#this idea has been rattling around in my head for a while. so i give it to you! mwah!

[godihatethiswebsite]

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader

(The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist

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✽ Part 6 - Just a nice relaxing boat ride

So this one is a bit long guys ^^; To give you an idea, part 5 had a little over 2k words... and this one has over 9k. I swear, it was like every time I thought I was almost finished I went back in and added a little bit more.

I tried figuring out a way that I could cut it in half and not disrupt the flow of everything, but there just really wasn't a good spot for me to do it in so I'm just opting to leave it as is. It's also why this took me a couple days to finish so please forgive the wait.

Also I'm slowly but surely getting the hang of making everything aesthetically pleasing so bare with some of the changes going on with my blog!

You shuffled down the corridors of the ferry, giving polite smiles and nods to the individuals you darted past with Kyle trailing hot on your heels. On a boat that size there were only about fifty or so people in total - passengers and crew included. The trip was long enough to require a place to lay your heads down for the night, having secured as decent accommodations as you could for a vessel meant for commoners.

By the time you reached your stay rooms, you paused to find the door to your quarters already swung ajar. You didn't have time to process that entirely as your cousin brushed past you to take the lead, footsteps quiet as he dared a glance inside. His shoulders relaxed considerably as he took up watch leaning against the door frame. Whatever he found inside didn't seem worry him, but it certainly had you on alert once you heard a rustling noise coming from within.

Kyle halted you from taking your intended step further just outside the door with his hand up, eyes cutting sideways to give you a look at the huff you gave before returning to tracking whoever was rattling around inside your room. He lowered his hand and stepped to the side out of the doorway the same time John appeared from your room, flashing you an easy grin. "It's all yers, hen."

He placed a gentle hand on your arm as he maneuvered past you back into the hall, going one door down and to the left as he disappeared into what you assumed was the room the two men would be staying the night in. You gave your cousin a look of confusion as he ushered you inside, giving his own cursory glance around while you walked over to your awaiting luggage left at the foot of your bed.

The space was nothing to gawk at certainly; no finery of silken sheets or elegantly crafted mahogany furniture. It was a far cry from the abodes you'd spent your comfortable life in, but the modest quarters would be more than plenty for a single evening. You weren't highbrow enough to turn your nose down just because this wasn't the Mauretania.

"Is there a reason you just let a strange man root around my quarters, cousin?" You inquired while unlatching the trunk, beginning the process of unpacking and sorting out your belongings.

"Just precautions, dolly." He replied as he came to a stop in front of the modest sized dresser in your room, leaning back against it with his hands tucked in his pockets while he watched you flitter about putting things away in their proper places. "Didn't want you coming in here first to find an even stranger man waiting for a sweet doe-eyed thing like yourself to gobble up. Would have done it myself if MacTavish hadn't beaten me to it."

It gave you pause in the middle of the room as his words sunk in, clutching a small bag of toiletries. There wasn't anything even remotely admonishing in what he spoke, but you hadn't quite considered the possibility in your inexperience.

You were used to a certain way of living, full of servants and chaperones caring for your person. If you had need of something in a part of town deemed unsuitable for a lady such as yourself then you simply sent someone else along to run the errand for you. You'd been born fortunate enough that you hadn't had to lift a finger for anything you didn't want to. The 'real world' was a far cry different. Many a lower class woman had to be on guard for things you'd never had to imagine. It was just a small example comparatively, but the realization caught you uncomfortably unaware.

Despite that, there was a slight warmth in your chest at the thought that your newest traveling companion was chivalrous enough to look out for your well-being.

"Oh. Of course." You tried to brush it off with a small smile as you continued on your way into the attached lavatory beyond, placing the few items you brought with on the porcelain vanity. "I'll be more cautious in the future then, shall I?"

Kyle was waiting for you outside the door once you entered back into the bedroom, giving you a look akin to the kind your father used on you often when gently correcting you as a child, tone full of empathy and understanding. "Hey."

His hands landed on your shoulders, applying gentle grounding pressure that had you releasing a small sigh. "Aunt and uncle raised you to never have to worry about the kind of life the two of us," he nodded his head towards the other room where John was likely getting settled, "have experienced. This is a lot to take in for your first time out amongst the common folk. And it will take time. But there's nothing wrong with your naivety. Everyone has to start somewhere, yeah?"

He was right. Of course he was right. It was no different than the first time you picked up a book and were immediately confused by the jumble of hieroglyphics on the page. There might not have been a helpful dictionary on a shelf nearby teaching you how to navigate this new challenge (unfortunately), but you had a helpful guide in your cousin who wouldn't lead you astray.

"So don't you go worrying your pretty little head, dolly." He added with a lighthearted tone and an affectionate pinch to your chin, glad to see some of that self-consciousness ease from your expression. "You've got two strapping young lads keeping an eye out for you and helping you every step of the way. You'll be a proper adventurer before you know it."

He left you in peace after that, closing the door behind him to give you your privacy as you resumed your task of getting the room situated for your brief stay, hanging up your clothing in the provided wardrobe to keep them from wrinkling too terribly much and placing your odds and ends on the nightstand. You hummed a favored song as you busied yourself, feeling a bit more optimistic about your endeavor than you did when you'd arrived.

