#it surprised me how moving it was to answer these questions

[radioiaci]

Defeat was pervasive, apparently. Alastor was under no illusion that the most Vox would get from this little foray to the surface was... mild thrills and time spent alongside the radio demon away from their other obligations. And yet, he knew that it was hardly a reward to be touted like a victory. He was not worth that much. His presence and general existence was not worth that much.

Vox's question did not make sense to him. It made his ear flick in acknowledgement that he'd been heard, but he offered no answer. No. He was not hungry. For once. Maybe, somewhere beneath the surface, his stomach would have railed at him for refusing an offer for food. But he simply did not have it in him just then to fixate or go searching for another meal. He would have preferred to starve, if he were perfectly honest. At least then he could think less about the heaviness that weighed on his chest knowing what he did now.

So when Vox disregarded the offer, he was not surprised.

Alastor did not move from where he was - not until he caught wind of the portal that the other was beginning to walk towards. With no apparent regard as to whether or not he followed.

Just as well, he thought.

Peeling himself away from the wall, Alastor eventually followed, head craned somewhat downward as he fixed his gaze on the floor. And it would not be until he crossed the threshold from the living to the dead that his apparent depression was much more evident. In the way his ears remained somewhat crooked, and in the way he refused to glance up from the stare he'd cemented onto the path beneath his feet.

"...I am sorry to have wasted your time," he offered, nearly grimacing as he said it at all. "I thought that perhaps -"

No. No point in explaining. Not when he presumed Vox would only have scathing judgment or would otherwise not understand. And though he did not fault the other for that, nor would he stress himself out trying to make him understand. All he could do or offer was to briefly, hesitantly close the distance between them to nudge his head against Vox's. Normally, he might have been comforted to see that stupid television head again - but just then... it was having trouble breaking through the blanket of apathy. Still. The gesture was his attempt at... something. To show that he was not simply... walking away for good. Just. For now.

"...You know how to reach me."

And that was all he said as he turned and began to make his way back towards the hotel. A few steps taken before he decided instead to sink into the depths of shadow and commit himself to his hiding place.

For a little while.

Vox let the other slump in his hold. So he relaxed his grip, then further letting the other slump against the nearest wall if he would. Both of them having this spectacle semi in the mouth of this dingey human alleyway.

The adrenaline trickled away from the moment reliably like a tide going out to reveal the fucked up rock formations that it had hidden, and Vox again felt a bit exposed. Forced to face himself and the familial sentiments he had posed as commonplace in the heat of stress. In reality he knew nothing about how Alastor felt about his family. Or what his experience had been like. Not truly.

His declaration of knowledge was misplaced and obviously projected. At least it was obvious to him.

What an awful sticky moment. And of course with the attempt to stop the overthinking before it started— immediately— he was reminded of the way Alastor reacted to his thrall. Even as an observer.

Rattled the radio demon so much so that Vox had prepped to 1v1 Lilith right then and there. When the scare ended up being himself. That hurt something in his chest he couldn’t even begin to unearth.

This whole damn trip they hadn’t even found anything that Alastor had wanted.

The feeling of defeat made his limbs feel heavy. Not that he’d had anything riding on Alastor finding his sense of closure; Vox had just put a lot of resources and risk into this trip. Only to get nothing as a return. He knew it would be a resource sink before they’d started though. He just thought it would have yielded something at all for either of them.

The sensation of defeat crawled into his limbs. Feeling heavy. He wanted to sit down next to Alastor but the pavement was disgusting. And he liked this sweater.

He wanted to go home too. He really hadn’t wanted to leave on such a dismal note though. It felt like a disrespect to the good moments they’d shared. Maybe even soft moments. Ones that he would have thought their dynamic was too damaged to enjoy…

Unless you lured him into those moments too. He reacted pretty strongly to seeing the thrall again.

Vox’s thoughts chimed.

The defeat feeling crawled up to settling into his chest and lungs too.

The silence stretched on and Vox was uncharacteristically quiet for once. Finding himself staring off at the bustle of the downtown. It was a different kind of city then he was used too. But nothing like the pride ring.

Fuck this place.

He wanted to go home.

“Are you hungry…?” He found himself saying instead. He wasn’t hungry. He knew Alastor wouldn’t be either. Maybe they could sit in a restaurant one more time and fuck around with wait staff before they called it a dud.

Then Vox realized he didn’t want to. He didn’t have the energy- and Alastor would sit there in silence and not eat. It would be miserable.

“Nevermind.” He said under his breath dryly.

He missed Valentino and whatever was left of Voxtek.

Vox started fidgeting with the stone. Walking deeper into the alley to better conceal the portal that it would make. Leaving Alastor where he was to catch up when he wanted to.

[saetiate]

call it what it is. (or, the five times sae and you are "just friends". and the one time it stops being possible to deny what this really is.)

itoshi sae x f!reader fluff. friends to lovers, first kiss, how love happens, reader goes by she/her pronouns and has some personality (sorry, i couldn't get around it bc of The Plot but i kept it as minimal as possible). personality mentions are as follows: career-focused, likes sweet things, drinks alcohol sometimes, little regard for self care especially when busy, doesn't like to be touched by people they don't know, is alone often. word count: 2.3k author's note: you both have a whole dinner date, go to events together, take care of each other, and then get surprised when people think you're dating??? okay so the sound of fireworks are less obvious than whatever yall have going on

Bitterness churns at the back of your throat. Is it from the roasted beans of the coffee you've been slamming into your system for the last few days, or from the lack of sleep?

Not that it matters. You've worked OT, both your team and your clients are unhappy, and according to your Excel worksheet, you're on your 85th job application. So really, it doesn't get worse than —

The doorbell rings.

Who the actual —

You breathe out the biggest sigh at the pretty face standing before you. It's definitely the lack of sleep, isn't it? Either you really should've checked the peephole and put on something a little more flattering, or he's a hallucination.

Let's hope it's the latter. You move to close the door, and his hand reaches out lightning-quick, holding it still. In a spark of annoying rebellion, you press all of your body weight against the door, and it doesn't budge an inch.

Right. Athletes and their stupid, stupid strength.

"You didn't answer my calls."

They say sighing is a necessary part of your lungs, that one of the struggles of artificial lungs was getting them to sigh. You wonder if it meant this many times in a day. "Sae, I'm busy. Wait, I didn't answer your calls? You don't answer my texts 90% of the time."

Then he's in your entryway, because of course you can't argue where your neighbors can hear, that's rude. But then he's in your kitchen, washing his hands, opening your fridge.

"There's nothing in here. When's the last time you took a shower?"

"You come here just to insult me?"

A towel hits your face with an oof before it falls into your arms.

"Sae," you try again, as the towel slides down your cheek, "You can't just barge in here and —"

20 minutes later, there's two steaming bowls of katsu curry rice on your now-clean desk. Sae opens up the little ziplock of togarashi, leans it against your bento box with more care than you'd expect.

"Itakadimasu."

~

It's the strangest thing, walking into your place only for someone to already be in there. How the noise cuts through, something unbelonging but welcomed.

"You know, giving you the key wasn't so you could just walk in here whenever you want. It was for emergencies only."

The only answer you get is the smell of onions being caramelized, crackled sparks of savory in the air.

"I answered your call," you continue, undressing behind a half-open door. "So this can't be an emergency. And you have a much nicer place than this."

Sae barely glances at you as your head peeks into the kitchen. "You could stay there."

"What, with you? Like we're roommates? Nah, you'd see what a mess I am."

"I'm already seeing it."

A spatula waves in little circles around the pan,

What are you doing here, Sae?

Like he's already braced for the question, the refrigerator light beacons out into the descending night. Your favorite wine passes from his hand to yours.

"Got gifted it," he responds before you can even ask. You could've caught him looking at you, but the gold label glints with stars in your eyes.

"How'd you get gifted icewine? You've never talked about it in an interview."

He doesn't tell you he asked his manager for recommendations, that he knows they let it slip to someone looking for a brand deal with him. Instead, he watches as you struggle to pop the cork open, the xylophone clink of ice into twin wine glasses.

"So you do like sweet things," you comment as the nectared drink meets your tongue with a smile. There's a reverence to it: how he watches you chop the vegetables before sliding them into the pan, how the last remnants of today's sunlight filter through the window and past your hair.

Sweet things. He supposes he does like something like that.

~

"This event, is it a big deal?"

He vaguely hears a ruffle of clothing behind the half-shut bathroom door, lightstream swept across the floor. He offered you what he knows his teammates get their wives for these events — stylist, makeup artists — but he watched you stand in his bathroom layering on eyeshadow for yourself anyways.

I don't trust anyone else to touch me. A simple statement made stark.

"Sorry, Sae. Could you help zip me up please?"

Maybe it's that implication, that hidden trust you place in him, that makes his exhale a little shaky as one of his hands wraps around your waist to hold the dress down, the other carefully pulling up metal piece up.

You've often thought athletes would naturally be aggressive. You've seen Sae make a fast pass across the entire field without breaking a sweat. But when his hands are on you, they're always light. You think of the falling of snow, its soft and silent touch that comes unexpected, the easy descent it makes before it melts into the ground.

Love is a little like that, maybe.

~

It's a common feeling, to feel as if you're completely alone in this world. Easy to get into your own head, to see only yourself within four walls again and again and forget that there is a whole world outside. It's logical, well-researched, known. It's because of that that you can factor out the feelings when it hits you.

The four walls has never felt as striking as now, coughing into the hollow quiet. The morbid thought strikes that if you died here, no one would know. They'd find your body days later, after the smell starts to waft out.

But you chose this. To move and to fight and to create a life worth living. You, with your ambitions and heavy heart and endless survival faith that makes you somehow believe you can still make it. Sometimes you have to force a door close before wrenching another one open with nothing but your bare hands. Sometimes you have to swallow all your pride and roll up your sleeves and pray to no higher gods you worship that the decision you made is worth it.

You think you hear something click as your mind fogs back and forth into sleep. You hope whoever's burgling you will at least leave you alone and only take what they need. You hear your name, and then a shuffle, and god this is really the worst time to have a stalker.

The back of a hand over your forehead is cool to the touch, the night's breeze still pressed between the molecules.

"You're sick."

Thank you, intruder, for pointing out the obvious is what you want to say. But instead, your head lulls heavily to the side. "I just need to rest for a bit."

"You need a hospital."

"I'm fine. I'm just- being dramatic. But I'm fine."

Your world tips on its axis, warmth blooming into your side. He lifts you into his arms soundlessly. You almost envy how effortless it is for him; the weight you carry is so heavy when you're carrying it yourself.

It's only halfway towards his car that you find yourself processing, finally speaking, "Thank you, Sae."

There's a sharp intake of breath from him, the hard line of his body protecting you from the night's chilled-sweet air. His heartbeat against your ear is as steady as the shore, the way it waits for the kiss of the tide.

"Just call me next time."

~

Sae's not sure how he feels about this.

It's his first time being late when he's meant to be taking you to this event. He moves fast through the crowd, searches with keen eyes. Chandeliers flicker and crystal-light dances —

Only to find you propped up against the wall, Rin leaning down close.

Sae might be less confused if Rin didn't look — for what might be the first time at an event ever — like he actually wanted to be there. He's listening to you with all his attention, has no problem being in your space.

Sae only approaches once you've been whisked away by Bachira.

"Why were you talking to her?"

Rin whips around, and instead of looking guilty, he's in wide-eyed shock, and then narrow-eyed annoyance. "Ha? She's your girlfriend, isn't she?"

Sae blinks. Did he say that? He would've remembered, wouldn't he?

"You good-for-nothing older brother," Rin's voice is a grunt, nothing like the sweetness he gave you. "You didn't even introduce me. I had to fucking find out through Isagi."

"How does Isagi know?"

"Oliver."

"How does Oliver know?"

Rin gives him an begrudged, deadpan look. "He's your teammate?"

That explains nothing. Actually, Sae is even more confused. He has about a dozen more questions.

"She's nice." Rin mumbles low, playing with the stem of his wine glass, watches as it almost tips before swooping it back up.

"You like her?"

"I think she's nice." Rin grits, and Sae really doesn't know how Rin gets away with faux passes on the field when his reactions are this obvious, because he watches how his eyes grow with realization as another thought passes through his brain. "You don't like her?"

"I like her." Sae accepts quickly.

"Ha??? Then what are you asking me for?!"

~

If Sae's being honest, he knows he has more than enough. He wonders what this thing is that he's had since he was born, never satiated even as he reaches the top. He thinks about how Bachira describes his 'monster', a childlike wonder, whether this is his own version of something like that.

But even the blackhole-depths of his greed doesn't anticipate wanting you. Like remembering the sea upon the drink of an oyster. A second breath, heart soaked with knowing.

What am I doing, sleeping in his bed? The night grows darker with every step, so the invite was innocuous enough. You sink into the mattress and the blanket of night muffles the fear, the thought that love is never so easy. There will be complications and contracts —

You turn to him and all the braveheart strength seeps out of you. Maybe you can put it down here, just for a moment.

He looks at you love-first, in a thousand colors, something he can't find with anyone else. He brushes the hair from your face so delicately, you find yourself stuck between watching his relaxed expression and fluttering your eyes shut to absorb the feeling. The back of his fingers caress your cheek, a butterfly's wing.

"Are you happy? Satisfied?"

Sae is not abstract. It's a vague but concrete question. You understand him at first glance.

"Not yet," you exhale honestly. "I have more to do. I'm gonna get there."

I'm gonna be the person I want to be. And by that time, I'll also be —

I'll also be the kind of girl you'd consider worth dating.

"Just wanna be worth it," you smile weakly instead.

He looks at you with a tenderness that feels dangerous. You think of a bird's first flight, the swoop of the fall. The crackle of a flame before it eats the firewood.

"People are worth something the moment they're born," he recites with no inflections.

"I know that."

"You're the one who said that." It's not accusatory, it's a reminder: your own truth, a perception of love you've been made the exception of. It's too heavy with degradation for him to feel comfortable focusing on, so instead he asks something he knows.

"If you had everything you want now, would it be enough?"

You sit up, his eyes following you. Your body heat no longer pressed against his feels like a loss, something he's sure to correct.

"No. You know that's not how it works." You should know, better than anyone.

He does know. That greed is a bottomless abyss, ambition an infinite sky. There is no amount of good enough that could ever make it all feel worth it.

His hand circles around your wrist, pulls you in on top of him until you're chest to chest.

Love is not your right. Shattered somethings cradle your heart. Trees can grow around items. You wonder if your heart is the same — muscle grown strong around fractured glass, a whisper of a cutting edge with every beat.

If you're always going to want more, be better, go further —

Could you have a little something in the now?

He's so close to you now that it fills your mind completely. He's not naked but he feels so bare under you, your hands framing his cheeks, soft skin brushing against your fingertips. One of his hands skates up your back, the other slides up your jaw, cups the back of your neck.

You wonder when you started letting him touch you like that.

He treats you so gently, so unlike the overwhelming emotion that crashes into you. Both lightweight and heavy, you feel swept under, you just want to anchor onto something —

His lips touch yours and everything falls into place.

~

"How'd you know about her?"

