#fic: the lightning that jumps between

[averysexyleon]

Mfw i know that tonight after I get back home I'm going to start working on chapters 101--???? The third season of my dramatic story 😂

Even though I just finished writing 120k words with only a few days break.

I don't know why I'm not burned out but I won't question it,

[thelightningthatjumpsbetween]

Chapter Two

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

Several months earlier

The party continued on in the lagoon under them, while Ethan and Heisenberg looked on from a nearby ledge.  The small “just in case of Miranda” fire had grown into a veritable bonfire, and the celebration into something magical with Eva’s presence. 

Still, Ethan found himself lost in his own looping thoughts, silent as he pondered.  He could feel the heartbeat of the Mutamycete from here, could slip easily back and forth into the liminal space, where black threads of mycelium coated the landscape.  Something had changed with Eva’s arrival.  The Mold felt….sad, he decided.  

Which in turn made him wonder what awaited them all next.  As Zoe carried the finally-sleeping Rose on her shoulder, rocking her, Ethan worked up the courage to ask Heisenberg one of many questions he often choked down out of fear.  

“Why did you take Rose?  Was it to…use her against Miranda?”

Surprised, Karl turned toward him, tipping his head back in that theatrical Heisenberg way.  He looked at Ethan curiously, as if impressed with the question, but hesitant to anger the blond.  With one grey-brown eyebrow arched, the engineer responded with a thoughtful, “No….”

Like all his words, it dipped down, then up.  Ethan’s pout twisted into a skeptical smirk and he raised an eyebrow of his own.  This surprised Karl, who grinned back wolfishly.  

So Karl was going to make him ask more questions.  Fine. 

“Was it to convince me to stay?”

Karl scoffed, and then jerked one shoulder up in a half-shrug.  

“Considerin’ you grabbed her an’ tried to run….no.”  

At this, Ethan raised both of his eyebrows and nodded.  True.  He’d been vicious upon awakening, disgusted at what had happened to his body, disgusted at everything that he was, let alone everything he thought about the Lord.  To see him with his daughter…

His amused expression evened and Ethan gazed down at the crowd for another moment, planning his next question.  But then Karl surprised him, speaking first.  

“Wasn’t about her, wasn’t even….” intentional, was what he’d planned to say.  But that wasn’t true.  Karl had been considering taking the child as soon as he breached the holdover facility, some no-name hospital in an armpit of Hungary, where the BSAA team was on holdover with their “cargo” including the BOW soldiers that Redfield had, er….commandeered. 

In fact, the team was so focused on that, that Karl had easily infiltrated the area.  No, Rose was never the goal.  But she was on his mind. 

He blinked, golden eyes nearly glimmering like the fire they focused on.  “Just had the thought when I saw it all.  What ‘er life would be like.  Raised like a…” freak.  “Like a–” 

“Thank you,” Ethan said suddenly, spinning on his heel toward the man, whose stutter died with those words, and a confused look overtook his face.  “I understand what you mean.  You didn’t want her to…go through.” 

His wandering gaze came back to Heisenberg’s face, the scars, the widened eyes.  “And I know that you don’t like to talk…specifics.  Of what you went through.  But I just want you to know that one day, I hope you can.  I hope you feel like you can trust me with that.”

Karl acted for a moment as if he would respond.  His mouth opened, closed, he blinked rapidly, tilted his head again.  Finally he simply looked back toward the fire.  Ethan so rarely “got” the other that he smiled broadly, crossing his arms over his chest in satisfaction.  He moved toward the other and leaned over Karl’s shoulder, his chin resting over Heisenberg’s trapezius muscle.  “I’m betting your master plan didn’t involve this, though.” 

“Nope,” Karl said cheerfully.  “Thought you were a real stubborn idiot.  Glad you came around.” 

“I am an idiot,” Ethan corrected, and he closed his eyes at Heisenberg’s chuckle.  

—------------

It was a restless half-hour after the memory-turned-dream that Ethan did crawl from his bed and enter the dimly lit hallway.  He could hear sounds from the kitchen, and sensed rather than guessed that it was Eva. 

Like his bond with Rosemary, the two could somehow ‘feel’ the other's presence, and even communicate if they wanted to, though there was seldom a need.  Also, like Rosemary, Eva’s energy–when focused on-was a brightly lit beacon even in this world.  

Ethan didn’t know what made the two so powerful, but it gave him comfort.  He had an inkling that the only other beings so gifted, so powerful, would have been Eveline and Miranda.  And that hadn’t worked out great for anybody, really.  

Eva’s warm smile faded when she saw the grumpy look on Ethan’s face, and she moved from the stool where she sat, surrounded by food and a notebook, to stand in front of him.  Now a hint of a furrow threaded into her white-blond eyebrows.  

Her voice was musical, soft.  Less echoey than it had been in the other realms.  But still almost magical-sounding.  Like a fairy voice. 

“Are you all right?”

He sighed raggedly and rubbed both palms down his face, feeling rather stupid.  Ethan wasn’t used to having others around in such a capacity, and had no real practice with talking to other adults about anything of substance.  In fact, the only real practice he’d had–his marriage-was mostly littered with mistrust, lies, and uncertainty.  He was trying to do better.  Embrace things.  

His frown turned into an almost-lip-tremble when he admitted in a small, quiet voice, “I dreamed about Mia.” 

Whatever he’d expected, he didn’t expect an instant, warm hug, and Ethan paused at the gesture before returning it.  

“I’m so sorry,” Eva said genuinely.  How was she so good at being so comforting after a century of isolation?  Ethan had nothing on her, and he was still like a fumbling infant at communication despite a college degree.   

“I’m just old,” she answered aloud, a hint of humor in her voice, and then Eva pulled back.  Her fingers went to cover her lips as if she were nervous.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” he said honestly, sauntering past her and plopping onto one of the stools.  “Makes it easier on me, if anything.” 

“I’m not invading your thoughts,” she began in her lilted accent, so similar to her mother’s, but without the sharp tone, “but I am just guessing…you would like some coffee?”

He couldn’t help but smile, and his posture relaxed as she moved toward the other side of the kitchen.  Eva had become something of a food expert in the few months after gaining a body.  At first, her creations were bizarre and even made Karl look on in fear and trepidation.  But soon, she bought dozens of cook books, tagged along to restaurants and shops, and spent long weekends with Maricara to learn the trade.  

She still ate donuts, and swore by the combination of pickles and macaroni.

Her back was to him.  Ethan studied the drying herbs on the wall, and the paintings left by Heisenberg’s family.  Unlike the somber dining room, this side was brightly patterned folk art.  Flowers and birds.  

“So, what was the dream?” 

“It was just…a memory, actually,” he answered with a frown.  “At the end, I thought I heard Miranda laughing.” 

“That is odd,” Eva responded, but her dark blue eyes glittered when she turned, her gaze sliding toward Ethan.  “Was she a part of the memory?”

Now he shrugged, agitated.  “I guess so.  I guess Miranda was a part of my life a long time before even Eveline came to be.”  When Eva remained silent, he added, “Mia met Miranda while she was in college.  She told me about it on our first date….I just…didn’t know who she was talking about.” 

A moment of comfortable silence, in which the wall clock was the only sound.  Ethan’s soft fingertips stroked over his own lips while he contemplated the memory again.  The smell of brewing coffee now punctured the air, welcome and comforting.  

His fingers were now probing his stubble.  Ethan hated the scratching feeling, and made a mental note to go shave soon.  He moved his fingers back to his lips, mumbling through them.  “Is it…..do you think Miranda can….see those things?  Memories.  Dreams.  Like that.” 

“Yes,” Eva replied simply.  

“Did she…cause it?”

“That, I do not know.”  Eva turned and crossed delicate arms over her chest.  She tilted her head, eyes tracking around the room while she considered.  “I could not, but maybe I didn’t try.  However…my question is, were you thinking of Mia before sleep?”

That was a pretty normal question.  Ethan frowned at it though.  He couldn’t even grieve properly, without wondering if Miranda was polluting his mind.  He exhaled, surprised at how shaky his breath still was.  

“I think of her a lot,” he admitted, wondering why he’d never said that before.  “When I thought she died the first time, before….”  he couldn’t even form the word anymore.  He closed his eyes instead.  He could sense Eva moving around to Karl’s usual seat, where she pushed a mug toward him gently.  

“...That time, I just thought of everything good.  Every good memory.  Then she was back and it was such a relief, well…after.  Anyway, this time, the thing that’s on my mind is the memories of arguments, fighting.  She hated moving here, I could tell.  She hated the BSAA’s involvement with us, hated that Chris trained me.”  Blond eyebrows lifted in an expression of sorrow, resignation, as he burned his lips with the coffee.

It tasted magnificent.  Eva somehow managed to make coffee that was incredibly strong and woody and still creamy and sweet.  He didn’t even mind the burned lips, and gulped more.  

She was listening intently, stirring her own coffee with her chin propped in her other hand.  

“Mostly I just…I guess.  I’m mad at her, and I know she knew things weren’t ever going to work again between us, but I feel like she abandoned me a long time ago….which sounds stupid.” 

“No it doesn’t.” 

“That part doesn’t upset me as much, I guess I get really upset when I think others are leaving, but I’ve accepted that she left.  What hurts and makes me angry is thinking that she did it to Rosemary.  Left her alone, without a…” his voice cracked and he gave up, clenching the coffee cup instead. 

Eva was silent for a few minutes before she draped a pale hand over one of his.  “I hear you, Ethan,” she said in a warm tone.  “May I say something?”

“Of course,” he grumbled, eager to burn his throat with more coffee.  

“I am not a mother,” she began, using the word he was trying to avoid, “but I have felt many souls’ experience, who were.  Generations of mothers.  One thing I can tell you is there is a certain sort of…insanity, a madness, to it.  Even other animals experience this.  Motherhood is to become insane, in a way.”   

He raised his eyebrows but stayed quiet.  

“In some, it manifests as control.  I would say my own mother is a good example of that.  A need to control the fate of their child, in fact, a need to control everything.  In other mothers, it manifests as panic or fear of well-being.  A sort of constant, fierce protectiveness.  A Mama Bear, yes?  Like the Lady Dimitrescu.”  

Was that a pang of remorse?  Oh, fuck off, he told himself mentally, trying to will memories of the pain she’d inflicted on him back into his mind so he wouldn’t feel anything remotely positive toward the woman. 

“This madness does not always show–one must have something to cause a chain reaction, so to say…living a quiet or normal life, it might never appear.  But sadness, sorrow, pain.”  Eva frowned, and finally sipped from her own cup.  

“Well, I suppose there are a thousand ways to respond, and I have seen many of them.  One response is to run away.  Overwhelm.  To spiral in a way until existing seems unbearable.  I am certain that Mia felt guilt, in the end, and I am sure it overwhelmed her.  However, it does not mean there was no love.  Sometimes madness overwhelms love.  Sometimes they are very near the same feeling.” 

Though he didn’t want to think of them, he found the Bakers entering his memory again…how different they had been, before.  How crazed, enraged Jack had been over Eveline’s proclamation that Ethan was to be her new Daddy.  He thought of Rosemary’s birth.  He’d been ecstatic, on cloud nine, but Mia’s fear overshadowed the event.  She had been hysterical.  Citing hospital trauma and mistrust of doctors.  They’d given her so much medication and still she panicked.  

As always, Ethan didn’t understand her fear, but simply worked hard to reassure her.  In hindsight, it made so much sense.  

He sighed, rubbing his temple.  

“Thanks, Eva.”  

She sat upright, looking suspiciously at him.  “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” he reassured, this time taking her hand.  “No, I think you’re right.”  He forced a smile, only possible thanks to the coffee, and quipped, “You’re pretty sharp for an old lady.” 

“Why! I was born two months ago!” she said in faux-outrage, but then giggled.  

After more coffee, he asked a question to shift the subject.  “If mothers come with madness, what do fathers come with?” 

Her blue eyes narrowed in thought, and they both turned their gazes toward the large glass doors that led to the garden, where the sky was barely turning grey.  

“Fathers,” she said contemplatively.  “Become…obstinate.  Headstrong.   Stubborn.”

He heaved a sigh into the coffee mug.  “You sound like Heisenberg.”  

They both burst into laughter at that. 

The sun would rise soon.  

[cu7ie]

ა˚₊﹕take your time. ⊹

cw: virgin reader, gn!reader, don't even ask me what dimension this miguel is from. miguel being a good partner, unintentional teasing, reader is just shy! an: first miguel fic! woo!!! totally dedicated to @buttress atp

You still can't look at him.

-

You've been dating Miguel for months at this point. You're not moved in together (yet), but see each other as often as possible, spending nights in his apartment, folded under his arm and leg tucked between his.

He's very familiar with you, perhaps more so than you are him. Knows what you look like when you're positively elated, seen those so hard smiles that afterward you're complaining your cheeks hurt. 

He's seen utter devastation, too. You'd mourned the loss of your dear departed cat in his arms, sobbing and snotty and cloyingly tender. Must've cried all the water out of your body that day, soaked the whole front of his shirt (the one time he chose to wear white) before dying off into the most pitiful whine. You'd grown too small to support yourself.

So he helped.  Reassured you gently with the strokes of his hand along your back, getting you water, making sure you ate, spending the night at your house …

And you two have been dating for a while now. You've seen his highs and lows too.

Hardly this kind of low though. 

-

He's seen you naked before. Not enough for this lifetime, but definitely on more than one occasion. 

You're still so bashful.

When he joins you in the shower you can barely meet his eye, washing the front of his chest tentatively while he gently massages shampoo into your hair.

You get flustered when he catches you changing, covering your chest with your shorts and risking a friction burn with how fast you force your jeans past your thighs. 

Your affections usually stop at kissing. It's clear to him you're interested, but you always seem unsure to start. You're a little self conscious, nervous about the space between you two - and right when it starts feeling better than just good, you pull away. 

It's kind of like edging, bordering on torture, but Miguel knows how to be patient. 

Eventually, you come back to him.

-

Before he found himself two fingers deep in you, you had ask him to fuck you once before. 

Almost verbatim.

"Fuck me."

and, regardless of the fact that his cock jumps a little as you whisper it so close to his lips, 

It sounds so strange falling from your lips like that. Abrupt and sudden like a clap of thunder in the dead of night, and his eyebrows shoot up - as quick as residual lightning.

Maybe the look on his face was what faltered you. The way his pupils constrict then dilate like he's really looking at you, into your depth, and probing for your intention with a breathy, "You sure?" 

And you nod, a little slow.

"Y-yeah. Certain."  Miguel arches his brow skeptically, lips quirking into a half-smirk as he turns his body to face you, his head leaning to the side as he looks you up and down slow enough to make you second guess. "Of course, Cariño - as you wish." And admittedly he's a little cruel, enjoys the way you curl in on yourself, imagines the heat burrowing into the apples of your cheeks, watching your breath catch in your chest as you stare him down. The moment lingers.

"Show me then."  He props his arm onto the couch as his posture relaxes, his expression no greater than his polite smile, which still feels goading, in a way. "Show me how badly you want me to fuck you." 

He knows right away you got a little too facey. You're a shih tzu glaring down a rottweiler and you've forgotten how to bark. It always gets caught up in you, desire tangled up in a net of worry, doubt. Can see it in your eyes, the way your lip dips down before you tuck it beneath a tooth, the aura of your gaze becoming more shadowed, more sensual.

"I'll… I'll show you."

"Mhm. 'Course you will." 

Your finger hops up a little. You don't know where to put your hands so his thighs serve as a placeholder as you push yourself into his lap, the supple flesh of your lips meeting his, and,

 ooh, his chapstick is lemon flavored.

Your kiss is so dear to him. It's dainty, lightens his heart because you're too shy for tongue kisses at first. 

Or maybe you just don't know how. Still,

You slowly build yourself up to it that night.

Cautiously, your mouth parts a little more, ushered into a new sensation as your tongue maps out the roof of his mouth, the ridges of his teeth, slowly feeling him rise to the occasion, raising your chin and humming pleasantly into your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut, your arms coming up to wrap around the back of a pleasantly surprised Miguel's neck, and he moves to settle you in his lap.

Miguel's skin feels smooth to the touch.

He’s moved you to the bedroom, urged you to wrap your legs around his hips as he took the liberty of digging his fingers into your soft ass, irritatingly thin shorts keeping him from getting to feel you for real. You're convincing him well enough so far, your skin rippling hot wrought iron left in the sun, and the burn on his skin is delicious - so when he's ready to eat,

When he's spreading you out on the bed and has your shorts around your thighs,

He notices you're not looking. Your breaths are shaky and fast, eyes welded shut, cheek turned and smushing into your pillow. You're still apart from the light tremble in your thighs, your legs dangling over the side of the bed as he adjusts his position on his knees, face partially curtained by your thighs as his arms curl up under them to tug your sex closer to his waiting lips.