The plan for the first leg of the journey was to follow the river upstream until you reached the port city of Abydos, then essentially catch a caravan heading west into the desert until John said stop. The ferry ride would take the better part of two days to arrive at your destination, leaving plenty of time to kick back and sight-see until the real work begins.

You'd wandered out onto the promenade deck once you'd finished getting your room all sorted, leaning against the guard rail as a fresh breeze blew in off the bow. The ferry had left port not twenty minutes prior, but already the landscape had shifted into something only vaguely familiar.

You had not explored all of Cairo in the time you spent living there. It was nice to see the variations of Egypt's different cultures and ethnicities all converging upon the banks of the river. Arab, Muslim, and western elements weaved together along the shoreline. At the narrower points of the Nile when the ferry made way for a larger vessel, you could hear all manner of languages being spoken by merchants and fishermen on the docks; Arabic, Masri, Nobiin, Siwi, even the rare Armenian. You only speak the first two, but have heard enough of the others to at least identify the differences.

You imagined how these shores would have looked thousands of years ago at the height of the Egyptian empire - tall colorful sails as far as the eye can see anchored with the promise of freshly acquired goods, lighthouses dotting the coastline beckoning sailors home, large extravagant vessels belonging to the Pharoah's navy crucial for safeguarding these waters. The Nile has always been the lifeblood of the kingdom, the true source of power in the region with all that it provided for the people. He who controls the ports controls Egypt herself.

Much of the old architecture had been torn down centuries ago, new cities built on top of the foundations of the previous with none to bat an eye at the histories lost. You needn't look far to find an archaeologist digging at something long buried by layers of sand and dirt. Hell, if we had to stop construction every time we found relics underground of societies past then there'd be nowhere safe to build anything.

A stray fisherman's boat glides up alongside yours, an aging man with expressive lines around his eyes glancing up at the ferry floating past and spotting you leaning against the rail. He shouts something up at you in a Nobiin dialect you don't speak, but you offer him a bright smile and a wave he happily returns, steering his small craft out of your way and continuing on to wherever his destination lies.

For a moment, the peace you felt is interrupted by a tall man in a dark suit strolling along behind you, causing you to unconsciously tighten your grip on the rail until he was safely out of your periphery. You'd learnt a gentle lesson this morning that you were out in a world you didn't know the rules of. It was odd how you'd spent so much of your life being trained to enter into the machinations of society, yet here surrounded by working class people you felt more unprepared than ever. This boat was not filled with ladies giggling into their teacups and gentlemen enjoying their brandy; there was no grand dining hall or stately gatherings that called for decorum.

This was the 'wild west' as aptly demonstrated by the cowboys who'd kindly tipped their hats to you as you'd passed them by in the hall during boarding. That meant being aware of your surroundings and keeping even the pleasantest of company at arms length.

You'd abandoned your spot out on the promenade shortly after the sun hit its peak, venturing below decks when the bell was rung for mid-day meal. The ferry was small enough that you took lunch with the crew, grateful for your cousin's escorting hand on your lower back once he met back up with you, John's presence not far behind.

It was hard not to feel incredibly out of place once you'd sat down at a long cafeteria table and had a chance to take stock of the company around you, surprised to see only one other woman out of the whole crowd. Even she felt wildly different from you, dressed in similar western garb to the cowboys you saw hours earlier she was accompanying. You stuck out like a sore thumb in comparison, digging into the small but filling meal provided at a speed normally frowned upon in an effort to not stick around longer than necessary. You were aware of Kyle and John engaging in conversation next to you, but you were focusing too much on the food in front of you to pay any real attention to the subject. Kyle tried including you in their talks, but they must've picked up on your iffy mood and kept the chatter amongst themselves.

You spent a decent amount of time after that in your quarters (save supper time), nose buried in a book about some recent archaeological discovery until well after light stopped streaming in through your porthole. Feeling a bit restlessness from spending so much time in one attitude, you wandered out into the hall in search of your cousin for company, frowning at his empty room and making your way back upstairs.

The atmosphere up here was far more jovial, men crowded around tables smoking cigars and trying not to spill their tumblers over a handful of cards. This felt more familiar, reminiscent of your late father's evenings in the smoking room entertaining his guests with a couple rounds of poker. You weren't allowed in except at bedtime for a kiss goodnight. But on the rare occasion, you were allowed to stay seated on his lap. His 'good luck charm', he called you.

The scent of tobacco smoke had an oddly calming effect on you as you rounded a table housing your cousin and the three Americans, your sociable side starting to shine through again.

"I hope you aren't gambling away your inheritance." Your hand came to rest on the back of Kyle's chair as you stepped up beside him, taking in the empty glass next to him and the looseness of his shoulders. Your words were meant in good fun, but you made a mental note to keep an eye on his consumption. That likely wasn't the first scotch he's had tonight.

"Why use mine when I've got yours?" Came the cheeky reply, one that garnered him a chuckle from his companions and a light smack on the shoulder from you.

"You'll be happy to know, ma'am, that he's currently taking my partner here for every piece of copper he has." A dark skinned man with glasses spoke up, giving his friend a hearty slap on the back that had the other man sputtering out his drink.