Oliver could make it easy for him. He won't, because getting a reaction out of Sae is much more fun. Instead, he tries and fails to feign ignorance. "Who?"

"My girlfriend."

Oliver leans his head back against the wall, a playful smile over his face. "So she is your girlfriend. Loyal too."

Sae narrows his eyes.

"Relax. I just talked to her at one of those events you brought her to."

"You talked to her?"

Oliver gets the sense that Sae is trying to make it sound like a normal question, but all it sounds is exactly how annoyed he feels.

"She just said she's waiting for you."

notes: unbelonging is not a word, i used it anyways on purpose to strengthen the idea of something not belonging. nectared and lightstream are also not real words, but i like them. twin wine glasses is kind of a reference to twin flames, though i do think you and sae are actually soulmates. i wonder if people can be both. "the weight you carry is so heavy when you're carrying it yourself" is a double meaning, not just your body weight but everything else you carry too.

call it what it is: / a love created, hand-sculpted to fit. / a silent reprieve, / to be seen, / constellations bursting at the seams. / unfounded heart, / a tepid start,/ an easy, soft-sweet thing. / say what this really is. / place it on the justice scales of the abyss. / what you're meant to be / versus what you choose / you can decide you have a right to this.

[dumbkiri]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋

χα∂єη яισяѕση χ ƒ! мαιяι! яєα∂єя

ησтє: 16 pages long. idk if that should be a warning or something. anyways this is the last part! thank you all for reading it. if you got this far in the note...you should check out my pinned masterlist, there's a surprise waiting for you, my dedicated reader <3

ρℓσт: waiting and waiting. this is Xaden's promise to you.

ιηѕρσ ѕσηgѕ:

Don't Give Up - Ursine Vulpine, Annaca

The One I Love - Bolshiee

Down - Simon, Trella

Without You - Ursine Vulpine, Annaca

^^ HIGHLY RECOMMEND LISTENING TO THESE SONGS FIRST

[NAME] 

Once the flames from the letter extinguished, you watched the ashes fly away in the evening breeze. Whisking away the threatening words of Varrish and his plans to capture and question you. You won’t become like your sisters, you won’t be chained up for years to give your enemies protection and power. 

“You know my answer, Xaden,” You wiped the ash on the tips of your fingers on your leathers. Smearing the inked letters on the dark black of your clothes reminded you that you might just fight alone if no one chooses to save the people running away right now. “I’m not running away from this fight. They expect us to die, but I won’t let it happen. As long as we have our air superiority, I can cloak us.” 

You all won’t have air superiority for long. The horde of wyvern chasing Lenin down in your vision prepares you for Violet’s fabled words. There is more than one and they are violent. 

“How many at a time without burning out?” Xaden looks at you, drinking you in because he knows this is the last of you. Probably the last conversation between the both of you and he wants to still save you. He wants more time with you and damn it all if you want the same. 

Does he always have to ask those important questions when you’re trying to convince your family to fight? You draw your eyes over to Lenin waiting to hit the skies and cloak him. It comes easily to you, cloaking your dragon. You move your eyes over to Glane right next to him and she dips her head in acknowledgement. You cloak her and she’s hidden completely in the camouflage. 

But something burns under your skin. An itch you can’t erase and you release the two dragons from the cloak. You didn't think Lenin’s size would impact your ability to cloak others. Usually you could cloak three dragons at a time. Now you can barely cloak two. 

“I can cloak two including my dragon,” You admitted with a defeated shake of your head and explained to them why you suddenly can’t cloak three at a time. “Lenin’s size takes up a lot, but I can cloak the rest of you by switching the focus.”

“And me?” Violet takes a step forward announcing her presence to everyone and questioning your ability to protect someone who is tied to Xaden. “Can you cloak Tairn while cloaking Lenin?” 

“You can barely cloak my mate and I at the same time, Dagger.” Lenin said and you can tell he is worried for you. If you tell Violet that there is no chance in hell you could do that, it would make you seem like a bad person. Especially with the Flier incident, it wouldn’t be hard to make yourself look like a bitch. 

“Tell them the truth, you cannot do it. My father is more than capable of fighting without your protection.” Lenin tells you, but you go the opposite direction. Tonight is the night your bond will break, this choice is yours to make. As will all the other choices you make in the future be for your benefit. 

Your family is going to live on. 

“Yes, I will do that if your life is in immediate danger.” The moment everyone heard your words loud and clear was the moment their thoughts rushed at you. Their waves crashed into you like a relentless tide. 

All of us were going to be in immediate danger once we take flight. 

Violet is so screwed. 

[Name] should just tell her the truth and say, no. 

She will cloak who she wants to save the most. 

Their doubtful voices echoed all around you and in turn you scoffed, standing against their tidal waves, “Wow, you guys are still doubting me.” If anything you need Violet Sorrengail to live until the end because she’s going to be your executioner. You’re going to protect her and Tairn with all you can. But no one needs to know that, just her dragon and yourself. So you point in the direction of the battle, “do you see the civilians running down there? Fathers carrying their daughters, sons leading their mothers?” 

Families that need your help. 

“They have nothing but gryphons and our dragons to evacuate them. Their life is in immediate danger. Don’t make me choose you over them, unprotected civilians over dragon riders. Now let’s move.” 

You turn your back on them and make eye contact with Lenin. He is the reason why you’re fighting. Liam is the reason why you’re fighting. You hesitate to look over your shoulder and look into Xaden’s eyes. The man you fell so hard in love with. You can feel him watching your every move, questioning you silently. 

Is this the moment she leaves me behind? 

Your shoulders tense up and you force your legs to move. He doesn’t know you can read him like he can read others. But you hope that he can feel your intention. Pray that he hears your silent answer. 

I am leaving, but I will come back. So just wait for me. 

You jog over to Lenin and mount up then without a word shared between the both of you he shoots up into the sky. His wings beat in a slow rhythm of two. Your hands brushed against his patchy scales and his warmth envelopes you the moment your cloak washes over you two. It’s not enough to keep you heated, but you’re used to the cold and he grew used to it as well. 

“The Fliers need your help securing the slowed ones.” Lenin relays and you nod your head. 

“First we need to find a high position where we are stable. There’s a cliff over there to the left. We rest there and I’ll move the cloak around. You let me know when anyone needs me.” 

“Of course,” Lenin flaps his wings and lands on the cliff. His talons dig into the ground and he straightens out his neck, keeping an eye out for his riot and your family. Quickly, you climb up his neck and settle down at the crown of his head. He is a great use for a vantage point. You can see everything, the fire dragons spew out, the venin, the citizens and the Drift. 

You cross your legs and close your eyes listening to everything around you. While Lenin listens to the Riot and the words his father relay, you hear Xaden’s voice loud and clear. He tells Sgaeyl that his shadows will work along with your cloak to protect the evacuating citizens. It’s a perfect plan. Then when you were going to dip out of his mind, you heard him talking about you. 

“Can you find them?” He asks Sgaeyl. 

She hums in response, “No. Dagger is hiding them very well. Not even his mate can find him. She’ll be fine, more than fine.” 

“Believe me, I want to trust in that as much as you trust that she’ll protect your son. But that's what scares me.” 

“You, scared?” Sgaeyl tries to make Xaden feel better. 

He doesn’t cave in to her sarcasm. Doesn’t even offer a witty comeback. Instead he remains regretful. “I’m going to lose her tonight. I can see it in her eyes. She doesn’t make eye contact with anyone. The only person she looked at was Violet.” 

“That girl questioned Dagger’s strength in front of her whole family. I would glare at her too if someone questioned me.” Sgaeyl growls and the next words that come out of her mouth only cements your resolution to save her son. 

“I have approved of Dagger ever since my Leninach chose her in Threshing. She has proven herself in challenges, on the Gauntlet, moved on to second year, got her team through RSC, continues to grow stronger and I still cannot fathom her ability to prove herself to my son. Leninach is enamoured with her and despite his change, I trust her with him more than I trust that girl with my mate. Because Dagger loves fiercely. She has a fire in her that will not burn out. She’ll do anything to save her loved ones. That includes you, Shadow.” 

That includes you, Shadow. Her last words made you question Xaden. Sure, you two had a very rough year, but does he think you don’t love him to include him in your list of people to save? You love Xaden, more than he knows and it pains you that he questions it. 

Were your heartbroken tears not enough to show him your love? 

“Dagger! Glane and her rider are in trouble!” Lenin’s shout breaks you from the conversation between Xaden and Sgaeyl. And you opened up your eyes, quickly looking for an orange dragon. You spotted her moving out of the way of a broken clock tower, her wings carrying her high into the sky. 

“Warn her!” You moved your hands over Glane, picturing a blanket covering her. Again, the itching under your skin came back and it irritated you. Instantly, the orange dragon disappeared in the background and the wyvern aiming for Imogen screeched out in annoyance. It missed its target and you called out to your friend down the new bond, “Imogen, are you alright!” 

Imogen’s fear greeted you like a smack to the face and she shouted back, “What the fuck! Did it try to grab me?” Hearing her brings relief into your system and you can feel Lenin humming in response to his conversation with Glane. 

“It did, but Glane reacted just in time. Please, pay attention to your surroundings. I have to help the rest evacuate the civilians in the mine.” You didn’t give her enough time to respond, but once Glane was in a good position you removed the cloak off of her scales and back on the civilians you were guarding. But in your moment of protecting Glane and Imogen, it allowed the venin on the floor to drain Soleil and her dragon. You blinked away your tears and closed your eyes again allowing Lenin to be the eyes you needed while you were the ears. 

After a few minutes pass, you successfully protected a lot of families and some of the Fliers in the Drift. So far no one in your group needed to be cloaked yet fate made you regret thinking like that. Because you hear Violet telling Tairn that Xaden was in trouble. But you knew he could hold his own as well as Sgaeyl. He has the power to wield shadows and- 

Lenin growled out in utter rage, his anger hitting you like a heat wave, “PUNY GIRL!” He held you down with lesser magic making you glued to the crown of his head as he shot up into the sky with no warning. 

“Violet, below you!” 

“She’s going to get him killed!” 

Xaden’s and Sgaeyl’s shout penetrate your mind making you open up your eyes to see in front of you. Blue fire from a wyvern is directed at Tairn and you watch Lenin move fast in the sky. The speed he accumulates shouldn’t be possible for a dragon his size, his father moves slower than him. Yet Lenin moves like a river down a mountain; fast as fuck. 

His moonshaped tail swings towards the wyvern who hunts down his father. The tip of it digs into the wyvern’s head with a squelch. Blood rains down to the earth and Lenin ensures the kill with a big chomp. Blood splatters onto you and Lenin, it eerily reminds you how he found you in Threshing. Bloodied and determined to live. 

“Stupid girls shouldn’t be on the battlefield.” Lenin roars out and you couldn’t help the glare you send at Violet. If she keeps putting Tairn in danger like this, you won’t know if she’ll be able to kill you. Her lightning strikes are out of control very much like her scattered mind. Then you cloak again when Lenin moves away back to the cliff. 

You help Xaden with as much as you can and suddenly you feel something creep up your fingers. You move your eyes away from him and spot a shadowy tendril as it loops around your ring finger. 

Stay.

You hear Xaden’s voice so easily tell you. You’re surprised he found you and Lenin while being cloaked. Was he searching for you this entire time? Why is he telling you to stay now? You move your eyes over to him, but Lenin’s voice eases into your head. 

“Dagger, it’s your brother!” Lenin jumps off the cliff and with two mighty beats of his wings, he’s off into the skies. “He fell off of Deigh!”

It’s starting. This can go one of ten ways and you want it to be the one where Liam and Lenin live. You steady yourself on the top of his head and your sister daggers come into play. Alani’s floats over your left and Sera’s over your right while the one you earned from Garrick rests heavily in your [dominant] hand. 

“Our priority is Deigh! Get me on his back!” You shout and Lenin roars out in agreement knowing full well that if Diegh dies, so will your brother. He passes by his father who guides his rider and Liam away from the death dance Deigh is entangled with the wyvern. 

The wyvern takes a bite at Deigh’s side, but Lenin’s roar catches its whole attention and it turns to spew blue fire at the both of you. Quickly, Lenin nods his head up and you jump with the momentum. You dive away from the stream of fire and cling onto Deigh who cries into the night with a strangle roar. 

“Go, Dagger! Do what you must! I will distract this one!” Lenin tells you and he banks right with the wyvern chasing after him. Meanwhile you pressed your hands onto Deigh’s red scales and looked at the bite marks on his side. The bleeding, you need to stop it. 

You closed your eyes and found the thread connecting Liam and Deigh. It’s beautiful, what the bond between them is like. You touch it and reach out to Deigh, cloaking yourself from Liam’s mind. 

“I’m going to stop your bleeding.” 

You opened your eyes and a trail of flames went from your hands to the wounds on Deigh’s side. Then your head felt like it was spinning out of control. Your skin started to itch. Your eyes unfocused and focused on your fiery hands. 

“Stop! You’re going to burn out!” Deigh shouts at you, but you don’t pay attention to his warning. No, you only press further and the fire burns Deigh, stopping his bleeding. You hear your brother shout at you, yet the blood rushing to your head drowns him out. 

“Fly now!” The command leaves your lips and Deigh senses the wyvern much like you did. They were coming after you and one with a staff has a cruel smirk on his face, standing on top of his wyvern. An abomination, Deigh growls and takes cover into the clouds. 

His wings carry him higher and higher into the moonlit sky. You can hear the sound of the flapping over the pounding in your head which makes you think it's a good sign. Then when you catch your breath you tell Deigh, “Liam has to jump. When he takes control, I need you to keep him seated. No matter what I say or do.” 

“What about you? You think I will be okay with-”

“You were supposed to die right there,” You stand on his back, balancing yourself with expertise. “That wyvern was supposed to take a chunk out of you, but since Lenin grabbed its attention, it didn’t bite hard enough to kill you. No, now it’s focused on my dragon, on the bond I worked hard on to keep with a loyal friend. My Cloak is fighting for his life and I plan on saving him as his Dagger. Your job is to protect my brother, Deigh. That’s all I want.” 

Deigh’s chest rumbles with resignation. He banks right then dives at a slight angle and you look up to see Tairn flying over. Your heart pounds and Liam jumps off the side of Tairn and your hands immediately find his warm ones. 

Warm. He’s warm and alive. 

“Don’t ever jump like that again!” Of course the first thing you do to tell him you love him is shout at your poor sibling. Your arms wrap around him and you can feel his heart beating through his flesh. It can bring tears to your eyes knowing you completed one of your goals tonight. 

You move away from the seat of Deigh and let Liam take the reins of his dragon. Liam shakes his head and shouts back at you, “Me? You jumped too and might I add over fire!” You want to laugh. Laugh because you did it. You saved Liam. He’s speaking to you, yelling at you. He’s on the back of his dragon. 

“I know what I’m doing, Liam!” You crouch behind him and place your hands on his shoulders. “Tell Deigh to climb a bit higher! I need all the air I can get!” 

Reach the moon, you want the sad gaze to lull you to sleep when you fall into the abyss. 

“Are you crazy? It’s hard enough to breathe already!” Liam shouts, but you sense the wyvern behind you. There’s a trio and the main one is being led by a smirking venin, power hungry and wanting to drain you. Then Deigh does as you tell because he won’t throw away the second chance you gave him and his rider. It’s not right. 