"Ay." He gives your leg a healthy shake, jolting you out of your stupor. "Still want me to fuck you?" There's amusement bleeding into him again, but his eye is measured, patient. You blink an eye open, look down at him, his head between your legs,

The predatory, slow lick of his lips makes your hair stand on end, and you buck up, propping yourself up on shaky elbows. “Miguel…” 

“Hm?” He breathes so close to you that blood doesn’t know where to rush, to your head or between your legs. The dull throb of arousal that lances through you excites and terrifies, a nervous whine wheedling its way from between your lips, makes MIguel stop again. He feels your knees shake a little, still only one eye open. 

On the inside, budding frustration. There are two wolves - the desire to be cool, calm, and reassuring clashes with its twin, the overwhelming desire to have what he wants and do as he pleases. He sighs, and represses the second urge.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really.” You breathe in good for once, a relieved sigh as he pulls your underwear back up and pats your thigh, maintaining a pleasant expression while on the inside the mourns what should have been, imagines the feeling of you stretched around his cock - the tightness of your warmth, fucking in and out of you and hearing you squeal as he rolls his hips, adjusts his pace.

Tucks his fantasy away till it's only remnant is the hard-on he's trying to will away as you beckon him to join you under the sheets.

But he’s patient above all. Joins you on the bed and holds you close, burrowing his head into your shoulder as your wrap your arms around his back, 

And he leaves it alone.

-

'Could blue balls kill a man?'

He's not proud of his Google search history -

But it's been a couple weeks since he managed to get that far with you, and his hand hasn't been cutting it for a while now. And Miguel can sure as hell pretend he's not feeling as carnal as he is - that the chip on his shoulder is his increasing responsibility at Alchemax, the diminishing of his free time, lack of sleep …

But he feels no rage more potent than after he's came into his hand for the 5th time in two days, holding a shirt or a pair of your underwear up to his nose and huffing like it's paint. He's never been a junkie, but sometimes he's shaking he's so mad, that there's not more of you, enough of you, none of the soft, real parts of you.

And it's not your fault. You'll be ready when you're ready, and he just has to accept he might not make it to see that day.

But fast forward to right before bed that night. Yellow lampshade that turns the warm light dim, moonlight pressing through murky clouds and filtering into the window above the bed you two share. 

You still take showers together, but now you linger behind to wash properly while he settles into his normal routine, playing with his balls and turning his head into your pillow. 

He sighs to the sound of the creaking door, dripping water falling softly to the floor as you, towel wrapped around your naked body, step closer toward the bed.

You move from the front of the room, to the foot of the bed, til you're hovering over his side of the bed, this look in your eye like you've made up your mind about something. "What?" He flicks his head up, drowsy but not yet asleep.

"I think m'ready." Miguel blinks the tired out of his eyes and looks up, confused.

"What? Whaddaya mean you're ready?" 

"I mean," the towel falls, and he sees your bare body - your skin still dewy from your shower, glistening in the light. "I'm ready to fuck you. For real this time."

"Oh? So you're fucking me now?" He sizes you up a second, before you're crawling over him, straddling his hips as your bare intimates are flush against his groin, your butt pressing softly into his cock as he gets a half chub, not wanting to fully commit yet, but you're not letting up …

And that's how he got here. Two crooked fingers deep, up to the second knuckle, scissoring your hole open and hearing all these new noises - ones he's never had the chance to hear until now. You're accepting of his touch, but seem unwilling to fully express how bad he's got you - your wrist folded over your mouth, every moan sludging itself in your throat because you won't let it be free. You won't let him hear it.

Your back’s on the bed and he’s laying on his side next to you, over top of you, and he has the perfect view of your cute face and ditzy expression, your eyes pinched shut as you mutter something behind your hand, cut short as he curves his finger inside. “Miguel!”

“What is it querido? I’m a little busy here…”  Two fingers deep and you’re not as resistant as he’s expecting, so he feeds you a third promptly and it does not go unmissed how you clamp down on him tighter, your shuddering groan so lewd it almost beats the rational thought of preparing you out of his head. 

The only thing keeping him from mounting you then and there is your inexperience. Laid bare for him in this moment, he rubs his erection against your side brazenly, distinctly unashamed with letting you know how badly he wants you.

“Have you been touching yourself, carino? You’ve been preparing yourself for me?” You inhale shakily, and Miguel slows his pace so you don't have an excuse, any reason to not answer. You're so adorable when you're embarrassed. A little wetness in your eye, and usually you get all pouty like you might cry,

But he's doing something alien to you, pressing up into your sensitive walls, eliciting a brand new reaction he's sure he quite likes. 

You sniffle and answer slow. "A little… I was j-just practicing!" Your voice pitches up again, and instead of making his way further in, or adding a fourth finger, he stops. 

So abruptly you whine, arch your back in irritation and only then do you look at him, see the shadows that have settled over his face,

and isn't he feeling a might slick, having reduced you to jerking limbs and whimpering and moaning in what felt like a few minutes, though he doesn't have it in him to feel smug. 

Just hungry. 

"...Miguel." Barely a whisper. Only because it's you does he hear it. "Be gentle with me, please."

"Yeah." The single syllable is drawn out, curving into a growl, husky and deep unlike any noise a man ought to make.  "Right. Gentle."

[lovelyela]

she's thunderstorms || theodore nott x fem!reader

synopsis: you and theo smoke session, loosely based off 'shes thunderstorms' by arctic monkeys

ela’s note: i felt like writing a song fic and my best friend is like in love with theo and arctic monkeys so i decided to try n write something ! :D hopefully you guys enjoy this!

warnings: use of y/n, smoking, cursing (?), fluff, bad descriptions of smoking (i dont smoke so idk wtf im talking about), mentions of cheating, bad british slang attempt (im also not british), implied slytherin!reader BUT it never actually says it so like whatever, inappropriate teenage boy jokes, time jump, lazy ending :p

word count: 1.1k

・❥・

the rain made the pavement darker than it was, the lightning flickered and the thunder hushed the party going on inside the slytherin common room.

theodore was in the hallway, sitting on the windowsill while taking a smoke break.

mattheo was busy on the dancefloor, flirting with girls and getting drunk and whatnot, so theo was alone with his thoughts for the smoke.

he inhaled the grey smoke, letting it sit for a little before exhaling slowly. his eyes were glazed over, allowing himself to relax.

the booming sound hit again, dampening the laughter and chatter theodore could barely hear.

he closed his eyes, allowing the effects of the weed to settle in. the peace and quiet settled in until footsteps approached him.

"do you have another?" a voice rang though his ears, taking him out of his trance, it was you.

"what?" he asked, taken aback and caught off guard by you.

"do you have another blunt i can have?" you clarified.

"oh, yeah- yeah, of course." he replied, "here." he said, taking a rolled sheet filled with weed.

"thank you." you replied, taking the bud and putting it between your lips. theo took the lighter he had out of his pocket, holding it a few inches from you, signaling that he was ready whenever you were.

carefully, you put your face a little closer to the flame, just enough for the end of the blunt to ignite an addicting burnt orange color.

you slumped up against the wall, sliding onto the floor.

theo watched as you took another drag, letting the smoke take its effect on you this time.

"what are you doing alone?" theo asked, which he regretted immediately, as it sounded like he was a complete and utter creep. "i mean, why have you decided to take a break from the party?"

your eyes fluttered open before answering, "i found out the guy i've been talking to had a girlfriend the entire time." you answered honestly, not showing a single sign of emotion. "i've been feeling foolish about it so i figured i'd take some air."

the boy hummed, "dickhead." he muttered loud enough for you to hear.

"definitely." your eyes shut again, still allowing the weed to settle in.

"what's your name?" theo asked, genuinely curious. he had seen you around before, you two were in a few classes together as well, but the both of you had never spoken.

"it's y/n y/l/n." you replied, holding the rolled paper between your index and middle. you already knew who he was. whenever snape would pick on him in your potions class, he would use his name, so you caught on. "and you're theodore nott, right?"

"yeah- yup, you're correct. just theo works too, though," he stumbled, being caught of guard by your knowledge on him. why was his heart speeding up so fast?

"i didn't ask, what are you doing here alone?" you questioned, "i thought you had that whole big and mighty friend group."

"i do, i just..." he trailed off, "wanted to take a smoke break." he shrugged.

"i get that," you sighed. "the rain is bad, don't you think?" you switched the conversation to the ruthless storm outside.

"i guess, yeah," theo said, his blunt long forgotten.

"i like the rain," you shrugged.

"yeah? i guess it can be nice sometimes, it's stunning." theo replied, looking back at you while you stare out the window. he managed to get a good look at you this time, you wore black baggy jeans, an off-the-shoulder ghost band t-shirt, and black motorcycle boots. you left your hair down and it was a bit ruffled from dancing in the slytherin common room.

you let out a cloud of smoke, "do you have a staring problem?" you joked. you felt his eyes piercing through your skin.

"uh- sorry." he said, heart racing even faster when he realized he had been caught, "you just don't seem like other girls."

"ew," you coughed, nearly choking on foggy air when he said that. "never say that again," you stated.

"you like being like everyone else?" he questioned, curious on your reaction.

"i think everyone is a bit different from each other." you said, "plus what you said was cringe."

"huh." he breathed, "my apologies."

"you're good," you said, standing up, "i'll see you around."

theo stood up quickly too, not knowing wether he should reach out a hand or go in for a hug or walk with you. "yeah, for sure." he choked out, cursing himself for the new awkwardness he had never encountered before you.

you shot him a smile before walking back into the party.

・❥・

theo walked into the slytherin common room, his best friends already yelling and joking around. he took a seat on a couch next to draco, facing mattheo and lorenzo.

"what's up, lads?" he greeted the laughing boys.

"nott, where were you last night?" mattheo smirked, thinking the taller finally had some game.

"took a break outside." theo explained, making a smoking motion with his hand.

"well, you missed out." enzo added, "the party was crazy."

"y/l/n always knows how to put on a party." draco chuckled, remembering the events of last night.

"it was y/n's party?" theo wondered why he had never heard your name before the party.

"yes?" enzo nodded slowly, thinking it was common sense.

"she always throws a party before summer, before the heat gets too much, you really didn't know that?" mattheo said, tilting a head at him.

"speak of the devil." draco said as you walked in.

"did you guys do the potions homework?" you questioned as you got closer, slightly waving and smiling at theo to acknowledge him.

"blimey, it's the second time this week." draco rolled his eyes as he reached for his satchel, removing a piece of parchment covered in writing, "bring it back before tuesday."

"thanks, malfoy!" you drew out the y, smiling at the other boys as you walked out of the room, again.

once the doors thumped close, the boys began hollering at theo.

"we saw that, mate!" mattheo teased, "did you run off with y/l/n?" draco and enzo snickered as they saw his face turn red.

"no, she just joined me for a smoke last night, is all." theo said, shutting down the allegations that made his heart speed up and yearn for you.

"for sure." mattheo said before chatting about the party. something about enzo finally meeting someone he got along with and found attractive, and another thing about draco losing miserably at cup pong, and one more thing about him being able to dance with gorgeous girls.

theo wasn't really paying attention, though.

you were looping around his brain the entire time the boys talked.

you were thunderstorms.

・❥・

part two maybe? lmk!!

reblogs, likes, and replies are ALWAYS appreciated <3

dni if you support pro-life, racism, homophobia, transphobia, antisemitism, sexism or anything along those lines!

[marvelobsessed134]

Want her to unwrap me

This is part of my 12 days of fics. Merry Christmas Eve everyone!

Pairings: Dom!Wanda Maximoff x Sub!Fem!Reader

Warnings: light degradation, fingering, oral (r receiving), rough sex, vibrator use, mommy kink, squirting.

Summary: In which your girlfriend walks in on you singing an explicit version of Ariana Grande’s Santa Tell Me

You were cleaning the kitchen counters with Christmas music blasting through the Bluetooth speaker. Recently you’ve been obsessed with the original explicit version of Santa Tell Me by Ariana Grande.

Little did you know, your girlfriend was just trudging through the door of your penthouse with bags of gifts for the other avengers.

As you sang the song, you changed the pronouns.

“Want her to unwrap me like oh ooh ooh.”

Those words struck Wanda like a lightning bolt to a metal pole. Hearing you sing such filthy lyrics during a season that was so wholesome, made her ever the more horny.

The witch sat the bags down on the floor before creeping up behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist. You jumped a bit, but relaxed knowing it was just Wanda.

“Hi baby.” You smile, letting her peck you on the cheek.

“Hi sweetheart. Interesting song you’ve got playing.” She purred and your face went beet red.

“Oh! Um- you didn’t hear all of it did you?” You asked, embarrassed.

She chuckled, “I sure did. So, do you want me to unwrap you?”

A couple minutes later you were in a Christmas ribbon lingerie set. It was red and connected by a halter. Had a big bow over the chest and a long ribbon covering your pussy like a pair of panties would.

You were standing against the kitchen island as Wanda had instructed you to. The witch was very fond of the scene before her.

“My, my. An early Christmas present? This all for me, baby girl?” She asked, her eyes wandering over your body making your pussy more damp.

“Yes mommy.” You whispered.

“Good girl.” She smashed her lips to yours, passionately making out with you. You moaned into her mouth, wrapping your arms around her neck as you kissed her back.

She pulled the ribbon off and groped and sucked on your nipples. “Fuck, mommy.”

Once she paid attention to both sides, she picked you up and laid you on the counter. She pulled the crotch of the lingerie to the side and dived into your soaked pussy. Licking and suckling on your folds and clit, and everywhere in between.

You gripped her hair as she ate you out, “Oh mommy.”

“Good girl, go ahead and cum for me.” Her voice was dark and sent you over the edge. You threw your head back and moaned as you released your juices all over her face.

“Good girl, oh taste so good for mommy. Bend over the counter now.” You quickly got off the counter and scrambled into position. You could see in your peripheral vision that the witch was pulling something out of her pocket.

“Todays a special day detka, because I got you an early Christmas present.” She put the small vibrator up to your clit and turned it on.

You jumped at the feeling and held onto the counter for dear life. You then felt her fingers teasing your entrance before pushing into you.

You moaned and cried out as she fucked you hard. “So tight, this little pussy was just begging for me wasn’t it?”

“Yes! Oh fuck Wanda!” She didn’t care that you used her name during sex, even though her title was mommy. It was just too hot hearing you moan her name.

“You gonna cum, slut? Gonna cum for the second time?” She rasped in your ear.

“Yes! Gone cum so hard! Ah-“ you cut yourself off, clenching around her fingers feeling overstimulated as you squirted all over the place.

“Holy fuck that’s hot!” Wanda groaned. Turning off the toy, she took her fingers out of you and turned you around.

“Open.” The redhead instructed and you obeyed, taking her fingers and sucking your cum off of them.

“Good girl. Cmon, let’s go wrap these presents.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 12

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Walter opens the door and you back out its way. You shiver, and hug yourself, the rain seeping into your flesh. He keeps his hand against the door and ushers you inside quietly. You shuffle through as the fabric of your shirt clings to your skin.

“What are you doing?” He asks at last.

You stand on the mat as he backs up, easing the door back into the frame behind you. You look down at yourself, then him.

“I don’t know,” you wisp.

“You’re going to make yourself sick running around in this,” he says.

“I– I know, but… I have to talk to you,” you insist and a ripple shakes you.

“Come on,” he presses a hand to your back, urging you further inside, “let’s get you warmed up.”

“I’m f-fine,” you argue.

He just grunts and keeps going, taking you into the front room. He leaves you standing on a thick rug as he disappears. He comes back to you with a towel and a boxy space heater. He hands the former to you and plugs the latter into the wall, aiming it directly at you. You thank him for the towel and pat your face dry.

He leaves again as you try to sop up the rain from your clothing. He returns again and offers a flannel shirt. You accept it with another chattering thank you.

“I’ll put some tea on,” he says, “then you can say what you need to.”

“Oka–” a clap of thunder interrupts you. You jump and let out a frightful squeak.

“You’re lucky you beat the worst of it,” he reprimands, a lingering reproachful look before he turns.

You watch him once more pass through the oaken door frame. You slowly take in your surroundings. The place is pretty small. Modest by any means. You step closer to the heater and lay down the flannel shirt by your feet. You strip away your wet clothing and pull on the thick button-up that hangs loosely around your figure, nearly to your knees.

You gather up your former outfit, spreading out the layers atop each other. The sound of Walter tinkering around in the kitchen jars you. All your thoughts scramble as you try to untangle what you want to say. What do you want to say?

You sit on your knees and rub your hands together and hold them out to the heater. Lightning flashes between the curtains and another peel of thunder shakes the earth. Walter comes back with a single mug and hands it to you.

He picks up your clothes and you watch him drape them over the back of a wooden chair to dry. He paces behind the threadbare sofa as you look down into the steaming cup. It’s too hot to taste yet.

“So…” he begins with a heave.

“Walt, I…” you wet your lips, “I…” your chest throbs as you struggle to find your words. He crosses his arms, making himself seem even bigger. It’s not lost on you that you’re on your knees, ready to beg. “I was surprised…” you say carefully and his brows furrow, “when you kissed me.”

His cheek ticks and his nostrils flare. He stares you down unflinchingly. You gulp and place the tea down on the floor. You’re already sweating from trying to sort this all out. Why hadn’t you thought of what to say?

“And I didn’t know how to react,” you continue, running your hands along the fabric over your thighs, “so I ran away and I’m sorry. I… I should’ve been honest.”