"Well in that case, I best stick around to make sure my cousin here stays sober enough to keep it that way, shouldn't I?" You slide the half empty bottle of alcohol away from your cousin with a knowing look, receiving a relaxed shrug in response.

Yeah, definitely three glasses in.

"Do you happen to play, sweetheart?" The one who's apparently losing the hardest inquires while the woman at the table deals in a new hand.

"Not something I learned in etiquette class I'm afraid." Kyle had tried to teach you at one point, but you'd done miserably every time and he'd quickly abandoned the endeavor.

"Ah, we got us a true English high-born lady here fellas. Think we're much too outclassed for someone like yourself."

"Don't worry. She's already done that job for me." Gesturing over to the woman in question with a grin, the boys break out in laughter as their female companion tips her glass at you in respect.

"Well now, can't be havin' a lady standing at attention all night." The dark skinned man gets up off his chair and turns around to the table behind him, tapping a man on his shoulder with a sharp whistle and a 'beat it' that has him scrambling away. Positioning the chair between him and Kyle, he pulls it out for you with a respectful "ma'am" as you slide into the offered seat.

"Nice to see the men in America are still being brought up properly," you teased with a coquettish smile, folding your hands on your lap as the man sat back down.

"Just because we're men of the earth don't mean our mama's didn't raise us to be gentlemen. Speaking of which, I'm afraid we've lost our manners. Name's Darnell Hutchinson. This here's Osmond Ryan," he nods to the man next to him before gesturing across the table, "and that one over there is Rozlin Helms."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintances. Now then, shall we see how you fare when you 'put your money where your mouth is'?"

You enjoyed yourself a great deal more than you originally anticipated, banter flowing between the five of you easily as the night continued on. Roz in particular was a delight as the two of you ganged up on the other three men, glad to have some female company if only for a little bit. Kyle played quite well, though he did better once you'd refilled his glass with water instead of whiskey. Oz had to tap out after a few more hands, but Hutch was giving him a run for his money.

At some point your other travelling companion made his rounds above deck, stopping by the table. He'd unbuttoned the top of his shirt since last you'd seen him, looking just as casual as the others were after hours. You caught a brief suggestion of dark hair underneath, taking a sip of water and averting your gaze back to the cards being played.

"Ah, MacTavish!" Kyle called out once he noticed the man in question. Maybe you'd need to make him hydrate a little more still. "Care to join us for a hand of poker? Could use some backup with these yanks since this one here isn't any help." He added with a playful bump to your shoulder, eliciting a small giggle from you at his antics.

"No thanks, lads. Ah only gamble wit' mah life, ne'er mah money."

"Well your buddy here seems to think ya'll are gettin' to Hamunuptra before we do. So what's say you and I make a little wager 'bout that?"

You frowned at your cousin who had the nerve to look normal at this drop of information. When had this come up? Certainly not since you'd been at the table. Was he really already that deep in his glass by the time you'd arrived that he was spilling your secrets?

John's grin turned tight lipped in response while still trying to play it cool. "Tha' right? How're ye so sure the place even exists? Fer all ye ken we're jus' a couple 'o crazies ourselves."

"Our man Klaus, that's who." Oz points over at a gruff looking man with an impressive beard. "Bit unorthodox of a man, but he's smart as a whip. Fortunately we've also got a guy who's confirmed it's existence. Been there himself in fact. So looks like you three aren't so crazy after all."

You thought you'd gotten lucky stumbling into John when you did. What are the odds there were more people running around who'd seen the lost city? Surely they were bluffing.

Thankfully, this time Kyle was smart enough to keep his mouth shut on the subject.

"So what says you?" Hutch attempts to egg him on again, "Give ya something a little more interesting than just bragging rights."

John let's a wicked grin cross his face, one I'm sure feels quite at home on him. "Awryt, lads. Since yer so eager ta part wit' yer coin ah guess ah could lighten yer pockets for ya."

"Hundred bucks?" Roz offers up with a smirk to sweeten the deal.

"Done."

You were surprised he'd agreed, but then again it's not like they knew just how evenly matched you actually were. Otherwise you don't think they'd have put the pot so big.

"Ah'll be lettin' ye get back ta yer game then. Garrick, lass." He nodded at the pair of you in turn before disappearing off to some corner of the ferry again - not like you'd seen him for anything other than meals yet today anyways. Odd considering he didn't quite seem like the type to prefer privacy over socialization. Though you suppose he'd probably spent time around your cousin in their shared space for some of it.

You stayed at the table long enough to make sure Kyle wouldn't be finding himself in even more trouble than he usually did, giving him an affectionate kiss on the cheek and a look that clearly said 'behave'. The others tipped their hats at you, friendly smiles as you said your partings for the night.

There were a handful of men arguing near the main stairwell that seemed heated enough that you didn't want to intrude, opting to go around to one of the side entrances on the promenade to reach your cabin instead. It was much quieter here away from the bustle going on near the bow, a welcome reprieve from the raucous behaviors of the men you'd just left. All you wanted now was to get out of these garments and curl up with your book before bedtime.