Fuck, this is the moment and you are so damned afraid. You’re leaving your family behind with nothing, but this memory of you. All they’re going to remember is how you left them. How you fought alone to save them. 

“Liam,” You began and swallowed the rock in your throat. You won’t show fear to your younger brother. He needs to see your strength. Your love for him. Liam needs to tell Sloane that you fought bravely for them. You grasped the floating dagger over your shoulder and stared at the green tint of the blade. “Give this to Sloane when she learns how to kick ass.” 

When you turned and made eye contact with Liam, he gave you wide eyes which made him look goofier with the goggles on. You couldn’t help, but laugh at his expression. It reminds you of how all of you made fun of each other when you tried on goggles for the first time. 

…

“Bodhi, just put them on!” Imogen shouted. 

He hasn’t stopped laughing at you or Imogen. 

“Hell no, you two look like mad fucking healers!” 

…

“Why the fuck are you laughing?” Liam’s irritated tone reached your ears and you rolled your eyes at how dramatic he is. You grabbed his hand and shoved the dagger into his grip, “Because you look fucking stupid.” You weren’t wrong, he did look ridiculous. 

But this is your last moment with him. You don’t want to spend it on sibling squabble. 

“They’re not after you now. They want me and if that’s what they really want, I’m taking them down with me.” 

“Down with you?” Liam asks and you can see the answer flash across his mind. In denial, he shoves the dagger into your chest. “No way. We can work together!” Not happening, you saved his dragon while putting yours in danger. There is no world where you work together with anybody right now. You will not stray from the path that will save Lenin. 

“So you can give this to Sloane yourself.”

Sloane. Thinking about her brings a smile to your face. Your little sister will understand when she reads the letters. She’ll know more about you than anybody else. It’s going to be her understanding of you that will create a connection. 

You stand up and rain begins to pour. You take one step back then another. Memorizing his features. The way his eyes crinkle in sadness, the frown that forms when he calls out your name. He moves to stand, but Deigh does as you asked him to earlier. 

Liam’s begs make your heart ache. “Don’t do this! I can’t watch my sister do this! Sloane would never forgive me! Let me fight with you.” Sloane will forgive him and maybe you’re being a little selfish, but you think this is the right choice. For him to live and to tell her the hard truth of how you went out. Better him to tell her than the other way. 

Liam is stronger than you and more empathetic. He will tell her what she wants to know. You wouldn’t be able to do it. 

You glare at the venin, his attention glued onto you entirely. You tear the goggles off your eyes and toss them off to the side. You want to at least look good when you fight this bastard. 

“[Name]! There has to be another way!” 

You sighed and fist the karambit in your hand, “This is the only way.” Taking off into a sprint, you make your way down Lenin’s back- No, Deigh’s. You abandoned Lenin a long time ago it seemed. “Don’t do this!” Liam shouts and you start to miss his kind voice. You start to miss his smiles. 

When Deigh flicks his tail upward and you jump with it, you cloak yourself into the night. The venin searches for you, but it has no luck. You landed right behind him and carefully watched him look for you. It twists and it turns, then he cackles. 

“Hide all you want, little witch!” It raises its staff and aims it at Deigh, “Let’s see if this will catch your attention.” 

Reacting quickly you knock the venin down on his ass with a swing of your leg. But the rain and the wriggling of the wyvern makes you slip yourself. Yet you focus on Deigh and cloak your brother and his dragon. Then you stab your dagger into the wyvern’s back making it screech in pain. 

The venin looks in your general direction and lunges at you. His arms wrap around your neck and he pulls back making you let out a choked sound. You struggle to hold onto your spot, your dagger digging downward into the wyvern’s flesh as the venin pulls onto you. 

“Fall with me! Let’s have our dance in the sky!” The venin yells and digs a sharp blade into your side. You cry out in pain and your eyes close in uncomfort when he twists it inside you. 

When he locks one arm around your neck holding you into a tight headlock, the rain pelts your face like soft kisses and you are suddenly reminded that you should not be struggling to live. You’re going to die. The point you wanted to make was dying for the ones you love. 

Showing them that even though they forgot about you, you never forgot about them. 

You raise your [dominant] hand up, taking the dagger out of the wyvern’s flesh. At once, you and the venin holding onto you slide down the wyvern’s body easily with the rain. Your breath gets knocked out of your lungs when you officially plummet. 

Yet the Venin holds onto you tightly and the both of you spin out of your control. He cackles and takes the knife out of your side. The blood that leaves your body paints the sky with a long trail quickly being washed away by the rain that falls. 

Lightning strikes in the dark sky light up the darkness and suddenly the venin flips you so you’re looking at the earth. You can see your friends still fighting against the wyvern this one venin controls. 

“To think you have this much power and you haven’t awakened yet. Such a shame, I really looked forward to draining you. But I guess I’ll deal with what I got right now and don’t rely too heavily on your beast to save you. He has his own problems to worry about.” 

Your eyes move over to Lenin as he takes on two, three wyvern on his tail. 

Tairn! The time is now! 

You shout in the connection the Riot shares together by accident only wanting to reach the black dragon. Multiple voices come back from Sgaeyl, Deigh, Glane, Cuir, and Chradh. They question what you mean, but Tairn silences them with a growl. 

She’s not ready. 

He replies to you and only you, making the connection between you and him a bit brighter than the Riot’s. You close your eyes and find it blinking in the darkness. Grabbing onto it, you open your eyes and tell him, “Tairn, you have to get as many dragons to fight the wyvern off for him. Show Violet how badly Lenin is fighting to get to me and that only she can save him by killing this venin. Everyone knows at this point the only way to kill them is to kill their riders.” 

Tairn’s only response to you is to end the connection. The light turns off and you clench your teeth in bitter anger. Then you focus on the venin who is still monologuing. Like he knows he has the upper hand while the both of you free fall. 

“I’m tired of listening to your stupid fucking voice,” You growl out and knock your head back. You hear the impact of its nose crunching and the venin curses at you. His arm around your neck weakens and you take this opportunity to get out of the headlock. Making quick work, you push his arm away from you and before his body can drift from yours, you grab onto his robe and tug him towards your chest. 

“I will kill you!” He shouts. 

You swing your head forward, headbutting into his already broken nose and he cries out in pain again. The poison from his dagger is working into your system. It burns into your skin and your fingers tingle with numbness. The lightning behind him, high in the sky, crackles with a silent announcement. 

An insane grin finds its way on your face and the pride you felt for Violet when she learned your technique kicks in. Because now she’s aiming at the venin. She has the shot. You hold onto the struggling venin tightly. “No, you won’t. But she will.” He looks up and struggles in your weakening grip. Not wanting to lose your hold on him, you wrap your legs around the venin and make him watch the lightning gather above the two of you. You hold him in a headlock and he shouts at you, “Stupid witch! You’re going to kill the both of us!” 

You laugh despite the poison in your body burning your insides, “That’s the fucking plan!” 

“I’ll kill you before anything strikes me!” He shouts and raises his arm with the dagger high into the sky. 

“Fuck you!” You grunted when he jabs the knife into your right thigh. He twists it so you could let go of him, but you’re not weak. You’re strong-willed, courageous, hopeful and your life is worth saving three others. You will not yield in the face of death. No, you welcome Malek with determination demanding that he take you along with the venin in your hold. Take you instead of Lenin, Liam and Deigh. 

The lightning came fast. Too fast for you to understand that it already hit you and killed the venin. Your karambit spun in slow motion above you, washed clean of any blood. You wanted to grab it, you had to grab it. 

“[Name]!” 

You barely heard Xaden yell your name in the storm. But you could feel the sadness all around you. Then you heard Lenin’s whine reverberate in the valley, it broke your heart and you coughed out a strangled sob. This is for the ones you love and the ones you left behind. The moon held you in his sad gaze and his song lulled you to sleep. 

“[Name]!” You opened your eyes and saw Imogen crying over you, “Stay awake! We’ll take you to Brennan, okay? Just stay with us!” 

When did she catch you? 

“You’re going to be fine, don’t talk like that!” She shouted at you. But you don’t recall telling her anything. You can’t even feel your lips moving, let alone form any thoughts to tell her anything. Although there is a lot you want to tell her. 

Yet your eyes felt heavy and any words that formed on your tongue were left unsaid as you took your last breath. 

……

XADEN 

“She’s still breathing! But the venin stabbed her and the poison is spreading fast!”

Imogen’s words, they gave me hope that [Name]’s vision was false. That her sacrifice didn’t need to come true in order to save her dragon or her brother’s life. She’s still breathing in Imogen’s arms and I have never dismounted Sgaeyl in such a desperate fashion. 

Shadows follow me wherever I go, very much like death and he stands next to me as Sgaeyl’s voice carries through the bond. Her sadness for the loss hits me enough to stop me in my tracks. 

“She’s gone, Shadow. Leninach confirmed it with Glane. Dagger is gone.”

Gone. 

[Name] left me behind. No matter what I tried to do, lessen the work to save the civilians, find her while she’s cloaked or even diving in to save Lenin. She left me behind to confront our enemy. She went by herself to save Liam, leaving me with the shit choice of either protecting the civilians or her. 

“Xaden, please!” Imogen begs. Her yearning voice for my help brings me back to the rain. The pitter patter sound against our surroundings grounds me now. 

“Imogen, she’s gone.”

These words that left my mouth, I never thought I would say them. Especially for the woman I fell so hard in love with. What am I supposed to do without her? How can I carry on knowing that she died because a Sorrengail ended her life with one strike. Am I supposed to be grateful that when I go back to Basgaith that I’ll be graduating so I don’t have to see her in Liam or Sloane? Or see her standing proud next to Lenin? 

Imogen’s denial only makes her spiral and the earth beneath us rumbles when Lenin makes himself known. He approaches Imogen with a sad look in his mismatched eyes. The shadow he cast over me lets me think as he has a conversation with Imogen through the mated bond connection. 

Something I share with Violet. 

“What’s the reason for killing her?” 

I can feel Violet reaching back to me, her voice regretful and soft, “Xaden, I didn’t-” 

“I wasn’t speaking to you.” I snap and Tairn lowly growls inside my head, his annoyance reaching to me like a coiled snake. “I don’t need to explain the reason.” His ignorance to my loss makes the shadows move frantically under Lenin’s protection. I want to challenge Tairn, to make him answer me, yet his voice comes back with an answer I was afraid to hear. 

“She asked me to do this before we took flight at the college. Dagger planned this all along to save my son’s life. She did this to save Lenin and The Silver One was the only way of doing this. Her sacrifice saved three lives, she did what she wanted to.” 

“Xaden.” 

I look up from [Name]’s back to meet with green eyes. 

“Lenin wants you to take [Name] to her resting place. He will light her fire.” 

Resting place. 

Imogen telling me this makes [Name]’s drawing flash in my memory. The pretty flowers and the trees surrounding the meadow of peace. Tairn is right. [Name] planned for this, all of it. I can’t just wrap my head around it and accept it so easily like the dragons do. They wouldn’t do the same if Lenin was lost to this battle. Sgaeyl would be hell bent on avenging her son. Like I want to be right now. I want to rewind time, kill the venin that threatened [Name]’s beautiful life. 

She’s my cloak of shadows and I let her slip through my hands. 

My love. I told you that I would come back. And when I do, you can bet that I will stay.

[Name] said it with so much passion. Hearing her voice echo in my head gives me some kind of hope that she would come back to me. That something in her witchly power will bring her back to me. But for now, I will do what Lenin wants and what she wants. To bring her to her resting place and have him light her fire. 

“We’re going home.” 

Everyone looks at me and I nod my head to their suspicions of what home I was talking about. Violet looks up at Tairn and her eyes widened in surprise when he tells her what I mean by it. When I walk back to Sgaeyl, I stop by Liam who stands up, wiping his tears from his blue eyes. 

“Your sister plans to rest in the meadow. I know this is the last thing you want to talk about when your sister is gone, but I need you to keep Violet away from him for as long as you can while I prepare for [Name]’s passing. Can you-” 

No. I’m done ordering Liam around. 

“Do you want to do it? If not, I can ask Bodhi to watch over her while he gets his arm mended by him.” 

Liam takes a deep breath and nods his head, “I want to do it. Just tell me one thing, and I need to know the truth.” He looks over at Violet then to Garrick who lifts [Name]’s body from the ground. Imogen cries some more watching her best friend stay limp. It tears another thread in my heart. Drops to my stomach and burns in the acid. 

Lenin is allowing you to climb him. He wants to have one more flight with her. 

I barely catch what Imogen tells Garrick and it hurts me to hear it. Lenin’s last flight with [Name]. 

“What is it?” I ask Liam, bringing his eyes back onto me. 

“It’s stupid to ask this, but do you think you can still love her after she’s dead?” Liam runs his hand through his wet hair and frustratedly speaks to me, “I mean she loved you so much that she fought alone to keep you alive. To keep me alive. To keep her dragon alive. All of it seemed like she planned this for months and she still did it despite knowing the outcome. She loved us enough to die for us. So I’m asking as her brother, will you continue to love her?”

He’s asking if I will love his dead sister or love Violet when time passes and I get over [Name]’s death. But this is something he will not understand. [Name] will come back. She made a promise to me in my room. I loved her when she was alive and I will love her in death. 

“She’s all I want, Liam. I don’t see myself with the Sorrengail that killed my girlfriend. I see myself marrying [Name], having the strongest dragons at our sides, winning this war and having a family. No one else can take that from us. Not even death.” 

[Name] will conquer death and while she does, I will wait for her return. No matter how long it takes for her to come back. 

I’ll wait. 

Wait. And wait. Days. Months. Or years. I will keep waiting for her to return to me with open arms.

..............

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬: @luvly-writer @blueeclipsepaperstudent @honethatty12 @poeticbookwormcat @cheappremingerfromdelululand @eep500 @littlepippilongstocking @86laura11 @lxnvmvrzx @what-will-be-your-verse @sheblogs @fangirling-galore @callsigns-haze @side-angel @faeofthemoonandstars @jesschalamet @abysshaven @bisexualbitchsgotass @books-hlmc @r0sluvs @galaxystern08 @bwormie @littleemissperfecttt @lagrandeourse @steph-fowlie @casiiopea2 @nisarelle @matrixmoxi @eepyfaerie @thegirlwiththepurpleshelves @smileysunshinesworld @brieflyclassymortal @noonenuts @nikfigueiredo

[idyllwave]

aeon & bird & arrow 5

yandere!aeon!phainon x fem!reader x yandere!mydei

taglist

@reapersan @lollipipz

Phainon couldn’t stop staring at you. He memorized the way you smiled, noted the way that your eyes would crinkle when he said something funny. And your laugh… he could listen to it for ages. And he loved the way you talked, he could pick out the way your voice falls over each syllable as you told him about your village, it’s people, and about yourself.

“How about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, silly. Who exactly is Phainon besides a knight in shining armor?”

He couldn’t remember the last time someone cared to ask about himself. He didn’t even know anyone who would even bother to ask, but here you were proving him wrong.

