#but restraining herself out of consideration for his sleep

[softquietsteadylove]

Would you write a soft moment for Thenamesh? Maybe for the runaway AU or beauty and the beast AU? :D

"Thena?"

Gil dragged himself out of bed, nearly tripping and falling in his haste to find her. The storm outside was rattling the window shutters, and it was definitely freezing inside their little cabin from the air seeping through any cracks in the wood it could find.

He made his way down the ladder from the bed loft, trying not to slip. But Thena didn't do well with storms. Even if she couldn't hear the deafening roar of wind like she used to, he was still certain she wouldn't be able to rest like this.

"Thena, are you okay?"

The last embers in the hearth were providing the faintest glow of light in the otherwise pitch black. He moved closer and caught the silhouette of Thena in the middle of the room. She did this sometimes and it scared him a little, moving him to wonder if she was missing her days in the castle--her first, and only home before now.

"Gil?"

He felt around until he could toss some kindling on the embers and start up a little fire again. Just enough that he could see. He sighed.

Thena was sitting in the middle of the floor, her blanket - the one he made her - pooled around her where she had clearly walked aimlessly before just collapsing. Her white nightdress also sat around her legs as she stared up at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently, kneeling down to her now that he could see her, at least.

Thena didn't always sleep well in the bed.

He had tried to get her used to it, but she was much more used to sleeping in a plush nest of curtains and sheets and blankets on the floor. She even apologised every time she ended up regressing back to this method of sleeping.

He had told her that she never had to apologise to him for anything.

"I couldn't sleep," she whispered, her eyes shifting as she listened to the storm around them. She finally looked at him, touching just her fingertips to his cheek, "did I wake you?"

"No," he shook his head, holding her hand in his and pressing it to his cheek. Her hands were cold, "no, sweetheart, you didn't."

She sighed, still sitting limply in her little nest on the floor. "I was trying to sleep in the bed-"

"It's okay," he soothed, pulling her into his arms and tucking her head under his chin. To Thena's credit, not only was she unused to sleeping in a man-made bed, but her bed was also on the ground floor. It was technically closer to the fire, but he wasn't sure if that was really a good thing for her or not.

"It's not as loud as it used to be," she whispered as she pressed her ear and her cheek to his chest. He rubbed her arm, lithe and bony under the linen of her clothes. "But I still don't like it."

He smiled in the dark of his little cabin, no longer just a bachelor suite for himself. He pressed his lips to her hair, which smelled like fresh mountain air. "I can't say I do either."

Thena leaned on him more heavily. "I...I thought about coming up to you."

Gil pulled away to look at her, but she looked away from him. "Why didn't you?"

She toyed with the front of the shirt he wore to bed, sitting loose around his body. He couldn't be sure with the glow of the fire lighting them, but he thought there was some colour in her cheeks, "you were sleeping."

"So wake me."

She looked up at him, but he pulled her blanket up over her shoulders, taking care to fan her hair out for her. She frowned, "but-"

"You can always wake me, Thena," he promised her, holding her hands in his. He bent his head down close to hers, "for anything."

She looked up at him again, although her eyes fluttered closed when he kissed her.

He tilted her head up more gently, his hand trailing down her jaw to her chin. She tightened her fist around a handful of his shirt as they kissed again. He held her hand, assuring her that if she loosened her grip, he would not disappear.

Thena blinked at him in the faint light of the fire, her sandy lashes fluttering around those amazing green eyes of hers.

He brushed some hair away from her face, "Thena, I... "

"Hm?" she tilted her head at him, waiting expectantly for what he was going to say.

Gil blushed. Thena hadn't exactly understood why he was so insistent on getting her a bed of her own instead of just sharing his. He squeezed her hands, "do you want to - just for tonight! - come up...with me?"

Her butt wiggled a little as she sat up (a remnant of her tail wagging days). Her eyes sparkled at him, "really?"

He nodded, already embarrassed at just the offer, let alone what was to come. He sighed, "just while the storm is going on. I don't want you to be scared."

She nodded eagerly, accepting as he helped her rise to her feet.

"Okay, come on," he sighed, helping her gather up her blanket around her and help her up the ladder to the loft. She practically sped the whole way up.

Thena was already snuggled into the bed when he followed. She happily absorbed warmth from his side, although when she saw he was back she kindly shimmied over for him and held out her hand.

"Thanks," he had to laugh, eager to return to the warmth of the bed. Thena was still taking up most of his previous spot, leaving him to warm up the rest of the space of the bed from scratch.

He couldn't be too mad, though; not when she looked so happy and sweet and beautiful.

Thena, still clutching the blanket he made for her around her under his covers, moved closer and kissed him again.

He sighed.

"Thank you, Gil," she whispered as she cozied right up to him under the covers, leeching precious body heat from him shamelessly.

"Anytime, hon," he assured, and meant it as he pulled her into his arms again. She pressed her face to his chest, inhaling gently as the tension finally left her body. They weren't going to make a habit of this or anything but just...just this once.

[veronicaphoenix]

Chapter tags & trigger warnings: nightmares, implied ptsd, angst, fluff, comfort, Noah being the perfect boyfriend best friend | Word count: 3.0k | Cross posted on AO3 | Series masterpost. ✧.*

General trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction and violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised.

“I wish my husband had been that considerate. How long have you two been together? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

At half past two, the piercing screams shattered the silence of the night, jolting me awake. 

            I threw off the covers and jumped to my feet. I left the studio at the same time Jolly came out of his room, barefoot and putting on a T-shirt. His long hair was in complete disarray, and his eyes narrowed as I turned on the hall light, as if he had been roused from a deep sleep.  

            The screaming suddenly stopped, but Lia’ sobs could still be heard from outside the room. I signaled to Jolly that I’d take care of it, and with a slight nod, he retreated back into his room. 

            Without bothering to knock, I entered my room. The lamp on the nightstand was on. Lia was upright in bed, her knees drawn up to her chest. She looked up at me. Her eyes were full of tears, and several had already slid down her cheeks. Her long light brown hair was a mess and the shade of soft light cast by the lamp gave her and the entire room a dramatic look. 

            She was on her feet immediately, staggering toward me, her anguish palpable as she collapsed into my embrace. I gathered her in my arms and pulled her to my chest, cupping her head against my shoulder. 

            “Noah,” she sobbed.

            “It’s all right. It was just a bad dream,” I shushed her, running my hand down her hair repeatedly. She smelled of jasmine, but the pain that permeated her whole being was even more prominent. I wished I could take her away from it.  

            Her hands clung to me, to my t-shirt. Her sobs were muffled by my chest, but they wouldn’t stop. For minutes that stretched into eternity, I held her, until her sobs subsided. 

            When I sensed her relaxing in my arms, I lightened my grip, allowing her space to breathe.  In the stillness that enveloped us, I wiped away her tears. There was no disturbance, no sound coming in, not even the white noise of the night behind the windows at the other end of the room. One of Lia’s hands remained clutching my shirt, with the other she wiped her nose and for a few seconds she didn’t know where to look. I held her shoulders, stroking her up and down in a rhythmic, soothing motion. She remained silent and still, very still. I heard her let out a restrained sob, and I knew she was going to cry again. Then I took her chin with two fingers and lifted her face to me. Her eyes met mine, and there was a whole world in her dark irises, but right now that world was sinking in a sea of tears. 

            “Can you stay?” she asked in a quiet voice. She sniffled through her nose. “Please.” 

            I nodded. It had been months, years, since we’d slept in the same bed. 

            “Sure,” I stroked her hair. I kissed the crown of her head and hugged her again. 

            We stayed wrapped around each other for a while, again until the embrace seemed to soothe her. The knowledge that I wasn’t going back to the studio must have calmed her even more, because without a word, when she pulled away from me, she ran her hands over her face and went back to bed. 

            It took me a few seconds to move. I stood at the foot of the bed, watching her cover herself with the sheets and pretend she wasn’t broken. 

            Before joining her, I retreated to the bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection, at my split lip, wondering if that was all there was, all that awaited us. Lia had spent her entire childhood and adolescence suffering. After so much effort, it had seemed that life was finally giving her what she deserved, only to take it away from her again in such a cruel way. The injustice that surrounded us and that we breathed made it difficult for me to swallow, and the pain of others —the pain of the people we love— is much worse than our own. I could get sick and cough up as many flowers as I could fit in the world, but nothing would equal the pain of seeing Lia bruised and hidden under my sheets, with her face soaked in tears, dark circles under her eyes, and a pale face. 

When dawn broke, I stirred, stretching my arms in a familiar ritual. Accustomed to the creaking of my own bones and my morning yawn, the purr coming from the other side of the bed took me by surprise. 

            For a moment, I was taken aback. Then I saw Lia’s face and her hair splayed on the pillow. She was still sleeping, but my yawn had disturbed her slightly, a faint crease forming between her brows, the same one she used to get when she was a child and something made her angry. 

            Almost instinctively, a ghost of a smile tugged at my lips, but Lia’s reddened cheeks from her crying due to the nightmare that had tormented her in the middle of the night and the bruises that still wouldn’t disappear from her face reminded me that she had just come out from Hell, and who knew if the road to solid ground would be easy. 

            For a while, I watched her, propping my head on my arms. It had been some time since we had shared a bed, and the warmth of her body under the sheets mingled with mine. Although we weren’t touching, one of her arms was outstretched toward me, evoking a night memory of her desperate grasp traying to reach me in the darkness. 

            Maybe I had only dreamed it. 

            With my thumb, I attempted to smooth away the furrow between her brows, but Lia only furrowed them further, rolling over to face away from me. 

            Careful not to disturb her, I rose quietly, opting to use the guest bathroom to avoid disrupting her rest. 

            Nearly an hour later, as I busied myself in the kitchen cleaning up the dishes from my own breakfast, Lia appeared behind me without saying a word. She just leaned on my back, wrapping her arms around my stomach. She let out a sigh and I had the feeling she was closing her eyes again. 

            “Good morning, Gremlin. How are you feeling?” I asked her, mindful of her delicate state. 

            “I’m not sure…” she murmured. “Just very tired. How’s your lip?”

            I couldn’t turn around because my hands were wet and full of soap, so as she spoke, I finished the task. Lia stepped away a minute later and went straight to the kettle to make herself some tea. 

            “Swollen,” I replied. “Won’t be able to be kissed for a week.”

            “Oh, poor boy!” She dramatized. We shared a look over our shoulders and laughed. 

            “Would you like coffee instead of tea?” I suggested. 

            Lia shook her head, her attention fixed on the box of her favorite tea nestled high in the cupboard. Someone had placed the box out of her reach again. 

            “Ugh. Again?” she sighed; frustration evident. 

            “Give me a minute. I’ll get it for you.”

            Breakfast seemed to cheer her up a bit. Jolly had left early that morning for Sweden for a week and a half to visit his family, leaving a note for Lia on the fridge door, featuring his attempt at drawing a Gremlin. Jolly had been worried, insisting he should cancel his flight and stay with us in case Mitch showed up again and subjected any of us to a violent attack, potentially leading to something worse than what we had experienced so far. I had assured him there was no need to cancel his trip. Mitch was already fucked up enough, and he knew she wasn’t alone. I couldn’t be certain, but I had a gut feeling we wouldn’t be seeing Mitch anytime soon. Lia was safe in our home. Things would get better, no matter how difficult, —especially considering that what had happened with Mitch had brought her back to the darkest time of her life—. 

            Jolly only left when, after repeating three times that Lia would be okay with me, she appeared in the hallway the evening before and reassured him of what I had just told him. Hearing Lia say she knew she was safer with me than with anyone else filled my chest with pride and a sweetness that I only knew when she was around.

            We had said goodbye to him after dinner, but around five in the morning, I thought I heard Lia’s footsteps in the hallway, scurrying to the entrance of the house and returning to the room a couple of minutes later.

            That morning, while it was still early, I suggested Lia to take a look at the garden. Spending time outside and devoting her attention to the plants and flowers was an activity that always managed to cheer her up. Lately, she hadn’t been as attentive to it, but now I understood why. Her situation had taken her away from the things that made her happy. From me. 

            With the men living in this house not being particularly keen on gardening duties except for the occasional watering each week to keep the plants and bushes hydrated, I figured Lia might entertain herself for a while by examining the state of the shrubs and such that we had in the back garden.

            With a smile, she agreed to the idea. By mid-morning, after freshening up, I found her kneeled in a corner of the garden, her hair in a bun and dirt stains on her pants and on my t-shirt. She was diligently repotting ailing bushes she had identified as struggling due to their placement.  

            “They’ll feel much better here,” she said, her hands working with practiced care. “The sunlight won’t be as harsh, and those flowers over there need more attention. They’re super pretty, but if you don’t show them some love, they will perish in less than two weeks.”

            “Now that you’re here, I don’t think they’re going to lack any love,” I replied, observing Lia’s efforts from where I stood. 

            “You’re the one that needs to show them love. They’re your plants,” Lia admonished me. 

            “Actually, they’re Jesse’s. His mom gave them to him a month ago and he planted them.”

            “But this is your garden, Noah,” she insisted, her tone sort of motherly, as if she was teaching me a lesson I had forgotten. 

            “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I promise to give them the attention they deserve.”

            “Good,” Lia concluded, standing up and wiping her hands on her pants. When she noticed the way I was staring at her, she asked, “What?”

            “We should get you some overalls, garden gloves, and a straw hat. You’d look lovely tending to your flowers.”

            Instead of the cheeky response I expected, Lia simply smiled and moved her shoulders up and down. “Maybe one day.”

            Yeah, maybe one day. 

            After her eyes landed on the cut on my lip and she stared at it with concern and sadness for a few seconds, she announced that she was going to take a shower. 

            “You’re driving me to therapy, right?”

            “Sure. In half an hour, right? I’ll be in the studio. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

I didn’t realize Lia had entered the studio until her touch on my shoulder startled me. I had been lost in work for over twenty minutes, my headphones blocking out the world around me. 

            “Sorry, she apologized as I removed the headphones, letting them hang around my neck. Leaning on the back of the chair, her knuckles brushed against a few strands of my hair as I tilted my head back. “How is it going?” 

            “Better than last week,” I replied, returning my attention to the monitor. “Last week was rough. My brain felt like mush after two hours. I couldn’t focus.” 

            It was a familiar feeling. When I pushed myself too hard, my thoughts would become jumbled, and progress seemed impossible. Not that things would be any easier considering everything else we were dealing with…

            “Is something wrong?” I asked as I noticed a sense of unease in her voice. 

            Lia hesitated before responding. “Do you think we could go to the store after therapy? I know you’re busy, but…”

            “No, of course,” I interjected, spinning the chair to face her. Our legs brushed against each other briefly before she stepped back, withdrawing her hand from the chair’s backrest. “Are we running low on food?” I feared I had been so preoccupied with other things that I hadn’t noticed how little we had left in the fridge, but Lia was quick enough to answer me and spare me the worry.

            “I got my period,” she said, a touch of embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she bit her lip. “I thought I had a couple of tampons in my bag, but it seems I used them up last month.”

            “No problem,” I replied. “We should make a list and grab some food, too, just in case.” It wouldn’t be the first time our cupboards were bare save for a few cans of Coke, beer, and three slices of cheese in a plastic container in the fridge. “And maybe some flower seeds, to plant in the garden. What do you think?”

            Lia smiled and nodded eagerly. 

            Turning off the monitor, I left the studio a couple of minutes after Lia. The sounds of cupboard and fridge doors opening and closing greeted me as I made my way to the bedroom. Since Lia had moved in, the room had acquired a different scent, a subtle but distinct presence that I found oddly comforting. 

            Behind the door, I spotted a pair of boots, and on the nightstand lay a book she was reading, her iPad, iPhone, and a couple of bracelets she used to take off during the night. But it was the bathroom that bore the most significant changes. Her toiletry bag sat beside the sink, toothbrush and hairbrush peeking out. The air carried the scent of her shampoo and shower gel.

            After changing into cleaner clothes and making a quick trip to the bathroom, I found Lia at the entrance of the house, putting on her black boots. When I asked her if she was ready, she nodded and grabbed her jacket from one of the hangers by the door.

            Traffic that morning flowed smoothly. During the journey, we engaged in a light conversation about work, the upcoming tour, and the music projects I had been working on at home. We didn’t talk about Mitch, and when we reached the address of Lia’s therapist, I reached out and took her hand in mine, offering a soft reassurance that everything would be alright. With a small nod, she leaned forward to press a kiss to my cheek. I agreed on picking her up an hour later at the same spot and promised to take her out for lunch. 

As agreed, I watched Lia re-enter the car and fasten her seatbelt an hour later, a frustrated expression etched on her face.

            When I inquired about it and asked her how it went, she simply replied, “I don’t like her.”

            But from the way she said it, coupled with that pouty look on her face that I knew so well, I could tell it was because the therapist had told Lia exactly what she needed to hear, not what she wanted to hear. So, in a way, it had gone well. 

            Once at the store, we made our way through the fruit and vegetable section. I typically adhered to a healthier and more varied diet than Lia and the boys did, and I was glad to see Lia interested in joining my habits. She filled a couple of bags with tomatoes, onions, garlic and other vegetables. We also picked up some fresh bread, and pasta.  

            When we reached the health and beauty aisle, Lia headed to the women’s section, while I remained in the men’s to pick up shaving cream and deodorant. 

            Lia placed the box of tampons in my arms, atop the cereal and tissue boxes. Following her to the next aisle, we stopped in front of the potato chip shelves. Lia grabbed her favorite, then asked me to grab one from the top shelf as she walked away, her own hands full with the vegetables, bread, and pasta. As I juggled everything in my arms, thinking why the hell we hadn’t taken a cart, it all slipped my grasp, eliciting a curse from me as I bent down to retrieve the items.

            An elderly grey-haired woman approached me and kindly started picking up some of the stuff, passing me the tissue box with a gentle smile. 

            “Thank you,” I said. 

            “A considerate man,” she mentioned as she handed me the tampon box and then a bag of candy that I hadn’t noticed Lia had also piled on my arms. 

            Initially confused by her comment, I soon heard Lia’s voice at the end of the aisle, drawing near. 

            “What happened?” she asked. 

            “I’m no Hindu god with six arms, Lia,” I quipped. “We should’ve got a damn cart.”

            “Sorry,” she said, trying to help as she struggled herself. “Do we need to buy coffee?” 

            “Nah, Jesse bought a pack last week. Don’t worry,” I concluded, picking up the last item. “Do you want anything else. Popcorn, maybe?”

            “You’re lucky,” the old woman interjected, catching Lia’s attention with raised eyebrows. If she noticed her still visible bruises or my split lip, she didn’t make any gesture that would make me believe so. “I wish my husband had been that considerate. How long have you two been together? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

            But she had already asked. 

            Both of us furrowed our brows in confusion, unsure of how to respond, but when I exchanged a look with Lia and I saw her expression turn into one of amusement, I replied, “All our life.”

            The woman appeared thoroughly pleased with my answer as Lia and I stood closely together, smiling widely at each other. Just as the lady was about to disappear around the corner of the aisle, she took a step toward me and affectionately patted my chest. 

            “You’re going to have beautiful children, you two, and very happy ones if you keep those smiles on.”

[annie-creates]

Get you to fall in love

Pairing: Queen Ravenna x reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 1500

Note: A second part to Desperately by her side. There might be a room for one more in the story if it's requested, but for now that's it. Thank you so much for being a devoted reader of my work.

Finn’s task proved to be considerately more difficult when you not only didn’t want to be found, but were actively hiding from his guards and raiders. With each day his sister’s demands and threats got more and more obscure and impossible to fulfill, and every time he thinks there’s nothing worse that could come, she proves him wrong. They still needed to find Snow White, and that’s why she wanted to find you so desperately, he thought. So why did it seem like she’s more fixated on you than the culprit herself?

You travel through the land with nothing but your sword and a few practical possessions, choosing to travel light in case you needed to flee suddenly. The warrant for your capture was still out and many would take any chance to get on the queen’s good side and earn the reward for themselves. You escaped her own soldier by short a few times yourself. But the memory of her golden hair and stone-cold eyes made you wonder if it would have been so bad, going back and meeting her again, even when you were certain it would be the beginning of the end of your unfairly short life.

You were currently staying in a little town in the north of the kingdom, keeping your profile low. Exchanging the animals you hunted in the forests for potatoes and warm wool, working to earn a bit of money to get by around here. Growing suspicious and unnecessarily paranoid over the last couple of weeks staying in such a small place brough you calm and a little peace of mind. Surely no one would even look for you in such forgotten place on the map, right?

You shouldn’t have assumed though, because you are woken up by two soldiers covering your mouth and tying your hands. As you trash around to get out of their grasp, they drag you out of the small house where you were staying with a welcoming old man. He now stood in the doorframe taking a full bag of gold coins from one of the guards, hardly sparing you a pitiful glance. You cuss yourself out for having such open trust in people and humanity, when they’d sell you for tomorrow’s dinner. You can’t help but fear for your life as you’re helplessly taken back to the castle, the carriage speeding through your beloved land.

“Put her in the dungeon.” Finn orders when you arrive deep into the night and the soldiers throw you behind bars.

The dungeon was cold and moldy, you couldn’t help the shake going through your bones. The darkness didn’t feel welcoming but dangerous, like you didn’t know what could attack you from the deeps of the night. The steel bars are freezing your hands but it feels like you’ll get lost if you let go of them. The floor is covered in a thick layer of dirty straw, that being the only place for you to sleep or sit. So you sit down with your back to the cold stone wall, curling up into yourself to keep at least a bit of your body heat.

You are woken up by a harsh tug of your restrains, the guard walking your through the castle without as much as a single word. The moment you stand in front of the queen again, this time completely vulnerable at her mercy, your fear is once again overtaken by awe. There’s a different crown on her head this time, her hair precisely braided into a bun. You could say whatever you want about her personality but the truth was even a blind man would have to admit her ethereal beauty.