Just as you were reaching for the door leading inward, you caught a glimpse of someone at the far end sitting with their back to you, items laid out in front of them on a table you couldn't quite make out from this distance. The hair gave him away though, his dark brown...

Mohawk? Was that what Kyle had called it when you'd asked prior? Either way, it had gotten your attention.

He'd taken off his suit jacket, his white button up stretched across his shoulders doing nothing to hide the broad muscular planes of his back. You knew from previous experience with Kyle that the brown leather adorning him was a holster for pistols, one on each side by the looks of it. Strange to find him out here by himself rather than the privacy of his cabin. Perhaps he had been like you earlier and just wanted to catch a breath of fresh air now that the night sky brought with it a welcome reprieve from the heat. You hadn't even realized you'd been lingering quite so long, until–

"Mah front looks a might bit finer than mah back, hen."

You startled at his voice, lost in your own observances while thinking your presence had gone unnoticed. The man hadn't even turned around once! And considering how short his hair was in the back you were fairly certain you hadn't spotted any eyes there. Your face grew hot with embarrassment at getting caught staring.

"How did you know?" You ventured an ask despite the urge to suddenly hide back in the room you were initially headed towards. Mild curiosity kept you in place.

He still hadn't turned to look at you when he replied with an amused huff, "Easy, lass. Yer the only one on this boat wearin' heels."

You glanced down at the offending articles, growing even more flustered at such an obvious tell. The fact that he'd been paying enough attention to his surroundings to even pick up on it while still being fully engrossed in whatever task said a lot about the man.

"Could have lost them in a wager. With how inebriated Kyle is I'm fairly confident he'd slip a pair on."

"Ah've seen Garrick in women's clothes. Ye dunnae sound enough like a newborn foal fer tha' tae be the case."

So many more questions than answers popped in your head at that tidbit of knowledge, but you weren't sure that was a box you wanted to unpack right this minute.

Your feet took you over to John on their own volition, finding yourself standing adjacent to him while he still kept his gaze on his task. Laid out on the table was a leather carrying case unfurled with a variety of weapons and implements that were designed exclusively for the pain and suffering of others. Blades, hooks, ammo, shotgun shells; it was a veritable treasure trove of weaponry.

The man was spinning the cylinder of a revolver in his hands, eyes down the chambers inspecting for what you weren't sure. His sleeves were uncuffed and rolled up to the elbow, revealing thick forearms tanned from the sun and dusted with dark hair. You watched a vein pulse as muscle flexed and rolled under the skin, closing the cylinder and spinning it back into its spot in the holster. It took everything to draw your attention to one of the blades before his vision finally shifted upwards to look at you, picking up a small hooked object and examining it carefully.

"I'm assuming you have all this simply because it goes everywhere with you and not because you think you'll actually need it."

You were caught off guard by his response. "Ah dunnae ken wha' ah'll need, hen. But ah'll be needin' it fer somethin'."

You looked at him in cautious disbelief, not sure what any of this has to do with a simple expedition to some ruins. "I don't think a bunch of desert dwelling reptiles warrant this much protection."

He plucked the item out of your hand, placing it back in the bundle before grabbing the shotgun leaned against the rail next to him and loading the chamber.

"Seen enough ta ken there's more than lizards hidin' under those sands, lass. Trust me: ye'll be thankful fer all this once it pops it's head up ta say hello."

"I don't know what my cousin has told you about me, Mr. MacTavish, but I can assure you I'm–"

"Johnny."

You blank for a moment at the interruption, gaze drawn away from his calloused hands to eyes blue as a desert oasis. You forget for a moment what it was you were just saying, resulting in a very ditzy, unintelligible response.

"...Huh?"

"Johnny." He repeats again, still not breaking whatever hold he had on you as the corners of his mouth quirked up a bit. "Ye can call me Johnny, hen. None o' tha' mister shite."

"Oh... alright."

He went back to polishing his gun after a moment, releasing you from whatever spell he had on you in the first place that caused your temporarily lack of bodily autonomy. You floundered to regain some of your previous dignity, hyper aware of your heart fluttering in your chest.

"As I was saying, I stopped being afraid of the scary stories Kyle would tell me by the time I was twelve. The only thing I'll be finding there is proof of the city's existence and the opportunity to step somewhere untouched by man in thousands of years."

"Sure, hen. And the fact tha' there's a solid gold book of Amun Ra fabled ta be buried within has no interest tae ya whatsoever." The skepticism was heavy in his tone as he began wiping down the barrel with a thin blue rag.

You don't know why that accusation stung a little to hear, but you're tone reflected that vulnerability despite not wanting it to. "Some of us just want the chance to prove that not everything we've believed is just the ramblings of a naive school girl full of silly little dreams and nonsense."

Whatever he detects in your voice has his gaze shooting up towards yours, expression completely neutral if not for a hint of something shining behind those eyes. It's gone in a blink, replaced by the seriousness he's been trying to impart to you during this conversation.

"Ye'll find the validation yer lookin' fer, hen. Jus' hope tha's the only thing tha' finds ye."

