#digs deeper to see if it is possible for them to last long

[lore-gore]

Okay so since I ship Alastor with my oc I've been headcanoning him as grey ace. Well I did more research and I think I may change it to Uniromantic, which the MOGAI wiki defines as: "someone who feels romantic attraction towards one person and one person only, for advanced periods of time, or perhaps one’s whole lifetime. This is a more specific form of greyromantic, in which one only experiences romantic attraction a very small amount of times in their life. Once one is attracted to someone they will not experience romantic attraction to anyone else. One will be attracted to this one person regardless of their own or the other person's changing gender, sexuality, or appearance. One will be attracted to this one person for a long period of time and feels as though they will not experience romantic attraction to anyone else for the foreseeable future. "

Aka what I've been doing with him the entire time.

[intoxicated-chan]

ROUGH MIGUEL PHARA PLEASEEEEEEE ILL DO ANYTHING I’LL GIVE YOU MY KIDNEYS

I Want You to Destroy Me so I’ll Feel Better

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x GN!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel doesn’t get carried away, but he does like to let loose from time-to-time, leaving you limping and bruised… Not like you’re complaining.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “In My Mouth” by Black Dresses. You can keep your kidneys! Thank you for the request, Anon!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 575

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Gender neutral reader, established relationship, reader and Miguel are married, dub-con? bruises, hickies, biting, office sex, fangs, blood, penetration…

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

Miguel wasn’t a big fan letting loose. His biggest fear was doing something that he’d regret, and leave a permanent scar on your body.

But he wasn’t going to lie and say that his employees did frustrate him. There were many times where they were lazy and decided to leave the important numbers or graphs to the unpaid interns, knowing the consequences of leaving an intern to do the work.

Which was the cause of his endless nights in his office, and many meetings of him explaining why leaving interns to do most of the work would land his company in hot water. Luckily, it hasn’t happened but there was always that ONE employee who doesn’t listen.

He was angry, frustrated, hungry, and tired. That’s when his lovely spouse comes in, with a hot meal and dressed in something provocative. He has the perfect stress relief right in front of him.

Miguel had you turned over on his desk, you felt his chest press against your stomach, and his hands kept a firm grip on your wrists, keeping them pinned to the desk. With each thrust, you’re pushed into the desk.

Your eyes are rolled back and you let out airy moans, you don’t know how long Miguel has had you kept in this position. Your body was sweaty, covered in hand marks or hickies, maybe a bite or two.

Miguel pulls out and thrusts back in, he hits all the right spots. You feel ecstasy run throughout your body, setting all kinds of jolts. As he goes harder, if that’s possible, he releases one of your wrists and he grabs your hips, feeling his claws dig into your skin.

The pleasure is making you drool all over his desk, “Miguel!” You gasp and moan his name, you feel him go even deeper, making you moan even louder. Now, you are certain his employees can hear you.

You weren’t even sure if Miguel had locked his door, which means any one of them could walk in.

Miguel spits out many curses in his language, his grip on your hip gets tighter which means he’s also getting close. He leans down and bites your shoulder, you could feel his fangs penetrate. You could feel him drool, his breathing gets heavy.

He pushes you over the edge as you feel yourself cum, the jolt of pleasure flows throughout your body as you let out a final moan. Miguel doesn’t pull out, he slams inside one last time, releasing his cum inside your hole.

You hear him growl and pull from your shoulder, he pants heavily as he doesn’t move. He doesn’t pull out.

You try to lift yourself up but Miguel slams you back down at the desk, “And where do you think you’re going?” He smirks, you could see your blood from the corners of his mouth, his tongue comes out and swipes at the blood, going back into his mouth.

“M-Miguel… You have that meeting-”

“Those idiots can wait, I need you right now. I need you to make me feel better.” Miguel leans down to your ear, “Can you do that for me?” He whispers in your ear.

You nod your head.

“Say it.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Miguel doesn’t waste time and continues his hard and fast past.

You know when you leave his office, you’re going to be stared at. You know you’re going to be limping out of his office… Not like you’re complaining.

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[bachirasbeloved]

chapstick challenge

various bllk boys x gn!reader

ft. bachira, rin, nagi, kunigami, chigiri

genre: fluff

warnings: none

a/n: sunny put this idea into my brain and it grabbed me by the throat so this is the result. head so empty rn. brainworms are so bad. might make a part two hsjghbhjsgdfsk

tags: @keqism @venexus @astranne @stellumi @lilikags

bachira - keeps kissing you like a brat and says he can’t figure out the flavor. (he is lying) barely even lets you finish applying the next one before he’s kissing you again oml. 

is literally so excited when you bring the idea up to him after all of the chapsticks arrive in the mail one day. 

keeps trying to sneak a look at the packaging when you’re setting everything up so you make him turn around and face the wall.  

whines and complains about how long your taking until you have the first one applied and hidden away before giving him the okay to face you again.

bachira lunges forward and presses his lips against yours as soon as the words leave your mouth, kissing you firmly for a few seconds before pulling away and licking the residue off of his lips with a contemplative glance to the side. 

anticipation hangs heavy in the air as you wait for him to guess the flavor. you started off with an easy one so you’re expecting him to get it right away, but to your surprise when his yellow eyes meet yours they only look confused. 

“well?” you say impatiently. 

“i don’t know yet, let me try again.” he responds and leans forward to connect his lips with yours again, this time kissing you deeper and for a bit longer than necessary. 

when he pulls back his lips are coated in a thin layer of the chapstick and your stomach flips pathetically when he sucks the bottom one into his mouth to taste it better. 

however, after a few moments he only gives you another confused look and shrugs. “try a different one, that one’s hard.”

“it’s one of the most basic ones!” you huff out with a smile as you wipe your mouth off with a makeup wipe. “turn around again.”

with a tiny pout, bachira complies and faces the wall once more while you dig around in the box for the next one. this time you go for one a little less specific to see if it’ll somehow be easier, and before you can even finish telling him to turn back around he’s already latching to your lips again. 

the kiss lasts a few seconds too long, but when you try to pull away bachira mumbles out a rushed, “not sure yet let me try again.” and tugs you back into the searing press of his lips. 

the chapstick is all but gone at this point, and when he finally detaches himself from you to catch his breath you immediately give him a pointed look. 

“meguru,” he grins mischievously at the exasperation in your tone. “please tell me you got that one.”

he thinks for a moment, and then, “lemon?”

“it was grape you little-“

rin - claims it’s a lame idea but takes it SO seriously. literally sucks on your lips to try to get as much of the flavor off as possible skjdjfjfjf makes you go through every single one until he gets them all right help. 

could not seem more unimpressed when you tell him about the challenge, though deep down he is internally celebrating over the chance to not only kiss you but to be able to guess them all correct and impress you simultaneously. 

makes sure to look away when you’re sorting everything out because he is certainly not a cheater. he doesn’t need to cheat - he’s confident he’ll get them all on the first try. 

“okay, turn around.” you call out from behind him. when he does, there’s a determined frown set on his face - similar to the one he has right before a game, like he’s ready for any obstacle that might come his way. 

he begins to lean towards you, but stops once he’s a few inches away. “ready?”

at your nod rin finally presses your lips together in a quick peck before retreating back to evaluate the taste. the kiss was a too chaste though and he barely got any of the chapstick on his own lips, so he’s surging forward to connect his mouth to yours again within seconds. 

this time the kiss is deeper, lips sliding together sensually a few times before he pulls back and tries to identify the flavor a second time. when he looks like he’s about to lean in for a third attempt, you press a hand against his chest to keep him in place. 

“nuh uh, you gotta guess now.”

“what?” he freezes, teal eyes meeting yours with confusion. 

“you already tried twice, now you gotta figure it out.” you respond smoothly. rin looks like he wants to argue and demand he be allowed three tries since you didn’t tell him this in the beginning, but instead releases a sigh and concedes. 

“that rule is dumb.” with no choice left but to answer, he smacks his lips together again and thinks for a few more moments before taking his guess. “strawberry?”

“bingo!” you cheer quietly. with a proud smirk, rin turns around again while you wipe off the precious chapstick and apply another. when you’re done grabs your waist to tug your forward and captures your lips in another deep kiss, but pulls away just as fast. 

“coca cola.” 

“yep! okay that one is easy, turn around again.”

the third one is slightly different, because this time when he turns around to kiss you, he’s suckling lightly on your bottom lip and running his tongue over it slowly. you can’t help but shudder at the action and push him away with a slightly scandalized look on your face. 

“was that really necessary?” you splutter, cheeks burning hot at his boldness. rin, however, is too busy trying to identify the flavor to care about how he’s kissing you and doesn’t spare you a single glance while he contemplates silently. 

“hmmm, black cherry?”

and, shocker, he’s correct this time too.

nagi - isn’t even trying. does not care about guessing the chapsticks just wants to keep kissing you. loses patience four flavors in and attaches himself to you so you can’t even put more on, challenge be damned. needy smh. 

agrees immediately when you bring it up for the first time. doesn’t even stop to think about what you actually said, just processed the part where you mentioned he’d be kissing you. selective hearing is real and he has it. 

doesn’t even bother turning around while you set everything up next to him, closes his eyes and somewhat drifts off until you announce that you’re ready.

“okay, open your eyes.” you urge and poke nagi’s shoulder until his eyelids squint open and he draws forward lazily. not even sparing a single word, nagi connects your lips with his and kisses you slowly until you push him back. 

“guess.”

with a bored hum, nagi shrugs and blinks. his bangs are falling into his eyes and you can’t help but mentally beg him to move them despite knowing he won’t. “dunno.”

you frown playfully and roll your eyes. “you really don’t know?”

“mm,” he hums in agreement, eyes following your hand as you reach up to move his bangs out of the way yourself. “let me get another taste.”

before you even get a chance to respond his lips are already back on yours, moving softly together until you push him back again. nagi pouts at this and holds onto your wrists where they rest against his chest before you can move them. 

“green apple. next one.”

he’s right, and you snort fondly at his impatience. “close your eyes then.”

he does as you ask and lets his eyelids slip shut, but only waits until he hears the cap of the new flavor get snapped back in place before he’s pulling you into him and kissing you again, softly and drawn out the same as before. 

you get so lost in the feeling of his lips that you almost forget what you’re even supposed to be doing and quickly separate him from you with an embarrassed huff. 

“sei, this isn’t how you’re supposed to-“ you begin, but he cuts you off with his mouth again and inches forward to drape himself over you like a blanket. you melt into him instinctively, and the box of chapsticks falls off of your lap and to the floor in the process, the challenge long forgotten as quickly as it started. 

kunigami - tries his best but gets literally every flavor wrong what is wrong with his tastebuds fr. dude just cannot figure it out for the life of him. kisses you so many times trying to guess that you have to keep reapplying bro pls it’s literally cherry. 

doesn’t really understand the whole concept, but is happy to try anything you ask of him and is more than willing to go along with it. 

turns around and covers his eyes with his hands while you sort through the box of chapsticks, he is a lot of things but he is certainly not a cheater.  

“alright, first one! turn around.”

kunigami drops his arms and turns to face you. his hands fidget together slowly in his lap while his eyes go from yours, down to your mouth, and then back to your gaze again. 

“so, do i just…?” he asks slowly. he’s always so careful about boundaries despite the fact that you’ve been together for as long as you have and the whole point of this challenge is him kissing you, and your heart swells because it every time. 

it takes every ounce of willpower in you not to laugh, but you nod instead. “yes, you kiss me now.”

with a small sound to signify that he understands, kunigami finally leans forward and captures your lips in a gentle kiss, it’s soft and quick and only lasts a couple beats before he pulls away and licks it off of his own together to get the flavor into his mouth. 

"root beer?" he guesses hesitantly, brows upturned in question. 

"nope!" you respond smugly, popping the p at the end. "one more try?"

he nods and surges forward to place another light kiss against your mouth, his fingers brushing the side of your face for a few seconds until he leans back. 

"mango?" he tries and you blink at him in confusion, still trying not to laugh. 

"those are two very different flavors," you point out in a teasing voice. "and no. next one!"

kunigami once again looks away and covers his eyes until you give him the okay to turn around. he moves in for the kiss without hesitating this time and pulls back with a tiny frown. 

"sprite."

you shake your head, feeling somewhat bewildered by the fact that he keeps guessing wrong. "nope. last chance."

when he kisses you again and pulls away, this time theres a confident look on his face. it’s so convincing that you actually think he has it for a moment, but then-

"watermelon!"

"no-"

chigiri - this guy kisses you so deeply and intensely that your knees are weak and then backs away to guess the flavor like he didn’t literally just steal the air from your lungs. will not stop doing this either even if you start calling him out on it, he just smirks at you and keeps doing it. 

has definitely heard of this challenge before and is more than willing to do it with you. thinks couple challenges are cute and even considers recording it to post online but decides against it. these moment and for him and you alone <3

doesn’t fully turn his body around when you start organizing things, but faces his head away from you and hums softly while you set everything up. 

he is an avid chapstick user and has probably tried and used every flavor you have in that little box of yours, but that isn’t going to stop him from using this as an excuse to fluster and tease you a bit. 

“ready?” chigiri asks patiently after he hears you snap the lid back on the first chapstick. 

“mhm, you can look now.”

at your confirmation, he twists his head back in your direction and gently leans forward to connect your lips without a second to waste. his warm hand cups your jaw softly as his mouth presses against yours firmly, and you can’t help but feel a little flustered when he pulls away. 

after licking the residue off of his lips, chigiri thinks for a moment before his face lights up with recognition. 

“vanilla coke.” he answers correctly on the first try. 

“yeah!” you exclaim, feeling a bit impressed. “how did you get that right?”

chigiri shrugs. “it’s not that hard.”

“showoff.” you mumble lightheartedly under your breath. 

once again, he faces away from you while you wipe off the rest of the first one and apply the second, and then turns back to you as soon as he thinks you’re done. 

“you won’t get this one.” you tell him assuredly when his eyes meet yours. he raises a single brow at this and sends you a look that makes your stomach flutter a bit. 

“we’ll see about that.” 

and then he’s kissing you again. a deep, intense kiss that makes your knees feel weak despite the fact that you’re sitting down. he stretches it out as long as he can while his fingers run lightly through your hair before pulling away and pretending not to notice the slightly dazed look in your eyes. 

“watermelon.” he guesses correctly again, but tilts his head contemplatively a moment later.

“wait, actually, let me be sure.”

his lips are on yours once again before you can even process his words, and all you can do is melt into it and cling onto his hands where they hold your face while he turns your entire nervous system into jelly. 

when he pulls away, there’s a pleased smile playing at his lips. “yeah, definitely watermelon.”

“you’re doing this on purpose!” you accuse, cheeks burning. the sound of his melodic laughter only makes it worse but you immediately join in with him despite the pout on your face. “that’s cheating!”

“it’s not against the rules.” chigiri points out, sending you a teasing smile. and of course, he continues to do it every flavor after that, successfully making your brain cease all function. 

[moronkombat]

Can you pls write Syzoth going down on reader with his long ass tongue

You loved your boyfriend. He a sweet and tender lover to you and knew how you make you the happiest person in all the realms. So grateful you were to have met him when you did and he grateful too. The two of you made quite the adorable couple, didn't you? Even now as you lay with your back arched and raised, your eyes rolling into your skull...yes Syzoth found you particular cute like this.

If only he could tell you just how sweet you looked writhing under him but his mouth already so busy tasting you. Lips move against you, mimicking a kiss to a...different type of lips. Hot breath pants against you, your taste leading him further into intoxication. It won't be long now until this shapeshifter completely drowns himself into a drunken stupor.

Teeth snag onto your thigh and you lurch and gasp for breath. Soft lips drag over where teeth have left their mark, an apology? Perhaps. You don't have the moment to think on it as his mouth is upon you again, taking so much of your mind away from you. What will sanity will he leave behind for you to grasp at?

Not much as it turns out. His lips are not alone in their pursuit for your undoing. Something has joined them, something wet, something long. What is this? A forked tip flickers over where you see stars and you cry out his name.

Syzoth merely groans and digs his nails into your fleshy thighs deeper and deeper. Your plea for him goes unanswered, it is his tongue that will command you now. Longer and longer it gets, wrapping around your thigh and squeezing the plush of your skin. Fingers spread you apart, breaking apart the last defense you had left.

There will be no mercy now. Not when his tongue begins its descent into your begging and wanting core. The bend of your back...how beautiful it is...Your hips lifting off from the bed but he will not let you escape. Rough hands force them back into place and a curled tongue twirls in tantalizing circles. He feels all of you, each and every bit of your quivering insides are his to feast upon.

Your words have transformed into mewling and pathetic sounds of desperation and release. You feel his face to pressed up against you there, his nose poking and prodding as he turns his head from side to side. His tongue mimics this, exploring inside you from left to right, up and down. Cheeks are stained now, damp and red from the overwhelming sense of destruction.

Colors begin to flash before your eyes, colors you have never seen before dance and spin. They surround you just as his tongue consumes you. There it moves again and again around where you cannot possibly resist. Stars burst, colors shine and your orgasm travels through every single little bit of you.

Both of you are panting now, both of you are shaking. He stares at you but your eyes are too lost in the rapture he created. Syzoth tilts his head oh so curiously.

"If you think I'm finished with you, think again"

You have no sense to think anymore. It would appear he taken that from you. Though, you didn't mind. Not when his tongue delves into you once more

[sanemi-whore]

Phantasm (Cruel World Final)

You retire from the Demon Slayer Corps and return back home to your father. You'll never forget those you met during your time as a slayer and often send letters to them. One evening you see Genya, stating that he needs you to take care of his brother. @roaringlion @kiki17483 @stuckinthewrongworld @neji85 @nyarffeu @muichirosloveee @plvuii @annie-napier @dependsontheday @crazycatlddy @idiatism @kxthxrinx0310 @summ3rd4yz @iviyna @neji85

Part 1 | Part 2 warning: cursing, everyone hates sanemi lol, heavy ansgt themes, multiple character death, body worship, oral (m/f), creampie, cowgirl, fingering, word count: 10.823

Public Enemy #1 was what Sanemi became. In the eyes of the Hashira - even Obanai who attempted to be neutral even gave him a look of disdain. Uzui often berated him, stating that he didn’t deserve a woman like you - and Sanemi knew as such. Shinobu made it her mission while treating him to make it as painful as possible - seeing as she could be gentle when she desired.

Hell, even Tomioka gave him deeper frowns than normal and that was saying a lot. You set your mark upon the Corps and now that you were going to be leaving soon, everyone despised him for it.

Did anyone know the true meaning? No. They didn’t dare ask Sanemi. They didn’t wish to ask you, either, not wishing to see the sadness grow deeper in your eyes. What they did know was that Sanemi and your relationship had grown sour, you were leaving the Corps and the only logical person to blame was the man in the situation.

Sanemi hisses when a sharp pain swipes at his neck. It’s Hiyori - again - claws digging deep into his neck while her beak bites against his ear. This is the fifth time in the last two days she has attacked him randomly, Sorai no longer wishing to help out of fear of her attack coming to him next.

“Fuck.” Sanemi swipes at the crow to defend himself from her attack. She squeaks, eyes glaring before she flocks away. He couldn’t be upset with Hiyori - she adored you just as much as  everyone did. Even Ginko - Muichiro’s sly crow - had come to your defense. Sanemi likes to believe that the crow just desires to berate anyone that isn’t Muichiro and joins in on the torment out of boredom. 

“Serves you right.”

Uzui.

Sanemi sighs. Great, another session of the man berating him because of you. 

“I don’t have time for you right now.” Sanemi continues his stroll back to his estate. He had tatami mats to slice up to get his mind off of you.

“What’d you do to Y/N?”

Sanemi continues to walk.

“So unflashy.”

“Your lack of hand is unflashy.” Sanemi retorts.

Uzui cackles. “Yet I can keep all three of my wives. I cannot say the same for you, Shinazugawa.” Tengen trails behind the younger man who’s shoulders tense at the remark. “I’m serious now. What did you do to her?”

Sanemi stops in his tracks. He doesn’t turn to face Uzui. Even with one eye, the man knew how to see right through him.

“Did she leave yet?” 

You haven’t spoken to Sanemi in a week. His heart hurts and longs to see you, just to see that you’re alright. But he cannot be selfish enough to hold you back from what you want.

“No. She will in another week.” Sanemi exhales at the response. “You make her cry. I can never forgive you for that, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi recalls your wet eyes as you were leaving his estate. His throat tightens.

“Y/N saw you as a savior of the sort. She spoke so highly of you - even now. I rarely see her smile and there's always a sadness behind her eyes. It outweighs Tomioka’s.”

Sanemi swallows the lump in his throat. He continues walking and this angers Uzui. “I’m talking to you!” the retired Hashira roars. “What the hell happened-”

“I took advantage of her!” Sanemi roars back, turning to face the taller man. “I took advantage of her and I can’t forgive myself.”

Uzui stops in his tracks, fuschia eyes examine Sanemi’s face. “Are you admitting to…assaulting her?” Uzui is unsure where this conversation was heading. He doesn’t want to believe that Sanemi would intentionally cause you any harm.

“Ye-”

Sanemi falls onto his back and there's a sting in his face. Even retired with one hand and eye, Uzui was just as fast and strong as ever. Sanemi holds his nose and glares at the man, liquid leaking into his palm.

Tengen steps back and admires the sight. “You have changed.” he murmurs more to himself than to Sanemi. “You’re hurting just as much as Y/N. You’re better at hiding it.” Uzui kneels down to reach eye level to Sanemi. “The Shinazugawa I know would’ve never let anyone hit him and get away with it.”

The teasing was back. Uzui was willing to hear what Sanemi had to say. “What really happened?”

Sanemi rips a piece of his haori and plugs his nose. He does speak. He explains the entirety of the mission - the demon art and how he felt, the demon that was a Lower Moon that took your shape and how you managed to defeat it effortlessly. He explained how his body felt - hot, heavy and in excruciating pain; nauseous at the forbidden sight of you. Sanemi even goes as far as to detail the internal dialogue and the flashes of delusion his mind sent as to how badly he desired to have you.

Tengen listens with wide eyes, attempting his hardest now to cackle at Sanemi’s explanation.

“What you explain to me, Shinazugawa, sounds like consensual sex.” Tengan shakes his head. Kids, he thinks, even if you and Sanemi were considered adults. Still, anyone younger than him would be kids in his eyes. “She wanted you. You wanted her. You fucked the life-” Sanemi growls, tips of his ears hot red. 

“Look,” Uzui chuckles. “That’s not assault. Did Y/N feel indifferent about it?”

Sanemi glances away with a shrug. He didn’t know how you felt.

“Did you two talk about it?”

Sanemi shakes his head.

“...What did you do?”

“Ignored her.”

Tengen groans. He wants to send another punch to Sanemi’s nose but refrains. “You take her virginity and fuck her all night while declaring to always protect her and,” Tengen raises one hand and does air quotations. “the child you were begging to fuck into her just to ignore her this whole time?”

Sanemi stiffens. When he thinks of it that way, it sounded more fucked up then he intended.

Tengen stands, shaking his head at the dumb Wind Hashira. “Unflashy of you.” he turns and begins to journey back to his own home.

Sanemi stands with a huff. His nose was broken now and the only person who could fix it was unfortunately Kocho. He journeys to the Butterfly Mansion, mind on his conversation with Uzui.

Sanemi didn’t want to leave you the morning he woke. He desired to hold you close to him, inhaling your sweet scent. But he was disgusted with himself more than anything. In his mind, he took advantage of you and your intoxicated state. There were bruises and marks littering your once perfect skin - all made by him and his savage ways. He couldn’t control himself and now you were forever tainted - he didn’t regret his night with you. He regretted how it happened.

Sanemi admitted to himself that morning that he loved you, stating it aloud while you slept soundlessly. His mind also recalls the way you also admitted to loving him during your time together, but that was during your intoxicated state of sex and the demon art. But knowing what love meant to him only meant there was a matter of time until the love he harbored would crush him. Memories of the night prior flood in and he thinks about how deep he was into the demon art that he was paralyzed right beneath a Lower Moon. What if you weren’t capable enough to stop her? It would’ve been his fault why you died - and the thought sent shivers all over his body.

It hurts Sanemi to ignore you, but he wanted you to hate him. He wanted you to eventually be so angered with him that you wouldn’t bother to care for him any longer.

But no, instead you apologized. You thanked him. You left - all because you thought you were a burden to him.

“Sit.” Shinobu is curt with her responses to Sanemi. “Oh my, your nose is broken. Who managed to get to you first?”

Sanemi doesn’t retort in the way he usually would. “Uzui.”

Shinobu giggles with satisfaction. Serves you right, she wants to say. 

Shinobu places her hands on Sanemi’s nose and jerks it harshly. Sanemi hisses, eyes snapping shut at the pressure.

“Fixed.” Shinobu sing-songs. “You’re free to go.”

Sanemi doesn’t stand, not even when Shinobu has turned to give him a look of distaste.