Phainon, of course, wasn’t his true name, but he felt like it was a name that he wanted you to call him by. But he did tell you other things. His home birthplace, how he traveled from one city to another, and how he currently has a small home in Castrum Kremnos … while leaving out the part that he was actually the aeon looking over the place and helping them win the war that was going on right now.

Though, you didn’t seem to mind how secretive he was about some parts of his life. That, or you didn’t notice. What he also didn’t expect was all your questions you would ask about the various places he’s been to which he would happily answer to in kind.

Then there was the pie you made. He couldn’t remember the last time someone cooked for him. And it was so good too. Granted, you could have given him anything and he would still think it tasted amazing.

He honestly wanted to talk with you forever, but … he could already sense someone approaching.

“Y- you!”

Laios. What an interesting fellow. Phainon honestly didn’t think he would come back. Maybe he should have killed him after all. And before he could stand to confront the man, you had beat him to it and stood in front of him instead. Your hands resting on your hips as you flared at Laios.

“Move out of my way.”

“No, you’ve bothered both me and Phainon enough.”

Laios sneered, “how am I not surprised? The moment a man shows you even a bit of kindness you’re already opening your-“

He froze, you both did when that familiar feeling clawed at you both.

“Finish that sentence,” Phainon said as he stood up and ushered you into his arms, one of his hands pressing gently against your head to make you lean against him.

“Well?”

You couldn’t move as your cheek pressed against his chest. Your hands uselessly reaching to grab ahold of his coat as your heart stuttered loud with each beat against your rib cage. What was this feeling? It was even worse than in your shop. Was it coming from Phainon? It had to be-

Laios stumbled back and fell to the ground, “what- what even are you?!”

“Leave and pray you never find out.”

Laios looked at Phainon, then at you before struggling to get up and running away. It was probably the fastest you have ever seen him leave. And as soon as he was out of eyesight, that pressure disappeared and it felt like you could breathe again. And, of course, you had even more questions, not that you could ask as Phainon was still holding you close. His arm was locked tight around your waist as his other hand was running through your hair.

“P- Phainon?”

He hummed.

You hesitated. Were you even allowed to ask? Would he answer? Would you even like the answer he would give you?

“It’s probably best you don’t ask.”

“And even better if you let her go.”

Yet another nuisance Phainon mused.

“Aren’t you supposed to be fighting a war?”

“There was a break. A temporary ceasefire.”

“How convenient.”

Phainon let you go so you could turn, your eyes widening as your smile returned, “Mydei!”

[angel06babysworld]

Almost a Family

babydaddy!rafe x blackcat!reader

Chapter Four

❀⋆｡˚⋆ฺ｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆｡ฺ⋆˚｡⋆❀

didn’t owe him an explanation. But she gave him one anyway.

“I have plans tonight.”

Rafe looked up from the spot where he was crouched beside Vivi, trying to detangle a Barbie’s hair with half the patience in the world.

He blinked once. “Plans?”

“Dinner.”

“With…?”

She raised a brow. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”

He didn’t say anything. Just nodded, eyes lowering back to the doll like it suddenly needed urgent attention.

“I need you to stay with her,” she said after a pause. “Just for a few hours. She’s already eaten. You just need to get her down by eight.”

“Okay,” he said, too fast. “Of course.”

She didn’t look relieved. Just… tired. Like the weight of asking him for anything still pressed heavy on her chest. Like no matter how many times he showed up lately, she still held her breath waiting for the moment he didn’t.

“She’s been clingy this week,” she added. “If she wakes up, don’t just put a movie on. Talk to her.”

“I always do.”

“I know.”

She lingered near the door. A coat draped over her arm. Lip gloss soft and barely there. Nothing loud. Nothing flashy. Still, she looked different—like someone who remembered she was more than just a mother.

Vivi ran up and hugged her legs. “Where you going?”

“Out,” she said, brushing a hand over her daughter’s curls. “I’ll be back before you wake up.”

“Can Daddy stay ‘til morning?”

Rafe answered before she could. “If you want me to, yeah.”

She didn’t object.

She didn’t say anything else, really—just kissed Vivi’s cheek, grabbed her keys, and left.

The door clicked shut.

And Rafe sat there for a long time after, staring at it like it might open again.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know this would happen.

They weren’t together. She didn’t wear his name. Didn’t ask what he did on nights he wasn’t at the apartment. Didn’t offer up her own answers either.

Still. It felt different now that it was real.

Vivi climbed into his lap with her favorite book, curling up like a cat against his chest. Her voice was sleepy when she said, “You smell like the ocean.”

“Is that good?”

She nodded. “You smell like when I’m not sad.”

Rafe blinked hard, arms wrapping tighter around her.

“Do you think Mommy smells like that too?” she asked.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah, bug. I do.”

They read the book. Brushed teeth. She argued about pajamas and won. He tucked her in, lights off, door cracked.

And then it was just him.

Alone in her space.

He paced once. Sat on the couch. Looked around at the little things—artwork on the fridge, the same mug she used every morning, the basket of folded laundry she never got around to putting away.

His phone buzzed once. A text from Kelce:

“Yo, beer?”

Rafe stared at it. Then typed:

“Can’t. Babysitting.”

“Lame.”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he opened the camera app. Snapped a photo of Vivi asleep. Then stared at it like it might answer something for him.

The front door didn’t open for a long time.

When it did, she stepped in quietly, coat over her arm again, hair pinned back like she’d been picking at it the whole car ride home.

Rafe was still sitting on the couch.

She didn’t look surprised.

“You stayed.”

“You asked me to.”

She nodded. Toed off her shoes. Didn’t speak right away.

Then: “He was nice.”

Rafe didn’t look up. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No,” she said honestly. “It’s not for you to feel anything about.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Was it serious?”

“It was a first date. I left halfway through dessert.”

His head turned now. “Why?”

She shrugged. “He didn’t ask about her.”

Rafe didn’t move, but something in his chest loosened.

“I’ll let myself out,” he said after a beat, standing.

But before he could reach the door, she spoke again.

“Next time, I might not come back early.”

He paused.

“I know,” he said, without turning around.

And then he left—quietly, like always—carrying something heavier than just his keys.

tags: @amelialovesrafe @alyisdead @illumoria @blissfulbutterfliess @sydneysslove @sc04 @matthewswifeyy @meetmeintheemeraldpool @icversvoid @honeyinthesummer @dolli333 @lolabunnyworldss @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @rafessbaby

[sammyquarius]

The JukeJoint

Note: This is part 2 of Beneath the Mississippi. Enjoy

Part 1:

Clarksdale, Mississippi – That Night

The juke joint pulsed with life.

It was loud, packed, and hazy with the sweat of laughter, fried food, and cheap perfume. The sound of blues guitar slid through the air like smoke low, slow, aching. Folks crowded into the small wooden building, their bodies swaying to the music like the whole place was holding its breath and remembering how to breathe all at once.

In the back kitchen, Annie moved like she never left.

Her hands seasoned meat like a memory. Cornmeal battered catfish cracked in hot oil. Steam rose from pots and pans like the past boiling over, and every now and then, she’d glance through the small order window and see Smoke moving through the crowd like a shadow with too much weight on his shoulders.

He hadn’t said much since she agreed to cook. Just gave her that same quiet look, like he didn’t quite believe she was real.

But Annie was real—and so was the attention she drew.

Out in the joint, a tall, caramel-skinned man in suspenders leaned on the bar beside her serving window, watching her with a little too much interest and an easy smile.

“Girl, if I’d known heaven was back in town, I would’ve set up a welcome parade,” he said loud enough for Smoke to hear.

Annie rolled her eyes but didn’t bother hiding the smirk. “Get outta here, Leon,” she called, her tone dry.

“I’m just sayin’, if you cook like that and look like that, Smoke better watch his step.”

Smoke stiffened across the room, glass halfway to his lips. His jaw clenched tight enough to crack the glass if he wasn't careful. Stack saw it right away.

“Oh hell,” Stack muttered, grinning behind his cigarette. “Here come the thunder.”

Smoke didn’t answer. He just kept watching, eyes locked on Annie and the man grinning at her like he had a shot in hell.

Stack nudged his girl Mary beside him. “Better go keep my fool brother from blowing a gasket. You know how he gets.”

Mary arched one perfectly plucked brow, her pink lips twitching with amusement. “He better not say a damn word unless he wants her to walk out again.”

Stack smirked. “I’m just here for the drama. And the hushpuppies.”

Mary smacked his chest and moved toward Annie.

Back in the kitchen, Annie felt the shift before she saw him. Smoke stepped through the swinging door like a storm rolling in off the delta.

“You enjoying the attention?” he asked low, trying like hell to sound casual and failing miserably.

Annie didn’t turn around. “I’m cooking, Smoke. Not auditioning for a man.”

“You didn’t shut it down either.”

That got her to spin around, eyes flashing. “Excuse me?”

Smoke took a step closer. “He was flirting.”

“And?”

“I don’t like it.”

Annie laughed. It wasn’t kind. “You don’t get to like or not like anything, Smoke. You gave that up when you walked away.”

He winced like she’d hit him. Maybe she had.

Before things could go further, Mary stepped in, cool and collected, like she’d been watching from the shadows. “Okay, y’all need to cool it before somebody gets burned,” she said, slipping off her gloves and tying on an apron. “I came to help. Lord knows Stack ain’t doing nothin’ but talking loud and looking pretty.”

Annie’s lips twitched. “You sure you want to be back here with us broken folk?”

Mary shrugged, eyes soft but tired. “Stack and I fight more than we don’t some days. He says he’s tryin’ to protect me, but half the time it just feels like he’s pushin’ me away. Like lovin’ me out loud is something he’s afraid of.” She glanced at Annie, her voice steady. “But I stay. Even when it’s hard. Even when he makes me question if I should.”

Annie blinked, surprised by the rawness in her words.

“We all got our fights,” Mary said gently. “Yours just came back wearing boots and regrets.”

She glanced at Smoke, then gave Annie a quiet nod of sisterhood. “Don’t let the past boss your present. You want to cuss him out, do it. You want to feed him? Do that too. But make sure it’s what you want.”

Smoke stood there, silent, watching the two women find something he couldn’t touch. Something he didn’t have anymore. Not yet.

Stack poked his head in, grinning. “Y’all done? Or should I send for the church elders?”

“Boy, get outta here,” Mary snapped.

“Just making sure nobody’s bleeding.”

Smoke turned to leave, the scent of fried catfish and hard truths thick in the air.

Annie watched him go, heart thudding like a drum in her chest. She didn’t know what would happen tomorrow. Hell, she didn’t know what would happen in the next five minutes. But she had her apron on, her hands full, and Mary beside her.

And for now, that was enough.

Gonna start working on part 3!

Note: For more content follow me on https://www.tumblr.com/sammyquarius

[reverieblondie]

Tiefling man (or men—if you feel like writing multiple) of your choice pinning you to a wall and biting/nipping your throat.

Sorry this took so long! I was kinda taking an unofficial break from request, But now I am back to doing them! So excited! I am very proud of this one I rewrote it from what I originally had so I hope you like it! Also I couldn't think of anything for Dammon so I used @sinkuna / @dark-and-kawaii OC Kieran. I love him so so much!

(Rolan, Cal, Zevlor, and Kieran)

18+ MDNI! Fem Reader, SMUT!

Rolan

Is he… trying to intimate you or eye fucking you? 

As you look over to Rolan, you see him staring at where you are leaning over the front counter, waiting for Cal to get you the scroll you ordered. You are not unaware of Rolans staring problem, but you're never one to back down from a staring contest. So, game on Archmage. 

When you start staring, you notice how Rolan at first seems a bit surprised with how his eyes widen the size of saucers and his skin flushes a bit darker; you think for a second he's going to look away, but then when you smile he seemed to look less tense… 

The longer the silent game went on, the more smug he became; you watched him get comfortable as he leaned against the wall of books with his arms folded and an arrogant smirk on his lips. Then he walked over, never once leaving your gaze. Closer now you watched as his eyes wander over you, his body coming so close to yours, and right as his lips part. He breaks the gaze by looking down at his feet. And you erupt in glee. 

"Ha! Too bad, Rolan, you lose." 

You should have guessed it from the look on his face; he looked so confused and kinda hurt…

Before you could say anything else or even ask, Cal interrupted with a chipper smile and your scroll. Rolan took that moment to move away without a word. You watched as he made his way to the stairs, but before he left, he turned to look over at you one last time, his brow furrowed, his broad shoulders now slumped, and his lips in a prevalent frown. Rolan let out a quick scoff before quickly disappearing up the stairs, leaving you with more questions than answers. 

You wanted to follow after him, but if he was angry, you didn't want to push it. 

"What's the matter with Rolan? Did I interrupt something?" Cal asks, concerned. 

You continue to stare off, baffled, before turning to Cal, "I have… no idea. We were staring-" 

"Oh! You finally noticed?" -huh?  

You turn to him and lift your brow at him to elaborate, "You finally noticed how he looks at you, right?" 

"Um, I thought it was a staring contest… What do you mean how he looks at me?" 

Cal shakes his head with a sympathetic smile, "You have to figure it out; I'm not explaining it. He wouldn't want me to." 

So, you left… but, of course, as you got home, you began to think, and your mind immediately went to Rolan. He was the one staring at you with those keen, bright eyes first. Why did he have to get so angry with you? It had been going so well…

Ugh! This is so frustrating. If he has a problem, why doesn't he just talk to you? He has never had an issue with it before, nagging at you with that… soothing, sexy voice. 

You roll your eyes; this is ridiculous… Maybe you should go talk to him? No! If he has a problem, he has to come to you! And that's exactly why you're going back to sundries to make him have to come to you! 

Sure, it's hours later, and they will be closing the store soon… but Cal still told you where Rolan was hiding for the rest of the night while he dragged Lia out to the tavern for the rest of the night. You're not exactly sure what he had in mind, but you're not complaining about it. 

You walked through the quiet halls of the tower, looking through the endless bookshelves, hoping to run into him. Finally, turning a corner, you see him reading at his desk, his profile so sharp and striking, and his nose. You don't know whether to bop it or ride it. 

Rolan finally peers up from his book, meeting your eyes, and you watch as he jumps, muttering something in a deep infernal. He fixes his posture before walking over to you with a sneer. 

"What are you doing here?" 

You scrunch your face into a matching scowl of your own, "I came to see what your problem is?" 

Rolan looks at you confused, as if you have sprouted a second head before moving back to one of irritation. "My problem? You're the one coming in here unannounced!"

"You're acting weird, I thought we were playing a game." 

Irritatingly, he tilts his head adorably." Game? What are you talking about?" 

You feel a sharp sting in your chest, "Yes… you know, the one you started with your staring." 

Rolans face turns a bright red, "I… I do not stare." 

Rolling your eyes, you're becoming increasingly annoyed with this denial thing. "You stare like you've got a problem." 

You watch as he grits his teeth; you're about to continue making your point in the argument, but you're quickly cut off as he marches over to stare you down. You look up, and it's that same look in his eyes from earlier… but now that he's closer… It looks different. 

"My problem is that you think everything is a game…" He places his hand on your cheek as the other rests against the large shelf behind you, "And when I look at you, I have this… feral urge to make you mine every day." He leans in closer to whisper, "And that's not a game." 

