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apparitionism · 1 year

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Tabled 4

And on we go, @barbarawar , as I continue to try your patience with this incremental approach to telling a @b-and-w-holiday-gift-exchange story about coffees and consequences. Where we last left our duo: Helena had proposed adjourning to a hotel room so as to avoid continuing to attract attention for disorderly behavior (i.e., launching coffees at each other, followed by raised voices) at O’Hare Airport—that transitory place where Myka had intended to have a final coffee with Helena before telling her goodbye and returning to the Warehouse to face a future she doesn’t really want. Part 1, part 2, and part 3 explained the tables, books, beverages, and lies that led to this point.

Tabled 4

The trek to the hotel is arduous. No conversation. Myka appreciates the tacit agreement she and Helena seem to have made to wait for the space, but she’s bowed by what it’s added: multiple steamer trunks of existential weight, all of them balanced on her head, her shoulders, such that it’s labor for her even to turn her head in Helena’s direction.

Nevertheless they navigate, side by side, destination mutual. That’s weight too.

All Myka is physically carrying is her laptop case; she’d told herself, “I can work on reports on the plane. Or prepare remarks.” Instead she’d sat on the plane. It might as well have crashed; she was already braced for impact. Braced, yet again. For all the impacts.

Helena is similarly unencumbered, but without even a work-pretense: only a slim little bag, its strap a delicate suggestion of metallic braid that adorns her shoulder. She offers the sleekest of presentations, with even her stained sweater somehow managing to speak to her apparent surety that whatever the thoughts of those regarding her might be, they’ll redound to her benefit.

Myka, on the other hand, wants to hold her case to her sullied chest, or better yet fold herself entirely over, to hide this... evidence. She hates giving anyone grounds for a negative inference, and the uncomplimentary list of things any given observer might take the smirch as evidence of is infinite.

She herself has felt that “redound to my benefit” certainty only in the rarest of circumstances. Once or twice, though, it’s happened when Helena was the one regarding her, giving Myka a fully confident sense of I know you like everything you see, and even better, you like it just the way I want it to be liked. Transporting, when it happened.

Helena chooses that moment to turn ever so slightly, meeting Myka’s eyes ever so briefly... as if in appreciative echo of the past.

It prompts Myka to think on a different kind of evidence: what she and Helena provide, as they pace beside each other through the airport. It could oh so easily support the idea that they’re traveling together, which in turn leads to the infinitely better idea that they might be traveling together.

Indulge, she tells herself, and the granting of permission... it shifts the weight.

Who are we, this me, this Helena, traveling together... traveling together. She starts simple: We’re Warehouse agents on a retrieval. But of course that’s too easy. Okay, instead, we’re... dealers in rare books? Better... And we’re heading to an auction... wait, no, we’re heading home (home together), home from an auction, one that yielded a rare first edition of... oh, let’s say The Invisible Man... and the auctioneer unfortunately made a slightly incorrect statement about its original serialization... one that Helena felt she had to counter emphatically... leading to the first fistfight ever seen at that auction house...

Myka can easily picture the self-satisfied snarl-smile Helena would have worn as she decked the ill-informed auctioneer. The ease with which she can conjure such a moment... that, paradoxically, is yet more weight.

Even so, she warms further to the story, folding in their coffee stains: On this first leg of our trip home (home together), there was dramatic, beverage-service-disrupting turbulence... but we got through it with only wardrobe-related disasters... which is to say, we protected the first edition...

The fantasy looms real enough for Myka to put her hand against her case, casting an impossible wish for confirmation that it holds a precious book.

When her wish isn’t granted, she’s nonsensically crestfallen. Her indulgence now seems yet another blunder, as foretold by that other... book. (She can’t get all the way to “precious,” not this minute, an aspersion of omission for which she’s pretty sure she’ll be expected to apologize.)

Remember that future, Myka tells herself. She pronounces those words in her head, and she’s half tempted to say them to Helena, too, despite the fact that she’d have no idea what it’s about. Though she might ask what it’s about... and Myka can’t land on whether she would hate or thrill to offering an explanation. I used an artifact, she might begin. Because of you. She might go on: And I lied about it. Also because of you.

That might get her a snarl-smile of her own. Maybe even a fistfight.

In the end she stays silent; it’s the theme of this hotel-destined journey. She should rather have focused on Helena, with no imaginings; should rather have just looked, no matter how great the weight. What would observers have concluded then?

You just told yourself a story about that.

As they near the hotel desk, Helena says, “Allow me,” and Myka... does. Because, for good or ill, Helena is the driver. If she were not, Myka would be at a gate, sitting and waiting for a flight, her mission nearing completion. Instead, she’s standing a good distance away from Helena in a hotel lobby, calling Steve, saying, “I’m pretty sure I’m missing my plane.”

The response in her ear: “Because...?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Really? No.”

“Good. But if anybody else asks—”

“And when you say ‘anybody else.’”

Myka sighs. “I mean protect me.”

“By saying what?”

“I’m stuck in an airport.”

“You believe that,” Steve says, with a little wondering hitch.

“Oh how I do.” She laughs, just a half-huff. “Oh how I’d prefer not to.”

She hears, “Is that Myka? Where is she?” It’s Claudia (not Pete, thank god), in the background.

“Stuck in an airport,” Steve says.

“Weather?” Claudia asks, now close to the phone.

“Storms,” Myka tells her.

“That sucks,” Claudia pronounces. “See you when the climate gods dispensate some dispensation.”

After a pause—presumably waiting till Claudia leaves earshot—Steve says, “You’re getting really good at this.”

“This?”

“Letting language slip. To do the dirty work.”

“Good at this,” Myka echoes, belatedly. She knows it now as cause for despair. She’s painfully aware that the work is dirty, but... she’s developing a facility. That’s what’s wrong. “I’ll try to get worse.”

“After the storms?”

“During,” she says, because speaking in private should—at the very least and very last, it should—entail saying what she really means. Not letting anything slip.

Should. Which doesn’t, dirty or otherwise, mean “will.”

“Take care,” Steve says.

“I don’t know how,” Myka concludes. It’s a weird way to end a phone call, but Steve seems to know it’s right.

Helena has decorously waited to approach, but now her seemingly eager “Shall we?”, key card in hand, is a painful parody of the invitation Myka has dreamed of for years. If it had happened in those earlier years, it could have been an invitation to everything. Now it’s just an invitation to... blunders. And their contribution to an end.

The existential weight lowers again onto Myka—countdown-tragic now—as she waits out the rise of the elevator (its mirrored walls too harsh) and the walk through the corridor (its canned lights too artificial). It freights even the too-sunny chirp of the key card’s success, as Helena inserts it into the door.

As Helena pushes the door’s handle down in further proof of that success, she looks over her shoulder at Myka with something like delight—but is it delight at this circumstance, this promise of new privacy? Or is it another instance of her generalized thrill at an encounter with technology? That she might not yet be so familiar with as to be jaded by this aspect of modernity is... something very like heartwarming. But also painful, because how many Helena-delighted-by-the-new episodes has Myka been deprived of witnessing? How many episodes of anything and everything Helena-related has Myka been deprived of witnessing?

And what is the consequence of letting herself know that as deprivation? And, more, feeling that deprivation as pain?

Helena pushes the door open and strides across the threshold, but Myka hesitates, hoping for... something. Purpose? All that comes to her is a maxim: never go in without knowing how you’ll get out.

Where Helena is concerned, Myka has never known how she’ll get out. Ridiculous to think she could start now.

She goes in.

The quiet: that’s what strikes her first. The closing of the door behind her is a muted snick; after it, there is no noise at all.

Then she apprehends scent: antiseptic overlain with some ruse of spice, as if “clean” couldn’t possibly be enough to justify the undoubtedly absurdly high price of the room. Of course it probably couldn’t; nevertheless Helena had paid it. Myka wants to resent that, but she’s the one who acquiesced to that “allow me.”

The scrimmed light from the window allows her eyes to discern only the barest detail, but they’re drawn immediately to... of course. A table. Metallically, shinily, obviously, a table. It’s small and round, seemingly innocuous (too low to sit at), but Myka skirts it. She sets her laptop case on the less-threatening desk.

Helena lays her own bag on the bed. The bed, which Myka had intended to ignore. Then she turns, eyes still eagerly alight, to face deskside-anchored Myka.

The look sends Myka back to ideas of I can’t do this, or maybe what she means is I can’t feel this, but that isn’t right either, for what she feels isn’t singular; instead it’s I can’t feel these, these battering, battling threads of sensation she can’t untangle. “Why are we here,” she says, groping, suddenly dull, feeling the air numb around her.

“For speaking,” Helena says. Over there. By the bed. “Freely. As you agreed we should.”

But where is the freedom? The table reminds Myka of constraint, and even the room’s privacy—this new, behind-a-locked-door privacy—chains her, making her question every movement, lest it speak as she doesn’t intend. Or does intend but shouldn’t intend. Paralysis. “What do you want to say?” she asks.

Whatever Helena wants to say, she wants to accompany it with a head-toss, followed by a contemptuous exhale. Quite a performance, at the conclusion of which she snorts and juts her hands at Myka. “At the very least, more words about the unbelievability of your putative romantic choices.” Contempt coats it all.

“You don’t know what’s in my heart,” Myka says. She means it as a dismissive judgment—of Helena’s continuing to insist that she knows how Myka feels or doesn’t feel about Pete (although of course, Myka has to concede privately, she does know)—but, more broadly, of Helena’s not bothering herself to know how Myka has felt about anything. Not for a very long time.

“I’m aware,” Helena says, and then, as if she’s heard Myka’s more-broad thoughts, she says, “I’m very aware.” Then she stops—another of those curiosity-piquing pauses—leaving Myka to wonder what’s next. What is: “So tell me,” she says. Soft. Sincere.

“Why?” Myka asks. “What will it change?”

“For one thing, you will have said it. Rather than simply felt it.”

“Said it to you, you mean,” she accuses. Right: something might change for Helena.

“Ah. You’ve spoken of this to others. Perhaps your sister? And have you found that unburdening to be helpful?”

That’s soft and sincere too, but internally, Myka snarls, with no smile, You can keep your therapy questions. I have all the Abigail I can handle on that front. She wouldn’t answer such a question no matter who asked it, and she is neither ready nor willing to explain Steve—Steve and what he’s meant. Instead, she says, “This room has a coffeemaker,” despite not knowing that for sure. But it must. “I’m going to find it and... use it.” A neutral action, that’s what she needs.

“I’ll watch you,” Helena says.

So much for neutral.

But turning her back on Helena... surprisingly, it loosens her. The gaze is on her, and she feels it, but she doesn’t have to meet it. She finds the coffeemaker on the bureau and begins the process: water, cups, coffee packets, filter basket. Of course it isn’t neutral, would never have been, but being occupied, putting something in that space between—standing and looking was never going to get them anywhere, given that it never did in the past—it lightens the atmosphere. It’s a purpose. It’s a purpose against which Myka can, and thus determines to, slide a question of her own.

“So you had this realization that there was ‘someone else’,” Myka says, making the quotation marks as clear as she vocally can, “and you broke up with him?”

“Essentially,” Helena says.

To her... credit?... it’s not an objection to the topic shift. Or to the quotation marks. But it’s also profoundly not informative. “What, seriously”—Myka had nearly made the mistake of saying “honestly”—“is that supposed to mean?” She turns around, away from her coffee task; the machine’s begun to noise, anyway, so it doesn’t need her.

Helena’s aspect doesn’t indicate that the renewed eye contact is meaningful. She says, “That is supposed to mean you have identified the essence of what occurred.”

More details are clearly not forthcoming. Back up. Ask something else. “Why did you go to that place at all? Why go there and make yourself so... small?”

The very idea is tragic—even worse, pathetic. Helena’s slight dip of head, signaling at least partial agreement, offers pathos too. “Safety,” she says. “Mrs. Frederic said I’d be safe there.”

“I could have kept you safe. Why didn’t she say that?” Myka hears herself getting louder now, angry at all the conversations, decisions, interactions that were kept from her, that she had a right to be part of, all these clandestine resolutions to problems that she and Helena deserved to solve together.

“She had other plans for you,” is the reason Helena gives. Pathos there too. It’s awful.

“What about my plans for me?” Myka cries, and it must have been audible all over the hotel, this nearest she’s ever come to a barbaric yawp, and it’s about all of it: Mrs. Frederic and Pete and expectations and everyone thinking they know and no one knowing, not even Helena, who might have been the only one who could have really known but went away, was taken away, and now Myka is going to have to push her away and this is exactly why she turned to the book: to steal back the tatters of her own capacity, one small bit of augury at a time.

“You work for the Warehouse,” Helena says.

It’s a bald truth. It’s why little auguries are all Myka has. But it splits her open, too, for it tells nothing at all about why Helena did what she did, and she shouts a new accusation into the yawning gap: “You don’t!” And another: “Since when do you bend the knee to authority?”

Helena straightens her spine. “Since authority rendered me incorporeal and suggested I would be returned to that state if I didn’t do as I was told.” She lowers her chin, giving that spine one more bit of extension. “I was disinclined to stop living.”

It breaks Myka. No, it re-breaks her. She knows she should say things, including “but you redeemed yourself” and “so what’s different now,” but all she can in fact do is reach out a hand and touch Helena.

Maybe that’s what Helena intended, but even if it is...

Between any two people, it might be nothing: a simple right hand resting upon a left shoulder, followed by a run down that left arm, to the left elbow, then wrist, brushing against a left hand’s fingers, falling away.

But it’s Myka’s right hand. It’s Helena’s left shoulder. Helena’s arm. Helena’s elbow, wrist, fingers.

They’re behind a locked door.

TBC

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Tabled #B&W holiday gift exchange #part 4 #barbarawar #I have to confess:#I love the word 'fistfight'#but don't worry #Myka and Helena won't resort to physical violence #other than the coffee-weaponization kind #because even if you remove bodies from the equation #they have no trouble doing violence to each other #or maybe it's that they do have trouble #and removing bodies from the equation makes it worse #which is not to say that adding bodies back in necessarily makes it better

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cottoncandy-cult · 1 year

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First Meeting (ZFBFS)

TW Talks of Violence, reader's father is head of a government-based group of mercenaries.

(Y/n) sighed as she walked through the woods, wiping some blood off her gun. She worked for her father's mercenary group; they had recently been bought out by the government for the purpose of "under the radar clean-up". Typically used to take down specific "protected" targets, once the target is eliminated the mercenaries call their overseer to have a staging crew sent out. The government takes over doctoring and fixing up everything, the mercenaries were virtually ghosts in society. Several of their members were past serial killers, the government forgiving everything and staging their executions. They are virtually allowed to do as they please so long as who they are and who they work for isn't discovered, they could kill almost anyone, and the government would cover it up so long as the person wasn't anyone to high profile.

(Y/n) spent her childhood learning how to kill, her favorite weapon being her (F/c) handgun. But her secondary weapon was a hunting knife, a gift from her father when she became an official mercenary. She was often used to recruit people; she was much better at persuading than some. It helped that she was so cute, with her (H/l) (H/c) hair and (E/c) orbs. She only failed to persuade one person from joining, it was years ago and since then he had fallen off the map. She remembered meeting him, Isaac Foster, prolific serial killer with a twisted past. He intrigued her, he was so chaotic but at the same time she could see something beneath the surface even if she didn't know what. Of course, he refused, he didn't like the idea of taking orders. She sighed at the thought, she wanted to know him. She didn't know why but she was curious, he caught her eye in a way she could never forget him.

As she walked through the forest, she was trying to find the hidden trail in the dark, they were currently based in a medium sized town. It was easy to operate in, especially with all the mountains and forested area. She was given a cabin out in the middle of the woods, everyone else being scattered around. Right as she spotted the trail just beyond the tree line she was yanked back, her hands pinned to the tree above her head. She was about to whip their ass until the moon light reached through the leaves, her eyes meeting a heterochromic gaze she could never forget.

"Zack..." Her voice was soft, her body relaxing. She knew getting aggressive would only trigger his instincts, he chuckled when he noticed her visibly relax. "Glad you remember... I've been looking all over for you little bitch." He smirked down to her, releasing her wrists and stepping away. The mercenary stood straight, having to look up at the tall male. She noticed he was carrying a scythe; he had been using a knife last she saw him. "Looking for me?... Is there something you need help with?"

"So, you want to finally take me up on the offer because you just escaped prison, having been on death row, after escaping a giant building where you were allowed to kill for a crazy priests experiment?" She tilted her head, hands on her hips as she was making sure she got it all right. "Yep, that about sums it up." He had his arms crossed, scythe leaning over his shoulder. He had certainly grown up since they last met, she could tell though that something more recent has left its mark on him. "Alright... Follow me to my place, you can crash with me and in the morning, I'll tell my dad. It's late and I'm tired." He smirked to her response; he wasn't thrilled about taking orders, but he knew this was the best chance he had at survival.

"Lead the way then princess." She blushed a bit, hoping he couldn't see it in the dark as she led the way down the dark trail. By the looks of it she'll have a 100% recruitment record, that means she'd get a paid summer off as a reward for her "loyalty to maintaining balance." As her government instated overseer said.

#fluff #x reader #fem reader #angels of death #zack foster #Zack Foster Boyfriend Scenarios #Zack Foster x Reader #isaac foster x reader #candy cult vault

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cassiehayesx · 1 year

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@owen-jackson:

He should be more used to these sorts of events by now, and yet still Jackson gritted his teeth as he’s given the stupid outfit and he grumbles as he stands with the rest of the slaves as they’re being told what to do. It isn’t until he manages to serve drinks for the first part of the party that Jackson actually starts to loosen up a bit, granted he’d likely drank more flutes of expensive champagne than he served. Of course, by the time he’d lost count of how many drinks he’d managed to down, he’d gotten sloppy and a guard caught on, and Jackson had been banished to appetizers with the promise of a punishment after the party.

Groaning and looking slightly more discheviled, Jackson weaves through people clumsily, trying to find a quieter area of the room to escape to. Spotting a group of mistresses eyeing him from the direction he was currently heading, Jackson abruptly switches course only to narrowly miss another person. He struggles for a moment, his tray wobbling and its contents threatening to spill as Jackson almost loses his balance to avoid crashing into the other, but by sheer luck Jackson manages to balance himself and keep everything on his tray.

“Fucking hell that could have been bad,” Jackson lets out with a long breath and a half chuckle. “shit, you alright?” He finishes as he looks up to see who he almost crashed into.

Admittedly, the almost-collision was as much Cassie’s fault as his. She was not too proud to say that she’d been craning her neck to get a better look at a passing woman’s ass rather than watching where she was going, and how was she supposed to predict that the man carrying a tray of snacks was about to veer in her direction? She jumped an awkward step backwards, shuffling like she was about to break out into a dance at the same time her hands came up as if to try catch him--only to let out a little whistle when he managed, rather miraculously, to catch himself, and without so much as a spill.