She looks at you with her hawk sight, analyzing your out of shape form. You seemed dirtier than the last time she saw you, and there was a tiredness to your face and shoulders she didn’t recognize. Maybe that’s just what months in hiding do to a person? Constantly looking behind your back must be hard on the neck. She couldn’t help but feel somewhat sympathetic for you. You still had your fierce and wit, but the over-the-top confidence was gone as was your sword and apparently even your sleep and nutritious food. You spent minutes just looking at each other, she analyzing you and you trying to guess how far the end of your life is.

“Aren’t you gonna bow to your queen?” She asks after the silence grows heavy and one of the guards kicks your knees in.

“I didn’t think my queen would care for my respects.” You counter, at least you’re gonna go out with grace.

“I’d be careful with your insolent tongue, I’m deciding how you’re gonna live the rest of your life.” She warns you as if it wasn’t the only thing you thought about ever since you got here.

“If it’s back in the dungeons I’d rather my tongue brings me the execution earlier than later.” You admit determinedly.

She furrows her brows at that, how could someone actually prefer death over life? But that wasn’t at all what she wanted to do with you, so she ordered the guard to bring you into one of the servants’ rooms and lock you in there. She’ll pay you a visit soon enough, but now, she needs to have a word with whoever threw you into the disgusting dungeon instead of giving you a proper place to sleep of bringing you to her immediately. And it was pretty clear who’s fault that was.

“Finn!” She couldn’t believe she was related to such a dumbass. “Care to explain why you would treat our guest so poorly!?”

“My dear sister, she’s a criminal! You should execute her for her impudence and disrespect immediately.” He disagrees.

“That’s no way to treat people we want something from, Finn. I have no intention to execute her, nor imprison her.” She clears. “Her talents would be of no use was she dead.”

Finn couldn’t see whatever it was his sister saw in you, to him you were just an entitled girl you’re a naughty mouth who needed to be put in her place or better, completely gotten rid of. He didn’t understand why Ravenna cared about such a low life all of the sudden, treating you to an actual room with a bed and warm food. To him you were no better than the rats in their outfall, your life completely useless and worthless. Meanwhile the queen was possessed with her fondness of you, ordering the kitchen to bring you enough food and making sure you are given fresh warm duvets and clothes. And after that, she visits you again the next day, even knocking on your door before entering to give you some false sense of privacy.

“How are you today?” She asks with a demeanor that makes you bow down to her instantly. “Did you think about your time here?”

“I’m still not hunting Snow White down for you.” You stand your ground, why else would she want you back here? “I’m not the right person to call for a dirty job.”

“No, I… wanted to give you a different offer. You might have noticed a person in my position doesn’t have many friends but has a lot of people out for their head. I want you to become my knight…” She explains with a vulnerability she wouldn’t show to anyone else.

“Why would I do that?” You surely weren’t the most trust earning person in your time here. “You’d trust me with your life after I disobeyed you?”

“I can pay you.” The queen offers, in her experience money could buy anything and anyone. “And I saw your incredible skills, I wouldn’t entrust my life to just anybody.”

“I don’t care about your money.” She should have noticed that by the way Finn described your lifestyle.

“Then what do you want, hm? Fortune? Beauty? Infinite life? I can give you that…” She promises, getting a bit desperate. “I can give you anything you want, anything you’ll ask for.”

What could she give to someone who already had all they needed? She feared you won’t find a reason to stay here, and she couldn’t just force you. not if she wanted you to grow some genuine likeness for her. You reconsidered and weighted the situation, you weren’t particularly thrilled about a service at the castle but you also wouldn’t reject help to anyone in need, and she has so far always treated you decently and with respect.

“Okay, I’ll work here for food and housing for a year. Then, I’ll reconsider my need here.” You finally accept, hoping to not regret your decision.

“Great! I’ll get your chambers prepared.” With a genuine enthusiasm she practically runs out the door to get you settled for your stay.

A year would be enough to get you to fall in love with her, right? And then she won’t have to fear about you ever leaving her side again.

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 17. Bells Of Christmas [C5]

Pairing: Turpin x Fem!Wife!Reader

POV: Second, Reader & Third, Turpin

Setting: Turpin’s house

Continuation of: Prompt 4. Sharing, Prompt 6. Out Of Care, Prompt 13. Shimmering Icicles, Prompt 15. Cards And Coals

A/N: !IMPORTANT! Before anything else, I did warn that this story would turn darker and we have now arrived at that part but it has a very happy ending (this part and the fic in its entirety) - I promise you! The Dub Con tag applies to most of the fic but before that part starts you get the incline Y/n is already leaning in the direction Richard is going — she’s just inexperienced and hasn’t had a chance to explore that side of herself yet. Not gonna spoil anything but I did want to take a second to talk a bit about it here so there are no surprises and those who are wondering about that tag get a bit more of an explanation. It is Dub Con, nearly None Con if you look at it from Richard’s perspective in the beginning even if he takes Y/n quite literally at her word (last fic, saying she should have been a whore rather than his sweet wife), but it turns into full on consent and no real harm comes to anyone. Richard may be a dark and vicious man but no matter what Y/n is in his heart and he wouldn’t be able to handle truly hurting her and he listens to her body cues.

Now, with that out of the way, this was a frikkin journey to write, kay… I’ve not really gone dark like this with Turpin before and I must confess it was harder than I thought it would be - since I’m so partial for him being soft for his special someone, you know - even if he is a brutal character in cannon 🙈😂 I loved writing this though, fiction is such a free space and with all the warnings and tags and everything I know everyone has a chance to just not read if it’s triggering/upsetting/not to ones liking and that’s always a good thing (but I rather enjoyed exploring this side a bit more of our dear Judge) 🥰

So, this is a long frikkin note but I felt it necessary. Now, if you’re still here, know that this is NOT the final part of this fic, there will be at least one more - two if I can fit it in with the prompts but I’m not sure. But yeah, enjoy the smut darlings - I stayed up until 2am writing this while the rest of the house was asleep. Thank gosh mom took our daughter up for breakfast this morning so I could sleep in a little 😂😂😂

Tags/TW’s: SMUT! Dub Con, Derogatory Speech, Physical Harshness, Dominance/Ownership, Slight Restraining, Conflicting Emotions, Force Kink Blooming/Exploring, Full Love Confession, Desperation, Needy/Wanting, Slight Jealousy,

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 2.9k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

⩤• Turpin •⩥

He watched you run away, the sounds of your crying grabbing his heart and twisting it. Your words, the manner in which you spoke, had him drawing a blank. Never had he imagined such words to leave your mouth in such a callous tone. They were nonsensical as well, about whores and cards and one’s value — it made little sense to him. Had he not exclaimed you to be perfect just a few moments ago? Had he not treated you with tender care and consideration?

He glanced down toward the hearth, two of the cards you threw were gone — turned to ash — but one remained. Laying in wait on the carpet, out of reach for the glowing coal. He picked it up, recognizing the terrible penmanship instantly without ever having seen the name signed at the bottom. He knew it was Delilah, the pretty brunette he had played often with before you became his wife. Now, he hadn’t taken a whore in a long time, since a week before the wedding to be precise even if you had given him no chance at pleasure — partly due to him taking things so infernally slow, giving you the power to decide when.

He looked toward the door you had vanished through, why would you wish to be a whore when you are my wife? “I would not treat you as I have treated them, none should ever treat my wife as a mere whore.” His voice had turned cold and harsh, a dark sound of fury slipping between his lips from the mere thought of you being treated how he had treated those women bought by the hour. Sure, he had thought it to be simpler had you been one of the women he had bought by the hour several times — but none could compare to you in his mind.

Richard opened the card further, reading the words that had you so upset. The spelling made his mouth thin, the insecure swirls of the penmanship a slight to his eyes. Yet he read it through, for the first time ever. Christmas cards had begun arriving four or five years ago, always from the same three women — sisters — yet he had not once read anything but the names at the bottom before burning them.

Delilah spoke of caresses, loving touches, exhilarating words, and being on her knees for him for all time. “…even if a wife is under your care, I won’t speak a word of your caring love or any opportunity you give for me to be lavished upon by you again, my lord.” The words were confusing at first, none of them rang true given the treatment he actually lavished upon the three sisters with great variety between the three. They enjoy it… Had he read the previous card he might have known that, they had asked if he had received them and he had confirmed but never had the question regarding him reading them aroused.

The card got scrunched in his hand, fury blasted through his veins as he thought of how you must have perceived the words. He knew you had read them, yet he could not find it in himself to feel rage at that. No, no what he felt rage about was how you thought him to treat whores better than he ever treated you. Perhaps I ought to show my sweet wife what she has asked of me. Purity is no longer an obstacle… Yes, perhaps I fucking should. His mind turned dark, and his eagerness to be patient dwindled swiftly at the anger you had spat at him.

He stalked out of the room, the last card burning up in the hearth as he marched toward his office, set on collecting some coins to show you just how he had lavished them after they had earned it. His heart pounded, his anger a flame in his gut, the feel of slight and betrayal after having been so patiently tender with you was a sour taste in his dry mouth. He fought his own mind, to not do what he was planning, yet he pressed on, marching toward the bedroom with thudding steps while your sobbing reached him through the closed door.

⩤• You •⩥

Your shoulders shook with the sobs that raked through your tense body. You had become so angry, so hurtfully angry you’d said things you didn’t fully mean. Your husband’s treatment of you hurt though, it hurt so badly and no matter what you tried to tell yourself you couldn’t shake the incessant need to be close to him, to be held by him, to have him contradict the words you’d so angrily spat at him despite so recently having feared he’d leave you for the entirety of Christmas. “What’s wrong with me?” you whimpered while you curled up on the floor, your back hunched away from the side of the bed while you hugged your knees to your chest.

Your head spun with thoughts, all of him, and none of them helpful. You were trapped, deeply in love with a cruel man who pushed you away when you needed him to hold you close, who remained silent when you needed answers, who disregarded your lack of experience when you needed his care and attention. Yet still, you loved him, wanted him — even if you wished you didn’t. Will my life be this painful for all time to come?

The door opened swiftly, your eyes jerked up at the swooshing sound only to find the man himself standing in the doorway. Your tears wouldn’t stop, your ragged breathing loud in the otherwise silent room, yet your heart bloomed at his arrival. Had he come to find you? Comfort you? Talk it all out?

He stalked forward, each step an ominous thud that had your heart in a twist while the feral look of his eyes stirred something else entirely within you. His darkness called to something within you, perhaps that was why you had come to love him despite everything.

“Richard,” you whispered and his knuckles turned white from the force with which he held the doorknob. “I don’t know what—”

“You insult my patience with you,” he interrupted and your breath stuttered. His gaze was cold yet burning.

“W-what?”

“I have been patient, gentle with you, and you say you ought to have been a whore rather than my sweet wife.” His words were so cold, so seethingly dark. Your entire body stiffened as he stepped into the room and closed the door with a harsh push.

Your heart turned erratic, your knees shook and your thighs clenched as he tugged you closer — forcing your body against his while he straightened to tower over you in all his harsh, stoic glory. His grip on your arm was tight, but not too tight. The glare in his eyes was dark, but not too dark. The harshness of his features was terrifying, but not in a fully fear-inducing way. To any other, perhaps it was all those things. To you, however, it called to something sleeping within you. Something that warmed you under his deadly eyes, his ravaging features, his thin lips held in a mere line.

He bent down, grabbed your upper arm, and jerked you to your feet. You hissed and clamped your free hand atop his while your widened eyes met his narrowed ones. His face was so close you could feel his breath against your moist cheeks.

“You wish to be a whore, hmm?” he asked. “My little whore, not my sweet wife, is that it, love ?” he continued in a purr that should in no way be mistaken for a sweet sound despite the hum to it.

He chucked you backwards, releasing your arm as you fell on the bed behind you, your head falling over the other edge of it at the impact. He was on you before you could sit yourself up. Your heart leapt to your throat, your hands shot out to push him off but he didn’t budge. He kissed your neck and bit your earlobe, graced his teeth along your jaw while you tried to lean your head away.

You whimpered while your body churned, heated, softened in places it had no business softening when he treated you so callously, so domineeringly sinful.

“Answer,” he said. “Are you to be my little whore, wife of mine ?”

“N-no,” you stuttered while you tried to push at his hand, confused as to why your core was once again warming and pulsing when he was so cruel to you.

“Oh, I think you ought to learn a lesson. Words, they have consequences. You said you should be a whore, not my wife, so my whore you will be,” he snarled and clamped his hand harder around your upper arm. “I will teach you what my whores speak of when they talk of me lavishing upon them, of my caring caresses and words. You will see what a patient and gentle man I have been to you, Y/n. In due time.”

Your breaths turned shallow and swift, your chest too tight and your body in a twist of dread and need. You felt so lost, so hurt, so broken and ashamed — you wanted him to stop, to be kind, to care for you, and release his hold of you. At the same time, your trust in him, your love for him, made you feel inexplicably safe despite the threat he was in that moment. He’d never done anything to cause you to fear him before, quite the opposite.

“Richard-, Richard stop, please, stop,” you pleaded as he planted his legs between your thighs and pried your legs apart with ease, sending fear and an unsettling churning of need through you.

“Now now, little whore, play nice,” he admonished while grabbing your wrists with one hand and shoving the other under your back. He hoisted you up and twisted the both of you so you’d lay the right way on the bed in one swift move.

Your needy, betraying cunt pulsed as he spread your legs wider with force and a ripple of desperate yearning crawled through you as he roughly ripped your dress apart with only one hand, the other holding your wrists above your head. Tales of horrors from other women rang in your head, words of force and rape, of pain and unwillingness — screaming for help but nobody coming to end it — yet you didn’t feel that, exactly.

“Let’s see what this pretty cunt can take, hm?” he hummed but it was a dark sound of depravity. You shook and jerked beneath him, crying and sobbing yet a thrill shot through you. His eyes were harsh but goading, consuming and feral. Your insides clenched as you found yourself drowning in those stormy eyes of his, solely focused on you while you tensed beneath him as his hand literally grabbed your cunt, the palm of his hand folding over the mound and squeezing.

Richard’s hand tightened around your wrists, forcing a whine from you while your tears kept streaming. “Stop,” you whimpered meekly. “You said you’d stop.”

“Hush, little one,” he said and grabbed your thigh with his free hand. “You will enjoy being my little whore, as you wished for. I only give you what you want, love ,” he hissed as his fingers slid up toward your core. You kicked and thrashed but he was sturdy between your trembling legs.

“Such a greedy thing you are,” he said as his finger bent and he pushed it inside of you harshly. “Little whore,” he continued and your head was thrown back with a hiss at the sudden intrusion between your sore walls. You wanted to scream, and purr. What-, what’s wrong with me? You cried in your head as his finger began thrusting harshly, moving you up and down by the force of his hand.

“You are my little whore, are you not? Soaked and warm, pulsing around my finger like a greedy slut…”

“P-please,” you whimpered as you kicked your legs — why, you weren’t sure. It felt good what he did to you, warmth flooded your veins and burned your skin as he took what he wanted while holding you in place. He was all about you in that moment, his focus on you, his eyes and hands, his body touching yours, and every word dedicated to you. No matter how foul they were, how harsh and filthy. Why does my body-, I like this?

“You are going to be so fucking good to me,” he snarled as he leaned closer, the tip of his nose stroking along your exposed neck before he bit your earlobe again, sucking it with a tug before releasing. “I shall show you what you have asked of me, little whore of mine, my sweet wife,” he purred with a bite to his voice. “Oh, we like that, do we?” he asked with a hint of surprise in his voice as your walls clenched around his pumping finger and your legs squeezed around him involuntarily.

“N-no,” you whimpered but your breathy voice betrayed your pleasure. Was it his touch, the situation, or the fact he was so utterly focused on you that had you enthralled in painful, frightening pleasure? All of it perhaps.

You watched, enthralled, while he undid the lacing of his pants and tugged his shirt free only to shove it aside. Your throat cinched itself tight as his angry-looking cook, thick and veined, came into view. No, no I’m too sore! But you hadn’t a second to speak before he grabbed himself, lined up, and pushed himself inside you in one swift thrust.

“Oh, you are a little slut, love,” he whispered before kissing your cheek and straightening. The pressure on your wrists turned harsher while he ripped his hand free of your soaked cunt. You cried out and thrashed beneath him. His wet hand grabbed your jaw, squeezing tightly before glaring at you. You stopped moving, hooked by his fierce eyes and shocked by the smell of yourself.

“Be a good whore and take what I give,” he demanded before releasing you with a jerk of his hand, pushing your head into the mattress for a second while you gasped.

Yet, through it all, you couldn’t help but feel warmth from him. Yes, he was harsh but he didn’t deliberately fully hurt you. Yes, he used you as he wished yet he licked and kissed to soften it all. Yes, he ignored your words for him to stop but his actions and words were those following your body’s cues.

You cried out, a garbled scream at the searing pain of his un-lubed cock forcing itself all the way into you, his balls slapping against you as he bottomed out to the sound of your cry getting cut off as you ran out of air.

“Oh, such a — fuck — good cunt you have,” he moaned while doing his first full thrust and you blubbered an incoherent plea. “My sweet—” thrust “—wife—” thrust “ —of a—” thrust “—whore—” thrust “—for me ,” he snarled as he set a gruelling pace before you were fully adjusted to him. But your body quickly came to terms with his movements, the pain turned into a building pleasure and you felt such shame as he hissed filth in your ear and you found yourself moaning and whimpering beneath him while he took you as if you were nothing but a worthless hussy.

He looked down at you, the two of you a sordid mess of tears, sweat, and panted breaths. Your cheeks burned with shame, he’d pulled the word out of you as if it were your instinct. Your true want. The cards, the infernal cards with those infernal words, came to mind and you realised you had felt jealous. Had known the words they’d written were false in a sense, prettified so to speak, and you felt such shame for wanting him to ravage you — to take what he wanted from you, to be fully with you as the dark and depraved man you had known he was when you first met him.

“My filthy — haa — little slut,” he moaned.

“Richard, please— Ohh-, oh please, ” you whimpered while he pummelled you into the mattress, the entire bed rocking and your hands were released as he grabbed your shoulders before sliding them down to your breasts. He grabbed the dress, the thin material ripped as he tugged and your hands were trapped in the sleeves dragged halfway down.

“Such a pretty sight,” he hummed before he pinched your nipples. “I cannot use such a sweet wife as a whore,” he murmured while he kept thrusting into you, playing with your nipples until pleasure seemed to burn through them.

“Do…” you whispered, shocked at your own plea, and he stopped moving.

…To Be Continued…

Richard blinked, his finger stroked away the lingering tears from your burning cheeks and he kissed you. He kissed you passionately, lovingly, harshly. His cock jerked inside you and you whimpered while your fingers dug into the sheets below.

“I want you to want me,” you whispered. “I-, I need you to be fully with me,” you confessed. “I love you…”

“Love…”

“Please.”

“My slut of a wife shall have what she wishes for, as sure as the bells of Christmas chime every year, I shall always endeavour to be all you need as you are all I will ever need.”

“Richard,” you cried quietly as he kissed the tip of your nose before a devilish smile stretched his lips.

“I love you, sweet wife.”

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this darlings 👀🤭🙈 Gosh, I was really nervous pressing POST on this one as it's very different from my usual smut but I really had such a good time exploring this side of our dear judge. Feels a liiiiiittle odd that I wrote it while mom is here tbh but, like, everyone was asleep so I just lost myself in my writing - I hope you were able to lose yourself a little while reading too ❤ Now, as soon as I can, I'll dive in to write tomorrows fic - psst, it's the continuation of this one 😘

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243 @elizabeth-baelish @all-art-is-quite-useless @severuslovebot @yellowbadgermole @impulse-anchor @writewithmarites @yan-senna @writewithmarites @lokisbjchnl @ladykardasi @mamawolfsmith87 @snowblossomreads @ladykardasi @a-queen-and-her-throne @eternal-silvertongued-prince @lyrixsnape @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @daddythanatos

Q: Have you been here for any other Rickmas event or is this your first? 🥰

A: I feel stupid answering this but, since I created this event, I've been here from the very beginning 😂😂😂

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2023]

[innerpalaces]

The Doting Love Story's Female Supporting Role Has Quit - 4

Chapter 4: The Thing She Feared Most

Nian Chaoxi closed her eyes slightly, as Yan'er stood behind her unbraiding her hair.

She looked at her young miss once, then again, with an expression of wanting to say something but restraining herself.

When she looked up again, she saw that her young miss had opened her eyes and said lazily, "If you have something to say, just say it."

So Yan'er asked boldly, "Miss, did you...quarrel with the young masters again?"

Nian Chaoxi corrected her: "I didn't go there to quarrel, I went there to break off the engagement."

Yan'er was so startled that she almost pulled out a strand of her hair: "Cancel, cancel the engagement? Why do you suddenly have this idea?"

Nian Chaoxi corrected her again: "You shouldn't ask me why I suddenly had this idea, you should ask me why I suddenly came to my senses."

Yan'er: "..." She was almost crying.

Nian Chaoxi could only comfort her: "Don't be afraid. Without this husband, your young miss will definitely find someone better looking and more considerate than Mu Yunzhi to be your young master."

Yan'er wanted to cry even more: "Why?"

Nian Chaoxi thought very seriously about how to answer Yan'er's "why".

After a moment's silence, she said, "Maybe it's because our personalities are incompatible."

She and Mu Yunzhi can share the hardships, but not the happiness.

The period from when her father died in battle to when Mu Yunzhi took the position of City Lord was a time of external and internal troubles, and it was the time when the two of them were closest to each other.

But things will be different after everything is settled.