To say you're shocked is an understatement… You feel your pulse race, and your stomach flutter. He places his forehead against yours, "Please say something…"  

Your blood rushes through your body to your lower stomach, and as he moves to lean into your neck, tracing your pulse with his hose and his breath fanning over your sensitive skin.

"Do it…" You say as you touch his chest, feeling his heart racing, and move your hands up to cup his jaw, looking into his golden eyes and his firm lips. "I want to be yours, feel this 'feral urge'" 

You almost want to laugh at that last part; imagining Rolan, someone so composed, going feral, seems like an impossibility. Then you feel his lips against your neck, followed by the feeling of the points on his teeth. The feeling has your body's temperature rise as you cling to his shirt, your thighs tightening the deeper he bites. 

He pulls away before he can break the skin, kissing the dull, deliose pain away as his hands slide down your body to hold onto your hips. You Can't resist yourself as you wrap your legs around his hips and feel his straining length pressing against your sex. The feel of him makes you gasp, and Rolan is quick to catch your lips in a searing kiss swallowing down your moans as he teases your clit through the thin fabric restraining you two. 

The more he ruts against you, the wetter you get, and you can tell from how he begins to whine in his throat he can feel you seeping through the fabric. It doesn't deter him, and he wraps his tail around you and buries himself into your neck. You're begging for him to stop teasing and to split you open on his cock as you reach up to grab one of his horns. 

That's all he needed to hear before he ripped off your soaked panties and bit down on the curve of your neck, letting the trickle of iron fall on his fevered tongue, and his cock teased your quivering entrance, taunting you to beg for more.

Cal

It's another night spending the hours playing drinking games and sharing stories of your recent adventures with your fellow patrons, just waiting for him to walk through the door… You two had been writing letters back and forth since the day you had left, and now, as you make your way back to the city, you're hoping to see him again. 

Your fingers anxiously tap as the noise around you becomes a dull drone of sound, and your eyes stay fixed on the door. Then he walks through; Cal walks in with that friendly smile as he surveys the room. Then his eyes meet yours, and you see how his grin gets a bit brighter, and your heart races a bit quicker. It's hard not to be smitten with him; you have been pining for a while now… but no matter what you do, that dork just can't seem to take the hint. 

Cal weaves through the crowd, and you're quick to stand on your feet to meet him in the middle; as soon as you're in reach, he's lifting you up in a sweeping hug. Yeah, when others do this same embrace, you are quick to dodge, not wanting to be touched, but something about feeling Cal's muscles coil in his arms and feeling the strength of his hands as he slightly squeezes your back, tickling you with the points of his claws. Well, it's just so much better… 

After your little twirl leaves you feeling weightless, Cal is quick to take you to the bar, "I want to hear everything you have gotten into!" 

"You know if you want adventure, you should join me on my next trip. Think Rolan can spare you for one?" 

Cal smiles, tilting his mug around to play with the golden fizz inside, "Well, I would love that, but I'm not much of an adventurer… Maybe I could be the camp guard and help make your meals!" 

Oh, someone needs to wife him up…  -That person could be you if you stop dragging your feet!

You quickly grab his hand and squeeze it, "I think that sounds like a grand idea." 

Time and everything else just seems to disappear when Cals is around; you two get lost in sharing stories and lame jokes. He truly is the best part of this city…  And it turns out you're not the only one who knows this…

Though everything around you sounds just like endless yammering, you hear a sentence that makes your ears twitch. 

"Isn't that the archmages, brother?" 

"Yes, isn't he cute? He's apparently really nice and can practically lift a crate of books with one hand." 

"Think he could throw me around then?"  

No! That's your plan! You throw a glare at the two sudden rivals in the room while also trying not to be noticed by Cal. Lucky for you, he doesn't, but the two staring solely at him don't really notice you either. You need to show that you're his, and there will be no cutting in. While you're racking your brain for an idea, you feel a hand nug your chin up, making you meet Cal's bright eyes. 

"Hey, you look like you're zoning out. Are you ready to leave?" 

You're quick to mutter out a string of nos as you grab onto his arm. Cal tilts his head, confused, but you just go with the first thing you can think of, "I'm sorry… I'm just… cold?" 

"Cold? But the fire is right there?" Cal points to the roaring fireplace stationed nearby, and you're kicking yourself for your lack of awareness, but you will not be deterred! 

"Well… I'm still cold… Could I hold your hands?" You mutter as sweetly as possible. Cal, being the gentleman, doesn't even question it before he grabs your hands with a big smile. Please, gods, don't let your hands get sweaty. 

You feel his thumbs rub slowly over your hands, and you just have to take the plunge, "I wish I had this all the time." 

His thumbs stop before you hear him chuckle loudly. -Okay, not what you were expecting. 

"Yeah, it is pretty nice; I don't have to worry about getting cold as easily." 

That's not what you meant… 

You hang your head down to stare at your boots; why did you have to fall for such a loveable airhead. You thought that was the perfect approach, direct and sweet. But… maybe that's not clear enough. Maybe it's going to have to be you showing him and everyone in here. You're already doing your fair share of public affection by holding his hand, what's a little more. 

So you just go for it and lean into him, pressing a kiss on his cheek. You know your face is beat red by the sheer amount of heat you feel radiating off of you. Building up your nerve, you peer up and see Cal looking surprised, but at least know he finally understands…

Cal just smiles at you with earnest eyes, "You're so sweet, you know that?"

You let go of his hands and slumped against the table, "I'm not trying to be sweet... I'm trying to be alluring... Show you how I feel... to see how you feel..." 

"Re-really?" He sounds surprised, and it only makes your heart squeeze more the damn ditz. "Well, if you want to know how I feel… we should probably go somewhere private." 

Your head pops up, and you see his cheeks a shade of dark red, and he bashfully rubs his neck. 

"Wait, are you saying you like me too?" 

He holds his hand out to you, "Do you want me to tell you? Or do you want me to show you?" 

The choice was clear… 

You retake hold of his hand and let him lead you through the crowd, wearing the proudest smirk on your face. Once alone, Cal gently pins your body to the nearest wall while his tail coils around your thigh as his lips slip against yours. He angles your mouth to open where he lips in his tongue past your lips to tease yours. 

A soft whine slips from your throat as his grip only tightens on you; he parts from your lips and traces your neck with his tongue. "You know how long I have been dreaming of tasting you?" 

"H-how do I taste?" 

Cal pulls back to meet your eyes; he gives you a quick kiss before he drives his fingers underneath the hem of your trousers, "So far? Like the heavens, but I need more to really know." 

With a nod of your head, Cal is sinking to his knees, pulling your pants down over your hips and past your thighs. They are not even to your ankles yet before he is driving his forked tongue over your slick folds and growling into you. You throw your hands up to brace yourself as he sinks his claws into the flesh of your thighs and parts you open on his hot tongue. 

"Just what I thought, definitely sweet…" 

Zevlor

You know what you're doing; you've been doing it for hours just to get him bothered... and much to Zevlors chagrin, it's working. 

It started this morning when he woke up to you wearing his favorite shirt… One of the few that are tattered with rips and holes. Zevlor watched as you pranced around him all morning in that shirt, giving him coffee and making him eggs, but when he would reach for you, you would step away with a smirk. You watched as his face twisted in worry, but you made sure to just shrug it off with a sweet smile. 

"Sorry, Commander, I have errands to run."

Zevlors' brow lifted at the name; he was used to 'darling' or 'my sun,' but 'Commander' was a new one that was definitely making him feel a bit flushed. He could tell you were up to something, and he couldn't help but take the bait. 

"Would you like company, my dear?" 

You let out a long hum like you were actually considering it before you agreed to let him "tag along." By the time you two had made it to the city, he had figured out you were playing a game and acting like a true brat. Walking in front of him and demanding your way? Pouting and huffing at anything that might suggest you wouldn't get your way. He racked his mind, wondering if he might have upset you, but nothing came to mind. What was your deal? 

Well, your deal was simple… Get Zevlor riled up so that he will take care of this newfound brat attitude of yours. It was an idea Shadowheart had given you, and you were excited to see if the famed zero-tolerance hellrider would come out… but he needed a bit of a push. 

You stopped abruptly in his way, making him run into you as your ass pressed against his groin, "I have something for me in there." 

Zevlor watched your pointed finger as you pointed to a fairly unassuming shop, but walking in was a different story… He had never seen such tiny and sheer clothes in one place. Feeling like he would be out of place in a shop clearly not meant for him, he offered to wait outside. But that wasn't going to fly with your plan. 

"Aw? Shy? Come on, I thought you Hellriders were an unbothered brave bunch?" You stepped closer, tracing your finger over his chest. "I got something custom made, you know… I wanted to show you…" 

So there he sat, waiting for you on the other side of the curtain; you, of course, made him wait till you heard his throat clearing, a tic of his to show he was uncomfortable. Once that was heard, you were throwing the curtain back and giving him a preview. A tight corset number that pushed your breast up to be practically spilling out the top and the rest of the outfit? Practically non-existent. A small triangle of cloth covered your mound, and when you turned, your ass was completely exposed. 

"A thong." you simply said with a smile.

It took everything in himself to not dig his nails into you and bend you over. But you two were in public, so he told himself not to wait until he got home, but you were making it hard…

"It's lovely. Are we taking it home today?" you could hear the hope in his voice. 

"No, it's still being worked on," you said matter-of-factly, and it took you everything not to squeal when his face furrowed. 

"Did… you just do this to tease me?" 

You played with your hair as you watched him from the mirror, "I don't know? Is it working?" 

Your fate was sealed. As you two left the shop, you both knew the game that was being played. It was just a manner of seeing when the other would crack. Zevlor was determined to make it home while you were just waiting for the snap.  

As Zevlor watched you stroll through the city, he noted how everything you did seemed to be laced with temptation. Your hips swaying, your eyes lingering, and your lips always in a glossed smirk, practically toying with him. But Zevlor is a gentleman, and though his eyes are currently leering on your ass, he won't just bend you over the nearest cart. You deserve better than that. 

You didn't want better than that. 

As you walk, you realize that your plan isn't working, and it's causing your teeth to grind. There has to be something to get him to scold you or show you any kind of unfiltered desire… Then, a thought flicks into your mind. With a whisper and a flick of your hand, you summon a simple spell, just a random wind gust. Just enough to get some action going…

The sudden gust of wind forces your skirt to fly up as you turn... and there he sees you, completely bare for him... Zevlor can no longer hold himself together.

You watch his face twist from shock to a stern stare before he marches over, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of sight. 

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" he growls from under his breath, making your skin tingle. 

You would be lying if you said you weren't excited about your scolding from the ex-hellrider, but what happened was something you didn't see coming. He led you through the alley to the shadows. Zevlor is quick to press you to the nearest wall with his body pinning you in place. His full lips so close and his glowing eyes furrowed, you parted your lips to continue to taunt, but the words were cut from your throat as you were spun to face the wall and not your Commander. 

"I've had enough of your teasing..." his rich voice husked into your ear as his hands frantically lifted the back of your dress. 

You whimper as the cool air breezes across your exposed ass, "Teasing? I don't know what you could possibly-" 

A hot slap strikes across your ass, making you gasp into the stone wall. 

Zevlors hand caresses your flushed flesh, "Please continue to lie if you want to bend over my knee. You have been teasing me, haven't you?" 

You nod, and it's another slap to your ass that makes your eyes roll to the back of your skull, "Your words, please." he demands. 

"Yes, I- I wanted my commander's attention…" 

The weight on your back eases, and you turn to look at him over your shoulder; you see him with a smile that makes your knees weak. Then a flicking over your clit as you're keening and curling forward at the intensity.  

Zevlors hands spread across your ass, digging his hands into your flesh … "If you want my attention, you shall have it." 

His hand joins his tail, parting your slick folds and teasing your entrance, while the other works at the laces on his trousers, "Now, what should I do with such a brat?" 

"The spanking was doing something…" 

His trousers drop, and you feel his lips on your skin as he brushes aside your hair and his index and middle fingers push into your quivering hole with a painful, slow cadence. He is going to make you beg by the end of this, isn't he? 

"You're lucky I don't have my belt today." He curls his fingers in you, finding the spot that has your toes curling and your breaths picking up. "But I can figure out other ways to make you listen." 

Needless to say, your plan worked perfectly.

Kieran

Your nails dig into your palms as you press yourself further against the tavern's dark wall. You're a room away from everyone else, just like he planned…

Kieran's sharp teeth shine even in the darkness, and he watches your nerves take over your body. He traces his finger over your racing pulse, "How come every time I see you, you get all shy? You think I'm going to hurt you?" 

It's true since you met him, you have always claimed up in his presence. Maybe it's because of his striking beauty… or his reputation… The other servers warned you of his cruel tendencies. So you tried to keep a distance, but that must have made him want to seek you out more. Taunting and toying at you, and now he's got you alone and pinned.

 “Well… I…” 

He steps closer, bringing his arms to cage you against the wall. You look up to see him smiling, and his eyes glow. Gods, why is he so handsome? He could be the man of your dreams if he didn't have such a reputation. 

"Well, now you're trapped, so answer my question? Do you think I'm going to hurt you?" 

Your body shakes, and your thighs tighten, "Yes…" 

He brings his lips to your ear, "Yeah? You might be right…" 

Then you feel his teeth sink into your neck. You squirm in his hold at first, terrified, but as he bites down, he leans further into you, soothing you with his body heat and the feeling of his hands sliding from your chest down to your ass, pulling up your dress. The pain dulls into a bliss that has your body feeling like you're floating. You don't even notice how your panties are moved to the side by your own hand, touching yourself. Kieran parts from your neck to watch you with a grin. His tail coils around your ankle as you move your hand faster and faster against your sex. 

You don't know if it's a spell or if it's your desire… but you can't stop yourself from wanting him. Before you can reach your bliss, he moves your hand away, looking at the slick coating of your fingers. He laughs at you at first, making your chest cramp up in shame, and then you watch as he licks your fingers clean. 

"Spread your cunt for me, shy girl…" He lifts your body off the ground with your legs spread open wide. You hold tightly onto his neck, digging your nails into his skin, fearful he will drop you. 

Your skirt is trapped up your hips, and your stockings are ripped from his hands, scratching your sensitive skin. Then you feel something thick and hot slap against your quivering cunt. It has you getting slicked and holding on tighter. 

"W- Wait, what if someone hears?" 

He chuckles as he slaps his cock against you again, "Don't be loud, and we won't have a problem…" He licks the shell of your ear as he slowly splits you on his length, "But I bet I can make you scream." 

[samwincheekster]

Professor Sam Winchester (Part Two)

Read part one here

There it was again. That look he gave you. That certain flicker in his eyes whenever he caught a glimpse of you whether it was in class, along the campus hallway or from across the bustling cafeteria. It wasn’t something that caused you discomfort, but rather… intriguing. There was something about him that set him apart from all the professors in the campus. Something that lingered to you long after he had passed by.

The door clicked, as you closed it. You slung your backpack over the shoulder and turned towards his desk. He waited there, sitting against the edge, arms folded across his chest. You wondered why he called you, though his calm, inviting body language suggested that you weren’t in any trouble. His eyes followed you closely, studying your every move as you approached.

