mor had said was complete bullshit, but I told them that I’d rather just be alone and they respected that.

Feyre stays with me a while longer before leaving after I’ve assured her that I’d try to get some more sleep.

I obviously don’t, but I wait until she’s gone before sneaking out of my room and into the room with the grand piano.

________________________________________________

[knockyasocksoff2022]

Motion Sick

Sicktember 2024 - Prompt #6 Dizziness/Vertigo

Words: 4,440

Pairing: Tanizaki Junichoru x Tachihara Michizou

POV: First person

CW: Mentions of nausea and throwing up, but no graphic descriptions

Junichirou’s Perspective

I can feel my stomach churning, and that familiar acidity rising in my throat. I’m going to be sick. 

I knew I shouldn’t have come along, the agency didn’t even need me for this trip. It was Kenji who insisted that I come along so I wouldn’t miss the dolphins in the bay. He doesn’t know about my terrible motion sickness and being as spineless as I am, I couldn’t say no to him.

Now I wish I had.

It’s late afternoon but the summer sun is still high in the sky, the weather hot and sticky. My back aches and I feel lightheaded from being bent over the railing for so long.

Then I get an idea. It’s probably stupid, but no one is paying attention to me so I should be safe. I plug in my earbuds and press the dial button for the first contact in my phone. At first, the ringing is uncomfortably loud then the call is answered and his voice fills my ear.

“Jun? You good? You only call if there’s an emergency.”

I don’t answer right away, letting Michizou’s warm voice wash over me. I swallow thickly.

“Junichirou?”

“Sorry,” I whisper

“What for? You’re not hurt, are you? Why are you whispering?” Panic enters his voice. I shake my head before remembering he can’t see me.

“N-no. I’m-“ My voice fades out as my stomach roils, threatening to send its contents back up. I think I’d die if I puked while talking to Michi on the phone, that’d be way too embarrassing. I shouldn’t have called. “It’s stupid. You can hang up if you’re busy.” 

“I’m not. I’m at lunch with Gin and Higuchi. I'm glad you called too, cuz they were being all disgustingly lovey-dovey. And I’m sure whatever you called me for ain’t stupid. What is it?” Despite the loud conversations around him, his voice is comforting.

“I . . . well, I’m getting motion sick and I think I’m gonna puke. I . . . uh . . . just thought that hearing your voice might distract me a bit.” It sounds dumb as I say it.

He doesn’t answer, the line crackles in silence.

“See, I told you it was stupid.”

“No, it’s not. Where are you? In a car?” His voice is calm now, with a serious tone and I can imagine his expression, cool as he thinks through the situation. The background is quieter now like he’s stepped even farther away from wherever he was.

“On a boat, we’re looking for evidence in a murder case that was dumped in the bay. The waves are bad today though, so . . .”

“So that’s why we’re whispering.” I can see him nodding to himself. I smile at the thought, “Where are your meds?”

“I left them at home,” I admit.

“Of course you did. I’d bring you some, but . . .” He laughs, the affectionate teasing sending warmth through me. “So what should I do?” The teasing turns to sympathy.

“Can we just talk? About anything.” The desperation leaks through as another wave rocks the boat.

“Sure. . . .” He hums trying to think of a topic, I find myself tapping out the rhythm on the railing focusing on it instead of the rocking of the boat. He ends the melody with a flourish, “Today I ran into Elise, you know, the Boss’s kid or whatever.”

I turn on the camera and nod, still not trusting myself to speak. Michi seems to get it.

“Yeah, well she somehow bribed him to wear not only a maid outfit but a nurse outfit and one of those supposedly “sexy” devil costumes. She showed us all the pics. It was a riot but I felt kinda weird looking at them, you know. Like it was an invasion of privacy, and also if the Boss knows I saw them he might give me desk duty indefinitely.”

I laugh, so hard that my stomach pain increases fivefold but it feels good.

“That’s the only really funny story I have for today, some other stuff happened too, we had an assassination job, but if you think you’re gonna puke maybe I’d best not tell you those. . . . Anyways, want me to make dinner tonight. I might need your help, but I can do most of it. I know being sick always makes you tired.”

I think I can speak again, I take a breath, sighing when I find my stomach has settled down considerably. “Yeah, I would like that, make it something light though, a soup or something.”

“Cool. And, uh, don’t feel bad about calling, I’m happy to help. And seeing Gin with Higuchi was making me miss you a lot, I miss you right now.” He sounds awkward, still new to expressing emotions so blatantly. My stomach clenches, not out of nausea, but wanting. Seeing him over the phone isn’t enough, I want his arms around me, his lips brushing my cheek.

