#the outside bit was in a bit of land that i am very familiar with because it is on the property whereupon sits my childhood home

[dambaepuff]

hey hi, could i make a request? Im happy to see another good author starting :) u also seem very nice. could i request a yoongi x preferably fem!reader? if you want you can make it a genderneutral fic. my idea was a scenario were one of them is jealous, i thought of it being her jealous of him, over something stupid, but not in a toxic way like yk just pure jealusy mixed with insecurities. And they have a little petty argument and like it ends with smut i mean they make up to eachother that way :P like smut mixed with fluff at its purest. also, i am really curious to see how u write yoongi, i see many authors making him cold and tough but i believe that he is a very caring softie haha, by the morning wood headcanons, i think you got him very well ;) thank u in advance

REGRETS (m)

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x FEM!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, smut, one shot, request, established relationship

Warnings: jealousy, insecurities, a petty argument, depictions of sex, crying, emotional, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, bodily fluids, penetration (vaginal), a bit of praise, light biting, squirting

Word count: 5k

Summary: uhhh idk dude just read the request that’s pretty much it

A/N: UGH I LOVE THIS IDEA!! I don’t have much experience with writing angst so this was a really nice exercise. Thank you sooo so much for all the kind words, it’s what keeps me writing. I’m also a sucker for soft Yoongi so this is right up my alley. (Also this is not proofread so lmk if there’s any mistakes or anything)

Thursday night, it’s quiet outside. You’re trying to watch a movie with Yoongi. Key word trying. His hand has been gently rubbing your thigh for a few minutes now, whenever he tries sliding it up to tease you, you grab it and put it back onto his lap. He’s clearly trying to get you heated, but it’s having quite the opposite effect. Lately you’ve felt quite out of it, your lack of confidence causing you to avoid intimacy. With Yoongi being the gentleman he is, he always accepts it when he realizes you’re not in the mood and he moves on. However, you’re starting to doubt his ability to keep going like this. What if he realizes you aren’t satisfactory to him anymore? He could easily find someone else who would be all over him in seconds.

Replaceable. That’s how you’ve been feeling lately. He could have anyone he wants, so why you? “Are you not feeling it tonight?” Yoongi’s voice startles you out of your thoughts. “Huh? Oh. No I’m sorry.” You respond, your voice growing quieter with the end of the sentence. “That’s okay, c’mere.” He mumbles before pulling you into his chest, his hand soothing down your back.

‘Will he stay with me if I keep pushing him away like this?’ Is what you keep asking yourself. On one hand you’re afraid he’ll stop loving you if you stop showing him affection. And on the other hand, you’ve been so self conscious lately about your body and if you’re doing things right you don’t know if it’s worse to ruin the relationship by pushing him away or by not being good enough. ‘Do I even deserve to be with him at this point?’

Friday, 4:37PM. You got off work early today so you decided to stop by Yoongi’s studio. He’s still working so you’re lounging around on one of the couches inside of the room. The two of you had made plans to get dinner together when he finishes up for the day which you’re really looking forward to.

A short blurry figure appears at the studio door, they raise their hand up and place three quiet knocks onto the glass. Yoongi gets up with a huff and opens the door. In front of him stands a familiar woman, you can’t quite remember her name, but you’ve seen her around the company building before.

“Here’s your coffee Suga!” She says in a cheery tone. Her eyes land on you and her smile falls a bit. “Oh, I didn’t know you would be here. Sorry I didn’t get you anything.” She apologizes with a light bow of her head. You dismiss her with a wave of your hand before going back to fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. She turns her attention back to Yoongi who is setting his drink down onto his desk. “Hey Suga, a few of us are going to that barbecue place down the street for dinner and drinks tonight. Do you guys wanna come with?” She asks with a tilt of her head, her long black hair swaying with the movement.

“Uhh, yeah?” He looks at you quickly for confirmation to which you nod your head lightly. “Yeah. Sure we’ll come.”

Yoongi continues chatting with the girl. She casually leans against the door frame, the conversation between them flowing oh so easily. ‘It took me ages to be able to talk to him that smoothly. Why couldn’t I be like her?’ You think to yourself, trying your best to not let your irritation show.

He bids her farewell and sits back down at his desk. For the remaining time you spend in his studio all you can look at is him. Your gaze burns holes into his side profile, tracing each curve of his features over and over again. Why would a man whose heart only knows kindness, whose eyes and soul are so understanding of everything be with you? Your being is rotten with unforgiving bitterness, you seethe at every imperfection like a nun enraged by sin. Why would he want you?

He’s like a wild flower. He needs to be pollinated by the love and kindness of a bee to bloom, yet he stays with you, a caterpillar feeding off of him, biting off his flesh for your gain. Eating away at him and leaving nothing. Maybe you aren’t even a caterpillar. They can eventually turn into a beautiful creature with wings of eyeful colors, yet you can’t become anything more than what you are. You’re stuck in a vicious cycle, devouring every resource without paying any mind to the fact there will be nothing left when you’re done. What does he get for loving you if you can’t be of use? You can’t make him bloom.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” You snap out of your thoughts, the reality around you giving you whiplash. Yoongi is kneeling in front of you, holding your jacket out. “Let’s go, we’ll be late.” You try to take it from his hands, but instead of giving it to you he holds it up so you can slip your arms inside. Once it’s on you he turns you around and zips it up for you. “Okay, let’s go.”

As you’re walking down the long hallways towards the elevators, Yoongi notices something odd. You usually grab onto his hand the moment you start walking somewhere together, but your hand is tucked away in your pocket now. He gently pulls it out and intertwines your fingers together. You can’t bring yourself to grip onto him like usual, instead you limply keep your hand at your side, letting him hold it. He’s a bit confused by this, but nevertheless he keeps holding you, his grasp only growing tighter in an effort to reassure you.

Yang Sunhee. Her name popped up in your head the moment she sat down across from you and Yoongi at the long wooden table. She’s been leading the conversation at your part of the table for a while now, mostly talking to Yoongi. To her credit she has tried to include you into the conversation a few times, but you didn’t really give her much to work with so she gave up.

You’ve been pushing your food around your plate for a while now. It’s mostly pieces of meat Yoongi placed down onto it for you, your favorite in fact. You just can’t get yourself to even place anything into your mouth, anxiety squeezing your throat so tightly you can barely even swallow your own saliva.

Sunhee is laughing at something, her eyes bright and her large smile hidden away behind a polite hand. Yoongi is laughing too, maybe not as hard as her, but he’s still laughing. ‘Why am I not the one making him laugh right now? Am I not funny anymore?’

As you’re glaring down at your food you feel a warm hand make contact with your shoulder. “You wanna go home?” Yoongi asks quietly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Yes please.” You breathe out, barely audible. On the drive home Yoongi tries asking what’s wrong multiple times, but all he gets in response is a simple “I just don’t feel too well.”

It’s been a few days now since you had dinner with Yoongi’s coworkers. He realized something was wrong so he’s been giving you some space. To be quite honest you aren’t sure if the space is helping or making it worse. After spending the whole day quietly sobbing to yourself in bed you decide to see what he’s up to. You find him sitting in the living room watching some sort of documentary and looking like he’s about to fall asleep. One of his cheeks is squished against a pillow and his hair is going on all the wrong directions. He looks adorable, your heart almost breaks in two knowing this is who you’ve been pushing away lately.

Taking a seat next to him, he lifts up his blanket so you can use it too. Just as you’re getting sleepy as well his phone pings on the coffee table. Instinctively you reach down for it so you can hand it to him, but when you see the contact name annoyance squeezes at your chest.

Yang Sunhee

Sent a message

“Why is she texting you?” The question slips from your mouth before you can even think it through. “I don’t know, let me see.” He responds while extending his hand out for the phone. You peer over at the screen, shamelessly trying to see what she sent. “Ah it’s just the schedule for next week.” He says and likes the message before setting his phone back down. Now you feel a bit guilty. Why were you questioning the intentions of this woman? She’s his employee after all.

Yoongi’s large hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb gently gliding over your cheekbone. “I know that look, what’s wrong baby?” He asks, his dark eyes skimming your face in search for answers. “It’s nothing.” You respond a bit too quickly, your tone stiff. The corner of Yoongi’s lip quirks up. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Your eyes shoot open, “N-no!” you sputter out a weak defense. His hand slides down to your chin, the grip tightening a bit. His smirk spreads into a smile which angers you. He thinks this is funny?

“Don’t fucking touch me right now.” You say in a way harsher manner than you intended, tearing his hand away from your face. A flash of hurt runs over Yoongi’s face, his smile instantly falling. “Don’t look at me like that! I just- I need a moment right now.” You say in an apologetic tone. “You need a moment? I’ve been giving you a moment for days now. What about me? I keep trying so hard and you don’t show an ounce of being grateful. What’s your problem?” His tone gets louder as he talks, anger evident in his facial expressions.

“Problem? Oh it’s a problem now that I can’t always feel one hundred percent happy? Go sleep with some happy drugged out whore then if that’s what you want!” Without realizing it your tone has risen to a yell, you’re standing now, no longer in the comfort of warm blankets on the couch. “Don’t yell at me!” He yells back, tears beginning to brim his eyes.

“You’re yelling too asshole! Oh you’re gonna cry? Go cry to Sunhee, maybe she can suck your dick to make it better if you can’t go a week without me sucking it!” The moment you finish the last sentence a silence falls over the apartment. Yoongi stares at you wide eyed, unable to form a single sentence.

He looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes watery and his hands trembling. Realizing you went to far the only thing that pops up in your head is leaving the apartment for a bit. You speed walk to the front door, tugging your shoes on quickly and pulling a random jacket on. “Hey, hey! Where are you going?” Yoongi follows you once he realizes what you’re doing. Unable to look at his face you grab your keys and walk out, slamming the door behind you.

Not knowing where to go you walk to the nearest park. Taking a seat on one of the benches you stare up at the moon. “Why did I say that?” You mumble to yourself, tears stinging at your eyes. Your throat contracts, guilt choking you. There’s no holding back now, you let your sobs loose, tears running down your face uncontrollably.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” A soft voice calls out to your right. Your head shoots up, trying to find the source of the sound. There stands Sunhee, she seems to be in her pajamas with a puffer jacket thrown on top. Her hair is a mess and she’s holding a leash. A little white dog sniffs around near her legs, you assume it’s her’s.

“What’s wrong?” She asks as she sits down next to you. “Ah don’t worry about it.” You mumble, sniffling lightly. “You’re so pretty (Y/N), I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look good while they cry before.” Sunhee says with a genuine smile. “I- uh what?” You tilt your head to the side in confusion. “If I didn’t have a girlfriend I’d be jealous of Suga for having a girlfriend as pretty as you.” She giggles lightly.

“WHAT?” The question comes out harsher than you intend, the whole situation confusing you. “Listen, if you ever leave Suga just give me a call.” She says with a playful wink. You laugh in disbelief, your tears completely gone now. “You’re funny Sunhee.” You say, still sniffling lightly. “I’m not joking, but thank you.” She giggles along with you.

“Now why are you outside so late?” She asks while pulling her dog up into her lap. “I had a fight with Yoongi, I didn’t really know where else to go. I’m kind of scared to face him right now.” You answer truthfully. “Girl, have you seen how he looks at you? That man is a goner, I’m sure whatever you argued about isn’t that bad. You should go home and apologize, you can talk it through.” She says while giving you an encouraging smile. “You think so?” You ask quietly. “I know so.”

Even with Sunhee’s encouragement you’re still unsure. Guilt wracks through your whole body, pressing down on your insides and making you nauseous. You try to be as quiet as possible when you enter the apartment, but the sound of the heavy front door closing and jingling of keys betrays you. Just as you’re taking your shoes off you hear shuffling down the hallway. Yoongi’s dark figure emerges, you’re ready to hear something nasty from him, but instead you’re met with two warm arms wrapped around you.

“Thank god you’re safe.” He mumbles before kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry Yoongi, I’m so sorry baby. Please don’t leave me. I didn’t-“ you’re cut off by a hiccup, your tears returning. “I didn’t mean to say any of that. Please, please don’t leave me I’ll never do that again…” You sob into his chest. “Shhhhh, I know you didn’t mean it, I should’ve done some things differently too.” His hand softly pets your head.

“I’ve been trying to figure out why you’ve been acting so weird lately and I think I get it now. You look at her like she killed your dog. You know she’s a lesbian right?” You can’t help but laugh a bit at that. “Yeah I kind of found that out just now.” You mumble, your fingers tangling into the material of his shirt. “Why don’t you like her?” You can feel him softly smile against your hair as he asks the question.

“I don’t know I just-“ You try to form the right words, but they won’t come. “Ugh! She’s just so pretty and she’s really open, it feels like she’s perfect and has everything you could need and I’m just sort of me? I don’t know, it’s stupid. I’m just projecting.” Yoongi listens intently to everything you say while he takes your jacket off. “Lately I’ve felt like the shell of who I was when you met me, you know? I’m just sort of bleh- and every other woman around me seems to have her shit togehter.” A tear runs down your cheek and Yoongi chases it away with his thumb.

“It’s why I’ve been avoiding having sex lately. I just feel gross and ugly while you… you look like you were sculpted by the ancient Greeks. You need a Hera to your Zeus. I’m like a satyr or something!” You let out a bitter laugh, trying to mask your feelings. “Hmm I think we’re more like Orpheus and Eurydice. Except I don’t want to lose you the way he lost her. They were such perfect lovers, yet there was something tragic about them. What’s love without tragedy?” He softly spoke, continuing to wipe your tears. You let out a genuine laugh and hit his chest lightly. “You idiot! You don’t get it.”

“I think I at least partially get it. I mean hell you make my knees weak whenever you look me in the eye woman, and we’ve been dating for years! I’d go to the pits of hell for you a million times more than Orpheus if it meant having a bit more time to spend with you. There’s no other person that could fulfill your role in my life as well as you do. I love you for you, you’re my muse. My light.” He places a ginger peck onto your forehead.

Love and desire suddenly flood through you, grabbing the collar of his shirt you pull him into a rough kiss. A few more tears make their way past your eyelids, but these ones of relief and joy rather than sadness and frustration. Yoongi gladly accepts your advances, kissing you back firmly. He barely wastes any time trying to get his tongue intertwined with yours. Your interwoven muscles becoming a metaphor for your souls combining together, the act of physical intimacy projecting your consciousness into one being, content and whole.

One of your hands shoot up to grip his hair a bit tighter than necessary which makes him release a deep moan. He pants against your lips, trying to catch his breath, but unable to fully separate your bodies. As he had endured yearning for you such a torturous amount, how could he let you go now?

He presses you flat against the door, holding you down chest to chest. His cold hands slide up your shirt, the contrast of temperature making you shiver. Caressing the skin of your stomach so lightly it tickles, he snakes one of his hands behind your back, swiftly unclipping your bralette in one movement. You let it drop to the floor, the only thing on your mind right now being the feeling of his body on yours. With his hands lightly ghosting over your breasts now, you shudder each time one of his fingers brushed against your nipples. Slowly he pulls your shirt off, the cold night air bites at your skin making your nipples harden. Instinctively your arms shoot up to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you. He firmly grips your wrists and pins them down above your head.

Now fully exposed to him, he looks you in the eyes before licking a fat stripe from the area between your breasts to your neck. Lightly blowing onto the wet part of your skin, you take in a deep breath from the sensation. He begins to trail kisses down to your chest, letting go of your hands so he can bring you as close to him as possible. You tug at his hair softly as he mouthes at ode of your breasts, his tongue lightly teasing the soft bud. He groans softly before kissing down lower so he can get onto his knees.

He kneels before you know, unashamed of the submissive position he’s in. His teeth occasionally graze your stomach between sloppy open mouthed kisses. Looking up at you through his lashes, Yoongi starts undoing your pants. He pushes them down as if they’re getting in the way and moves his kisses down to your thighs. His uncalculated mouth moves dangerously close to your clothed cunt. Hovering over it he purposefully breathes through his mouth so you can feel his warm breath on your skin. You gasp when he suddenly pressed his nose against your pussy and inhales deeply. You can peel the tips of your ears heating up from embarrassment, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“Ugh, fuck how I missed this part of you.” He groans as he kisses over the thin fabric. Finding your clit almost immediately he starts to roll his tongue against it through your panties. Your arousal and his saliva mix together in the material causing an uncomfortable need for real contact.

“Yoongi, take it off already…” you whisper to him, brushing his bangs out of his face. Looking up at you with a cheeky smirk he grabs onto the hem of your underwear with his teeth, making sure to lightly graze your sensitive skin with them as he pulls down. Your panties don’t even have the chance to reach the floor and his mouth is already on you again. He runs his tongue through your folds, making you instinctively angle your hips to give him more access. Heedlessly circling your clit with his tongue, he occasionally sucks on it or flicks it. You’re unsure if his mouth is glistening from his own saliva or from your wetness, but the sloppy noises he’s making are causing you to involuntarily buck your hips into his mouth.

“You’re so beautiful like this, my sweet girl.” He mumbles as he pulls away, nuzzling his head into your thigh. Replacing his tongue with his fingers, you let out a quiet moan when he slips them inside of you. “I love having you like this, only for me to see. You know I’d never do this for anyone else, right?” He emphasizes the question by pressing his fingers down against your sweet spot. ”Shit, Yoongi. I love you so much, no one makes me cum like you do.” Your response comes out in a dragged out whine.

Satisfied with your reply his mouth returns to your clit while his fingers work you open. The combination of sensations makes an orgasm built up in your abdomen fast. “Yoon- Yoongi, I’m gonna ah- I’m gonna cum!” You moan out, trying to warn him. This only encourages him to go faster as an orgasm ripples through you in harsh waves, your head falling back against the door as your eyes roll into the back of your head. You spasm slightly as he continues to work your cunt, trying to pull him away so he doesn’t overstimulate you.

He licks off your juices from his fingers, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. As soon as he’s back on his feet you go in for a kiss, leaning on him for support while still coming down from your high. He refuses to let your lips part as he leads you to the bedroom, his shirt and pants getting lost along the way.

“Lay down baby.” He mumbled against your lips as he led you to the bed. Kneeling down between your legs he made sure you were comfortable on your pillow. No matter how basic, missionary was always the best when you needed to express your love sexually. Parting your lips he pulls you down a little so your thighs are pressed together. He grabs his erect cock out of his underwear, not even bothering to get rid of the boxers. Pumping it a few times he gives you a dopey look, a lazy smirk spreading on his face.

“You ready?” He rasps out, rubbing the tip of his cock against your swollen clit, mixing his precum together with the aftermath of your previous orgasm. “A little too ready.” You replied, running a hand through your hair. “Mmm I can tell.” He teases while spreading the natural lubricant over his cock. Slowly he pressed the tip in, “Fuck, it’s going in so easily, o barely had to prep you. You really want it, don’t you?” his brows crease together in pleasure as he slowly bottoms out. “Yes, fuck Yoongi I want your cock so bad.” Your hand shoots up to grab onto his shoulder, biting your lip at the fullness.

“Please, (Y/N). Can I move?” He murmured, holding onto your hips tightly. “Yes, fuck me Yoongi.” You replied, grabbing his face to place a wet kiss onto his lips. He let out a low moan as he started thrusting into you, the warmth and wetness of your cunt feeling better each time he fucked it. You lightly squeezed your walls on purpose knowing it drives him crazy. “Oh my- ah shit I won’t last long at all if you do that.” He said breathily, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. You hooked one of your legs onto his hips, pulling him forward so he’s pressed into your cunt as deeply as possible. The both of you groaned at that, as soon as you let go he started thrusting into you with a quicker pace. His movements rapidly increased with each slap of skin that echoed throughout the space, his head thrown back. That look on his face means he’s absolutely lost in please and that makes you proud. He molds so perfectly inside you it makes all of your doubts melt away, it’s like he was made for you.

Matching the pace of his thrust to his fingers flicking your clit, Yoongi can swear he can feel you pulsating around him. “Ah, fuck (Y/N) I think I’m gonna cum already. Shit I’m sorry it just feels too good.” He groans, the already pink tips of his ears darkening. “It’s okay, go ahead baby, cum inside me.” You breathily respond, continuing to moan with each of his thrusts. He speeds up before abruptly stopping, the feeling of his warm seed filling you up making you clench around his cock. “Wait, shit, shit run my pussy please I’m so close too.” His fingers immediately speed up on your clit, furiously flicking it as your abdomen tightens again. As the hot white pleasure rips through your whole body, making your muscles spasm you hear a wet noise. Looking down the moment you can open your eyes you see Yoongi’s lower stomach covered in a clear liquid.

“Did you just make me squirt?” You laugh in disbelief. “That’s a first.” He mumbles before pulling his cock out, various liquids gliding down your ass. “I’ll go get a towel. He quickly gets up, trying his best not to make any of his surroundings wet.

As the two of you are laying in bed, your warm baked bodies pressed together, you feel Yoongi’s chest vibrate as he speaks up. “From now on, you always have to tell me when something’s bothering you, okay?” He softly says, stroking your hair. “Okay.” You whisper back. “Promise?” He questions while raising his pinky finger up, you lock yours with his, pressing your thumbs together. “Promise.”

[dreamlandreader]

Hounds of Love | Part Two

Thank you so much for all the love on part one of Hounds of Love, I really didn’t except so many people to like it, and I am so so sorry it has taken me such a long time to get this out but I hope you all enjoy part two as much as part one.

I would love to do more x reader fics with SJM characters so if you have any particular characters of any gender you would like to see, or specific requests then please let me know. 💖

Content Warnings: Parental death, panic attacks, water, anxiety, fluff.

Part One | Masterlist

I'm still afraid to be there,

Among the hounds of love,

And feel your arms surround me

Eris Vanserra stared at his reflection in the gilded mirror before him and felt every bit as hollow on the inside as he looked on the outside.

Beneath the jewels and the finery was a male very aware of the part he had to play, of the smile he had to paste on his face and the lie he had to feed his people.

Beron Vanserra was dead. But the joy and relief that his brothers, mother and the people of the Autumn Court found so easily after the tyrants death, slipped from Eris’s grip every time he desperately tried to cling to it.

He was not sad his father had gone. Not by a long shot. He just felt … nothing. Nothing except the burgeoning responsibility he had to his court, and the absolute terror that he was not up to the job.

But he had no time for moping. His advisors were getting tetchy and Lucien had stalled the ceremony long enough.

In Autumn Court tradition Eris would be sworn in as High Lord in front of thousands of his citizens. Then a grand party will be thrown, where representatives from every Autumn Court city, town and village will meet their new leader.

Eris hated the vain display of pomp and ceremony, but on his long list of immediate changes to be instated in his court, the cancellation of a celebration that brought his people such happiness was not deemed a priority.

‘Eris, hurry up! Even the priestess is getting impaitent,’ Lucien hissed from behind the oak panelled door.

Smoothing his fine clothing, the soon to be High Lord of the Autumn Court forced his smile to reach his eyes and headed towards his future.

The ceremony was long and dull and you were so far back that you couldn’t make out a single feature on the new High Lord’s face, or hear a word from the priestess’s mouth.

It was an honour, your father had said, to be invited to represent your small boarder town at the appointment of the new ruler of your lands. You did not feel very honoured though. You felt claustrophobic, squashed amongst all the other citizens who were desperately pushing to see the new High Lord. Moreover your dress, though beautiful, was incredibly uncomfortable, with itchy fabric and a tightly pulled corset, never mind the pinching shoes that were slowing crushing your poor toes.

But your main issue was not with your outfit or the rude people around you breathing down your neck, it was a lingering sense of nervousness that you might run in to someone familiar. It did not help that the new High Lord shared a name with the male you were so anxious to run into. Eris. It was a fairly traditional name, and was common amongst the Autumn Court nobility, but it stirred something within you that you had tried, and failed, to ignore for seven years straight.

It certainly didn’t feel like only seven years since you last saw the stranger, not when he had consumed your dreams every night since. His unrelenting kindness that day allowed you to return to your sick father, pockets lined with more than enough to pay for his medicine, to buy better resources for the farm and to pay off Beron’s tithe.

Since that day you had built a better life, not only for yourself but for the small community you lived in. With the help of the treasures that the generous male had given you, you were able to focus on not only growing food for the village but also medicinal plants that the local healer so desperately needed, but couldn’t access due to trading restrictions Beron had so foolishly imposed on the boarders. Hallie, the beautiful hound who guided you home safely that night, had never left your side since. Whether you were working in the fields, selling to the apothecary, caring for your father or sleeping, the dutiful dog was at your feet, always alert but more than happy to receive your affections. It had splintered your heart leaving her behind whilst you journeyed back here, but you had entrusted her to watch over your father.

Despite all of your success, you couldn’t shake the aching feeling that something was missing. You knew it was foolish, dreaming of a male you met for all of ten minutes, but you couldn’t ignore the prang of pain every time you thought of the copper haired beauty.

As thoughts of the beautiful stranger came bubbling to the surface and the packed crowds shoved further forward in an attempt to see the new High Lord from a better angle, a devastatingly sharp pang of fear swam up your chest, clawing at your heart. Not now. You thought. Not here! This room was too hot. Your dress was far too tight. You could not breathe as the anxiety climbed up your throat. Could not move. Until you did.

Pushing and elbowing and fighting your way out of the crowd, you slipped through the hoards of onlookers and ran. You lost your shoes in a matter of seconds, and it wasn’t until the twigs poked holes in your feet that you noticed you’d ran directly into the woods.

Once you were out of the sight of ‘polite’ society, you tore at your dress, trying desperately to undo the corseting which stuffed you in so restrictively. Your hands trembled against the ribbon at your ribcage and you let out a small sound as you sank to your knees and cried.

Eris was on fire.

He had never really felt the heat. Even in the summer court, Eris was unbothered by the scorching temperatures. He had fire in his veins after all. But this searing pain in his chest consumed him.

He could not hear the words of the ancient priestess over the ringing reverberating around his skull, and it was all he could do, not to let his legs buckle from under him. He felt a pull. An urge to flee. The need to escape. But he could not. So he grit his teeth and bore the agony, praying that the seconds would tick by much faster.

When the priestess had finally wrapped up the ceremony and crowned him as High Lord, Eris bolted. He was supposed to stay put. To walk calmly to the ballroom, make a speech, meet representatives of all the lands in his court. But that could wait. Lucien would have to figure something out. Because Eris needed to leave. He needed to run, but towards what he did not know.

It took six minutes and twenty-two seconds until Eris's feet stopped running, and the taut pull in his chest slackened just slightly. He had reached a glimmering lake, and was momentarily dazzled by the reflection of the crisp autumn sun shining on the still waters.

It was the sound that first drew his attention to you. A whimper, and rapid breathing. The scrape of nails slashing at fabric. Eris looked to the bank of the lake and saw you knelt, a pool of silk encircling your frame. He couldn't see your face, but from the noises you made he knew you were crying. You were tugging helplessly at the tight laces which tied your corset, and the more you struggled the more panicked you seemed to become. He knew that feeling too well, but his own anxiety dissolved into the background as his focus shifted entirely onto you.

"Hey, let me help you," he said softly, moving cautiously towards your back, and kneeling gently behind you. You slowed in response to his soothing tone, but continued to tug at the ribbon in frustration.

"I need this damned thing off I can’t - I can’t breathe!" you panted, fear dripping from your shaking voice.

"Wait, wait just stop. Stay still. Let me help you,"

Eris steadied his hands, still shaking from his own agitation and began to undo the laces, first untangling the tight bow at the base of your spine and gradually working his way up pulling the satin ribbon free from the eyelets. You began to breathe easier with each inch of the corset that was released.

"There. It’s done. Are you-”

Eris didn’t get to finish his sentence before you whipped up, leaving your dress in a crumpled heap on the forest floor. Your cream chemise fluttered behind you, as you sprinted towards to lake and flung yourself in.

“What the fu-” Eris darted up and lunged into the water fully clothed in his regal attire.

The surface of the water stilled momentarily, before your head gracefully emerged and you lay flat, floating on your back, staring up at the rosy pink sky.

Eris much less delicately reached the surface, spluttering and floundering in the water. He swiftly removed his heavy overcoat and watched glumly as his favourite baldric sank, a trail of bubbles the only thing to suggest it had ever been there.

“What in the mother’s name were you thinking!?” Eris exclaimed, still catching his breath from his unexpected bath.

“I have panic attacks,” you said matter of factly, drawing your fingers through the frigid water in lazy circles.

“I can't breathe, and I feel like I'm on fire. When I'm home, if I can feel them coming I take a bath as cold as possible. It grounds me. I can reset and then breathe again,"

There was a stark silence as Eris took in your floating form. You looked ethereal with your hair splayed across the water, but he couldn't quite make out your features with the setting sun shining right in his eyes.

"I run," he said softly, feeling the need to tell you something about himself after he had intruded on such a raw moment.

"Hmmm?"

"When I have panic attacks, I run. I’m always so envious of how free my hounds look when they get to run without limits. When I'm anxious, all I want to do is join them, so I do,"

"Oh," you answered, your heart warming slightly at this strangers confession.

You started to rise in the water, and took in the beautiful male before you. As your eyes scanned up his well toned body you suddenly remembered your manners.

"Thank you for your hel-," You stopped abruptly as your eyes met his. This was no stranger. You should have known from the distinct timbre of his voice. From the kindness he so willingly showed to a complete stranger. After so long, he was here.

"Eris!"

"Y/N!"

Eris's eyes were just as wide as yours, round and swimming with feeling.

“What are you doing here?” Eris whispered, silver lining his chestnut eyes.

“I- the new High Lord,” You replied as you stared at the male before you, too afraid to blink in case he disappeared again, never to return.

“You saved my life. My father’s life. You gave me the chance to help other people. Why?”

“Because, it was the right thing to do,” Eris stated matter of factly as he took your hand into his. Your heart was pounding and as strange as it seemed, you were certain you could hear Eris’s heart thudding the same beat.

“You gave me your dog,” you stated, the shock truly beginning to set in.

“Yes, I did. Is she still-” he couldn’t finish that thought.

“She’s good. Brilliant. Beyond any companion I could have wished for,” you reassured him.

“She always was. I’m so glad you found one another,”

“I never stopped you know,” you whispered, looking into his eyes. Baring your soul.

“What?”

“Thinking about the male who stripped himself of his jewels and lost his best hound in order to stop a desperate stranger walking to certain death. I- I wished you’d come and find me. That I could thank you. Show you the life I was able to build because you saved it that night,”

“I thought about nothing else for seven years,” Eris confessed.

“Why didn’t you?” You asked, squeezing his hand in encouragement. Drawing the words from his lips with your heartbroken gaze.

