#My brain still isn’t working so sorry if this is worded badly

[jamietwat]

Roy and Jamie doing the celebrities read mean tweets thing but instead of from random people, it’s just all the bullshit they tweeted about each other that the other didn’t see in the time between Roy blocking Jamie on everything after Jamie tagged him in a tweet about how overdue Roy’s retirement was and Roy unblocking him but not telling him and just waiting for him to figure it out himself once they became friends (not that Roy would ever admit that that was what they were)

(Also, they definitely regularly seemingly unprompted tweeted horrible things about each other and fought online before that but neither of them blocked the other (or followed the other) because they preferred tagging the other in their bullshit for extra annoyingness but Roy was just at his limit for putting up with anything when he retired so Jamie said something not even as bad as usual and got blocked instead of the public argument he was anticipating)

Keeley’s like oh god this is a bad idea I’ve seen what they both tweeted and there’s no way this isn’t going to end up with them both pissed and probably getting into a physical fight

But instead, they both find them hilarious and there’s a lot of “oh, that’s a good one” and “that’s not your best work. You said worse to me this morning” and it’s the most Roy Kent’s been caught on camera laughing

[pupkashi]

gojo’s favorite hobby is being your personal nurse

a/n: hi friends ! this is incredibly self indulgent seeing as though i am currently sick and need comfort as i fight this tough battle (studying for exams) i have no idea if this good or not because my brain isn’t really working ,,, sorry if it sucks </3

wordcount: 2,036

masterlist

it started off with the itch in your nose, just the slightest sensation that you brushed off. the pollen count wasn’t too high anyway, the short walks between lectures should be fine.

you ignored the scratchy and sore feeling in your throat, maybe it was just because you had too much of a fun time at the football game? but you were not sick.

“sweetheart you look like death” satoru pouted, closing the apartment door behind him as he walked in. he easily slipped his uniform jacket off, holding it loosely in his hand, leaning over you and gently pressing his lips to your forehead.

“are you sick? why didn’t you tell me this morning before i left?” he frowned, tossing his jacket to the side and immediately b-lining for the kitchen.

“‘toru what are you doing? I’m fine!” you mumble, the scratchy feeling in your throat making it harder for you to argue back.

“what is it? your allergies? were any of your friends sick? they said the cold was going around again…” he’s mainly mumbling the last part to himself as he trails off.

you can only hear the light clatter of mugs and pots as you peer over the kitchen bar from your spot on the couch. your laptop was open, still untouched as you pulled the blanket closer to your body.

“what are you even doing? i can take care of myself” you sigh, already standing up, heading to the kitchen before satoru’s deep voice has you stopping in your tracks.

“sit down sweets” his voice is firm, leaving no room for argument as you settle yourself back into the couch. only moments later he’s walking over to you slowly, a mug in his hands.

“drink this while it’s still hot, i added some honey in so it tastes a bit less bitter” he smiles, setting it on the table. “I’ll be back in a bit, i want that tea finished by the time I’m back, ‘kay?”

“where are you going?” you ask, eyes peeking from behind the hot mug, the hot liquid soothing your throat.

“gonna get us some pho” he smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he’s vanishing in front of your eyes, the slight gust of wind hitting you softly.

you let out a small sigh, sipping on the tea in front of you, thankful for the brief relief of pain it brought you. your eyes fell on your laptop, a pout on your lips as you realized it was already 6pm and you had yet to do a single thing on your to do list.

before you could even think of grabbing your laptop and doing some work satoru was unlocking the front door, bounding in with two bags of food, setting them on the table and heading over to you.

he didn’t hesitate in closing your laptop, stopping your protests as he sweeps you off your feet and places you softly in the dining chair.

“here take this medicine once you’ve finished all the food” satoru hums gently, sitting down next to you and handing you the gel capsules. “wouldve made you chicken noodle soup but all the chickens frozen” he smiled sheepishly.

“it’s okay angel boy” you hum, sipping on the hot broth, “this is great too” satoru can’t help but smile, glad that you hadn’t lost your appetite.

he’s carrying the dishes to the sink, making sure to wash them and put them to dry before you can even mutter a word argument. ‘you’re sick you should be resting not washing dishes’ you had reprimanded him, a soapy finger pointing to the bedroom, ‘now go get ready for bed.’ your own words biting you in the ass as he repeated them back to you months later.

it wasn’t long after you’d brushed your teeth and changed clothes that satoru joined you in bed, frowning at how badly you were shivering.

“c’mere sweets” he murmurs, already pulling you into his chest.

“what if-” satoru doesn’t let you finish, brushing your hair out of your face a bit before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“stop worrying your pretty little head about me, I’m not gonna get sick” he smiles, pulling you even closer to him. you relish in the radiating heat of his body, more grateful than ever that he had always ran much warmer than you did. “I’m the strongest remember?”

the words have you rolling your eyes at him, not having enough energy to argue back. you’re only mustering a light smack on his chest, fighting back a smile when satoru whines out a soft ‘ouch!’ before squeezing you a bit tighter.

the nighttime medicine kicks in quickly, and between your body aches and runny nose, there isn’t much protest on your end when giving in to the drowsiness.

“gnight angel boy” you mumble, already half asleep as the words tumble from your mouth. satoru peeks his eyes open a bit, taking in your flushed skin, parted lips and messy hair.

“goodnight sweetheart” he smiles, heart pounding against his rib cage. how do you manage to look like the epitome of love and perfection even when you’re sick?

the next morning satoru’s side of the bed is empty, and there’s a hot cup of tea sitting on the nightstand. it’s as you’re taking the first sip of the steaming liquid that satoru walks in with oatmeal and fruits for you.

“how’s my sweetheart doin’?” he asks, his lips pressing to your forehead, the gesture doubling as affection and assurance that your fever didn’t come back.

“‘m okay” you mumble, blowing a bit at the food infront of you to cool it down. “i have lab at 8 though i need to get ready” you sigh, muscles screaming at you to stop moving.

“you feeling better?” he asks, sitting at the foot of the bed, making sure you took your medicine and ate your fill.

“worse actually” you sigh, setting aside the now empty plate and swallowing the gel capsules along with the warm tea.

satoru frowns at your words, your skin still flushed and goosebumps trailing along your arms despite being swaddled in the fuzzy blanket. he’s holding out the thermometer infront of you, hoping for his initial guess to be wrong, but as he reads the thermometer his frown only deepens.

“you’re burning up” he sighs, already pulling his phone out and dialing shoko, walking out the bedroom before you can say anything. “yeah can you make a doctors note for y/n? they’ve got a fever and i don’t want them leaving the house for another couple days.”

you can hear the smile in his voice as he thanks his friend, walking in with a wide grin on his face as he takes the plates from your lap.

“shokos making you a doctors note so you don’t have to worry about working or class or anything until next week” he grins, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“i still have some homework i have to finish up tonight” you frown, falling back on the plush pillows behind you. satoru’s footsteps are quiet as he leaves the room, and you can vaguely hear the sound of the kitchen sink running as he washes the dishes.

you don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until you wake up hours later, the sun shining through the still closed blinds and your just a tad bit sweaty, most likely from the fever your body was still fighting off.

your muscles are still aching as you throw the blanket off your body, suddenly feeling much too hot for the layers of clothes you have on.

you’re peeking your head out from the hallway, the tv playing softly and satoru has your laptop in his lap, fingers typing away as his eyes land on you after a minute.

“what are you doing?” you ask, slowly making your way towards him, fatigue hitting you the second you sit down.

“i wrote your paper already so you didn’t have to worry about it, you can check it over before you turn it in, also emailed your lab instructor so you can get a makeup assignment for todays stuff” he smiles, turning the screen to you.

“toru you didn’t have to” you pout, warmth blooming in your chest, this time not related to your illness. satoru is smiling at you, pressing his glossy lips to your nose, taking a second to smooth your hair down before shaking his head.

“it’s the least you deserve,” he replies, “don’t want you stressed while you’re sick, focus on getting healthy for me again.” the slight twinkle in his blue eyes is enough to make you cave, knowing there was no way to talk him out of this one.

your body wiggling it’s way under one of his arms is enough of an answer for him. he can feel how hot your skin feels against his, but he doesn’t mention it as you doze off against him, only waking you when his timer goes off.

“what’re you timing?” you ask, still slightly asleep as you watch him head to the kitchen.

“your soup is done! it’s time for you to take medicine again.”

your lover is attentive and doting if nothing else, serving you a generous bowl of his home made chicken noodle soup. he’s explaining the benefits of each vegetable as he plates the food, telling you how he made megumi some when he used to get sick and how the boy always seemed to get better soon after.

“it has everything to do with the secret ingredients and not with the medicine i was making him take” he grins, placing the bowl on the dining table and ushering you over.

you bring the first spoonful to your lips, fully expecting to have to lie through your teeth and tell your lover how amazing the soup was. but you didn’t have to lie, and the evident shock on your face was enough to boost satoru’s ego through the roof.

“oh wow” you mumble, bringing a second spoonful to your mouth, “this is actually really good.” your brows are slightly furrowed as you finish the soup, sniffling a bit as you set your spoon down.

“not bad huh?” there’s a giant grin on his glossy lips as he smiled at you, and even sick and feverish you’re rolling your eyes at him and crossing your arms over your chest.

“what’s the secret ingredient?” satoru is quick to light up at your question, pressing his lips to your cheek before replying.

“love!”

you can’t help the smile that plays on your lips, giggling a bit at his one word reply. “no wonder it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” you reply, the words making his smile grow wider as he follows you back to bed.

satoru doesn’t say anything as you burrow yourself under the blankets again, instead he helps tuck you in, kissing your forehead the moment you’re finally comfortable.

it’s like that for the next few days.

breakfast in bed, satoru waking you to make sure you take your medicine every six hours. he’s taking your temperature avidly, holding you tightly when you’re sleeping, pressing feathery kisses to your flushed skin.

he’s cooking you home made meals and buying you anything you want, keeping an eye on you at all times when he’s home. he’s waving yaga off when he calls, telling him there’s a much more pressing issue at hand and leaving nanami in charge of his students until further notice.

“angel you know i can take care of myself right?” you mumble, your fingers are tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m not even that sick anymore actually.”

satoru furrows his brows at your words, shaking his head softly at you, “don’t be silly sweets, I’ll always take care of you.” he doesn’t bother giving you time to respond, instead he’s squeezing you a bit tighter, pressing another gentle kiss to your forehead before letting out a soft sigh.

“now get some rest, you need all the sleep you can get.”

“whatever you say dr. gojo” you tease, smiling as he grins down at you.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @orihimeii

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Hi! Can I please request 1 and 16 for Cassian x reader 🥹

“He treats me well-" "Okay good for you." "-but he isn't you."

Cassian x Reader

wc: 1.3k

a/n: so i couldn’t decide how i wanted to combine those 2 different prompts so i’m just writing 2 separate cassian fics i’m sorry. working on the other one right now, but for now here’s this!

warnings: angst, slight suggestiveness at the end

prompt list

Cassian was sick of it. He was sick of watching you date these undeserving males, fall in love with them, and then get your heart broken. Every single time, you run to him to console you. And every single time, he wipes away your tears and assures you that somewhere out there, there is someone who will love you and treat you right. Little do you know, he’s silently praying to the Mother that one day he can be that person for you. Not so silently, he prays that the stupid prick that broke your heart will drown in the Sidra, which usually earns a laugh from you.

Currently, Cassian was trying to keep the irritated expression off of his face as you told him about your most recent date with some new guy.

“He even paid for dinner! How sweet of him, right Cass?” You ask excitedly.

Bare fucking minimum, Cassian thought.

“That’s great y/n.” The words come out a bit more annoyed than intended, making you frown.

“What’s your problem?” You ask.

“Nothing.” He mutters.

“Bullshit, Cass. Did I do something to piss you off?” You try to think back over the past few hours to remember what you did to upset him, but nothing comes to mind.

“I just don’t really care to hear about yet another male that you think is your one true love, who will inevitably break your heart in a week.” You stare at him, stunned.

“Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to talk about my love life to my best friend.” You argue stubbornly. He lets out a laugh.

“I wouldn’t call getting broken up with every other month a love life, sweetheart.” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but it was too late.

“Fuck you, Cassian.” You storm off before he can even apologize.

———

Unsurprisingly, the new guy ended up being a jerk and stood you up the following evening. You had waited at the restaurant for over an hour, earning apologetic looks from the waitress.

Cassian tried to act casual while he sat on the couch at the House of Wind, waiting for you to return from your date. He picked up some random book that Azriel had left and began scanning the pages when you winnowed home. Cassian can’t help but let his eyes roam over you, admiring your stunning figure accentuated by your dress. As soon as his gaze reaches your face, he notices the tears threatening to spill and stands up immediately. He debates walking over to comfort you with a hug or letting you come to him, still unsure if you are mad at him.

“I don’t want to hear ‘I told you so.’ And I know you don’t want to hear about my dating life anymore, so I’m going to bed.” You rush from the room quickly, leaving Cassian alone once again.

Yeah, you’re definitely still mad. Cassian has to fight the urge to follow you. He knows how your brain spirals in these situations, blaming yourself and doubting your self-worth, all because of a stupid male. He wants so badly to go up to your room and console you. He wants to wipe your tears like always and say some idiotic joke to make you laugh. More than anything, he wants to reassure you that this isn’t your fault. But he can’t, so he just sighs and sits back on the couch, picking up the book again.

———

It had been a few weeks since you and Cassian had a proper conversation, both of you too stubborn break the silence first. There had been a few short exchanges, usually just during training or when others were around, but the tension was apparent to everyone.

Cassian had heard from Mor that Feyre set you up with one of her artist friends, Kallum. He can’t be mad at his High Lady for doing what she thinks is best for her friend, but gods he was pissed about it.

You had gone on several dates with him over the past few weeks. He overheard you telling Feyre about them, describing the romantic gesture that Kallum made recently.

Was this it? Would this be the male who finally stole his best friend from him for good? If this male is a friend of Feyre’s, he must be a good guy.

Cassian hurries past the sitting area, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, but somehow you catch his eye. He can’t help but notice the flicker of sadness in your stare.

———

After four weeks of stubborn silence, you approach Cassian at training.

“Hey.” He turns to you, surprised.

“Uh, hey y/n.” He notices that you’re picking at your nails, a nervous habit from when you were a kid.

“So, I’m bringing Kallum to dinner tomorrow evening. To meet everyone.” You say awkwardly.

Oh.

“I know you and I are still in a weird place, but can you please be nice? I want to make a good impression and see what everyone thinks of him.” You bit your bottom lip nervously.

“Why do you care what we all think of him?” He huffs.

“Because I care what my family and friends think of the person I’m dating.” You counter defensively.

“Do you really? Or do you need us to like him in order to convince yourself you like him too?” You scowl, but Cassian has that stupid cocky smirk on his face. He’s not wrong, which only pisses you off more. You had tried desperately to like Kallum. He’s a nice guy and he seems to like you a lot, but you just couldn’t find a spark between you two.

“He’s a good guy Cassian!” Your face turns red and you are too flustered to come up with a more clever response.

“If you say so.” Cassian rolls his eyes. You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself, not him.

“He is! He treats me well!” You argue.

“Okay, good for you.” He says sarcastically. You stay silent for a long moment. Cassian turns to leave, not wanting to argue any longer.

“He treats me well…but he isn’t you.” You say softly.

Cassian freezes. Surely, he misheard you. He turns back to face you and is faced with the vulnerable expression on your face.

“Seeing as you don’t seem to want to be my friend anymore, there’s no point in hiding it any longer.” He takes a long stride towards you and takes your face in his hands.

“You’re right. I don’t want to be friends anymore.” Cassian presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You melt into his touch and tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. The kiss quickly turns heated, and you let out a soft moan. Cassian pulls away, and you give him a confused look.

“As much as I want to continue this, sweetheart, I plan to take you to dinner first. I want to show you how you deserve to be treated on a date.” He leans in close, brushing his lips over the shell of your ear. “And then maybe I can show you how you deserve to be treated in bed as well.” Your face turns bright red, and you nod. Cassian lets go of you, but you pull him in for another kiss, this one lasting a bit longer than the last.

“I should probably go break up with Kallum.” You giggle between kisses. Cassian growls at the mention of another male’s name and pulls you closer.

“That is the last breakup you are ever going to have. I’ve waited 500 years for this, I’m sure as hell not going to mess it up.”

Feel free to keep requesting prompts :-)

prompt list

[bloodiedrogue]

MY LOVE IS MINE, ALL MINE (15)

SUMMARY: Astarion insists that you rest.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,987

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of death and dissociation, a whole lot of fluff and comfort as an apology for all the angsty chapters. :^)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ha-ha, hey do people still care about this fic? (Sorry I went MIA, my brain got bad)

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST

-

It feels odd having Astarion around.

For days, his hands are almost always attached to you in some way. Gripping tightly onto your arm as he guides you out of the bed, drawing patterns into your back each night he quietly lays next to you —anything to make you feel like he’s some sort of extension of you. As if he’s another set of limbs there to help you heal. 

It’s nice, at first. Comforting. And for a while, as you exhaustively lay amongst the sheets and pillows, tucked against the side of his torso, it helps you forget about the world around you. How just beyond this realm of soft looks and tender touches, there’s a war raging on, developing day by day as you tirelessly drift from bed to bath and back again, trying your best not to get too restless.

Which is easier some days than others. 

For example, the first few felt like a breeze. Nothing more than a collection of hours that quickly whizzed by before you could even blink. With Astarion there to distract you, time seemed to slip from your grasp entirely. Exiting your mind in the form of lengthy naps spent latched onto your partner’s frame. 

It was blissful. A much needed break from all the chaos but it was obvious it wouldn’t last. Nothing more than a blip in an otherwise more momentous event, you could feel the restlessness of the future seeping in. Taking hold of your mind, ripping through the cavernous well of missing information that occurred during your death. You couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. How the group managed without you —how Astarion managed.

Based on the lack of space given during the healing process, you assume badly. Considering he’s never touched you like this —like you’re the most fragile thing he’s ever placed his hands on as if at any moment one wrongful slip of his fingers might shatter you all over again— it’s apparent something within him changed. Shifting in a way that, even now, nearly a week later his presence is still stagnant.  

And for the most part, it is nice. A welcomed change amongst all the bullshit. Having him there with you —seeing the lengths he’s willing to go to make sure that you’re safe is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever felt. A dream within a plague of nightmares lulling you to sleep each night he holds you close, telling you that everything’s fine. At least, until it isn’t. Then it feels like suffocation. Like his once-loving hands are now wrapped around your throat, reminding you of what little time you have left. Forcing you to realize that, instead of lying around living in ignorance of the task at hand, you should be helping —working alongside the rest of the party to complete your common goal. 

“I need to move, Astarion,” you tell him. Almost angrily, you press your hands to either side of his face, narrowing your eyes, watching the way he rolls his own and frowns.

“Zamrie said—“

“Oh, my Gods, forget what Zamrie said!” Before he can even protest you’re on your feet and moving towards the door, ignoring the way he huffs in response. Blocking out the sounds of his angered protests as you begin to pull on your boots. “I swear, if I don’t get out of this room I’m going to go insane!”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t do anything other than try to talk you out of it. Relaying each point of criticism with facts to back up his claims, watching the way your face twists in annoyance the longer you realize he’s right. 

Because despite mentally feeling alright aside from the lack of stimulus, you’re still exhausted. A feeling you hadn’t anticipated to take so long to recover from. Assuming you were under the hindrance of any other common illness, you figured you’d be back to normal in a few days tops. No longer feeling numb or shaky. But then again, you were dead. And for a while too, so unfortunately it makes sense as to why as you finish tying your first boot you’re already out of breath. Heavily panting against the warm air of the inn’s top floor as you glance to see Astarion’s smug look. 

“You know I’m right,” he says, and all you do is awkwardly walk back to the bed with your boot still on, collapsing face-first into the mattress with a groan. 

“I’m so bored.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” 

In response, you merely grumble, feeling him roll you over so that he can untie the laces of your shoe, kneeling at the edge of the bed for better access as you let out a huff, unsure what to say.

Because really, there aren’t very many options left. Already you’ve read every book your party has and then some thanks to Gale and his lengthy trip to Sorcerer’s Sundries, as well as exhausted all your conversation topics. At this point, there’s nothing left but card games and sleeping and Astarion frequently cheats which leaves you with the most boring option. The one you’d rather suffer through the pain of activity than submit to, prompting you to look at Astarion with pleading eyes, praying that just this once he’ll give in. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” 

You narrow your eyes and wiggle your foot as he eventually discards your boot, quickly moving to kick his face in annoyance only to have him catch it before you make contact.

“If you don’t stop I’ll cast hold person on you,” he threatens then, moving to grip your knee and pull you towards the edge of the bed. Smirking at the sound of you squealing in amusement at the sudden shift in position. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” you tease, but all he does is slowly maneuver himself above you, slotting his hips between your already spread legs. Ignoring the way your face contorts to showcase the sudden nerves that erupt. 

“I would because then you’d actually rest.” 

“But I am resting.” 

“Hm, are you?”

“I’m laying down aren’t I?”

“That’s different than resting, my love.” 

“Is it?”

Somehow he’s managed to distract you with conversation long enough for you not to notice he’s looming above you. Pressing his palms against the spaces next to your head —shifting the lower half of his body to lightly press against your own. 

Upon noticing this, you swallow hard and try not to smile. Forcing down the anxiety of Astarion’s mischievous gaze exploring your features —taking in the obvious temptation that’s begun to surface. 

“You don’t seem very tired,” he tells you. Teasing you in a way that has you rolling your eyes, allowing it to happen because, while you’ve exhausted a lot of options to entertain yourself, sex isn’t one of them. Considering the two of you have been too busy reuniting and making sure everything about your resurrection continued to go smoothly, the thought really hadn’t occurred to either of you. 

Far too lost in the simple touches of each other’s company, up until now it felt more important just to coexist. To relax and monitor rather than jump into something that could only result in complications. 

Which is a thought that sits at the back of your mind. Even as he leans down, nudging your nose with his —saying something flirtatious that you completely miss due to the passing thoughts that stroll through your head— you can’t help but wonder if it’s a good idea.