Mu Yunzhi has a strong desire for control, but Nian Chaoxi is domineering and outspoken by nature, which is precisely the biggest variable.

Those who cannot be controlled by him will only make him wary.

If there is love between two people, this is not an insurmountable obstacle, but is there really such a thing as love between them?

Obviously not.

So, without her noticing, the relationship between the two of them became more and more like strangers.

All his love and hate, which he never showed in front of her, were all given to Wu Yan.

She had never seen it before, so she thought he was naturally like this, but in fact he was only this way in front of her.

In fact, it's not just Mu Yunzhi, Zong Shu is also like this.

She was the one who rescued Zong Shu. If it followed the usual novel plot, she was his savior, who took care of him day and night to help him recover and ease his worries. That would definitely be the beginning of a redemption novel.

But Nian Chaoxi was not like that. She didn't have the patience and didn't know how to take care of people. After bringing him back to Yuejian City, she only saw him twice in total, and she provoked him every time because she couldn't bear to see his listless appearance.

The one who took care of him sweetly was Wu Yan.

So, two months later, Zong Shu recovered from his injuries, and Wu Yan became the most important person to him. Even though she and Zong Shu had experienced life and death several times and called each other a friend for all lifetimes, she was still not as important as Wu Yan in his heart.

So she figured it out.

But if that's the case, there is one thing that must be considered.

——Could her death... be related to Mu Yunzhi and the others?

Nian Chaoxi waved for Yan'er, who had just finished doing her hair, to come over.

Yan'er approached obediently: "Young miss, what's wrong?"

Nian Zhaoxi: "Give me a dream."

Yan'er was used to it: "Miss, you can't sleep again? What kind of sweet dream do you want this time?"

Nian Chaoxi made a shocking statement: "Give me a nightmare!"

Yan'er's hands trembled in shock and she almost dropped the heater in her hands.

She stammered, "Young miss!"

Although her true form was a nightmare beast, how dare she give nightmares to her young miss!

She wanted to cry but had no tears.

Nian Chaoxi got impatient when she didn't get a response after a while: "Just give it to me if I ask you to! You won't even listen to me?"

Yan'er was about to cry: "Yes... yes!"

Her face was full of confusion, and a black mist emerged from her fingertips, covering Nian Chaoxi, and then disappeared.

Nian Chaoxi was suspicious: "Can I have a nightmare like this?"

Yan'er was about to cry: "Yes, that's right."

Nian Chaoxi waved her hand and said, "Go out, I want to sleep."

Yan'er's face was full of worry and she looked back every few steps.

Nian Chaoxi lay down and prepared to sleep.

The nightmare beast can give people thousands of beautiful dreams, but the nightmares it creates will only show people the thing they feared most in their hearts.

Nian Chaoxi felt that since she knew she would die, the thing she feared most in her heart would be her own death.

After all, she had read that novel, but she completely forgot it. Under the influence of the nightmare of the nightmare beast, she might remember it.

In fact, there is a simpler solution. Since she knows that she will die in the novel, she can just leave and find a place where no one can find her and stay in seclusion for decades.

But by then, the first ones to die will probably be the people of Yuejian City.

Because she is in charge of the blood seal of Kunlong Abyss.

Without her to strengthen the seal, by the tenth year, the dark dragon would emerge from Kunlong Abyss and Yuejian City would be destroyed.

So, it was impossible for her to just run away.

She must first find out how she died in the novel.

So she asked for a nightmare and fell asleep.

That evening, Nian Chaoxi did not dream about anything related to the novel.

She dreamed of the night before her father died in battle.

...

Nian Chaoxi suddenly sat up from bed, and the sky was bright.

Her eyes were stung by the sunlight and she squinted slightly.

There was a knock on the door from outside: "Miss, are you awake?"

Nian Chaoxi: "Come in."

Yan'er pushed the door open and walked in carrying a basin of water.

After taking two steps, she suddenly opened her mouth wide, quickly put down the basin and ran to the bedside, asking anxiously, "What's wrong with the young miss?"

Nian Chaoxi was puzzled: "What do you mean?"

Yan'er stretched out her finger and touched her eyelids.

She hissed in pain and slapped her hand away: "You are so clumsy!"

Yan'er still looked worried and asked, "What happened to the young miss' eyes?"

Nian Chaoxi reached out and touched her eyes, and felt a little twinge of pain.

She said calmly, "Maybe I stayed up too late. Go get me some ointment to reduce the swelling."

Yan'er looked as if she wanted to say something but was hesitant.

This doesn't seem like the result of a late night at all.

It was more like the results of crying all night.

But she didn't dare to refute Nian Chaoxi, so she could only go out to get the ointment with a heavy heart.

As soon as Yan'er left, the expression on Nian Chaoxi's face faded.

She was silent for a while, and suddenly pulled out a gold chain from her collar. At the end of the gold chain hung a jade pendant that was completely turquoise blue.

She reached out and touched the jade, injecting a little spiritual power into it, which immediately bounced off.

As usual.

This was something her father left for her the night before he died in battle, a very sturdy container.

Before he could tell her the secret to opening the container, he was caught off guard and died on the battlefield.

And what is contained in this jade pendant is the Manual of the God of War that stirred up the world in the novel.

Ever since her father died in battle, countless people in the cultivation world have speculated on the whereabouts of the "God of War's Manual" that recorded everything he had learned, and countless people have been keeping a close eye on her, the only daughter of the God of War.

Year after year, what she learned and used day and night did not show any trace of the God of War's inheritance. Gradually, people felt that perhaps the "God of War's Manual" was not in her hands at all.

No one knew that the Manual of the God of War that they had been longing for was hanging around her neck.

And she had never been able to open the jade pendant in all these years.

Nian Chaoxi held the pendant and suddenly said, "Yan'er, I'm going out."

Yan'er rushed in and asked, "Miss, where are you going?"

Nian Chaoxi: "Duheng Academy."

...

She was always decisive in her actions, and never delays once she says she is going to do something.

Not far from the yard, she passed by a rockery. From behind the rockery, she heard faint sounds, as if someone was hiding there and talking.

Normally, Nian Chaoxi would not have paid any attention to it, but when she thought of what Shen Tui said yesterday about a traitor, she stopped.

Then a voice full of unwillingness was heard.

"What right does the Vice City Lord have!"

Hm?

The master and servant looked at each other.

The next moment, a low voice said softly, "Keep your voice down. What if someone hears you? The Vice City Lord is not someone you can easily cross and get away with it."

Then the voice became lower.

Nian Chaoxi hadn't reacted yet. Yan'er realized that the two maids were gossiping about their own young miss behind her back. Her face immediately turned unpleasant and she wanted to go around the rockery to drag those two people out.

Nian Chaoxi held her back and motioned for her to continue listening.

The two maids' voices were intermittent.

"The Vice City Lord is too much. She ran to the City Lord's main courtyard in a rage yesterday. After she left, Miss Yan knelt all night. Who knows what she said in front of our City Lord. Why should Miss Yan kneel?"

The gentle voice said sadly, "It can't be helped. Our Miss Yan has been living under someone else's roof since she was young, and her adopted sister is like that... The Vice City Lord lord is used to doing what she wants, and there is nothing the City Lord can do."

"What do you mean by doing what she wants? She's clearly arrogant and domineering!"

Then, the two maids recounted all her arrogant and domineering deeds.

Yan'er was almost furious when he heard this, and the nightmare beast's pointed white ears popped out uncontrollably.

She wanted to rush over and slap each of them, but she didn't understand why the girl wouldn't let her pass.

The next moment, she heard her young miss speak. 

Nian Chaoxi asked her: "Can you tell which courtyard these two are from?"

Yan'er was stunned for a moment, and her white animal ears immediately moved.

After a moment, she said with certainty: "They are all maids in Wu Yan's courtyard. The one with a soft voice has been with Wu Yan for more than 20 years, and the one with a sharp voice is new."

Nian Chaoxi nodded.

Yan'er excitedly transmitted: "Miss, what do you want to do?"

Nian Chaoxi: "Don't do anything, just let them go back."

Yan'er was stunned.

Nian Chaoxi slightly curled her lips and said, "Then you send someone to Wu Yan's yard to arrest these people and throw them out of the mansion. The charge is insubordination."

What's the point of slapping someone twice? It would be better to let others know how lax some people are in controlling their subordinates and how they gossip right in front of the owner of the house.

Yan'er said excitedly: "Okay!"

No matter how you look at it, it's exciting.

The more Nian Chaoxi watched, the more she felt they were like villains in a novel. She was the main villain, and Yan'er was her lackey.

...

Not long after they left, Mu Yunzhi brought Wu Yan to Nian Chaoxi's yard.

He said to her soothingly: "It's just an apology, don't worry about the rest."

Wu Yan responded obediently.

But the two of them didn't even enter the yard.

The guard was positioned outside the yard, and said with embarrassment: "My Lord, the Junior Lord is not in the yard. She has ordered us not to let anyone in."

Mu Yunzhi frowned: "Where did she go?"

The guard told the truth: "She went shopping with Miss Yan'er."

Mu Yunzhi pursed his lips.

She said yesterday that she wanted to cancel the engagement, but today she was still in the mood to play. Was the cancellation of the engagement just something she said casually, or... did she not actually care about the engagement at all?

Wu Yan pulled his sleeve: "Brother Yunzhi, should I apologize?"

Mu Yunzhi was about to say something when a maid from Wu Yan's yard suddenly ran over in a panic: "Miss, something bad has happened! Yue'er and Xiaojin were thrown out of the City Lord's Mansion by the Vice City Lord's men!"

She only saw Mu Yunzhi when she got closer and her face turned pale.

But Wu Yan didn't realize this at all. Upon hearing this, she asked anxiously, "What's going on? How did they offend my elder sister?"

The maid didn't dare to speak.

Mu Yunzhi, who was standing by, said coldly, "Speak."

The maid knelt down immediately: "Yes... Sister Yue'er was talking about the Vice City Lord behind her back, and the Vice City Lord happened to hear it."

Wu Yan's whole body stiffened.

Mu Yunzhi snorted coldly upon hearing this: "What did she say?"

The maid didn't dare to speak.

Mu Yunzhi asked again: "Where is the Vice City Lord?"

Maid: "The Vice City Lord didn't come, it was her guards."

Upon hearing this, Wu Yan closed her eyes tightly, feeling embarrassed.

Before anyone arrived, they could just break into her yard and take people away.

Mu Yunzhi wanted to ask something else, but Wu Yan suddenly grabbed his sleeve and said awkwardly: "Brother Yunzhi...don't ask anymore. It's my fault for not being strict with my subordinates. I'll apologize to my elder sister."

Mu Yunzhi was silent for a moment, then said, "Just kick this kind of maid out. I'll find you a new one."

Wu Yan forced a smile and nodded.

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[elpida]

* if you die on me after everything i’ve done for you… i’ll never forgive you. (For Eris)

"Why have you come back for me?" she asked in a softer voice than she'd normally use. "I'm not worth the price of coming back Rick, I'm not. That's such a big price to pay when..." she gestured to the outside, he'd been out there again. She didn't realise at first, that what he was really referring to, was the evidence on her night stand. The evidence of just how low Eris had been feeling, the words she'd never really vocalise because she was the tough one, good Amorello who just battled on, that's who they all saw, who she let people see, but she didn't let people see the woman who'd sacrificed so much. The woman that just wanted to be able to sleep again, he'd given her that back and then it was gone, snatched away from her for the best reason she could have ever needed. No good reason changed that Eris had been alone.

She had been alone, tired, she had found herself looking for him in every quiet moment, she found herself wondering if this is what she deserved. She'd earned this path, being in the CRM, maybe she'd hurt and killed too many to ever be given a shot at happiness and despite it all she was so scared to ask about Emily, in fear of hearing the worst news. If she didn't ask, if she didn't know she could continue to have that dream, that reality she had to think of because what if he'd returned, because he didn't find her? What if he returned because she was gone. Her decision would be made, no lack of decision or effort.

That's when her eyes fell to the nightstand, the consideration of method. There lay her favourite knife, that was normally tucked into the side of her boot. Then there was a bottle of alcohol and a box, filled with pills she'd been collecting. She had enough now. She even had rope to restrain herself on the bed, stop an outbreak within. The room was clinically clean, all the personality removed. She'd prepared, planned, and from the few crushed pills, tried. Anyone with a brain could look at that table and know what she'd thought about, what she'd tried to do.

"I don't have a good enough- I don't have a reason to give you that'd be enough." she admitted, hanging her head in shame but it was share how much emotion she had welled up in her chest, desperate to get out. "I had to keep thinking that you found her, that you were safe wherever you went back to with her so what was.." she shrugged her shoulders and when she looked back up across the room to him, tears had started to well up. "...what was the point in me carrying on? Year after year wondering if she stills looks like me or if she looks like my grandma, or if she still likes the end crust piece of a bread loaf or even if she still has her bunny rabbit. All of those things I had to just keep guessing. Those silly things that kept me awake at night, stopped me sleeping so in the end I thought.. well if she's safe, she's happy, then why bother? Nobody would have known, nobody would've.." her voice broke, a heart breaking choke up in her throat. "..nobody would've missed me."

She hadn't run into his arms, she hadn't made a step to his direction because he came with a woman, and she'd turned, tried to hide the fact she started crying. It was hard to talk about, but she'd tried to give him a reason. "Did-.." slow breaths. She took a few deeper breaths and kept herself turned away, a hand up to her face to rest two finges on the temples of her forehead. Did she make it? Did she make it safely? Is she somewhere safe now?" a pause, and the reason she'd not run to him. All of this torment, all she'd done, it was weighing her down and Eris was simply put, exhausted. "Was that woman that came with you, happy to have you back?" another pause. "Were you happy?"

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- none

A/N- Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @nadeleine123n

Ch-15~True motives~

The room began to spin rapidly as Anaya forced her eyes open. She attempted to steady her head and tried not to focus on the immense amount of nausea she'd been experiencing. 

She was very confused about her whereabouts when the memories came rushing back to her. The journey, the massacre, attempting to help Alina and then falling behind, all of it came back to her in a haste. She felt a heavy weight on her wrists as she managed to stand up. She looked down at them to find that they were chains on them that had been suspended from the wall behind her. She wasn't surprised to find her in such a state after the actions she'd chosen to take. However, she wondered as to why the darkling had chosen to keep her alive. 

Before she could further dwell upon it, she heard a faint clicking of shoes on the pavement. They grew louder as ever second passed and soon, she came face to face with the figure causing the sound.

The darkling stood in front of the bars with his hands folded behind his back. His face was covered in scars, as if the demons themselves had left their mark on him. He wore a stern expression as he gazed deep in her eyes. A moment passed with uttermost silence. Anaya restrained herself from speaking before he did so. 

"I did not expect this from you, Anaya" he spoke, his gaze cold as the winter of the north, still fixated on hers

"And what exactly did you expect? for me to stand and watch you kill the boy as you did to almost all of Novokribirsk? " She responded, her eyes filled with nothing but rage and hatred for the man

"I needed to show them, I needed them to know that Grisha no longer should live in fear just because they're better than the worthless Otkazatsya. You should know that, of all people"

"And in what way? by slaughtering hundreds of innocents? You are the reason people still fear Grisha, people like you keep their superstitions alive" She moved closer to the bars of the cage she'd been inside. 

Her words made him attain a sudden burst of rage. He thrashed her arm through the bars and grabbed her neck with his hand. Yet, she choose not to react in any way, as if she'd anticipated a similar reaction. He released his grasp within the moment with a jerk. 

"Your mask has come off now, general" she stressed on the last word, as if she'd been mocking him. "You thought you could control the girl, the girl who possesses abilities you never believed you would see. And look, she outsmarted you, the man who made her into the figure she is. It appears as your plan of world domination has come to a halt" She spoke with a bold expression as she paced around the surrounding, keeping her gaze stagnant on his. 

However, instead of being angered by her words, he smiled. "And that is why you will help me" he responded

She looked at him in confusion, unable to understand the meaning of his words. 

"You will find the Sea Whip for me, the second of Morozova's amplifiers. As you, happen to be the only person who knows where to locate it"

A wave of realization hit her. She finally realized why the Darkling was astounded to find her alive, why had chosen to take her back and convince her that she belonged in Ravka, why he had been paying so much attention to her and had been spending a considerable amount of time with her before Alina came along. He never did it out of the kindness of his heart. He never thought of her to be better than the others. He needed her.

He needed her because she was the only person alive who could have located the Sea Whip. She was the only person who could find him that one crucial piece of the puzzle. 

The ship swayed gently as Anaya swiftly made her way out of her sleeping chambers. She noticed light still coming out of the main hall. She slowly opened the door and poked her head inside.

She noticed her parents standing in front of a large table in the centre. Her father had a distressed look in his face as he placed both his hands on his hips, her mother shared a similar expression. 

Before Anaya could react further, her father's gaze fell on her and he quickly changed his demeanour. "What are you doing up at this hour, dear?" he asked in a calm voice, his words making her mother's attention turn to her as well. 

Anaya went inside without any haste. "I was just wondering as to why you were still awake" She responded., making her way towards the table. Before either of them could respond, she looked at the papers on the table. They had several lines and symbols drawn on them and a circle-like mark with dark ink that stood out, she figured it was a map

"Have you found it?" She asked, her gaze turning towards them

Both of them looked at each other before her father responded, "Yes" in a hesitant voice

Looking at their distressed faces made Anaya wonder as to why they were in such a state, "Is that not good?" She asked again

Her parents looked at each other again before her mother gave a slight nod to her father and stepped forward. "We were meant to search for it on our way back, but we have come to realize that it isn't the right thing to do" She sat down on one knee to meet Anaya's gaze

"Why?"

"Because at times, power must be kept away from the grasp of those who might not use it in a way that is beneficial for everyone" She responded, regaining her stern expression. "Rusalye needs to be protected, to be kept away from the grasp of greedy men"

"That is why we have chose not to travel to the bone road" her father added

Anaya chose not to speak and went to see the map once again, she saw a path carved two slate stone islands

The Sea Whip needed not to be slain, it needed to remain in peace

Before she could speak, the ship began to sway violently with a jerk

"You will not find the Sea Whip" She hissed, her eyes burning with rage

"Oh I believe I will"

"And if you do, the Sun Summoner is long gone from your grasp and I'm sure you don't see anyone else worthy to wield such power"

"That is why, you will help me find her" He responded proudly. He gave her no other chance to speak and left, leaving her with nothing but her thoughts.

[minkmousesworld]

⌞ʜᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ⌝

𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢: Omegaverse AU (a/b/o)

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: mention of rut, mention of children (adopted)

𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤(𝔰): α! Mitsuri Kanroji x β! Reader

Mitsuri was an unusual alpha — from her affectionate, kind nature, to her pleasant, "sweet" appearance, which was clearly expressed in soft lines. Even her smell resembled some sweets, causing satisfaction and light joy.

This is probably why many people considered her an omega, even though she was tall. Only in moments of rare rage did her scent have a pungent note that spoils the entire composition and exerts special pressure. "The iron hand in the velvet glove".

In short, she was very rarely mistaken for alpha and usually refused to accept this version. Mitsuri didn't pay much attention to such things, ignoring them most of the time.

For this reason, her courtship of You was seen as funny and slightly strange… omega courting beta? She must be the object of some powerful alpha's courtship.

Mitsuri thought otherwise. She brought you small gifts like talismans, small toys (mostly ceramic or soft), and food. The food was especially distributed in a high-quality way — Mitsuri often shared it with You, and memorized all Your reactions, in an effort to find out your favorite dish.

The most polite and considerate alpha you've ever met. Very concerned About your comfort and approval. Makes sure not to disrupt your "personal bubble" too much, knowing how sensitive betas are to this (usually), and tries not to put hierarchical pressure on You.

After your relationship becomes mutually pleasant, Mitsuri will snuggle up to You, rubbing his smell, which then very slowly disappears. She'll be a little upset if you don't like hugs.

After taking You to a quiet, peaceful place, she will take You by the hand and confess her feelings. You won't be surprised, because her infatuation was evident from her eagerness to Woo You and her constant rosy face next to You. 

Mitsuri is not on the jealous side, unlike most Alphas. Loyal and trusting, she doesn't even think You can look at other Alphas, betas, or omegas. However, Mitsuri becomes protective if she sees that someone is bothering You, because she is very sensitive to your comfort.

From time to time, she will remind You of a big baby, perhaps also due to her "baby" face. Until the moment when she starts to protect You, being dissatisfied, but restrained, and forcing the "annoying" to retreat.

Mitsuri builds nests (typical alpha sizes) and will insist on combining them if You also like nesting. If you prefer to be wrapped in a blanket (which is common for Beth), then she will willingly do it for You. It will baby You and make sure That you rest as much as possible and not be distracted by the needs of food and water.

She likes it when You lie on her chest or thighs. They are very soft and you are usually always drawn to sleep.

Mitsuri will never use an alpha voice on You.

She likes to nuzzle Your belly or hug you from behind. This position gives her a sense of security and comfort.

In the pre-rut period, Mitsuri becomes very active and"physical". She often clings to You, jumps with hugs and rubs, leaving a smell. Increases its territoriality and rejection of other people's smells on You.

Mitsuri is becoming charming and whiny a few days before the rut. Asks You not to leave her and hugs her from behind, hiding her face in Your shoulder or hair.

Since you are a beta, you are less susceptible to her pheromones, which allows You to fight back and not succumb to the provocations that Mitsuri goes to to keep You in the nest.

When Mitsuri realizes that the smell doesn't affect You, she takes Your clothes and holds them "hostage" until You agree to stay with her for a while longer.

The rut is always very intense and very hot. Mitsuri in such moments becomes a "real alpha" and puts a lot of marks on You, not allowing you to get out, pressing close to her (sometimes she even causes pain with her power, but this pain you, fortunately, do not feel, because you are focused on something else). She especially likes to snuggle up to You with her breasts.

