#SAS Assignment Help

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SAS Assignment Help Blueprint for Accurate Correlation Analysis Results

Correlation analysis is a statistical method used to assess the relationship between two or more variables. It quantifies how changes in one variable relate to changes in another, producing a correlation coefficient that ranges from -1 to +1. A coefficient of +1 indicates a perfect positive correlation, -1 indicates a perfect negative correlation (one variable increases while the other decreases), and a value of 0 signifies no correlation between the variables.

In the data analysis field correlation analysis is pivotal for hypothesis testing, exploratory analysis and feature selection in machine learning models. In other words, correlation assists students, researchers and analysts to identify which variables are related and possibly can be chosen for further qualitative explorative statistical analysis.

SAS: A Popular Tool for Data Analysis and Correlation

SAS (Statistical Analysis System) is one of the leading software packages for the correlation analysis and is mostly used by academicians, students in universities and for other professional research purposes. SAS also has different versions; for example, SAS Viya, SAS OnDemand, and SAS Enterprise Miner designed for specific users. The main strength of the software lies on its ability to handle large datasets, perform numerous operations and automates calculations with high levels of accuracy, which makes the software very useful for students who study statistics and data analysis.

Being a robust software, many of the students have issues and concerns with its application. Some of the general difficulties are: writing accurate syntax for performing correlation analysis, writing interpretation, handling big datasets. These issues may result in the inaccurate analysis and description of results and misleading conclusions.

Overcoming SAS Challenges with SAS Assignment Help

SAS Assignment Help is a valuable resource for students who face these challenges. These services provide comprehensive support on how to set up, run and interpret the correlation analysis in SAS. Whether a student is having trouble understanding the technical interface of the program, or the theoretical interpretation of the results of the analysis, these services help the student get accurate results and clear understanding of the analysis.

Students can gain confidence in performing correlation analysis by opting for SAS homework support to simplify concepts and get coding assistance. It saves time when tackling complicated questions and recurring errors during the process of running the codes in SAS.

SAS Assignment Help Blueprint for Accurate Correlation Analysis Results

With the basic understanding on correlation analysis and the issues students encounter, lets proceed with steps to be followed in order to perform correlation analysis in SAS. This guideline will take you through preparation of the data to the interpretation of the results with meaningful insights.

Step 1: Loading the Data into SAS

The first of approach of carrying out correlation analysis in SAS is to import the data set. In this context, let us work with the well-known Iris dataset which comprises several attributes of iris flower. To load the data into SAS, we use the following code:

data iris;

infile "/path-to-your-dataset/iris.csv" delimiter=',' missover dsd firstobs=2;

input SepalLength SepalWidth PetalLength PetalWidth Species $;

run;

Here, infile specifies the location of the dataset, and input defines the variables we want to extract from the dataset. Notice that the Species variable is a categorical one (denoted by $), whereas the other four are continuous.

Step 2: Conducting the Correlation Analysis

After loading the data set you can proceed to the correlation analysis as shown below. In case of numerical data such as SepalLength, SepalWidth, PetalLength and PetalWidth the PROC CORR is used. Here is how you can do it in SAS:

proc corr data=iris;

var SepalLength SepalWidth PetalLength PetalWidth;

run;

The output will provide you with a correlation matrix, showing the correlation coefficients between each pair of variables. It also includes the p-value, which indicates the statistical significance of the correlation. Values with a p-value below 0.05 are considered statistically significant.

Step 3: Interpreting the Results

After you had carried out the correlation analysis it is time to interpreted the results. SAS will generate a matrix along with correlation coefficients for each pair of variables of interest. For instance, you may observe that, the correlation coefficient of SepalLength and PetalLength is 0.87 indicating a positive and strong correlation.

Accurate interpretation of the results is highly important. High coefficients near +1 or -1 indicate strong relationship while coefficients near zero indicate a weak or no relationship of variables.

Step 4: Visualizing the Correlation Matrix

One of the helpful ways to do value addition to your analysis is by using visualization tools to plot correlation matrix. SAS does not directly support in-built tools but one can export the results and then use other statistical software such as R, python to plot the results. However, SAS can produce basic scatter plots to visually explore correlations:

proc sgscatter data=iris;

matrix SepalLength SepalWidth PetalLength PetalWidth;

run;

This code generates scatter plots for each pair of variables, helping you visually assess the correlation.

Step 5: Addressing Multicollinearity

One of the usual issues experienced in correlation analysis is multicollinearity, which is a condition where independent variables are highly correlated. Multicollinearity must be addressed in order to get rid of unreliable results in regression models. SAS provides a handy tool for this: the Variance Inflation Factor (VIF).

proc reg data=iris;

model SepalLength = SepalWidth PetalLength PetalWidth / vif;

run;

If any variable has a VIF above 10, it suggests high multicollinearity, which you may need to address by removing or transforming variables.

Coding Best Practices for Correlation Analysis in SAS

To ensure that your analysis is accurate and reproducible, follow these coding best practices:

Clean Your Data: Always make sure your data set does not contain any missing values or outliners that may affect results of correlation. Use PROC MEANS or PROC UNIVARIATE to check for outliers.

proc means data=iris n nmiss mean std min max;

run;

Transform Variables When Necessary: If your data has not met the conditions of normality the variables should be transformed. SAS provides procedures like PROC STANDARD or log transformations to standardize or transform data.

data iris_transformed;

set iris;

log_SepalLength = log(SepalLength);

run;

Validate Your Model: Make sure the correlations make sense within the framework of your study by double-checking your output every time. When using predictive models, make use of hold-out samples or cross-validation.

Also Read: Writing Your First SAS Assignment: A Comprehensive Help Guide

Struggling with Your SAS Assignment? Let Our Experts Guide You to Success!

Have you been struggling with your SAS assignments, wondering how to approach your data analysis or getting lost in trying to interpret your results? Try SAS assignment support!

If the process of analyzing large data sets and SAS syntax sounds intimidating, you are not alone. Even if a student understands how to do basic data analysis, he may stumble upon major problems in applying SAS software for performing correlation and regression or simple manipulations of data.

Students also ask these questions:

What are common errors to avoid when performing correlation analysis in SAS?

How do I interpret a low p-value in a correlation matrix?

What is the difference between correlation and causation in statistical analysis?

At Economicshelpdesk, we provide quality sas assignment writing services to students who require assistance in completing their assignments. For the beginners in SAS or learners who are in the intermediate level of sas certifications, our professional team provides the needed assistance to write advance level syntax. We know that SAS with its many versions such as SAS Viya, SAS OnDemand for Academics, and SAS Enterprise Miner might be confusing and we specialize in all versions to suit various dataset and analysis requirements.

For students who have successfully gathered their data but are not good at analysing and coming up with coherent and accurate interpretation of the same, we provide interpretation services. We write meaningful and logical interpretations that are simple to understand, well structured and well aligned with the statistical results.

Our services are all-encompassing: You will get all-inclusive support in the form of comprehensive report of your results and detailed explanation along with output tables, visualizations and SAS file containing the codes. We provide services for students of all academic levels and ensure timely, accurate and reliable solution to your SAS assignments.

Conclusion

For students who are unfamiliar with statistics and data analysis, performing a precise correlation analysis using SAS can be a challenging undertaking. However, students can overcome obstacles and produce reliable, understandable results by adhering to an organized approach and using the tools and techniques offered by SAS. We offer much-needed support with our SAS Assignment Help service, which will guarantee that your correlation analyses are precise and insightful.

Get in touch with us right now, and we'll assist you in achieving the outcomes required for your academic success. Don't let your SAS assignments overwhelm you!

Helpful Resources for SAS and Correlation Analysis

Here are a few textbooks and online resources that can provide further guidance:

"SAS Essentials: Mastering SAS for Data Analytics" by Alan C. Elliott & Wayne A. Woodward – A beginner-friendly guide to SAS programming and data analysis.

"The Little SAS Book: A Primer" by Lora D. Delwiche & Susan J. Slaughter – A comprehensive introduction to SAS, including chapters on correlation analysis.

SAS Documentation – SAS’s official documentation and tutorials provide in-depth instructions on using various SAS functions for correlation analysis.

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Learn the 5-step approach to successfully complete your SAS coding assignments. Engage with sas assignment help to get tips and tricks to optimize your codes.

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A student’s Guide to Supercharge Data Analysis with SAS Machine Learning Tool

Machine learning is a field of artificial intelligence that uses statistical techniques to build models and algorithms that allow computers to analyse data and make predictions or classifications. Contrary to explicitly programming an algorithm to accomplish a task, ML models utilize statistical methods to learn patterns and then establish decision rules from data to better predict future outcomes. The popularity of ML in the field of data analysis stems from the necessity to process and elaborate enormous and often heterogeneous volumes of data with maximal accuracy and minimum time consumption. ML proves to be essential in specific uses, including the forecasting of consumer behaviour, identifying fraud, boosting healthcare diagnosis, and strengthening the targeting of marketing communications.

SAS is a point and click tool used by many statistics students and has powerful ML capabilities that can work in parallel with traditional statistics procedures. The SAS platform has tools for ML operations for different functions, including data preparation, training, and validation of models. It has a simple and intuitive user interface and good documentation for its users at different levels. It is especially critical for students who seek to pursue careers in data science and analytics where knowledge of ML is becoming invaluable. The detailed knowledge of ML business cases and real insights into building and interpreting ML models will make candidates highly desirable for employment in companies from the financial and medical services spheres to IT and retail. Enhancing their ML proficiency with the help of tools such as SAS can therefore mean a significant boost in the candidates’ employability.

Why SAS for Machine Learning?

SAS is a typical ML platform because it is fast, reliable, and capable of processing big data. Its power for handling and analyzing enormous amounts of data effectively makes it suitable for business-level solutions where data quantity and complexity are so high. These features make SAS reliable enough to meet the heavy workload of data processing in industrial applications and deliver accurate results.

SAS also provides support for a diverse set of ML algorithms and methods, ranging from classical statistical procedures to more sophisticated neural networks. Since this toolkit offers a variety of different methods, the ML practitioner can choose the one that best fits the analytical requirements of his project. Furthermore, SAS has easy-to-use analytic interface like SAS Enterprise Miner and SAS Visual Data Mining and Machine Learning. These interfaces are used to provide an easier way to create, train, and deploy ML models, making the use of advanced analytic accessible to both professional and non-professional users.

It can be supplemented with other SAS tools that would add to its application capabilities. SAS is an entire platform for data analysis, machine learning, and business intelligence which incorporates both tools for data preparation and visualization as well as a programming language for data analysis and machine learning modelling. This allows for the organization of all the tasks within the scope of the data analysis process so that all the work involved in the analytical process can be coordinated in one platform for efficiency and coherence.

The fact that SAS is named the industry’s top vendor for high-demand skills is the powerful evidence of its usefulness in the professional environment. SAS commands and syntaxes are highly adopted in many organizations especially in finance, health and government sectors which significantly increase the demand for SAS expertise. In today’s world, the SAS language and its ML solutions are crucial for this field and are the necessary knowledge for students and professionals willing to move their careers forward in this sphere, which correlates with the high quality and standards of the industries’ leading companies.

Key Machine Learning Concepts for Students

The following machine learning concepts are core knowledge for students undertaking data science/analytics beginners’ courses for their SAS Assignment Help. Here is a concise overview of some key concepts:

Supervised vs. Unsupervised Learning:

Supervised Learning: Supervised learning is the type of machine learning in which the model derives from data examples in which each observation or instance is associated with a known outcome or response. The aim is to determine the relationship between the given features and the target variable to later predict the target variable on unseen observations.

Unsupervised Learning: Unsupervised learning is a type of machine learning in which the model does not learn from labelled data. Instead, the model tries to identify data patterns or structures in the provided data. There is no target variable for clustering and the model has to find appropriate patterns or clusters using only predictive attributes.

 Classification vs. Regression Tasks:

Classification: Classification is a supervised learning task in which the prediction output is a category or class. Examples include spam detection, image recognition, and sentiment analysis.

Regression: Regression problems deal with real-valued or continuous outcomes. Examples include forecasting house prices, stock prices, or sales revenue.

Training, Validation, and Testing Datasets:

Training Dataset: ML model is trained by providing input features and their corresponding target labels from the training dataset.

Validation Dataset: Hyperparameters are adjusted and the model performance evaluated on the validation dataset during training to prevent overfitting.

Testing Dataset: The testing dataset is employed to assess the final performance of the trained model on the test data which is held out and has not been used for training the model to avoid bias in the generalization ability of the model.

Model Evaluation Metrics:

Accuracy: The number of samples in the test data successfully classified by the model out of the total.

Precision: The ratio of correct predictions of positive instances out of the number of positive instances predicted by the model.

Recall: The ratio between correct positive class predictions and all actual positive class cases.

F1 Score: An average of precision and recall, which plays a balancing role between the two elements.

Overfitting and Underfitting:

Overfitting: Overfitting refers to the learning of models which captures artifacts of the training data with errors or random fluctuations rather than actual co-relations.

Underfitting: Model under fitting happens when a model is inadequate to identify the patterns in data that is being modelled on.

Exploring SAS's Machine Learning Algorithms

All the algorithms of SAS machine learning covered in this paper offer complex algorithms for various data analysis needs. SAS also provides decision trees, random forests, and other gradient boosting methods for classification and regression predictive modelling techniques. Decision trees partition the information space whereas random forests and GBM generate a bunch of decision trees to decrease the error. SVM is another key algorithm of SAS particularly for regression classification with complex decision surface data.

Also, SAS applies deep learning through neural networks to provide the customers with a platform that enables them to develop intricate models for generating complex patterns from the data. Clustering models in unsupervised learning are k-means and hierarchical clustering: they work to define groups of features for data segmentation and similarity search in the large dataset. In general, the collection of algorithms that SAS uses in the domain of machine learning is oriented on the variability of the analytical tasks from predictive to exploratory.

Tips and Resources for Students

Students should follow the appropriate principles in using SAS for ML tasks and tap various sources to make effective use of this tool for SAS Homework help. Here are some key tips to enhance your ML projects using SAS:

Start with a Clear Problem Definition and Data Understanding:

First set out to accurately articulate the issue that you want to address. Ascertain whether there are any business factors and/or objectives to be analysed. Profiling involves performing rigorous and in-depth data exploration and preparing data for further analysis to assess its structure, quality, and anomalies. When processing a dataset, use data management tools in SAS for data preparation and cleansing.

Experiment with Different Algorithms and Evaluate Their Performance:

Among the well-known algorithms provided by SAS for ML are decision trees, random forests, gradient boosting, SVM, and neural networks. Test out these different algorithms to ensure that your problems will work well with these algorithms. To validate the models cross-validation and performance metrics accuracy, precision, recall and F1 should be used.

Avoid Overfitting and Ensure Your Model Generalizes Well to New Data:

One of the most detrimental outcomes that can occur with applied machine learning is overfitting. A decision tree provides ways of avoiding overfitting e. g. by using cross-validation, regularization, and pruning. Calculate and apply validation metrics; tweak hyperparameters, etc.