“Are you sure we—“

He cuts you off with a gentle kiss. One that lingers for a couple of seconds before it’s over and he’s grinning above you, moving to glide his thumb along your cheek. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.“

“No, I just —is it right?” 

He scrunches up his face, looking at you in confusion. Making you realize how offensive your words probably sound. “Sorry, I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?”

You take a minute to put together your thoughts, ignoring the way he longs for your answer. Feeling him shift slightly backwards in anticipation of your inevitable rejection. 

“Is this the right time to be doing this?”

He raises his brow and sort of laughs. “Do you mean that morally or?”

“Kind of?”

“Kind of?”

All you do is scoff in embarrassment, moving your hands to cover your face. “I just mean that… should we be having sex while the others are doing all the work?” 

Astarion really laughs at that, his voice practically rising a full octave as he swats away your hands, watching your annoyance only increase at his actions. “Seriously? That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“I feel like it’s a valid concern.” 

“Well, it’s not.” 

“Okay but I think—” 

He steals another kiss, ignoring the groan of protest that hits his lips. Opting to instead grab your cheek again, gliding his fingers against your skin. Feeling the way you almost immediately settle into his touch the moment he pulls away. 

“Darling, you and I both know the other’s don’t give a shit what we do. So long as it’s somewhat legal and doesn’t disturb their sleep.” 

Moving your hands to his torso, you practically sigh in defeat, pinching his hips with frustrated fingers as you lean up and kiss his chin. “I don’t know. I think Gale might be jealous if he comes back and sees us.”

As you fall back down he chases you instantly, enveloping your mouth in his a third time, knowing then that you’re surrendering. That instead of fighting the urge to make excuses, you’re allowing yourself to enjoy what he’s offering. To experience that connection without the added baggage of not knowing whether or not there’s feelings involved. 

Because now that you’ve admitted it —now that both of you have said those three little words, it feels completely different. After travelling and talking and experiencing that unfortunate blip of separation there’s a whole other dynamic that takes place.

For example, somehow his touch is gentler. And not because of your current physical setbacks. No, there’s something tender about it. As if the care he has for you has extended from his heart to his palms, guiding them in ways that make your chest tighten with newfound anticipation. Against your flesh, his fingers are delicately placed, slipping to grip the back of your neck, sprawling out to cover as much surface area as possible. 

Sighing into him, your thoughts wander to different positions. Imagining all of the ways the two of you might end up, you can feel your stomach twist with excitement. Your mouth curling up into an empty-minded smile, unaware of the joy that radiates between you. Too distracted by the happy sound he makes when you grip the waistline of his pants. 

“Does this serve as a good enough distraction for your boredom?” 

You hum and kiss him, eventually pulling back to nod. “Only if it’s okay.” 

For a moment he pauses, his expression turning from playful to serious. His eyes softening at the weight of your words, realizing that you mean it. That for once in his life he’s in control of his own pleasure. 

“I promise you, I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t,” he eventually tells you, and all you do is beam. Moving your hands to his face, you look at him with affectionate pride, running your thumbs along the highpoint of his cheeks —pressing down as you pull him back to rest his forehead against yours.

“I love you so much,” you say, closing your eyes, hearing him softly hum in a way that rips the air right out of your lungs. Feeling the way he stiffens before he ultimately melts beneath your touch, allowing the full weight of his body to press against yours. 

“You mean the world to me,” he responds, moving to kiss your cheek before moving to the other before you open your eyes again to see him hovering above. “When I lost you I—“

You don’t interrupt him. Instead, you just press your lips together and offer a nod, watching his mind work through the blockage. 

“Losing you felt like losing hope. Like I was being shoved back into that blasted mausoleum all over again.” He pauses to swallow, watching you stare into his eyes, refusing to break the contact even though it’s obvious he wants to. “I don’t want to feel like that ever again. I can’t —I won’t.” 

Your hands move towards his shoulders, slowly weaving their way around his neck to pull him close. To let him feel the pounding heart inside your chest and how its pace quickens because of him.

“I know it may seem like I’m ungrateful a lot of the time —that I’m brash or unkind but don’t think for a second I take for granted what you feel for me.” His lips press against yours for a second before they’re separate again. “I love you and I won’t let anything more happen to you.”

As soon as he finishes you can’t help but pull him against your chest, placing a kiss to the crown of his head before resting your chin on top of it. “Mm, you really have a way with words don’t you?”

All he does is chuckle. “I would hope so after all the mindless chatter I’ve done over the last two centuries.”

“I’m sure you’ve swept your fair share of feet with that beautiful voice of yours.” 

He cranes his neck to look up at you. “My voice is pretty beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It’s like music to my ears, darling,” you tell him, partially mocking him as he scoffs in response and reaches for the nearest pillow to smother your already giggling face.

 “Don’t mock me.” 

Awkwardly moving to shove the pillow aside, you feel him shift against you as he sits up, grabbing both of your wrists and pinning them above your head. “Actually, you know what, I take back what I said —I actually hate you.”

“No you don’t.” 

You scrunch up your face in fake annoyance as he leans down again, giving you a chastising look. “I do. So much so that I don’t want to have sex with you anymore.”

“Oh, really?”

While nodding your head, you try your best to get him to release your wrists but to no avail, eventually sighing in response. “Yeah, I’d rather take a bath instead, I think. Get you to wash my hair or something.”

Without even protesting he just kisses your nose and rises from the bed, readying the bath. Taking it upon himself to focus on the task at hand rather than your lingering eyes staring at his dishevelled hair and the way his clothes have shifted out of place thanks to your roaming hands. Something that shouldn’t annoy you but does as you crave his attention. Finding yourself wanting desperately to keep him connected any way you can. 

Because despite knowing he’s here with you, sometimes he isn’t. Instead, sometimes he’s lost in far-off lands, travelling by himself in fear, trying desperately to get back. Behind his eyes, you can always tell when he’s absent because his eyes sort of shift out of focus, dismissing whatever’s directly in front of him in favour of relieving whatever awful memory’s been triggered. 

It breaks your heart. Ultimately spurring you to stand and move behind, wrapping your arms around him as he finishes up the bath. 

“C’mon, get it before it gets cold.” 

Despite wanting to playfully protest, you listen. Taking a reluctant step back while releasing his frame, you slowly begin to peel off your clothes, feeling his fingertips reach for your stomach as you throw your tunic over your head.

“Can I help you?” 

Looking down at his hand, you see his fingers draw patterns into your flesh. How they practically dance their way down to your waist before his other hand slips to the buttons of your trousers. 

“Other way around.”

You look at him, confused, prompting him to laugh. 

“Figured you could use a hand with these.” He tugs the button through the hole with one quick swipe, causing you to bite back a smirk and roll your eyes, allowing him to slowly drag the fabric down your legs. Watching as he moves to his knees along with it. 

Once there, he motions for you to step out of each pant leg, discarding the fabric entirely. Grinning up at you once you’re left only in your underwear. 

“Gods, you’re…” He doesn’t finish. Instead, he just kisses the inner portion of your thigh as he plays with the edge of the fabric, looking up at you with pleading eyes. The kind that you merely nod at, suddenly feeling nervous.

Because it’s been a while since he’s seen you like this. And even so, it continues to feel different. More intimate somehow as he moves at a leisurely pace, kissing your skin while exposing your sex. As it happens, you have to look away and take a breath, feeling everything shift past your thighs and knees, eventually moving to your calves and feet before there’s nothing against you. No fabric or hands or lips —only the suffocating air of the inn hitting your bare skin, forcing you to uncomfortably squirm as you look down. 

“Beautiful,” he mutters, and suddenly it feels like your heart is bursting against your chest, watching as he leans forward to pepper a few kisses along your upper legs, reaching for the scars that line your stomach —ignoring the way they twitch beneath his fingertips as he traces over them. “How about we get you into the tub before the water gets cold, hm?”

Almost nervously you nod, feeling him grip your hips for support as he moves to stand before guiding you into the tub without another word. 

-

TAGLIST:

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @ghostinvenus @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo @acelin-ginsberg @pinkuranium @catrad0rable @scarletrosesposts @qwnamidala @itsrosebabe @bunnyperi @queenofcarrotflowers-s @tatumadams20 @spkyxszn @chlort @f3v3rs @awkwardwookie @joy-the-reader @warm-milk-with-honey-blog @vertigocrime @iyis @wildpiper @pebblethestone @tillywasneverhere @bex-03 @revemiya @staticspouse @itzagothamcitysiren

(taglist continued in reblogs)

[kvrokasaa]

karasu comforting overachiever!reader with a lot of anxiety?

my exams are around, ive cried 6x and had a mental breakdown in 3 days. and im a good student at heart but not on paper. im trying😭

take care! love❤️

I can relate to this sm, I promise myself that I’ll study but then it gets late n all I wanna do is sleep lmfao. But I hope you’re doing alright, love. Remember to drink lots of water and eat lots of food! And take breaks when studying so you don’t get headaches!

Sorry I posted this so late, but here it is.

Cw: crying, fluff, comfort, friends to lovers, cursing, not proofread. lmk if i missed any!

Wc: 1.1k

Overachiever!

Karasu is like your best friend, he’s always been there for you and promises he always will. Even when he left for a program called Blue Lock, he still managed to talk to you. Especially when you were going through a nasty breakup with your ex. He has always been there for you.

Something Karasu noticed over the years of being your friend; you’re an overachiever and a perfectionist. You have to get good grades, it’s like it was hard-wired in your brain since you were a child. If you didn’t get a good grade, even on a test that was optional or didn’t have any impact on your overall grade, you would feel so ashamed and full of anxiety. You were afraid of your teachers hating you, honestly, you’re just afraid of authority figures. You would always try to hide your feelings behind a fake smile, and sometimes it worked. But this time it didn’t.

You were in your room studying, all day long. No matter how many times people tried to pester you, or ask you to take a break, you would decline and go back to studying. You needed to get a good grade. You had stayed up all night long studying and going over the crucial information that would be on the final.

So why? Why do you have an 84% on your final? Why isn’t it at 100? Other people congratulated you, saying that the test was really hard. But you know that Mia, the top student, got the perfect score without even trying.

You tried this year, you really did. You made a resolution that you would try your hardest this year; that you wouldn’t give up so easily like last year. And you know that bad habits die hard, but you were doing so well. Even though this isn’t your last year, you feel like you failed at school.

‘Take a deep breath. Failure is the one pathway to success.’ Karasu’s words came floating into your mind. But you could still feel the onslaught of the tears and the tightness of the pain in your chest. You tried to take a deep breath but it wasn’t enough, it felt like all the oxygen in the world just vanished.

You don’t know how you got home, all the memories of the people saying ‘Good job’ and ‘Don’t beat yourself up, you did better than me’ are the only ones you can remember. All you want to do is crawl into your bed and cuddle your stuffed bear while you cry. But you have to study more; you have to study for your next classes. You can’t just give up because of one class. Oh but how badly you want to.

A sudden knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts. “Come in.” You cringed at the crack in your voice, quickly you straightened your posture and pretended to be okay.

But all of that faux hope and happiness faded away when you saw the unmistakable blue eyes. The tears came rushing back, along with the shaky breaths.

Karasu walked over to your desk and smiled down at you. “Hey, just wanted to stop by,” his hand raised, revealing a bag with your favorite restaurant name. “I brought your favorite.” His voice died down, almost to a whisper when he saw your tears.

You quickly wiped them, but the red streaks were still there. He sighed and sat down on your bed. “It’s okay, Y/n. Stuff like this happens, don’t worry about it too much.” You shook your head. “No, I should worry about it,” he raised a brow. “Why?”

You felt a little agitated because he couldn’t understand. Of course he couldn’t, he’s always been the type of person to get good grades without even trying. Knowing him, he probably slept through most of his classes and still got a 95 or higher on his final. Typical Karasu.

“Because who would I be if I don’t have good grades? I know that grades don’t matter much in the world, but I’m the one who feels the shame. I’m the one who has to remember what it feels like to try your hardest and still fail.” You felt like pulling your hair out, breaking things, just something to ease your mind. To ease the pain.

He brings his hands up to your cheeks, squishing them a little which brings a smile to his face. “Remember what I always tell you. ‘Failure is a pathway to-’ ” “To success. I know that, but still,” You move your head, making him release his grip. “I don’t want to fail, I don’t want people to remember me as the person who always failed.” Your voice was almost higher than a whisper, but he still heard you loud and clear. Karasu could hear and feel the pain from your voice.

“You-” you release a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

‘Ironic’ he thinks, you’re the one who’s not understanding. A simple grade doesn’t define who you are as a person.

“Y/n look at me.” He grabs your face, “You are doing your best, you’re trying your fucking hardest and I’m so proud of you for that. You’re way smarter than what people give you credit for.” You try to shake your head, but his grip on your jaw tightens. “No. I don’t want to hear you deny anything. You need to understand that it’s okay to fail, it’s okay to feel helpless after a bad grade. But it’s not okay to beat yourself up. Don’t worry too much about how this grade, which is a passing grade, will affect your future.”

Karasu pulls you in for a hug. You close your eyes and bury your face in his chest. “You’re in the present right now, not the future. And I’m sure the future you are a CEO; trust me I can see it.”

You both laugh at his words. You sniffle and look up at him, “thank you, I really needed that.” He nods his head; his eyes looking from your eyes to your lips. “Anytime, I mean it.”

This is what you expected, a lecture and comfort from Karasu. It’s what you wanted. But what you didn’t expect was his lips on yours. Before you could enjoy the moment, he pulled back and smiled down at you. “Safe to say that I think you return my feelings,” your eyes darting everywhere but his and your little nod was a good enough answer for him. “And as much as I want to kiss you again. Our food is getting cold.” He pulled you down onto the bed along with the bag of food. “Let’s eat.”

[lu-dao-writes]

— Kairos

noun: kai•ros: the perfect, delicate, crucial moment; the fleeting rightness of time and place that creates the opportune atmosphere for action, words, or movement.

warning(s) depictions of anxiety, stress, overthinking, and mentions of financial difficulties. Also maybe some grammar mistakes.

It was an overcasted day.

The building, although massive, lacked liveliness.

It wasn’t because a lack of students, oh no. It just… It was dull looking. Basic and aged.

But it’s a university nonetheless. A university that Lucien was fortunate enough to get into.

The student was forcing each foot in front of themself, chanting assurance in their brain, and ignoring the bodies that passed by them, or any they accidentally made eye contact with.

It took everything in them to not completely disassociate or succumb to an anxiety attack while heading to the administration office and receiving the necessary paperwork. They made sure to try and listen as information was being given, making sure to not ask the woman to repeat herself too much, and used the notes app on their phone just in case they forgot.

When the student finally left they fled to the courtyard and sat on a lonely bench, the cornflower paint chipped and the wood a bit cracked.

One breath in.

Hold it for four.

One breath out.

Out for four.

Wash, rinse, and repeat till they felt at least somewhat normal again.

They fix their headphones and flip around through their music, dark brown eyes watching young adults either rush to their lectures or meander with their friends or alone.

They soon study the map of Olympeius and murmur to themself about the next thing to do.

“It’s probably best to figure out where our lectures will be that way I’m not lost like a damn fool when it comes time to my first official day..”

They look around themself and purse their lips. “Nah… I’ll wait till there’s not so many people in the halls…”

Lucien isn’t clueless. Ever since they stepped foot into this city and university, they’ve seen the people walking around it.

Fast, vibrant cars, name brand clothing and accessories, black platinum cards (or flashes of green or pale blue paper), and finally, the attitude of others and how they carry themselves.

Lucien didn’t grow up rich and knew the taste of stress from financial problems, and the bitter feeling of someone constantly taking their money when they probably don’t even need it.

But anyways.

Lucien knew that they’d better keep their head down and try to avoid getting in some peoples way.

Otherwise they just might be eaten alive.

But they try to not think too negatively. Especially when they’re in a delicate headspace currently.

“We’ll be okay… Just stay in your lane and do your work. Don’t wanna disappoint anyone…”

‘I wasn’t bullied too badly in high school, maybe I’ll be okay.’

‘But I came from a simple high school. This place is different.’

‘What if I get caught up in something? Will I get help?’

‘What if I become some rich asshole’s servant?’

‘Will the bullying be like how it is on tv?’

‘Should I take self defense classes? Hell, nah, I definitely don’t got money for that, nor the motivation.’

‘Ugh, what about that bill I still need to pay?’

‘God, I have to find a new therapist too.’

‘So much to do and-.’

“Excuse me? Are you okay?”

It was dull and gray outside. They like it like that, it usually meant rain.

But now… The sun has peaked out from the shade of clouds and licked at their skin.

They blink and shake their head, catching their headphones as it slips back slightly, and there stands a proper looking young man with pretty eyes and an even prettier face.

Brown meets azure, and they nearly choke on air.

“I-.. Yeah..! Sorry, I was lost in thought!” Lucien quickly explained.

The dapper fellow smiles with relief and stands up straight, his hands behind his back. “That’s good to hear. I was quite concerned for a moment! Are you perhaps new?”

A gentle bob of their head and they smile sheepishly at him. “Is it that obvious?”

The man gives a lighthearted chuckle. “Hmm, I wouldn’t say that, but I haven’t seen you before. You just gave it away.”

“Fair,” Lucien chuckles, rubbing their neck, their eyes moving from his eyes and down to his mouth before looking at his attire.

Tawny skin with dusty pink undertones, silken brown hair in a little braid that rests on his shoulder, a few strands fallen in his face, making him look soft but still elegant. He’s got a clear face, plump shiny lips, a cute nose, and expressive eyes.

Blue eyes aren’t something they find interesting, but on him? They’re beautiful.

Fancy black shoes, slacks, and button up, and a purple vest that hugs his torso.

It makes them wary for a moment once they take in his all too neat and perfect appearance, but…

He seems sweet.

“Oh, I’m Lucien, by the way,” they greet.

“I’m Jericho. Jericho Ichabod. But everyone calls me Crowe!”

His teeth are straight and white, and behind him the sun blooms brighter, and Lucien isn’t sure what exactly is blinding them more.

[smok3r7]

Is Leaving Even An Option?

Joel x F!reader

Explicit, 18+

Six: Running Away // Joel’s Perspective

Main Masterlist & Series Masterlist - My Ao3

Summary: Your days have become one in the same, even with the terrifying reality of death right outside the walls of Jackson. You never thought you’d be in the situation you’ve been stuck in for seven years now, the daily abuse you endure has become an expectation. You take whatever your husband throws at you, literally and figuratively, because you’ve been trained to believe this is normal. But a new man, Joel, moves next door and happens to be friendly towards you, this causes your husband’s anger to worsen. Your mind starts a gruesome war with itself - can you leave him or do you stay until the inevitable happens?

Chapter Summary: After Joel met you, his whole life changed. Seeing all these events unfold from his perspective definitely makes the whole thing seem more real, and it somehow makes it harder for you to understand.

Word count: 6.3k

⚠️Warnings: mention of abuse from past chapters, fear of losing another loved one, quick mention of rape from past chapter (no description)

—

“Please, do not call her Mrs. Rossi,” Maria pleads.

“Why not? Isn’t that her name?” Ellie chimes from the living room behind Joel’s relaxed body.

All he does is slightly turn his head to the left and squint his eyes at Ellie to tell her to shut up, and she’s quick to shrug her shoulders as he turns back to face Maria, sorry!

“Well, yes, but… Nate, her husband, is an abusive piece of shit. She’s been with him for seven years now and for some reason,” Maria sighs as she shakes her head, “the poor girl won’t leave him. So just, please, don’t call her Mrs. Rossi.”

He nods as he takes a sip of hot coffee as he turns to Ellie once again to make sure she understands, “I’m not stupid, Joel.” He just shakes his head as he still stands in the kitchen that belongs to Tommy and Maria. Why won’t she leave if it’s that bad, floats around his head so much that he can’t help but ask Maria how bad this marriage actually was, before Maria goes down the rabbit hole of it all with him and Ellie.

—

How could someone stay married to such a vile person? It just makes no sense. After only knowing him for less than a year, she married him. I mean, what was she expecting to happen? She didn’t even know who he truly was.

What’s so special about this Nate? How did it become so bad without anyone noticing? Does Nate really hold that much power over her? Shit, clearly he does if this girl won’t leave him, even after beating her so badly she had a goddamn miscarriage.

Joel’s mind can't stop thinking about you and why on earth you would still be married to Nate, it’s simply unbelievable. And with knowing your history before Jackson, it boggles his mind even more because how can this woman who was once the most badass person, now become this weak, pushover of a woman - it just doesn’t make sense.

“She should be getting out of work soon,” Maria announces to Joel and Tommy, the three of them on the porch, watching the snow continue to fall.

“So I’m gonna have her bring you guys to the empty house next to hers, and look, I’m not saying you have to date her, but she needs a change in her life. So just maybe feel it out?”

“Maria, really?” Tommy starts with a laugh but it’s quickly turned into a cough when she looks at him.

“Yes, dear, she needs something more and I really think your brother and Ellie could give that to her!”

“Okay, look,” Joel interrupts, “I’ll give her a chance but if I get any vibe that she’s not digging for more, I’m leaving it at that. I’m not looking for a project.”

Maria nods, fair enough, thank you, and Joel gives a small nod back as he turns back to the snow again, the way the lanterns light up the snow covered street gives Joel a sense of security and hope. Maybe I can have a real life again, just maybe.

—

Wow.

That’s all that Joel’s brain can even begin to fathom about as he watches you walk up to the front porch with Maria where he and Tommy are.

Your beautiful facial features are what initially pull him into you, the way your eyes and nose move with emotion as you listen to Maria and how your nose scrunches and sniffs from the cold winter air is all just icing on the cake.

You haven’t even looked at him the whole time you’ve been chatting with Maria, but he guesses that's what happens after so many years of being abused when you do look at another man - even if it's just to meet someone new or become friends.

He quickly pushes those thoughts away for another time when he hears Maria introduce him to you and then you finally look at him. Joel watches how your breath catches in your chest, and he does the same but he’s a lot better at hiding it than you are.