“Impressive,” she said, and was about to answer his question when she caught a proper look at his tray, and: “Shit, are those crab puffs?” She snatched one off of his tray and stuffed it in her mouth before remembering her manners, though not enough to stop her from talking with her mouth full. “Yeah, nah, I’m fine, bud. You good? You look like you’ve had more champagne than me, and I’ve been tossing them back.” Smelled like it, too, which she almost admired. Mouth still full of crab puff, she linked her arm through one of his and said, “I’m gonna borrow you for a bit, so I can eat your entire tray, kay? What’s your name? Here, you want my mimosa?”

#( thread | jackson: crab puffs. )#( para | jackson. )#( event | garden party. )

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leejafythe · 1 year

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Dancer and the Lightwardens: Chapter 5

Holminster Switch and the Man with too Many Scars - Originally posted here (NSFW)

The morning was peaceful and quiet as Leeja woke up, panting hard from her nightmare. Well, her grumbling stomach woke her, more like. She had crashed so quickly that she never managed to get a chance to eat much and it backfired. In her mind, she could hear Thancred telling her off for putting her eating habits last and that it “isn’t a good idea to go into a fight half fuelled.” He was right, of course. She never let him know that either but it did draw a smile on her face. “Gods, I hope he’s okay…” “Oh, he might be.” “BY THE FUCKING TWELVE!” Leeja yelped, falling off the bed. “Ardbert!” “What!? Oh, right, sorry.” Leeja took a deep breath and sighed, looking at him. “I know you can’t knock on doors, but please, announce yourself when you come in. You nearly gave me a heart attack!” She sat on the bed and took a slow, deep breath, settling her heart rate. “I’m sorry, I thought you saw me. Are you okay?” He looked at her, worrying a little. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just… Jeez…” She shook her head and stood. “The Exarch and those twins are waiting for you, it seems.” Leeja’s eyes widened and she stood up. “Out, out, out! I need to change!” She swatted at him and he laughed before vanishing.

When she had changed, she laced her boots and bolted out the door, unclipping her chakrams from her belt and en avented to close the gap between her and the tower faster. She sprinted up the stairs and the guard let her in, not worrying about guiding her. “I’m here!” She panted, sliding to a halt on the crystal floor. “Sorry! Here now!” “Well, good morning to you too. Oversleep?” Alisaie teased her lightly. “Kind of, I had a nightmare and a bad night’s sleep. What did I miss?” Leeja yawned and stretched, ignoring the growl of her stomach. “Have you not eaten?” Alphinaud raised an eyebrow as she shook her head. “I’m fine. So, continue, Exarch. Please?” “Of course. Have you gained a better understanding of the crisis now faced by the First?” Leeja nodded. “"Better" is not the word I would use. Some lands may have been spared the Flood, but the survivors live only to suffer. There seems no end to the horrors inflicted by the sin eaters.” Alisaie spat the words out angrily as Leeja rested her hand on her back gently. “She’s right. Given how many there are though? Its a daunting task.” Leeja replied. “Those abominations are a calamity in their own right. And I can well imagine how hopeless the task of eradicating them must seem to you. But after countless battles and untold sacrifice, we have identified a potential weakness.” The three of them looked at the Exarch. “You have?” Alphinaud raised an eyebrow. “Sin eaters are drawn to serve the strongest of their kind ─ a class of creature we call "Lightwardens." And from what we have been able to ascertain, only a handful of these entities exist. Just as an ant colony will perish in the absence of its queen, we believe that the death of a Lightwarden will cause the lesser creatures within its sphere of influence to disperse.” “But, from what we understand, their aether just disperses back to the ambient aether and starts the cycle all over again.” The Exarch nodded and went into a long explanation about how it all worked, giving them a deeper insight. “Thus, if we are to restore balance to the First and head off a potential calamity, it is imperative that we put each and every Lightwarden to the sword.” “And you’re sure it will work?” Leeja chewed her lip for a moment. As she got lost in thought, Lyna burst through the doors suddenly. “Forgive the interruption, my lord, but Holminster Switch is requesting reinforcements! They say the sin eaters are attacking in force, and the village could soon be overrun.” They all looked at each other, eyes wide before looking at the Exarch. Alphinaud and Alisaie ran from the Crystarium quickly, leaving Leeja, Lyna and the Exarch alone. “Alert the guard. We should be prepared in case the fighting reaches the Crystarium. You have command of our forces in the field, Captain, but hold off on entering the town until I arrive. That goes for Alphinaud and Alisaie as well.” Lyna nodded and ran out quickly. “Holminster Switch is in the north of Lakeland, so we had best make haste with our preparations. In fact, meet me outside the Crystarium at the crossroads northwest of the Accensor Gate, and I shall lead you there myself.” “Let me grab my armour and I’ll meet you there?” The Exarch nodded and Leeja left quickly.

As she ran down the stairs, she made her way to the aethershard and teleported herself to the Pendants and dashed past the Manager quickly, yelling a “sorry!” behind her. She changed, tightened her laces and grabbed her potion bag before leaving once more to go and find the Exarch. She was out of breath already, but people needed help and she was the one to be able to do so. She left the Pendants once more and ran toward the exit of the Crystarium to find the Exarch. Thankfully he hadn’t gone too far and she caught up quickly as he showed her to the gate of Holminster Switch.

A brief rundown took place before Leeja, the twins and the Exarch, wielding a sword a shield that reminded her of a paladin’s weaponry, ran inside quickly. Lyne followed and it was chaos. The sin eaters were turning the creatures of the forest into sin eaters and it sickened Leeja. It seemed to never end, no matter how many they cut down, more rose up. It was exhausting. They arrived at a clearing, where the larger sin eater Leeja and Alisaie encountered in Amh Araeng floated in front of them. “Oh gods…” “It’s alright, Alisaie. This sonofabitch dies today.” Leeja channelled her aether, turning Alisaie into her dance partner. She focused on her steps, boosting the strength between them via Standard Step before boosting the rest of the party with her Technical Step. “Now, shall we dance?” Alisaie grinned at Leeja and began to cast her spells as the Exarch pulled it toward him, making sure he had it’s full attention. Alphinaud focused on the healing of the party, throwing shields onto the Exarch as Leeja continued to throw and catch her chakrams on the aetherial tethers that linked them to her hands. When she was able, she re-cast her dances, keeping up the damage and helped with shields and healing both herself and Alisaie. Their combined effort meant that the sin eater fell and quickly, with relatively minimal damage. Leeja said a quiet prayer for whatever or whoever it was before turning and they continued on their way.

They rapidly made their way toward the small town, fighting off wave after wave of sin eaters. The next clearing they came to, Alisaie froze. Leeja stopped and looked at her, then looked at the sin eater waiting for them. “Oh, gods.” “Leeja… I can’t… You have to do this one.” She backed up as Alphinaud, Lyna and the Exarch looked at her. “Alisaie? Is aught a miss?” Alphinaud frowned. “She won’t fight this eater. I don’t blame her. Remember I mentioned about Tesleen?” The party looked at the waiting eater. “This is she?” “Aye. I’m sorry but I will not let Alisaie do something she can’t. Lyna, if I take the Exarch for my partner, you can take Alphinaud?” Lyna nodded and they quickly rebalanced their strategy. Leeja was silent as they fought, doing her best not to look at the eater as she listened to it die once more. “Alisaie?” “I’ll be fine. I just… Let’s go.” The red mage walked on quickly.

More waves of sin eaters threw themselves at the small party and the closer to the centre they got, the more normal, unturned bodies began to appear. “Gods, this is getting worse. I pray to the twelve that defeating the Light Warden will work” Leeja murmured to herself. Sitting in the middle of the small town was a large, white light warden. It’s body rooted to the ground with large hands as its slender body sits atop of it, no face but its maw was full of sharp teeth and chains tied to its arms and legs. “Be careful, I can feel the aether coming from it” Leeja frowned. With a brief countdown, they rushed in to deal with Philia. They worked in perfect harmony until there was no life left in it and it’s body just slumped over.

My lord, we should flee. It’s releasing it’s aether!” Lyna warned. As the twins and the Exarch backed up, Leeja stood still, entranced by the light. “That will not be necessary, Captain. Though I appreciate your concern. The eternal Light of these creatures has confounded us for nigh on a hundred years. For each we have put down, another has risen up in its place, born of the self-same aether relinquished by its predecessor.” They watched, unsure of what to do. “But now we have a way to contain that corruption. The blessing of Light! And the hero who wields it now stands before you!” Leeja held out her hands and closed her eyes as the warm aether washed over her. As the excess power built up, she aimed her hand to the sky, splitting the canopy of light in half and watching as it split and vanished, bringing back the night sky. “Behold! The monster's power is broken! And the world twisted by its touch returns to its rightful form!” Leeja panted softly for a moment before recovering. The night sky returned to Lakeland and the denizens of the Crystarium were no doubt overjoyed. A hundred years of Light was finally over. “Is that what I think it is?” Lyna stared in disbelief. “The night sky. As it should be” Alphinaud smiled. Alisaie kept an eye on Leeja. “Who are you people? You killed a Warden, then bathed in its aether as if it were a spring shower, and now the sky...? The legends are true!” Lyna looked at the Exarch who was on his knees. “Don’t start worshiping me, I might get annoyed at you.” Leeja warned them. “How many years have I waited for this moment… For the one possessed of Her blessing. For you.” He almost begged for her to continue to help the First. “I will be the warrior you need” Leeja answered. He smiled and rose to his feet.

They made their way back to the Crystarium slowly, taking their time and arriving at different points. Leeja was exhausted as she teleported to the Pendants to eat, shower and sleep. She closed her door and locked it out of habit. She noticed a basket of sandwiches waiting for her with a note from the Exarch, making her smile softly. She removed her chakrams from her belt, slipped off her boots and sat at the table as she began to eat the sandwiches, feeling better already. “So it's your lot's turn to be the Warriors of Darkness, is it? It's funny how things work out.” Ardbert smiled a little as he watched Leeja. “You were watching, then, were you?” She spoke between mouthfuls of sandwiches. “Well, I did warn you. I followed you to Eulmore and then on to Amh Areang, and I was there when you slew the Lightwarden.” He crossed his arms. “We’re going to take this broken world back, we’re going to stop the Light Wardens and we’re going to save both the First and the Source. You see if we don’t.” “Oh, I’m looking forward to watching you.” He shrugged and smiled a little. “Those white hair twins with you. I remember them from our battle on the Source. They’re your friends, are they? Through thick and thin?” “They are. Alphinaud has been a close friend for a long time now, as has Alisaie. I’d be lost without them, I think.” She polished off the sandwiches and stretched. “I see. Then I suggest you keep them close. It's when you charge ahead trying to save someone else that you lose those you love. Not that you need telling, I'll bet you've lost plenty. But I wonder...what will it cost you this time?” He closed his eyes. “I’ll give my very life if it means saving both worlds.” They finished their conversation and Leeja stood, went and showered and crawled into bed, her exhausted body falling into quick slumber.

When morning came, the sun’s rays came through the closed windows, waking the sleeping miqo’te slowly and naturally, the way she enjoyed waking up. She stretched, climbed out of bed and did her morning stretches, warming her body up for the day. She went and washed her face, got dressed and noticed a note on the floor, catching her eye. She picked it up and read it, murmuring to herself. She attuned herself to her gunbreaker soul stone, checked her gunblade and left the room. There were several hunters wanting to meet her, yet one person caught her attention when she turned up. A hume with dark blue and white hair, a scar across his face and wielding a large claymore that reminded her of her dark knight weapons.

She spoke to Cyella who pointed her in the direction of the man. “You wanted to meet me?” “Can't say I've chatted with you before. Think I'd remember if I had. Seen your fair share of fighting, have you?” He spied the gunblade on her back and noticed the scars that sat faintly on her skin. “If I told you some of the things I’ve fought, it would surprise you.” She smiled, making him chuckle. “And you? Got experience with that claymore on your back?” “And wary besides, heh. Rest assured I've no secret designs. Name's Granson. Bounty hunter by trade, mostly sin eaters. When I first laid eyes on you, I had a feeling you were a tough bastard. The sort that must get mistaken for that “Warrior of Darkness” folks've been talking about recently. That right?” Leeja stared at him in surprise. “Easy, killer. I couldn't care less who you are or what you've done. The only thing I'm looking for these days is a like-minded partner. Someone willing to join me in the hunt for the biggest prize this side of Norvrandt.” He went into full information of what he wanted and needed of her. A challenge? Bring it on she thought to herself as he explained the Cardinal Virtues in detail, motioning the other bounty hunters that were occupying other tables. “Former Warriors of Light–” “Sorry, they’re what?” Leeja stared at him in horror. She was used to Ascians stealing bodies, but sin eaters? “Former Warriors of Light. Those responsible for the flood.” She spotted Ardbert out the corner of her eye, and he looked just as horrified. “Anyway, like his comrades, Branden died in the process, only to return relatively recently as a sin eater. The better to torment we few who survived their mercy. Needless to say, I aim to put an end to all that. You've heard the pitch, so what's the answer? You interested in hunting Dikaiosyne with me?” “Aye, without a shadow of a doubt. I somewhat know the stories of the Warriors of Light. But I never expected to hear that they had become sin eaters of all things.” She crossed her arms as her coat bunched under them. “Not a whit of hesitation. I like you, sinner. Nevertheless, I'll need you to humor me and prove you're the dab hand I think you are. For my sake as well as yours.” Leeja smirked a little. “Tell me what you want me to do and I’m all yours.” “I've heard reports of stray eaters drifting close to the Crystarium. Come with me and put my mind at ease.” With a nod, the pair left the Crystarium, talking and learning more about each other’s strengths and weaknesses in battle while Leeja was very careful about her choice of words.

They found a stray sin eater for her to show off her skills and Granson smirked. Oh, she was absolutely the woman for the job. Quick on her feet, talented with a weapon and easy on the eyes, as well. When the sin eater died, she returned to him, barely breaking a sweat. “I’m impressed, killer. Good, clean work. This is clearly not your first time. Let's do this once more just to confirm it wasn't a fluke, though. Besides the world could do with less sin eaters.” Leeja chuckled and followed him as the strolled down the road. “Where did you learn to fight?” Leeja hummed softly for a moment. “I share a homeland with the Exarch, so I learned there. I’m skilled in a few different types of fighting. I can fight up close with daggers, from a distance with my chakrams, I can heal with magicks, I can fight with demi-deiforms. I’ve spent a long time honing my skills to be as useful in battle as I can.” She tucked her gloved hands into the pockets. “I prefer to fight with my gunblade, my chakrams and my daggers, though. I’m good at infiltration, I have had very good teachers to learn those skills.” “I’m impressed. I hope to see you in full form one day.” Leeja’s ears flicked with delight as her tail wagged behind her. “I look forward to showing you one day."

Granson pointed out the sin eater they were looking for, watching as Leeja used her Rough Divide and launched a whole new flurry of attacks on the sin eater. Granson was thoroughly impressed. Leeja hardly broke a sweat. “Yeah, that'll do. You're exactly the sort of woman I've been looking for, and thank the gods for that. My apologies for subjecting you to such a silly test, but I'd rather not have an amateur's death on my conscience. Let's head back to the Wandering Stairs and make this official, shall we?” “After you, good sir” Leeja grinned in response. She enjoyed his company. He was easy to get along with and easily accepted her responses about her training. The sun had begun to set when they finally made it back to the Crystarium.

"The night sky. Gods, I’ll never forget the sight of the light vanishing and the darkness covering Lakeland once more. That’s the Warrior of Darkness at work, I’ll bet. Need to buy him a drink or two when we eventually meet.” “Aye, I’ve heard the stories and the poems about him, or her, for that matter.” The stood and just stared up at the sky. “Seeing that darkness has been a dream of mine, I never thought I’d live to see it” he closed his eyes and smiled for a moment as Leeja noticed the twins, giving them a brief wave. “Anyway, shall we continue?” “Of course. “So Just to make sure you're still keen on our arrangement… Leeja, will you join with me and hunt the dread fiend Dikaiosyne and put an end to his accursed existence?” He asked, she nodded as she punched her fist into her hand. “Excellent! Then it is settled. Now, every hunt begins with an investigation, and ours is no exception. Dikaiosyne can be a rather difficult eater to pin down. But before we commence ours, we would do well to attend to our respective preparations. Let me know when you are ready to proceed.” “That’s fine. If you need my help, just send word and I’ll do what I can” Leeja offered. It surprised him, but he was grateful for the assistance. “Now, I can see those two over there staring at you so I believe they want your attention. I’ll contact you when I’ve found out something conclusive. Take care, sinner.” “Goodnight, Granson.” She laughed softly as her face began to burn red and she made her way to the twins. “Making friends already, are we?” Alisaie grinned. "I see your blushing." “He’s nice and it's strictly business. And he needs my help so I’m not going to turn him down.” She went into the detail about the Cardinal Virtues.

“The former Warriors of Light? Gods…” Alphinaud went quiet as they made their way toward the Second Serving for dinner. Leeja re-attuned to her dancer stone, her gear swapping to something lighter to wear. “It seems that, like the Ascians, they’ve found a way to bring them back from the dead to be used as puppets and it’s… It’s sickening. I couldn’t even imagine how they would feel if they knew the truth.” She sensed Ardbert behind her. He was quiet, but she could sense his despair and heartbreak. “They deserve to be put to rest. All they wanted to do was save their world and in response, they lost everything.” She sighed and sat down. “You’re taking it personally?” Alisaie raised an eyebrow as Leeja nodded. “I am. I don’t know why, but despite everything that happened that day, my heart breaks for them. It’s an extremely overwhelming feeling.” Leeja couldn’t understand why she could feel Ardbert’s emotions so strongly, but she took it as her own pain and would use it to channel her power. Ardbert left, yet knowing she could feel his emotion was enough to know he wasn’t going mad.

Leeja and the twins finished their meal and headed back to the Pendants. Alphinaud had gone on ahead as Alisaie spoke quietly. “I saw the grin on your face with the hume.” “Like I said, spending time with Granson is purely business. And remember, I’m with Thancred. Then again…” They stopped walking. “Then again?” “It’s been five years for him… Maybe he’s moved onto someone else” Leeja spoke softly, scratching the back of her neck. “If he has then I’ll make him realise what an idiot he’s been.” Alisaie smiled softly. “I bet he hasn’t. He’s been acting as a guardian for someone, anyway.” “But what if he doesn’t feel the same way about me anymore? It’s been some few moons on the Source. If he’s over it, then I suppose telling Riol is the best course of action, I guess.” Leeja sighed and shook her head. “I think I’m just tired. I should probably get some sleep, I guess.” “You’re overthinking it. Maybe you should take the evening for yourself? Oh, did you bring your diary?” The elezen teen asked. “No, but I do have a new journal I picked up yesterday so I’ll start writing in that, it might help me collect my thoughts and get tired enough to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, Alisaie. Goodnight” Leeja smiled softly as she entered her apartment, closed the door and sighed. She changed into her casual wear as she sat at the desk and began to write. She wrote 4 pages before she finally felt tired enough to sleep. She kicked off her slippers and climbed into bed. She rubbed her hand down her face and stared up at the ceiling in the darkness before closing her eyes. She began to fall asleep quickly. And while it would be a peaceful night, her dreams, on the other hand, had a different take.