“Is Y/N alright?”

Shinbou’s eyebrows knit harshly. “Y/N is none of your concern!” she snaps. “Not after all you’ve done to her.”

Sanemi sighs. “She told you.” he states. “I saw her…coming here a few times. Just-”

“You don’t have the right to act concern now, Shinazugawa.” Shinobu interrupts. Sure, she doesn’t know the full story of you and Sanemi’s relationship, but she knows enough of the outcome of it. “You’ve put her through enough.”

Sanemi stands and makes his leave. Everyone loved you, as they should, but everyone hated him. He wasn’t going to get any answers from Shinobu about you and he cannot be upset about it either way.

Y/N-san. How have you been since retiring? It gets lonely sometimes without you here but I I was told by Genya-kun to be a man. Even so, I can see that even he appears to be saddened by your loss. He doesn’t speak to me much without me talking first, but we eat together often when we can. It feels different without you here to keep the peace. I hope you’re doing good, Y/N-san, and you find the peace you deserve.

-Hoshi Shinra

You read Shinra’s message with a soft smile on your lips. You’re glad that he and Genya could get along with one another. You know just how Genya could be - similar to his brother at times. But he was a good boy, after all. 

It’s been only a month since you retired from the Corps. Retired sounds foreign to say. You haven’t been a slayer for long and you even felt ashamed to say that you’ve retired already. Those who were younger than you remained in the corps and fought while you retired; seemingly from a broken heart. You want to laugh at how weak you truly were, but you decided against it.

Returning home wasn’t what you truly wished to do. You haven‘t spoken to your father in close to two years - not even a letter. He hasn’t attempted to find you, either, and possibly assumed you were either dead or a part of someone's brothel.

The look on your fathers face upon your return was one of pure shock. He hadn’t said anything for the first few moments of seeing you. Was he happy? Angered? Relieved to see his only living child?

Your answer came when the man raised his hand to slap you - a hand you caught easily. You pushed the man away and swallow thickly. He was upset. Surely because you had gone rogue and that meant whatever money your husband had paid you for had to be returned. But, your father was never violent towards you before - the smell of alcohol laced in his breath told you that he had taken in the habit even more while you were gone. 

Your father didn’t stop, however. He was just as talkative as he once was. He yelled at you, stating that you were the reason he had gone broke. He had to work his ass off to pay off your debt to the man that you were destined to marry - that he even had to sell personal items. You shoved a few wads of cash in his face to shut him up. 

You were an adult - always had been. However, you were stronger. You trained alongside Hashira. You beheaded demons - and though you were not on the level of a Hashira, you were damn near close. The Lower Moon was nowhere near what Upper Moon Uzui, Tanjiro, Inosuke and Zenitsu fought, but it was a kizuki nonetheless. You would return home and deal with your father, but you weren’t going to tolerate disrespect.

Your father noticed the change in you. He doesn’t ask where you’ve gone for nearly two years. He knows that you’ve grown. Hair longer, body toned and strong and face stoic. You appeared to be alert at all times, even with the slightest of sounds. But, that didn’t stop his disdain for you. 

“You could’ve been set for life.” your father told you one night at dinner. He ate what you cooked with a side of alcohol - a normal set up for him. 

“Could I have? Or would you’ve been set for life without me?’ you retort, taking a bite of the chicken you prepared. Another thing your father had to grow accustomed to - your mouth. You talked back now, an act he didn’t appreciate. 

“I gave you to that man to take care of you!” your father yells, banging his hand onto the table. His breath stinks of sake. You contemplate hiding the bottle, but that would only mean he’d tear the home apart looking for it or just go buy another.

“You sold me to him.” you deadpan. You’re unsure what lie your father had told himself to make himself feel better about it, but it wasn’t the truth. He sold you to get money for himself and get rid of you. You’re back now and he hated you for it - oh well. “I paid my due to you already. Eat your food.”

“Where did you get that money?” your father hisses. The only time he’s seen so much cash upfront was from the man - and you didn’t return from him. “You decided to be an Oiran like I said?” your father scoffs with a shake of his head. 

Your appetite is lost now. You gather the dishes and begin to wash them, deciding that ignoring your father was for the best. But that didn’t mean your father was done. He continues, carrying on how you cost him a lot of money and you being back was a slap to the face. You pondered if retiring was even worth it if it meant you had to deal with him on the daily. You cooked for him on the daily, made sure the home was clean and even bought whatever was needed for the home - and still, he hated you. It was as though your existence here was causing him such anger.

Genya, I’m glad to hear from you. I’ve heard from Shinra that you’ve been eating together! I’m glad you and he are building a friendship! I hope you’re eating well and staying healthy. 

Please, stay safe.

-Y/N

You folded Genya’s letter and placed it inside a small envelope. You had several letters to go through, even some from those you weren’t expecting. You opened an envelope and were surprised to find several leaves, acorns, seeds and even rocks. The next envelope was from Tanjiro who apologized for the mess caused by Inosuke. Apparently the boy wanted to gift you something after Tanjiro explained that he would be writing you a letter - it warmed your heart knowing that even Inosuke was a part of your penpal group.

The next letter was a surprise, signed by several lower-rank slayers. It caused you to laugh upon reading it, catching you completely off guard. It detailed how Sanemi had turned sour once more and that he was utterly murderous. It continued saying that they wish you were there to calm him down with whatever “miracle” tea you made him while in Asakusa. In the end, they wished you the best on retirement, warming your heart even more.

Y/N, I hope you’re well. Sumi, Naho and Kiyo miss you and though she won’t admit it, so does Aoi. It feels different without you here. Shinazugawa still gets attacked randomly by Hiyori and now even Sorai is too frightened to help! I know you wish to not speak of him, but he asks about you constantly. I have not told him anything, do not worry! I’ve attached some medicine to this letter that would help ease the morning sickness - please take it daily. Please keep yourself in good health; not only for you, but for the baby.

-Kocho Shinobu

Shinobu was sent from heaven, you’re convinced. It was only a few days ago that you spoke of your nausea daily in a letter - even when it stretched far from the morning. It was difficult keeping any food down and water appeared to be the only thing that didn’t mess with your stomach. The medicine she gave appeared to be enough to last a month or two.

You laid a hand on your stomach and sighed. You weren’t far along, only in your fourth month. You thought you appeared bigger than normal, but maybe it was just your head doing things to you,

Your mind flickers to the same day you found out about said pregnancy and how you spoke with shinobu. She had assured that it would be painless - and you believed her. She made you a drink and handed it to you with a warm look in her eyes.

You recall the way you smelt it before attempting to drink. Your hands were trembling and as you brought it to your lips, you felt just how wet your cheeks were.

You couldn’t do it.

Shinobu had consoled you for what appeared to be hours. You apologized profusely to her, stating that you were doing nothing but wasting her time. She assured you that you weren’t, that you were going through something normal. She never onced judged you - and for that you were thankful. She had kept your secret and allowed you to leave the Corps with whatever dignity you had left.

Your father, on the other hand, was another story. Upon returning home with a flat stomach, he was beginning to think he was seeing things when your stomach began to grow. Your kimono couldn’t have been that big and your weight didn’t change elsewhere but your stomach. “That’s why you returned home.” he spat once he realized just what was the issue with you. “Because whatever man that did this to you had left you! It’s what you deserve for leaving.”

It’s what you deserved, his words rang in your ear.

Once all of your letters were written, you pushed yourself away from your desk and stood. You were trying to make it a habit to walk. You didn’t feel different now early on in your pregnancy, but you didn’t want anything to change as you grew closer to when you were expected. 

You strolled out of your home, finding the sun to be high in the sky. Your father would be at the pub right about now, not that you cared where he spent his time. 

There’s a light breeze, you note, as you walk. It isn’t a warm breeze that causes your skin to crawl with such heat, but a nice one that causes you to sigh in relief. 

“I hope it’s a girl!”

You turn to the sound of the sudden voice. You were strolling for about ten minutes, not far from your home. You thought you were alone - a village is not far from here, but usually people didn’t tend to walk down this path often.

Your eyes catch a child - a small girl. Her eyes are large and blue and she’s smiling at you. Her hair is black and tied in a low bun. Her kimono was long and red and her obi was orange.

“Ah, hello.” you offer her your own smile. She’s cute, so small and innocent.  “I never thought about gender much.”

You’re unaware she could see your bump through your kimono.

The girl crosses her arms. “I hope it’s a girl.” she repeats. “There’s a lot of boys in my family. I only have one sister.” she has a look of disdain on her face.

You giggle. “Is that so? But don’t you love them?”

The girl seems to ponder on your question before nodding. 

“Then it’s alright, isn’t it?” you question. 

The girl slowly nods. “I guess so.” she murmurs. “I remember when my baby brother was born!”

“Is that so?” you ask. 

The girl begins to walk besides you as she speaks, never focusing on just one topic and instead jumping between a few of them.  You listen to what she has to say, unphased to be speaking to a child. You assumed she lived nearby and her brothers were in the village where the majority of the shops were at. She spoke fondly of them and this causes your heart to swell. You missed your own brother at times.

“Would you like something…to drink…?” your eyes scan the surrounding area for the little girl who was just talking your ear off to find her gone. You hum. She must’ve ran off somewhere. You only hope she would find her siblings before the sun set.

“Must you cut yourself so deep?” you sigh, dousing the ointment across his open wound. “Surely any amount of blood could intoxicate the demons.”

The mission was done, leaving Sanemi a bloody mess before you. You learn to pack a small kit for this moment after the first time he cut himself in front of you to distract a demon.

Sanemi snickers. “I get carried away sometimes.”

You knit your brows, glancing into his eyes. He’s already watching you, and noticing your eyes meet, he glances away.

“It doesn’t really hurt anymore.” Sanemi continues just as you apply the bandage over the wound. “I’ve got enough scars to prove that I’ve been doing this for a while.”

You nod at his words, your eyes scanning the amount of scars littering his skin. It covers his entire torso, back and arms. Some appear to be fresh while others old and forming into new skin on top. 

“Do they bother you?”

Sanemi’s question catches you by surprise. You shake your head, hoping he didn’t think you were insulting his appearance. “I think they’re interesting.”

Sanemi hums. 

Sanemi’s not entirely convinced. 

“Each scar has a story to it.” you say. You lean back to give the man a smile. “It shows just how strong you are.”

You pat a scar on his chest gently and Sanemi feels himself grow hot. He turns his eyes back to you, finding that you weren’t lying. Your eyes show just how sincere you were being with him. 

“Children often run from me.” Sanemi tries to joke with you to lighten the mood, but he curses himself mentally at the look in your eyes. 

“Maybe you should smile more.” you offer and this causes Sanemi to scoff aloud. “I’m serious! You look terrifying to others when you’re upset.”

“Not to you.” Sanemi states. He didn’t care what other people thought of him. You were different. Your opinion of him mattered.

“Of course not.” you grin. “You’re nice to me.”

Sanemi swallows.

“Let’s try to smile without appearing menacing.” you suggest. Your hands touch his face and Sanemi feels the familiar jolt in his heart. Your hands are soft and you come even closer, your scent surrounds his nostrils. 

You’ve grown used to being able to touch him without a care and Sanemi never pushes you away. 

Your fingers lift his cheeks up and you begin to giggle at how unnatural he appeared. Sanemi concludes that he likes the way your laughter sounds.

The mysterious little girl had returned countless times over the course of three months - this time however with another girl nearly identical to her. Her black hair is tied in a bow in the back of her hair. Her kimono is a minty green with a lime green obi. Her eyes are just as blue as her sisters and you can’t help but giggle at the two of them.

“What do you wish to have, Y/N-san?” they had asked you. “Have you thought of any names?”

You were unsure yourself. You often think of the baby's gender and what you’d name them in the middle of the night when you’re supposed to be sleeping. You wondered if they would have Sanemi’s hair color and eyes or would they take after you. Maybe a complete half of the both of you? You find yourself wishing that the baby would have something of their father, hair, eyes - anything.

“I have thought of no names yet.” you answer truthfully. “I just want them to be strong and healthy.”

“Like their dad?”

You’re taken aback by the statement Slowly, you nod. “Y-Yes. He was…is a very strong man.” you say to them. 

You swallow. You pondered how Sanemi was doing. You have not asked when you write to anyone and they rarely bring him up. You haven’t received any letters so far, but you concluded that they were busy and whenever they were available, they would. 

Still, you harbored no bad feelings for Sanemi. In the end, he was the father of your unborn child, nonetheless, and even if things turned sour, you held him in great respect. It would be difficult to explain to a child why they had no father, but you had years to prepare for that conversation. 

“Do you miss him, Y/N-san?” two pairs of cerulean eyes are watching you and slowly, you nod your head. “Go see him, Y/N-san! I know he misses you, too!”

You giggle at the two girls. They were young. Life was more complicated than what their young minds could comprehend. “Wait here.” you tell them. Your child was kicking on your bladder and you had to once again, relieve yourself.

But the children were gone by the time you returned, but you’ve grown used to the way they’d disappear randomly just to reappear once more. You would leave little treats and candies for them that they never touched - maybe they didn’t like sweets? You never met a kid who didn’t, but eventually you’d learn what they like.

You closed your eyes and inhaled. You swayed back and forth slightly as you sat upon the hardwood floor of the outside deck. The sun felt nice against your skin.

“Y/N…?”

Your eyes flash open at the familiar voice. Your heart pumps.

“Genya?”

Genya was before you. His eyes appear confused. 

“Genya!” you lift yourself from the ground steadily and make your way to the boy standing a few feet away. His eyes are wide as he watches you. “How did you know where to find me? How-”

“You can see me?” Genya asks suddenly and you stop in your tracks. Your smile turns to a frown and now you’re tilting your head. 

“Genya, of course I can see you.” you try to laugh, but nothing you’re saying or doing to ease the situation is doing anything. “Genya,” you shake your head. This had to be a dream of the sort. 

“Y/N, you’re…” Genya swallows thickly with a shake of his head. “There’s a reason why I’m here. You…you’re pregnant.”

Nothing was making sense to you. What was Genya talking about?

“Brother!”

The familiar voices of the two young girls. They come besides you, one at each side. 

“I hope YN-san has a girl! Don’t you think we need more girls in the family?” the one with the red kimono speaks. 

“Yes! I hope she looks just like me.” the one with the minty kimono retorts.

Your blood runs cold. Your eyes widen and now you understand just what’s happening.

“Y/N!” Genya calls for you.

You’ve fallen to your knees, the tears flowing down your face. You’re trembling. 

“Genya…you…you’re..?”

You don’t want the words to leave your lips.

“Yes.”

You sob a little louder. Your heart is pounding outside your chest. 

“Sumi…Teiko…” Genya murmurs. 

“Please don’t cry, Y/N-san.” Sumi says. 

“What happened, Genya? How have you…?” you’re unable to stop the tears from falling. “W-Who else…?”

Genya doesn’t want you to be in pain. He’s unsure what to do or why he’s here - how you can see and speak to not only him, but Sumi and Teiko.

“Don’t cry, Y/N. W-We won.” Genya attempts to lift your mood, but he knows it's useless. “Muzan…muzan is dead.”

You want to scoff at his words.

Because yes, Muzan was dead by what Genya has said.

But at what cause? How many young, innocent lives had been taken during the process? Genya was just the only life gone that you could see.  Has Tanjiro survived along with Zenitsu and Inosuke? Did they manage to turn Nezuko back into a human - the young sweet girl with such kind eyes tugging at your heart strings. Sumire…Roshi…Shinra. Your blood runs cold when your mind wanders to Sanemi.

Genya answers you and you feel as though your heart would give out at any moment. Nearly everyone you have grown to love has sacrificed themselves to stop Muzan. You feel selfish for retiring the way you had. You should’ve fought alongside them. Maybe then-

“Stop blaming yourself, Y/N.” Genya tells you. He can sense the guilt throughout you. “Please don’t think about what could have been.”

“Genya…”

“Think about now.” Genya says, his head motioning to your stomach. “No one blames you for retiring.”

You shake your head. 

“Please calm down, Y/N-san.” Teiko murmurs, her eyes sad at the sight of you. 

“Please, Y/N.” Genya begins. “I-I don’t know what my Aniki did to you but…” he swallows. He feels selfish for even thinking about this. You deserved to feel whatever you felt towards his brother. “...please…don’t hate him. Can you find it in your heart to forgive him?”

Genya’s eyes are hopeful as he looks into your tearful ones. You swallow thickly. You were never upset with Sanemi - you’d forgiven him long ago.

“I-I…” your cheeks are tear stained as your mind attempts to gather all the information given to you. “I have to go.”

Your legs are trembling as you stand. Teiko and Sumi - finally learning the girls' names - are by your side. 

“Y/N, please. You aren’t in the position to go anywhere.” Genya is nervously walking behind you. He is still unsure why he was here. He understands that he had died during the battle, but he recalls reuniting with his younger siblings - then he was here before you. 

“I have to see them.” you’re scurrying around in your home. Your father was nowhere in sight and you’re glad that he wasn’t. You would appear to be talking to yourself.

Genya only shakes his head. You were stubborn and he now understands why his brother loved you as much as he did.

“Okay. I’ll accompany you.” It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. Moving on into the afterlife appeared to be much more difficult then he ever thought it would be. 

Genya watches as you pack a light bag. He finds his eyes wandering to your small bump and he feels warmth - was it possible for him to feel this way while deceased? He’s unsure truly and doesn’t want to question it any longer. 

“Are you sure you want to travel now, Y/N?” Genya questions once you are done. Teiko and Sumi are both by your side again, large eyes so soft and caring for the woman that was you. “I don’t want you to be in harm's way.”

You want to reach out for Genya and touch him, but you’re unsure if it is possible. You never thought to try, either, not sure how you’d react if your hand didn’t get to touch him. “Yes.” you nod. “After all, you guys won.”

Your mind is unsure how long Sanemi and you had gone round for round - but you’re certain that you cannot get enough. You’ve never pleasured a man before - not until now. But Sanemi wasn’t just any man - he was the man you’ve grown to love. You accepted it now more than ever.

“Y-You don’t have-” Sanemi throws his head back. He’s sweaty, chest rising and falling as he pants. Your lips wrap around the tip of his cock, warm tongue licking gently on the sensitive tip.

Sanemi hisses even more at the feeling of your tongue. He opens his eyes to glance at you and is positive that one day, you’d be the death of him. Not a demon or anything else - but you. 

You looked so beautiful to Sanemi, equally as sweaty with hair sticking to your forehead. Such innocent eyes looking up at him for approval while your mouth sucked him with all the might you could muster. 

Your hand wraps around the length of his cock and pumps while you focus on sucking the tip. You weren’t sure if you were doing this right, however Sanemi’s moaning. Nor does he appear to be bored or upset by your actions, so you’ll assume that he was enjoying himself.

“S-Stop!” Sanemi jerks, feeling himself ready to cum - as embarrassing as it was. It hasn’t even been five minutes. 

But you don’t, enjoying the flushed look on Sanemi’s cheeks. You go as far as your mouth would allow, feeling the tip of him hit your throat. You begin to gag, feeling your throat clog up, but you don’t stop. Sanemi’s moans edge you on and your legs clench together, enjoying the way you were making him feel. 

Your head bobs up and down, suckling. The sounds of your sucking mixed with low curses and grunts from Sanemi echo off the room. The sight is as filthy as it comes, but neither of you cared. 

You release Sanemi’s cock from your mouth with a pop, a string of saliva connecting from your lip to the tip of it. Sanemi twitches slightly, finally able to calm down - but still, you had other plans. You allowed Sanemi to take control for hours, now it was your turn to pleasure him.

Sanemi’s eyes snap open when you sit upon his lap. You give him a cute smile that melts his heart.

“I’m not really sure how good I’ll be.” you tell him, leaning down to peck his lips.

Sanemi grunts into the kiss. He positions himself at your entrance. “You’ll be amazing,” he responds.

You sit fully onto Sanemi’s cock, hands placing themselves on his bare shoulders. You shudder, the familiar pleasure coming back to you. 

Sanemi watches between hooded eyes as you begin to move your hips, his hands placing themselves permanently onto your hips. You’d do amazing, he told you, and amazing you did. You started off stiff, unsure of what to do, but after a few moments you got the hang of it. You lifted your hips and brought them back down at a steady pace. 

Sanemi finds it hard to focus on just one thing. Your breasts are bouncing for him to see and for a moment, he’s mesmerized. Then his eyes catch the sight of your pussy - wet and dripping with slick all over him. You’re clenched onto him so tight that he’s sure he wouldn’t last long in this position, either. 

Sanemi decides that your face is where he wants to settle his eyes. He could never get tired of calling you beautiful. Your face contorts with pleasure, mouth panting as you pleasured yourself upon him. Your eyes are fluttering, fighting to remain close or to open.

Lilac eyes meet yours when you do open them. You feel hot with humiliation having Sanemi see you lost in the moment. His fingernails dig into the skin of your hips when he notices your back from your high. 

“I love you, Nemi.” you murmur, unsure what in the world you were going through that made you confess such words suddenly. It causes Sanemi to stiffen at the confession. But you don’t notice, far too entranced with pleasure to care. You lean down and kiss his lips.

“Say it again.” Sanemi buckles his hips forward, thrusting into you at an alarming speed. 

Sanemi pushes himself forward, wrapping his arms around you to bring you even closer to him. He doesn’t want you to leave his arms - not now. He brings you onto your back, hovering above you. “Say it again.” he repeats, thrusting deeply inside of you. 

“I love you, Nemi!” you exclaim. The familiar churning in your stomach is coming back, and with the clenching you’re doing on his cock, you’re positive that you were going to cum once more.

“Again.” Sanemi holds you tighter. He never wants this moment to end - the intimacy the two of you shared at this moment is the most alive he’s ever felt. 

“I…I…” you’re cumming, eyes rolling to the back of your head. But Sanemi doesn’t stop, not until he's assured that he came deep inside of you, your words replaying over and over again in his mind. 

I love you, Nemi.

I love you, Nemi.

I love you.

Sanemi’s cumming, his eyes fluttering close. He places his head at the nape of your neck and he’s pampering kisses. He doesn’t move, not until he’s cum deep and he finds himself softening slowly - for the time being.

“Tanjiro…” you murmured, feeling relief wash over you upon seeing the boy.

 Your eyes scanned the room as you did so, finding Uzui with Hinatsuru, Suma and Makio. You take notice that Rengoku’s father is here along with his younger brother, the resemblance is quite uncanny. Zenitsu appears to be in and out of sleep while Nezuko is seated beside her brother. It tugs at your heartstrings noticing that she no longer appeared like her demon self.

“Y/N-san!” Tanjiro's eyes widen at your sudden appearance. “Hello.”

You feel a mountain of eyes upon you - or more so on your stomach. Genya is beside you, watching as a few gasps are heard. “Act like they have never seen a pregnant woman before.” he grumbles and you can only silently giggle. 

“I’m glad you all are safe.” you feel teary eyed at your words. You hadn’t gotten the chance to say a proper goodbye to Shinobu or Mitsuri, only your letters. You pondered if they received them before their battle. As you watch Tanjiro lay upon the bed, you’re yet again reminded of the many young lives that suffered…Sumire…Roshi…Muichiro.

“Ah, Y/N!”

Genya is startled by the sudden call of your name behind them. In the doorway is Shinra and he’s panting. He’s covered in bandages from head to toe and even has a limp as he strolls. “Shinra…” he murmurs. “...you did survive.”

“Shinra!” you wanted to engulf him in a hug but stopped yourself. He looked seconds away from dropping. “I’m so glad you’re safe. You must’ve fought hard.”

“A little too hard.” Shinra jokes, chuckling to himself. He then winces, now remembering why he refrained from laughing. Or speaking. Or anything besides breathing.

“Y/N!” Suma is the first of the group to react to you. She runs to you and engulfs you in a tight hug. She’s sobbing as she speaks. “You’re here! You’re pregnant! You have such a lovely glow to you-”

Makio punches Suma in the head, eyes glaring at the girl. “Stop yelling!” she hisses. “You’re going to crush her! Can’t you see she’s fragile?!”

Tengan sighs but he can’t help but smile. It felt whole in a way, almost as if you never left. Suma was right, however. You had the pregnancy glow to you. Your skin appeared to be blemish free and hydrated, your smile reached your eyes and your bump was round and healthy.

“Where is Giyuu-san? I haven’t had the chance to see him.” you say aloud. You want to ask for Sanemi, as well, but you chose not to.

“They should be finishing with the meeting soon.” Tengan strolls towards you. He has a grin on his lips and he gently pats your head. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You, as well, Uzui-san.” you say. You place a hand upon your stomach and hum.

“Hey!”

It’s Inosuke. He’s come from behind Shinra, shoving his way in. Shinra hisses as he’s set to the nearest wall by the boy. Inosuke isn’t wearing his boar mask as he looks at you. 

“Inosuke. Hello.” you say, glad to see the young boy seemingly well. “I’m glad to see you’re safe. You are King of the Mountains, after all.”