“Because Beron wouldn’t have stopped until he found me. I was valuable to him. He would’ve snatched me back into a life of misery and destroyed everything in his path before he got to me. I did not want you embroiled in his world,”

“Why are were you of such value to him Eris? Who are you?”

“A male who has regretted letting you walk away every night since the last I saw you. A fool who let himself dream he would see your beautiful face again one day. A sentimental bastard who promised himself he would never let this opportunity slip away if it presented itself once again,”

“What do you-”

You are cut off sudddently as Eris’s lips found yours. Soft and plush. Your heart soared and tightened with delight as you reached around his body and pulled him in closer. You were both sopping wet from the chill of the lake water but his warmth radiated through your damp clothing and filled the empty sal of your heart that had only ever wished to be imbued with his presence.

You were slow to notice at first. A small tug, a gentle hand reaching out. Then a snap.

“Mates?” you asked hopefully, pulling your lips from his, searching his face desperately for an answer.

“Mates,” he replied confidently, a nervous smile gracing his beautiful face.

“You knew? All this time,”

“Like I said, I couldn’t bare to put you in danger. So I had to let you go,”

Before he knew it you had flung yourself into his arms, and planted your lips right back onto his. Spinning you around, Eris slowly walked you backwards until you felt the bump of tree bark behind you.

He placed two gentle kisses on your lips before brushing your dripping wet hair from your face, his touch feather light.

“I take it you are okay with this news then?” He laughed.

“Okay! Unbelievably okay. Deliriously okay!” You enthused.

Eris beamed down upon you with the glow of a million fireflies. He leaned in again, his hands tentatively roaming your hips when-

“Eris, what the fuck are you doing!” Lucien screamed across the clearing. He was frantic, hair mussed and eyes panicked.

“You cannot be absent from your own party, High Lord!” He bit out.

“Wait- you’re Eris … Vanserra!” You shrieked, peering out from behind Eris to take in his very stressed younger brother, before staring up at your mate, astounded.

“Oh yeah …” Eris said coyly, holding his hands up in surrender. “Suuupprriiiiissse,”

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist

General Tags: @paleidiot @lilah-asteria @babypeapoddd @mybestfriendmademe

X Reader Tags: @talesofadragon

Beautiful dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

[lunasfics]

Thunderstorms - Bruce Wayne

Summary: There was a period of silence, your feet making soft splashes in the puddles below you, his steps were silent next to you. Your grip on the cape around you tightened when the loud rumbling on thunder sounded above you, you felt Bruce’s hand over your back, it grounded you.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none

a/n: I'm like. not super happy with how this turned out. but i hope someone likes it. i saw a picture bruce and he looked absolutely scrumptious and I was inspired to write some fluff for him. ALSO SO SORRY FOR THE INACTIVITY IVE BEEN BUSY. and also. writers block is a bitch. so yeah, i am trying to get better with updates though!!

reblogs are appreciated!

You sighed, standing under a ledge just outside your work building, wrapping your arms around yourself to conserve the little warmth you had. The rain pelted down onto the concrete mercilessly, the cold, harsh winds hindering the ledge you were under from really doing much to help. The fresh scent of rain washing away the grime on the concrete filled your nostrils, the cool air nipping at your skin. Of course, Gotham’s usually unbelievably bad weather just had to be at its worst when you get off work, after the building closes, during the one point in time you don’t have a car. Wonderful. 

You weren't sure what you were waiting for honestly, you had considered calling him. But thought better of it. He was busy on patrol, he always was. Besides, it had been about two weeks since you’d seen your boyfriend, and although it did hurt you, you understood. Or you at the very least tried your best to. You’d decided long ago to not lie to yourself, you understood Bruce’s endeavor, but you also understood that you have every right to feel upset over it. To feel hurt. It wasn’t an easy endeavor, you knew that,  you’d only wished he’d reach out and let you in. 

You winced as the loud rumbling of thunder sounded through the sky. You had always hated thunderstorms, the thugs and criminals of Gotham didn’t scare you, Batman didn’t scare you, neither did the vigilantes who worked with him; but thunderstorms just… terrified you. 

As you contemplated your options, you decided you’d just wait it out, you’d much rather sit still in a thunderstorm than have to navigate your way through it. 

You dug your hands into the pockets of your jacket trying to keep warm, as you shuffled back against the wall. Your head shot up at the familiar swoosh sound of someone landing silently not far from you. You turned towards the sound, where you saw Batman looking at you. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, you were surprised, Bruce didn’t usually patrol this area until the later hours of the night. You had learned not long after your relationship started which patrol routes he would usually take, you figured he would be somewhere on the east side of Gotham. 

His lips pressed into a line before he spoke, “You’re afraid of thunderstorms. Your car is getting repaired tonight.” 

You nodded, your eyes never leaving the white lenses of his cowl. 

He cleared his throat before approaching you, removing his cape and draping it over you gently, it was heavy. It smelled like cedar wood and mint, the scent of the body wash you bought for him not long ago, and the faint smell of gunpowder, you lifted it over your head to form a makeshift hood, the thick fabric of the large cape still swallowed you. When you seemed ready he walked alongside you as you made the route towards your apartment. 

He spoke again, his voice quiet, “You could have called me. I would have come sooner.”  

You shook your head, “I thought you were on patrol. I’m surprised you’re here, honestly. It’s been awhile.”

He seemed to tense a bit, only for a split second, but you noticed. You chose not to acknowledge it. 

“Hm.” He gave a nod, as you continued along the sidewalk towards your apartment building, walking in silence. You looked at him on more than one occasion. He seemed to be contemplating what to say before speaking again, “I…I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

He paused for a moment, rather awkwardly, like he really wasn’t sure how to go about what he wanted to say. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was nervous. Leave it to you to make Batman nervous. 

He cleared his throat again, before speaking, “I haven’t been giving you a relationship that you deserve, I’ve been prioritizing this,” he gestured to his suit, “over us. For that I’m sorry.” 

You nodded, indicating you were acknowledging his words. There was a period of silence, your feet making soft splashes in the puddles below you, his steps were silent next to you. Your grip on the cape around you tightened when the loud rumbling on thunder sounded above you, you felt Bruce’s hand over your back, it grounded you. You looked at him, the corners of his mouth tilted downwards in concern. 

You took a moment before responding, “I understand. I know it’s… a lot. Just, maybe a call every few days couldn't hurt? Instead of, you know, disappearing on me.” 

His gaze was still fixed on you as he nodded, clearing his throat, he spoke again, “I should have been doing that to begin with.” 

You nodded, “You should have, but I could’ve done more to reach out. I should’ve established those boundaries.” 

He looked at you, for a moment, the slightest hint of surprise adorned his visible features, “You aren’t in the wrong here.” 

You shrugged, “Maybe not as much as you, but relationships are a two-way street, we both have to try, and I wasn’t doing my part. Not as much as I should have been.” 

He nodded, you noted the way his shoulders relaxed. 

“I would like to mention however, now that these boundaries are set, you can’t pull that on me again. You need to talk to me, Bruce. You can't just disappear on me and expect me to just be okay with it.” 

He nodded again, his eyes not leaving yours, you could feel his stare through the cowl, “I’ll do that, I’ll do better,” he promised. 

You smiled, opening the door to your apartment building, it was late in the evening, no one in the building tended to wander about at this time of night. You looked over at him, tilting your head to invite him into the building, before continuing towards the elevator, pressing the upwards arrow. You turned and he was right next to you. His mouth was pressed into a line, the corner of his lip moving in a way that told you he was in thought. 

The elevator right up to your floor was quiet. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you. That was one thing you’d liked about being with him, you didn’t have to talk constantly to maintain a comfortable space. 

When you reached the door you unlocked it, stepping through and folding the heavy cape in your arms. You turned around and took in the sight of Bruce, right outside your door, there in his bat suit, without a cape he looked kind of…naked. It was kind of funny, if you were being honest. He stood there, awkward in a way that only you could make him, he wasn’t one to fidget, but you could see the way his gloved hand twitched ever so slightly, as if he wanted to.  

Initially, when you first started dating Bruce, you were reluctant, his reputation was known to most in Gotham, and his sincerity, in your eyes, was just a facade. 

So imagine your surprise when you not only agree to a date, but during said date, he takes you to a quiet little cafe, and is oddly… timid? You were undoubtedly perplexed, as gone was his playboy persona; and it drew you to him, his reserved personality captivated you, because you knew it was genuine. That was the day you really met Bruce Wayne. 

You eyed him standing awkwardly at your door, before asking, “Well, would you like to come in?” 

He nodded, clearing his throat before entering your small apartment, shutting your door quietly behind him. 

“You weren’t planning on going back on patrol after this?” 

He shook his head, removing his cowl as he spoke, “It’s a slow night, Gordon can handle it,” he met your eyes, revealing the icy blue color that you love so much, offering you a small grin, “I want to spend time with you.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “What about Alfred?” 

His lip quirked up into a small smile, “He told me I should ‘get over myself and go see you before I lose what is quite possibly the best thing to ever happen to me’, he also said he was getting sick of me locking myself in the cave.” 

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his arms wrap themselves securely around your waist, leaning into the familiar closeness, “Alfred is a smart man.” 

“He is, I suppose even he needs a break sometimes.” 

“I can imagine, I’ll have to write him a thank you card for keeping you in check,” you laughed softly. 

“He’d love that, I'm sure,” he huffed a small laugh. 

You giggled, planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth, pulling away to meet his eyes again, “So you’re staying the night, but take a shower, you smell like sweat.” 

He nodded. He went over to your bedroom, probably to grab some of his spare clothes kept there, when he wasn't so hyper-focused on his mission, he spent a lot of time there in between patrols. It wasn’t long before you heard the water running. You moved from your place in the living room, deciding to change into your sweats. 

You plopped yourself onto your bed, your shut windows thankfully covered the storm that was outside, you buried yourself under the blankets. You flicked on your lamp, encasing the room with a warm glow, pulling out and reading a book you were halfway through, not closing it until you heard the shower turn off, the bathroom door opened not long after. 

You looked over to see Bruce, his hair fell over his forehead in damp clumps, his towel strung over his shoulder over the old band t-shirt he had on, his sweatpants hung loosely on his frame. He set the towel down to dry before climbing into the other side of the bed. 

You shut the book in your hand, setting it aside before opening your arms, allowing him to shuffle himself closer, he leaned over you and shut off the light. You felt his weight on top of you, his arms wrapping around you, his head comfortably on your chest. You ran your fingers through his damp hair, enjoying the quiet moment. 

He lifted his head, his blue eyes meeting yours, “Move into the manor with me.” 

You stopped, “What?” 

He shifted, propping himself on his elbows, “Move in with me.” 

“Are you sure? For someone who has contingencies for his contingencies, you can be incredibly impulsive.” 

He nodded, “I’ve been thinking about it for the past month at least. I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So, move into the manor with me.” 

There was a moment of silence while you processed, though he seemed to interpret your silence as a form of rejection, “Of course, if you don’t feel ready that’s okay, we can take this at your pace, we can always—” 

“Bruce.” 

He stopped, his full attention on you. 

“I would love to move into the manor with you.” 

He smiled, genuine and bright, you felt as if you were looking into the warmth of the sun, the best part— this was the smile he saved only for you. 

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 18: "A Series of Firsts"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut [Comfort now exists in this series!!]

Word Count: 4k

a/n: This is a SWEET installment!!! I have tortured y'all enough and I now present to you lovely readers a very enjoyable ATY Matty. From here on out comfort should outweigh the slight bit of angst that lingers in this series. Enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks @mattmurdocksstarlight @yeonalie @will-delete-this-later-probably @darekened-writer [some of you might need to check your settings to be tagged!]

It felt strange walking the streets that somehow felt both familiar but not as the snow fell down in a flurry of white, fluffy flakes around you. A strong, bitter gust of wind blew past you down the sidewalk as you made your way and you pulled your coat a bit tighter around yourself, tucking your chin into the scarf you were wearing as a chill ran down your spine.

LA had certainly made you forget just how cold the New York winters really could be.

Your flight to New York had gotten in around three this afternoon and you’d spent your time once you'd left the airport checking into the hotel that you were staying at in Hell’s Kitchen. You’d taken a brief nap in your room, tired from the long flight, before grabbing something quick for dinner. Now you were on your way to meet Foggy, Karen, and Matt at Josie’s for drinks tonight since they’d finally finished work.

Your stomach was churning and rolling with nervous excitement the closer you got to the bar, and when the neon sign finally came into view, you wondered if Matt was inside already. You wondered if he’d picked up on your heartbeat outside a while ago; he’d once told you that he could hear familiar heartbeats from a significant distance, singling them out. That thought had yours beating a little erratically on your walk.

You were incredibly nervous to see Matt tonight. Because tonight would be the first time you’d ever been around him after having learned the truth that he returned the feelings you had for him. You didn’t know what to expect or how you should even act around him this evening. Did you flirt or just act like your usual self? The fact that the pair of you would have an audience with Karen and Foggy didn’t help with the situation either–or your nerves.

Your boots crunched over the salt on the sidewalk as you finally came upon the entrance to Josie’s. Pulling your hand out of the warmth of your coat pocket, you reached out and opened the door. The heat and noise of the bar instantly hit you as you stepped inside, a smile slipping onto your lips at the sight of Josie waving at you behind the counter. Removing the hat from your head, you managed a brief wave in return before a chorus of excited shouts drew your attention immediately to your right.

All three of your friends were crowded around their usual table in varying disheveled states of their work attire. They were cheering and smiling, beers raised in their hands towards you as you stood there in surprise, your eyes taking in the sight of them. Though inevitably your gaze landed on Matt sitting at the table and you quickly noticed the empty seat beside him. 

For a moment all you could do was stand there and stare at Matt, your feet rooted to the sticky bar floor as your hands nervously twisted the knitted winter hat in them. Your eyes lingered on him as he set his beer on the table, gradually rising to his feet with a vibrant smile on his face, his covered gaze very clearly focused solely on you. Heat crept up your neck under the weight of his intense focus, another sudden rush of nerves filling you. 

He looked good, somehow even better in the months since you'd last seen him. The slight pull of the buttons on his dress shirt certainly wasn't helping your racing pulse, either. Neither was the sight of his exposed muscular forearms with the way his shirt sleeves were often rolled up, or the way his dress pants clung just right as he stood to his feet.

How in the hell were you supposed to make it through the night without passing out? This was Matthew Murdock, the best friend you'd been in love with for years . He was absolutely beautiful. You were certain one teasing, flirtatious comment out of those beautiful lips of his directed at you would have you on the floor.

Sucking in a deep breath, you nervously headed over to their table on trembling legs. All three of them had risen from their chairs and were making their way over to greet you, but Foggy had practically catapulted around the table. He nearly slammed into you with a bear hug, crushing you as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You laughed as you hugged him back.

"Goddamn eight months is a long time," Foggy complained when he finally released you. "You cannot go that long without seeing me again!"

"Yeah," you agreed. "It definitely was a long time, Fog. I missed being back here."

Karen bumped her hip into Foggy, pushing him out of the way so she could draw you in for a hug next. You quickly returned it, more nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach as she shot you a knowing look when she pulled away.

"Missed seeing you in Josie’s," she told you. "It always felt weird without you here."

The moment Karen stepped back, your focus shifted to Matt just to your left. He almost looked nervous as he approached you, your heart flying up into your throat. He said your name softly, the smile never leaving his lips as he gradually closed the space between the pair of you. 

His arms carefully encircled your shoulders, almost as if he wasn't sure of how he should act, either. Chewing the inside of your cheek, your own arms timidly slipped their way around Matt's waist, your hands cautiously landing on his back. You felt Matt's mouth beside your ear and a shiver ran down your spine.

"I missed this," he whispered. 

Your eyes instantly closed at his words, arms tightening around him at the sound of his voice. In turn, Matt's own arms held you a bit more firmly to the front of himself as you buried your face into his shoulder, gradually relaxing into him.

"I did, too," you whispered back, voice muffled by his dress shirt. 

"It's good to have you back in Hell’s Kitchen," he told you.

Both of you held on to each other for a few moments longer, a smile drawn wide across your mouth as your fingers pressed into his back, trying to hold onto him somehow tighter. You didn't want to let him go, not after having gone without him eight long months. You felt the eventual prickle of tears in your eyes building the longer you held onto him, the dampness forming from a combination of extreme joy at finally seeing Matt again– touching him–mixed with the knowledge that you definitely would not be ready to say goodbye again in a few days. 

Pressing your lips together, you reluctantly broke away from Matt, unburying your face from his shoulder as your arms gradually dropped back to your sides. And it didn't escape your notice that it took Matt a few seconds longer to release you from his hold, slowly pulling away from you. Though you stood entirely still and in complete shock when one of his hands slid its way up from your shoulders all the way to your cheek, his thumb tenderly stroking back and forth along your skin. Shyly you held his covered gaze, heat burning your cheeks at that charming smile on his mouth as he touched you in a way that felt so far from friendly. Matt’s smile only seemed to grow the further you flushed, your right hand nervously tightening around the hat in your hand. 

Foggy loudly cleared his throat beside you, the sound breaking through the moment between you and Matt. Your eyes quickly darted away from him and landed on your two friends, Matt's hand inevitably falling from your cheek and back to his side. Both Foggy and Karen were shooting you wide, excited grins. Feeling a little embarrassed they’d just witnessed that, your bottom lip slipped between your teeth as you tried to fight down the growing nerves in your stomach.

"Why don't we sit and catch up?" Foggy suggested, gesturing to the chair that had been empty beside Matt’s. "We already grabbed you a beer.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, nodding lightly. “That uh, that sounds good.”

The four of you headed back towards the table, your cheeks still burning a bit as you slid the chair out beside the one Matt was settling back down into. You noticed how he’d slid his just a bit closer towards yours, and that only had your stomach twisting more nervously as you set your hat down on the table. When you sat down in the chair, Foggy pushed a beer along the table towards you.

“Thanks, Fog,” you said, smiling at him.

Accepting the beer from his hand, you saw Matt’s attention on you out of the corner of your eye. He was still wearing that charming smile, directing it solely at you. In fact, he was completely focused on just you. That level of attention from him had your heart speeding up a little, your tongue slipping out to wet your lips. It didn’t matter that the pair of you had steadily been flirting more and more over your phone calls back and forth to each other these past few weeks before you’d finally flown out to New York, having Matthew Murdock’s sole focus on just you for once was suddenly making it damn near impossible to breathe. 

You were definitely going to have a hard time adjusting to him being like this with you.

Clearing your throat, you tried to ignore the fluttering of your stomach. “How were things at the office today?” you asked, glancing between the three of them.

“A bit busy,” Karen answered. “There was an influx of new clients this afternoon.”

“And thank God for you stopping in after your classes,” Foggy added to Karen. “I don’t think we’d have made it through the rest of the day without your help.”

“Yeah, Matt mentioned you guys had been busy lately,” you said, picking up your beer.

“Oh yeah?” Foggy asked, a teasing smile on his face that had your beer pausing midway to your lips. “You both been talking a lot, have you?”

Heart giving a little lurch, your eyes darted towards Matt just to your left. A faint smirk slipped onto his lips as his hand came up, adjusting his glasses along the bridge of his nose. Your eyes lingered on his fingers for a moment as if you were in a trance, watching their movements as your beer still hovered just before your lips. His head shifted a little more towards you when his hand lowered back to the table and you almost forgot to breathe. His smirk only grew wider.

“How was your flight?” Matt asked.

Blinking hard a few times you glanced away, finally bringing the bottle to your lips. You took a big drink hoping the alcohol would help to somewhat calm your nerves before you answered.

“It was good, just really long,” you told him. “I’m still trying to readjust to the few hours time difference.”

“Jetlagged?” Karen asked.

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “And I’m also trying to adjust to how cold it is right now.”

Foggy let out a sigh, shaking his head in faux disappointment at you across the table. “You go to LA for not even a year and you suddenly can’t handle the snow? Have you turned into Matt now?” He gestured a thumb at Matt beside him which only had Matt abruptly frowning. “Cause this guy still bitches that he’s freezing every goddamn day. It’s like the walk to Jerome Hall with him all over again when he gets to the office every morning. Always so grumpy.”

“I hate the cold, Fog,” Matt said, his attention shifting to Foggy. “You know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” Foggy agreed. “I’ve only heard you tell me that about a million times now.”

“Does he still bury his face in a scarf?” you asked, grinning at the memories flashing through your mind. “Like he did all those times I met you guys at the dining hall?”

“Mhmm,” Karen hummed out. “Wraps it all the way up to his nose.”

You tried to stifle the laugh as you chanced a glance at Matt. He was smiling at you now, though, the frown entirely missing from his face. The laughter died on your lips almost immediately at the sight–he truly was incredibly handsome. 

“I seem to remember someone always being really clumsy on the ice,” Matt teased.

Your eyes went wide as you heard Foggy burst into a laugh. Playfully your hand reached out, swatting Matt’s arm as his smile only broadened. 

“I didn’t fall that often!” you countered.

Matt’s smile turned smug as he grabbed his beer, raising it from the table. “Because I usually caught you before you did,” he pointed out.

You opened your mouth, about to respond, but then you stopped. Brows furrowing deeply together, you quickly replayed the memories in your mind of the times you’d walked back from the bar or the dining hall or one of the restaurants nearby campus when you’d been out with Matt and Foggy. Your eyes narrowed as you recalled multiple different occasions you’d been walking beside Matt, your foot slipping on a patch of ice before Matt’s hand darted out to catch your arm.

“Didn’t realize that, did you?” Matt asked, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

“No,” you whispered, glancing up at him. “I didn’t.” 

Something incredibly strange happened in that moment–Matt’s smile suddenly turned shy as he ducked his head, focusing on the table. His fingers began twirling the beer bottle in front of himself almost nervously.

“Ever since you fell that time when we were leaving the bar and you–you hurt your wrist–” Matt began softly, gesturing a hand towards your left wrist, “–I always paid attention to your footing when there was ice. I didn’t want you to get hurt again. Because I remembered how much you said it hurt trying to type on keyboards all day for your programming courses after that.”

“Oh,” you whispered, eyes darting down towards your wrist. “I had no idea.”

Under the table, you felt Karen's foot nudge yours. Looking over your shoulder at her, you saw the bright smile on her face as she waggled her blonde brows at you. Movement across the table quickly caught your eye and your head turned, catching Foggy clasping his hands in something like mock prayer as he looked up at the ceiling of Josie’s, muttering ‘thank you’ repeatedly under his breath.

“Do you mind if I walk you back to your hotel after this?” Matt asked.

His voice yet again caught your attention, your head shifting back towards him. That shy look remained on his face, his dark brows raised a little above his glasses.

“Just, you know, to make sure you don’t trip on any patches of ice?” he added.

A warm, tingling feeling rushed through you at his words, your eyes openly staring at his lips as he’d spoken. For a moment you wondered what you’d have to do to feel them on yours tonight, because at this point you’d do just about anything.

“I’d like that,” you answered softly.

Nervously chewing the inside of your cheek, you walked with an arm looped through Matt’s, your hand clutching the wool of his coat as the pair of you made your way back towards your hotel in companionable silence. He’d folded up his cane and put it into his jacket pocket before you’d both begun the walk to your hotel which was only a couple of blocks from Josie’s. But when his free hand suddenly came up and landed atop the hand you were holding onto him with, you instantly startled at the touch. 

“Your hand is freezing,” Matt observed.

“Yours is warm,” you blurted.

Matt chuckled lightly, his hand wrapping over the top of yours more fully and shielding it from the chilly night air. A slight giddiness rippled through you at the gesture, especially considering how much you knew Matt hated the cold himself. And not only that, but this walk with Matt back to your hotel felt vastly different than every other time you’d ever walked anywhere with him before. Different than any time he’d ever walked you back to your dorm at Columbia. It almost felt romantic–intimate, even. Which was definitely a first between the two of you.

“I’m really glad you came out to visit,” Matt told you. “Hell’s Kitchen really hasn’t been the same with you gone. And Karen was right, it always felt strange going to Josie’s and not having you there.”

“Well it–it always felt weird spending my days without seeing you,” you confessed, your eyes focused on the sidewalk as you both walked. “I mean I know after graduation it wasn’t like I saw you all the time but…it felt weird going months without hearing your voice. And not–not getting to see you every once and awhile.”

“I wanted to see you more often,” Matt admitted, his head turning over his shoulder towards you. “After graduation, I mean. I wished I could’ve seen you every day. Wished that I could’ve–” he stopped mid-sentence, letting his unfinished thought hang in the air before he shook his head. “I’m just–just glad you’re here right now. Though I wish it wasn’t just for a few days.”

You hung your head, a sad smile pulling at your lips. Your trip to Hell’s Kitchen was only four days long–not even if you actually counted the days you’d had to fly in and fly back. Truthfully it wasn’t long enough. 

“I wish I could stay longer, too,” you whispered. 

“I know Karen said you have a brunch planned tomorrow with her,” Matt began, “and I know that tomorrow night we’re all getting together back at Josie’s again, but would you…maybe like to grab coffee with me? Tomorrow morning?”

You glanced up at Matt from beneath your lashes, spotting the hopeful look on his face as he continued to focus on you in return. Your heart gave a little jolt in your chest at the sight. 

“As in, like a…” your voice trailed off as nerves once again swirled in your stomach.

“A date, yes,” Matt confirmed. “Would you like to grab coffee with me tomorrow morning? As our first date?”

Inhaling a shaky breath, you nodded slowly. “Yes,” you answered.

Behind his glasses, Matt’s face visibly lit up. You could almost feel the warmth radiating from him. He abruptly came to a stop on the sidewalk, pulling you to one along with him. In one swift movement, he’d placed both of his hands gently on your hips, turning and guiding you backwards until your back was lightly pressed to the building that was now behind you. Matt stood before you, blocking you from the view of foot traffic as he smiled softly back at you. 

“And Sunday night,” he continued, one hand rising up to very gently cup your cheek. “Can I take you to dinner Sunday night for our second?”

Lips parting, you stood there momentarily stunned as you stared back at him. In the silence that followed, you saw the white plumes of your breath mingle with his in the incredibly small space between the pair of you, your heart beating faster in your chest. He was so close to you now; you couldn’t help it when your gaze inevitably dropped down to his lips yet again this evening. Almost as if he’d known, the corners of his mouth curved ever faintly upwards.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Matt’s smile grew wider at your response, his other hand releasing your hip to reach up and remove his glasses from his face. One-handedly he folded them, slipping them into his jacket pocket as he gazed warmly back down at you, the view of his handsome face no longer obstructed. He took another step towards you, ever so slowly closing the distance between the pair of you. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart somehow hammering even faster in your chest as Matt’s hand slid down your cheek, his fingers lightly gripping your chin and tilting your face up towards his.

“And what about right now?” Matt asked, his voice hardly above a whisper. He leaned in even closer to you, his face barely a couple of inches away as his eyes fixed downward on your lips. “Can I kiss you right now?”

The warmth of his breath washed over your lips with each of his exhales and the sensation quickly had you growing lightheaded. Your own eyes were still focused on his mouth, that very same mouth you’d seen kiss countless other women over the years. The one that had flirted with so many others. The mouth that you’d spent years dreaming about, wondering how it would feel if he ever pressed it to yours. Wondering how soft those plush lips of his would actually be and if he was as great of a kisser as you’d unfortunately had to overhear countless times before. 

Never in your life did you ever think that mouth would kiss yours.

“Yes,” you barely breathed out.

Matt’s thumb slid upwards, the pad of it brushing so lightly over your lips that you’d almost not felt it. You swallowed hard, a slight shudder running down your spine that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with Matthew Murdock. You saw his eyelids flutter close before his nose gently nudged yours, his fingers under your chin only further coaxing your mouth up towards his. 

His lips had barely ghosted along yours–just the lightest of touches–before both of your hands flew out and landed on Matt’s chest. The moment his lips met yours more fully for a second time, your fingers curled tight around his wool coat, fisting the material roughly as you held on to him, your knees suddenly growing weak. Eyelids closing shut, you kissed him back more fervently than you’d have ever thought you’d have the nerve to do. 

Matt’s fingers soon released your chin, his hand making its way to cradle the back of your head as he stepped completely into you, carefully pushing you further into the brick wall behind you. Both of your hands released their tight grip on his coat, making their way up to wrap one after the other around his neck, pulling him tighter into you and deepening the kiss. Matt’s mouth only moved more enthusiastically against your own in response, his hand tightening its grip in your hair as his other arm snaked its way around your waist, drawing you in flush to the front of himself with a faint grunt against your mouth. 

As he kissed you, Matt held onto you like he had no intention of ever letting you go, his fingers roughly digging into your lower back even through your thick layers. His warm, soft lips were a distinct contrast to the cold as they continued to meet yours over and over, and the sharp, gasping breaths escaping from both of your mouths between kisses quickly filled your ears. With the way he was kissing you, you’d entirely forgotten about the fact that you were in public, standing on a sidewalk pressed against a building and openly making out with him. All you could think about was Matt and the way his mouth was making you feel. 

For years you had often wondered if kissing Matt would feel like everything you’d ever thought it would, but tonight you’d finally learned that it felt like so much more.

[sea-stone]

Finally, after ages, it arrives. This is the first entry to a setting of stories I am dubbing "A Durkmuir County Tale" about a modernish day, light fantasy world of paranormal creatures and humans living in tentative harmony out in an American inspired rural country county. I hope you all enjoy, please let me know your thoughts in the comments!

Note: Part one is SFW with mild horny tension, but the following one is very explicit and will contain a list of touched on topics.

Thank you to my fellow monster lovers for inspiring me to finally share my work. I have listed a few below, and to @monstersflashlight for being a betta reader!

@bucketsofmonsters

@momolady

@dragonsholygrail

@cheesomancer

@aftermidnightspecial

@moonshine-nightlight

@snowkissedmonsters

@flowerbetweenfangs

Caught by Moonlight - Part One

Can't Run Forever

Your heart dropped as soon as you heard that pop on the front driver’s side, and heard the familiar 'fuddudduddudd'  of an accursed flat tire. You groaned. And cursed.  And exclaimed bitterly “Fine, then. Whatever!!” as you decided the only best place to pull over was on the same dirt road you had driven for over 10 miles on already. You flicked on the hazards, and took some slow, strained deep breaths with your forehead pressed against the top of your wheel. It was past Midnight; you were alone. Hardly anyone drove this road outside of your neighbors, and it was a Sunday night so they were all asleep. No one would find you until at least sunrise. You checked your phone, and groaned because of course, it’s at 2% battery with no signal. Because of course you forgot to replace your broken car charger. You smeared frustrated fears from your eyes, and resolved to sit in the bed of your old Tacoma and wait instead of moping inside the cab.