That Night...

______________________________________________________________

“Keep your eyes closed, darling. You’re not to open them until I tell you to” a very familiar voice with a very familiar growl spoke low in her ear. “Th-Thancred…” Leeja swallowed hard, letting a whimper escape. She heard a very faint click and felt, more than heard, the vibration between her legs. She went to cry out but Thancred made the rules of their game very clear. If she held out, he’d give her what she wanted. She panted softly, shifting slightly to relieve the pressure on her painful ankle and she felt the soft leather straps around her legs, holding the buzzing toy in place. She felt him kneel behind her as his finger tips traced down her sides. She panted and twitched as she tried not to giggle from being so very ticklish. “Good girl, I’m proud of how well-behaved you’re being right now” he murmured softly, pressing gently kisses along her neck and her shoulder. He bit down hard, testing her and she could feel the smirk against her skin as his hand stroked across her front, down between her breasts and going down. Further and further and further until his fingertips hovered over her core as he increased the speed, listening to her sudden panting as she squeezed her eyes shut. “Tell me what you want, darling.” He growled low, dangerously low. He knew it, and he knew exactly what he could get away with and how far he could take it, and he knew that the lower he dropped his voice and the gruffer it became, the quicker she grew to desperately needing her release. “N-Need t-to… Please, Thancred…” She panted hard as her nails dug hard into her palms. “Need… Release…” He chuckled low as he leaned in close to her ear as his fingertip settled ever so lightly on her clit. “Then you can come.” He growled as he rubbed her clit in circles, helping speed her to a mind shattering orgasm that left her unable to hold her weight up as she fell back into him. He turned the vibrator off and pulled it away carefully. “Good girl. Are you okay?” She just hummed softly in response. He untied her hands from her thighs and she curled up against him. “‘S your turn. Lay back.” ______________________________________________________________

Leeja woke early the next morning, feeling hot and sweaty. Then she felt the stickiness between her legs and on her hand. “Gods dammit, Thancred…” She sighed and stumbled out of bed and directly toward the shower.

#Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #Shadowbringers #Holminster Switch #The Crystal Exarch #Leeja Fythe #Alphinaud Leveilleur #Alisaie Leveilleur #Lyna #Granson #Canon #My Writing #Fan Fic

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doitwrite · 2 years

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Prompt: “You are the owner of a very well received restaurant that caters to the… not quite human variety. You serve the vampire lords, and wolf pack leaders, zombie kings, and all sorts of supernatural guests, but one customer is causing you a lot of trouble. It is time to show why you are the owner.”

The Tarnished Shield

The crash of wood and glass breaks over the quiet current of squawking, screeching, and growling that suffused the grand interior of the restaurant. My restaurant. I looked up from my conversation with Kopernicus as a hush fell over the room. The patrons at every table had stopped what they were doing. Rayor the Bloodthirsty and his band of merry vampires were peering over their glasses of blood at the source of the commotion, and Batilda had one knobby hand in her pocket, no doubt clenched around her wand. Even the zombies at table 76 had stopped their moaning to scratch at their exposed skulls and crane their necks toward the sound. I sighed. Honestly, it was hard enough running a restaurant that catered toward, how to put this delicately, a specific type of clientele without having to deal with riffraff who didn’t have enough courtesy to behave themselves. Kopernicus grinned at me. Well, it was hard to tell. Being a skeleton, it looked like he was always grinning.

“You should go take care of that, eh?” A commotion had started up at the source of the sound, and even from across the cavernous length of the room, a plume of fire lit up the maroon walls in a fiery pink glow. Definitely over the maximum degree of the amount of firepower we permitted guests to use in-house. Lance, the head of the waiting team, raced toward its with a pack of matches and a bright yellow fire extinguisher, his face impassive. Not a good sign. All of our amenities are weather, acid, water, and fireproof, but only to a certain extent, of course. The yellow extinguisher only came out for Class C fires: magical flames that were especially cumbersome to deal with, given that they had to be combined with normal flames in order to be put out. Flashbacks to the time that half of the restaurant had been destroyed within the first month of our grand opening flashed into my mind, and I winced inwardly.

We exchanged a glance as he flew past, and that was all I needed to know that the guest was going to be a pain in the ass to deal with. It was probably nothing that the R.G.M.T (Rowdy Guest Management Team) couldn't handle, but since I was here, it was simply good form for me to quell any difficulties that might have arisen.

I smiled wryly at Kopernicus and stood up, topping off his glass of pinot noir as I did so, then bowed.

“Please excuse me, sir. It appears that I must attend to this matter immediately.” Kopernicus snorted. We’ve known each other since the Gretian Era, so long that such formalities have long since become unnecessary. He raised his glass at me, and I turned smartly on my heel, gracefully weaving between tables to avoid through the sea of spines, ooze, and wings.

I smiled reassuringly at a table of timid-looking griffins as I strode across the restaurant, conscious of the fact that all eyes, ears, and all other perceptive anatomies were on me. Not too fast, not too slow: running would imply an emergency and make patrons nervous, but taking my sweet time would mean more of that imported Yorgtree wood paneling was undoubtedly getting charred. That shit cost a good thirty Restas apiece, and the shipping fees had been astronomical. But the Tarnished Shield has a reputation to uphold as the only three-star Michelin rated restaurant in the region of Rewood for non-human clientele, and you didn’t get that sort of rating if you allowed a little fire to knock you off balance.

“Please, remain in your seats, everyone. There is no need to panic, I will take care of whatever the problem is.” A sigh of relief rippled out wherever I passed, the sniking of talons retracting and metallic shings of weapons sheathed.

“Thank goodness, Victoria's here!”

“Wait, really?! Where?”

I stood up a little straighter, and as I peered around a trio of giants seated near the entrance, I could see the source of all the fire: what looked to be an oversized ball of lint pinged around the walls of the lobby, alternatively spewing profanities and pink flames. Despite the fact that it was no bigger than a house cat, a plume of flame shot just above my head, missing the tips of my hair by inches. I didn’t even blink. Judging by his distance from the rest of the restaurant, I decided that he posed no real threat to any of the guests, although sadly, the same could not be said for our amenities.

The thick smell of smoldering wood and million-thread count delgona hair tablecloths stung my nostrils, and I noted with displeasure that fires had sprung up all over the carpeted floor like tiny pink flowers. Spotting me, Lance ran over, still holding the fire extinguisher. His normally-pristine dark hair was disheveled, and I could see scorch marks on his uniform. Behind him, the three members of the R.G.M.T. were working efficiently to put out the remaining fires while the other three tried unsuccessfully to coax the hissing dragon down. When Lance spoke, his voice remained steady and controlled, and from the casual way he stood, you’d have thought we were merely talking about the Proloma jackalope jousting match from last night.

“Ah, Vic. There seems to be a bit of an issue,” he says quietly, motioning at the angry guest that was now perched on one of our most expensive chandeliers as it swung dangerously.

“What’s the problem, Lance?”

“Mr. Fortuntia seems to have had a bit too much Yol wine, and is accusing us of discrimination on the account of the fact that we don’t serve the type of moss that is a staple of the Lopethiucus Guernica’s diet anymore,” he explained quietly. Rewthan moss was notoriously difficult to cultivate and ship, given the fact that it is highly explosive and flammable. Between that and the border disputes between Tel and Rewood at the moment, it was risky continuing to ship the stuff in, so there was a temporary shortage of the stuff in the region. If he was hopped up on Yol wine too, then it was little wonder that he was causing such a ruckus.

I nodded. It would be a simple enough fix—I wasn’t called the Quelling Queen for nothing. Back when I’d been in the MAS (Magical Authority Services), I was head of crowd control whenever riots, crises, or magical disasters occurred. Honestly, it was scary how susceptible to suggestibility even the strongest of magical minds were.

“Give me a platform for our guest, please.” Lance nodded, then snapped his fingers. There was a soft thump as a small indentation the size of a chopping board appeared before me on the carpet. I stepped onto the invisible platform, standing still as I was lifted up.

“Mr. Fortuntia!” Clearly surprised that I was speaking to him at eye level (what I assumed to be eye-level, he had no eyes that I could see) and he paused for a moment in his tantrum. With the crackling sound of flames paused for a moment, the only sound was the quiet clinking of the chandelier’s crystals, the sound of striking matches, and the whooshing of fire extinguishers.

“I am Victoria Windigram, the owner of this fine establishment. The maître d' tells me that you are upset that our menu is lacking in the staple for your species? Please, come down with me to the floor, and I will do everything within my power to resolve whatever qualms you may have.” I smiled pleasantly, like he didn’t just cost me thousands in damages over the last two minutes. In order for me to use my power, though, I needed to be actively engaged in conversation with the target.

Getting over his surprise quickly, Mr. Fortuntia sneered.

“You shall do no such thing! Do you know who I am?”

Bingo.

“Please, enlighten me.” I squinted a little, reaching into his mind. The sensation is hard to describe, sort of like when you picture something in your head while talking to someone. Physically, I was standing in midair, listening attentively as he angrily spouted insults at me and my restaurant.

In my mind’s eye, I found myself in an endless, black void, like a starless pocket of deep space, save for the eye-watering thoughts floating around. He’d definitely had more than a few glasses of Yol, all right.

“I am a proud member of the small clan of Lopethiucus Guernica that occupy this region, and I find it outrageous that you no longer provide Rewthan moss at this establishment! Never have I been so affronted in my sixty years of living—you shall be hearing from the Committee for the Inclusion of Marginalized Creatures about this!”

His thoughts were popping and fizzing like firecrackers in his mind, all inhibitions and manners loosened from the alcohol. The forefront of his mind was like a huge, softly glowing orb. Inside, violent flashes of color swam and blazed.

“I understand that, but that does not give you the right to create such a fuss. You have caused perhaps—” I did a few quick calculations. “—twenty six thousand Restas in damages to my restaurant at least, and you are disrupting the other patrons’ dining experience. If you cannot conduct yourself in a civilized manner, then I will be forced to call the MAS, and Section 33.41-A under Musicia law grants me and my staff permission to detain you with force if necessary until they arrive.”

It was deathly quiet.

Wouldn’t it be nice, I whispered, if you just drifted off right now? All that spitting fire and bouncing around has made you tired. Sleep… I strained against his angry synapses, imagining them slowly surrendering to the heavy, dark waters of sleep. The thoughts started to wink out, like lights being turned off.

Mr. Fortuntia started to lose his balance on the chandelier. Gasps came from the watching patrons, and I heard someone cry out in alarm. He teetered to the edge with a quiet clinking of glass, and for a second it looked like he was going to plunge right off the side. The platform drifted forward, and I swiftly held out my hands. He landed with a soft whump in a quietly snoring pile of pink, furry fibers in my arms.

I smiled, and we began to descend.

***

By the time the MAS arrived and took away Mr. Fortuntia, the rest of the Tarnished Shield had returned to its relatively normal state of hustle and bustle.

I flopped back down across from Kopernicus, and he turned his cracked, yellowed grin on me again.

“You handled that quite well.” I smiled back at him.

“Of course. No one’s going to mess with this place, not if I have anything to say about it.” I looked out over the restaurant, soaking in the sounds of the massive, squawking crows at Table 4 and the chittering of the imps that were seated on the balcony we had newly installed.

I love this place.

Lance glided over, holding a platter with champagne on it. He bent down, offering me a glass. Kopernicus nodded at the plate.

“It’s on me.”

I smirked at him. “Are you buying me a drink in my own restaurant?”

“If I may.” Lance smiled at me as the cork shot off the neck of the bottle with a pop, and we watched it soar into the air. A huge, fleshy tongue shot into the air and pulled it into a mouth somewhere below.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

#not my prompt #writing #writing exercise

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jojotier · 7 years

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Hey so like.... When is the fandom at large going to stop taking Kakyoin's subtle streaks and taking them 20 steps too far?

Like kakyoin is righteous and ruthless towards evildoers- you know, literal murderers and people who try to do criminal acts that are morally wrong- but he isn't an outright sadist just because he punishes people in proportion to their crimes, no matter how cruel those punishments may seem to an outsider.

Kakyoin is quirky and weird and a lil creepy at times, but that doesn't make him outright freakish or perverted. He's a prankster and a joker and has a weird sense of humor but that isn't out of line with his politeness or his curiosity or his interest in learning about things

Hes polite and mild mannered to people, especially if he doesn't know them, but that doesn't make him a completely goody two shoes quiet submissive pushover. You can be an honor student and still punch someone's lights out. Trust me, I've been there

He doesn't like to submit to evildoers and is a stubborn jackass with a hard head but that doesnt mean hes unyielding and uncompromising with those he loves, especially if he trusts them. He has diplomatic solutions as well as violent ones- like in the Wheel of Fortune episode where he's trying to make sure his friends don't beat the shit out of some innocent bystanders

It's like- you can have a pocket knife for protection and not be a delinquent. Normal people have little means of protection for themselves all the time! That's the best metaphor I have for this because man, even one single action or line gets taken a thousand steps too far. You can exhibit certain traits or behaviors and have those not be the things that define you god dammit

#kakyoin noriaki #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #character analysis #mischaracterization #as ive been writing this fanon clone fic #its given me a first hand crash course in balance #because kakyoin is a character of many subtle streaks #and because of that the fandom either reduces hik down to a weepy weak delicate flower #or a godmod with no weaknesses and no emotion who can do whatever the hell he wants without consequence #it goes both ways with mischaracterization i find #noriaki kakyoin

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99liv3s · 3 years

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Be Careful What You Wish For

Lena laughed as she completed the last question of this little online contest she was participating in. The invitation had appeared in her email one day along with a link, and she had curiosity followed that link to a website that described the contest. All Lena would have to do is answer a few questions correctly before other "participants" and she would be the winner of "her fondest wish!!" Lena had laughed at this, thinking this was a fun little game someone had put up, and though she did not take it seriously at all, she decided to join in the fun. Where was the harm in it?? She was bored at the moment after all.

The "contest" consisted of a few straightforward questions that she was easily able to answer. Shaking her long blonde hair out of her face, Lena's bright blue eyes watched as the site processed her answers, then a message popped up on her screen: "Congratulations, you have won the contest!! You may now make your wish!! What do you desire??" Lena giggled as she jokingly pondered this question, then typed in the first thing that popped into her head: "I wish to live forever!!" Laughing softly as she hit the send button, saw "Your wish is granted! Thank you for playing!" And closed the window, Lena thought, "This was a cute, fun little distraction, but now I gotta finish chores!"

A couple hours later, Lena plopped into her living room lounge chair, rubbing her belly. She felt somewhat sick and bloated, but she was also exhausted from laundry and housework, so she figured she was just hungry and worn out. Shaking off the feeling, she decided that after she rested for a while, she'd make herself a sandwich. Another hour passed, with Lena watching TV when she looked down and saw a shock!! Her normally small petite belly had expanded outward, making her look very pregnant!! She gasped in horror, and jumped to her feet, a mistake that nearly sent her crashing to the floor, for she was not used to the balance of her new belly. She felt heavy, and full, confused as to how this had happened to her! "I'm having an allergic reaction, she thought anxiously. "That has to be it!!" "I've caught some sort of virus and I'm having a reaction to..." Her thoughts trailed away as she felt movement in her belly, and she absentmindedly rubbed it. "I... I can't be pregnant," she blurted out to her empty house. "I've never had sex... this has to be a bad dream, right??"

Lena waddled into her bedroom and reached the nearby bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. She looked nine months pregnant, her belly hanging out of the clothes she had been wearing on the body that had been so small and slim just a few hours ago. She was still confused and scared as to what had happened to her when suddenly, she doubled over as a painful contraction hit her. Lena gasped as she felt pressure build up, then a gush of water leaked out of her, soaking her bottoms.

"UUUGGHHH", Lena moaned as she slowly made her way back into her bedroom. She reached the bed and climbed on it, as she felt something heavy drop onto her hips. Frantically, she kicked off her pants as she felt huge pressure in her pussy. She could not help but push, screaming in pain. "AAAAHHHHHH!!" Lena felt a burning sensation as whatever was coming out of her began to crown. She struggled to get her panties off, panting and crying as the pain peaked. As the head emerged farther, causing a bulge to form in her underwear, she screamed a high pitched scream and whined as the burning and pressure worsened. She knew she had to get her panties off, or it would block the baby that she was somehow delivering, so she gritted her teeth through the pain and pulled her underwear down to her feet. She then began kicking, not just to get the panties off her feet, but because the pain was so bad, it caused her to thrash around like crazy. She whined and moaned and cried as she felt the heavy head slowly push out, stretching her pussy wide. Screaming, she pushed, willing this process to go faster. "THIS HURTS!!!" she yelled, though she knew no one else was in the house. Finally, she felt a pop and knew the head had finally gotten out. Without waiting another second, Lena pushed, brushing her sweaty blonde hair out of her face, and felt relief as the baby left her body.

For about a minute, Lena lay there, shaking, hardly able to believe what had just happened to her. Then, something in her mind clicked as she realized "Wait, if I just had a baby, shouldn't it be crying??" Lena slowly moved around so she could pick up the baby she had just birthed, noting three distinct things about it: First, it did not have a umbilical cord attached to it, just a belly button. Second, the baby was a girl, with blonde hair the same general shade as Lena's, and third, the baby was not crying, but Lena could clearly see that it was alive and healthy, almost content. Her eyes were closed and she moved around and kicked, as if she had been born for a while and was just simply sleeping. Lena held her baby and stared at it for the longest time before realizing how exhausted she was. Afraid she might accidentally turn over on the baby as she slept, Lena decided she would not sleep with the baby in her own bed, and so the new mother gingerly got up and found the softest part of her bedroom's carpet she could find and placed the baby gently onto it, laying her on her back. Thinking that she would try to figure all this out tomorrow, she fell backward onto her bed and fell asleep.

When Lena awoke the next morning, her first thought was, "Oh God, what a horrible nightmare!! It felt so real!" As she rose up, she realized something was wrong. She was lying on the floor, naked. She looked over her body, thinking. "Did I fall out of bed??" She got to her feet and then her blue eyes fell upon the bed, and she screamed. The shirt and bra she had been wearing last night were lying on the bed, being worn by a skeleton. Lena trembled as she looked around the room, her mind racing. After a while, she remembered where she had placed the baby she had birthed... it had been lying in the exact spot where Lena had woke up, but as she now looked at that spot, there was no baby there, nor any sign there ever was. As she continued to ponder this, terrified, she also realized that her body felt better than it had ever felt in her life, almost as if it were a new....body....