“You came all this way to reject me,” he challenges bluntly.

“No,” you murmur, “I didn’t–” you pause as the wind whips outside the walls, “I just never expected you to… feel that way about me.”

“Hm,” he rumbles as his expression remains stony.

“Or that…” you weigh your words before you let them free, “I could feel the same?”

His eyes narrow, “you don’t sound like it.”

“I’m saying… I could try,” you fold your hands together, “I want to try.”

“Try?” He growls.

“Please, you have to understand, there’s a lot going on. My dad, the farm–”

“Oh, I know,” he steps around the couch, looming over you. He steps closer and bends his knees, squatting until he looks you straight in the eyes, “do you think I really did it for him?”

You search his face, trying to discern the tides in irises, the tension in his jaw. Your chest flutters as his words sink in.

“I did, Walt, because you’re a good guy,” you eke out.

“If you think so, you don’t show it.”

His coldness jars you. You’re trying. You don’t know how to convince him but you know you have to.

“I do,” you bring your hands up, “Walt, I know you are. I see it–”

“You want the farm and I’m the only way for you to keep it,” he sniffs, “I know why you’re here.”

You look down in defeat and shame. You won’t lie and say he’s not right but you had to try. You’ll just have to go home and tell your mom it didn’t work. She was wrong.

“Why would I buy a farm to keep a family that isn’t mine?” He reaches and cups your chin, forcing your head up, “seems a bit… illogical, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” you sniffle, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

“But if it were my family,” he cuts you off, his hand firmly framing your chin, “then maybe it would make sense.”

Your breath catches in your chest and your lashes flutter. Does he mean…

“I could be a good husband. You’ve seen that,” he says, “can you be a good wife?”

The icy chill flows back into you. Having it put so plainly is startling. You feel so young to be signing away your life, but you won’t have much of one without the farm; without your family. You unclasp your hands and touch Walter’s wrist.

“Yes,” you utter, “I can. I will.”

[hjpslytherclaw]

Hello! 👋 Your Harry Potter fics are an absolute joy! It warms my heart to find another HJP lover out there! 👓⚡️💖 Hopefully if it’s no trouble, what do you think about a fic where the reader, whose in a relationship w/ Harry, has a dream or NDE (near-death experience) where she meets James and Lily and they’re so grateful for her loving Harry & being there for him? Keep up the great work! 👍

ah thank you so much!! and absolutely, I've been meaning to do one like this for awhile now <3

here is . . .

Beyond Our Hearts | Harry Potter

Harry Potter x fem! reader

Summary! In which during the battle of Hogwarts, Y/N L/N has a strange vision of her boyfriends parents while fighting for her life.

Warnings / Content! y/n on the verge of dying, mentions of death and passing, a worried harry but majorly fluff besides that.

It all happened so quickly.

From throwing as many spells as she possibly could at opposing death eaters to having the world go pitch black, Y/N L/N's life had flashed before her eyes like a bolt of lightning.

She had awoken in a room of nothing but pure light. Looking around the room seemed to shift, one moment nothing but white to the Gryffindor common room, the forest of Dean, the great hall during the Yule ball, it configured itself to places she had known too well.

And as vast as it had originally happened, it had become grimly clear to Y/N what was going on.

"I'm dead," Y/N's voice was a bare breath, as light as a feather but weighted with nothing but despair.

The second those words had escaped her lips her mind had only thought of one thing.

Harry.

How's Harry? Would he be joining me? Does he know? The thoughts were drowning her.

"I've died," She repeated. She felt her eyes begin to water. This couldn't be the end could it? She was barely eighteen this was supposed to be where life truly began, not where it ends.

"Not exactly."

The voice made Y/N jump, the room had changed once more at the action. Now it had set the scenery at an oddly familiar place. It took a moment but Y/N had realized where she had seen it before. It was the Potter's house.

And when she turned around to find the voice that had spoken to her, she was met with the two former occupants.

No way.

Y/N believed she must've gone mad.

She had only ever seen them in pictures and visualized them through Harry's descriptions but it was clear as day who they were.

James and Lily.

Harry's parents stood before her.

Y/N swore she felt her heart stop.

"This isn't death, not yet at least." Lily had spoken, her hand clasped around her husbands. "More so of a limbo, a place between life and death."

"I didn't think we'd be getting to meet so soon, Y/N." James had smiled.

Y/N's mouth had opened but no words had come out. Pure shock was all she had felt in the moment.

"I understand the shock, I've been told even in the afterlife i'm devilishly handsome." James grinned, which earned him a light hit on the shoulder from his wife.

Y/N laughed.

"It's alright to be shocked," Lily said soothingly, she had something so comforting about her that made Y/N feel safe. "Meeting the passed parents of your partner doesn't happen everyday."

"I- I just find this all so hard to believe," Y/N had gotten out through a dry throat.

"And that's perfectly fine." James consoled, "What isn't fine is us having to meet you so soon. I mean you're a lovely girl, Y/N, but you shouldn't be here."

"Wait so does that mean-"

"You can go back to the land of the living?" Lily finished, "Yes."

Y/N had let out a happy breath she hadn't known she was holding. She could go home. She could go back to Harry.

"But before you go back," James said, "There's a reason you're here, with us."

Y/N furrowed her brows, only to relax them moments later. It was strange to have them be the ones to find her in her almost death.

"As of right now Harry had given himself up to Voldemort-"

Y/N's happy heart had faltered. "What?! He's not, he can't-"

"He's alright, Y/N." Lily smiled, "He's alive and well, in fact looking for you. The battle is over."

Y/N let out a sigh of relief. It was all over. Harry was safe.

"Though while giving himself up he was struck with the killing curse." James had told, "And in his last moment, his last thought, was you." James and Lily shared a smile, "We hadn't known at the time of you're arrival here but we both hoped that one day, when you got here, we'd meet you for that reason."

Y/N's mouth went slightly ajar. She was feeling too many things at one time to fully find one to express.

"We've seen you two over the years," Lily confessed to the L/N girl, catching her attention again. "All of the ups and downs, the good and the bad and you two have held together through it all. He cares for you in ways that astonish me. The love he holds for you is one that only the books seem to have."

"The way he looks at you is a way I thought only I could have, when I looked at Lily of course." James interjected for a moment, lightly squeezing Lily's hand.

"A look of pure and unconditional love." Lily smiled. "Harry deserves nothing but that. We never thought we'd be thanking you for giving him that this soon, but this was a chance we figured we'd take."

Lily had let go of James's hand and walked towards Y/N, Y/N had stayed still as she had approached her. Dead and yet so alive at the same time. It was wonderous.

"You have given him nothing but the love he deserves. You've cared for him and looked after him like no other, Y/N. We obviously haven't been around to do that and as much as that may always hurt, it's incredible to know that he has you." Lily expressed to her. "I can speak for both James and I when I say we're so, so grateful you've been there for our Harry. You've given him something so incredible, you've given him a reason to keep going and that's more than we ever could've asked for."

"The world was all we ever wanted for Harry," James spoke, "And though he may never get all of that, you've given him more of that than I thought was possible. I'm thankful he has you to lean on, you to love."

Y/N hadn't expected any of this, she hadn't expected to meet the parents of the boy she had loved so much, stand before them in a place between the living and the dead, but in the moment she couldn't find anywhere else she'd prefer to be besides with Harry himself.

"Now," Lily spoke again, sorrow in her tone. "Harry has just found your body in the living side of the world. And as much as I'd like to continue to thank you for all you've done for our boy, I don't want him to go through so much distress in finding you in this state."

Y/N felt a pang of sadness, she wanted to stay for a little longer, this was too short for her liking. But she belonged with the living, she belonged to live besides Harry and celebrate the end of the a lifelong war.

"Thank you," Y/N spoke, "For having such an amazing boy. Thank you for approving of me."

"Thank you for giving him what we couldn't." James grinned.

"I hope to continue this someday in the far, far future," Lily said softly, "Until then, continue giving our boy the love he deserves."

"I promise to never stop," Y/N assured them happily.

She was met with a joyous nod from James and an even brighter smile from Lily.

And then she awoke.

She was back at Hogwarts, her face covered in soot and dirt. Harry leaning over her.

"Y/N!" He exclaimed, relieved, he seemed to have been doing cpr on her. He embraced her quickly, "I was so worried, oh my love, I'm so happy you're alright."

Y/N had still barely processed the interaction she just had but Harry's hug, his presence in general was enough to wash anything away.

"It's over," He confessed to her, "It's all over, darling."

She couldn't imagine a more blissful feeling. Harry Potter was her happiness, her calm after the storm, it didn't matter what happened next for the two of them.

She was going to keep her promise to Lily and keep loving him, with every star in the galaxy, with every fiber of her being, she knew she'd never stop.

And one day, someday, she'd get to tell them she lived up to it.

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Blood, death.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Oh boy, look how far we have come? This has been such an insane ride, so just remember how much you love me... hahahaha. This chapter has been sitting with me since I started writing this fic months ago, so at least the vision stayed the same! We still got 6 more chapters to go... I sense some therapy invoices coming. Anyway... enjoy <3

Chapter 104: Star Fruit and Sacrifices

Sleep evaded you that evening as you laid in his arms.

The storm outside the Red Keep quietly raged on, and the chambers were lit intermittently with the bright flashes of lightning, your heart jumping in your chest each time as it illuminated a small figure at the end of the room.

Lucerys no longer whispered, but instead stared at you. 

Watched you.

Waited.

Always the same, and you were sure, would always be forever more. Dripping wet as he had been the day he was taken, on a storm very much like the one outside.

But war was coming, and there was no possibility of escaping that now.

And what was more; you were caught.

Caught in the decision that you knew you would have to make. Caught in the knowing that it would come too soon. Caught in the knowing that it would change everything forever. 

Change you forever.

You loved him. 

That much was true.

But you also loved them.

And there was no way that any of you would come out of this unscathed.

Unmarked.

Unscarred.

And Aemond would keep you locked away in these chambers as you would lose more of yourself and your family at his hands. 

Aemond would kill them all.

Or they would kill him.

But you loved him.

Despite all, you loved Aemond Targaryen.

And oh, how he had changed. How he had grown. How he had become his own man, held his own, made his own moves, and all because of you. All because you pushed him to. All because you made him believe he could. 

And he could.

And he did.

And now he was King, and you his Queen.

You shifted in his arms, looking up at his face. 

He had never looked so at peace. Lost to his dreams, his eye shut, the other sapphire, forgotten to be taken out, shining down at you. His lips were slightly parted as he breathed, hands wrapped tightly around you protectively, possessively, and legs intertwined with your own. Your stomach warmed.

Long, white eyelashes fluttered against his cheek as you wriggled out of his hold, moving to straddle him, your body atop his, chemise thrown over you at his insistence before you slept. ‘You will catch cold’ he had said, and you had let him dress you, as he pulled on a pair of loose breeches and dragged you back to bed to sleep. 

You sat atop his body and watched as he slowly came to wake, those long white lashes flicking open, pupil dilating as he focused on you and how you sat atop him, not unlike the many times before in the throws of your lovemaking.

“You’re beautiful.” You whispered to him in the dark, voice as quiet as the storm outside moved with every passing moment.

Aemond wet his lips with his tongue, clearing the sleep from his throat as his hands came to rest atop your hips, “You are more beautiful than any other in the realm.” He whispered back.

Tears prick at your eyes, and one slowly rolled down your cheek, your uncles brows twitching.

“My husband,” You cooed, “My King.”

Another tear fell.

The hands on your hips tightened, “What has happened?” He asked, concern nipping at you with each word, “Did you have a night terror?”

“I would move the heavens for you if I could.” You breathed, a hand coming to brush against his jaw, the subtle roughness of his shaved facial hair prickling your palm, “I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you. I will always be yours.”

Aemond wiped away a tear that fell from your cheek. You grabbed that hand, bringing it down to press against your stomach, intertwining your fingers together, his hand dwarfing your own as you held him against you.

“This is us. Ours. Your child grows inside of me each day. And I cannot wait to meet him. I know he will be just as lovely as you.” You smiled at him, and Aemond smiled back softly, grabbing your other hand to press a kiss to your knuckles.

You swallowed thickly, feeling the presence of the memory of your brother behind you getting closer. 

Dracarys.

Tear after tear fell down your cheeks, running down your face to land on Aemond’s bare chest below. You swallowed, that great lump in the back of your throat again as your hands shook, heart beating against your chest like a drum.

“But you have broken me.” You whispered, gnawing at your lip painfully.

The hand on your stomach twitched as he looked up at you, smile dropping from his face as the other palm moved to grasp your hip again, fingers flexing against your skin.

“You have scarred me, Aem. My body is covered in them. My mind faces the same fate. You raped me, Aemond. And left me to Aegon.” At the mention of his name, Aemond shifted beneath you, hands on your stomach and hip flexing, “I was miserable here, gone to grief, wishing to be dead, and you did little to save me.”

The man below you’s lips parted, a lungful of air being sucked into his chest as he moved to rebuke your accusations, “I am not that man any longer.”

You shook your head, “No. You’re not, and I am so proud of the man you have become. Of the man you were always destined to be. We were meant to burn together, you see? Destined by the Gods.”

Aemond’s face held remorse, but poured love towards you, “I know I can never atone for what I did, for what I have done to you. Taken from you. But I make no apologies, just as you would not do the same. We are changed, now. One.” The hand from your stomach slid to cup your cheek, “We will start anew. You have always been mine, and I have always been yours. Zālagon hēnkirī.”

Burn together.

"Always." A sob flew from your lips, and so you leant down to capture his with yours, holding his face in your hands as you poured love and adoration into him.

You loved him. You loved him so much it hurt. It felt as though with every beat of your heart, a knife was twisted further and further into your chest.

Doomed from the beginning.

Doomed by the Gods.

Doomed by fate and the path they had laid out for you.

You pulled away, hovering above him as you looked at his face, his eye, his eyelashes, his lips that you loved to kiss, his hair which was soft and flowing, and it made you sob harder.

“I know. Zālagon hēnkirī. Lanta hen keskydoso,” Two of the same, You repeated Helaena’s prophesy to him, watching as his eye lit up in recognition, "Vējes ondoso se Jaes'.” Fated by the Gods, “Lanta rōvēgrie zaldrīzes perzyssy, hēnkirī hae mēre. Hubon hen kasta, hubon hen zōbrie. Iā rōvēgrie ropagon naejot letagon lanta hubon. Vējes naejot zālagon hēnkirī.” 

Two great dragon flames, together as one. 

Spool of green, spool of black. 

A great fall to tie two threads. 

Fated to burn together.  

A smile worked its way back onto Aemond’s lips, and you continued, “I would never be whole without you. You have carved yourself into my every being, Aemond. We were always meant to burn together, the Gods made it so when they fated us since birth. I know this now. I know this now more than I know myself. You have shown me my future. Our future.”

You knew what it meant. 

You understood it all now.

You kissed him, and he kissed you, and you held his face in your hands as you uttered the words you know he had been craving to hear, needed to hear once more, “I love you, Aemond. Stars above, I love you. You are mine. And you will always be mine.”

Aemond’s smile widened, teeth showing as he held onto you, another tear falling from your eyes, “Avy jorrāelan, zaldrītsos.” I love you, little dragon.

Your lips sought his, eyes wet and heart beating in your chest. The cool of the sheet rolled beneath your hand as you slid it beside his head. Aemond gripped your hips tightly, slowly beginning to roll you against his hardening length. 

Fingertips sought what they seeked, and your lips parted as you breathed into the kiss.

Aemond jerked beneath you, and your face pulled back. His fingers dug their nails into your hips painfully as another sob fell loudly into the chambers. 

The blade in your palm was cold.

Such a beautiful blade.

The same blade that he had gifted you, with two dragons dancing around each other on the hilt.

Green and Black.

You and Him.

You held it tightly, knuckles white and hand shaking as it was imbedded in his neck, in a place where you had once tried to pierce with a shard of mirror before and missed, just above the scar of the old wound, but this time was final. 

This time, it had met its mark. 

Aemond’s hand flew to your wrist as you held the dagger in his flesh, blood spurting from the wound, spraying across the white of your chemise, and pooling into the sheets below. His brows were drawn in pain as he looked at you in disbelief, in betrayal, and you sobbed louder, tears falling down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you hurt them. I can’t let you kill them. I can’t.” You sucked in a large sob, pulling the blade from his neck in shock, in horror, and dropped it against the pillow, forgotten.

But then regret settled in your chest, like that knife that twisted against your ribs, making its way to your heart.

Your hand flew to the wound, pressing against it as his blood spilled over, pulsing through your fingers. Aemond’s eye widened, and his hand pressed yours against his neck, trying to stem the bleeding.

But it was no use.

The thick crimson life flowed from him steadily with each beat of his heart, and the tears in your eyes continued to fall with it. Your stomach twisted in knots, and all you could do was cry atop him as his eye fluttered.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I couldn't let you. I couldn't let you become a monster again." You sobbed down at him, watching as his brow softened, a small trail of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth as it opened, his hand skating up your hip to cup your cheek, palm covered in blood. 