“Have a seat,” he gestured towards the chair in front of him. You nodded and put your bag down to sit.

You looked up at his towering figure against his desk. He leaned in slightly, closing the distance between you.

“You need to talk to me, Professor?” you asked, voice laced with curiousity.

A gentle smile curled up his lips, yet there were underlying thoughts you could feel lingering behind his expression.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “I can’t help but notice that you’ve been taking this class very seriously. As a matter of fact, you’re actually the top of the class,” he said but with a note of questioning instead of a simple praise.

You were surprised to hear it. You only took the mythology class as a way to be a better hunter… nothing more. Still, a flicker of pride stirred in your chest, laced with disbelief. “I… I am?” you replied, eyes widening slightly.

A slight chuckle escaped his lips. “Yeah. Seriously, I’m impressed. Your work ethics, your knowledge, your essays…” he pushed himself off his desk to walk around you. His steps slow and deliberate, “…in fact, your work felt almost… real. Almost like… you lived through it.”

You could feel his eyes burned on the back of your head at the last word as he circled you. Does he…know? No, he couldn’t. “It’s just… I’m just interested in your lessons. I like learning,” you responded, trying to steady your voice and burying your nerves. He came full circle, stopping directly in front of you. His gaze locked on you, searching.

“I’ve seen your notes, y/n. Those are the things that never appeared in any of my syllabus,” His eyes searched yours, waiting for an answer. Confirmation, denial, anything. This time, your nerves caught in your throat and you tried to swallow it away.

“Professor, is there a reason you actually wanted to talk to me?” You asked in hope to uncover his true intention.

You could see his expression softened and he treaded carefully for the next words that he was about to say. “I’ve watched you, for a while… I’ve seen the signs,” he began quietly. “At first, it was just normal exhaustion on your face in my morning class. Then, I began to see more. The scar behind your neck you try to hide, that worn, monster journal you carry everywhere, and then one thing…” he pointed his one finger up, “…one thing that finally sealed it all…” He gave you a gentle, searching look, making sure you were following him.

“What is it?” you whispered as your heart started hammering in your chest.

“The tattoo. The anti-possession mark on your lower back,” he smirked with a playful raised eyebrows this time.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks and you pulled your shirt down instinctively. “How did you see that?”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips when he knew that he caught you. “You should really be careful when you bend down in my class,” he tilted his head with a subtle grin.

“You… you know about anti-possession marks,” you said in disbelief. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to piece the puzzles together.

He then unbuttoned the top of his shirt and pulled down to expose the top of his left pec. “I got one too.”

You stood up from your chair abruptly when realization flooded through you. Everything started to make sense now. His knowledge, his sharp focus, the familiar flicker in his eyes.

“You’re a hunter,” the words slipped out with certainty. Your voice laced with full confidence.

“Retired. I was a hunter,” he corrected you.

“That’s why you knew… That’s why you were watching me,” you said softly.

Your words seemed to catch him off guard. Sure, that was a big part of why he watched you, studying you throughout the semester. However, that wasn’t the only reason. Truth was, he enjoyed seeing you. Your presence had always comforted him in the midst of his mundane routine life. He averted his gaze and cleared his throat.

“Look, I’m not here to tell you what to do with your life,” he shifted into a more serious tone, trying to shake that initial thoughts. “I’m not gonna lecture you about how you’re still young and how dangerous it is because trust me, I’ve been there. No one was gonna stop me too.”

You slowly sat back down, your head hung low.

“So you can walk out of here, pretend this conversation never happened or…” his voice lingered. Your face rose up at the shift of his voice. “…you can tell me about the case you’re currently working on.”

“How do you know I’m working on a case?” Your eyes widened in surprise.

He chuckled softly. “I told you I’ve been watching you. You’ve been more exhausted than usual. You’re three days late on your assignment.” His smirk grew, pleased to know that he caught you once more. “I know what it means…”

You slowly stood up, closing the distance with a guarded stance. “It’s attacking the students in dreams,” your walls crumbled and finally opened up. “Different witnesses reported the same patterns of night terrors and draining the victims.” You shook your head, trying to make sense of it. “But they have no memory of it when they wake up.”

Then, you pulled your journal out of your bag, flipping it open to show him the notes and research you’d compiled. He skimmed through the pages carefully.

“These are really good. You really know what you’re doing,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice, making you smile faintly. “I notice you’ve also been carrying a weapon. A dagger isn’t it?”

You reached into your jacket and pulled out your silver dagger. “I carry this everywhere.” You held it up, the sleek design catching the light and glinting sharply in your hand. Sam watched in silent awe.

“May I…?” He held out his hand close to yours, his fingers lightly brushing on your knuckles. You carefully place it in his hand.

For the first time, you saw the crack of his professor facade slowly fade away. There was fire and passion burning in his eyes as he flipped the blade effortlessly in his hand. A smirk played at his lips. That wasn’t your professor anymore. That was a true hunter.

“Careful, Professor. It’s sharp,” you said teasingly.

The smirk lingered as he tilted his head towards you, his hand still holding the dagger effortlessly. “It’s Sam now,” he said and carefully placing it back in your hand.

“Okay… Sam,” you said, surprised that his name felt natural on your lips.

“So, when do we start?” He smiled, eyes meeting yours.

You smiled back in response, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Tonight.”

I hope y’all enjoyed the part two! I started giggling and kicking my feet when writing this. I hope you felt the same way eheh. I’m not sure if I’m gonna continue or not since I like the open ending here but if enough people ask then maybe I’ll continue.

Tags: @youareheaven @sepho @myceliumsunshine

[crook3d-man12]

The bathroom door is unlocked so when I open it, I'm surprised to see someone inside. He's standing there, leaned against the sink. Eyes red and glossy, mouth drooly, speech slurred when he tries to question my presence.

I think I know him; he's like two or three years younger than me. "Hey, kid. Are you okay?" I place my hand on his back to try and steady him. "I'm just really, I think I'm really high."

He's babbly and maybe a little confused. He's so crossfaded right now. He might not be able to get home like this. He's vulnerable and weak in this state and I'm barely tipsy.

The thought of his boycunt makes my mouth water. I reach back and lock the door. He doesn't even notice. He also doesn't protest when I lay my hands on him again. One on his back, the other on his waist so I can turn him to face me.

"Whata you doing?" he asks before my lips collide with his forcing a kiss out of him, my tongue slips into his dry, liquor flavored mouth. He lets out a strangled noise before weakly trying to shove me away. I walk him back to the wall and hold him against it.

My mouth moves hungrily against his. The boy moves his head to pull away from me. I kiss his neck and lick at the soft skin there. I grope his tits and pull his shirt up so I can see them. They're cute, big and soft in my palms and his nipples are pink and soft.

I lean down to suck one into my mouth. He lets out a soft whimper of a noise as I lick at his cute nipple. The other seems neglected and I switch over to it. Another noise escapes him, this one is a little louder. No one will be able to hear anything I do to him over the thumping music. I tug his shirt over his head.

"W-wait, I don't... Leave me alone." My hands are already undoing his pants. Once I can yank them down and see his soaked cunt I smile. "You don't want this?" I question, slipping my hand between his thighs, "Why are you so wet then, sweetie?"

He swallows hard, trying to think of an answer. But he can't think of one before my finger circles his clit. "Yeah, that's it." His head falls forward onto my shoulder.

He's muttering about how he doesn't want me to do this. I doubt that he'll even remember this in a few hours. So, I of course have to use him while I can. I turn his body around and bend him over the sink. Jesus, he's so wet he's dripping and when I line my tip up with his entrance, he tenses up and lets out a choked yell as I shove my cock in his tight hole.

I'm balls deep and he's fluttering around me. "You're so tight. You're a virgin, huh?" The boy whines as I begin to thrust into him. It isn't long before he's moaning loudly and practically drooling into the sink.

"Wait, stop. I-I don't want... Please!" His protests are cut short by a sharp cry before he's cumming all over my cock, shaking from overstimulation. I don't stop ramming his cute pussy, he cums again on my cock, slick gushing down over my shaft.

I slam him hard, snapping my hips sharply. My thrusts become erratic and he starts to cry, babbling incoherent words between wet sobs and the slap of my balls on his cunt. "Yeah, that's right baby. You take my cock so good."

My cock twitches as I fill him with my hot seed. A loud moan erupts from him as he cums hard again. This time he slumps against the sink, letting me rut into him until my balls are empty. When I pull out he sobs.

His legs are essentially useless to him. I tuck my dick in my pants and wipe up his poor pussy. He'll definitely be sore in the morning. Especially after I feed him a few more drinks and take him back to my place.

[vicolette]

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐞𝐭 !

– Warnings : English isn’t my first language, uses of y/n & pet names, storms, not proofread

"Already?"

"Yes, already." You replied to his whiny complaints, his arms tightening their hold around your waist as Marc pulled you closer and didn’t let you stray away from him just yet. It has been a while since you had last seen each other, and now you had to go.

In Marc's mind, he thought that you needed to go, because you simply couldn’t resist his charm and attraction – which was exaggerated, but the truth. In his mind.

"Not yet…" He repeated for the thousandth time, which was also exaggerated, but you had never experienced Marc being such a clingy person. Sure, he liked physical touch and occasionally hugged you without any reason, but now?

Now, Marc had you caged within his arms and had a tight grip on you, his face hidden in your shoulder as his chest was pressed against your back. He didn’t care if it was too late, probably around ten in the evening, or if your parents wanted you home.

You felt safe in his arms. He felt safe with you in his arms.

"Just a little bit longer, then my father can drive you back." Before you could reply and argue back, saying that you didn’t want to disturb his parents this late, you heard something happen.

All of a sudden, a thunderstorm was audible from outside, followed by another one, which was much louder.

Marc had seen the prediction of the weather early in the morning today, so he wasn’t so surprised, even if he hadn’t thought that it would have been this bad. Meanwhile, your fear of storms made your heart race faster by each passing second, looking at his window before a lightning appeared.

As you squirmed and moved within his arms, Marc looked down at you and raised an eyebrow at how afraid you seemed, thinking that it was just pure shock from the moment. However, when you kept your face hidden from everything and pulled him closer, his eyebrows furrowed.

He gave it some time to let you talk, to tell him if you needed something or if you were truly scared. When you had yet to responded to him, Marc gave it some thought as to whether or not he should be allowed to still force you stay in his arms.

He quickly got an answer when he had tried to unwrap his arms around your waist, only for you to pull him closer – or yourself – impossibly near him. Marc seemed surprised, with a raised eyebrow and his lips slightly agape, yet no words left from his mouth.

Silence stretched over the room, if you excluded the noise from outside of the storm happening, until you finally spoke up. "… are you scared?"

"Me?" Marc laid down in a more comfortable position, which was to just lay on the mattress on his back and have you on top of him, slowly stroking your lower back with his fingertips. "Nah, not really."

A few seconds passed, and when he saw that you were only getting more anxious by the minute, Marc decided that enough was enough. "But I was as a kid."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Like, really scared." Empathizing the word 'really', Marc started to tell you a story about how he had always clung to his mother whenever there was bad weather, even reminding himself of the time when he couldn’t go back home due to an extreme weather and then had to sleep over at his cousin’s house, which was the only good thing about that.

Over time, you slowly loosened your grip on his shirt and listened throughout his speech, even if you eventually heard a few more lightnings and hugged him tightly.

"You're scared, aren’t you?" The question made you tense up, having thought that you were perfectly hiding it away from him. He merely rolled his eyes at you, amused by the foolishness of the situation. "Please, you’re literally trembling."

"Oh, shut up!" You yelled and immediately regretted it, hoping that his parents weren’t bothered by the volume of your words. However if that was what awakened them instead of the thunderstorms, then Marc didn’t know how it was possible.

Then, as you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and also felt Marc reach out for it with a wide grin, you flicked his forehead and watched as he read a message, yet wasn’t able to when you suddenly grabbed it back.

As you felt your body tremble once again due to the lightnings, you saw that it was a notification from your mother, reading it before you gasped in surprise. "Oh my- I can stay over!"

"Yeah? Let’s go!" Marc pumped his fist into the air, watching as you giggled at how ridiculous he looked beneath you. Nonetheless, it was sweet to see how much you trusted him, even though he had lied about his previous fear of storms and the story was also completely made up, yet he kept it both a lie and a secret.

With his arms now once again circling your hips, Marc pressed a soft kiss on your forehead and threw his head back, just barely managing to hear the sound of your yawn, knowing how late it was and how exhausted you must be, even if your adrenaline is too high to sleep.

"Dream about me, alright?"

You gave him a look, rolled your eyes and snuggled closer, slowly shaking your head at your boyfriend's weird request – as if you could fall asleep now.

"Nope."

– A/N : the moment he’s gonna play again we WILL be there‼️‼️ also there was a storm yesterday and I thought it hit my house🌚

[beyondbluess]

with you

dallas winston x fem! reader

summary: dallas decides to join you on the front porch one chilly night. warning: fluff fluff fluff. not sure why i keep putting out fluff when i really love angst. not proofread; wrote this at two in the morning and didn't finish much later. author's note: so sorry for the lack of fics! definitely would've something out sooner but writer's block has been terrible. i'm trying to work on requests so bare with me.

Laughter was bouncing off every corner of the Curtis residence, a contrast to the chill nipping at your skin on the front porch. You couldn’t remember why you were out there or how long—you just needed to get away from the noise, at least for a while.

The front door opens and shuts from behind in a matter of seconds, but you didn’t bother to check to see who it was. 

“Y’alright?” 

You finally turned around to see Dallas, a hint of concern in his eyes. When you didn’t respond, he muttered something inaudible before sitting beside you on the cold concrete—his eyes never leaving your form. 

“Just.. needed to get away from the noise,” you replied, hugging yourself to keep warm. Dallas noticed this, taking off his leather jacket and placing it over your shoulders. An action that surprised you. 

Both of you sat in silence, the only thing that could be heard was the sounds of the crickets chirping. Something about the combination gave Dallas a sense of unease. 

“Doll, c’mon,” he bursts out, turning his whole body to look at you, brows creasing in further concern. “What’s eatin’ at you?”

You shrugged, lifting your knee to rest your arm on it. Dallas groaned in annoyance, lifting his hip to grab a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket to offer you one, but ended up respectfully declining. He soon pulled out his own to light it before easing into another moment of silence with you.

“Do you ever think about leaving?”

Dallas didn’t respond to this at first, as if he didn’t even know how to answer the question himself. He debated on putting out the cigarette, but stopped in his tracks. “Dunno, sometimes.”

“It’s just,” you started, finally turning your body to look at him. It’s probably the first time you’ve really looked at him all night—you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked over the moonlight. “I’ve grown up here, gotten used to seeing the same people, same places. I want to see what life is like outside of Tulsa, Dal.” 

Dallas listened to you ramble on, a smirk appearing on his face. He always liked how you were always so comfortable with him, never straying away from speaking your mind. 

“You’ve been to New York, right?” you ask, not even realizing that you’ve scooted closer to him, your hand just centimeters away from his. “What’s it like?” 

“Mainly got arrested there, sweetheart,” he replies, taking a drag out of his cigarette. His gaze followed the car that passed by, his lips forming a thin line. “Wasn’t there for fun, it’s that’s what ya askin.” 