You occasionally take a break for a light snack and water before the rut resumes. The fact That you are a beta allows you to better control the Mitsuri rut and not forget about physiological breaks.

She loves Your faint smell. You are never enough for her.

At the end of rut, Mitsuri apologizes a lot, blushes and treats Your wounds, as the beta regenerating factor is lower than omega, and everything heals more slowly on You. She's always so ashamed that she was so intense and didn't pay close attention to what she was doing to You.

It's hard to be angry with her.

She brings lots of gifts, praises you, and serves You (or whatever, depending on your love language), trying to show that she is genuinely ashamed of her actions and is remorseful.

The rest of the time, Mitsuri again resembles the "perfect omega" — loving, affectionate, moderately emotional and sweet. Every time someone tries to take care of her, she refuses and, if you put a mark on her, proudly shows a sign of belonging. Despite the fact that the smell of the mark is very faint, no one sticks to it after that. Because the smell of Mitsuri herself is eloquent enough to make it clear that she doesn't need anyone else.

Given the strength of the Mitsuri smell, you are not even suitable for courtship, except for those who confuse Your smell and the smell of your alpha, and only at close range understands that it is not Your smell.

They usually apologize and leave politely, leaving You slightly perplexed.

Mitsuri wants to exchange rings with You. Marriage marks are, of course, fine, but rings (in her opinion) will be an additional symbol of your relationship.

She wants to build a family with You, including having puppies. Since you are a beta, she can't impregnate You (and she is very upset about it), but you can take the children from the orphanage! A few puppies that will be Your children.

Mitsuri is so inspired by the idea of creating a new family, even if she tries to calm herself by remembering that she (maybe You too) is a demon slayer and her life is always in danger. However, these dreams are too pleasant to give up.

She sees herself as the perfect housewife, but is also willing to be a "breadwinner" if You prefer to run a household. She is very flexible when it comes to social roles, and has no expressed preferences.

Yes, they call you Kanroji's partner. Yes, You are Mr. / Mrs. Kanroji. Mitsuri is embarrassed when she hears this, but she is very flattered.

Likes to hold Your hands, especially if you are not very comfortable with other physical touches. There's something childish and sweet about it that makes her heart beat even harder.

She writes you long letters when she's on a mission. They are usually very emotional.

If you are a demon slayer, she insists that you keep Her company or that you write to her regularly.

You have a very long correspondence.

If Mitsuri finds out that You have received a wound, she will immediately become a protective alpha and will insist that you be shown to her. She is very nervous even when she sees a small scratch on You. If the wound was something serious, it will greatly affect her emotional health, especially if you are unconscious.

She cries a lot for happiness when You get better.

After all, she is Your loving and devoted alpha who just dreams of quiet happiness with children and a nest house.

After all, Mitsuri became a pillar not only to protect people, but also to meet You.

[angelanimedesaray]

Wings in the Dark Chapter 1:  Encounter

AN:  All right...we’re flipping the script with this series, hehehe.  Also, I’m doing MOSTLY similar vampire rules to the Investment series, but there’s gonna be some key differences to make things more...interesting. hehehe.

Listen, I’ve honestly had this idea for over a year, and it’s finally coming to fruition, I’m gonna be excited.

Tell me if you want tagged!

Characters:  Levi, Vampire!Reader, Numerous BG Characters

Pairing:  (Eventual) Levi x Reader

Warnings:  Language...don’t really have anything else for this chapter

Word Count:  5616

Masterlist    Next Chapter---->

*Reader’s POV*

The sound of new recruits in the midst of combat training filled the air, a cacophony of moving feet, cries of attack, sounds of pain, accelerated heartbeats and the occasional shouted order from a supervisor.  The wind was strong enough to blow hair about your face, but not enough to be cutting, the sun beating down from above warm enough to drive away any chill from the wind.  The occasional sliding foot kicked dust up into the air, making it hard not to sneeze as your sensitive nose became agitated from all the dust in the air.  Your arms were held up in an at the ready stance, but your mind wasn’t entirely on the training that was happening in front of you.

The Survey Corps.  At long last, you managed to make it past your training in the Cadet Corps and choose your branch of the military to go into.  Despite the high death rate and the negative publicity the Survey Corps got, it had been your clear goal since day one.  It was the only place you felt you could go where you might feel useful, where these abilities of yours could finally be put to good use.

Of course, you weren’t through with the training phase quite yet.  The Scouts had their own tests to put the new recruits through, unique maneuvers and combat preparation that would also help determine where you were going to go within the regiment.  You still had to get past this sorting period, so you didn’t let yourself get celebratory yet.

But still, two years of hard work in the Cadet Corps, learning to readjust, learning your limits, refining mannerisms, careful planning and consideration into your every move.

Of course, that wasn’t what it looked like to your classmates.  To them, you were well aware that you were the cold and aloof antisocial bitch that would knock everyone to the ground like they were nothing in the combat training, and always kept everyone at a distance.

It wasn’t that you were hateful, far from it.  You just didn’t want to risk anyone getting too close to you while you were in the Cadets.  And it wasn’t your fault if the training came too easily for you--you couldn’t help your nature.  Hell, most of your focus had gone into holding back and restraining yourself since day one.  While you wanted to make an impression and prove your skill and worth in combat, you didn’t want to stand out too much and draw unwanted attention.  It had taken ridiculous amounts of concentration and effort, carefully planned throws on tests and combat evaluations, in order to purposely place at sixth in the top ten.  Skilled, but not a shining star that would get full attention.

But that first place spot could have easily been yours, if you didn’t have to be so careful about how you presented yourself.

As important as it was to do well in these tests to get properly placed somewhere you and your abilities could be of use, you still had to maintain the front of someone who ranked sixth, not suddenly display all the skill and strength that belonged to someone easily top of the class.  Not to mention, you were on a time limit for something far more important to your stay in the cadets for the long run.

This was your grace period to figure out what you needed to do in order to blend in with everyone else.  And not just in skill.  Your main concern was your food source.

Back in the cadets, in had started as a painful struggle, having to find ways to sneak out without anyone noticing so you could get a proper bite that would last you at least half a month.  The cadets had also been your trial by fire to see how well you could handle freshly spilled blood in front of you, though you were painfully aware that particular test was only going to get more difficult when you went out into the field and Titans started eating people.

Right now at the Scouts, though, you didn’t even have escape routes, predetermined, best routes to sneak out and get a drink without anyone noticing.  You hadn’t pinned down sleeping schedules for everyone yet, either, so you could figure out who you needed to be wary of when you were trying to sneak out.  If you couldn’t find good times to sneak out and the best ways to leave and return undetected, then your time with the Scouts would prove to be painfully short, for your own safety.

And you wanted to stay here as long as possible, for reasons that had taken root deep in your heart.

Of course, you still had to worry about the training and some basic parts of being a Scout, as well.  You were still frustrated with yourself for forgetting one of the simplest things--the horses.  Of course, you got a painful reminder when you entered the stables and the majority of the horses got nervous and skittish while the rest went wild.

Not everything was easy to you.  You now had to find and befriend a horse that you could hopefully keep with you that wouldn’t be afraid of the predator it could sense in you.  It was going to take time, and you were certain this oddity about you had already been noticed, but hopefully when you befriended one of the horses, any sparked suspicions would go away.

Then there was the ODM gear.  Obviously you could operate it, you wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t.  The problem was that your instincts and reflexes could happen faster than the gear could operate.  It made it difficult to slow down and operate it properly when you were running on instinct, and even after two years in the Cadets you were still trying to temper your natural instincts to slow down to something the gear could keep up with.  Though you had managed in your personal training time to also craft some maneuvers of your own that was more forgiving to your sharp reflexes and instincts, maneuvers that actually required more physical movement and less dependability on the cables.  The less you tried to do with the gear and more you did with your own body, the less of a chance you had to screw up a maneuver by going too fast for the gear to execute at a costly moment.

But out of everything in this grace period that was going to be the most difficult, it was the social aspect.  You always kept everyone at a distance because you didn’t want anyone to get close enough to find out what you were, or to risk them getting hurt.  As such, you usually came off as antisocial or rude, when really it was maddeningly lonely for you.  But what else were you supposed to do?  You didn’t even want to think of what kind of a disaster could unfold if you allowed yourself to get close to someone, they found out what you were, reacted negatively and then...and then what?  What were you supposed to do with a threat to your safety when it was someone you’d grown close to?

You shuddered at the thought every time it wandered into your mind.  This was one of your greatest concerns with being around people again, but now, you were in a situation where you were going to have to do the balancing act flawlessly anyway.  One thing you had learned watching the Scouts so far was that there was a degree of trust and closeness in the community.  Privacy was still a thing, obviously, and you didn’t have to be best friends with everyone...but people had to know you could be trusted, that you would have their backs out in the field.  You had to be amicable at the very least with people--you couldn’t keep them all pushed far away or give them a reason to think you might be hiding something.  You were going to have to start making friends with your comrades despite your reservations, but you couldn’t quite figure out how to start.

This was what you got for being a hermit living by herself for oh so long before coming back to the surface, back into daylight, back around people--

Your sparring partner shifted, and your eyes refocused slightly on the match in front of you.  It seemed he was going to be one of the many who had seen the glazed over look in your eyes and assumed they could get the drop on you because you weren’t paying attention.

Just like everyone else, he was about to find out how wrong he was.

As he charged you, you reacted rather instinctively, grabbing at his arm and sweeping his leg out from under him before sending him to the ground on his own momentum.

“How?” he fumed.  “You weren’t even paying attention!”

“You probably shouldn’t assume that of your opponent,” you returned calmly.  Just because you’d been lost in your own thoughts didn’t mean you weren’t paying attention.

Your partner wilted slightly, looking dejected, and you had to stop and do some mental math to figure out how long the two of you had been sparring.  It was probably best if you let him win this next one.  Both so you could break this perfect streak and so he could get a bit of his pride and confidence back.  Plus, you’d get to rotate to a new partner, and the cycle would start fresh.  He could probably use some time matched more evenly against someone anyway.  It wasn’t fair to anyone who got matched with you, even if they didn’t know it.

What were they supposed to do against someone they thought was human, that was anything but?

You fell back into your at-the-ready stance, watching him closely this time to make sure you knew exactly what he was going to do.  He came at you again, his feet planted firmly, form practically perfect--

--you shifted one of your feet so that you were standing just a little too wide--

--and this time as he tackled you, he was able to easily knock you off your feet.  Not too easily, you made sure there was enough resistance he found it believable, but for the most part, you let him knock you to the ground.

“Yes!” he cried successfully as he sprang back to his feet, the elation of finally receiving a victory causing his blood to rush in your ears.  You closed your eyes and took your time getting calmly to your feet, brushing yourself off as you regained control of yourself.

You’d had a brief spike of hunger with his blood pumping so close to you.  Thankfully, you had some practice controlling your thirst in these kinds of situations after so long in the Cadets.

While you were getting up, one of your overseers called for a switch in partners now that he had finally won a bought against you.  You got to your feet as your partner scurried away in relief, brushing hair from your face as you waited expectantly to see who would be matched up with you this time.

Unfortunately, it seemed someone had caught your throw this time.

Instead of another new recruit stepping in front of you, a well maintained shock of raven hair and sharp pale blue eyes entered your vision as Captain Levi himself approached, his gaze centered solely on you.

You’d known he was helping supervise the new recruits--all the squad leaders and section commanders were rotating through so they could get a feel for the new recruits and see if there was anyone specifically they wanted with them.  You hadn’t realized, however, that you’d caught his attention.  But instead of looking pleased, he seemed a little irked.

Quickly, you snapped to a salute, body tense for a few moments as you waited to see what he was going to say.  You already knew it wasn’t going to be praise.

“Throwing matches doesn’t help anyone,” Levi said bluntly, his sharp gaze fixated on you.

Fuck, he’d noticed that?  You supposed anyone paying close enough attention could catch it, but you’d hoped you were being subtle enough your throws would go undetected.

Then again, this was an entirely different field from the Cadets.  You were among the true elite, if you were going to put a bit of your bias in there, and if anyone was going to catch on…

You needed to be more careful.

“I felt he would benefit more from a different sparring partner, sir,” you said stiffly.  It wasn’t a lie--hell, anyone would do better if they were paired with someone other than you.  You didn’t mean for that to sound cocky, but it was the truth.  You were naturally designed to outmatch humans.

“You don’t seem to be putting much effort into this training, either.  Do you feel it’s beneath you, cadet?” Levi asked, his voice low.  Some of your old classmates that had come to the Scouts as well were letting their eyes wander to the scene in the middle of the training field, most likely looking forward to the frigid ‘slacker’ finally get what was coming to her.

“Quite the opposite, sir.  Titans aren’t the only threat in the world--you never know when you’ll need training like this,” you countered, meeting his gaze as you gave a reason that you’d once uttered to shut down the dismissal of other cadets for these person on person combat training exercises.  You had your own demons these kinds of moves could be used against, but there were also plenty of...unpleasant...people in the world.  You never knew when your life would be threatened by another person, and it was in those moments when you would want this kind of training.

Of course, with your reflexes and strength, it was easier to execute them.  Your learning process went into learning the techniques, and once you had that down, you really didn’t have much to worry about.

There was a spark of curiosity in Captain Levi’s eyes at your answer--apparently it hadn’t been a wrong one.  You recognized the training’s value instead of brushing it off like most people.  And most people who did realize its value usually didn’t state it openly like you just had.  Maybe you should have cut that last part out.

He still didn’t look pleased, though, which was understandable if his observations had led him to believe you weren’t taking this training as seriously as it should, that you were brushing it off.

“Then you wouldn’t mind showing me what you’ve learned.  I’ll expect perfection with that attitude of yours,” Levi said in a flat voice, taking a few more steps until he was standing opposite you.  There was a dangerous note in his voice, and you had the feeling he intended to make you take this sparring seriously, with full attention.

“Sir?”

Levi didn’t answer.  He fell into an at the ready position across from you, and you realized he wasn’t going to give you time to ask any more questions.  He was about to attack, and you had better be ready for it.

You finally dropped the salute that had loosened during your brief conversation, falling back into a similar at the ready position and feeling your attention start to sharpen.  Around you, people were turning their attention away from their training to see Captain Levi give the careless newbie a lesson.

A small part of you whispered that perhaps you should let him take you down right out of the gates, have him teach you the lesson and then move on, deal with the fact you’d made a poor impression on the captain of the Elite Squad.

You let out a slow breath, the world snapping into attention as you honed in on your opponent, Humanity’s Strongest.

Something inside you refused to lay down and take it.  You were going to at least show him that you had potential.  This was your moment to prove that it wasn’t all bravado and charades.  You had skill to back it up, you were capable, and you were not some slacker that wasn’t taking any of this seriously.  You were here to fight, to help in the push against the Titans,, no matter what anyone thought from their first impression of you.  You were here to stay.

Levi’s eyes flashed, and your body instinctively tensed for the oncoming attack as he darted forward with an almost inhuman speed.  You clamped down on your instinct to use your truly inhuman speed to step out of the way, instead choosing to block or at least re-direct the blow with his foot with your arm as you went low, ducking under the kick and coming up on his side.  Levi was already turning when you were halfway up, and his fist connected with your side, causing you to take a few steps back.

Shit, that hurt.  He really was going to teach you a lesson to take this seriously, wasn’t he?  If you didn’t want to end up beat to hell, you better be ready to show him you were learning.

And after the strength of that blow and the speed of his attack, you were going to have to put some actual effort into this.

Levi was already coming in again with another attack, fist cutting through the space between the two of you.  You turned your body aside to avoid it, knee coming up to try and get him in the gut.  He knocked it aside with his other arm as you blocked the one that had tried to punch you from coming at you again, grabbing onto his forearm and bringing yourself into his space.  You threw a punch of your own, still holding back to avoid seriously hurting him, but he blocked it just as quickly, the two of you grappling up close with a series of punches, blocks, and shifted feet before you decided to break away, fists still up and ready for a pursuit.  He kept using his small stature to get under your defenses and go after your weak spots, using momentum and your own weight against you.  But you were able to return in kind, upping the effort you put into your offense and defense with every block or failed hit.

You could hear his heart, which had started so steady and calm, starting to pick up from effort and exertion as well--so you weren’t the only one who had started to put effort into this fight.  You were both two combatants that rarely found someone on their level to fight, and now here you were.

A voice in the back of your mind screamed to stop and throw the fight before you gave away too much, but you couldn’t stop yourself, your own heart pounding with excitement.  When was the last time someone could actually challenge you?  Which one of you was actually capable of winning this fight?

Hell, you’d never thought someone human could stand toe to toe with you in basic hand to hand without bringing some dirty tricks to the match, but here you were.  As exciting as it was, there was also something strangely...relieving, about it.  Reassuring.

Levi’s knee flashed through your vision, and you had to lean back, hands coming down to meet it and stop the assault before it could connect with your chin.

Reflection could come later, right now...well, you should really be throwing this fight, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.  You kept meeting his attacks and coming in with your own, no matter how much reason screamed at you to stop.

Suddenly, Levi switched tactics, and instead of coming in to hit you, he grappled you to the ground, the two of you now caught in a tussle to see who could pin the other and end this fight.  His arm started to snake around your throat, and you quickly placed an arm against your throat to break the incoming hold, dropping your shoulder with hands wrapped around his forearm to throw him over you.  He managed to keep his grip for the most part, but he was no longer in the position to choke you out from behind.

His heartbeat, as well as your own, continued to pound in your ears, telling you just how much you both were fighting.  This had rapidly changed from a lesson to be taught into a straight up match at some point, both of you fighting for dominance, with not a single peep from the onlookers as both of you started throwing in dirty tactics that looked more like skills learned on the streets than something taught in military training.

He’d landed some solid hits on you, easily bruising your body where he connected, but so had you.  Of course, you were still trying to be careful and not hurt him, but the longer this fight went on, the less restraint you showed, because all the while you were testing his limits, seeing how far you could safely go, and you had yet to see a sign that it had been to far.

At this rate, I wouldn’t mind this being a regular thing.  This is exhilarating.

In the scuffle, Levi ended up below you in the middle of a roll, and you took advantage of the position, leg planted firmly behind him near his head, arm grasping his and pulling it up, about to trap him in a position where he wouldn’t be able to move without breaking a limb.

You felt a tingle on the back of your neck as your eyes met.

Levi’s eyes widened in surprise.

Your ears perked at the first sign of whispers among your spectators.

“Is she...gonna beat Captain Levi?”

“I thought he was Humanity’s Strongest?”

“Some random cadet is gonna beat Levi?”

Your heart froze, even as your body kept moving.

He couldn’t hear the whispers, not that you felt he cared much about such a moniker, but you could hear, and you did care.  Levi knew he was about to be beat, you could see the flicker of realization in his eyes.  And right now, with both of you putting effort into this fight and no attempts to throw from you so far, he might pounce on an opening without seeing it for the throw it was.

Maybe.

Whether that was true or not, this fight had to end, and it had to end one way.

Your grip shifted slightly on his arm, your foot slid slightly to the side, and you changed your weight distribution, giving him a split second window he could still get out of this.  And just as you’d hoped, he took full advantage, breaking your grip on his arm and knocking you off balance with your now unsecure stance and uneven weight distribution.  As quickly as you’d started to pin him, Levi suddenly leapt on top, his arm pressed hard against your chest as you found yourself flat on your back, wind knocked out of you abruptly by the fast move.

In the brief second before Levi pulled away, you saw disappointment in his eyes.

Right.

This all started because he realized you were throwing fights.  And now you’d just thrown the fight with him.  Whether or not he knew why was up for debate, but what matters was he knew you threw it at the last second.

Levi got to his feet, brushing dirt off himself with distaste before he stared down at you with a face that looked perfectly controlled, though those eyes of his were gazing at you with a thousand thoughtful emotions that made you uneasy as you sat up.

“Put that effort into sparring with your comrades, and they might learn something,” he said dismissively, then turned and left the field, most likely to go clean himself up.

You got to your feet, expression hidden by hair that had fallen loose in the match.  Now that it was over, you were able to think more clearly, and you were chastising yourself thoroughly on the inside for such a stupid move.

Who cared if it had felt exhilarating to spar with someone on even ground?  Who cared if you hadn’t wanted to give him the wrong impression of you on what might have been his first time seeing you?  Who cared if the feeling of realizing there was someone out there that wasn’t what you were, that could fight you like that, was akin to not feeling so alone for the briefest second?

You shouldn’t have done that.  You weren’t supposed to be drawing that kind of attention to yourself.  It was sloppy and stupid and you could only see it resulting in trouble.  You should have thrown the match far earlier than when you had, you shouldn’t have given everyone the impression that you could take Levi’s title from him.

Because even if it could, even if you were able to best him in a fight, you shouldn’t.  Not in public, anyway, where word could spread and people started calling you the strongest instead.  It wasn’t right, and the thought made you feel dirty and ashamed.

A vampire shouldn’t have the title of Humanity’s Strongest.

*Levi’s POV*

Coming out of the bath with damp hair still hanging on his face and shirt not buttoned up yet, Levi let out a soft sigh and leaned against the wall beside his office window, hand brushing thoughtfully over a nasty bruise he’d gotten in that sparring match from the cadet, his mind lost in thought even as he started carefully buttoning up the shirt.

That...had not turned out like he’d expected it to.

When he saw her throw that match so cleverly after watching her act with such clear distance during the training, he’d been irritated at the thought that she wasn’t taking the training seriously.  Or that she might think throwing the fight helped her opponent somehow by making him think they’d won on their own merit.  They weren’t going to learn if they were allowed to win.  If anything, such a move hurt their progress more than it helped, so he’d intended to put a stop to that thinking before it got too far.  Besides, with how carefully she timed and planned that throw, she had to have some kind of real skill she was hiding.