Use SAS's Visualization Tools to Interpret Model Results:

In conclusion model’s interpretation is critical for simulation and communication. The SAS has advanced visualization packages of its own such as SAS Visual Analytics and SAS Enterprise Miner to facilitate creation of easy to interpret graphics for the users. Embrace these tools to analyse distribution of data, generate model performance, and look for trends or outliers. Graphics can also be used in trying to communicate the findings to the stakeholders in a more understandable manner.

Frequently Asked Questions in Exams:

What are some popular machine learning algorithms available in SAS?

Ans: Some common machine learning algorithms implemented in SAS include decision trees, random forests, gradient boosting, support vector machines (SVM), neural networks, k-means clustering, and association rules.

Write a SAS code snippet to partition a dataset into training and validation sets using a 70/30 split.

Ans: proc partition data=mydata out=partitioned_data sampsize=0.7 seed=1234;run;

Write a SAS macro that takes a dataset name as input and calculates the mean and standard deviation of all numeric variables in the dataset.

Ans: %macro stats(data); proc means data=&data mean std; run; %mend stats; %stats(mydata);/* Example usage */

You have a dataset with multiple variables named var1, var2, var3, ..., var10. Write a SAS data step to calculate the sum of all these variables for each observation.

Ans: data new_data; set old_data; array vars var1-var10; sum = 0; do i = 1 to dim(vars); sum = sum + vars[i]; end; run;

[myassignmentsexperts]

The advantages of SAS make it a popular programming language for both students and professionals. However, technical assignments involving SAS can be challenging for students without a solid understanding of the subject matter.

[marlynnofmany]

In the interest of not derailing this already-long-and-awesome thread, here are some more details! (Paging @sparrows-corner and any other interested parties.)

So in my first semester of college, I took an Intro to Psychology class. I didn't expect anything special; it was just one of those general education courses that everybody was supposed to take at some point. But it turned out amazing.

What the general public didn't know at that point was someone in the college administration had screwed up and forgotten to assign a teacher to this class. Until a week before class. When several students emailed to ask why that detail was missing in the online listing.

The administration panicked, scrambled for someone-anyone-omg-who-can-drop-everything-and-teach-this-class. They called recently-graduated owners of Masters Degrees in teaching.

They found Sandy.

She was qualified and available, and much older than the average recent grad, with the confidence to go with it. This was still a daunting task, though, and she agreed on one condition: that she team-teach the class with a friend of hers who was still working on finishing his degree.

Having no other choice and seeing no real problem with this, the administration agreed. And thus was born the most glorious educational comedy act in my entire academic career. The two of them were a delight. They knew all the stuff they needed to teach, and they knew a great deal more, and they delivered lectures in a way that had everyone paying eager attention. It was great.

This friend, by the way, was awesome in his own right. While Sandy was a curly-haired white lady around middle age, Wayne was a black guy who (1) dressed in impeccable suits and (2) had cerebral palsy.

I think a lot of 18-year-old minds were quietly enlightened about a few things just from watching these two banter back and forth, one with joints more wobbly than the other. Wayne told a memorable anecdote at one point about stopping by a grocery store in sweat pants instead of his usual classy wear. The cashier asked some gentle question about what he spent his time on, assuming that he had some sort of carer following him around. The expression on her face when he told her that he taught college was one I'll never forget, and I didn't even see it.

Anyways, at the end of this semester, the two teachers asked a few of us smart kids if we wanted to be TAs (teaching assistants) for the next semester. Since most of us had already become friends during the make-a-group-and-discuss-things portions of the class, this sounded like a party that would look good on our records later. And it really was.

I TA'd for that class a few times in a row, with my buddies and the two very cool teachers. We met up outside of class for holiday parties and everything.

And, since this was during the time the Lord of the Rings trilogy was first coming out in theaters, we all dressed up in costume and went to an early screening together.

Wayne drove. His handicap placard meant we got to park at the front, which was pretty awesome.

Now, I'd met people before who knew more LotR lore than I did, but they all paled in comparison to Sandy. As I said in the notes on that other post, she shared some stories of her youth with us. When she was fourteen, she ran away to join a hippie commune. She already knew fluent elvish, and she used that to help the commune's drug-runners stay out of the clutches of the cops, by translating their drug notes into a language the cops couldn't read. With a start like that, it was unsurprising that she still knew elvish now, along with all sorts of fascinating deep lore.

She had a limited edition book that looked shockingly expensive. She made beeswax candles for all the TAs as holiday gifts, with our names written on them in elvish. I still have mine somewhere.

I haven't heard from any of these lovely people in a long time, since college moves on and so does life, but I will treasure those memories forever. I hope Sandy and Wayne and the others are doing well. They deserve the best.

[oppopotamus]

The other hashiras have been noticing that sanemi has been less agressive the past few days and they start to wonder not knowing that sanemi gets his stress fucked out of him whenever he's home by his hubby that was married assigned to him by kagaya 🙀😽

Can be a Req if you feel up to it!!

first time seeing bottom sanemi truthers out here

De-stress

omg this was so yummy thank youuu

Warning: NSFW, spanking ig?, rough-ish sex,

"Haven't you noticed?" Mitsuri whispers in Obanai's ear, they were eating lunch together, watching from afar as Sanemi was training.

"What do you mean?" Obanai asks, raising one of his eyebrows, Kaburamaru sitting lazily on his shoulder.

"Sanemi, of course! He's been so... normal," she says, sounding completely confused even at her own words.

Truthfully, Sanemi has been a lot more normal lately, or at least a lot nicer. He didn't yell or scream so much, unless somebody actually deserved it, which was pretty rare.

All the Hashira have noticed, it was extremely obvious since Sanemi was just so... polite.

Nobody knew why, except for Sanemi and his husband, of course.

Any time Sanemi was home, he enjoyed his time with his husband, he adored him so much... at first he didn't, considering Kagaya had practically forced them to get married, 'it would be good for you' is what Kagaya said to Sanemi, Sanemi disagreed at first but eventually gave in and accepted.

He quickly fell deeply in love with you, much to his, and your, surprise.

Now, he had just returned from a long mission, he had been gone for about two weeks until he was finally able to return home.

The second he walked inside, he let out a sigh of relief as he saw that his husband was already home from his own job.

"(Name)..." Sanemi muttered as he dropped his blade and kicked his shoes off before practically collapsing into your chest.

"Hello to you too," you said with a small chuckle, almost immediately wrapping your arms around Sanemi, placing a kiss on the top of his head. "Miss me?" you joked.

"Missed your dick, yeah..."

You let out a surprised laugh at Sanemi's vulgar words, not at all expecting them. "Wow, you really did miss me, huh?"

"Mhm," was all Sanemi mumbled, snuggling impossibly close to your chest, as if he were trying to melt into you.

"Okay, okay, come on," you said, holding Sanemi tightly as you walked him backwards to the couch. Sanemi fell back onto the couch and looked up at you.

For the rest of the night you two simply snuggled on the couch together, doing nothing more than relaxing and spending time together. It was completely peaceful until the next day when you woke up to Sanemi angrily yelling in the kitchen.

"What the hell going on right now?" you asked as you stepped into the kitchen, looking Sanemi up and down as he angrily shouted about something as he searched through the kitchen cabinets.

"What?" he snapped, spinning around to face you. "Oh, only the fact that I have another fucking Hashira meeting and I can't find my fucking sword!" he shouted, his own hands gripping his hair and tugging it in frustration.

You sighed and walked up to your husband before grabbing his waist and spinning him around, then bending him over the kitchen countertop.

"Wha- get the fuck off of me!" Sanemi shouted angrily, squirming in your grip in a weak attempt to break free. "Not a chance," you began, holding onto the back of his head with one hand, keeping him squashed against the kitchen countertop.

"You need to calm down, and don't you worry, I know exactly how to help you relax."

It wasn't much later when Sanemi was still bent over the kitchen counter, now naked with you pinning his hands behind his back as you fucked in and out of him, his moans and cries filling the room.

"Mm- ufgh... t-too- too m-much...!" he called out, his voice broken and needy as tears of ecstasy spilled down his cheeks, his eyes rolled back into his skull.

You huffed and tightened your grip on his wrists which were held down by your right hand, your other hand on Sanemi's shoulder, keeping him in place.

'U-Umph..! P-Please!!" he cried, his body being pushed back and forth against the countertop with each of your thrusts, the edge of the countertop pushed against his stomach uncomfortably, but he barely noticed it, his complete attention was on the rough, unforgiving thrusts as you pounded into his tight hole.

You let out a breathless laugh, your thrusts getting slightly sloppy as you got closer and closer to your climax. "Haah- you love it rough, dirty boy," you groaned and removed your hand from Sanemi's shoulder to spank his ass, watching the flesh jiggle.

"Ngh-!" he whined and his thighs trembled at the spank, it hurt, but he loved it, it was so hot to him whenever your hand came down on his ass.

"Mph- m' g-gonna come-" he whined, his fists clenching and unclenching with each thrust. "Yeah? Gonna come for me, baby doll?" you asked, earning a quick nod from Sanemi.

"P-Please... lemme... tell- tell me-" he began, getting cut off with a loud moan as you gave a particularly hard thrust, he couldn't even finish his sentences anymore.

You knew exactly what he wanted, or needed rather. "Come for me, baby," you ordered, giving him permission to come, to which he eagerly did, cum spurting from his cock and onto the kitchen counters. You followed not long after, finishing in his tight little hole, filling him up just how he liked.

Sanemi had finally calmed down once again.

[statistichomeowrkhelperblogs]

Mastering Statistics: Unraveling the Benefits of SAS Homework Help

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[lay-z]

barbed-wire kisses | 1

Synopsis: Soap, the SAS and 141's most prized explosives detection hybrid and demolitions expert, gets a new handler.

Pairing: hybrid!John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x fem!handler!Reader Warnings/Info: 18+ | Soap is a purebred German Shepherd hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adopted nature/instincts/personalities, hybrids have human features. | enemies strangers to lovers; forbidden love; angst; hurt/comfort; heavy smut; eventual romance; canon-typical violence; military inaccuracies; dom/sub elements; forced submission; cussing; humour (Please mind the warnings for each chapter!)

Based on this idea 🩶

Big thanks to my bestie @bloodytalefeathers for helping me handling our boy Soap 🐶

It’s always a rather impersonal affair as a hybrid serving in the military–getting a new handler assigned and vice versa.

John sniffs you out, of course, before Captain Price even has the chance to properly introduce you. When the Sergeant is given your file along with the handlership documents on a random Wednesday in February–the ones you’ve already signed a few weeks prior–he gets one deep whiff of your musk still lingering on the paper and starts prowling the base on the lookout for his new target.

Despite the many familiar, surrounding scents among the different smells announcing the beginning of spring, it doesn’t take too long for a specimen like him to pick up on and find you on the large military base, letting the winds do most of the work for him.

He's just way too good at his job, and his little self-imposed challenge leaves his chest puffing with pride and the blood in his veins buzzing with an odd eagerness to meet you once he finally spots you among the large crowd of soldiers on the training grounds.

John decides to skip his lunchbreak and watch you instead. He takes a seat on a well-positioned bench with a good view of the field where you’re currently going through drills with a platoon that you’re serving as their temporary CO. His tail swishes lazily against the wooden planks of the bench, pushing off some dry leaves that gathered there.

He’s read about you, knows that you’ve just come back from a five-month overseas deployment in Al Mazrah–supporting their local forces with the training of the serving hybrids, among other duties.

John can see it in the tension you carry in your neck and shoulders, in the way you keep checking your surroundings while you give orders to your soldiers, and with the dark circles under your eyes–all of it speaks volumes of how well you’ve adjusted to living on base again so far, and, boy, does it look bad.

On top of that, you’ve just been transferred to Hereford from your previous base and task force–after getting your new orders while you were still deployed–so you must be twice as stressed and thrice as vexed about this whole new arrangement you’re finding yourself in right now, thanks to the brass. He also knows that you’ve already moved and settled into your new place close to the barracks. Close to where he lives, too.

Fucking brilliant, John thinks, and his large furry ears twitch as he grins wickedly. It’ll be more than easy to get rid of you if you’re already feeling this worn out; perhaps even easier than it went with the previous handlers he’s had since boot camp.

None of them ever made it past the six-month mark before they were transferred again due to their incompetence, though none of the higher-ups has ever admitted fault and called it what it is.

No, it’s always just been ‘Soap being a bloody handful’, slippery and clever as he simply happens to be, and yet the brass still keeps refusing him that exceptional permission which would finally grand him freedom–the freedom to operate without a handler on, and to a certain degree, off duty.

He is a canine hybrid, yes, and his nature might make him extraordinary, aye, but he’s not a fucking toddler in need of assistance and guidance 24/7. It’s bad enough that his rank as Sergeant can easily be outranked by a human subordinate simply because he happens to be a hybrid.

His thought process is disturbed by the crunching of boots on the gravelly road leading up to his makeshift recon spot, when a group of soldiers walks up the rolling hill to have a smoke break.

Scrunching up his sensitive nose at the stench of cigarettes despite being used to the smell, John gives up his seat for the group, straightening his shoulders with a curt nod at them before he makes his way back to HQ.

There’s a meeting he needs to prepare for after all.

A few hours later, the briefing room clears again when everyone claims to not have any questions left to simply get it over with.

“Right,” Price utters roughly. “I’ll leave you two to it then. Lieutenant,” he gives you a curt nod and John has to suppress a smirk when the Captain shoots him a glare as soon as his back is turned towards you. “Soap.” And John can hear the stern warning underlying Price’s voice before the latter leaves the briefing room and shuts the door behind him with finality and a raging ball of concern lodged in his guts.

And even though Price has left, and took his commanding aura right with him, the room feels even smaller and stuffy now with only you and John, standing across from each other like it’s a Mexican Standoff.

While John lets his eyes roam freely, assessing you thoroughly and searching for weaknesses, you simply keep your sharp eyes trained on his with a kind of effortlessness that is slowly making the fur on his tail bristle–up, up, up his spine until it tickles his neck and makes his ears twitch involuntarily.

Your hands are firmly clasped behind your back, your stance relaxed as your hip leans against the table behind you; keeping your whole front exposed and vulnerable while you’re oozing nonchalance and confidence with no trace left of all that tension and fatigue he’d noticed earlier when he was watching you train with your platoon.

You almost look… bored now that you’re finally alone with him, and John doesn’t quite know what to make of this reaction.

His thick brows furrow and he caves, despising the tense silence already. “Ye not gonna say nothin’, lass?”

Suddenly, your lips twitch into a humourless half-smile. “That’s still ‘Lieutenant’ to you, Sergeant,” you reply coolly. “We’re no friends yet.”

“Right,” he half-snorts, half-huffs in response. “Well, ‘am lookin’ forward ta workin’ with ye, ma’am.” If you’re just a wee bit clever, you could easily pick up on the sarcasm in his words, and judging by the way your eyebrow twitches, you can. His tail swishes proudly in response, and then John mirrors your stance; clasping his hands behind his back before rolling his broad shoulders and straightening up to his full height.