Lena rushed into the bathroom and vomited as realization hit her. She had given birth to herself. Somehow, after she had fallen asleep, her body died, and her consciousness or soul or whatever had transferred to the baby, which had apparently grown rapidly. She looked herself over, noting that her body seemed to be the same age as it had been last night, in her late 20s. "How is this possible??" She breathed. Lena made her way back into the bedroom, noticing at once that the bones were now gone, leaving only the clothes she was wearing last night, and what appeared to be sweat and other bodily fluids. Lena shuddered at the thought, but did not know what else to do. Her tummy grumbled, and she realized she was starving... of course, this new body had not eaten yet.

Hours later, Lena had eaten, dressed, and had gone into work. Sitting at her desk, her mind was not on her work, however. She could not get her odd situation out of her mind, and the more she pondered on it, the more it made sense that the body she now inhibited was the one she gave birth to. "The baby's features were just like mine," she thought. "Female, petite body, blonde hair... if I saw its eyes, I bet they were blue, just like mine!" "I never had sex, so the baby could only be another me!" "But, how??" "How is this possible??" "What caused this to happen to me??" Lena spent all of her workday lost in thought, and after a while, convinced herself that it had to have been a nightmare. She must have hallucinated those bones, and just simply did not remember taking off her clothes, or falling out of bed during the night. As for her body feeling better than it ever had?? Maybe that was just a result of healthy living lately!! When she arrived home, Lena grabbed her bra and shirt from off her bed and threw it into the laundry. She then looked around the room, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she told her mind it was a vivid nightmare, and to forget about it, and get on with her life.

Two days had passed, and Lena had not given the incident another thought. She had been shut up in her office, preparing an important presentation for her boss to give soon. Her friend and co-worker Marianne had come by to collect the finished presentation, and Lena stood to hand it to her. "Excellent," Marianne said "Lena, this is just what our boss needs to secure that new agreement!!" "You always come through when we need it!" Marianne's brown eyes looked Lena over. "Oh, by the way, congratulations!! When are you due??" Lena looked at her friend confused. "What??" she asked, before looking down at herself and barely stifling a gasp. She was sporting a small bump, almost as if she were about 3 or 4 months pregnant. Her mind raced in panic as her friend was still speaking: "Boy or girl??" After a few seconds, in which Lena composed herself, she smiled and said, "Oh, it's a girl!" Marianne nodded. "I don't know why you didn't tell me or any of us before now, but again, congratulations!" Lena smiled as Marianne left the room, the Lena scrambled for the bathroom. As she closed the door behind her, she collapsed against it, breathing rapidly. "This can't be happening!" She thought. "I can't be pregnant!!" "This isn't happening again!!" "That was just a nightmare... wasn't it??" She glanced into the mirror, her shining blue eyes staring back at her, eyeing her small bump, and she groaned softly. "What the hell am I going to do??"

After she got home, Lena decided that she was not going back to work for a while. This proved to be a good idea, for as the week passed, her bump grew rapidly, and by the time she reached the weekend, she looked ready to pop. She had called the office, telling them she had caught a virus, and that she would be working from home for a while. This worked perfectly, except apparently Marianne began to worry about her, as she had begun calling Lena everyday. Lena assured her she was fine, just sick, and when Marianne asked about "the baby," Lena told her that she need not worry about it.

On the day Lena realized a full week had passed since she had had her supposed nightmare, she tried to get out of bed when she was hit by painful contractions and pressure. "Oooohhh", she moaned, rocking back and forward on the bed, clutching her belly. Hoping that walking might help the contractions, Lena got shakily to her feet and began taking small steps around her bedroom. With each step, Lena felt the baby inside her drop lower and lower. Eventually, she could not take it anymore and she dropped to her knees, crying out in agony. She spread out on all fours, her large belly hanging down and her blonde hair in her face, inwardly thankful she had been going to bed naked lately. Tears streamed from her blue eyes as she wailed and pushed, her butt and vagina high in the air. The baby's head tunneled roughly through her birth canal as she panted and moaned. Her legs shook with pain and cramps as Lena let out another roar of pain. As the head began to peek out of her, she felt the burning in her pussy that signaled the baby's crowning. "OOHH!! OOOHHH GOD!!" She yelled. "AAHHH IT HURTS!! IT'S BURNING!!!!" she cried and grabbed the top of the bed, pulling herself into a semi-squatting position, hoping gravity would help. Lena threw her head back and cried out loudly as she felt the head seem to split her vagina open. Bearing down, she pushed until the head was hanging out between her legs. Stopping only to pant and catch her breath, Lena reached down with her left hand and felt the baby's head. When another contraction hit, she squatted and groaned as she gave another push, and the baby dropped onto the carpet.

After spending a few minutes to rest, Lena looked down at the baby. Like before, it was a little girl, not attached, and not crying, but clearly alive. Lena held and hugged the baby against her chest, thinking rapidly. "It wasn't a nightmare, unless I'm having it again!" "What do I do??" "Do I dare fall asleep again??" Thinking back, Lena was convinced that giving birth this second time seemed more difficult and more painful than the first, but she was not sure. Realizing that she was exhausted and hungry, Lena placed the baby in the center of her bed and staggered to the kitchen. Her body after giving birth was sore and weak, but everything seemed to be over. She made a quick sandwich and collapsed on her sofa in the living room, lost in thought. As she ate silently, random questions popped into her head, and she decided that today, since it was early in the morning when she had given birth, she was going to experiment.

12 hours later, with night falling outside, Lena felt more confused than ever. After eating earlier, she had returned to her room and started touching and talking to the baby, in an attempt to get it to open its eyes, but it never did. Lena then tried to feed it, holding it up to one of her breasts, but nothing happened. On an upside, there was no diaper to change either, for the baby did not seem to have to poop or pee. If not for the breathing and it occasionally moving around, Lena would have sworn the baby was just a realistic looking doll. Tired, Lena decided to try one last experiment before she went to sleep. She had brought the baby into the living room and placed her on the sofa. Lena then returned to her bedroom, thinking that if she woke up on the sofa tomorrow, then it confirmed her theory about what was happening, assuming she could fall asleep will so many anxious thoughts in her head. However, as soon as her head hit the pillow, Lena drifted off immediately.

Lena turned and felt herself hit the floor. Snapping awake, she found herself lying in front of her sofa. She let out a soft scream and jumped to her feet. Rushing into her bedroom, she found her bed soaking wet, and only the pajamas she had worn to bed as part of her experiment. Trembling, she backed against the wall and slid down it onto the floor, burying her face in her hands. "It's true!" She thought. "Everytime I fall mysteriously pregnant, I give birth to a baby that will eventually become my new body!" "But, why?? And how??" "Am I cursed??"

Lena again did not go back to work. She decided to spend the day on the internet, searching for answers, ignoring a missed call from Marianne. Scouring the internet, she tried to determine if anyone else had ever been in her situation before, but she was unsuccessful. She had even posted her situation in a few forums on the deeper parts of internet, but only got responses telling her she had a vivid, or a sick imagination, and that her "ideas" would make a good story. Frustrated, Lena was getting ready to shut down her computer, before noticing the new email icon, and something clicked in her mind. She was reminded about that strange online contest she had taken, and realized that it was right after that when all these strange things had started happening to her. Lena accessed her search history and located the website where she had played the contest. She saw that message thanking her for playing and then found the information she had overlooked before. "Questions??" It said, with a phone number under it. Her heart racing, Lena grabbed her smartphone and called the number immediately!

After two rings, a kind female voice answered, telling Lena that she had called the helpline for the online contest. Lena told the woman everything that had happened since winning the contest, expecting the woman to hang up, laugh, or even tell her that she had no idea what Lena was talking about. However, to her surprise, the woman answered "Of course!" "What is happening to you is what you wished for." Lena fell silent confused. "I wish to live forever," the woman said as if she was reading it, then said with a giggle, "That wish has come true." "With each week, your body produces a brand new replacement, and once you give birth to it, it becomes your new body." "Constantly changing to a fresh body each week means you will never grow old and die." "Congratulations!!" Lena gasped in shock. "How do I make it stop??" She asked the woman. "Stop??" The voice repeated. "Why would you want to??" "Your wish is granted." "I didn't think that was serious," Lena yelled in a pleading voice. "Please, you have to help me!!" "It hurts to give birth every week" "I don't want this wish anymore!!" "Please get rid of it!" "That can't be done," the woman responded. "All granted wishes are final!" "Have a nice day!" With that, the woman hung up. Lena tossed her phone to the side and collapsed into her chair, crying. "I AM cursed!!" She blurted out!!

Lena called and quit her job, thinking that, in order to avoid awkward questions, she would have to find a job that allowed her to work from home. Three days later, she had accepted an online application for a work from home proofreader, which was similar to what she did before, but would allow her to avoid human contact and submit her work online. She was already showing another small pregnant bump by this time, and she absentmindedly rubbed it as she finished chores around the house. Though a part of her mind had subconsciously accepted her new life situation, Lena was still dismayed that she seemed to be stuck in this cycle of "rebirth" forever. She had continued to search the internet for any kind of hope or help, even going so far as to search for unusual births, frequent birth fetish sites, and even post about her situation in various birth related forums, but it seemed that her situation was unique, or else no one else had gone public with it. Her failure to find even a shred of hope caused her to fall into a kind of depression, and she only half-heartedly threw herself into her new work, knowing that she still needed money regardless.

After six days had passed, Lena was lying spread out on her sofa, her hand resting on her large belly as she read a romance novel, trying anything to help take her mind off things, when a knock at her door made her jump. Confused, Lena rose up and waddled to her front door, seeing Marianna through its small window. Lena opened the door, greeting her friend and former co-worker, who looked at Lena with concern. "Lena, what's been going on with you??" Marianne asked. "I haven't heard from you in days... you quit your job suddenly, and refuse to answer my calls or texts." "Are you ok??" Marianne looked Lena up and down, taking in the huge bump. "Lena, I didn't know you were that far along!" "Does all of this have to do with the baby, because I know that..." Marianne trailed off, for at the mention of the word baby, Lena burst into tears and fell into Marianne's arms, crying hysterically. "I'm... I'm not ok at all!" Lena sobbed, as Marianne held her. "Mari, I don't...know... what to do!!" For a while, Marianne just held her friend, listening to her crying, then looked into Lena's eyes, and asked, "When's the last time you left the house??"

An hour later, Marianna had driven the two of them to the park, thinking that some time out of the house would do Lena some good. As the two of them walked slowly through it, having the park mostly to themselves, Lena realized that Marianne insisting that she get out of the house was a good thing, for Lena began to somewhat feel better. "Lena, please talk to me," Marianna pleaded, a concerned expression on her face. As they continued their stroll, Lena shook her head, staring at the ground, and her protruding belly. "I want to tell you, but I don't think you'll believe me," She relied. "Tell me what??" Marianne asked, still looking at Lena with concern. When Lena did not respond, Marianne stopped her and the two of them stood in a large patch of grass in a deeper corner of the park. "Lena, you can tell me anything," Marianne said to her. "Remember, I'm a scifi and fantasy nut!" "Whatever it is, I'll believe you." Lena looked into her friend's face, thinking that if anyone in the entire world would believe her right now, it was Marianne. So, Lena took a deep breath, and told her everything: About taking the contest and making her wish, about how she had fallen pregnant without warning, how she had given birth twice already, about how she had discovered that she was giving birth to her own replacement bodies, and how she had found the help line for the contest, and how the woman over the phone had confirmed what Lena had suspected. Marianne listened to her friend intently, and when Lena finished, she was relieved that Marianne had not laughed at her or told her she was insane. "Unbelievable," Marianne gasped. "So, it's a curse, and it can't be undone??" Lena nodded somberly. "Mari, you gotta help me... I don't know what to do." Marianne hugged her friend, comforting her. "Of course, Lena, there must be something that we can do," she said, smiling. "We'll figure it out together!!" "I'll help you look deeper online, and I can discreetly make some inquiries with some friends who might be able to help." "We'll figure something out, I promise." Lena looked at Marianne, feeling the first bit of joy and hopefulness she had felt since this crazy situation had begun. It was a long shot, yes, but at this point, she needed any silver of hope that she could get. Lena sighed happily and let out a laugh, embracing her friend as much as she could, before a painful weight hit her hips.

Lena cried out in pain, nearly falling to the ground, if not for Marianne catching her. "Aagghh, it's coming!! Mari, it's coming!!" Lena cried, feeling the pressure in her lower abdomen. "Oh God, Lena, we've gotta get you to a hospital," Marianne responded, pulling out her phone to call an ambulance. Panting, Lena stopped her, grabbing Marianne's hand. "No.... no hospital!" Lena breathed. When Marianne stared into her face shocked, Lena shook her head. "How... will I... explain.... this?" "Too.... many.... questions..." Lena squealed as the pain worsened, and Marianne dropped her phone back into her purse. "Ok, back home then," she said. "Back home where it's more comfortable and private..." "There's.... no....time..." Lena said breathlessly. "It's... starting... to PUUUAAAAA!!" Lena let out a yell of agony as another contraction forced the baby painfully through her pelvis. "OOOHHH!! MARI, HELP ME, IT HURTS!!" Without another word, Marianne grabbed onto Lena and helped her over to a nearby park bench, thankful that this section of the park was currently deserted. As Lena moaned and cried, Marianne helped her onto the bench, taking off her bottoms, and positioning one of her legs to hang across the back of the bench, so that Lena was lying across it with her legs open. Lena screamed as she felt the burning and pressure in her vagina. "MARI, IT'S THERE! THE HEAD'S THERE!! IT BURNS!! OOOOWWWWW!!" Lena screamed as her pussy began to stretch around the head. Marianne moved in between Lena's legs, seeing the tip of the baby's head lodged in her small vagina. "Lena, honey, you're doing great!" Marianne coached. "Don't worry, I'll catch the baby when it comes out!" "It'll all be over soon!" "When you feel you need to, push!!" Lena screamed as the head emerged slowly, opening her wider and wider. "AAGGHH, IT HURTS!!" Lena yelled. "OH, PLEASE GET IT OUT!! MARI, PLEASE!!" As Lena begged and cried, Marianne rubbed her legs softly, watching as the head inched out. After another minute, the head fully emerged with a pop and a gush of fluids, causing Lena to gasp loudly. Marianne laughed and nodded in relief, looking into her friend's eyes. "One more push, Lena!!" She told her. "Just one more!"

45 minutes later, Marianne drove into the driveway of Lena's house, with Lena herself in the passenger seat, holding the baby girl that she had just given birth to in the park, weak and exhausted. Marianne got out of her car and then helped Lena slowly to her feet and guided her into her house. Lena lowered herself into her nearby armchair as Marianne took the baby from her and placed it onto the sofa. "That was intense, Lena," Marianne said to her. Lena nodded weakly at her friend and smiled softly at her. "Thank you for being there," Lena said quietly. "Is it always like that??" Marianne asked. Lena sat in quiet contemplation for a moment before saying hoarsely, "No, it seemed worse that time!" Lena stared at the baby lying over on the sofa, moving around timidly, lost in thought. Why did it seem like each time she gave birth, it felt worse?? Was it just her, or was it somehow because these bodies were technically giving birth after being a week old?? Lena watched as the baby continued to squirm silently. She did not think this baby was any bigger than the last two, so she did not understand. Would the next one be even worse? Lena noticed Marianne watching her, and gave her another weak smile, trying to assure her wordlessly that she was ok. "So, what happens now??" Marianne asked, looking around the room. Lena sighed and shook her head. "I don't know," she responded. "Everything that happens next just happens." "I fall asleep, and when I wake up, I'm somehow inside the baby's body, which is instantly the same age as when I fell asleep!" "I don't know why or how..." Marianne stared into her friend's face, clearly astonished. "So, wonder what would happen if someone was watching when you fell asleep?" She inquired. Lena just shook her head, too exhausted to think, though in a part of her mind, she wondered this too. "Lena, I'm gonna spend the night here," Marianne told her. "Maybe we can find out, and besides, I think you need me." "You shouldn't be alone during all this." Lena looked up into her friend's face, and simply nodded. "Okay," Marianne placed a hand on Lena's shoulder and squeezed it softly. "Alright, you rest for a while," she said comfortingly. "I'm just gonna run back to my place and pack a few things, ok??" Lena nodded and watched as Marianne walked back out the door. Lena was weary, and also hungry, so she eased out of her chair and made her way to her kitchen, finding a few cookies to munch on. Afterward, she went to her bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, letting out an exhausted sigh. She only wanted to rest, like Marianne told her to do, but within minutes, she was fast asleep.

Lena was jerked awake by a loud scream, and she rolled off the couch and onto the floor, disoriented. She got to her feet and ran into the bedroom, where she saw Marianne staring at a human skeleton wearing the clothes Lena had worn to the park earlier. Marianne was trembling with shock, and yelped again when she turned and saw Lena standing naked behind her. "Lena, it... it's TRUE!!" Marianne blurted out. "I believed you, of course, but seeing it for myself..." Lena placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I know, Mari," Lena said. "I've been living it the past few weeks." After Lena had quickly thrown on some clothes, the two of them returned to the living room, where Marianne collapsed onto the couch Lena had awoken from minutes earlier. "Packing took longer than I thought," Marianna explained. "When I came back in, I saw you asleep on the couch, and I didn't think anything about it, so I thought you put the baby in the bedroom, and I decided to go in there, and that's when I saw..." She trailed off, looking shaken, and buried her face in her hands. Lena sat next to her and put her arms around her comfortingly. "It was me, but not anymore," Lena whispered. "I'm right here now, and I'm ok!" Marianne looked into her eyes. "Until the next time you give birth all over again, right?" She asked. Lena nodded, and her face fell. "Yeah, in about a week, I'll be doing it again," she responded. "I'm cursed!!" Marianne seemed to have calmed down, and she looked at Lena, seeming to examine her entire body. "I'm not taking away how difficult this situation is for you, Lena," she began, "But, if you look at this another way, you could call it a gift too." "I mean, you never die, and you're good as new each week..." Marianne faltered under the shocked and scathing look her friend was giving her. "Sorry, I know you didn't want this," she said. "Like I said in the park, I'll help you find a solution any way I can!"

As the day passed, the two of them talked, with Marianne asking question after question about Lena's predicament, clearly fascinated and curious about it. Lena explained as best she could, and the conversation even continued when the two of them realized they were starving, and Lena decided to cook something for the two of them. It was later in the evening, while the two of them ate spaghetti Lena had cooked up, when Marianne had proposed staying with Lena on a longer term basis. After thinking about it, and listening to Marianne explain how she should no longer be alone during all this, Lena agreed, and the two of them took a trip to Marianne's apartment, to pack up more long term items for her, including her laptop, which would be essential for Marianne to help research Lena's situation.