“I miss you too, but I guess I should let you go before Gin and Higuchi get suspicious.” I’ll admit even I can tell I sound pouty, but I know the longer I stay on the call the more likely it is for one of the other agency members to catch me.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But promise you’ll call me back if you start feeling bad again.” I can hear the worry in Michizou’s voice even as he tries to hide it. It makes my heart flutter in my chest.

“Okay,” I say the word but don’t hang up, neither does he. We exist for a moment in comfortable silence.

“They’re so wrapped up in each other I think we have at least another hour before they realise.” He rolls his eyes.

I smile.

He starts telling me about how Akutagawa was being creepy while referring to some short story about some gate, and I bask in the warm glow of his voice and enthusiastic facial expressions as he talks. Soon I’m laughing so hard I drop my phone, my earbuds yanked out of my ears. I can faintly hear Michizou complaining about how I “dropped” him.

I bend down to pick up the device but someone is already handing it to me. Kenji. 

My breath catches and I feel nauseous again. Maybe he’ll be really nice and won’t tell.

He stares at the phone screen, and Michizou stares back, as if maybe if he’s still enough Kenji will think he’s just a photo. Or maybe he’s in shock. After a second he clicks off the camera and hangs up belatedly.

“Why were you talking to the Bandaid guy? Is he your friend?” Kenji asks it with no malice whatsoever, but if he knows he might tell the others, not realising the ramifications.

I think about asking who he’s referring to, and playing dumb but it’s too late for that.

“Oh, um, we were just . . . He’s my friend, but you can’t tell anyone okay.”

“Okay! Is he nice like Cool Hat-san?”

I snort at his nickname for Executive Nakahara. “Well, he’s nice to me, but he can be a little mean sometimes, you know.”

“Oh, he’s just like Cool hat-san then!”

“What do you mean?”

“Cool hat-san always seems so angry but one day I saw him and Dazai-san snuggling with each other through the window of Dazai-san’s dorm. And he must be a really good hugger because Dazai-san kept telling him not to stop. I was only walking by so I don’t know the rest, but they seem also to be good friends.”

I’m so shocked that I can’t answer for a whole minute. I’m not sure what the hell is going on between those two but I know they weren’t snuggling. Before I can form an acceptable reply, Kenji asks: “Is Bandaid guy a good snuggler?”

If I was drinking or eating anything I would have spit it out. I can feel my entire face heating up. I’m not sure whether I’m saved or doomed even further because Atsushi is walking over to me.

“Junichirou! What’s wrong? You’re all red!”

“Ohhh, I . . . uhh, I’m just seasick is all, I hate boats!” I groan again, patting my stomach to add extra effect.

Atushi nods, “Oh, I didn’t know. Are you alright? Should I bring Naomi?” He sounds unsure and cringes as he says my sister’s name.

“No!” It comes out too quickly, I force myself to sound calmer, “Don’t bring Naomi, I can handle a little sickness myself. I’ll be fine with a few deep breaths.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod.

Atsushi walks back towards the boat’s cabin.

“Maybe you should call Bandaid guy again, tell him to bring you some medication when we return to the dock,” Kenji says, too loudly, because Atsushi turns back around.

I expect him to make a scene but he just walks over calmly.

“Who’s ‘Bandaid guy?’”

“A friend.” I can hear the shaking in my voice. Atsushi hates the mafia, he’ll never trust me again if he were to find out.

He squints as if thinking then his eyes widen, he stares straight at me. He knows.

What should I do? What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?

“I see. Hope you feel better.” is all he says before walking off again.

WHAT? WHY? Isn’t he going to tell? How is he just okay with that?

-

Everyone else is so busy with the evidence being pulled up from the seafloor that I’m alone again.

The anxiety has turned back into motion sickness, even worse than last time, so despite already being caught once, I do the only thing I can think of, I call Michizou back.

He answers on the first ring.

“Worse?” he asks

“Yeah.” is all I can manage.

“How bad?”

“Bad.” I cringe at the croaky sound of my voice.

“Okay. What can I do?”

“Just talk?”

“Sure. I already told you most of the funny things. Does it matter the topic?”

“Nothing gory.”

“Hmm.” I hear him shuffling around, “How about this? It’s a collection of poems, I got it from my brother . . . it’s what they sent back when he, well, you know.”

He takes my silence and heavy breaths for a yes and starts to recite the poetry. I close my eyes and lay down on the boat deck soaking in his gentle words.