“Oh, are you now?” It’s a rhetorical question, and John finds the way you tilt your head to the side like a wee pup utterly adorable, along with the fact that he’s taller than you, forcing you to crane your neck if you want to maintain eye-contact with him despite the thick-soled combat boots you’re wearing.

“Well, in that case–” You bring your arms forward suddenly, clutching a black collar in your hand; brand new and personalized, the scent of its full-grain leather still fresh and thick in the air. His eyes zero in on your name and rank stitched into it, along with your emergency contact and military ID number. “May I?”

John’s tail stills, bright eyes widening imperceptibly as he stares at the collar and processes the implication behind your words. He doesn’t get collared like this, no; usually grabs the damn mandatory thing and puts it on himself to get it over with.

“Ye insistin’ to put it on me, la–Lieutenant?”

You simply stare up at him with those unimpressed, gorgeous eyes – eyes that have seen as much, perhaps even more, horrific crap he has in combat–and his heart starts jumping in his chest in return. “You tell me, Sergeant. You wanna be a difficult pup?”

He swallows hard, clenching his teeth and wrinkling his nose at the raw condescension in your voice. Aye, he wants to make this difficult, wants to get rid of you already and let everyone know that he doesn’t need a handler–doesn’t need you–and yet he can only shake his head slowly while you stand before him so confidently, triggering his natural urge to please, to submit to a leader.

None of your predecessors ever made him feel quite like–this–so effortlessly. They always tried to force it yet never succeeded.

Almost subconsciously, John steps forward, towering over you though you still don’t move a muscle before he leans down, bracing his palms on the table you’re leaning against, now practically bracketing you in. “Go ahead, then,” he hums roughly, lowering his gaze to hide the way his pupils are dilating while his skin begins to prickle at the sudden close proximity to you.

As you unclasp the collar to bring it up to his neck, he gets a real whiff of your scent and nearly groans; an all-natural concoction of female pheromones, sweat and skin hidden underneath a layer of artificial peach-scented body wash and deodorant. His mouth starts salivating and he gulps it down harshly, fingers twitching against the table as you fasten the collar around his neck.

“Atta boy,” you mutter and your warm breath puffs against his rapidly flushing skin, making his pulse jump in his neck. His dog ears twitch as he leans in closer until his nose nearly brushes against your shoulder and he exhales a shuddering breath as the collar finally wraps around his throat.

“Need it a wee bit tighter, ma’am,” he rumbles and his breath hitches as you oblige; he swallows thickly, barely able to, while the leather creaks and tightens, pressing against his Adam’s apple snugly. You fasten it with nimble fingers, leaving goosebumps in their wake and his pulse sky-rockets at once. “Aye… perfect,” he breathes, almost panting now, his voice strained while another tingle runs down his spine that has warmth pooling between his thighs, and his cock chuffing in his boxers with interest.

An unexpected chuckle makes his eyes flicker up to meet yours again. “I see how it is, Sergeant,” you muse, a hint of a smile playing on your lips that makes him smirk boyishly in return.

Then, your index finger hooks through the metal loop for his leash, and another gentle tug makes his heart flutter and his chest rumble with a playful growl.

“Well then, let’s get to fucking work, MacTavish.”

And it’s the firmness in your words or the pure determination twinkling in your eyes that leaves John’s tail wagging.

Perhaps both.

[princessmyth]

— 𐙚⋆°. Satoru and his little bimbo girlfriend

Satoru was never seen as a strict nor serious man. He was filthy rich, took impulsive trips, and liked being a bit careless. That was a perfect target for you.

It’s not like you purposefully targeted him— perhaps subconsciously— but mostly out of pure and genuine interest. It wasn’t a surprise to anybody how high maintenance you were, that’s why you took the job with jujutsu sorcerers in the first place. Good pay, hot men, and easy job. All you had to do was filing paper, keeping secrets, and driving with Ijichi.

Satoru was often off limits because he was a special grade sorcerer. You began working along side Shoko, following her around, helping with notes. It was interesting to see her dissect real human corpses and make the most out of it. She seemed to take a liking to you too.

Through her was how you met Satoru Gojo. He was so charming and awfully flirtatious. He teased your lack of direct intelligence and teased you deliberately. You were obviously clueless, not thinking much at all when his freakish blue eyes met yours. “You listening, pretty thing?” He spoke, poking your hip as you sat on the patient’s bed.

“Nuh uh,” You admitted honestly, look into his eyes shamelessly. Shoko figured what made you two so compatible was the lack of shame or dignity you both had. Satoru eyed you, played with strands of your hair, and made suggestive comments. In return, you’d press your pretty little body against his, flash your panties to him, and answer all his comments.

Eventually, work began bustling for him so you were assigned to his hip. Teaching, missions, anything of the sort, you were involved. He loved having company, you weren’t much help in any other way. “Uh, ‘Toru, what the hell is that thing?” You asked in a high pitched tone, tapping his shoulder to gesture towards a curse.

You weren’t very afraid when anywhere with him. He was the strongest, he wouldn’t allow you to get hurt.

At times, his possession of you would look somewhat like this…

“Babygirl, wear something a bit more… conservative.. today. I’ll make it up to ya’.” You truly wanted to reply with a petulant expression, crossing your arms, even stomping you feet. Yet the somewhat serious feeling was nerve inducing. You huff, averting your gaze away from his intimidating one.

“Why?” You challenge, cocking a brow but never directly looking at him. “Nanami is gonna be palming his hard on all the damn day if your tits are out.” Gojo said bluntly, not afraid of being upfront. You let out a little gasp.

“I’ll wear something less showy… sorry.” He chuckled another apologetic tone and kissed the top of your head. “Don’ worry about it.”

At other times, it’ll look like this…

The storage room was incredibly small, both of you cramped up in there. Your panties hung at your heel, one leg hoisted up against Satoru’s hip and he held it there.

Gojo was bullying his cock into your deepest spots, watching your eyes roll back in pure pleasure and mindlessness. “Fuckin’ dumb bitch,” He’d mumble into your ear and hear you whimper. His degrading words made you physically clench around his big cock, but they hurt!

He cooed softly, stroking your hair as he rammed into your g spot. “Sorry baby, you’re perfect, made to take my cock.” Those reassuring words made you feel so good, the tears had smudged your mascara already but you didn’t care. Your cunt was feeling so good, squelching and squeezing around his dick.

Satoru stretched you so damn good. It was a tight fit to get his whole girth and length inside your little hole, but now he was basically using you as his own little stress reliever. “Nghhh, Sa-Satoru—“ He laughed gruffly, his last few sloppy thrusts emptying his cum into you.

“You feel greatttt.”

Satoru also had to learn to deal with how easily you got pissed. Even if he ordered you two coffees, everybody flirted with him! It’s not his fault he’s charismatic and attractive, people naturally gravitate towards him. Or atleast he thought so.

Satoru could tell when you were angry. When your arms crossed, when your responses were one or two words, when you were being snarky and a smartass. He truly hated it but instead just treated it like a little tantrum.

He knew getting serious about it would only make you cry, and your crybaby tears would truly break him. He’d hold you for hours and promise all sorts of clothes and dates just to get you to sleep for one night!

“I dunno Satoru stop asking me dumb questions.” He flicked your forehead once you raised your voice a bit too much, getting all up in your face. He’d tut before speaking. “Hey, play nice, silly girl.” Satoru would pout playfully. “What happened to “Toru I love you so much” huh?”

You rolled your eyes, tits bouncing every time you stomped your feet. You were doing it on purpose. “Toru is so sorry babygirl, what did I do huh?” He asked again, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and ruffling your hair. Your grumbles had become less firm, instead leaning into his touch.

“She was all over you, ‘Toru!” Your arms wrapped around him, head buried in Satoru’s neck. He let out a small, airy giggle before kissing the top of your head. You smelled like strawberries and his sheets, it was the perfect combination of home. “Sorry, didn’t even notice. Forgive me?”

He made you realize your anger was never even directed at him majority of the time. You were usually just pissed at the girls. “Yeah, sorry for being mean!” He shook his head, shrugging it off and hugging you back.

Satoru worshipped your body. It was perfect to him and just made him hard at a slight glance. When you two had some privacy, god forbid got home, he was jumping your bones.

“Pretty thing, let me taste you.” His voice was nearly at a whimper. He was inhaling your scent, needing to memorize the sensation of having you pressed up against him. You were slightly squirmy, tugging at his white, silky hair. “Uh huh, m’really wet ‘Toru.”

He groaned, kissed your nude tits, circling his tongue on your nipple. You pulled harder every time he pleased you, even bucking your hips up against his hard on. “Just eat me out already,” You weren’t afraid to ask for what you want, pleading for some relief.

He was quick to press his tongue flat on your slick cunt, lifting it and placing it back to see the long strings of arousal connecting his tongue and your pussy. He devoured it like a starved man, groaning in between suckling and thrusting his tongue into your hole. “Oh— shiitttt,”

He squeezed your thigh, silently pleading “language” to you. Satoru had no self control when it came to your wet pussy and his unquenchable appetite. He wouldn’t stop till you came atleast five times.

Satoru Gojo was fucking whipped.

© princessmyth | do not plagiarize or copy

[mcuamerica]

Loving Flames | Part One

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Summary: Amarantha decided to 'gift' you to Eris Vanserra to get back at Rhys. Requested by anon here.

Warnings: 18+ only, canon level violence, alludes to SA, the word whore shows up a few times, (again not proofread), let me know if anything was forgotten...

Word Count: 4.6k

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

Eris met you when you were 35, years after the war. It was at a High Lords meeting, with your father bringing you along to introduce you to the court. It snapped for Eris in that moment.

You were wearing a spectacular navy blue and silver gown, fabric attached to your shoulders to make it look like a cape. Your wings were tucked in tight behind you to keep from bumping into anyone.

He tried to speak to you that night, tell you about the bond, but his father pulled him away quickly and he didn’t see you again.

The next time he saw you, however, you were by Rhysand’s side in all black, mourning the loss of your father and your mother. And your wings. While Tamlin’s brothers didn’t kill you, they almost did. Taking time with you is what allowed you to live, unfortunately for you.

Eris tried approaching you again, needing to say at least something to you. This time, Azriel, the ever obedient guard dog, growled and told him to leave. These ceremonies were for friends only. Which the Autumn Court was not. That night, Eris gave up on the idea that you and him could be together. He decided to leave you be, and avoid you at all cost.

But then Amarantha came sweeping in. Rhysand brought you to the ball with all of the High Lords when she took their powers. As since Rhysand’s father killed Tamlin’s, she wanted to punish him more than just taking him to bed.

“Beron, which one of these is your heir?” She asked, perched atop the throne. You were standing close to Rhys, his arm around your back. Eris, even though the bond was buried deep down, could feel the nerves radiating down that bridge. You were terrified. That she was going to hurt you. Or Rhys. And what better way than letting your enemy do it or you.

“I am,” Eris spoke before his father could utter a word. His father shot him a deadly look, but Amarantha’s smile widened.

“Good. I’m gifting her to you.” She said and smirked, nodding towards you.

Your eyes widened. Rhys looked to Eris with an even deadlier look than his father, almost saying ‘if you hurt her, you will be killed slowly and I’ll enjoy it.’ Eris stepped forward, soliciting a growl to come from deep within Rhys’s throat.

“Easy, bat, I will be gentle.” He said, unable to drop the mask. He forced his hand to remain steady as he reached it out to you.

You shrunk closer to Rhysand, listening as he leaned down and whispered something not even fae eyes could detect. You looked up to Rhys with pleading eyes.

“Hurry, now, I do not have all day.” Amarantha said, staring at her nails as if she were bored.

With a final nod from Rhysand, you shakily took Eris’s hand.

He did not pull you, instead allowing you to walk with him back to where his father and brothers stood. After that that, he let go of your hand. He promised himself he would protect you, even if you all thought he was a monster. He would never harm you, and never make you do anything you didn’t want to. Not as long as he could help it. His mate. You were under his protection now, and he would be damned if he let anyone harm you ever again.

Deciding to make you suffer even more, since you were the reason Rhysand knew about Tamlin’s brothers hurting you, Amarantha assigned you to a tiny room connected to Eris’s. It didn’t have a fireplace, and it barely fit the small bed that was in it. There was a small room filled with revealing clothing. Specially placed there so you could please Eris, according to her.

But months went by and he did not touch you. He would escort you to court dinners, offering you more food than the small portion you were allowed. You never accepted, eyes always darting for your brother to bring you some sort of comfort. But, Rhys was barely there. If he was, his eyes were cast downwards as Amarantha stroked his arm or his leg, making it clear that Rhys was her obedient dog, her whore. It made you sick to your stomach, but you knew he did it to keep your family safe. So maybe one day you could return to the sanctuary of Velaris.

You flinched slightly as Eris rested a hand on top of yours. “You need to eat, my lady,” he whispered. What seemed to be concern filled his eyes.

“So you can treat me like a pet?” You asked, swallowing your fear.

“So you can survive this.” He said. “I-“ he glanced up as Amarantha stood up to make an announcement. “I will come to your room tonight and I want you to have strength.” He said before she began to speak.

A chill ran down your spine at the thought of what you imagined on your head. You looked down to your plate, taking a small bite of the food. You were no good if you starved yourself. And if you didn’t please Eris like he wanted to, either he or Amarantha would punish you. Probably in front of your brother. Or make him do it.

Eris hummed in agreement to your action, before his attention looked towards Amarantha.

That night, you were shivering in your bedroom. The light set of pajamas doing nothing to keep you warm in the cool room, surrounded by nothing but stone. You perked your head up when the door connecting to Eris’s room opened. He normally used the main one connected to the hall, but tonight he must have wanted to be discrete. Bile rose on your throat in anticipation of what was about to happen, tears welling in your eyes as you body shook from the cold.

“I’m taking you to see your brother.” Eris said quietly. You looked at him, sitting up even more as you curled into yourself more.

“Why?” You asked

Eris’s heart broke at the sight of you, shivering from the cold and near tears from what you imagined he would do. He could be the villain in your story as long as he could keep you safe. But he needed you sane, as well. He would not let you deteriorate under this gods-forsaken mountain.

“Did you not hear Amarantha? She is sending Rhys to do scouting for the next few months. And I’d like for you to get a proper goodbye.” Eris said. “Here,” he said, pulling out the long, wool lined robe for you. “You’ll be warmer in this.” He even warmed it up with his internal heat before he came in here.

You slowly reached out, grabbing it before wrapping it around your body. He saw as you sunk into its warmth, wish that it was him you could find such comfort in.

He held out a hand and you slowly took it. “I’ll need to act like I’m taking you somewhere else, so just stay close and don’t talk.” He whispered before wrapping an arm around your waist. While you would have normally recoiled, you could only lean further into his body heat, much warmer than any you’ve know before. You assumed it was his internal flames burning under his skin, maybe causing his temperature to be much warmer than others. It must have been a nice luxury to have. Though, you were certain he had a fireplace in his room. Not that it would be hard for him to conjure flame anyway.