A few days later, the two of them had established a routine, with Marianne still going to work during the day, leaving Lena to do her own work, chores, research, and more importantly, rest for what was to come. Lena had already begun showing again, as predicted, and the two girls had agreed that they would continue to keep this entire situation secret from anyone else. As such, Lena once again rarely left the house, lest she run into anyone and be forced into answering awkward questions. Lena had also flat out refused Marianne's suggestion that she go to a hospital the next time she was due to deliver, for the same reason. She did not want to imagine what would happen if she transitioned into the new body while inside a hospital room. Lena knew this would once again mean she would be giving birth at home, with Marianne as her midwife, and though she hated to put her friend through that again, it was necessary. Lena therefore was very patient and accomadating when Marianne began to comment on her rapid pregnancy, insisted in touching her bump, and started making preparations. After all, Lena thought, having someone make plans in advance, as well as just having someone with her, might be helpful.

Marianne had certainly done her research into birth. Close to the end of the week, with Lena's belly large and protruding out, Marianne had transformed Lena's bedroom into a personal home birthing suite, complete with a birthing ball and even a small tub. Marianne also insisted that Lena do nothing but rest as the time for her labor grew closer. Lena appreciated all of the effort her friend was putting in for her, and was thankful that she had ultimately shared her secret with Marianne. For the first time since this situation had begun, Lena found herself not so depressed, for Marianne seemed to be able to do anything she set her mind to, and that gave Lena hope that perhaps together, they could even find a way to get her out of this mess.

A day after Marianne had finished transforming Lena's room, Lena lay in bed, on her side, moaning loudly, as pain and pressure had started up inside her as she had slept. She rubbed her huge belly as she cried loudly, which brought Marianne running into the room. "It's started??" Marianne asked, coming over to the bed. Lena nodded, her eyes shut. "It hurts, Mari, oh God, it hurts!" She whined. The contractions wracked her body, growing in intensity, and Marianne gently tried to help Lena up. "Here, Lena, get on the birthing ball, it'll help," Marianne said gently, helping her friend waddle over to it. As Lena sat and began rocking on the ball, she admitted inwardly that it did seem to help. She rocked silently, her eyes closed, changing her rocking pattern with every movement. Focusing on trying to change this every time helped to take Lena's mind off the pain. Marianne stayed with her, massaging her back, holding her hand, and whispering consoling words to her. Eventually, however, the pain became too much, and Lena screamed out! "I HAVE TO PUSH!!" she yelled, and cried as the weight of the baby pressed on her hips. Marianne had, in advance, filled the tub in the room with warm water, and she now helped Lena slowly into this water, hoping that would ease the pain. Lena sighed as she felt the water warm her entire body. She still felt pain and pressure, but it was not as bad. "Thanks, Mari," she breathed to her friend. Marianne only shook her head, and then Lena said, "For everything!!" Marianne was about to respond, telling Lena there was no other place she would rather be, when Lena let out a moan and thrashed around in the water. "I FEEL IT COMING!!" Lena screeched. "Push, Lena!!" Marianne coached. Lena pushed and pushed, gripping the edges of the tub tightly. Marianne rubbed Lena's legs while simultaneously holding them open. "I already see the head, Lena," Marianne cried happily. "You're doing great!!" "Uuuuggghhhh," Lena groaned as she gave another push. With the head hanging halfway out of her vagina, Lena threw her head back against the head of the tub, panting. "I don't know how much longer I can do this," she breathed. "You've got this, Lena," Marianne reassured her. "Just a bit more!!" Lena felt another contraction and began to push, then screamed and thrashed as the burning hit her vagina full force. "AAAAHHH, IT'S CROWNING!!" Lena yelled, as Marianne tried to calm her down. After another minute of Lena's screams echoing through the room, there was a loud splash as the baby emerged from her into the water. As Lena collapsed in relief, Marianne lifted the baby out and placed her on the bed. "You did it, Lena," Marianne cried happily.

Marianne had helped Lena to the bed and moved the baby to another bed on the other side of the room. Lena fell asleep almost immediately, tired from giving birth, and Marianne was determined to watch everything until Lena woke up. A few hours passed, with Marianne watching both her friend and the baby, and then suddenly, as she blinked, the baby was instantly a full grown Lena, with no signs of change. For a moment, there were two sleeping Lenas in the room with her and then the one in Lena's original bed stopped breathing. As Marianne continued to watch, an hour later, in another blink of an eye, the first Lena became a skeleton, still wearing the clothes she was wearing when she fell asleep, as the new naked Lena stirred. Marianne was at a loss for words as her friend got up from the new bed and searched for something to wear. When she finally found her voice again, Marianne said with an uncomfortable laugh, "Well, I guess we can keep all this stuff here, since we know you'll be needing it again in a week!"

It was two days later, the girls having gotten back to their routine, when Marianne had finally found something. She had sent Lena's e-mail to a buddy of hers, and he had traced the location of its sender. He sent this location information back to Marianne, along with assurances that he did not read the e-mail, nor did he want to know what was going on. Marianne shared this information with Lena, who felt herself tremble with excitement. "That's only several hours away from here by car," Lena exclaimed excitedly. "I know," Marianne said. "We can go and meet with whoever is in charge of that contest and convince him to lift the curse." Lena's heart sank a little. "But, that woman on the phone said the curse couldn't be reversed," Lena stated. Marianne shook her head, still smiling. "She probably told you that because it would be an inconvenience to do it," she responded. "If he or she is face to face with you, we can force them to lift it, somehow." "Don't worry!" "Soon, it's all gonna work out fine, I just know it!" As Lena throught to herself, wondering if she dared to get her hopes up, Marianne checked her watch. "I have a busy workday today, but I'm off tomorrow," she said. "We can go then!"

The next day, the two of them woke up early, had a quick breakfast, and then got in Marianne's car, to begin their five hour drive to the location in Marianne's information. Lena already had a small bump again, which had motivated the girls to start their trip as quickly as possible. As Marianne drove, Lena sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly rubbing her little belly as the two of them discussed what they would say to whoever they were about to meet. Eventually, since they had very little information to go on, the girls exhausted this subject and began discussing other things, like what their future plans were. Lena, hopeful that this curse would be gone soon, wished to pursue a career in writing. Perhaps she would turn this experience into a story of some sort. Marianne, meanwhile, did not seem to have any future plans, having always mostly lived in the moment and had never really thought about it. Eventually, after five hours, they stopped in front of what looked to be an old house, and Marianne confirmed from her notes that this was the location.

The two girls entered the house, finding the door unlocked. They found themselves in a large open living room, with a few chairs placed around and a fireplace against the wall. Sitting on top of the fireplace were several lit candles. As the two girls looked around the room, they noticed that the place was lit only by various candles dotted around the room. A grandfather clock stood in a corner, ticking softly, and a circle was drawn in the center of the room. "Woah, what is this..." Marianne exclaimed, before a young dark haired man dressed in a dark cloak entered the room from a doorway in the opposite wall. He looked at the girls, then said calmly, "You are Lena, one of my contest winners!" "WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME??" Lena blurted out angrily. "I didn't think you contest was real!" "I granted your wish, Miss Lena," the man responded. "It is quite real, and your wish was to live forever!" "But, why did you make it happen like this??" Lena yelled, as she motioned to her small pregnant bump. The man sighed. "Because, it was the only way," he responded. "I am a sorcerer, but my magic is limited." "It can't extend life, but it can create a new one, for the act of conceiving is a process that already exists!" "A bit of cloning magic, as well as soul transference, and life acceleration..." "TAKE IT AWAY," Lena yelled. "I don't want this wish anymore!!" "Reverse the spell or curse or whatever you did!" The sorcerer shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, there is no reverse spell or any way to stop or cancel my magic once applied." "What I have given you is yours forever." Lena gaped at the sorcerer, feeling as though her insides were falling. She had hoped there was a way to undo this curse, but now, it seemed, there was not. "I can't go on like this," Lena pleaded. "Please, there must be something you can do!" The sorceror shook his head apologetically, but Marianne spoke up. "I have an idea," she said, and the other two looked at her. "You said the spell could not be undone, but can it be moved or transferred??" The sorcerer stared at her. "Yes, it can be, but I don't understand..." "Then, give it to me instead," Marianne said, before looking at Lena and smiling slightly, as Lena gaped at her. "Mari, what??" She said breathlessly. "It's ok," Marianne answered. "Remember when I said this could be a gift instead of a curse if you thought about it differently??" "Well, I have thought about it, and for me, it would be a gift!" She turned to the sorcerer. "Can you do it??" "I can," he reponded, nodding. "Mari, I can't let you do this," Lena said to her friend. "Lena, please, I want this," Marianne said. "I found what was happening to you fascinating and amazing, even a dream come true." "You don't want it, but I do, so we both win!" "But, the birth... the pain..." Lena said, staring at Marianne in disbelief. "I'm not worried about that, Marianne said happily. "It's actually an experience I would treasure each time." "Please, Lena, let me do this for you, and for me, ok??" Lena sighed, and a tear ran down her cheek as a feeling of great relief flowed through her body. "Ok, Mari," she said. "Thank you!"

The sorcerer led the two girls down into a large basement room, with what looked like a large round pool in the center of it, filled with what looked like water. He instructed the two of them to take off all their clothes and then both submerge themselves completely for 20 seconds, as he performed a ritual. The girls did as they were asked and the two of them slowly walked down into the pool until they were both fully underwater. After counting to twenty, Lena emerged from the pool and a splash, the sound of dripping water, and someone trying to catch their breath told her that Marianne had come out as well. Looking over herself, Lena saw that the small baby bump was gone, her body back to its small petite form. She looked over to see that Marianne now had a small bump, which she was clutching in one hand as she spluttered the water out of her mouth. "Mari, look," Lena exclaimed, pointing at Marianne's belly. "It worked!!" "You're..." "I'm pregnant!" Marianne said, happily, looking over herself and rubbing her belly. "It is done," the sorcerer stated. "The spell has been transferred."

As they drove back to Lena's house, the two girls talked happily, both having gotten what they wanted! Lena was free, and never had to worry about giving birth again, short of actually having kids of her own someday. Marianne, meanwhile, had taken the curse, or gift as she called it. As Marianne giggled, driving happily, Lena stared at her. "Mari, I'll never forget what you did for me," she said to her friend. "Thank you so much!" Marianne laughed. "I should be thanking you, Lena," she responded, rubbing her belly. "You've given me something special, and I can't wait to experience it." Lena smiled. "I was thinking," she began, "It might be good for you to have someone around that is experienced in this situation." "Since your stuff is already at my house, and you'll need it soon, why don't you continue to hang around my place?" "I can help you when it's time, and I enjoy your company!" Lena patted her friend's belly, inwardly thinking that she'd be much happier delivering a baby every week than actually being the one giving birth. Marianne smiled at her. "You know what," she said. "I think that's an excellent idea!" "Let's start our new lives, together!!"

End!!

#rapid pregnancy #giving birth #birth

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lin-nin · 4 years

Note

Headcanons for maybe they cause the reader's death? Like in an accident / generally not on purpose. Maybe they're in the middle of a battle and when they try to strike their opponent, their s/o is shoved in front and is the one that they hit instead? I just want angst :DD. Maybe for Techno, Schlatt, Dream, and Bad? Thanks!

heaOOOH ANON, YOU KNOW ME SO WELL. I LOVE WRITING ANGST ITS CHEFS KISS MWAH. I WILL GLADLY WRITE YOU SOME ANGST LOVIE. THESE ALSO CAME OUT MORE LIKE MINI ONE-SHOTS Warnings: Death, Gore, Coerced Suicide (BadBoyHalo)

Techno accidentally killing his S/O

Techno was always so easily caught up in battle. The way the voices chanted and demanded blood, he was quick to give in in the heat of the moment. Doomsday was no different, truly. Hell, he was eager for doomsday, and you had been too. You wanted to cause the chaos. It was only when you were off of the obsidian grid, moving to take down whoever you could with your axe. You and Techno didn’t always keep an eye on each other in the field. You just checked in on one another after, tending to the other as needed. He mainly checked in on you, as you often suffered the worst injuries in battle. You hadn’t heard his rocket launcher fire, ears full of the ringing and chaos and explosions of battle. No, you didn’t realize it until you had moved towards his target, the firework hitting you square in the back.

Techno swore everything was in slow motion then. The way your body flung into Tommy, slipping onto his sword that he had raised in the process to counter you. It impaled you, and he couldn’t see the look on your face. The voices in his head screamed and he was moving without thought, your name spilling from his lips, barely audible over the roar of battle. Tommy looked stunned, letting himself get shoved away once the older man came over, cradling you. You were covered in blood, seeping through your wound and shirt. He didn’t realize he was crying until you shushed him, reaching up to cradle his face.

“Don’t worry,” you had reassured, wiping at his tears and only managing to smear blood over the fur there. “This isn’t my last life. We have plenty of time together, just wait a few days. I’ll be back.” You would cough, making blood spurt from your lips as it bubbled into your throat. Techno could only helplessly watch as the remnants of you life drained from your eyes. This would put you on your final life.

The rest of doomsday was spent relentlessly slaughtering everyone who even looked at him wrong. He was inconsolable. When he returned to his cabin, and you finally came back- with new scars from both the firework and Tommy’s sword, he quickly deteriorated again. He struggled to voice how he felt- that it was his fault that you had been tossed into the blade and killed. He did, however, become fiercely protective of you. He would constantly give you armor and repair it, making sure you were fed and your weapons were the best. For whenever he would allow you back into battle and chaos.

Schlatt accidentally killing his S/O

Schlatt never had many on his side. You, though? You were always there for him. Originally a body guard he had hired, only to find a best friend and lover in you. A confidante. You may not have approved of each of his decisions, but you still protected him. He wasn’t necessarily a fighter, preferring to play the role of puppet master. You acknowledged that when it came to battle, you were a puppet.

It inevitably had already cost you two of your lives. You had no idea if it was intentional or not.

It was when Pogtopia came to attack that you were worried. Schlatt hadn’t been looking good. He had been drinking so much, seeming distant. Withdrawn. Even though you loved him, you struggled to get through to him. You stood at his side as you watched the chaos, gripping the hilt of your sword. Prepared to deflect at any given moment.

Tommy had found the pair of you first, and you easily preoccupied yourself with countering him. Only to feel yourself get whipped around, Schlatt’s hand familiar on your arm. Just for an arrow to lodge itself into your windpipe. You choked and gasped, feeling the blood invade your throat. Had you been warned, you could have put up your shield. Which had clattered to the ground with your sword. You had expected him to be pulling you from danger. Not putting you into it.

“No, no, no, stop it. Don’t you fucking die on me. Don’t you dare!” His voice rung in your ears. It was denial. So full of denial. As if the arrow in your windpipe had sobered him entirely. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Stop! Fucking stop, you can’t leave. You aren’t allowed!” You gazed up to him with a weak smile, resting one hand on top of his.

“I won’t.... leave without you.... Don’t.... leave me waiting,” Your words were choked, interrupted by bubbling gasps. You would pause to cough up blood, gagging and choking on it with each breath and word. He dropped your body when you stopped breathing, standing up with his jaw set and an ache in his chest he didn’t want to identify. He didn’t keep you waiting, surrendering in the battle before succumbing to his failing health. The afterlife, though cold, was a little warmer and more humorous with him there.

Dream accidentally killing his S/O

Dream loved you with a passion so fierce it felt like the flames from the fire of it would often engulf you. The protection he gave to you, the way he often spoke to you or held you. It wasn’t bad, it was just always much fiercer than you ever anticipated. This translated to everything, too. He fiercely encouraged you to fight with him, but not to the point of getting yourself killed.

You weren’t always too good at following those words.

You had lost your first life fighting against L’Manberg. Not a direct cause from Dream, though. Just carelessness on your behalf. After that, he hovered near you during fights. Making sure you didn’t die. You didn’t mind. It at least showed how much he loved you, right?

Of course, he said all he cared about was the discs. When questioned about you, despite his hesitance, he had insisted you meant nothing to him with the same ferocity as before. It had hurt, cutting deeper than any blade before. You left, with Sapnap and George. You didn’t know where that had left the two of you, but you knew you couldn’t be near him and his delusions.

It’s how you ended up against him on Doomsday, staring him down atop the grid. The wind whipped at you and he pointed his crossbow at you. You didn’t blink, even as it loosed and shot the bolt into your leg. You had lost your balance, tumbling off of the grid with encouragement from the wind. You had narrowly missed the edge of the growing crater, thankful for the protection of your armor.

Only for the explosives raining down to knock the land from beneath you. You were sent tumbling down into the crater, landing on your neck. You had no recollection of it, no understanding of the horror he felt at watching you fall from such a height. He didn’t need to be told it was fatal. He hated himself for it. For what he had caused. Because, despite his words, he did still love you.

It wasn’t until you visited him in the prison, a nervous twitch in your hands as result from the fall, staring him down, it came crashing down on him. He had ruined you. “I wish he killed you. I wish I could kill you.” Your voice was cold, and you raised your hand to demonstrate the constant tremor caused by the neurological damage. You couldn’t kill him if you tried. You could barely hold a sword.

“I would deserve it.”

Bad accidentally killing his S/O

(Warning for suicide coercion)

You absolutely adored Bad. And He, you. That much was obvious. Life with him was fairly good, too. Mostly peaceful, and pleasant. The occasional bits of chaos, but so long as it didn’t directly affect you, you didn’t care. It usually didn’t, and you were content with that. Content to help others and stay neutral as needed. Until the appearance of the egg, of course.

You hated it. It made you uncomfortable, in a way that had your head ringing and chest feeling tight. You would avoid it as much as possible. You only came to dislike it more as it affected Bad. The way he didn’t make himself seem so small anymore, towering to his full height. The way he would kill a person over the egg, if it told him to. It was all so much.

Yet at the end of the day, he always came back to you and seemed almost like your Bad. Almost.

“Cupcake, give it a chance,” Bad had insisted one day, pulling you towards where the egg was. Even if you wanted to fight him on it, you couldn’t. Not physically.

“Bad, I told you. I don’t like it, it makes me feel... wrong.” This hadn’t been the first time the two of you spoke of this. Yet he insisted. The two of you had bickered until he tugged you into the building, unceremoniously pushing you towards the drop. Despite your protests, you fell in. Everything immediately felt wrong as you came close to it, the whispers of it not new. You had heard them before.

Yet it was vile as always, causing you to claw at the room in attempt to leave. Until it was all too much. There was one way out of this that you could see, even if it would cost you dearly. You sought out the vines of the egg, using them to rid yourself of your current life, much to the egg’s encouragement.