Uzui scoffs with a roll of his eyes. 

“You’ve been well, too!” Inosuke’s voice is gruff as he speaks. “Since you’ve gotten fat. You must’ve been eating really well!”

“You imbecile!” Shinra wails, eyes glaring at Inosuke.

Tengan sends a fist upon Inosuke’s head. “She’s not fat, you idiot!”

You’re laughing at the sight. “It’s okay.” you assure them, understanding that Inosuke meant no harm. “He’s probably never seen a pregnant person before.”

Inosuke refrains from attacking Uzui like he wants to. “What’s that?” he asks, his head turning to Tanjiro.

Tanjiro chuckles slightly, a red tint on his face. He always has to explain things to Inosuke in more animalistic terms. “Y/N-san has mated with someone. That’s why her stomach has gotten a little bigger.”

Inosuke hums, eyes turning back to you. He tilts his head with a nod, now understanding.

“Stupid idiotic boar.” Genya hisses. 

“It’s so good to see you, Y/N.” Hinatsuru waves with a kind smile. “Please come visit us before you leave.”

You nod. “I will. I promise.” you assure. “I’m going to go find Giyuu-san.”

Tengan follows you out. He only allows you to go down the hall before he calls for you. “And what about Shinazugawa?”

Genya turns his head, as do you.

“Are you planning on seeing him, as well? I know he’s been…” Tengan trails his words off, hoping that you’d understand where he was going with this. 

“I will be seeing Sanemi, as well.” you nod. 

Tengan allows himself to watch you as you walk away, turning out of sight. He inhales once more, this time wishing that the former Wind Hashira would admit the way he feels. Not just for your or his sake, but for the sake of the unborn child.

Giyuu is the first one you find. He’s already walking your way when you happen to see him. “You cut your hair, Giyuu-san!” you say, waving his way.

Giyuu appears to be shocked at your presence before him, but he manages to not have his eyes linger on your obvious pregnant belly. He offers a small grin your way with a nod. 

“It’s good to see that you’re alive.” you murmur to him, taking in his appearance. You notice that his right arm has seemingly been lost during battle and again, you feel yourself grow with guilt.

“You, as well.” Giyuu responds. “Congratulations.”

You grow hot and nod your thanks. You allow Giyuu to pass you, Genya furrowing his brows at the man. He was never one to speak much and oftentimes you found yourself talking to him, wondering if he was ever telling you to shut up mentally. 

“You think Aniki would be at his estate?” 

“I’m not sure.” you murmur. You place a hand onto your stomach, the baby is seemingly moving. “You must be excited.” you say, laughing to yourself. 

You’re nervous and that part is obvious. You wanted to see Sanemi, yes. Your heart is full knowing that he managed to survive. You don’t know how you’d react when your eyes meet his for the first time in months - you hope you wouldn't cry. 

The journey to Sanemi’s home is rather quick. Maybe you were walking fast to get it over with - pay your respect and leave. You found yourself outside the familiar shoji doors, contemplating if sending a letter was more appropriate then coming up unannounced.

“Go.” Genya speaks. “I’ll stay behind so you can have a level of privacy.”

Genya disappears - the first time since you first saw him days ago. You gulp, hands feeling sweaty.

You lightly tap the shoji doors before sliding them open. The home is quiet and appears the same as when you left months prior. You remove your shoes and continue into the home, heart quickening.

You find yourself holding your breath when you see him. He’s seated on the hardwood floor in the sitting area, in his hands the rhinoceros beetle he claimed as a pet. He’s feeding it some fruit you note, watching intently. 

“Sanemi.” your voice is low and barely audible, but Sanemi is alert. His head snaps in the direction of your voice and he noticeably gasps. 

Sanemi blinks once, then twice - you were here. You weren’t a fragment of his imagination like he initially thought. Through the months his mind could still hear your voice as if you never left. He was sure he’s gone insane sometimes when he’d awake and swear his ears pick up on you cooking, low hums coming from your lips. 

You feel uncomfortable under his intense gaze. You’re considering you coming to see Sanemi was a mistake, unsure if he truly wished to see you.

“I-I’m sorry.” you murmur. You blink away, unsure as to why you were truly apologizing for - maybe for coming unannounced after all these months. 

Sanemi places the beetle back into the wooden cage and places it beside him. He lifts himself up onto his feet and makes his way to you. He’s quick, placing both calloused hands on your cheek. His left thumb rubs your cheek gently, enjoying the feeling of getting to touch you after so long. Your eyes catch the bandage wrapped around his right hand and you frown deep. “Your hand…” you murmur, your own softer hands wrapping around the bandage. You notice he’s missing his index and middle finger. 

Sanemi doesn’t care about his injuries. He’s far too enthralled that you’re in front of him. He takes a step back, eyes going lower to your stomach.

You swallow, breath hitching. You feel uneasy with his gaze. His face was stoic, unable to read just what his thoughts were. You feel a few kicks from the baby and you’re sure they were just as uneasy at this moment.

“Sanemi?”

You break the silence after around 5 minutes of Sanemi’s staring. His head snaps to you. “You’re pregnant.” he states the obvious. 

“Yes.” you nod. 

Sanemi is silent once more and again, the silence is killing you. You’re unsure of what he’s feeling - if he was feeling anything at all. 

Sanemi glances away from you. His heart is jolting once more, but now with sorrow. He’s lost you for good, he thinks, and now he wants nothing more than for the world to swallow him whole. 

“You’ve found a husband?” Sanemi asks but he doesn’t truly want to know. The thought of someone else getting to have you causes his heart to feel sad, sorrow erupting through him. He can never blame you for finding love elsewhere, it’s what you deserved.

“Aniki’s an idiot.” Genya groans. You flinch at the sudden sound of Genya who is standing behind his brother. Your brows furrow at the boy who raises his hands. “I’ll take my leave now.” he states and again, disappears once more. 

You take another deep breath and shake your head. “No.” you murmur. “The baby is yours.”

Sanemi was sure he’d have whiplash the way his head snaps back to you. His eyes are wide with realization - how big your stomach was, the child growing in you; his child. 

You’re shocked when Sanemi suddenly falls to his knees. His hands are on the ground while his head is hung low. He’s trembling, you note, and you’re confused about what's happening. 

“S-Sanemi, I-” Did you anger him? You’re unsure what to do - should you leave? 

You got your answer on what Sanemi was doing when your ears pick up on low sobs. You kneel down in front of him, eyes noticing droplets on the hardwood floor. You stand straighter and gulp.

Sanemi was crying.

You’ve never seen Sanemi cry. He was always a strong person, showing little emotion. Others once cower at the sight of him, tip-toeing around him to not anger the man. He was always different around you - smiling, often joking and never lashing out at you.

But crying - Sanemi never cried.

“Nemi…?” you place a hand on top of his hand, fingers gently rubbing the white tresses. 

Sanemi lifts himself up to look at you, tears staining his cheeks. He moves fast, arms wrapping around you. His head lays upon your bump and wants to cry even harder when he feels soft kicks.

“Please forgive me, Y/N.” Sanemi’s begging now, His tears don’t stop and he doesn’t let you go. He never wants to, afraid that if he does you’ll leave him once more. 

“Nemi,” you murmur. Your heart swells at the sight of him and you want to laugh at the situation. “I’m not upset with you.”

“You should hate me.” Sanemi murmurs, lifting his face from your bump to look at you. “I took advantage of you.” He left you to fend for yourself, pregnant and all. He shouldn’t feel as if it was completely his fault - he had no idea you were pregnant and if he had, he would have never allowed you to leave. However, he cannot help how he feels. 

“You didn’t take advantage of me, Nemi.” you play your hand - so soft, Sanemi thinks -  against his cheek. “I said I loved you, didn’t I?”

Sanemi’s throat tightens and again - as pathetic he’s sure he looks - he feels himself crying. His heart jolts and for the first time in months, he feels happy. Watching Genya die before his eyes while claiming that he always protected him had shot a hole through his heart. It’s a feeling that would never go away, but having you back before him pregnant with his child was the feeling he needed to feel whole again. 

“Thank you.” Sanemi murmurs, arms unwrapping just for his hands to place upon your stomach. 

“I didn’t do anything.” you giggle.

Sanemi shakes his head. You’ve done a lot. You weren’t upset with him for how he treated you after the two of you were intimate. You decided to come back from your home, pregnant and not far from giving birth he’s sure. You were a gift he wasn’t sure he deserved - you and his child.

“Stand up.” you tell Sanemi and he does what he’s told. “Stop crying, Nemi. It’s okay.” you offer a smile.

Sanemi’s heart jolts again. 

You’re as beautiful as you always were and now you’re glowing. 

Sanemi wants to cry yet again.

Sanemi can never keep his hands off of your stomach. He always has to hold it - while the both of you sleep. While you both sat and ate. Any reason he could to hold you bump, he would and you couldn’t be upset about it. He even would place his ear against your stomach - mostly as you slept - to hear the heartbeat of his child and yours. It brought him ease, assuring that the both of you were safe. 

Sanemi was more fascinated with the sudden kicks. He recalls many years ago when his mother fell pregnant for the first time with Genya and how intrigued he was at her size - and when he noticed her stomach moving at an alarming rate. Then she fell pregnant again, again and again until his youngest brother was born.

Sanemi was nervous about traveling back to your home and leaving his estate for good. Now that the Demon Slayer Corps was disbanded for good, he had no reason to stay - “only if you want”, was Kiriya’s words. And he was until you had come to him. Now, you had made plans on going home and home meant where your father resided. He had never met your father and truly had no plans to, but by what you have told him, he was not a man Sanemi would like. He wouldn't want you or his child to be disrespected by the likes of him.

You were now 8 months and so close to giving birth that Sanemi often walked on egg shells. He never wanted to leave your sight in case it happened suddenly. Not only that, but he missed the majority of your pregnancy that he didn’t wish to not be at your side for whatever you needed - stomach rubs, random cravings in the middle of the day or night. He would massage you - especially your feet that had since swollen up due to your pregnancy. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible. 

You have been spoiled since you returned and couldn’t be more grateful and happier. Tengan has bought a mountain of clothing items for both you and the baby, claiming that it would be the most flamboyant child around - after his own, of course. Suma, Hinatsuru and Makio were always around, dousing you with compliments and gushing over your growing bump.

Inosuke was still curious about your stomach, but understood you weren’t fat. He’d still gift you leaves and other things he could find and become one of your eating buddies, even eating food from your plate. Tanjiro had scolded him but you assure that it was alright.

Shinra was recovering and now could move freely without a mountain of cast and bandages. You were glad the boy survived, truly. He had grown slightly from the frightened little boy of Final Selection. Upon learning that he had no family left to go to, you had offered for him to stay with you - much to Sanemi’s dismay. However, if he didn’t want to admit it, Shinra was much like his own brother. Genya and he were the same age, often having similar outbursts and interests. Plus he couldn’t be upset that you’ve grown an older sibling-like bond to the boy. It was one of the many reasons why he loved you.

“Why wouldn’t I be attracted to you?” Sanemi has a look of confusion on his face as he awaits your answer.

Sanemi thought you were beautiful now more than ever. You were carrying his child, after all, putting your body at risk for him and the child you shared. It makes the man angered at himself for having you think that he wouldn’t find you attractive.

Maybe it was because he hasn’t attempted to touch you - which it isn't like he didn’t want to. He finds himself wanting to be inside you all the time but he stops himself from trying and would rather jack it off in the bathroom. You had just returned and he was sure the last thing you wanted to do was be intimate with him, and so he waited for you to initiate it.

However, then you asked him now as the both of you laid in bed, a calloused hand rubbing your stomach if he found you unattractive due to your appearance.

“I’m kinda fat right now and-”

“Did that boar call you fat, again?” Sanemi hisses, eyes glaring. He wanted to castrate Inosuke when he found out he said it the first time but refrained because of you.

You roll your eyes. “No. It’s how I feel.” you tell him. “You don’t attempt to touch me. I don’t think you find me as attractive as before.”

Sanemi sighs. He wants to laugh because damn, you had no idea how he truly desired to have you. He doesn’t want to hurt you is another reason why he stops himself - the fear of leaving your perfect skin with bruises and marks. That, and if anything happened to his child or you during the act, he would never forgive himself.

“You can sit on my face?” Sanemi offers suddenly, far too excited that you’re gasping.

“No!” you exclaim, growing hot at his sudden words. 

“Why not?” Sanemi questions, feeling disappointed.

“I-I’m too big to be sitting on you, Nemi!” you roll your eyes but manage to giggle. 

“No you aren’t.” Sanemi assures. “Have you forgotten what I was prior? Have I grown soft?” he’s teasing you not, but he peppers kissing onto your cheek, trailing down to your jaw to your neck. His hand slides up to cup your breast and you find yourself moaning at the sensation.

Sanemi didn’t care about himself and his own pleasure. He found pleasure in your own. You were sensitive, far more than ever. Your breast had grown due to the pregnancy and Sanemi was but a man, diving right into them, rubbing and suckling on the sensitive nipple. 

You’re a moaning and gasping mess. You hadn’t realized just how much you missed Sanemi’s hands upon you. It was different from your time with him in Shinjuku, of course. He and you weren’t under a demon art - even though you couldn’t completely blame the mark. Now, however, Sanemi was sane and attentive, purely focusing on worshiping you.

You’re unsure when Sanemi had managed to strip you of your underwear but in a matter of seconds you’re bare to him, a humiliating feeling washing over you when you feel his lips upon your thighs.

“Nemi…”

Sanemi grunts a response, kissing until he finds your wet lips. He quickly pecks them before his tongue lapse between your folds. He keeps you in a firm hold as you’re squirming. He doesn’t hold back in pleasuring you, enjoying the sounds of your sweet moans.

Sanemi’s tongue is flat as he bobs his head back and forth, determined to make you cum. Once he realizes you’ve begun to relax in his hold, his left hand add’s two fingers inside of you and pumps.

Your back arches, a slew of moans, grunts and gasps releasing from your lips. Your walls clench around his fingers, thighs trembling at the pleasure. You weren’t aware how much you truly missed Sanemi, even outside of intimacy. You were only intimate with him one time (for hours on end) and even then, waking up alone without his warmth felt lonely. Now you can wake up to him besides you, hand onto your stomach. It felt nice - almost as if you never left to begin with.

Sanemi’s fingers curl inside of you, pumping a little faster. He muffles against your clit when he feels your hands in his hair. His pants were feeling tight, cock twitching.

You begin to grind against his tongue and Sanemi encourages it. He removes his fingers from inside of you to now grip your thighs to give you more access to do so.

“Please, Nemi…” you groan, licking your lips. You were now clenching around nothing. “...I need you.”

Sanemi lifts from between your legs, licking your sweet slick from his lips. He looks at your face to find you already looking at him through hooded eyes.

Sanemi could never deny you - not now especially. He knows what you want and he’s quick to undress himself. He’s hesitant slightly, not wanting to ever harm you. He lays beside you and offers a quick peck onto your cheek before gently pushing you onto your side. He wanted you to be comfortable.

Sanemi lifts your leg, making sure he held it up for you so you didn’t have to. He centers himself at your entrance and shudders, the familiar warmth and wetness brings back the memories of when he first had you.

You’re clamping around Sanemi as he enters you slowly. His breath tickles your neck where he’s kissing lovingly. Sanemi’s slow with his thrusts, but it feels good nonetheless. He never knew sex could be just as amazing when he wasn’t being rough, but he noted that it was better because it was with someone he loved.

“It’s okay to go faster.” you moan. Your hand wraps around his wrist for comfort. “You won’t be hurting me.”

Sanemi grunts. He does what you ask, picking up his pace only slightly. Your juices are coating his cock, pussy clenching so heavenly around him that he catches himself fluttering his eyes closed. He inhales your familiar scent - the same scent that has since plagued his home. His heart no longer feels lonely, yearning for a lost love.

“I love you.” Sanemi murmurs, the confession causing his cheeks to flush red. He hasn’t told you explicitly like this before, only while you slept your exhaustion off in Shinjuku. His hand allows your leg to drop, sliding up your thigh to your stomach. “Thank you.” he groans, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

Sanemi was going to come and you know this. You wanted to ask what in the world he was thanking you for, but you had a clue. Random times Sanemi would thank you - “thank you for coming back to me”, “ thank you for carrying my child”, “thank you for loving me”.

Sanemi’s confession to loving you, however, was what made you cum and your words repeating his own was what made him.

A rare sight to see truly - Shinazugawa Sanemi was crying. Weeping at the sight of his child, cheeks flushed and puffy. The girls of the butterfly mansion were the first to be dumbfounded by the sight, gasping at the tall, scarred man with bulging muscles. The same man who would slam the door open and demanded to be treated, uncaring if they were busy or not. Now this same man held such a small infant in his arms, so close to his chest afraid to let go. 

You were brought into the Butterfly Mansion by Shinra one evening while Sanemi had been out gathering the food you were craving. You were stunned when not ten minutes later your water had broken and Shinra was a nervous wreck, eyes wide and looked as though he was nearly about to cry. He was then instructed to go get Sanemi while Aoi set you up on the birthing futon, the three small girls whose names he had not learned were gathering towels, water and other supplies for the birthing process.

Sanemi was by your side no later than five minutes, having thrown the food in Shinra’s arms and dashed away, a gush of in his trail. It was truly a sight to see - Sanemi so caring and loving, holding onto you while murmuring how amazing you were doing. He allowed you to hold his hand and squeeze the life out of it - whatever it took for you to deliver the child safely.

The first sounds of cries cause a wave of relief over Sanemi, you crashing against him in exhaustion. He recalls kissing your head, the sounds of his child louds wails are an accomplishment of what you brought into this world.

“It’s a boy!” Naho, Sumi and Kiyo say in unison and Aoi only smiles towards the wide-eyed former Hashira. She had placed the baby in your arms, innocent eyes looking around curiously but not focusing on anything.

It wasn’t far when the small room was full, Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma low cooing at the sight of the baby. Shinra has a soft smile on his lips, paying his own visit while Tengan is beside Sanemi, who’s eyes had not left his son or you.

“How does it feel?” Tengan asks Sanemi, who blinks but doesn’t take his eyes from you.

“Surreal.” Sanemi responds.

Sanemi felt happy for once. Was it selfish to say this was the happiest he felt in years? He was happy when you came back into his life and brought a new meaning into it. He can even say he felt happy when he learned that they had won the battle against Muzan, even if in the moment he wished he would have died alongside his brother. 

However, there was no happiness that could replace the one he felt at the sight of his child; his son. There was like a new light that overcame him as he watched you nurse his child or hold him close with such love. It’s insane to think that you were the reason that he felt happy once more - he was once content on dying knowing that he would possibly never have a family. Now, he cannot imagine his life without the little family you have given him.

“I don’t think Y/N-san can see us anymore.” Teiko says, a little sadness laced into her voice. “Another boy in the family.”

“Yes.” Sumi murmurs. “At least he’s cute!”

Genya places both hands upon his sisters shoulders. He has a soft smile on his lips, eyes watching his elder brother and how content he appeared. He then looks towards you and the baby - his nephew. “Aniki is happy again.” he says, more to himself than his sisters. 

Sanemi had kneeled down besides you, his index finger lightly stroking his son's cheek.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Genya says, understanding fully that you could no longer see nor hear him. Teiko and Sumi have now disappeared and he finds himself fading, as well. 

[spiriteddreams]

fall / in love

Pairing: Al-Haitham x Reader Warnings: fluff, slight angst with a happy ending Word Count: ~1.3k A/N: writer's block is hitting hard rn so here are some feelings with our fav grumpy grand scribe

“You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” The last person you want to see stands in front of you. You can feel your desk digging into you from behind as you’re cornered in the quiet walls of your office with nowhere to run. Petty excuses are futile in the presence of Al-Haitham, and his looming shadow makes you feel impossibly small.  

You cannot fall in love with him, you’ve told yourself this over and over again. They are bitter words to swallow down, stuck in the back of your throat as you force a practiced smile to hide every confession that threatens to tear through. There are certain things that cannot be said because they will tear down the walls you’ve so carefully constructed, and you know better than anyone how terrible he is at lending a hand when it comes to emotions. Al-Haitham is a man of titles: the Grand Scribe of the Akademiya, the current Acting Grand Master, a saviour to Sumeru (whether he acknowledges it or not), and a good friend. So you cannot fall in love with him because that will threaten everything you have built thus far.

And yet you free-fall, stumbling into these emotions you struggle to push away. You remind yourself to re-read the label that describes your relationship: childhood friends. Keep it that way, you say to yourself. Don’t fall in love, don’t fall for silly words and actions that have no deeper meaning. Falling in love is dangerous, and falling in love with Al-Haitham is possibly the most dangerous of all. You know this and yet you cannot bring yourself to draw the line. He pushes his way into his life without care, his body fitting the indent on your couch from sleepless nights of research and escaping from Kaveh’s hammering in the middle of the night.

Don’t fall in love. Instead, push him away, pull yourself out, place every obstacle you can on this chess-game like friendship that’s cornering you. So how is it that he’s cornered you now, arms crossed over his chest as he stares you down.

“I’ve been busy.” You sigh with a shake of your head. It’s not a lie, you have been rather busy with the sudden influx of paperwork and rebuilding that comes with the rebuilding of the Akademiya. But you’ve still made an effort to steer clear of Al-Haitham when you could. It was changing your daily routes, choosing to take longer walks around the Akademiya to get to your office in the morning, and instead taking up Kaveh’s offers to get lunch at the cafe across the city rather than the one just outside the Akademiya. 

Al-Haitham rolls his eyes ,”Do you think I’m that stupid? You’ve been actively avoiding me. This is the first time I’ve seen you in almost two weeks. So why?” You hear the slight waver in his voice as his words end. There’s a flicker of worry in his eyes that lasts for just one second, but it’s that one second that punches through your pride. It’s too late to back out now.

“Because— I don’t understand you! You buy me my favourite pastries and then tell me it’s because you wanted one too but I know you hate how sweet these are! You ask for book recommendations but I know you hate the books I read because you have this odd enjoyment of reading physics books! You seek out my company and claim it’s only because you have nothing better to do! And I don’t understand what you want from me!” He remains quiet at your words and you shake your head slightly. Of course he doesn’t say anything. When you finally put him in check, he doesn’t know what to say. His pawns are gone, chess pieces not set up for your play, so he stays quiet. 

“I don’t like feeling whatever this feeling is.” Your hands tremble as you bring them to your chest. The words bubble up from your chest and there’s no stopping them now. Not after you’ve pushed them down for so long and watched from a distance, because this distance is what has kept you going for so long. 

“I see you and— and suddenly I have this stupid smile on my face and my heart beats faster and you don’t even know!” You cry out, “You don’t care that time and time again I have to turn away just because I get so worried that you’ll see me and know.!” He stares at you blankly and you hate it. You hate that you can’t read any emotions in those pretty eyes of his. You hate that his mouth hasn’t moved, not a twitch or a smirk, or a smile, or anything. You hate that his hands reach up to grasp yours, the surprisingly soft texture of his gloves stark against your clammy palms.

He opens his mouth and you brace for the worse, only for him to say softly, “Breathe, please.” A shaky breath rattles your lungs as you stare at him, mouth parted in a mix of surprise at the sudden contact and how damn close he is. There’s a mix of something in those pretty eyes of his as he ducks down to look at you from behind his grey swept hair. A smile, a rare, genuine one tugs on his lips and you can only stare. You’ve laid out your emotions bare for him to see, put him in check position and can only wait for him to make his next move.

And what you hate the most about Al-Haitham is his infuriating ability to take his time, even in the most stressful of situations. You’re acutely aware of your breathing, the rise and fall of your chest and his as you stand in silence. Your hands, no doubt sweaty, still shake even in his gentle grasp and you  know that he can see the way your eyes dart around nervously, refusing to hold eye contact with him.

“After knowing me for so long, I thought that you might be able to read me just as well.” Forget how nervous you feel at the moment. You want to strangle him for his cryptic words. He’s always been good at this, dangling the truth in front of everyone’s eyes under the disguise of honey coated words and half-truths. Perhaps, at another time, you would indulge in riddled words and bite back with some of your own, but now they only irritate you. And Al-Haitham knows it. Just the thought of it brings a teasing grin to his face, one you recognize immediately.

“Don’t you think it’s rather foolish of you to avoid me like this?” Al-Haitham hums and steps back to give you some space. He doesn’t let go of your hands. “After all this time, you’d think that maybe you might realize that I care for you just as much, if not more, as you do for me.” You let the words sink in, bask in their warmth before scowling at him. Tugging your hands from his grasp you push at him gently, ignoring the feeling of his chest against your fingers as you look away.

“Just say you like me too.” You grumble. Al-Haitham’s fingers come to drag along your skin, teasing yet comforting as he laughs, “What a childish way of putting it.” You roll your eyes but stay in your spot, relishing in the turn of events. Quick as it may have been, and far too unexpected for your liking, you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t something Al-Haitham would do.