Eris stole glances at you, hoping that this would make you happier. You hadn’t seen Rhys, at least not at a distance where you could embrace or talk, for at least a year. But Eris knew Rhys would take your unwillingness to eat as Eris forbidding it, or some other malicious thing. Your eyes were sunken, each piece of clothing hung from your body looser as the days passed. You looked tired, exhausted, as if someone was draining the life force from you. No matter how many times Eris had asked, you were never allowed outside with him. Not even on one of the upper balconies. Your punishment for being alive while her friend was dead. It seemed Amarantha wanted to punish you more than Rhys. And Eris was just glad he could be there to protect you from most of her wrath, claiming that his gift shouldn’t be harmed. The things she threatened to do… Eris hoped she wouldn’t figure out you were his mate. Because if she did… even if her and Beron were allies, Eris didn’t think she would spare you much longer.

Eris knocked on a door, one of the shadow wraiths opening it. Your lips turned into a gentle smile as you greeted Nuala, happy to see a familiar face.

At the site of you, Nuala stepped aside. Rhys had bruises all around his neck, where he was staring at them in the mirror. You swallowed and looked up at Eris.

“Five minutes.” He said and stepped back, nodding at you to go in. You tentatively took a step inside, and once you were over the threshold, Nuala shut the door. Rhys turned, his eyes widening as he finally took account of who was in the room.

“(Y/N),” he breathed out rushing over to you. He looked you over, frowning at how poorly you looked. He cupped your cheeks and searched your eyes. Searching for the carefree little sister he knew. “Are you okay? How did you get here?” He asked.

Rhys must have put a shield around the room before Nuala opened the door, if he did not know Eris brought you here.

“I’m fine… I wanted to say goodbye. You are leaving for the outside soon.” You said, your voice quiet and weak. If Amarantha was trying to torture Rhys, she was doing a good job at it.

“Has he hurt you?” He asked.

You shook your head, wanting to say how well Eris was treating you. But the look on Rhys’s eyes told you he wouldn’t believe you. Maybe you needed to make more of an effort to be involved in this ridiculous, cruel court. But would that make you any better than Beron? Would it help you? Would it help your brother?

Rhys pulled you in for a hug and you wrapped your arms around his chest, burying your head in it. “Please come back.” You whispered, holding him tighter.

“I will never leave you here.” He whispered, rubbing your back. “And I will do everything I can to get you away from him.” He said as he pulled away.

“Did Amarantha do this?” You asked as you traced the small circular bruises on his neck.

“She likes to mark her whores.”

You frowned, looking up at the cold look in his eyes. “I’m proud of you.” You whispered. “I want you to know that… you are doing what is right for our family. And I’m so proud that I can call you my brother.”

You could see the words didn’t hit like you wanted them to… and your heart sank at the thought of Rhys not thinking he was doing enough. Or that he wasn’t good enough. “I will see you soon, (Y/N).” He said, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.

You glanced at the time on the clock, then noticed Rhys had a balcony to go outside. “Fly for me, brother.” You whispered before stepping back. “I will see you soon.” You said before turning around and walking out of the room. You gave Nuala another smile before finding Eris with his back against the opposite hallway wall.

You walked up to him and took a quiet, internal breath. “I’d like new clothes.” You said to him.

His rose his eyebrows, shocked at your sudden urge to talk to him. “Excuse me?” It came out more rude than he meant it, but didn’t let that show.

“I-“ you started and then took a visible deep breath. “If I am to be your gift, I want to be presentable. I would like new clothes.” You said. You had no intention of doing anything for Eris, and the more you could avoid him, the better. But if Amarantha thought Eris favored you, maybe she would let you out. Maybe you could fool her into thinking you were enjoying it. And maybe that would be enough for her to let you leave your room by yourself.

“Okay.” Eris said.

It was your turn to be shocked. You thought you would need to convince him a lot more than that.

“Give me a list of clothes you’d like, and I’ll see what I can do.” He answered, then held out his arm. “Now come, you must be tired.” He said.

You tentatively took his arm, still slightly shocked that he didn’t dismiss you. This male that you knew to be cruel and abusive was nothing but kind, gentle, and patient with you. You started to piece together the times you interacted with him, and couldn’t think of a single time were he was mean. Maybe distant, cold, but plenty of faeries were like that. Your brother was like that a lot of the times. It was a mask to keep him safe. Maybe Eris was the same. Maybe you could trust him.

You faltered as he did not stop at your door, but kept walking a few more steps to his. You looked up at him and watched as he opened the door and lead you inside. Maybe you didn’t escape what you dreaded earlier today.

“It’s warmer in here. If you’d like, you can sleep in here. I can take your room.” He said.

You frowned. “What?”

“Every time I see you, you are freezing. And it’s because Amarantha put you in a room that is meant to be a cooler. Why it’s attached to a bedroom, I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s the proper place for the Princess of the Night Court to sleep.”

“But… won’t you get cold?” You asked, glancing to the door that connected the rooms.

“I run hot.” He said, a slight smirk coming to his lips.

“Why are you being nice to me?” You asked.

“Maybe it will be beneficial to me later on.” He said and shrugged. “But I cannot bring myself to harm you.” He said. “In anyway.”

And he showed it. From then on, you stayed in his room. Soon enough, you offered him to come to your room too. Even with the fire, you were still cold. You supposed it was the lack of food, of sunlight, of fresh air. It was not good for your body. So, you asked him to join you in the bed. Just to sleep. And he obliged, staying on his side of the bed. Until one night, where you were particularly cold after a ‘winter’ ball was thrown.

You turned over to Eris, who seemed to be asleep. You were in an oversized sweater and some loose pants. Courtesy of your wardrobe he provided for you. “Eris?” You whispered.

His head turned towards you as he opened one eye, a small smile coming to his lips.

He would act like this whenever you were alone. When no one could see you, he would show you a soft side. A side that had you wondering where all the cruel things said about him came from. This couldn’t be the same male that left your cousin for dead in the Autumn forest. He was so different than how Mor described him. If he was helping you, why wouldn’t he help her?

“Yes, princess?” He asked.

You weren’t even technically a princess, but he insisted on using the nickname. You were surprised it didn’t bother you.

“Can you… make the fire warmer? I’m cold.” You said quietly.

His eyes flickered to the burning hearth before looking back at you. “Can I try something before?” He asked.

You searched his eyes and, as usual, found no malice. Maybe a hint of mischief, if you detected it correctly. You gave him a nod, narrowing his eyes as he asked for you to turn on your side. Your back facing him.

“Do you trust me?” He asked when he noticed your hesitance. You paused at the question. You’ve been asking yourself the same thing for months. Almost a year now. Could you trust Eris? “Remember what I said? I won’t hurt you.” He said.

You slowly took a deep breath, turning your body so your back was facing him. You tensed up when you felt him shift on the bed, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling her closer to his warm body. “What- what are you doing?” You asked.

“I’m going to make you warm.” He whispered in l your ear, the breath sending a shiver down your spine. In the best way.

Suddenly, you felt his hand settling on your bicep, and your arm instantly warmed up. You relaxed into the warm, smiling to yourself.

“Is this better?” He asked, rubbing your arm up and done as he held you close.

“Much.” You answered, even leaning into his chest more.

Eris became your anchor Under the Mountain after that. You often found yourself clutching his bicep, not wanting to be far from him. He stayed true to his word. He would not hurt you. And, apparently, he wouldn’t let anyone else hurt you either. One day, you were in the throne room as the court reveled, sitting on a loveseat while you waited for Eris to bring you something to drink. One particularly drunk made stumbled his way to sit next to you and got too close for your liking. Right as he was about to wrap an arm around you, Eris hauled him out of the seat. He pushed him back and said something with a growl you couldn’t hear, and then the male was running out of the room. Not many males approached you after that.

Maybe it was because your brother was gone for so long, or maybe it was because Eris was genuine to you. Even when you were out of the room, when he wore that cool uninterested mask, he was gentle with you. His touch was never too tight or too harsh. Was never too high or too low. He made you comfortable. You were starting to like him. As a friend, at least.

For the next 40 years, you were always around him. Even when Amarantha gave you more freedom, you wanted to be near Eris. Rhys started to notice, but didn't say anything as it was only apparent for your affection to his enemy before Summer, Winter, and Day rebelled. And then Amarantha's reign became increasingly strict. With only High Lord dead, and a new one taking his place, there was more tension than ever. Especially because anyone who was caught doing anything suspicious was whipped or tortured in front of the court. Sometimes, your brother would be the one to hold their minds and do it.

However, after finding out that Autumn and Night had nothing to do with the rebellion, she decided to be nice one day and allow you to the upper levels. She gave you in particular one rule, do not go outside. You couldn't help but watch as your brother went out on one balcony. And on the other, Beron and his sons were laughing. Actually laughing. It was only one month when the High Lord of Summer was killed and a bunch of Winter children were closed. Children. And Amarantha was celebrating you all.

Eris, however, was sat across from you on the couch. He noticed the way you longed to go outside, realizing while he was allowed out to visit his court with his father, you were stuck Under the Mountain. You hadn't been outside in more than 40 years.

"You should go, celebrate." You muttered, motioning to his family. "You may not be able to leave for along time." You said, frowning as you looked to your hands.

"I'm just fine in here." Eris said, resisting the urge to lean over and grab your hand. While you never crossed a line of being intimate, or anywhere near it, you had become friendly with Eris. You were more than glad to curl into his side at night, hold his hand at the dining table, or grab his arm while you walked around the passageways.

Before you could suggest it again, one of Eris's brothers peeked his head into the room. "Eris, bring your whore in here." He said.

You internally winced at the term, and Eris glared at his brother. While many people had called you the same, Eris normally corrected them. Especially his brothers.

"She isn't my whore." He growled out. "And if you call her that one more time, Sol, and I will rip your throat out." He said. "Besides, you know she can't go outside."

"Ah, Amarantha will never know." Sol said and smirked. "We'll distract the bat, you take her out there for some alone time." He said, making his way over to the balcony where Rhys was standing. As Sol pulled him inside, you could visibly see and hear Rhys's growl. He didn't want to be here, but if he could watch you amongst the Vanserras, he would.

"Sol-" Eris called out but groaned when him and one of the other brothers pushed Rhys out to talk to Beron and the Lady of Autumn. About what, you didn't really care. You stayed in your seat, taking a deep breath.

"I could at least open the door." He said and stood up, going over to the free balcony and opening the door to let in the breeze. You stood up, standing in front of the threshold. You closed your eyes as you felt the wind on your face, even if it was light.

The smile that came to your lips took Eris's breath away. Even in this terrible place, you could still find small bits of joy.

You looked down at the gap between you and the rest of the world, Eris standing on the other side. "Thank you." You said quietly to him, holding out your hand for him to take. He squeezed your hand, fighting the urge to pull you over the threshold and into his chest. He could image your giggle and scolding before you stepped back into the room. But before he could answer you, Amarantha burst through the doors with two of her sentries.

"Seems like the little princess can't follow the rules... Ah, Eris, are you trying to disobey my command?" She asked.

Your eyes widened and you immediately dropped Eris's hand. "I didn't go outside." You said quickly.

"No, but you were about to. And Eris was going to help you." She said. Rhys and the others came in.

"Now that I ponder it, I do remember hearing about the two of you sneaking around the passage ways months ago. That wasn't to spy, was it?" She asked. "Acting as lust-crazed fools?"

You never once showed any interest in Eris like that, and yet everyone just assumed the two of you were sleeping together. Or more like Eris was fucking you as he pleased.

"Nothing to say? Too bad." She said and nodded towards the sentries, one of them grabbing you and the other grabbing Eris. Rhys lunged forward to try and protect you, but Eris's brother's grabbed him.

"Relax, bastard, no one's going to hurt the princess." Sol teased.

"What is the meaning of this, my queen?" Beron asked, the ever-loving servant. His wife next to him looked completely uninterested other than a hint of worry for her son.

"We will make sure Eris and the princess never sneak around again." She said, giving a small wave before walking out of the room.

Before you knew it, you were standing in the throne room with Eris on his knees. One of Amarantha's sentries had a whip in his hands. "This is what you get for disobeying my command. And you get to watch princess, for luring him like you did the former High Lord of Spring." She said.

You looked at Eris, then at Rhys, pleading him with your eyes to do something, anything to stop this from happening. Rhys just tilted his head and stood beside Amarantha. Of course he thought Eris tried to pull you out and he would gladly see Eris punished over you.

The sound of the whip rang out, skin ripping underneath it. Beron and his other sons stood, stoically watching the punishment.

"How many month ago was it? 5? You've been sneaking around 5 months?" She asked. You weren't even sneaking around, you were simply walking. "5 more." She said and you struggled against the sentries holding you back. "Oh and another 5 for all those months lying to me." She said.

More sounds of the whip. More skin ripping. You watched as Eris clenched his teeth, never yielding a yell or scream. Like he had endured this before. You, on the other hand, were silently crying. You desperately tried to hold back your tears, but you couldn't.

After the final sound of the whip crack rang out, Eris sagged to the floor. "And 10 more, because I don't like hurting my friends." She said.

"Stop!" You screamed, an instinctual tug at your gut telling you he would bleed out if he received any more. "I'll do anything, stop this. Eris didn't do anything wrong." You begged, the sentries yanking you back as your legs almost gave out from under you.

Rhys shot you a look that essentially told you to shut your mouth, but you didn't see it. You were staring into Amarantha's cold eyes.

"Anything?" She asked. When you let out a whimper and nodded, a side smirk came to her red lips. "What about agreeing to be locked in sweet Eris's room under I die?" She asked. "Seems like a fair trade, since you disobeyed my command of not going outside. And you can't roam the halls with him either."

You let out a gulp, hearing a small whisper from Eris telling you not to do it. "So long as you, or anyone of your behalf, hurts him again. I will stay in his room." You said.

"Unless I command you out to court, you will stay in his room. And I, nor anyone on my behalf, will not hurt him. Until I die." She said.

You stood up straighter, feeling Rhys's eyes on you. "We have a bargain." You said.

"That we do." She said as you used your magic to imprint a tattoo on your back, right where Eris's scars would be. In doing so, you did the same for Amarantha, who only smirked more. "Take him to a healer. And take her to the room." She said. You stumbled as they pushed you towards the giant doors. You watched as Eris's sagging body was hauled up by his brothers, nearly sobbing at the sight of him.

As the sentries pushed you through Eris's room's door and shut it behind you, you suddenly realized what you agreed to. You were going to be trapped in this room forever. Unless she wanted to torment you more. Or she died.

What did you just do?

Part Two

A/N: This was so much longer than I expected and it's not even finished yet.. There will be at least another part! Hope you all enjoyed!

Taglist

[charliemwrites]

Nikto's Commandments part 8! (and the first half of the Jealousy Duet).

I'll be honest, I got stuck with this one! For some reason I just couldn't get a good flow going and had to try writing this a few different times. I think it shows in the beginning, but I get the rhythm back towards the end.

Also, apologies if there are more errors than usual. I kind of powered through it and am too afraid I'm going to hate it if I try to read it over.