He rolled his supplies back up in their leather container and secured it with a knot, shoving it back in his worn rucksack before pushing back his chair to stand at full height. The man towers over you, just about the same size as your cousin if not a hair shorter. There was no denying the bulk he had over Kyle's much more lithe form though. He made you feel small standing next to him, stocky frame close enough to yours you could feel the heat radiating off his chest. How this man kept taking away your ability to think cohesively you had no idea.

He looked for a moment like there was more he wanted to say until his attention was directed to something over your shoulder instead, brows furrowing in a way that had you glancing behind to see what had him distracted. Your search came up empty, turning back to look at him only to find the casualness you normally associate with the man.

"Run along now, hen. Got a big day tomorrow and ye'll be needing yer beauty sleep."

Part of you wanted to push, confused at the sudden personality change before deciding that was not a thread you wanted to pick at tonight. Giving him a small nod and stepping around back towards the entrance, you didn't bother looking back as you returned to your quarters to settle in for the night.

You busied yourself with getting undressed from your day clothes and into the much more breathable fabric of your nightgown, thankful for the fashions of the era making it easy to dress yourself without the aid of another. You weren't always a fan of the currently popular drop waist silhouette, but at least stylists were designing clothes with the modern woman in mind.

Sitting in front of the mirror at your dressing table, you took in the image of the woman who had made it this far in life.

Mother had launched you into society almost a decade ago, a prospect that had initially excited you back in your youth. You'd been full of such enthusiasm and optimism in the days following your coming out ball, but even the sands of Egypt were not far enough away to be immune from the Great War. Once Britain declared war on the Ottoman Empire and proclaimed a protectorate over the nation, the young men went off to defend distant shores - your cousin amongst them. It was a painful thing to overhear whispered conversations between your parents of family friends grieving over the loss of their sons and heirs, remembering their smiles when you'd giggled at their flirtations.

Sometimes it felt like all the boys you'd ever danced with were dead.

The country suffered the after effects for years to come, the men returning home no longer with the bright sparkle of youth but the weariness of those who wouldn't dare speak their stories. In a lot of ways it was not just the end of an era, but a new world entirely after that. Things that seemed of great importance suddenly had little meaning. Balls, etiquette, matchmaking - high society still existed and your family had still been members, but once you'd reached your twenties they accepted their daughter would not be a traditional heiress anymore and were content to let her be her own woman. It did not stop your mother entirely from suggesting suitable partners (nor did you turn down the chance to have a future full of love), but she'd been supportive of you up until her and father passed.

Strange to think where you might be right now if humans had only been kinder to one another. Which lad buried in an unmarked grave might have been your husband?

Running the boars head bristles of your hairbrush down through your ends, your attention turned back to the former soldier you had just left behind a few minutes ago. You didn't actually hate the man; there were no true ill intentions in your words towards him. Even your 'stables' grumbling from earlier this morning had been born more out of an annoyance at your cousin than anything. Sure, you would have felt better going on a journey with someone who'd been a bit more upstanding than previous circumstances suggested, but John– Johnny – was also a long time friend of Kyle's and his word held a great deal of weight with you.

And yes, you weren't quite that out of tune with your emotions enough to deny that there was something about him you found strangely appealing. You could readily acknowledge that he cut quite the attractive figure and your eyes were more than happy to drink in such a sight. There had been a small handful of times over the years where you'd initiated a short courtship with a suitor, but for all the dashing young men of good breeding in their smart tailored suits and gentlemanly auras, you'd could safely say their good looks and pleasant smiles hadn't quite tilted you off your axis the way Johnny did.

Part of you was still being stubborn about it though. This was certainly not the time to be filling your head with such frivolity towards a man you knew enough stories about to grasp he was a troublemaker. You couldn't let this distract you from the real reason you all were out here in the desert in the first place.

You set the brush down harder on the vanity than you'd originally meant to, watching it clatter off the table and come to a stop next to your foot. Letting out a small sigh of weariness, you rubbed the bridge of your nose with your fingertips before bending to retrieve the item, opting to stand instead of sitting back down now that you were finished with your nightly pampering rituals.

The reflection that met you in the mirror was not yours.

There wasn't any scream. You didn't reach out and attack the man in self defense. You froze, plain and simple. The flash of a blade at your neck made you obedient, body allowing itself to be manhandled up against the wall. A man in black robes held your gaze, strange markings tattooed across his skin and under his eyes that glared at you in warning. Your mind was too addled with shock to understand why his attire seemed so familiar.

You'd expected more of a reaction out of yourself, this being the first true taste of danger you'd ever experienced.

But fear became a tangible, living force that crept over you like some hungry beast, immobilizing and seizing every breath remaining in your lungs. Your mouth flooded with the taste of iron, the surge of adrenaline doing more harm than good as your vision went blurry and your hands shook from their spots gripping into the seams of your nightgown. Everything in your life funneled down to a moment of awareness of the sharp pinprick of the blade under your chin. How easy it would be to shove it up into your skull...

"Where is the key?" It was a hard voice; one spent years speaking a rougher language than the English he conversed with you in. You almost didn't even hear it over the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears.

Burning tears welled behind your eyes, a silent sob stuck in your chest. Every atom in your body screamed at you to run, but you trembled from the effort it took to remain standing and still. One wrong move and your blood would flow like the first plague of Egypt. Death was not a friend you wanted to meet yet.