He hums, catching your attention once more. “So, are you done avoiding me?”

“Keep up this attitude and I won’t be.” Al-Haitham grins and you can’t help but match his expression. But nothing prepares you for the brief kiss that his planted on your forehead, a promise sealed without words, an act of comfort and honesty. And in the confines of these four walls, you let yourself fall in love again. 

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Cry for the Moon

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

Pairing: Zuko x firebender!reader

Warnings: none

A/N: I did end up writing more, thus we get to see our fav boy Zuko in the upcoming chapter - but I quite enjoyed writing this one and digging deeper into the internal struggles of the reader! I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I did writing it ^.^

Taglist: @annonymatic @yoongiesstar @lost-inthe-v0id @lokigodofmyheart @4l3x1s @potato87123 @asciendo @angelruinz @unamused-boss @junieshohoho @yourlivewire @itszzmoon @coolgirl458 @vyliie

Mai’s raven hair was, just as you had last seen her, partly in two small buns and the rest fell on her shoulders. The dark, sleeveless jacket seemed to be a new one but other than that, her maroon clothing and black, fingerless gloves were the same as always.

As soon as your amber eyes found the slim figure of Mai, an uneasy feeling appeared in your stomach. Even the mere sight of her made you uncomfortable for every time you laid your eyes on her, the fact that you were never going to get your former best friend back hit you like a wall of bricks.

Even after Zuko’s banishment, or after you got together with Shuzi, the raven-haired girl insisted on keeping her distance from you. Not that you would easily forgive her, of course, but you found her stubbornness childish from time to time.

[Flashback]

You found Mai sitting on her swing at the backyard of her parents’ house, moving back and forth ever so slowly. The dull expression on her face became duller, as if it was possible in the first place. You felt the heaviness on your heart growing.

“Mai, I know there is something bothering you.” You said as you approached her carefully, you were afraid she would run away just like a cat. “Please, talk to me.”

Mai shook her head. “No, I don’t want to.” She said, it was obvious that she was trying to hide the sorrow away, but she was so heartbroken that made it almost impossible. “I cannot stand looking at you anymore!”

You felt tears rushing to your eyes, but you quickly sent them back. “Why? What have I done to you?” You asked as you sat next to her on the swing. “Mai, you are my best friend. I don’t want to lose you.”

“It just hurts too much,” she muttered while kicking the stones on the ground. “Seeing you and him together all the time.”

She was talking about Zuko.

“Mai, I…” Honestly, you didn’t know what to say. You were aware of Mai’s obvious crush on Zuko for years, but everyone knew that it was decided long, long ago that you were going to be his future wife. “You know that our parents have decided that when we were just babies.”

Suddenly, Mai stood up from the swing with a furious aura surrounding her. “I love him, okay? I should be the one with him! You… You are just acting that way because of this stupid arranged marriage!”

For the first time in your thirteen years of life, you heard Mai screaming.

You swallowed for a few times to destroy the lump in your throat, you were on the verge of breaking down. “What makes you believe that I don’t love him?” You asked with a low voice, trying to keep your emotions under control.

Mai let out a scornful laughter. “Ah, please. Zuko - he is a fool for you, but you are simply with him for the sake of duty and power. It is obvious.”

Slowly, you felt sorrow turning into fury as you stood up from the swing. “You are wrong.” You said with a cold tone. “I do love him. And if you had been really my best friend, you would have known that. You would have seen that.” As you shook your head, you turned back to leave Mai all alone. “As it turns out, you were only acting to be my friend. Out of duty.”

[Flashback ends]

Mai didn’t even look at you as she put her hands together and bowed slightly towards Azula. “Please tell me you are here to kill me.” She spoke with her usual, dull, emotionless tone. Then, she looked up at Azula with a slight smile on her lips.

Azula placed her hands on Mai’s shoulders as she giggled. “It is great to see you, Mai.”

Ty Lee rushed forwards to give Mai a big hug, ignoring the fact that Mai was not a fan of hugs. The gloomy girl gave Ty Lee an uncomfortable pat on the back. “I thought you ran off and joined the circus.” Mai said as she stepped back from the hug. “You said it was your calling.”

“Well, Azula called a little louder.” Ty Lee said, hiding the sarcasm in her tone skilfully, only you knew what she really meant by that. Once again, you found yourself feeling sorry for the poor girl – she only wanted to follow her passion.

Slowly, Mai turned her head to meet your amber eyes. “Hey,” she said with a small nod, her voice lacked even the tiniest bit of emotion.

You, too, had put on your resting bitch face. “Hey.”

Azula rolled her eyes in an exaggerated way. “Oh, come on! It has been three damn years.” The Princess turned her gaze to Mai, pointing at you with her right index finger. “She has been dating someone else for the last six month and none of you have seen my fool of a brother in over three years!” Azula took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. “Just leave that childish drama behind you already!”

Well, I kind of saw him a few days ago … which caused weird feelings and thoughts to arise …

Before you or Mai could say anything, Ty Lee spoke. “Well, technically, the arranged marriage is still on – as long as Zuko comes back with the Avatar, right?”

You let out a scornful laughter. “Ah, please, as if he stands any chance now that we are on the hunt as well.”

Azula looked at you with a smirk on her lips. “That’s my girl.” You winked at the Princess, who turned her gaze to Mai once again. “I have a mission and I need you all.” She said as she laid her right hand on your shoulder, her eyes wandering between all three of you.

“Count me in.” Mai spoke with an annoyed expression on her face. “Anything to get me out of this place.”

[Time Skip]

You shielded your amber eyes from the sun as you approached the three figures standing on the other side of the road. Two of them, who were standing on the sides, were wearing blue clothing that resembled those from the Watertribes.

The boy on the left was holding a baby, probably Mai’s brother, and had his hair in a stylish ponytail. To the right stood the girl with hair loopies and a water bag. The boy in the middle was, unlike the other two, in yellow-orange clothing with an orange hat-like piece on his head. You raised an eyebrow to yourself upon seeing that he was carrying a staff.

As she was the one responsible to carry out the trade, Mai stood forth and the rest of you waited behind her. Meanwhile, a crane was lowering the metal cage that held King Bumi of Omashu as hostage.

Quickly, you eyed Azula up – you were sure she had another motive behind this trade. A baby for a king, eh? I don’t believe this is something Azula would approve of.

“You brought my brother?” Mai asked. The boy with the staff nodded as he pointed to his left, showing the baby.

“He is here.” The boy said. “We are ready to trade.”

Just as you expected, Azula interrupted. You couldn’t help but smirk. “I am sorry, but a thought just occurred to me.” Azula spoke so naturally, it was impossible to point it out as perfect acting if one didn’t know Azula good enough. “Do you mind?”

Mai turned to Azula. “Of course not, Princess Azula.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Azula was weighing down some options. “We are trading a two-year-old for a king,” she said at the end as she looked up at the King of Omashu with an arched brow. “A powerful, earthbending king?”

The King himself nodded.

Azula’s eyes wandered between you, Ty Lee and Mai. “It just doesn’t seem like a fair trade, does it?”

You kept your chuckling to a minimum to avoid being heard, you had known that exactly this was going to happen. Knowing Azula good enough, it was to await that she would have an ulterior motive in taking the matters in Omashu – or rather New Ozai as the Princess had recently renamed the city – in her own hands.

It was Mai’s call now, she had to decide between family and duty.

“You are right,” Mai said with a voice that lacked even the slightest bit of emotion, even towards her own little brother. Well, one could clearly see that her brother was – at least for now – in good hands since the boy in blue clothing did his best to keep the baby safe and comfortable.

She probably wants to carry out Azula’s part of the plan first.

“The deal’s off!” Mai announced and held up her hand, gesturing the guards to pull the King back up.

However, no one – and especially you – wasn’t expecting the boy in the middle with yellow clothing to start using his glider to fly behind the King. Without even thinking about it, you reacted the same way as Azula and you both sent flames in his direction to block his path. The boy dodged the flames by leaping high into the air.

Did he just… Airbend?

As the boy used his glider with airbending, he lost his hat, leaving his arrow tattoo exposed. You and Azula gasped at the same time. “The Avatar!” You both said simultaneously.

A smug smile formed on Azula’s lips. “My lucky day,” she muttered more to herself, then she called out your name. “Follow me!”

[Time Skip]

The attempt to capture the Avatar in Omashu had, unfortunately, been unsuccessful – but it was something to expect considering that none of you were prepared to face the Last Airbender and a King that could earthbend simply with his face.

As the royal palanquin was being carried out the city; you, Mai and Ty Lee walked besides. You felt yourself sailing from one thought to another, dangerously close to getting lost in the vast ocean that is your mind. Chasing the Avatar made you realise something: you had never thought about how it would make you feel while helping Azula capture the world’s last hope.

You had complicated feelings and thoughts considering the war, the Fire Lord and the Avatar. It was for a fact that you despised Fire Lord Ozai after everything he had done to Zuko and Azula, you held him directly responsible for Azula’s corruption.

Of course, there had been a big Ursa factor as well, but that was a whole different topic.

Even though you were loyal to your nation until the very end, you didn’t really want to see Fire Lord Ozai becoming the supreme ruler over the Four Nations. He was a horrible man, he lacked even the slightest bit of empathy and compassion. A man who was incapable of loving his own children should be, under no circumstances, given such great power over all of humanity and its destiny.

But then, there was Azula.

You had mastered the skill of detaching your emotions from your actions when it came to her, which enabled you to carry out tasks which would otherwise burden you when awake, asleep and even dead. Your loyalty, compassion, and love towards Azula was stronger than everything you had known – well, except for the love you had felt for Zuko, but that was long gone.

You knew you needed more time to reflect upon this dissonance you were experiencing but you believed that standing with Azula was more valuable than anything you could think of at that moment. All these years, you had put in so much effort, time, and tenderness into your relationship with her – even the mere thought of doing the slightest thing to shake her trust brought you on the verge of a break down.

“So, we are tracking down your brother and Uncle, huh?” Mai asked, which caused you to come back to the present moment. You shook yourself.

Ty Lee giggled. “It will be interesting seeing Zuko again,” she spoke teasingly, “won’t it, Mai?”

At first, you kind of waited Ty Lee to divert the same question to you and correct herself but quickly, you remembered that you had been together with Shuzi for over half a year. Whether you would see Zuko again or not didn’t really matter anymore, despite the arranged marriage still not being called off.

“It is not just Zuko and Iroh anymore,” Azula spoke with a serious tone. “We have a third target now. The Avatar.”

You felt knots in your stomach.

As you headed towards the ship to spend the night and plan the rest of your mission, Azula explained Mai and Ty Lee why she decided to leave the royal guards and the navy ship behind. The main problem was to find a means of transportation that was fast, could go over any kinds of terrain without having the need to find a road and was strong enough to overcome any bending.

“What about using a tank train?” You suggested, earning an intrigued look from Azula, who was still sitting in the royal palanquin. “I am sure the army can spare one of them for the Princess’ mission.”

Azula made an approving sound. “That is actually brilliant,” she muttered, more to herself. “They are designed to travel at high speeds over most terrain without the use of tracks, but they can still accommodate many people – we can take some servants with us to run the errands.”

Ty Lee seemed a little bit uncomfortable. “I don’t want to be stuck in a metal machine for days – I need sunlight!” She was playing anxiously with her braid.

“I wouldn’t mind not having to see the sun for a while,” Mai muttered, not much to your surprise. “I don’t like the way it disturbs my eyes.”

“You would rather live in a black hole for the rest of your life.” Ty Lee rolled her eyes at Mai, causing her to shoot an angry glance. You bit the inside of your cheek not to laugh – Ty Lee was more than right in her statement. If you gave Mai a bucket of never-ending black paint and a brush that could be extended as much as one needed, she wouldn’t rest until she painted the whole sky black – setting aside the fact that such a thing is impossible to carry out.

The Princess heaved a sigh. “You can jump onto the roof to do your sunbathing, Ty Lee, as long as the insects flying at your face do not disturb you.” Ty Lee grimaced upon hearing Azula’s words. “And Mai, you are free to lock yourself up in a dungeon, as long as you are there to fight whenever I need you to.”

This time, you couldn’t hold back your laugh. Azula raised an eyebrow as she looked at you, whereas Mai and Ty Lee carried annoyed expressions.

“Do you also have a specific request?” Azula asked you. “And no, you are not allowed to bring your dog to our mission.”

You rolled your eyes at her. “For the last time, Azula, he is not a dog – I am not putting anyone on a leash.” Upon hearing Mai mutter something under her breath, you shot her a warning look and turned back to Azula. “And no, I am completely fine, as long as you leave those two sisters back on the ship.”

It was no secret that you despised Lo and Li, your hatred towards the sisters seemed to both amuse and entertain Azula every time. The Princess let out a small laughter.

[Time Skip]

The whole ship was asleep as you sat on the front porch, watching the night sky while the cool wind played with your hair, which wasn’t in the top not anymore. It was cool outside; you shivered and wrapped your arms tighter around your body – the red gown wasn’t thick enough to keep you warm. Heaving a sigh, you used your breath of fire to get rid of the shivering.

Ever since you had agreed to help Azula on her mission, you found yourself carrying out inner battles more often than usual. They used to be, when Zuko’s banishment was just new, the only thing you had known for a long while; however, after accepting the hard truth, you thought the battles would be finally over.

And they were, for the last two years, you didn’t have to deal with any internal conflict.

Until the thoughts about the Banished Prince and your distant past crept out from the dusty corners of your mind. You thought you had forgot him long ago – everything about him had to be burnt to ashes. As it seems, this had never been the case, the realisation of which was hitting you just now.

There was no compassion for him left in you, this was the truth; however, your past feelings for Zuko were still enough to confuse you, to distract you. It was like a sweet poison: the embrace of those distant memories felt oh so sweet and familiar – it felt just like home – but when you realised that they were in fact chocking you, drowning you – it would be too late.

I should have never let my mind wander off to those forbidden territories of my own memory. You thought to yourself as you breathed out crimson flames, the gentle touch of the wind was making you shiver once again. I cannot allow myself to get distracted. Not now.

Maybe… Maybe I should just face him.

That particular thought seemed to strike interest and excitement within you. Ever since the Banished Prince abandoned you on the deck when he left the Fire Nation, you secretly had been craving to face him and scream at him, tell him all those wicked things you wished he had heard from you.

Tell him how he broke your heart to a million pieces, burnt all your love to ashes and threw them out into the vast ocean.

And thank him for letting you turn into this thing that could disconnect her emotions from her actions simply by taking a deep breath and thinking about the strong bond she shared with his sister.

“You keep lecturing me about getting enough sleep and yet here you are – not sleeping.”

You chuckled as you turned left to look at Azula, who was standing next to you. She, too, was in a red robe, but hers was adorned in gold around the collar and the sleeves. She had let her dark hair down, which looked absolutely pretty either way.

“Do as I say and not as I do, Princess.” You responded, gaining an eyeroll from her. Slowly, you stood up. “I have trouble sleeping.”

Azula nodded, she also seemed thoughtful. “I understand.” She paused for a moment. “You were thinking about my brother, weren’t you?”

You didn’t see any point in lying – Azula knew you good enough to tell when you were hiding something, just like you could do it with her. “He started messing with my head, again.” You spoke with a low tone, avoiding Azula’s amber eyes as you looked at the dark waters ahead of you.

The Princess laid her hand on your shoulder with a soft manner. “I can understand why his presence would confuse you,” the warmth in her tone caused you to meet her gaze. “But I need you in her best form and mind – distractions are not something we can allow at this moment.”

It was quite rare but sometimes, when it was just the two of you, Azula would let her shields and icy walls down. Every time when such a time came, you couldn’t help but adore how much she trusted you – you doubted that even her own family knew this side of Azula.

You nodded with a small smile on your lips. “I am very well aware of that, and I do not intend to disappoint you, Azula.”

The hints of a smile could also be seen on Azula’s lips as well. “You have given me no reason to think you would disappoint me.”

“I really appreciate your words, sweetheart.” Your amber eyes lit up with happiness. “For the matter of your brother, I think I have found a solution – I am going to put an end to these distractions.”

“Exactly what I was hoping to hear,” Azula said as the edge of her lips curled upwards. Then, she gave your shoulder a small squeeze. “Come on now, we both need our beauty sleep – or you are going to end up having eye rings, remember?”

You grimaced as you followed Azula into the ship. “Nobody wants that.”

[frannyzooey]

On The Green: 3

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: Mature-ish? More space violence, gratuitous descriptions of Ezra’s body 🤡

A/N: thank you to both @the-scandalorian who always sets me in the right direction and gives me the best reassurance and @bageldaddy who, I’m pretty sure, is giving me more of an education than any English teacher I’ve ever had and thank god ❤️

Series Masterlist

—

For the next couple days, it rains. 

Sheets of it pour down, a steady drum against the roof, trails of it sliding down the windows. It creates rivers in the rich soil, deep trenches that lead to even deeper puddles, and the world outside looks like a muted blur from your seat inside. A smear of dark green, a blot of rich brown, the watery shape of roots that distort with every drop. 

Tucking your knees tighter under your chin, you give your legs a squeeze, hoping to squash the restlessness that thrums through them. 

“Anything new out there?”

You sigh, knowing he’s teasing. “No.”

“Fitting, the way you can sit still for so long, Birdie. Perched there in your little nest.”

The only blanket you have pooled at your hip, your headphones on the floor, and your notebook open and face down next to them, you suppose it does look a bit like a nest. You shrug. “Not much else to do.”

Ezra fiddles with a ship part in his hand, his head bent in focus. “Always something to do.”

After days stuck inside, it doesn’t feel like it. 

You’ve combed over every inch of the pod, putting it back to rights. Cleaning every surface, organizing every cupboard. The med supplies were pulled out and meticulously sorted, the food stores combined with Ezra’s meager offerings, the dash scrubbed free of every particle of dirt that’s collected on it over the years. Your fingers finding a few rusty drips of blood that were missed, you spent more time than necessary scouring every inch of the pilot’s seat until your fingers ached. 

One untouched compartment remained: your father’s private belongings. 

“Hand me that wrench, would you?”

Ezra extends his hand, and you crawl over to the open tool kit, rifling through it until you find the one he’s looking for. Handing it to him, you abandon your seat by the window and sit next to him. His fingers are thick and long, marred with the nicks of small scars, his fingernails short and black with permanent dirt—but his handling of the part is graceful, his touch deft when he uses the tool. 

“Tell me everything he said again, from the top.”

Resting your cheek on your knee, you recite every detail you can recall, your voice monotone with boredom. 

“He didn’t say much. A group of mercs hired him to help with the dig, but I don’t know where he met them. Called “The Queen’s Lair,” it’s supposed to be an untouched dig site that holds more gems than any other on this planet. A deposit the size of this pod. Depending on his source, the whole thing could be real or it could be nothing, but either way, he thought it would make us rich. He said it would be enough to retire on, that this would be our last run.”

Ezra huffs. “If the rumor is true, then he’d be right.” He passes the wrench back, looking at you. “If it’s true.” He waits a beat. “Do you think it is?”

You still had to get used to that – someone asking your opinion about something. You shrug. “It’s possible, right?”

“Sure, it’s possible,” he agrees. “Probable, though?” 

You pause to think, and his expression softens into a smile. “A dreamer like myself, I see.” 

“I don’t know about that,” you reply. “But as long as we’re stuck here, might as well look, right?”

He nods, thinking for a moment. 

“The Queen’s Lair,” he muses, dragging the words out in a slow drawl. He looks up, wiggling his eyebrows, and a small smile pulls at your lips. 

Mirroring it, he goes back to work. 

It had taken you all of a couple days to tell him about the reason your father came here. Tossing in your lot with Ezra the second you agreed to his deal, the idea of a hidden cache of gems that had the potential to make you both rich was too valuable to keep to yourself. You had the location; he had the digging skills. You had, as minimal as they were, details about who was waiting, and he had the skills to navigate the situation. 

You needed each other. 

Cautious around him for the first couple of days, you were surprised by his geniality. For someone who appeared so ruthless when you first met him, he was…kinder than you thought he would be with you. You had remained hesitant, convinced that it was a ruse to get you to lower your defenses, but after a while, you came to see that he was just desperate for someone to talk to. 

So were you, it seemed, for how easily the words slipped out once you let them. 

After a lifetime of being left to wilt alone in empty apartments, or being dragged around the universe only to be ignored until your father needed something from you, it felt good to have someone’s attention. His curiosity about you was endless, his questions never ending, and when you answered, he really listened. Not like he was searching for anything to give him a leg up on you, but rather just openly interested. His face was expressive, his eyes fixed on yours whenever you were talking, and even when you tried to shy away from the direct attention you weren’t used to, he never faltered. 

He was patient, a gift you’d never been given from anyone. 

Unfortunately, along with that came a blossoming attraction to the man, but you pushed that down. The pod was a tight space with two people, and he was broad. You couldn’t help but notice his presence. Especially at night, when it was just the two of you. 

When a blanket of tension seemed to build across the small space between your cots. 

When it was just you and him and the darkness; the steady sound of his breathing over the thrum of your restless limbs. 

Squashing down the nagging shame that surfaced every time you remembered that he was a stranger and also a murderer, you ignored that logic and leaned into the warmth of his companionship instead. 

Besides, even if he was planning on taking advantage, what could you really do about it anyway? 

“You mentioned a map?” he says, his brow furrowing in concentration. 

You tilt your head towards his cupboard. “I haven’t checked, but it should be in there. I remember him looking at it.”

Knowing you’ve been avoiding that particular cupboard, he nods. 

“How many mercs are waiting for him at the dig?”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“What terms did he negotiate?”

“He didn’t say.”

Ezra shakes his head to himself, looking up. “The more you tell me about this old man of yours, the less I’m impressed with how he treated his partner.”

“I was never his partner,” you correct. “Just his daughter.”

He gives you a level glance, and you look away. Fiddling with the leg of your thermals, you change the subject. “Do you think it’s safe to leave the pod unattended?” 

“I’m not assured that she’s fit to fly in the state she’s in, but just to be sure, we’ll take this with us wherever we go.”

He holds up the part in his hand with a smirk, and you give it a closer look, huffing a laugh when you recognize it. 

The starter. 

He stands with a soft grunt, stretching. The muscles in his shoulders shift underneath his threadbare thermals, and you keep your eyes on them when he tucks the part away in his case. 

“I’ll need a digging partner out there, if this opportunity is what you say it is,” he says. “I think we should practice some, to get you ready. Is that amenable to you?”

You bite the pillow of your lip. “He never taught me that. How to dig,” you clarify. 

“Course he didn’t,” Ezra frowns, his voice sliding low with unamused disappointment. He shakes his head clear of whatever dark thought seems to pass through his mind, his expression softening. “All the more reason.” He bends, peering out the window. “Looks like it’s tapering off. The sooner we get some practice under your belt, the better.”

A swoop of relief flowing through you at the thought of leaving the pod, it mixes with excitement at the prospect of learning something new. Your father never trusted you with the actual digging – you had been brought along to carry things, made to follow for “assistance”, but he never let you touch the blade. You’d once thought it was a father’s way to protect his child from the dangerous job but quickly realized it was born out of impatience. 

Unfurling your tight limbs when he holds his hand out to help you off the floor, you grab your suits from the closet. Slipping them on in silence, you click your helmet into place while he secures the connection of your filters, and hunching to get through the door, you follow him outside. 

The ground is saturated with water, your boots leaving clear impressions in the soil as he leads you into the forest. He’s broad, even more so with his suit on, but the trees that surround you are still big enough to conceal his entire body, not to mention yours. The canopy of lush growth glistens with droplets, shafts of misty light piercing through it to highlight the floor of moss and growth underneath you. Vines and tree roots spread and crawl underneath your feet, no visible path that you can see.  

You follow the beacon of his worn yellow suit, his voice carrying through the comm into your helmet. 

“So, Birdie,” his voice sounds deeper through the link, scratchy with static. “If your father never taught you how to dig, what did he teach you?”

You huff under your breath. “A lot of things.”

Missing the low tone of your sarcasm through the radio, he continues in his conversational tone. “Anything useful?”

“I know how to navigate.” You think of using your father’s last coordinates to find him in the seedier part of town. “I’m resourceful.” Rationing your vouchers, making sure they bought you enough food to last. “I’m actually not a bad mechanic.”

“Oh yea?” He turns to look to peek back at you for a moment. 

You immediately backtrack when you see a glimmer of hope on his face. “I mean, nothing like we need. I can try to help though, if you show me how. My father used to bring me with him everywhere but always left me behind, so I got pretty good at fixing things around the ship. He always wanted me to do the wiring because my hands were smaller than his. He said my fingers were more precise.”  

You remember the rest of it silently: the way his hands trembled and shook between doses. 

Ezra hums in acknowledgement. “And yet he never taught you how to dig?”

The moss softens your footsteps, flakes of dust floating through the thick air. 

“No,” you reply. “He tried, but…I don’t know. He was too impatient, I think.”