Kenji’s Perspective

After a long day, the boat is finally back in the dock and we’re all gathered at the rail where the ramp will drop for us to get back on the ground, all but one.

“What the hell is he doing?” Yosano-san asks, pointing to Junicihrou-san lying on the boat’s deck with his earbuds in. He looks serene.

“I dunno,” says Atsushi-san.

“I think he’s talking to a Band-Aid guy, or maybe he’s listening to music.”

Oops. What do I do now? I’ll have to apologise to Tanizaki-san for revealing the secret.

“Baindaid guy? Is he a doctor?” Yosano-san asks

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that, but no, I don’t think he’s a doctor. I saw him on Facetime, he looked way too young.” I shrug. 

I did recognise him, from the raids on the office, but I don’t know his name. I hope she doesn’t ask if I know him. I’m a terrible liar. Thankfully Atsushi steps up.

Atsushi’s Perspective:

I tap Kenji on the shoulder and he steps back.

If you’d asked me to lie even a few months ago, I’d have totally flaked, but these past few months of excusing for gaps in time have improved my skills greatly. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.

“Maybe he’s a friend from school? The siblings go to the local High School, right? Surely the two of them must have some friends besides us to see when they’re not working? If not that’s sad.”

Yosano-san nods, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Maybe? But they’re pretty weird so I’m not sure. They've never mentioned anyone. If it is a friend, though, I’m glad. Maybe Noami will find a nice boy to get attached to instead of her brother.” She sounds doubtful. I don’t blame her.

“Eh, well just go and get him. I’m sure he’ll tell you if you ask.” Kunikida-san says

I can’t help frowning at this. “Yeah, he probably will.” It comes out louder and more bitter than I intended.

“What’s that face for?” he asks.

“He’s scared of Yosano-san, and you know it. It’d be unfair to use that against him. He probably doesn't want to tell us, so don’t make him, okay.” I’ve never snapped at him before, and I’m not sure if this qualifies, but I don’t want Junichirou to say anything he isn’t ready to yet. 

Ryu told me about them as soon as they got together. And . . . I know that Motojirou-san has a massive crush on Yosano-sensei

She frowns back at me. “Okay? Jeez. What’s got you so intense about this so suddenly?”

“I- I, he just looks really relaxed. If he’s not in pain from the seasickness anymore, does it matter?”

“I suppose not.” She concedes, still looking very suspiciously at me. After a tense moment of staring, we both nod. The boat is almost to the dock, and Junichirou is still lying on the deck.

Kunikida-san is walking over to him, probably worried about his schedule, we were out here longer than planned. The last thing he wants is for disembarkment to be delayed. Poor Junichirou. 

Kunikida’s Perspective:

I have patience for Junichirou’s affliction, of course I do, but if he doesn’t get up soon, we’ll have to carry both him and the evidence off the boat. I’m sure Kenji wouldn’t mind, but, still . . .

As I look down at him, it’s impossible to miss that he looks more serene than I’ve ever seen him, and on a boat of all places. His breathing is steady and even. He’s hovering on the edge of sleep. I wonder what he’s listening to. White noise maybe? Surely not waves?

I almost don’t want to wake him. Alas, it’s necessary.

“Tanizaki-kun, please get up. We’re at the dock now. You won't feel ill anymore.”

He doesn’t stir. After a moment I give him the lightest of taps with my toe. 

“Mmm, Michi? No. Let me sleep a bit more, okay? I’ll have soup later.”

“Michi? Who’s Michi? It’s me, Kunikida-san. Your superior at the agency.”

He jolts up, eyes wide. Is this “Michi” his girlfriend? If so, I can see how that would be embarrassing.

“Wha– I-I’m so sorry. I thought, uh, I thought that you were, uh, my . . . brother. Yeah, my bro Michi, uh, you know.”

Brother? But, he has no other family members besides Naomi, as far as I’m aware.

I look him dead in the eye, daring him to continue. He powers down his phone, probably ending whatever audio he was listening to.

“Tanizaki-kun, you don’t have a brother.”

He blinks slowly, processing. “M-maybe I do . . .”

“Tanizaki-kun. I don’t really care who you were talking to, but you do need to get up. Come on.”

He looks distinctly relieved as I help him to his feet. He sways a little but seems alright overall.

-

When we return to the office, the President relives Junichirou of his duties for the day.

“Go home, Tanizaki-kun. Rest up.”

“T-thank you, sir.” Junichirou bows deeply, still looking a little shaken.