You were aware of the deadly pressure digging in slightly with each movement of your jaw, imploring you to answer truthfully, but all it did was add to your growing panic as you realized with dread that you had no idea what it was he was asking of you.

The noise that came out of your mouth at first was more akin to a small ragged exhale, throat dry as parchment keeping you from speaking words until you forced yourself to swallow.

"I-I don't..." Your voice felt trapped, genuine confusion bleeding through the terror as you unconsciously shook your head. "I don't know what that is..."

"THE KEY! " His voice raised in anger, triggering a small scream of fright from your lips as your eyes closed instinctively, shrinking back away as far as you could with his hand gripping your bicep.

Oh god. You were going to die. You didn't have the answers he wanted and now you were going to die.

The door to your room broke open with a loud resounding BANG, wooden fragments splintering off from where it was kicked free of its lock. You yelped as you were dragged backwards against a firm body, your captor positioning himself behind you for leverage as Johnny crossed the threshold into your room. His eyes were trained on you, brandishing pistols in both hands as he skirted around the broken debris. What a sight you must have made; eyes bloodshot, tear tracks down your face, shaking like a leaf, clad only in a thin nightgown that went to your knees and left nothing to the imagination.

Johnny's eyes were hard, but they were there, holding you in place with a promise of 'I will get you out of here alive'. And you believed him.

"Let 'er go." It was eerie how calm he was, his voice even without a hint of waver. Standing in front of you was a soldier who'd looked death in the face and fought him bare handed, calm and steady and sure of his every move. Even when the man holding you prisoner tightened his hold on you and dug his blade into the flesh of your neck, Johnny didn't bat an eye. The only sign he gave was the brief glint at your whimper of pain.

Movement at the corner of your eye pulled your attention towards the open window to your room, a sign of the intruder's entry that you must have missed while lost in your own thoughts. But it was the person stepping into view on the other side that had made you look this time, mid arm raising the pistol at his side that he never got the chance to fire. You watched as three bullets hit his chest in quick succession; three deafening bangs from Johnny's own firearms that had you clapping your hands over your ears at the noise. You didn't even have time to process seeing a man get murdered right in front of you when another came up to take the place of his fallen companion. Johnny moved with purpose, darting to the right to avoid the gunfire while returning a barrage right back at him.

In the all the chaos, one of the two men landed a shot on the oil lamp burning on the table, shattering the glass container and spilling fire all over the floor. The fibers in the rug quickly started to catch, winding like ivy up the side of the wall to consume the curtains and continuing to spread outwards.

Some small part of you with self preservation reached out to the vanity next to you and grabbed the nearest item, hand wrapping around a vial of perfume and smashing it backwards into his face. You'd gotten lucky enough that the glass broke on impact, sending shards of it alongside burning chemicals straight into his eyeballs.

The robed man howled out a rough anguished cry, relenting his hold on you to claw at his damaged flesh as you threw yourself away from him. Johnny was immediately there to reach for you, pulling you into his side with one arm as the other kept on firing. All you wanted in that moment was to cling to him and let him protect you, but with the fires rapidly taking over every inch of the space and the robed men still coming you needed to escape and fast.

You were pushed behind him as he herded you out into the corridor, providing cover for your escape and finally needing to reload. For a brief moment as you were running down the hallway, there was a nagging thought in the back of your head that you'd forgotten something, but compared to the risk on your life it was discarded quickly in favor of paying attention to your surroundings.

Johnny took the lead, you keeping close behind as the pair of you found your way back above deck. You'd been grateful not to run into any other combatants along the way, but taking a step outside had you eating your words at the chaos unfolding in front of you.

It wasn't just your dwellings that caught fire. The entire vessel was ablaze with more than a dozen black robed men running around hurling torches through broken windows and dragging them through anything flammable. Men climbed down from the guard rails and jumped off the edges, abandoning ship down into the dark waters below. Your breath caught in your chest at the hellish landscape, too caught up in the savagery to notice as Johnny pressed you back against the wall out of view and began unloading into the men firing down on the passengers from above.

So much mayhem and bloodshed. And all for what? Some stupid key?

That's when it hit you: the metal box. It was still in your room.

"The artifact!" You all but shouted as you turned on your heel to head back the way you came, halted by an arm hooking you around the waist and tossing you into the wall with a small oof.

"I'll get ya another one!" Johnny all but growled out as he kept his attention facing the enemy, ducking around the corner to return scattered gunfire only to hide again as they took shots at the spot he just occupied, aiming through the walls to try to get to him and blasting holes in the wood. One came particularly close to his head, grumbling out a curse in what you assumed was Gaelic going by the gruffness of the words.

"If I don't bring that back with me than I'm as good as dead!"

Some would argue you didn't have your priorities in order considering the extreme amount of danger you were currently in. They'd clearly never met Dr. John Price.

You didn't have time to make any more objections before you were on the move again, dodging around overturned tables and flaming fabrics, screaming as bullets whizzed by your bodies with a holler from Johnny to just keep running. Your lungs burned from all the exertion, coughing as the wind blew smoke into your face and down your airways. Where the hell was Kyle in all this?