Memories of his harsh words come back: the biting clip of his reprimands, the disappointed yet dismissive tone he always had when it came to you. 

Ezra’s voice pulls you back. “Seems like a waste to me. If I had access to those fingers of yours, I would have made use of them.”

Your steps falter as his unearned praise catches you off guard, at his automatic assumption that skills he doesn’t even know if you have were wasted. Warmth unfurls in your chest, the edge of your mouth unconsciously lifting. Feeling slightly foolish and young at your reaction, you look down at your feet. 

You’re still thinking about it when he pushes through dense bush, halting you with his arm.  

Peering over his shoulder, you see a dark, gaping pit of disturbed earth obstructing your path. He creeps closer, toeing around the edge of it, and you follow, taking in the size and depth. Shallow but with steep sides, roots bulge out from below the soil, extending into the sky with gnarled fingers. Looking closer, you note pockets of earth gaping open just underneath each one. The whole site is eerie, appearing abandoned – though Ezra seems to know what he’s looking for. 

Standing on the edge of the pit with a narrowed gaze, he crouches, studying the crater. 

You watch with curiosity as he eases down the slope, into the dig site. Sitting on your butt, you carefully slide down the embankment to join him. 

You’re not experienced enough to know for sure, but everything about this looks barren to you. 

“Is there anything left in here?”

He flashes a smile your way. “If you know where to look.”

He paces the length of the pit, studying it. “Many sites were depleted during the Rush, but carelessness left some treasures behind.” 

He squats next to a thick, gnarled root, his helmet tilting in study. 

“Come here, Birdie.” His voice slipping into something softer and quieter, he motions you closer. “Here. You see it?”

His gloved fingers splay over the earth, dusting along tiny pin-prick holes that pierce the rich dirt, and he brushes away the crumbling top layer to reveal a deeper set. As if whatever is buried underneath needs access to the toxic air. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” he coos. 

Blinking, it takes you a second to understand he’s talking to the hole he’s gently unearthing. He hums to himself, one of satisfaction when the earth tumbles away and an involuntary shiver of pleasure at the sound surprises you by rolling down your spine. Shifting your crouch, you push it down. 

“Hand me my kit?”

You reach for it, watching as he preps his tools. 

“I’ll go first, and then teach you how to do it. Watch my fingers.” 

Bracing his hand on the side of the site, he uses the strength in his other one to scoop into the pocket of soil until it completely opens. His arm disappears as he reaches into the dark pit, and trepidation spreads through you. He searches for something, his eyes lighting up when he finds it. 

"I knew somebody oughta give her a go,” he says with a smile. 

His hand wrapped around the root like a rope, he tugs with a soft grunt of exertion, and a thick, milky white root pearl spills from the hole. He keeps pulling, coaxing everything out and a bulbous pod covered in mucus emerges, sliding out onto the ground by his feet. Shifting onto his knees, he picks up his knife. 

“You want to be careful when you cut,” he starts to explain, motioning you to scoot closer. “Easy does it, with delicate things like these. One wrong move and the whole thing will go to shit.”

You hold your breath as he makes a careful incision, his knife slowly drawing across the top of the pod. Your eyes widen in half revulsion and half curiosity as it splits open, strands of thick mucus connecting each side. 

“I saw my dad do it once,” you say lowly, mesmerized by his deft movements. “Mess it up.”

The dark crown of his shorn curls shakes under the dome of his visor. “It’s a shame to waste it. All the effort it takes to get her to give it up, only to be ruined with a misplaced touch.”

A hissing sound slips through the thick air, and his fingers form a vee to hold the slick seam open. 

“That's the price for a dry breach,” he explains. “My chem will calm the brine.”

You have the bottle of pre-mixed chemicals ready in your hand, and he gives you a nod in thanks, taking it from you. Pouring it slowly into the crack, the pod disintegrates into a steamy cloud, a slimy puddle forming underneath. A core remains, and setting the bottle down, he holds up the unpolished gem. 

“Small, but still worth it.”

“You made that look so easy.” Clear experience in every movement he made, you’re still looking at the gem when he speaks. 

“Your turn.”

You look up at the words, unsure, and his gaze is steady and encouraging. “I’ll be right here. If you slip, it’s just a trial run.”

You frown in hesitation, and he chuckles. “Don’t look so serious, Birdie. The stakes are about as low as they can get. Come on.”

He jerks his chin towards something behind you, and crawling over to it, you follow. 

“Just there,” he says. “You can see her. Look.”

You follow his finger, and reaching your glove out, start to brush the crumbling soil away from the side of the pit. He guides you through every step with a patience you’ve not encountered before, every instruction murmured in a cadence so soothing that would be distracting if not for the intensity of your concentration on the task. 

Watch it, girl. Straight finger. 

You got it?

Hold it nice and tight. 

Oh. That’s perfect. 

The sense of accomplishment you feel when you hold up the gem is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. All of your other skills discovered through the lens of isolation, forged by way of necessity without the luxury of help, this one feels different. A safety net beneath you every step of the way, you know if you were to mess up, he would have saved you – but you didn’t. 

The faith he placed in you when he handed you the knife suddenly feels so much more earned, and you beam up at him with pride.  

“Not nearly as daunting as you thought now, was it?” He smiles back at you, holding his hand out for the gem. “Your father was right, by the way. Your fingers are nimble. The most precise and steady I’ve ever seen.”

You know he must be humoring you but the flush of validation flourishes in your chest as he tucks the stone carefully into the soft foam padding of his case. 

“I would have us stay out longer, but we didn’t charge the filters as much as we should have. Let’s head back and admire our loot in a more hospitable environment.”

Clicking it shut, he climbs the slope of the pit before turning to help you out. 

“Your first gem,” he muses, leading you back into the forest. “How does it feel?”

“Good,” you breathe, a small smile still on your face and you follow him, his constant stream of words fading into the background. 

Entirely dependent on the whims of your father, you’d been existing inside of an isolated bubble until now. You hadn’t been lying when you told Ezra you had no idea what you wanted to do, because the freedom to choose your own path was something that had never occurred to you. You’d been self-reliant, but always within the shadow of a burden. Your dad forced you into a caretaker role, and for the first time in years, as Ezra’s voice flows into your helmet from his, you feel the possibility of something else breaking through the fog. 

A glimmering edge of potential, the hue of an amber colored gem. 

The shift inside you sparks to life, a realization dawning on you: a life you never thought possible. For the first time since you landed on this planet, you see opportunity stretching out in front of you instead of a dead end.  Pride kindles in your chest as you walk back to the pod, and you think about sharing it with Ezra, but stating your excitement over something as routine for the competent man in front of you seems foolish. Like something you should keep to yourself, in order to protect it against the power you know other’s words hold. 

You make it to the edge of the clearing before it spills forth from your lips. 

“I can’t wait –” you start, your words interrupted by Ezra’s arm whipping out for the second time that day to stop you in your tracks. 

“Hello, stranger.”

Your head snaps up, both at the greeting itself and the tone his voice has slipped into: something colder than the easy geniality he’s been using with you all morning, an edge to it that you can sense without seeing his face.

“Can I help you?” Ezra’s hand rests on the thrower attached to his hip, and from your place behind him, you slowly reach for your own weapon strapped across your back. Peering over Ezra’s shoulder, you spot the edge of a man. 

Sneering through the visor of his dirty helmet, he looks starved, almost feral underneath the dome, his eyes dead with hunger. Dangerous is the first word that comes to mind, and when the man’s gaze settles on you, you shrink back behind Ezra.

“Pretty ship,” his voice crackles through the comm link. “Pretty girl.”

Your stomach bottoms out, but Ezra remains still.

“Both of whom belong to me,” he replies, steady and sure. 

Your fingers bury themselves into Ezra’s suit at his side, and you feel him straighten, standing taller in front of you.

“Seems like a lot for one man.” The man’s chin tilts up in a challenge, stepping closer. “Maybe I can take one of em’ off your hands.”

“As generous as that offer is, I will have to decline.” You can hear the casual smile on Ezra’s face, meant to disarm. “I’m partial to both, you see. I wouldn’t be able to choose.”

The stranger takes a step closer, testing. When Ezra doesn’t move, he takes another. 

“Actually,” the stranger confesses, “I’ve got a ship. It could use some parts, and I intended to take them from you…but I’d be willing to walk away.” He pauses a beat, tilting his head to look directly at you. “For her.” 

He smiles, and the sight of his rotted teeth causes bile to rise in your throat. 

“That is a bold offer,” Ezra drawls. “Unfortunately,” his voice dropping into a firmer tone, “She stays with me.”

The man’s greasy smile disappears, replaced with a menacing frown. 

“I’m not gonna ask again,” he growls. 

Ezra stands firm, shifting to cover you with the whole of his body and a tight tension fills the air, crackling amongst the slow floating dust. 

“Then I guess I’ll have to take her by force,” the man says, taking another step forward. 

Without any warning, Ezra whips the pistol from the holster attached to his hip and fires. You shrink at the first shot, scrambling to hide by the pod at the sound of a second one, and by the third, your ass hits the ground with a thud. A cold sweat soaks through your thermals, your pulse pounding as you watch Ezra saunter closer to the dead man with a relaxed gait and aiming his gun right between the man’s vacant eyes, you flinch when he pulls the trigger again. 

A crash echoes through the field, followed by silence. 

–

“It’s really a thing of beauty, isn’t it?”

Still reeling from the confrontation outside, you blink numbly at the refresher. 

“Um,” you swallow, taking a seat. “Sure.”

He seems so unbothered it’s disorienting, and you tug your boot off, placing it on the floor next to the other one. Needing him to go somewhere else so you can process what just happened alone, you attempt casualness. “You just gonna stare at it, or are you gonna shower?”

“You just gonna watch me, or are you gonna turn around?” he mimics. 

You pause, and he grins. 

“Either way suits me just fine, little bird. Just fine.”

He crouches to dig through a bin of his belongings, and you turn your back to him, your body slipping into the rote memory as you take off your suit. The difference between who he’s been the last several days with you versus who he just turned into is jarring, a slap in the face, a stark reminder of what he’s capable of. 

“You want to bathe first, or do you mind if I have the honor?” he asks from behind you. 

“Go for it,” you reply. 

You hear him pause behind you and turn to face him. A frown pulls between his dark brows as he studies you. “Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting for you to get your own relief. In fact, I’d prefer it.”

You shake your head, just wanting him to give you space. “I’m good. I’ll wait.” 

He nods and before you can turn back around, reaches over his head to strip his shirt off with a tug. Marks of rough won survival litter the skin of his back. A gouge here, the thin stripe of a scar there; some cleanly healed, some not. He leans forward into the fresher, turning the water on to let it run for a moment and you eye the dark curls that edge the nape of his neck. The wings of muscle that make up his broad shoulders seem so much wider with his suit off, so much wider against the small opening he stands in front of, and your eyes follow the strong plane of his back down all the way down to the dimples on either side of his spine, just above the waistband of the pants he’s already working open – 

Turning, his face registers surprise when he sees you’re still looking – yet he makes no effort to cover himself. Instead, he stands taller, confident in his bareness. His chest is covered in the same marks as his back, visible strength held in his arms, and dark hair collects in a swirl around his belly button and leads down, his hand obstructing where his pants hang open. 

“I’m – sorry,” you hastily apologize, heat rushing to your face. Averting your eyes, you get a glimpse of his amused smile before you turn your back on him again. 

You expect him to tease you, but he doesn’t. Instead, the door to the fresher clicks shut and you let a breath out you didn’t know you were holding. 

Finally alone, you close your eyes. 

He killed…again. Right in front of you, shamelessly, so confident in his own skills that you never sensed even a fraction of fear. Going back to the moment you both saw the man, you focus on the memory of his calmness, on the image of confidence he presented delivering that final shot. Almost lazy with it, like he was so desensitized by killing it didn’t even register with him. 

Searching deeper, where you should find fear, you find reassurance instead. 

He’s the one that took out the initial threat of his original partner, he’s the one who buried your father like it was nothing, he’s the one who has taught you about this place. Treating you like an equal except for when he needs to take out a threat, the way he slides into territorial protection should make you worry…but instead, it makes you feel safe. 

You don’t belong to him, but you don’t find yourself rebelling against the idea as much as you probably should. The stranger meant to take you, and when Ezra told that man you belonged to him, you should have shrunk away, probably should have mentally protested. Instead, you silently clutched him tighter. 

You hear him behind the door, water splashing against the tiles as he moves around and that swirl of hair above his waistband flashes behind your eyelids, along with an image of his thick fingers. The width of his chest, the rounds of his shoulders. The muscles along his ribs. 

You jam the heels of your hands into your eyes, willing it to stop. 

He’s a murderer. He’s a thief. He’s a dangerous man who has taken advantage of a situation in order to save himself. 

And yet, you breathe out, listening to the shower – he’s saved you every time too. 

–

You stay quiet the rest of the night, sitting with your thoughts. 

He notices, those dark eyes resting on you every now and then over the map. He’d waited until you were in the shower to go through your father’s belongings, a courtesy you silently thanked him for. 

Picking at your dinner, you finally ask him one of the questions weighing on your mind. “Am I really that much of a commodity around here?” you ask. “Is a girl that…rare?”

He stops eating, his expression turning solemn. He holds your gaze for a moment, answering honestly. “You have no idea, Birdie.”

There is a weight to the answer that gives you pause, and a clear implication that confirms the worry that you’re really not safe here – not just for the reasons you thought.

You go back to eating – or rather, picking at your food – and you feel him watching you. 

“It is not my intention to scare you,” he starts, “but it is important that you stay close to me. If anyone asks, you’re mine. You understand?”

You nod, the words sparking to life an empty ache inside you, and you swallow hard. 

“Not because I own you,” he continues, “but because they need to think I do.”

“Wouldn’t being your partner be enough?”

He shakes his head slowly. “I wish it was, but they…” He pauses, being careful with his words. “It’s been a long time since these men have seen a girl. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one. Your father was foolish to bring you here.” His hand splays on his chest, his thumb catching the worn collar of his thermal. “I would never hurt you, Birdie. But them? They’d do it in a heartbeat.”

You go quiet again, and he puts his fork down, leaning in. 

“Again – I don’t say this to scare you, but –”

“That man today,” you interrupt. “How can you kill like that?”

He misunderstands your question, his body language shifting into defensiveness. 

“It was all in the name of self-preservation, Birdie. It was nothing personal. Out here –”

“Can you teach me how?”

Your question takes him aback, his eyebrows popping up with surprise. 

You let the question hang in the air between you, fully expecting him to say no. He shouldn’t help you learn to protect yourself, you know it would be in his best interest not to. Despite that, you hold eye contact with him, pleading inwardly for him to say yes. 

You know he’d protect you, but you want more freedom than that. You want more, just like he taught you earlier.

Taking in your measure for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifts just a fraction, his dark eyes glinting with warmth – and pride. 

“Of course.”

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 9

Summary: With the bargain in place, you'll have to learn to hide your powers while navigating a possibility of allies within Amarantha's court.

Content Warnings: Slight NSFW, suggestiveness, canon typical violence, allusions to assault.

Author's Note: As a little treat for the last chapter being so short, this one is loooooonnnngg. A couple familiar faces make an appearance here, as I decided I wanted to start combining the Hybern storyline with the UTM storyline.

Part 8 is here, rest of the series can be found here

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Again.”

Breath rasps out of you, hands doubled over on your knees, sweat dripping off your forehead. The pounding in your skull intensifies with each labored breath, spots dancing across your vision as you shake your head. “I can’t!”

“You can.”

You raise your head enough to shoot the High Lord of the Night Court a glare. Easy for him to say, he’s not the one shifting forms over and over again. Do High Lord’s even have other forms, aside from Spring? You can’t recall anymore, your head hurts too much. Rhys had decided days ago--at least, you think it’s days, time has become irrelevant in this dark dungeon cell Amarantha has left you both in--that the best way for you to gain control of your powers to better hide them, is to learn how to control the shift. Yours is not quite a beast form, you’re not fully transforming into some sort of beast, but you can grow fangs and claws and shift your eyes into something other. There’s something deeper there you haven’t quite touched, the image of it reveals itself in your dreams, sometimes as this shapeless empty void, others with scales, but you’ll have to dig deeper for whatever that thing is. For now, it’s dampening your power and glamoring your bargain mark, and keeping a harness on the fangs and claws. It’s excruciating, letting them out and shoving them back in, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve done it already. And Rhys just sits there in the corner, watching intently, giving instructions and being a general pain in the ass with each of them. 

“Did you think it was going to be easy?” Rhys returns.

You massage your jaw, the throbbing from retracting your fangs making your whole face hurt. “Of course not asshole! I’m just saying a little compassion would be nice.”

Rhys smirks, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you wanted to be babied and treated like a doll.”

You snarl at him like an animal, eyes blazing and your fangs slide into place effortlessly, pricking your bottom lip. 

Rhys stands with a grunt, body still recovering from the beating he’d received and the strain on his powers. “You’re so easy to rile up,” he croons, stalking closer. “You wear every emotion so plainly, it’s almost too easy to get you right into this position. And what happens when someone other than me sees, hm?”

He’s right and you hate it. 

He stills when he’s only a hair breath away. “I know it’s hard,” he says more gently. “But consider the alternative.”

You don’t want to even think about the alternative. This bargain has to work, you have to make it work, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how long it takes. You can’t let her win.

Your eyes go to the marks still gouged into Rhys’s neck from the collar; his healing abilities have started to return slowly, but he still can’t get the chain off, the wounds still rubbed raw from any and every movement. You can’t let her keep doing this to him either.

“Fine,” you huff.

“Good girl.”

The remark gets him a nice flash of your middle finger before you go back through the steps he’d taught you. It is nice to have the banter between you as a distraction to the reality of your situation, to the cold and darkness that have become a constant companion here far beneath the Mountain. The lack of food and sleep from the elements and the sounds of things prowling around outside is hard enough to bear without the looming threat of Amarantha’s return. This easy thing between you takes the edge off.

You last maybe an hour more, before you slump against the wall, exhausted. 

“You’re doing good,” Rhys affirms from his side of the cell. There’s barely enough room for the two of you to stretch your legs, knees brushing as you stretch your weary muscles. 

You want to believe him, but you know the confinement is taking a toll on your body. Perhaps part of Amarantha’s plan is to let you go half mad in the dark of the dungeons for your insubordination. At least you had been let out of your room from time to time. Locked away like this, you’re tired more easily. With powers like yours you should be able to do this for longer, but it feels like you’re trying to move the Mountain one rock at a time.

You rub a hand over your face, smearing the filth on your hands from touching the floor across your face. “Don’t patronize me.”

“You can be doing good and still need a lot of work,” he replies. “I thought you wanted me to be sympathetic?”

“Yeah well it means less if I had to force you to say it,” you retort.

He moves so he can come sit next to you. If he had any plans to say anything, it’s halted as the lock on the door slides out of place and it creaks open.

You instinctively reach for his hand, breath caught in your throat, waiting to hear that ominous click of heels on the stone floor. But it’s merely one of her red skinned guards, pushing a single tray across the floor before slamming the door shut again.

Rhys gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before leaning around you to grab the tray, a single, burnt loaf of bread and a cup of water between the two of you.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him.

He rips the bread in half. “Don’t get all mushy on me now.”

You take the half he offers, stomach rumbling, but you can’t bring yourself to eat it. What’s the point? 

“Tell me about it,” he says after a beat. “What’s so special about your little farmhouse in Spring.”

You bring your knees to your chest. “It had a lot of sunlight, for starters.” You miss being able to curl up by the windows with your books and a cup of tea, miss going out into the fields to check the mares and their calves, miss finding an excuse to go into town to listen to the minstrels play in the square. 

“I miss my bed and that old quilt I bought off a seamstress on the side of the road,” you continue, tears welling in your eyes. “And my books.”

“What do you like to read?”

“Anything,” you reply. “Everything. Never really mattered to me. Unless it was about math. I hate math.”

Rhys huffs a laugh. “What did math do to you?”

“It’s evil and stupid and who fucking puts letters in with numbers?”  It’s such a stupid statement you can’t help but laugh as the words come out. “But I’d read nothing but books about numbers for the rest of my life if it meant we got out of here.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to pull some from my library for you,” he teases.

You turn to look at him. “How have you survived this long, Rhys?”

He washes down the rest of his food with a bit of the water in your shared cup, violet eyes looking anywhere in the cell but your face. “One day at a time,” he says like it’s something he’s said every day. “And… and when it gets bad I think about my friends, my family. I make a list of their names and I recite it in my head until I don’t feel so lonely.”

You take his hand again, because what else are you supposed to do? You cannot magically make this all end right here and now. It will take time. Maybe that’s what hurts most, because this is the first time in weeks you’ve felt like you understand how your powers work, how you can use them, and yet there’s nowhere to direct them. It’s all a waiting game, moving pieces into the right places until you can finally put all this to use. And cauldron is the waiting game grating on your last nerve, but it’s only been a few days. Rhys has been here for fifty. Your heart aches for him.

“But I think,” he finally turns to look at you, and his violet eyes are damp. “I think I’ve forgotten what they look like.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“Some days I want to just lay down and quit,” he whispers. “But I can’t. I won’t. Then she wins and everything I’ve set out to do, to protect, was for nothing. I can’t let it be for nothing.”

You lean your head against his shoulder. “It won’t be for nothing.” You won’t let it either, you just need to rest for a bit, then you can get back to it.

He leans his head against yours. “We’ll get you back to your books and your quilt.”

“We’ll get out,” you whisper. Maybe if you tell yourself it enough it’ll be true.

“We’ll get out,” he echos.

After sitting like that for a few moments, collecting yourself, you choke down the stale and mostly ruined bread and little bit of ice cold water you’ll get for the day. It gives you enough energy to get back on your feet at least. Your head still throbs from the strain, but you brace yourself against the wall and will it to pass.

“Let’s try those glamors again.”

“That’s my girl,” Rhys praises.

You focus your attention on the thing that lives in your chest, hoping his position on the floor keeps him from seeing the blush that creeps its way up your neck under the possessiveness in his tone. The banter between you is one thing, but anything else is dangerous territory, and you can’t risk any more danger in your life than you already have.  

---

Time passes mostly the same after that, with a little more banter as the tension of being locked up builds between the two of you and a little less vulnerability, granted, but the training regime is the same, until your headaches become less frequent and his jabs at you make you feel less and less like a reason to bring out your claws. The shift becomes a little more bearable over time, and glamoring the bargain ink across your chest becomes the next focus. It takes all your attention for what feels like days, but it’s anyone’s guess.

The progress should make you feel more comfortable, and it does in some ways, but makes you jumpier in others. Every noise outside the door has you checking to make sure a glamor is in place, has you running your tongue over your teeth to ensure your fangs are hidden. Its been steadily getting colder in the cell, the only true indicator that time is passing, and if you can manage to sleep around the shaking of your body, your dreams have started to become less of a call of your powers and more of nightmare of clicking heels and bright red hair and rooms with black vials full of terrible potions. Rhys isn’t any better. Sometimes he wakes screaming, a bit of night chilled darkness seeping from his flushed skin. Some nights you find him staring dutifully at the door, unable to sleep at all.

You’re not sure how much more of this either of you can take before one of you starts bashing against the door again. Between the two of you, perhaps the damage he’d already done would be enough to get it open for real, but what would you do from there? It wasn’t like you could escape. Even if you managed to get out of this cell, she’d just throw you in another.

So you do your best to endure a little longer, even if that means coming up with new ways to cope with it. Cuddling with the High Lord of the Night Court hadn’t really been an option you’d considered until one night it had become so unbearably cold that you could see the clouds of your breath in the air and there wasn’t a full set of clothes between the two of you. Trying to conserve body heat, you’d rolled right into his bare chest and he’d greedily buried his freezing nose into the crook of your neck, teeth chattering against your skin. He’d mumbled something about conserving body heat and that had been all that you were willing to talk about it. From that point on, if you were tired, you’d just lay down next to his large body and let him wrap his arms around you for however long your body could manage to rest in these conditions.

It wasn’t that it felt wrong, it was that it felt right. You could see yourself tangled up like this, in a nice bed, with some warm blankets and fluffy pillows, sunlight streaming through a window above your heads, finally free and out of this terrible place. You try not to let your imagination go too far with that thought, but sometimes it’s the only reason you keep getting up and training; even if it isn’t going to happen for real, at least there’s something to imagine waiting for you at the end of this. You just make sure your shields are up when the thought runs away with you, lest he see them as his powers start to return.

“Your nose is cold,” Rhys says by way of greeting. You can only assume it’s morning, assume that your internal clock still works and that you are, in fact, still on some sort of sleep schedule, but it’s anyone’s guess really.

You crack an eye open to see what he’s talking about, grumbling about it being too early. At some point, you’d nestled quite snuggly into his chest, face buried in the crook of his neck, despite the collar.

“So are your hands,” you retort, closing your eyes again.