A cruel memory of a similar situation a few months back had warned you to replace all your tires rather than drive on the spare. But who had money to spend on that shit? At least it was a summer night, and the full moon hung near directly above you. You could see for nearly 50 miles around you, into the empty grassland many people called No Man’s Land. It was supposedly government land, but no one bothered with it. Even the Sheriff's Deputies rarely patrolled it. On a fun night, you would have been able to trek on foot to a campfire session some Old Hippies from the City would host. But it was a Sunday, in a small Christian area, so there was nobody but Gaia’s Wilderness to keep you company. Even though the air felt like it was about 70 degrees, you shivered with the thin, oversized overshirt and a tank top. You wrapped your arms tightly around your chest as you sat cross legged on your tailgate, rocking slightly. You blankly stared ahead of you, back down the road, with the mountains to the back of you. Had you planned for it, it would have been a great place to camp; but no, you had nothing to work with. You never planned anything, and that bad habit bit you in the ass every time it could.

You probably looked like an abandoned dog on the side of the road, and hopefully pitiful enough to help out. You tried playing temptress to men and monsters alike, but that proved too successful, too dangerous. When you closed your eyes, especially when you felt so alone and isolated, you could still see his fierce green eyes. If you weren’t careful, if you let yourself remember Anad, it ached with need shortly followed waves of guilt and shame. It hurt how much you wanted him, and you battled the regret of cutting him from your life every day. Even after the phone calls stopped, after you deleted his last text, you couldn’t bring yourself to crawl back to him after leaving him with no answer of why you left in the first place. One of the main reasons you have been having a shitty couple of weeks was that you realized your mistake too late. By the time you realized you were haunted by regret, he stopped trying to reach you. Now here you were, in the same spot you were before he met him: with no one but your own cruel thoughts to keep you company. 

You lifted your face that had been buried in your arms, suprised to the sound of a car heading towards you. It was odd, but a welcomed sight to see an very unlikely sight of a Deputy Sheriff SUV round the bend a few miles down the road. You slid off the tail hitch and closed it, and you had to shield your eyes as the SUV pulled up about 20 feet behind you. You squinted, trying to see who it was behind the driver’s seat. When they hesitated to come out, you took a few steps closer. Finally, they turned their vehicle off first, and then their lights, which allowed you to see a looming shape exit the vehicle. Normally, you could tell just by the height of the officer who it was, but you didn’t recall anyone with that hulking silhouette before on the team. You shook your head, blinking repeatedly to get your eyes to adjust, and when they did you saw his remarkable green eyes flash from your truck’s hazard lights. He slowly walked towards you, and you backed yourself up against the trailer hitch, your heart pounding. He only got close enough to where you could see him clearly, and it was a feast for your eyes. 

Anad, who normally wore garish silk pants and nothing else when you saw him at the clubs you both frequented, wore the typical sandy button up, khaki pants, and cowboy boots that any human would. The clothes strained against his bulk, and the top  buttons had gone missing or were removed permanently. Your eyes followed the transition of his orange striped fur into the white stripes that came down from the neck to his exquisite collar bone and the top of his enormous pecs. If it wasn't so tense, you would be drooling, but kept your mouth pressed tightly closed. Your knees would have buckled if you hadn’t already braced against the cold metal of your truck, reminding you that this wasn’t just a weird fever dream. “Ah-Anad,” you stumbled to speak, but words failed you as your mouth dried up. You saw it too: the both of you were straining to breathe normally. His eyes betrayed the mixture of desire and pain that his otherwise steely expression failed to express, and he couldn’t control how his tail flicked back and forth, almost in aggressive irritation. “I don’t understand. How are you here right now?” You managed to say with a shaky breath. 

He broke out of pensive trance, and he anxiously ran his hands over his face and back over his head as he broke eye contact. “I followed you from work,” he admitted, through gritted teeth. “I guessed when you pulled over that it was because your spare finally wore through like your other tires. I went ahead and called Arturo’s Tow and Pull, but they can't get out till morning at the earliest to tow your car. There was a bad accident on Highway 8, so all the trucks got sent to help out that way about an hour ago.” You frowned, and you looked up at him utterly confused. “We can either wait out here for them to come, or I can drive you home. It’s your choice.” He continued to figet with his hands, frowning as he thought about what to say next. “When I hadn't heard from you, I thought you were busy. But after a week, I was almost convinced you got bored of me.” He sighed, and folded his arms. Goddess, it was so distracting as his muscles flexed in his arms, threatening to tear through his clothes. He continued, his tone switching between frustration and dejection.

“When I didn't see you at the clubs anymore, I grew concerned. Maybe you were just done with Monsters, but I talked with the other Deputies, and they said you weren't seeing anyone new. I was getting desperate.” Anad cautiously approached you again. When you didn’t move, he walked until he was within inches of you, and boxed you in by gripping the top of the trailer hitch on either side of you. You tried to hold back how much you liked that stance. The only thing keeping your hands off him was just how pained he looked and how much that hurt your soul to see. “I just - I need to know. I’m not going to let you go until you talk to me,” he spoke softly, lower, trying to hide his pleading tone. “I just want to know why you ghosted me,” he lowered his face lower to better hold your gaze, searching your eyes for the answer. You could even see his whiskers twitch, anxiously trying to read you. You could barely breathe, your heart screamed in your ears.

The tears you had beaten back finally broke through, slowly streaming down your cheeks. “I'm scared,” you hardly spoke louder than a whisper, and you felt his breath hitch. The metal under his grip creaked as he tried to hide how those words hurt him. He let one of his hands go slack beside you, grazing your shoulder and arm. He looked away then, over your shoulder, a face painted with dejection.

“What did I do wrong? Please, you got to tell me,” he pleaded. “I thought we were good, more than good even.” He tapped your hand with the back of his, and you vainly grabbed his hand with yours. He looked down and rearranged his to envelop your whole hand and wrist, seeing as it so comically dwarfed yours.

“It was too good,” you told him, your voice breaking under strained control. He pulled his face back enough to better look at you, utterly confused. “Everything was great; you’re amazing.” You cast a glance down at your enclosed hand as his grip tightened. “It wasn’t supposed to get serious. It was just supposed to be just sex.” His eyes bore in the skull, but you just couldn’t meet his gaze yet.

“But it wasn’t,” he acknowledged and he gently kissed the top of your head. Your cheeks warmed at his tenderness, and your heart fluttered as he sniffed your hair fondly.

“Why do you have to be so perfect,” you whined, and fell forward into his chest. He wrapped his other arm around your shoulders into a tight embrace. Even his tail curled around your leg sweetly. “How could I fall so hard without knowing anything about you,” you sobbed. “I didn’t know what to do, so I just ran.” You wrapped your arms as best you could around him, and let his warmth, his scent wash over you. Anad smelled like your favorite incense smoke, a calming yet arousing spiced scent that didn’t seem real. It always calmed you and equally stirred lecherous thoughts in your mind. In that moment, it was the most welcomed feeling after realizing how lonely you were without him.

He didn't speak again as he let you sob into his chest. You both did your best to cradle each other, despite the obvious height and size difference, in hopes to alleviate the strain in both of your hearts. 

Some time must have passed as he finally loosened his hold and brought your face up to his, both of his hands cupping your cheeks delicately. “I should get you home,” he told you, fondness showered down from his eyes. You smiled with a sniffle and nodded, leaning into him while he strokes your cheeks for a moment before letting you go. Reflexively, you reached for his face, and gave him a delicate kiss. It was meant to be purely romantic, but you felt heat bloom in both of your bodies again as he deepened the kiss, allowing you to feel his fangs on your tongue before he broke away.

“We have a lot to catch up on,” he implied hungrily, but added with a calmed tone. “I still have more questions.” 

“I do as well,” you replied and winked at him, and you both walked over to his car, a new spring in your step. 

[luvfy0dor]

"We're gonna be timeless !!" ♡⁠˖ BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Fyodor Dostoevsky, Chuuya Nakahara, Nikolai Gogol

Warning; Spoilers for mersault arc/Fyodors means of communication in his part, soft!Fyodor bc I am goin thru it, relationship intolerance, Nikolais bit isn't in exact correlation w/ the song

Description; Drabbles inspired by Timeless by Taylor Swift

A/N; Writing this while trying to figure out what to do for another fic help I'm so nervous the person isn't gonna like it but we ball 🫡 in Nikolais part I tried avoiding saying balls like it was the plague but yk

Love Letters w/ Fyodor Dostoevsky

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “I would've read your love letters every single night, and prayed to God you'd be comin' home alright”

• His love letters are romantic and very detailed, making sure he conveys exactly how much he misses you. He likes to write you short poems, understanding how much your heart swoons at the sweet and romantic words.

• Fyodor writes to you while he's in Yokohama, telling you how his plans are going and his estimated time of arrival at home. He continues this habit, even when in Mersault. He sends letters to you via the manipulated vampire guards, instructing them to take great care of the thin envelopes.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Your heart beats quickly as you made your way to your mailbox to check for a letter from your lover; already prepared for the slight sadness you'd experience should the small compartment be void of a note, yet still excited for the possibility of receiving one.

You excitedly open the door to the mailbox, grabbing the numerous envelopes that filled it. Sifting through them, you start to loose hope before your eyes land on the slightly sloppy handwriting of your boyfriend. You drop the various other things on the table, including bills and junk mail in order to pry open the letter excitedly. You make sure to do it carefully though as not to rip anything.

Once you've successfully separated the paper from the envelope, you lay down on the couch on your front while giggling excitedly. You unfold the paper and start to read the comforting and familiar handwriting, feeling as though this letter was a warm and sweet hug from the Russian man.

“My dearest, Y/N,

I know I restate the same thoughts in every letter I send to you, but I truly miss you more than anything in the outside world, including my freedom. I am perfectly fine in captivity, but it truly makes my heart ache to be without my love for so long. I hope you are doing well and holding up without me, not because I doubt your individuality, but I know just how much you miss me. It is the same way for me in this prison. Even with Dazais company, my heart doesn't feel nearly as full as it does when you are around, my dear. However, when our plan succeeds, we will get the happily ever after we deserve. As for our plans, they are going as intended currently.

I cannot wait to embrace you again and to feel the reassuring sensation of your breathing against my skin and feel your arms wrapped around me so tightly and lovingly. Though I would have went about my plans regardless of your support or not, I still appreciate you staying and supporting this, although I can only imagine it has caused you much stress. No worries though, my dear, we will prevail in the end no matter the obstacles. In the meantime, here is an excerpt from a poem I memorized many years ago, I feel it may catch your interest and reassure you a bit.

Wait for me, and I’ll be back,

Disregard the fate,

In the morning with my bag,

Should you only wait.

They will hardly understand,

How I could survive.

Waiting me from foreign land,

You have saved my life.

Let them say that it’s too late.

What you feeling tells?

I’ll be back, because you wait

Like nobody else.

Again, I miss you dearly. Just in case I needed to rephrase it, my heart will not rest until you are back in my presence, for I feel our souls are intertwined. I cannot wait to reunite with with you, my love. I will see you soon.

Sincerely, Fyodor Dostoevsky”

Your heart couldn't help but flutter as you held the letter to your chest, having rolled over onto your back. Your face is warm with blush as you smile and laugh. It was beyond you how Fyodor could remember all of the information he knew, as well as numerous languages and poetry, but you certainly weren't complaining. After all, your boyfriends sweet sayings made your day every time without fail. With every letter he sent, you only became more impatient for his return.

Eloping w/ Chuuya Nakahara

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “And run away and left it all behind, you still would've been mine, we would've been timeless”

• Eloping with Chuuyas is such a fulfilling act, especially when you don't have people whispering in your ear about how dangerous it could be.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Romantic relationships with port mafia executives as an outsider or regular civilian were frowned upon in the organization, meaning if you and Chuuya were going to be together, you needed to be sneaky about it. The port mafia had connections all over the city, which really limited your options for dates, but you were both content with just lounging in each other's homes.

You loved leaning against his chest on his couch, a movie playing softly in the background as you both cuddled together. You liked cooking with him in your kitchen, making a mess together while giggling and then having to clean it up together. Every time you would just sit in his arms in your back yard, watching the wind blow the flowers and leaves around, was a memory with Chuuya that you were grateful for.

So, when your lover proposed the idea of elopement to you, you were over the moon. You had always wanted to marry him, youve know that he was your soulmate from the get go. Even in a billion lifetimes, you felt as though you would find each other repeatedly. You said yes, ofcourse, and started planning immediately.

It had gone exactly according to plan, too. The both of you wore rather nice clothing for the actual ceremony, exchanging pretty rings and slipping them on to one anothers fingers. The kiss you shared, the first one of your elopement, was like no other. It felt sweeter with emotion and certainly tasted that way, too, because of Chuuyas cherry chapstick. You held each other's hands tightly as you quickly walked out of the courthouse, getting into the car that had been packed with as many necessary belongings as possible, including but not limited to clothing, legal documents, and money.

Sure, the luxury of a port mafia salary was one that would probably be missed by the both of you, allowing a nicer place to stay and finer wines to drink, but you could live with Chuuya in a rundown shack for all he cared. As long as he was with you, he would be perfectly happy. Chuuya is a romantic at heart under his tougher exterior, only letting bits and pieces of that romanticism slip through the cracks.

Chuuya drove with you down long and winding roads, the both of you deciding to end the day by stargazing while sitting on the trunk of the car. You sat on Chuuyas lap, his face pressed against your back. He drew soft shapes on any part of skin within his reach, even tracing out letters and words, spelling terms of endearment such as "my love".

"You know, I don't doubt one bit that mafia affiliates could be lurkin' around here, but it's much less likely. Something like this would be frowned upon real hard back home, which is why I feel I will never regret this decision." He says, speaking straight from his heart, not caring about vulnerability anymore. He had you, and you would be the very last person to take advantage of such a delicate thing.

A grin tugs at the corner of your lips with enough force to change your facial expression immediately. You leaned back into his touch, your hand caressing his that sat against your abdomen, hugging you closer to him. "I won't ever regret it either. I'll never regret any decision I make for you, my love." You softly murmur, looking up at the stars in the beautiful, blue night sky. The blue night sky filled with glamorous and shiny stars, yet they could never compare to the shimmery glint in Chuuyas eyes every time he came around you. The blue night sky that provided a calming darkness in the world, allowing you to further relax against your, now husband's, body.

"I'll always love you, darlin', I'm so happy I can openly have you now." He speaks quietly against your shoulder, almost whispering. You reach your hand back to gently touch his hair a bit. "Me too, my love. Me too."

Crowded Streets w/ Nikolai Gogol

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “In another life, you still would've turned my head, even if we met on a crowded street in 1944”

• Should you meet Nikolai during one of his street performances and accidentally fall victim to his juggling skills (or lack there of) , he would look forward to seeing you around the town and in the streets again to make up for his fumble with an entertaining mini-show.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Walking through the busy streets, your eyes fell upon a tall man, dressed as a jester while standing on the sidewalk. "A street performer." You simply thought, trying to discreetly glance at him without making eye contact and avoid the make believe obligation to give him money. You noticed that he was juggling, tossing three red balls in the rotational pattern while blabbering on about random things to passersby.

You lowered your head as to not look at him or make eye contact as you started to pass him, before you're head jerks right back up at the loud man's voice saying "watch out!". Right in front of your face was one of the red, foam spheres, kept motionless between two bony, lanky fingers covered in the cloth of the mans red gloves.

"Aw, I'm real sorry, darlin'! That sure was close, wasn't it?" He says, his bright, toothy grin glimmering in the sunlight. You nod, inhaling and steadying your heart rate.

"Yeah, no worries though, it didn't actually hit me." You say, a bit embarrassed by the situation for seemingly no reason. He slinks backwards into a completely upright position. "I wouldn't have let it hit you regardless, sweet cheeks." He says as he creates a portal and tosses his props into the yellow opening. He rests his fingers on his chin while examining you. "You've got quite a lovely complexion! You must be quite popular when it comes to romantic affairs, I'm sure of it." He compliments. The other people bustling by make you topple a bit as their shoulders bump into yours. Nikolai gently grabs your hand and leads you away from the crowd into a more spacious area.

"You're quite handsome if I do say so myself. Especially that scar." You say, pointing at the healed wound. He smiles. "Well thank you, how sweet is that." He excitedly beams. He removes his hat from his head and slightly bows towards you. "I have yet to formally introduce myself, I am Nikolai Gogol." He says, adjusting his posture yet again to be standing straight up. You smile. "Hello, Nikolai. My name is Y/n." You smile with your arms crossed in front of your chest.

"Well then, Y/n, can I ask you if you enjoy quizzes?" He asks, his head tilted, gravity dragging the long braid along with his movements. You furrow your eyebrows a little. "I'm not too fond of the academic ones, if I'm being honest. Silly ones I don't mind." You say with a small shrug of your shoulders. He laughs.

"Perfect! Let me quiz you then, Y/n." He takes your hands in his excitedly. "Are you aware of the difference between a jester and a clown?" He says, his face about the length of a outstretched palms thumb to pinky tip away from yours. You think for a moment before speaking. "Clowns follow a routine, whereas jesters are more spontaneous and satirical, no?" You say, gazing into his eyes, surprising yourself with your eagerness to hear words of confirmation or denial slip from between his crimson painted lips. He pulls back and claps a bit.

"That's right! Marvelous! How smart you are." He says, removing his hat and placing it on top of your head. "Not many people get that right, you know? Many peoples first answer revolves around a jester being a part of a royal court, but that is simply not their differentiating characteristic." He says, patting your shoulder with a grin. You keep eye contact for a couple of seconds before he erupts into a fit of snickers.

"I'm around this area often during the week. You should come see me, I can promise to give you the very best show I can muster." He grins and with that, he is gone through a portal. He has left you there, a bit flustered as you held onto the hat tightly. You suppressed the excitement in your heart before sneaking out into the crowded pathways once again. Maybe you would take him up on that.

[blues824]

ASDFGHJLLCNDLWMSNSCJJDLWKEMAMAMXNCBCJDJAOWIRJDKDK IM SO EXCITED FOR FLUFF-CEMBER OMGGGGGG!!!!!

(also, Lowkey so flattered that you consider me a ✨mutual✨ because you are an INCREDIBLE fanfic writer~)

Okay, so, Hear 👏 Me 👏 Out 👏! The Scarabia Boys and maybe Ruggie (or one of the other boys from the savannah) for prompt 28..... But what if it was reversed???? Because I'm someone that's from an area that has really cold and long winters, so I'm pretty good at spotting or catching myself on black ice..... But these guys from hot desert areas??? I just /know/ they haven't gotten used to the ice and snow yet-

But I'm just spit balling! Feel free to stick to the original, cuz it's still pretty cute!! Can't wait to read all the beautiful, adorable, amazing fics that come from this event!!!! Make sure not to overwhelm yourself or get burnt out. Take plenty of breaks and remember we can always wait an extra day or two lol 💋✨💋💕💖💘❤️🥰😍🥳🌹🫶🫰🌹🥴

I HOPE YOU HAVE FUN WRITING AND I CANT WAIT TO SEE WHAT YOU DOOOOOOOOOO~~

Of course!!! You’ve commented on a few of my works, so I figured you might like to be included in the event lol. Also, I would be in their shoes, because I am from a hot desert area lol.

You requested: Being Caught Slipping on Ice [Reversed]

Ruggie Bucchi

He had absolutely no idea what he was thinking, being on the ice. This man has a vice grip on your arms as you both go to Sam’s Shop. The sidewalk and grass have become icy because it has been raining for the past few days, and the temperature has dropped significantly. Savanaclaw isn’t this cold, and he’s bundled up pretty well.

There was one spot that was a tad wet, still frozen in ice, and he wasn’t paying attention. You felt him let go of your arm, and you turned to see that he was falling backwards. Worried about him hitting his head, you quickly slid on your knees so that his head would land in your lap.

“Is it just me, or did an angel come down and save me?”

Real smooth, bro. You rolled your eyes and smiled, making sure that he was alright and helping him back up, going to place a kiss on his cheek which made him smile. He reciprocates by moving just in time for you to accidentally land it on his lips, and he snickered as you rolled your eyes once again.

Kalim Al-Asim

His homeland is literally the Scalding Sands. If you think he knows how to handle snow, you would be mistaken. However, he has a very positive outlook on it. It’s a free Slip-n’-Slide, or he gets to be a penguin sliding on his stomach. When it comes to having to walk, however, he is at a loss. One step and he’s already fallen. He needs one of those walkers that people use when skating.

Watching you walk across the black ice so easily made him feel so amazed, and he thought that if he copied you exactly, he would be fine. He was wrong, and he fell back almost immediately. Before he hit the ground, however, he felt an arm wrap around his waist. He looked up to find you, with a worried look on your face.

“Thank you, Y/N! You saved me!”

The smile on his face made any memory of scolding him dissipate as you made sure that he was steady. You then taught him how to properly walk on the black ice, as there was a particular method to it. Making sure your body was straight and stepping down so that the sole of your foot was flat against the ground, and it was weird to get used to, but at least he didn’t fall more than he did.

Jamil Viper

His homeland is the Scalding Sands as well. However, he knows how to handle snow more than Kalim does. He was prepared when he got accepted into NRC. But, nothing could prepare him for the ice that forms on the grass and on the sidewalks. After all, his sports training takes place in a gymnasium, so the temperature is warm and controlled by a thermostat. 

So, when he invited you to come play on an outside basketball court, you laughed when he realized that it had a bit of ice on the ground. Because you used to live somewhere with a cold climate, you were familiar with playing a certain way so that you wouldn’t slip and fall. He was not, and after a few moments, he slipped. Luckily, you slid behind him so that you could hold him up.

“Thank you, Y/N. I guess I have not acclimated quite yet to the ice…” He said, a bit embarrassed.

You shrugged and said it was all alright, and that you could do it because you lived somewhere cold. You taught him how to walk and run on the ice, and that he needed to have his hands out of his pockets at all times so he could catch himself. It was good advice even if it wasn’t freezing outside, as you never knew when you would fall.

[wallydrling]

a billion trillion kisses (for you)

pairing: wally darling/reader

rating: g

author's note: gender neutral reader to the best of my ability, probably some discrepancies having to do with the lore, i made wally taller lol

ao3 (it's formatted so much better on there. i hate u tumblr!)

You’d moved to Home last Spring, on one of the rainiest days the little town had ever seen.

Looking back now, it’s a fond memory. But at the time, rain pouring down from the sky, soaking your hair and your clothes and all your cardboard boxes, it’d been miserable. You remember just wanting to crawl beneath a canopy tree and cry. Your boxes of books had all fallen apart, landing on the wet pavement outside of your house. Your favorite shoes were ruined, covered up to the laces in mud. It felt like a sign. Something sent from the universe, urging you to turn around and leave. To go back to where you came from.

Only, you couldn’t remember where that was. You still can’t.

And right as you’d given up, settling on your front porch with your face buried in your hands, the clouds parted. Metaphorically, of course. The sky continued to cry. But, a set of footsteps headed towards you, sloshing in the puddles that had formed, and you’d peeked between your fingers to see–him. All lean legs, and a deep, blue cardigan with hair to match, covered up in a red raincoat. He’d been wearing loafers, then. Something you’d come to familiarize yourself with, something you’d later recognize as his signature. He walked towards you with all the confidence in the world, and a bright smile on his face.

“Hi there, new neighbor!” He called out, loud enough to be heard over the rain. “I’m Wally. I live just over that way,” he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “I couldn’t help but notice all of these books lying on the ground, and then I saw you and thought, ‘Oh, looks like they need help!’ So, here I am.”

His very presence had seemed so outlandish back then; so unreal. His will to lend a helping hand had felt a little bit degrading. Someone as bright as him, bursting with color and cheer, coming to stand in front of you on such a horrendous day. You’d wanted to be mad, to snap at him to go away. You remember that you hadn’t really felt like socializing, then.

But before you could get a single word out, Wally knelt to the ground, and began gathering your books in his arms. They were covered in mud, and dripping rainwater. They dirtied his cardigan as he held them to his chest, but he didn’t seem to mind. Once he had his arms full of them, he stepped around you, and walked straight into your house. Like he lived there, too. Like it would’ve been silly of him to wait for an invitation.

Shocked at his boldness, you sprung to your feet, hot on his heels. You watched with big, wide eyes as he set your books down on the floor. The carpet was covered in muck and water, and Wally even more so; the mud on his cardigan would likely stain, and his rainbow pants were patchy with water. His hair, still half-styled in a pompadour despite the heavy rain, dripped rain down his yellow cheeks. He wiped his hands off on his pants, and flashed a bright smile at you.

“Do you need some help getting the other boxes in here?” He’d asked.

You blinked at him, once. Twice. Had no idea what to make of him. And then, subtly, you nodded. “Yeah. That’d…that’d be appreciated.”

So, that’s how you met your best friend.

Only, now, that terminology is beginning to feel incorrect. Because Wally is a friend, yes, and he is best in the sense that he is your favorite in all of Home (Julie would positively lose it if you said that aloud), but it's been a year of living in this town; of seeing his bright smile, and hearing his awkward, warm laughter nearly every day. It's been easy to hold Frank, Eddie, and even Howdy at a distance–two of the three are already a pair, and you don't see them nearly as often as you do Wally. Even Julie only shows up knocking at your door a couple of times a week.

You and Wally have become near-inseparable. If you aren't taking walks, stopping to cloud gaze every so often, then you're painting together. If you aren't painting together, you're ransacking the bodega, or arranging weekend picnics in the park for all of the residents. And if you aren't doing any of those things, then the both of you are curled up on your sofa, flipping through magazines, or reading poetry together. It isn't even a conscious thought anymore; not on your end, at least. It's become so normal to wake up, go about your morning routine, and then meet up with Wally come noon.

The other residents are getting suspicious, to say the least. Julie hounds you about it each time you have a sleepover (at least twice a week), Eddie has started wiggling his eyebrows in your general direction each time he sees you together, and even Howdy in all of his obliviousness gives you a picnic basket of food randomly one weekend for, "your date with Wally. On the house!"

You're not sure if the others are teasing Wally as much as they're teasing you, or if he'd even notice, but you know it's only a matter of time before someone makes an implication that you can't come back from. You're essentially bracing yourself for the question, the one everyone has yet to ask–what are you guys?

Julie is hosting a 'color-by-numbers' event at her house this evening, and nearly everyone will be in attendance. And if they asked you the question, you wouldn't have an answer. Not a clear one, anyway. You and Wally are friends; you can say that with confidence. You're each other's confidants. Wally has told you things he's never told anyone else. How Barnaby has spent a lot of time teaching him how to recognize his emotions, and how he gets lonely, sometimes. Was almost always lonely before you moved to Home. How he is so scared to lose you and the others, the anxiety of the thought alone renders him paralyzed if he thinks about it for too long. He trusts you, and you trust him, and you love him, even more so. You don't really know what to make of that.

So, there isn't one answer to the question of what are you guys? There are a dozen, jumbled and criss-crossed and tangled, and you can't pull them apart alone. You'd need Wally's help, and that would mean confessing, and you're not willing to do that. It could ruin everything.

When late afternoon rolls around, you're ready to go. You're wearing your favorite outfit, and your hair is styled to perfection. You've even put perfume on; the kind Howdy made for you from fresh berries, and you don't know why that matters or if Wally can even smell, but–

You're getting ahead of yourself. Getting nervous. Now isn't the time for a freak-out. You take one last look in the mirror, steel your shoulders, and set off for Julie's house.

"Yay, you're here!" Julie throws open the door, tugging you inside before you even get the chance to knock. "You're the last guest to arrive. Now we can really get the party started!"

You wave at the others as you step into the living room. Sally is here, serenading Barnaby with a ballad you've never heard before while he closes his eyes, nodding along with her voice. Eddie and Frank are bickering about something, but Eddie is borderline giggling, so you know it isn't serious. Howdy is getting his paints all lined up in a row, face pinched in concentration. And Wally is sitting in front of the couch, back propped up against it. Your eyes meet his, and he smiles at you softly, stealing the breath from your throat. You stare at him for longer than is appropriate, and you know this because Julie clears her throat quietly, and pulls you to sit down on the floor next to her.

"Everyone got their color-by-number sheets, paints, and brushes?" Julie asks just as she places a sheet of paper in front of you. "Let's begin, then!"

It's fun. It always is, with this group. Barnaby is teasing Julie for painting outside of the lines, and Sally and Howdy have turned it into a competition to see who can finish their painting the fastest. You're happy, laughing along and trying not to spill paint water as you bump elbows with those around you. No one is as good an artist as Wally, but they certainly try, and he's all too happy to help Barnaby get the tiny bits with a detail brush, or help Eddie select the best shade of red. He makes polite conversation, and tells these silly little jokes that aren't really that funny but everyone laughs anyway, and even offers to clean the brushes once the paintings are finished, but–something isn't right. You can tell by looking at him that he's got something on his mind. His eyes are foggy, and his smile doesn't quite stretch his face the way it usually does.

He heads into the kitchen with a cup of dirty paintbrushes, and you quietly murmur to Julie, "I'm going to go help him. Be right back."

You don't give her time to react before you're on your feet, hurrying after him. You sidle up to him, silently watching as he runs each brush under the water, using his fingers to clear the paint away. He doesn't turn to look at you, and so you duck your head forward to try and catch his gaze. He positively avoids eye contact.

Okay. So, something is upsetting him, then.

"Wally?" You try, keeping your voice even. "Are you alright?

He's silent for a moment, hands stilling beneath the faucet. And then, "No. Not really."

He is never usually this upfront about his emotions. New to acknowledging them, he typically spends a lot of time deciphering what he's even feeling before discussing it with you. You'd just seen him yesterday. He was fine and happy and sweet as he dropped you off at your home, and waved goodbye. This–the coolness to his voice, and the stilted look on his face– is a recent development.

"You're mad at me," you say, slowly. The words don't feel right on your tongue. The two of you never fight. You've never even seen him angry. "Aren't you?"

He drops the paint brushes into the sink and sighs. Actually sighs. "No. Not mad at you."

"Mad at something I did, then?" You ask.

He turns to look at you, finally. He is nearly the same height as you, just a tiny bit shorter, but he's able to look directly into your eyes. His mouth is stiff and straight, and you hadn't noticed from far away, but his eyes look dull up close. Lifeless.

"Barnaby said something to me, earlier today," he tells you. "I've been thinking about it."

"Okay," you nod, unsure of where this is going.