Poor boy. Today wasn’t easy on him. Kenji apologises for suggesting he come along as he goes, but Junichirou shakes his head, saying it’s fine, telling him not to feel guilty.

Junichirou’s Perspective:

It’s nice that Noami agreed to stay at the office to help out with paperwork in my place. Even a few months ago she would have never.

After lying down for so long, it feels odd standing up. My head spins and my legs feel heavy. I still feel hot with the embarrassment from earlier with Kunikida-san. 

When I’m far enough away from the office, I pull out my phone and dial Michizou again.

The car park feels way too large, and heat radiates off the concretised ground. Since when did the earth rotate so fast? Maybe it’s just me?

“Hey, Jun, you hung up on me earlier, what happened? Are you back now?”

“ . . . Yeah, and I th-think I’m gonna pass out. P-please come pick me up.”

“Shit! Yeah, where are you?”

“Uhh, everything a bit fuzzy honestly.”

“Jun? Shit, uh, stay awake okay, er, sit down if you can, yeah?”

“Yeah.” I do, leaning against some stranger’s car. It does help. “I’m sitting, I’ll share my location.”

“Okay, I’m coming.”

-

I open my eyes to the screeching of tyres. It’s close, but I can’t bring myself to move, too afraid I’d only fall. Which I guess doesn’t make much sense since I’m already sitting.

“Jun! Hey, Jun, you good?”

Michizou stands over me. He crouches down, tucking my hair back.

“Hey, come on, let’s get up.”

He starts to lift me but his body is too warm against mine, I shove him off.

“Too hot.”

“Sorry. I’ve got water.” He holds out a thermos, I take it eagerly, almost dropping it, but it doesn’t fall, only floats. It’s cool. I watch it in awe for a minute.

“Jun? Are you alright? You need to drink.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m just a bit out of it.” I must be more ill than I thought, It’s obviously just Michi’s ability that’s making the thermos float.

“Okay, tell me if you feel sick again.”

“Yeah.” Carefully, I take a sip. The cool water does wonder, the fog clearing so quickly it makes me a little dizzy again.

“Better?”

“Much.”

“Good, I have meds at home, and soup too, you’ll need to eat.” He says as he opens the door for me.

I don’t realise that he’s given himself the driver’s side until I’m already under the safety belt, hand movements on autopilot.

“Wait, Michi, you know I have to drive. If I don’t I’ll get sick again.” I start to unbuckle the belt, but it’s a bit harder than usual, with so many straps. Michizou puts a hand over mine to stop me.

“Juni.” It’s a sweet nickname, one he almost never uses. I can count the number of times on one hand, and this is only the second. It makes me feel ready to melt. “You’re all dizzy and shit. Let me drive, yeah? We’ll be home soon.”

“But . . . I’ll get sick again.” It’s babyish of me, I know and I hate how whiny I sound but, “Michi, I really don’t want to be sick again.”

He leans over the console, hugging me from the side. He smells nice, and the motion is gentler than usual. He rubs my shoulder and runs his fingers through my hair. The small action does wonders for the blooming headache, “I know. But you’re not good right now. Just this once? You’re always fixin’ me up when I’m down, so let me help you today.”

His hands feel so good that my eyes start to close. He’s right, there’s no way in any universe I could operate a vehicle like this. And he’s a better driver than me on my best day, more experienced.

“Yeah, I’m dumb.”

“No, you’re not,” he assures. “Just close your eyes. I’ll wake you at home.”

-

When Michizou’s voice draws me from sleep I open my eyes to the sight of the out kitchen counter overhead light. It’s off, sparing me from a worse headache. Am I . . . on the counter? He must’ve carried me in and put me here. I blush a little. There’s something cool on my forehead, a flannel, I think. Do I have a fever? I thought I was just seasick, but maybe . . .

“You’re really warm, not a fever, but I think you got heat stress,” Michizou informs me, his voice drifting in from the bedroom.

“Oh,” Is all I can say. I notice that he’s stripped me down to my pants and tank top. I do feel better. “Why am I on the counter, though?”

He blushes this time, “I dunno, I figured the sofa would be too hot since you’re kinda sweaty.”

“Makes sense.” Our sofa is very warm, and covered with blankets that Gin and Ichiyou-kun gave us.

The room only blurs a little when I sit up. I wring the now slightly warm cloth out in the sink.

“Google said a cool bath would help bring down your temp and with the headache. How sick do you feel? Do you wanna eat first? Or can the meds wait.”