Anyway, please enjoy as always <3

Content: Jealousy, Acts of Devotion, Declarations of Love, Kissing

It’s your first mission since Nikto failed you.

(You may have forgiven him. He’s even accepted that you have, merciful as you are. But that doesn’t change the truth of what happened – that he failed you. That he left your side, and then almost didn’t return. You’ve forbade him from hanging himself with “almost,” but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel the noose around his throat.)

You’re long since healed and recovered under Nikto’s devoted watch. Nurturing may not come naturally to him, but he’d bend himself into any shape for your use. So, he made himself into your caregiver. Weeks of helping you sit up, walk, bathe… until you were back in the gym, right by his side, gritting your teeth through physical therapy.

A scar is all that’s left now, silvery and tender. The only sign that Nikto’s world nearly bled away on dirty concrete. A reminder of his failure, his disgrace. How could he possibly deserve a place at your side, when he couldn’t even protect you? When he thought, for even a moment, that vengeance mattered more than your life?

Still, he returns to your side. Because you told him to, all that time ago. Because he has so much to make up for after everything. And because you haven’t given him leave to be anywhere else.

(He prays that you don’t the only way he knows how. Through meals from his own hand while you grin, nipping at his fingers. Through tea shared from one cup. With fragrant products in your wet hair while you sigh. You haven’t told him he could be anywhere else, beckoning him into a bed bigger than the one on base, still tucking in close like one of you might fall off the edge.)

It’s not that he thinks you incapable now. He would never blaspheme that you are anything other than utterly competent. It’s just that every blink superimposes pools of blood over his vision, a strobe of you near death.

In his most selfish, private thoughts, he imagines taking you away from it all for good. Tucking you away warm and safe in the cathedral of your off-base apartment, where a god belongs, in their own house. He soothes himself on visions of devoting himself to you fully and wishes he were a prophet. But for all you’ve given him, visions of the future are not one of them.

You were eager to return to duty, nearly cornered O’Conor once you got final clearance from the doctors. Nearly shook him down for a new assignment – for the both of you. Even if he had reservations about sending you to duty so soon, an opportunity to keep Nikto and his temper away a little longer was too tempting. (The bruises Nikto left on his throat were long gone, but the memory clearly was not.)

And so here you both are, in the gym of an SAS base, sparring with Task Force 141.

“Oi, lass! Care for a match?”

“Bring it, MacTavish!”

Nikto stands back to observe as you and the sergeant square off.

The 141 has been cooperative, despite previous tensions with KorTac. You, Nikto, and Konig have managed to build a decent working rapport – though most of that work has been yours. Their captain seems to like your friendly personality and straightforward professionalism; their lieutenant has been cordial. But the two sergeants (especially the Scottish one) have taken a liking to you.

“Fuck!”

Nikto jerks as you get taken down on your bad side – no, it’s not your bad side anymore. You’ve fully recovered; he must remember that. Interrupting a sparring match would be unwelcome and unnecessary. Not just overprotective on his part, but disrespectful to you as well, as if he doesn’t think you can hold your own. Still, he balls his hands into fists as you struggle against the sergeant.

At least you’re laughing, breathless and curse laden as it is.

“She is okay, ja?” Konig asks.

Nikto grunts the affirmative, eyes sharp as he watches you knee MacTavish’s side. Good, he thinks proudly as you twist to get on top. You’ve been working tirelessly to improve your groundwork techniques, learning all the different ways you can use your smaller stature against bigger and stronger opponents.

“He is… friendly,” Konig continues.

Another grunt of agreement. Most people are with you. It’s a natural reaction in the face of divinity; to reach out to a smiling god. It worked on Nikto, anyone else would be helpless. It’s just the natural order of things like green grass, blue skies, or gravity.

There’s a pause that starts to prickle the back of Nikto’s mind. Disinterested as he may be in socializing, he understands how it works. A program that runs in his mind – body language, tone, inflection, facial expression. A complex algorithm that computes to emotion, conversation, feeling. It’s just not an equation that applies to him, or that he can apply to himself anymore.

And right now, Konig is trying to imply something. Nikto cuts his eyes to the side, meets Konig’s.

“Too friendly, don’t you think?” he adds.

Nikto snorts and turns back to the match – where you are just tapping out. MacTavish is unwinding his arm from your windpipe. You’re sat between his legs, back to his chest. A tough position to get out from in a fight. As you’re scooting away, the sergeant pats your hip, leans to say, “good match” in your ear. You shoot him a grin over your shoulder and then push to your feet, sauntering back to your own team.

“Whose turn is it?” you ask, wiping sweat from your brow.

You don’t see MacTavish’s eyes darting up and down your body, zeroing in on the sliver of skin revealed by your lifted shirt. But Nikto does.

“Mine,” Konig answers, stepping forward.

You smile at him, bump fists with him. “Kick his ass for me, yeah?”

“Ja.”

He shoots Nikto one last, pointed look before stepping onto the mat. But Nikto has no interest in watching his match. Not when you’re right in front of him, a sheepish look on your face.

“I can’t believe I lost like that,” you groan. “Guess I need more practice.”

“We will practice,” he promises.

You beam and knock the back of your hand gently against his.

Like an insidious weed, Konig’s observation takes root and sprouts. Sergeant MacTavish’s friendliness.

It’s almost like Nikto is hallucinating again – or perhaps that he has just stopped. A veil pulled away from his eyes. A creature camouflaged in the brush, his eyes skipping over the landscape until an irregularity in the pattern was pointed out to him. And now he cannot stop seeing it.

MacTavish saying hello to you first every morning, asking how you slept with a twinkle in his eye. He offers to accompany you to training sessions, often chooses you first for cross-team drills. In downtime, he’ll invite you to socialize (with the rest of the 141, sure) and always save you a seat or a spot. Usually right next to him.

And it is not that he doesn’t acknowledge Nikto or Konig. He is amicable with both, works well with either of them when paired up. But there is always a tilt to his mouth when he speaks to you, a lilt to his voice. A subtle incline to his shoulders that makes every interaction seem just that slightest bit intimate.

A week into the assignment, and he is touching you freely. First a hand tapping elbow or shoulder. Then an arm around the back of your neck. Platonic, commiserating. Within a day, that arm drops to your shoulders and he’s leaning the side of his head against yours, something a bit warmer than a hug.

One morning, he scoops you up in a hug, your toes nearly off the ground. You seem surprised, reciprocate with a pat to the back before you’re set down and offered a chair.

And the sparring… the sparring gets worse. Not just an exchange of blows and a chance to improve skills with a new partner anymore. It’s become a game of teasing you, joking with you. Tagging you with hits to coax you into going after him. Wrestling with you on the ground and dragging it out while he grunts and huffs against you.

And Nikto… Nikto burns.

This is not hell, he knows; but maybe this is some form of purgatory.

He has no place, no right to suffer. Knows that trying to claim you as his own would be like trying to cage the sun. It wouldn’t just be selfish; it would be heresy. You’ve already given him a miracle; you told him you love him. That is far beyond anything he could deserve, anything he could hope or dream or long for. To take after all that, to demand more of the time, attention, energy you pour into him like holy water…

And yet.

And yet he wants to claw his skin off when MacTavish winks at you. Wants to set the world on fire when that accent purrs “bonnie” or “hen” at you. An awful, deafening static scream fills the fractures of his mind when you smile at the sergeant, when you wish him a good morning or evening.

“How are you with a sniper, hen?” MacTavish asks one day.

You hum, glance over at Nikto. He’s been training you with his own rifle for months now – though it’s obviously been on pause since your injury. “Well, I’ve been working on it, but I definitely need some improvement.”

MacTavish crosses his arms, biceps bulging against the sleeves of his t-shirt. “I wouldn’t mind giving you a few pointers, if you want to come down to the range with me some time. Promise I’m a good teacher.”

You blink, hesitate. Then lightly, “Yeah, maybe!”

Nikto can’t hang himself on an “almost,” but he’s gutted on a “maybe.”

That night you come out of the bathroom frowning. There’s a furrow between your brows that you only get when you’re both frustrated and worried; if it stays, you’ll have a headache within the hour.

“Nikto?”

He glances up from the knives he’s polishing. You stop, eyes darting all over him, towel frozen in your hand.

“Hm?” he prompts.

You don’t answer. Instead, drop the towel carelessly on the floor and stride across the room. Towards him. He only just manages to shove his equipment out of the way by the time you reach him. And you don’t stop, climbing onto the hard desk chair he’s in, straddling his lap. Your fingers curl so tight in his chest straps that he can hear them creak.

He’s trapped as much by your gaze as your weight. Something swimming in the pools of your irises that he hasn’t seen in them before. Doesn’t know how to name or how to tame.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

He jerks back in surprise, but you’ve got a solid grip and there’s nowhere to go.

“Did I… do something?” you ask. “Or… or not do something?”

He stares. “What?” he asks, mouth gone suddenly dry.

Your eyes are still darting between his, like you’ll find answers playing peekaboo between them.

“You haven’t been right the past few days. Maybe even a week,” you explain. “I’ve been giving you space to tell me, but you won’t. And I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pressure you, but please just talk to me.”

Now his brows furrow. “I haven’t been…?”

You sit back a bit, assured that you have his attention – as if that isn’t guaranteed.

“You’re not eating the same. Didn’t even take the green beans I put aside for you,” you say. “You’re not sharing my tea or letting me wrap your hands. You keep leaving for a smoke in the middle of the night. Hell, you’re wearing your mask in our room.”

It dawns on him like apocalypse. That he has been worrying you, affecting you.

“And you’re not… you’re not talking to me.” Your white-knuckled grip eases a bit as you run out of steam, sadness tinging your expression. “I know we don’t talk the normal way but… I haven’t been able to read you. You won’t look me in the eye or press our legs together. You’re even pulling away in your sleep.”

His heart is trying to claw out of his ribcage, wants to crawl into the palm you press to his chest.

“So… if I’m doing something or not doing something… you can tell me. I promise I won’t be upset. I just miss you.”

He crumbles.

Weeks under torture, but he breaks at four words.

You gasp as he rips the gear off his face. Try to help, but he just pushes your hands away. Knows he’s aggravated the old wounds, but a balm is at hand, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“моя любовь,” he whispers fervently. “моя надежда. моя богиня.”

You curl around him instantly, arms around his shoulders, fingers fluffing through the fuzz of hair at the back of his skull. Gentle and kind and everything that sinners and saints would fall on their swords for. And yet all you ask of him is to speak, to confess.

“I fear,” he rasps into your skin.

“Fear what?” you ask.

He is your protector, your disciple. Yours to command, to damn, to sacrifice if you so wished – and he would gladly spill his corroded innards at your feet, careful not to bloody your shoes. And he fears that you won’t ask him to.

“You are not mine, but I fear losing you,” he admits. You suck in a breath, arms tightening around him. “If not to MacTavish, then to the world. I will be left here without you again.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as the scars sear all over again, crushes his crooked nose against your collarbone.

“I am yours,” he whispers, lungs burning, “and I cannot be that if you are gone.”

You shift, pressing closer, tighter. Lay your cheek on his head and squeeze him so tightly he wonders if you’re not inviting him inside your ribcage.

“I thought you understood,” you whisper, and even that cracks with emotion. “I’m sorry, I thought I made it clear. I thought you knew…”

You urge him back. He wants to resist. Wants to stay right there in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the soap you two share, basking in your warmth. But you are bidding him to do something, and he is a weak man to your command.

Your eyes are shiny, but there’s a smile on your face when you look at him.

“You’re mine,” you assure him, “you will always be mine. I will never turn you away.”

His eyes flutter with relief. Always. He has no business questioning the truth of that. You’ve said it; it is so.

“I’m yours too, Nikto.”

His eyes snap open again, but you hold him still, hold him right there.

“Our love isn’t a cross for you to bear,” you murmur. “I belong to you the same way – the exact same way – that you are mine.”

“I don’t—”

“You remember what I told you in that car all those months ago?”

Don’t deserve it? That’s not your choice. Don’t understand? You don’t have to. I just do. It wasn’t a choice I made.

Your word is genesis. It is revelation. It is creed and commandment, redemption and atonement.

You’ve said it; it is so.

“Here.”

You snatch a pad of black ink from one of the desk drawers, grab at one of his useless, hovering hands.

“What are you—”

You smear his bare fingertips across the damp pad. Then press them to your forearm. He jerks his hand back, but it’s too late. His smudged fingerprints stain your skin in inky little pools. When he looks up at you, you’re grinning. Wide and beautiful and so damn proud of yourself.

“C’mon,” you coo. “Do it again.”

He hesitates. But his eyes are drawn back to his fingerprints on your skin. His mind echoes with your declaration.

You are his. You are his.

To deny you this, to deny your belonging, would be beyond blasphemy. Beyond sin.

You have said it; it is so. You. Are. His.

You beam as he takes the inkpad and gets his fingers wet again. Begins leaving marks all over you. Along your arms, over your collarbone. Lean back to get palm prints on your thighs. Sits you on the desk to smear lines up your calves. You even tug your shirt up, giggling all the while, so that he can mark up your stomach.

He pauses at the gunshot. Places his blackened thumb over the entry scar. Pulls it away to see the whorls of his fingerprint covering it.

You soften, kind hands cupping his jaw and guiding him up. Up and up… until your plush lips are slotted against his. His own stained hands land on your hips – likely ruining your little sleep shorts – and pull you as close as he can get you. Infusing himself with the taste of you, of your love, of your belonging.

“Yours,” you murmur against his mangled mouth.

“Yours,” he repeats.

The next day, you walk into the mess hall with Nikto’s fingers hooked into your belt loops. There’s a single black smudge on your jaw.

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[joelslastofus]

Master list

Joel Miller Series

Secretly a Virgin || Joel is unaware you're a virgin and gets too rough.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter three

Keeping An Eye Out || Joel becomes protective of his alcoholic neighbors daughter.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

A Brothers Secret || Joel is secretly in love with Tommy's girlfriend and comforts her while he is in jail.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

True Feelings || Joel realizes his feelings for you when Tommy begins to date you.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

A Jealous Game || Tess is jealous with how protective Joel is of you.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Risky Business || After a one night stand with Marlene's daughter, she ends up pregnant.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Pretty Girl || Joel Miller has always ignored the attraction he’s felt towards you, especially being that your father and him are close friends in Jackson. Until one night, Joel doesn’t feel he can ignore what’s in front of him.

Chapter One: Just a Drink

Dancing Girl || Joel catches you dancing alone after a sleepover with Sarah. You soon realize you have a crush on your dad’s bestfriend..

Chapter One

Forbidden Distraction || When someone from your past arrives to Jackson, Joel becomes protective over you, leading to a connection that he never expected to have with you.

Chapter One

Someone to Lean On || A single mom living next to Joel, he finds himself wanting to help you leading to feelings that begin to grow..