"He said, 'if they haven't returned your feelings by now, it's probably because they don't feel the same way, pal,'" Wally does his best Barnaby impression, but it's too slow and a little flat. "And then you came inside, and you sat next to Julie and Howdy! So, I think it must be true. And I am very, very not happy about that. Very…sad. Yes, that's it. I'm sad."

Your heart does this weird thing in your chest, and your stomach tightens. His feelings? What exactly are they specifically? You've upset him, somehow, without even meaning to. You've made him sad without getting a say-so. If he'd just talk to you, you could explain. You could clear things up.

You reach out to take his hand. Physical affection is still new to him, and you know that. You try to be careful; try not to push him. He is learning more and more every single day, and you know that he's grown to love hand-holding. You tangle your fingers with his, and his cheeks go a little pink. You can't stop staring at them.

"Wally," you begin, trying to keep your voice level despite the butterflies in your belly fluttering around because of his touch. "Remember a few months ago, when we talked about how you have to tell me when you're feeling lonely, because I can't just know all on my own?"

He nods. "I remember."

You flash him a small, gentle smile. "Good. Okay, so–all emotions are like that. You have to tell someone what you're feeling. They can't see into your mind."

"But," he starts in a huff, foot tapping against the tiled floor, "Barnaby said-"

"I know what he said," you carefully cut in, giving his hand a little squeeze. "But, this is just like when you're lonely. I can't understand how to help, or make you feel better until you tell me about it. Okay?" He nods. "Alright, so…why don't you try and explain what feelings I supposedly haven't returned."

"It's hard," he says. He lets go of your hand, and leans back against the countertop. "It's different from sadness, or loneliness. I know what they feel like. And I know happiness, too, and even anger. But this is–I don't know what to call it."

You hum, mulling over his words. "Well, can you tell me what it feels like? Physically, I mean. Like when you're sad and your eyes burn, or when you're lonely and your chest hurts."

"It's like," he closes his eyes for a moment. "Hot. My cheeks feel warm, like when I help Poppy take her cookies out of the oven, and the air hits my face."

"Okay," you say. "Good. Keep going."

"And sometimes my stomach, just–I don't know. It feels like there are tiny worms inside, wriggling around," he says.

You think you understand what he's trying to explain. What feeling he's attempting to map. You know it all too well; have been beating it back with a stick to keep it at bay in his presence for weeks and weeks. Still, you don't want to project anything onto him. So, you wave a hand and urge him to continue.

"Sometimes, when you hug Julie, I just get so mad," he murmurs. He is looking at you now, all wide eyes and clenched fists down by his sides. "And when you and Sally go on walks, and she holds your hand, I can't-" He cuts himself off, and takes a deep breath. "Barnaby says it isn't fair to feel like that. He says it's selfish, but I just–I can't help it."

Your lungs seem to stop working within your body, air stuck in your throat. You can't open your mouth; can't unhinge your jaw. You have no way to expel it.

"When you hold my hand, it tingles," he takes a step towards you. "I made Barnaby teach me how to hug because I wanted to do it with you."

You remember that whole debacle. When you first moved to Home, about a month into your friendship, you'd tried to give Wally a hug. He had totally gone limp in your arms, unaware of how to even hug back. And then, suddenly, a couple of weeks later, he'd gotten better. Was able to slide one arm around your waist. It progressed further with more experience, and now, he is perhaps the best hug-giver in all of Home.

You blink at him. Manage to wheeze out, "You learned how to hug…for me?"

"Yes," he nods. He takes another step towards you, the toes of your shoes touching, and the look in his eyes cannot be described as anything but hopeful. He raises both hands up, up, and cups your cheeks. "I've been watching Frank and Eddie a lot. Barnaby says they have a special kind of love. That they–they're partners, and they've promised themselves to each other."

Your ears are practically on fire, your entire face so hot you know Wally must be able to feel its warmth.

His thumb swipes along the apple of your cheek. "I know that their touches are special. Different from how Barnaby and I touch, or Julie and Sally do. I want–I've been watching them, and I want to have what they have, with you."

"Sometimes, they say 'I love you' to each other, and I know they mean that in a special way, too," He smiles now, soft. Rose-petal delicate around the edges. "I want-"

"Wally," you squeeze your eyes shut so tight you see pops of color behind the lids. Your heart feels as though it is clambering for an escape, trying to make its way up your throat. "Stop, please. I can't–you don't even understand what you're saying right now. You don't know what love is. You don't know what it means."

"That's not fair," he whispers. He brings your face closer to his. "You asked me to explain, so I did. And it isn't–it's not fair for you to decide what I do or don't understand. I'm trying my best."

"I know," you say on an exhale.

"I told you how I feel," he goes on.

"I know," you echo.

"And I know what it means to want to hold someone," he murmurs. "I know, now. I didn't before."

"Before what?" You ask, despite your better judgement.

His eyes sparkle, just a little. Just enough. "Before you."

"Love is a heavy thing, Wally," you tell him. Your knees feel weak, and this is so hard to take in, so hard to conceptualize because you've never let yourself entertain the thought before. But you're trying to get the words out, for him. He deserves your honesty. "When you promise yourself to someone, it's difficult to take it back."

"I wouldn't want to take it back," he rushes out. One of his hands moves around to press against the base of your neck. "Why would I want to take it back?"

"Well," you begin, slow, "you could become unsure-"

"I won't," he interrupts, impatient and jittery.

"You could decide that you didn't mean it."

"Never," he says, almost startled. "If this feeling in my belly and my head and my chest is love, I don't–I'll do everything I can to make sure that it never goes away."

"There are lots of ways to love somebody," you argue, but it sounds weak, even to your own ears. Futile. You are fighting a losing battle, and you know it.

"Stop," he pleads, resting his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes. "Just tell me. Was Barnaby right? Do you really not feel the…the same way about me?"

You laugh at this, wet and sticky in the back of your throat. "Has Barnaby ever been right about anything?" You tease.

"Rarely," Wally says with a grin.

"I love you," you tell him. "Like, the same way that Frank and Eddie love each other. I love you like a promise."

"Like a promise," he repeats. He moves back, far enough that you can see how big his smile stretches his face, but he's still got one palm on your cheek, and the other on your neck. "Like-"

He leans forward and presses a closed-mouth kiss to your lips, pulling away with a little smack, and a triumphant, "Muah!"

Your eyes go so wide you fear they might roll out of your head, and your face is so hot it might as well be spewing flames. Wally is standing there, looking pleased with himself and the tiniest bit smug, and a laugh startles its way up your throat like bubbles. You playfully shove at his shoulder, and fall into him as you laugh harder.

"I saw Frank and Eddie do that, too," he tells you, one arm wrapping around your waist.

"Of course you did," you mumble into his neck, grin splitting your face. "That's not–it wasn't quite right, but the effort was there."

"I'll get better with practice," he says.

Scandalized, you pull away to look at him, mouth agape. "Wally Darling! Are you flirting with me right now?"

"Yes," he says, blunt. He smiles bright and pretty, and boops your nose with his finger. "I've read two of Julie's romance books. I'm a very fast learner."

You return his smile, and press a hand to your chest, right over your heart. You feel positively full to bursting, and you know that, whatever comes next, things won't be smooth sailing always. Wally has a lot of growing to do, and you're going to have to learn to support him along the way. Love is not clear-cut; isn't written in permanent ink on notebook paper. It ebbs and flows like watercolor paint, and can wash away as quickly as it came.

But–Wally looks at you, skin yellow-orange beneath the dull, overhead lights, and he grins wide and infectious and so, so pretty. He leans forward to press another kiss to your cheek, smacking a second, "muah!" into your ear, and it isn't everything. It isn't an answer, or the end-all be-all. But it is good, and right. And it is enough.

[itsagrimm]

He Who Comes from under the Water

Chapter 12 - To Watch a Witch Burn

CN Ivar, witch hunts, sexism, patriarchy, murder, arson

Cultural Context notes

witch hunts were a thing??? Not a huge phenomenon in eastern Europe tho.

Yes, I am back. Felt like writing.

Not beta-read by the still wonderful qq aka @daisies-and-lavender-sideblog as I needed to publish this and be done with this chapter instead of dragging it around even longer.

2,8 k words

Masterlist

I made a playlist for this series. Enjoy.

Night cloaked the world under its dark spell, making way for the rising moon. Since time immemorial, the moon had wandered the sky, watching from above how kingdoms rose and fell, how people lived, how history was made. And very shortly after that immemorial moment long ago when the moon started their celestial hike, they learned how boring eternity was.

If the moon could sigh, they would. As their large lunar eye passed the dark lands below, there was nothing new to see. Always the same old spectacular robberies, coven meetings, lovers secretly reuniting.

Same old, same old.

The moon was about to metaphorically sigh again when their sight fell onto a familiar little wooden house below.

The house of the bride of that little guy.

What was his name?

King of ponds?

Prince of Piss?

It was so long ago.

The moon could not remember but he did remember that the Bride was human and to marry a Vodyanoy. A human and a Vodyanoy!

The moon remembered just a night ago how they had talked. It felt so long now as if months had passed.

The house looked different than how it had just a night ago.

The top floor was wet as if it had just survived a flood. Peeking through the broken window the moon caught sight of an equally dishevelled and chaotic bedroom.

Kids these days.

The front door opened and the Bride and her Vodyanoy stepped outside. They looked happy. She even wore a Kokoshnitza. Armed with the axe, the Vodyanoy looked around, before nodding to his bride and kneeling down. With a shy smile the bride stepped closer, adjusted a mossy blanket around her shoulders and giggled as her fiancé lifted her up to carry her away into the woods.

Looks like they have talked and resolved their differences, the Moon noticed.

But what now? Curious and excited, the Moon watched as they made their way through the dark forest, peeking through the branches and leaves to catch glimpses of the Vodyanoy and the bride in his arms. After a far too long and unentertaining hike (if it was up to the Moon) they arrived at the lake in which the Vodanoy had started to construct a new castle.

Looks a bit like a beaver lodge, the moon mused, too modern architecture. It’s missing columns.

Quickly, the Vodanoy carried his bride over to a little boat, setting her down and pushing her out into the open water as he swam around her like a dark threatening shadow under the water’s surface.

Smart to sleep out on the water where there is no bigger threat than the Vodyanoy himself.

The bride saw nothing of the dark, scaled, and clawed shadow circling her little swimming sanctuary like a cat a mouse. She took off her hair piece, snuggled into her blanket, and closed her eyes, falling asleep shortly while her fiancé lurked right under those few thin pieces of wood separating her from the deep dark water.

That’s it?

The moon would have killed for something more interesting. Their eyes wander over the little boat with the sleeping bride, the dark water and finally the Vodyanoy himself – dark and dangerous and unlike any groom to a human bride before.

With narrowed eyes the Vodyanoy blinked up, meeting the moon's curious eyes. 

“You are up.” The little princeling spoke.

“Of all the things you could have said, little one.” The moon huffed. “Of course I am up. I am the moon. I have nowhere else to be but up.”

The Vodyanoy shrugged, causing little waves to circle around him, and smiled.

“How are you, friend?” The princeling said with a mouth full of sharp teeth ready to break and gnaw bones. “I suppose I have to thank you. Your advice that I should talk with the Bride was a sound one.”

The moon hummed, staring down at the peacefully sleeping Bride in the embrace of water.

“I can see that. I am glad. What now?” The moon responded, eager to hear something, anything interesting.

“What now.” The Vodyanoy sighed. “She has my heart as I have hers. But she is still destined to die and I am not. It feels like winning a game of cards only for the table under it to crumble immediately.”

“Because she is a human?”

The Vodyanoy curled around the boat like a cat.

“Yes. I don’t think she minds it much. But I do. She will be gone one day and I will still be here. Always be here.”

The moon stayed silent for a moment, considering its words.

"You are hardly the first groom asking himself if they are making the right decisions. If you two are willing to give this marriage a try, why not gamble it? You might regret not doing so." The moon commented and paused. "But if there is a way to help you, let me know. It's awfully boring up here. You are one of the few who bother talking to me. I would love to return a favour."

König sighed, more waves running in circles from his enormous dark body in the water.

"Baba Yaga, the honourable witch, said I must sacrifice something I hold dear and give it to my Bride to save her." The princling said. "But I have nothing I care about that I could give her. Or am I wrong? I do not know. If you have the answer, dear moon, please do tell so I can save my Bride."

The moon thought about the witches' words. But nothing came to the moon, that was very illuminating.

"I am afraid I do not know. But I'll tell you prince of -"

"König. King of everything from under the water. Pardon the interruption."

The moon paused.

"Maybe you should give her your pride and title. Just marry her and then she should be safe?"

König yawned.

"Wouldn't that be too easy?" The king wondered, yawing again.

"U-hm."

The moon did not feel too bright about that.

"Maybe… Let's not risk it." They suggested. "For now, I can keep guard. Maybe a good night's sleep will help you figure it out yourself?"

The Vodyanoy sighed.

"Good night then. Thanks for keeping watch, Moon."

The little king of everything from under the water closed his eyes, cradling the little boat with his bride in to keep it from flooding out of reach and the Moon gazed away.

No dangers were on the face of the lake. The rivers and ponds laid calm and undisturbed, a great lull covering the early summer night.

The forest was less so. A fox made his way back to his den. A nightingale sang her song. A group of nearby villagers gathered in the darkness among their little houses in a nearby clearing.

The moon paused.

Armed with torches and pitchforks the villagers gathered as if ready to march.

Lovely! Exciting! The moon could not help but think with curiosity and concern. But where do they go?

A man was there, among the crowd. He was holding a torch, raising it high as he spoke with command.

“She is cursed!"

More villagers flooded out of houses, grabbing whatever tools they might find.

"And all that comes with her is cursed too!” A man called loudly over the supportive murmur from the crowd. “For too long we have waited and watched as monsters have started to creep around our village! As order has started to erode! We must bring an end to this before she kills us too! Think of the children! Think of the women!”

“Aye, Ivar! Tell them!” Someone shouted through the night.

“Think of the order of the world!” Ivar continued. “We have allowed a cursed girl in our midst. We were kind and patient. Oh, how benevolently we have tolerated her wickedness, have we not? Was she not allowed to live in the house of her family despite being unmarried and unbound against our custom?”

More supportive shouts sounded through the air.

“And her fiancé? Was she not seen naked with this stranger at the river? Improper and concerning! What will our wives and daughters think if they learn of the cursed girl roaming free? If they are not taken away by the monsters stalking through the night brought in by this witch!”

“Witch!” Another man stressed, shouting with hatred dripping from the maw. “She is a witch!”

“And a liar!”

“And a curse!”

“And unmarried!”

“I would never allow for a girl like that into my family!” A woman added loudly. “She is a stain. No boy from our village should be burdened with her.”

“There is just one way left!” Ivar shouted over the crowd. “We must kill her before she kills us!”

A grim silence befell the crowd.

The moon stared intently at the mob, waiting for judgement to fall. Like a witness to an execution waiting for the axe to hit the neck.

“Yes. We must kill the witch.” The woman finally stated solemnly. “We must kill the witch before she hexes our sons.”

“Before she tempts our daughters and wives.”

“Before she seduces our husbands.”

“Before she kills us.”

The man Ivar nodded and the crowd nodded with him.

“Yes, we must kill the girl before the girl kills us. In haste! We must act now.”

In gruesome fascination the moon watched, wondering about the poor girl who was supposed to be so powerful that she could threaten a whole village, summon monsters, and confuse the hearts of men and women alike.

Should I do something? The moon thought to themselves before realising a more pressing question. Can I do something?

While the moon was an excellent witness at night, they discovered it made for a lousy guardian to be up in the sky and unreachable for most.

I am sure this has nothing to do with the little king and his bride. The moon hoped and watched as the crowd shared pitchforks and torches among themselves, as mothers and wives whispered and joined with their husbands and sons to go kill some girl, as someone was hushed who dared to ask how a powerful witch could be killed by just some lowly peasants.

The Moon stared unblinkingly, wondering what was about to happen.

I am sure she will get away. The moon wished, feeling dread creeping up at the horizon.

Silently observing the moon saw how the mob made their way in muted order to not spook the girl-witch. Through gardens and under branches of leaves. In unjustified loveliness the night air caressed pleasantly over the crowd of the murderers to be.

If she were a witch, they would never stand a chance to harm her. The Moon thought to themselves, thinking back to the time when someone thought it wise to insult Baba Yaga.

Maybe…  The moon thought regretfully. Maybe the little Vodyanoy could… If I get him to wake up…

In horror the moon realised that the mob had made its way to the house of the bride before relief overcame them.

“She is not home! No one is home!” One of the villagers cried out from the broken bedroom window after making his way through the house. “The upper floor is nearly destroyed. It’s strange! It’s all wet like after a flood.”

“That must be magic!” Someone else cried. “Get out while you can!”

“She must have fled. We need to find her.” Ivar declared. “Lads, take torches and check the forest.”

No one moved.

“The forest? Are you mad, Ivar? That’s where the monsters roam. If she went into the forest, she is dead or a monster herself.” The woman from before spoke. “I will not send my sons to death to find a corpse or become one.”

“But what if she returns?” Ivar replied.

“Let’s make sure there is nothing to return to for her.” The woman replied calmly. “You said it yourself, old teacher – all that comes with her is cursed too. We must torch the place, Ivar. We must burn the stain away.”

“No, think of the house!” Ivar tried.

“What? Want to live in this cursed place? Want to eat fruit from this gruesome grove? Or work the land and choke on what would grow from it? The witch is dangerous, and we must wipe out anything that is left of her before she can afflict us.” The woman declared. Her eyes were dark in the night and her face was cut wolfish by the fluttering shadows cast from the torches. “Go on, boys! Burn it. Watch your fingers. Be careful.”

Her command broke the tense silence and the moon watched as young men started to search for firewood, hay, anything that would help them burn the house.

I must wake König. It's his Bride's house. The moon realised as they watched how the first flames tingled up the wo

oden walls.

Hey! Hey! Wake up! The soft call barely made the Vodyanoy stir.

Ivar, the old teacher stood and watched as the house burned without any witch in it. He grumbled about waste as he stood and observed the fruit trees being felled and the grains being trampled.

“It is better that way, Ivar.” The old woman spoke as she stepped closer, friendly rubbing over his shoulder. “It is a temptation. I have seen how you eyed the girl. How you have taken stock of what you saw she had. But no more. None of it is anymore. We are not thieves. Our anger is righteous. This fire is our defence. And it burns to keep you from becoming what you teach our boys not to be.”

Ivar shrugged her hand off.

“We could have used the house.” He sighed as they both watched the burning house. Someone had started singing like it was a peaceful bonfire. A girl danced and the moon watched how someone carefully hid a silver spoon in their pocket.

Wake up! You need to wake up!

“The garden, too.” Ivar continued his musings. “And the fields. Winters are hard. Don’t be superstitious, Anna. No one would have choked on the grain or been killed by a girl-monster lurking in the forest. Why did you do that?”

Anna sighed.

“Oh, you know why, Ivar! That little girl - a witch? Cursed? Commanding monsters? Please, you don’t believe it yourself.” The woman shook her head. “But she was becoming a problem. We both know. And I could not watch her get what so many women did not get before her."

"I don't understand, Anna."

"Of course you do not." She spit out bitterly.

Ivar stretched his hands out as if warming his fingers at the fire, mulling over Anna's words.

The man Ivar stayed silent and they watched the fire as the roof started to collapse, as the smell of burned fabric and shattering cups filled the air.

“Do you think we will see her again?” Ivar broke the silence.

The woman shrugged.

“If she is smart, no.” Anna replied. “She is just a girl after all. If she comes back after seeing her house burned to a cinder, my boys will take care of her like they would a proper witch.”

Ivar nodded and stepped away.

“Glad we agree on that, Anna.” Ivar said, “I still disagree on all that waste, but I am glad I can count on you keeping the peace with me.”

Anna smiled before waving her sons to her and turning to go. It was late in the night.

The Moon watched unblinkingly, a silent witness to an uncommitted murder as the village people started to tire and retreat to their own unburned, safe little houses.

It had been an eventful night after all and the Moon was not sure if they were glad about it for once. Their eyes wandered back to the lake with the half-build castle.

For a moment the Moon considered trying to wake the little king and the bride again. But then what would it help except having the Vodyanoy storm off and getting himself killed in the glimmering ashes of the burning wood house now?

No, they would figure out soon enough, the moon thought bitterly.

XXXX

I think I lost my original tag list. sorry. message me if i fucked up.

@thesinsoflust @kdkj122920 @die-prophetin @lillianastuff @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @fatedeniedhope @queensidillasworld @agspgrwasb @silelda @unlikepoltergeist @matcha-flavored-cake @blvkwondaland @diamondnightdreamer @brooklyn-1918 @thorns-x @icepancakes @sizzlingsaladpeach @peachymonsters @blackrockshooter780 @cl3rks @king-thunderstorm @hosshihusshi @id0nthaveidea @perilous-pasta @lothiriel9 @berryjuicyy @asmohunny @amatis-gray @blubumblebee @ofmenanduhhhwellmen @c00kied0ugh44 @quesowakanda @moonlitmoonpie @ktmjoslin @globalmilk03 @interactive-brain @dark-rosy-amaranthine @quietlyignoringyou @hey-assbutt35

[iamqueenpotato]

I Hate That I Love You - Part Eight

A/N- Hi Lovelies! It has been a little bit since I have posted and I apologize for the wait. I am finally getting into a better place mentally and I am excited to be writing again. This part is the longest one so far and I sort of edited it, and its very late where I’m at, so if there are some mistakes, I apologize. But I hope you guys enjoy! 

Word Count: 4.4k 

Warnings: Blood, Mentions of Torture, minor character death, talks of dying, angst

Part One

Azriel could not calm himself. He had never felt such terror in his life. Your voice echoed in his head, the pain and fear resonating in his body. He looked down at his hands and the uncontrollable tremble that overtook them. 

He had searched the entire camp, ravaging through each inch of Windhaven, with no sign of you. The men there probably assumed he had lost his mind. And perhaps he had. Until he could find you, his sanity was as good as gone. 

He cornered anybody he thought may know what has happened to you. And the constant lack of information was beginning to piss him off. 

Azriel made his way up to the cabin, and before it was even in his sight a rancid smell hit him like a strong gust of wind. One that was all too familiar. 

Blood. 

And lots of it. 

He flew closer to the ground as he approached the land around the cabin. And as he landed he took in the massacre that had occurred there. Bodies laid mutilated across the snow. Many of them were Illyrians, ones that Azriel had never seen before. He had counted fifteen bodies before he even reached the front door. His heart raced each time he flipped one of them over, hoping to not find your lifeless body hidden underneath. Azriel couldn’t fathom the thought of losing you, if he had to ever bury you, he wished to be dead alongside you. There was no life worth living without you in it. 

“Y/N!” He called out as he burst through the front door, but to no surprise there was no response. Which in turn only made his panic worsen. He had hoped to find you safe within the cabin walls, but with the scene outside, something else had happened entirely. He knew your handiwork when he saw it, and those men were each victims to your blade. But Azriel needed to know why, Were you in danger? Why had they come to ambush you?

He looked around the front room, the questions and worries filling his mind like rising water, each one building that fear of what may have possibly happened to you. There was no sign of you at all, until a puddle of thick liquid caught his attention, his shadows rushing down the hallway where the blood stained the floor. Azriel felt his face go pale, his blood rushing to his ears, the cabin and the air around him had gone silent, all except for his own heartbeat that pounded in his ears. 

If he was too late- 

He shook his mind of the thoughts as he followed the trail of blood that led him down the hallway. There was a significant amount of blood, and if this was from you alone, whatever wound you had was fatal. And Azriel did not know how to feel with that information. He observed the smears of bloody handprints along the walls, the marks from your hands gripping the door frame. Azriel’s fingers shook as he traced the shape of your handprints that led him into the bedroom, his heart sinking further down, deep into his darkness that you helped pull him from, but at the sight of your blood on every inch of this cabin, the light slipped further away from his grasp. He attempted to pull on that bond once more, but there was nothing, not even a hum, it was like it was never there in the first place. And it terrified him. 

“Find her.” He commanded his shadows and they slithered out into the wilderness, leaving Azriel to follow your trail of blood to an open window. When he peered over the window ledge, he saw another body laying in the snow. An Illyrian with a butter knife sticking out of the side of his skull. But his eyes followed the traces of blood and footprints running away into the trees behind the cabin. 

Azriel ran out of the cabin, following the bloodied footprints further into the woods, his body felt heavy, his feet dragging along the ground, his fear took over, making him feel far from himself. He wanted to find you, but he was horrified by the worst possible outcome. And when he reached the end of the trail, his shadows returned back to him, leading him to the small stream a few yards ahead. 

He followed their directions, when he stumbled across a collection of rocks, another dead Illyrian floating in the shallow water. But he didn’t care for the male, his attention was drawn to the blood that painted the rocks, and the torn female Illyrian leathers that rested against the ground. His shadows swarmed around him in a frenzy as he kneeled down to pick up the chest piece. He was certain it was yours, your scent was all over it. 

He heard Cassian land behind him. “Azriel, what happened?” There was concern in his tone and Azriel couldn’t tell if it was for him or for you. 

Azriel held on to the discarded Illyrian leathers that he gave you, the ones now covered in blood, that had confirmed his fears. He handed them to Cassian who cursed as he took in the scene. Azriel moved his gaze back at the blood on the rocks. “They took her Cassian. They have my mate.” 

You didn’t know how it happened. One moment you were walking around the camp in search of Madok and the next thing you knew, twenty Illyrian males ambushed you in front of the cabin. You knew you took down a decent amount of them, but if it weren't for the blade laced with faebane, you would have finished the rest of them off. It seemed Madok had got word of your search for him, and if your mind was not already so clouded, maybe you would have seen this attack coming. 

Now you were chained up in a dungeon of some sorts, your wound still oozing blood, and you could tell it was getting infected. The faebane was slowing down your healing, your body slowly giving out.

Your arms were chained tightly above your head, barely able to feel your fingertips. You couldn’t help but think of your friends and family, if they even knew you were in trouble. If they were worried at all. You felt like a fool to come here by yourself, but after hearing Azriel’s confession, you needed to get away, even though it meant Windhaven. You weren’t running away, it was time you needed to think, to understand the mix of feelings you had inside. But being attacked was the last thing you expected to happen. Now you are facing those consequences. 

You attempted to call down the bond, to warn Azriel, to call for help. But you heard or felt nothing in return, perhaps he had closed it off, and by the time you were knocked unconscious the bond felt weak, like it was dying, or more so that you were dying. But yet there was no telling if anyone would come and save you. You were alone in all of this. And there was nothing you could do. 

You kept your head down when you heard the door to your cell open. Sensing at least four men surrounding the area where you stood in the middle of the room. 

“You are quite hard to kill Y/N” Madok spoke next to your ear, but you did not move, keeping your head hung low, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Look at me when I am talking to you.” He seethed, but you refused. One of his men pulled your head back by your hair forcing your eyes to meet Madok’s. His eyes were wide, hungry for violence. Then his fist connected with the left side of your face, a noticeable crack as your head flung to the side. The taste of iron fell across your tongue, you spat up the blood onto the ground in front of Madok. “Now here is how this will work. I will ask you questions about the high lord, you answer, and I don’t kill you.” 

You looked up at him now, and laughed. His men stepped backward startled. But you laughed louder, the manic laugh you forced out, they could harm you all they wanted. You would not betray your family. “Fuck. Off.” You spit out, with a crazed grin across your face. 

Madok’s face was expressionless as he nodded to one of the males, suddenly you were pricked with a needle, followed by an uncomfortable sensation across your arm as they injected you with the mysterious fluid. Then the pain hit you, like a thousand knives scraping underneath your skin, it was like being carved from the inside out. A scream erupted from your throat as you thrashed against your restraints, your body began shaking, white spots filled your vision. 

Your breathing was ragged when Madok lifted your chin, his face was blurry but you could clearly see the smile on his face as he landed a few hits to your stomach, enhancing the torture you felt inside. But you bit back your scream. “I hope you enjoyed that. My own personal faebane mixture. Enough to prolong the effects, make the pain ever so sweeter for you to endure.”

“You’re psychotic.” You attempted to control your breathing as you spoke, but it felt as though the air was being snatched from your lungs.

“Tell me all that you know about the high lord and his family.” 

You laughed again, spitting more blood towards his direction. “Go fuck yourself. I won’t tell you anything.” Your head began spinning, forcing out those words took more effort than you could have ever imagined. It was a feeling you had never experienced before, and it terrified you. 

“Oh you will, everyone gives in eventually.” Madok spoke and before you could respond, he brought his fist to your ribs, jolting your body to the side, making it harder to catch your breath. Again and again he hit you, until you coughed up blood down the front of your already red stained shirt. Your entire body felt on fire, the pain growing past tolerable. “How do I get into Velaris?” Another punch to your side. You felt the room spin slightly, vision fading.

“Fuck. You.” You spat out, your mouth filling with blood, making your words muffled. “They will come for me, and you’ll be as good as dead.” You only could hope that your words would be true.

Madok laughed as he gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Is that why your precious highlord let you come here by yourself? That is why I doubt no one is coming to save you. You are worthless to them, just some lonely fae that thought she had found her family. When in reality it became more people for you to disappoint.” 

You launched at him, but the chains held you back. “Shut up.” 

“I will break you Y/N. And then I will kill your precious inner circle. Starting with the babe.” 

“I swear to the mother if you hurt him.” You seethed, attempting to launch at him again but Madok moved away, each of his men following his steps out of the cell. 

“You’re stuck here dear Y/N. There is nothing you can do to stop me.” Madok smiled before he disappeared from your sight. 

And you screamed in anger, all the air leaving your lungs, desperate to be free from these chains.

A few more days had passed, each day filled with your daily injection of faebane. His goons had beaten you to a pulp each time, attempting to pull information from you. But you took each beating and each new wound without uttering a single word. You figured most of your bones were broken, the new wounds on your sides were exposed to the dirt and grime of the cell. You couldn’t tell if your fingers were broken, but you faintly remember two men laughing as they cracked each one. But you did not break, no matter the torture he had put you through, you remained silent about your family. 

You were shocked your body had held on this long, and when you heard the cell open, you prayed this would be the last one. After this, you would simply cease to exist. You had never truly wanted death, but your body did not feel like your own. You were floating in your own mind just to escape the pain, and you were prepared to embrace the reaper with open arms. If dying meant your family was safe, then it would be a death you would gladly accept. You were growing weaker, the will to heal and live fading each day.