You hummed at this, shifting your attention towards the ground in front of you. Dallas’ hand moved closer to yours, fingers now lightly touching. Neither of you felt like moving. 

Eventually, the excitement inside fizzled out, leaving the occasional chatter and the sound of footsteps throughout the house. Dallas knew that the conversation from earlier still lingered on your mind—what life is like outside of Tulsa. He wanted you to have that experience; he wanted to be with you for it. 

“Hey, doll?”

You turned to face him, raising your eyebrow in curiosity. There were a few seconds where he didn’t say anything, simply just looked at you with those eyes. Before you could speak, he leaned in, cutting you off with a kiss. You didn’t stop him. Didn’t want to. 

“Y’know, we can always go,” he murmured, a small but hopeful smile gracing his lips. He gently caressed your cheek with his thumb, his touch so uncharacteristically soft. 

“What are you—”

The front door opened, revealing Darry, shoulders tense from working two jobs that paid little. By now, he’s usually cleaning up and getting ready for bed, so you were surprised when he allowed everyone to stay over this late. 

“You two alright out here?” he asks, his eyes shifting between you and Dallas. He muttered out a curse at how chilly it was, pulling the door back slightly so the air wouldn’t come in completely. You wearing Dallas’ jacket doesn’t go unnoticed by him. 

“Yeah, we’re fine. Just… talking,” You answered softly, eyes lingering on Dallas a moment longer before looking up at Darry. “Everything okay?” 

“Jus’ realized that y’all haven’t eaten yet,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, a soft groan escaping from exhaustion. “Figured ya wanted somethin’.”

You were about to answer, but your stomach did it for you—grumbling. A small chuckle escaped Dallas’ lips, making you swat his shoulder playfully. You got up from the porch, dusting off your jeans, looking down at him.

“You coming, Dally?”

“Uh, yeah, jus’ give me a second,” he muttered, taking another cigarette out of the pack to light, but instead just held it between his fingers, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer, something about your presence giving him a sense of ease. 

You were about to take off his jacket to give it back, but he shook his head—something about how it looked better on you than it did him. Darry moved aside so you could come inside, the warmth welcoming and inviting. He looked down at Dallas, giving him a knowing look.

“So you and—“

“Shut up.”

requests are open !

[borderlineex]

₊˚⊹౨ fault lines ৎ ₊˚⊹

dean winchester x reader (part 2)

read part 1 here

cw and pairing : bittersweet :c 𓏲 earlyseasons!dean x hospitalised!reader 𓏲 fluff 𓏲 themes of injury, car accident, medical trauma, and memory loss

summary : Dean is devastated to realize you have no memory of him or the life you shared, but he hides his heartbreak behind gentle care and unwavering presence. Despite the pain, he finds a bittersweet comfort in reintroducing himself, clinging to the hope that you might fall for him all over again.

a/n : I've been working on this series for a while now, but I'll be slowly posting the parts (there will be a lot lol) and I find the idea of the reader who lost their memory and has to re-kindle with their bf sooo cute so I hope you guys enjoy part 2!! pls don't let it flop T-T (i did try to make this part longer since I wanted to leave part 1 in suspense)

"Who are you?"

His eyes widen momentarily, surprised that you're asking him that, but he quickly reigns in his shock and tries to collect himself. For a few moments, he's left dumbfounded but finds his words quickly.

"You don't... you don't remember me, sweetheart?" Dean asks hesitantly, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of worry and confusion.

"I'm sorry, I- I don't know you."

His heart sinks a little as you speak, and panic starts to rise up in his chest. The way you're looking at him - it's like you have no recollection at all. Dean swallows heavily, trying not to let the fear show.

"You... you seriously don't remember me? At all?!" he manages to say, his hand remaining on your chin.

You shake your head - his eyes never leave your face, searching yours desperately for even a hint of recognition, but he sees none.

"Damnit," he mumbles under his breath, running a hand through his hair, clearly distressed. This was much, much worse than he expected.

He looks at you intensely.

"How far back do you remember, then?"

"I-,"

He notices your hesitation, his green eyes narrowing slightly.

"Go ahead, sweetheart. Tell me." His tone is gentle yet insistent, the need to understand your memory loss driving him. His other hand finds yours, fingers intertwining instinctively. You touch your head in an attempt to examine what was going on, but wince in pain at the feeling.

"Hey, careful." Dean's free hand immediately moves to stop yours from touching the bandaged areas on your head. "You don't want to aggravate that."

He scoots a little closer, concern etched on his features. "How much does it hurt?"

Ignoring his question, you ask, "What happened?" while looking up at him with glassy eyes, which his gaze softens at. Damn he missed you.

His expression turns serious. "You were in a car accident," he answers bluntly. "You got hurt pretty bad."

He leans closer, his fingers still intertwined with yours while he gently strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. "What's the last thing you remember before waking up here?"

"If I'm being completely honest, I don't even remember being put in this place," you proceed to look around the room before locking eyes with Dean once again.

"Nothing?" His eyebrows furrow, and he's unable to hide the disbelief in his voice.

Dean exhales slowly, trying to keep his composure. This was far more serious than he'd thought. No memory whatsoever? He tries a different angle. "Do you remember your name at all, sweetheart?"

"Why do you keep calling me sweetheart?"

Dean blinks, taken aback by the question. He'd been subconsciously calling you that for so long it had become second nature. Aside from the fact that you had been dating for 3 years.

"I..." he starts, then pauses, clearly caught off guard. "Well, I... that's just what I usually call you," he explains awkwardly.

His grip on your hand tightens a bit as the weight of your lack of memory really hits him. He tries to keep it together, for your sake and his.

"Do you... even know who I am?"

You proceed to shake your head with a slight frown on your face, visibly affected by Dean's yearning manner.

He swallows hard, the weight of your words making his chest tight. You didn't remember your name, and worse, you had no idea who he was. It was like he was a complete stranger to you.

This was a nightmare.

"Right," he manages to say after a moment, his voice gruff. "So... let me try something."

Dean's eyes lock on yours intently. "How old are you?"

You open your mouth to speak before closing it again - the way you fall silent is like a punch to his gut. He'd been hoping that you at least would remember something as basic as your age, and the fact that you seem unable to even speak it leaves him sick with worry.

He tries to keep his voice soft, his fingers gently squeezing your hand. "Take your time. Just... try again."

"Twentyy...," your eyebrows furrow, clearly attempting to dig into the back of your mind to look for the answer. Finally, you give up and pretend like nothing happened. "Maybe you should answer my question first- who are you?"

Jesus Christ… The question hits him like a blow to the chest, and he can't help but clench his jaw in helplessness. Not only do you not remember him, but you also don't recall being together. This whole situation was worse than he thought.

"I'm… I'm your boyfriend, sweetheart," Dean finally speaks up, his voice gruff with suppressed emotion.

He notices your eyes soften - the shift in your gaze causes a fluttering feeling in his stomach, hope sparking that maybe, just maybe... you still recognize him in some way.

He leans even closer, his hand still tightly grasping yours. His expression is intense, almost desperate, as he searches your gaze for the smallest hint of recollection.

"Sweetheart...?" he prompts quietly.

"Hm?"

There it was again. That feeling of hope.

The way you tilt your head at him, your gaze softening... it was somewhat familiar to him.

"Say my name..." he says quietly, the words nearly a plea. Your eyebrows proceed to furrow in confusion as your head tilts slightly.

Damn it...

The furrow of your eyebrows only adds to the despair he feels. You were so close to remembering him, to the life you shared together, but it was like trying to grab smoke.

He lets out a frustrated breath, his grip involuntarily tightening a bit on your hand.

"Come on, sweetheart," he continues, his voice low and gruff. "Please just say my name.."

"I'm sorry- I really don't know-,"

Your soft apology only strengthens the growing desperation he feels. He lets out a sigh, his thumb still caressing the back of your hand in a comforting gesture.

"Don't apologize," he murmurs, shaking his head. "Not your fault."

A moment of quiet passes between you as he struggles with the wave of emotions crashing over him. He can feel his shoulders sag slightly as he leans closer, his voice almost a whisper.

"You really don't remember anything about me, huh?"

"I mean- you seem really sweet," you say in a friendly tone and giggle softly, "quite handsome too."

He can't help it; a small, weary smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Even in this messed-up situation, you could still manage to make him feel better with your words.

His thumb continues its gentle caress on the back of your hand, the small action almost becoming a grounding element for him.

"You think I'm handsome?" he asks, a touch of his usual confidence peeking through his weary demeanor.

"Mhmm." a warm, hearty laugh slips out.

That laugh. That laugh...

It was so familiar to him, and the sound of it causes his heart to clench in both affection and sorrow. You were here, physically with him now, yet so far out of reach because of the damn memory loss.

He swallows heavily, his gaze softening. "Damn it..." he mumbles under his breath, his fingers entwining more firmly with yours.

"Hm?"

God, this was so frustrating...

You were right there, talking to him, laughing, but you didn't even remember who he was. It was making him feel both relieved and utterly helpless at the same time.

"Nothing..." he mutters, shaking his head.

His free hand moves up to gently brush a loose strand of hair away from your face, his thumb lingering against your cheek for a moment. His touch is gentle, almost reverent.

And oh that smile. It's a punch to the gut, that simple smile of yours, and for a moment, he finds himself just... looking at you.

His fingers absently continue to brush against your cheek, tracing gently along your jawline.

He can't help but give a weary sigh as he keeps his gaze fixed on you, his voice gruff. "Damn, you have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart..."

"I'd love to get to know you again, you know."

Those words..

They make his heart ache, both with hope and sorrow, all at once. The idea of you wanting to get to know him again, even as a stranger, causes a mix of emotions to swirl within him.

He can't help but chuckle softly, a bittersweet smile on his face.

"Be careful what you wish for," he replies, his thumb still absentmindedly caressing your cheek. "I can be a damn pain in the ass, you know."

"It's like if we met for the first time... again."

A soft huff leaves him as he considers your words. Meeting for the first time... again.

It was both ironic and a little heartbreaking. You were a blank slate, no memory of the time you'd shared together... yet here you were, expressing curiosity and openness towards him.

He leans a little closer, his expression soft. "Yeah... in a way, it sorta is like meetin' for the first time. Again."

"I still need to know your name so…" you stick your hand out for him to shake, "I'm.. you have to help me out here", you say with a soft chuckle.

God, you were going to be the death of him.

The way you stick out your hand, asking for a damn handshake with that sweet laugh, was just... too much.

But he doesn't hesitate. He doesn't complain. He just takes your hand in his, his large, calloused palm enveloping yours completely.

"Your name is Y/N and mine's Dean," he says gruffly, giving your hand a firm yet gentle shake. "Dean Winchester."

"Well, it's nice to meet you Dean."

You were right. This was like meeting for the first time - the way your eyes sparkled, Dean felt like he was fully in a trance. He felt as though butterflies danced around in his stomach - just like on your first date.

It should be ridiculous. Hearing you say "nice to meet you" and knowing that you have absolutely no memory of him whatsoever, and all the time you'd spent together.

But damn it all, he can't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction from it.

He returns the sentiment, his voice gruff yet sincere. "Pleasure's all mine, sweetheart."

He holds on to your hand for a little longer than necessary, his thumb gently tracing over your knuckles before he reluctantly lets go.

His gaze remains fixed on you, watching for any flicker of recognition in your eyes, even though logically, he knows it's unlikely.

"There," he murmurs, a hint of a small smile on his face. "Now we're properly introduced, I guess."

There's a brief moment of comfortable silence between you two, just the soft sound of your uneven breathing and the steady hum of the medical equipment nearby.

Dean can't help but study your face, his gaze tracing the features he'd come to know so well - the slight furrowing of your brows, the curve of your lips, the way your hair drapes gently on your shoulders... even the small things like a freckle on your cheek he'd kissed a hundred times.

Yet he had to act like he was seeing them for the first time.

His mind is a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions. He's relieved you're alive and awake, but the fact that you've lost all memory of him... it's a constant ache in his chest. He wants to hold you, pull you close, shower you with affection, but what good would that do when you don't even remember him?

creds to @anitalenia for the divider !!

[pedrcpasccl]

Shutting the velvet box, Pedro took a deep breath in before walking out and as he walked out of the room he exhaled slowly because his nerves were getting the best of him. What if she declined him once she saw the ring? What if she got scared because of how serious he truly was with his proposal? Two main thoughts that were running through his head, and he tried his best to push them aside because he didn't want his negative thoughts to ruin this moment for him. For them.

Walking out of the room, he held the box behind his back and met her halfway, he was a bit surprised by the fact that she had moved off the couch. "Okay, so I know I just asked you to marry me in the heat of the moment, but it's been something that I've been planning, and I had envisioned myself asking you after meeting your parents...but, it just feels right now?" His sentence sounding more like a question than a statement, but he wasn't looking for an answer.

"Sabrina Annlynn Carpenter...." he began as he went down on one knee and moved his arm that held the ring box forward towards her, and opened it, "will you do me the honor of being my wife...my partner for life?" As he spoke out his question, he couldn't help but choke out the last bits of his question to her. It all felt so surreal but also so perfect, because he was finally able to express what he had been thinking about for weeks now.

As he waited for a response, so many thoughts rushed trough his mind. Nothing negative this time. The only thing going through his mind at that moment, was what their future would be like. How proud his mom would be of him, and how thrilled his family would be that he finally found a person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. All things that he never thought he'd see for himself. All the had thought about for the longest time was his career, but in that moment? That was the farthest thing from his mind.

sabrina sighed since she knew that he was being sincere. he wanted to avoid hurting her again. they both wanted to take care of each other but knew that relationships came with hurt. sometimes it was unavoidable and that was just how it is. she nodded as he spoke of how he could attempt to try," that's all i ask and i'll try my best to not hurt you." she hoped that she wouldn't but you never knew. they needed to be honest with each other, completely. that was something that she knew they needed in order to work. there were certain things that were hard to talk about. sabrina could only imagine how hard it was for pedro to think about, let alone speak about his mother. it was a huge loss that he had suffered. her teeth caught onto her lip as he sighed," i know what it means," she admitted," but when i say that i want you, that means all of you, even the dark or ugly parts that you keep tucked away." her hand reached to run through his hair as she took a deep breath," and she would have been so proud of all of you," she told him," and happy for all of you." she didn't want to keep thinking about his past. especially because she might lose her temper in regards to it. she wanted to just focus on him and them. it felt like they were moving in the right direction. a smile appeared on her face as he confirmed that she was the only one. she felt so completely relieved that they were no longer fighting and that she no longer wanted to avoid him. there was the brief thought that she'd need to get her things from the other room. the kiss was something that they needed. it was gentle but fueled with desperation. she couldn't help but stare in surprise at how quickly he was willing to take responsibility," i can't wait for that conversation to take place." she knew her dad would likely be in shock at meeting pedro and let alone finding out that his youngest daughter was getting married. confusion hit her as he told her that he had something for her," you do?" she allowed him to move her and watched him as he moved about the suite. the blonde sat up as she wondered what he could possibly have. she found herself climbing to her feet and resisting the urge to go into the room to see what he was doing.