What he couldn’t understand was why she would hold back.  Especially now, at the stage where the aptitude shown decided where each recruit would be tasked.

No matter what the reason behind it all, he’d felt a push was necessary to make her step it up and start trying.  Seeing her standing there appearing not to take any of it seriously had been irksome, and he wasn’t going to let it happen while he was on the training grounds.

As he’d thought, she’d sharpened up when he challenged her.  There was no far away glaze in her eyes when he stepped up to spar her, just unbridled focus and determination, perhaps even a bit of excitement.  For a moment, he’d despised it because he thought it was because she was one of those, so hell bent on impressing him, everything else be damned.  The kind of attitude that got people killed out in the field because they were too busy trying to impress instead of actually learn, that showed people to be nothing more than squabbling children who weren’t taking any of this seriously.

As the fight progressed and she started to show her true strength, though, it started to make more sense.

He could still vividly picture the shift in her demeanor, the glint in her eyes the second before their spar began.  How at that moment, he knew he was about to see if she was sitting on true potential and was paying attention, or was just blowing smoke up people’s asses and blowing it all off.

He’d been fully ready to knock her into the dirt in that first strike to knock reality back into her, but that wasn’t what happened.  He’d been genuinely surprised when she managed to block and keep up with him, even more with how well she was able to return what he gave her.  Quickly he’d abandoned the thoughts of teaching an arrogant cadet a lesson and instead started to prod at her capabilities, intrigued and impressed with what he found.  Being able to spar with someone on such even ground was a rarity, and he’d found the experience rather...exhilarating.

She was faster and stronger than she appeared, just like him.  She was also quite clever--predictably, considering the care she’d put into throwing her matches--and had clearly been paying attention to the taught techniques.  However, when he’d thrown something street learned and not taught by the military, she hadn’t flinched, and pulled a few underhanded street fighting techniques of her own.

Which gave him a peek at her background, as well.  If he was to look, he would bet his salary that he would find that she got into some kind of trouble in the past--the illegal kind.

Several of her blows had, clearly, hurt, which told him she wasn’t holding back anymore--at least not as much.  A part of him could tell, through their whole fight, that there was still something she was holding back with, just like he was.  He hadn’t tapped into that strange power of his, not fully, and she had also kept herself from using her full potential--something tipped off by the fact her attacks had been getting progressively faster and harder.  Of course, in a spar, you weren’t supposed to go all out--for example, neither of them were trying to do anything lethal.  But even then, she was sitting on something.

Now he was fairly confident the reason she’d been holding back on the others had been to avoid hurting a comrade by accident.  That he couldn’t fault her for, but she still shouldn’t have been throwing the fights.  They needed to learn, and making them think they’d won didn’t help them.

Of course, there was also the glaring fact of how she’d ended that fight.

He had definitely been shocked the moment he’d realized she was about to pin him.  Of course it hadn’t been anywhere in his mind that a younger rookie would beat him in a spar--before today he would have thought that kind of suggestion was madness.  But she’d done it, and for the briefest moment, just before she would have pinned him, he saw the faintest red glimmer in her eyes.

Then some kind of realization hit her, she seemed to register she was about to win as well, and she’d shifted.  At first, he’d thought she’d simply hesitated, that her unbalance had come from getting inside her own head in the middle of the fight, and he had pounced on that opportunity.  There was another part of that moment that was worrisome to him, though.

For some reason, he’d reacted off a survival instinct, even though he was well aware that it was a spar.  It hadn’t been a mere moment of ‘I want to win this fight,’ but a split second where he felt like an eagle pinned down by a horned owl, where natural instinct told him if he didn’t break free…

But of course...it had just been a spar, no matter what the novel moment had made him feel for a split second.

Of course, once he had her pinned beneath him, he realized how easy the motion had been--to easy for someone who was a hair’s breath away from being pinned and the fight being over.  And he could tell from the look in her eyes, the dulling of that sharp gaze and the distance in her posture, that she’d thrown the fight.

Again.

Of course he was disappointed.  The entire spar had started because she’d been throwing matches with her fellow recruits, and at the last second, when she would have pinned even him and proven what she was capable of, she backed off.  She held back.

The only two who knew she really won that fight was him, and her.

He knew she’d been holding back the whole time.  That she threw at the end.  That there was a dangerous edge to her.  That even if he went all out, there was a chance she could take him.

Levi looked out his office window, which overlooked the training grounds that were now empty after combat training had finished.  Why did she do it?  Why did she throw the fight?  Why was she hiding her potential instead of showing what she was truly capable of?  What did she want to hide, and why was she trying to hide it?

Who was she?

Did she have a power similar to his own?

Did he want her on his squad?  That question he was far more unsure about, because while her raw skill alone tempted him to recruit her to the Elite Squad, something stirred uneasily in his gut about her.  From the look in her eyes, that glint, that moment of survival instincts kicking in, all the unknowns...

There were too many questions and too many unknowns about her right now.  He wasn’t about to act hastily.  First, he needed to learn what he could about this new recruit, ask around and keep an eye on her from a distance.  Once his questions were answered…

Well, that all depended on what he would find after some digging.

Next Chapter---->

Levi Tags:  @humanitys-hottestsoldier @clary-quinn @sunny-flo​ @whalerus 

[boxofbadaddiction]

Just Like You Like It

Song Inspired

George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: Light Smut. A curse word.

George could tell y/n was stressed, he didn't have to be told. He could see it; he were the first to notice. The way she shut down. How much shorter she'd become with everyone. How the smallest of inconveniences could set her off.

Her hair was constantly a mess from the amount of times her fingers tugged, pulled and ran through it. She gave up wearing make-up to avoid the way it smudged as her hands frequently dug, clawed and rubbed at her face in frustration.

He wondered if she even noticed how cold their relationship had become. The spark between them which raged within their chests as an all comsuming flame; diminished to less than an ember. Still alight but too weak to any longer feel it's warmth.

Though they shared the same bed every night he'd never felt further apart. He missed her. Her new routine left him hanging at a distance.

She'd wake up, shower, get changed and leave. No words spoken. No smile on her face. No kiss good morning or kiss goodbye. The nights were no easier. She'd arrive home late, disappear to the study, then later crawl into bed beside him well past midnight. No conversation. No kiss goodnight.

He could barely remember the last time they'd touched let alone had a meal together. George had been patient hoping this were simply a rough patch, that things would fall back into place eventually. This morning however, was his breaking point.

As he woke to an empty bed, the sound of running water coming from the bathroom just like many mornings before, he reddied himself for work. As he pulled on a fresh suit for the day something caught his ears. A sound which, though muffled, were undeniably caused from distress. He stepped closer to the bathroom, leaning towards the door and listening intently. Sobs and strained breaths cursed the air. George felt his heart be ripped from his chest in that moment. He made to open the door but stopped himself, he weren't even sure how to comfort her anymore. Things were evidently far worse than he feared what if, by barging in on her in this time, he made matters worse unintentionally?

He restrained himself, giving her the space she most likely needed right now, though determined to fix things. It was time. No more waiting for things to sort themselves out.

He sat patiently on the edge of their bed for her to come out, preparing to have the difficult conversation.

Later she emerged, fully clothed for work with eyes still puffy. He stood, words forming on the tip of his tongue, but she wouldn't even look at him. Like he weren't there. Simply grabbing her keys and wallet from off the chest of draws, muttering a lame 'I'll be home late' and leaving as swiftly as she'd entered.

He was too slow. Too hesitant. His brows furrowed, staring after her with parted lips. Dread began to fill his heart, thickly being pumped throughout his bloodstream. How could he fix this?

That evening y/n slowly made her way home, like many before it were well past the time she ought to be arriving home. Her body felt too heavy for her legs to carry. Back aching as did her feet, with shoulders unbelievably tense from several large knots taken root in her muscles. Rubbing at them frustratedly as she walked her eyes shut tight in pain whilst brimming with tears. This was one of the worst times of her life, everything that could go wrong did and it seemed unlikely ever to resolve. With no sign of her ridiculous work load easing. The state of her currently crumpling relationship. Now even her body were turning against her.

She was hungry, not having ate properly in days. Tired, her sleep restless and tormenting. Her head ached continuously and she found herself on the brink of tears or an emotional outburst given any moment.

As her key turned in it's lock she pushed the door open preparing for yet another night spent in the study. Closing her eyes she inhaled sharply, the very thought causing a sickness to settle in her stomach. There was something different about tonight though.

As her lungs filled, she felt herself relax considerably. A content sigh slipping from her lips as she exhaled slowly. Opening her eyes, they travelled over the flat to find her favourite candles were scattered and alight, the flicker of their flames the only source of light within the space. As she stepped across the doors thresholds y/ns breath was stolen from her. Finding not only her favourite candles but countless bunches of her favourite flowers lining the tables and windowsill. Additional flower petals littered the floor, leading like a pathway to the fire escape.

As her head peaked from the window her ears were met with the soft melodic sounds of distance music. Climbing from the windowsill she ascended the staircase. Reaching the top and quietly stepping over the roofs lining y/n was blown away once again. More flowers decorated the space beautifully while a few small candles lit a table at the roofs centre. The music was clearer now, quiet but loud enough for her to recognise. Her favourite slow songs.

A bottle of wine and two glasses sat atop the small table in front of her, her fingers delicately traced the bottles label.

A warmth began to spread through her body from a presence behind her. Two strong hands gently moved over her waist, encapsulating her entirely in an embrace. Y/n gave herself to the hold, leaning back into his chest and relishing in the heat that fanned her skin from his hot breath and the soft trace of his nose against her neck until finally his lips came to connect with her nape. Her arms fell atop of his, where his fingers slowly moved against the fabric of her shirt. She sighed contently, the sound only just audible with the low hum of the music which played.

Her brows furrowed at the feeling of his lips and one arm leaving her body. The light pop of the wine bottles cork and the trickle of liquid filling two glasses, generously, which followed was enough to bring the smile back to her lips and finally she opened her eyes again to accept the beverage before her.

Though one hand still remained attached to her hip George moved to stand in front of her with a sly grin as he clinked their glasses together ceremoniously.

"You've been busy today" she smiled, sipping her wine. "You've been busy everyday." His face was stern at the thought, heart no less heavy as he watched her head fall at his words. The hand on her waist came to cup her chin, bringing her attention back to him. His thumb gently stroked her jaw as he spoke, "Did you think I hadn't noticed?". Tears fell from her eyes. His expression bore so sorrowfully into her soul she felt laid bare. "I'm sorry" "It's not your fault, sweetheart." A soft smile replaced the concern filled expression he wore moments ago, "I just wish you'd give yourself a break. Talk to me if something's the matter."

Her cheek pressed against his palm as he wiped away the stray tears, but more fell as she closed her eyes.

"Come here", George grabbed her glass, setting both drinks down on the table, and lead her away a few paces. He pulled her into his chest, one hand on her waist while the other held hers in a firm grasp. She looked at him confusedly, only causing him to smile cheekily back. That's when he began to lead her in a slow dance. Y/n chuckled at this, unable to help the eye roll and wide smile to stretch upon her face at how cheesey this all now seemed.

Gazing back into his eyes fondly they continued to sway in time with the gentle melody which filled the air. Y/ns cheek rested against Georges chest as his chin laid atop her head. Fresh tears lined her eyes now. Different from the ones before. Tears of love. Pure, unfiltered and all consuming.

They held close together like two shadows in the dark, illuminated solely by candle light. The spark in their chests burning like a flame, lighting the night for them in an entirely other way. Rekindling the love in their hearts that hadn't been felt in so long.

"I can't believe you did all this for me" y/n voiced honestly, unable to see how she was deserving of such a guesture.

"This is for me right? I didn't just spoil some intimate night with your mistress did I?" She joked looking up to him. "Funny." George rolled his eyes at this.

"Love, everything I do is for you." "You're really laying on all the charm tonight aren't you? Wine, candles, dancing..." Y/n quipped, loving every second. "Pouring it on strong and smooth. Just like you like it." He leant down, capturing her lips in a deep kiss.

Arms wrapped around his neck as others rested around her sides. The kiss was broken in pieces as y/n tried to speak but George was reluctant to let her, only a word coming through at a time, he understood her nonetheless, "Where's Fred tonight?" She'd asked. This question successfully putting an end to his neediness for their lips on one anothers. Leaning back with a raised brow, an expression which read 'really?'.

"You know, as inseparable as we are love, I was sort of hoping we could do this without him actually." He chuckled. Y/n rolled her eyes. "He's out. Out of the apartment and out of our way." His lips found hers again while she smiled.

George rested his forehead against hers, "We've got all night long, so tell me what you want." Y/n stood, breathing him in while she thought. A decision made as a smile spread over her features. She licked her lips in anticipation, unable to hide the eagerness in her eyes. Feeling playful, she spoke in a teasingly slow and sultry tone, "What I'd love, more than anything is a nice, long, and hot bath." Georges brow raised along with his signature mischeivous grin. She placed a tender kiss to his lips, which he reciprocated and deepened hungrily.

George nudged her towards the fire escape, signalling for her to head inside and placing a quick playful slap to her ass as she left and he grabbed the wine from the table. With a flick of his wand the candles all extinguished and the music faded to an end.

Steam encompassed the white tiled bathroom as hot water filled the bath tub. Y/n stood at its edge, in only her white singlet and underwear - other clothes already discarded, tying her hair into a messy bun before checking the water weren't too hot. She'd taken a couple candles from the living room and scattered loose flower petals across the waters surface.

George entered quietly, leaning against the door frame, balancing the wine glasses in one hand as the bottle hung low in his other.

His eyes traced her neck, light condensation glistening over her skin. His head tilted, examining the rest of her body with a sigh. She turned, feeling his eyes on her to which she playfully raised an eyebrow. He smiled, running his bottom lip through his teeth before placing the wine by the side of the tub. He held himself straight, towering before her while his eyes fixed directly to her features.

Slowly brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear then letting his fingers trace down her neck and travelling down slowly between her breasts coming to the end seam of her t-shirt. Both hands gripped the thin material to pull it over her head.

Y/n now reached to undo his tie and unbutton his shirt. Leaving his torso as bare as hers. Fingers toyed with with his belt as the two stared into each others eyes ridding the final items of clothing. Y/n stepped into the water pulling George with her.

A content moan unashamedly voiced as they sank beaneath the water, heat immediately help to soothe her aching body. George sat behind her, running hands delicately across her body. Cupping hand fulls of water to run over her shoulders. The sensation causing her head to fall back into his chest. He took advantage of her position, lightly kissing the crook of her neck as his hands massaged her back then shoulders. Tension melting away with every dedicated and tender movement of his thumbs against her muscles. When the last knot had eased from her shoulders he pulled her into his body completely, laying back so she were beside him cuddling as they had so many times on the sofa.

Though the water surrounding them began to cool, things between them only got hotter. Starting with innocent and loving kisses to her temple and light touches tracing one anothers body, soon both knew they needed more.

Y/n made to straddle him. The kiss starting tenderly, filled with love, but in no time George was sitting upright leaning into her body as they kissed passionately. Hungrily. Y/n grinding slightly against his lap, chest pushed flush against his eliciting a deep growl from her lover.

He wrapped a firm grip around her body, lifting them both from the water and stepping out of the bath. Y/ns hands placed to his cheeks, kissing him feverishly while he made the blind journey to their bed. Y/n chuckled as he dropped them onto the mattress eagerly, soaking the sheets in the process. Their bodies entangled in perfect rhythm. With George paying particular attention to her wants and needs, ones he hadn't met in so long. She was a mess beneath him with every loving and gentle caress of her skin. Every soft whisper in her ear. The way his lips connected with her neck. Exploring her as if it were the last time he'd get to do so. Touching her so delicately as if she were glass figurine. Breathtakingly beautiful, but fragile and likely to break. His pace slow but firm, eyes scrunched tight together while his breaths fell heavy through parted lips. Relishing in the heat that fans his skin as she breathes his name. Pure ecstacy igniting the flame in their hearts further, burning under one anothers touch. Her nails rake his shoulders as they peak together. Arms shaking as he struggles to hold his body from hers. Breathless and heavy above her, his lips capture hers again in a slow and tired kiss.

They lay beside each other in the after glow, comfortable silence encapsulating them. Until George is pulling her from the bed at the talk of dinner, lazily throwing on a singlet and boxers as she pulls on his jumper and a pair of knickers.

He sits her at the dinner table while he reddied the meal he'd prepared earlier not expecting the nights events to unfold as they had but loving it either way.

Y/n sipped a fresh glass of wine contently, unable to wipe the love struck smile from her face. Staring into the deep burgundy which swirled within her glass, deep in thought over the man currently pattering about the kitchen. Reminiscing on the past events, ones from this evening to as far back as when they'd begun dating. Every thought completely occupied by him and him alone.

She was brought to the present by a plate being sat in front of her. Another of her favourites. George placed a gentle kiss to her cheek and whispered into her ear, lips pressing against her soft hair, before taking seat beside her. She bit her lip in attempt to contain the wide grin forming across her features at the words,

"Just like you like it."

[slasherhaven]

Can I have some headcanons with Baby Firefly, Brahms, and Vincent stalking there future S/O. They think there pretty good at it gets to where they can get inside there house/ room/ etc. They sneak in and it’s very dark. All of a sudden there “victim” turns on a lamp and just says,” You’re late.” They talk for a bit and then S/O just hands them a key.

These got kinda long so they’re under the cut! 😂

Baby Firefly:

You probably catch Baby’s eye when you’re at a bar or even just a store of some sort. One look and she is hooked, gushing about the stranger she saw to Otis later that day.

Now, Baby is confident and outgoing so the reason she chose to stalk you rather than just approach you is probably just because she thought it would be more fun.

She knows it’s weird but she doesn’t care, plus it’s fun!

But she decides that she might as well use the opportunity to learn more about you.

Where do you live? Where do you work? Where do you shop? What do you usually get when you go shopping? What’s your favourite snack? How do you take your coffee? Normally she wouldn’t care all that much about those kinda things but if she’s going to follow you, she might as well learn everything she can. Her infatuation only growing.

Finally one day, when your home was empty, Baby got inside and started to look around.

She’d nose around, not caring all that much for your privacy.

Might steal something. Thinking that you’ll just think you misplaced it.

She’s tempted to leave something behind, like a clue, but decides against it. Not yet anyway!

She did break in once when you were home, sleeping in the bedroom. She let herself in, helping herself to some food and drink and just...sitting in another room of the house. Probably watching the television but quietly, still not wanting to alert you of her presence.

She thinks she is being sneaky but she can be impulsive and that was probably what gave her away in the first place.

Baby decided to go to your house after a long day, having dealt with some difficult victims. Of course they got them under control and were going to let them stew for a while but now she wanted to take a load off.

And what better way to do that then going over to your place, helping herself to a beer and oh! maybe you had some of that cake left!

She lets herself in through a window and heads for the kitchen. The house is silent and dark, you must be asleep by now.

As she steps into the living room, she jumps a little when the lamp turns on, revealing you sitting on the couch and looking at her without any surprise on your features.

“You’re late” you sighed, sounding almost disappointed.

Out of these three, Baby is the only one who doesn’t freeze up at all. She’s just interested the turn of events.

“I got caught up” she’d smile, confused but also excited by how casual you were being.

“Well...I hope you’re going to explain why you’ve been following me. Oh! And help yourself” you gestured towards the coffee table, making her notice the two slices of cakes and cans of beer sitting there.

She grins, practically skipping over, before taking a seat beside you and helping herself to the treats you had laid out for her.

The two of you would end up having a playful argument over “why didn’t you say something!” the two of you could have been drinking beer and eating cake together this whole time!

The two of you probably end up staying up all night talking.

But the time comes where Baby tells you that she has to get back home and check in with her family. 

Before she leaves, you stop her and hold your palm out. 

A huge smile spread out over her face when she sees the house key.

“So you don’t have to keep coming in through the window” you shrug.

Baby will snatch the key from your hand, planting a playful kiss on your cheek, before leaving you to finally get some sleep.

Oh, she’s not done with you yet!

You’re pretty sure Baby has just moved in with you from how often you find her in your home, acting like she lives there.

Brahms Heelshire:

Ever since you arrived at the house, Brahms had his eye on you. But that isn’t so surprising.

And of course, he has been watching you all day ever since. Following you around the house and watching you.

You had followed the rules perfectly, talking to the doll like it was a real child. Maybe you were just doing it to make yourself feel less alone but he liked it anyway. You’d smile and joke, hum to yourself, sometimes you’d talk to yourself when you were trying to remember something. Everything you did made Brahms like you even more.

While Vincent was more considerate and left you your privacy when it came to getting changed and showering, Brahms doesn’t mind so much. 

He’s watching you all the time, even when you’re changing, having a shower or a bath. He’s definitely a bit of a voyeur.

But he doesn’t just sit back and watch either.

Some of your belongings are definitely going to go missing. At first you thought you were going crazy but it didn’t take you too long to put the pieces together.

You had felt a little uneasy with being alone in such a large house so you kept your bedroom door locked while you slept. It just made you feel safer with being on your own.

But that didn’t stop Brahms.

He wanted to get into your room, so he would.

He had his ways of getting into your bedroom even when the door was looked.

He usually stole your belongings when you were doing chores in another part of the house, giving him more time to rummage around.

But Brahms wanted to get closer to you and he could only do that when you were sleeping, unaware of him.

Yes, he liked to watch you sleep. And as time went by, he would get closer until he was standing right beside your bed, looking down at you.

He wanted more than anything to climb into the bed with you but he knew that would wake you up and it wasn’t time to reveal himself yet. So he restrained himself.

It was a normal night. You had gone to bed and Brahms had waited, giving you time to fall asleep. But he had gotten...distracted.

Brahms used one of his exits from the walls to get into your room. Making sure to stay quiet and watch his step since it was so dark.