Madok stepped through the cell door, dragging in someone with him. It took a minute for your eyes to adjust to see who it was but the blonde curls were all too familiar. 

“You know, I amend this male for trying to protect you, but he is just another fool that trusted the wrong fae.” Madok threw Surin at your feet. His face was bloodied and beaten, his green eyes were swollen and bruised.

“He didn’t do anything wrong, let him go.” You begged, your throat felt dry as you spoke. 

Madok leaned over Surin, lifting his head off the ground. “Our dear Y/N here only fucked you to make the shadowsinger jealous. You truly think she cared for you? Is she really worth saving?” 

“Leave him alone! Please!” You couldn’t stop the tears from falling, even as one of his men slapped you across the face. “You are feeding him lies.” You choked out. Surin didn’t deserve this. “It is me you want, not him. So please just let him go.” 

Surin looked towards you, showing you a smile that broke your heart. “It’s okay Y/N,” He spoke as if he already accepted his fate. “I’ll be okay,” A tear slipped down his cheek. “Thank you for indulging me, even if it wasn't real.” You yanked at the chains that held you back, if you could just get to him, guard him, save him. But you knew there was nothing you could do. His green eyes stared at you, as if to assure you it wasn’t your fault, you wished that was all it took.

“It was real Surin, all of it. I promise you.” You cried, your eyes never leaving him. 

“I’m glad. Thank you Y/N. For giving me a taste of life outside of the camps.” He smiled wider, blood staining his teeth. “Do me a favor. Make this bastard pay for it.” 

“Pity.” Madok scoffed, slicing Surin’s throat, letting his lifeless body hit the ground. Leaving him to bleed at your feet. 

“No!” You screamed, you pulled harder at the chains, your tears blurring your eyes, you hated how weak you felt. The sobs shook you to your core. And your heart ached as you looked at Surin below you. It was your fault. All of it. 

Someone had to know you were gone. Someone had to care enough to notice. But you were all alone, only the sound of your own cries to drown out the silence. 

It had been a little over a week since Azriel had discovered you missing, and each minute he found no lead, no way of finding you, a piece of his heart felt as though it was being ripped out, consumed by the dark thoughts of losing you. Each person he had interrogated knew nothing, and he became so frustrated he killed each one, with no remorse as their blood spilled onto the ground. 

He found himself a couple days later, sitting back at the house of wind, listening to his brothers converse about mother knows what, they had not mentioned you or your situation and yet they haven’t done a single thing to look for you, it felt as though he was the only one worried. 

He had left his shadows at Windhaven, ordering not to come back unless they had found you. But every part of him wanted to be out there, searching those woods for you, yet Rhys had called him back here, and had not said a single word since he had arrived. 

Azriel tapped his forefinger against the wood table in front of him. Watching. Waiting. Their voices were infuriating and Azriel had enough. 

“Is there anything important that you need me for? Or can I go back to looking for Y/N?” He knew he had an attitude with his question, but if there was no reason for him to be here then he shouldn’t be. “Do you even care that she is in danger?” 

“Brother.” Cassian warned, placing himself between the two of them.

“My mate is out there somewhere Rhys. Probably cold, hurt.. She could be dying and you have me sitting here, while you two bicker like old hags.” Azriel stood from his seat, his wings tense behind him. “I cannot feel her, that part of me that I only had the pleasure to know for a short moment is gone and I am dying without her, it feels like the breath is being sucked out of my lungs. Please tell me you have been doing something other than talking.” 

“I know you are worried Azriel, but-” 

“There is no but Rhysand! I am more than worried, I am terrified. I cannot even comprehend the thought of what she is going through, she would go to the end of this world to protect this family, to protect you. Who knows what Madok has done, if she is even still alive..” Azriel choked on those last few words, the tears threatening to fall if he held onto that thought any longer. Cassian placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder as Azriel took a steadying breath. 

“I know the lengths she would go for us, that is why I have Mor and Amren and a few Illyrians I can trust out there right now looking for her, they picked up where you left off.” Rhys stood with a stoic expression, the way the High lord of the night court should behave but his violet eyes were filled with concern, for him and you. There was no hiding that. 

“Then why am I not out there with them?” 

“You have not slept since she has gone missing, and before you say it- I know you won’t rest until she is found but I need you to take a breath, you will drive yourself mad if you continue this path.” Azriel stared at his brother, he knew Rhys was right, he knew he had been draining himself, but he could not sleep, because each time he closed his eyes, he saw your lifeless body, your eyes that he adored, glossed over and empty. 

He would not know a peaceful rest until he had you back in his arms. “I appreciate your concern, but I promise I will be fine.” 

“Azriel-” Cassian started, but Azriel’s shadows rushed around him, whispering the one thing that he had been waiting to hear. 

“They found her.” Azriel’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, before disappearing into his shadows.

Azriel followed his shadows to the bottom of Ramiel, a cave entrance that was hidden by trees. One that Azriel had sworn he had passed a thousand times. He found Mor and Amren standing at the entrance, two Illyrian guards dead at their feet. “She was in there the entire time?” 

“Don’t blame yourself boy, they had warded the entrance to be hidden from anyone passing by, I even had a difficult time discovering it. Whoever set the wards was good, but still not good enough.” Amren moved aside, so Azriel could take the lead into the cave. 

Cassian, Rhys and Nesta appeared behind them, ready for whatever would greet them. “Azriel you focus on finding Y/N. We will take care of everyone else.” Rhysand stated and Azriel nodded in agreement. 

They all rushed in at once, the gloomy tunnel was barely lit, but he saw clear enough to take down two males that approached him. He followed the corridors, killing whoever crossed his path, the stone walls covered in their blood. Azriel reached a collection of cells but found them all to be empty, except for the bloodstains across the walls.

Azriel kept moving forward, you had to be in this hell somewhere. He ran through the halls and the agony that surrounded them. And when he turned that final corner he saw you.

Azriel’s stomach dropped as he took in the scene of you hanging from the chains, your wrists purple and swollen, blood covering almost every inch of your body, slashes across your arms and abdomen. He stepped closer, noticing the male dead at your feet, his hand shook as he reached to feel your pulse, silently praying there would be the slightest movement underneath his finger tips. 

He lifted your chin, taking in the dried blood and bruises across your face. His anger for Madok grew. He felt a light pulse as he tried to hold his emotions back, he needed to get you out of here first, then he could unleash his anger on the male who did this to you. 

You groaned in pain as Azriel rushed to free your arms from the chains, your body collapsing into his arms. He held you carefully, pulling you tight against him, hoping he wasn’t causing you any pain. 

You withered in his arms, and when he looked down at you, your swollen eyes were barely open, but you were awake, yet barely alive. In that moment he felt that bond reopen, but it was faint, quiet. Like a whisper in a storm. You were dying and he was running out of time. 

He stood quickly, following his path back out of the cave. His family is waiting for the two of you outside between the trees. Madok was tied in chains in front of them. And when they saw you, Azriel heard the collective gasp of horror. 

“Your little mate is hard to crack, so sad you won’t be able to save her.” Madok teased, Azriel was prepared to kill him, but when you moved once more in his arms he refrained himself. Instead, Cassian slammed the hilt of his sword to the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. 

“Inform Madja I am on my way back.” Azriel’s voice cracked as he spoke, but he took off into the sky, flying as fast as his wings would take him.

You barely could open your eyes to see his face but you felt his arms wrap around you, the cool breeze of the mountain air brushing across your skin. He felt so warm, even as he launched the two of you into the snowy weather. You never thought you would have made it out, but he came for you. He was truly with you. Yet you didn’t exactly feel as if you were going to make it out of these mountains. 

“I’m scared. Azriel, why am I so scared?” Your voice was nothing but a whimper, your body was shaking, nothing felt in your control. You forced your eyes to open, memorizing his features. 

Was this death? Had Azriel come just in time to see you perish? There was so much more you wanted to do with him, you knew things were rocky, but you didn’t want to die leaving that wedge between you two, you wanted to fix it, to see what it would be like to be loved by him. But then again you always had been, the two of you were just too foolish to admit it. It was a mistake that you wouldn’t make again. Maybe in the next life you could be together. Maybe then you could have more time.

“Hey sweetheart, hold on for me. Please.” His voice was like a heavenly whisper in your mind. If you were to die in his arms, you would gladly accept it, the last sight would be of him and you would be okay with that. “Y/N, please we’re almost there, just don’t give up.” 

You smiled up at him, finding the strength to run a trembling hand across his cheek. Catching sight of the mangled state your hand was in. But it didn’t matter, you needed to make sure this was real, just in case. “Azriel if for some reason I don’t make it-”

“You will make it, darling please save your breath.” Azriel’s voice shook, and you could tell he was scared too. But if this was your last moment together, you wouldn’t spend it in silence.

“I am sorry for how things have been between us, you’re my best friend Az, and I was scared that I lost you when you got with Elain. I am sorry we didn’t have more time for us, but I promise I will look for you in my next life, and even the one after that. I will fight harder next time. I promise not to run. I won’t be afraid.” 

You looked into his hazel eyes, and the tears that fell down his face. You wanted to reach up but you found there was no strength left in you to move. “Y/N, we will have all the time in this life, we will have the life we deserve, please just-” His voice cracked and he took a trembling breath. “Stay with me. I’m sorry for it all. I hate that I didn’t tell you I loved you sooner. But please give me the chance to tell you for the rest of our lives.”

You smiled up at him, and you wished it could be true. But you could feel your body failing, you just wanted to close your eyes, rest for a little while. Gods you were so tired, your brain didn’t know what to do, but you knew what you wanted to say. 

“I don’t hate that I love you.” Your words wobbled, feeling an unknown warmth, you stopped fighting and Azriel’s screams were just a faint echo in the back of your mind as your eyes fell closed to the darkness.

Taglist(The ones crossed out I couldn’t tag): @honestlywtfisgoingon @fanfictioniseverything @marina468 @positivewitch @maviee @blurredlamplight @bookslut420 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @elle10 @dragonstoneprincess @holywolfsstuff @reiincarnatiion @valeridarkness @feiwelinchen @sv0430 @kennedy-brooke @emturtles @nightcourtwritings @zephyg-06 @chantalleke91 @katherinereid @loulou0101 @shadowsingersmate24 @tcris2020 @shadowsinger-654 @nobody00sthings @lucyysthings @turkishgirlslife @rachelnicolee @mich0731 @tobifeemo @kristeristerin @sinnful-darling @hannzoaks @zoe2 @strangersunghoon @bangtanbecks @juneangel21​ @hanatsuki-hime​ @acourtofmarvels @cmay25 @its-sam-allgood @a-frog-with-a-laptop @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @kazbrkker @sstanbarnes @j-pendragonx @naturakaashi @yakoxshadow @whorefortim @goradgirl @azriels-mate123 @cuethedepession 

[moralesluvr]

CABIN FEVER | SR

♡ pairings & aus : fem!reader x spencer reid

♡ summary: after jj plans a cabin trip for a group getaway, you unexpectedly have to share a cabin with spencer reid (who you aren't exactly very fond of), leading to a night of surprises and confessions.

♡ warnings: fluff, stupid spencer being mean, pining, two characters being hopelessly in love yet oblivious

♡ a/n: well HELLO!!!! its been like what....five months since i've written? crazy, i know! anyways i wanted to start writing for my darlings in the bau so here's a new fic! i hope you enjoy <;3

♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

You'd like to say that you were a nice person. You got along with everyone, and you were always cordial to those that you weren't exactly close with, or even friends with, for that matter. However, this rule applies to everyone except one person- that person being Spencer Reid. 

You didn't exactly hate him- no, never, but the two of you were always butting heads. He was witty and often had to make a smart  or stupid comment about everything, even when the circumstances were far from humorous, and you knew he did it just to annoy you. The both of you had worked in the BAU together for years, and he was tolerable as long as the both of you were in the field, totally focused in on the task at hand. But any other time? Gosh, he could really be annoying.

JJ was one of your best friends from the BAU, and she had recently planned a camping trip for everyone to go on- just to get away for a little bit. And of course, despite you knowing that Spencer was definitely going to be there, you accepted the invite and began packing your bags.

It was Sunday, and you'd be staying for four days, so you packed one extra of everything, just to be careful. You grabbed your keys and other necessities and got into your car, typing the address into your GPS and cutting the radio on.

You're happily jamming out to your shuffled playlist when JJ's contact name flashes against your radio screen, and you click answer as you smile, "Hey, JJ! What's up?"

"Don't kill me," she starts, and that immediately starts to worry you. You sigh as she finishes her sentence, and you can hear the sincerity in her voice, "So...I accidentally under booked the cabins. There was supposed to be one for each person, but we're one short so..."

Your lips immediately flatten out as you sigh, "Please don't tell me I have to share with you know who."

JJ pouts on the other side of the line. "I'm sorry, I really am. He's not that bad-"

"Jen! He is terrible!" You protest, your GPS telling you that you're twenty five minutes away. "He's so annoying and he's always making fun of me."

"I know, love, I really am sorry. Do you think you can you deal for just four days?"

You give her a groan, but you know you can do it, so you agree to room with him. JJ claps on the other side of the phone and you can practically hear her smile in her voice, "I owe you one, Y/N! I love you!"

"Love you too," you grumble, clicking the red decline button as you turn your radio back up. Would it really be that bad to room with Spencer? Who knows, maybe the two of you might get along? He was kind of cute...

You shake your head to get rid of your absurd thoughts. He was your co-worker and your literal insufferable, built-in nemesis, plus, he was a couple years older than you- which was embarrassing, because you were way more mature than him. 

Almost thirty minutes pass until you pull into the lots of the cabins, the private residence beautifully decorated with vanilla colored decor and a bunch of land and activities set up outside. You spot Penelope and Emily roasting marshmallows by a bonfire, and you immediately get out of your car and lock it, joining them. Emily immediately jumps up to hug you, "Y/N! Hi!"

Penelope hugs you from the other side and you smile against them both, "Hello my loves!"

The three of you sit down and occupy yourselves with busy conversation until you hear a familiar voice, the same annoying, excruciating one that you hate.

Spencer.

He's being a usual chatterbox, talking Morgan's ear off, and you're glad that he doesn't spot you. A couple of more cars pull up and you assume that they're JJ, Hotch, and Rossi. You feel a pair of arms come at your waist and you instantly recognize your best friend, "JJ!"

She hugs you and you hug her back, your eyelashes fluttering as you smile. "Missed you."

You're catching up with a lot of the team members, and everyone gathers around the fire as they make themselves snacks and s'mores. You feel a presence next to you and you're awfully confused until you look over, and your jaw immediately clenches.

"Don't even think about it." You hiss at Spencer, who just gives you a warm smile, "Think about what?"

He's playing dumb, and you give it twenty minutes before he starts acting a fool.

And you were right. He's just talking away and making jokes and they would've been funny if all of them weren't about you. He loved to pick on you for a reason that you could never quite fathom, and it was starting to get a little bothersome. Everyone's laughing, though, and some of the jokes make your lips curl upwards until he makes one that you wish you didn't hear. Somehow, the topic of respect was brought up, and Spencer had said that the only reason people respected you was because you could never "look down" on anyone. And at first, you didn't get the joke, until you realized it was about your height.

You rose up from the log that you were sitting on and pushed the door open to your cabin, throwing yourself on the bed as a tear slipped from your eyes. It wasn't anything to cry about- maybe you were just being sensitive, but you had enough of his stupid jokes that were always targeted against you. You silently let the tears fall until you heard the door swing open, and you immediately dry your eyes. You look over to see who it is, and you nearly cry when you realize it's Spencer.

"I'm sorry," he starts, and for the first time, he actually sounds sincere. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I just thought we had that kind of relationship where we could make fun of each other."

Now you feel bad. Not because you're crying or because you're hurt, but because maybe- just maybe, you had gotten Spencer and your relationship with him all wrong. He notices that you're crying and his eyes soften, "Y/N, please say something."

"I'm fine," you wave it off, "It's okay. I'm just gonna get ready for bed."

You grab your belongings and walk into the bathroom, where you shower and slip on a pair of yellow pajamas. You tie up your hair in a ponytail and pad out back to the king-sized bed, and you groaned lightly when you realized that you'd have to share it with Spencer tonight. After his joke, you weren't sure if you wanted to even see him.

He's already in bed, and his hair is wet- so you assume that he took a shower at another one of the boys' cabin. He's reading, his glasses laying on the tip of his nose while his book rests in his lap. He's shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of fuzzy socks and green sweatpants, and he actually looks kind of...cute.

Pull it together, Y/N.

You climb in on the other side and roll over, climbing underneath the covers and turning the lamp off.

"Good night, Y/N." Spencer says, turning his own lamp off and setting his glasses on the night stand as he sinks into the peeled sheets of the bed.

"Night..." you murmur, but you can't sleep. It's too cold and you're too lazy to get out of bed to turn on the heater, and plus, all of Spencer's shifting is keeping you from even falling into a small doze.

"Spence?" You call out, and he rolls over to face you. It's dark, so he can't see you, and your noses slightly bump as you turn onto your side. He laughs, and you laugh too, and for the first time, he isn't being absolutely insufferable.

"I can't sleep," you whisper, and he whispers back that he can't sleep either.

"Hey," you start, "I'm sorry I was such a jerk to you. You always just made those jokes and I deflected because...well, if you couldn't tell, I don't handle those things well." You laugh airily, and your eyes ache a little when Reid reaches over to turn the lamp on.

He's so cute. His curls are damp, some of them messily dried around his face. His nose has a little red indent from where his glasses were sitting, and you find it adorable as you smile.

God, what was happening? Were you catching feelings for Spencer?

His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, "I was the one that was being a jerk, I constantly made fun of you and made jokes without ever realizing that you weren't okay with it," Spencer says, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, It's all good now." You whisper, smiling.

"You're really pretty."

What did he just say?

"Huh?" You ask, dumbfounded and a little nervous.

"You're...I said that you're really pretty." Spencer repeats, and you want to ask him to say it again, just to be sure. But you don't, you just reply, shaken, "T-Thank you. You're pretty too."

"I'm pretty?" He asks, a little confused, and you nod, blushing.

"Pretty boy." You smile.

"Pretty girl," he whispers, and you realize how close your faces are when you feel his warm breath fan against your face. He smells of autumn and cookies and all things warm, and your skin tingles with excitement as his lips graze over yours lightly before kissing you. The kiss is sweet, and you feel his hand snake around your waist underneath the covers as his other hand cups your cheek. You melt, and your smile breaks the kiss, "Oh my Lord."

Spencer smiles and rolls over, turning off the lamp before pulling you in by your waist, his head buried in the crook of your neck, "Goodnight, pretty girl."

"Goodnight, pretty boy." You smile, your eyes fluttering shut as you drift off to sleep.

[grave-z-boy]

Arthur Morgan x hunter!male!reader headcanons

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Male Reader

Summary: After a long day of hunting, you set up camp, only to nearly be trampled by a horse with an unconscious man as it’s rider.

Warning: Arthur got shot, blood, mild description of killing/skinning deer, you almost get trampled, mentions of a bar fight, and drinking, implications of prostitution and sex.

Masterlist

You were in the woods after a long hunt, resting against a tree, nearly asleep when you heard the familiar sound of a horse galloping.

You ignored it at first, but as the galloping kept drawing closer, you finally opened you eyes, only to see a horse running towards you with great haste.

You managed to move just in time for the horse to fly past you.

As you turned to yell at the rider, the horse slowed suddenly, before stopping just a few meters away. Then the rider fell off the saddle and landed in a heap on the floor.

The horse didn’t spook when you drew near, it didn’t even move when you kneeled down to check on its rider.

Turning him on his back, you could see a growing splotch of blood pooling at his side, you nearly considered him a dead man, but you saw his chest rise in a sudden gasp of air, and his breathing, which had previously been halted, continued at a mostly steady pace.

You dragged him back to your little camp and attempted to patch up his wound as best as you could. You were only used to patching yourself or animals up, but this wasn’t that different. Seems like he’d been grazed by a bullet, a deep graze, but nothing too harmful. You eventually found the real cause of his unconscious state, there was a gash on the side of his head, probably got hit by a rock or something- it looked nothing like a bullet wound or even a knife wound.

The sun eventually set, you tossed a spare blanket over the man and pulled him a bit closer to the fire as the cold night set in.

He came too as you were cooking, nothing special, just a bit of the meat from the deer you’d caught earlier that day.

You didn’t even realize he’d woken up until you heard the sound of a gun clicking.

Looking down at him, you weren’t really scared, you’ve been held at gunpoint before, and with the shape he was in, you doubted he could hit you if you were two feet in front of him.

So you kept on cooking, eventually, he decided you weren’t a threat, holstering his gun.

“Where am i?”

“Just west of Strawberry, a bit off the lake.”

He didn’t settle that night, not when you offered him food, or water, not when he eventually bled through his bandages, and not when he became light headed and needed to lie down.

You could only feel so bad for the man, sure, he’d been through a tussle, but at the moment you were taking care of him and you really didn’t appreciate the way he was looking at you.

“What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

“I could ask you the same.”

A very stale first meeting, though, you did appreciate what it would later bring.

In the morning you went your separate ways, you headed deeper into the forest, and he headed into town.

You figured you wouldn’t be seeing him again, you’ve never seen him in or around town before so he was probably just passing through or something.

You finished your hunt and headed home, the deer you’d caught draped over your horse, it’s neck still leaking blood from where you arrow had punctured it.

You skinned it, sold the pelt and the meat, and even sold the antlers before heading home.

You didn’t live in town, you lived in a little cottage just outside of it, you used to live with your sisters, but they had all moved out at this point, moving onto bigger, better things than hunting.

You didn’t mind, they’d both found themselves rich husbands to move them somewhere nice. You couldn’t do that for a few reasons, but you wouldn’t complain- not frequently at least.

Night came faster than expected, you figured you’d either loitered in the town to long or you’d been taking too much of a stroll on your way.

You decided to head home, you rode out quickly but eventually settled at a nice slow pace.

You paused for a moment when you spotted a wagon, unmoving, right in the middle of the road, with a man was stationed right in front of it.

As you drew closer, you figured you were about to be robbed, you’d seen them and they had no doubt seen you, it was only a matter of time before a gang or something jumped out of the surrounding foliage and threatens to kill you.

Sighing as you continued on, drawing closer to the stationary wagon.

As the man outside became more clear, the cigarette in between his lips lighting his face a bit, you recognized him.

You almost laughed, it was the man you’d helped- he seemed to recognize you too, him face lighting up with surprise as he blew smoke out of his mouth.

“Don’t I know you.” He said once you were just a few feet away. You could hear the sarcasm in his voice.

“What are you doing out here, you should be resting.”

“I rested enough.”

“Mmhm, how that head a’ yours?”

“Fine.”

You heard a sudden crash from inside the carriage, then bellowing laughter of one man and at least two women.

Glancing back at the man, he said,

“Just waiting for them to finish up in there.”

“How long you been out here?”

“‘Bout an hour.”

You don’t know why you asked, considering you were convinced that you were gonna get robbed a few moments ago.

“Wanna go for a ride?”

You didn’t except him to say yes

He unhitched one of the horses from the carriage, causing it to rock a bit, disturbing the people inside.

He rode without a saddle, off the main road and into the forrest.

“I’m y/n, by the way.”

“‘m Arthur.”

You rode in silence for a few minutes, just taking in the night and the nature around you.

“So- uh,” you started, “How’d you end up in the woods like that?”

He took a moment to respond, “‘ got caught in a bar brawl with some hunter, his friend ain't like watching his boy go down too much, shot me from across the damn room. I tried to make it back to camp before bleeding out... But the next thing I know I'm at your camp getting patched up.”

You almost laughed, “so you tried to shoot me.”

“I didn't.”

“Please, you would've if your ass could see straight.”

You ended up hitching your horses to a tree and walking along the lake.

It was surprisingly calm.

You talked with Arthur longer than you meant to, you don't know how much time passed, but you glanced up at the sky and saw that it had gone from deep blue, to a lighter purple.

“Shit,” you laughed, “we've been out here all night.”

“So we have.”

He chuckled and you laughed with him.

Pushing himself up off the ground, he offered a hand out to you. You took it, he hoisted you up, harder than you thought he would. You stood with less than a foot between you, face to face with Arthur. You didn’t move back, and neither did he. There was a small smile on his face, you realized he still held your hand in his. A part of you wanted to laugh and pull away but you didn’t.

The other part of you, which was much larger, and much louder, told you to kiss him. So you did, it was just a quick peck, but Arthur looked just as shocked as you did. Even though you were the one who initiated it, you didn’t fully expect yourself to.

Before you could turn and run, you were grabbed by your arm and pulled into a kiss, not as shy or quick as yours had been, maybe a bit nervous but you doubt the man in front of you would ever admit that.

After pulling away the two of you stared at each other for a moment, the other becoming clearer and clearer as the sun steadily rose.

“We should get back-“ you choked out, “your friends probably worried.”

He let out a low laugh, “you might be right.”

The ride back was uneventful, not in a bad way, you talked, riding slow and steady back to where the carriage had been.

When you finally got back, Arthur opened the carriage only to see the man he was with, as well as two women, passed out and presumably extremely hung over.

You said your goodbyes with a small hope of seeing each other again.

(Just wanted to write something quickly so my blog wouldn’t be empty lol. Let me know if you want more)

[sofreddie]

Against All Odds

Summary: Jared is a small-town Deputy who's lived there all his life. When he met Y/N - a new Omega in town - in the drunk tank, he wondered if he'd ever get a second chance at love.

Characters: Alpha!Correctional Officer!Jared x Omega!Reader

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Angst, Fluff, Drinking/Alcohol Abuse, Medical Conditions, Medical Treatments, Heat/Rut Cycles, Medical Emergency, Procedural Violations (Doctors bending the rules/laws), Smut (Fuck or Die, Unprotected Sex, Knotting, Claiming/Biting, Dirty Talk)

AU: CORRECTIONAL OFFICER!JARED (@spnaubingo)

ANGST: IN THE HOSPITAL (@anyfandomangstbingo)

OMEGAVERSE: CLAIM SEX (@afgomegaversebingo)

SW: FREE SPACE (@samwinchesterbingo)

WC: 11,623

A/N: So I started this fic in 2021 for my Bingos (which I am still working on and intend to complete eventually). I doubt they count anymore, but that's not the point, LOL. I took quite a few liberties with the prompts. Although it took ages to complete, I am delighted with how this fic turned out. I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is appreciated. : )

My Masterlist

The weight of her head was heavy in her hands, the concrete beneath her cold enough to numb her backside. Groaning, she pinched her eyes shut against the overly bright lights that rained down on her, creating a constant pounding behind her closed lids.

"Good Morning, Ms. Y/L/N. How are we feeling today?"

Y/N groaned louder, the chipper and familiar voice only adding to her torment.

"Mornin' Padadeputy," she snorted at her joke, wincing as it caused her poor, battered brain pain. "Can I go home?" she croaked, working her mouth to ease the dryness.

She could use a drink. But the very thought had her throwing a hand over her mouth and rushing to the steel toilet in the corner, the remnants of her late-night excursions making a reappearance.

Wiping a hand across her mouth, she leaned her back against the wall, her head tilted back, and her eyes closed as she felt a bit of relief from her suffering. Though the constant rhythmic pounding in her head only grew more prominent.

The sound of metal sliding against metal, locks clicking, and doors sliding alerted her that she was no longer confined. Opening her eyes just enough, she could make out her favorite deputy's tall and lean figure.

"So, at this rate, should we keep this room open for you?" Officer Padalecki joked as he leaned against the open doorway of the cell.

Using the wall as leverage, she forced herself to her feet, her body protesting the movements. She quickly rinsed her mouth and washed her face, waking herself up enough to return home.

"Maybe I just like seeing you?" She smiled over-sweetly and shuffled past him as her feet walked the familiar path.

"Not that I'm complaining, but there's probably better ways to get my attention," he teased.

The flirty banter between them happened with ease. Y/N, unfortunately, made a habit of landing herself in the drunk tank at least once a week. Though they'd never seen or talked to each other outside of the local jail, they formed an easy camaraderie.

The truth was he worried about her, the unclaimed Omega slowly drinking herself to death, being forcibly removed from local bars for disorderly conduct on many occasions. She seemed like a sweet but troubled woman. Maybe it was his caring side or his Alpha, but he worried and wanted her to be okay.

Y/N's senses were sharp, even when drunk out of her mind. She could see his attractiveness and smell his rich Alpha lurking under the surface. She'd never been with an Alpha, never felt the pull. But in her condition, there was no way she could start now, even if there were an attraction unlike anything she'd felt before. She brushed it off as another symptom; her Omega had long since become unreliable.

-

Jared walked back into the office area after escorting Y/N outside. As soon as he entered, Jensen looked up with a lewd grin, making Jared sigh and roll his eyes.

"Alright, let's have it," Jared scoffed as he sat at his desk, crossing his booted feet on the desktop and leaning back in his chair.

He had worked with Jensen at the station for years, but they had met at the training academy before that. However, they only spent a little time together outside of work, as they were involved in the community. Sometimes, they'd see each other at local events, but they were both occupied with helping the community in various ways, volunteering, and making their hometown well-cared for and safe.

Y/N was relatively new to their community. No one knew much about her. She lived in town but didn't seem to work anywhere, and she spent almost every Friday night sleeping it off in the jail. Regardless, Jared was attracted to her almost immediately after catching a slight hint of her scent. He often felt like a swooning teenager again in her presence, which Jensen never missed a chance to rib him about, leaving Jared an embarrassed and blustering mess.

"So, you ever gonna ask her out, or you just planning to be a secret admirer?" Jensen teased as usual.

"Come on, man," Jared groaned. "We've been over this. It's unprofessional to do that when I'm on duty and she's in jail. I never see her outside of this place. Maybe it's just not meant to be?"

He didn't like how the words tasted as he spoke them, somehow feeling malformed. There was something between them, a possible compatibility. After all, Jensen could never catch any scent from her; he was an Alpha, too. So, if Jared was sensitive to her scent, it must mean something.

Jensen shook his head and laughed before getting back to some paperwork. Jared sighed again, doing the same and wondering if he'd ever see her outside the jail and off duty, just like two people in the world. Then, he promised himself, he’d try again.

-

After Jared clocked out for the end of his shift - his relief right on time as usual - he tried to put Y/N out of his mind, but his Alpha was set on her ever since he'd first laid eyes on her. His mind flip-flopped as usual, switching from the primal Alpha wanting her to the rational man determined to remain professional. Either way, whatever was going on in her life, he was sure the last thing she needed was an Alpha sniffing around.