Joel then reaches his worn hand out to meet your soft one, making sure to not scare you, to be gentle with you. “Nice to meet you darlin’” Falls from his lips with such ease, and he doesn’t even think about it, the whole world coming to a sudden stop as Joel stares at your beauty.

Your eyes shimmer from the the orange porch light that also illuminates your well-aged face, your subtle smile on the corner of your lips, the way your hair is covered in many snowflakes as they slowly melt into it, and all of this combined has Joel wanting to know more about you and how you ended up with Nate. If this is what you looked like after almost a decade of abuse, how gorgeous could you look out of it?

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” You say smoothly as you continue to stare at Joel. He can’t help but smirk as he says, “Thank you darlin’,” with a natural wink to hint that he is somewhat interested, “gonna go grab the kid, then we can head out.”

—

Joel watches how your body goes rigid walking past your own house and the quick glance you give the mossy colored home. He notices the light through the sheer curtains of what he can only imagine is the living room, maybe even Nate.

Passing your home the three of you reach the navy blue house with a stunning wrap around porch and a huge oak front door. Holy shit - Joel never thought this day would come again, a time where he could be free of worry about death for him and Ellie. It’s such a relief to finally feel safe for once.

His heavy feet on the cream steps causes a slight creek as he slowly walks behind you and he takes a quick glance at your ass. God damn, you fill those jeans out nicely. You take a couple more steps before you reach the huge door and put the key in, pushing the door open and sliding to the side so he and Ellie can go in.

As you turn to him and hold out your finger with the key ring on it, your soft voice rings through his ears, “Welcome home.”

“I call dibs on the shower,” Ellie then shouts as she flies past the two bodies on the porch. This girl, I swear, Joel chuckles. Now it’s just him and you out in the freezing cold weather, and he wants to get a better look at you so he takes a couple steps, ending up across from you and he leans back on the railings for support.

“Thank you, sugar,” your head picks up at the sound of his voice.

Joel notices how your body sways back and forth between both feet, your feet most likely sore, your hands behind your back causing your army green jacket to tighten, and your face showing so much interest and curiosity.

“Will I- we be seeing more of you?” He quickly changes his words, not wanting to seem too desperate. His body language becomes sheltered, one hand behind his neck and the other in his jacket pocket, and he really doesn’t want to scare you away because for the first time in decades, Joel feels like something might come out of this.

The way your body and eyes are contradicting each other with innocence and lust has Joel feeling dazed, she is gonna be the death of me. You then innocently speak, “I sure hope so.”

You’re now only inches away from him, and oh, she’s just as hooked as I am. He takes a couple slow breaths that mesh with yours oh so perfectly. How I just want to grab your face and kiss you and give you everything you deserve, his mind is flowing with all the ideas of things to do for you, how he would make you breakfast every morning, let you do what you please, and treat you with the utmost respect.

Joel’s heart and mind are fighting with each other, his heart wanting to kiss you and his mind telling him it’s way too early for anything like that, even though you have shown you’re interested.

“Goodnight, Miller.”

“Goodnight, Sugar.”

No one moves. Not you, not Joel, both him and you are stuck on the porch, only inches apart from one another. He can tell you don’t want to go home, and why would you? If the light on in the living room is any indication of Nate waiting for you to walk in, Joel knows it won’t be any good for you.

Why do you have to go there? You know you don’t want to, you know you just want to stay here. But I know you’ll never ask, and there’s no way I can ask you - it’s just, too early.

He doesn’t want to send you back over to that so-called home of yours, but if neither he or you are going to ask, he simply must let you go for the night. The exhaustion of the past couple weeks of travel and violence is finally catching up to him, all he wants is to shower and lay down - preferably with you, but he’ll take what he can get.

“Goodnight, Sugar.” He smirks.

“Goodnight, Miller.” You bite your bottom lip which grazes him gently, you tease.

—

“I’m going to bed, G’night Ellie,” Joel yells down the stairs. Night, old man, he gets back, before he shakes his head and chuckles. This teenage girl is ridiculous, but she holds a very special spot in Joel’s heart - Ellie is his other daughter, his saving grace, his purpose.

As he shuts his bedroom door for the night, he can’t stop thinking about you and what is happening next door. Why didn’t I just ask her to stay over, repeats in his mind as he stumbles over to the king size bed that’s covered with gray sheets and a comforter. He sits down with a groan, his elbows rest on his knees and his hands come up to cover his face.

The image of you standing in front of him on the porch, only a mere inch away from him is ingrained into his eyes, it simply won’t leave him alone. He pulls his hands away from his face and stands back up, and his knees pop as he does, walking towards the window that faces your home and the only sign of life is from the one light on - please be okay.

How could he just let you walk right back into the lion's den? The feeling of guilt starts to creep into his mind and heart. If anything happens to you tonight, he’s gonna feel responsible.

—

“Joel, Joel!” Ellie shouts at him and shakes him awake.

“Better be important,” he groans as he slowly sits up under the covers, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

The sound of your name falling from Ellie’s mouth shakes him, he’s immediately up from the mattress and sprints down the stairs, Ellie right on his heels blabbering about how you showed up practically naked and with bruises all over.

He’s in pure terror at the sight of you curled up and shivering on the couch, your hair drenched from the snow, your face covered in blood and your left eye bruised, god damnit. He runs over to you and sits on the coffee table that faces your trembling body, the look on your face is disheartening, he watches as you tighten your arms around your bent legs.

As his eyes make their way to yours he sees the way your expression is a scream for help. Joel can’t stand to see you like this, all he wants to do right now is storm over next door and kick the shit out of this Nate kid. Who the fuck does this to a woman you’re supposed to love and cherish?

“You’re staying here for a little bit, sugar,��� He bites through his teeth, wanting to control his rage in front of you.

He watches as you finally let it all go, as you start to blabber some sort of, thank you, caught between your sobs. Joel is quick to jump up and sit next to your shaking body, instinctively pulling you into his lap and starting to rock you as you continue to cry.

I knew not to send her over there, why didn’t I just invite her in? Poor girl, she doesn’t deserve this at all, not in the slightest. God, I could just go over there and kill that son of a bitch. How has no one done anything to help her? She’s so scared and weak, how is she still alive?

About twenty minutes have gone by, and your weeping has stopped but Joel watches your face as singular tears still roll down your cheek down to your neck. Joel can’t stop wanting to know what really happened tonight, and he needs you to say something, anything. Still staring at your figure in his arms, your head laying on his chest as it rises and falls in the rhythm of his, he asks what has been on his mind.

A moment goes by of silence, which Joel was expecting and completely understood - you clearly went through something incredibly traumatic tonight, enough for you to come over to Joel’s, to this man who is practically a stranger, and that alone says something.

He observes as you lift your face to look at him and you both stare into each other's eyes. His are soft and yours are sharp - should be the other way around. Joel feels this tear in his chest at the sight of you broken down to complete helplessness. I could’ve prevented this.

You hesitantly sit yourself up, still in Joel’s lap as he softly wraps his arms around your now sturdy body, just wanting to make you feel safe and comfortable. Okay, um, you start slowly telling him what happened and Joel just listens with intent - he needs to know how you ended up looking like this.

He can’t believe what he is hearing right now, she hid in her bathroom for three fucking hours? He ripped her hair, enough for pieces to be missing, gave her a black eye and bruised her whole body, old and new ones.

What a pig, a sad pathetic waste of a human life.

You’re hysterical by this point, hands flying as your voice continues to rise as you finish your dreadful story, but there’s one more thing you tell him that causes Joel to freeze.

“And I wouldn’t have been raped either.”

It causes this static sound to ring in his ears, the tears that have been begging to flow from his eyes finally roll down his cheek and disappear into his facial hair. Neither Joel or you have broken eye contact, and his eyes can speak more than his own voice can, he’s stunned into silence. I’m gonna kill him.

The sudden feeling of your soft hand on his cheek, as your thumb wipes away the trail of wetness from his tears, brings him back to the beautiful woman sitting in his lap. This woman that he feels he can help bring back to the old her, and that’s exactly what he’s gonna do.

—

Another round of the four seasons come and go. Joel and Ellie have insisted that you move in with them, both of them pleased when you accepted their offer. Joel especially, who never wanted you to step foot back into the hell you came from, even if Nate wasn’t there much - he knew that it held too many memories.

Over the last couple months, Joel and you decided to have a designated game night every Friday with Ellie, Tommy, and Maria. They would bring the food and Joel would supply the game for the evening, which usually ended up being some sort of card game.

“John Travolta’s right hand… Okayyyy,” Ellie drags out as she turns her head to look at Joel with a questionable look. Of course she doesn’t know who John Travolta is, he thinks as he takes a sip of his whiskey. When he sets it down and listens to Ellie continue, he looks over to you and sees you trying to hide your smile. That beautiful smile that makes Joel feel warm and bubbly inside, like a teenager on a first date.

Well it’s gotta be hers, he laughs to himself, you definitely do not have the best poker face, especially with some wine in you. Joel finds it cute when you get all ditzy after a couple drinks, it makes him feel warm because he knows how you weren’t allowed to drink with Nate, so the fact that you do here shows just how comfortable you really are.

“Having no legs, just toes,” Ellie reads, which is followed by you and Ellie bursting into laughter, both of you hitting the table and crying from reading the silly little white card, and Joel starts to laugh at you. She’s perfect.

“That’s the winner!”

“I win!” You shout as you raise your hands in the air and wave them around, and Joel watches as you finally act how you want to, not being scared to do so, there’s that girl Maria was talking about. He’s in complete awe of you and the confidence that has grown so much in the last year - shit, even the last couple months. It’s like you’re a new person, but still the same as before, you've just adapted your older personality with your newer one.

But just imagine a T-Rex with its baby arms and instead of legs, it just has toes, comes from Ellie as she does the baby arms impersonation and the whole table starts loudly laughing. Joel can’t help but smile, Ellie can finally have her teenage years back a little bit, more normal than out beyond the walls.

The conversation has changed, and Joel ends up blocking it out because he can’t stop thinking about the sight of you feeling free. The couple glasses of whiskey have made him feel like tonight could be the night, the night that the months of small flirting can come to an end and can turn into something else, just maybe.

It’s now or never, he thinks and he carefully sets his hand on your bare thigh and gives a soft squeeze. God, I just want to devour her. His eyes glance over to you and he pays close attention to how your body reacts to his new touch, and it pleases him to see the effect he has on you.

The way your chest rises and lowers, your eyes darting to his hand and back to him, the slow smile that grows on your face, then your hand laying on top of his with a gentle squeeze back. Yes, ma’am. A minute goes by of Joel not paying any attention to Maria’s complaining, all his focus on you and only you. He observes, discreetly of course, how you are slowly unwinding, moving close to your breaking point of just going upstairs. I gotta get rid of em’.

—

“Gotta say, darlin’,” Joel says as he slides his jeans off and moves to the head of the bed, “I like you in charge.” And he honestly does, it’s such a difference from your natural attitude that this has Joel attracted to you in a whole new way.

Joel is starstruck at your appearance, the way the green flannel hangs open showing off your sexy black lace bra that fits you perfectly, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. Your movements have Joel in a trance. When you straddle him, his hands almost have a mind of their own, the way they find their spot on your ass and they start to knead your soft skin.

All he wants to do is take care of you, by any means necessary, even if that means only you get the attention and love tonight - that’s perfectly okay with him. You honestly need this more than he does, and he knows that, so all his energy goes to pleasing you and only you. Joel has no problem with not getting anything in return, all he wants is for you to feel good, and honestly, he loves that you feel comfortable enough to be the dominant one. He’s gonna let you do what you want.

He loves watching how your face contorts from the pleasure his fingers give you, the way your hips roll with the rhythm of him. The little noises that escape your mouth have him in shambles, the way your hands snag his hair and it forces him to look at you while you kiss him - he loves it all.

“Let it all go, pretty girl,” Joel coos as you ride out your orgasm that has left you speechless, breathless, he watches how your body freezes and the broken moans roll out of your mouth into his. This is exactly what Joel wanted you to experience tonight - pure ecstasy.

—

The next morning, Joel gets up early and decides he’s gonna make you breakfast, that this is gonna become the new normal for you. He wanted you to have the best treatment here that you could possibly have. He finds some pancake mix and decides, why not, alongside some fresh fruit from your garden next door that you still attend.

“Ellie, can you grab the strawberries please? I’m gonna go grab her,” Joel asks as he exits the kitchen and heads towards the stairs. I really hope she enjoys this, he thinks to himself, and he really wants you to give this a chance because he knows that he’s not the only one who feels the connection the two of you have.

He softly knocks on the door so he doesn’t startle you, but when he doesn’t receive a response, he turns the silver handle. “Darlin’?” He asks to the empty bedroom, must be in the bathroom.

“Bathroom!” You respond quickly, but there’s a hint of something in your voice, something different.

He asks if everything is okay and the way you respond has him thinking you’re scared, or that there’s something you need or want to discuss, but he decides not to push it. He knows that you have your limits, and just by your voice alone, he can tell this is one of those times, so he dismisses himself and tells you that breakfast is ready.

“Hey,” Joel says to Ellie who’s at the dining room table eating her pancakes already, “have you talked to her at all today?”

“No, she’s been upstairs all morning,” she takes a sip of her orange juice, “why?”

“Okay, um- she just seems,” he waits a beat as he sits next to her, “something seems off.”

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Joel nods as he picks up his fork and tabs a piece of cut up pancake, and takes a bite just thinking of what possibly could be wrong. What happened?

After about five minutes, you finally come down the steps, and he can tell you’re trying to be quiet, almost mouse-like, but why? You don’t have to be scared here, you’re safe, Joel made sure you knew that and never thought any different. However, that doesn’t seem to be the case right now.

“Hi darlin’,” he chirps as you sit down across from him, “I’ll make you plate real quick.” And all you do is give a weak smile and thank you, and he’s sure that something is definitely wrong. You’re usually quick to say you can do it yourself or you just do it, and as Joel makes your plate and walks back, he looks at Ellie and she mouths, “I see what you’re talking about.”

The whole ten minutes you sit there, Joel and Ellie are trying anything to get you engaged in some sort of conversation, even if it’s stupid. But, nothing works, you just pick and pick at your plate, eating only a handful of bites. What the hell is going on?

Suddenly, you stand up and walk over to the sink but instead of setting your dishes in the sink, you just drop them next to it on the counter. “I’m heading next door to grab a couple things, and then I’m heading to the stables,” you coldly announce and continue to walk to the front door, grabbing your bow and arrow as you swing open the door and shut it behind you.

Joel’s at a loss for words - he can’t believe what he just saw. He thought the two of you had a really good time last night. Like, really good. Joel cannot recall anything negative from last night, game night went great, you two finally got past the flirting game that’s been going on - and oh, that’s it. It finally clicks, you’re not used to getting the attention during sex, sweet thing.

“What did you do, dummy?” Ellie breaks his train of thought from last night. He’s quick to turn his head back to her and just tells her, “Nothing, it all went great last night.” Ellie doesn’t need to know everything that went down between you and him, just not her business, he’ll just play it off as something else.

“Well,” she continues as she takes a bite of pancakes, “If I were you, I would head over there and try to talk to her. But y’know, that’s just me.”

Yeah yeah, Joel responds, like I wasn’t gonna do that anyways, he is almost frozen to his chair, he just can’t believe what events have unfolded right in front of his damn eyes. Why doesn’t she just talk to me?

“So, like, are you gonna go or what?” Ellie reminds him as she pushes his shoulder talking him out of the trance he was in. “Oh, shit,” he stands up, “Yeah, stay here. I’ll be back.” Joel is out the front door in a matter of seconds, heading to your old home you haven’t stepped foot in for months.

As he climbs your steps and reaches the door, he looks in the small window of the front door and he can see the lights on as well as the edge of the hallway closet door. There you are, he then brings his right hand to the door and starts to knock furiously because he has no idea what you’re doing over here, you haven’t been here in forever.

No answer.

God damnit, baby, he starts knocking again because he wants, he needs, to talk to you or at least, listen to what you have to say. Because he really cares and wants to know what is going on in that brain of yours, he wants to help you. With no answer coming from the other side of the door, Joel calls your name, followed by a weak, “I just wanna talk.”

His forehead falls to the window pane with utter defeat, why does she have to do this, she can just talk to me, she should know that by now.

After about three more rounds of knocking and calling out for you, Joel gives up, and he’s not sure what to do anymore. When you want to come back out, he will be right there to listen and hold you, he will be here for you whenever - Joel does not care how long either.

When Joel reaches the sidewalk covered in golden brown leaves, he thinks back to the last thing you said to him, I’m heading next door, then I’m going to the stables. That’s right, the stables, and Joel takes off running down Spruce St. towards them.

Joel passes Tipsy Bison and a couple guys yell out, “If you’re looking for the old lady,” that was your new nickname since people of Jackson knew you weren’t with Nate anymore, “She was talking to Vince about heading out!”

Joel stops his running and takes a couple seconds to catch his breath, “Are you serious?”

They group of men all nod their heads and Joel cannot believe what he just heard, no fucking way, she did not do that, he mumbles to himself. He says a quick thank you to the group and springs towards the stables because he really doesn't think that you left the safety of Jackson.

He notices how the padlock is still on the front doors of the barn, he quickly remembers the fenced area isn’t locked, so he runs back there and jumps over the little fence. When he goes into the stables and scans the barn for Dougie, he sees all the horses, except Dougie. No, no, no, no, he says to himself as he starts to panic.

She did not leave Jackson, no way. That’s just not possible, why would she do that? How could Vince just let her leave all by herself?

The same questions loop around in Joel’s head like a rollercoaster, and he just can’t seem to understand it all, everything seemed to be moving along smoothly last night, until this morning.

The next person to talk to was Vince. How could he let her leave alone? Bounces in his head as he leaves the stables and then hurries towards the front gate, this way he can actually see if you left or not. He scales the small fence and heads towards the big gate that lets people leave and enter Jackson.

As Joel takes a chance to catch his breath, he spots Vince as he takes the last step off the ladder to the top of the gate, there he is. Joel then yells out Vince’s name to grab his attention, as Vince notices Joel and the amount of distress he’s under, his face drops.

“What’s up, Joel?”

“Did she leave?”

As soon as the question leaves Joel’s mouth, Vince knows that something is up.

“Um, like, almost fifteen, twenty minutes ago,” Vince starts but Joel is quick to grab him by his collar and pins him up against the metal gate, causing his feet to dangle off the ground.

“And you just let her leave by herself?” Joel basically spits into this man's face.

“Sh- she told me that Tommy okay-ed it and that you were gonna be right behind her!” Vince rambles as he tries to plant his feet onto stable ground. However, Joel is so enraged that he isn’t thinking clearly, and although his conscience knows that Vince is innocent, his subconscious is not so generous.

Joel’s mind and emotions end up on autopilot. He wants to hurt anyone who he feels is responsible for you leaving Jackson. If Tommy didn’t yell out to him, Joel would surely have killed Vince right then.

Joel lets go of Vince’s collar instantly, and Tommy is quick to step between the two of them to stop whatever violence was about to unfold.

“Woah, woah,” Tommy questions as he stares at Joel, “what is going on?”

Joel can barely think, so many thoughts and questions are crowding his head, and he can’t think straight at all, not with you out there with no one. He knows you can take care of yourself, but it doesn’t hurt to have backup out there. That’s just the truth, and even Joel knows it and admits that.

—

It’s been just under a month of Joel searching for you, or any sign of you. He left Jackson that same day to find you. Joel was not going to give up on you, he knows way too much and cares too much about you, for you to just slip away without any explanation.

He has searched almost everywhere, traveling as much as a couple miles outside the radius of Jackson, but he’s had no luck. Until one day, when he finds the Motel 6 you and Tommy had talked about. Joel had a hunch that you would’ve gone somewhere familiar to you. As he searches the motel rooms, he finds about a dozen dead infected. This has got to be her.

It’s almost pitch black when he reaches the Motel, so he decides to stay in one of the rooms for the night and then pick right back up tomorrow. He doesn’t need to run into raiders or be infected this late in the night - that would just be stupid, he knows better than to do that.

Please, please, please be safe. I know you can hold your own, but please don’t be absolutely fearless. I just want to find you and help you, I just want to help you baby. He repeats to himself over and over until falls into a restless sleep.

The next morning, Joel is right back on his horse and continues East. He’s gotta run into you sometime, right? He ends up running into a group of raiders a couple miles past the Motel 6, a group of five middle-aged men who see Joel as a threat and not a friend.

However, Joel is not bitch. He takes care of the whole group without getting a single scratch or bullet wound, feeling oddly proud of himself for still being able to hold his own. But the feeling of victory is quickly washed away when Joel thinks of you, did you end up getting caught by this group, or even another one.

Joel’s mind is constantly on alert - he hasn’t had this much adrenaline running through his blood since before Jackson. It’s how he felt with Ellie; I have to protect her, she’s under my watch, I can’t just let her slip away from my grasp, she’s my reason to live.

The sun has started to set, the sky is a beautiful mixture of pink and orange, it meshes so beautifully it’s almost unbelievable. The different colors of oranges and reds sway on the trees with the wind as it softly blows, and it causes a chill to run down Joel’s spine.

“Just a little bit further, Rose,” he whispers and pats the side of his beautiful horse, knowing that he’ll have to stop some time soon since the sun is setting. Darkness is not the time to wander around in the nothings of the woods - it’s just not a smart move - but he knows that he has about an hour before the sky turns to pitch black.

She can’t be that far, right? It hasn’t been that long that she's been gone, there’s no way she would just leave Jackson like that. It’s the safest place to be in times like this, there’s no dictatorship and it’s peaceful, really peaceful. Why would she just pick up and leave like that?

About twenty minutes go by before he spots a small cabin about a couple blocks away. Please be there, he mumbles to himself. He softly kicks the side of Rose and she hurries her stride more than before, this has got to be it. Joel’s mind is racing, he’s pleading that you’re at this abandoned cabin. It would make sense, and he has a gut feeling that you wouldn’t up and leave Jackson completely.

When he gets about thirty feet away from the cabin, he sees a female with a bow and arrow pointing directly at him. The way the woman is standing he immediately knows who this is. I finally found her.