I consider myself for a moment. I’m still a little queasy. I was asleep so I didn’t get sick in the car, but the ride didn’t exactly help. The medication would bring relief, but I’m still worried whatever I eat might come right back up. I hate throwing up. You’d think it’d be easy after all this time, but it hurts. Maybe if I wait it out, the queasy feeling will go away. “Bath first, I think.”

“Kay, I’ll run the water.”

-

The bath fills quickly, and because I don’t have to wait for the water to cool, I can get in right away. It feels like heaven after all day on the hot boat deck. I just soak for a minute, listening to Michizou finish dinner in the kitchen. He’s not amazing at cooking, but he can make about five dishes really well, and soup happens to be one of them.

Michi was right, I am sweaty. I should probably shower.

Lazily, I drain the tub and turn on the shower nozzle. Standing up reminds my stomach of the boat, but the cold water helps.

-

“Soup’s done. There’s cucumber salad too, and watermelon cuz Gin went to the farmer’s market. I gotta cut it though.” 

“Mmm, sounds good. I’m almost done.” I hope my stomach can take it.

“You decided to shower?”

“Yeah.”

“Feeling better?”

“A lot.”

I hear him start to return to the kitchen.

“Wait.”

“Yeah? Do you need help?”

“Could you wash my hair?” I’m grateful he can’t see me, it makes the request easier. I’m so used to having affection sort of forced on me by Naomi, as pure as her intentions may be, that it’s made me shy to ask for it.

“Sure, let me just wash my hands. Be there in a sec.”

-

I hear the tap shut off and Michi’s footsteps, almost silent across the wooden floor.

The door opens. He smiles, softer than his usual fanged grin. He’s holding a pitcher and a stack of clothes. I must’ve forgotten do get mine.

I sit, waiting patiently as he fills it.

“So, did your colleagues find the evidence they were looking for? For all that trouble, they better have.”

The phrasing makes me laugh. “You’re so formal sometimes.”

He looks down, focusing on the label of the shampoo bottle, “Yeah well, my mum had high standards for me growing up because of my brother, she beat it into me before I left. Some of it stuck, I guess.”

I smile, not that can take away all he’s been through, but I can try. “They did find it, I’m not sure what it was though.”

He laughs at that. “Tip your head back.”

I do, letting the cool water cascade over my head.

-

He helps me up.

The clothes in the stack are a mix of mine and his. I borrow from him so much it’s hard to keep track. Well, I say that, but our styles are actually quite distinct. I don’t care, not really. His black tee is well-worn and comfortable.

While I finish dressing, he dries my hair. It’s at times like this when our two-centimetre height difference is noticeable. He doesn’t have to reach up at all. It’s kind of hot, I won’t lie.

-

Thinking about food is one thing, but at the sight of it, I’m suddenly queasy. Not from motion sickness, per se, but just the anxiety that I’ll be sick again if I eat it, a vicious cycle.

“Michi, ‘m gonna-”

He helps me to the sink, rubbing soft circles over my back. 

I haven’t eaten since breakfast, but since I managed to avoid being sick on the boat and in the car, it’s all coming back up. The smell and sight make me sick yet again until my mouth feels disgusting.

“Shit, you’re really not feelin’ good, huh? Maybe I should take your temp again.”

“N-no, m’ not ill. Just worried.”

He seems to get it, as he shifts his hands slowly, running them down my side until his warm palms are against my upset stomach. “I promise, food will make you better, it always does.”

“Y-yeah, I know. M’ just dumb.”

“You really gotta stop sayin’ that.”

“Sorry.”

“That too.”

“Sor- I mean,d pens’t this gross you out.”

“Not really, I’ve seen worse. Besides I’m used to it . . . oh, not from you. You’re fine, I, uh, just had this friend, you know. Anyways, are you good for sec? I’ll get water.”

(A/N: Fukuchi’s always getting hungover lmao)

I nod.

He brings a glass with ice, fills it and hands it to me. I swallow and spit, repeating the process until I can’t taste the bile anymore.

“Better?”

I nod again, still shocked by the rudeness of it.

“You need only eat a bit, just to have something in your stomach before you take the pills. I’m not keen on a repeat of last time.”

There’s that formality again.

Last time. I had a bug so I took paracetamol without eating, got sick then passed out in the bathroom for a few hours.

“Me either.” I let him lead me to the table.

True to his word, and what I know in the back of my mind, the broth is harmless. I manage nearly a whole bowl with a small serving of salad before downing the medication with tea.

-

“See?” He’s smiling as we settle down on the sofa, “You’re fine now.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Now that I’ve cooled down, I miss his warmth again. I pull him closer until he wraps his arms around me.