When you were free, you were different, the patterning of the vine clearly visible on your neck. You had packed up all of your important things, leaving Bad a note and going as far away from the influence of the egg as possible. Bad was clearly distraught upon finding the note. He looked for you for a long while, but always came back to the egg. At least, if the egg helped him bring peace to the entire place, he could get you back. Right? That was the newest goal. Bring peace and bring you back to him.

#Anonymous #badboyhalo #dream #schlatt #technoblade #technoblade x reader #schlatt x reader #dream x reader #badboyhalo x reader #tw suicide #tw death #tw gore #headcanon

753 notes · View notes

estrel · 4 years

Text

Are You Happy? (Save Them Some Pie)

HAPPY 42ND BIRTHDAY, DEAN!! this is my gift to him for being my comfort person that i would hug on sight if given the chance 💗 love you dude, may you indulge in copious amounts of pie. ~ 1.5k words.

also dedicated to marlo ( @heller-jensen ), jace ( @thiscastielhasflown ) and dee ( @castee-yel ) thanks for bein real ones <3

[READ ON AO3]

The day had already started out weird enough.

Dean had woken up drenched in sweat, mind racing with the last lingering thoughts of a nightmare. A vamp nest that he and Sam had been hunting, Dean dying in the most ludicrous way possible, and driving Baby down a long road for an indiscriminate amount of time in a supposed heaven that his father (his father) also co-habited. Needless to say, the dream had come out of nowhere, but it was easy enough to forget once the smell of bacon made its way into his room.

Breakfast was hardy and quick, with enough coffee to fuel him for the rest of the day as he skimmed the internet for a possible case. He had the itch, but apparently, looking around at the three sleepy faces around him at the table, no one else did.

He packed up anyway, preparing for what would likely be an easy salt-n-burn; he’d be gone for only a few hours, tops. On his way out, Cas stops him before he can scale the stairs, arm gripping his shoulder tightly. There’s a memory, briefly—the same hand, the same shoulder. Blood.

Dean looks down at it. Back at Cas.

“…Yeah?”

After a moment, Cas lets go. He steps back half an inch as if he had forgotten himself. “Just…be careful.”

Dean nods, moving to leave again, taking the awkwardness as both a Cas thing and a morning thing and content to leave it at that.

“And,” Cas says. Dean turns back.

“Come home.”

Dean picks up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Dean, hey! It’s, uh. It’s me. Krissy?”

Dean feels himself begin to smile, mindful of the road ahead of him. He balances his phone on his thigh while he drives.

“Hey, kid! Long time no call. How are you? Everything okay?”

The case had been as easy as Dean had suspected, but he had that familiar muscle ache and heaviness to his eyes that solo cases usually gave him.

Besides that, he was getting a little confused about all of the calls he’d been getting today. Before Krissy, it had been Garth, and before that, Claire and Jody and…

“Uh, yeah, dude, everything’s good. Um. How are you? How’s Sam and that angel of yours?”

Dean swallows to keep from choking, or potentially crashing the car.

“They’re good. Yeah…good.” Alive, he wants to say, back from the dead, probably in the DeanCave watching Scooby Doo without him. “Sorry, Krissy, ah,” he steps off the break to make a left, “I’m actually on my way home right now. Was there something I could help you with?”

There’s a pause, and Dean chances a glance at his phone to see if the call had dropped off. It hadn’t.

“Krissy?”

“I,” she huffs in what sounds like a laugh, “Nothing, Dean. You get home safe, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

“And hey,” Krissy says, before he can say his goodbyes, “Uh, make sure you save some pie for everybody else.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrow a bit, but he laughs. “I will. Take care of yourself.”

“Bye, Dean.”

“Ba-bye.”

Dean’s still mulling over the pie comment when he nearly falls down the stairs, squinting into the darkness of the Bunker.

“What the hell?” he asks, voice hoarse around the high note. “Guys?”

When there’s no immediate answer, Dean’s instincts kick in. He pulls out his gun and gently drops his bag, waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust so he can try for the stairs.

Before he can, though, the lights kick back on. His gaze locks onto the scene below, and Dean slowly lowers his gun.

“Happy birthday!” Jack says, the sound of a party horn whining shortly after. Beside him, Cas pulls the string of a party popper, and he jerks as bits of confetti fall around him and into his hair.

Skeptically, Dean starts descending down the stairs.

“You…this…” he manages.

“It’s your birthday, dumbass,” Sam says, swooping forward to slap a party hat on Dean’s head as soon as he’s made the landing. He smiles.

“Oh…kay.” Around them, the Bunker looks pretty normal. The only difference is the array of pies on one of the library tables, next to what looks like home made rice krispie treats, and a couple of birthday-themed plates and napkins. That, and the confetti from Cas’ party popper that litters the floor. “Are you sure?”

Cas frowns at Sam. “Sam was certain. I can’t imagine he’d get the day wrong, but he has had quite severe brain trauma over the years. Perhaps…” Cas reaches out to Sam’s head, probably intent on searching his brain for said trauma, or for the date of Dean’s actual birthday. Sam swats his hand away.

“Hey, no. My trauma is fine. Dean,” Sam redirects his attention to him, “It’s today. Did you really forget?”

Dean shrugs, trying to piece the day together from the beginning. Shitty dream, good breakfast, the three of them weirdly insisting on staying at the Bunker…the calls. Save some pie for everybody else.

He laughs. “So that’s what she meant.”

“That’s what who meant?” Jack asks. He’s wearing a party hat, too, with ridiculous stripes of blue and pink and purple patterned onto it. It matches the one currently strapped to Dean’s own. He shakes his head.

“You’re telling me all of you knew? This whole time? And…and…” He looks around again, pointing vaguely at the table and the confetti. “You put this all together for me?”

Sam shoves his arm playfully. “Course we did. Now quit pouting and come eat some pie.”

Sam is fast asleep, sprawled out on the couch hours later with one of his hands brushing the floor. Dean thinks he spots drool on the pillow underneath him.

Cas has been quiet next to Dean, at least since Jack had disappeared into the kitchen an hour ago and hadn’t come back, thoughtfully tracing the lip of his beer bottle with his finger.

“Something on your mind?” Dean asks, because he wants to know.

Cas continues unbothered. Scooby Doo reruns play in the background. Dean almost repeats the question, but Cas eventually lifts his gaze to stare at him.

“Are you happy?”

Dean presses his mouth shut. Licks his lips. He takes just as long to answer.

“You know what,” he smiles. “I think I am.”

Cas smiles back at him, soft and genuine. The skin around his eyes crinkling tells more than the gentle upturn of his mouth.

Dean swallows, nervously putting his beer down and turning it a few times until his fingers are wet with the condensation.

“What, uh. What about you?” He swallows again. “You happy?”

What he really wants to ask, though, is if they were good. If, after recent events, they were still the same. If Cas was still fine with “just being.”

He’s quiet again. Dean thinks he deserves that, and tries to pay attention to the TV, but the voice in his head is too loud. Cas has to tap his knee to get his attention again.

“Hm?”

“I was saying,” he moves his hand back, “that I’m sorry I didn’t get you a gift.”

Dean stares at him. “What are you talking about?”

Cas looks confused, like he’s about to repeat what he just said. Dean stops him short with a wave of his hand.

“Dude, you just got back from the dead, alright? That’s—that’s gift enough to last me a lifetime. Don’t worry about a gift.”

Cas frowns, and Dean rolls his eyes. It’s another few moments of tense silence, until Dean breaks it, his heart pounding in his chest.

“But, uh,” he says, “I might have a gift for you.”

“Dean, we don’t share a birthday. It’s not customary to gift me something, especially when I haven’t given you—“

“Cas,” he groans, officially putting his beer aside and facing him. Cas’ features are lit up with the colors of the TV. Dean reaches a hand up to pluck confetti from his hair, a green piece that he’d been eyeing all night. Hesitating, he lets his hand fall to Cas’ face, smoothing over his cheek and jaw. The TV paints his cheekbone purple. Dean brushes his thumb over it. “Just...shut up and let me do this.”

Cas tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed in that way of his, and Dean thinks he looks perfect. When he dips forward and presses their lips together, it’s perfect, perfect, perfect. He’s warm, his face is burning, eyes almost watering when he pulls away.

Dean lets his forehead rest on Cas’, heartbeat still crazy. He closes his eyes. “We can have it, Cas. This. We can have this.”

Cas takes Dean’s face in his hands, lifts it a little to bring them face to face again, so that he’s looking into Dean’s eyes.

“I’d like that, Dean,” he says, and his eyes are wet, too. Happy, Dean thinks.

“Your gift to me?” Dean manages, smile wobbly. He’s teasing, trying to bring down the weight of this without getting rid of all of it. He likes this type of adrenaline rush, different from any hunt he’s been on. Better.

Cas smiles. “I think technically it was you that gifted me, but, yes. My gift to you, if you’ll take it.”

“Gladly,” Dean says.

Cas hums back, brushing his fingers through the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. “Happy birthday, Dean.” He leaves a kiss on his forehead.

Happy.

Dean thinks, for the first time, as he pulls more confetti from Cas’ hair, that it actually is.

—

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smellsfaintlyofvanilla · 4 years

Note

YOUR ANNIE FIC “tragedies of war” MADE ME CRY SM :( gosh your writing is beautiful!! can i request smth similar? maybe after annie meets the scouts she reunites with reader and it’s just fluff and stuff 🥺🥺 no rush ofc <33

Honestly, after that one, we all wanted a happy ending version (even me lol)

Home

(Annie Leonhart x Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: None

Category: Fluff

Summary: As a sort of divergence from this fic, Annie breaks out of the crystal and immediately goes looking for her S/O.

Words: 1.8K

Y/n.

It was the first thing on her mind when she was suddenly freed from the crystal.

Where is she?

She could feel the effects of time on her muscles - they were stiff and tense, reluctant to move at all.

Just how long have I been in that thing? She wondered. How much time has passed?

After four years, you’d imagine she’d have a wide array of things on her mind. But, in reality, there was only one.

Her girlfriend.

She leaned against the way tiredly before slinking down to sit, folding her knees into her chest and burying her head. She could tell, by some sense unknown to even her, that a lot of time had passed.

She thought of what you’d look like now. Were you happy? Were you getting along with everyone? Had you found out the secret of the walls? Did you find out her secret?

Thoughts raced through her head like a crashing river, never stopping for any order, but still flowing in the same direction. Suddenly, a thought creeped its way up her neck, instilling a seed of worry deep in the pit of her stomach.

Were you even okay? Were you hurt? Did something happen? Did you... did you...

No, she thought, determination struggling to reach past the worry that laced her mind and expression, she’s fine. She’s strong, nothing would’ve happened to her. No titan would ever kill her, she’s stronger than that.

She finally made her way up on unsteady feet, staring around the room absentmindedly.

She’s... she’s okay... The blonde stumbled forward, her legs voicing their complaints painfully, but she didn’t care. She has to be...

...

I have to find her.

---

So, here she was now. The front door of the Scout building, two MPs standing wearily to either side of her. She wasn’t surprised by that, though. It made an amount of sense - she was a titan shifter from Marley, who was the number one enemy of Paradis at the moment. Still, she made it clear her only intention was to visit her girlfriend, and, with much persistence, they allowed her.

That didn’t stop the two MPs from boastfully carrying rifles and folding Annie’s arm behind her back painfully. They needed to make sure there was zero chance of transforming, especially now that she was so close to many important military figures.

An MP stepped forward, pounding their fist on the door begrudgingly. An even more begruntled Levi answered.

“Military Police?” He questioned, cocking an eyebrow at their unannounced presence. He sighed, before speaking again, the tiredness evident in his voice. “What are we being arrested for now?”

“Nothing,” the female MP to her right spoke quickly. “Just a visitor.” She spoke flatly, gesturing to the blonde still restrained in the soldiers’ grasps.

Levi eyes slowly tracked their way from the MP down to face Annie.

“Her?” He raised an eyebrow, almost looking at her with condescension. She wasn’t surprised. She looked tired - after all, those four years in the crystal weren’t exactly a holiday. Not to mention, her face, normally neutral and stoic, was plastered with worry. Eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, as if she was waiting impatiently for some horrid news.

He continued to stare, but Annie didn’t crumple under his concrete gaze. Her eyes were fixed over his shoulder, searching the room behind him for any sign of her lover.

She saw no trace of you amongst the soldiers, and worry began to grow once again, and her heart slowly dropped more and more.

Despite her limited success in finding you, she locked eyes with a familiar face - Armin. He seemed quite surprised to see her, a curious expression painted his face as he marched over.

“Annie?” He said her name, speaking it almost like he wasn’t even sure she was real. “What are you...” He trailed off, confusion evident in his tone.

Quickly though, he regained his train of thought, “Come inside.” He gestured gently, and she stepped inside eagerly.

She scanned the room once again, and there was no sign of you. The seed of worry grew.

“Things have changed a lot, y’know.” Armin started, leaning against the wall. “We made it outside the walls. We know about you and the warrior program. It feels like it would take years for you to catch up on everything that’s happened but-”

“Where’s Y/n?”

She didn’t bother for small talk, or hell, even meaningful conversation for that matter. That didn’t matter right now. She had one thing on her mind.

“Y/n?” He echoed, registering the question for a moment. “Y/n is...”

What’s all the chattering about? You wondered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you woke from your nap. You laid in your dorm room bed, which unfortunately shared a wall with the common area. Given all the noise, you figured there was some type of guest.

You pulled the covers off of your body, and sleepily got up and went towards the door, yawning loudly. You stepped out of the door and into the hallway, and headed towards the commons.

“Y/n is...” The blonde man spoke unconfidently, almost as if he was trying to remember your whereabouts.

She paid no attention to what he was saying, though, as movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

A slow shadow slunk against the wall, placing it’s hand on the wall for balance. And it rounded the corner.

She made eye contact. And there it was.

Her world.

You.

You stood right in front of her for the first time in four years. Tiredness and fatigue were evident in your eyes, but you were certainly there. Alive and well. And that’s all that mattered.

“Y/N!!” She shouted, and the light seemed to return to her face. The thousand pound weight on her shoulders had just been lifted, and finally, she could move again. And, although her shocked and worried expression stayed present, you could see the quick buildup of tears in her eyes.

She broke free of the grasp the MPs had on her, adrenaline assisting her in breaking through their hold easily, and pushed her way past Armin, sprinting towards you as fast as she possibly could.

Your hazy mind took a moment to process the blonde mass running towards you, but your eyes lit up in excitement as you finally processed that beautiful face and identify it as your girlfriend, somehow awake from her slumber.

“Annie!” You beamed, opening your arms to allow her in just in time for her body to collide with yours, easily knocking over your unprepared body.

You landed against the wall of the hallway roughly, and you slid down the wall carelessly. Your girlfriend was clinging to you almost desperately, gripping the front of your shirt and burying her face in it, your leg to either side of her body.

You grabbed the back of her head, pulling her closer into you. You could feel the wetness of tears on the front of your shirt as she sniffled and sobbed into your chest. Normally, she would never let herself get so emotional in front of everyone, but the overwhelming relief she felt just to know you were safe was too much for her to be able to control.

It was all too much for her. The sight of your adorable face, the warmth your body gave off, the scent the was so originally yours engrained into the clothes you wore. It hadn’t hit her until just now how much she missed you, even if she was hardly conscious in the crystal.

She sobbed helplessly into your shirt, finding herself unable to do anything else at the moment. You were relieved too, of course, but you never had to worry about Annie’s safety, which couldn’t be said vice versa. Still, happy tears filled your eyes as you continued to embrace your girlfriend.

You stayed like that for a little while longer, until a loud *ahem* caught your attention. You moved your head up to look (though Annie decided to keep hers right where it was), and were greeted with Caption Levi staring down at you.

“I get you’re happy, Y/n,” He stated bluntly, trying not to make things super awkward. “But this is the kind of affection that can be saved for your dorm room.”

A pink tint flared up on your cheeks, suddenly reminded by the fact that everyone in the commons could see you two.

“A-Ah,” you chuckled. “Of course Captain Levi.”

You placed your hands on the underside of Annie’s thighs, allowing you to hold her as you stood up and walked to your dorm.

You shut the door quickly, locking it for good measure, and laid down on the bed, setting your lover down gently beside you.

It seemed her crying had died down for the most part, thankfully. Even though they were happy tears, something about seeing your lover cry made you so unhappy.

“Annie,” you smiled at her, causing her to move her head up to stare at you. You brushed the hair out of her face affectionately, smiling with happy tears in your eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

The statement only seemed to bring out more emotion in her, as her lip trembled in an attempt to not let any tears fall. “Y/n... I was so worried about you... I thought... maybe... something had happened.”

You laughed warmly at that. Not necessarily making fun of her, but instead creating a warm and enveloping environment around you two with it.

“I would never leave you like that, Annie. I’m strong, you remember?” You grinned, and rolled up your sleeve to flex your bicep, a funny habit of yours that she had taken note of during your cadet days together.

She laughed at your silliness, her face seeming genuinely happy for the first time in years.

She was at home.

“I know...” She sniffled, reassuring herself even more, despite the fact you were already right in front of her. “I just... I was just worried for you...”

She muttered, pressing her cheek to your chest, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. You wrapped an arm around her gently, using the other arm to pull a blanket over the two of you, before grabbing her hand in your own.

“You need some rest, I’m sure, sweetie.” Your words were smooth and even, lighting a fire under Annie’s heart with every syllable.

“Yeah...” She smiled into the embrace, feeling truly at peace for the first time in what felt like forever. “I guess so...”

She buried her head in your chest once again, the soft sound of your heartbeat lulling her gently as the wave of sleep finally overtook her body.

She hadn’t slept like this in ages. No, this was different.

She was home.

This isn’t proofread hahaaaaaaa :)

#attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #annie leonhart #annie leonhart x reader #annie x reader #fluff

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sirisuorionblack · 3 years

Text

James the mother hen

James Potter x Hufflepuff!Reader

Requested - dude hi!! could you maybe do james potter x hufflepuff reader where the reader plays quidditch and gets hurt during a gryffindor v hufflepuff game and he feels really guilty about it and is really overbearing because he wants to help her feel better? or maybe just a sick day fic where james is helping her lol i’m just a sucker for mom friend worried james. thank you!!

Warning - Minor injuries

Authors Note - This is my first time writing in second POV so, sorry if its not great. Hope you like @riddikulusweasleys!

“Hey, prongs, look who is coming,” Sirius dragged his syllables at the last word, looking at his best mate with a wide smirk on his face.

James looked up from his single piece of toast - healthy breakfast before quidditch, he said when the rest three of them gawked at him - to Sirius, who was wiggling his eyebrows then across the great hall to spot you in your mustard quidditch robes, grinning as you walked toward him.

Remus chuckled at his best friend whose hand immediately flew to his hair, making them even messier and adjusting his glasses, “Your drooling, mate,”

“Well, I have every right to drool seeing she is my girlfriend,” James said cheekily, his focus slightly faltering from you towards his best friends rolling their eyes.