He drags one up your back, where the tattered remains of your dress bare your newly scarred skin, in retaliation. 

“Bastard,” you snarl but you don’t pull away. Pulling away means waking up; means counting the cracks in the ceiling again, pacing until you feel some warmth in your body again. Pulling away means you have to face another day in this cell and you’re not sure you can do it without bashing your fists into the door Rhys had nearly ruined already.

“You like having my hands on you,” he returns.

“Do I?”

“You were practically begging me to touch you on Calanmai,” he says huskily, warm breath ghosting over your ear. 

Your stomach does a little flip at the memory of his hands on you on Calanmai, at the hunger and want that had been so plain on his face you could almost taste it. Things had been so simple then, you didn’t need to worry about letting your own want show. Not like now. “Oh yes, because a night of magic induced horniness is the indicator for what I want.” 

But you do want it. Cauldron boil you do you want it. Every drag of his calloused palms across your bare skin makes you want to arch further into his touch, let him explore and taste and claim every bit of you. It’s becoming unbearable. Calanmai was nothing compared to this.

“So what do you want then?” Rhys asks as his hands draw shapes in your skin, near the base of your neck. You swear you hear a hint of vulnerability there, like there might actually be more than banter in this question.

“To sleep,” you reply, because you can’t allow anything more to happen. Amarantha already knows you care enough about him to surrender your powers, if she knew it was anything more, she’d kill him just to spite you. 

Rhys hums like he’s thinking about it, but eventually says, “We should train more. Your glamours need more work.” 

“Bite me,” you grumble. Training has become even more exhausting. It’s useful stuff for sure, but holding onto your power for too long, then stuffing it back down is starting to feel suffocating. Your powers beg to be unleashed, free and unrestrained from the boundaries you are drawing out for them. No, you can’t allow yourself to think about what you want to happen with the High Lord, but you can’t bring yourself to get up, so here you remain, in limbo between the two. Maybe if he lets you drift back to sleep you’ll never have to make a decision between the two.

He brushes his lips over the shell of your ear, “Ask nicely.”

Your treacherous heart skips a beat at the huskiness of his tone, heat flaring in the pit of your stomach. “Make me, High Lord.” 

A laugh rumbles in his chest. “Darling,” he purrs, “don’t start games you can’t finish.”

You have two options here: You can leave it be and get up, leave the line you have made between the two of you right where it is and not have to worry about it; or you can hold your ground and risk stepping right over that boundary line. You know you’re teetering on the knife’s edge here.

“Why wouldn’t I finish?” You turn your head enough to look him in the eyes, batting your eyelashes in feign innocence, even though you know damn well what you’re doing. 

He moves so quickly you don't have time to realize it’s happening before he’s rolling you over onto your back, the solid, heavy weight of him pressing you into the floor. All rational thought eddies from your mind as his hips shift against your own. 

“You have a lot of attitude for someone so set on going back to bed,” he says and you can’t help but note how dilated his eyes are, the violet almost wholly consumed by his pupils. 

This somehow feels more intimate than what you had been doing on Calanmai, despite the fact that his hands were firmly planted next to your head instead of roving over your skin. Gods you hope the filth of the cell covers the scent of your budding arousal because this--him--you want, need, more of it.

“I  can be more than one thing at a time,” you reply. It’s taking all your restraint to not reach your hands out and touch the muscles that ripple across his tattooed chest from holding himself up above you. Even after a few days locked away, you can’t stop thinking about how it would taste to run your tongue over those dark swirls of ink.

His eyes narrow as if he can hear your thoughts, and shit, you realize too late that your shields have been down this whole time because you’d thought, since he was still recovering, those daemati powers would be the last to come back. There’s not time to throw your shields up before his lips are crashing into yours.

You’d thought Calanmai was as desperate for something as you’d ever feel, but it’s nothing in comparison to the hunger that consumes you as those full lips settle against your own. There’s no stopping the groan that tears itself from you as he slides a hand under your head, fingers tangling in your matted hair as he slips his tongue behind your teeth.

You see stars, taste citrus and jasmine. He invades all your senses so thoroughly that the very cell feels like it falls away until nothing exists in the world but the two of you. 

Calanmai had been feverish, an itch that needed to be scratched, but this is like finding air after being underwater too long. You can’t help but feel dizzy and greedy for more as you drag a hand up the sharp contours of his back.

He hisses softly into your mouth when your fingers accidentally brush the collar and you pull back, finally coming up for air. “Shit, shit I’m sorry-”

But he chases back after you like a man starved anyway. “It’s ok,” in between more kisses, each hungrier than the last, “it’s ok.” You’ve never heard a male’s voice get so low, the sound of it making your whole body turn molten.

Still, you’re conscious of where you put your hands, and sensing your hesitation, he drags them over to his chest, inviting you to touch, to trace his tattoos just as you were thinking about doing the first time you’d seen them. Gods there isn’t a part of him you don’t want to explore; to map out and learn every scare and curve across his bronze skin.

You would have too, if the lock on the door didn’t suddenly click out of place. The resounding echo is like ice water being dumped on your head.

Rhys slides the hand under your head down your back and around your waist, yanking you up off the floor with him while he stands. You’re still trying to get your bearings when he places one last, gentle kiss on your lips. “Remember what we practiced.”

Your head is spinning, legs shaky. Nothing makes any sense. Why is he stopping?

The door opens and more of Amarantha’s guards step in, but there’s no tray of food this time, just a single, metal collar. The sight of it is like having water dumped on your head, all thoughts of Rhys’s body on yours drifting away as reality crashes back into you. 

“Her Highness requests your presence,” says one of the two.

Only two. If they were here for Rhys there would be, at least, four, after the stunts he’d been pulling. He has to know that too, but he steps forward anyway, shrugging like it doesn’t bother him, like the smell of you isn’t all over him for anyone to scent.

One of the guards gets a hand on his chest and pushes him back into the wall. “Not you.”

Your mouth feels like it’s made of sandpaper; hands trembling at your sides. You can’t do this, you can’t do this, you can’t.

There’s a tug beneath your ribs, where the bargain ink lies, some sort of invisible thread going taught as Rhys says, “Breathe. Just like we practiced,” into your mind.

You want to duck behind him and hide, but you do as you’re told, drawing one breath, then another as the second guard steps forward and clamps the collar around your throat. It’s not the same, strange metal that used to dampen your power before, but why would it be when Amarantha thinks she has all your powers? As much as you hated the feeling of it, you kind of wished they’d used it instead, just as an extra barrier to keep your powers at bay.

What little bit of Rhys’s power has returned fills the cell, night chilled mist making the already dark room even harder to see in, save for a slight tint of stardust in his irises. “She’s done everything she was asked,” he snarls. “That collar isn’t necessary.”

“Her Highness says it is.”

You risk a glance at him, needing to steady yourself, dreading the fact that he’s somehow become so important to you that the thought of being taken out of this cell makes you want to start shredding things apart. How had you so quickly dug this hole for yourself.

“I’ll be right here. You can do this.”

They don’t waste any more time, dragging you out by the chain attached to the collar, like you’re some sort of wild animal. It’s degrading; makes you feel less and less like a person and more like a pet the longer time drags on. The guards are quick on their feet too, not giving you time to adjust to your surroundings or the blaring torchlights that make you squeeze your eyes shut as you pass. Cauldron, how long have you been in that cell?

You have just enough presence of mind to ensure your glamor is in place around your chest, before they’re dragging you through the open throne room doors. Another one of Amarantha’s nightly parties is in full swing, dancers in skimpy clothes spinning across the room; servants with pitchers of fae wine weave through the crowd, stopping at tables to refill the cups of several High Fae and someone you think might be the High Lord of Winter. It must be nice to have curied enough favor with the Queen that he was allowed to wander freely, instead of a cell, or, like the High Lord of Spring, chained to her throne. Tamlin’s golden hair is messy, undone around his face. The Mountain has stolen some of the color from his skin, though you suppose you look equally as pale now too. He wears his own, glittering collar, the golden chain draped over the bare expanse of his chest. Amarantha has inked her sigil over his heart, staking her claim over her mate. The High Lord’s eyes are so glassy from what you can only assume is the combination of mirthroot and fae wine that you doubt he’s even aware of where he is. It might be a small mercy, in the end.

The guards drag you through the crowd, where you earn more than a few snickers and stares. You’ve never been more aware of how much dirt clings to your skin until this moment. Gods you were making out with a High Lord looking like this? Could he taste the dirt on you? 

You’re led right to the dias, where Amarantha wears a glittering, ruby red crown, her hair unbound and falling in soft waves around her pale face. She might have been pretty once, but the cruelty in her dark gaze was enough to sour it if you looked too long. She watches with amusement as her guards drag you over, eyes glinting with barely restrained glee. Her new little pet here to entertain.

They finally quit dragging you once you’re at the foot of the dias and the crowd goes quiet behind you.

“Have you had enough time to think about what you’ve done?” She croons like you’re a misbehaving child in need of a time out.

Your cheeks flush, but you focus your attention on keeping the damper on your power. You can’t let her rile you up so easily, that’s exactly what she wants. “Yes,” you grind out through your teeth.

She taps a pointed nail against her chin, as if thinking. “And yet you do not bow in my presence, or acknowledge me as your queen?”

A tingling feeling in your upper jaw is the indication that your fangs want to come out and play and you force yourself to take a breath, then another. Still, you have to grit your teeth and stare at the floor to give her a little curtsey, as best you can in your ruined dress anyway. “My apologies.”

“Again,” she says with a grin. “Like you mean it, pet.”

There’s a couple snickers from the crowd behind you.

You’re gritting your teeth so hard you’re sure they might just crack on you, but you take your skirts in hand and curtsey a little deeper this time. The only way you get through it is to picture all the ways you’ll make her pay for this when the time is right.

“No, that’s not right,” she frowns. “You should be lower. In fact, you should be on your knees, thanking me for the mercy I have shown you after you so violently attacked me. Most people don’t live to see the next morning after such things.” The eye on her ring swivels in a motion that makes you think it’s nodding in agreement.

You risk a glance around, searching for any sympathy, and support, but there is none to be found in the leering faces of the crowd. 

“Go on,” she orders. “Beg for my forgiveness.”

Mother knows what she’ll do to you, or Rhys if you don’t, and you need to be in one piece to fulfill your bargain. Still, the move is so demeaning, your very nature thrashing against it that it’s an effort not to cry as you lower yourself onto your knees at the foot of her throne.

When you open your mouth to spew whatever bullshit you think will appease her, she cuts you off, “Lower.”

Your whole face is red with shame as you lean forward until your forehead touches the floor. 

“Better,” she croons. “Now beg, pet.”

“Please,” the word sticks in your throat like it’s a rock. “Please forgive my violent outburst. It won’t happen again.”

She clears her throat, waiting for you to say it.

“It won’t happen again, Your Highness.”

“Try again.”

The crowd is laughing in earnest now and the tears are flowing down your cheeks. You hate this, you hate her, you want to rip her fucking throat out and make that dreadful, grating voice vanish from the face of the world. 

“It won’t happen again, My Queen.”

“Much better,” she says, taking another sip of wine. “I told you I’d get her in line.” 

You raise your head off the floor enough to see who she was talking to with that last bit, and your heart lurches into your stomach at the sight of the two figures standing to the side of the dias, staring intently at you. Twins, bearing the same dark hair, swept back out of their faces, their eyes the same slate gray. They both wear armor, finely polished over matching black tunics and pants, a bit of silver lining in the stitches of their well pressed clothes. But it’s the sigil, over the heart on their armor, that marks them as Hybern’s.

The female stalks over to where you’re still kneeling and yanks you up by the hair to have a better look at you. Gloved fingers poke at your lips, trying to get a look at your teeth and you wonder if maybe you really have been turned into some sort of animal. 

“No fangs,” she muses, her voice like gravel, nothing pretty or feminine about it. “No claws either,” her hands move from your face to your nail beds, poking like you would at a cat’s paws to get their claws to come out. 

You bite the inside of your cheek until you taste blood. 

“You’ve tested to make sure you took all of her powers?” The male asks Amarantha and your blood turns to ice in your veins. If she tries to use your powers now then you’re doomed before you even get started. 

“I’d be happy to demonstrate,” Amarantha says flippantly, but there’s an edge under it that makes you think even she is trying not to squirm. “But my formula has never failed me.”

“Yours?” The female sneers. “You’d be wise to remember who taught you how to make those potions, General.”

Hybern made Amarantha, Rhys had said, it only made sense that all these little tricks had been part of her training. 

Amarantha takes another swig of wine and waves the disrespect off like a fly. “I’ll happily throw her into the Pit again if you are both so desperate to waste your own time with a demonstration.”

They stare at each other, having some sort of silent conversation. The female finally releases your hair and the ground rises up to meet you as you nearly fall back onto your face. 

“No,” the male brushes a gloved hand over a speck of dirt clinging to his otherwise spotless armor. “I suppose that would be a waste of our time. We have other things to attend to while we’re here.”

It’s honestly a relief. Going back down into the Pit to fight more monsters without being able to summon any of your powers sounds like a complete nightmare, you’re honestly not sure you’re strong enough not to slip up and make a mistake. 

“But we can still check,” the female purrs and that’s when you feel a mental claw raking across your mind. It is not like Rhys’s, not gentle or even teasing, it’s a slash, like someone is trying to cleave through your shields with a knife, and you instantly reach your hands for your head as if it’ll be any sort of protection at all.

You don’t dare call out to Rhys, or even think about what mental hoops you need to do to hide the bargain mark, the glamor should hold for a bit on its own while you put all your energy into tightening your shields against their onslaught. Rhys had been right about your cousins’ daemati powers, they were nothing like his own.

They keep clawing and poking, taking turns trying to tear your mind to shreds. It’s not gentle either, their presence making you whimper and writhe on the throne room floor, regardless of the embarrassment from the still watching crowd. 

“Well there’s been some training here,” the female says. 

“Be careful, Brannagh,” Amarantha hisses. “If you turn her mind to soup she’ll be of no use to us.”

You lock every door and throw up every barrier you can muster, even as they throw themselves against each one, testing for weaknesses. They’re an excellent tag team, every time you think Brannagh might give up, her brother steps into her place and tries again. You’re seeing spots by the time they release you.

The male’s boots come into view as he stops in front of your face. “If you’re so beaten, why won’t you show us how powerless you are, hm?”

It feels like someone’s taking a hammer to your skull, you pinch your eyes shut against the wave of nausea that makes the room spin. “Maybe I just don’t like you,” you hiss.

He too grabs you by the hair, twisting you so your neck moves at an awkward angle to be able to see exactly how badly the remark had hit him. 

“Dagdan,” his sister warns. “Play nice. Our King wants her alive, remember?”

“They said your mother was this untamed too,” he hisses. “Before they broke her.”

You swallow the rage that rises up in your throat, clamp down on everything threatening to bubble to the surface and overflow, ruining all your plans. You have made it this far, you cannot let their presence get the best of you. There will be time to process all this later, when you’re back in your cell. Strangely, the thought of going back to Rhys soothes you, helps you settle. 

“Are you done messing with my things?” Amarantha asks.

“She’s only yours until Hybern arrives to lay claim to Prythian, as is his right,” Brannagh says loud enough for the whole room to hear her. If there was any partying still happening in the corners of the room, it has ceased now, all eyes on the twins.

Amarantha is standing, wine glass clattering to the floor, splattering Tamlin, who doesn’t even look at it. “That’s enough! You will mind your mouths in my Court!”

Dagdan chuckles at that. “Did your Queen not tell you the truth?” Having found a new victim to play with, he finally releases your hair. 

“I said enough!” Amarantha booms, both fire and ice flying from her fingertips. The Mountain trembles beneath her as the powers she’s stolen skitter uncontrollably from her. One eye blazes like a forest fire, the other has gone black and empty, a bit of Rhys’s stolen power flaring. “In my Throne Room you answer to me, regardless of who you serve.”

With the way she jerks back you think the twins might have reached for her mind to silence her, but you can’t be sure. 

“You answer to Hybern, same as everyone else!” Brannagh challenges. “You were nothing more than an experiment, to test and see if Prythian was once again fertile ground for our empire. Did you really think Hybern would just let you walk in here and steal what is rightfully his?”

The crowd begins to whisper amongst themselves, apparently having not heard the news until now. You risk a glance around looking for the other High Lords, hoping some of them, perhaps the ones who had sides against Hybern in the War would be more inclined to fight. If you could gain allies, perhaps this would be over quicker. 

There are many unrecognizable faces in the crowd, some High Fae, some lower, some concealed by the masks of Tamlin’s former court, some fully clothed in their servants’ garb. It is hard to discern between the glittering chandeliers and flickering torches who belongs to what court, and you have only vaguely glimpsed the High Lords themselves. Out of most of the faces, none even look your way, save for one red headed male, off to the side of a group of fire dancers. Golden eyes lock on yours for the briefest of moments before they dart away. If only you had your own daemati powers, perhaps this would be easier. You’ll have to talk to Rhys later about who your potential allies can be here.

“I was promised my part of the land and I will fucking have it,” Amarantha growls, turning your attention away from the crowd.

“You will take what you are given,” Dagdan returns. “And if you cooperate, maybe you will be allowed to keep this dingy little cave of yours.”

Amarantha bristles and sparks fly off her shoulders. 

“You will do your part for the new empire,” Brannagh continues. “Lend us the Lord of Spring to lead us to the Wall. We’ll consider it proof of your undying allegiance and let your outburst slide.”

Amarantha glances down at where Tamlin remains staring at the wall, hands tightening into fists. “Absolutely not!”

“We can take him by force,” Dagdan says with a shrug.

She grabs the chain around her mate’s neck and yanks, dragging him to his feet. “I want him back by morning.”

Brannagh steps over you to get to him, gloved hands running appreciatively over the High Lord’s bare chest. “Maybe I’ll keep him.”

The wrong thing to say. Amarantha erupts in a wave of fire that has everyone throwing themselves out of the way. You roll backwards, away from it, slipping into the crowd. You think they might start fighting--they’re definitely screaming you can tell that much--when a set of hands settles on your shoulders, in what would look like to onlookers was a stranger helping you up, but those hands don’t lift, they hold you in place. 

“Whatever Rhys is planning with you,” warm breath frames your face as the stranger puts his lips to your ear. “Tell him to move quickly. My father will side with Hybern and surrender up whatever army we have left at the earliest chance. He’ll want to get ahead of this. Summer and Winter do not have the strength to fight. Tell him Hellion is with us.”

Us. You risk a glance at him, at the auburn hair falling into your eyes. Not the High Lord of Autumn, but one of his sons. 

“I’ll tell him,” you say softly, praying no one hears.

The male helps you to your feet. “Be careful. We might only get one chance.” And then he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd as the two females on the dias finally start to calm.

Amarantha is bleeding from a gash across her forehead, but Brannagh is laughing as she lets the blood from her nose drip freely down her face. “Mating bond chafing?”

Dagdan has managed to shield Tamlin, sparing him, of no kindness of his own, he is as inclined to look at the High Lord like he’d be his next meal as his sister.

“Get out,” Amarantha snarls.

Dagdan twirls Tamlin’s chain around his fingers. “We want proof the girl will be loyal when the time comes.”

“If a hair is harmed on my mate’s head,” Amarantha snarls in return. “I’ll pin you to my fucking wall.”

“Scratch our back, we’ll scratch yours. Otherwise, I’ll bring you back his head and I’ll take the girl and her powers back to Hybern, where we train in breaking goddesses.”

A few people in the crowd glance your way. 

Shit, that’s what Rhys had been trying to tell you with that book he’d sent in your first couple of days here. Hybern had found a way to breed death gods. Your name would be on that list he’d made in the margins.

A guard finally comes to collect you as the twins drag Tamlin out of the throne room. Amarantha is apparently not done with her tantrum, as she begins throwing anything in reach, stolen powers swirling around her like a whirlwind. The crowd begins to slip away, fearing her wrath if they stay. For now, you’ve managed to keep your bargain and your powers secret, but your cousin’s words hang over you like a ticking clock. It’s only a matter of time before she realizes she has to test you. 

-------------------------------------------------------

Tag List: @mariahoedt , @lovelydove , @twsssmlmaa , @sleepylunarwolf , @judig92 , @willowpains , @daughterofthemoons-stuff , @annnaaaaaa88 , @myheartfollower , @uniquecolorwizard , @eternallyelvish , @waytoomanyteenagefeels , @lovemesomevesey , @localfangirl09 , @isa1b2h3 , @starswholistenanddreamsanswered , @slytherintaco , @iluvewman-blog, @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife

[scarasimping]

I WAS HOPING U DID NSFW BUT I WASNT SURE

PIRATE SCARA 100% LIKES SEEING U WITH HIS HAT ON WHEN UR ON HIS SHIP, UR HIS ROYAL TREASURE AND HE LOSES IT AT THE SIGHT OF U WITH HIS HAT

He 100% has a think for marking, biting and leaving dark bruises from his mouth on your neck (and places no one else can see) gets him going (this man would go feral)

“Scara i told you to make sure their hidden!”

“Oops ;)” ps: hes not sorry <3

AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON TEASING, THIS MAN WILL DROP SO MANY FLIRTY THINGS TOWARDS YOU WHEN HE SHOULDNT, running from the guards? He’s gonna comment on how he knows you can last longer.. I mean run longer

Hiding behind a tree away from the guards? Oops his fingers slipped up under your shirt better stay silent, you wouldn’t want them to hear would you

ANON ILL KISS U ON THE MOUTH I LOVE U

about the hat thing, you're 100% correct. there's something about seeing you wear his hat that makes him feel possesive over you. it's a hat that everyone knows belongs to him, even other crews (and especially his enemies) so if you're wearing it, they know that you belong to him as well.

he's absolutely fucked you while you wore nothing but said hat as well. his calloused hands holding your thighs while they wrap around his waist as he has you pressed against the wall of his quarters. His hat almost fell off with all movement, but without stopping his relentless pace, he simply adjusts it to fit more snugly on your head.

"make sure this stays on, darling," he would say while all you could do is nod and dig your fingernails deeper into his shoulders and back.

speaking of marking, youre absolutely right that he has a thing for it, both giving and receiving. seeing your pretty body that's been pampered your whole life, not a scar to be seen, adorned with those deep purple and red marks left by him and only him fills him with a sense of pride. he would be there for hours marking you if he could, making sure anyone who happened to see any of them would know how well loved you are. He'd leave them on your chest so that they barely peak out of whatever shirt you're wearing, down your stomach, and especially on your pretty thighs.

pirate! scaramouche is definitely a thigh man btw. big thighs, thighs that are on the smaller side, he does not care he likes whatever as long as they're yours.

anyways, if you get mad at him for leaving a hickey where someone can see, he'd just smile at you cheekily and pretend to look innocent.

"whoops, must've gotten carried away...oh well!" this motherfucker does not care.

but also, he absolutely loves when you leave scratch marks down his back (and hickeys of your own on him but scratches are his favorite) especially if he can feel them throughout the day. yes, they sting a little, but he doesn't care in the slightest and even likes the stinging. your scratch marks are alongside all of his scars along his back and something about that makes him so happy.

(plus whenever he feels them there he just remembers his night with you and wants more so don't be surprised if the next time you see him, he's asking for another round.)

you're so right that he would tease you all the time. as you're hiding around a dark corner from the guards, pinned to the wall by him to make your bodies as small as possible so that you're not spotted, he's just biting back a laugh and staring down at you.

"Isn't this a familiar position?" he would whisper. "almost like last night when I-"

you have to kiss him to shut him up, it's the only thing that works.

that still doesn't stop him from slipping his hand under your shirt or down the hem of your skirt, so that he can test how quiet you can be. make sure you don't get caught ;3

[hardly-an-escape]

Fluffbruary Day 26

gonna try to do a little daily drabble just to get the creative juices going while I work on longer WIPs. no guarantees that it'll be every day.

Dream/Hob • rated M • fluff | woolly | care package

Hob smiles when he unzips his suitcase and sees the surprise Dream has left for him. He must have snuck it in while Hob was in the loo, just before the Uber had arrived, because it definitely hadn’t been there when he’d packed last night.

It’s nothing fancy. Just a plain little bag, labeled with his name in Dream’s distinctive spiky handwriting, the black marker feathering a bit where it’s soaked into the cheap brown paper. Dream’s embellished it with doodles of birds and trees, so it looks like Hob’s name is growing out of a tiny black-and-white forest.

Inside is a packet of Hob’s favorite biscuits, and one of sour gummy worms. A miniature instant photo of the two of them together, which Hob recognizes from Matthew’s last birthday party. A pressed flower from their garden, carefully taped to a square of card stock with washi tape. And best of all, a new fountain pen – one of the nice ones Hob’s been eyeing for a while but hasn’t found an excuse to buy.

He flips over the card with the dried flower. On the other side is a short handwritten message: I love you. Work hard. Think of me.