“I’m so happy that I have you . . . I love you, Michizou.”

Maybe he didn’t hear, but then he leans down, lips brushing my ear, and whispers “Love you too, Juni.”

Suddenly the film isn’t nearly as interesting, not as much as Michizou’s finger in my hair anyway, making me feel all warm and fuzzy. I’m tired today, and I dislike lying, but maybe I’ll tell the President I’m still not feeling so good tomorrow.

Gosh, the things we do for love.

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 34: Starburned and Unkissed

“Cazador took everything. He’s dead, and he still has everything. I can’t see my reflection, can’t stand in the sun, I don’t even remember what it’s like to draw a real breath. All my respiration is a force of habit. Half of my personality is from simply trying to survive. You’ll never hear my heartbeat or see the color of these eyes before they turned red. Before I grew fangs.” His nose wrinkles in disgust. “There is nothing to be lost because he took all of it. You’ll never know the man I was before-” She groans. “Please don’t try to convince me you were ever a man of virtue.” 

Chapter from ongoing fic Forms of Imprisonment. Full chapter/story on AO3.

Pairing: Spawn Astarion (post-tadpole) x OFC

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: 18+. Violence, blood, trauma, mild violence (this chapter), sexual tension, fluff, soaking wet Astarion, hot angry Gale, Shadowheart acting like the only adult in the room, Astarion being an ass. Preexisting relationship, relatively mild chapter but part of a series (that is generally explicit).

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

“Hello, lover.”

Astarion’s grin widens as Celeste pins him to the ground. Water trickles from his damp hair while his rain-soaked trousers chill through her inner thighs as they bracket him in place, her nightgown bunched around her hips. A puddle forms by the open balcony doors as it thunders outside and the curtains, drenched by the storm, ripple in the wind.

“Celeste, darling, drop the stake.” Astarion says precariously, his smile fading, but she remains frozen in disbelief as she stares at him.

Gale, now awake and disoriented, gapes at the scene before him, his eyes wide as if Astarion were a ghost. Shadowheart sits on her knees, her body tense as she contemplates how to best react.

Astarion’s free hand reaches out, his fingers grazing Celeste’s cheek before sliding his thumb around her wrist to the center of her palm, applying light pressure. Slowly, she eases her hold, and the stake clatters to the floor, rolling under the bed. He gives her a slow nod and releases her.

Shaking, Celeste falls to the side, slumping against the bedframe, her gaze fixed ahead, numbness enveloping her. Astarion props himself up on one arm, wincing from the pain of the impact, as he rises to his knees in front of her.

“Are you alright?” His voice is filled with concern, but he refrains from touching her. Her eyes slide to meet his, rage and relief simmering within. When she doesn’t respond, Astarion stands and brushes himself off, looking between the three of them.

“Well, this is an interesting development.” 

“I assure you,” Gale says as he steps over a puddle and shuts the balcony doors against the howling wind and rain. “There have been no developments.”

“Aside from Astarion poisoning Celeste, stealing from us, and then disappearing, you mean?” Shadowheart leers.

Astarion’s scowl deepens. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”

“Why are you here?” Celeste interjects, her voice detached as she gives him a cold, piercing look that makes him wish he’d never come at all. Astarion’s gaze falls to the floor.

“Celeste, I…” He begins with a sigh, crouching before her once again, “I had a plan. To get the Tear safely to Aylin and Isobel, to distract Keresta from you until I could kill her. I never…” his voice falters, “I never anticipated how much I would hurt you. The ways I’d break your trust, what it would do to you…and when I realized what I’d done, I told myself it would be worth it as long as it kept you safe…And now it seems I’ve failed even in that.” He reaches for her hand, but she pulls it back.

“So, why are you here?”

Astarion closes his eyes for a long moment, rain still drips from his soaked curls, cascading down the bridge of his nose. “The Sharrans have…so much power at their disposal. Their cleric incinerated Artor Morlin in shadows right in front of me. Keresta said…” He swallows hard, his throat tight. “She told me she’d do the same to our friends, to you, if I crossed her.”

“So you chose to leave,” Shadowheart interjects, raising an eyebrow in disbelief, “and thought she’d be perfectly okay with that outcome?”

“I had no other choice,” Astarion reaches out and grasps a disoriented Celeste’s arm, “Which is why we need to get out of Waterdeep.” He urges, pulling her to her feet.

“Because that worked out so well the last time,” Shadowheart grumbles. 

Celeste shakes her head. “No. No more running.” 

“Did you hear a word I just said?” Astarion asks incredulously. 