He jumps before his whole body tenses when the bedside lamp turns on.

There you are, wide awake and looking directly at him.

“You’re late tonight” wait did you know that he was sneaking in here? Wait did you know know that he has been living in the walls?! 

Whenever you were talking to the doll...did you know that you were actually talking to him?

“I’m not mad but I do want my things back, Brahms” he is stunned and unsure of what to say or do. 

If he was going to get caught he thought you would be angry or scare but you weren’t.

He’s excited to be interacting with you properly at last but is also nervous to be stepping into uncharted territory. 

He’s cautious...this could be a trick.

“You had me fooled for a little while, I won’t lie but...when my things started going missing, I kinda figured it out. I have a lot of questions but you don’t have to answer until you’re ready” 

You’re sweet. So sweet and Brahms is already relaxing. 

When you pat the space on the bed beside you, inviting him to sit, he cautiously walks over and takes a seat. 

You just start talking and he starts to relax some more.

He’s still cautious of you, even though he certainly wants to be closer and make some real contact with you.

“It’s late and I need to wake up on time, right?...I can keep the door unlocked though, if that would be easier for you to get in” you offered, surprising him again.

You were welcoming him into your room? Smiling like you wanted it as well as allowing it.

Now that you have opened the door for Brahms to be around you, he is going to take full advantage of it.

Vincent Sinclair:

You had just been a lost soul that wandered into Ambrose (with Lester’s guidance) and met Bo. Of course his first intention had been to kill you and send you off to his twin but you had been friendly and open about your life, even if it seemed to upset you.

A little foolishly, you had confessed that you didn’t really have anywhere to go, that you were alone and had nobody waiting on you.

Still, Bo saw you as another victim and planned on treating you no differently.

But when you saw what they had been doing in the town, you had promised not to tell anyone. Swore to do anything if they just spared your life.

Bo wasn’t convinced but Lester had a softer heart, convincing him to at least discuss it with Vincent.

Bo thought that Vincent would be on his side but it turned out that Vincent had been watching you since you stepped foot in the town. And he was infatuated with you.

So Bo decided that he would let you stay but would be keeping a close eye on you. If you messed up or tried to run, his brothers wouldn’t be able to talk him out of killing you. When he told you this, you understood and promised you would behave.

He had to confess that keeping you around could be positive, you were a friendlier and more trusting face than Lester to lore people back to the town.

So that’s how you ended up staying in Ambrose, even getting your own room in the house.

But you had been staying in the town for a few weeks now, nearly a month, and you had only met two out of the three brothers.

You knew there was another, Vincent, Bo’s twin. Bo had mentioned him from time to time while Lester had told you stories from their childhood, the good and bad of it.

You had learnt that Vincent was the artist, the one who dealt with the wax.

Vincent had never approached you, never even made himself known to you, but he had been watching you.

He would watch you as you moved around the house, impressed by how unafraid you seemed these days, smiling to himself when you would hum to yourself while doing the chores that Bo had made your responsibility. He’d watch curiously as you admired his art, not even having a face to put to the craft.

He would follow you around the town, just wanting to know what you got up to. Wishing that he could approach you but something stopped him every time.

To put it simply, he was too shy. Too scared that you wouldn’t like him, that he would scare you or disgust you, that you wouldn’t return his feelings. So he admired from afar.

Eventually he had also started entering your room at the house.

Sometimes when you were out, just to get a feel for who you were. What you liked. What fragrance you used. He wanted to learn everything he could but he wouldn’t touch anything, he didn’t want you to know that he was there.

But sometimes he would do it when you were there as well, when you were sleeping. It soothed him when he couldn’t sleep and he would always leave before you woke up.

Vincent had been working late that night because he couldn’t settle, but he was tired. So he did what he would always do to soothe himself, he headed up to your room.

As usual, he let himself into the dark room, as silent as he could be.

He slowly closed the door behind him and turned back in the direction of your bed.

Vincent nearly jumps out of his skin when a lamp on the bed side table turns out. At first he thought that he woke you up and you were going to catch him...but that wasn’t quite the case.

You were sitting on the bed with your legs crossed, a curious expression on your face.

“You’re later than usual” your comment surprised him.

He wasn’t usually all that talkative anyway but right now he was definitely speechless.

“You’re Vincent, right?” you asked, already knowing the answer. “It’s nice to finally meet you” you were smiling at him now.

You had known he was watching you...you weren’t surprised that he was here right now...and you were smiling at him.

“Well come on, sit down. You have some explaining to do” you patted the space on the bed beside you. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad” you assured him, sensing his nervousness. So different to his twin brother...

If you could see his eyes properly, they would be wide.

Slowly Vincent took a seat on your bed, putting a fair amount of distance between you both. You weren’t mad at him?

It takes a while to break him out of his shell, a few more reassuring words to remind him that you aren’t mad.

But eventually the two of you get to talking, you carrying the conversation.

He’s still nervous and fiddling with his fingers.

Eventually you’re yawning and ready to get some sleep. 

“I’m going to get some shut eye, you can stay if you want but I’ll see you tomorrow...at least I hope you’re not going to keep hiding from me after this” you smile kindly at him.

Vincent just nods but decides not to stay that night. He needs some time to process all of this and decide how he is going to act next. Maybe he didn’t need to keep hiding from you...and he was definitely going to visit you tomorrow night.

[gumnut-logic]

Scott had a cat.

He had no idea how he had a cat. It just appeared one day under his pilot’s chair in One.

He had been returning from Egypt where he had had to locate and yank yet another lost tourist out of the Sahara. After dropping the dehydrated man off at the local hospital, he had quite gratefully plotted a flight plan for Tracy Island.

Halfway home he nearly fell out of his chair when something started chewing on his left boot.

The innocence in the green eyes looking up at him came across as anything but.

He would have returned it to Egypt, but Virgil found out about the spotted monstrosity before he could and would have killed him if he left it in the desert.

So, he had a cat.

And cats needed veterinary care.

So, this was how he found himself standing at the reception desk of a vet surgery in England. It was highly recommended by Penelope, apparently Sherbet approved.

Virgil had hounded him into it, of course. The big softy had been completely enamoured by the feral ball of fluff from the moment he laid eyes on her. Scott would have let him have the little varmit, but the cat - who was still simply called ‘The Cat’ despite his brother’s protests - had decided to sleep on his face every night, no matter how many locked doors lay between him and the feline.

Apparently, she was His Cat.

Gordon, of course, tried to lure her away with nibbles and treats...until she discovered his fish tanks and several of his prize pets went missing.

There was yelling after that.

Scott was forced to keep The Cat away from Gordon. There was mention of a cat skin hat and Scott was only half sure the aquanaut was kidding.

Virgil played with her and The Cat appeared to tolerate the engineer.

She hated Alan.

No-one knew why The Cat had such a dislike for the youngest Tracy. The moment she set eyes on him, it was all spiky fur fluffed out to make her appear twice her size, claws deployed, and hissing and snarling enough to melt the paintwork off the walls.

Suffice it to say that Alan was rarely in her presence.

But regardless of who liked The Cat, apparently, she was Scott’s and according to Virgil, that meant he had to look after her.

As he approached the reception desk, The Cat eyed him through the cat box Virgil had jimmied together. Green eyes challenged him.

But he had been challenged by green eyes before so he was used to it. His own eyes must have communicated something back, because she meowed at him.

Somewhat pitifully.

“Can I help you, sir?”

He glanced up, embarrassed to have been caught communing with the devil. The young nurse behind the counter smiled up at him. Her badge had the name Mia written on it. “Uh, hi. I have an appointment under the name ‘Tracy’.”

The nurse smiled at him again before turning to the computer and pulling up a file. “Yes, Mr Tracy. The vet will be ready for you shortly. Please take a seat.” She gestured to the waiting room.

Unfortunately, the room was half full...of both people and animals.

He nodded in her direction. “Thank you, ma’am.” And turned to face his fellow pet owners.

As with all waiting rooms several people looked up as he entered, cat cage in hand. He could see their assessments in their eyes. The woman on the right with a lap dog wrapped in a pink cardigan eyed The Cat with distaste. Probably because The Cat could inhale her dog by accident.

The older man two seats over smiled a toothless smile at Scott and patted the ferret sitting on his shoulder.

A little girl with her mother was holding a wire cage with a green budgerigar inside. The bird appeared to be having a nervous breakdown. Most likely caused by the St Bernard sitting next to it, eyeing it with a great deal of interest.

Scott found a spot between two empty chairs and folded himself into it. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a people person. Far from it, he enjoyed conversation and gatherings. It wasn’t that he wasn’t an animal person. He grew up on a farm, for crying out loud.

It was just…

Well…he hadn’t had any say in this and The Cat was bossing him around.

There. He admitted it.

He could hear Virgil laughing from here.

“That’s a pretty cat you’ve got yourself there.”

“Huh?” Oh, just classy, Mr Commander President Sir. “Oh, uh, yes, thank you.”

The woman smiled a set of glossy red lips at him, dipping her eyelashes just a little.

Scott blinked and a little heat headed both north and south as he realised that she was wearing little more than a jacket over a leopard print bikini.

And the view was…extensive.

“Have you had him long?”

“Her. No. This is our first visit.” As if to punctuate that statement The Cat hissed at the woman.

Surprisingly, she didn’t flinch or edge away. “Oh, you just have some spark, little one, don’t you.” And to Scott’s surprise, she dared to wave a finger within reach of The Cat.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

But long, pink nails slipped through the wire mesh and tickled The Cat under the chin.

The Cat, the little shit, started purring.

Until a reptilian head slid out from underneath the woman’s jacket and flicked its tongue at her.

The Cat let out a very undignified squawk and flung itself to the far side of its box and nearly tipped it off Scott’s lap. It was a fortunate accident that hid Scott’s reaction to the large snake now uncurling and extending its snout curiously in his direction.

“You have a snake.” Scott had a sudden and profound empathy for Gordon’s uncomfortable relationship with reptiles.

“Oh, that’s Jerry.” She patted the snake. “He’s feeling a bit off today. Aren’t you, sweetie? That’s why we’re here.” A wet, red kiss was dealt to the scales on the back of the snake’s head.

“He’s...uh...respectable.”

“Yes, he’s a big boy. Aren’t you, Jez. Such a big boy.” The woman was nuzzling the snake with her nose.

The snake did not appear impressed.

Scott did his best not to edge away from her. Fortunately, she was called in by the nurse a moment later.

Scott did not miss the amused smirk on the young nurse’s face.

Hmm, so snake lady was a regular who provided entertainment. Scott straightened in his seat.

The Cat chirped at him.

“You shut up.”

The Cat snickered. It could only be called that. He glared down at the box and the spotted menace gazed innocently back up at him before meowing.

This was all Virgil’s fault. “Should have dumped you in the desert.”

“Sir, how could you possibly consider that?! He’s adorable.” And again, Scott found his cat box the subject of attention via fingers, these ones with pink fingernails considerably shorter than the last set.

He looked up to find a middle-aged woman gazing adorably at The Cat. The difference this time was as she sat down, a cat box appeared on her lap too.

The Cat immediately became more interested and the eye lasers between the two boxes was almost physical.

“Uh, she’s a she.”

“And a beautiful girl, too. Just look at those spots. Did you go to Egypt for the breed? I hear they are very rare.”

Scott blinked. “Excuse me?” How did she know the cat was from Egypt? Lady Penelope had had to pull quite a few strings to get The Cat into England. Scott’s usual haunts of Australia and New Zealand took one look and gave him a firm ‘no’. One of the downsides of his sudden pet parenthood was the lack of a vet on their island. Crossing borders with an animal was a little bit different from crossing borders with a Thunderbird. Fortunately, Penelope had her ways and here he was.

But how was it obvious The Cat had come from Egypt?

“Oh, but she’s an Egyptian Mau, isn’t she? Those spots are absolutely gorgeous.”

Scott peered at The Cat. The smugness on the denizen of evil had to be a coincidence. But yes, she was a spotty cat. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

“Really? My Dora is only a Russian Blue, but I adore her anyway. You should find out. You might have an expensive cat.” She frowned. “You didn’t get her from one of those black market types, did you?”

A blink. “Uh, no.”

“I should hope not. There are some people on this planet who do not deserve the honour of life.”

Scott didn’t comment on that.

“Mr Tracy?” Mia the nurse was smiling at him from across the room. “The Vet will see you now.”

Oh, thank god.

He stood up a little faster than necessary and the nurse raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay, sir?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

The Cat snorted.

How the hell did a cat snort? He restrained himself from a retort and followed the young woman from the room.

A corridor and a couple of doors later, she ushered him into an examination room. She pointed to a chair. Please take a seat. The vet will be in shortly.”

He did as he was told, sitting on one of two seats in the corner. At the centre sat a metal table obviously for examination.

The nurse set herself up at a computer station on the far side of the small room. He did not fail to notice that she kept eyeing him from time to time.

He was about to say something when a ball of bustling energy burst into the room. Short, compact with a craze of dark curls, the white coated woman hurried up to him. “Mr Tracy, oh my god, it is such a privilege to meet you!” She grabbed his hand before he was even halfway out of his seat. Oh god, a fan.

“Nice to meet you, Doctor…?”

“Oh, I’m Dr Sal Virgilio.” She gazed up at him in only what could be called adoration before apparently snapping herself out of it and diverting to the cat box. “And who do we have today?”

Scott blinked at her name. “Uh, my cat needs a check-up.” He held the box so the small woman could see inside.

The hiss that erupted from its depths wasn’t encouraging.

“Well, you are a spritely one. Let��s get you out on the examination table.” She looked up at him. “What’s the name?”

“Scott.”

She grinned. “The cat’s name, Mr Tracy.”

“Oh, um, Cat?”

The woman had brown eyes very similar to Virgil’s and they seemed to sprout a similar exasperation to his brother’s. To the nurse across the room. “Mia, open a file for Cat Tracy.”

Scott lifted the cat box onto the examination table as directed and cautiously opened the door.

The Cat peered out at him for a moment before stalking out slowly and regally, green eyes taking in the entire room before latching onto the vet.

Laser eyes zapped the poor woman dead where she stood.

But apparently, the vet was used to that kind of weapon because she ignored it. “Okay, little one, let’s check you out.”

The meow The Cat let out could only be described as a threat.

“Really?”

Scott found himself with a gentle hand on The Cat’s back, her fur soft under his fingers as her body twitched. “Uh, she can be touchy.” He hoped he didn’t have to save the vet from his own cat.

“That’s okay, we just need to get to know each other a little better.”

She took a step back and held out a hand, murmuring soft words. The Cat continued to eye her as a threat, but her twitching stilled somewhat.

The vet waited for The Cat to respond.

She waited a while.

A long while.

But eventually, The Cat leant over to sniff her fingers. The vet smiled. “That’s right, honey.”

The Cat opened her mouth and bit the closest finger.

Dr Virgilio jumped back with a squawk. The Cat growled and every hair on her body stuck out at right angles.

“Oi! Stop that!” It was Scott’s turn to growl.

She turned her head and glared up at him. Her entire body dared him to follow through and try to stop her.

His hand was still on her back, so he began stroking hair down. “The doctor is just here to help you.”

Said doctor was rifling through medical supplies looking for a plaster.

“It’s okay, Mr Tracy. Some pets can be difficult during examination.” She swabbed her finger with alcohol and wrapped it up. “She just needs time to acclimate.”

“Can I try?” The nurse on the other side of the room actually had her hand up.

“Sure, Mia. Have at it.”

Mia smiled at Scott again. That smile bugged Scott. It was like she knew something he didn’t.

And apparently she did, because one minute later, she had The Cat purring under her touch. “You are a beautiful girl, aren’t you.” Fingers rubbed The Cat under her chin and she closed her eyes in pleasure.

Scott just stared. Virgil was the only other person to have managed that. She was Scott’s cat, but she was very clear with her boundaries as to what he was allowed to do with her.

Dr Virgilio frowned. “Well, Mia, I think this one is yours. She appears to accept you.”

The Cat hissed at the vet.

“Hey, lovely, that’s just Sal. She’s a teddy bear, don’t you worry.”

The Cat glared up Mia in challenge before snarling at Sal again.

The vet just shrugged. “She knows who she likes. Mia, start a general exam while I fire up the scanner.”

“Yes, Dr Virgilio.”

It was weird hearing that name used on someone else. ‘Virgil’ wasn’t that common. It rarely happened that they came across someone with the same name, and this was only a surname.

Still weird.

The Cat eyed Mia as she began methodically checking her over starting from her nose and working over her body in the direction of her tail. The nurse continued to mutter nonsense comfort words, interspersed with medical reportage to the doctor fiddling with settings on a scanner built into the table top.

Scott recognised the equipment, having used similar in their infirmary, but this one was likely the reverse of why Virgil claimed he couldn’t play vet with their equipment. Sure, his brother had checked The Cat over, even read up on medical procedure for cats, but he had made it very clear he was not a vet.

“She looks healthy, Mr Tracy. Good coat, good muscle tone. Ooh, we have one chipped claw.” The nurse peeled back the fur between The Cat’s left front foot. The tip of one claw could be clearly seen to be missing.

Scott frowned. “How could that have happened?”

Dr Virgilio leaned over to look and The Cat snarled, backing away into Scott.

“Hold still, lovely.” Mia held onto her paw. “Looks to be an old injury.” The nurse looked up at Scott. “You don’t remember this happening?”

“I’ve only had her a short time.” Though it felt much longer.

“Well, it appears to have healed well. Just keep an eye on it.” Dr Virgilio was keeping her distance and attempting to eye the issue at hand.

The Issue at Hand glared at her and snarled.

“Stop that!”

To Scott’s surprise, The Cat actually jumped before turning to look up at him, her eyes narrow.

“Come now, lovely, let’s finish this exam. Then you can snuggle up in your Dad’s lap.”

It was Scott’s turn to be startled. It wasn’t the first time he had been referred to as a parent. Hell, he’d given up correcting Alan’s friends when they were younger. But it had been a while and ‘dad’ would always be a trigger word.

The Cat looked at him again, but this time there was no challenge, just puzzlement.

What was The Cat thinking? She was harder to understand than Alan on a sugar high. Harder than Virgil lost in engineerese or Gordon babbling about fish.

Even harder than John coming home from school and refusing to talk.

The closest comparison was Kayo glaring at him in anger, black eye and all, that time she had gotten into a fight at school defending Alan. It had taken Scott a long time to realise that Kayo used anger as a defence when in truth she was terrified, be it for herself or another.

They both had green eyes.

Great, his sister was a cat.

Nurse Mia finished up the exam while he sat pondering the concepts of pet parenthood versus caring for his family.

The Cat continued to glance up at him and poke at his soul.

She only swiped at the vet one more time and Scott caught her paw. “No, Cat.”

She glared at him, but the paw in his hand relaxed and he let it go.

“She definitely has a connection with you, Mr Tracy. How long have you had her?” The vet frowned up at him.

“Er, a couple of weeks.”

“How are you managing to care for her around your occupation?”

He straightened. “My occupation?”

“You are Scott Tracy, Commander of International Rescue, President of Tracy Industries, are you not? I’m thinking your time is at a premium.”

“We operate as a family, Dr Virgilio. There is always someone available to care for all family members.” Okay, so he had just declared the spawn of evil a family member, but then Alan and Gordon were part of the same family so it was nothing new.

And besides, The Cat tolerated Grandma almost as much as she did Virgil. It was a wise move. Grandma couldn’t burn cat food, after all, and she was often the only one available to feed her.

The vet switched on the scanner and The Cat jumped again as a hologram appeared above her head. The hologram immediately became the enemy and The Cat attacked. Fortunately or unfortunately, the hologram moved as she did, so each time she reached up, so did the hologram.

Mia the nurse was glared at as she tried to hold her still. “C’mon, lovely, you are doing so well.”

The Cat merrowed in protest.

“Yes, well, it has to be done to make sure you are well.”

Dr Virgilio was eyeing the read outs. “She looks well. Body systems appear healthy. She is an entire female, so you will have to consider sterilisation.” She ran her fingers over the controls and the hologram changed, shifting scan. She noted a few things.

Scott, more used to the human form, frowned at the display. It looked like he should be able to understand it, but couldn’t. Nothing was quite in the right place.

“She’s not microchipped. Are you aware of any vaccination history?”

Scott’s shoulders dropped just a little, shaking his head. “I have no knowledge of her medical history.”

“Then we will prep the full spectrum. Mia, could you prepare?”

“Yes, Sal.”

And Scott suddenly found his arms full of pissed off feline as Mia gently let her go. She climbed up his shirt and stabbed him with her claws through the thin material. Her face was suddenly in his and those green eyes pleading.

Time froze for a moment, his memory taking him back to a young Kayo so angry, so scared, clinging to her father’s pants as his Dad introduced her to him and his brothers.

The Cat had that same expression and his heart lurched. He found his arms around her. “It’s okay.” He drew her close.

“Mr Tracy, I have to warn you that she is unlikely to react well to the procedure.”

“Needles?” He sighed when she nodded. “I have four younger brothers, doctor. It won’t be the first time.”

Alan had been the hardest. He was responsible for his youngest brother at the age of eleven. There had been enough inoculations and blood tests to tackle that he had become experienced. Didn’t make it any easier to see his littlest brother hurting.

Gordon was a whole different kettle of fish. Gordon had already been to hell and back several times so needles were disregarded as nothing. At least that was what he wanted everyone else to believe. Scott knew better. Every medical procedure risked triggering unpleasant memories so all needles were treated warily.

John hid, but once persuaded, took it all stoically and logically and why would I neglect such an important medical procedure, Scott?

Ironically, it was Virgil who was the worst. For a man who literally practised medicine, the most pedantic in chasing up everyone else, the bear was a wuss when it came to needles.