Hob’s insides turn to goo. He hadn’t thought it was possible to fall even more in love with his husband than he already is, and yet he’s standing here in a boring hotel room feeling as though he’s just drunk a bottle of champagne.

I love you. Work hard. Think of me.

As if he could do anything but.

He fishes his phone from his jacket pocket. Dream answers on the first ring.

“Did you find your present?” he asks without preamble.

“Yes. I love you so much. My darling, you would not even believe how much I love you. You are, bar none, the best thing that’s ever happened to me –”

“Did you find all of your present?” Dream presses.

“Yes?” Hob says uncertainly. “It was all in the little bag, right? The doodles are so cute, by the way.”

“Look farther. Under your clothes.”

Hob obediently digs deeper in his suitcase. At first he doesn’t see it, but then his fingers encounter something unfamiliar. It’s small, but firm, and heavy for its size. For a second he’s puzzled – then he realizes what it is and bursts into laughter.

“You maniac, did you pack me a butt plug?”

“I thought you might get lonely.” He can hear the smile in Dream’s voice.

“I’m only going to be gone for three nights!”

“Yes. Three long, lonely nights. In the wasteland of Bangor. Without your husband to comfort and please you after your long days of toil.”

“It’s just an academic conference, my love, not manual labor.”

“I’ve seen how you medievalists get. All those heavy books. You might strain yourself if you don’t find a way to relax.”

Hob laughs again, and rejoices in Dream’s laugh in return. After all these years, it still sends a shiver down his back.

“I really do love you,” he says.

“And I you,” Dream answers softly. “But I must go. Matthew is almost here. He promised to come distract me from my woeful solitude. I believe he is bringing Die Hard.”

“Have fun. Tell him I said hi. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“Till then, my love.”

“Bye, darling.”

prompt list!

[vermilionsun]

hiiii! could you possibly do a nsfw ais headcannons or kuras! thank yu for reading!

You've read the title, and that's literally it.

Sorry this took so long! :)

Ais

aka my favourite bastard

✩ slams fist on the table CHOKING KINK Slowy snaking his hand around his lover's neck and watching the realisation dawn on them? Their eyes rolling back as they arch themselves more into his touch? Sign him the fuck up.

✩ Breeding (fr fr) Not as in “getting his partner pregnant” but more he enjoys watching his partner’s bloated tummy and knowing he is the one at fault.

✩ Bondage Blindfolds, restrains etc. As much as he loves his partner scratching his back until he bleeds, watching them beg to do so is much more entertaining.

✩ Dressing up Digging my grave deeper and elaborating; have you heard that one Britney Spears song “Lace and Leather”? That’s it, that’s Ais. Watch’s this man’s jaw go slack and his brain stop working happen he sees his beloved in stockings or lingerie. Just for a few sacred moments though, they will be ripped off and ruined the moment he’s done teasing his partner.

✩ Dirty talk Speaking of teasing; Ais doesn’t hold back. Degradation and praise leave his lips like water. You’re doing well? He’ll let you know. Especially when you’re trying to take his massive cock. He’ll hold your hand and kiss you softly, repeating how good you are for him and how proud he is of you. You’re being bad? Nuh uh rethink that. Does he think you’re hurt somewhere? He asks. He’s not the most talkative person during it but dear Lord, will he speak his mind.

✩ Pet names, I said, PET NAMES His princess/prince/royal (demo reference), his beloved, his darling, his baby, his and only his <3

✩ Positions Missionary, doggy style, AGAINST THE WALL

✩ RIDE HIM RIDE HIM RIDE HIM

✩ Oral Huge fan, prefers giving. This man eats his partner out like they’re his last meal on death row. Pussy, ass, dick? He doesn’t give a single half of a fuck. He eats out for both his and his partner’s pleasure, and on how rewarding that is. Push his face in your sex, beg him not to stop and he will keep going until you pass out.

✩ FACE SITTING Elaborating on the above, SIT ON HIS FACE. And don’t you dare try to get out of the situation with a half-assed shitty excuse, he ain’t having none of that.

✩ Very, VERY light spanking On the ass, and maybe front as well. Nothing too extreme. He doesn’t want to hurt his beloved—

✩ Bloodplay —despite them looking breathtaking covered in crimson red blood. If the blood is his beloved's? Someone is dying.

✩ t̶h̶e̶m̶ ̶o̶c̶e̶d̶i̶u̶s̶ ̶t̶e̶n̶t̶a̶c̶l̶e̶s̶

✩ Aftercare The BEST aftercare. Lays with his partner, makes sure they are okay, cleans them up, provides them with a snack and water if they need it. He will need a smoke, but he’ll be quick as a flash—unless his partner wants to join.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

Kuras

aka “that fucking doctor” (Vere’s words, not mine)

✞ tease tease TEASE Adores teasing his beloved until they can’t take it anymore. He uses his body and words to bring his partner to their LIMIT, turning them to a crying, whiny mess for his entertainment.

✞ SIZE KINK Have you SEEN that man? He’s HUMUNGUS. And he makes.it.fit. no matter what. That rare cheshire smile on his lips as his lover struggles, and he leans down to whisper sweet nothings in their ear as he presses down on the bulge that has formed…

✞ Praise Soft whispers and faux promises, how beautiful, how fascinating, all his to devour.

✞ Fingering Long fingers that like to touch you everywhere. He will carefully open you up because he doesn’t want to hurt his partner at all. Ass, pussy, mouth, E V E R Y W H E R E.

✞ Oral On that note, this man’s tongue got people lining round the block for an experience. Rivals Vere’s skill fr.

✞ Plugs.

✞ Heels/boot Just look at how his jaw tightens up when his partner walks into the room with those on.

✞ Edging Loves how his darling struggles and begs him to let them finish, but he just… won't. Not yet.

✞ Silk Oh, to see his partner in angelic—or what mortals consider as—wear, the soft fabric running down their body…yeah, he’s done for.

✞ Temperature Watching his partner shiver in anticipation and then pleasure.

✞ B O D Y W O R S H I P

✞ Cock warming Look, he knows it’s supposed to be a sexual act, but he finds it… almost comforting. His partner is just so warm around him and it feels so nice, it confuses the fallen angel so incredibly much.

✞ Doggystyle and missionary.

✞ Hand holding. It’s a much more intimate act to him than sex itself. It’s a way for him to show you that he’s there for you and to receive confirmation that you're there for him as well. A way to make sure you're alright.

✞ Aftercare Kinda awkward. He’ll clean you up, give you something to drink and either lay and cuddle with you or leave—depends on what kind of relationship you have with him.

[five-and-dimes]

Sunflower

This is a continuation of Mountain Sound and will make fare more sense if you read that first.

For Dreamling Week Day 3: Painting

Read on AO3

Dream takes his time planning his gift for Hob. As outcasts amongst werewolves and vampires alike, all they had was each other. Almost every day was spent side by side, and they wouldn’t have it any other way. However, it made surprises difficult.

But this is something Dream has wanted to do for Hob for so long, and their transition deeper into the mountains provides the perfect opportunity to hide things in the shuffle. Despite the unfortunate circumstances of their move, there is something fun about it as well. A break in the routine they had fallen into for the past decade or so. They spend a few weeks hiking and exploring, searching for a spot that would suit them. Traversing caverns and rocky outposts and hollow trees. It had been Hob’s idea to combine multiple spots.

“Why limit ourselves to a single building?” he had explained excitedly, gesturing at the forest around them, “We can have it all! Build a shelter among the trees and use the caves for the colder months, build a treehouse, maybe dig a burrow for storage!” On and on he’d spoken, everywhere he turned he saw a place they could make a home, a place they could take up space for the life they wanted. Dream simply listened fondly, and vowed to give Hob everything he could possibly want. 

With the decision made, they began gathering supplies, which gave Dream a chance to sneak away the things he needed for his gift. Hob would not find it unusual for Dream to purchase paints from the nearest town, being the avid painter that he was, but the sheer amount he needed would be suspicious. So he buys the colors he will need in multiple trips, hiding them amongst the tools and linens and lanterns that they needed. He takes advantage of Hob’s own idea and shifts into a wolf to dig a deep burrow in the forest, stashing the piles of paint where Hob would not find them. 

It takes nearly a year for them to fully settle once more. They finally bid their previous home farewell and move deeper into the mountains to hide from the world as best they can. They had built a new house beside a rocky outpost, nestled between tree and stone. A nearby cave is filled with various supplies, a place to keep cool in the height of summer and keep warm in the depths of winter. Hob even keeps his word and builds a small treehouse. There are no windows, keeping the sunlight out for Hob’s safety, but the walls are thin enough that in the daytime the sounds of songbirds can be heard easily.

Ironically, they spend the first night after completing their move outside. Dream and Hob run through the landscape that is their new home, Dream even shifting to tackle Hob to the ground, too lost in their shared joy to feel insecure about his wolf form. Leaves kicked up around them as they wrestled playfully, laughter and happy yips echoing through the night. They only return to settle in to sleep inside the house when the sky begins to lighten. In the doorway, Hob looks over his shoulder, a sad smile on his face that Dream is familiar with as he takes one last moment to watch the sky brighten with the light of a sun he can no longer see.

On the very first night they meant, he had told Dream that it was the only thing he hated about being a vampire. That he could never again stand in the sun.

Now, years later, Dream has a plan.

About a month after the move, Hob expressed wanting to go into town. One of the drawbacks to their new location was being farther from the nearest human encampment, but it was unfortunately necessary to increase their safety. 

“I didn’t realize how beat up our tools got from all the building,” he sighed, nearly pouting, “I mean, they’re still fine for fixing things around the house I guess, but I was hoping to do some decorating.” One of Hob’s favorite hobbies was woodcarving, engraving intricate patterns into their door frames and bedposts, or making small figurines to adorn their shelves. Dream could see how the dents and chips in his tools would make it more difficult to carve the details he was so fond of. 

“Plus, I wouldn’t mind snooping a bit more to see if I can’t find some new books on protection spells,” he added. Their new dwellings had a few protection charms, but it was difficult to find enchantments that would keep out other werewolves and vampires without harming the werewolf and vampire that lived there. “Would you like to come with me?” he asked.

“Hmm,” Dream moved nonchalantly, winding his arms around Hob’s neck as he admitted, “I would not mind some time to myself. If. That would not offend you.”

“Never,” Hob responded immediately, with a genuine smile, “I know you. And I love you.”

“Forgive me if that still startles me,” Dream tries to sound joking, but the honesty bleeds through.

Hob doesn’t mind. “Nothing to forgive,” he promises, giving him a light kiss on the lips. “Might be about a week, with the new travel time. That alright?”

Perfect. That would give him plenty of time. 

“Of course,” he responds lightly, concealing his excitement.

The next evening, after a kiss goodbye, Hob speeds off down the mountain and, as soon as his figure disappears from sight, Dream heads inside to get to work. He has time, but that doesn’t mean he can dally. 

He starts by moving the furniture out of their bedroom. There’s not too much in there to begin with, so the process doesn’t take long. The wardrobe and chest they use for storage are moved into a side room that had been ambiguously assigned the title of ‘study’, which was used more as a catchall for their various hobbies and interests they had accumulated over the years. Once the room is empty, Dream gets started laying plaster over the nooks and crannies of the wood paneled walls, running a wide blade over it meticulously until the walls are smooth and even. 

It takes a day for the plaster to dry, and Dream spends that time fetching his paints and mixing them carefully. He sits cross-legged in the middle of the room, occasionally stepping outside to hold his brush up to the sky, comparing the colors and adjusting until they are as perfect as he can make them. 

By the third day he is already nervous. Logically he knows he has plenty of time, but what if Hob comes home early? What if it takes too long to dry? What if the colors look wrong once they are dry and he has to start over? He forgoes sleep and food in favor of painting, coating the walls as quickly as he can without sacrificing the smoothness of the gradient. 

The fifth day, he has moved on to a smaller brush, the background dry enough for him to add details on top of it, shadows and highlights, feathery strokes of white, perfect circles glowing against the waves of color. Dream stands on two chests stacked on top of each other to carefully put the finishing touches on the ceiling.

On the sixth day, it is done. Everything should be dry by tomorrow, when Hob is due to return, and he’s set up the room exactly as he wants. With nothing left to do, Dream shifts, curls up in the very center of the room with his nose tucked under his tail, and worries some more.

What if Hob didn’t like it? What if it upset him? What if he was mad that Dream transformed a whole room in their new home without consulting him? What if he laughed at Dream for being so stupid, for thinking this could possibly be enough in return for all that Hob has given him?

They do not have an anniversary, per say. Even when they have kept calendars, neither felt the need to try to trace back exactly when they met, or exactly when they got together. But every year, when the leaves are just starting to turn like they had on the day they collided together, Hob will pluck a vibrant leaf from the ground and smile.

“Ah,” he will say, a warm smile on his face, “Another year together.” And then he will kiss Dream gently and hold his hand, and Dream will be reminded just how lucky he is. 

He doesn’t know how he could ever express all the love he feels for Hob. The gratitude and the joy and the peace he’s found with him. But he wants to try. He hopes Hob will see that he is trying.

When Dream hears Hob approaching in the distance late the next night he has to immediately return to his human form, because Hob is incessant in his teasing whenever he sees Dream’s tail wag without his permission. Regardless, he can tell by Hob’s face that Dream’s joy at his return is obvious. Despite both of them having spent so much time alone- despite Dream still needing occasional solitude- neither could bear to be apart for long. So while a week may not be long to some, they still run to each other as soon as they are in sight. Their bodies collide, and they take a long moment to simply embrace before they manage to pull back enough to kiss. 

“Welcome home, beloved,” Dream whispered against Hob’s lips.

“Good to be back,” Hob grinned. Once they disentangle themselves, Hob picks up the bags he had dropped in his enthusiasm, “Got a good haul this time. Better tools for repairs, and also splurged on some specialty tools for myself,” he grinned apologetically, but Dream only smiled.

“I think you deserve high quality materials for your craft,” he insisted. Privately, he also felt it only fair considering the amount of paints Dream himself had ‘splurged’ on.

Hob gave him a quick peck on the lips, “I’ll be sure to make you something nice.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, as though he knew a secret Dream didn’t. But before Dream could question him, he continued, “I also found a couple of interesting tomes. Not sure if they’ll be any use to us, but I figured it was still worth going through together. You always had a better grasp of all that magic nonsense.” 

“Hm, we’ll see what we can find,” Dream agreed, reaching out to take one of Hob’s bags as they made their way inside. As they deposit Hob’s things in the common area, Dream inhales deeply, filled with anxiety. He opens his mouth, but pauses. Should he wait? Should he let Hob unwind first before springing this on him? Was it too sudden? He had spent so much time worrying about it not being enough, but maybe it was too much and Hob would be annoyed, especially after his long journey-

“Hey.” 

Dream nearly jumped, Hob’s voice breaking through his thoughts. Hob smiled gently, “You alright, love? You seem tense.”

Swallowing, Dream steeled himself before blurting out, “I have a gift for you.”

Hob blinked in surprise before breaking into a grin, “A gift? Really?” He had a look of excitement on his face like a child, even as he stated, “You didn’t have to get me anything!”

“I know,” Dream smiled, “I wanted to.” Reaching out, he laced their fingers together, pulling Hob towards the bedroom. Outside the door, Dream released his hand, nudging his back to push him forward. Hob raised an eyebrow, but then turned to open the door.

The first wall Hob sees when he walks in nearly makes him flinch. The painted sky in front of him is so detailed and meticulous, he had felt as though he had somehow stepped outside into a sun he sometimes fears he has forgotten. The entire wall is a deep blue, a few wispy clouds breaking up the wall of color, but doing nothing to obscure the bright, pale sun in the center.. 

For a long, long moment, all Hob can do is stare. When he finally begins to turn to look at Dream, his breath hitches as he sees the next wall to his left. This one is more vibrant and colorful, the blue of the previous wall bleeding over before darkening. The sun on this wall is lower, mid morning or early evening perhaps. 

He knows he is crying, but he doesn’t care, whipping around to see the wall behind him. This one also starts with the blue of the afternoon wall, but the gradient is more dramatic. Blue to purple to vibrant reds and oranges, clouds catching every color along their edges. The sun is a darker yellow, a half circle at the base of the floorboards. Sunset. Or, he supposes, sunrise. 

When he finally turns to look back at Dream, he sees blues and reds and purples connecting the walls, the sun painted on the back of the door, not a complete circle, but higher than the previous. Hob feels like a child as he finds himself spinning in place, seeing the way all four walls are connected, a perfect gradient of daytimes. He’s still crying, but he’s so happy, and it is in a moment of glee that he tips his head back and sees one more sun.

Directly above him, pale blue and a sun nearly white with its brightness, only the faintest yellow glow around it. An iron ring holding a circle of candles has been painted white and hangs from the ceiling in the center of the sun, illuminating it even more. High noon on a summer day.

Hob is surrounded by all the daytimes he has missed for so long. 

He allows himself a moment to glance at the rest of the room. There is a pile of pillows and furs in the center, and a tray on the floor with a vase of flowers, a bottle of wine, and two glasses. There are a few lanterns carefully placed around the room to keep it lit as brightly as possible, but the rest of the room is empty, no furniture to obscure the paintings of the sky. By the time he finally turns to face Dream again, he feels like he might combust from love and happiness.

Which makes it all the more ridiculous that Dream looks nervous, wringing his hands in front of him and chewing on his lip.

“I know you miss the sunshine,” he says softly, “and… and I know this isn’t the same, I know it doesn’t truly make up for it, but, but I thought, maybe-”

Dream’s supernatural strength is the only thing that keeps them standing when Hob crashes into him, hands framing his face to kiss him fiercely. Dream wraps his arms around his shoulder, smiling shyly into the kiss, and Hob only pulls away because of the laughter bubbling in his chest. He giggles, so overwhelmed with joy.

“No sun could compare to the light you bring to my life,” he whispers against Dream’s lips, “But I will admit, this room is a close second.”

“You like it, then?” Dream asks, his smiling widening ever so slightly.

Hob laughs again, because what sort of question is that? He loves this ridiculous man so very much, “I love it nearly as much as I love you.”

Dream melts against him, all nervousness gone, “I would bring you the real sun if I could.”

“I don’t need it,” Hob rests their foreheads together and tightens his embrace, “I have everything I need right here.” Pulling back almost reluctantly, Hob looked at Dream so softly, “Dearheart-”

Dream is so full of love he is nearly nauseous with it, like his body can’t contain it and all he can do is interrupt with a breathless exhale, “Marry me.”

Hob’s jaw drops, his eyes widening, and Dream rushes to say more, “I know it doesn’t… doesn’t really matter, wouldn’t really change anything, but I love you so much, I… I want to call you husband.”

There is a long pause, and Dream is almost ready to take it all back, but then Hob is laughing, and peppering his face with kisses, “You absolute twat,” he laughs, voice full of affection, “If you had just given me two seconds-” 

Stepping back, Hob took a moment to rifle through his pockets. Then he is taking one of Dream’s hands and bending down onto one knee. 

“I had a whole speech planned,” he says, trying to pout but smiling too wide for it to be effective. In his other hand, he is holding a beautiful wooden ring. The soft reddish-brown of rosewood, smoothed and polished, with a small chip of sapphire embedded in it, “I even went through the trouble of making this myself because every jeweler kept trying to talk me into silver.” 

Dream barked out a watery laugh, and that was when he realized he was crying. Hob giggled with him, leaning to place a kiss on his knuckles, “So. I know you asked first, technically,” he said with fond annoyance, “But I’ll say yes to your proposal if you say yes to mine,” he squeezed his hand, holding the ring a little higher, “Deal?”

There is too much love in his body, he fears he might burst with it, and so Dream thinks Hob will forgive him for the way he tackles him, toppling them both to the ground as he wraps his arms around him and kisses him deeply. “Yes,” he whispers against his lips, “Yes, yes, yes.”

“Yes,” Hob replies in return, kissing him back. Eventually they pull apart long enough for Hob to slip the ring on Dream’s finger, a perfect fit. Dream stares down at it in wonder. 

“Definitely better than silver,” he teases, Hob smacking at him playfully. “I suppose in fairness I will not insist on being married in a church.”

“You are a menace,” Hob rolls over to pin Dream beneath his body.

“Till death do us part,” Dream smiles.

Hob leans down to kiss him again, “Not if I can help it.”

[nickybloodhead]

Kinktober day 13: Size difference

You had been pestering him all day, thirsty for attention but he was still minding his own business. You tried everything to get him to at least look at you but he ignored your presence almost on purpose.

It was frustrating, since the morning you had been trying to get him to touch you, however it was impossible, you didn't know if he was upset with you for some reason so in the end you gave up.

James wasn't upset and yes, he had noticed every attempt you made to gain his attention, he wanted to see how far he could take you, of course when he saw that you stopped insisting, he went for you, he was going to take what was his.

As you walked towards the kitchen, a pair of hands grabbed your waist and lifted you off the floor, you yelped in surprise and frowned at James.

"Hi sweetie" He smiled mischievously at you, amused by your annoyed expression.

"That's all you're going to say, you've been ignoring me all day you son of a..." You couldn't finish speaking as his lips pressed against yours, his arms around your waist kept you off the ground, it was kind of impressive how strong he was to hold you like that, it turned you on. "You need me so bad, don't you baby? Well, I'll give you what you need."

He put you on your shoulder and carried you over the kitchen counter, when you were already seated, he pushed your chest so that you rested on your elbows, pulled down the shorts you were wearing, opened your legs and spit on your pussy to proceed to massage your folds with his fingers.

"I think if I get you ready first, you will be able to take me fully this time, will you be able to take it my love?" your thighs trembled at the thought, the short time you had been together you had never been able to take James, the stretching of your hole was almost painful with his huge fat cock, you looked him in the eyes and nodded, you desperately wanted him to fill you.

He started to put his fingers in you, one by one until he fit four of them inside you; he loved to see how your walls closed around him, fuck, if you gripped his fingers like that, he was sure you would suck him inside you as soon as he fucked you for real, he finger fucks you for a while until you were loose enough. You protested at the loss of contact when he withdrew his hand from you, unbuttoned his pants and let his cock pop out, it was so hard it sure hurt a little, the head was wet with pre cum and you couldn't help but reach out your hand and stroke it a little.

"I need your cock to stretch me, ruin me for others James, I'm begging you” You didn't even look at him, just at his wide length, gods, you couldn't even completely wrap your hand around him, it made you drool.

He chuckle at your dirty words, deciding that he had already played with you too much.

He tentatively puts the tip in your hole, his erection contracting as he goes deeper, you bite your lip as you get used to the stretch, James stops every so often to let you adjust, caresses your cheek and kisses you to relax.

"Look baby, you're taking it so well, your pussy was made for me, it fits perfectly around me.... Oh yes, so tight" He is amazed as he watches you open up for him, you squeal when he's all the way in, you can't help but contract around him which makes him hiss, his fingers dig into your sides.

For a moment you are still, his cock is splitting you in two, your walls clinging to his length in a tight grip, your clit throbbing with need, your wetness staining the inside of your thighs and his pelvis.

The moment of stillness doesn't last long, after a few heavy sighs, you are pulled off the kitchen counter, you are barely held in the air by James' forearms, you don't even know how your position is physically possible, he grabs you as if you weigh nothing and begins to fuck you crudely, he moves your body at the angle that gives him the most pleasure, all you can do is hold onto his shoulders.

"I love how petite you are...letting me use you as my personal sex doll...so perfect baby, I'm going to fill your womb until you can't take it anymore" he's so lost in the sensations that he forget any filters, you try to circle your hips to grind your unattended clit. Finally, with just a little rubbing to your sensitive part, you convulse in ecstasy, your eyes rolling as a powerful orgasm hits you, leaking your fluids all over the place.

The sight of you being undone by the rough way he takes you, is all James needs to spill his cum inside you, wave after wave of his cum is showered inside you, filling you completely, so much that even your lower belly swells a little.

James' arms are shaking from the effort, so he places you back on the counter.

"Maybe this is a good time to tell you that I'm not on birth control" you murmur softly, glancing sideways at him, completely surrendered and exhausted. James shrugs, downplaying it and chuckles softly.

Writing obscenities in the wee hours of the morning is fun, however, imagine the James you want, he is already a huge man.

[thegnomelord]

Beastly Urges

Pantalone x reader

MINORS DNI

Word count: 4.3k

CW: nsfw, afab Pantalone, cock and cunt used for the genitals, Dom!Bottom!Pantalone, Sub!Top!Reader, pronouns are gn(referred to as You and Beast sometimes) but reader has two cocks and has monstrous features, size difference, dom/sub, oral, cum eating, size kink, butt plugs, double penetration, anal, vaginal, belly bulging, cream pie, gags, cock slapping, marking, biting, bit of a slow burn?

Go easy on me peeps, this is my first time writing smut. Feel free to give back criticism, tell me if I'm missing any tags, or make requests!