“Give her a moment. This is a lot to take in.” Gale interjects. 

Astarion’s frustration grows. “Fine, I’ll make it simple then. We need to leave now.” He tugs Celeste after him towards the door, but she digs her bare heels into the floorboards, ripping her arm away from him.

In an instant, Astarion catches her wrist, barely an inch from his cheek, just as she attempts to slap him. His eyes grow dark as his fingers curl around it roughly. He slowly backs her into the wall, careful to keep their bodies from touching.

“Let’s not start with that again.” He says through his teeth, “It’s been a very, very long night.”

Suddenly, a pair of rough hands forcefully pull him away from Celeste, throwing him against the doorframe. Gale clutches Astarion’s collar tightly, holding him in place.

“You’re not taking her anywhere against her will,” He snarls, his voice seething with fury. “I said, give her a moment.” A look of surprise washes over Astarion’s face as he recoils from the wizard’s grip.

“Both of you, stop!” Shadowheart swiftly intervenes, pulling Gale off Astarion. He stumbles back, still fuming. The cleric takes a cloak from a nearby chaise and drapes it around Celeste’s shoulders, shooting a disdainful glance at both men.

“Apologies,” Astarion mumbles, clearing his throat with a guilty look, “As I mentioned, a very... long night.” His weariness is clear as he drags a hand across his face. Now, in the light, Celeste notices the hollows beneath his eyes, evidence of how little he’s fed, despite the crimson staining his lips, dried blood on his chin and neck. 

Gale sighs. “Sorry. Blame it on the sudden awakening.” He casts a glance at Celeste, who is silently seething against the wall, then back at Astarion. “Your bed upstairs is still there for you. Perhaps we should all rest and discuss this tomorrow.” 

“We don’t have that kind of time.”

“We have plenty of time. The wards around the tower will hold just fine for now.”

“They didn’t keep me out.” 

“They weren’t meant to. As long as you have good intentions, you are always welcome here, Astarion.” Gale says softly.

Astarion's throat tightens and he nods, somewhat with disbelief, as he reaches towards the door handle, looking at Celeste before he leaves. Her expression has softened some, but remains distant. 

“Thank you,” Astarion says to Gale in a low voice, before slipping into the hall and upstairs to the attic. 

————————————————

Astarion feels her presence lingering in the doorway before he sees her. 

“Care to talk now?” He asks from the bed as he stares at the ceiling. The cobwebs cast intricate patterns of vein-like shadows against the wooden beams, dancing and shifting with each gentle flicker of light from the candle on his desk.

“That depends.” Celeste says. She crosses the threshold of the room, remaining near the wall, her vexation evident. “Will you respect my decisions?”

Astarion rolls his head towards her, releasing an exasperated sigh. “I will. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 

“Even better.”

With a haughty glare, he sits up and swings his legs off the bed. “Are you here to gloat or did you want something? Perhaps you’ve brought another stake to drive through my heart.”

“You did say you’d prefer to be staked…”

“I know what I said! ” Astarion snaps. He runs a hand through his hair before burying his face in his hands. After a moment, he braces his palms on his knees, and leans forward.

“Can I do anything to fix this?” He asks in a softer tone. 

Celeste lets out a long sigh through her nose. “I don’t know.” Biting her lip, she glances toward the hall. Astarion pushes himself to his feet with a soft grunt. 

“That’s a start, I suppose.” He says with a smirk and crosses the room. Celeste’s eyes follow his every movement as he rests his forearm on the wall, leaning against it, his body inching closer to hers.

She notices his dry hair and fresh clothes, remarking, “You’ve cleaned up. Whose blood was that from before?”

“A… friend’s,” He answers, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. “She helped me escape. We had to stage an attack to make it believable. No harm was caused.” As he observes a flicker of concern flash across Celeste’s face, he quickly adds, “…and no lines were crossed. A newfound ally. Nothing more."

Celeste nods, her eyes flickering with a sense of relief that is impossible to miss. 

Astarion’s gaze drifts over her, taking in the subtle changes since he last saw her. She’s more toned, presumably from training, and to his surprise, her flushed cheeks and bare shoulders are sun-kissed. Sensing his thoughts, she mutters.

“Wyll has me practicing in the daylight.” 

Astarion can’t help but emit a quiet snort of amusement. “What a waste.” Without thinking, he brushes the back of his fingers down the length of her arm, feeling the warmth radiating from her skin. Celeste watches his movements, flushing in response, but doesn’t recoil.

“How so?” 