But it was not enough.

It would never be enough.

Hands shaking, you leant down to kiss him one final time, tasting copper on your tongue as blood had begun to fill his mouth. Aemond kissed you back weakly, hand still cupping your face.

In love.

Denial.

Shock.

Betrayal.

You sobbed into his lips, pulling back as you looked at him, his mouth opened again, and another trickle of blood leaked down his chin, meeting the rest of the crimson that seeped onto his neck and chest.

“I love you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. What have I done? Oh Gods, what have I done?” You cried, watching his lips part over and over, the love of your life attempting to speak, attempting to breathe, as he drowned in his own blood.

But no words could have passed his lips. And the soft fluttering of his eye slowed, and became hooded, his face growing paler than the pearl-like skin he already had. The pink flush of life beginning to fade.

The hand that cupped your cheek, the hand that had loved you, the hand that had held you, that had hurt you, slipped from your cheek and back onto the bed limply. 

Blood still pulsed from the side of his neck, though weaker now, soaking thickly into the sheets as you sat atop him. Its thick essence soaked into the white of your chemise at your knees and hips, and where the initial arterial spray had dashed across you.

Those long white eyelashes blinked at you slowly, opening once more as he looked at you, teeth coated in his own blood. The side of his lip twitched, and you prayed to the Gods that it would pull into that smirk you both despised and adored. That he would grin at you and laugh, sit up and pull you into his arms. 

That he would whisper into your ear that he was fine, that it was nothing that the Maester could not fix, that he would call to him now and have the maids fetch fresh sheets for you both, and bring a hot bath to soak into and wash your sin away. 

That you could take him once more inside you, feel the joy he could give your body, kiss his lips, and his cheeks, his neck, all of him. That perhaps this would be a tale that you could tell your children of later, laugh heartily at how silly you had been, how awfully in love the two of you were, and watch each other grow old and grey and withered by time, your heir eventually sitting the throne after him. 

But then the hand atop yours at his neck slipped away, and the violet eye that had seen so much of you became unfocused.

An ache spread across your chest as you sobbed atop him.

And his seeing eye, saw no longer. 

Another eye had closed.

Aemond’s chest stopped rising and falling, no more stuttering or shaking of his limbs, his thighs and core no longer tensed or twitched, and the blood that spilled from his wound had stopped its pulsing.

He was gone.

“I’m sorry.” You cried, your hands shook as you cupped his face, his lifeless head rolling in your hands, eye open to the ceiling, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Oh Gods, what have I done? What have I done?”

You looked down at your hands. 

They were stained with the oozing coppery liquid, the smell of iron curling around you thickly. 

Your stomach rolled.

And then, denial.

Your hands frantically tried to press against his neck, blood causing him to slip out of your grip, the open wound brushing against the scar of your palm, the scar you had given yourself, the scar he had given you, and the scar that now, ultimately would never heal. 

“What have I done? What have I done? Aemond? Please, Gods. Oh, Aemy. Please, wake up. Curse me, strike me, anything! Please, please don’t leave me here without you.”

The death of Aemond Targaryen broke you completely. 

Burnt pages and crisp beginnings, marred by blood and choices that no young woman should be forced to make. The night moved slowly, and you would not move from his side.

Curled up against it, laid in his blood, you held his body against yours, clutching him to you as you sobbed and cried, begging for forgiveness, apologising over, and over until your throat became raw, and your voice rasped barely above a whisper.

Your chemise was soaked red, clinging to your body, and your silver hair became stained as you tucked your head beneath his, feeling the warmth of his body slowly fade away. His eye, untrained on the ceiling, and yours brimming with tears.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes @neytiri-09 @ensnaredinwonderland @xbluegracex @sotragedynut @nattieot7 @shesawaywiththefairies-blog @coffedraven @prettycutebunny @celestedonut @the-jess-life @ssulfurr @out-of-life @madislayyy @crazylokonugget @cicaspair418 @katwmk @relminnie @milovart @teagrex @visenyaverse @bellameshipper @toodlesxcuddles @tempt-ress @dontmindmereading7 @qyburnsghost @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @notnormalthings-blog @maidmerrymint @qyburnsghost @madislayyy @chelseaouat

Bold is who I cannot tag!

[zablife]

Nothing's Going to Hurt You

Tommy x female reader

Summary: You wake in the middle of the night afraid and anxious, but unwilling to wake Tommy. However, he knows your fears and exactly how to comfort you.

Author’s Note: Requested by a lovely anon who asked for a fic where Tommy comforts an anxious reader. Inspired by Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby by Cigarettes After Sex. Set during the S2 war with Sabini.

Warnings: anxiety, slight angst, ends with fluff

A low rumbling outside the bedroom window broke your peaceful revery, eyes scanning the stained ceiling overhead for some recollection of where you were. As a storm rolled through the city, the painful realization flooded you once more. You weren’t in your bedroom, but trapped in a dilapidated safe house Tommy had found and your chest began to tighten at the thought of never returning to Watery Lane again. 

You tried to block the thoughts that crowded the forefront of your mind, focusing on the ticking of Tommy’s pocket watch on the bedside table, then counting the cracks in the ceiling to distract yourself. However, everything acted against you, agitating you to the point of madness.

Looking over your shoulder at Tommy, you found him sleeping for the first time in over a week and you gnawed at your trembling lower lip to keep yourself from calling out for him. An aching sense of dread filled you from head to toe the more you thought of the fate that surely awaited you both now that a new war had begun. You reached for him, feeling the warmth radiating from his chest, but even Tommy’s body heat, which usually comforted you, wasn’t enough to help settle your nerves.

The twitch in your limbs made you feel as though you might be sick if you didn’t have fresh air soon. Tossing the covers from your body in one swift movement, you attempted to move from the bed without disturbing the ancient bedsprings. 

You barely made it to the desk by the window on tip toe, gulping harshly when you finally made it there. You rested your palms against the cool wood to ground yourself, thinking how much you’d enjoy a drive to clear your head. However, Tommy had forbid it. He said it was too dangerous for you to go out alone, especially at night. Only last week Ada had returned home with bruises and a black eye, proving the Sabinis would hurt women as well as men if given the chance.

The thought of who or what might be outside waiting for you made your brain fire endlessly with possibilities and your nerve endings tingled with uncertainty. Nothing felt safe anymore and you wondered if it ever would again.

Pins and needles coursing through your fingertips made it difficult to grasp your lighter and cigarettes and you fumbled unsuccessfully in the dark before finally capturing them in both hands awkwardly. Making your way to the window, you shimmied the sash up just enough to take a seat before attempting to fish a cigarette from the pack. A streak of lightning lit up the sky, startling you and your heartbeat nearly tripled. 

With badly shaking hands, you couldn’t help but drop the pack of cigarettes to the floor with a harshly whispered, “fuck,” escaping your lips in the process. You left them where they lay at your feet as you attempted to light the cigarette between your lips, but your thumb poised on the lighter wouldn’t cooperate. You huffed out little sighs of frustration with every miss, wanting nothing more than to see that bright orange flame and hear the comforting sizzle of the rolling paper as you took that first soothing inhale. You could feel the tears burning at your lash line, hot and heavy as you fought to blink them back, inwardly scolding yourself for being unable to hold it together.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” you heard the low timbre of his voice before you felt his fingertips caressing your shoulder softly. You jumped slightly at the shock of seeing Tommy before you as you looked up. He reached for the lighter tentatively as he might approach one of the horses when they were frightened. His movements with you were slow and easy when you were anxious because he knew a gentle touch was required. You offered it without question and allowed Tommy to take you by the hand.

Guiding you to the chair by the desk, Tommy sat you on his knee and smoothed your hair. You realized it was wet from the rain, though you had only just noticed. Tommy took your chin in his palm and searched your eyes in the bright moonlight. “Y/n? Are you alright, love?” he asked again in a low voice, though still rough with sleep. You realized how tired he looked, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent in this lighting and you felt ashamed of yourself for waking him. A wave of emotion crashed over you and your shoulders shook involuntarily with the cries you’d been trying so desperately to suppress.

A garbled sob escaped your throat as Tommy brought you into his warm embrace, rubbing his hands along your back. “Fuck, why didn’t you wake me,” he said, voice dripping with guilt that he hadn’t been there when you needed him.

Tommy clutched you tightly to him so you could feel the rhythm of his heart, strong and steady against your cheek. “Breathe for me,” Tommy implored you. You stayed that way for some time and when you felt your tears subside, you placed your palm over the sun rays emblazoned on his chest and began to take a few shaky breaths set to the pattern of his own. 

When Tommy felt your body begin to relax against him, he wiped the tears from your cheek with pad of his thumb and placed a kiss to your forehead. Reaching a hand up to caress his face, you drug your fingertips against the stubble along his jawline and whispered, “thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” he assured you as you sat up to face him. You pressed your mouth to his in appreciation, a lingering taste of salty tears on your full lips. He lingered for a moment before brushing his nose against the shell of your ear whispering, “Unless you’d like to stay awake a bit longer. Then I could think of a few ways that lovely mouth could thank me.” He pulled away to reveal a mischievous smirk and you broke into a smile.

“Pervert,” you chided playfully as you looked out the window to hide your amusement and you heard Tommy chuckle.

As the silence grew, the rain brought the melancholy rushing back to you and you couldn’t help but ask “Are we going to are alright, Tom?”

“As long as you’re with me, you’ll be fine. No one’s gonna hurt you,” he vowed, pulling your shirt over your exposed shoulder so softly you barely registered the gentle motion.

“N-no, that’s not what I meant,” you stuttered, trying to find the words you wanted to ask, but were too afraid to say aloud until now. You knew Tommy needed a partner to handle the business and the family. At times you weren’t sure you were strong enough to be what he needed. You had to know if Tommy harbored those doubts as well. “You and me. Do you still want this? Do you still want me?” you asked earnestly. Although you were too afraid to tear your eyes from the drops of rain sliding down the window pane, you could feel him studying your profile and you watched him reach for you instinctively.

Capturing your face between his calloused palms, he forced you to look at him as he proclaimed, “I love you, Y/n. I couldn’t do any of this without you and I wouldn’t want to.”

You teared up at his words barely able to reply. “I love you too, Tommy,” you said before he pressed his lips to yours for a languid kiss. The deft movements of his mouth and tongue against yours were enough to silence your overworked mind and the patterns he traced against your thigh slowly lulled you into a soporific state.

When Tommy noticed your eyelids growing heavy, he carried you bridal style back to bed, taking up the spot closest to the door as he always did in case of trouble. Then he pulled you in close to his side protectively, allowing you to snuggle closer by intertwining your legs with his. The rain pattered against the rooftop softly as he brought the covers to rest over you, feeling pleasantly warm. You hummed in satisfaction as you felt Tommy’s hand tangle in your hair, rubbing your scalp the way he knew calmed you best. And just before your consciousness faded, his chin grazed the top of your head slightly, mumbling one last promise into the darkness. “Nothing’s ever going to take you from my side.”

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

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@wandawiccan60   

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@christinasyellowflowers

@notyour-valentine

@theshelbyclan

@areyenotfondofmelobster

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@jomarch-wannabe

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@dandelionprints

@cillmequick

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@look-at-the-soul

@runnning-outof-time

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@l1-l4

@watercolorskyy

@rangerelik

@babayaga67

@kmhappybunny240

@moral-terpitude

@mrs-bellingham

@padfootdaredmetoo

@babaohhhriley

@ladespedidas

@gypsy-girl-08

@peakyltd

@jomarch-wannabe

@brummiereader

@holacia3

@dreamlandcreations

@sneakyblinders

@hb-writes

@mythos-writes

@writeroutoftime

@teenwolf-theoriginals

@dearshelby

@pacifymebby

[rippersz]

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝑰𝑰

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

A Larissa Weems x F!Reader three-part mini-fic. Read the first part here: Heat ; (NSFW: Vulgar, Breeding Kink, All That Jazz) (TW: Intrusive thoughts/actions) (The next part will include explicit consent amongst other things. Thank you and enjoy.)

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

“That’s a good girl… doing so well for me sweetheart…”

You replied to her purr with a groan, already helpless from the way she teased and nipped at your body. So quick, she was. And so nimble; fleeting with touches that had your eyes rolling back into your head because the amount of pleasure that buzzed through you was like a shock of lightning. And it simply- honestly- really never stopped. Skating soft caresses over your hips, dipping between your thighs, never touching you in the way you wanted her to. Licking at your neck, biting softly along your waist, curling her fingers into your hair… all sweet evil little tactics keeping you keening and submissive.

You felt like you were somewhere else. You felt like nothing but her mattered.

You could barely speak. You could barely breathe.

“Oh I know… I know, darling. Just so cruel, hm?”

Terribly cruel. Absolutely cruel. She knew you needed it the same way you needed air and water - but nothing so sweet came without a price. That was your price. That was your punishment. Shivering beneath her body, shaking under her touch, dripping against her soft fingertips - giving yourself up to her like a ritual for the gods. She was no god, but she was still the object of your everything. And her lipstick prints, her velvet tongue, her eyes so dark with lust they turned into midnight, all of her… it was there to drive you mad. Insane. Out of your mind. So beautiful and so wicked you could do nothing but nod your little head and allow your bottom lip to quiver. You had no other reply. She had stolen your sense.

“Poor thing,” came the sinful whisper in your ear. “Poor little thing…”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Will you forgive my teasing, darling girl?”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Will you be good for me?”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Will you give in?”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“-s Larissa!”

You woke with a jolt.

Your room was dark, you noticed first. The curtains were drawn but there was no familiar glow of the bright world outside slipping through the cracks. And none of the lights were on. And you were pretty sure there was someone outside of your door.

Just what on Earth….

“I can come back later or tomorrow if you’re not feeling well, Y/n.”

…Larissa?

You frowned, sat up, and immediately let out a sharp hiss.

Your libido, awakened like a ravenous predator, constantly ready to tear and eat and bite, reared its ugly head. For a few blessed moments there you hadn’t felt a thing, but you should’ve known that such bliss never lasted long. Oh no, the confused fog of sleepiness was broken- cracked- shattered- as soon as your body stirred and your functions came back online. And once it did that, once it remembered its purpose, you were a goner. And its purpose - oh its purpose… to mate, of course. The answer was obvious in your lustful haze. You were meant to mate. And mate. And mate and mate and mate and bear children and to be bred over and over and over again until every corner of your womb was flooded with warm sticky life that came right from the tip of Larissa’s co-

“Stop,” your own voice surprised you, nearly making you jump in your spot.

Goodness you were going mad. You had to stop. You just- had- to stop.

And if it were any other day and you were actually sick, you would’ve just pushed those thoughts out of your head, pulled yourself out of bed, and gone to greet Larissa. Or perhaps even welcome her in. But it wasn’t any other day - and you weren’t sick in any way other than mentally. And the second you opened that door, she’d know. She’d know instantly. And then you’d be terribly embarrassed and you’d take the forms and slam the door in her face and never ever be able to talk to her again. And through it all, the only thing you’d want- the only thing you’d be able to think of or look at or obsess over- would be her. Just her. Just Larissa.

Just Larissa…

Just Larissa, Larissa, Larissa…

Larissa’s upper body pressed to the headboard of your bed. Larissa’s legs beneath your thighs. Larissa’s hands around your neck, Larissa’s hands digging into your waist, Larissa’s hands holding your ankles, Larissa’s hands cupping your cheeks. Larissa’s fingers dipping into your mouth. Larissa’s fingers christening your tongue. Larissa’s eyes staring down at you. Larissa’s sweet gaze making you shy. Larissa’s voice dipping into an evil purr. Larissa whispering dark sins into your ear. Larissa calling you good. Larissa calling you hers. Larissa’s lips against your neck. Larissa’s hands between your legs. Larissa pushing your thighs apart, sliding between them, smiling at your desperation. Larissa leaning down - Larissa making eye contact - Larissa pressing a slow- slow slow slow loving kiss to your cl-

“I suppose I’ll just email to reschedule, Y/n. I hope you’re alright in there,” her strong voice spoke through the door, instantly tugging you out of your daydreaming. It was faint, barely there, but there was something lacing her tone - something like worry or concern or even… disappointment…

Panic welled up inside of you. You couldn’t be a disappointment. You could never disappoint her. You could only please her. Only make her happy. Yes, only please her and make her happy. Only please her and make her happy with your mouth… and your tongue… and your fingers framing her waist and her hips on top of your head and… F-focus! God! Jesus! Get a grip!

“No!” You blurted out, scrambling and reaching toward the door with one hand, instantly cringing at the hoarseness of your voice. “N-no, stay - sorry! One sec!”

The sooner you got it over with, you figured, the quicker Larissa could leave. And then you could return to your (currently wet) bed and indulge in more pleasure and pain and try hard to wait out the struggle of the following few days.

“Oh… alright,” you heard her low murmur before the world fell silent.

Alright. Okay. Good. That was good. Time to face the music. Time to tug yourself out of bed, nearly tripping over your own feet when your legs began to wobble; time to whimper beneath your breath at the pathetic stain on your sheets; time to shuffle your way over and glance into your full-length mirror and take in the way your body responded to its helplessness.