Joel jumps off Rose and starts to sprint towards you. He can’t help it, he finally found the love of his life, and he was never going to let you go ever again. He watches as you realize who you’re looking at and your bow drops to the ground, along with your arrow. She knows it’s me.

As he steps foot onto the porch and scoops you up into his arms and spins you around, a mixture of loving words spill out of his mouth.

“My pretty, sweet girl, I thought I lost you forever. What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I’m so sorry,” falls from your mouth over and over, and Joel can’t help but feel sorry for you. The fact that you felt the need to run all the way out here, all so you could simply just get away, was terrifying for Joel to think about. Because why, for the love of god, did you feel better running away than running to Joel for help?

What Joel takes away from this is that, although he knows that some things are more difficult and sensitive for you to work through, he also feels that you need to tell him about these things, instead of just running away.

Tags: @evyiione @oscarissac2099 @southernbe @pedrosfanny @orcasoul

[love-and-monsters]

The Warlord and His Lady pt. 3

M dragonkin X F reader, first person, 8,859 words

Hi! I’m glad I managed to get this update out now- I’m really sorry but I might be slower on the updates for a while. My ‘i’ and ‘k’ keys are only working intermittently, so until I get a new laptop, writing’s a bit tricky. Still, I hope you enjoy this chapter!  Part 1 is here, part 2 is here

My head hurts. It’s a sort of ringing, throbbing pain that makes me want to burrow into my pillow and never surface again. The rest of my body isn’t faring much better- my legs ache, there’s a persistent soreness in my back like a badly-pulled muscle, and even rolling over has me grimacing in pain. The room’s unlit and I can’t tell what time it is, but no matter how much I try, I can’t make myself fall back to sleep.

I roll over to try and get into a comfortable position and my arm hits something warm, and solid. I freeze as the shape groans. The bed rustles and shifts before a sleep-slurred voice murmurs, “Are you awake?”

My body relaxes before my conscious mind even processes who’s speaking. Oh. It’s Rastek. I let out a soft breath. “Yeah. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be. I suspect we’ve both overslept.” I hear the thumping and shifting of Rastek getting to his feet. He groans. “Ugh, my tail is asleep.” His joints pop as he stretches. I hear him moving around for a moment, then the lights flicker on.

It’s like he drove spikes into my eyes. I burrow under the bedcovers, groaning in pain.

“Apologies, dearest,” Rastek says. “I didn’t realize- there, that should be better.”

I emerge from the sheets to find the lights greatly dimmed. It’s enough light to see by, but only just. My eyes still sting a little, but the pain is no longer terrible. I can just make out Rastek’s shape by the bed- his eyes are strange in the dim light, overly reflective and bright. They’re bright yellow, even in the dark.

“How are you feeling?” Rastek asks, kneeling next to the bed once more. “You seem sore.”

“I am sore.” I struggle to push myself upright. Just the blankets on me make it hard, like leaden weights draped over my body. Rastek reaches out, but stops himself before he touches me. His hands just awkwardly hover nearby.

“You’ve been pushing yourself hard lately,” he says, finally deciding to fuss absently with the blankets. “I’m not surprised that it’s caught up with you.”

I blink a couple times at him. My brain’s running much more slowly than usual, so it’s only now that the thought occurs to me. “Why are you in my room?”

Rastek smooths a hand over the covers. “It’s still important that someone stays with you when you’re sleeping, so if the alarm goes off, you can be woken up.” He looks down at the bed, tracing a fingertip along the folds in the sheets. “I was only intending to stay for a little while, just to make sure you were comfortable, but I’m afraid I fell asleep.”

The dim lighting obscures his features, but I can see his exhaustion in the slouch of his body. His head is bowed, arm propping him up against the bed, his motions slow and slightly clumsy. My stomach tightens a little bit. Of course, he’s tired. He’s been managing everything since I lost my memory. No wonder he fell asleep at the first opportunity he was given. He’s probably been incredibly stressed.

“Um.” Rastek perks up as I clear my throat. “I- You can, uh. Sit in the bed. If you want. The floor can’t be that comfortable.”

“It’s your bed,” Rastek says. “I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s my bed, and I’m okay with it. I don’t mind you sitting with me.” I carefully move back a little bit and pat the open space next to me. Rastek hesitates, but does get to his feet and sits down. The bed sinks slightly under his weight. He’s careful to still keep some distance between us, tail curled close to his body and hands folded in his lap. He’s still wearing last night’s clothes and, up close, I can see that his hair is no longer silky, but tangled and frayed.

“How are you doing?” I ask. Rastek straightens a little at the question, brushing a hand quickly through his hair.

“I’m all right, of course.” His voice wavers slightly and he clears his throat. “There’s no need to worry about me.”

“It’s okay if you’re not okay right now,” I say. “It’s been a rough few days for you, too.”

“I think you’ve had a significantly worse experience than I,” Rastek says, voice dry with sarcasm.

“Maybe. But even if I did, that doesn’t mean you haven’t been hurt, too. This sucks for both of us, but you’re taking a lot on. You must be exhausted.”

There’s a very long pause. Rastek’s not saying anything. He’s just kind of staring into the distance. One of his hands is resting on the bed. I can see his fingers shifting, digging into the blankets before relaxing again. His breathing is steady, but too steady. The sort of breathing like you’re counting how long each breath and exhale should take.

“You’re very kind,” Rastek says eventually. “You’ve always been- That’s why I-” He falls silent for another moment. “I don’t want you to worry about me. This has all been hard enough on you.”

“It’s been hard on you too, though, that’s what I’m saying. I’m asking to help. You’re not dumping it on me.” I shuffle a little closer to him. He freezes, statue-still. “We have this conversation a lot, don’t we?”

He twists to look at me fully. “You remember-”

“Not remember, exactly. It just feels familiar,” I say. “It’s weird. Some things feel more familiar than others. Like the herbs. I just… knew. I don’t remember learning it, but I knew it anyway.” I pause. “I don’t know if that’s a good sign or not.”

“I don’t either.” Rastek leans back a little on the bed. For the first time since he’s sat down, I see a little of the tension bleed out of his body. “I’ve not asked so far. What do you remember?”

“Not much. I already said, I don’t have any explicit memories-”

“You misunderstand me,” Rastek says, holding up a hand to cut me off. “You remember something, just not your life here, right?”

I nod, slowly. “My life. I- I don’t know if…” I pass a hand over my eyes. “It still feels real. My family, my work, my friends. Everything I had there. I still feel like I’m going to wake up one day and everything will be back to normal.”

“Tell me about it,” Rastek says. He leans back fully on the bed, so he’s reclining next to me. I lie down so I can look at him. “What was your home like?”

“It was… different. There’s no magic where I come from.” Even in the dim lighting, I can see Rastek’s brows shoot up.

“No magic whatsoever? At all?”

“Uh. That’s a good question, actually. Some people thought there was, but it was usually subtle stuff. Most people didn’t believe in it. It wasn’t something you could really test or measure or do specific things with. And there were just humans. Not just humans, I mean, there were other animals, obviously. But there were no draconids. No other sapient species. Well, arguably, like, dolphins and elephants, but no other species I could really talk to like this. Well, maybe parrots. But there was a lot of debate on if they’re mimicking or really communicating-” I bite my tongue. “I’m rambling.”

“A bit,” Rastek says. “I suppose draconids are a magically dependent species- our existence in a world without magic would be implausible.”

“I always wanted to live somewhere with magic,” I say. “I was obsessed with magic and dragon stories as a kid. I would have thought it was so cool to be transported somewhere like here.”

“You read a lot as a child here, too,” Rastek says. “We have shelves of your old favorites back home.” A fond smile pulls at his lips.

“I- um.” My stomach flutters and I have to give a convulsive little swallow. “I remember the books I read. I remember my mom reading to me when I was sick. She was the best. Whenever I didn’t feel well, she would take off work and make special soup and read whatever I wanted to me. Even when I got older, she still wanted to read to me. I protested, but I really liked it.” I draw in a slow breath. “I didn’t see my dad as much, because he was on business trips a lot. But when he came home he would always take me and my sister out for a treat. Always. Those were some of the best days, when he came home. And when I went away to college, he always made sure he was home the day I came back, so he could take me out then, too.”

My chest trembles, though my eyes aren’t welling up with tears. The grief feels too deep for crying, somehow. I don’t want to sob. I want to scream until something in the world breaks and things make sense again.

Rastek licks his lips. “They sound wonderful.”

I nod. “They were the best. And my sister- we fought a lot when we were younger, but she was always really sweet. She’s in college now- she’s supposed to graduate next year. I’m supposed to go to her graduation. I was going to take her out drinking afterward.”

Rastek’s expression pinches with sympathy. His mouth opens slightly, then closes. I shut my eyes, trying to center myself until the trembling feeling in my chest goes away.

“I’m sorry.” Rastek’s voice is soft, barely audible. It’s strange, coming from his large frame. So gentle. “You must miss them so much.”

“All the time. It feels like I only saw them a couple of days ago. And now I’ll never see them again. Sometimes it’s okay, but sometimes it hurts so much I can’t stand it.” I sniff. “I… I just want my mom.”

Rastek makes a soft noise of sympathy, a hushed, almost choked sound. His hands hover, like he wants to hold me, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed. One of them drifts near my face, like he wants to brush my hair away. In a moment of surprising boldness, I tilt my head so that my face is against his palm. It’s a bit of an awkward angle to hold my neck at, but the touch makes a comforting warmth erupt in my chest. My breath shudders out of me in a sigh.

“Shh,” Rastek murmurs. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts. It will get better. I promise. Just breathe.”

I close my eyes and try to breathe through the tightness in my chest. He murmurs some soothing nonsense, just trying to comfort me. Almost absently, I creep closer to him. It’s strange. I can’t remember him, but I get this feeling… Like I fit right here with him. Like just sitting with him takes some of the pain away.

We lie like that for a while. Every time I start to tense up, Rastek makes soft soothing noises to me. It helps, and his presence gives me something to focus on other than my pain and misery. Eventually, though, Rastek’s stomach growls loudly enough that I startle from his grip.

“Ah. I apologize,” Rastek says, putting a hand on his middle a little awkwardly. “I didn’t realize how late it was getting.”

“No, no, it’s okay, I didn’t mean to keep you from breakfast,” I say. “You’re probably starving, huh? Please, I don’t want you to starve yourself.”

“Missing one meal hardly qualifies as starving,” Rastek says. He doesn’t move his hands away from me, but he also makes no effort to hold on when I start to squirm away. “If you’re not hungry, I certainly don’t mind waiting.”

“No, I’m fine. If you’re hungry, you should eat! You already spent all night on the floor. That can’t have been comfortable. You need to take care of yourself too, you know?”

Rastek blinks at me, then lets out a low huff of laughter. “I’ve barely been back for three days and you’re already bullying me into taking better care of myself. This feels quite familiar.” He pushes himself up into a sitting position. “Oof- ow.” He presses a hand to his back and I hear a low crack as he twists in place. “I sleep on the ground fairly often- you would think one night of leaning against a bed wouldn’t bother my back quite so much.”

“You’ve got an old man back,” I say, almost without thinking.

Rastek glances over his shoulder at me, eyes narrowed. “Yes, that would be the one joke you don’t forget,” he says. He huffs out a soft sigh. “I’m going to get something to eat. I’ll bring something up for you. Can you get dressed on your own while I’m out?”

“Of course I can,” I say, a little insulted.

“If you need anything, call one of the servants,” he says. “I’ll be back soon.” He gives an affectionate pat to my head, then slips out of the room.

I carefully work my way out of bed, wincing at the ache in my muscles. It hurts to move anything, and the pain makes it impossible to move certain ways at all. It takes me a couple minutes just to shuffle across my room to the wardrobe.

Rastek’s asking about my ability to dress myself becomes apparent when I start trying to put my dress on. I can’t lift my arms over my head without my shoulders screaming in protest, almost bad enough that it brings tears to my eyes. I can’t step into the dress either, because my leg shakes every time I lift one of my feet more than an inch off the floor. Eventually, I just sit on the edge of my bed and carefully tug the dress up over my legs. It hurts pretty bad to bend over, but it’s the lesser of several evils.

The door swings open just as I’ve finished loosely pulling the dress over my body, officially making it the second time Rastek has walked in on me half-dressed. A flush of humiliation rolls over me. I hear him pause, the door swinging shut behind him. “Do you… need some help, again?”

I fumble uselessly with the fabric for a few more moments before dropping my hands in defeat. “Yes.” I hear Rastek set something down with a thump and his footsteps cross the room toward me.

“Turn toward me a little.” He tugs the back of the dress, carefully affixing it to my body. “There we are.”

“Thank you,” I say. “I- I’m sorry.”

Rastek seems genuinely confused. “What for?”

“I feel pathetic. I should be able to put on an outfit.”

Rastek gives a casual shrug. “It’s often difficult for you to get dressed or similar things on your bad days. I don’t mind helping you.”

I rub my forehead with a hand. “I could do all this stuff back home.”

Rastek takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His hands slide away from me. “You weren’t sick there.”

“No. I’ve mentioned that, right?”

“I was under that impression,” Rastek says. “I wasn’t sure if you were merely less sick there or not sick at all.”

“I wasn’t sick at all. I could dress myself and sit up without it hurting and I didn’t have to take all this medicine.” My voice is rising and I need to take a moment to reel it back in. “I’m not used to this.”

“I know,” Rastek says. He rests his hand on the back of my head for a moment before drawing it down my back. “It’s frustrating. I know.” He moves his hand in small circles, kneading at my back. “I imagine it will take some getting used to.”

I slouch over, propping my head up on my arm. The position makes my back twinge. “Can- Can I, um.”

Rastek waits, but when I don’t say anything, he says, “Anything you want, I will get for you.”

“Not anything big, I just…” I swallow. “Can I, uh. Have a hug?”

Rastek straightens, his entire body pulling up into a tense line. I’m about to rescind the ask when he says, “Of course,” and reaches out to gently pull me into his arms.

I start trembling the second he pulls me in for a hug and I can’t stop. I’m not sure why. I just can’t stop. Maybe it’s just that I’m being held- I feel like everyone’s been trying not to make too much contact with me. The warmth of his body around mine is reassuring- I’m not alone. Someone wants to help me. Rastek rests one hand on the back of my head, gently holding me against him. I let out a shuddery sigh, relaxing into his grasp. The trembling abates a little.

He holds me for a little bit before I shift and he lets his grip loosen. I sit back. It’s hard to meet his eyes- I feel vaguely embarrassed. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he says. “As I said. Anything you need, I will provide.” He draws himself up straighter. “I brought breakfast, if you would like to eat.”

“I could eat.” Rastek stands and walks across the room. There’s a silver tray resting on a chair, covered in an abundance of eggs, fruit, sausages, bacon, and some little maple cakes. He brings is back over, balancing it on his knees so I can take a cake. It’s amazingly sweet, so much so that the fruit I eat after tastes tart by comparison. Rastek eats most of the meat and eggs, but I manage to snag a few pieces of bacon before he can take them all.

Rastek eventually sets the tray aside and pulls my medication back out. “You didn’t take last night’s doses,” he says. “I considered waking you, but you were already quite out of it, so you might need to double up on a few doses.”

“Oh.” I pull a face. My stomach already feels unsettled at the thought.

“It will help with the pain,” Rastek says. His tone is gently encouraging. “Here, I saved part of the maple cake, too, and you’ve got your candy for afterward.”

“I feel like a kid being bribed,” I mutter. Rastek smiles indulgently.

“If it helps, it helps.” He pauses for a moment, then leans slightly toward me. “My mother used to bribe me with doughnuts so I would allow her to comb my hair and scrub my scales.”

I can’t help but snicker. “Really?”

“The brush for cleaning scales is quite uncomfortable,” Rastek says. “I still find it unpleasant. Though I usually have different rewards now.” He removes one of the medicinal vials and tilts the contents into his hand. “Go on.”

I work through the medicines, face twisting with disgust as I down it. Rastek just quietly hands me everything, one after the other. “That’s it,” he murmurs as I finish off the last bit. “Here. How are you feeling?”

I chew on the maple cake he hands to me. It takes the foul taste out of my mouth, but doesn’t do much for the nausea. “Not great.”

“Mm.” Rastek purses his lips. “Pain? Or just nausea?”

“Both, I guess. I have a headache.” I knead my fingers against my temples. “God. I’ve barely been up for an hour and I already want to lie down again.”

“You can, if you’d like. I won’t stop you,” Rastek says, tucking the medicine away again.

I run my fingers absently through my hair. They snag and I have to tug furiously to work them free. I’m sort of glad there’s no mirror in this room. My hair feels snarled and greasy- I barely want to think about how bad it must look. “God, I probably look like a nightmare.”

“You look a bit worse for wear,” Rastek says diplomatically. “You haven’t had a very good few days.”

“Well, that’s certainly true,” I mutter. “I at least want to wash my hair- It’s just going to get worse if I leave it.”

“I can fetch a servant to help you with that,” Rastek says. He stands. “I have to go speak to the thaumatist, anyway. And the physician may stop by a little bit later for an exam. Rest for now, all right? You’ve had a rough go of it.” His fingertips brush along the side of my face, an affectionate touch, before he pulls back, gathers the tray, and steps out of the room.

The room seems strangely empty and dim once he leaves it. I carefully get out of bed and make my way toward the bathroom. I keep having to put a hand out to steady myself, but I do manage to get over there. It’s small as it was last time, and quite difficult to move in. I end up awkwardly balancing on the edge of the tub while I try to heat up the water.

Over the sound of water running into the tub, I hear the bedroom door open. “My lady?” The voice is female, and surprisingly certain. I feel like I was expecting her to be more cautious.

I poke my head out of the bathroom. “Hello?” There’s a woman wearing a simple, pale yellow dress standing near the doorway. A basket filled with assorted towels and other bathing supplies hangs from her arm. She looks maybe in her late thirties, her hair done up in a bun and her expression curious. Her gaze swings to me when I speak and she gives me an assessing once-over.

“Ah. Already got the water running?” She strides toward me and I duck back to give her space to enter the bathroom. “Hm.” She swipes a hand under the faucet. “I’m going to add some cold water, so we don’t cook you like an oyster.” She twists the spigot, swipes her hand under the water a few more times, and nods. “There we are.” She wipes her hand off on her apron and focuses on me. “Pleasure to meet you, my lady. His lordship said you wanted washing?”

I nod. “Er. We haven’t met before, have we?”

She gives me a bit of a perplexed look. “No. I suppose we’ve seen each other in the hallways before. Perhaps that’s where you remember me from?”

I give an absent nod. Right. Most people aren’t aware I’ve lost my memories. I’ll have to ask Rastek about that again. If I can’t keep straight who knows what, I’m going to blab to someone I shouldn’t.

“Then it’s nice to meet you,” I say, trying to cover up my confusion. “Yes, I, er. Need my hair washed, at least.”

“Certainly.” She takes a couple of bars of soap out of her basket and offers them to me. “Any preference for scent?”

I hesitate. “Um. Something mild.”

“Certainly. Same for the shampoo?” I nod as she sets the creamy yellow bar aside and tucks the others away again. Once that and a glass jar of a similarly-colored substance were set to one side, she checked the water again and turned the spigot off. There’s a thin cloud of steam on the surface, but it’s not going to be enough to cover me. I fidget with the hem of my sleeve.

“Do you need help getting your dress off, my lady?” the woman says. Her voice is gentle and polite, like this is a perfectly normal thing to ask. I suppose, for her, it is. She’s not embarrassed by nudity, so I shouldn’t be either, right? That logic doesn’t hold up particularly well against my rising embarrassment. My face feels blazing hot.

“I- er. Yes.” I turn my back to her, trying to look as unconcerned as possible. This is normal to her, and it needs to be normal to me, too. Her fingers touch the back of my neck and I nearly flinch. Then they start undoing the back of my dress.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the tone of the undressing is quick and businesslike, which helps reduce some of the awkwardness. It’s like the doctor, I remind myself. It doesn’t need to be embarrassing. Unfortunately, the embarrassment comes crawling right back the instant she starts to work on my underwear.

“Okay, I can get that off myself!” I sputter, hurriedly trying to knock her hands away. She gives me a sort of politely bewildered look, but backs off and gives me a chance to slip out of my clothes. I’m not sure if she senses my discomfort or not, but she eventually turns away from me and starts fussing with the soaps, so I have an opportunity to slip into the water before she looks at me naked.

The water is warm and I let out an involuntary groan as I sink beneath the surface. It’s like heaven on my muscles. The aching is no longer so prevalent- it’s almost dreamily soothing. My eyes drop closed and I sag backward, relaxing.

“My lady?” The voice feels a little distant and I have to force open my eyes again so I can more properly focus on who’s speaking. The woman smiles at me as she kneels next to the tub. “Are you ready for me to start scrubbing?”

“Uh.” I blink a few times, trying to focus. She’s holding a soaped rag in her hand. Oh, yeah. She’s going to actually wash me. Like, by touching me. That’s… significantly more awkward than her just looking at me naked.

“I think I can manage.” I hold my hand out for the cloth. She looks surprised, but hands it to me. My limbs are heavy and relaxed from the warm water, but it’s pretty simple to run the cloth over as much of my body as I can.

“Allow me to get your face, my lady,” the woman says. I nod, a little dreamily, and she rubs over my face a couple times with a soapy rag. She’s quite attentive and gentle. It feels surprisingly good to get all the grime from the past couple of days off my face. My skin actually feels like it can breathe.

“I’m going to do your hair now, my lady.” I nod again as her attention switches to the top of my head. Something cool and viscous pours into my hair, then her nails work at my scalp, scrubbing and working. It feels a lot like going to get my hair cut, and both the luxuriousness and the relaxation of it makes me drift. I’m aware that I’m falling asleep, but I’m too cozy to care.

Someone prods at my shoulder. “My lady?” I turn my head away. “My lady, the water’s going to get cold. You’ll get sick.”

“That’s not how sickness works,” I mumble. Do the people here know about germ theory? They have doctors, but that doesn’t mean they have a very good understanding of the mechanics of sickness.