“Hello, Mr Potter,” you greeted him, smirking.

“Hello, Ms (L/N),” he said, chuckling.

“You two are weird,” Sirius muttered, looking between the two of you in disgust although his eyes held a shine.

“You're just jealous, pads,” Peter mumbled.

“Hey!” Sirius glared at him and soon engaged in a nasty conversation that may or may not have cost the pumpkin juice.

“You ready for the match?” you asked James, raising your eyebrows and smirking slightly.

James’ stomach suddenly churned anxiously. Now the matter is - he loved quidditch, he loved it more than anything but it was particularly hard for him to play against Hufflepuff ever since you became the captain of the quidditch team a year ago. You had always been a part of the reason why James loved quidditch, your moves and flexes made him much more drawn to you -smitten as Sirius would say- and one of the multiple reasons he finally mustered the courage to ask you out the start of the term.

You knew it, you knew how James felt playing against you, it was rather tough to play against...loved ones? Never have either of you actually muttered those three words to the other.

“Yeah,” James said, his voice cracking in between.

You smiled softly, and winked, “Your gonna rock it,”

The two of you after the conversation in the great hall only met at the quidditch pitch.

“Shake your hands,” Madam Hooch said, motioning you and James to do so.

A smile on both of your faces as your handshake was more than friendly compared to any other handshakes on the field.

The Hufflepuff and the Gryffindor teams were high up in the air, clenching the broom handles, waiting for the quaffle to release because this, after all, would determine the quidditch cup for the year.

Madam Hooch’s whistle echoed through the air as the quaffle was thrown to the players. The whistles and hollers of the crowd were so much that it almost made the players anxious.

“The Gryffindor captain first caught the quaffle. You're doing great Jamie boy!” The commentary was given by, of course, Sirius. He was appointed as the temporary commentator after the previous one had a major injury after very strict instructions given by Professor McGonagall.

“Mr Black,” McGonagall warned.

“Alright, alright. Minnie is getting mad,” he quickly added, “Oh, look at that. (L/N) has the quaffle, she is flying to the goal. Now, come on, let your boyfriend win, will you?”

You flipped him off with one hand as you flew through the forthcoming Gryffindor team players, diving and serving.

“Woah! Hufflepuff scores one goal!” Sirius glanced at the parchment before him, “1-0, Hufflepuff to Gryffindor, very bad performance lions, I expected more,” he shook his head as though in pity.

“Mr Black, you're demotivating the players!” McGonagall warned.

“Sorry, Minnie,” Sirius apologized, not so apologetically, “Now, the quaffle is back with the Gryffindor chaser! Yay!”

You dashed to the chaser, circling around them and with one calculated, gentle push the waffle was back to your hands.

“Alright, ladies and gentleman can we give a big round of applause to my best friend’s one day, to be wife,” Sirius asked looking at the crowd expectantly and for his satisfaction, the crowd roared.

Both James and you came to a halt on your brooms, a dark pink blush on your faces as the crowd roared even louder. But someone in the Gryffindor team had realised it was the best time to knock the quaffle out of your hold.

It was a great idea, you must give that to the red flash that passed by you but the way execution was worst. As the player swished past you, there was a harsh gush of wind and the player missed and had hit you on your elbow evidently knocking you out of your broom. Holding on the broom with one hand you dangled off it, trying to climb back on.

As though it all were perfectly timed, a loose bulger was aimed at you by Merlin-knows-who and you lost the only balance you had that held you in the air.

The air around you felt colder as the blank spots danced dangerously before your eyes. Your boyfriend’s terrified face was what you saw last before losing your consciousness.

“Mr Potter, please stop fretting,” Madam Pomfrey said to James who paced before your bed nervously in the hospital wing, “Nothing is wrong with her,”

“Except?” He insisted.

“Except her ankle is broken,” She said calmly.

“Broken!?”

“Her ankle, Mr Potter!”

“It's still broken!”

“Potter, if this continues I might ask you to leave the room,”

“When will she wake up?” James asked, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's threat.

“‘M wake,” You mumbled and coughed. James rushed to your bed with some water. Madam Pomfrey sighed and left James to take care of you.

“You alright?” James asked, taking your face in his hands and scanning every inch of them for him to admire and memorize your beauty with the reason as “checking for injuries”.

“Yes, James, calm down,” You chuckled.

“You scared me, did you know that?” James asked, sighing, "I'm sorry,"

"Why are your sorry?" You asked, placing your hands above his.

"I should have caught you or done something instead of Dumbledore at the final moment doing the spell," he looked down, pulling his hands out of your grip and holding your hands.

"James, you couldn't have done anything and it's okay. I am alright now, look," you pointed to your ankle that was heavily wrapped in gauze.

You heard through your half consciousness Madam Pomfrey say to James that although Dumbledore had performed the charm to stay you afloat but you had hit the ground and broke your ankle.

James winced, "I'm going to ban whoever did that from the team,"

"James," you warned, "This is a game and that happens,"

He sighed, "I feel guilty, you know." He leaned towards the bedside table, fetching the blue potion Madam Pompfrey instructed him to give.

“Mhm, figured it out,” you smirked.

“Drink,” James said, seriously and rolled his eyes.

You scrunched your nose in disgust looking at the blue semi-liquid potion, “No, that's-”

“I don't need to hear it, just drink,” James said, looking at you pointedly.

“Later?” You knew it wouldn't work but it was worth a try nonetheless.

“No,” he narrowed his eyes, “Come on, love, just gulp it,”

With your nose still scrunched, you glanced at the potion warily. James sighed, moving closer to you and pressed his lips to yours, “Please,” he mumbled against your lips.

You huffed but obliged. Downing the nasty drink and trying not to distract yourself from the bitter taste, you pulled James once again into a kiss.

After pulling away, James chuckled and blurted, “I love you,”

Both of your eyes widened in shock. You were the first one to regain your composure and grinned at him, “I love you too,”

“Well, it's about time!” They heard a voice very much like Sirius yell, crashes, grunts and then three people running.

You chuckled, pulling James closer to you, “You're not gonna walk for another month with that broken ankle of yours,”

And true to his words, James carried a blushing yourself to the classes almost every day, you werent complaining though.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x hufflepuff!reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james fleamont potter #marauders era #sirius black #remus lupin #harry potter #james x reader

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weepinglevi · 3 years

Text

a force to be reckoned with

summary: eren gets to have his revenge and he is a force to be reckoned with. read the first part here . warnings: 18+ minors dni, whole lot of cursing and swearing, somnophilia, slight dacryphilia (but really only if you squint), hate fucking (although they're in love i swear), unprotected vaginal sex and also some playing with readers butthole (does this even have to be in the warning idk anymore), also once again kind of a toxic relationship word count: around 1.3k A/N: due to all the love i received on the last part i just had to write another one. thank you once again and i hope you enjoy!

eren wouldn't talk to you following the hallway-incident. even going as far as making your favorite food and not offering you any - such a whiny bitch, you'd think to yourself before ordering some pizza and enjoying it in your prettiest lingerie - a set of deep red lace. two knew how to play this game.

being honest with yourself, you'd have hoped for a more exciting punishment than whatever shit he was pulling off right now, behaving like a child who wasn't allowed ice cream before dinner.

he'd even go as far as to not bid you a good-night, disappearing into the bedroom and turning off the lights in the hallway. you'd let him sulk for an hour before slipping in between the sheets, the soft cotton gracing your thighs.

you'd be thankful for the kind of relationship you two shared. a little chuckle escaping your lips at the thought of it, how could anyone call this a healthy relationship?

still, all you'd ever need was the knowledge of erens unwavering love for you - and you were so sure of it, even with him behaving like a brat.

his breath was going at a steady pace, telling you he seriously went to sleep. you'd think about kissing his temple (or maybe slapping his pretty face awake and create a whole new scene) but ultimately deciding against it. the torture you put him through in the afternoon had to be enough for one day.

with a little smile on your lips, you'd follow him into a deep sleep.

and awake to two fingers forcefully pushing inside you, slick with erens spit. a gasp escaping your lips, you'd open your eyes and see erens silhouette cowering over you, one hand buried deep between your legs, the other by your side, balancing himself. the lights of the street lamps letting in just enough so you could make him out in front of you, his eyes seeming darker than usual.

he'd look fucking feral, like an animal ready to devour his prey. oh shit, you'd think, here it comes.

"awake already?" his raspy voice cutting through the silence of the night, "i was hoping for my dick to be buried deep inside your pussy before i'd have to deal with your squirming."

bringing his thumb to your clit and flicking against it, you'd buck your hips involuntarily, beckoning for him to keep rubbing against it. you'd feel yourself getting wet by just the thought of what he was about to do to you.

"you'd like this, don't you?" he'd say, bringing his hand to your thigh and holding you in place "behaving like a fucking bitch and then get what you want anyway?"

his following laugh let the hair on your neck stand up, making you aware of just how pissed he actually was. you were in for a very wild ride.

you'd try to steady your breath, to not give him the satisfaction of you begging him for his dick - another finger, something, anything more - placing a sly smile on your lips. "something tells me i'll get it anyway," hoping to sound more convincing, you'd add a playful laugh.

he'd see right through you, though, letting his fingers slip out of you and grabbing your thighs, pushing your legs up against your chest, "just wait."

no time to prepare yourself, he'd take his throbbing dick in hand and start pushing its head against your wet entrance, struggling to fit. "see, if only you'd have been asleep a bit longer - " his dark voice breaking at the moment he'd bottom out, "i would've had enough time to stretch your pretty pussy out a little more."

there'd be no air left in your lungs, the feeling of his cock splitting you open an all-consuming sensation robbing you from any clear strain of thought. he'd have you right where he was meaning to - trapped under his weight and unable to move away from him.

most times he'd give you enough time to adjust to his size, getting slick enough to take him without struggle. but not this time and you knew exactly why, feral lust creeping up in your tummy at the thought.

his hands moving up your sides - being a stark contrast to his hard thrusts - caressing your soft skin until coming to a stop at your cheeks, thumb stroking away a tear you didn't even know was there.

you'd open your mouth but the only thing leaving your throat being nothing else but a broken moan, causing eren to let out another breathy chuckle, "not that bratty anymore, are we?"

"such a pretty cunt indeed." - his eyes locking in with yours, pupils so far dilated he'd look like a cat at night, he'd keep on pounding you. moving one hand down to cup your breast, pinching your sensitive nipple, sending electricity through your body with every one of his movements. his dick twitching against your soft walls, now gliding in and out easily.

you'd finally gather up enough composure to lift your hand from where it was resting on his shoulder - moving it to his hair and once again grabbing a fistful of it, pulling his head to the side. "still got.. what i want," the words leaving your mouth shakily, his pacing would stutter.

"yeah, i guess so," he'd laugh, more lighthearted than you'd expect given the situation. bowing down, he'd pepper a soft kiss against your forehead "you're taking me so well, y/n, just like you were meant to be."

leaning back, he'd let your legs slip down so you could wrap them around the small of his back. eren would move even closer, sliding his arms around your upper body and embracing you in a tight hug.

you'd swear your heartbeats were syncing up, the feeling of his chest pushed flush against you, his panting in your ear being everything you'd ever need in your life.

your hands racing his back, you'd feel the warmth in your abdomen grow unbearably hot with each of his thrusts.

"fuck, you're so perfect, sososo fucking perfect," his speech starting to slur as his motions were becoming ragged, bucking into you, his hands wandering down to your ass and grabbing your cheeks tightly. gathering up your juices with his fingers, smearing them everywhere.

he'd always get this messy and you'd love it, especially when his thumb would start stroking your opening, playfully rubbing at it, sending shocks through your body.

you'd shiver even though you'd be so hot with him on top, your toes curling "'m close," being all that could leave your lips.

"it's alright baby," he'd say, pressing a kiss on your collarbone, "you can cum for me."

this would be enough to send you over the edge, the heat crashing down on you, leaving you a buckling mess underneath him, tingling with sensation.

"so beautiful when you cum on my cock," erens pace starting up again, "all because of my cock deep inside of you-"

"yes, love," your hands finding his hair again, his oh so marvelous hair, running your fingers through it, "and because you allowed me to."

with that, he'd come undone - moaning your name in a hazy slur, over and over again while pumping his hot, white seed into you.

you'd carry him through it, bring his head down and pepper him in kisses until he'd slump over you. his breath would be as shaky as yours while the two of you were riding out the aftershocks together.

you couldn't tell if seconds or minutes had passed, already drifting into a deep sleep when you hear his voice:

"i love you, you know that, don't you?"

and you'd laugh "of course i do, shithead. and i love you too."

wanna be tagged in my next work? fill out this form.

#eren x reader #aot x reader #aot smut #eren smut #eren yeager smut #attack on titan smut #attack on titan imagine #snk smut #tw: somnophilia #tw: dacryphilia #attack on titan #weepinglevi writes

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 3 years

Text

It Had to be Witches

Dean and Sam are on a hunt at Rowena’s request. When Sam is out of commission, Dean has to work with you.

Warnings: Unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!) male oral receiving, fingering, mention’s of witchcraft, brief mentions of ritual style murders, brief mention of animal sacrifice, Dean is a sad boy.

Word count: 3567

All written and proofread (poorly) by me. All mistakes are my own. Please don’t copy or repost my work. Likes are great and I’ll love you forever if you repost and comment. Thanks for reading.

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Sam and Dr. Philips examined each of the women’s bodies. Carved into their limbs were runes consistent with the ones Rowena described. She said she was sending an expert who lived in the area but the boys hadn’t made contact yet.

“The other agent who was just here asked the same questions. Don’t you guys talk to each other?” Dr. Philips covered the bodies. Some of the women he knew personally.

“Different departments. You said he was just here? How long ago?”

“She. Her name is Diana Luna. She’s down at the evidence locker. All the women had the same necklace. She went to check it out.”

Sam thanked the doctor and set off to find you. First he called Dean. “Looks like Rowena’s story checks out. Her expert was just here. The bodies were marked with runes and all of their tongues cut out. And, get this, they all had the same necklace. Maybe a coven?”

“Of course. Of course it’s witches, Sam. Look, don’t go far. I’m on my way.” Sam was sitting on a bus bench reading coroner's reports when you approached him. Due to the nature of the case, Rowena insisted the elder Winchester carry out the task at hand. “Use Sam as bait.” she instructed.

“Agent Cornell? I’m agent Luna from the Lansing office.” You extended your hand. “Director Macleod sent me.”

“Yeah, I bet she did. Bring me up to speed.”

“Sure. I’ve got what you’re looking for right here.” You blew a very potent powder in his face knocking him out. You put the lankier Winchester into your truck and sped back to your house. Getting his dead weight up the stairs was a task but you did it. “Sweet dreams, Sam.”

Dean searched the entire town square for Sam with no luck. He tried his phone again and it was going directly to voicemail. Sam could hold his own against any witch but Dean was still worried. As he unlocked the door to the Impala, he heard you call his name over his shoulder and turned his head to see who was speaking. You blew the dream dust into his face rendering him unconscious.

He was heavier than he looked. You shoved him into the back seat and pried the keys from his hand. Baby growled angrily when she started but you had her purring for you in no time. You drove him back to your house and dragged him inside where you intended to tie him up. Rowena coached you on all their tricks. You took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and divested him if anything sharp. With his wrists and ankles bound in a pretty decent slip knot you splashed his face with water to wake him.

“Morning, handsome.” he smirked as you wiped his face.

“Big mistake, sweetheart. I’m guessing you’re the one we’re looking for.”

“Pretty and dumb. Rowena was right and you would be guessing wrong. Her name is Teresa Wilson. She came seeking asylum with our coven a few months ago. Said her whole order was obliterated. Turns out, she wasn’t exactly who she said she was.”

His face split into a cocky grin, “They never are. What do you want with me?”

“You need to help me find her. Rowena gave me a locator spell. When I cast the spell, I’ll need your fancy bullets. Problem is…”

He laughed heartily, “Problem is you can’t touch ‘em, am I right, sweetheart?”

“You would be correct.”

“And what’s in it for me?”

You took a step back just out of his reach just in case, “If you help me I’ll let your brother live.”

He strained against the ropes veins bulging in his forearms. “If you touch one hair on his head I’ll rip you apart myself. You hear me, witch?”

Your nails dug sharp into the meat of his cheeks so he would look at you. “Relax, baby. Your brother is safe. He’s asleep upstairs dreaming of puppies and rainbows as we speak. But if you don’t help me, he’ll never wake up. And, Dean, when I kill someone, it sticks. No resurrections for Sammy this time.”

You’ve never seen a human man snarl before. It was pretty cute. Rowena warned you not to be mesmerized by his sweet face and his Disney Princess eyes but you couldn’t help it. The man looked like he would, in fact, rip you apart. And, Hecate help you, you wished he would. You traced a finger along his sharp stubble covered jaw. His eyes turned up to look into yours, throwing daggers at you. “Anyone ever tell you how cute you are when you’re angry?”

“All the time. Get to the spell so I can take my brother out of here.” he growled.

“It’s not time. If I untie you, are you gonna be a good boy or do I have to hit you with my knock out dust again?” You couldn’t take your eyes off of his perfect lips smiling at you.

“Sure, mommy, I’ll be a real good boy.”

You knelt in front of him and parted his knees slightly to undo the first knot. “Such a smart ass.” He growled low in his throat when you peered at him through your lashes. His dick grew painfully hard against his jeans as you slid your hand up his legs to maintain balance. Of course you noticed though he tried to squeeze his thighs together to hide his arousal. “Do you like me like this, Dean?”

Of course he did. You were just his type. A little bratty but you had a good heart. Rowena told them about you. The little warrior for the Grand Council. They constantly sent you to do their dirty work and you did so without question like a good soldier. No wonder Rowena paired the two of you. You were the female version of him. “Like what?” His voice was low and dripping with need.

“On my knees for you. Looks like you do.” You winked at him but he looked away embarrassed.

It had been a long time since he felt a woman wrapped hot around him. Everything in him wanted to follow your siren song and happily crash. He couldn’t do it. This story always ended bloody. “You couldn’t handle it, sweetheart.” He peered down at the bulge in his pants. So did you. Your core heated at the thought.

“Is that a dare or a double dare?.” He spread his legs and licked his lips inviting you to take what you wanted. You shook it off and focused on the task at hand. “Well in any case, I made you dinner. Pot roast, potatoes, peas and carrots. Eat if you want.”

It did smell amazing. His stomach growled remembering that all he had was coffee this morning. The living room and kitchen were well lit and warm. He felt at peace in this place. More so than the bunker where it could sometimes feel clinical and cold. “You got a pretty nice place here. You all alone?”

A sly smile played on your lips, “Just me.” You sat the plate down in front of him with a cold beer and a bottle opener. The oven timer dinged and, when you opened the door, the aroma of cinnamon and spice wafted through the air.

“That pie?” He sounded choked up.