Chapter One

Danger Lurking || Coparenting with Joel, he finds out the man you’re newly dating is a danger.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Joel Miller One shots

Joel suffers PTSD accidentally hurting you

After giving birth, Joel is over protective of you

Joel feels guilty after you suffer a miscarriage

Joel notices a man bothering you through his rear view mirror

Joel is assigned to assist a blind woman

You and Joel tell Ellie you're expecting a baby

Joel is forced to take Ellie when his wife is 7 months pregnant

Joel takes care of his girlfriend who suffers from anxiety and depression

Joel feels insecure with his age difference and leaves you only to find out you were SA

Joel reacts in a cruel way when finding out you're pregnant

Sarah is in college and brings home a friend Joel is secretly attracted to

Joel acts like he doesn't like you until he comes across your rapist

Joel finds out you were pregnant and miscarried while he was on a work trip with Tommy

Joel sleeps with his innocent married next door neighbor after fixing her sink.

Joel continues an affair with his innocent neighbor, having a quickie in her backyard while her husband is home.

Joel deals with upsetting his overly sensitive eight month pregnant wife.

During a car ride Joel attempts to hide his erection from you along with feelings he knows he shouldn’t have for his friend’s daughter.

Joel catches you reading smut

Sarah is out of town and asks her father to pick you up from a drunk night out

Joel gets locked out of his house drunk and knocks on your door

Joel triggers your PTSD when he gets drunk

Your drunk ex comes into the Millers bar where you work looking for trouble

Pregnant reader saves Joel from Abby

Joel has a dangerous reputation in the QZ, so when you run into him you are afraid of him until he shows you another side to him.

Joel struggles to fight temptation with Sarah’s bestfriend after he’s forced to share a bed with her.

Joel and you have broken up towards the end of your pregnancy until Sarah convinces you to come to Tommy’s annual Christmas party.

Joel teaches Marlene’s younger sister about how a man cums.

Javier Pena

Javier finds out his ex girlfriend is now dating one of Escobars men and trys to help her.

You are intimate with Javier for the first time after being SA

Javier gets close to you to get information and unexpectedly falls for you

You're a DEA agent who accidentally gets hurt and tries to hide it from Javi

General Marcus Acacius

Forced to marry General Marcus Acacius to save your brother

You are a new maid for General Acacius

[call-sign-shark]

Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!You || The Darkling x HeartrenderOC!Reader

Summary: As you're deemed too dangerous and unstable to train with the others, you are assigned special lessons with Bahgra. The situation turns catastrophic but Kirigan is here to save you from yourself.

Words: 7k

TW: reference to prostitution and SA, graphic depiction of violence, eroticism, pinning, shadow play, smut, hurt/comfort

Note: I didn’t proof read it but I’ll do it later. Also next chapter won’t be that long aha. Also: HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Part V - Beneath His Watchful Eyes

Previous || Masterlist || Next

The more days flew by, the more it came off as an evidence for everyone but yourself: now that you had learnt the basic abilities of your Heartrender nature, continuing your training with the other Grisha wouldn’t get you anywhere. The morning sunlight filtered through the gauzy and thick curtains of your bedroom, painting the luxurious walls in soft golden hues.

Dressed in white as always — for you still refused to wear your red kefta —, you were lacing up your boots, letting your thoughts lose themselves in a swirling mix of exhaustion and unease that had become your constant companion in the Little Palace. Lately, the excruciating anxiety you usually felt prior to going downstairs with the others had diminished and this surprising phenomenon was partly due to Zoya’s sudden quietness whenever you were around. Since the incident of the dinner hall during which you had ended up covered in pig’s blood and defended by General Kirigan, the egocentric Squaller seemed to tolerate you. Or, at the very least, to bite her tongue hard enough not to taunt you anymore in the vilest way possible like she used to do. Following this event, a myriad of questions had lingered in your restless mind: was Kirigan’s intervention the only reason why Zoya left you alone? Why did the General decide to protect you from her petty behavior while you were nothing but a new and clumsy Grisha among a hundred of highly trained and skilled soldiers? And, most importantly, why did your usually numbed emotions tend to surge at once whenever he was nearby, as if he was able to trigger something buried deep within you?

A knock on the door pulled you back to reality.

“Come in,” You called with a neutral tone, standing as Genya Safin entered the room.

The Tailor was radiant as always, her round face reminding you of a delicate porcelain doll while her russet hair caught the light in a way that seemed almost magical. Even though you didn’t exchange much with her, she has been one of the scarce few who showed a bit of kindness toward you. Not directly, but through the form of timid smiles and empathic glances. Masking your natural coldness, you offered her a welcoming grin but immediately noticed that her bright smile was tempered by a hint of apprehension. Like a tamer getting into a tiger’s cage. A White Tigress, Tante Heleen’s shrilling voice corrected in your skull.

“Good morning,” Genya greeted, her voice a warm lilt that contrasted with the frozen desert of your iris, “The General has instructed you to begin the second step of your training today.”

You frowned at such news, your hands stilling and your shoulders tensing, “Training? With whom?” You dared ask, already dreading the idea of getting paired with someone else that Ivan or Fedyor.

“Baghra,” Genya replied with a careful tone, stepping closer but slowly for she knew how sensitive the instruction she had just delivered was. The name felt like a guillotine blade on a prisoner’s neck.

“Baghra?!” You repeated, your confusion deepening and your seraphic traits turning into the deadliest ice again. Obviously you had overheard whispers of the old woman’s brutal methods and reclusive nature. From what you knew, she didn’t bother training young Grisha but rather preserved her knowledge for exceptionally gifted creatures. An attention you weren’t sure to deserve. Nor want. “Fantastic,” You couldn’t help the sarcastic venom that escaped your plump lips.

Genya only nodded before walking toward the window, visibly uncomfortable. “Her hut is at the edge of the grounds. I’ll show you the way. Come with —

“Why her?” You cut her off, your voice edged with a sharp frustration, “Why not train with the others as is the case since my arrival here?” Getting familiar with public training sessions had already been a gargantuan task, so the idea of starting from scratch again left a bitter taste on your tongue.

Genya seemed to hesitate, her gaze flickering away for a moment to regain composure before her focus shifted back to you, “The General has his reasons,” she said vaguely, though her speech lacked conviction and rather suggested that she knew more than she let on.

You felt a sudden pang of isolation tighten in your chest. That was unfair. After all, you had never asked for a special treatment. Quite the contrary, you had tried your best to meddle with the crowd even though it was vain. Even here, surrounded by Grisha who should have been your peers, you were set apart — an anomaly, an outlier. An abomination, “Fine,” You said curtly, grabbing your fur coat a bit more bluntly than expected, which made Genya flinch a little.

The Tailor beauty offered you an encouraging smile before leading you out of the palace. Your steps crunched over the frosted ground as you walked away from the imposing building. The towering structure of the Little Palace looked behind the two of you, like an ancient creature made of stone and adornments. With a last sympathetic grin, Genya pointed you the way to Baghra and retreated, leaving you to face whatever awaited you inside.

“Fuck me,” You mumbled under your breath, pausing at the threshold and gathering your composure, before stepping through the heavy wooden door.

She couldn’t be as bad as they said she was, right?

The small, dimly lit room carried a faint scent of wood smoke and incense. Its walls were lined with ancient carvings of saints and symbols that told the stories of another era. As your pale iris got used to the darkness, you stood in the center of the place with your arms crossed all the while studying the stern old woman who was before you. She hasn’t greeted you or said a single word. Instead, Baghra’s eyes seemed to pierce through you like a free and wise hawk appraising a caged animal.

“So, they think you are powerful,” The old harpy began, her voice a sharp blade in the still, almost suffocating air, “But power without control is not better than an open flame in a forest. I wonder what you are, little one. The wildfire or the restorative water?”

You narrowed your eyes, feeling the sting of the comment and the mocking tone that seeped through her every word. Control. You had heard it over and over, and, frankly, the constant reminders of it were starting to get on your nerves, “I never claimed to have control. Isn’t that why I’m here? To learn control from you, since it seems that no one has managed to do so? Or at least that’s what General Kirigan keeps telling me.”

Baghra scoffed, surprised by your boldness and your insolent nature, “Is that what Aleksander told you?”

So, his name is Aleksander, you thought and, somehow, it warmed your heart a little to know what he was called. Maybe because it made him more human.

“Control is only a part of it. What you need for the time being is understanding.” Finally she stepped closer, her cane tapping against the floor and as she came near, you had the familiar sensation of living shadows surrounding you, “What I want to know is what exactly are you capable of, girl? Not just the obvious — what else lies beneath those trembling hands of yours?”

Silence fell on the room.

“Speak!” She urged, tapping her cane more violently on the ground. The echo ripped through the air and made you jump slightly despite not being a scaredy cat in nature. The old hag was, indeed, not very sympathetic.

“Well,” You hesitated a little, your gaze drifting from her to the cane as if you were getting ready to dodge a potential blow from the stern harpy, “I can do what most Heartrenders can,” Your pace was slow for you were carefully choosing your words, “Stop hearts, slow breathing, crush lungs, induce pain, emotion-related changes…” The more you talked, the more your voice dropped to an unsure whisper, “During training I — ”

“I already know all of these. It’s not what I demanded. I want you to clearly explain what lies behind the rumors. What kind of miracles did you perform to get such a reputation?”

A Saint or a Monster.

A blessing or a curse.

Your shoulders slouched down at the inevitable: you had no choice but to talk about what happened during the whole year you were on the run and mention the incidents that unfolded, “I can also heal. Not only wounds but diseases. I’ve cured… Things that should have been fatal. Triggered some too..”

Baghra frowned, her sharp predatory eyes riveted on you, but she remained silent, waiting for more.

“There was this town who had welcomed me for a few days. A little girl would always come and share the little food she had with me. Ana was the name. She told me that she, as well as a small portion of the town, were plagued by a deadly, incurable disease. I just… “ You paused, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to remember the events in detail, “I don’t know how I did it but I cured her. I cured them all. It’s not that I did it consciously you know? It was as if… As if my instincts pushed me to do so and it happened that something inside of me knew exactly what to do. I left the day after because their reactions made me uncomfortable: they had started to bow in front of me and bring me offerings.”

“And then?” Baghra urged. Now her eyes gleamed with a curiosity she didn’t know she possessed anymore.

You continued, your voice growing quieter. Darker. “And then I left, encountered hunters and all went black. When I woke up, five mangled men were lying discarded on the frozen ground, broken in such a grotesque way that my stomach twisted. I remembered two of them throwing up and crying bright red blood. As for the three others… There was something else.” An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine at the memory, the metallic smell of twisted and exposed flesh coming back to you as if someone was gutted alive right here, right now, “They moved against their will, like puppets. They turned — No, I think I’ve made them turn against each other. I was so enraged you see but…” You swallowed hard.

Baghra’s cane came to slam against the ground again, the sound reverberating like a gunshot, “Control of another’s body and mind,” she muttered, fascinated. “Dangerous. Do you know what kind of devastation you could cause with that power? If you lose control for even a moment… Or if it fell in the wrong hands.”

“I know,” You interrupted, faking annoyance while your voice clearly shook, “That’s why I’m afraid of it. Which is even more frustrating considering that I’ve never been particularly afraid of something.” And somehow, that detail, which might seem insignificant to most, bothered you more than you wished to admit. Daring a quick glance at the grey-haired and eagle-eyed Grisha, you noticed how she studied you for a long moment, her traits still holding authority and sternness despite the brief glow of empathy. It lasted just a fraction, but it was enough to conclude that she wasn’t the heartless bitch people talked about.

“Fear can keep you sharp, but too much of it will paralyze you.” She finally said, her words wrapped in an unexpected sense of understanding. “Show me.”

“I beg your pardon?” You almost choked at her firm order. For a moment, you thought she was joking or at least taunting you since humor didn’t seem to be part of her. Yet, Baghra replied to your surprise with a raised eyebrow, full of judgment.

“Show me what you’re afraid of.” As her sharp command broke the silence, panic surged immediately through your being like a destructive tidal wave. Your chest tightened at the idea, each breath shallow and uneven. Not even summoned by a client at the Menagerie did you feel the weight of such anxiety.

You frowned, trying your best to hide your turmoil and keep up with appearances but your voice betrayed you, “On what?” You dare ask, “A chair? You, maybe?” The air around her felt oppressive, pressing against your pale skin.

Baghra, insensitive to your sarcasm, turned toward the corner of the room where a young Etherealki you’d already noticed during training stepped out of the shadow timidly. How long had she been standing there? The woman’s wide eyes darted nervously between you and the old witch, unsure. “Tanya has volunteered,” Baghra’s statement sounded so deadly cold that you felt like you had just heard yourself talk. “She knows the risks.”

Boom. Boom.

Your heart raced and sweat beaded at your temples, dampening a few ivory strands of your long mane. To be fair, you weren't just afraid of failing; it was the possibility of losing control and becoming the mass-murderous monster you had already let out a few times that you feared most.

“I— I just… can’t.” Words managed to reach your lips.

The Etherealki hesitated, not quite reassured by your reaction, then stepped forward, her hands nervously playing with the hem of her blue kefta as she spoke. “I-I’m ready,” she stammered, though her voice betrayed her fear, “Go ahead.”

You felt your whole chest tighten a second time, as though your ribcage was slowly but surely crushing your organs, reducing them to a pulp at the simple thought of what you were asked to do. It wasn’t much about empathy, on which you had always run low, but more about your refusal to face the reflection in your mirror in case she died, “Are you sure?” You breathed.

Tanya nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Baghra’s voice cut through the tension. “Control her movement. Nothing else.” She ordered as though it was the easiest thing to do.

A shaky exhale left your mouth. Carefully, you stepped forward, the cold hum of your power thrumming through your veins. With unsure movements, you raised your hands and focused on summoning your abilities that were impatiently waiting beneath your skin. Slowly, Tanya’s arm began to rise, her movements jerky and unnatural.

It worked. And the Etheralki wasn’t choking on her own blood nor bashing her own head against the nearest wall so far. That was a win. The taste of success didn’t last long though.

“Relax,” Baghra barked, suddenly hitting your fingers with her cane. The wooden stick struck your knuckles with a sharp crack, sending a bolt of pain through your hand that radiates up your arms.

“Aouch! Are you crazy?!” You hissed, fingers instinctively recoiling and the control you held over Tanya loosening. Yet, you forced yourself to stay still. The sting burned like a biting reminder that the old harpy wouldn’t hesitate to hit you again. Relentless methods… Now you understood.

“Your grip is too tight. Her arms were starting to twist in her back.”

Insults would have certainly flown from your pretty mouth hadn’t you been too focused on not hurting the young Etheralki. Instead, you adjusted the pressure and Tanya’s movements became smoother, more fluid, as you guided her to lift one arm, then the other, until they wrapped around her own throat.

A thin trickle of blood ran from one of your nostrils as you maintained the connection and narrowed your focus on the girl’s quickening heartbeats, which resounded in your skull.

Baghra stepped closer, watching with a mix of curiosity and alert when she noticed Tanya’s finger digging into her own flesh, “Good. Now release her.” She intervened because she didn't want to take the risk of seeing you force the young girl to strangle herself.