Such terrible terrible helplessness…

With hard nipples, yearning for friction, and thighs that rubbed together, slicked with desire - almost unconscious in their need; and with hands that shook slightly at your sides and a sheen of sweat that caused the thin nightie you threw on to stick to your skin. It was the only thing within reach, being that it was thrown to the floor some days prior. Pink and pretty and rather feminine, showing off your curves on any other occasion, but honestly just seeming ‘whore-ishly’ indecent within the moment. You couldn’t possibly answer the door like that… but you had no choice. The burn from earlier, that you tried getting rid of in the shower before you fell asleep and promptly forgot about Larissa’s visit, was already swelling up again. Like a red flare. Like a warning. Telling you to be quick before the band snapped! and the clock struck midnight and the metaphorical village realized you were actually some lustful greedy succubus that yearned to fuck their wives and drink their blood and-

A tremor in your left leg had you nearly gasping for air. You shook your head. Getting carried away was bad. Leaving Larissa waiting was bad. You glanced at the door. It would be fine. It would all be fine.

You ignored the lightheaded feeling that came over you once you reached for the doorknob and took one last deep breath. It was just Larissa. It would be fine.

Gods help you.

“Hey, sorry about that!,” you smiled as soon as you saw her.

“Don’t apologize, I’m just concerned. Are you quite alright?”

Uh… Nope.

Nope, absolutely not.

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

In fact, you were the very opposite of fine. The very antithesis of fine. You were actually so un-fine that you couldn’t really think of a word to describe how un-fine you really were. Yeah. Very not alright. Very much… how could you put it to her? Very, oh you weren’t sure, very ‘Oh my god you look so fucking hot right now I need you to spit in my mouth and fuck me raw and silly before I pass out from desperation.’ And that was the truth. She looked as glorious as always.

So tall, you reminded yourself for the billionth time, and so smooth… with long arms and sculpted hands and red painted nails that would look so nice dragging along your skin… and that outfit - something different, for once… like she was trying to kill you. Purposefully accentuating her waist, keeping that white blouse tucked into the band of a light pink pencil skirt, complete with white kitten heels and a silver watch and silver earrings and oh gods you were so close to falling to your knees for her. In fact, your body was urging you - pushing you. It wanted to submit to Larissa just as much as your soul did, and it nearly vibrated with sick pleasure as your eyes followed the rounded curve of her jaw and the strong bridge of her nose and the carefully crafted curls of her white locks. Getting your fingers tangled in those would be heaven, you were sure of it. And each nasty little whisper in your ear, courtesy of the heat you were suffering though, wanted you to reach up. To run a palm gently over the smooth surface of the bobby-pinned coif… and to take the pins out and scrunch the hair up in your fist… and pull her head back and- no. No. No. You couldn’t. The sliver of common sense that lingered within the back of your fucked up little psyche was holding on by a thread, tugging on the reigns with a huge grunt, and somehow managing to pull you back to reality.

It seemed to do a damned good job because you found yourself responding as though nothing was amiss.

“Yeah yeah, just um- I dunno what it is actually. Just going through it,” you smiled sheepishly, clutching the door as hard as you could.

You probably looked mad peering out from behind the wood in the way that you were, shielding most of your bedroom from those deep penetrating blue eyes, but you didn’t care. It was simply too big of a risk. Thank goodness she didn’t really seem to notice anyway as she nodded and shot you a sympathetic smile. There was so much warmth in her gaze as she looked at you, casting a brief glance over your sweaty hairline and flushed cheeks and nervous smile, that a pang of guilt suddenly ran alongside the lust in your veins.

Larissa was there doing her job, willing to wait for you to come to the door after she stood outside like an idiot for however many minutes. Larissa was there doing her job, offering to give you the necessary paperwork because she was kind and figured you wouldn’t have the energy to get them yourself. Larissa was there doing her job, checking on her employee and making sure she was okay… And said employee was being a fool and daydreaming about licking up the column of her boss’s neck and kissing the warm skin there and whimpering into her shoulder. Lust had never been something you frowned upon, but in that moment you felt like the worst person on Earth.

‘It can’t be helped,’ your mind murmured, providing you with the truth. Of course your subconscious wasn’t wrong - it couldn’t be helped - but hopefully it could be prevented. Hell, it wasn’t even supposed to happen in the first place!

And as you looked over Larissa, watching her present the paperwork and shift through what she needed to show you, your thoughts wandered. …Would she be able to help? Not in a sexual way but in a professional way…? Would she be able to tell you what the fuck was going on? Why a human being, one born without a peculiarity, was experiencing a ‘heat’ for the first time? Perhaps she knew something you didn’t - she was always very good at research, after all. And graduated nearly top of her class, right beside Morticia Addams neé Frump. So she could know…

You blinked at the sight of a piece of paper being handed over to you.

“Do you have any idea how long you’ll be out, Y/n?” Larissa asked gently as you swallowed and slowly reached out to take the form.

Instantly, you shook your head.

The warmth was starting to spread through your legs, making them tingle and shake. You had to hurry things up.

“N-no, no I don’t think so. It’s pretty bad, I’m sorry.” And you were sorry. You felt very very sorry - but you also felt very very good.

It was like a painful, uncomfortable, lust-filled vacation. No work, just desire. An unbelievable amount of it. So much desire, in fact, that you could barely focus as Larissa responded.

“What did I say about apologizing?” she shook her head before giving you two more papers, “Don’t worry about it. All I ask is that you do me a favor and fill these out for me, please? Just so we can have your absence on record and still pay you accordingly.”

You nodded and glanced them over, only noting that the words were blurred and all ran into each other and didn’t make much sense - at least not in the moment. To be fair, you didn’t really expect them to. You figured you’d just fill them out when the burn wasn’t growing steadily, spreading along the lining of your abdomen, bursting into sudden flames within your empty womb.

“Of course, yeah I’ll just- I’ll- oh- oh gods!” You breathed, doubling over as your eyes went wide. Crazed, your hands scrambled to find purchase on your lower belly.

It was like a flip had been switched. From off to on. The burn, that damned simmering ache that heated you up from the inside out, that plagued you for days, morphed into the unfortunately familiar stabbing that you felt earlier. Warm pulses of intense heat and longing, one right after the other, filled you relentlessly. Over and over. Again and again and again - in the span of a few moments. Helpless, you watched the papers escape your shaking grasp and float to the floor. You couldn’t reach for them. You couldn’t reach for anything. It was like something in you, something innate and primal and hungry, sensed Larissa’s presence and needed more of it. Needed her closer. Needed her pressed to you, on top of you, inside of you. In and out- deeper and deeper and d-

“Agh!” You hissed, nearly crumbling once your knees began to buckle as the throbbing got worse.

The door to your room slid open when your hand banged against the knob, eager to cradle the ball of desire that formed in your abdomen, eager to release the terrible sensation of longing. If you weren’t going mad, you would’ve grasped the door and pulled it shut and kept Larissa out - but you were going mad and your mind was fuzzy and oh gods you needed her so fucking bad-!

“L- Laris-sa,” you whimpered, trying to calm the internal battle between your common-sense and your desperation.

‘Oh come on,’ your libido murmured, ‘take what you want. Just this once. She’s right there. So pretty- look at her.’

Your eyes, glazed and half-shut and welling with tears, peered up through your lashes to see Larissa’s shocked expression. Her lips were moving, but she sounded far away. Underwater. You missed the sound of her voice. Gods, was she always that beautiful?

‘Yes, look. Glorious, no? And all yours. She can be all yours. Just grasp her hand- go on- and show her what you can do. Show her what she needs.’

And your hand, pulled by a force you couldn’t control, slid away from your belly and reached out into the space between you. Your fingers were twitching, your palm was clammy, you were shuddering - but Larissa took it anyway. She put her arm out and grasped near your elbow and stepped closer, unsure of what to do.

“Do you need my assistance? Should I- do you want me to call the authorities? The nurse?” Oh she looked so nervous. She looked so scared.

‘Now is your chance. Go on. TAKE her. Now. Now now NOW NOW-’

“N-no,” you gasped.

‘NO!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO?!’

And of course, lit like a fuse, like a fragile exploding bomb, every cell in your body began to rebel. The ache of emptiness increased into a roaring inferno, aiming to seer the needy walls of your cunt and make them clench around nothing. The feeling was unnatural - much too strong - and forced salty tears to spill down onto your cheeks. Oh gods, gods, gods. You were vaguely aware of the fact that you were shaking your head and trying hard to detach yourself from Larissa. She couldn’t be there for that. She couldn’t witness that. You didn’t want to hurt her; so with your fingers struggling to slip from her strong hold, you whined loudly.

“Let- go!” And with a final tug- one in which you didn’t let go fast enough- the two of you went stumbling backward into your bedroom.

It was a cruel twist of fate, really. Your heels kept pressing against the floor, pinwheeling you back so far that you landed on the bed with a tiny shriek. And Larissa, who tripped over the threshold and ended up kicking the door closed with the very tip of her heel, could do nothing but close her eyes and brace for impact. It would have been heavenly - it would have been terrible - if she fell directly onto you, but she didn’t. Instead, those strong hands you loved to admire so much went sprawling out into the air… and caught the entirety of her weight upon the shuddering slopes of your knees. The pressure pushed you deeper into the mattress, sending your pathetic little mind careening over the edge of sense and into a pit of hysterics. Thoughts flooded you, nearly knocking you blind as your eyes shot down to the sculpted hands that clutched at your skin.

So warm…

So divine…

It would be a dream come true if Larissa’s hands started pushing your thighs apart… Or if Larissa’s lips were next to your ear as her fingers, tapered and thin and long went pitter-pattering along the soft flesh. Or if Larissa dipped her fingertips into the folds of your heaven and moaned softly at what she found… So much desire… So wet from the slightest touch. But that would be no surprise. You were always wet for her. Always wet and always burning. Always needing her so terribly. And she could do it too… she could just slide her thumbs a bit to the left and right respectively… put some strength behind her hold… dip down onto her knees… look up at you with those gloriously dark eyes… like she was doing then. Except… except…

You blinked.

Except she wouldn’t look so worried. She wouldn’t look so concerned. No, between your legs you hoped she’d at least be happy to be there but- ahhh. Right. Still your boss. Once your mind finally caught up to that little fact, you tensed.

“I’m sorry-”

“I apologize-”

You stared.

Larissa stared.

The heat, for some reason, seemed to calm in the face of her undivided attention. It gave you a moment of reprieve. A moment to think. And a moment to look down, still surprised that your boss hadn’t straightened up yet - which of course caused her to look down and realize that she hadn’t straightened up yet. So you watched with wide eyes as Larissa Weems pushed off of your knees like she had been burned and rose to her full height, straightening the hem of her skirt as she went. She cleared her throat. Her hands were empty. The papers were probably scattered along the hallway floor.

“I apologize for- not letting go. It seems very painful, whatever it is you’re going through. I was worried you’d- well- fall.” And the small nervous but graceful smile that fell upon those red lips made you melt.

It made you melt and it made you smile back. She wasn’t wrong. It was painful. Yeah. It was so… fucking… wonderfully… painful.

“N-no it’s um- it’s fine- fine, yeah,” you nodded, still breathless from all of the commotion.

Even though the throbbing faded, you knew it would come back - and most likely with a vengeance. The ebb and flow seemed never-ending. So in preparation, you had to kick Larissa out as quickly as possible. Though as you looked up, watching the awkwardness pass over your boss’s face, you figured that wouldn’t be too difficult. She was probably eager to leave anyway considering you were acting so bloody crazy… But nonetheless, manners were still important.

“Um you should- prob-probably go,” your voice was shaky as you moved to stand up, not even bothering to pay any attention to the buzzing between your legs. You only hoped and prayed to every god listening that Larissa hadn’t noticed you weren’t wearing anything beneath the nightgown; you were in a hurry - and if anything was covering your desire, you probably would have burst into a huge ball of horny flames by the door.

Honestly, it didn’t really matter though. Your room gave you away. The wet sheets in the unmade bed behind you, blatant and on display due to your carelessness; the three sets of panties discarded on the floor, all of them sporting a since-dried damp spot from the days in which you tried to ignore your situation; Hell, the fucking smell of the room. Musty and damp and just - very very strange. Like you lived in some sort of sex jungle. The bin beside your bed was also overflowing with tissues, all from the late night sessions you frequented when trying to see if your hand could get rid of the persistent ache once and for all (it couldn’t). And the bathroom door was left open, exposing the glass shower which was still waiting to dry. Your only saving grace was that no sex toys were left out… probably because they were nonexistent. Really, a huge fucking oversight on your part. When you needed them most, you didn’t have them. And you hadn’t experienced true desperation until you felt your body- your womb- start to cry out for something long and thick and hard and honestly just big enough to nearly break you and of course, that just steered your mind on a rampage. For days, before locking yourself in your bedroom, you considered going up to a fellow teacher and asking them to borrow anything they may have. It would have been the most embarrassing conversation of your life, but it would have helped. Unfortunately, you ended up talking yourself out of it when you imagined the kind soul asking you if you were alright. You’d have to explain the sudden biologically impossible ‘heat’ moment and then you were almost certain word would spread, and if word spread, that meant Larissa would hear it. And if Larissa heard it? You were fucked. And not in the good way.

“Yes. But…,” speak of the sweet Devil. Her voice was hesitant, shaking with questions and concern. It made you tense.

Oh no…

“…what, if I may ask-,”

Oh no no no…

“-what is wrong?”

No Larissa no-

“Your reaction was so…”

You watched in concealed horror as her eyes observed every little detail of your room. Her gaze was slow; her eyebrows furrowed.

“…abrupt.”

You knew she had only chosen that word out of kindness. Just like you also knew she was highly perturbed and most definitely confused. And because your soul was absolutely hopeless for her, you realized then that you couldn’t just leave her like that. Worrying about her colleague… talking about it with others to try and get other opinions… Larissa was no gossiper (unless it was in private you figured), but that didn’t matter. If she wanted to know something, she’d find a way of knowing.

So, with that in mind, and because she was your boss, well… how could you withhold it? How could you look at her, see her mild distress, and just stay quiet? How could you keep the- honestly the importance of this ‘heat’ from her? How could you keep it a secret? It was, technically, a biological breakthrough. You knew your family tree; no part of you was intertwined with werewolf blood. And you’d never been bitten. And you were certainly not one of those shapeshifters that could shift into animals. So really, really, there was a chance Larissa may be able to help. You’d thought of it earlier. She could help. She could. And was it even really that big of a deal? You were both adults - you were both sane (well, sort of) - and you weren’t the types to spread rumors or share secrets with those who weren’t trusted. Larissa was very smart. Larissa knew so much. Larissa loved science! You could tell her.

‘You should tell her.’

You gulped, finally making eye contact with your boss as her blue pools moved to look down at you. They were swirling with questions; swirling with knowledge. You could tell her. You should tell her.

“I’m in heat.”

You told her.

…Just very very softly.

It was actually barely audible; so soft that even you had trouble making it out. And all it did was make Larissa respond with a hasty “Pardon?” and a strange look.

You sighed.

The heat began nipping at you. You felt your legs tremble.

If you waited any longer, an episode like the one some minutes earlier would repeat - and then you’d be absolutely screwed. And then you’d have no choice but to fall to your knees or collapse onto the bed or push yourself up against the wall and fuck yourself silly while gesturing with your eyes for Larissa to go; because surely, you wouldn’t have the sense to beg her to leave with your lips alone. In fact, you probably wouldn’t have enough sense to beg her to leave at all. Your libido, if its desperate angry little voice said anything, would most likely want her to stay. Would want her to watch.

A twinge in your abdomen made you clear your throat.

Now or never. Now or never. Before she called the ambulance or something. Before she thought you were crazy. You weren’t crazy. You were just in-

“Heat.”

You repeated yourself, louder, unable to look at her as you quickly skirted around the bed and toward the windows.

“I’m in heat.”

Once the worst of the worst came back, you weren’t sure what you’d do after standing so close to Larissa. Probably cry, most likely. And if not that, then probably turn to grasp her shoulders, bring her close, and kiss her until she pushed you away. Lust was a powerful motivator after all; it drove people into ways of existing that they never thought they’d experience before. The most innocent person could become the most brutal lover. And those in higher positions, with lots of work on their plate and a respectful amount of authority to their name, were more likely to obey their master behind closed doors. You knew that. You were familiar with that. And as Larissa stayed silent, no doubt processing your words and waiting for an explanation, you wondered about her preference. Your fantasies begged for dominance, but reality… well it could tell a different story.

‘Doesn’t matter. She can help us either way.’

You shook your head. Absolutely not. Larissa could not help. Larissa could not help because she didn’t want you like that - and you weren’t going to put her in a compromising position. And she also had no fucking clue what was going on. So before she asked any questions, you needed to explain. Quickly.

“I don’t know why I’m in heat, Larissa. Why or how,” you sighed while parting the curtains and taking a look at the rainy world outside. “But all I know is that I am. And I will be for the next oh I dunno- 3 to 4 days?” With a roll of your eyes, sparked by irritation and exasperation and exhaustion, you turned to face your boss.