“Surely there are other undiscovered powers of yours hiding in the moonlight.” His fingers lift away, curling towards his hand, lingering, as if unsure what to do next. The absence of his touch leaves her skin in a state of constant ache.

“I’ve had some…limited success while you’ve been away.” She confesses.

Astarion raises an eyebrow, tilting his head back slightly and gesturing to the center of the room before crossing his arms. “Well, don't hold back. Show me.” 

“It’s not a party trick.”

“Of course.” He says with an impish grin. 

“Fine. But remember that I said limited success.” She extends her hand before her, furrowing her brow as she recalls Gale’s lesson. As she concentrates, a couple of sparks of light materialize in the air, their transient glow fading almost as quickly as they appeared.

“Well. I’m sure that will have Keresta quaking in her boots.” Astarion jests, his tone laced with sarcasm. “It’s never too late to leave…”

Celeste scowls, her focus intensifying as she attempts to evoke the emotions from before: the anguish, the grief, her family, the connections she had forged over the past several months…

Nothing.

Her gaze shifts to where he watches, his devastating features just barely illuminated in the candlelight. She tries to hold on to her contempt, her anger towards him, but it fades away, replaced by a familiar longing. Her desire to touch him, to be held by him, for all of this pain to…

Astarion raises an eyebrow, questioning her intent as she continues to stare at him. Her stomach flutters in response, and the sparks in the air begin to reform. Yet he remains oblivious, tilting his head to the side, his brow furrowing in curiosity.

“What is it?”

As he speaks, the shimmers intensify, their ethereal glow captivating his attention. A swirling blizzard of blue and silver light encircles them, whispering against their skin, tousling Astarion’s disheveled curls like a winter breeze. The halos of Celeste’s irises seem to flicker as the starlight surrounds them, and Astarion squints, contemplating, before he pins her to the wall, his body melding against hers with a delicate touch.

“What are you doing?” she breathes.

“Testing a theory,” he purrs.

Closing the distance between them, his lips hover just above hers. He drags his fingers across the rough texture of the exposed brick where he had been leaning as he presses himself closer, stifling a moan as her body responds to his. 

The power coursing through Celeste’s veins flares, and suddenly, a night sky bursts above them, dissolving the ceiling into a phantasm of stars. Astarion steals a quick glance upward, one hand still braced against the wall above her, while the other glides down to rest at her waist.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he murmurs into her ear.

Celeste’s breath hitches, and the illusion dissolves. The wooden beams of the attic return as the night sky dissipates, stars falling like snowflakes to the floor and vanishing into nothingness.

Astarion returns his attention to her, cocking his head to the side and frowning as he senses her apprehension. He takes a step back, his face grim, eyelids lowered.

“I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” He asks in a low voice.

She shakes her head. “No,” she whispers, “it’s not that.”

“What do you want, Celeste? Tell me what I can do to fix this.”

“I don’t know….”

“Well, when you finally figure it out, I’m certain they’ll throw a damned ball in your honor.”

“You don’t get to be angry-”

“I get to be whatever the hells I want!” He hisses. 

“If you’d taken one moment to ask me what I’d wanted before, it would have been for you to stay. I would have crawled out of a thousand graves if it spared you from subjecting yourself to servitude again, to Keresta, I thought I’d lost you-”

“There’s no one to lose, Celeste. Cazador took everything. He’s dead, and he still has everything. I can’t see my reflection, can’t stand in the sun, I don’t even remember what it’s like to draw a real breath. All my respiration is a force of habit. Half of my personality is from simply trying to survive. You’ll never hear my heartbeat or see the color of these eyes before they turned red. Before I grew fangs.” His nose wrinkles in disgust. “There is nothing to be lost because he took all of it. You’ll never know the man I was before-”

She groans. “Please don’t try to convince me you were ever a man of virtue.” 

Astarion’s eyes narrow, his lip curling. “Oh, fuck off, I’m serious-”

“And so am I. I love the man you are now, Astarion.” She continues earnestly. “You are not tainted by what he made you do, what was done to you.” She takes a step closer, reaching for his hand, “But he’s finally dead. So leave him to rot,” she pleads, her voice filled with anguish. “and live."

He stares at her, his jaw clenching as he holds her gaze, his expression unreadable.

“Just-” 

“Stop talking.” He growls, and his mouth captures hers in a fierce kiss before she can finish her sentence.

I hope you enjoyed this installment! If you feel so inclined, I'd super appreciate any interaction/kudos on AO3 or Tumblr! If this is where you first found the story, you can go back and find the full fic on AO3 here! Thank you so much! x