You get to the side of the boat, catching your breath as you stare around wide eyed for your cousin. Your thoughts are interrupted by your companion, too busy to pay him any real mind. "Ye swim, lass?"

"Very poorly." There hadn't been much occasion to growing up. You'd learned when you were young, but being in deep water as a child made you uneasy and your parents hadn't taken you often enough to really improve.

The implication of his words was completely lost on you right up until the point your legs were suddenly swung out from underneath you and you were being hoisted into his brawny arms. You never even got a chance to question it as the feeling of your stomach dropping was your only hint at being unceremoniously dumped over the bow into the Nile.

You'd shrieked on the short distance down, water invading your mouth from lack of warning as your eyes closed on instinct. The river was mildly temperate, still warm from the day's sun but not yet chilled from it disappearing over the horizon. Your body panicked for a moment as it tried to right itself underwater, unable to distinguish up from down with arms flapping wildly until you at last broke the surface, limbs struggling to keep you afloat while you sputtered out the liquid in your mouth.

Turning your gaze upwards, you saw Johnny lifting himself up over the rail, one boot perched on the side ready to vault over. You didn't have a chance to warn him, screaming as he was hauled backwards and out of sight.

"Johnny!" There was fear and desperation in your voice, worried for his safety and helpless to do anything about it.

Your head bobbed back down under the river, the crashing waves from the ship making an already hard task even worse as you popped back up with a gasp. You still couldn't see him from your vantage point, a tightness in your chest as you cast your gaze around you instead to focus on your own survival. You didn't know which way to go in your panic, seeing most of the other passengers heading for the far shore. Then there was the problem of the steady current trying to drag you further upstream. It wouldn't be impossible to others who were stronger swimmers than you, but the adrenaline was wearing off and the fatigue coming in quick.

You didn't know if you could make it.

Yelling out in frustration as you swam the other way, you begged and pleaded with your body to not give up on you just yet.

You got about halfway to the riverbank, forcing your muscles to go as far as they could and feeling the intense strain from the demand you were putting on them. If this was a lake things might have been different; you'd spent time in those back in England visiting close family friends and relatives. You'd never been taught proper form and even then you hadn't swam as far out as the others had, opting to stay nearer to the shallows where you could still enjoy a refreshing dip in safety. Water was easy when it wasn't fighting against you.

"Please, God, please..." It was hard to tell if your vision was blurry from the heavy tears in your eyes or if your body was just giving up, too tired to carry on. Your throat was choked up from crying and swallowing so much river water, doggy paddling to stay afloat as your strength began to fail. It was getting harder and harder to keep from submerging.

"Help me..." You begged out to empty air, the only sounds being the distant cacophony of the crowd on the far side of the Nile and the burning wreckage crackling and spitting as she sinks. The shoreline was still too far off for how much energy you had left.

You were alone. Completely alone.

You were going to drown.

You were exhausted; head tilted back as you let your body's natural buoyancy do the work you no longer could, breathing hard as you blinked up at the stars sparkling back at you. You tried to keep your legs kicking with what little you had left, but you were spent and struggling to keep your face above the surface. It was only a matter of time.

Drowning was an awful way to die, taking a deceitful breath of air and choking down to a watery grave. Would your cousin even find your body or would it be condemned to the service of fish food?

"...please... I'm scared..." came the whispered broken admittance, resignation seeping into your bones. It was just you and the inky darkness as the inevitability of your demise drew near, the only solace you could provide yourself was the gentle reminder that very soon you'd finally be back in the comfort of your mother's arms once more.

Your name broke through the air, stabbing you in the chest and robbing the air from your lungs. You almost stopped swimming from the shock of it, eyes blown wide as you screamed back his name in a mixture of hope and desperation: "Johnny! "

You spun wildly even though that only cost you precious energy, as you saw a figure heading towards you in the near distance. Long arms made broad strokes that carried him in your direction, prayers miraculously answered by whichever deity deigned to show you mercy.

"Johnny I can't–" you swallowed a mouthful of water as your legs gave out, sending you sinking under the surface.

The pressure from the water's current made it hard for you to pry your eyelids apart - not that it would have made very much difference considering there was not but shadows in the depths. Your hands clasped over your nose and mouth, pinching them tight in an effort to keep the air in your lungs for as long as possible. You hoped Johnny was a strong swimmer, a cramp in your legs keeping you from trying anymore.

'Hurry...' the voice inside your head whispered, lungs burning after countless moments spent floating in darkness.

You could make it. You had to make it.

Hands grabbed at you right as your lungs succumbed to the need to take a breath, mouth open in a silent gargled scream as you clawed at your throat instinctively, convulsing as your body tried to violently expel the liquid drowning you to no avail. What must've been seconds felt like torturous hours as a force pulled you upwards, agony as you sped towards the surface.

You coughed up the water in your system once you breached and hit air again, lungs wheezing from the intrusion as a sturdy arm caged you in to a well-built chest, supporting you with one as he used the rest of his strength in the other to slowly maneuver towards safety.

"Ah got ye, hen. Ah got ye. Jus' hold on tight tae me, yea? There's a good lass."