Your boss… who was staring into space, into your eyes, with a blank expression. The sight of no physical response had you cringing. Dear lord, what was she thinking? That you were crazy? Making it up? You frowned and pressed yourself back against the window, delighting momentarily in the cool glass against your overheated skin. Well. At least that was one thing, you noticed. The throbbing had subsided quite substantially. It was nearly lost, really. Lost to- well to your anxiety. To your fear.

Larissa was still staring. Her lips were unmoving. Her body didn’t even twitch. It was uneasy not to see anything hiding behind her eyes, but as soon as you crossed your arms out of a random surge of insecurity and nearly opened your mouth to tell her to go, she was speaking.

“I don’t… understand.” And her eyebrows furrowed - the first sign of recognition. You nodded, sighing again.

“I know. Me either. But it’s- um- happening. And I… I don’t know what to do.”

“…It’s happening right now?” There was a redness to her complexion that wasn’t there before. Was she… oh goodness, was she blushing? Hell, how embarrassing! Yes the topic was taboo for normal conversation but this was your boss. The sight of the pinkness on her cheeks had you quickly clearing your throat and pushing yourself off of the wall.

You spoke as you walked, nearly running up to her and gently grabbing her wrist, steering her back toward the door, thinking she was uncomfortable.

“Yes- yes it’s happening right now. And I need you to leave before I go crazy. I’m really sorry about that- this- all of it!” Your words came out so quickly they all ran into each other. Your skin felt hot with shame.

It wasn’t something you could control. It wasn’t something you could even handle! It was a mystery if Larissa knew that or not, but as you took her to the door, you found it didn’t matter. If she wasn’t around, it would be fine. If she wasn’t around, you could suffer in solitude.

“Wait.”

Nevermind.

As if commanded by her stern tone alone, you paused in the doorway and stood as still as stone. The doorknob was held in your left hand and your right was hovering above the small of Larissa’s back, careful not to touch her for fear of sparking another wave of mind-dizzying desire. You felt yourself begin to sweat as you stood behind her, trying not to breathe too heavily. She was so close… standing so tall… back straight and strong… hands fidgeting at her waist. You took a step back, feeling as though she were a monument and you were a tourist hungry for the best picture you could manage; looking with shining eyes and a sense of utter tiny-ness. Small within her broad shadow. Her lovely broad shadow. God you wanted to climb her like a tree.

“Are you sure it’s a heat?” Her tone was low but strong.

It led you to frown and nod, even though she couldn’t see you.

“Of- of course it is. I mean I- well-”

“Could you describe the symptoms to me?”

Oh. No. No, you couldn’t do that actually. In fact, you couldn’t share any of it with her. It would probably send your body into a spiral if you said- well- anything. ‘Oh yes Larissa, sure, I’d be happy to tell you about how often I think about you in compromising positions. The desire that fuels me in those moments sometimes becomes so overwhelming that I have to press my face into my pillow to muffle my moans as I ride my own fucking fingers! And seeing you at my door, with those strong hands of yours and those legs, which I know are oh so capable, nearly had me fainting! I’m sweating like mad, eager to be fucked, nearly crying with the need to orgasm over and over and over again and there is no one here to help and it’s really making me angry.’ Thank goodness Larissa suddenly realized the implication behind her words as she balled her hands up into fists, inhaled sharply, and shook her head.

“I apologize. Of course you don’t have to share, you’re my colleague. It was silly of me to ask, I just wanted to help-”

But before her hurried words, tinged with nervous embarrassment, could continue into a tirade, you reached up and placed a hand on her shoulder. It was meant to be comforting - and you sincerely hoped it was as you swallowed down the strong urge to pull her around into a kiss.

“I know. It’s okay.” And it really was. You knew Larissa only wanted to be of whatever assistance she could be. That was just her personality. She wanted to help. But perhaps going about it in that way was- well- you weren’t sure. You didn’t know; neither of you did.

Though if there were anyone you trusted with something like that… it was Larissa. She was the first person that came to mind. And usually, when you were in a predicament, you dealt with it yourself. There was no family, no close friends, no acquaintances around that could possibly help you with personal things… but there was Larissa. The guardian of everyone. The light within your dreams. You could never stand being less than congenial and perfect for her - that’s why the situation was so stressful. It drowned out your heat for just a short time, leaving you with enough sense to worry. Had you ruined the possibility of getting closer with her? Had you acted too rude? You weren’t in your right mind… and she knew that. She understood that. But even so, not hearing it from her meant you were assuming. Perhaps it made her uncomfortable.

Perhaps it made her nervous for you. Worried for you. Concerned. Terrified?

No no, that was silly. She knew you were a strong young woman, capable of many things and definitely strong enough to handle yourself. And you were. Most of the time. But a heat? For a normie? You let out a groan as you stepped back toward the bed and threw your shaking hands over your face. They trembled with the need to touch. To touch touch touch. Touch anything. Touch heated skin and soft hands and long legs and anything- everything- they tingled with need like they had minds of their own. It was irritating.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Larissa,” your words were muffled from behind your palms.

There was silence before a bit of shuffling came from behind you - and then the door was closed. And locked. The clicking sound rang out for a suspended moment as you scrubbed at your face with anger. That seemed to be another side effect of the heat; aside from a pathetic amount of lust so strong you could barely form sentences, the body also seemed to take its slipping control into account and get mad about it. The mental image of that was a little amusing, but the real deal was bloody horrid. You got flashes of anger sometimes when the throbbing became painful or the warmth became suffocating. It went away after a few moments, but for the time it stayed, it was vicious. Angry horniness was not something you were too interested in indulging in - mainly because you didn’t have a partner. Could one even angrily fuck themselves? That thought took root in your head as you cleared the haze from your eyes and tried returning to your senses.

“Perhaps if you explain, I may be able to help.”

The sound of Larissa’s smooth voice from behind you immediately cleared your head. You turned to her, momentarily surprised at the lack of shoes. Her heels were no longer adorned and were instead placed neatly beside the door, right next to your own. You rather liked the look of them there, blending in with your various choices of footwear. From sneakers to flip-flops to flats to the white kitten heels that sat beside it all. It looked sort of… perfect. But that was unimportant. And definitely not the thing to focus on. You gave Larissa a nervous look, speaking warnings through your eyes.

Her own reflected nothing but compassion and friendly concern. The blush on her cheeks was still there, but you ignored it and considered it a result of the conversation topic. You were probably blushing as well, though you weren’t really certain - every inch of your body was hot anyway. That was probably a good start actually, you realized. If Larissa could help and she was offering, consenting, then you were allowed to share. If Larissa had information, well then even better. There was a chance she could make it go away completely - and maybe help you know if it would happen again in however many moons.

So with that in mind, you nodded and held up a hand to say ‘one minute’. Then you set about quickly making the bed - which meant throwing the duvet back into place and straightening the pillows. Once that was done, you took a seat on the edge and let out a gentle breath. The warmth was starting to nip again, inciting the tiniest tugging sensation in your abdomen. You swallowed and looked up at Larissa - who was still standing in her place from before, except with her hands clasped politely in front of her and her eyes openly welcoming.

“You don’t have to, Y/n… I’m just- telling you. There’s a chance I can help.” Larissa said slowly, backing up her words with a helpful smile.

Right. Okay.

She could help. She was offering to help.

Okay… okay. Okay. You nodded.

“Well…”

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

Well... This is the most supported 'fic' I've ever had EVER. Thank you for the love - I was nervous to post this second part because I wanted it to be just as good as the first, but even if it isn't, that's okay. I hope you enjoyed anyway. Part 3 will come out... sometime. LOL. - Ripley x

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

(P.S. - This part is dedicated to @weemssapphic for their kind message some minutes ago. Thank you dear! I sincerely hope you're doing well too :))

[shadowdaddies]

Hello! Could i request a cassian x f!reader fic where the reader is a babysitter for cassian's baby girl (maybe less than a year old). cassian is a single father...you can choose whatever happened to the baby's mom. so maybe as time goes on and cassian sees reader bonding so well with his baby, he starts liking her more and more. eventually asks her out and they end up getting together and all❤️

hi! love this, thank you for the request💜

A/N: I'm still traveling for the holidays but trying to get through my requests, thanks to everyone who has been patient sending them in💜💜💜

Aella

Cassian x Reader fluff

The Lord of Bloodshed looked close to tears as his baby girl continued to cry in his arms. With desperate eyes, Cassian looked to you, an understanding smile gracing your lips as you took Aella from his hold. 

Holding her head against your chest, you swayed your hips back and forth as the toddler calmed at the movement and the sound of your heartbeat. 

Cassian released a relieved breath, granting you a broad smile of gratitude as he watched his daughter drift to sleep in your arms. “You are a life saver, as always,” he breathed, running a calloused hand through his long black hair. 

Shaking your head, you placed a soft kiss to the girl’s hair. “It’s my pleasure, truly. She is such a sweet girl.”

After a long gaze that had you blushing furiously, Cassian glanced between you and the doorway, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I shouldn’t be gone too long - I have a meeting with the camp leaders up in Illyria but Rhysand will bring me back tonight.”

Rubbing your hand on Aella’s back, you shook your head at him. “Don’t feel rushed. We’ll be just fine here, won’t we?” you reassured him. 

Wild black curls popped up against your cheek as Aella perked up. “Momma,” she cooed, big brown eyes looking at you adoringly.

Your jaw dropped, cheeks turning beet red as you looked to Cassian. “She’s never called me that, I didn’t teach her...” you fumbled for words.

Cassian’s eyes watered, the male stumbling backwards as the breath flew from his lungs. He clutched his chest as he stared at you in shock, at a loss for words himself. 

The moment was interrupted the the High Lord winnowing in, his hand taking Cassian’s arm as he asked if the general was ready to go. Numbly, Cassian nodded, allowing himself to be swept into darkness as you stared helplessly at the spot where he had stood a moment ago.

Aella giggled in your arms, drawing you back to the present. “Let’s go make dinner, sweet girl,” you murmured. 

The night passed in a blur, your usual routine with Aella plagued by the dread that filled you at the thought of Cassian’s return. The fragile relationship that you had built with the handsome male was shattered the moment his daughter called you ‘momma.’ 

As much as you loved Aella and Cassian, you would never try to replace Aella’s mother. The thought of the young girl thinking of you as such made your gut churn with guilt, and Cassian’s face at the comment made tears spring to your eyes. It was as though he was struck by lightning, the way he jumped away from you.

With a sigh, you put Aella to bed, heading downstairs where you waited on the couch for Cassian’s return. After some time of stewing with your thoughts, the general returned, Rhys giving you a polite greeting as a rare smile graced his lips before he vanished into a swirling darkness once more.

Biting your lip, you dared a glance at Cassian, the Illyrian male appearing just as nervous as you felt. 

“I’m sorry-“

“I apolog-“ 

With a nervous chuckle, Cassian took a seat on the coffee table in front of you, a strange look in his eyes as he deliberated what to say next. With a deep breath, he found composure before speaking. “I apologize for how I left earlier. It was a lot to process, hearing Aella call you... that.” 

His eyes shone with sadness as he failed to say the word, and you instinctively reached a hand to hold his in comfort. Eyes widening, you realized the potential mistake of your movement, but before you could pull your hand away, Cassian gently brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

He held your hand firmly in his lap, and you savored the warmth of his strong, calloused hands holding yours. “There is more,” he whispered, sparing you a nervous glance before hazel eyes returned to your hand in his lap.

Something of interest sparked in your chest at his admission as you shifted slightly forward. “What is it, Cassian?” you whispered, rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand as you tried to quiet the thunderous beating of your heart.

Cassian didn’t have to say anything. When he looked up at you, long black hair falling out of his eyes, the thread snapped as if your soul leapt from your chest towards his own. With a nod and a knowing smile, Cassian managed out a few words. “The bond snapped.”

Bringing your free hand to wipe the tear that fell down his cheek, you cupped Cassian’s face in a bold move as you guided his gaze to yours. “I feel it too. But this does not need to be anything that you do not want it to be, Cassian. I know how difficult this is, with Aella, and I am not ever going to replace her mother. I love her - and you - too much to dream of it.”

The world tilted on its axis as Cassian’s hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss with a heat unlike which you’d ever felt before. Forehead pressed to yours, Cassian smiled, a brilliant thing that had your heart thumping once more. “I love you, and I can’t believe I am lucky enough to have you as a mate. I spoke to Rhys and he gave great insight. I want... no, I need you in my life, and in Aella’s.”

A soft giggle escaped you, joy overflowing as you kissed him again. “We will work through this then, together. We go slow, talk to Aella... We have forever, after all.”

[thelightningthatjumpsbetween]

Prologue - One

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

a/n: I couldn't help myself. I've had this scene in my head for a week. Also been replaying 7 again, dammit. Also I may have projected my own feelings of Miranda a bit, it's no secret I have a crush on that absolute terrible, horrible, madwoman.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their laughter, and Ethan felt a flaming red blush cross his cheeks.  Dammit, he wasn’t being cool, was he?  He fumbled with the plastic cup full of boba.  It was his idea, and Mia had loved the suggestion, but now that he was here, he realized he was craving a steak.  And beer.   

Suggesting boba was probably a side effect of too much time in LA, he mused, spinning the cup and staring at the little tapioca balls.  But then again, he preferred it to the armpit of Texas, where he’d spent most of his childhood and where his mother still lived.  Where he’d come to visit between semesters.  

And where, finally, Mia had come back to visit over the summer as well.  

“That’s crazy,” she finally concluded, her hands dropping awkwardly into her lap.  Ethan’s gaze moved over her long brown hair and the way the sunlight here danced through it.  

He protested, “It’s not that crazy.” 

“The fact that our high school was so tiny, we dated, AND we were both in the closet–” this last part was whispered.  They were outside on the patio, and if the several other patrons were listening, they sure didn’t act like it.  A line crossed Ethan’s forehead at this subtle change in her tone.  They sure weren’t in the closet anymore, so why the secrecy? 

But again…maybe he’d been in LA too long.  Sexuality wasn’t a big deal there…it wasn’t a deal at all.  He’d only been back in town a week.  

“..AND we’re here, now, on another date?  What are the odds?”

He spun the cup around, his eyes moving to it again.  “I’m sure there’s plenty of other people from our school who are.  It’s not that weird.” 

She laughed again.  “Oh Ethan.”  

He couldn’t decide if that was an endearing ‘Oh Ethan’, or a ‘you’re ridiculous’ ‘Oh Ethan’.  She was smiling though, and he fought the smirk that twisted onto his own lips, feeling the ever-more reddening cheeks.  

So much for hiding his crush.  But then, that wasn’t the point of a date, was it?  Despite the shyness, Ethan held her gaze, watched as she sipped her drink and squinted at him in that way.  Hopefully, the way that meant she still had feelings for him as well.  

High school felt like forever ago.

“So, I know you said you didn’t date anybody seriously, but what about crushes?  Who was your biggest secret crush that really brought out the bi?”   

He chuckled, but it was an awkward chuckle.  Secret?  

Again, the gears spun in Ethan’s head as he processed that others were not as open about their sexuality.  He glanced around the patio as if self-conscious.  He put the strange feeling in the back of his mind…no need to worry about all of that now.  He could answer her question easily.  The blond nodded as if reconfirming this, and ran a hand through his already-ruffled hair.  

“First year of university…Chemistry 1010.”  She was already giggling, but now he giggled too.  

“Not the professor!”

“The professor,” he confirmed.  Suddenly he was thirsty, and sipped the almost sickeningly-sweet tea.  “You can see why I kept that one to myself.”  

She squinted again and bit her lip, the smile never leaving her eyes.  

“A chemistry professor though….were you remin–?”

“He was nothing like my dad,” Ethan said quickly, not liking the abrupt turn the conversation might take.  “I know, chemistry.  But.  He wasn’t very…science..y at all.”  Now he tilted his head, hoping to steer the conversation in any other feasible direction.  

“He was kind of scruffy actually.  Wore flannel a lot.  He looked like he might have been a skater years before. Shaggy.  Just some dude.  But then he opened his mouth and…” Ethan gestured with one pale hand.  “Just all this information came out.  He was crazy smart, and loved chemistry and everything about it.  He really brought passion to it.  Made me wonder if I should change majors.  But then I got my second year chem teacher and…” he made a face,  “...absolutely not.” 

They both laughed over this, and Mia considered.  

“I guess we have that in common, then.  A type, maybe.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she leaned forward excitedly, folding one leg over the other, her shoulders hunching as if in anticipation.  Ethan was smiling in spite of himself even though he found the conversation strange.  Was it normal for two people on a date to talk about their other, same-sex crushes?  He heard several people’s voices in his head, including his mother, and his best friend, reminding him to stop being so serious.  

“I had a research project for advanced biochem, it was a really select group of us–honors class–working with…a, well a company developing, they work in enzymology….Patents for different…” 

He raised an eyebrow, and scoffed despite his serious expression.  “Oh yeah, the basics.  Go on.”

“Anyway!” Her laugh sounded high pitched.  Nervous?  He tried to remind himself that she was a nerd, albeit in a different field than he, and people usually didn’t respond well to the necessary trade word-vomit of specialized fields.  He didn’t mind listening. 