“I’m sure his lordship would be most displeased if you were to catch a cold under my protection,” the woman protests. She nudges my shoulder again. This time, I open my eyes. The woman wraps a towel around my hair and starts gently tugging me out with a hand on my upper arm.

I allow myself to be tugged out of the water before I can properly process that it means I’ll be fully naked and no longer at least slightly hidden. I freeze the second I feel cold air on my skin. The woman seems completely unbothered, just focusing on vigorously toweling me off. I fend her off after a couple moments and take the towel for myself while she busies herself setting out my clothes.

“Hey,” I say after a few moments of silence. “Um. What’s your name?”

She blinks at me. “Er. It’s Nessa.”

“Nessa. That’s a pretty name,” I say. Having a named person helping me out is slightly less awkward than having a nameless servant here- I’ve never been assisted like this before and I’m not sure if I like it. Do rich people feel this awkward all the time, or is it normal for them? The servants here certainly act like they’re used to it. And Rastek seems comfortable with it. Was I comfortable with it before? That feels weird to me.

“Are you all right, my lady?” Nessa asks. I blink at her, a bit confused, before I realize that I’m swaying on my feet.

“I’m fine, thank you. Just dizzy.” It’s a bit embarrassing that putting on my underwear has wiped me out so badly. Or maybe it’s just from soaking in the hot water so long. That can make you unsteady, right?

“Perhaps we should go into the bedroom and allow you to sit down,” Nessa says. Her voice has a customer-service quality, that sort of ‘I’m trying to be helpful but I also don’t want to accidentally say something too forceful and piss off my boss.’ It feels almost bewilderingly strange to be on the other side of that interaction.

“That’s fine,” I say. “I’d like sitting down. Thank you.” She practically beams when I thank her. I resolve to be as polite as possible to the other servants in the future. I really hope my old self wasn’t an asshole.

Nessa allows my to hold onto her arm as she opens the bathroom door. We step out of the room together and I automatically freeze.

Rastek is in the room. He’s not looking toward us when the door opens, but when he hears us, he turns his head in our direction. To look at me. And I am wearing nothing but my underwear.

He doesn’t seem to have expected it either. His mouth opens a little, then rapidly snaps shut. His tail twists in on itself, almost coiling around one of his legs. His expression doesn’t otherwise change, but I think I see patches of blush on his cheeks.

There is a long, awkward pause. My legs sort of lock up. Given Rastek’s expression, he wasn’t expecting me to be nearly naked. His cheeks are definitely pink at this point, twin spots on his cheekbones. “Ah,” he says, looking a little awkward. “I was not expecting-” He cuts himself off, clears his throat, and glances significantly toward Nessa. On the edge of my vision, I can see her looking between us, a little confused.

Oh. This must be a weird level of awkwardness for two people in a long-term relationship to have. I clear my throat and offer him a smile. “Hello, Rastek. I wasn’t expecting to see you back so soon.”

Rastek turns his head slightly away, studying the cover of a nearby book. “I thought I might check on you- though I apologize for interrupting your bath.”

“We were done anyway,” I say. “I just need to sit down before I get dressed.”

Rastek turns his gaze back toward me, brows pinching in concern. “Of course.” He turns his head away again, but I can see him glancing back at me every few seconds. Nessa helps me sit on the bed and hurries back to the bathroom to gather my clothes.

“Are you feeling all right?” Rastek asks softly.

“Just got dizzy. I think it was the bath. I’m fine.”

“That’s good.” Rastek isn’t looking toward me, but I can hear his wry smile as he continues. “Though I suspect you wouldn’t tell me even if you were feeling unwell.”

“I just don’t want to bother anyone,” I say. Rastek lets out a choked laugh.

“Yes, because I find it so much less bothersome when you nearly collapse due to running yourself ragged.” There’s a gentle exasperation in his voice that tells me we’ve had this conversation a lot. He sits on the bed behind me, so our backs are toward each other. For a moment, I can feel his fingers brush against mine. My breath catches weirdly in my chest and I have to disguise it as a cough.

Luckily, Nessa picks that moment to return and I’m caught up in her quick, efficient method of dressing me. I have to admit that it does go smoother than when I try to do it on my own. It’s only a few minutes before she’s giving a polite bow and ducking out of the room, soaps and used towels in hand.

Rastek watches her go and waits until her footsteps have retreated a good way down the hall before he turns to me. “I apologize for my- for walking in on you. I thought you would be dressed before you exited the bathroom. I didn’t think you would…” He pauses and his body slumps. “I didn’t think. I suppose I’m still adjusting.”

He looks oddly despondent, so much so that I can’t help trying to comfort him. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to. I was more worried Nessa would pick up on something being wrong.”

“It’s unlikely. But perhaps. I find that most people don’t question relationships that easily. She doesn’t know us that well, and, in truth, most warlords don’t have the best marriages. We probably could have completely ignored each other and she would have assumed it was normal.”

“How come most warlords don’t have good marriages?” I ask. Rastek sort of waves it off with a roll of his eyes.

“Political reasons, sometimes. Other times it’s for…” He hesitates. “Well, to be indelicate, for breeding reasons. Warlords attain their position through attempting a series of trials. It’s not unusual for warlords to pick partners they think will create the best children in order to keep the profession in the family.”

My spine prickles a little. “Our marriage wasn’t like that, was it?”

“No. It was not.”

I glance over my shoulder at him. He’s gazing back at me, gaze soft. “Why didn’t you have a political marriage?”

He laughs. I can feel his back shiver against mine. “Because I met you.”

I’m so flustered I barely register it when he stands up. He’s wearing a cloak over one shoulder and it sweeps around him as he turns. “I came here to fetch you for the physician. He wants to have a once-over.”

Rastek offers me his arm. I take it, glad to have something to hold onto. My legs aren’t terribly steady.

He guides me to a room not too far down the hall and pushes the door open. The physician is fussing around with some sort of medical equipment, though he turns to look at us, when we walk in.

“Sit up on the table,” the physician says, tapping a wooden table. “It’s not a proper examination table, but it will have to do. How are you feeling today?”

“I’m in pain,” I say. “And tired.”

“It’s a bad day,” Rastek adds. The physician nods.

“You’ve taken all your medicine?” he asks. I nod. “Good. If the pain stays bad later in the day, I’ll give you another painkiller.”

He prods and pokes at me for a little while, moving my legs and asking me if anything hurts. He does some reflex testing as well, and it turns out, they’re pretty shit. I keep being surprised by exactly how bad my new (old?) body is. Maybe Rastek senses I’m upset, because he places a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“And other than physically, how have you been feeling lately?” the physician asks. I start a little, shaking Rastek’s hand off my shoulder.

“Better, I think,” I say. The physician nods a little, expression sympathetic.

“No more panic attacks?” he asks.

“No, I’ve been all right,” My hand clenches automatically on the fabric of my dress. “It’s been… better.”

The physician nods. “Have any memories resurfaced?” His voice is politely interested, not pushing, but the question makes me uncomfortable regardless.

“Not really.” Rastek looks at me. I’m not sure if he wants to bring up the incident from last night or not, but he doesn’t say anything. I don’t either, and the physician drops it after a moment. For now, it doesn’t seem worth mentioning. And I don’t really want to have someone else poking and inspecting my memories when I’m not even sure what they mean myself.

“You seem to be doing well,” the physician eventually concludes. “I would suggest bed rest for today- we can see how you’re feeling tomorrow.” He assesses the pendant around my neck. “The thaumatist gave this to you?”

“It’s to alert us if her soul starts slipping,” Rastek says. “It’s not gone off so far.” His hand cups the back of my head in a protective gesture. “The thaumatist will probably want to examine you as well.”

I rub my hand over my forehead. “I’m getting a bit tired of being poked and prodded at all the time.”

Rastek dips his chin toward me. “It will be quick. I promise. Then you can get some rest.”

He leads me to the thaumatist’s room and taps lightly on the door. There’s silence. Rastek’s expression sours a little. He knocks again. Then a third time.

He doesn’t knock a fourth time. He just reaches for the knob and pulls it open. The thaumatist is sprawled across his desk, snoring quietly. Rastek sighs.

“I suppose this proves that he does need to sleep eventually,” he says. “I wonder why we even give him a room back home. He never seems to use it.” He casts his gaze over his shoulder, expression unreadable. “Like someone I know.”

That, unfortunately, sounds like me. I can remember many nights staying up reading Wikipedia or internet horror stories or just researching random topics my brain landed on. “I did that here, too, huh?”

Rastek’s face softens into a fond smile. I can see the way his eyes soften and grow shiny with affection. It’s weird to think about that smile being aimed at me- it barely feels like it’s about me. I don’t remember what he’s thinking about. My stomach does an uncomfortable turn.

“Constantly. I had to drag you to bed some nights. I always told you that it was terrible for your health, but you insisted you needed to keep going or you would forget it in the morning.” He laughed, a soft, charming noise. “The amount of nights I had to convince you back to bed. I always worried when I went away that you would stay up constantly and you’d be an exhausted mess when I came back.”

“Sorry for worrying you,” I say automatically.

“Yes, you always said that, too. Strangely, you never actually stopped worrying me.”

“I am sorry about worrying you now,” I say. Rastek blinks at me, then looks a little ashamed.

“No, no, it’s not your fault. Just… try to take care of yourself. I’ll always worry. I just wish you worried about yourself as much as I do.”

“It is sweet to see your relationships persisting despite hardships,” the thaumtist says, head still resting on his desk and eyes still closed.

Rastek sighs. “If you’re up, perhaps you could examine my wife. Then you’ll not have to suffer our persisting relationship any longer.”

“I tease, of course,” the thaumatist says. “Here. Sit.” He gestures to the chair as he stands. I cautiously sit down. “Hold still.”

His hands come to rest on either side of my face. There’s a tingling in my skin for a second, then the sensation of vertigo washes over me and I feel like I’m falling.

Once, when I was young, I went to the beach for the first time. I was sort of expecting it to be like a swimming pool, so when the first wave hit me and yanked me under the water, I wasn’t expecting it at all. I remember being tossed around underwater, yanked and twisted until it spat me back out onto the sand, completely disoriented and dizzy.

That’s sort of what the thing the thaumatist is doing feels like, expect it’s inside my head- bright lights pop against the inside of my eyelids and disjointed colors swirl meaninglessly. I can’t even string coherent thoughts together against the tide. I just have to let it happen and hope it ends soon.

The sensation passes abruptly, like being yanked out of a current. My head’s still spinning, though. I slump over, swallowing thickly. My stomach is not agreeing with the motion.

“Hm,” the thaumatist says. His voice seems distant. “Interesting.”

“Are you all right?” Rastek asks. His hand presses to my back. “Breathe, dear.” I gulp in some air. My face feels weirdly wet- was I crying?

“Have you had any memories return to you?” the thaumatist asks. If he’s at all concerned by what’s happening to me, he’s doing a very good job of not showing it.

“Hold on a moment,” Rastek snaps. “Hon. How are you doing? You look-”

My stomach picks that moment to lurch and I heave, swallowing hard. Bile rises in the back of my throat. Rastek scrambles away, the spot where his hand was on my back feeling cold without his touch, but he’s back a moment later, thrusting something under my face. “Breathe, dearest, just relax-”

I heave again and retch. Rastek’s hand returns to my back, rubbing up and down. I don’t want to throw up. I swallow hard again, fighting down the heaving. I’m not going to throw up.

Gradually, my stomach settles. I pull my face back from the bin Rastek put under it. “You’re all right?” he asks cautiously, not lowering the bin. I nod. “You should have told us it would make her sick,” he says, shooting a look at the thaumatist.

“I didn’t think of it,” the thaumatist replies. “Your soul is a very tangled place to be right now. I suppose having a strong physical reaction to me sorting through it should have been expected.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“Your soul is attempting to resettle after the attack on it. My prodding in order to assess its state is likely uncomfortable. Hence the, ah. Strong reaction.” The thaumatist cuts his eyes over at Rastek, whose expression tightens. I rub hurriedly at my face. Rastek keeps shooting me looks like he’s worried I’m going to break down any minute. Or like he’s scared I’m going to vanish.

“Your soul is quite resilient,” the thaumatist continues. Either he’s genuinely unaware of the anxious air between Rastek and me or he’s deliberately ignoring it. “It is attempting to recover.”

“She had memories come back to her last night,” Rastek says. “She remembered some herbs.”

“Hm.” The thaumatist squints at me like I’m a particularly interesting species of insect. It’s not a very comforting feeling. “It is a good sign, if her memories are attempting to resurface. They may come back sporadically.”

“But she’s getting them back.” The hope in Rastek’s voice is almost painful. It makes my stomach hurt. I’m not sure why.

“Perhaps. She may only get bits and pieces back. Relearning things may be a better way to go about things. The familiarity may help rekindle memories. If not, then she has at least managed to learn what she knew before.” The thaumatist shrugs, then taps a finger on his chin. “There are spells that could encourage increased mental capacity and knowledge gain-”

“I think we’ll try things the old-fashioned way first,” Rastek says. I nod- I don’t think I’m going to be comfortable with someone doing magic on my mind for a long time. Maybe not ever. Given the tightness in Rastek’s jaw and the way his tail is lashing, I don’t think he’s pleased by the suggestion either. The thaumatist, again, seems thoroughly incapable of reading the room and just shrugs absently.

“If you would like to try it later,” he says, waving us off. “I’d like to examine you again in a couple of days. And keep an eye out for soul slipping. The charm is working, yes?”

“Yes, it has been. Thank you.” Rastek offers me his arm and I take it, getting carefully to my feet. There’s a weird disconnect between my brain and my legs- they don’t seem to be supporting me very well. With Rastek’s support, I make it to the door and several steps down the hallway before I have to stop.

“Hold on a minute- my legs are all weird.” I puts more of my weight against him as my knees go wobbly. Pain shifts through my muscles and I grimace. “Shit. Ow.”

Rastek has no trouble supporting me, only shifting his weight to balance himself better. “Do you want me to carry you?”

“No. I’ve got it.” I claw my fingers into his shirt and tug myself upright. My legs straighten underneath me. “Ow, ow, ow!”

“If it’s hurting you, I can take care of it,” Rastek says.

“I’ve got it.” The pain’s uncomfortable, and my knees still feel watery, but I can manage walking. “Let’s go.”

He keeps walking with me, but his expression is uncertain. He’s hovering, waiting for me to slip up. I draw myself as upright as I can. I don’t want to worry him. I can do this.

Once I’m back in my room, I all but collapse on my bed, face down. Rastek pats my back. “Get some rest.” His voice already sounds distant. I think he’s saying something else, but I’m too tired to hear it.

My dreams come in strange, twisted scenes that don’t make sense. I’m sitting in my kitchen, chopping herbs I’ve never seen before to make some kind of salve. I’m at a café, my sister across from me and Rastek holding my hand. I’m watching Rastek speak to armed soldiers, holding a gun and dressed in military fatigues. His hair is tied up- some vague part of my brain notes that it looks cute. I’m at a beach, some place I don’t recognize, with Rastek sprawled out next to me on the sand, reading from a phone, his tail idly digging in the sand. On the next blanket over, I see my parents. My mom lifts her hand to wave at me and I move to wave back and my arm hits something warm and solid-

I wake hazily, limbs heavy and uncooperative. One of my arms won’t move- it takes me a moment to realize it’s because Rastek is partially on top of it.

He’s in the bed next to me, in a position that indicates he only meant to sit down and fell asleep before he could get back up. That’s definitely what he is. Asleep. I can hear the slight snore in his breathing and I don’t think he’d drop his full weight onto my arm if he was awake. I try to wriggle out from under him, but the arm is stuck fast. Oh well. It’s already numb. Not much more he can do to it.

The position he’s in makes my back twinge just looking at it. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, upper body slumped and arched backward to rest on the pillows gathered at the headboard. Given that he’s also turned so he’s facing me, it looks like he’s trying to make his torso do a complete 180. How do you even fall asleep in a position like that? His face is perfectly peaceful, though. His mouth is slightly parted, letting out little puffs of air when he exhales. He’s… cute? Seems a strange word to apply to such an imposing man, but it’s the truth. He’s adorable.

I admire him for a few minutes before the boredom of just lying in bed starts to set in. Experimentally, I give my arm another tug. Nothing. At the rate things are going, I’ll tug it right out of its socket before Rastek gets off it.

Okay. Plan B. Wake up Rastek. I glance him over, trying to assess the best way to get this done. Shake him awake? I nudge his shoulder a few times, but he doesn’t respond. “Rastek,” I whisper. He twitches slightly. “Rastek?”

He lets out a long, deep sigh and, before I really register what’s happening, his arm comes out and hooks around me. Forget the arm- I am now trapped with my entire body against his chest.

“Hey!” I protest, but my voice is still quiet. Rastek lets out a long sigh. His body tilts until his head is resting on my shoulder. I go dead still. I still want to get up, but the way he’s holding me is surprisingly… nice? He’s warm and his touch is gentle and… even in my old life, when was the last time I was held like this? Rastek makes a soft, contented noise and my heart both tightens and expands until it feels like it’s taking up my whole chest and lodging into my throat.

I crane my head back, struggling to see him without disturbing him. His expression is slightly tense, a furrow between his brows. His grip shifts around me, growing more secure. I pat his arm. “Hey. You’re okay. It’s all right.”

He makes a quiet noise in his throat, almost a whimper. I pat his arm again, the only part of him I can comfortably reach. “You’re all right. I- I’m here, okay? It’s all right.” I’m not sure what to say, but the soothing tone of voice seems to help. He relaxes a little. His grip loosens.

I take the opportunity to roll over in his grip so I’m facing him. He stirs a little, but his eyes don’t open. Tentatively, I stretch out my hand and brush it along his hairline. Even mussed from sleep, it’s silken to the touch. His skin is warm, slightly rough. I’m close enough that I can see a pale scar stretching from his eyebrow to his hairline. On impulse, I draw my fingers along it.

Rastek’s expression twitches. I pull my hand back, but it’s too late. He wrinkles his nose, scrunches his brows, and his eyelashes flutter. Slowly, he blinks his eyes open.

Our faces are very close. I can see the striations in his golden irises. Little shifts of color between dark and light. I can see the slight imperfections in his skin. The way his pink lips crack a little in the center. Little things, simple things. But it makes him feel awfully real.

“Hi,” I say, whisper quiet.

Rastek looks at me sleepily for a moment. Then he shifts his hand, lifting it up so it’s resting on the side of my face. There’s a tenderness in his expression. “Darling?”

The hope in his voice makes my heart drop. “I still don’t remember,” I say. shrinking away from him. His hand slips off my cheek and I feel cold in its wake.

Rastek blinks and I can see the sleep clear from his eyes. “Ah. Of- Of course not.” He groans, sliding his arms away from me and making to sit up. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to fall asleep against you.” He pauses, expression twisting with guilt. “Again.”

“I don’t mind. It seems like you needed it.”

He passes a hand over his face. A sort of terrible weariness comes across his face for a moment, only partially blocked by his hand. My stomach aches. Is that because of me? An unsettling prickling rolls up my back and I swallow. He’s been so stressed trying to take care of me, and every time he looks at me, he basically has to remember all over that the person he loves isn’t here anymore. Not in any real way. How much is it hurting him just to be here?

“What’s with that face?” Rastek asks. He tilts his head back toward me, bringing a hand up to press at the furrow between my brows. “Is everything all right?”

I slide his hand off me and give it a quick squeeze. “I feel okay. I just… I think I want to be alone for a little bit.”

Rastek pulls his hand back, tucking it close to his body. “It’s not safe for you to be completely alone right now,” he says. His voice has gone stiff, more formal than friendly. “But I can get a servant to stand outside the door and listen to see if the alarm goes off. Is that all right?”

I nod. “It’s not… I just want some time to think, okay?” I try to give him a smile, but the corners of my mouth tug downward.

“Of course, I understand.” Rastek stands up and gives me a brief nod before hurrying from the room. His tail flicks through the gap between the door and the wall and the door clicks shut and I am alone in the room.

I lie back down in the bed. My chest feels tight, like I want to cry, but I can’t manage to do so. I stare at the ceiling, feeling the soft sheets beneath my back, and feel strangely and uncertain and guilty.

Next chapter

[littlemissmanga]

Maybe Among the Stars

Pairing: Broadside x (gn)Reader

W/C: 2,737

Summary: Broadside was literally built to withstand risk and danger. He’s willing to take the chance this will all end badly. But that was back when the only one at risk was him. How can he face that same danger knowing it’ll roll over onto you now?

Warnings: Angst/comfort, the realities of loving a soldier, slight nod to intimacy but think like PG-13 rating. Lots of longing, but it's got a happy ending.

A/N: Goodness, I had this drafted out so long ago but real life and brain pain made this take forever. I’m terribly sorry @sunshinesdaydream for the slight delay, but here is your Broadside fic for the @rare-clone-fic-exchange! I had a lot of fun researching Broadside, Shadow Squadron, their planes and getting to dive into a starfighter’s mentality. I hope you like what I did with his personality since there isn’t too much in canon to go off of, other than his limited screen time showed me a very confident man. And what’s better than a fic about a man in crisis with himself?

Also, submitting this as an entrance for my @clonexreaderbingo card, the “Hope” square. 😊

Inspiration song, The Word of My Body from Spring Awakening: “Oh, I’m gonna bruise you. Oh, you’re gonna be my bruise.”

dividers by @saradika

It wasn’t fair. To either of you, but he understood the risk and was willing to face it. He knew what could come next and didn’t care if it meant one more chance.

But you …

You put up a great front. It took him too many rotations to see the softness under your steel. Weeks of finding reasons to fuel up at the café you worked at before he was shipped off just to tease you and get under your skin. It was a challenge that gave him a little lightness to his step before he and his brothers were back in the heat of battle, the memory of a cheeky smile on pretty lips settling his battle-tossed nerves.

Eventually, the face behind the smile was the thought that gave him comfort. But he’d never say it. He could keep you at an arm’s length and still get his fix as long as he didn’t cross that line.

And you never backed down from this game you couldn’t have known you were playing, giving as good as you got but never with cruelty. Your responses had even gotten downright flirtatious recently, a taste of normal that he couldn’t resist.

Until the last time.