There were plenty of reasons why a fool would think twice before crossing the Tsaritsa, chief amongst them — You; a Beast amongst men, terrifying in both appearance and merciless ferocity, hunting down all who oppose Her with reckless abandon. It doesn't matter how long or how far they run, you are always near, tracking them down to the very borders of Teyvat... or until their legs give out.

And with such renown comes gossip.

From the high society nobility all the way to the brothel whores, they wonder how you must be behind closed doors. Surely, you must be a greedy lover, no less savage in bed as you are on the battlefield. Surely, you must take all your partners can offer and then demand more, fucking your partners into the bed until you are satisfied regardless of their opinion on the matter...

Pantalone would have found such gossip annoying if it wasn't so amusing. He would sometimes even laugh when he heard the newest round of, dare he say, fantasies, the common folk came up with about you and your supposed unlucky partners.

It was a source of pride for him, knowing the true version of you the rest of the world would never see. You were... gentle, soft, nothing but feather light caresses and loving confessions muttered into his skin as you did all he asked.

If anything, you were too gentle. You handled Pantalone like he was made of glass, afraid that the moment you put more than the barest amount of pressure — he would shatter.

Last time, you had accidentally nicked his skin with a razor sharp tooth. Despite his arguments that you hadn't even drawn blood, you hadn't dared to touch him since then.

It's been two months.

And your sweet, little lover was prepared to show you the error of your ways.

You didn't suspect a thing when he greeted you with a sweet kiss the moment you took a step into your home, stealing your ability to think with every peck on the lips. Nor did you think of anything when he lured you to the bedroom with the promise of receiving more of his affection.

How that turned into you literally chained to the bed and naked as the day you were born, you still couldn't tell.

Before you could even argue, he had presented you with a second surprise — a device, something between an open mouth gag and a bit meant for horses (No doubt of Dottore's making). It kept your mouth wide open, displaying all your monstrously sharp teeth in all their grotesque glory.

He gave you a way out if you wanted to, he always did, yet despite the worry bubbling in your chest about the possible harm you could bring him... you were curious.

Slim, manicured fingers curled in your hair and pulled your head even closer. "Right there," Pantalone breathed out, grinding his body down so your tongue could worm deeper into his cunt. His thighs hugged your head like a vice, leaving no place for your teeth to go but dig into his soft flesh. Each tooth left behind dark blue imprints in the skin, but thankfully didn't draw blood, though Pantalone seemed almost disheartened, rocking his body down with a "Don't you dare stop."

Despite the time spent apart, he was as tight as you remembered, if not more, his cunt constricting around your tongue as if intending to snap it off. He didn't care, groaning as his cum pooled in your open maw, nearly choking you when you forgot to swallow. But you couldn't swallow all of it, and more often than not the mixture of his cum and your drool would escape your mouth and roll down your skin to join the wet mess on the sheets.

But Archons, he tasted Divine.

A low moan left your chest as you gulped down his fluids, your head heavy and clouded by pure bliss. You pressed your nose flush with his lightly haired groin, breathing in his scent and curling your tongue in a way you knew he liked.

He let out a high pitched moan and sharply rocked his hips into your tongue, your teeth digging into his skin, a single drop of iron tainting your taste buds—

You jerked your head back on instinct, fearful you had hurt him.

You didn't get far.

Pantalone fisted your hair, forcing your head still. Through bleary eyes, you saw him lean back— "Behave."

A harsh slap landed on the head of your cock.

Your entire body buckled as you nearly threw him off, the low shrieking of metal and the groaning of wood masking the embarrassing sounds that left your throat.

A second later two more slaps came, one on each head of your dual cocks. Pantalone sat up on his knees as he delivered a third slap, your tongue sliding out of him, which you surely would have bitten off had the gag let you. This time, there was no way for you to muffle your sounds, your body straining against the bonds, pleasure and pain burning at the base of your spine.

He wretched your head up, forcing you to meet his disappointed gaze. "You didn't touch me for two months, and now this is how you act?" He asked, a coldness in his eyes many debtors knew too well. "If you break anything, I will throw you out and won't touch you until Rex Lapis comes back to life." Even breathless, his singular threat was enough to make your heart stop. "Am I understood?"

You forced yourself to stay still, nodding your head as much as you could. A warbled "Soh-hrh." was all you could say.

His grip remained harsh, but Pantalone's eyes softened. He leaned down, obsidian black hair falling over his shoulders and around your head like a curtain, isolating you two from the world. "That's my good beast," He cooed, like you were a mongrel mutt, and you would never admit how those words made your chest burn.

He scooped up a streak of fluids from your chin. You could do nothing but watch him bring his wet fingers to your open maw, easily slipping past the hellish device.

Pantalone took great pleasure in feeling up your teeth, poking his thumb on every tooth and gently wiggling a few as if to deny their dangerous potential. Then his fingers found your waiting tongue, he hummed and let you curl your tongue around his fingers, pulling and tugging on it like it was just another toy.

Like you were just another toy.

He pressed his fingers to the back of your tongue. Your maw tried to close, but the gag in your mouth only allowed an inch of movement as you jerked back.

"Ah ah. Stay." He leaned back to sit on his knees and pulled his fingers from your mouth, punishing your body's reaction with another harsh slap to your cock head.

Clenching your eyes shut, you miraculously managed not to move. "Good." His grip relaxed, fingers gently carding through your hair as a reward. "See, that wasn't hard." His fingers returned to your mouth and you let him in.

You whined as Pantalone moved his fingers across the entire length of your tongue, your cheeks burning when you registered the taste of your cum on his skin. He let out a small laugh, letting you lick his and your cum off his fingers.

You watched as he trailed his drool covered fingers down the contours of his stomach, your spit gleaming in the firelight. Those clever fingers traced over his thighs, a groan leaving him as he pressed on the dark bruises left by you teeth before coming to rub his cock.

He let out an unabashed moan, his head lolling back. "You made me feel so good." His fingers slid further down, two of them spreading his lips so you could see a hint of his pulsing tunnel. "But it looks like you don't want to service me any longer." He huffed.

A loud whine tore through your chest, your body moving on its own to get closer to him. Only his sharp gaze kept you from tearing through the flimsy chains.

Pantalone just laughed at you, his voice both melodic and condescending. “What’s this? Has my beast changed their mind?" His fingers didn't stop moving, two of them lazily fingering his twitching hole. "It is such a shame you didn't touch me for so long. I got lonely." Your eyes were glued on his fluttering cunt, drops of his cum dripping on you and burning your skin like hot magma. "Eyes on me when I'm talking to you, Mutt."

Your eyes snapped up to meet his gaze.

“Beg,” He ordered, voice rich like wine.

Oh, what a cruel lover you have. The gag silenced any words you could form, yet you still tried. It resulted in garbled pleas and soft whimpers, you even stuck your tongue out when nothing seemed to work — offering your services like some cheap whore.

He drank in the sounds as they left you, an arrogant smile gracing his features. "You could do better." He smirked, and your heart froze, a pathetic whine leaving you. "But this will do." He said. You laid still as a statue while he moved back over your open maw, his hand finding itself back in your hair. "Make me cum, Darling, and I'll give you a reward."

How could you refuse?

You pressed yourself flush to his groin before he even had a chance to pull you close. Your teeth lightly dug into his skin, his breathy groan sending a shiver down your spine. You licked at his cock, small kitten licks at first to re-familiarize yourself with it, growing bolder as his breathing picked up. You pressed your tongue flat to his cock when he began rocking his hips, the momentum ensuring you could lick his cock from root to tip with the right amount of pressure.

The reaction was instant — Pantalone doubled over you with a groan, his things tensing around your head as fresh drops of cum dripped on your tongue. "Y-yes, just like that." Pantalone groaned, fingers curling into your hair as he rutted against your tongue. "Harder."

You did as he commanded and pressed your tongue harder to his cock, letting him rock against your maw as you tried to gulp down his cum. Then, on one rough thrust, your tongue slipped into his cunt. "Fuck!" Pantalone moaned, not even stopping, riding your tongue like it was a cock.

You could tell he was close when he began babbling, a litany of "Yes- good, Darling - just like that! Harder- Yes!" Spurring your body on to dig and twist your tongue deeper into him, to let him use you however he saw fit, the vibrations of your whimpers only adding to his pleasure.

His fingers clenched in your hair — His orgasm crashed over him, cunt constricting like a vice around your tongue as his thighs hugged your head. You milked him for all he had, doing your best to gulp down his cum, but it was futile as more would just stream down your chin.

Pantalone shivered as he slowly released you, both of you groaning when your tongue slipped out for the last time. Both of you were left breathless as he leaned back to partly sit on your chest, his bruising grip turning soft as he carded his fingers through your hair.

You looked up at him, breathes and bleary eyed. He laughed, soft and gentle. "You look wonderful like this." He cooed, scooping up the cum on your chin to watch you wordlessly clean his fingers. "Such a darling beast, all for me, yes?"

You tried to answer, but the combination of the gag and your tongue curled around his fingers made it impossible.

He giggled, and it was the most angelic thing you had ever heard. "Right you are." His hands shook when he reached for the gag, and you lifted your head to help him remove it. "How is that?" Your cheeks and the corners of your lips ached as you moved your jaw, but thankfully you couldn't taste any blood, only his cum.

Your voice was gone and your tongue didn't want to listen to you, so instead of voicing anything you simply nuzzled your head into the hand gently carding through your hair.

You thought this would be the end of this session.

You found satisfaction in his release, even if you hadn't cum yourself, but it was the norm for you; you were big in more ways than one, and both of you being busy people left little time to properly prepare, and you were fine rubbing one out after Pantalone was satisfied.

Then he spoke. "I would be remiss not to reward such good behavior."

Your eyes snapped open (when had you even closed them?) just in time to see him scoot back. He left a wet trail of cum across your entire torse, but you couldn't mind that when he ended up straddling your lap. He smirked, playfully rubbing his ass against your cocks.

You jumped, a hiss tearing through your chest. The overwhelming sensation of your abused cocks finally getting Pantalone's attention banged on your head like a hammer, yet your hips snapped up in an attempt to get more of that feeling.

"Such a simple, single-minded creature." Pantalone tsked, gently slapping your hip as a command to stay still. "I have a surprise for you."

You perked up, keeping yourself still, your eyes glued on him as he turned around on wobbly legs, putting his perfectly shaped ass on display for you.

And the surprise in it.

Not even his ass cheeks could hide the silvery base of the toy. His ring stretched obscenely around it, red, puffy and fluttering around the base with every breath he took. "Since you ignored me for so long, I had to get creative." He hissed, breathless, looking at you over his shoulder, his onyx black hair cascading over his back. "Do you like it?"

You couldn't say anything as he used one hand to grip the plug, beginning to shallowly thrust the toy into himself. "It was a-hah," He groaned, bucking his hips, his cum leaking down his thighs. "-a pain to get it." It was mesmerizing how his ring fluttered around it, clinging to every artificial vein. "But so worth it."

He braced a hand on your thigh and slowly pulled the plug out, his ass clenching even harder around the toy. It finally plopped out with an obscene sound, his ass clenching around nothing and rapidly destroying what self control you had.

And now you could see that it looked like a replica of your own cock, if a bit smaller.

You didn't know how your brain was functioning.

He laughed when he saw your expression, tossing the toy to next to your head as he turned around to face you. He reached behind himself and palmed your cock. Your hips bucked, and he flicked the head as punishment, a low whine coming out of your throat. "Behave," He reminded, "Only good beasts get their rewards."

Holding still while Pantalone rose to his shaky knees to line you up with his holes was worse than any torture you had ever inflicted or experienced, the sinfully wonderful feeling of his walls clenching around one of your cocks driving you to madness. You clenched your hands shaking as he slid down in one fluid move, skin slapping against skin as you bottomed out in him.

Both of you groaned, a high pitched keen leaving your mouth as his hands found themselves around the second cock, pressed flush between his thighs. "I had a lot of time to practice since you ignored me for so long." He explained with a scoff, rocking his hips down as he played with the head of your second cock. "It's a real shame I couldn't practice with the real thing." He hissed, clenching around you and flicking your head.

"Please!" You gasped, unaware of what you were begging for. Distantly, you could hear the chains groan as they struggled to hold you, but you couldn't force yourself to care when his clever fingers played with your slit and his sinfully tight ass fluttered around your length.

"Begging for mercy now are we?" Pantalone mocked, slowly rising and falling back down. "I shouldn't give you any after the stunt you pulled." His hiss turned into a moan as your hips snapped up just as he was descending. Yet that didn't earn his pity, and he continued to leisurely ride you, as if you were no better than the toy, his cruel hands palming your sensitive head, running his fingers over the shaft just to tightly grip the base when you'd bottom out.

Seconds passed like centuries, you didn't even know when you had started begging, only that you moaned when his fingers left your cock. "You are lucky you're so well behaved." He sighed, "Now stay still."

He rose up, his walls like a vice around your poor cock, until only the head was still inside. He pressed the head of your other cock to his cunt, stretched so wide by your monstrous tongue that the head popped in without any trouble.

But this time he couldn't take you in on the first time, his little body not used to taking in so much. He stopped a little before half way, holes fluttering and clenching around you as if his body didn't know whether it wanted to push you out or draw you in deeper. "Oh, Darling." He moaned, breathless, one hand on your stomach for support, the other hand on his stomach where your cocks bulged his stomach. "So good for me."

He rose up slowly, thighs trembling as he slid back down, drawing in half an inch more with every rise and fall. His hand clawed at your skin, whole body trembling when he finally, finally, sheathed you fully in him.

You had never done this before, mostly out of fear of hurting him, but now...He looked beautiful.

Sweat damp locks clung to his forehead, his eyes half glazed over, lips parted to let out breathy moans. You could feel his hand through the muscle of his stomach, rubbing at your heads as he clenched down on you. Even the bitten and bruised thighs were beautiful, glistening from his cum and your spit, dark blue bruises forming a brand of ownership from when your teeth had dug too deep into his skin. He spread his trembling thighs wide over hips, giving you a perfect view of his throbbing cock standing proud while his cunt clenched like a vice around you.

"Se-haah." Pantalone shivered, a blush spreading from his ears down to his chest as he rubbed you through his stomach. "See how well I fit you?"

You didn't know how he was able to speak when you were leaking your brain through your cocks as precum, pleasure so powerful it was on the cusp of pain burning at the base of your spine and in the pit of your stomach.

He braced both hands on your stomach and rocked his hips down. "Fuck!" You both moaned so loud you were certain half of Teyvat heard you. He began rising and falling back on your shafts achingly slowly, thighs trembling, core muscles tense. "Oh, yes!" He groaned as your hips gently snapped up to meet his downward thrust.

You continued this slow pace until you were at the cusp of madness, fire burning in your veins as you attempted to buck up, only fail when he would rise up so you couldn't get deeper in him. You whined, a tightness in your belly, you needed more of his heat, you needed more of him!

"Wh-hah, what's wrong?" Pantalone mockingly asked, clawing at your stomach as he rode you even slower. "Not sati-fuck- satisfied?"

You nodded, clenching your teeth, the chains groaning louder in your ears.

He peered at you from beneath his lashes, "This -archons why are you big-" He groaned, rising up and stopping there, keeping just the heads of your cocks inside him. "This is how I felt all those two months." He growled as you whined, not budging no matter how much you begged and whined.

"If you don't lik- hah- like it, do something about it." He hugged, gently slapping your stomach as you once again tried to buck up into his tight heat. "Or-" He looked you straight in the eyes, a devious smirk on his lips. "-shall I go back to the toys?"

Snap!

Next thing you knew, you were sat up. Both hands gripping his thighs and forcing him down as you snapped your hips up.

"Yes!" He shouted so all Snezhnaya could hear, clenching around you like a vice.

His thighs shook as you helped him rise and fall while fucking up into him, using him like a toy to your heart's content while he moaned and groaned.

Pantalone let out the sweetest moans, trying to silence them by hiding his head in the crook of your neck as he bounced on top of you, yet it was futile. Moaned order of "Like that, go on, harder, please!" rung in your ears like a mantra as he pressed searing kisses on your skin, winding his arms around your neck to get you even closer to him.

You felt his lips over your pulse point, pressing a kiss there before he bit you — your hips snapped up sharply, all caution flying with the wind.

You snarled, tugging him closer to you with a bruising grip as you fucked up into him, bullying your way into his clenching holes until he was screaming your name between his moans.

His holes clenched around you tightly, destroying any lingering worry when his hips would fight against your grip every time you'd pull out, his body so desperate to have you in him that he couldn't wait the second it would take you to snap your hips into him.

You could tell he was close, silky soft tunnels fluttering around your shafts before gripping them like a vice. You pressed the pad of your finger to his cock, and he let out a broken moan as you fucked him, rubbing his cock every time you lifted him up just so you could hear the fucked out sounds he moaned into your skin.

Itching need gnawed on your brain, the familiar pressure in your belly telling you that you wouldn't last long. "Close," You hissed out, hugging his body close to yours, caging his smaller body in your bulk, safe and sound from the rest of the world in your embrace. "Please."

"Yes yes yes go-" he gasped out, his hands gripping your shoulders, as you rubbed his cock. "Go on, inside! Cum inside!" His walls clenched around you, threatening to snap your cocks off, as with a thunderous shout he came, biting your pulse point again.

Your own release shot through you like lightning, frazzling your brain as you shot your loads, Pantalone letting out a broken moan as you filled him.

Archons, he had missed this. He forgot how much he loved it when you filled him up, your hot release bulging his stomach even more, proclaiming that you were his and no one else's. "Good, so good darling," He moaned, babbling, completely unaware of his words as you both try to catch your breaths.

You tried to pull out, but he stopped you, grumbling something under his breath as his holes clenched around you. "Don't." He mumbled into your neck, hugging you closer to himself.

Resigned, you lied back on the bed, laying Pantalone on your chest. Your fingers ghosted over the black and blue bruises forming all over his pelvis, long scratch marks left by your claws only now starting to clot.

"Quit that, I can see what you're thinking, dear." Pantalone lightly swatting at your chest.

"But-" He cut you off by gently kissing a trail up your throat, not minding the sweat, drool, and his own cum staining your skin.

"Let me remind you that I wanted this." He clenched around you, pleasured pain burning up your spine. You clenched your teeth and hissed, but he just chuckled. "I wanted you to be rough with me."

"You could have asked." You mumbled,

"And you wouldn't have agreed to it." He just rolled his eyes, resting his head on your chest as his fingers traced mindless patterns on your skin.

A heavy sigh left your chest as you apologized for the two months you didn't touch him, it was never in your intentions to ignore him.

"Oh, my darling beast." Pantalone sighed, a sweet smile gracing his features. He reached out to cradle your cheeks, pulling you down into a kiss, not bothered by your sharp teeth. "Such a gentle beast," he sighed against your lips, kissing you once more. "Only for me?"

"Only for you," You agreed, chest light like a feather.

"Good," he leaned back, lifting himself up by bracing his hands on your stomach. Then his eyes narrowed and he swatted your chest. "You're paying to fix the headboard, you brute."

You turned your head - sure enough, you had shattered the ornate headboard the chains had been attached to, the broken cuffs still attached to your wrists... You couldn't find it in yourself to feel too bad about it.

"Later," You said and quickly picked him up as you stood up. He yelped, clinging to you, drops of your cum getting past the plug created by your shafts, leaving a trail as you walked. "Bath?"

He nodded his head, "Sounds lovely." He kissed your neck, mumbling into your skin, "I just imported new conditioner from Sumeru, the merchant said it should do wonders for your hair."

You just smiled; He had taken care of you, now it was your turn to take care of him.

[oneshotnewbie]

how are you??

i was looking at your list and saw that you write for the walking dead and was wondering if you’d be willing to do a request on it for me? thank you!!

so it’s basically maggie greene (rhee) x teen!reader where reader is like a daughter or a younger sister to her. it’s nothing special or major, but maybe just a cute little story where reader gets sick or hurt and maggie takes care of her and is all motherly/big sister-like with reader?

also reader’s carl’s age, so i think about fourteen then? again, you can change the age if you need to, i don’t mind!

- 🍄 anon

Authors note: Hey, sweet mushroom. I am doing okay so far, I hope you are doing great! At the same time, I hope you like this little story ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

The world was a shadowy landscape of ruined buildings, deserted streets and the faint echoes of past civilization. The earth, once vibrant with life, now lay in the grip of a post-apocalyptic silence.

In the middle of this desolate scenario, between rusty walls, lived Maggie with her small "family" - a group of survivors who had come together to survive in this unnatural world. Among them you, whose real name had long been lost in the turmoil of time.

It was the icy wind of a wintry morning that intensified the already bitter cold of the Forsaken Land as an ominous cough snaked its way through the silence of the house. Maggie sensed the icy breath of sickness beginning to spread through the ranks of the community. You, who had previously been a steadfast and indestructible pillar of the group, were among those affected and woke up with a feverish chill.

The symptoms appeared quickly: fever, chills and an exhausted look that bore the marks of suffering. But Maggie, a woman with an aura of determination and keen eye for your needs, recognized the gravity of your situation. Your body heavy, limbs aching, and eyes bloodshot from the fever that burned within you like a raging fire. "Hey, how are you feeling today kiddo?"

"Mags, I feel like I've been torn apart by a pack of wild dogs," you whispered, every movement making your body tremble as the older one approached your bed. Your voice, a faint breath in the gloomy silence, betrayed the exhaustion and weakness that the illness brought with it.

She sat down in an empty spot on your bed and gently placed a hand on your forehead. "You're literally burning. I have to see what I can find to help you. Otherwise the fever will kill you," she spoke with a look that told stories of loss and will to survive as her inner turmoil filled the air. "You want to leave me?"

"Just to get you and the others medicine,“ The group had hardly any remedies left to fight the disease. Medicines were in short supply, and the improvised teas offered no protection against the creeping germs. The post-apocalyptic world was not forgiving, and illnesses often became inescapable judgments. But the woman in front of you refused to just abandon you to your fate. Her connection to you was deeper than anyone else's. You had become like a little sister to her, someone she wanted and even needed to protect and support. "Carol will stay with you for the time I'm gone and take care of you. I'll get back to you as soon as possible. I promise."

With one last goodbye kiss, she left you in bed and set off with Daryl to do everything they could to bring you relief while, without her, time blurred into an endless succession of feverish hours and cough-ragged days.

The sun had long since hidden behind the toxic clouds in the sky when the search for medicine became a fight for survival in the shattered ruins of the buildings. The footsteps on broken glass and the constant gusts of wind blowing through the dilapidated shutters seemed to underscore the urgency of the mission.

She searched for medication in numerous abandoned pharmacies and barricaded doctor's offices. Her hands, battered by the cold and the endless digging through rubble, searched for the glimmer of hope amid the devastation until she finally came across locked cupboards, the only contents of which were a few bottles, expired medication and a few blankets. Maggie wasn't discouraged and took everything she could find. With a tenacity driven by her love for you, she returned to make use of what little she had found.

"Here, take this, sweetheart," she said, handing you a handful of expired medication. "It's not much, but it should at least bring down the fever a little." You smiled weakly and accepted the pills gratefully, barely getting into a sitting position. "Thanks. I don't know how I would do this without you."

She waved it off as if it were obvious. "In these times, we need to stick together. No one should wander alone in the dark. Especially not you," she helped you take the pills and then spread an extra blanket over you. "You're like my little sister, y/n. If something happened to you- I would never be happy again."

Over the next few days, your bedroom became a kind of makeshift hospital room and she began to care for you with a mix of old survival instincts and an unwavering caring nature. Blankets and hot water bottles became weapons in her fight against the invisible threat that took over your body.

The wind howled around the corners and an icy storm raged outside as the brunette spent the next few days cooking soups that she laced with fever-reducing drugs. She woke up by your side nightly, placing wet towels on your hot forehead and whispering soothing words into the darkness while you slept. The nights were long and quiet, interrupted only by the patients' wheezing and the crackling of their movements.

The group watched as the woman, who otherwise seemed so stoic and aloof, cared for you tenderly and self-sacrificingly. The others, who otherwise only knew the harsh reality of everyday life, witnessed a love between strangers that became family and that was more precious than any resource in these times.

Time crawled by and the disease tried to tighten its ugly claws. But Maggie's care and love proved to be powerful weapons. You fought against the disease, strengthened by their tireless help and solidarity support.

You lay weak, but your eyes still sparkled with life. In the quiet moments between feverish bouts, you and Maggie found time to talk quietly. "You have to stay strong, y/n. The world may have fallen apart, but we can't let it break us," she spoke as she cooled your forehead.

You smiled weakly, your eyes glassy with tiredness. "You're like a mother to me, Mags. I really can't imagine what it would be like without you."

Maggie just sighed quietly. "You are my family. I can't imagine what it would be like without you either."

The days passed and the illness slowly faded away like the side after a storm. You struggled back to your feet, strengthened by her unwavering belief in survival. The post-apocalyptic world may have been one of destruction and loss, but in this small corner of reality, humanity shone in its purest form, igniting a flame of hope for every survivor who walked the streets of Alexandria.