“There was this contact that we had, an expert in the field.  A biologist, I think she was.” 

“Not the chem professor, at least,” he joked.  

Mia closed her eyes when she shook her head.  

“She was from Europe, I never got to meet her,” it was said in an almost-wistful tone.  

“She was so smart.  Like you said about your professor.  She would start talking and just…everything she said, she really got it, you know?  She knew so much about specific reactions and tests…It was like she’d been in the field for decades, she was a walking encyclopedia.  Always so serious, focused, it was intimidating.”

“So…you’re into scary older women,” Ethan noted, “Not sure what that says about my chances.”

“She wasn’t that much older than us, though,” Mia’s gaze was elsewhere, still remembering this woman.  “At least she didn’t look like it.  Anyway, she wasn’t just smart.  Like you mentioned, she didn’t really fit the lab coat stereotype.”  

“Don’t tell me she wore flannel.” 

Mia’s giggle made him smile widely.  Finally.    

“No, no flannel.  She wore….dresses.  And lots of black.  The part that was odd was her heavy makeup, which…isn’t common for women in STEM.  I didn’t even notice until I was trying to figure out why she looked so striking! And then I realized her makeup was very…vampy, gothic.  She stood out.  I was not the only one crushing, I’m sure.” 

“Speaking of crush, you’re crushing my dreams here,” Ethan said with flared nostrils.  “Vampy makeup is not one of my iconic looks.” 

The giggle intensified.  She shoved his shoulder.  “We can have more than one type!  Does that mean I’m out of luck too?  I don’t own a single flannel.” 

He hid the obnoxiously wide grin that threatened to creep across his face.  “Hey…don’t worry about it, nobody’s perfect.” 

The outburst of laughter was welcome, and made his heart flutter. 

—----------

Ethan awoke to a peal of thunder, but somewhere behind that, he almost wondered if he heard Miranda’s chuckle.  The blond sat upright in bed, gaze drifting over to the other side of the mansion bedroom.  Rosemary was visible there, by moonlight, deep in sleep in her new, larger daybed that Karl had built. 

Karl’s soft breaths sounded from his other side, and despite the warmth in the room, Ethan shivered.  

Was that a dream?  No, he realized, blinking rapidly.  It was a memory.  Was that their actual conversation, though?  The date, he remembered well.  Their first during college.  But…had Mia really said those words?  

He doubted his own memory.  Knowing that Miranda had manipulated his mind after his death, as well as the minds of others, he couldn’t be sure about anything anymore.  She’d turned into Mia, Karl, and who knew who else.  

Ethan didn’t realize it, but he was asking the question mentally.

Was that real? 

Yes, a soft chorus answered him back, the whispers sounding like silk grazing his neck and shoulders.  It was real.  

One thing Miranda had never done, probably wasn’t capable of doing, was manipulating the actual voices within the Mold, that Ethan had heard since his second ‘death’, likely since coming closer to the Mold itself.  The voices always seemed to whisper out of fear, not reverence.  

He always trusted them.  

Ethan lay back down uneasily, frowning as he remembered what awaited him after sunrise.  A meeting he rather detested the idea of, a meeting where he, Karl, Eva, the Duke, and a certain international spy who’d dealt with Karl in the past, would all meet on the topic of the decade–the Mold. 

He wanted nothing to do with spies, and doubly wanted nothing to do with this one in particular.  She had a romantic past with Karl.  

Ethan exhaled realizing that his wife, whom he spent years devoted to, had not only worked with the Connections, had offered her own DNA to Miranda’s cause, but now…a memory came up that confirmed Mia’s former infatuation with the woman.  

The belongings given to Ethan by Chris still sat upstairs, mostly untouched.  Eva offered to go through them, as had Karl, but Ethan stubbornly let them sit and only referenced them when absolutely necessary.  The stated reason was grief, but he knew that there was something else to it.  He couldn’t put it into words.  He didn’t want to feel betrayal again.  

Well, if anything could one-up the unsavory feeling of meeting a “colleague” of Heisenberg’s, having that memory come up sure did the job.  Ethan’s frown grew to unfathomable proportions.  

Thunder rumbled again as if in agreement with the mood, and he contemplated leaving the bed for coffee.  

[wandussyfantasy]

Hi!

I just found your tumblr. Could you write a Wanda X reader (NB AFAB) fic with a very bad thunder storm knocks the power out and sets the mood?

thanks in advance

The Storm

Summary: Your girlfriend has a problem with big storms. You do your best to comfort her.

Pairings: Wanda x NB AFAB Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

WARNINGS:

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT READ & DO NOT INTERACT!!!

smut, gn!reader afab, powerbottom!wanda, oral, fingering, dirty talk, fluff.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

The loud claps of thunder make Wanda jump. You rub her back to help soothe her and turn the volume up on the television to distract her. As long as you’ve known her, she has never liked thunderstorms. “Wanda, it’s okay. The thunder can’t hurt you.” 

“It’s not really the thunder that I’m afraid of,” Wanda admits as she snuggles closer to you and looks worriedly out the window. 

“What is it then?” As soon as you ask, lightning strikes on the powerline causing the entire neighborhood to go dark. 

“That,” she says and shakes as the loud thunder follows the lightning. You sigh as she grips onto you tightly. 

“Wanda, we need to light some candles. Unless you want to go to bed now,” you offer, hoping that maybe sleep will be the best thing for her through this storm.

“Are you crazy? How could anyone sleep through this? We’re lucky the lightning only took out the power! What if it strikes a tree next and it collapses in the house? What if it collapses into our bedroom?” She says frantically and you can tell that there is something deep rooted here that you’re going to have to find other ways to get her mind off of the storm. 

“You’re right honey,” you state softly. You rub her hand that is still gripping onto your shirt tightly until she releases you. “We should take safety measures. How about we move to the bathroom. There’s no windows and I hear it’s safer to be in a tub during storms because it won’t go anywhere if the storm does try to eat the house.” 

“You think the storm is going to eat the house?” 

“No,” you run your fingers through her hair to comfort her. “Forget I said that. I’m only trying to make you feel safe.” 

Wanda nuzzles her head into your shoulder as more lightning hits the earth. “Being in your arms is a start.” 

You smile as you continue to stroke her hair. “Come on, let’s move to the bathroom,” you whisper into her hair. She nods against you until she finds the courage to get up from the couch. She keeps the blanket that the two of you were using wrapped around her and you take her hand the flash light of your phone to guide you through the house. The two of you make your way to the bathroom that is connected to your bedroom and she quickly climbs into the tub, curling up with her blanket. 

You leave the bathroom for a second and search for your lighter through the jeans you had strewn about on the floor. Once you locate it, a joint rolls out of the pocket as well and you figure that it couldn’t hurt to offer it to Wanda. You grab the candles she bought a couple of weeks ago when she thought about setting up a romantic night between the two of you in the tub. You were completely unaware of this plan and as you light them, Wanda is still too panicked to warn you that a couple  of them are aphrodisiac scented candles. She was curious to see if a candle could really turn either of you on. 

When you’re done setting the candles around the bathroom, you join Wanda in the tub. She has you lay behind her so that you can hold her as the storm continues to rage on. “Baby, it's okay. We're safe. The storm won’t hurt us.” You begin to massage her neck from behind to help her loosen up. She was so tense from the fear. 

As the candles continue to burn the aroma soothes you and Wanda. Your girlfriend’s body relaxes under your fingers as you continue to work them into her shoulders. Wanda feels her body come to life in a much more exciting way than before. “Lower,” she whispers as she leans her body against you, making it difficult for you to massage her neck and shoulders. You move your hands down to her breasts where you assume that's where she wants them. She hums as she wiggles her body a little. Making her neck available to you. 

You begin to slowly kiss her neck as you continue to massage her breasts over her shirt. Wanda becomes so distracted by your touch that when the thunder shakes the house, all she is worried about is removing her shirt to feel your skin against hers. Once her shirt is off, you play with her nipples using your pointer and middle fingers to stimulate them. Wanda licks her lips and bites her bottom lip as she melts against you. You drag your fingers down the smooth skin of her stomach and tease her by slipping your fingers under the waistband of her sleep shorts but not touching her vagina. Wanda squirms under your touch. She wants more and you like teasing her until she begs.

You use your other hand to turn her head towards your face so that you can kiss her. Wanda uses her hand to guide yours lower. You allow her to press your fingers against her clitoris but you don't move them yourself as you continue to kiss her. 

Wanda bites your bottom lip as she gets frustrated with your actions. She needs you and you keep resisting her advances. “Please,” she whimpers. 

“Please what?” You ask with a smirk. 

“Please, give me more.” She licks her lips as she presses your fingers towards her entrance. 

You slip two fingers into Wanda's slippery wet pussy without warning. She kisses you to show her appreciation and you slowly pump your fingers inside of her. With one hand stimulating her breasts and the other fucking her, you begin to pay attention to other pleasure points. You start kissing her neck again, then move to sucking on her shoulder. She hums softly as she squirms against you. 

“I need more,” she turns in your arms to face you. As she straddles your hips, she catches your lips in another mesmerizing kiss, her tongue slipping in and out of your mouth causing you to feel intoxicated without a single drop of alcohol. She starts to ride your fingers and with this new position you have more flexibility to use your thumb on her clitoris as she does. 

Wanda breaks the kiss and hovers over you with her hands holding her up on the back of the tub, giving your mouth full access to her breasts. You circle your tongue around her nipple until it hardens and then you cover the area with your mouth to suck on her breast. Wanda’s breathing gets harsh as you suck on her chest. She enjoys the ways that you play with her. Your pace is slow and a little rough on her. She enjoys it until she wants more from you. Wanda taps your shoulders so that you release her and she has you switch places with her on the tub. She removes the rest of her clothing and tosses it on the ground beside the tub. 

You climb back inside and maneuver yourself into an awkward position so that you can give her more. You've never had to do this sort of thing in the bathtub before, but you didn't want to move this to the bedroom just in case. So you make it work. You lay on your stomach and kiss your way up her thighs. Making her want you more. 

You kiss and lick her smooth thighs, causing Wanda to get more aroused. She starts to touch herself since you're taking too long. She plays with her nipples and rubs her clitoris while you trace her vagina with your tongue. “Please, Y/n,” she begs. “Please, I need your tongue inside of me. Please.”

You smile as you look up at her from in between her legs. Her eyes are closed as she continues to touch herself. “Look at me, baby,” you demand softly. She opens her eyes and as soon as you make eye contact, you slip your tongue between her wet folds. She bites her bottom lip at the sight and doesn't break contact no matter how much the pleasure makes her want to shut her eyes. You move her hand away and replace it with your mouth as you slip your fingers back inside of her. She has both of her hands on her breasts now as you fuck her. 

You break eye contact to focus on getting her to orgasm. You alternate putting your tongue and your fingers inside of her, enjoying the way her hand begins to grip on your hair. “I’m almost there,” she gasps out. Thunder cracks and lightning strikes as the rain falls harder but neither of you can be bothered by the weather. It's all about Wanda right now. She moans as she reaches her climax on your tongue. She writhes and shakes and pulls on your hair as she does and you continue to lick her sweet fluids out of her.

When Wanda calms down she holds her arms out for you and you maneuver a position that allows you to comfortably hold her. The storm outside starts to settle down as well. Almost completely ending as Wanda snuggles against you. 

“Thank you,” she whispers against your neck. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you kiss her forehead and she falls asleep in your arms. As she sleeps you listen to her soft snores and try to hear if the storm is still going. Once you feel that it is safe enough, you remove yourself from the tub to blow out the candles. Very carefully you lift Wanda out of the tub and tuck her into the bed. You crawl in next to her and she snuggles up against you. 

The End.

[dontwantnoneunlessyougotmunson]

hey!!! I was wondering if I could request an Eddie fic!😍

Basically something fluffy where Eddie has a major crush on the new girl at Hawkins High. She’s very shy, and he decides to ask her to hang out back at his place! Plus omg he’s just super super sweet and gentle when he talks to her😭 You can decide what their interaction is like at Eddie’s trailer (like what happens and what not)! It’s all up to you 🤩

New Girl

Hello! You absolutely can~ Anything about Eddie that comes from my brain is more than likely going to be fluffy. He just deserves all the warm fuzzy feelings. I hope you like this! <3

You started to cry and slumped against the wall outside your house. Damn it, you had the key to your old house and not the new one in Hawkins. Your parents were out of town for the weekend, so the likelihood of you getting into your house without breaking a window was.. zero.

You slid down until you were fully sitting on the ground. You pulled your knees closer and dropped your forehead onto them, a pitiful sob rising in your chest. A flash of lightning bolted across the sky, followed by a massive punch of thunder. The rain had come from out of nowhere. You scooped up your things and huddled under the pitiful excuse for an awning, still not sure what to do.

The rumble of a vehicle cut through the thunder and you looked up, panicked and confused as you saw Eddie Munson jumping out of his van and running across the road and to your door. He rushed up to you and shrugged out of his jacket, holding it above your heads. You quivered as you looked into his eyes.

"What... are you doing here?" you forced out.

He paused, checking your face for any indication he was making you uncomfortable.

"I'm honestly a bit surprised I'm here. You just looked cold. And sad. So I thought I could help.. with my jacket."

He emitted an awkward laugh and you covered your mouth before bursting into hysterical giggles. You leaned into him, forehead grazing his chest and his heart thumped heavily at your gentle touch.

"Aaarrreee you okay?"

His mouth was twisted in worry as you continued to giggle. Your laughter eventually subsided, transforming almost immediately into heaving sobs. He put an arm around you and held his jacket up awkwardly with the other. He shuffled you to his van and helped you up, catching you when you slipped on the edge of the door frame. He ran around to his side after closing the door and tossed his soaked jacket in the floor. He turned to you and slowly reached his hand out to pat your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be okay."

You sniffled before swiping at your eyes and groaning when you saw a black smear from your mascara on your hand.

"It won't be okay. I'm new and I don't have any friends close enough to stay with and my parents are gone for the weekend and my key doesn't work and I can't handle it! And now, my makeup is getting smeared and I look like a raccoon!"

"A cute raccoon."

You turned to him in surprise and his mouth was open in a small 'o' having clearly surprised himself. He grinned awkwardly and ran a hand over his frizzy waves.

"Sorry," he mumbled shyly.

The silence stretched between you as you sniffled and tried to clean yourself up with the mirror above your seat.

His cough startled you from your haze and you turned to see him twisting his rings on his fingers nervously.

"I know it might be a bit uncomfortable, but you're welcome to stay at my place this weekend. If you want?" His voice rose in question, offering but fully aware your options seemed to be extremely limited.

You shrugged and offered a half-hearted smile. "Why not? Thanks, Eddie."

~~~

The ride was quiet, almost pleasantly so. He navigated carefully through the rain and pulled in beside his trailer, gravel crunching under the wheels. He turned off the ignition and sat for a moment, waiting for your cue. You flipped the mirror in front of you back up and pulled your school bag over your shoulder. He hopped out and came around, shielding you with his arms and running after you up the steps, his hand hovering behind your back just in case you slipped.

He turned the key in the lock and opened up the door. He opened it up into the area right across from what looked like the bathroom. He ducked his head around the corner and waved to someone, before ushering you in and reaching back to shut the door.

"Hey, Uncle Wayne. I've got somebody with me." You stepped around the corner and Eddie's uncle smiled at you kindly, offering a small wave. Eddie continued, "She got locked out of her house and her parents will be out of town this weekend. So, I brought her here. That okay?"

Wayne nodded and shrugged. "She needs a place to stay; she's welcome here."

Eddie grinned brightly and turned, gesturing for you to follow him to the back room. You stepped in, a bit unnerved. You'd never been in a guy's room before and weren't sure what to think. His clothes were strewn about and he hurriedly tossed a clump of them into a basket in the corner. He went to the wall and ran a finger down the guitar that was hanging there. He watched you in the mirror as you looked around his room and clutched your bag to your chest.

"Uh. Eddie, I don't have any clothes."

"Heh. Uh.. Don't worry! You can borrow mine and we can wash yours with the rest later on."

"Oh, I didn't see a machine."

He was a bit bashful as he responded, "Yeah, not one here. We tend to wash em in the tub when we don't go to the laundromat."

He pulled out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and handed them very gently to you. He stepped out and tossed a towel on the bed for you before shutting the door and going to the living room to sit on the couch. His uncle eyed him for a moment before smiling and sitting next to him.

"That her?"

"Mmmhmmm." Eddie's teeth were grinding together as he looked in his uncle's eyes. "I don't know what to do."

Wayne coughed a laugh. "You're doing a good thing. Just make sure to be respectful of her and get her what she needs. That's all you gotta do, kid."

He patted Eddie on the shoulder before hauling himself off of the couch and heading to work.

Eddie groaned and leaned forward, pressing his face into his hands. His body twitched at the sound of his door opening and he turned to look at you. His breath caught as his eyes swooped over you, seeing you in his clothes for the first time.

You noticed his deer-in-headlights expression and your brow furrowed as you looked down and twisted around to look at the back. You spun in a small circle to see and heard a 'pfft' behind you. You turned back to him and put your hands on your hips.

"Eddie Munson, are you laughing at me? It's not funny. Is there something wrong with the way I look?"

The amusement dropped from his face immediately and he stumbled over his words, "Ah, no! You look pretty girl, I mean- Pretty good, you look pretty good."

Your head tilted and you turned to the bathroom, attempting to hide your smile as you dropped your clothes by the tub. You stepped back out and blushed as you brushed against Eddie. In the dim light, you could have sworn he was blushing, too.

After a short time in his room, he came back out, wearing a similar outfit and grinned at you.

"Ready to wash some clothes, new girl?"