You exhaled loudly, dropped your hands, and watched the poor Etheralki stumble back. Her palms patted her throat as she gasped for air.

“I’m sorry,” You blurted, stepping toward her.

Tanya shook her head, “it’s fine,” she said, panting, “I’m fine.” To be fair, you couldn’t tell if she was trying to be genuinely kind or if her immediate reply was only motivated by the sheer will to stop you from stepping too close. The way she rapidly grabbed her chapka and left the hut when allowed to do so hinted at the second option. You stared at the entrance from which she departed, absentmindedly wiping the blood from your nose with the back of your hand.

“Heaven.” Baghra’s voice snatched you from your thoughts. Turning around, you saw her approaching you as carefully as if she was coaxing a wild beast, though her expression remained unfathomable, “You’re more than a Heartrender, indeed. I suspected it the moment I saw you but now it’s undeniable.” Her sentence floated in the air for a few seconds, the anticipation of what she would say next adding to the build-up tension, “Your power doesn’t just affect the body — it is the very essence of a person you can break and control.”

You turned to ice again despite how uneasy her statement made you feel, “Is that… Bad?”

Baghra sucked on her teeth before replying, “Not bad per se. But dangerous. You really need to master it quickly, little girl. And by it, I’m not only referring to your little science but also to the rage you’ve been keeping buried for so long. For some reason, you seem to end up losing control and hurting people whenever you use your abilities too intensely. Also, there’s something else…”

“What?” You growled. As if today’s revelation and experiments hadn’t racked your nerves enough, you thought.

An odd silence settled between the two of you, heavy and electric. The old witch’s dark eyes roved over your slim silhouette with a scrutiny that sought to strip away your very skin and reach the fibers of who you were. The elder woman rested her hands on her cane, unmoving, she clung to it as if bracing against a revelation she wasn’t yet ready to voice. You shifted uncomfortably under her stare, but Baghra’s focus didn’t waver.

There was something eerily familiar about you — an echo, a flicker of something she had thought long buried in the recesses of her memory. Back from the time the Fold was created. It laid in the tilt of your chin, the defiance in your gaze paired with that undercurrent of pain… A ghost of another time.

“Interesting,” Baghra muttered to herself, barely loud enough for you to hear. There was no warmth in her tone, only a thread of unease woven through the words. She feared that saying what she thought aloud would summon old wounds to life. Whatever it was — whatever connection the old woman could feel pulsing faintly like a forgotten heartbeat — remained unspoken. In all her wisdom, Baghra knew better than to meddle in such mysteries before their time.

Some destinies were inescapable. She concluded grimly.

“Never mind,” she said finally, turning away. “We’ll continue tomorrow. Now you are requested to leave.”

Harsh and inconsiderate, but you still obliged and, to be fair, you were more than happy to exit her place.

As you left the room, the harpy remained behind, her thoughts swirling like a howling hurricane. General Kirigan… When you had mentioned Aleksander earlier, it had been as if your soul already knew him.

Baghra gritted her teeth and at this very moment, never had she hoped so dearly for her predictions to be wrong.

You had waited impatiently for the moment you could curl up under the soft blanket of your bed after a warm bath and yet, you soon regretted daylight. Rolling from one side to another you had fought against insomnia for hours. It didn't help that the temperature of your room was high, rendering every attempt to relax properly fruitless.

Sleep finally condescended to visit you after you had removed all your clothes and sunk back into the comfortable freshness of the mattress. A few hours later, amid the night when the darkness was the thickest, you found yourself caught in that strange liminal space between sleep and wakefulness.

The sensation was indescribable — your body might have been heavy with exhaustion but your restless mind still refused to let it fully go. Besides, the silence around you grew unnerving rather than comforting. The eerie calm of the Little Palace seemed to press in on you, to the extent you almost wished you could hear the sound of Tante Heleen’s quill scribbling on paper or even the clicking of the golden chain at your neck whenever you moved. But all you were met with was a deafening emptiness.

As you lay there, trapped in such a strange state, the faintest stir of air brushed across your frozen flesh, resulting in a shiver running down your spine.

Your foggy mind was trying to rationalize and blame it on the strong wind outside but the truth was your window was closed and the heavy, thick curtains pulled in front of it. Had the wind been responsible, the curtain would have moved.

Soon after, you felt the thin bed sheet that covered you gently sliding off your body, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. What was that? Your breath hitched in surprise at the unexpected freshness. Shivering again, you opened your heavy eyelids, your arctic blue eyes scanning the odd shadows. Strangely, they seemed to thicken and gather at every corner of the room, growing bigger as you peered at them.

And from the shadows came the irresistible pull.

The sudden sensation crept over you, seeping into your consciousness. A familiar call that sent adrenaline pumping through your veins and turned your pulse into a wild drumbeat in your ears. The feeling didn’t come from a sight or a sound strictly speaking, but rather from something far more primal and instinctive. The frozen meadows of your crystal iris darted around the bedroom again but there was nothing. So why did the sensation remain, coiling in your chest and whispering that you were not alone? That you were watched?

The tendrils of shadow you were surveilling suddenly jumped from the corner with deliberate intent, crawling lazily but dangerously close like a pool of spilled ink. Once they reached the bed, they circled it and rose, devouring each light source. The moon, the candles, the twilight hue... Everything disappeared, guzzled by them until all remained was a pitch-black darkness that kept you prisoner.

If you had managed to remain rather quiet until then, panic definitely invaded you when an odd chill brushed your arm. You stopped breathing: it hadn't felt like the winter air but softer, like a touch. “F—Fuck” You squealed a little as the whisper of a second movement crossed your cheek, just like the graze of invisible fingertips.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Then it kept going, wandering all over you one place after the other and leaving you quaking each time. The darkness touched you again and again, trailing down your spine, and brushing the curve of your collarbone. What had started like a grazing sensation soon turned into the actual caresses of a ghost lover. As though they were the extension of his own hands.

The softest and most caring caresses you had ever experienced.

Your eyes fluttered close when the tendrils of shadow resolved themselves to wander all over your almost petrified body in a languid, intimate exploration. Gripping, electric, your being reacted vividly to them — feeling your nipples hardening, you couldn’t help but instinctively arch toward the phantom touches as if drawn by a force you couldn’t resist. The oddness of the whole experience vanished for an instant as you relished in their gentleness and the perfect knowledge of the most sensitive parts of you they seemed to have.

Heat pooled in your stomach and between your legs for the shadows danced across you, grabbing you by the hips to explore your inner thighs and graze the pearly petals of your already wet slit.

“Al— Aleksander…”

You moaned without realizing it. The name had left your mouth instinctively all the while you threw your head back. Caught in a swirl of pleasure and intimacy, you gave yourself to the darkness and parted your legs. A darkness that felt like the tip of a warm tongue coming to taste your intoxicating and hands cuddling every inch of your gleaming-with-sweat body.

“Fuck!” You groaned again as an electrifying wave of pleasure crashed against you like waves on the shore.

Everything was so real, so sensual, you couldn't distinguish dream from reality. A fire of arousal ignited in your entire being, fueled by lust. More... Your mind begged your hands brutally closing around the bedsheets and trapping the fabric in your small fists.

Heaven.

Your name seemed to echo faintly in the silence in reply, not truly spoken but rather felt.

No, it was definitely fucking real.

Alarmed by such an unbelievable realization, you came back to your sense and fought the pleasurable daze that enveloped you until you were able to turn toward the voice to search for its owner. A voice you had recognized and couldn't mistake for anyone else's. Still, nothing. Just plain blackness. The shadows tightened their embrace around you even more greedily when you moved though, as if afraid you would try to leave them. They curled around your legs and hips in a lover’s caresses, gentle yet incredibly possessive.

Stay.

And all of a sudden it wasn’t just the shadows; it was him. You felt a hand — warm and strong — cradle your face and tilt your head on the side to free the way to your neck. Overwhelmed, you squirmed a little but couldn’t fight the invisible force that was keeping you pinned to the mattress rather firmly.

Stay with me.

You could almost feel his soft lips against your ear, could almost hear his breath as he murmured words you barely comprehend but that made your heart race faster anyhow.

“Come to me…” It wasn't just a feeling anymore, it was a sound, a murmur that echoed in the void. “I’ve been waiting for you all my life…” Those were the exact same words you had heard when the Drüskelle had captured you, seconds before the General came to rescue you.

And then the dream shattered, dissipating as quickly as it had appeared.

The intensity of the moment and the brutality with which everything had come to a stop left you awake, gasping, and drenched in sweat. How long did it last? You couldn’t tell, but when you reopened your eyes, the shy morning sun was bathing your bedroom in a soft, reassuring light.

“What the hell…” You panted, dragging your quaking body to the edge of the bed before pulling the white blanket and wrapping it around you. What the hell was wrong with you? Dizzy and shivering, you let out a shaky sigh and buried your burning face in your cold hands. Was it real? Was it a wet dream? Was your mind sick? Was it that damn place that was driving you crazy?

A second sigh resounded in the silence of your room.

Fortunately, the Black General was rather busy lately so you wouldn’t have to suffer fleeting but very embarrassing encounters. At least you hoped so for you weren’t sure to be able to look at him right in the eyes after the obscene dream you just had.

With your pulse still racing, you tried to forget that unsettling experience, shoving it in the back of your mind to focus on the work awaiting you today, even though the tingling sensation from the phantom touches still haunted your skin.

Because no matter how much you ignored it, how much you pushed the inevitable, Aleksander had already made his way through the very fabric of your soul.

If you had to pinpoint your best quality, it would be your ability to adapt to changes quite rapidly. That was probably why you had jumped in this new training routine without complaining too much once you had realized that you had managed to survive the first lesson with Bahgra. While insufferable, the old hag indeed taught you something useful.

Nevertheless, today’s training session had been particularly grueling. You let out a low growl of pain and wiped the blood that was dripping from your nose with the back of your trembling hand, the electric and wild sensation of power rattling against every nerve of your body. While some time had passed since your disturbing and erotic dream, your thoughts kept coming back to it and it made containing your powers ever more difficult.

“Concentrate.” Baghra’s voice sounded as pleasantly as nails scratching a black board. The old woman had been drilling you relentlessly to push you to control it, but the power within you had visibly a mind of its own.

Standing across from Tanya, the brave volunteer who returned to the hut and accepted to be your partner against all expectations, you could feel her unease radiating off her. While you understood that no one in her situation would have played it cool, she did seem particularly tense today. Etheralki's whole being was shivering, her wide eyes wide with apprehension.Could she possibly sense your own fatigue and struggles?

“Control it. Don’t let it control you.”

You nodded briefly but it didn’t keep you from mumbling a few insults under your beard before closing your eyes for a brief moment in order to relax. However, the fatigue that had been building up for the past months was taking a toll on you. The control, the lessons, the loneliness, the General’s growing effects on you… It was getting too much, even for you.

You know, one day you’re gonna crack if you keep sweeping everything that troubles you under the rug. One does not simply ignore what hurts. Fedyor once told you.

Pushing your limits a bit too far, a flood of emotions crashed against you and rendered all attempts to calm more than tricky.

“When are you going to listen to me, stupid little girl?!”

The hag was growing more impatient and even though her frustration was understandable since you had done everything wrong since this morning, the words she had used were the final nail to your coffin. Fedyor was right.

She had barely finished speaking when her frustrated taunt triggered a hurricane of aching memories to surge back. The cold, the violence, the screams, the smell. That disgusting and haunting combination of funfair fragrances, blood, sweat and tears.

Baghra didn’t know it but she had used the exact same words and tone Tante Heleen had used that one night she had got caught stealing food. Obviously, you had been heavily punished for that.

The memory struck like a lash itself, sharp and violent. Almost as brutal as the phantom bite of the whip across your back, the pain searing not just your pale skin but carving itself deep into your soul. Each cruel blow came accompanied by the echo of Tante Heleen’s voice, mocking, mean, and melting with Baghra’s. Stupid girl. Going to listen. Simmering in your blood, your overstimulated power only made it more vivid, to the extent that you could genuinely feel the sensation of the coarse leather against your back. The ache bloomed like a fire spreading across you, a sadistic reminder of your humiliation. Desperation. Of wounds that never truly healed.

LiStEn YoU sTuPiD GiRL.

The bitch scolded again. Baghra or Tante Heleen? You couldn’t differentiate them anymore.

And with the last flash of memory of the whip tearing your skin apart came a scream from your pretty mouth — a banshee’s shriek, haunting, blood freezing, that resounded in the room. So piercing Baghra immediately protected her ears with the palms of her hands. Following your cry, Tanya gasped loudly for your unleashed power burst, uncontrollable, and made her body both convulse and twist under the command of your moving fingers. The room itself seemed to spin as the energy slipped out of your control.

“Stop it!” You had the blurry impression that Baghra had screamed at you but her voice sounded so far away you thought she also, just like the flashbacks, belonged to your past. And all your life you’d drilled yourself to think that all that belonged to the past should be ignored, if not buried six feet deep.

One quick look at the frozen and determined expression etched on your broken doll face was enough for Baghra to understand; you had gone too far and she wasn’t sure she could fetch you back from the dark waters of your trauma. “Heaven, you’re hurting her!” She called your name again but you didn’t hear, the scorching hatred in your eyes turning her blood into liquid nitrogen. The wise woman’s instincts faltered, feeling powerless against the disaster unraveling before her. ”HEAVEN!” She barked, louder, but her voice lacked its usual commanding tone.

Tanya’s final gasp echoed before she crumpled to the ground, blood coming from her nose and eyes. In an instant, the old Grisha feared that you had really killed her.

“No! Tanya!” She cried out, a hint of panic weaving itself with the very tone of her usually neutral voice. Baghra was about to move, her eagle eyes assessing whether she needed to knock you out or bounce on the poor motionless girl in an attempt to push her out of your line of sight. It was about acting rapidly if she didn’t want the weight of an innocent Grisha’s death on her shoulders for she had been the one who had the idea of training you with a living target. When the fatality of the situation fell on her, realizing she couldn’t stop you anymore, Baghra stepped closer, her movements measured but hesitant. She stretched out her wooden cane as if to snap you back to reality, but the aura surrounding you was impenetrable, thick with chaos and grief. For the first time in years, fear crept into Baghra’s calculated resolve.

Then, everything went still. Black. Incredibly peaceful.

In the midst of your chaos, shadows had burst from the corners of the room as if replying to the tragic call of your despair and to the screams of your aching soul. They had slithered on the floor, bypassed the old witch and the Etheralki without the slightest hint of care, only to wrap around you in a cocoon, a bubble of obscurity. Just as they did in your dream.

Surprisingly, these same shadows were tangible, almost palpable: their sensation might have been a bit suffocating, one may even say thick, but they were definitely not oppressive — just agreeably heavy. At least enough to ground you. And when all you could see through the filter of your infernal fury was gruesome red and gold, pitch blackness settled in your mind and, with it, a calm you had never dream of washed over you, like a dark embrace that held you steady despite the storm.

Aleksander.

The recognition of him had been instant and didn’t require one single glance — you could have recognized his aura amongst thousands.