[clubrevenant]

bex arched a brow at ballet babies, the name clearly doing something to her brain — the way her mouth twitched at the corners, like she was trying real hard not to picture him in a pastel hoodie with a sticker chart and a juice box. “okay, now that mental image’s gonna haunt me forever,” she muttered, but there was no venom in it. if anything, she sounded almost amused. almost. her hand lingered near the shelf beside her, fingers idly toying with a packet of sour straws she clearly had no intention of buying. her eyes were on him again though — dark, steady, not flinching away from the way he was looking at her. most people didn’t ask to know more. not really. not when they realized there was more than just the smirk and the sharp tongue. “you’re one of those, huh?” she said finally. “asks questions you actually want the answers to.” it wasn’t judgment, more like mild surprise. like he was playing a game she hadn’t expected him to be smart enough for. or maybe kind enough. she let the silence stretch for a beat longer, then shrugged, casual — or trying to be. “san diego. moved here a couple months ago. bartend some nights, promote some places that pay in chaos and free drinks. no tap shoes, no center stage, but i know how to keep a crowd’s attention when i want to.” her tone was flat, matter-of-fact, like she’d recited it before. but the glance she gave him after? that held weight. unspoken history, maybe. things she wasn’t quite willing to crack open on aisle five. then, just like that, she pivoted. “favorite dessert, though?” she asked, lips curling into a crooked grin again. “probably a lemon tart. real ones, not the freezer aisle tragedy in a plastic box. it’s the bite i like.” she tilted her head. “sweet’s fine, but i like it when it hits back a little.” she turned toward the register, like she might leave it there, might not give him any more than that — but then glanced over her shoulder and added with a faint smirk, “so if you’re really splurging, you better come correct.”

Sebastian kept his eyes trained on the woman, trying to get somewhat of a read on her. She seemed like someone who was a little rough around the edges, but has a bit of a sweetness hidden inside if you're lucky enough to uncover it. He couldn't help but to be intrigued, having the urge to learn more about her. "I mean, I'm occasionally in shows at the local community theater. But the bigger and better roles are in the bigger cities." He was at least fortunate that Portland was only about an hour away, making it a relatively easy commute back and forth unless he hit traffic. Sebastian couldn't help but laugh as the woman put two and two together when it came to his facial symmetry and his chosen career path. "The posture is the result of being in dance classes from a young age. Plus I teach ballet to the little ones at Ballet Babies. And for the record even if I had all the money in the world, a cheap convenience store Rice Krispy will still make me the happiest man." His lips instinctively tugged upwards into a smile. "So I've told you all about me. How about you tell me a little about you?" He couldn't help himself, there was something inside him that wanted to know more about her. She was just intriguing. "Ew, why would I ever offer you granola? I'm not an eighty year old grandfather," he teased with a genuine chuckle. "Tell me what your favorite dessert is and I'll make it happen. And it doesn't have to be limited to gas station treats. I'll even splurge for a cupcake, donut, or anything you're craving."

[odoraful]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄.ᐟ

what happens when you don't use their pet name to call them?

⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; more dialogue heavy; silly and cute

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ZAYNE ⟡

“Can you help me put this on, Zayne?”

From the reflection in the mirror, you tried not to react at the twist in his brow and the momentary confusion in his eyes. Wordlessly, he moved behind you, fingers taking the necklace out of your hand. With his gaze focused on the task before him, you could see him open his mouth, hesitating to speak.

“Did I do something wrong?” he questioned.

Zayne’s deft hands carefully laid the chain around your neck, centering the pendent between your collarbones.

You plastered on your most innocent expression, despite the twinge of guilt you felt at his question.

“Hm? Why do you ask?”

Swiftly, he clasped the ends of the chain together. His eyes flicked towards yours in the mirror.

“You’re calling me by my first name. I thought pet names were an important step in a relationship for you.”

You nodded. “Yes, Zayne, I do think it’s an important step.”

His eyes narrowed at your continual uncharacteristic responses.

Folding his arms, he mused aloud. “It took you some time to drop the title ‘doctor’ for me and to just use my name. After we became official, you were quick to call me ‘love’.”

You fiddled with your necklace, trying to, impossibly, force away the heat from your face.

“So, either I did something to make you upset, or”—he leaned in close to you, the side of his face almost touching yours—“you’re playing a trick on me.”

You gave a mock frown. He cocked his head to the side, awaiting your response.

“Okay, okay, it was a prank.” Sighing, you surrendered to his deductions. “I wanted to see how you’d react, but you saw right through me,” you mumbled.

His lips quirked. “I’ve known you for long enough to figure these things out.”

Wanting to wipe off the amused look he had on his face, you quickly planted a kiss on his cheek. His face turned into surprise. He chuckled, shaking his head at your triumphant smile.

“Thank you for helping me, my love."

SYLUS ⟡

“Sylus, could you play that new record you bought?”

You called from the sofa. Standing by the record player, he turned to face you. The offence on his face was unmistakable as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Sylus?” he scoffed. “We both know that’s not what you call me.”

Your brows furrowed, feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Isn’t that your name?”

“Sweetie,” he levelled a look of scepticism at you, “that hasn’t been my name for the past month we’ve been together.”

“I still don’t know what you mean, Sylus.”

He paused. Gears turned in his head trying to unpack what was happening, much like he would do when reading the truthfulness of a dealer during a bargain.

“Y/N.”

You’ve never heard your own name being said in such a serious manner. Perhaps you got a taste of your own medicine.

“I’m not particularly fond of lose-lose situations.” The softness in his tone made you feel weak. “You can tell me if I’ve done something to annoy you. I won’t be angry.”

“Not at all!” you quickly blurted out. Unable to hide it any longer, you confessed. “You haven’t done anything to annoy me. I was just trying to pull a small prank.”

All the tension visibly released from his body. A relieved sigh escaped him. “You really do play some dangerous games, kitten.”

Playfulness returned to his voice. “Now then, how will you correct your mistake?”

“Honey,” you drawled out each syllable, making it sound as syrupy as the nickname itself, “could you play that new record you bought now?”

Sylus couldn’t help but laugh at your exaggeration. “Why of course.”

XAVIER ⟡

“Xavier, do you want to try this?”

Subtly glancing at his reaction from the kitchen, you saw his face immediately fall into a pout. The look was fatal, and it took all the willpower you had not to drop the ruse right then and there.

“That’s not my name,” he answered.

“What do you mean?” you chuckled, continuing to put icing on the sugar cookies you baked. “Of course it is!”

“No, it’s not,” he insisted.

Placing his book down, he walked to stand at your side by the counter. You avoided his eye contact, pretending that nothing was amiss.

Resting a hand under his chin, he began to think. “You usually call me bunny, sweetheart, sunshine, or darling.”

Your jaw dropped in amused shock. “You remember all the names I’ve called you?”

His mouth twitches. “There are some more, but… they might be a bit embarrassing to say aloud right now.”

That was enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.

“Xavier!” Your face turned pink as you slapped his shoulder. There was no force behind the hit, but enough to convey your embarrassment.

“You did it again. You used the wrong name.” He stuck his bottom lip out.

You gently poked at his cheek, trying to lift the corner of his lip upwards. “Come on, don’t be sad darling.”

Immediately, he brightened before you.

“It was just a joke I saw couples do online. I wanted to see how you’d react.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “And was my reaction satisfactory?”

“I think it was,” you smiled at him, "but it’s a shame I didn’t film it, it would’ve made for a good Moments post.”

He shook his head. “But, the nicknames we use are only for us.”

The finished cookie in your hand had a bite suddenly taken from it as Xavier leaned down to have a taste.

“I don’t want anyone else to know.”

RAFAYEL ⟡

“Are you ready to go yet, Rafayel?”

He continued to hum to himself, completely ignoring you. You folded your arms as you watched him busy himself with something trivial. He flung open a random cupboard and inspected what appeared to be an assortment of spare art supplies.

“Rafayel,” you called again.

He then turned his attention to the fishbowl in the centre of the room, where a small orange fish darted around.

“Reddie, do you hear something?” he asked, gazing so earnestly into the bowl. This fish paused its movement and stared back at his owner.

“Rafayel~” you sang his name aloud this time, extending the last syllable.

He gasped, apparently receiving some confirmation from Reddie.

“You hear something too? Thank god. I was thinking there must be something wrong with my ears.”

Surveying the room around him, Rafayel intentionally looked past you standing barely a few metres from him, tapping your foot against the wooden floorboards of his studio.

“It sounds like”—he continued—“some kind of voice. Someone familiar to me, but I can’t make out who it is.”

“Rafayel!” you shouted his name between fits of laughter. Only he could respond to your jokes with his own dramatics.

He sucked in a breath in puzzlement. “I wonder who this person is calling out to.”

“Baby,” you finally conceded, “I’m talking to you!”

It seemed like he couldn’t keep up the act either, as he started laughing with you.

“Took you long enough,” he huffed, moving towards you and linking your arm with his. “Otherwise, Reddie and I would have been searching for this phantom voice for the rest of the day.”

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[delicatebarness]

Extremely cracky but I am cackling at the thought of Thunderbolts endcredits(/Doomsday?) Bucky and pregnant reader hanging out with other heroes and the topic falls on everyone's hero suits and someone asks reader what she thinks of Bucky's new suit and she goes "Well, does this answer your question?" and points at her belly because he absolutey knocked her up when Bucky fucked her still wearing the fit.

If you want to make it smutty it can always include a flashback. 🤷‍♀️

in the suit?! | bucky barnes

Summary: ^^ Request

Warning: 18+ Minors DNI | Possible Thunderbolts* Spoilers | Smut | Detailed Open Door | Dirty Talk | Innuendos | Are we still saying John Walker as a warning? | Choking | Pregnant Reader | Mild Language | Alcohol Use | Suit Kink

Word Count: 965

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this. And getting to stare at clips of Bucky in the suit as references. Thank you. Ps-Gif has nothing to do with the one shot, but fuck.

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

Present:

Your post-mission debrief had somehow turned into a party—beers around a bonfire, with s’mores. Yes, someone had brought s’mores. It was Bob. You half suspected that he’d googled ‘what do friends do for fun?’ on the way back to the tower.

You were sitting on a lawn chair, mocktail one hand, the other absently rested on your stomach—the baby bump very much obvious at this point. Behind you, Bucky stood with one hand on your shoulder and his vibranium hand wrapped around a beer while he looked like he wanted to re-enter the void any time anyone got too loud.

And naturally, Yelena got loud.

“Okay, here’s the real question,” she called out, waving her beer bottle around the team like a sword. “Which one of the ‘new’ Avengers has the best suit?” 

“That’s so subjective.” Ava groaned.

“Exactly my point,” Yelena replied. “Subjectively, it’s me.”

Puffing out his chest, Alexei snapped. “I will ignore this insult and remind you of this iconic design!” 

“You literally squeak when you move,” Walker said. 

“You squeak emotionally.” Ava scoffed, taking a swig of her own beer bottle.

Walker pointed toward Bob. “What about him? Dude’s got like, three different fits.”

Bob smiled politely, yet his hand visibly trembled. “Thanks… I’m molecularly unstable.” 

Then suddenly, all eyes turned to Bucky.

Including yours. 

How could they not? The matte black suit. The red star. The arms. 

After a beat of silence, someone—you think it was Ava—looked at you and said: “What do you think of Barnes’ new suit?” 

Bucky froze. His hand tightened against your shoulder. Slowly you lowered your mocktail, raising your brows toward Ava.

“Well, Miss Starr,” you gave your swollen stomach a gentle double tap. “Does this answer your question?” 

In surprise, Yelena dropped her beer into the grass. Alexei smiled, until the realisation flashed over his eyes and he clutched his chest like he’d been shot. Bob blinked rapidly in your direction, as though he was running a diagnostics. Walker let out a bark-laugh, quickly turning it into a full wheeze. 

“No. Nooo,” He shook his head, the laughter still ringing through your ears. “Are you saying—Wait—in the suit?!” 

You smirked, and shrugged your shoulders slightly. “Didn’t even take the glove off.” 

Bucky’s eyes widened. 

Three Months Ago:

The safe house door slammed behind you. You barely crossed the entryway before Bucky had you pressed against the wall. His breath was hot, his body humming with some leftover tension from the mission.

He was still in his New Avengers suit—matte black kevlar clinging to his body like a sin, his dog tags swung with every move, and his arm plates clicked together.

You barely had time to catch a breath before his mouth crashed into yours. 

“Are you going to keep the suit on?” you murmured between kisses, fingers tracing the lining of the red star embroidered into his right arm. 

His teeth pulled at your bottom lip. “Are you complaining?” 

You weren’t.

Instead, you desperately tugged on his belt.

He growled.

And before you knew it, your legs were around his waist, his arm braced under your thighs. His vibranium hand reached up to cup your cheek, trailing his lips over your jaw with a ragged breath.

“You’ve been staring at me in this thing all damn day,” he hissed against the shell of your ear. “Did you think I didn’t notice, babygirl?” 

“Maybe–Maybe I wanted you to.”

In response, he ground his hips against you—still dressed, but the feel of him had you clenching around nothing. Bucky didn’t rush. He never did. He made you feel it. He made you feel him. And every ridge of his suit, the inches of him still layered between you.

Finally, he freed himself, and you let out a sharp gasp at your underwear being shoved aside. “Don’t hold back, sergeant.” you breathed, fingers entwining in his hair, pulling the strands. 

And he didn’t.

With one hard thrust, he was buried to the hilt—dragging out a broken moan from the back of your throat. He was rough, relentless. His hips snapped into you, driving you like he was proving a point.

He let your name fall from his lips. 

The suit creaked with every movement, and his gloved right hand tightened around your thigh. His grip was bruising. His left hand found your throat—firm, grounding. Just enough to make your vision blur—not enough to lose control.

“You take me so good, baby,” he panted. “Fuck—you’re so tight, can feel you everywhere.”

Unable to form words, you gasped. High-pitched, wrecked whines of: ‘Harder—’. Pushing your chest out, you felt his dog tags swing between your breasts with every thrust.

Bucky’s fingers found your clit—still gloved, the textured leather moved over your skin toward the sensitive nub—rubbing tight, delicious circles. 

You screamed his name.

Your body shuddered against him, vision turning white at the edges as your orgasm washed over you. Bucky’s hips stuttered, groaning deep from his chest as he spilled into you. His forehead pressed to yours. 

He didn’t let you go.

Breathing hard, you clung to him.

Present:

“So, just to confirm,” Walker continued to laugh. “Bucky Barnes, the Winter freaking Soldier, turned into a thirst trap and you said ‘yes’ without any hesitation?”

“I said ‘harder’, actually,” you corrected, taking your mocktail straw between your lips.

Bucky muttered under his breath, looking up to the sky, up to the stars. “You tried to, at least.” 

Yelena collapsed into Ava’s shoulder. “I never want to see that suit again.” 

“I’ll be seeing it again, tonight,” you said sweetly, standing up to make your way toward the bathroom. Patting Bucky’s chest as you pass. “Pizza first, though. I’ll need the carbs.” 

Bob blinked. “Should–Should I get more s’mores?”

“Yes, Bob,” the New Avengers said in unison.

___