As he walked towards his truck, twirling his keys in his hand, he saw Y/N waiting on a bench by the station. She usually called a cab to come and get her when she was released, but she was long gone by the time he left to go home. Deciding to take a chance, he went over to her.

"Waiting on your cab?" he smiled down at her.

She nodded, "Yeah, they're just a little busy this morning."

"I can give you a ride if you'd like," he offered, pointing over his shoulder at his truck. Y/N's eyes flitted between him and his truck before she sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

She could feel his eyes on her as she climbed in the old truck, the effort seeming to drain her. She glanced at him, the same look of worry she saw from everyone etched onto his beautiful face.

"I'm fine. Just need some sleep."

It was one of her standard responses. She was glad that Jared seemed to buy it and started driving. She gave him directions to her house, grateful the town was small and wasn't a long drive.

"Thanks again," she said as she climbed out of the truck and shut the door. "See you later."

"I hope under different circumstances," he chuckled, a light tinge of pink staining his cheeks and ears.

Yeah, she wished that things could be different, too. She bid her farewell as it was, noting that Jared hadn't driven off until she was safely secured inside. Sighing, she brushed it off, eager to get rid of the stink of jail and stale liquor that clung to her.

She stumbled into her bathroom, pulling off her clothes on the way, a haphazard trail left behind her. She leaned on the bathroom counter, groaning at her disheveled reflection in the mirror. Drinking wasn't doing her any favors, but it was the only way to drown the pain and sorrow.

She turned to the corner of the counter, opening her organized pill box and eyeballing the many different medications in various colors and sizes she had to take every day. She hated it, but her regimen required it as part of her treatment for aging, unmated Omegas.

She downed the pills with a glass of water, showered, and dried as quickly as possible. Forgoing clothes, she climbed into her bed, sleep taking over quickly.

-

Y/N sat in the oversized pleather chair, letting out a long sigh. Her eyes were more than bored with whatever random home makeover show played on the muted TV. She allowed her eyes to roam, taking in the other chairs like hers, with different people occupying them.

Her head rolled to the other side, glancing at the IV in her arm, her eyes following up the tubing to the bag hanging above her, still half-full. She groaned, knowing she'd be there a while yet.

She'd been at it for six months, and the treatment of donated Alpha enzymes was designed to counteract the decline of her Omega body. She was past the average age for Omegas to be mated, never having found an Alpha that called to her Omega. Now, being mateless had become a medical condition, her body rapidly deteriorating from lack of a mate and the necessary enzymes a bite would provide.

Still, the treatments would only work so much and for so long, prolonging the inevitable. Y/N's doctors insisted she try finding a mate as soon as possible, but she wasn't willing to settle for anyone. Her stubbornness, however, didn't help her condition. The treatments weren't as effective anymore, and her body started to build a tolerance. She shifted in her chair, the squeaky creak of the materials making her groan.

"Y/N?"

Her head snapped up, and her brow furrowed at the figure across the room. He finished his conversation with a doctor, rolling the sleeves of his plaid flannel down over his forearms as he approached her with a smile.

He pulled up one of the smaller guest chairs beside her, laying his coat over his knee. His body looked too large and long for the basic chair.

"Padadeputy," she greeted, but without the usual smile. "What are you doing here?" she asked, still confused over his sudden appearance and at having someone see her here. She hadn't told a soul about her treatments, not that she had anyone to say anything to.

"Jared," he corrected her with a smile. "I come in a couple times a month," he explained. "I donate enzymes."

His eyes drifted from the IV in her arm to the hanging bag, his gaze flicking back to her eyes. She lowered her head in shame, heat spreading across her cheeks. For a moment, they both wondered if it was his enzymes she'd received.

The awkward silence dragged out between them, Jared waiting for her to speak. She didn't like anyone knowing about her condition, afraid Alphas would try to claim her in a heartbeat 'for her own good.' But, for whatever reason, Y/N felt compelled to tell Jared the truth. She wanted him to know. Maybe her Omega was reaching out to him again, but she gave in to this small need to connect with the Alpha before her.

"I've never had a mate," she spoke quietly, picking at her nails. "I've been doing treatments for a few months. But it's-" she sighed, briefly meeting his eyes and forcing a smile, "-it's not working so well."

"I had a mate," Jared broke the silent tension after a beat. "A long time ago," he dropped his head. She worried for him, wanting to reach out and comfort him. But she focused instead on her hands in her lap again.

"She died in an accident," he continued, seemingly composing himself as he met her eyes again. "Now that I'm…older," he smirked, "It's getting harder to deal with." She was thoroughly surprised by his admission.

"Well, I wouldn't recommend drinking to cope," she chuckled, trying to ease the seriousness.

"I can't imagine the drinking is helping," Jared stated. "It can't be good with the treatments-"

"I don't need a lecture," she whined, surprised at herself for not being more angry at his audacity. "I get enough of that from my doctor."

"Maybe you should listen," Dr. Collins interrupted with a smile and a reassuring hand on Y/N's shoulder. "Hey, Jared. Didn't know you two knew each other."

"Hey, Mish," Jared responded with a warm smile. 

Misha had also grown up in the town and was a prominent fixture in the community. The Omega Outreach Program, which he helped found and develop, drew Omegas from all over for his unique treatments and regimens.

Y/N listened as the two men chatted. She often felt like an outsider, having moved there specifically for the treatments. When both men turned their attention back to her, she was pulled from her musings.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'd like to go over some things with you. Would you like Jared to leave?"

Both men waited as she made up her mind, shaking her head. "He can stay," she said in a small and quiet voice.

Jared was the closest thing she had to a friend; having someone to know and talk to about things would be helpful. But also, it was an attempted blow to stifle her Omega. As much as she pined after Jared, she knew he wouldn't be interested if he knew the truth of her condition. What Alpha would want a broken, dying Omega? At least when he learned, he could leave, and she could try and let go of this stupid fantasy she'd concocted in her mind.

"Okay," Dr. Collins nodded as he pulled up a seat to talk with her. "You'll be happy to know it appears this round of treatments is starting to work, at least a little," he explained. Y/N was surprised as each round of treatments before had failed, her body not finding compatibility with any of the enzymes she was provided. Now, it seemed, they'd finally found a match. "I'm still worried about your heat. And, of course," he leveled her with a gaze, "The goal is to find an Alpha for a permanent solution possibly. Have you given more thought to what we discussed?"

She appreciated his vagueness at the time, seeing Jared stir quietly. Dr. Collins had recommended a matching service that would pair her with an Alpha who needed an Omega. A clinical pairing that would keep them alive, if not happy or in love. That wasn't the point of those programs; she didn't want to go that route. It felt like giving up, and a small part of her hoped to find the fairytale of True Mates and love and romance. Her eyes flashed to Jared, stirring deep within her, alerting her to the fact her Omega was trying to seek the Alpha it needed in him.

"No," she shook her head, forcing her eyes from Jared back to Misha. "I don't want to do that."

Misha sighed, glancing between the pair before nodding. "Alright, we'll continue your treatments and see how you do. Same time next week?"

She smiled and nodded, and Dr. Collins dismissed himself to help the next patient. She liked him a lot. He never seemed to judge her, was open, kind, and understanding, but provided the same level of detailed care to every one of his patients. It was a big part of what made him so sought after in the first place.

"It seems pretty bad," Jared mumbled once they were alone again. He tried to bite back the rising jealousy at his following words: "He's recommending a matching service, isn't he?" She nodded, and he felt a little queasy. "Is that what you want?"

"No," she said, meeting his eyes. "I don't want to give myself to any Alpha to survive. But because I've never been with an Alpha at all, my condition is worse. I'm afraid the choice will be taken from me."

Jared licked his lips and leaned forward, ready to take the chance and offer himself to her, "Y/N, I-"

His phone ringing made him squeeze his eyes shut and curse. As he answered the phone, Jared's body slumped, and Y/N knew he would have to leave.

"-I have to go," he finished lamely, flashing her an apologetic look.

"Duty calls," she chuckled, attempting again to lighten a rather heavy mood.

He laughed with a light sparkle in his eyes. Even though he was a rather large Alpha, she felt comfortable around him. Conversation flowed easily, and she found herself drawn to him in a way she hadn't felt with anyone before. She was almost sad when her treatment finished, and he bid her farewell. Her eyes followed him until he disappeared from her sight.

Maybe it's for the best, she thought, that he leaves before her Omega reaches out for him with dying desperation, ignoring the lingering flutter in her chest. Regardless, she hoped she might see him again, not from within the drunk tank.

-

Jared checked his watch, hurrying his steps toward the hospital's entrance. He did his best to try and calm his racing heart. Jared scheduled his donations for several weeks to coincide with Y/N's treatments.

After their third visit, Dr. Collins pulled him aside to say that she'd been improving with Jared's visits and that the treatments were becoming more effective. However, they still wouldn't tell him if she received his enzymes, so Jared made sure to be there for her.

She was utterly alone, he learned. And her drinking that kept landing her in jail was a failed coping mechanism. She was spiraling toward a painful end. The more he knew and the more time he spent with her, the stronger the pull between them became.

Maybe it was because they were both without a mate. Perhaps it was because they were both dealing with their bodies degrading. But he held on to the slight hope that maybe they were compatible, and that's why their visits always felt like the highlight of his week.

He was nervous as he reached the treatment floor. He was excited to see Y/N and had been working up the nerve over the past two weeks. This time, he was ready; he would go for it and ask her out. Their connection was strong, and he'd been attracted to her since he first saw her. Finally, things were aligning.

As he entered the clinic, his heart sank. He did not see Y/N anywhere among those receiving treatment. He knew it was the right day, the same as it had always been. Checking his watch once more, he frowned. Turning to the receptionist's desk, he gave his name and signed in on the sheet. While the woman behind the desk typed on her computer, he took a moment to glance over the sign-in sheet, not seeing her name anywhere.

Maybe she had other things going on and had to reschedule her appointment. Jared forced back his despondency, deciding to show up earlier the following week. As he sat through his donation, his mind overthinking in circles and lamenting her absence, the most primal side of his inner Alpha began to wake for the first time in years.

-

Jared tried to focus on the paperwork at his desk, but he was restless, his inner Alpha rising to the forefront increasingly with each passing day. He could feel Jensen's eyes boring into him, but he did his best to ignore it. Jensen was increasingly concerned as he watched his Alpha friend unravel before him. He wasn't even sure Jared was aware of the huffs and growls falling from his lips sporadically, his scent permeating everything around him.

"What?" Jared growled at his friend and co-worker with bared teeth. At Jensen's raised brow, Jared tried to compose himself. "I'm sorry."

"Man, I've never seen you like this," Jensen said. "Not even after Gen."

"I know," Jared responded defensively, trying not to bristle at the mention of his former mate.

"Have you seen Y/N lately?"

Jensen didn't want to bring her up, but she hadn't been in jail in weeks. While grateful for that, he could see how badly it affected Jared not to see or be around her.

"She wasn't at the clinic," Jared mumbled, seeing Jensen's curious look. Remembering no one knew, he decided to talk it out with a friend. "She goes to the clinic for Omega treatment," he explained. "I've seen her when I go for donations, but she wasn't there this week."

"Look, I don't want you snapping my head off. But you're different around her, and now that she's not around, you're not looking great. I thought it was just a crush, but maybe you've imprinted," Jensen said as Jared scowled. "Maybe she's yours."

Jared tried to ignore how those words affected him, making him purr at the thought of her being his. He'd entertained the idea himself, the fantastical notion of True Mates. He tried to brush it off as silly, immature musings. But now, hearing Jensen vocalize the same thoughts, Jared wondered if maybe it wasn't just childish notions grounded in something genuine.

When Jared didn't speak and returned to work, Jensen let it go. However, he was determined to keep an eye on his friend and help if needed. He didn't want to see Jared spin out like he did when he lost his mate, Gen. Maybe Jared and Y/N could save each other from a fate worse than death.

-

As promised to himself, Jared returned to the clinic the following week, an hour before he or Y/N were usually scheduled to be there. He sat and waited, completed his donation, and waited another hour beyond the end of his appointment.

But Y/N never showed.

His Alpha was beginning to spin out of his control. A control he maintained so tightly and with relative ease most of his life was now being stripped away in his worry over Y/N. An Omega. One that his Alpha wanted to claim as its own.

He continued going to work each day, both happy and sad that she was never there. He visited the clinic daily to see if her schedule had changed, but she was absent. He briefly entertained the idea of showing up at her door, but he stopped himself. As much as he may care about and want her, she wasn't his Omega. She wasn't his anything, and he had no right to show up. If anything, she might consider it an abuse of his knowledge or power as a deputy, and he certainly didn't want that either.

By the time of his next appointment, Jared was a mess. His Alpha was now at the forefront. He felt almost on the cusp of a rut and wasn't due for some time. The looks from the hospital staff irritated him further as he huffed and stomped his way into the clinic, wiping the ever-present sweat from his brow. It took all he had to contain himself when Dr. Collins refused his weekly donation and sent him home.

He decided to call out of work that night, his rut on the cusp, his Alpha barely restrained. He never called out of work, keeping himself to a strict and disciplined schedule and lifestyle - his way of controlling the beast.

Jared was interrupted from his musings by the phone ringing. He scowled, checking the ID and seeing it was the station. He laid back on the couch with a groan, wiping the sweat from his brow before answering.

"I told you I was too sick to come in tonight," Jared nearly growled.

"I know. But your lady friend found herself locked up again." It was Jensen. "She wanted me to call you."

That had him sitting upright, clutching the phone a little tighter. "She okay?" he asked, jumping up from the couch and rushing to put on his shoes.

"Drunk," Jensen sighed into the phone. "Not as lively as usual, though."

Jared slammed his door as he hastened to his truck, eager to see her and hoping she was okay. His Alpha was chomping at the bit.

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

God, he couldn't be anything but happy she was alive. He slowly drove himself mad for weeks, wondering if he'd missed his chance. Maybe she was going feral, and he couldn't help. Perhaps he did something to piss her off, and she was avoiding him. But now, at least, he knew she was alive and out in the world and asking for HIM. His Alpha puffed with pride, ready to answer his Omega's call.

He barely had the truck in park before hopping out, his long legs marching hurriedly to the station doors. He banged on the glass of the locked front door with an open palm, shuffling from foot to foot as he waited for entry. The bright lights around the law enforcement facility thoroughly polluted the dark of night.

As the door opened, Jared met Jensen's eyes, which roamed him from head to toe and back again. Jared squirmed under the scrutiny, knowing he was a mess. His hair was wild and matted with sweat. His clothes and body were drenched in pheromones, making Jensen's nose crinkle.

"You good?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jared nodded and swallowed hard, taking several breaths to try and calm himself.

Jensen hesitated momentarily, eyeing Jared warily before huffing and letting him in. Jared followed hot on his heels as Jensen unlocked doors and led the way into the holding cell.

Jared froze as soon as his eyes landed on her. She was huddled in the corner, looking far worse than he'd ever seen her. She was undoubtedly drunk, but by the smells permeating every corner of the room, he knew it was more than just alcohol that was making her so lethargic.

"Y/N?" he called out loudly as he clung to the bars.

She stirred and grunted but didn't respond beyond that. Jared's nostrils flared, his Alpha ready to pry the bars apart to get to her.

"Omega?" he whimpered under his breath as if saying it were a delicate secret.

Hearing her title, she sat up slightly, fluttering open her eyes to lock on the source. She took a deep breath at the slight whine from the Alpha on the other side of the bars. As her vision cleared and her body filled with his scent, she rose, stumbling to him. When her smaller hands clutched at the bars, he automatically moved to cover hers with his own, drawing a small whimper from the fragile Omega.

"Sorry, Padadeputy," she smirked, finally meeting his eyes. "I didn't have anyone else to call."

He could see unspoken pain in her eyes, could sense just how bad her condition had gotten and how worse she was making it from drinking. He reluctantly released her, stepping back from the bars and turning to Jensen.

"Let her out," Jared asked but with a commanding Alpha edge. "I'll take her home."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Jensen protested.

"I don't care what you think," Jared growled. "I'm taking her home where she can sleep it off. You don't know her condition, man."

"And you do?" Jensen asked surprisingly calmly, though his look was anything but.

"Yes, I do," Jared stood tall, squaring his shoulders. "I won't hurt her."

Jensen was still hesitant. But in the end, he trusted his friend. Jared had always been thoughtful and in control in a way Jensen envied. If he could trust anyone with her care, it was Jared. Besides, whatever the Hell was going on with her, she'd certainly do better at home than in a cold, concrete cell.

With a nod and a huff, Jensen relented, turning to the cell door and opening it up, letting Y/N out.

She smiled at Jensen, "Thank you, Ocifer Ankles." She grinned, making Jensen roll his eyes.

"Just get her home safe, okay?"

"Promise," Jared nodded, wrapping an arm around Y/N to steady her as they left the building and walked to his truck.

He secured her safely in the passenger's seat, closed the door, and jogged to the driver's side. He hopped in and started up the truck but leaned back in his seat with a huff, taking a deep breath.

He turned to Y/N, surprised to find her already looking at him. "You called for me," he breathed out, more a statement than a question.

"Well, I didn't have your number," she fidgeted with her hands. “I didn't know anyone else and wanted to go home."

"I haven't seen you in weeks-"

He stopped as her hand landed on his, squeezing lightly. "I'm sorry," she said. “I'll explain everything. Please, take me home."

He agreed, guiding the truck onto the road and quickly remembering the route to her house. He may not have gone there, but he traveled the path in his mind often enough. He was pleasantly surprised that she held his hand the whole ride, even if her attention was on the passing scenery.

Parking in the driveway, they both got out. Y/N quickly took Jared by the hand again as she led him into her house. Guiding him to the couch, she went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He was already missing her touch and warmth, her presence beside him. He fought the urge to wander into the kitchen and forced himself to sit on the couch.

She knew there was a lot to tell him. She could tell he was riled, and she wasn't entirely surprised. During his visits, they talked and grew more familiar, and Y/N began to entertain the thought of having an Alpha. It was hard for her not to see him in weeks, and she could see that it also affected him.

Pouring the coffee into two mugs, she carried them to the living room, handing Jared one before sitting on the couch facing him.

"Jared," she started, and he purred at hearing his name from her lips. "I'm sorry if I made things awkward by calling you."

"What?" he said, setting his mug on the small table and paying attention to her. "You didn't. I'm glad you called."

She smiled bashfully, "I'm sorry I haven't been to treatment in a while."

"What happened, Y/N?" he asked, still worried but needing to know why she was gone.

"My heat's trying to break through," she explained. "It's been a long time since I've had one because of medications. It didn't hit fully, but what started to break through was enough to make me sick."

Jared's breathing picked up as he listened to her words. His Alpha was going into a panic again. He knew something was wrong. If it was her heat, he could've helped. He can help.

"I was admitted to the Omega wing at the hospital," seeing him getting worked up, she tried to calm him. "They got it managed and switched my meds. It's been trying to worm to the surface for weeks."

"Eventually, it'll come back full force, though, right?" he swallowed hard at the question, knowing full well how painful and possibly fatal a heat for her could be. He had thoroughly researched her condition, and it only made him more sure they met for a reason.

"I've never had an Alpha, Jared. I've never even been with one before." 

He let out a deep growl at her statement, which was more a call to her womanhood than something scary. He wasn't fully aware he'd done it until he saw her body respond. Taking a chance and testing the waters, she set her cup on the table and scooted closer to him. Leaning in, she lay her head on his chest, her arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. She breathed in deeply, blatantly scenting him and humming in satisfaction and comfort.

Jared set his mug aside and wrapped his arms around her, tucking her close. He leaned down to scent her hair as she breathed in his scent, an involuntary groan ripping from his lips. In his youth, he would have been eager to take and claim. Now, there was only calm and peace, her scent and warmth soothing the primal beast within.

"You know I had an Omega before," Jared's voice rumbled in his chest. "It shames me to say this, but it never felt like this."

"I know what you mean," she responded, squeezing him a little, making him hold her closer. “I've never felt such compatibility before. I can usually resist Alphas, but with you…"

True mates, Jared's mind offered, but he remained silent. As the conversation quieted, he moved to retrieve the remote from the table, putting something on to watch until she was ready to sleep. It didn't take long for her to pass out. Jared carefully moved, scooping her into his arms and carrying her to her bedroom. He tucked her under the covers, standing over her as she settled into comfort.

He knew this was when he should leave but he couldn't move his feet. His eyes drifted over Y/N’s face, settled peacefully in slumber, before looking over her shape and form, hidden by the covers. She was beautiful, her scent sweet and enticing. His muscles twitched as he fought the urge to crawl beside her, his Alpha yearning to make her his.

He could leave, he supposed, and he probably should. But he didn't want to, and he reasoned that Y/N probably needed someone to look after her anyway. So, returning to the living room, he kicked off his shoes and settled on the couch. He was asleep in a matter of minutes, her scent surrounding him and providing him with much-needed comfort.

-

Jared woke suddenly in the middle of the night, a second of confusion clouding his mind before he realized why he had woken. Drenched in sweat, he discovered his rut had finally broken in his relaxed state. Although he could smell himself—sweating in the same clothes for two days and soaked once more—her delectable scent still permeated everything.

Now fully awake, he sat upright on the couch, cradling his aching head. His Alpha was desperate to go to her, sneak into her room, and ease their suffering. But he also didn't want to scare her or ruin what they were starting to develop between them. He wouldn't let himself lose control with her. But if he stayed there much longer, the choice might be taken from him.

Mind made up, he searched for a scrap of paper and something to write with, hastily jotting down his number and that he'd see her at the next treatment appointment the following day. He placed the note on the coffee table and forced his feet towards the door. He paused with his hand on the handle, his forehead leaning against the cool door. His Alpha was screaming at him not to do this or leave her.

With his last bought of strength and willpower, he opened the door, shutting it quietly behind him as he forced his feet toward his truck, hoping to sleep it off at home.

-

When she woke in the morning, she felt awful. She knew right away that her heat had broken. She feared this would be the one the doctor had warned her about - the one that would drive her feral. She could faintly smell Jared, and her body forced her to crawl from the bed and towards the source.

She stumbled to the living room like a zombie on automatic. She was surprised not to find him there when she reached the couch. Maybe he was in the bathroom? She glanced at the coffee table, seeing a paper. Dashing to grab it, she read the hastily scribbled note from Jared.

He had to go but would see her at her next appointment. That was tomorrow afternoon. Her Omega whined in protest of his absence. His scent lingered, and she crawled onto the couch, wrapping herself in the throw and drowning in his potent scent. It seemed to seep into everything fabric he touched and slept upon.

As Jared's rich, Alpha scent filled her lungs, her heat slammed into her with a ferocity that terrified her. The pain compounded with heartbreak over the perceived rejection from his departure. His scent ramped up her body from desire to urgent need as a pitiful whine escaped her parted lips.

With hazy images in her mind's eye, her hand wandered down her body and between her thighs, desperate for any form of relief from the burning within her. She came hard with Jared's name on her lips but was still unsatisfied and yearning. Already feeling tired and drained, she forced her fingers to continue, her wetness more than she'd ever felt before. A brief, alarming worry flashed through her before a second climax erased all thought. Again, it wasn't quite enough, but it eased her pain just enough for her to fall asleep.

-

Jared rushed toward the clinic doors, his heart racing. Ever since he'd left Y/N's house, he'd been itching to see her again, to just be near her. He'd showered twice and doused himself in scent blockers, knowing they wouldn't let him stay if he was in a rut. But he'd promised to see her. He couldn't donate in his condition, but he could keep her company and show her he could be trusted.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Jared walked into the clinic, his eyes flitting about, looking for her. He didn't see or scent her anywhere. Glancing at the clock, he reviewed the sign-in sheet, but her name was not listed. A sinking dread filled his stomach, and he was unaware of his worried Alpha scent growing and filling the space, drawing unwanted attention.

Jared rechecked his phone, but there were no calls or texts. He sent Y/N a text as he began to panic. Maybe he shouldn't have left. Maybe he should go to her house and see if she was okay. His spiraling panic had amped his rut again, the blockers now useless against the many emotions and pheromones clogging the air.

Nurse Benedict - a small but kind man - approached him warily, and Jared looked around to see him drawing attention.

"Hey, Jared," he spoke calmly with a soft smile. "You shouldn't be here in your condition."

Jared could see several patients eyeing him warily, and he knew he was making them uncomfortable.

"I—I'm sorry," he apologized and reluctantly forced himself to leave. The familiar voice of Dr. Collins stopped him at the door.

"Jared?"

Misha had just stepped off the elevators leading to the hospital. Jared's nostrils flared, and his pupils dilated as he caught Y/N's scent from the smaller male. His rut was still simmering under the surface, and her scent on another man—regardless of whom—exacerbated it. 

The Alpha within gained the upper hand as Jared rushed Misha, pinning him against the wall with his forearm across the smaller male’s throat, baring his teeth in warning as he growled. 

“Where is she?”

“Who?” Misha squeaked, urging Jared to loosen his hold enough for him to speak. “Who are you looking for, Jared?”

“Y/N. Where is Y/N? I can smell her all over you. Did you touch what’s mine?” 

Misha knew Jared was deep into his rut. Moreover, his apparent instincts over Y/N further confirmed his suspicions about the pair. 

“Dr. Collins,” Nurse Benedict said, and Misha raised his hand to urge him to stay back. “Should I call security?”

“No. Thank you, Rob. We’re fine. Just need a little space to talk, is all.”

Misha remained calm as Nurse Benedict backed away, leaving him and Jared alone. Jared relaxed and released Misha, a part of him sensing his anger was misplaced. 

"Is she here?" Jared growled, unable to maintain pleasantries. 

Even his logical mind screamed that he was her doctor, for crying out loud. Dr. Collins looked Jared up and down before glancing down the hallway to see Nurse Benedict still watching the scene.

"Come with me," Misha insisted, gesturing for Jared to follow him onto the elevator. Pressing the floor button, the elevator doors closed, leaving the two men alone. "She's on the Omega treatment floor; she was brought in the middle of the night by ambulance."

Guilt slammed into him hard; he knew he shouldn't have left. He was trying to be respectful, but it may have been what sent her there. He couldn't lose her. Not when he'd finally let himself believe they could have something.

The bell chimed, indicating they'd reached their floor as the doors opened again. Jared followed Y/N's doctor in silence. He wasn't her Alpha and wouldn't be allowed to see her or even be on the floor, especially in his condition. But he trusted Misha and didn't want to get thrown out. So he stayed quiet and followed a very close step behind.

Jared tried to tamper down his Alpha as the overwhelming scents of Omegas and their Alphas assaulted him. While he could scent they mainly were bonded, the pheromones had him wanting to fight or fuck it out.

“Dr. Collins?”

A brunette female doctor greeted Misha as they stopped in the hall. Her gaze flicked over Jared questioningly before returning to Misha in confusion. Jared was finding it difficult to control himself when they reached the floor, and everyone was looking at him or scurrying away, his scent potent and alarming.

“Dr. Rhodes,” Misha greeted with a smile. “This is Jared. We’re here for Y/N Y/L/N.”

Dr. Rhodes was slightly concerned and upset over the situation, not to mention the visible marks on Misha’s neck. She was almost sure this was a dangerous Alpha and her colleague was being coerced. Pulling a syringe stealthily from her coat pocket, Dr. Rhodes attempted to inject Jared with a sedative. Jared was too quick - years of police training made him ever aware of possible danger - and he pinned her to the wall, just like he had with Misha, growling and squeezing her wrist until she cried out in pain and dropped the syringe.

“Jared, let her go.”

Expecting Misha, Jared was surprised to see Jensen beside him, still in uniform. Jared eased his grip, glancing at Misha and seeing the fear in his eyes. He forced himself to release the doctor and backed away from her, his eyes flashing between her and Dr. Collins. Dr. Rhodes rubbed her aching wrist as she eyed Jared warily.

“What are you doing here?” 

“I came in with the ambulance after the emergency call,” Jensen explained, trying to control his anger. “I let her go home with you, and then I get a call there’s an emergency at her house. I thought you lost control like in the past and possibly did something.”

By the time he finished speaking, Jensen’s shoulders slumped, knowing his words would strike a chord with his friend. Jared was certainly pissed and hurt at the insinuation.

“I left because I didn’t want to force her into anything. I was losing my mind, and I left,” Jared yelled, tugging at his hair in frustration. His arms dropped to his sides, and he started to cry. “I did this to her by leaving. This is my fault.”

Jared dropped to his knees and cried into his hands. He tried to do the right thing by her, but she ended up hurt anyway. Jensen tried to comfort him, helping him to his feet. Jared wiped his eyes and struggled to control his emotions.

“Please,” Jared turned to Doctors Rhodes and Collins. “Please let me see her. She needs me, and I can fix this.”

“She’s unmated,” Dr. Rhodes snapped. “We can’t have an unmated Alpha in a rut here.”

“He’s her donor.”

“Excuse me?” Jared and Dr. Rhodes spoke at the same time.

Jared was just as surprised at Misha’s words; he and Dr. Rhodes both anticipated Dr. Collins's response.

“Y/N’s body rejected everything we gave her until she received Jared’s enzymes. It’s what has kept her alive this long. They are highly compatible.”

Highly compatible—a modern, scientific term to replace the adage of ‘True Mates.’ As Dr. Collins and Dr. Rhodes argued over professionalism and ethics, Jared’s mind tuned them out. Y/N was his—he just knew it, and she needed him. He couldn’t fathom losing another mate; he would surely go feral.

As they continued debating, Jared slipped away. In a trance, he let his nose and instincts guide him, finding Y/N’s room with ease. He entered the room, glancing back at the doctors before mostly closing the door behind him.

The sight of her lying in bed, covered in sweat and groaning in pain, broke his heart. But the luscious scent of her heat called out to him, drawing him closer until he stood beside her bed.

“Omega,” he breathed out, more of a growl that made her body jerk and her eyes flutter open with a groan.

“Jared?” she weakly asked, shuddering from cramps and fever.

Jared took her hand, the heat of her skin scorching. She sighed, and her body relaxed. After only a few moments, he watched in amazement as her vitals settled to something more normal, though her scent grew more potent.

“You left,” she croaked, pulling her hand from his hold, making him frown. “You rejected me.”

Jared was horrified, her perceived rejection making his heart clench painfully.

“No,” he insisted, retaking her hand and urging her to look at him, “No, Omega. I would never reject you. I didn’t want to take advantage.”

Drs. Rhodes and Collins entered the room, and Jared looked sheepish and caught but refused to move from Y/N’s side.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t be in here without authorization,” Dr. Rhodes spoke, Misha just beside her.