“Apple. I have an orchard in the back. Rowena filled me in on how to keep you happy.” You sit it on the windowsill to cool while you ate. “I can’t have you bashing me over the head and running off before we kill this bitch.”

He shoveled a fork full of potatoes and gravy into his mouth humming in appreciation. “Why me? You had Sam here. He’s much better at this witch stuff than I am. Why drag me out here?”

“You’re more reliable when making difficult decisions. You’re what I need. Another beer?” He nodded breathing in the soft floral scent that wafted off of your skin as you moved.

You didn’t offer any further information and Dean thought that was probably for the best. If he got in his head about the situation he would lose his nerve and that can’t happen. That’s how people die. As of late, Sam has had a lot on his mind. Dean would have to shoulder this burden. At least Sammy was getting some rest.

The two of you shared a comfortable silence only marred by silverware hitting ceramic. “Well that was delicious. Thank you….umm…I don’t think I caught your name.”

“I didn’t give it to you. I’m Y/N. But I wouldn’t mind if you kept calling me sweetheart. Pie?”

Dean's heart beat hard in his chest at the thought of calling you sweetheart “Maybe a little. So when do we do this thing?”

“Eat your pie then meet me outside. I have to prepare.” You slipped out the back door down a dimly lit path to your cauldron. You threw in the mandrake and tobacco. Last was the chicken that you had to slaughter. You grabbed a hen from her coop and stabbed her with your athame. It made a terrible sound which sent Dean flying through the back door ready to fight.

“What the hell was that?”

“Chicken.” You allowed the rest of its blood to drain and discarded the carcass. “periisti. lates. Ego te quaero. I vestrum adprehendet vos.” You chanted over and over until a glowing beacon appeared. “We have to follow it.” The orb circled the two of you then floated towards the Impala. You retrieved his keys from your pocket and started off for the car.

“Whoa whoa whoa. What are you doing?”

“Following the orb.” He grabbed your arm as you started to slide into the driver’s seat.

“No one drives my baby but me. You sit shotgun.” He impatiently waited for you to scoot over. When you reached for the radio he slapped your hand away. “Are you serious?!”

“What? There were other decades besides the 70’s.” He bit his lip and flared his nostrils letting out an unsettling growl. “Driver picks the music.”

“You are a child. Just drive. The spell won’t last forever” you huffed.

“So, just you huh? No boyfriend? Girlfriend?” You didn’t answer keeping your eyes trained on the orb. “Yeah me neither. Maybe later we can grab a drink.”

“My god. Can you keep it in your pants until we’re done? It took a left!”

He sped up taking off after it, “I see it. So that’s not a no.” That was all the invitation he needed. The truth was you would have given it up the moment those green eyes stared into your soul.

“It’s not a no. Let’s focus.”

Baby ate up miles of dirt road before reaching the highway. A couple of miles ahead the orb sped for an exit into town. You were led to the motel where the boys were staying. The door to their room was wide open and there Teresa stood bathed in the light of the orb. You bid it a job well done and sent it on its way.

Teresa, caught off guard, quickly muttered a spell pinning Dean to the wall, sending the gun skittering away. You faced each other down while Dean struggled. “She’s a kid!” he groaned in pain.

“I’m nineteen thank you. You don’t have to do this Y/N. Come on. We’re sisters. We share the same DNA. Let’s take them on together.” Tears welled in your eyes. You may have been blood but you weren’t sisters. She grew up far out of the Grand Council’s reach while you were their trained lap dog.

“Only half little sister. You’re hopped up on enough stolen magic to power the entire city. The Grand Council sent me to take you down. Adiuro te in nomine Hecate. Adiuro te in nomine Dianae. Tuae vires cum luna decrescant.” you chanted. She fought back but the binding spell was powerful. She didn’t have enough magic to hold Dean and fight you so she let him go. When he regained composure, he dove for the gun.

Without warning, Teresa gained the upper hand. She held out her arm and used all of her might to pull you towards her. Blood stained tears fell from your eyes as you struggled to breath. With every last ounce of strength you had you doubled down on the binding spell long enough to hold her so that Dean could put her down. The blast of the shot filled the small motel room filling your ears with a high pitched whining. You collapsed onto the floor where Dean scooped you into his arms.

“Hey, Y/N. Wake up. Stay with me. Shit.” He carried you to the car and gingerly set you down next to him. The drive back to your house felt long. When he got you inside he placed you on the couch and called Rowena.

“Is it done then?” she asked in her thick Scottish brogue.

“Yeah but your girl’s unconscious. She’s breathing but she used a lot of magic. A lot. I don’t think you’ll be calling on her anytime soon.”

“Keep her warm, Dean. I’ll be there soon.” The line went dead. He sat on the floor in front of you and brushed your hair from your eyes.

“Sweetheart, you need to wake up. We were supposed to grab that drink, remember?” He pressed his lips to your temple lingering there for a moment when he heard Rowena’s laugh trill behind him.

“I should add matchmaker to my long list of talents. Out of the way, Dean. I’ll get your girl fixed right up.” She patted his hand and pushed him aside.

His face flushes hot burning all the way to his ears. ”She’s not my girl.”

“Of course. Now, what seems to be the trouble, dear?” She placed her hands on your head. Her eyes glowed as she spoke over you. Your lashes began to flutter and you woke up. “There she is. Good as new.” You and Dean exchanged a look. “That appears to be my cue to go check on Samuel.”

“Thank you, Rowena.” your voice was hoarse barely above a whisper.

“Not at all, dear.”

Dean pulled you into his lap rocking you gently, “You scared the hell out of me, sweetheart.”

“I had to stop her. She hurt too many people.” You felt guilty for ending her but even guiltier for letting her go as far as she did. Guiltier still for not pushing harder to be in her life. “It was my fault.”

“Hey, no it wasn’t. What? You think you should have been a better big sister? You didn’t lead her down this path, Y/N.” You rested your head on his shoulder “All these years and all the stupid fucked up shit Sam and I did, I blamed myself. I took on that burden. Alone. It’s a lonely awful place to be. I’m begging don’t do that to yourself.” He held your face in his hands forcing you to look at him. He wanted to kiss you. You would have let him if he leaned in. Instead he brought you back down to his chest just to hold you. He saw so much of himself in you. You were headstrong and self righteous but your intentions were altruistic.

You melted into his arms so lost in him that you didn’t hear Sam and Rowena slip out. Dean offered his brother only a small nod to let him know you were ok. He had several texts from Eileen anyway. Happy to see his brother didn’t have to spend another night alone, he went back to the bunker.

You sat in silence for a while when you started yawning. “Shit. What time is it?”

“After midnight. I should get outta here.” You untangled yourself from his grasp but didn’t stand. His hands stayed respectfully at the small of your back. You locked eyes with him. Your core tingled as he brushed errant hair from your forehead.

“Or you could stay. We haven’t had our drink yet. Though, you don’t need to get me drunk, handsome.” You kissed his jaw and down his neck working your way to his collarbone. A soft moan escaped his lips when you nipped at his neck. “I mean you enjoyed me on my knees and all.”

“As pretty as you looked,” his voice was low and gravelly, “And, I mean you looked gorgeous. We really shouldn’t.”

You genuinely pouted your lips backing off of your ministrations, “Why not? I want to. And you clearly want to. You’re a fucking legend, Dean. Show me just how legendary you are.”

He arched a brow at you and smirked in the way that only Dean Winchester does. “Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart.” Finally his lips were on yours. The force of his kiss took your breath away. It wasn’t predatory or greedy. It was slow and sensuous bordering on hunger. His whole body was hungry for you. Dean Winchester was hungry constantly looking for something to fill the hole inside him. For the moment, that was you. He felt like he was floating and was suddenly very warm. If he stopped kissing you he knew he would just stop breathing. He couldn’t bare the thought.

“What are you doing to me?” His chest heaved. “I feel like I’m on fire.” Surely this must be a spell or enchantment. He pulled you back in for more but this time his hands strayed from your back. They traveled to your hips then under the hem of your shirt to feel your flesh warm against him. He had to feel you. To be inside of you. Deft fingers unbuttoned your jeans. Without breaking the kiss he stroked your clothed core working up a rhythm that flooded you with arousal.

“Touch me, Dean. Please” you cried. Pushing your panties aside his fingers explored your dripping pussy. His pace is maddening. Your hips snapped fucking back hard. “Fuck, Dean. So good. I need your cock. Want you to split ne open.”

“You’ve got a filthy mouth, Princess. Come for me and I’ll give you what you want.” And so you gushed around him moaning like a witch on fire. When your heart slowed to a normal rhythm you stripped naked. Before he could get undressed he took a moment to kiss and touch every inch of you. If this was only for tonight he wanted to savor you. “God you’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” You pulled him up and undressed him, never once breaking eye contact. His cock was red and weeping just aching to be touched.

On your knees in front of him you took the whole burning thing in your mouth. To Dean, you were the most stunning creature to exist. You swirled your tongue around the head while you hollowed your cheeks sucking him in deeper still.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Fuck that feels good.” His hands grasped the back of your head keeping you steady while he fucked your face. It started feeling too good like he would blow his load in your mouth. He had to feel your sweet cunt. “Let me feel you, baby. Fuck I need you.” You pulled off with a pop and climed into his lap. Both of you whimpered when you sank onto his length. The stretch was exquisite. Your pussy held him so tight. You ground your clit over his pubic bone while he fucked into you with a brutal pace. “You feel so good. M’not gonna last. Come for me, baby. I need it.” Your twat fluttered around him, milking him for all he was worth. You kissed once more fighting to hang on to the last tendrils of tenderness and warmth that you could.

“Stay. Please. Just for tonight” you whispered.

He tightened his grip on you. “Of course, sweetheart. All night.”

He hated to leave you but the sun rose like a beacon calling him away. If he didn’t leave then, he wouldn’t have ever left. Last time he stuck around and fell in love, he had to learn the hard way that he could never have this. Maybe he would call you the next time he swung through town. Maybe you’d spit in his face for bailing. He brushed the hair off your forehead and kissed your temple. “Bye, sweetheart.”

You woke when you heard the Impala roaring to life in your driveway. He left a square of paper with a phone number scrawled in pencil “I’ll always answer. -DW” You put on your robe, went down to your cauldron and threw it in with a few bundles of sage and some witch hazel to sever any feelings. On the next full moon, you’d do a cord cutting to make sure it sticks.

“See you around, handsome.” In his eleven hour drive back to the bunker, any feelings that you have would slowly fade. The two of you would go back to being too afraid to feel and far too afraid to fall in love. Dean wouldn’t hear from you again. He wouldn’t really remember where you lived. But, every time he drove through Michigan, he’d feel a twinge in his chest. And, no matter how many rituals you did, you’d feel him too.

#sam and dean #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester smut #Dean Winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x witch reader

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 3 years

Text

Monstrous Secrets Chapter 8

Eris Vanserra x reader

Word Count: 1720

Summary: You and a couple of the guys have a heart-to-heart

You were home, or rather, you were in the physical place where you lived. It was difficult to call Velaris ‘home’ when your home was really a person, your mate. It was even harder to call this place home since Azriel started looking at you like he wanted to spit on you at any given moment. You’d expected to be treated that way once everything came to light, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t loathe it with every fiber of your being.

It was in a fit of this general discontent that you found yourself sitting on the ground of the balcony outside the House of Wind’s library. A bottle of wine, half empty already based on the weight of it, dangled from your fingertips as you stared blankly into the fire and longed for the male that could make such flames dance like sprites. Eris’s notes from your time apart rested on the ground before you, some resting against or on your leg because you’d simply dropped them after reading.

“Cass told me I’d find you here,” Rhys said as his feet entered your field of view. “Though I’ll admit I thought he was exaggerating how much you’d been drinking.”

Your eyes darted over to the other two, empty bottles you’d abandoned back when you’d been sitting in a chair. “Yes, well, you know how my tolerance is.”

“Considering how many men you’ve drunk under the table? Yes, I’m fully aware.” Now, he brought himself low enough that he could meet your eye on your own level. The most powerful High Lord, kneeling beside his low fae cousin on the ground.

You snorted at the sheer ridiculousness. “Whatcha doing here, Rhys? I figured you’d be off with Feyre.”

“She had things to discuss with Amren or else she’d be here talking to you with me.”

You took another drink. “Well in that case, lay it on me.” Your arms spread wide dramatically, one hand holding the bottle, the other a letter; your wings flared slightly behind you in an effort to keep you balanced. “Ask me anything you want! I assume it’s about that gorgeous mate of mine.”

He rolled his eyes and took the bottle from you. “I won’t insult you bya skiing what Azriel wants me to.” Rhysand took a long drink.

“Oooooh, let me guess!” You did your best to make your face as stoic as the shadowsinger’s. “Have I been selling secrets to the Autumn Court?”

“Close,” he snickered. “Has she been giving away secrets to the Autumn Court?”

You scoffed. “As if I’d give them away for free!”

“Sweetheart, you’d never spill them either way.” His eyes were somber, caring. “You would never betray us like that, so I have no need to ask.”

“Then what do you need to ask?”

“First, I want to ask about your bargain.”

“You makin’ sure I didn’t give away anything important?”

“I want to know that it was your choice to make whatever deal it was.”

Your brain stalled out in light of his genuine concern after so many days of people being wary of you, and your buzz fizzled a little because of it. “It was a deal of protection,” you explained seriously. “He’ll watch my back as long as I watch his sort of thing.” You stole back the bottle to take another drink. “And what a fucking job I did.”

“You couldn’t have done anything against her,” he assured you, “and if you had tried, more likely than not, you’d both be dead right now.”

“Whatever, Rhys,” you scoffed. “What else?”

“You are not less than him because you’re Illyrian.” You’d known the topic was coming, but you didn’t expect him to be quite so blunt. “And if he treats you like you are, I’ll kill him myself.”

“Then you can stop worrying, because he doesn’t. Hasn’t even said anything to imply it--get that look off your face right now. Anything he said to you was an act because we were backed into a nightmare of a corner, and you know it. Anyway, he hasn't made any jabs implying it--accidentally or otherwise--since we first got together.”

“Put a stop to that, did you?” He was smirking as he swiped the bottle back to drink once again.

“Of course.” You hesitated. “But he and I are both aware of what others will think; just look at your parents. That’s why, or at least part of why, we kept quiet about the whole thing.”

Rhysand was nodding as if pleased.

“That all you’ve got, cousin?”

A little snort escaped his nose. “As far as being concerned goes, we’ll say yes for now.”

“And as far as everything else?”

“Since you’ve so cruelly left your poor cousin in the dark about your relationship for--how long was it again?”

“‘Bout five hundred years--”

“Five hundred years! Because you've left me in the dark for so long, I want to know everything about the two of you.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.” He waved a hand a little. “That you’re willing to share, of course.”

“Rhys . . . I don’t . . .” You weren’t used to this. You’d never had to share anything about your relationship before. You weren’t good at talking about yourself. “I don’t know where to start.”

A low hum rumbled through the air along with the telling thuds of someone else’s boots.

“Why don’t you start with that letter you’re holding?” Cassian abruptly dropped down next to you, so close he was lightly pressed against your side. It was such a casual closeness that the pair of you had had for centuries, and you didn't realize how much you loved it until it was missing. Its presence now brought tears to your eyes, but none fell.

Blinking them back, you stammered, “Um. It’s how we talked . . . when we couldn’t see each other.” A self-deprecating chuckle ripped its way up from your throat. “Apparently he’d been sending them since just after Amarantha, and I never knew since I don’t live down there anymore. I’m only just now getting around to reading them.” Carelessly, you handed it over to Cassian. “You can read it if you want; I was going through them all, but I can’t exactly see straight enough to read anymore.”

He eyed you warily before opening it gently. Clearing his throat before he read,

“I hope you are doing well, and I hope moreso that you have not finally come to your senses and decided to leave me. I’ve been trying to keep my emotions from bothering you in case you have, but Father has proven to be harsher than ever before in light of everything that has happened over the last half-century. It’s all I can do to keep him from deciding to hunt down Lucien.

Cauldron, I don’t even know if you’re receiving these messages or if you even care and yet here I am droning on about my own problems. I’ll leave this here, then.

I miss you, and I love you always,

Eris”

Both men were silent for a breath.

“Who would have thought that Eris Vanserra of all people would be so rambling in a letter?” Cassian eventually teased--only slightly awkwardly--to break the quiet.

“He stopped trying to be eloquent in our notes about five years in.” Your buzz was definitely on the way out now, and you found yourself listlessly leaning against Cassian. Neither male commented about the more romantic sentiments in the letter. You wondered why that was. For your privacy or their own comfort so they didn’t have to think about the fact that Eris did in fact have feelings.

“What’s the first thing you think of when you think about him?” Rhysand prompted quietly, obviously wanting to know more about the relationship despite the awkward aura that’d descended upon the little group.

It may have been because you were actively looking at a fire, but you didn’t really have to think about the words that came tumbling out of your mouth. “Did you know that he can make shapes out of flames? He used to make little dogs and foxes to play with Lucien when Beron would upset him.”

“I thought he hated that kid,” Cassian mused.

“He had to keep his distance to keep Beron’s attention away from him; he swore to his mother that he’d protect him.”

“What else comes to mind?”

You swallowed thickly. “He interrogated me about how to care for my wings when I showed up injured once.”

Rhys’s violet eyes flashed. “Injured?”

“Took a bad crash through some trees on the way to see him; I think I was dodging some scouts. Either way, he hounded me about it until I taught him all I could.”

“Seriously?” Cassian again.

“Yeah.” You could feel the dopey smile spread across your face, but you didn’t want to stop it. “Cleaning, first-aid, the whole deal. And the best part? He never has cold hands.”

“Unlike you, huh?” Rhys teased. “Nothing but cold hands.”

“Truer words never spoken,” and unexpected but familiar voice said from behind you.

As soon as you laid eyes on him, you were stumbling to your feet.

There was a warmth in his eyes that had nothing to do with flames when he caught you and pulled you close.

Immediately, you buried your face in his neck. “How?” you whispered into the pale skin there.

Eris’s hand moved to rest atop your wing where it was tucked against your back, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. “That would be a question for your High Lady.”

You glanced over your shoulder and saw that, sure enough, Feyre was now holding hands with the now-standing Rhys. “I thought you were with Amren?”

“I lied,” Rhys shrugged. “Eris was down there plotting with Keir, so I asked her to go grab him for you since you’ve been feeling down.”

When tears started welling up in your eyes, you blamed the alcohol. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, little cousin. Now, I think it’s time for us to turn in.” His eyes shifted to look at your mate; surprisingly his gaze wasn’t near as icy as you would have expected. “Take care of her.”

“Until my dying breath.”

“Never a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ with you people,” Cassian scoffed, “is there?”

You smirked on behalf of your husband. “Never.”

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra imagine #eris imagine #eris x reader #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses imagine #reader insert

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