With crystal eyes filled with both fear and confusion, your lashes dared flutter open. The sight of the Black General appearing through black fog welcomed you, his imposing silhouette stepping toward you with both haste and confidence. No matter how terrifyingly deadly your powers were, Aleksander was everything but afraid. The tall darkness reached for you without a word nor hesitation, his arms pulling you tightly against him. Your body posed no more resistance. Quite the contrary, it fell limp against him just like a puppet whose strings had just been severed.

You melted as his warmth seeped into your arctic skin. A warmth that lit a comforting fire inside of you despite the thick layers of clothes which separated your two yearning beings. Ever-so-gently, one of Kirigan’s large hands ran up your neck and tangled in your magnificent long white hair to tug you closer. You shivered when his calloused fingers stroke your flesh. This time, it was real. Your eyelids shut tight again under the feeling of his strength, his body steady and unyielding as he enveloped you so tightly you were convinced that you would merge together.

You didn’t fight it.

You didn’t even want to.

Despite your loathing for unwanted and unexpected physical contacts, your small hands, trembling from exertion, moved instinctively and reached for him too. First and foremost, you touched his broad back, feeling his tense muscles under your moist palms. Your fingertips then brushed over the rich fabric of his kefta, the sensation of the wool slowly pulling you from numbness, before they trailed up to his square shoulders. Your hands rested there for a brief instant before you let your fingers curl through his dark hair, feeling the silken strands slip between your fingers.

Aleksander didn’t pull away during your exploration of him. In fact, he seemed to lean into your touch even more with a low hum of approval rumbling in his chest and his lips barely brushing against your ivory mane. Even though he had been a tad bit surprised by the fact you hugged him back at first especially since he hadn’t displayed any kind of affection to anyone in years, the General rapidly melted like butter under your caresses. His shoulders slouched a little and, with his face hidden from your sight, his traits softened in a turned briefly melancholic. Aleksander, who had thought he would never experience the devastating pleasure of holding someone he loved ever again, found a place he could finally feel bliss: your arms. For a moment, he couldn’t even tell which one of you was grounding the other. Deep down, and even if the goal behind display of affection had been to save you from your mind, it was you who embraced him so hard that he could feel the shattered, broken piece of his cursed soul stick back together. While still remaining an immovable anchor, the commanding figure of the General slipped away momentarily to reveal a glimpse of his real self.

“By the Saints…” The whisper had escaped Baghra’s lips as she watched the scene from outside the shadow. Her son, corrupted by ambition and pain, and that little wild Grisha clinging to each other for dear life...

She was aghast, astonished by the strange quality she noticed in Aleksander’s demeanor — a tenderness she had never seen before except once, with that little Healer from many centuries ago. The old witch clenched her jaw, for what she was witnessing now was the confirmation of the truth she had foreseen the first time you’ve met. And that truth was fate. There was something undeniable between her son and you, a bound that stretched beyond de realm of simple attraction. Yes, it was fate that was definitely pulling you together and you, little Heaven, was the key to whatever it was that Aleksander was becoming.

Aleksander could have released you now that you had calmed down a bit and that any risk of you snapping back to a killing spree mood had decreased but he didn’t. Couldn’t. Rather than stepping away, his grip became firmer and he didn’t stop until he could feel your heart beating against him. He pulled you closer and closer, your small breasts flattened against his chest and your heart catching the pace of his to drum in unison. It surely was a fleeting moment of peace, a moment that made you feel like the world had been lifted from your shoulders, if only for a minute. Barely acknowledging Baghra and the young Etheralki presence anymore, you lost yourself in the warmth, the comfort and the intensity of the moment. A little purr almost left your juicy lips as the General’s fingers tenderly traced along the line of your hair, soothing.

“I’m here.” His tender voice resounded, coming not only from his charming lips but from all around you.

The corner of your lips tugged into tiny, reassured and genuine smile.

”As always it seems…” Your voice dragged, words escaping your mouth before you thought of them because you didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to question what was happening between the two of you, nor why the General had always acted so differently with yours. For once, it was enough just to feel. To let his arms, body and shadows envelop you until you forget everything —the fear, the pain, the doubts. With him you were safe and you knew that if you were to break ever again, he would be there to keep you from crumbling apart.

“As always.” He whispered in your ear before reluctantly pulling back. The comforting warmth that had lulled you faded away cruelly.

He didn’t step back too far though, just enough to grab your chin and force you to look into his eyes. His unreadable gaze was so dark that there was no way to tell where his pupils stopped and where his iris started. You blinked, chasing away the remnants of dream dust from your long lashes as reality started to creep back.

“Are you alright?” He was quiet, almost whispering so that only you could hear. His hands were still resting on you, steady and loving.

You nodded in reply, though your body still felt the tremors of the experience, “I… Think so.”

But Kirigan didn’t release you immediately. In truth, his obsidian eyes lingered on you a moment longer until it fell on your lips, rosy and plump. Almost absentmindedly, as though struggling with his own desires, he simply put one of your long white strands back behind your ear in a gesture so intimate that your legs weakened. “Good.” He commented, before his thumb trailed down your jawline one last time and reached your lips. Heat suddenly flushed your cheeks, the blurry but steamy memories of that odd dream of him jumping back at you. His thumb gently pull at your fleshy lower lips and finally, with a soft sigh, the General let you go. He broke the contact, his other hand sliding along your arm in one last caress.

Cold settled back in his heart. And in yours.

“You’ve got a long way to go, Heaven.” He said, his tone far more soft than when addressing someone but that familiar authority and distance had come back. After ignoring the two others, he shot a quick glance at them to make sure that Tanya was fine. Or, at least, not dead.

You swallowed, teeth clenched, “I’m sorry to disappoint, General.”

“You’re not.” He cut more bluntly than he wished, “I just think that we still need to make a few adjustments to your training.” Aleksander stated, dark pupils surveying the slightest detail of your seraphic face.

“And what kind of adjustments if I may ask?” You hid again behind your fortress of ice, already embarrassed of the vulnerability you had shown to him earlier.

“A few private lessons with me.” The General’s lips curled into a subtle smirk, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but carried an edge of amusement at the surprise you had tried to conceal behind your mask of coldness. The faintest dimple appeared on one side, softening the sharp and stubbled line of his jaw.

Baghra’s whole body stiffened while she watched the exchange quietly, knowing there was more to this suggestion than you realized. Much more. She looked at her son, unapproving, and knew.

She knew that he wanted to keep you, possessive and jealous as he was, beneath his watchful eyes.

☾ Please consider reblogging and commenting if you want the story to continue. It is what motivates writers to write the next chapters...

☾ Taglist: @lunawants , @emtaz-art , @lightinbug , @kmc1989 , @thepassionatereader @mystic-mara @m-riaa @kallista-diune @meadows58 @kasagia

[wandascrush]

Bruised, bandaged, kissed

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Part 2 of my DIWK series

Summary: Natasha comes to you, and only you, for help. Wanda finds out about one of your little secrets. You were surrounded by blue all around you, limbs moving in slow motion...until you saw her. Dark brown hair danced in the water, a harsh contrast to the terror on her face. Eyes big as the moon, she stared directly at you. You tried to swim to her, kicking your tired arms as fast as possible, but you were too late. Wide and unblinking, she sunk down, down, down...lost to the sea forever.

You gasped as soon as you woke up, sweat covering your chest and neck. At HYDRA, Agents practically slept in dark, dusty cells with one huge bed in the middle and a desk off to the side. You were free to come and go as you pleased as long as you kept getting more info from the team and your burner phone was on you at all times. Of course you knew that with this privilege, some way somehow, they had somebody watching you 24/7. When you finally rubbed all the sleep out of your eyes, glancing at your phone, it was half past 6. Back at the Avengers compound, everyone woke up at around 8, latest, to start training, breakfast, paperwork, or meetings. It would take you at least an hour to get back to the compound, you hauled ass as you quickly threw your belongings into your black leather bag.

You tried to keep quiet along the corridors to not wake the other, less than pleasant, agents…they didn't particularly like you. It came to your surprise one day during training that one of the AIT'S, or agents in training, tried to suffocate you on the mat until you tazed them. Hydra had four levels of leaders: Captain, Commander, Supreme Hydra, and Imperial Hydra. Imperial Hydra, the leaders of everything, are four guys that no one has access to. The commander of the HYDRA branch you collected “intel” for took a particular liking to you, assigning you to the Avengers initiative that everyone wanted to work on. Your task: hack into the registry that contained personal information about all powered individuals. HYDRAS task: build a different type of super. Your morning luck ran out before you got to the security check, running into one of the most annoying coworkers you'd ever had.

"Samantha."

"Y/N. You're looking particularly awful today."

"Right. Well- it's always a pleasure," you gave her a sarcastic smile before pushing past her to the security check.

Finally you were out of there.

Back at the much more vibrant, and lively Avengers compound you quickly threw your bag into the embarrassingly large walk in closet that Tony had supplied you with. He was Marie Kondo at this point, decorating everyones room in the compound with the joy of a little girl in a toy store. It was funny to watch.

As soon as you walked out of your bedroom, you were met with the sight of a brunette, looking you up and down with a slightly tilted head. Something gave you the feeling that this Wanda Maximoff girl wasn't your biggest fan at all.

You nervously tucked your hair behind your ear before you spoke, "Hey Wanda-what uh- what's up?"

She didn't respond.

You cleared your throat expectantly. Her eyes narrowed, “Where were you off to so early this morning?"

Shit, she saw you come in.

"Nowhere, just had to grab a few groceries. I hate crowds so I thought I'd get there a little early," you let out a nervous chuckle and fiddled with your keys.

“You put your groceries in a leather duffel bag?”

“Hate to waste plastic, what can I say,” you shrugged. What a shitty excuse.

It seemed to suffice her, however, as she gave you a one up and walked away. It was hard not to notice her beautiful silky hair bounce off her back, but it didn't change the fact that you still didn't like her very much.

By 12 pm you had finished your weekly report to Fury about how you're adjusting to the Avengers initiative and how your last mission  went.

You liked Nick a lot to say the least.  He was stern but caring, and he would check anyone that pissed him off. He remind you a lot of Natasha, the girl that took a liking to you.

Her knock is what pushed you out of your dazed thoughts. She pushed open your door with her head down, trying to hide one side of her face but failing miserably. The first thing that caught your attention was the cut adorning her lips. The second was the large, blood stained bandage on her shoulder.

You knew better than to visibly show your concern, it would only make her upset. You posed a casual question instead, "How's the other guy look?"

You saw a glimpse of her secret smile, "Not too hot himself, actually."

As a double agent, you weren't supposed to catch feelings for anyone on either side, but there was something about that raspy voiced, careful Avenger that made you smile. You figured out how to help her without getting pushed away. Just ask.

You casually walked over to her and lazily motioned your head to your bathroom door, "Mind if I help you with that lip cut?"

"Tryna tell me I look bad Y/N?," she gave you her most judgemental one over that she could muster. 

"Not in my wildest dreams, Romanoff."

Sitting on her lap, you had to steady yourself with one hand on the counter to clean out her lip wound, dabbing hydrogen peroxide on it with a q-tip. Her jaw clenched each time, stinging her a little more.

As you shared a quiet moment with Natasha in the bathroom, you didn't even imagine that a certain witch was using her abilities to keep your bathroom door locked and search your room.

Nimble hands quickly explored every drawer within your wardrobe and finding nothing but a charger, melatonin, water, and a...special toy. Then she saw the black bag tucked into the corner of your closet. Her heart rate sped up a little as she approached the bag and grabbed the first file she saw, hidden under a jacket.

Later that night, as you thought about the way Natasha kissed you while you were on her lap and ran off, Wanda Maximoff would be in her bed, turning and tossing until she finally opened up the manila folder sitting in front of her.

Her eyes widened.

"I knew there was something off about you."

[gatheringbones]

I think one of the insights that has permeated the least outside of sa survivor circles is the idea that you can have an erotic response to something where there is no attraction and no consent— that it can be automatic, not a genuine reflection of how you “really” experience attraction, especially if the way you experience attraction/eros/desire was interfered with by dissociative trauma. I think it helps take the pressure off when it comes to complicated memories of assault and pulling apart who you “truly” are in the aftermath. they’re your memories, your automatic responses, your neural pathways, and your assigned meaning, always.

[nebulawebb]

MY MOUTHWASHING HEADCANONS

—

Hello everyone, so I'm writing a little kind of story of a "Reader/Yn" in the world of mouthwashing, so I have headcanons for my story that yall might like! I'm not going to separate them by character so they'll all be mixed up lol

𔓕 Daisuke loves drawing and is really good at it, but he never paid much attention to it because he doesn't think he has enough talent.

𔓕 Anya had a stuffed animal on her nightstand facing the door, when Jimmy's SA thing happened she turned it around and now her stuffed animal faces the wall.

𔓕 There used to be drawings that Daisuke made of Anya, But Jimmy looked at them "weird" and Anya removed them.

𔓕 Swansea definitely only has daughters, so Daisuke was like the son he always wanted.

𔓕 Jimmy definitely knows how to make those knockout cocktails and has used them before.

𔓕 Curly assigned the room to each one, but Jimmy argued that he wanted Curly's room and Curly ended up changing rooms with him so as not have problems.

𔓕 Daisuke was definitely a basketball player.

𔓕 One time Jimmy tried to copy Curly's curls with a curling iron, and he burned his whole hand.

𔓕 Swansea doesn't see Curly (after the accident) because he can't stand the smell (Burned skin or just old blood...)

𔓕 Anya tries not to sleep for fear of what might happen while she sleeps.

𔓕 Daisuke was in his room when the crash happened, despite everything being in tatters he took a risk and took out his gameboy and more stuff without hurting himself due to his good luck. — "You took out your stupid little game and not clothes or something useful, kid?"—

𔓕 Swansea is a dog person.

𔓕 Curly actually used treatments to maintain his hair pretty...

𔓕 Jimmy is a narcissist.

𔓕 Daisuke tried to draw Curly (after the crash) since no one wanted to be drawn. It didn't turn out well.

𔓕 Jimmy is a bad drinker. Every time he drinks he gets aggressive.

𔓕 Even after the accident, Curly continued to suffer from insomnia, so not being able to rest in that condition was even worse.

𔓕 Jimmy has thought about giving Curly some mouthwash to see what happens.

𔓕 Swansea was the one who amputated Curly.

𔓕 Daisuke tried to play the board game with Anya again, but with the stress of the crash and Jimmy, she started crying when she lost. Daisuke never asked to play again.

𔓕 Jimmy has a Polle stuffed animal............

𔓕 Anya wanted to take mouthwash to see if that could help her get an 4bortion, but she was afraid that she would faint and that Jimmy could find her.

𔓕 Daisuke had a hamster that died because he didn't know they hibernated. He didn't know until Swansea told him...

THAT'S IT. It's almost two in the morning, I took off my glasses and I only see dots...Tell me if you liked it so I can make more or post that little Reader x mouthwashing story! Sorry if you don't like my hc or are cringe, I really try!