~~~

Laughter bubbled out of your chest. After filling up the tub with water and mixing in detergent, you'd tossed the clothes in and he'd stepped in on top of them. You tilted your head, confused and he held out his hand. "Come on in and agitate some clothes with me."

You laughed and held onto his hand, carefully stepping in and on top of the clothes. You wiggled your toes, feeling the fabric underneath.

"What now, Eddie?"

"Just one step at a time, new girl."

Your eyes met and the world stopped for a moment before a grin spread across his face and he started stepping side to side. He hummed a silly tune and lifted your hand, spinning himself carefully under your arm. You started to giggle again and he laughed back and soon the two of you were in a fit of merriment.

Your heart felt a bit lighter. Washing your clothes like this felt like a call back to the younger days when you would splash in a kiddie pool. You kicked your feet a little and danced around over the clothes, mixing them up and working the detergent into them. Eddie watched you, his chest contracting painfully tight as he resisted the urge to pull you close. He was enamored with your cheerful smile and the little 'hehehe' sound you made when you started to laugh.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as well. His tongue poked out in concentration as he tried to clean the clothes. After some time, you both stopped, chests heaving and cautiously made your way onto the bath mat. You stood closely together and he reached for the towel he'd left on the counter. He quickly dried his feet off and then handed it to you.

You put a hand on his shoulder for balance and he stopped breathing for a split second. He knew he would remember every detail of this forever. The press of your fingertips through his shirt. The subtle scrape of your nails. He turned his head to look at you and was surprised to find you already looking at him.

~~~

The process of draining the tub, wringing out the clothes and hanging them over the shower curtain rod to dry had worn you both out and you plopped on the couch while Eddie stepped into the kitchen. You heard a soft murmuring and then a click before he rounded the corner.

"Pizza will be here soon."

Your stomach growled in response and he chuckled as he sat down next to you. You crossed your legs and shivered for a moment before you felt a blanket settle over your shoulders. You looked around and saw there wasn't one for Eddie so you pulled it off and tossed it across both of your laps. He turned his head away and you sighed, thinking maybe it wasn't realistic for him to like you and that maybe you'd made it all up in your head. His fingers pulled at the frayed edges of the blanket, the room so loud even with no sound occurring.

The sound of the doorbell was like a jolt to your bodies and you both sprang up. Eddie ran to get the pizza and you went to the kitchen to hunt for plates. You distinctly heard Eddie thank the delivery driver and hand off the money, but somehow you missed him coming up behind you. He tapped the cabinet over your head with a small smile. Your back was pressed to the counter and you hadn't moved yet, entranced by him. He stepped forward and pulled the cabinet open, reaching past you for plates. You couldn't look him in the eyes as his body brushed yours again and your cheeks heated up.

"Hungry?" he whispered beside your ear. His voice came out slightly choked and you nodded.

~~~

You barely registered the taste of the food as your brain had been running nonstop since your encounter earlier with Eddie. He had put a movie in the VCR and you had no idea what was playing and with one glance to him, it looked like he wasn't sure either. His eyes were staring blankly into space and he still fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. He was brought back to awareness when he felt your fingers graze his arm.

"Eddie? I'm a bit tired. I think I'd like to lay down."

He stood up and went back to his room. He rooted around for a minute, trying to set it up for you before he came back to see you curled up under the blanket, a small pillow tucked under your cheek.

"What are you doing?"

"Um. I thought I'd try to sleep."

"In here? Not a chance. Guests get the bed. Come on."

You slowly sat up and clutched the blanket close before dropping it back on the couch and following him to the back. He'd attempted to smooth the covers and the sheets and pull the blanket back for you. You scooted in and sat up straight before he patted the pillow behind you. You lowered yourself hesitantly and pulled the blanket up right under your eyes. You smelled him on the fabric and tried to resist burying your face into the scent. Your feet rubbed together under the covers.

After a quick assessment, he turned to go and started to turn off every lamp. When he got to the last one, you cried, "No! Please. Please leave it on. If that's okay."

He nodded. "Yeah, of course. I'll be in there if you need anything. Night."

~~~

You tried to fall asleep. But you were yet again in an unfamiliar place. All your childhood you'd grown up thinking it would be the last time and it never was. Finally, your father had retired from the military. Maybe this would be the last stop. But it didn't prevent you from being unsettled in Eddie's room. Unable to take it anymore, you sat up and flung the covers off of you, yanking the door open and stepping quickly down the hall to the living room.

Eddie was dozing on the couch, one leg poked out from under the blanket and his arms crossed over the small pillow that was held across his chest. You walked over and gently poked his shoulder.

"Eddie. Eddie, wake up."

He gave a muffled 'mmf' and rolled over facing the back of the couch. You sighed in desperation and bit your lip, unsure what to do. But your anxiety was coming on quickly and you couldn't wait. You shook his shoulder a bit harder and he flipped back over, squinting at you.

"Hm? What is it? What's wrong?"

Tears pooled in your eyes and you mumbled, "I can't sleep."

He blinked himself more awake and noted your worried expression, arms crossed protectively over your body.

"Alright, what do you need?"

"Can you.. can you come back there and lay with me?"

He was for sure dreaming now. There was no way you were here asking him that. He pinched his arm and yelped when the pain shot through him.

"What are you doing?"

"Mm. Nothing," he muttered.

He stood and you looked worriedly at him before he stepped past you and said, "Come on. Let's go."

He walked ahead of you and felt your fingers gripping the back of his shirt as you tip-toed close behind him. You sat on the bed and waited for him to shut the door behind him and crawl in beside you. He patted the bed again.

"You can lay down. You're safe."

You slowly lowered yourself and then immediately moved close to Eddie. You hid your face in his side and his arm came around you, pulling you closer.

"This alright?" he asked.

You nodded and snuggled closer, your leg hesitantly sliding over and between his.

"Shit, your foot is so cold."

You started to pull back before his hand looped around your knee.

"No, no. Stay. It's not that bad."

Your hand crept across his chest and you gripped the fabric on the front of his shirt in your fist this time. In the quiet of the night when it was just the two of you, anything seemed possible. Eddie seemed to feel it, too. His hand brushed smoothly down your back and then up again as he dragged his nails against the fabric. You shivered when you felt his fingers over your skin through the shirt. He pulled the blanket up over you, tucking it in around you both as best he could. Soon, your breathing slowed, but now he was the one wide awake.

~~~

The morning was quiet, a peace covering the both of you. You woke first and watched Eddie in the gentle light that was peeking through the blinds. His breathing was soft and his cheeks looked so squishy with his chin tucked to his chest. A light layer of stubble covered his jaw and your fingers itched to touch him. You lightly dragged the back of your knuckle against his cheek and brushed your thumb over the other side.

He started to wake up, feeling a gentle touch on his face. He didn't want to scare you so he kept his breathing at a slow pace. His eyes fluttered open and he glanced to you. You had your hand pulled back and tucked to your chest. Your eyes were wide as you watched him, trying to gauge his emotion.

He reached for your face and brushed his thumb against your cheek. You tilted your head into his touch and sighed softly. He turned toward you, both of you yearning and reaching like sunflowers to the sky. You leaned in and he followed your movement. You hesitated to close the gap between you, worried. Scared. His hand came up under your chin. It slid along the side of your neck and moved to cup the back of your head. His fingers gripped your scalp lightly so he could pull you in closer.

His movements were delicate and gentle so you could pull back anytime. But you couldn't really. Not when you'd been watching him as much as he'd watched you. And somehow you'd both missed the cues from the other person. Somehow every day at school you'd been in a dance, too afraid to scare the other person away, terrified to get too close, to open your heart. Attachment meant surrender and giving someone the power to hurt you.

But maybe. Maybe in the refuge of this bed. In the haven of his arms, it could mean sharing a part of your spirit. It could mean receiving. And maybe if he were to share part of himself, then allowing him a piece of your heart wouldn't be such a loss.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Thunder (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer reminds Reader that they aren’t alone. Request: comfort fic where reader gets unspecific upsetting news and tries to brave through it on her own but spencer finds out and helps her through it + a fic based on “The Fixer” by Brent Morgan. Couple: Spencer Reid/GN!Reader Category: Angst/Comfort Content Warning: Storms, crying, trauma/upsetting news (unspecified) Word Count: 800

MASTERLIST

The thunder comes the same as waves on a rocky shore. Each flash of light is followed by a deafening roar that seems to swallow half the earth. Nature’s rage comes, with crackling wind and spitting rain.

Spencer finds you standing still in your office. You sense someone, but he says nothing. You know it’s him, though.

“When I was younger, I used to be so scared of thunderstorms,” you tell him. “I’ve gotten used to them as I’ve gotten older, but sometimes…”

You gaze upon the scene unfolding before you. Stubborn trees are bent and spent leaves fight against sheets of rain. You watch what feels like the end of the world and it makes your heart break.

“Sometimes I look out at the destruction, and I can’t help but wonder if we’re supposed to be scared,” you whisper with a wavering voice, “Maybe it is divine retribution. Maybe the children are right to be afraid.”

Spencer stays silent for a moment following the troubled monologue. He stands, steeped in the sadness before he takes a step forward and shuts the door.

“Is everything alright?” he asks.

“Oh, you know. Things… happen. They come and they go,” you shrug.

He takes another step forward. If you had anywhere to retreat, you would have. But you are stuck between two equally terrifying options: the storm and the calm that follows it.

“That’s true,” he offers, “but it’s not what I asked.”

You wipe remnants of tears from damp cheeks as you stumble over a response.

“Sorry, what was the question?”

“Are you alright?” he asks again.

It is as terrifying a question as it’s always been.

“Oh, yeah. Yes. I’m fine,” you assure him.  “I’ve always been fine, and I don’t plan on letting that change any time soon.”

But your breath is shaky, and he knows you’re lying.

Again, you try to explain, “I’ve been through worse things than this.”

“What is ‘this’?” he asks.

Your shoulders rise to your ears. You wrap your arms impossibly tighter around yourself. Nails dig into wrinkled fabric that is starting to feel too hot yet not enough to shield you from kind eyes.

“Doesn’t matter,” you laugh solemnly, “It’ll pass, like everything else.”

“It matters to me,” he says.

A flash of lightning rips apart the landscape at the same time you turn with violence on your tongue.

“Stop!” you shout.

The thunder follows. Its rage drowns out the sound of your whimpering cry that immediately follows.

“Please… just stop.”

“Stop what?” he asks with another step closer.

You don’t move away. Through the thick glass, you feel the chill of frozen rain as it clicks against the window.

Your answer is small and said with chattering teeth.

“Stop… caring about me like this,” you mumble. It sounds so pathetic, but you can’t make it more beautiful. Instead, you let the words pour from your mouth while your arms struggle to hold a broken heart together. “You have to stop, because, eventually, I’m going to let you down, and I can’t handle letting you down.”

Spencer lifts a hand towards you. He tries to call your name, but you flinch and jump away.

“Please, Spencer. Just… Just leave.”

For a moment, you think he will. You hear his feet shuffle and close your eyes and wait for him to leave the way they always do.

You hold your breath and wait for the lightning, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, it’s his hands resting against your arms.

“I can’t do that,” he says as he holds back his own tears. “And I’m really sorry, but I can’t. I can’t leave you alone because I know how bad it’ll hurt you if I do.”

With almost no pressure, his hands add weight that breaks through the barrier. Your arms fall limp at your side but he holds onto you, anyway.

“I can’t leave because I know exactly how much it hurts when the only time people listen to you is when you tell them to leave.”

You shake your head.

“I can’t…” you start, but the words get caught in his arms as he throws them around you.

“I can’t do this,” you cry against soft cotton that smells like home.

“It’s okay,” he assures you.

It is terrifying and comforting all at once. Your tears fall like heavy rain and your wails crackle like lightning against something, someone who can bear witness to the storm without wincing.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers as the storm clouds start to pass.

“You’re safe,” he promises, “I’m here.”

You collapse against him, and he holds you harder than he ever has before. He hums something gentle, and the words don’t feel like strikes.

Together, unhidden, you wait out the storm.

In that moment, you find a new appreciation for what once felt like the end of the world.

Because even the clouds eventually empty.

Even the thunder eventually fades.

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

Looking for more comfort? Check out my Comfort Challenge Fic Recs + Entries!

Reid Taglist: @mrs-dr-reid , @dreatine , @hopefulfangirl24 , @laurakirsten0502 , @dontcallmekittens , @rintheemolion , @andreasworlsboring101 , @imsuperawkward , @wentz2005 , @lovejules888 , @dashneydanger , @materialisthicc , @violetspoetic , @mslowlife , @conniesanchor , @trippol-threat , @will-byers-needs-a-hug , @poo-tay-toot , @bookobsessedfreak

Complete Taglist: @cynbx , @emsma11 , @mediocre-writer , @fightingdragonswithwho , @andiebeaword , @jayyeahthatsme , @pepperthealien

Thanks for reading!

[ceruleancattail]

Could I request a Jack Howl fic please?

Fluff-

Where they were going on a run and got stuck in the rain, but mc doesn't have a jacket?😸

Storm

Jack Howl x reader

The sudden pelt of raindrops made you shiver.

No human body was made to adapt to a sudden drop in temperature, especially when you’re finally warmed up. Hell, you’ve been running for quite awhile, the blood surging through your veins a comfortable warmth.

It was supposed to be a fine day, a good one even. A day where both Jack and your schedules finally align. He proposed going running together, and you accepted, happy to finally spend a day together.

Unfortunately, the weather seemed to have a kind of its very own.

Water droplets fell from the sky, assaulting every each of your exposed skin. They crashed against you, soaking deep into the fabric clothing you. Your now drenched clothes clung to you, sticking like a second skin.

Blinking rapidly, your hand rushed towards your eyes. Shielding them as well as you could. However, rain water still trickled down your face, slipping in the cracks in between your fingers.

A sudden heat surged through your wrist. Calloused fingers wrapped around it, yanking you forward firmly. Glancing upwards, you come eye to eye with that pair of ever familiar ember eyes. They were narrowed, with just the barest hints of concern leaking out from the corners.

“Are you ok?”

His eyes do a quick look over, scanning for any signs of discomfort. You shoot him a sheepish grin, before raising your free hand in a thumbs up. Your smile seems to ease his spirits, although that knot stuck in the centre of his brow doesn’t seem to relax.

Turning around, he squints in the distance. Trying to discern how far off Night Raven College was from your current spot, perhaps? Whatever he managed to see in midst of all the rain didn’t seem to please Jack. His lips curl into a thin line, before he takes a deep breath.

“Let’s get out of this storm.”

Taking the lead, Jack broke into a sprint, dragging you behind him. Both of your feet crashed against the muddy path in a passionate salsa, splashing against the puddles pooling on the ground. It was all you could do just to keep pace with Jack, limbs frantically flying all over the place.

Unfortunately, his pace and yours clash, horribly. Jack was a track runner, and he ran like one. You? You ran like a normal person. With every step, you could feel your arm aching. Along with your entire body being dragged across the path.

One misstep was all it took. Before Jack’s name could even leave your lips, you go down. The world seemed to slip right out under your feet, providing you with one brief fleeting moment of nothing. Before you fall, body splattering against the mud and the grime.

Feeling a sharp yank backwards, Jack stops dead in his tracks. Upon seeing your miserable state, he quickly drops to a knee. Hands cupping your face, thumbs swiping as much dirt as he could from your face.

His ears droop ever so slightly, twitching guilty.

“I’m so sorry, I was way too fast.“

You shake your head, that sheepish smile still stretched across your lips.

“Nah, it’s all good. I would have slipped anyway-“

A sudden boom of thunder cut in between your sentence, the lightning cutting across the sky with its jagged light. Both of you jump, ever so slightly, before meeting each others gaze.

Seizing you by the torso, Jack lifts you up with a grunt. Frantic hands swipe most of the grime off you, before he unzips his jacket. Shaking it off his arms, before draping right across your shoulders.

Immediately, you were engulfed with warmth, the barest hints of his scent wafting into your nose. Unconsciously, you pulled at the collar, tugging it closer towards you. It felt like his embraces, tender expressions of his love.

Squatting down, Jack reaches behind. Beckoning you closer with outstretched palms.

“Get on. I’ll carry you back.”

Flustered, you jab his back lightly.

“It’s okay! I still can walk. There’s really no need for this, I-“

A sharp sigh shot out from his lips, before he peeks behind. A crimson blush spreading like wildfire across his cheeks. Raising an eyebrow at you, Jack mumbles:

“It’s my job to worry about you, dumbass. Get on.

Let’s get out of this storm together.”