Right after the Battle of Coruscant. Broadside had been flying high even with his feet solidly on the ground. Shadow Squadron had taken impressively minimal damage as each trooper flew beside General Skywalker bravely and proved integral to the safe retrieval of the Chancellor.

He’d opened the door to your café with a swagger that would make even his General blush, ready to leverage his status as planetary savior for a free slice of meilroon pie.

But instead of the sweetness he was expecting, the salt of your tears was all he could taste for hours after. The relief couldn’t erase the deep worry lines on your face at the sight of him, and while Broadside wasn’t above imagining what you’d feel like in his arms, the reality of your half-choked sobs racking your form as it melded to his when you pushed into him and held him like he would float away weighed on his heart.

“They were showing the dogfights over the holonet. I saw … there were so many … I didn’t know if …”

The realization hit him like a proton canon blast: He had become someone important to you. You felt the same way about him as he did you.

And ever since, elation and dread warred within him.

Since the Battle of Coruscant, Shadow Squadron had been requested to handle more escort missions for the Chancellor, meaning more time on Triple Zero.

More time with you.

But proximity to the Chancellor and by extension the Corrie Guard meant no room for deviation from the regs … including the one about not fraternizing with spunky natborns who’d be brought to tears at the thought of a trooper in danger.

A specific trooper. Him.

A gorgeous soul who kept him on his toes, challenging every truth he thought he knew. Who’d started saving a serving of his favorite meals when they were on special without knowing if he’d be coming in that day. Who’d throw an extra serving in for a customer going through a bad day but feigned ignorance when questioned. Who fought off the thugs and lowlifes that’d crawl in from the lower levels with a broken broom without an ounce of fear but shattered at the sight of his Squadron in danger overhead.

He was going to hurt you.

Maybe, just a little, he understood why the Jedi didn’t allow attachments. Because more and more, Broadside could feel the craving to see you again rise and overshadow the knowledge of just how thoroughly he’ll ruin you.

***

“Is this where you’re gonna murder me?”

Broadside threw an exasperated look over his shoulder. “Why would I drag you all the way here just to murder you?”

You cocked an eyebrow as your head swiveled to take in the narrow, at to be fair rather dingy, ally he was leading you through. “To throw the cops of your trail, duh. It’s like you don’t even listen to those crime holos I send you.”

He heard the smile in your voice and felt its match stretch on his own lips at your macabre humor.

“Those are all full of fluff anyway. It’s all nonsense.”

“No, they’re-”

“Shush.” He turned back and continued leading you on. “We’re almost there.”

“Would be great to know where ‘there’ is. Or what’s gonna happen there.”

Despite your grumbling, Broadside could feel your grip tighten around his hand. All at once, your simple show of trust filled his chest and brought him to his knees.

He didn’t deserve it. But he hoped he’d earn it.

Reaching a nondescript door ­— one of many to line the ally — Broadside stopped in the entranceway, pulling you over to face him.

“You already know the answer, mesh’la. You came up with this idea.”

Confusion covered your face with an aching cuteness. He could see the wheels turning inside, your eyes giving everything away as you searched for an answer.

“Closing time ... I was helping you sweep ... You asked what civvie experience I wanted to have …”

Your eyes sharpened in a playful glare. “And you said, ‘working in a diner’ just to be an ass.”

He leaned in close, towering over you and invading your space just to rile you more. He couldn’t help it. Broadside was addicted to that spark and needed it, needed you, like a hit of spice. “Not just to be an ass. But that’s not the important part. What came next?”

“You … You asked me what I’d want to do …”

Your eyes were wide as moons when you looked back up at him, disbelief filling every inch of your expression. “No …”

“Yup.” He confirmed, entering the access code and opening the door to reveal the back entrance to the hanger where Shadow Squadrons brand-new Y-wings were lined up all nice and pretty.

This time, he didn’t take your hand. Broadside strode through the hanger like he owned it, confidence grounding every step and growing at the sound of your quick footsteps franticly trying to keep up with his.

“Broadside!” You hissed quietly, earning a rich laugh at your idea of stealth. “This can’t be allowed. We’re gonna get caught!”

He stopped next to his new ship, ladder at its side at the ready. “You know, I’m actually insulted. You think I haven’t thought this through.” Turning, Broadside gestures broadly at the hanger. “See? No one around. Maintenance has been reassigned and my squad is grounded right now.”

Your eyes followed his across the cavernous room and you nodded in agreement. But your lip was still caught between your teeth, a telltale sign.

Letting the levity slip away, Broadside brought his hands up to cup your face and pull your gaze to his. Once again, he invaded your space but this time, all teasing was gone. “No one will know we’re here. I’ve got you.”

You gave him that look again. The same one as that day, the one that screamed to him just how unsure you really were underneath all your strength and bluster. The one that broke his heart with how much he wanted to erase it from your face. The same one that told him, just maybe, that you knew how tenuous this all really was.

And then you stepped closer.  

You turned to reach for the ladder, stopping to look at him one more time. He gave you an affirmative nod, fighting every cell that cried out to shatter in relief. Maybe this would go better for you both than he thought.

Following closely, he climbed up the ladder after you, settling behind you in the cockpit.

It was a tight fit, only being designed for one person at a time. Broadside struggled for a moment, trying to get his legs to fit around yours in the narrow space until you took matters into your own hands. A touch was all it took to get him to sit still, your hand holding down firmly on his thigh.

The look you sent him over your shoulder is so soft, Broadside wanted to preserve it somehow. To freeze time so you’d always look at him just like that. To make a galaxy where you’d have no reason to ever look at him any other way.

“May I?” Your voice was steady, but barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” he rasped back.

Lifting yourself up, you moved your legs to straddle his before resting yourself on his lap.

“Sorry, but I think this may be the most comfortable configuration.”

Broadside reached around you to start the operating procedures, reveling in the feel of you so close. It was a mockery of an embrace, but it was enough for now.

“No need to apologize, angel. We’re all good here.”

Once all systems were engaged and optimized, he pressed his comm. “Shadow One to Tower. All systems go, here. Ready for clearance.”

You spun in your seat to level him with an intense glare. “No one will know we’re here?”

And Broadside couldn’t resist stoking your fire, sticking out his tongue like a cadet just to revel in how riled you got. “No one who will say anything. Corkscrew is on tower watch tonight and he owes me a favor or three.”

“Tower to Shadow One. Request for test flight confirmed. You are clear for launch. You have 30 minutes.”

“See? Just a standard test flight for the new fighters,” he said smugly.

With that, Broadside went through the launch procedure without a second thought, focusing instead on every way you shifted on his lap, how your hands fumbled for purchase on the sides of the ship before gripping hard on his knees. His hand curled around your hip, holding you in place for all the good it did. The turbulence had you shaking against him and by the Maker if that friction wasn’t the most sensational thing in the entire galaxy.

But everything settled when they broke the atmosphere, the stillness and quiet covering them and isolating them from the chaos of the city planet below.

He watched with delight as your head moved on a swivel, turning back and forth to take in the vast array of stars in front of you.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed.

“Yeah, it is.” Broadside’s response was just as quiet as he took in your awe before adding louder, “But we didn’t come up here just to look at it.”

“No?”

Before you could do anything else, he grabbed your hands. Without asking, he brought them to the steering column, molding his over yours.  “No. You’re gonna fly.”

He could see the broad, devious grin overtake your face in the reflection of the transparisteel and for the briefest moment, Broadside second-guessed whether this was a good idea.

Worry quickly gave way as he lost himself fully in the joy you exuded. Playful cheers filled the small Y-wing cockpit as he instructed you through a few of his simpler maneuvers. Eventually, he began taking a bit more control, showing off with several rolls and drops all in hopes of earning just one more delightful shout, one more squeeze of your thighs around his. All while his hand kept you in place on his lap.

Leveling out after his latest round of showing off, you leaned back against him fully, losing all tension in your body to rest soundly against his chest.

“So, what brought this on?”

His pause is palpable, creating a stillness that could rival space itself. He knew it would happen eventually. But he hated that it could ruin everything.

“I … I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit you next.”

His eyes were trained onto every inch of your body, so he saw the moment your shoulders tensed.

“I see. Even though I know Shadow Squadron has been assigned to escort the Chancellor from now on.”

Broadside took a breath, preparing for his practiced spiel, but you wouldn’t give him the chance. “Oh, yes. Don’t think I don’t follow the news. I do. Of course I do, because how else would I know where you were, what you were doing, if you were okay. You don’t tell me these things when you visit. I have to piece together rumors and suspicions. So I know you’ll be around more. But sure, tell me the lie. Tell me you won’t be able to see me. I’ve been dumb enough flirt with you. To start feeling …”

Your voice tapered off. He couldn’t see your reflection anymore, your face cast downward, but he could see how tightly you were holding yourself.

“Maybe I’ll be dumb enough to believe the lie,” you whispered.

He reached forward, snaking his other arm around to encircle your waist and pull you impossibly closer. Like a child clutching a soft toy, he curled around you in the cocoon of the cockpit.

It must have hurt. His armor was hard and unyielding. He could imagine all the ways it dug in to your pliant skin, how your curves arched around its firm plains.

Even his embrace was painful to you.

And yet you didn’t fight. You didn’t pull away or even adjust yourself. No, you pushed yourself closer, folding yourself in to fit into him like a missing piece.

“It’s not a lie,” he whispered, hoping for all the galaxy that you heard his promise. “It’s not safe.”

“For who?”

“For both of us.”

The silence lingered, and he knew you understood. If you really had been following the war, if you’ve been slicing through the holonet for information, then you had known the truth of his words for a while.

Shifting your hips, you turned in his hold, folding your legs under you to sit sideways on his lap. You didn’t look at him, though. Instead, you tucked your head under his chin, staying as close as possible. “Is that why you brought me up here? Show me the stars so I have something pretty to look at when you tell me it’s over?”

His grip tightened. “No.”

“Then why?”

He brought his hand up to cup the back of your head. He needed you as close as possible. “Because I can’t say it’s over. I want to. But I can’t. I will knowingly put you in danger just to see you again, to hear you again.”

He pressed his lips to the crown of your head. His first kiss has the aftertaste of salt and bitterness, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Bringing you to see the stars like you always wanted is the least I can do. I’ll give you anything within my power ’cause I’m taking so much more.”

You wriggled in his grasp, pulling away just enough to look him in the eye. Your cheeks were stained with tears he didn’t even hear begin to fall. Instinctively, he brought his thumb to swipe it away, but your hand stopped him.

“You’re not taking anything, dumbass. I’m giving it willingly.”

Broadside’s eyes close as relief surged through his body. He relaxed even more at the feel of your forehead pressed against his.

“I don’t care about the danger. And take as much time as you need to make things as safe as possible. But you’re not the only one who can’t call quits, so don’t act like you’re carrying the burden alone.”

He couldn’t help the smile that spread easy as sin across his lips at your declaration. Knowing that you were as far gone as he was. Now that he had your knowing consent, that you could handle all that came with being together, there was nothing holding him back.

“So, I don’t have to plan such extravagant dates?”

You let out a peel of laughter in response, your delight breaking the last remnant of grief. “Oh, you absolutely have to try and top this next time. I’ll accept nothing less.”

Fueled by hope and the fire of his wanting, Broadside pressed his lips to yours, tasting starlight and a hint of the blumfruit juice you had earlier.

“I’ve created a monster,” he murmured into the kiss.

“Indeed, you have.”

Your smile against his lips is all the reassurance he needed to not care.

You can find the rest of my fics on my Masterlist here. And you can sign up for my taglist to be alerted to any new fics here.

[autisticwriterblog]

T, Tim Breaker for the mini fic prompts

-Koskela Knights

T - an obscure AU

I decided to use one of my favourite video games as the AU. It's called 999: Nine Hours, Nine Persons, Nine Doors and I love it a lot. It's full of escape room puzzles and a mindfuck of a story line (but in a good way). Hopefully, this makes sense if you're unfamiliar with 999, but if not, it might help to watch the opening few minutes of the game on youtube, because that's what this fic is based on. Anyway, sorry for rambling. That's the AU I chose. 😂

Title: Trapped

Summary: Tim wakes up in an unfamiliar room with a strange bracelet strapped to his wrist.

Word Count: 608

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping and drugging

Fic is under the cut. Or read on ao3 here!

Tim wakes up with a horrible headache—a sensation that only gets worse when he tries to sit up and smacks his forehead against solid metal. He cries out, forcing his aching eyes open, and finds himself staring at the underside of a metal bed frame. Is he on the bottom level of a bunk bed? What the actual fuck?

Carefully, Tim turns his throbbing head, staring around his unfamiliar surroundings. It looks like the interior of a cabin, the sort from an old ship like the Titanic. Seriously, what the fuck is going on? And how did he get here?

Everything feels fuzzy, but Tim tries to piece together his memories. Where was he before this? What happened to him? It’s hard to think when his head hurts so badly, but he focuses on his shifting thoughts like his life depends on it. Which may very well be the case.

Eventually, a memory comes to him. Tim remembers arriving home from the sheriff’s station after a long day, but finding the window open in his living room. However, he was certain that he left it locked. Tim would hesitate to call himself paranoid, but with all the strange dreams he has, he often worries about someone coming to get him—hence always double checking his doors and windows are locked. So, if he didn’t leave it open, what was going on? Tim approached the window to close it… and saw the reflection of a figure behind him—wearing all black and a gas mask over their face.

Something metal hit the floor with a thunk, followed by a hissing sound as white gas began to cloud the air… and before Tim could work out what to do, he accidentally breathed some of the gas and everything started to fade. And, with the stranger still in his home, he passed out.

So… someone was in his house. And they fucking drugged him. They must have brought him here when he was unconscious. Fuck.

Could this be Door’s doing? The guy haunts his dreams, so maybe he escalated to kidnapping? Or is this the cult he’s heard so much about? Shit, he doesn’t know.

Awkwardly, Tim eases himself off the bed and drops down to the floor, his feet struggling to keep him upright. His brain feels like it does summersaults inside his skull, his limbs weak and wobbly. He kind of wants to puke, but Tim manages not to. As he stares around the cabin, his eyes glance down… and he notices the strange bracelet on his wrist.

It looks like a watch but has no face—instead displaying a bright red number [5]. Tim turns his wrist over, longing to take the creepy thing off, but he can’t find a clasp, the whole band utterly smooth. So how does he take it off? The thought of someone strapping this to him when he was out cold makes Tim shiver.

He stumbles over to the door, but finds it locked. Tim isn’t surprised anymore. A weird machine sits on the wall beside the door, but Tim can’t make sense of it. He must need to do something to open it, but no ideas come to him.

A cracking sound makes Tim turn his head (and the room spins, throwing him off balance) in search of the noise. He stares at the small, circular window, where a crack has appeared. Tim’s stomach drops. And before he can think of any way to fix the problem, the crack widens and widens… and water begins to pour into the cabin.

And in that moment, Tim realises exactly how fucked he is.

[stonedregulus]

i've always wanted to be you.

a writer. i mean i am. but the small fics, the ones people read and forget. i want to write the fics that people wish happened to them. the ones they lay awake at night thinking about. the ones who's characters live and love like there's no tomorrow. i want to be you and write the fics that people could spend hours happily ranting about. the ones who set their alarm clocks for the next chapter. i've always wanted to be you.

and i know that you have been through hell and back and we as just censored audience will never be able to fully understand the shit you've been through. so of course "being you" would be undermining everything you've been through. but i guess what i mean is, i want your writing brain. that doesn't make sense, i know.

im just stupidly dragging this on but that's what i've thought of you ollie. your words saved me when i was standing on the edge. i was and still am a puppet reaching towards death, longing for it even but still attached to reality through a single string. and im not lying when a part of that string is you, liv, emma, and yaz.

promise im not jealous. i love you and pray for your health. i wish you all the happiness in the world and the freedom to do whatever your heart desires without any burden.

anyway lmaoooo (insert meme of kid banging his head with a basketball) drunk words are sober thoughts???

i have been having a really bad day. well a couple of really bad weeks. those weeks where nothing all that significant happens but by the end of it you’re wondering who the hell you even are and if it’s worth it all? my doctor switched my anxiety meds because what i’m on right now isn’t enough it’s not working. but i haven’t been able to go get the new script and i need to. badly.

i’m just not in a good place mentally.

anyways, not that you needed to know all that, but the reason i’m saying it is because this made me extremely emotional. i want you to know how grateful i am that you took the time to say this to me. i think sometimes i’m very good at wallowing in my self pity, and i just need some perspective to move on.

anyways, thank you. i’m sorry for all the rambling. but i want you to know that you matter. your small fic matters. it’s important to me. you, and all the other small fic writers out there are the backbone of this fandom. thank you for writing and keeping the fandom alive.

[she-might-be-a-demon]

I don’t write on here often but I don’t really have anywhere else to go.

I’m disabled and very mentally ill. Same as a lot of people, but I feel like I never get a good day. It’s always “you need time to heal, give yourself a break”. I feel like all I’ve been doing is resting and it doesn’t seem to make a difference. I’m constantly trying my best to get better and the second I think I’m making progress it’s something new.

You need to go to the ER. You need to take these medications. You need to rest. You can’t go to work. You need to pay these bills. How can I pay the bills if I can’t work? How do I make progress if all I can do is lay around waiting to get better? When will I get better? When will anything get better? How can I give myself a break and be more gentle with myself when I grew up around so much negativity?

“My child is not special”. “You just need to try harder”. “You’re a child, you’re not in pain”. “Stop lying”.

“You’re a teenager, of course your body is going to hurt. You’re growing. Just take more pills and you’ll be fine”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. Stop being dramatic. I go through way more than you and I’m still working and not bitching. There’s nothing for you to be depressed about. You have it so easy”

No. I didn’t. You neglected me and I was forced to be an adult as a child. I raised more children that I can count. I drove the van at the age of 12 because you were drunk at the bar on a Wednesday. I was parenting my parents. Nobody ever believed my pain and now I’m 21 unable to work because I was so ignored that I got no help. There is no help. There is no medication. There is no cure. There isn’t anything I can do to fix any of this. “I’m sorry, doctors don’t know enough about your problems to help you. We can no longer help you. You can try this medication for these other issues but they are not for you. You will trip out until there’s no color left in your eyes. No doctor will contact you to tell you to stop taking these medications and you will have life long side effects.”

Stay positive? Ive been seeing creatures crawling on my ceilings since I was a toddler. The walls are breathing and hands are touching me through the walls. I’m seeing faces in trees and the shadow figures look at me with no expression. Why do I feel their pain? Why do I wish I was dead? Why did I pray to a god I didn’t believe in just because I was told he’d save me one day? Why haven’t I been saved? Why was I lied to? Why am I like this?

“Why dont you hangout with friends?”

What friends are you referring to? The ones who left because they couldn’t handle hearing how badly I wanted my pain to end? The friends who used me for my money because they knew I felt the pain they were going through and they used me until they were better off without me? The friends who couldn’t understand what having DID is like? The friends who fell in love and couldn’t be in my life unless they had me to themselves? The friends who made me sacrifice so many parts of myself until I couldn’t see myself in the mirror? What friends are you talking about?

“Where’s your family in all this?”

The alcoholic, pedophile, narcissistic, manipulative, victim complex, emotionally unavailable, physically abusive, neglectful, egotistical, strict Catholic, compulsive liars, ableist, homophobic, boomers, divorced parents that couldn’t give a fuck about anyone but themselves?

I left at 17. My mother was stealing from me and my family didn’t like that I was the “black sheep” of the family. I need no Shepard for I am not a sheep.

I started from pennies in my pocket. No car. No home. No job. No knowledge of anything other than what my family programmed into my brain to be a slave to whatever they needed me to be. I had nothing.

I’m supposed to be happy? Positive? Hopeful? I slept in a wooden toy chest hoping I wouldn’t wake up as a child . I was so little. Nobody believed a goddamn word I had to say. I’m severely traumatized and disabled.

I’ve been with my partner of almost 4 years who I jokingly gave the name “caretaker” in my phone just for it to unironically become the truth. I feel so much guilt for needing someone to take care of me and help me with everything. I hate that I’ve taken away so many chances for him to have a “normal” life.

I’ve put him through so much shit and he’s still here. It took me over 3 years to get therapy. Only after he broke up with me because I was planning my suicide. He himself was suicidal and didn’t say anything because he didn’t want me to feel bad. He cared more about me than himself and I hate I put him in that situation. He loves me everyday and I can’t seem to love myself for a second. How does he do it? How does he look at me and see love after everything we’ve gone through?

How do I keep going knowing I’m taking away his chances of having a good fulfilling life? Probably won’t get married because why waste money on someone who’s more than 95% going to kill themselves when the time comes? Won’t be having kids because who wants to pass on so many disorders and disabilities to a child? Why adopt just to be shamed for taking in a child when you can’t give them a normal life being a disabled parent?

I’m positive I make my therapist uncomfortable because I can’t seem to go more than two days without talking about how easy everyone’s life will be once I’m gone. “They will miss you”. They definitely won’t miss hearing me bitch about how shit my life is and how there’s nothing i or anyone else can do to help me or fix me. They won’t have to help me with everything. They won’t have to worry about me at all because my body won’t be an issue. My pain won’t be relevant. They will have such an easy life when I’m gone.

I was writing suicide notes at the age of 9. Writing to myself on my birthday because who tf cares about the stick bug you call a girl. The pale and frail. “Look, I can wrap my hands around your waist and my fingers touch.” Awesome having everyone carelessly speak about my size and furthering my eating disorder.

There is nothing for me to look forward to. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel. The grass is not greener on the other side. The roses do not smell sweater. The water will never sit still. Everyone leaves and I hop on the pity train with my fucking clown shoes.

“You are dead to me.” “You are a selfish person.” “You aren’t important, I already replaced you.” “You have zero direction.” “You’re going nowhere.” “I hope you hurt every single day until you rot alone.” “You’re a coward.” “You’re a dark rain cloud with nothing good to say.” “You’re just as angry as your dad.” “You play the victim just like your mom.” “You’re a child.” “You let everyone take advantage of you.” “You will be temporary for everyone who comes into your life.” “You will never be cured.” “Do you know how easy it would be to get rid of your body since there’s nothing there.” “You’re so easy to take advantage of.” “ There is zero empathy in your body.” “ You’re dying anyway.” “You’re so fake.” “You can’t even be a person.” “You’re so lost in your delusions.” “I don’t think you’ve ever told the truth.”