Scott was the one who had to hunt him down and it often took Gordon’s muscles as well as his own to wrestle the man into a tetanus shot. Grandma frowned every time and shook her head. It was like the medic had two brains, one logical and the other manic.

Kayo, on the other hand, would walk up, roll up her sleeve and take the shot without a problem, and then spend the rest of the day in a foul mood. There had been both furniture and Tracy casualties in the past.

The Cat snuggled against his chest, the odd pitiful sound emitting against the cotton of his shirt.

As for himself, he had never been a fan of needles, but he was the eldest. He looked after himself.

The Virgil at the back of his head scoffed at that statement.

Shut up, you can’t talk.

So, yeah, needles, not a Tracy favourite. Cat Tracy would likely be no different. Gotta keep the family tradition.

Nurse Mia brought a tray over to the table. An array of hypodermics were laid out ready for use. Scott’s eyes widened at the size of one of them. He felt like asking why they were going to stick his cat with the prong of a pitchfork, but he was the Commander of International Rescue, he could do this.

Sorry, Cat.

It was like saying sorry to Virgil as he held him down and Grandma stabbed him in the arm.

Necessary evil.

There were a lot of those in his life.

“Did you want to hold her?” Dr Virgilio’s expression was understanding. When he nodded, she directed him to a chair. “It is likely she won’t react well. Try to keep her calm. I will try to be as gentle as possible.”

Scott found himself stroking The Cat and murmuring the same litany he might try for an injured child in the field.

She looked up at him, those green eyes again catching him in their depths.

He had no idea why she had attached to him. Other than the country involved, he had no idea how she had found him, how she had managed to get aboard his ‘bird – Brains was still trying to work it out; the best guess being that she had jumped onto the back of his chair as he retracted it back into One, but why was definitely still a mystery.

Mia reached in and snagged The Cat’s rear left leg. The vet swooped in before she could react and The Cat cried out. She struggled, claws digging again into his chest enough to cause him to grit his teeth. But again, the pair dove in, grabbed another leg and his heart hurt as she cried again.

He stroked her, muttering quietly.

The nurse held this leg a moment longer and the vet reached in with an empty hypodermic.

Scott clutched Cat to him as the Vet drew blood.

Cat was shaking.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure, Cat or himself.

Fingers reached in and caught her scruff. A spray of something that smelt chemical and she flinched away, meowing.

He saw the needle coming and held her tight. It was huge! He fought the urge to back away himself.

“Nearly done, Mr Tracy.”

A hand touched his shoulder and his peripheral senses registered the nurse holding him still.

Cat cried out and drew blood through his shirt. This one took longer and Scott cringed.

Then it was over.

Cat continued to shake in his arms and, as the vet turned away and the nurse gathered the remains on the tray, Scott found himself clinging to The Cat as much as she was to him. His hand stroked her head gently, he was quietly muttering down to her.

His heart was beating a mile a minute.

The Commander of International Rescue he was not.

Stupid Cat.

He only held her tighter.

“Mr Tracy? Are you okay?”

He looked up at the nurse and realised he was rocking on the spot. “I’m fine.”

“She really trusts you.”

A blink. “Huh?”

“Cats usually try to escape. She is clinging to you.” She frowned at his shirt. “You should swab them with alcohol. Cat scratches can get nasty if not attended to.”

He looked down. There were specks of blood soaking through his shirt. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay, Mr Tracy. Her microchip is responding. I will email you a copy of what we have done today and send you her blood results when they come through. I’ll include her microchip details and who you need to contact should you change address. Keep an eye on the injection sites. Watch for any persistent swelling. Don’t hesitate to contact us if you have any questions.”

He was still sitting with His Cat cradled in his arms.

He needed to move.

He rose to his feet and Cat responded by pulling out one set of claws and jabbing him in a new spot.

He didn’t care.

“Did you want to return her to her carrier?” The nurse was frowning up at him.

“No, no, she’s good where she is.” He didn’t want to let go.

“Are you sure? The waiting room contains dogs.”

Cat was curled up under his chin. “We’ll be fine.”

Nurse Mia stared at him a moment. “You will want to hold on to her tightly. We can’t be held responsible if she gets loose.”

Commander voice. “We’ll be fine.”

She held his gaze a moment longer. He had to give her credit for that. Most would have fled by now. She picked up the cat carrier and held open the door.

“Mr Tracy?”

He turned to find the tiny vet staring up at him. “You did good. I can see why you are so good at what you do.”

He blinked and cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

She smiled just a little. “Stay safe, Mr Tracy, and let us know if you need any help with Cat.”

Cat hissed in her direction.

“FAB.”

Her eyes widened and her smile spread.

Definitely a fan.

Despite everything, he found himself smiling in return.

Nurse Mia led him back to reception. He found a familiar figure leaning against the desk. Dressed in his usual casual red flannel, Virgil appeared to be having an energetic discussion with another nurse. The moment he caught sight of Scott, however, he straightened and narrowed in on his brother.

“Hey, you look beat.” His eyes tracked over bloodstains and Cat who was still curled up in his arms. “Aww, rough time.”

“Immunization.”

Virgil winced.

“Blood test.”

Virgil grimaced.

“Microchip.”

“Oh god, honey.” His hand hovered over Cat but didn’t quite touch her. “Well, I guess some treats are due tonight and a little pampering.”

“Could you grab my credit card.”

Virgil arched an eyebrow and reaching around,pulled Scott’s wallet out of his back pocket. “We talking the black one?”

“Yeah. Whatever it costs.” Nurse Mia’s eyes were bouncing between the two of them.

Scott stroked Cat’s head.

Virgil finished up the bill and grabbed the cat box. Scott wasn’t paying much attention. He found himself out the front of the vet surgery, Virgil loading the box into a Tracy fleet car.

“I have Two at the airfield.” He eyed Cat. “Want me to drive?”

Distracted, staring down at Cat who had finally stopped shaking and was now hesitantly peering out at the world around her. “Sure.”

There was an eyebrow raised at that. So, he was usually a control freak, big deal.

He climbed carefully into the passenger side of the car while Virgil hopped behind the steering wheel.

“So, I guess I have a new sister.”

“What?” Scott looked up as Virgil pulled the car away from the curb.

“You have that same expression when any of us are hurt. I’ve seen you hold Allie like that.”

Scott glared. “She’s a cat.”

Virgil shrugged. “Sure. But she’s also family.” It was said daring him to deny it.

His shoulders dropped and he looked down at the spotted furball in his arms.

Green, mischievous eyes peered back up at him.

Quietly. “Yeah, she is.”

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[honey-dewey]

Bomb (of the Bath Variety)

Pairing: Ezra/Reader

Word Count: 2,184

Warnings: None! 

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Someone please introduce this man to the concept of a spa day. He just needs to relax in a tub with Epsom salts for the muscle pain and a bath bomb because they smell nice. He needs someone else to wash his hair for once because god knows he can’t do it. He needs to be introduced to moisturizers and other skin care products. He also needs (wants) funky colored nails. 

“Jesus Ezra!” You shouted, seeing him shuffle into the pod, covered in grime. “What did you do all day?”

“Uh,” Ezra hesitated, biting down on his glove and pulling it off. “Cee pushed me into a dirt hole.”

Cee nodded. “Can confirm,” she said with a grin. “I’m headed next door so I can bathe.”

You waved to her, watching the hatch shut once more. “And you,” you said to Ezra as he tried to sneak past you. “Get in the bathroom.”

Ezra pouted, but listened. He didn’t hate bathing, but he wasn’t super keen on it either. It was a hard task when you only had one hand, but today would be different. If you’d set it up right, today would be pure bliss for Ezra.

Starting with you turning the shower off.

“Moonlight?” He turned when you cut the water, clearly confused. “I thought I had to bathe.”

“You do,” you agreed, kneeling beside the bathtub and turning it on. “Ez, you’re taking a spa day.”

“A what now?”

You stood, slowly working a still confused but now considerably more relaxed Ezra out of his work suit, pushing the leather harness off his shoulders. “A spa day, Ezra. Where you take a day to just relax. Get all clean and done up with nice products.”

Ezra shrugged, looking into the bathtub that was steadily filling with water. “That’s gotta be some fancy tradition from your planet, because I’ve never heard of that before.”

“You were a state ward!” You pointed out, bending to grab a cardboard box of various spa day supplies you’d been saving for an occasion such as this. “You’d also never held a real book or eaten a full meal until you started prospecting.”

“Fair,” Ezra hummed. He wasn’t one to open up about his past, especially his days as a state ward. But you’d caught glimpses of the life he’d led prior to becoming a prospector. Cold bunks crammed into a room full of underage orphaned boys, all shivering. No one had a family name, and it was rare any one of them was happy, or really even survived to make it out. Apparently, at the state house Ezra had been raised at, the suicide rate was almost 40%.

But that was the past, and this was the present. You opened the box and pulled out a bath bomb, reading the label and setting it on the counter. “You like mint, right?”

“Of course,” Ezra said. “Reminds me of you.”

You smiled, turning to kiss Ezra. “Get in the tub Ez.”

Ezra, with that beautiful crooked grin on his face, removed the last of his clothes and stepped into the tub. “You know, this tub has room for two.”

“Shame I won’t be getting in,” you said. “I already bathed.”

Ezra pouted. “Moonlight, you wound me.”

“My sun, this is about you, not me.” You handed him the bath bomb. “Go ahead and put that in the water. I have some epsom salts in here, I know it.”

As you knelt down to find the pesky bag of salts, Ezra put the bath bomb in the water, gasping as it began to fizz. “Moonlight! It’s dissolving!”

“It’s supposed to,” you said, standing with the bag of salts. Ezra poked the bath bomb with a happy grin, his finger going green from the fizz. “It’s called a bath bomb for a reason. Scoot.”

As Ezra moved reluctantly from the bath bomb, you measured out two cups of epsom salts and poured them into the bath as well. Ezra was clearly disappointed when they didn’t fizz like the last thing you’d put in the water, but the slight rosy smell was enough to make up for it. “What is that for?”

“Epsom salts help with muscle pain,” you said, putting the bag down and dragging a stool over so you could sit at Ezra’s height. “I use them sometimes after we do really bad prospecting trips. Hopefully, they’ll help with your arm.”

Ezra’s face darkened, the delicate subject of his right arm, or lack thereof, causing the mood to sour. You sensed the change in the air and immediately brightened your tone. “But, that’s not all we’re here for,” you said. “Depending on how far you’re willing to let me go, we could be here for hours. I bet Cee would join us for face masks,” you added as an afterthought.

“Face what now?”

“Masks.” You held up one of the tubs of clay masks you had. “They help with your skin.”

Ezra grinned. “I shall partake in this face mask ritual on one condition.”

Rolling your eyes playfully at your poet of a boyfriend, you crossed your legs. “And what would that condition be, my sun?”

“Paint my nails?”

It was an odd request, but one you weren’t about to turn down. “Okay. Consider it done.”

You let Ezra soak for a while, sitting beside him on the stool and reading. It was a book aimed mostly at teenagers, but Ezra had said something about it being Cee’s favorite and now you were determined to read it. So far, it was pretty good.

Eventually, you put the book down and convinced Ezra to dunk his head under the water. When he came up, water running in thin streams down his skin and hair plastered to his head, you laughed and picked up a bottle of rose water shampoo.

“Lean back,” you instructed softly, laying a towel across your lap so Ezra wouldn’t soak your pants. He rested his neck on the edge of the tub, head falling back into your hands. “Comfy?”

“Could be worse,” Ezra decided. You leaned down to kiss his damp forehead, making a face when the soapy tang of the bath bomb and epsom salt water rolled over your tongue.

Sitting back up and popping open the shampoo bottle, you squeezed an appropriate amount into your hand and began to massage it into Ezra’s scalp.

The effect was immediate. He groaned, entire body relaxing as your deft fingers worked away the dirt and buildup from his hair. Ezra bathed every few days, just like everyone else, but with his once dominant hand gone, his job washing himself was lackluster at best. For him, you properly washing through his hair must’ve felt like pure heaven.

You scratched through his hair for longer than was probably necessary, keeping him in that blissed out state. When you finally lifted a plastic cup with water to his head and began to rinse the suds away, he keened softly, vocalizing his dislike of your lack of touch. You apologized, taking your non-dominant hand and sliding it up his forehead, settling it just before Ezra’s hairline to shield his eyes from the soapy water trickling down his face.

Tugging on the blond streak in Ezra’s hair, you discretely ran your fingers through it, slowly spiking it up into a mohawk.

“My moonlight, what are you doing?”

“Shit.” You didn’t stop in your actions, only finished what you were doing despite being caught. “Take a look.” You held a hand mirror out, giving Ezra a view of his new hairdo.

“Moonlight,” he said, turning to face you. It was too much. You broke down into laughter, doubled over and Ezra smiled and ducked his head beneath the water to return his hair to its plastered look.

Once your laughing fit had come to an end, you straightened and began to massage a small dollop of conditioner into Ezra’s hair. Restraining yourself from giving him yet another mohawk, you scratched your fingers over Ezra’s scalp for almost five minutes. He relaxed yet again against the porcelain rim of the tub, breathing evening out as he practically fell asleep beneath your hands.

You were slow going in your rinsing out of Ezra’s hair, trying not to wake him from his impromptu nap. He hummed, and when you put the cup down and seemed his hair free of conditioner, he reached up and cupped your neck. Pulling you close, he kissed you, lips molding perfectly despite being upside down. “I love you, moonlight.”

Smiling and pressing an upside down kiss to Ezra’s forehead, you softly murmured into his skin. “I love you too, my sun.”

Ezra got out of the tub some time later, once you’d helped him scrub dirt out of every crevasse of his body. The water was more brown than green at that point, but Ezra was clean. You held his hand as he stepped out of the tub and watched as he dried himself off, insistent that he could do it by himself.

As he dressed himself in soft sleep clothes, you called Cee in. She was eager to partake in your spa day, also dressed in her pyjamas. She had a few bandages spanning her skin, small ones indicative of minor scrapes. You counted three, one on her right wrist, one further up her right forearm, and one on her left foot. How she’d scratched herself through the boots and suit she wore on her jobs, you had no idea.

“I didn’t even know you had clay masks!” Cee said happily, opening the jar and taking a wooden popsicle stick to start applying it to her face.

“I made it myself,” you said, grabbing a second jar to start plastering the grey/brown paste to Ezra’s face. “It’s one of the only things I can make myself.”

Once all three of you had been properly covered in the clay, you began to slowly diffuse Ezra’s wet hair. Cee sat by, reading the book you’d been reading earlier. Nearly twenty minutes later, Ezra’s hair was dry and shockingly curly and the three clay masks were hardened.

“Thanks for sharing,” Cee said as you handed her a damp washcloth. “I don’t remember the last time I had a spa day.”

“We’ll have to do them more often then,” you decided firmly, passing Ezra the other washcloth. “My sun, do you still want me to do your nails?”

Ezra nodded. “Yes please.”

“Should I do yours too?” You turned to Cee, who shook her head.

“I don’t paint my nails,” she said softly. “Plus, I am exhausted. That prospect was hard as hell. Gonna go nap as soon as I’m clay free.”

True to her word, once Cee’s face was clean, she bid you both good night before leaving to go take a nap.

You took her washcloth, but Ezra stopped you before you could lift it to your face. “My moonlight, can I clean your face? Please? After all you’ve done for me, I want to make it even.”

You smiled, letting Ezra take the washcloth. “You don’t need to worry about making it even, my sun. I’m doing this because I love you.”

Despite your reassurance, Ezra gently began to rub the washcloth across your face in small circles, clearing away the clay as he worked. His hand was warm and soft, and you carefully put your forearms on his shoulders to keep yourself still.

When Ezra was done, he kissed every inch of your face he could while you writhed with laughter underneath him. “Ezra!” You shouted happily, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Ezra, my sun! I yield!”

Ezra pulled back, lips quirked in a smile. “I’m sorry my moonlight, but I couldn’t help myself.”

You hopped off the countertop you’d been sitting on and grabbed your small box of nail polishes. “Give me your hand,” you said, getting back on the counter and pulling out a small nail file. Ezra put his hand in your lap and sat on the stool you’d been using.

It was a gentle, silent process. You filed Ezra’s nails down, wincing at the bitten away stubs you were trying to fix. “Ez, it’s a miracle you don’t have an infection,” you said softly, finishing on his little finger. “This is bad.”

Ezra looked at his knees, shrugging halfheartedly. “I know.”

You kissed each of his fingertips, pressing one final kiss into his palm. “I love you anyway.”

That brightened Ezra’s downcast face. “I know.”

You found a beautiful mustard yellow nail polish and a glittery gold polish, slowly painting each of Ezra’s fingernails with expert precision. He was still, watching you work with a look of wonder on his face. “You’re amazing.”

Putting the finishing touch on Ezra’s thumb, you put the cap back on the gold bottle and smiled. “Thank you, my sun.”

Ezra waited a few minutes for the polish to dry before looking at it properly. The yellow color was muted, but still a nice rich shade. What really made it pop was the gold accents, reflecting the shitty bathroom lights and drawing attention.

“I like it,” Ezra decided firmly, curling his fingers and watching the gold dance.

“I’m glad,” you said, sliding off the counter. “Wanna make dinner?”

Ezra nodded, kissing your forehead and pulling you into a firm hug. “We’re doing spa days more often,” he said into your shoulder. “Please?”

Hugging Ezra, you nodded, relishing in the mint and rose water smell. “Absolutely, my sun. Absolutely.”

[a-cherry-blossoming]

So this is a post of a fantasy Cherry was required to pen as a consequence for not completing writing assignments. Her writing assignments are supposed to demonstrate her acceptance about her role as a fucktoy. For this one, Cherry must conjure a scene in which she is co-topped by a dominant considering her @candi-gram and a dominant who is a long-standing, antagonistic mentor/frenemy.

Cherry’s nerves were shot. Sir told her that there would be a surprise visitor, an old friend of hers. He would be staying in the adjoining suite for the next two days. She wanted to question. She wanted to demand. She wanted a hint. He, who? Old friend from when?

Cherry: Sir, can Cherry ask

Sir: No, hush not another word.

Cherry: …please…

**smack**

Cherry knew better than to try to manipulate, especially when he knew what she wanted. So, she focused on being as good as she could. The night passed easily because she did everything Sir asked, when he asked, without a fuss. He knew she was angling and used it against her giving up nothing. She felt a gnawing suspicion that something unusual was set in motion. She had no say. Her role was to obey. Her obvious discomfort was amusing to Sir.

Sir startled her awake at 3:45 am. She was already naked. Cherry pleaded with Sir for him to please let her sleep or use her…but He bound her hands behind her back and walked her over to the closet. She got in and he tied her feet together and bound her arms to the closet bar so she was uncomfortably immobilized. It wasn’t immediately painful but would be over time. He had never done something like this in the middle of the night. He placed head phones on her ears and heavy metal music blared. She looked up pleading…why Sir? Why are you doing this? But she knew the reason why was because he could. She forgets sometimes that every comfort, every minute he allows her to rest, any peaceful silence, these are all privileges. The song was on repeat…”Crazy bitch…” an awful song the first time but after a 100 times the refrain could send her into a murderous rage…She sometimes forgets her comfort is a privilege and is lucky that she can rely on him to keep this in the forefront of her consciousness. She couldn’t sleep or relax all night. She felt edgy, then angry, then exhausted, then edgy again. He returned to her sometime later. It felt as though hours had passed. He untied her from the closet bar but left her restrained with her arms behind her back. She’s slept maybe 4 hours before her predicament. She was relieved the music and position had changed. Her relief quickly eclipsed by nervousness by Sir’s obvious sadistic glee about what awaited her.

“Come” he instructed her to follow him, pointing to his right side. She tried to crawl which was a painstakingly slow process with her arms tied behind her. He sighed showing his disdain for her pace. She quickened but still felt frustrated with her own lack of mobility. He kicked her over and watched as she struggled to re-situate herself and begin to move toward the next room on his heels.

She registered who her visitor was before she heard him. Her state—restrained, exhausted, obedient was exactly what he had impressed upon her was her natural state—despite herself. She almost felt herself bristle, haughtily, but caught herself. He’d catch it or Sir would. This was a hostile territory for a disrespectful, dumb cunt. She knew she’d been out matched and the consequences would be what the consequences would be…she was just mentally trying to anticipate them. Not a strategy that’d really served her with either of these men previously. Each different in how and why they were wicked but both wicked nevertheless.

They began to speak of her as though she wasn’t present. They discussed training goals and her progress over the last year that she had been under consideration by Sir. They discussed how it may be confusing for her to call both of them “Sir” and then He turned and said, “you will call me ‘Daddy’…”

She didn’t do “Daddy” and he knew it. In fact, the only reason he required her to call her that is that He specifically knew how much it would make her skin crawl. It’s not that she threw shade to anyone in the community who wanted a daddy…it just wasn’t her thing. It also wasn’t his thing. He knew she knew this. It was a test.

Sir also knew this about Cherry…and picked right up on the request. Asking her, “do you understand?”

Cherry: Yes, Sir.

Him: Are you sure you understand?

Cherry (look up beseechingly): Really, Sir?

*smack* *smack*

Cherry: (softly) please can we do something else, Sir?

*smack, smack*

Cherry felt sick to her stomach. Sir had the pain scraper in his hand and handed it to other Sir soon-to-be-Daddy. He fastened clamps to her nipples, pulling her breast up painfully, and beat the undersides with the blunt rubber implement.

Him: Still confused?

Cherry: No, Daddy.

She closed her eyes as she said it hoping to transcend whatever would come next.

Him: who? Louder and be grateful.

*thud to left breast*

Cherry: Thank you, Daddy

*thud to right breast*

Cherry: Thank you, Daddy (twisting her face up in disgust)

(Over and over)

Cherry wondered if she was bleeding the underside of her breast felt so raw. She was so stupid to not obey. She deserved this.