Jensen appeared again, grabbing Jared by the arm and trying to lead him from the room, “I’m sorry, Jared. I have to take you out of here. Don’t make it difficult, okay?”

“I’m an authorized donor,” Jared thought quickly on his feet. “You said she was getting my enzymes, right?” he spoke, fighting against Jensen’s hold.

“We could do a direct enzyme infusion,” Misha suggested to his colleague. “Kim, we have to do something. He can help.”

“The infusion would help,” Dr. Rhodes offered. 

“No,” Y/N spoke again. “I’m a broken and rejected Omega. I don’t want to go through this anymore.”

“Maybe we can give them a chance to talk?” Dr. Collins spoke with his colleague, seeing she was at least considering. No one wanted to see someone die because they couldn’t be matched or mated. 

“We should run tests,” Dr. Rhodes offered with a sigh, both Misha and Jared relieved she seemed to be on board finally.  “If they are compatible, they should mate as soon as possible.”

Jared was grateful they were bending the rules. As they all left the room, Jared felt the urgency of convincing Y/N that they could do this - could mate and be together if she wanted.

Holding her hand firmly in his, he cupped her cheek with his other hand, urging her to look at him. He took a moment to caress and soak in her features and scent.

“I left because you smelled so good I was afraid I’d lose control and do something you didn’t want. But I would very much like to be your Alpha.”

“I woke up, and I scented you,” Y/N explained. “But you weren’t there. I lay on the couch. I needed your scent.”

She fought back tears, and Jared did his best to soothe her from his position.

“The idea of having an Alpha, of belonging to them, terrifies me. I never wanted it, and now I’m paying for that. But then you came along, and I wasn’t afraid. I was drawn and curious but never afraid.” 

She let her tears fall then but smiled warmly at Jared, squeezing his hand.  Jared’s heart swelled. He shouldn’t have left, but now he’d get a second chance.

“Will you let me claim you?” He asked, needing to be bonded with her and knowing her body needed it too.

Before she could respond, two Beta nurses entered with Dr. Rhodes behind them, “So, are we doing the transfusion?”

Y/N and Jared held each others’ gaze for a long moment before Y/N turned to the doctor.

“Yes.”

Y/N looked back to Jared, who kissed her hand and moved into a chair beside the bed. The nurses set up IVs and a machine to feed Jared’s enzymes to stabilize her.

“As soon as possible,” Jared whispered just for her, “I’ll get you home and take care of you.”

The implications of his promise made her shiver. The staff left them alone while the transfusion was going on. However, after several minutes, Y/N looked like she was about to pass out as the alarms started blaring. Jared was out of his seat and at her side in a flash, cupping her face and trying to rouse her. The nurses and doctor rushed in, pushing Jared back into his chair as they checked her over. Her scent blossomed, almost choking him, and he detected the bitter tones of her heat on the verge of turning feral.

“The transfusion isn’t enough,” Dr. Rhodes explained to Jared.

“She needs a claim,” he understood, his feet pulling him closer to her. “Can I take her home?”

He couldn’t lose her, and he couldn’t survive losing another mate. He felt blessed at having found her, but now he felt cursed to know only loss. He knew it would save her if he could mate and claim her.

“She’s not stable enough to leave,” the doctor explained. “But I can secure the room and give you privacy,” she offered instead.

Jared could only nod, his Alpha ready to care for his mate, his scent informing all others to keep their distance. The doctor rushed off, giving Jared a wide berth and securing the door behind her as promised.

“Y/N?” Jared urged, trying to get her to focus on him, to at least hear him. “Omega?”

His voice was tinged with both whine and growl as he let his instincts guide him. He leaned down over Y/N and kissed her chaste but deeply.

“Alpha,” she whispered as her body sought him out.

“My true mate,” he whispered back reverently. “Not how I wanted this to go, but I can’t lose you. Need to mate and claim you.”

She shook her head, fighting to stay coherent and awake as the heat raced through her body. Her utter desperation for the Alpha before her was the only thing tethering her to wakefulness. 

“It’s too fast,” she protested, a tiny sliver of rationality clinging to her consciousness. 

“You’re dying,” he responded bluntly. “You would have had to have someone assigned as your mate. We’ll never get to know each other if you’re dead. I can’t let that happen when I can help you.” He held her face in his hands, his forehead pressed to hers. “Omega, please.”

“Jared,” she breathed, giving in to her body’s needs and tilting her head to kiss him. He responded in kind, his Alpha chomping to make her his. “Alpha, please. Need you. Need-”

Her voice trailed off as a painful cramp seized hold, making her whine and whimper. Jumping to action, Jared removed his shoes and hastily removed his clothes, leaving him in his boxer briefs. He pulled down the blankets and pushed up her hospital gown to her stomach. Her folds glistened in the harsh light, her scent potent and slamming into him hard. He breathed deep, his body shuddering.

Crawling on the bed to hover over her, she automatically spread her legs, Jared’s hand finding her core. Slipping two fingers inside, he groaned, feeling her soaked and more than ready for him.

She whined and squirmed, the fever taking hold. Jared would have reveled in her desperation and submission, but now was not the time or place. He removed her clothes and climbed on the small bed, settling between her legs and pulling the covers over them for modesty.

His hard and heavy cock twitched eagerly against her hot and drenched folds. Without hesitation, he slid within her, groaning at the delectable feel of her heat wrapped around him. She whimpered again, and he shushed her, kissing her sweet as he began to move.

It was desperate and clinical, feeding primal needs and alleviating both their near-feral biologies. Y/N still felt better than anyone he’d ever had, and he promised himself the romance would come later when they were both safely out of danger.

“Alpha,” she called out, her legs spreading wider, letting Jared slide even deeper. “Alpha, need your knot!”

Jared groaned long and deep, burying his face in her neck as he picked up his pace. The small bed creaked with his every movement. Her hands on his ass, pulling him even closer, reminded him of her desperation and his own.

“Gonna knot and mark you, Omega,” he warned, his knot already swelling, making it more challenging to fuck her how they needed. Feeling her grow close, he slipped a hand between them, rubbing tight and fast circles on her clit.

Her body tensed, right on the edge, and Jared could no longer hold off.

“Omega,” he groaned, his knot popping and locking them together.

As his teeth sank into her neck, marking her as his and bonding them, she came loud and hard, gushing around his knot.

They both lay panting, waiting for Jared’s knot to recede. Jared licked and kissed her wound, allowing his instincts to guide him, his heart full in a way he never thought possible after his loss. Once his knot released, he moved from the bed, dressed, and cleaned them up. When done, Y/N slept, and Jared ran to get someone to check to ensure she was okay.

He knew she would need more than one round to heal, but he hoped he could take her home, where it would be more comfortable and private. Jared rushed out of the room to find Drs. Rhodes and Collins who paused their speech when they saw him.

“Is everything alright?” Dr. Rhodes looked concerned.

“She’s sleeping,” Jared offered.

“I’ll just go check on her.”

Jared followed into Y/N’s room, and Dr. Collins was close behind. They both stood by patiently as Dr. Rhodes examined Y/N.

“She seems better,” Dr. Rhodes announced. “I’ll need to draw some blood, and we’ll need to keep her for observation for a few hours.”

Jared tensed but nodded. He didn’t want to be in the hospital any longer than necessary and just wanted to get her into a comfortable bed where he could tend to her every need and bring her back to life. But he could force himself to wait a few more hours for Y/N’s sake. He’d rather know she was stabilized before he removed her from the place that could save her if something went wrong. 

“Try to get some rest,” Misha insisted as Y/N’s blood was drawn. “You both need your strength.”

Once again, they were left alone, the door secured behind them. It was easier to control his instincts now that they were bonded, but it still took effort to restrain himself from those having to touch or go near his mate.

Jared took residence in his chair again, scooting it as close as possible to the bed so he could hold Y/N’s hand as she slept. He laid his head on her belly, watching her as she slumbered. It wasn’t long before he drifted off to sleep with her.

-

It took half a day and a second round before Y/N was stable enough to leave the hospital. The second she was wheeled outside—per hospital protocol—Jared scooped her from the chair into his arms and carried her to his waiting truck, tucking her safely inside.

Y/N was more than surprised when Jared pulled into her home's driveway. She expected as an Alpha - and her Alpha - that he’d want her in his space. Most Alphas were territorial in that way. Before she could vocalize a word, Jared was out of the truck and at her side, carrying her in his arms again towards her front door.

“I wanted you to be comfortable,” he explained as he opened her door. She was surprised he had her keys, but she supposed she was pretty out of it and was grateful she had someone looking out for her. “I figured you’d want to be in your space for now.”

It would take some getting used to. But as her eyes trailed over Jared’s body as he stood from laying her on the couch, she was thankful to have been blessed with such an attractive and caring mate. But her mood was soured as she smelled herself, a mix of her heat, sex, and not having showered in a couple of days.

“I want a shower,” she whined, her stomach gurgling loudly. “And something to eat.”

“Okay,” Jared readily agreed, ready to help her off the couch. “Why don’t we shower first, and then I’ll make us something to eat?”

“Jared,” she protested. “You don’t have to.”

“You’re my mate, Y/N,” he gently argued. “Please, Omega, let me take care of you?”

He pulled her to her feet, his arms wrapped around her securely. She swooned at his rich and calming scent as he quietly purred to soothe her.

“Yes, Alpha.” She smiled warmly at him, and Jared gave in to his urge to kiss her.

In the hospital, she was so out of it that she could barely remember them mating, let alone his kiss. She could feel the pulse in her neck from his bite, reminding her it was real. She imagined he was as gone as her when they mated, the urgency overriding all else. Now, however, she could savor his kiss - a kiss that was making her swoon so hard her legs gave out. Luckily, he was swift to scoop her into his arms once again. 

Jared had wanted this - wanted her - for so long since he had first scented her. The first time, he was in the local bar on a rare night out. He had caught her scent wafting over all the others, calling to his inner Alpha that had been dormant for many years. He followed his nose, intent on finding the source. As soon as he laid eyes on her, his heart stuttered. But she left before he could ever approach her.

The second time he saw her, she was locked in the drunk tank. He had reported for an overnight shift and was briefed on the persons in holding. That’s when he learned her name. He spent the entire night with a watchful eye, her scent driving him mad with want. 

Y/N’s second visit to the drunk tank was his third time seeing her, and they spent most of that time in friendly chatting. That’s when Jared began to wonder if he could ever have a chance with this stunning Omega that called to him. It was also the first time he wondered what demons had led her to drink and be locked up. That’s when he tried to rid himself of the idea of her as ever being his. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake her from his mind, her scent ingrained in him.

As he set her down in the bathroom and turned on the shower, Y/N began stripping her dirty and sweat-soaked clothes. When Jared turned back around, finally satisfied with the water temperature, Y/N was naked and smiling shyly. He couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming her nude body, finally able and allowed to view and appreciate every inch of her - and appreciate he did.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he breathed heavily, removing his clothes as he watched her eyes devour him in turn. “My Omega.”

A shiver ran through Y/N’s body at Jared’s Alpha tone, laced with his desire for her. They both took their time appreciating each other's bodies. Y/N had never seen a man so fit and toned or a cock so large and - frankly - beautiful, which is something she never thought she’d say. 

As another wave of her heat ramped up, she trusted Jared to help her. Y/N’s mind was foggy, and her body focused only on her basic needs. She could barely stand on her own in the shower. She could smell Jared’s delicious scent all around her, already mingling with hers. His hands, large and warm, delicately cleansed and caressed her skin.

After showering, he dried her down, and she slipped on a silky robe that barely covered her ass but was lightweight and didn’t irritate her frazzled skin. Jared threw on his boxers and t-shirt, knowing she’d need him again soon and not wanting too many layers in their way.

He left her on the couch, searching her kitchen for something to feed them. He opted for eggs and toast, something easy to make and eat. As he gathered the needed items, he noted that there were bottles everywhere he turned. Some bottles were empty, some half full or waiting to be opened. He was more than worried and knew he’d have to ask her about it. Maybe he could help her.

Bringing the plates to the living room, Jared handed her one as he sat on the couch beside her. He observed her as they ate, more than happy that she liked it and ate it all. Without a word, he gathered their dishes and neatly placed them on the coffee table. He planned to wash them at some point, but he needed to confront her about the drinking finally.

“Y/N?” Jared began cautiously, grateful when she eagerly met his gaze. “I don’t want to tell you how to live your life or try to control you; I’m not that kind of Alpha,” he started, her brow furrowed as he continued. “It’s just…all the drinking, the bottles everywhere, ending up in the drunk tank. I’m worried and want to help if you let me.”

She dropped her gaze to her lap as she nodded her head. She had expected it to come up at some point. After all, it was a prominent part of her life lately, and she worried it was all Jared really knew about her from being locked up so much. 

Y/N could only feel safety and comfort from Jared, no judgment or anger. Their bond was new and raw, but she was grateful that she could feel him and knew it was okay to be honest. She met his eyes again and smiled reassuringly.

“For a while, it was the only way I could escape the pain, at least for a little while—mental, emotional, physical pain over my whole situation. I never wanted to be tied to a mate. I didn’t want to be matched to someone I didn’t love or know just to stay alive. I didn’t want to die or hurt myself;  I just wanted to escape. I don’t need to drink, and I never really enjoyed it either. I want to give it up.”

Jared had expected at least a small argument or fight, not immediate acceptance. He placed a hand on top of hers, needing to feel her and reassure her. She flashed him that soft smile again and squeezed his hand back. Now, he felt like she was the one comforting him.

“I mean it,” she insisted. “I fought against this whole thing, but now that we’re mated, I am happy and content. I’m happy it’s you, and I know being mated to you will heal the pain. My health and mood will improve,” She laughed to herself. “It feels so stupid that I fought against it so much. It’s better than I ever thought it could be to be mated to you.”

He couldn’t help it as he leaned in, cupping her cheek and kissing her deeply. To know that she genuinely wanted him as much as he wanted her, after everything and how she felt, she was more than just okay with him claiming her. She was happy; she wanted it, and he wanted her.

Y/N kissed him hungrily, pushing him back into the couch and crawling into his lap as she demanded more. Jared wrapped his arms around her, moaning as she ground her bare, wet folds against his clothed cock. He hastily undid the tie of her robe, brushing it off her shoulders and to the ground. When his hands found her warm flesh, he hummed in satisfaction.

She ground her hips into him as she devoured his mouth, desperate for her Alpha, her heat ramping up again, far from satiated. She ran her hands down his chest and whined at the t-shirt that obscured her from his flesh. Jared caught on quickly, breaking the kiss long enough to pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. Her fingers trailed over his torso, exploring his flesh as she kissed him deep again.

Her grinding was riling him up quicker than he’d anticipated, her scent and neediness, the desperate sounds she was making, all colliding into a perfect storm that aroused him to no end. But he’d promised her that he’d mate her properly when they were home, and that’s precisely what he intended to do.

Scooping her into his arms, Jared stood and carried Y/N toward the bedroom, finding it hard to focus as she continued grinding against him and nibbling at the sensitive spots on his neck. 

“Naughty little Omega,” Jared playfully chastised as he slapped her ass. She gasped and ground against him harder. “Oh, you are naughty, aren’t you?”

Stepping into the room, he laid her on the bed and removed his boxers before he crawled over her with a smirk. 

“Oh, maybe we can play Cops and Robbers, and you can punish me, Padadeputy,” she teased with a sultry smirk. 

Jared growled and kissed her hard with teeth and tongue, “Next time,” he promised. “I have something else in mind,” he added as he pulled back and rolled her to her stomach. “Promised to claim you proper.”

She attempted to rise and present, but he placed a large hand on her lower back, keeping her flat and prone on the bed. He bent one of her knees, exposing her to him. Using his knees and thighs, he nudged her further until he could settle comfortably on top of her and between her thighs.

Y/N moaned as his weight settled on top of her, pressing her into the mattress. She was trapped beneath him, unable to move much in any way. But she wasn’t afraid. Instead, she willingly submitted to her strong and potent Alpha. 

Jared shifted his hips and slowly guided his cock into her tight and wet core. It felt like an eternity before he finally settled deep within her, moving his hips to nudge against her depths. Y/N moaned, her fingers clenched in the sheets. He was so deep, and she felt so incredibly full. 

While they had already mated, it was rushed and fevered, and she was so out of it that she didn’t remember much. Now, however, she could feel every little thing, which seemed deliciously overwhelming: from the emotions, the connection, and the sensations of him nestled inside and around her.

She squirmed desperately beneath him as much as she could. Jared nipped her shoulder, and she went still with a whine. He rewarded her by glacially pulling out and pressing in again just as slowly. She needed more and was growing ravenous, but he had other ideas.

Jared continued his slow and passionate rhythm, his hips rolling like gentle waves lapping at the shore. It felt incredible, and Y/N could feel every detail of his length as he speared her open again and again. But it wasn’t enough to take them anywhere. Instead, Jared held them in the realm of pleasure, near torture, with seemingly no end in sight. It was maddening and divine.

“Tell me how it feels,” Jared whispered as he kissed her neck and shoulders.

“Alpha.”

“Tell me,” he reiterated, nipping at her claim and making her moan.

“Feels big and deep,” she gasped, and another nip told her he wanted more. “Ugh! So thick and hot, splitting me open. Feel like you could break right through into my womb. So full,” she whined into the sheets.

Jared groaned and increased his pace, his hands exploring her body, his mouth tasting everywhere he could reach as he drove them both toward their ends. His body stilled as his knot popped, locking them together as his cum flooded her channel. He leaned in to renew his claim; even the bite was intentional and slow, and Jared savored the pop and burst as her skin broke anew. 

“You did so well, Omega,” Jared praised, shifting them to a spooning position as they waited for his knot to go down. “How are you feeling?” he asked, leaning on an elbow to look down at her.

Y/N met his eyes and marveled at the many colors present and the myriad of emotions reflected back at her. Her heart swelled, and she knew she already loved him. She never knew mating could feel like this like she had found a piece of herself she was missing. Jared was a better Alpha than she ever imagined an Alpha could be. All the pain and suffering was worth it just to find him.

“Lucky, Jared,” she smiled warmly. “I feel so damn lucky.”

FOREVERS:

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[igotanidea]

Reindeer: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

christmas bingo day 11 : reindeer

***

„Did I ever tell you-”

„You did.”

„You didn’t even let me finish!”

„It’s the beginning of December, Nikolai. Christmas is coming. You tell me the same story over and over and over every year at this time.” Y/N rolled her eyes and Nikolai only chuckled at her teasing. They were laying on the bed in his chamber, her head on his chest, his hand running up and down her arm, with the fire crackling in the fireplace and whole room illuminated by giant Christmas tree standing outside the palace.

„guilty!” Nikolai smirked „but you love this story, don’t you?”

„Hmmm....”

„Oh come on, sunshine, you love this story.” he leaned a little bit forward their faces inches apart.

„I don't know if you're trying to convince me or yourself....” she muttered

„You're such a cruel woman Y/n! Cold as ice. Breaking my heart.” He grabbed his chest in feigned offence and sighed melodramatically.

„You’re such an attention seeker, Nikolai. Besides, as a heartrender-” she started but he cut her off

„Are you trying to tell me you used your grisha skills to bewitch me?”

„This is not what -”

„Are you admitting defeat now?” He leaned even closer to her, raising an eyebrow.

„I'm not-- wait - what? This is not we were talking about!”

„Oh, you're right. We were talking about my adventures while being Sturmhond.

„How did you turn this around like this?!” she exclaimed, jumping and sitting on the bed feeling the leverage slipping from her.  

„Got you distracted by my pretty face, love.” He pecked her lips „don’t worry though. You’re not the only woman to fall for my charm.”

„Saint!” she rolled her eyes, but deep down she was enjoying this little banter. It was like their own Christmas tradition to tell/listen to Nikolai Christmas adventure from a few years before.

‘So.” he sighed and leaned on the headrest pulling her to his side. One time, back when I was a -”

„pirate!” she chuckled

„privateer!” her teasing got her a pinch of her waist in return „I travelled to Fjerda-”

„good thing you were undercover, cause if they knew you were from the Grisha country they would burn you on the stake!”

„Y/N!”

„Yes?” she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes innocently

„You’re interrupting me.”

„Am I?” her smile only grew wider as she tilted head „I’m more like.... emending”

„We’re not living in a XVI century, no one is accusing anyone of being a witch!”

„tell that to Nina” Y/N was way too familiar with the love story of her fellow heartrender. And even if the girl was teasing Nikolai, he was her treasure.

„Hm? You were saying?”

„Nothing, nothing. Please, continue”

„As I was exploring the wild, harsh land-”

„You met Santa Claus.” she finished nodding her head

„Y/N!”

„And you became best friends”

„Y/N!”

„and you rode a reindeer-” she continued casually but something changing on his face caught her attention „what?” her frown was as much an expression of confusion as of concern. It was not every day you could see Nikolai Lantsov distressed. „Kolya?”

„That one’s actually true-”

„what?!” she laughed falling on her back on the bed „you never told me that!”

„Maybe it’s because you keep interrupting me Lapushka.”

„sweet words will get you nowhere, sobachka. You only got one chance on distracting me and used it before. But seriously, you actually rode a reindeer?! How was it?!”

„Oh, now you are interested, huh?”

„come on! You already got this far Nikolai! Tell me!” she rolled on her belly, propping her head on the elbows and looking at him with eyes shining with curiosity.”

„it’s very different from riding a horse, let me tell you that.”

„Is that why you never visited Fjerda since then? Was it really such an embarrassing experience that you fear they might still remember?”

„I don’t visit them, cause that would mean being away from you, drüsje. Couldn’t stand that ever again.”

„I see some hidden language talent here.” obviously the part where Nikolai confessed to missing her while being on the sea was left without notice on purpose. For now at least.

„What can I say?” the prince brushed a strand of hair from his forehead and threw his hair back playfully „I am both handsome and gifted.”

„Is that why you couldn’t find way back home for so many years?” this was only a half-joke

„Y/N... love” he grabbed both her hands and squeezed them lovingly „milaya-”

„I know Nikolai, I know.” the way she cupped his cheek and rubbed his suddenly reddened skin make him even more remorseful about leaving her alone for so long on the mercy of Darkling and his family, who never accepted her as Nikolai’s future wife and queen of Ravka.

„I won’t leave you ever again, love.”

„You’d better not, tsarevich! And definitely not for another female!”

„What are you-?” he gave her a shocked expression, laced with hurt „Are you questioning my loyalty and affection for  you? I never-”

„did you know that Santa’s reindeer are actually females? Apparently the males loose their antlers for winter, so-”

„Are you telling me that-?”

„All the childhood stories are fake!” she made a face and waved her hands around with a eerie sound before laughing wholeheartedly „we were raised in a lie!”

Nikolai shook his head and grabbed her chin forcing her head slightly up, their eyes meeting and her laugh dying in her throat.

„I know there was at least one truth in my life since the day I met you.”

„Oh- um- I -. What was it?” she blushed involuntarily at the fire blazing in his eyes

„My feelings for you. the realest in the world.”

„Maybe that’s what brought you back to me?”

„Maybe you did bewitched me after all, my little heartrender, cause it always felt like my heart was calling your name, Y/N.”

„Since when are you a romantic?” she smiled lovingly even though her words were a bit sarcastic.

„Blame Tolya. Saints! He’s hopeless. Did I ever tell you about the time when he tried to quote poetry to Zoya?”

„I think I’m done with listening to stories-”

Well, she was wrong after all, cause they were whispering another tale to each other that night. The tale of longing and romance. Of heartbreak and being apart for too long. The novel of two lovers being reunited again.

But words were not needed while doing so.

[puffcap-factory]

Echoes of Silent Respite

(Yone x reader)

Part 2 of "Unspoken Whispers of the Heart"

Yone x reader; angst, some fluff, but still angst. 

There’s also Yasuo near the end but he’s more of a cameo. …or maybe not? 

(( Yasuo's part here! ))

Words: 2.3k

Notes: 

This story is the continuation of the previous one, set a few months (or years?) after the reader met Yone, being the azakana hunter. I decided to make this second part more from Yone’s side of perspective. Also, any unsaid details in the story are left for the reader’s interpretation. 

I kinda felt bad for Yone smh I decided to make this fic hehe.

I hope you enjoy! :D

•~•~•~•

No rest. No sleep. There is no time.

Yone trudged through the forest, panting, the weight of exhaustion evident in each step. The silent winds of the woodland breeze seemed to offer a gentle caress to his cheek as he walked, as if trying to soothe his weary soul. 

Many azakana had been running rampant throughout the lands since the war, feasting on any living being who harbored darkness inside their heart, consuming their soul and mind. He had slayed them one by one, yet more of them still seemed to manifest themselves deep in the shadows, multiplying themselves to no end.

He had no idea when this would come to an end - or if it would end at all. Let alone the quest on finding the name of the azakana that had attached itself to his face. He had been learning other azakana’s names, slaying them day by day, while hoping to learn about what he had become in the process. 

To free himself of this burden. Yone’s own determination to do that was enough to keep himself going.

But nevertheless, he’d have to admit, this responsibility of his did take a toll on his body and mind. Weariness and doubt – of when this would cease to an end – had crept into him from time to time. Especially like on this very night.

For what purpose am I given another chance to walk this land again, even after death? These thoughts did wander sometimes, as he tried to stay resolute to keep the azakana at bay.

He looked towards the forest clearing as he wandered aimlessly. A hint of orange glimmered on the horizon below the cliff, signaling the approaching sunrise. Taking a deep breath, he made his way towards the nearest opening. The dim light caused him to wince a bit, but amidst the woods, he spotted a small wooden shack just outside the forest’s edge. 

A wooden shack by a cliff, just right outside the forest clearings… 

The familiarity of the place tugged at his memory, though he couldn’t quite place it. He had wandered across the land so much that smaller details began to blur altogether.

In any case, he wished to admire the sunrise, just for today, quietly, he thought. 

He was about to walk towards the cliff when suddenly, he felt a presence that seemed to have occupied the place in front of him. Ready to retreat back into the shadows, a cat suddenly jumped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. It meowed and purred, circling and rubbing its body against his feet, seemingly fond of him.

Yone instantly recognized the creature at his feet. The white cat with sakura-colored patches of the fur, with green-colored eyes that shone like twin emeralds in the dim light, was indeed the one that had been in the dojo from back in the days. Though the cat had seemingly aged, its sense of familiarity toward him had not changed.

He was just about to crouch down to pet the old feline friend when another figure appeared in front of him, blocking his view of the sunrise.

The figure in front of him was about to unsheathe what seemed to be a dagger, its sheath kept on the left hip, but immediately relaxed their shoulders as that person took a better look at him. 

It was you. 

“We meet again, friendly stranger,” you said with a smile, your sudden warmth creeping into him, much like the sunrise that was starting to emerge out from the horizon.

He was not sure what to do at this moment, as he stood still, holding his ground. He was pretty sure he had decided that he did not want to interfere further in your life, but honestly… he had been restless. 

A fragile figure of yours, yet, had somehow decided on keeping a dagger on your side. The kind healer who had been supporting the dojo, and him. He wondered when you had picked up the way of the blade to defend yourself, as he knew for sure your ability allows you to heal pretty much anything but yourself. He had always thought that he would be the one to protect you, if a certain tragedy had not happened.

War had changed people too much.

He was standing still when the cat decided to leap back to you, purring as it circled around your feet.

“You know, she shows affection only to certain people,” you said with a tender smile as you crouched to the ground to pet the cat. “And… I think she certainly hasn’t forgotten a certain someone’s smell.”

Did you know? Yone did not dare to ask.

“Come,” you finally stood up and extended your hand towards him. “The view is nice during sunrise. You certainly wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Your warmth seeped into him and he felt as though he were ready to surrender himself to you, allowing himself to be enveloped by the warm light. And this time, he was indeed tired. Very tired. He had been wearing the mask for too long, that he was starting to forget the face beneath it, that had longed for a certain warmth.

After a moment of hesitation, Yone took your gentle hand, and you led him outside the forest. As soon as the sunlight bathed him, waves of nostalgic memory fragments hit him hard. This place did truly hold memories back from the past, as he could see the remains of the dojo not too far from the cliff. A place where he and the students would train. A place where he and you would train, albeit casually. It was a flood of bittersweet recollections, reminding him of who he used to be before the weight of the world's burdens settled on his shoulders.

You led him near a bench under the tree, just beside the shack. The abandoned structure, once filled with items for training, now appeared run-down, some parts reduced into broken logs and piles of dust. He sat on the bench, an action that had become very much foreign to him. You took a seat on his left – not too far, but not too close, while gently letting go of his hand. He kept his gaze down at his hands, still feeling the lingering warmth on his palm as the cat suddenly climbed onto his lap and curled itself up. He couldn’t help but pet it gently.

“I had put a camp near here when a dream brought me to this place. It was calling me here, and I was just as curious to find out what,” you said as you stared into the horizon as the sunlight started shining through the land. “I didn’t realize I was near the dojo until I climbed up here.” You paused, letting the nostalgic view seep into you. “...Then, I found Nora inside the shack, I thought she was the one who needed company!” You laughed lightly and glanced at the cat, who was now resting comfortably on his lap.

Was this the work of the dream fawn? He thought. He’d need to thank Lillia later. 

“I never expected to meet you here, out of all places,” you said again, with your sweet smile, glancing back at him. Yet, you seemed to mask a certain bittersweetness inside your eyes.

Yone looked away from your gaze, turning his attention to the landscape beyond the cliff, reminiscing the days he had during his training in the dojo. A memory that felt so far… buried deep within his very soul. Although he had adopted a new identity – committing himself on the safety of the realm, fighting in the darkness – he could not deny his longing for a mortal’s company. Your company.

You scanned his features as his eyes glanced back to yours. You observed him intently, a mix of worry and relief visible in your eyes. His left eye – which was not covered by the mask – lingered to your face, gaze softening at you. 

“You…,” you paused, trying to choose your words carefully as you kept your gaze on him. “I don’t know if I can still be much of a help, but…” you shifted to his side, sitting a little bit closer now. You lifted your right hand, bringing your palm up close to his cheeks. He could feel soothing magic radiating from your palms. “Here, maybe this could ease you for a bit,” you cooed.

He was taken aback at your sudden movement, but he kept his position unchanged. There was a moment of uncertainty before he finally decided to give himself up to your warm touch to his cheek, closing his eyes in the process. Your healing magic seeped into him, a gentle warmth spreading through his body. It was a familiar feeling, one that brought back memories of simpler, happier times.

For a while, he allowed himself to bask in the soothing embrace of your magic, letting go of the weight that had burdened him, even just for a while. The worries, the doubts, the weariness... they seemed to melt away, little by little, in your touch. 