Things I’ve been told by people who “loved” me. By family. By friends. By ex bestfriends. By coworkers. By strangers. And I’m supposed to just get over it? I’m supposed to move on? I just need to move past all that? There is nothing to save me from this.

I’m a burning fire waiting to be put out. I’m choking myself out with my own thoughts. I’m smoking everyday hoping my lungs give out just for my ribs to be pushed to the surface until I can’t sit still. The bugs under my skin whispering the things I’ve been told on repeat for years.

It will never change. I can never change. The change I make is irrelevant to anyone because they see the same depressed girl who gave up so early in life and has no direction. I will make it nowhere in life except the cemetery I sit at alone because there’s nobody there to shame me. There’s nobody to tell me it’ll be better. It’s quiet. It’s calm. There’s no shame in sitting with the dead.

When was there every light in my eyes? When was there a life worth living?

I know nobody will read all of this, I know nobody will listen or understand. I know that I will be gone one day and it will change nothing. The world keeps turning and I will finally;Finally get the rest I needed.

[admiringlove]

exes.

synopsis. hq boys bringing up their exes during an argument.

genre. headcanons; angst to fluff.

characters. sakusa kiyoomi, kuroo tetsurō, oikawa tōru.

warnings. swearing, crying, etc.

author’s note. i contemplated publishing this, it’s been sitting in my drafts for a month :/

navigation. main menu, hq menu.

— SAKUSA KIYOOMI.

sakusa was a very private person. so, dating him came with the fact that he had boundaries. and his career wasn’t easy on you either, because he preferred to keep your relationship private. 

you weren’t the type of person to argue with that. in fact, even you preferred it this way. it would be way easier if the two of you were hidden away from the crazy fans and the invasive media. so you went along with it. you’ve known kiyoomi since college; you’ve adjusted to his mannerisms, his quirks, his ups and downs—everything, really. he couldn’t be more grateful to you. 

but everything came crippling down when you thought that it had been too long since the two of you started going out. that maybe, just maybe, you and kiyoomi could still lead a private life if he just announced to his fans that he has a significant other—just mentioning it, or posting a story on his instagram or any other social media. the first time you had brought it up, he’d dismissed it lightly. you’d tried again and again, but he just wouldn’t budge. 

just like today. but something was off about today as well. you hadn’t exactly had a good day at work, and neither had he. but you approached the argument either way, even though you probably shouldn’t have. 

“we’re happy, aren’t we?” he asks in a taunting way, “why do we need to tell the whole world we’re together if we’re content.”

“omi,” you take in a sharp breath, “we have been together for eight months. eight. that’s more than half a year.”

“yeah, so?” he raises an eyebrow, shrugging. you hate the way he’s so dismissive whenever the two of you come to a disagreement. while you’re usually level-headed, you tended to have a complete change in personality when you were arguing with someone. just like today. 

“do you- oh my god, kiyoomi!” you huff, “i’ve been nothing but patient for the past seven months, but this is a limit that you’re crossing. i thought that after so much time you would be comfortable but no-”

“this is getting annoying,” he sighs, “why are you acting out like this? everything was fine until last month.”

“because,” you grit your teeth, “i don’t wanna be some secret fling anymore. if you can’t take responsibility then i don’t want to be a part of whatever this is.”

“you do realize you’re behaving just like nami, right? that nagging pain in my ass who kept telling me to make our relationship official even though we dated for only two months. 

“w-what?”

“what else do you think?” he taunts. you can tell he’s lost his cool but the things he’s saying pricks at your heart. it hurts. it hurts so much that you don’t know how tears start flowing down from your eyes. sakusa isn’t looking at you, he’s pouring himself a glass of water in the open kitchen while you look at his back in disbelief from the living room. you wipe at your cheeks and when your boyfriend finally turns around is when he realizes how badly he’s screwed up.

“[y/n]-”

“save it, you jerk,” you spat, “go find another pain in the ass to sleep next to tonight, i’m going over to atsumu’s.”

sakusa’s eyes widen in fear, he keeps the half-empty glass on the counter haphazardly, following after you like a lost puppy until you slam the door on his face. he flinches, breathing unevenly and irrational thoughts racing in his brain. 

“i’m sorry,” he says, leaning his forehead against the white door, “that was a jerk move.”

he hears shuffling on the inside—it felt like you were sliding your back down on the door. he heard a few sniffs, and guilt ate away at him. he didn’t mean to hurt you at all, but the words came out on their own. maybe it had been the swarm of fans outside the gym today because of hinata’s birthday that ticked him off. or the fact that one of his tires punctured on the way back home from work. he doesn’t know why all of this happened, but he wants to go back to how the two of you would be in the bathroom applying lotions and creams to your faces before going to bed. you would make jokes saying that kiyoomi looks like a ghost and he would say that you don’t look too different either. sometimes he’d poke your waist before leaving the bathroom just to see how you’d react. sometimes he’d kiss the top of your head and immediately make a yucky expression because some of the lotion got onto his lips and made his whole mouth taste like bitter, soapy flowers. 

he doesn’t get a reply from you. but he still stands there, waiting for you to open the door or give him an earful. 

and after around fifteen minutes, you do come back out. but with a bag filled with some essentials, and a mask covering your face. sakusa’s eyes perk up, “where are you going?”

“move,” you seethe, “i’m going to atsumu’s for the night.”

“i can’t let you do that,” he says, shaking his head and trying to cup your cheeks. you take a step back from him, and his heart breaks. he tries to look into your eyes but you’re looking everywhere but at his own.

“well excuse me if i don’t wanna be a pain in someone’s ass,” you mock, “now, move.”

“i didn’t mean it,” he cries. his eyes are red, and he looks miserable. you roll your eyes, even though you want to believe him, “omi, i’ve known you for five years. you say shit you mean when you’re angry.”

“i wasn’t angry,” he reasons, “i’ve had a bad day, and i know that doesn’t excuse anything but you’re not like her. i’m so sorry. you didn’t deserve it. i don’t deserve you.”

“look, kiyoomi,” you sigh, “figure it out, okay? i don’t wanna be treated like crap. i’m leaving for now, but i’ll come back later.”

“[y/n]-”

“no, omi,” you say, walking away from him, “i said, figure it out. i’ll be back tomorrow night. until then, sort your thoughts out. okay?”

you turn, walking towards the door and opening it. you glanced back one last time to say goodbye when you catch a glimpse of his face.

“please don’t leave me,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. your eyes soften, “i’m not leaving you, dummy. i’m just goin’ over to atsumu’s to cool off for the night. i’ll be back tomorrow. till then, just. reflect, or something.”

“o-oh. um, okay. uh, can i ask you a question before you leave?”

you nod, humming as you grip your bag tightly. his voice is quiet, “are we gonna be okay?”

“i don’t know, omi. i don’t know. but we can try.”

— KUROO TETSURŌ.

kuroo was always sophisticated. you appreciated that about him. in fact, it's what drew you to him more. he was so ambitious in college; he could go on about volleyball for hours. it would be like that on your dates at first. you, him, a muffled movie, blankets and random talks about your futures together.

but when your futures are what drift you apart, can you really blame each other? you weren't college kids anymore—the pipedreams you shared weren't real, life caught on and jobs became hectic. schedules didn't fit with one another anymore. you grew up, and so did he.

and that might've taken a turn for the worse. the complete opposite of what you had imagined it would be.

"tetsurō," you say, losing your patience by the second, "i'm only asking for you to make time. you work overtime way more than you need to and it's honestly affecting our relationship-"

"does your job not affect our relationship?" he asks cockily, raising an eyebrow. you scoff, "you know i gave up that promotion so we could spend more time together. why can't you put in some effort too? it's not like i'm asking for much!"

"i'm only working overtime for us, [y/n]. where the hell do you think all the money goes? it's savings. for us. i work for us. what, am i just not supposed to do that anymore?"

"i didn't say that," you pause, "make time for me, tetsurō. that's all i'm asking from you."

he grumbles, running a hand through his gelled hair. and then, he says something under his breath that you thought would've never come out of his mouth.

"nari wasn't like this at all. tch."

you blink, tilting your head to make sure you heard him correctly. he's taking his coat off and hanging it in the rack. he doesn't see the way your eyes fill to the brim with tears as you whisper, "what?"

he pauses abruptly, turning around, "love, i didn't mean-"

"your ex didn't give up her promotion for you because she was fucking her boss behind your back," you grit your teeth, "if you want me to do that too, all you had to do was just say so."

kuroo stops in his tracks. mouth opening and closing like a goldish’s. he looks shocked at the sudden change in your attitude, but he knows it was deserved. you run up the stairs, locking yourself in your shared bedroom as your fiancé paces around the apartment in worry.

he fucked up. and that too, terribly. it took him a long while to move on from his first love—and who was the one who helped him throughout the process of him returning home drunk off his ass or needed soothing? you. you, his best friend, his roommate (at least, that's all you were back then), and someone who was irrevocably in love with him but never uttered a word.

it took him a long time to convince you that he was over his ex, and that he'd realized he was in love with you all along. college kids might've been all you were, but you were intelligent enough to know that he was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. his corny chemistry jokes, your clumsy habits, him being better at sports and you being better at video games, him knowing how exactly to make your coffee in the mornings, you knowing just what he needed whenever he was sick. you two just clicked. there was nothing complicated about it, really.

he was the one who proposed to you. and now, it seemed like he was the one who was breaking your relationship into pieces. kuroo cursed, taking his shoes off and racing up the stairs. just then, you stepped out with a bag.

"i'm going over to kenma's," you mutter, "leave me alone for now."

he shakes his head, "no."

you raise an eyebrow at him. your somewhat calm composure scares him, but he continues, "i can't let you leave. i need to fix this."

"you can't just ‘fix this’, tetsurō," you say, trying to walk down the stairs. but he grabs your arm, "i'm sorry. none of that should've been said."

"but you said it anyway, didn't you?" you retort, "what, you want a fortune cookie for apologizing?"

"[y/n]-"

"go back to your so-called nari if you miss her," you snarl, "i'm done."

"no," he cries, "we aren't done. stop."

you continue walking towards the front door, and he grabs your bag. you tsk, trying to take his hand off. but his grip is too strong.

"stop walking away and listen, will you?" he says. his voice is barely a whisper. your eyes cloud with anger, "i've been trying to talk to you for the past hour. but all you've done is demean my feelings for the entire time, and you even had the audacity to compare me to your ex. do you know how hard it was for me to date you in the beginning?"

"i-i do," he sighs, "please, just listen to me. i'm sorry. reminding you of my ex was uncalled for. i won't do that ever again. it was an honest mistake, i swear."

"tetsurō," your voice cracks, "do you even know just how much you hurt me tonight?"

and he sees it. you break down. you stop acting like everything is okay, and your eyes finally let out tears in front of him. you had probably already cried in the bedroom as you packed your overnight bag, but here you were, sobbing as you tightly held onto his dress shirt, hands forming fists. his eyes soften, and he cradles your cheek with his hand, "i know saying 'sorry' isn't gonna be enough. but i really am sorry. i love you, and i can't lose you because i was an idiot and said shit i didn't mean."

he looks up, a few tears of his own falling from his eyes, "i'm sorry. please, just-"

you place your head on his chest, your forehead making contact with his clothed skin. he looks down, abruptly stopping as his hands reach the back of your head, caressing your hair. your cries are quieter than before, tuning down to mere sniffs, "you hurt me, tetsurō."

"i know," he says, nodding, "i shouldn't have said any of that."

"do you," you pause, as if to wonder if you should really say it out loud. to save yourself of the pain, maybe. but you keep going, "do you still think about her?"

kuroo cups your cheeks, forcing you to look into his eyes, "i'm gonna be honest with you. i found some old high school photos on my laptop today. it's the only reason i even thought of her."

you whimper against him. god, how he hates seeing you like this. he kisses the top of your head before reassuring you, "you don't have to worry about me thinking about anyone who's not you. i can assure you that literally everyone around me knows how much i love you."

you almost roll your eyes. he lets out a sad chuckle before continuing, "no, really. kenma gets annoyed by how much i talk about you sometimes. so do some of my co-workers. i was gonna ask you to come to the expo with me, and they were all going to complain about me to you."

a giggle escapes your lips as some tears fall. kuroo presses a kiss to your nose before whispering, "you don't know how much i love you. the words simply aren't enough. and i hate myself for making you think any less."

"tetsu," you let out a sound before wrapping your arms around him. he laughs, wiping a stray drop away from the corner of his eyes. kuroo lets out a strangled sigh, "you don't know how much it means to me that you're calling me that again."

"tetsu," you say again. he looks down to see you peering up at him, "i love you. please don't say anything dumb like that ever again."

"if i do, i give you full permission to throw concentrated hydrochloric acid into my eyes."

— OIKAWA TŌRU.

you were embarrassed by your fiancé today. again.

oikawa tōru was your high-school sweetheart. he was your first love, your everything. his smile made your heart skip a beat, his touch made you forget about the rest of the world, hs gaze made you think all your problems were tiny compared to your love.

until he had to leave, that is. that was probably one of the most strenuous parts of your relationship—life, maybe. he loved you too much to make you feel the pain of his absence, and you loved him too much to let him go without you. so what did you do? you applied to universities in argentina for your courses.

and you got in. the day you broke the news to him through a surprise party with your friends by your side, you saw him be the happiest boy on earth. his eyes went from the dullest brown to being as bright as the sun. his smile returned, and you embarked on a journey. together.

years flew by. you grew older, more mature and responsible. you had some ups and downs—one really bad argument happened back in college where the two of you took some time off and thought about everything you wanted from life. but then he showed up outside your friend's apartment(where you were staying then). it was raining heavily that night, his hair was slopping wet and sticking to his face. he was with someone during your time off, and he realized that everything that he wanted in life was you.

because it was you, who understood him. you, who supported his dreams. you, who he was so irrevocably in love with that he compared everyone else to you. the three-month break meant nothing. the words he had said during the argument meant nothing. he was yours; he was always going to be yours. ever since he met you at the park as a child trying to chase his toy car, he was yours. remember that time when the two of you had your first kiss while star gazing on the roof of your home? yeah, he still blushes while thinking about it.

you were bitter at first—that he'd gone to someone else after the two of you had taken a break. but with time, you understood that too. he couldn't ask for more.

but today irked you. the past two months irked you. you were grown-ups now. you had responsibilities. just as how oikawa was your responsibility, you were his. so why is it that, in the past two months, oikawa tōru stood you up on every single date the two of you had meticulously planned to fit into both of your schedules? all six of them.

"tōru," your voice is stern, "what part of 'you stood me up' don't you understand? even after i spent a week trying to plan tonight out? i get that your career is important but you spending extra hours at the gym practicing isn't work. it's you being stubborn."

"if i'm stubborn then you're a hypocrite," he retorts, "you pin the blame on me all the time. do you not remember how you kept postponing because of your dumb endless meetings? when i was the one that was free? when it wasn't volleyball season?"

"those dumb meetings are why i earn so much more than last year," you're firm as you pour yourself a glass of wine, "you're being childish, tōru. do you know how embarrassing it was for me? at the same restaurant where you've been abandoning me for the past few months? it's been six times where i've had dinner alone."

"oh, so i'm being childish?" he asks, in a mocking tone. his voice gradually getting louder, "i was at work, [y/n]. i had to work. because i have a game next week. what part of that is so complicated for you to understand?"

"what part of 'we planned this beforehand because you have a game next week and won't be free then' is not understandable for you?" you retort, sipping from your glass as you walk toward the living room. the hardwood floors feel nice against your feet, and just as you're about to sit down on the couch, you hear something you never thought you would.

"tch. yuri wasn't like this at all when i was with her."

the glass of wine in your hand almost falls, but you get a hold of your grip in time. the mature argument you thought you were having isn't 'mature' anymore. oh no, it's much more. you place the glass on the coffee table before looking at him with fury.

"excuse me?" your voice is much ruder than before, "the girl you pity fucked? the girl you were with for the three months when we weren't together? the girl you fucked, pretending that it was me? really, tōru?"

he flinches at your sudden change in tone. his lips are pressed in a straight line as he finally looks at you. your eyebrows knitted together in confusion and betrayal, your eyes covered with rage—but oikawa knows that there are tears behind the clouded anger, ready to spill at any given moment. you were an open book to him, but right now, you were building walls between the two of you that he wasn't sure he could break.

"i-i didn't mean that-"

"oh yeah?" you taunt, stepping a little closer, "what would you do if i went back to the one-night-stand i had when we took a break, huh? what then? do you want me to tell you he was better than you?"

he winces at the words. gosh, he doesn't remember the last time you lost your cool in this way. the last time you two had an argument as serious as this, was in college. both of you were childish back then. but now? you were the one who was trying to stay calm and talk it out, whilst he acted like a total buffoon.

"you know what?" you voice cracks, "screw this. screw you. i'm going over to a friend's. fuck whoever you want."

your footsteps are like pins pricking into his heart when you walk up the stairs of your home. the slam of your shared bedroom door makes him flinch, and his eyes close. when they open, he sees your degree hung up on the living room shelf where his trophies and medals sit.

fuck.

he remembers how he'd warned you that argentina would be nothing like japan. back when the two of you were just kids. back when you left your country and came here, just because he would be alongside you. 

he still remembers the day you’d shown him your acceptance letter. you moved halfway across the world for him. you didn’t even bother applying to japanese schools because of him. you learned a whole another language for him. and what did he do in return? he told you that the two-and-a-half month fling he had was better than you. 

he curses himself as he runs up the staircase. when he opens the door to your bedroom, he finally sees you. sitting at the edge of your side of the bed, clutching a bag as small sobs escape your lips. your ring sits prettily on the nightstand, staring back at him in horror. the ring that was always on you, that you never took off, was sitting somewhere that wasn’t your finger. 

he walks up to you slowly. taking in a sharp breath, he kneels down in front of you. he takes your hand in  his, rubbing his thumb against your skin. you choke back a sob as you ask, “what do you want now?”

“i’m sorry,” he voice is soft, “whatever i said down there was uncalled for. i was acting like a child. you shouldn’t have had to go through that. i’m pretty sure that one-night-stand you had would treat you better than how i’m doing at the moment.”

you chuckle before mumbling, “all i wanted was to spend time with you. we even planned it together because i didn’t wanna bother you with the upcoming season.”

god, how he wishes iwa-chan was here right now so he could get a beating. this is probably the first time he wanted to get beaten up by his best friend willingly.

“i know. i’m sorry. i love you, and i think i just,” he pauses, as if thinking of what to say. or confirming in his mind that it’s the right thing to tell you, “i think i said what i said because you weren’t agreeing with me. i got so used to you doing things for me that i took you for granted. and you didn’t deserve any of that. you deserve someone way better than me. hell, you studied your ass off in high-school so you could come to a whole new country just because of me. you did so much for me. i guess... i guess that got to my head a little. you love me so, so much and i’m so grateful. but [y/n], i proposed to you because i don’t think i can even breathe properly without you by my side. so call me selfish, but i still want you to stay. please don’t leave me because i was an arrogant idiot who said things he didn’t really mean.”

“i’m not going to leave you, tōru,” you murmur, “i’m not going anywhere just because we had a stupid argument. we’re both adults.”

“do you um,” he’s scared of completing his sentence because you might say yes, “still need to go over to your friend’s house? i can drop you if you’d like. i don’t want you driving while you’re feeling so low.”

“no, no,” you wipe away your stray tears with your other hand, still holding onto oikawa. you pause, pondering if you really want to say the words you’re thinking, “tōru?”

he hums. 

“please don’t say anything like that ever again,” you look at your lap instead of his honey-brown eyes, “i don’t know what i’d do if you did.”

he understands what you mean. he gets it. he knows that you will leave if he repeats his mistake. because as complacent as you were, you still had a lot of respect for yourself.

“i promise.”

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[maloskiworld]

Homesick - Charles Leclerc

MASTERLIST (requests are open!)

Summary (requested) : After the triple header, Charles came home with a little cold. Or maybe he was just extra missing his girl.

Warnings : sickness

Words count : +1.5 K (sorry it's a little short, i did my best)

A/N : Here I come with an another request. Dear anon, I hope you'll like it ! Enjoy everyone, feedbacks are still more than welcome. 🌻

PS : English isn’t my first language, so sorry if there’s any mistakes ! ❤️

not my gif, credits to the owner ! (please don't ever learn to wink Charles, that's just fucking adorable)

🌻🌻🌻

You came home from work late in the night. You were overwhelmed with all the files you had to deal with. You couldn't wait to relax. The long bath you were gonna take didn't leave your mind. The smell of multicolors bath bomb and sweet candles was already tickling your nose. You knew once your body would be underwater, you'd call Charles. You missed him, his voice, his laugh and his touch. He's been gone for the triple header. Three weeks without him was purely painful. Your whole existence wasn't complete if he wasn't by your side. He was supposed to be back tomorrow morning. The last races took a toll on him. The car wasn't feeling great. He was trying his best, fighting with everything he had in him to stay in the top 5. But it wasn't that easy. You knew he was blaming himself. You'd hear him curse for doing a little mistake over the phone for days and days. He couldn't let them go. He was being harsh with himself. You tried to show him that he was great. Telling him how proud you were. His time would come, that was for sure. He was one of the best pilots of his generation - if not the best. He got a seat in Ferrari after one (amazing) season in F1. The golden rookie. But with miles and miles between the both of you, your words didn't really had an effect on him. Sure, he felt better when he heard of your voice after a bad race. But he was being homesick.

The door of your flat wasn't locked. You frowned. The image of you locking it was clear in your brain. You stepped in, thinking maybe you were so tired you were imagining things.

The first thing you noticed was the pair of black baskets in the hallway. A little further, stood a red suitcase. Charles was home. You sighed happily. He took a flight early. You called his name, but he didn't answer. You assumed he was probably sleeping. The flight must've been long, and after three weeks away from home, laying in bed was probably the first thing he wanted to do. You decided to let him sleep a little bit before going to see him.