Daddy: Has she broken yet? Ever? She was so sure she never would at one time

Sir: (chuckling) oh, yes…she held on to that for as long as possible…but it turned out that a backhand was rather instructive in bringing her along. Sir told the story of how he first broke her with pride as her face burned with humiliation. What she begged for and how she howled.

Daddy (to Cherry): really? I would love to see that

Sir casually backhands Cherry hard knocking her off balance so she falls over. He grabs her by her hair and returns her to position calling her a ‘clumsy slut’ backhanding her from the other side as she begins to settle.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…this is not going Cherry’s way at all. Cry you stupid bitch or he will keep going…she coaches herself. Yet, she is unable to make the tears come. He back hands her 3 more times, she sees stars, she feels disoriented. He spits in her face and smacks her again. A lone tear falls from her right eye. Once she starts crying she can’t stop and a guttural moan escapes from somewhere deep within. She wants to hide but her desires do not matter here.

Daddy cups her tear stained, reddened face making her look at Him.

Daddy: I told you, you would break. You are just such a stubborn cunt sometimes, aren’t you?

Cherry: (no longer questioning the daddy business) Yes, Daddy. Cherry is a stubborn cunt she should listen (choked through tears) she should listen better.

Daddy: that she should, but, now is probably a better time for talking. (To Sir) it’s a good start (laughing sadistically)

Sir begins to loosen her restraint from behind her back and she feels a momentary sense of relief. Only then she realizes that there is a chair that was moved to the center of the room during her assault. Sir begins to move her towards the chair. Daddy moves into the bathroom and the water begins running ominously into the bath.

Sir: We have some questions we will need you to answer, Cherry.

Daddy has rope in his hand. The running water is freaking her out. They could easily dunk the whole chair in the tub with her tied to it. She wouldn’t put it past either of them.

Cherry: Yes, Sir, Daddy, Master Domly pants

Sir: (laughing) You are so going to regret that…but you can’t help yourself can you…(hard back hand)

Cherry tastes blood…oh fuck this is only the beginning

[i-donot-forget]

Second Conversation - Lance

Eldarya New Era Words : 1437

Maturing means having to deal with people we don't like ... for now. I hope to continue translating these conversations and I hope you like it

#Eldarya conversaciones

Before dawn, those moments of intense darkness before the light bathes everything. The silence in the hallways was clear proof that everyone was asleep, until the sound of careful footsteps from someone in full armor was the first announcement of a new day. Three gentle knocks on the door of the last Aengel were enough to put the young woman on alert, she quickly noticed the lack of sun and imagined an urgency, but the surprise she was taken was the fact that Lance was on the other side. She looked at him strangely and it was evident in her face that she had not yet fully awakened, she seemed to doubt if he was really there or if she was still sleeping. After what seemed like an eternity of strange looks, Lance deigned to speak.

- Good morning Erika, I came to find you to train. -

The young woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously, she leaned out the door and looked in both directions, the corridor was deserted.

- What time is it? -

She asked sleepily.

- It's almost 4 am. -

- Almost 4am !? Are you crazy? -

- Then I'll go find Mathieu. -

- When the man was about to leave, Erika whispered to him under her breath. -

- Where? -

- Outside the C.G, by the gates. -

The young woman closed the door, got dressed and took the opportunity to see the time, barely 04:09, without knowing why she suspected that Lance had a reason for such "dedication." The tapping of her sword on her thigh was already an imperceptible sign of security, somehow being without "her" was like being "off duty" as if just by wearing it on her waist she was already prepared for everything, even when she wasn't.

She left the C.G and when she saw the calm she was glad for a moment to think that they all slept safely in their beds, her return did not imply more for her than a short nap that considerably reduced her underdeveloped combat skills, the future promised her incomparable power, but it was a bit disappointing and almost embarrassing to have to accept her current state. She used to think that her powers were like “winning the lottery”, while now her inability to use them felt like "losing the golden ticket", so she had put aside her pride a bit by appealing to maturity, one step was to accept Lance's training.

When crossing the doors it was still night so it was difficult for her to glimpse the Lance's figure a few meters from the door looking towards the coast, his posture was upright and imposing, resting his hands on his sword as if it were part of him. He turned towards her and watched her movement until she was in position, both with their weapons drawn and at a safe distance, Lance was the first to advance, he gave her time to move and defend herself, but Erika had her mind elsewhere, It took him less than half an hour to put her face down on the ground, Lance stopped and sighed.

- You're not very good under normal conditions, but you're so distracted now that I'm wasting my time. -

He stabbed his sword into the ground, expecting her to respond with her usual animosity, but nothing, for a moment it seemed like she was going to say something but Erika held back.

- Come on Erika, why don't you say what you're thinking so we can train? -

- Why did you look for me? You know I can train with Jamon, even with Matheiu. -

- Huang Hua said that a little "push" would be good for you. -

Erika was silent for a few moments, thoughtful, although she improved every day nothing seemed to be a sufficient advance, her memories of 7 years ago only increased her frustration, always in danger, always the one that has to be rescued, always in the infirmary, always on the edge…

- I didn't think that she… -

- Won't you tell me you're surprised that Huang Hua cares about you? I thought you would be used to it. -

- I'm not so sure lately. -

Lance returned to his fighting position, Erika immediately imitated him, this time it was she who charged towards him, the combat was taking more shape, it was evident that she was serious, when the sky began to clear Erika was at her peak of concentration and Lance had noticed, subtly raising the level with each blow, each step, until an intruder entered the scene, the girl was distracted and Lance used the opening to bring her down. She was slightly annoyed when she saw who it was, she managed to make out Matheiu's figure out of the corner of her eye before his opponent caught her eye.

- Concentrate, forget about the rest. -

Erika restrained herself from looking to the side, she stood up in a defensive posture, breathing deeply, tightening the grip of her sword with both hands and sliding her left heel across the floor to ensure the greatest possible momentum, she could see how Lance analyzed her every action. They continued fighting and Erika was surprised when she could understand Lance's peculiar way of teaching, unlike Jamon who gave her clear instructions and corrections, Lance didn't say a word, but she had already caught the rhythm, when she made a mistake in a posture or taking her sword, how to attack or dodge, Lance charged directly at her weaknesses. If her posture was wrong, he would attack first; otherwise, he would only defend himself until she made a mistake.

The first rays of the sun came accompanied by curious eyes that stopped to enthusiastically observe the spectacle of the couple, obviously keeping their distance and silence, Erika understood then why Lance had come to look for her so early.

- Does it happen often when you train? -

- Sometimes, although I suspect that you are the one who attracts the most attention. -

- Why? I thought you were the strongest in the C.G. -

- I am the most powerful of the C.G. -

- You may believe it, but I clearly remember the battle on the beach ... you're not that good. -

Erika sneered with an insolent humor at which Lance only smirked.

- That was an exception… -

- Oh yeah? And why would it be an exception? -

- Because you two set me up, you attacked me by surprise, 2 against 1, not forgetting that you caught me off guard. I thought that you're just a human. Don't worry, it won't happen again. -

Now it was he who made fun of her, they kept their swords clashing with intensity but without getting tired, Erika had not been wasting time since her awake, every day she made an effort to increase her resistance, her strength, agility,she learn from the lessons, she wasted almost no energy or made unnecessary movements and Lance squeezed his advances.

Erika still had the energy to continue when Lance stopped training, they had a day ahead and it was time to eat, and it was not a bad idea to maintain that feeling of vigor. They sheathed their weapons and walked together back to the C.G in complete silence, as they passed through the market, a young man stopped Lance to consult him on some mission. At that moment she felt him, she did not need to look for it in the crowd, she knew exactly where to look. Their eyes met, drawing a smile full of melancholy, she deliberately avoided thinking about him, there were too many painful emotions, thinking about him felt bad, he was like a stranger, but for some reason, none of that mattered, a small part inside her still loved him and hated herself for it.

Leiftan broke eye contact and his face tightened, he frowned slightly, or maybe she just felt it, she tried to follow Leiftan's gaze and stopped in her tracks when she noticed he was looking at Lance, they both seemed to challenge each other, Erika remembered the times she had seen them collide with each other, they never exchanged more than a few words, at least in her presence. They had a past together, they knew each other, if Leiftan had ever shown his true personality, without masks or deception, it was Lance. Betrayed by her thoughts and natural impulsiveness, she blurted out a question that should have stayed in her head.

- How did you meet him? -

Erika kept her gaze on the Aengel when her words landed, she turned to Lance who seemed like he couldn't believe what she had said, before he managed to stammer an excuse Erika fled in terror without saying anything else.

[smol-and-grumpy]

EUPHORIA - Chapter 26

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: Flangst

WC: 2858

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

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Dean left her all flustered and oh god, he accepted and didn't object when she introduced him as her boyfriend. 

Her fucking boyfriend! 

Her friend, who is a boy and who she’s fucking!

The first one after Cole. The second one ever.

Charlie winked when she walked into the room light headed and Y/N could not hide her stupid grin even if she would have tried.

Y/N sighs and rolls her eyes at her friend before she makes her way over to her. 

Charlie’s actually a very good friend, if not one of her best friends. They met in college where they both pursued the same dream. Charlie moved away though, leaving her alone in the city and just yesterday morning  she got a text from Charlie while she was on the train saying that Charlie was attending the workshop too. 

Immediately, Charlie is all over her when Y/N sits down but at least Charlie was considerate enough and went to grab coffee for the both of them from the back of the room, where the organizers have a little breakfast table set up. 

“So,” Charlie’s still grinning stupidly, “Your boyfriend, huh?”

“God, can we not talk about that, Charlie?” 

“What do you mean?” The woman sounds offended, “When do you wanna talk about it? When we’re on the fucking phone?”

Well, Charlie’s not wrong. They rarely see each other anymore apart from from the weekly phone calls and she hasn’t had the time nor the feeling that she should update Charlie about her relationship status yet. Dean was kind of a secret because she’s not sure where what ever they have would lead to and she’s not the one who jumps the gun.

Y/N takes a look around them. People are still mingling together and the host hasn’t started with the morning briefing of the workshop yet. In fact, the desk in the front isn’t set up at all. 

Turning back to Charlie, she’s met by the woman’s pout. She groans and sighs, “Well, he’s Dean.”

“Duh,”

“Winchester.” She adds.

Charlie’s eyes widen, “The same Dean Winchester you went to high school with?”

“Ya!” 

“What are the fucking chances?” Charlie laughs.

“I know!” She couldn’t help but laugh with her friend.

“The Winchester boy who I caught you during lecture writing a story about?” Charlie squints her eyes, but the smile’s still there. 

She cringes at the memory, because she doesn't like to think back to college. It brings back memories of Cole and she doesn’t like that thought, at all. And oh god, she was daydreaming a lot during their lectures, and yeah, Charlie’s not wrong. She once started to write a short story about a boy who was too cocky for his own good . She even gave the story that title, if she remembers rightly.

Y/N nods her head. There’s not a chance she can hide the flush of her face from Charlie. The woman always knows it. 

Charlie lets out a squeal and wraps her arms around Y/N, nearly sending her coffee spilling onto both of them. When Charlie parts, she looks at Y/N, and she can detect a hint of concern on her friend’s face, “Does he treat you right? Please tell me he does.”

“Don’t worry Charlie, I’m not rushing into anything, I’ve learned my lessons.” 

They both know what she’s talking about. Charlie was right the fuck there when it started with Cole. It was in their last year of college. Cole was working at the bar  they frequented and she really didn’t know what he saw in her, but she was so head over heels in whatever the feeling was , because it sure as hell wasn’t love. It was kind of a new feeling to be wanted by someone, so new that she ignored all the fucking red flags Cole waved in front of her. It was a whirlwind romance. She moved in with him as soon as she finished college and Cole had her cut all ties to Charlie. Behind his back, she managed to keep her contact with Charlie though. Charlie was so mad at her, but still she remained in her life because Charlie knew that without her, Y/N would have nobody. 

After Charlie spent years persuading her that Cole wasn’t good for her, she finally caved. It was a long process of understanding that what she had was not healthy. That the one person she trusted the most was misusing her trust. It was a long way to realize Cole’s toxic behaviour, but she was glad that she finally got it in her head. 

The last straw was actually, when Cole promised her to finally find a decent job but instead of going out and doing some job hunting, she found him in their fucking bed with another woman. Apparently it wasn’t the first either. She felt so fucking dirty afterwards and ran to Charlie. Her friend helped her leave him for good, but Cole began to hunt her down and pretended that he wanted her back, stalking her wherever she went. It was again Charlie who went to the police with her to file a restraining order. 

So, yeah, Y/N gets that Charlie is overprotective when it comes to her, and her friend is just afraid that Y/N will make the same mistake again.

“You deserve a good guy, you know?” Charlie says and it’s sincere. 

“I know. I think Dean’s alright in that department.” She grins when she thinks of him, how can she not, “He had a crush on me in high school.”

“He did not.”

“Did, too!”

“You had one on him, too, didn’t you?” Charlie asks.

“I mean, who didn’t? He was Dean Winchester. The bad boy everyone was gushing over.”

*

Her and Charlie continued to talk until the workshop started. They talked again at lunch. She told her friend everything. How Dean earns his money, how he took care of her when she was sick, how she’s so insecure that she gets jealous of other women and thinks that Dean only plays with her feelings. That is apparently normal, Charlie said, and she begged for Y/N to let her come see the club and she promised to ask Dean about it.

They went to dinner together in the evening and Charlie made the drive home because she had work the next morning and Charlie doesn’t live too far away from here, unlike her. She has to stay another night and take the train home in the morning. 

Y/N keys in her card, debates on taking the DO NOT DISTURB sign back in but decides to leave it on the door. Once inside she can still smell Dean’s cologne. She walks to the unmade bed and dives face first into it and buries her face into the covers and pillow where he was sleeping last night. The smell of his skin still lingers in the sheets and she breathes it in.

They texted today while she had lunch and some more during dinner, but that’s about it. It’s almost 10pm. Dean’s working right now, and even though she would love to hear his voice, she decides not to call. She’ll see him tomorrow. It’s not that far away when she thinks about it. Still… it’s so close, yet so far. 

She closes her eyes, breathing in his scent some more even though she knows that she should pack her things to be ready to leave before 6am but dragging herself away just seems impossible right now. She also knows that if she’d hurry, she can be back in bed sooner and buries her face back in here, but still, she’s just too fucking weak right now. 

There’s a vibration at the end of the bed, where she left her purse. Yanking her eyes open, she heaves herself up and crawls towards the source. She takes it out and scans the caller ID, smiling as she goes. 

Quickly, she swipes her thumb over the button, “Hey,” Her heart flutters.

“Hey,” Dean replies with a chuckle.

The background sound is muffled. She takes it he’s in his office. 

“How are you?” Dean asks, and Y/N hears the sound of him reclining into his chair, hears the creaking of the leather. 

“Good,” She answers, “‘M so tired.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it out tonight.”

Yeah, he’s told her that already and she was okay with it. It would have been exhausting for him to drive here two nights in a row and she gets it, there’s really nothing that he has to be sorry for.

“Don’t be, that’s okay. I wasn’t expecting you to. And I didn’t even expect you to come here the first night either.”

“I would have,”

“I know.”

“So,” He chuckles, tries to lighten up the mood, “What are you wearing?”

It works, because Y/N’s smiling. She scrambles off the bed, and jams the phone between her cheek and shoulder to pull the zipper down at the back of her skirt, “I’m just getting out of my clothes now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” She tugs at her bottom lip with her teeth, as she lets the skirt slide down her thighs before her hands work on her shirt, “I’m in my underwear.”

“Take it off,” Dean mumbles.

She has to grin at that, “Why?”

“It’s just,” He starts and pauses to think before he adds, “I love it when you wear nothing but a smile on your face.”

“You do?” 

“Yeah, don’t get me wrong. I love it when you wear clothes, especially when you’re wearing my shirts, but I love it when you’re naked, too.” Dean breathes out, “Jesus, I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”

She chuckles.

Just when she’s about to say more, she hears an opening of a door, hears music spilling in and then Dean takes the phone away from his face, hears a muffled ‘ Yeah, I’ll be right down ’.

“Yeah, uh,” He starts, when he’s back on the phone with her, “I’m needed down stairs and now I have a boner. Great. Well, I just wanted to call to say good night. I was hoping to catch you before you went to sleep and now I got more than I bargained for.”

She smiles, “No worries, Dean. I should probably go to sleep soon if I wanna catch the train on time.”

Dean sighs, “I miss you.”

Y/N smiles as she feels her heart clenching. She chuckles, “I miss you too.”

“Text me what time you arrive, okay? I’ll pick you up.”

She grins, “You know that you don’t have to, right?”

“I know, but I want to.”

“‘K,” She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, tries not to squeal because she’s happy.

“Good night, baby.” Dean says and she can hear him smile. 

“Night, Dean.”

*

The train ride was uneventful and as soon as the train arrived at the platform, her heart started to race. Y/N wonders if Dean’s going to be here like he promised. He’d texted her before he left and honestly, she actually felt bad because he’s probably so tired from working and it’s still too early in the morning for him. She wonders if he had slept at all and she doesn’t really want to be the cause if he hadn’t.

Even before the train comes to a halt, Y/N grabs her bag and walks past the other passengers, in order to be the first one to get out. 

She looks around before she descends the steps but there’s no Dean in sight. She continues to walk towards the exit and there’s someone she recognizes but it’s not Dean. 

Cas’ waves at her and walks towards her, but his face is blank. He looks concerned and already her heart starts to thumb faster.

“Hi Y/N,” Cas greets her with a shy hug and takes the bag from her hand. 

“Hi,” She replies, and she really wants to ask him where Dean is, but thinks it would be rude for it to be the first question, wouldn’t it? Fuck it, she decides, she needs to know, “Where’s Dean?”

“Yeah, about that,” Cas starts and starts to walk ahead, leaving her to catch up on him, he places a hand around her shoulder to keep her walking, “I’ll tell you in the car.”

“Cas,” She breathes out and tries to keep up with him without him having to drag her along too much. God, why do they all have to have such fucking long legs! “What’s wrong?”

Cas doesn’t say anything though, he just keeps walking until they arrive at his car and only after he stows away her bag and gets her inside he looks over to her, “Dean’s been in an accident.”

“What?” 

“Yeah, just moments ago. He wanted to pick you up and as soon as he drove into the intersection around the club, a car t-boned his Impala.” Cas tries to explain.

Her hands start to tremble, and she feels nauseous, “I— is he okay?” 

Oh god, please let him be okay.

“Yeah,” Cas breathes out, “Yeah, he is.”

“Oh thank god,” She doesn’t know why she’s crying, but the tears are running down freely.

“The impact wasn’t strong enough. As of now, I know that he has bruised his ribcage. They are checking if anything’s broken and they wouldn’t let him leave the hospital until the cops arrive to take down his statement.”

Oh. Thank fucking god.

“And he sent you.” She says calmly as she brushes at her cheeks. 

Cas smiles weaky, “Yeah, you were his only concern, he didn’t even care about his car. He wanted to make sure that you get home okay.”

Dean didn’t care about his car? That is really new to her. He was so proud since he got it as a hand me down from his dad. She remembers him driving to school with Sam every day and she was actually surprised that he still has it when he took her on their first date with it.

“And the other driver? Are they alright?”

“That’s the thing, we don’t who did it because they fled the scene. We think it has to do with the threats. Now they’re really trying to get Dean, apparently.”

“Shit,” She mutters under her breaths.

“Exactly,” Cas nods, “Anyway, Dean called me to pick you up, said you’d be worried if he didn’t show and he’s really adamant that you’ll get home alright.”

“Can I go see him?”

“That’s my first stop with the Cas-mobile,” Cas winks before he turns on the ignition. 

*

Castiel drove her to the hospital in silence and they had to wait until Dean came back from another x-ray until they were allowed to see him. 

When it was time, Cas said that he’ll wait, and she knows it’s because he wants to give them privacy. 

Y/N walks to Dean’s room on shaky legs, and it’s mainly because she doesn’t know what to expect.

Knocking once, she turns the door knob and peeks her head through. 

Dean’s sitting on the edge of his bed and he’s in a hospital gown but he’s smiling as he greets her, “Hey, I’m sorry I couldn’t mak—”

She’s on him before he could finish the sentence, kisses him hard and soft at the same time, and Dean’s hand goes around her waist, holds her steady and keeps her a safe distance away from his bruised ribs. 

“Don’t be sorry,” She whispers when she breaks the kiss to hold his head between her hands. She looks him in the eyes that are a little weary, but the crinkles are showing around them.

“Jesus, I missed you,” He whispers and pulls her in, grunting when it hurts him and she wants to pull away, wants to take a step back, but Dean wouldn’t let her. Instead he draws her closer to him, grunting and chuckling at the same time as he does. He kisses her again, all soft and tender.

“I was worried,” She says and she leaves her forehead on his. 

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Is anything broken?”

Dean shakes his head, “No, just little bruises here and there.”

“Good,” She says and she just can’t not kiss him again. 

Dean’s arms wrap tightly around her, his hands span over her back, fingers digging into her flesh. 

“I’ve got to wait for the police to arrive. Cas can drive you home and I’ll see you later.”

“No,”

“Baby, I—”

“No, I wanna wait, okay?”

“Okay,” Dean smiles, “Then you should go get something to eat with Cas? I’ll call you when I’m finished.”

She nods and leaves Dean with a bruising kiss, strokes her hand over his scruff and lets her fingertips trace along his face. Y/N hasn’t seen him for a night but it feels like it has been a lifetime and she’s so glad that nothing happened to him. How cruel would it have been, though. She’s only just met him. She doesn’t want anything to take him away from her just yet.

Chapter 27

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