“Thank you,” he said, putting his hand on top of yours as he opened his eyes. 

You smiled tenderly, your soft gaze focused on him. Without a word, you gently pulled his face towards yours, as you also leaned forward to press your forehead against his – a gesture of comfort and understanding, a silent promise passing between you two. 

“Every time the darkness wears you down,” you whispered softly, your words flowing like a gentle stream, “Come to me, I’ll always be there for you as long as I’m breathing.” 

Your voice, a soothing melody, wrapped around him like a warm embrace. Your words gave him comfort he hadn't realized he needed, a lifeline in the midst of the storm. The darkness felt less daunting, less suffocating, in the light of your presence. His eyes fluttered close as he felt a strong emotion stir within him. He breathed out, letting himself indulge into the intimacy of this moment.

How he’d wish the time to stop for the two of you right now.

You pulled away not long after, pausing momentarily before bringing your hand back to your lap. Although you tried to keep your gaze fixed on him, your eyes began to water, glistening under the sunlight. He kept your gaze, sorrow washed through him as he noticed what was coming.

No, please, don’t cry… He wouldn’t be able to bear seeing you crying now. Your sudden show of emotions made him feel as if an invisible hand was gripping tight at his heart. 

You blinked yourself twice to gather yourself together, letting your own breathing to calm down, then glanced towards Nora – the cat, who was still sleeping on top of his lap. You let a low chuckle, watching the creature who was seemingly unbothered by anything in the world.

“Your support means… everything to me,” he said softly. You turned your head towards him and beamed a smile in response.

The two of you were enjoying the serene warmth of the sun side-by-side for a moment, when suddenly, he felt another presence approaching. Nora jumped out of his lap at the same time, hissing towards a certain direction.

He could feel the wind that blows towards him, bringing another familiar figure with it.

The taste of salt in the wind - Yasuo.

“Hm?” You looked towards the source of the rustling sound, standing a bit to peek into the bushes. Seizing this opportunity, he disappeared into the shadows, back into the forest, to be unseen. You immediately turned your head towards where he had been sitting, only to find an empty spot on your side. A gentle breeze caressed your cheeks, carrying a few leaves back into the forest. You let out a bittersweet smile, realizing that he had left, but stood up to meet the man who was approaching towards you. 

“I think I’ve told you about not wandering off alone, especially before daylight,” Yasuo sighed, appearing from the bushy trails. “I’ve been searching where you’d left – h-huh!”

Nora, sensing his presence, decided to leap in front of him, hissing fiercely.

“Geez, even after years she hasn’t forgotten me, it seems like,” Yasuo chuckled awkwardly as he rubbed his neck. Nora then jumped back to the piled logs near the abandoned shack, still alert of Yasuo’s presence.

“Sorry, Yasuo,” you giggled a bit, crouching towards the cat to pet her, as if to bid her goodbye. “A dream led me here.”

“A dream huh…” Yasuo muttered, still seeming a bit dazed. He then glanced into the forest, as if sensing another presence from within.

“Let’s go, we’ll need to reach the plains before sunset today, right?” you asked, already walking in front of Yasuo. He kept his gaze still into the forest, checking.

“Right…” He stood there for a moment, facing the forest, but then shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts before following behind you, ready to continue the journey.

Yone watched them descend down the hills, a sense of relief washing over him. With Yasuo accompanying you, he knew you had someone to protect you during your travels, someone who would defend you in times of need. And as for himself… he would be watching over you from afar, protecting you from any kind of threats coming from the spirit realm.

As the sun continued its ascent, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape, he made his way back into the forest. It was time for him to continue his own journey, to face the demons that awaited in this mortal realm. 

Yone gripped his katanas in both hands, ready to move. The path he traversed would not be a short one, but with the fleeting moment the two of you had shared held firmly in his heart, he proceeded deeper into the forest shadows.

•~•~•~•

p.s. Nora means ‘stray’, as in ‘stray cat’ or ‘stray dog’ in Japanese. I did not think much about the choice of names for the cat. oops

[the-lisechen]

~5.7k. copia/f!oc. rated gen. she's a bride-to-be of christ. he's sworn in service to satan. they have dinner. 2/2

(banner and unwavering support by @enjoy-my-swearing)

find part one here and here!

say it slow and perfect, chapter 2/2 - ao3

Copia slid in the other side, and Sophie turned her head to look out the window, unprepared for just how close he was on the faux-leather bench seat. Two handbreadths away. She wasn't actually seeing anything outside, her brain gone to static and an alarm both formless and very loud. He was saying something to the driver, her brain couldn't quite process what, while old soul music warbled on the radio. Sam Cooke? Something smoother than Otis Redding, in any case. It was the perfect Lynchian touch to her unfounded panic. His sudden proximity. That cologne, leather and smoke, with an underlying sweetness that could have been vanilla or myrrh. 

He'd been speaking. He'd been speaking to her.

"--Have you been to Charleston before?"

"No." She thought she'd recovered without the lapse being immediately obvious. "No, not here. I'm from Appalachia, this here's low-country. Different flavor of south."

"Appalachia?"

"No, no. It's Apple-latch-uh. You say Appa-lay-chia, I know not to take your opinion seriously."

"Your American South, this is a strange place, I think. A country in and of itself. Certainly it is where we get the most trouble. Yet you speak of it as if you love it."

"I do. I do love it, it's home. Even if it wasn't, there isn't anywhere in America I'd rather live."

"Even with the continual human rights violations, and the racism, and the outright hatred?"

"Even with that. But that isn't--"

"--isn't all that it is, you are going to say?" His smile was sharp, but fond, she thought. 

She had to turn to look out the window, a little rueful. "Hate to be predictable, but yeah." Maybe she should have stopped herself from talking, but it was a familiar topic, and with him so close, she didn't have quite enough nerve left to restrain herself. "It fails because it's been failed. After the Civil War, the collapse of Reconstruction fucked it up real good. Things were looking up there for a little bit before the Klan really got rolling, we had a bunch of Black legislators, reparations might'a been a possibility, and then Grant backed down on his way out of office, and-- poof. But I love it. I do. The food. The history. The music. The land. The legacy of struggling for something better."

"I sense a pattern, with you," he said, and she looked back to see him watching her with mingled amusement and respect. 

"I'll allow that you might," she said, amicable and implacable. 

He took his eyes off of her, watching the city slide past, and it was a little easier to breathe. "Beautiful and beyond repair. And you won't cut your losses."

"I mean, I figure that if you're committed to harm reduction, makes sense to go to the places that've had the most harm."

"'The least of these.'"

"Yessir, that's exactly right." She sank further back into the seat. Yes, that was definitely Sam Cooke. Swing Low? or was it Mr. Soul? She couldn't place it. "Where you taking me, anyhow?"

"A restaurant, unless I am fundamentally mistaken. It should be close now, I believe it is attached to the hotel in some way."

"Sounds fancy. I don't-- am I underdressed, here? I didn't think to bring--"

"No, you're perfect," he waved her off, thankfully missing how that small turn of phrase hit her. 

She recovered after half a breath, glad he was looking off down the street. "That's kind of you. I clean up pretty fair, though this ain't cleaned up. But if you're sure."

"Ehh, I am quite certain. Ah, yes. Here." The taxi pulled up, and Sophie had a brief stutter of surprise as Copia again got out first, stepping around the cab to open her door. He made an odd aborted little movement, and Sophie realized he had meant to actually hand her out of the car, as if this was some kind of fucked up Austen novel. She found herself both charmed by the intent, and warmed by the restraint. 

She fell into step beside him, and he led her to an old storefront building, a red lantern completely overshadowed by an old hotel with an elaborate awning. The antiquated gaslight spilled over the cobblestoned street, through palm trees, magnolias. 

"Oh, this looks interesting. Where'd you find it?"

"You must let me preserve a certain air of mystery, Miss Turner."

"Would you say that you move in mysterious ways?" she asked, with a grin that could only be described as shit-eating. He groaned and she outright cackled, too delighted to be embarrassed by her decidedly inelegant laughter. Nobody was ever going to describe it as musical. 

"You are too much, signora." But he was still smiling as he held the door for her, and she had to smile back. She stepped through that leather and smoke. Best not to think about it. She took in the restaurant as he spoke to the hostess. Low light, exposed brick, pressed tin ceiling, Peggy Lee on vinyl. A whole Vibe. She decided she liked it. 

A voice broke through her woolgathering. "--have your reservation. If you'll come this way, sir?"

Copia reached out to her, stopping short of cupping her elbow. "You will like this, I think."

She followed, scoping out elaborate cocktails and elegantly plated dishes, stunning artwork on the walls-- bright florals on stark black backgrounds, a whole series of them. The hostess led them up a wrought iron spiral staircase that had to be a bitch to carry cocktails through. Up, and out onto a rooftop filled with fairy lights and trellises draped with sprawling lilac, honeysuckle, jasmine, all framing a stupidly gorgeous view of the harbor. 

Sophie gawked. She'd never been good at controlling her face, but when she caught him smiling at her dumbfounded expression, she pulled herself together. Her cheeks felt hot. It never failed. She'd make a lousy poker player. Well. At least he didn't make any smart-ass comment, other than looking supremely smug, which was comment enough. 

Once the hostess had walked away, she kept her eyes demurely on the menu. "You made a reservation, huh? And you didn't think I was coming?"

She was proud of herself for containing her glee when he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat a bit. "Ehh, well. We wait in joyful hope, don't we?"

"You really do think you're funny." Hard, now, to bite back her grin, but she managed. Somehow. Turned her attention to the menu. "My goodness, where have you taken me? 'Blue cornbread, chicken confit, cheddar cheese and blueberry reduction.' Good God almighty."

"I believe the phrase is, eh, don't knock it," he said, keeping his eyes on the wine list, "until you've tried it."

"I'll admit I'm intrigued. What the hell, I'll give it a shot." She tossed the menu down lightly, and sank back into her chair. Absurdly comfortable, odd for outdoor furniture. The space had a couch as well, a low coffee table, scattered chairs, and-- was that a chiminea? She took in the warm lights, the crosshatched trellis, the hanging flowers, the view. Jasmine and lilac. "This is," she said, "incredibly nice. I'd never go somewhere like this on my own. So, y'know," she darted a sidelong look at him, a little shy. "Thank you."

"Hmm." He smiled, and something in it made her safe. "You are very welcome, Miss Turner."

She nodded, once. She was safe, here, with him. It was as if something had been decided, and-- 

--the waitress came for their order. Pork shoulder for him, the blue cornbread chicken monstrosity for her, and she kept her face fairly steady when he quietly asked for a bottle of a Paso Robles '17 Zinfandel. So they were going to be here for a while. That seemed alright. 

"Where were we? Mysterious ways, I think."

"Just so. tell me-- Dominican, was it not?"

"That is correct, yessir. By way of the Maryknoll Sisters."

"Hm. what is the process like? The-- how is it. Formation, I believe it is called? I understand that this takes some time."

"It does. It certainly ain't for everyone. Different orders do different things. Jesuits, they take seventeen years sometimes. Masters degree just in theology, not to speak of whatever other kinda specialty they got going on. Jesuits are hardcore. Dominicans ain't so bad, in comparison."

"Ah, but we aren't speaking of the Jesuits. It's you I'm interested in, Miss Turner. The Dominican order. You said Maryknoll? Your formation, your process. How did you come to this?"

"Well. Me personally-- discernment took a while, but that's different for everyone. I was in the congregation for a year, communal living, you know? And that was a learning curve, right there. Formation itself generally takes two years," she smiled, a touch wry. "I needed two and a half. Not always the brightest bulb, but if you can pound a concept into this thick skull, it tends to stick."

"I highly, highly doubt that. There is a level of modesty that borders on disingenuous, you know. And you haven't answered my question. Why this? Why a Rule. Couldn't you find an easier way to serve your God?"

"I found it, I dunno. Elegant. It's spare, but in that spareness there's room to maneuver. Like a sonnet, you know? The inherent structure of the thing makes a framework, but within that framework you can do anything. It's the structure that holds it together, and it seemed to me that-- in that way, you could make your life art. Into prayer. You understand? It's like--" and she gestured at the hatched trellis holding the jasmine vines up-- "you see this? How it grows on this framework. It seemed to me that the best way to get closer to God would be to climb a ladder that other people had found to be reliable. And I think that all my life, I've really wanted nothing more than to be closer to God."

"Are you?" he asked, his eyes soft but assessing. "Closer to your God?"

The waitress came with their order. Sophie was grateful. Copia leaned back, letting her go, for now, with murmured thanks to the waitress. He poured the wine while Sophie took the first dubious bite of this blue cornbread concoction-- and froze.

"This is the best thing I have ever put in my mouth."

Copia blinked at her and grinned, as if she'd made a particularly good joke. "Is it, now?"

"Oh, yeah, here, you gotta try this." She pushed the plate at him, gratified when he picked up his fork, and even more so when he stared at her. "Right? This was a great choice, well done."

"You see why I am known for my impeccable taste," he said, wiping his mouth with great gravitas, as she barked a laugh. "This is, what? You call this collard greens?"

"Yeah, that'n might be more of an acquired taste, you'll have to let me know what you think."

"Hmm." He busied himself with fork and knife, and they applied themselves to the very serious business of food. Which was, as bitter as she could be about a certain class of gentrification, phenomenal. She just about thought she'd gotten away with it, when-- "I do notice, signora, that you have dodged my question. Do you feel closer to your God, in your discipline?"

She chewed at that really marvelous blue cornbread dish, giving herself time to solidify an answer. "I think," she said, carefully, "I would say that I most clearly feel God when I am acting in service to His children." She sat back with her glass of wine, and at his raised eyebrow, she continued. "Look, if you're asking me if I hear His voice or something, I dunno what to tell you, except it's not for the likes of me. That's for mystics and possibly schizophrenics. All I know about God is love for His creation. Anything else is above my pay grade. What, you gonna tell me Satan speaks directly to you every night?"

"And what if I did?"

"Then I'd thank you kindly for the meal and a lovely evening and back away slowly till I got far enough away to run."

"Yet you will dedicate your life to this, eh? A nun. A bride of an intangible Christ you will never hear, or see, or feel."

"You wanna get technical about it, I'm not gonna be a nun-- that's for the contemplatives. I can't imagine spending my life in a convent. That there's a level of discipline I can't even wrap my head around. No, I'll be what's called an active sister. Out in the world."

"So you are not a Julian of Norwich, contemplating from your cell, merely tugging on the strings of the outside world."

"No, not an anchorite. I'm not much of a theologian, be honest with you-- more about praxis than theory." She picked up her glass and stared into it, swirling the contents as if she'd find an answer or an out there. "No. I am-- will be-- a missionary." And why had that word been so hard to get out?

She dared a look up to his face and saw why. Something like loss, or horror-- she had such a hard time reading him sometimes-- but the dismay was there before he wiped it away. "Ah." It was his turn to look down, although he recovered admirably. "Laying aside the, eh, colonialist implications--"

"Thank you for that."

"--a missionary to where?" Was she imagining the tension in the tilt of his head?

"Colombia, probably. Healthcare, food insecurity, that sort of thing. Not a lot in the way of conversion, if that's what you're thinking. Already a Catholic country, not much there to convert. I'm going to learn, not to proselytize."

"No, that doesn't-- it wouldn't seem to be, ehh. Your objective." His eyes wouldn't stay on her face. He fussed with the stem of the wine glass. "It is far from home."

"Yes. It will be that."

"And yet you are not afraid."

"Oh, I'm terrified, I can't even get my head around it yet."

"That, I would not have guessed." He looked up from under his lashes at her, oddly coquettish. "You do not think your God will protect you?" And by now she could catch the smile he was biting back. 

"Don't be an ass. Ain't like that."

"What are you afraid of, then?" It seemed an honest question, not unkind. 

She turned the glass under her fingers, a quarter turn, half. "...failure, I guess. There's a certain amount of trust implied, job like that. One tries to keep one's word, you know? And there's a degree of responsibility that you take on."

"Of course. But how are you defining failure? I have a hard time picturing you shirking your duties."

"Mm. That's kind of you. It comes back to service, I suppose. I wouldn't want to not be able to take care of the people I'm there for."

"Service I understand. Responsibility for your people. They've been entrusted to your care, yes? Your-- is it a congregation if you are not officiating the liturgy?"

"We can call it that, for lack of a better word." She watched the candlelight, took a slow sip of her drink as she screwed up the courage to look him in the eye. He'd been watching her, intent, and meeting those mismatched eyes with sincerity left her feeling exposed. "They love you. Your people. That crowd."

"They do."

"Your flock."

"'Flock' implies sheep, Miss Turner. And we are not that."

"As you like. Still, the responsibility of it-- it must be a strange weight to carry."

"It is. But there is also, I think, gratitude. For the trust, just as you say. I care for them as best as I am able." Being the focus of that incisive and mismatched gaze wasn't going to stop being unsettling, she thought. Even if he was smiling. Maybe especially then. "Are you asking a Satanist for advice on pastoral care, Sophia?"

"Just because it isn't my ministry doesn't mean I don't recognize it for what it is. You're good at it." She watched him react to that, the infinitesimal widening of the eyes, the drop of his mouth, before he filed it away. "You are. I just got done watching you taking care of your people. I wouldn't bullshit you, not on this."

"I think you are perhaps incapable of bullshit." Dry, and a little arch. He wouldn't meet her eyes, shifting in his seat. "You know, a focus on the individual does not exclude one from taking responsibility. They belong to nobody but themselves, of course. But as you say, you've seen them. How can I not give what I can, in the face of that?"

"Because you're a good person, probably. Look, I--" She was drawn up short by the look on his face, the plain bafflement. "What? What is it?"

"It is-- not what I would have suspected, from a committed Christian."

"Why on earth would you think that? I think you're wrong, that doesn't mean I think you're bad. When did I ever say otherwise?" She sat back, surprised at just how badly that stung. "Did you really think so little of me?"

"Ah." Whatever the look was on her face, it made him drop his eyes. "I--. Ehh, it, it may be that I have some-- preconceived notions. Not so little of you, no. What it is that you represent. Your Church." He glanced up at her, briefly, and then back down, took the glass in both hands, maybe just to occupy himself. "You are-- you have been a surprise to me."

"I can't say that I was expecting this, myself," she said, a little dry, still smarting from the implication. "Certainly not how I pictured the tail end of my postulancy." She took a sip from her glass, buying herself a little time. It really was a good Zinfandel. 

"And yet. You do think I am damned to Hell. Don't you?"

"Is this some kinda self-flagellation thing for you, right now? Because I feel like you're horning in on territory my people traditionally occupy."

"You are unusually open-minded, but surely, there are some things you cannot  condone. I don't understand how you can believe what you believe and still be here."

She tapped her short-cut nails on the wine glass. "...you heard of Gregory of Nyssa?" He shook his head, and she continued. "You'll like this one. Or you'll be so offended you'll throw me out, not sure which." She took another sip of the wine, leaving perhaps a swallow left in the glass. "So he has this theory, yeah? A little logic exercise. If God's love is infinite, and if eternity is infinite, then, it just stands to reason-- 'no being created by God will fall outside of the Kingdom of God.' Universal reconciliation. In the fullness of time, everyone gets saved. Just might take some folks longer than others."

"That is. Tremendously insulting," he said, but his eyes sparkled at her. It made her nearly as warm as the wine did. 

"Yeah, pretty sure it's heresy. And free will is kind of an essential part of the doctrine. I think he mighta meant it as a thought experiment more than anything else, but it's a warm and fuzzy thought, isn't it?"

"That everyone will come to your Christ?" He took up the bottle, topped her off with an efficient movement of his wrist while she raised her glass. "I cannot say that it is."

"I don't think that a God that would throw anyone to eternal suffering would be worth following. If that's what I thought, I'd have a duty to rebel." She flicked her eyebrows up at him, mollified by his slow half-grin. "Laying aside that I think that's a pretty mean and shitty and shallow way to think of God-- also I might circle back to this wretched conflation of punishment with justice, though I've been guilty of it myself-- think we're getting a little further afield." He propped her chin on her hand, watching him. "You really need my approval for what you're doing? The pastoral work."

"Need? No. But I would not mind, say, comparing notes."

"I haven't done the damn thing yet, all I got is theory, just at the moment. Also I kinda feel we might have some differences here."

"You think so? How is that?" Maybe it was the wine, or maybe she was finally catching on to one of the kinds of social cues she'd always been abysmal at identifying, or maybe she was just getting a feel for the man-- the way he was watching her, the tension at the corner of his mouth, the banked amusement glittering behind his right eye-- she still couldn't read the white one at all-- he was enjoying this. Winding her up and watching her go. Playing with her. "Other than your God being a tyrannical despot and your Church being the source of incalculable suffering and the true author of every imaginable evil. Aside from that?"

"Tell me, once you get done sacrificing infants and bathing in their blood, is that when y'all start the orgies with the goats? Or is it the other way around?" She did manage to keep a straight face, but it was an effort. 

"Orgy, then sacrifice. Blood gets everywhere, dries sticky, and you very much do not want it near your, ehh-- bits. It is not sexy."

"I'll keep it in mind for the next time I find myself at an orgy. I always wind up so confused at those." She shook her head, tracking the corkscrewing flutter of a bat diving for bugs in the wash of the streetlight below. "Jackass. No, but this is where we actually get to praxis, right? And different situations are gonna call for different approaches, different priorities. How you deal with someone suffering from malnutrition is different from how you deal with someone suffering spiritual malaise, but also one of those things is gonna be a lot easier to detect. I don't get the impression you deal with a whole lot of hungry kids in your day to day practice, so how do you approach it? What's your biggest challenge?"

"Hm." He leaned back, hooking an elbow over the back of his chair, glass in hand. "Day to day?"

"Yeah. Other than whatever crazy shit happens while you're on tour, I imagine that's its own particular brand of difficult."

"It very much is. You would not believe." He rolled his eyes, witnessing some internal horrors, and took a drink of wine as if to clear his thoughts. "In the day to day-- we have a Ministry, yes? And our own kind of monastics. This is where I spend the bulk of my time, when I am not doing," he gestured expansively with the wine glass, "all of this. I think I would say-- Hm. Most people are not raised by Satanists. Primarily my charges are converts, and there is so much internalized-- guilt, I suppose. Shame. Even when you know you have nothing to be guilty about. There is much to deprogram. We do not have confession, as such, but I do serve as a spiritual advisor. They come to me with their fears, their uncertainties. Their... needs." He raised his glass to his lips and lingered, expression neutral, watching her. His right eye was very dark. "I find I spend a great deal of my time helping my people unlearn the idea that there's anything to be ashamed of about desire." As if he didn't know how he looked, with his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed just so at the ankle, his arm sprawled over the back of the chair, the long lean languid line of him. 

Sophie hoped that she kept her face still. She couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't look at that eerie white, how it burned, how it seemed to see so much. The weight of it was almost physical. She focused on his hairline, and kept her voice even. "That must be very challenging." 

"...Yes. Well." He looked down at his glass and she could breathe again, with his eyes off of her. He leaned forward slowly, folding in on himself, to set it down, almost apologetic. "It becomes reflexive."

"I see." It was too much for her. Nicotine was suddenly imperative. A small sharp noise as she set her glass down on the table between them, and she pulled her purse to her, reaching past her sunglasses and a bottle of hand sanitizer for her cigarettes. "How do you-- it's gotta be tough. What I'm having trouble getting my head around, what I'm worried about fucking up, is-- how do you build that kind of rapport? That they feel safe enough to come to you with their problems?" At least she didn't have to look at him, fishing the pack out of her purse. 

"That was not easy. You must seem enough of an authority that you are capable of solving these things, but also approachable enough that they will not think of themselves as-- ehh, bothering you. Or a burden. It is a delicate balance. You must project confidence, yes? Don't let them see you sweat. That was a challenge. Is still a challenge. But people? Trust? There, it is--" He spread his hands. "You just-- pay attention."

"And attention is the highest form of generosity." 

"Just so. Is that... Simone Weil?"

She had to stop, with her cigarette halfway to her lips, utterly delighted. "Copia. Did you actually read Gravity and Grace in between here and Asheville?"

He looked down, straightening the edge of his suit. "Ehh. There was time, on the bus. Not all of it, it is fairly dense, but some."

"I'll be damned." She shook her head, sparking her zippo and bending her head to the light. "Believe I said this before, but it bears repeating: you are very good at your job." The smoke drifted towards him, and between that and the strange expression on his face, she couldn't look at him. She got up and moved to the ledge, downwind, leaning her elbows on the railing, looking over the Charleston skyline, such as it was. Live oak and Spanish moss, streetlights like fireflies in the gloom. It all seemed very Southern Gothic to her, ostentatiously so, the faint sounds of conversation and traffic floating up, a glass breaking and a chorus of drunken laughter. The wine hit her in a rush, warm all the way through and a little unsteady. 

Copia had moved to her elbow, following in her wake. He reached for her cigarette and she passed it, a thoughtless and fluid motion, and it was only after he was taking a drag that she realized she'd done it like they had been doing this for years. It scared her badly, much worse than his heavy-lidded eyes when he had spoken of desire, and she couldn't articulate why. 

"You really think this," he said to the skyline. 

"Why does this surprise you? I'm missing something here, I just don't know what."

He tapped ash off the cigarette, a little fussy. "Most of our people are converts."

"So you said."

"I am not. I was-- it was expected, that I would go into the clergy. I was not called, as you were." And at her look, "I do enjoy it, I am fortunate, as I have said. But it is not, ehh. Second nature."

She took that in for a moment. "I wouldn't have thought you were a man given to much self-doubt. What would you be doing, if not this?"

"Ehhh." He gestured expansively with her cigarette, passed it back to her, and she took it without thought. "Honestly I do not know what. I am, largely, content. Truly, I am, you don't have to look at me like that. But I wonder, from someone who was called-- what is it that makes you say so? That I'm good?"

"Good at this, or just good?"

He shrugged, laced his fingers together, looking out at the city as if he couldn't meet her eyes.

"It comes to the same. It's attention. You pay attention. To your people. To me, and you have absolutely no reason why you should pay attention to me. You're leading them, and it looks to me like you don't even have to think about it, and I don't know if that's because you're a natural, or because you've worked really hard to look like a natural." She took one last drag on the cigarette, resolutely not thinking about how it had been between his lips a moment before. This wasn't the time. "I have seen bad at this, and you ain't that. The leadership-- I don't understand that at all, and it's probably where I'm gonna fuck up."

"Believe me when I say that I have every confidence in you. You will be just fine. Sophie." Something in his voice made her turn to look at him, and his eyes broke her heart. "You are going to be magnificent."

He was so close, she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. It ought to have scared her more than it did. "I. What makes you say that?"

"You care. You care about things so much. You are on fire with it. The light you give off-- I could find you from miles away.  You are so-- you're so warm." The way he was looking at her. And then she was afraid, suddenly. "Who wouldn't want to come in from the cold?" Those mismatched eyes, seeing so much, catching her like a butterfly under glass. 

She had to turn away, before she did something she couldn't take back, put space between them, and never mind that it felt like running. "That's kind. Thank you." She dropped herself on that elegant little couch, feeling shaky. 

Copia was leaning back on the railing, watching her. "Kindness has nothing to do with it. I am right, is all. You'll see. I have faith."

She had to laugh, running her hand through her hair. The drive, the show, the wine, whatever strange thing she'd narrowly avoided, it was all catching up with her. She dropped her head back onto the couch, and closed her eyes. "You are funny."

She felt the other end sink under his weight. "And here I was under the impression that, eh. I only thought I was funny."

"Didn't wanna inflate your ego too much, there." Whatever danger he had posed had passed, and now she was just tired. Tired, and safe, and fading fast. 

"Sophie?" Her name in his mouth. Strange. Vaguely, she had the thought that she liked the sound. 

"Mmm?"

"Are you falling asleep?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Just give me a minute."

"As you like."

The sound of crickets, distant drunken laughter, cars going by every so often, a faint Etta James song. She drifted. 

Some indeterminate amount of time later, someone draped something over her shoulders that smelled like smoke and leather and safety. Turning inward, she  laid her head on something warm, and slept. 

*

Sophie woke gradually, soft peach-colored light the first thing she was aware of. Sunrise over Charleston harbor, ridiculous piles of fluffy pastel color, pink and purple and that orange sherbet that seemed unreal, a frame in a Miyazaki movie. The water reflecting the color of the sky, framed by the scant few blocks between here and the waterfront. It had been an impressive view at night. In the morning it was ridiculous, absurd, a feeling of total unreality. 

The second thing she was aware of was that the warm surface under her head and hand was moving in a slow rhythm. And, it seemed, snoring very softly. 

Carefully, she did not freeze. 

Giving up sex was one thing. It was fine, sex, pleasant enough but not a harrowing loss. You could do without it. At times she would have spells of arousal so intense it was like a thunderstorm rolling in-- impersonal and connected to no actual human or image or sound, passing through her internal landscape with the insensate, thoughtless force of a natural disaster-- but these things passed away just as easily as they had blown in. And anyway she had two good hands. She could take care of herself. 

But this. 

This warm body under her cheek, the tidal rise and fall of his breath displacing her weight by millimeters, a cycle perhaps a third of a second slower than her own. The steady and organic cadence of his heartbeat in counterpoint to her pulse. The smell of him, wool and sun and leather and myrrh and a trace of something sour, like wine, or maybe sweat. The weight of his arm over her rib cage, pressing her closer into him, anchoring her. 

To give this up. The simple animal comfort of being half-held. He didn't even know he was doing it--! To wake up curled into the side of a person you knew you were safe with, who held you in some sort of regard-- intolerable. An unimaginable sacrifice. Too much. 

Well. She didn't have to give it up this instant. 

She lay there, listening to his heart, and watching the colors change in the sky, and carefully did not think about things coming to an end. Until, at last, she heard a sharper intake of breath underneath her, a stiffening of muscles. He froze, and held his breath. She heard his heart rate pick up, felt a featherlight touch over her hair. It lingered, the barest suggestion of pressure, and then she felt him beginning to try to extricate himself. 

"No," she said. 

He went absolutely rigid. "Signora, my apologies, I did not mean to--"

"No, I mean. Can we stay like this? Just for a little while longer."

He settled under her, a slow unspooling of tension. Tentatively, he put his arm back around her shoulders, cautious, as if she were a wounded bird that would try to thrash away if startled. "Anything you wish, Sophie." She felt his voice as much as she heard it. What a thing, to feel a voice. "Nothing you do not."

Together, they watched the light spill back into the world.