You went in the kitchen and eat some leftovers from the dinner you had yesterday. You were sitting on the couch, scrolling endlessly on Twitter. A loud cough came from your bedroom. You immediately got up and rushed inside it.

Charles was laying there, coughing badly. His eyes were so little, you never saw someone with bags like that. You kneeled near him.

" Hi love. How are you ? " the question was actually dumb. You could see he wasn't in his best form.

" Homesick ", he answered before closing his eyes again and burying his body further under the covers. You smiled a little bit. This boy maybe homesick, but right now, he was just really sick. You let your fingertips brush his forehead. It was so hot your fingers could have caught on fire. You kissed the top of his head and went back to your living room. You searched everywhere for the medicine you took the last time you caught a cold. You couldn't put your hands on it. Groaning, you looked up the nearest pharmacy on internet. It was 22 pm, and you were persuaded that you'd have cross the town - not that you really minded. Luckily, the pharmacy down your street was open til 23 pm. You rushed and went in the cold streets to get Charles everything that he'll need to recover from this.

You did as fast as could. When you got home, you found Charles laying on the couch.

" Where were you ? ", he asked in a raspy voice. He was watching the empty screen of the TV.

" I could return the question to you, love. You need to rest. C'mon, let's go back to sleep. ", you said in a sweet voice. You took him under your arms and pushed him off the couch. You both walked to your shared bedroom, Charles's body completely relying on you. You put him back under the cover.

"Have you eaten yet tonight ? " the only response you got was a negative groan. " Alright. I'll make you some soup. You need to eat, plus I'm gonna give you some medicine, okay ? ", you explained everything to him.

You started to let go of him, but his arm pulled you back. Since you weren't expecting the move, it destabilized you and you fell on him. He pushed the cover over you and snuggled close to you. He let his forehead rest on the crock of your neck. You felt his breath slow down.

" Don't leave me ", he murmured against your skin.

" I'm not leaving, Charles. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be back in 5 min top chrono, okay ? And if you really need me, just call me, I'll be downstairs ", your hand was caressing his hair. You rolled on your side and sit on the edge of the bed. Again, his arm went to prevent you from leaving. He was gripping the side of your hip.

" Stay ", he said again. He was so clingy. Sick Charles, tired Charles, sad Charles were the clingiest Charles. He needed you more than ever in times like this. You were melting and wanted to fulfill his wish. But you also knew he needed to take his medicine.

" I won't be long. The faster you let me go, the faster I'll be back ", you told him. He groaned. He coughed so bad again that he had to take his arm off you. You took this opportunity to rush to the kitchen.

You got everything and went back to the bedroom. Charles was awake, sitting, and staring at the door. You assumed he was waiting for you to come back.

" See, I didn't take long ", you put everything on the nightstand and sat down on the edge of the bed. Charles was watching your every move. He ate his soup and took the pills and syrup you gave him without saying anything. " Now, you need to sleep, my love ", you forced him to lay down. As soon as his head touched the pillow, his eyes closed.

" Cuddle ", was all he said. He looked like a lost child. You changed, put one of his worn shirt and went under the covers. He immediately laid on top of you.

" Good night, Charli ", you said. He hugged you tight. It felt like his life was depending on this embrace.

" I love you so much, Y/N " and he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you woke sweating like you were in hell. Charles was still laying on top of you with the cover hiding the both of you from the world. You were suffocating. You tried to move but your lover was blocking you out. You glanced at the clock. It was past 10 am. You guys never slept so late in the morning. You gently started to caress Charles's face. You placed plenty of kisses all over his face. His eyes opened up slowly and had to adjust to the light of the room.

" Good morning, beautiful boy ", you said, leaving another kiss on his nose. He didn't answer but rolled to the side and gave you his back. You leaned on his side and touched his forehead, it didn't feel as hot anymore.

" I'm feeling better ", he said in his morning voice. He laid on his back and signaled you to come rest on his chest. You obeyed quickly. " I told you, I was just homesick. I was missing my girl ", he smiled lightly. You could sens he was still a little sick, but mostly extremely tired.

" You just wanted an excuse for me to take extra care of you, uh ? ", you asked in a joyful tone. " I missed you more. Feels empty here when you're not there ".

" Yeah. I'm empty without you, too. I'll make you fly with me to every race from now on, fuck your job ", you didn't know if he was serious or not. You decided not to respond. He knew you hated the idea of leaving your job. It was hard but you loved it. And your boss was nice and let you take days off for many races. You hummed, just wanted to enjoy this peaceful morning with the love of your life. " Can we stay in bed all day ? ", he asked. You smiled at him and nodded.

" Oh, I almost forgot ", he said and without a warning took you in a passionate kiss. " I couldn't not kiss my girl, my lips were missing yours. "

————————————————————-

🌻 Thanks for reading 🌻

[strawhatsoraya]

ICHIGO X READER / SFW

A Misunderstanding

KUROSAKI ICHIGO  X READER | FEM! READER, SHE/HER WORD COUNT: 1.7k CW: is bickering a warning? then yes, there's a lot of it. assumptions, and misunderstandings, everyone is a liar, blackmail? Part 2 of Strawberry Kisses are Forever // Previous | Next

A BADLY WRITTEN SUMMARY: The one where Ichigo rejects a confession, and agrees to a romantic getaway in the same breath (sort of), there's a wild tatsuki arisawa, and someone needs a new phone already

You. I want you.

Those were words he had never wanted to hear from you. 

Your clasp on his shirt is deadly, the originator of the cold touch traversing down his spine. He holds his breath, aware that your face is too close, way too close. Yes, your lips look so soft, but that does not mean he should let you kiss him. After all, he still had feelings for Rukia and you–you were just a girl who stole his coffee. You were just a girl who had brought him, safely, to this hotel room. You were just a girl he slept next to–once. 

You were just a girl. That was it, that was all.

“We don’t even know each other like that,” he starts, leaning his head back and away from your face.  “That would be—” He pauses to gather his thoughts from the back of his mind, jumbled, groggy. His bottom lip feels bone dry, so he flicks his tongue out to fix the problem. “It just wouldn’t be a good idea.”

There’s a thought forming in your head, and as you blink slowly, you realize you and Ichigo are not on the same wavelength at all. There’s a moment of hesitation, where you decided whether it would be conducive to your plans to laugh. 

“I don’t want to have sex with you,” you tell him, with furrowed brows. That was one third of a lie. Your hold on his shirt is still persistent. “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

He is not sure if it’s the possible result of a hangover, the fact he hasn’t had breakfast yet, or even coffee but every word you speak sounds ridiculous; a work of comical fiction. He reaches out towards your ear, and carefully lifts tufts of brown curls. You watch him with barely contained annoyance as he looks around. 

“What are you doing?” you ask him, his eyes still determined to look between your hair. His actions remind you exactly why you thought he was weird. Who behaved this way? 

“I’m just looking,” he says as you slap his hand away. “Trying to see where you keep all these weird ideas.”

“Okay, first of all. Don’t just touch my hair. You just said we didn’t know each other like that,” you do your best to keep the venom out of your voice. You don’t stop to consider it a failure. “And second, my ideas aren’t weird. You are.” You pinch his nose between index and middle finger. 

He isn’t buying it. You didn’t seem the honest type. You lied a lot, as far as he knew. This was another convoluted lie. The same you always built whenever he would bring up the subject of the coffee; the same way you weaved and bobbed around him and disappeared without paying him. 

He’s not sure what the sensation in his stomach is. Hunger, or pity; he is too sleepy to care. All he knows is that he is embarrassed for you. Was this your idea of a confession? Who would ever take your feelings seriously if you were going to behave this way? Ichigo sighs, feeling like he needs to let you down as gently as possible. After all, you seemed very fragile from his perspective right now, with your tousled curls, and dewy round eyes. He brings himself to take your hand away from his nose, and he pats it, once, twice.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, and presses his lips together. You stare at his sympathetic expression with wide eyes. Panic rising in your chest; smoke before the flames. “I don’t have any feelings for you.”

Fire lights. You snatch your hand away only to grasp his shirt with both hands. You try to shake him, to see if his brain will fall into place again, but he is too big–too heavy for your weak upper body. “Listen here, Kurosaki,” you tell him, bringing your face closer. Perhaps he was hard of hearing. Perhaps he needed to read your lips? Perhaps your Japanese was not fluent enough, perhaps your accent was too thick. “I have zero interest in you romantically. Zero.” You enunciate, try to slow down the speed of your speech but your heart is drumming a rapid beat in your ears. “You’re weird. You talk weird. Your hair is weird.” You pause, and your eyes flutter from his mouth–the one that speaks atrocities–to his eyes. “For me, as far as I’m concerned, I want a perfectly boring and ordinary life. YOU are NOT it.”

Burn marks on your fingertips force you to release him. You roll away from him, and off the bed, your only mission now is getting away. You hear him roll off the bed, mattress creaking in complaint at losing his warmth. You think nothing of it, of your thoughts, or your burning ears as you search for your shoes. 

“Here’s the deal,” you start again, finding one high top. You hop around, trying to put it on. The bed is right there, but it laughs at you–you refuse to sit on it again and relive the embarrassment. “I just need you to go on a weekend trip with me. You’ll meet my family, and just pretend we are dating. That’s it.”

Ichigo shakes his head even as he puts his own shoes on. “No way,” he says, shoving his big feet into his shoes. “There’s no way I’m going on a weekend trip with you, anywhere.” And to meet your family? That was simply not happening. That was more intimacy than he was ever ready for, much less with you–Shortie McStuffins–who didn’t even have the decency to be honest with him and your own feelings. It would be awkward. What if you tried to put the moves on him while they were there? What would he do then?

His hands fly to his chest, as if to guard himself.

“Absolutely not,” he says shaking his head, even as you approach him, hands out. They’re on his chest, and he resists even as you try to push him back towards the hotel door. You stop only to grab the card key on the nightstand.

“Yes, yes,” you say instead, returning to pushing him out. “You owe me, Kurosaki!” You tell him, shoving a finger at his chest repeatedly. You notice it doesn’t budge. Just how strong was he? You poke his chest again for good measure; in the name of science. “I saved your life last night.” Technically, you saved him from becoming the public fire hydrant to every stray dog in town. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. “The least you can do is this.”

His hands are in his hair, fingers gripping and pulling as if that would help sort his thoughts. He groans, feeling a mild headache start. You detect his hesitation, the slight moment of weakness, so you bring your phone out and shove it at him.

“I didn’t want to have to do this,” you mumble, face growing hot. You swallow, finding your courage. “But I will if I have to.” Ichigo brings his hands down to squint at the cracked screen of your phone. A selfie is pulled up, of a sleeping Ichigo in the hotel bed, with you smiling softly with your head on his chest.

His scream was more than you expected. You retreat with quick steps, holding the phone to your chest as he wildly reaches for it. 

“Delete it!” he yells, and you bring a finger to your mouth, looking behind you to make sure no one from the front desk is coming. “Delete that right now,” he spits through clenched teeth, lowering his volume.

“Come with me to Narita, and I will,” you tell him, slipping your phone inside your crop top, in between your breasts. There was no way pure and prude Kurosaki Ichigo would take it from you now. 

A deep breath should have calmed him, should have eased the heat rising in his body. It doesn't work so he blows out through his nose noisily. “One trip,” he says, holding up a finger. “And you delete that picture as soon as we are on the train back. As soon as we are on the station. Got it?”

You nod, giddy at the prospect. You bounce on the heels of your feet, and slap him on the back roughly; there’s a resounding smack echoing in the lobby as you hand the card key over without a word. You make sure to bow on your way out.

“Got it, Kurosaki!” you chirp, saluting him outside the hotel. You take in his sulking expression–the way his brows are furrowed together (again), the pout on his lips. You can’t help but smile. A chuckle shakes your shoulders, and you pat his arm; a poor form of apology. “Lighten up. It won’t be as bad as you think. Later!”

You walk away towards the dorms, and do your best not to look back. 

Ichigo does his best not to scream. He was not the kind to make a big scene in public, but at the moment it almost seems reasonable. His hands were shoved deeply in his pockets, and he was glaring at the ground. He almost bumps into the person standing in front of him.

He mumbles an apology before his eyes adjust; they grow wide as pink spreads on his tan skin. “Arisawa,” his voice sounds foreign even to his ears. “What are you doing here?”

Tatsuki looks at him, a brow arched high on her forehead. “I think I should be the one asking that.” She had known Kurosaki Ichigo since they were kids. Not once had he seemed interested in the typical teenage hobbies. He refused to go on most outings, never watched the same TV shows, didn’t show any interest in dating–anyone–boy or girl. This continued even in college. The last place she expected to see Ichigo was coming out of a hotel with a girl, of all things.

Her pace matches Ichigo, even as he speeds up. “You’re going to tell me who your girlfriend is or do I have to beat it out of you?” He looks down at her, sees the smirk, the glint in her eyes and knows that she speaks the truth. Ichigo swallows.

“It’s not like that at all. I can explain.”

[boom-bakugou]

Cockwarming Scenarios

A/N: This is for my @bnhabookclub bingo card where I had the prompt ‘Cockwarming!’ enjoy sinners (:<

Pairings: Bakugo x Reader, Kirishima x Reader, Sero x Reader, Dabi x Reader, Hawks x Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, cockwarming, (also breeding kink and dumbification in hawks’ whoops sorry)

masterlist

-Bakugou normally isn’t one to instigate cockwarming

-It’ll normally be when you’re needy and he’s doing something like paperwork for his hero agency and isn’t saying much but you can tell he’s tired and won’t exactly want to fool around

-But as soon as he realises how wet you are and how much you’re begging for him to touch you he can’t say no to his pretty baby all riled up

“Just come sit here for one second you shitty woman.” He grumbles, pushing his desk chair back ever so slightly after your insistent whining for him to pay attention to you.

He turns the spinning chair to you, his lap open wide and ready for you to sit on to which you happily oblige, sitting your butt down on his crotch for him to just grab your waist tightly.

“Not like that.” Within a brief spin you’re sitting with your chest to his, legs straddling his own as he tucks his chair back under the desk.

“Katsu- come on please.” You whimper, grinding your sopping core against his jeans where you can feel his cock hardening beneath you. With a short ‘hrmph’ you feel his hands slip between the two of you so he can pull his cock out in the open. You grind yourself on his thigh for a few moments as he fists his member at the feeling of you against him.

“Come on then needy girl, slide on my cock.” The smirk on his face is devilish and you slide down your panties from beneath your oversized shirt (which was one of his, just so you could tease him further. You knew how much he loved you in his shirts).

Moaning slowly as you move down his cock for the stimulation of feeling full, you begin to buck your hips against his once you’re down to his hilt- before he grabs your waist tightly; enough to leave spots of bruises.

“Now sit there and be a good fuckin’ girl.” He slides his arms past you, looking over your shoulder as he tries to continue his work despite the feeling of your fleshy walls around him almost made him want to fuck your brains out on his desk right then and there.

“You can’t do this.” You snivel into his shoulder, every small movement you made to try and get yourself off effortless against his iron grip on your side.

“Well baby, good girls don’t beg unless told to.” He makes his point by pulling you up ever so slightly and thrusting into you with a force that makes you crackle out a moan. “And even good-er girls do what they’re fuckin’ told, you got that shitty woman?”

“Yes sir.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now be quiet or you’re gonna’ regret it princess.”

-Kirishima after sex loves to cockwarm you

-He’s just so tired and loves the warm feeling of being inside you and it makes after sex cuddles just more intimate

“Where do you want me to cum sweetheart? Fuck you’re so fucking tight baby girl.” Kirishima croaks out into your ear, riding out the rest of your orgasm as he chased his.

“M’inside of me Eiji.” You practically drool at the feeling of him convulsing inside of you, gripping onto his flattened hair practically setting him off edge at the stimulation.

After catching his breath, Kirishima’s arms wobble around you from keeping himself pried up above you. You can feel the hot spurts of cum dribble from inside of you and as Kirishima is fully finished, he pulls you against him as he lies down with his cock still firmly inside of you.

“Kiri-“ You whine at the feeling of being so full. You don’t know how much you can take after having so many orgasms pulled out of you. Your clit was so overstimulated and your body was shaking from it but Kirishima held you tightly enough for it to simmer down.

“Come on baby just 5 more minutes.” His mumbles were so sleepy, it was probably going to be way more than 5 minutes. “You just feel so nice around me, like you were made for me princess.”

He presses kisses all over your face, making sure not to miss a single inch before you settled snugly into his chest.

“So beautiful.” Kirishima whispers, moving his hips ever so slightly to nestle into you further. “My fucking beautiful girl huh?”

His toothy grin is enough to make you giggle, his hands slide down your sweat covered bodies to grab your ass tightly. The action makes him twitch inside of you slightly and you gasp at the sudden explicitness of his actions.

“You sure you couldn’t go for a round two baby?”

“I… wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

-Sero loves sleepy cockwarming

-he’s too tired in the morning to fuck you but you’re both hot and bothered but neither of you fully want to be athletic so early; this is your compromise

“Whatchu doing sweetness?” Sero blinks a couple times as you palm him through his boxers, a sleepy grin on your face. “What? You want me inside of you baby?”

You nod slowly, the tiredness in your eyes making your blinks last longer but down below you felt like you could melt. All you wanted was for him to be inside of you so badly.

“C’mere then love.” His morning voice is so croaky as you slide up his torso. He flips you so you’re lying next to him, one leg draped over his waist as he shuffles your pyjamas down your legs before following suit with his own boxers. He pushes his fingers against your folds, gathering slick before teasing against your entrance which makes you buck your hips into his palm.

“So needy aren’t we?” Sero smirks to then press a kiss onto your forehead. He rests his hands to your lower back as he pulls your hips closer to his before slowly sliding himself into you before completely bottoming out “Shit- you’re so warm.”

You happily hum at the feeling of him inside you, the pressure making you roll your hips slightly against him which allowed his cock to move into you more comfortably; in turn hitting your g-spot nicely.

The two of you spent a few more moments lazily grinding against one another before the two of you lost interest in getting each other off and more about you both being so close and whole with one another.

“D’ya want me to pull out of you pretty girl?” Sero slightly cleared his throat to get rid of it’s morning rasp, just as he began to pull away you placed your hand on his shoulder to stop him from moving any further. You curled closer into his chest, letting his arms wrap around you to nestle in together.

“Leave it.” You mumble against his bare chest, barely enough for him to hear you but he easily picked it up due to the proximity of you both. “S’Keepin us warm.”

“Okay pretty girl.” Sero plants a kiss to your hair line, feigning back a yawn. “I’ll keep you warm.”

-DABI ooft that man will use it as a punishment baby

-this is one of his more tame punishments because he can get sadistic, it just depends on how mouthy you’ve been with him that day

“You little slut.” Dabi hisses through his teeth, a warm spank against your ass acting as the punctuation of his words. You’d forgotten how many you’d received but you couldn’t say it wasn’t making you feel so fucking turned on.

“You think you deserve my cock huh?” Another slap to your other ass cheek. “Tell me doll, do you think you fucking deserve it?”

“Yes sir- please I’ll be good.” You whinge, head too dizzy to keep it up after being laid over his lap for god knows how long. You had no effort anymore to keep up the bratty act, all you wanted to do was cum.

“There’s my good whore.” He chuckles, helping you sit up before lying you back down on your shared bed. Hissing when your ass touches the sheets from the sheer amount of beating it had just received. You were just glad to finally get off his lap.

Dabi slid his jeans off, before laying down next to you. Pumping his cock a few times before encouraging you to get on top of him. He smirks at your tired expression as you begin to straddle him sliding down onto his shaft slowly.

You begin to use your bruised thighs to lift yourself up but Dabi ultimately pushes you back down, his other hand reaching for his phone. You look at him with confusion as you try to wiggle around him for any sort of stimulation. You felt like you were on fire with how much you wanted him to just fuck your brains out.

“Nuh uh doll. You’re getting this cock just like you wanted.” He lets out a low laugh, watching as the realisation sets in on your face. “Shame that bratty fucking mouth of yours had to ruin it. How’ds’it feel to be so full of my cock hm?”

You swore you could have screamed as you lay against his chest, one arm behind his head as the other scrolled mindlessly on his device, not even touching you.

“Please sir- I’ll be so good for you, just touch me a little.” With no warning Dabi slams back up into your hips and you let out a lewd moan at the friction inside of you.

“Each time you fucking squirm or complain I’m gonna make it longer. Now shut that whore mouth of yours up or you will regret it.”

-Hawks lives for cockwarming… why?

-because this mans breeding kink is off the scale!!!

-loves cockwarming literally after every time you have sex when you’re trying for kids he fucking loves the feeling of just being left inside of you.

“Fuck baby bird you feel so fucking good around my cock.” Hawks’ shuddering moans mixed with your own filled the room with explicit ecstasy. “M’gonna fill you up with so much cum baby, you want that huh? Want me to fill you up with my cum?”

“Yes Hawks fuck- please m’need it so bad.” You weep at the feeling of his balls slapping against you harshly. It only spurred him on to cum so deep inside of you.

“Fuck. This cunt was made for me babe.” Hawks bit his tongue at the feeling of you tightening around him, threatening to reach your high also. “I’m gonna ruin that pretty pussy with my cum you got that?”

You moaned at his lewd words, babbling out ‘yeses’ and anything else that was in any way affirmative to getting you any closer to euphoria, Hawks couldn’t help but chuckle at your state.

“Look at my baby bird.” He pulls out far and plunges deep into you, hitting just the right spot. “I love it when you get so needy you turn dumb baby, fuck you stupid because all you want is my cum, yeah?”

With his filthy words you let out a raspy moan as you came undone around his cock. It only took a few more thrusts before he too climaxed inside of you, fucking his cum right back into your entrance. Pulling you into him with his wings as added leverage he pulled you to lay next to him, cock still firmly thrusted into you.

“Keigo aren’t you going to-“

“Come on baby bird, you know the rules.” He kissed your forehead, using little feathers to pull the hair back from your face ever so gently so he could look into your eyes. “Gonna keep my cock nice and warm inside of you to fuck my cum into you huh? Ain’t that right?’