You could barely keep your eyes open as he swam you both the rest of the distance to shore, pushing you forward to reach the sand first and helping you crawl up onto dry land. You collapsed in a heap, the nightgown stuck to you like a second skin, hair long and stringy like limp seaweed. The sand was abrasive on your face from where your cheek was smushed into the ground, sprawled out on your stomach while your brain grappled with the fact that you were still somehow alive.

Johnny was half draped over your back, breathing hard from supporting the weight of both of you even as he ran his hand across your back with gentle shushing noises to help settle you and your errant tears. He brushed the hair away from your face, blinking down at you with a look of concern for your emotional and physical well-being. He looked just as waterlogged as you, though he at least had the dignity of having saved your life.

"Still wit' me, hen?"

You nodded weakly, hand shakily reaching up to rest over the one he still had near your cheek and grasping it with barely any strength. You hoped despite how wrecked you felt that he could see in your eyes how unbelievably grateful you were to him for his actions tonight. "Thank you..."

He nodded back at you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze in response before resuming the comforting gesture on your back. The pair of you stayed like that for a few minutes, you still trying to gather your bearings while Johnny scanned the landscape, taking in the other passengers still scrambling up the riverbank on the opposite side while keeping an eye out for one person in particular. Once your head was on straighter, you came to the same conclusion as he had: you were missing someone.

You pushed yourself up on shaky arms, scanning the area as the familiar pull of dread once more tugged in your chest. "Where is he? Where's Kyle?"

Your companion gave no answer, face kept intentionally neutral in a way that only made the contents of your stomach churn even more. You tried to get your legs up underneath you to make it to your feet, but a firm hand on your back kept you down to conserve your strength. "He's comin', lass. He'll be comin'."

You weren't entirely sure if he believed that.

"Kyle!" Your raspy voice rang out through the still of the night, pleading for a response. "Kyle!"

"Garrick! " Johnny joined in, throwing his own bellow into the mix that was a great deal stronger and more capable of being carried on the wind than yours.

You called out again, practically sobbing in relief when a faint answering cry came back somewhere to the left of you. Swiveling your head in the direction of the voice, you saw the familiar visage of your cousin jogging down the beach, looking no less worse for wear than the two of you were.

"You two certainly made it a good distance upstream. Been hollering for ya back there." He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder towards the way he came. You were glad for the lightheartedness of his tone as he approached, even as he looked you up and down trying to assess the condition you were in.

Johnny stood from his spot over top of you to clasp arms with him, pulling each other into a hug with a hearty slap on the back. "Fer a moment there ah thought ye might've made friends wit' a bullet."

"Went looking for you two, found a trail of dead bodies instead. Might've been one of them if not for those scrappy Americans tearing up the place like a dance hall."

He swung something he'd been carrying off his back, depositing it at Johnny's feet with a soft tap of his boot. You recognized it as the worn rucksack containing all his ammo and armaments. He must've left it on deck back where you last saw him. "You'll be happy to be seeing this I'd wager. Couldn't go back for mine on account of the whole everything was on fire situation."

Johnny barked out a laugh of delight, kneeling down to start rucking through it while Kyle sidestepped around him to kneel down next to you. Carefree expression turned worrying as he took in your trembling form, caught off guard at the way you managed to throw yourself into his arms. His embrace was a balm to your soul, hold tightening around you as if he needed this almost as much as you did. Placing a firm kiss to your temple, you felt like you could finally breathe for the first time since this night started.

"Let's not do that again, shall we?" There was a bit of forced laughter in your words in an attempt to not appear as fucked up as you felt, voice partially muffled from where your face stayed buried in his shoulder.

"I'll keep that in mind for our next adventure." He pulled back for a moment to give your face a proper inspection, searching for any sign of hidden damage. "Not hurt are you, dolly? Had me worried when I couldn't find you onboard."

You shook your head before closing your eyes, resting your weight against him again. "Johnny found me in my chambers once the fighting broke out. Saved my life more than once tonight."

From your vantage point, you missed the look Kyle gave him in response, a firm understanding passing between the two that needed no words. They both were pulled out of it by the quiet brokenness of your own.

"It's gone... all of it. Our belongings, the equipment. My clothes." Just because you were in a desert didn't mean things stayed warm after the sun went down. A light breeze wafted the air, sending goosebumps down your still dripping wet form, very aware of how thin this nightgown was as you crossed your arms over your chest in an effort to maintain some modesty.

"Ye jus' leave tha' part tae us, lass. Dunnae worry a hair on yer pretty wee head."

"Hey MacTavish! " Your conversation was interrupted by a far off unknown voice with a thick American southern accent, turning your head to peer through the darkness and locating a figure standing apart from the others where everyone was gathered on the opposite bank of the Nile. Johnny stood up from his position hunched over his pack, walking towards the water's edge at his summons.

"MacTavish! It looks to me like I've got all the horses!" It was hard to tell from this distance, but he had his arms spread wide with what you knew by his tone had to be some sort of smug shit eating grin on his face. Real mature, gloating at a time like this.

You felt an inkling better once your Scottish companion opened his mouth and belted back with a similar smirk. "Hey Graves! Looks tae me like yer on the wrong side o' the river!"

There was a pause as the words were processed. You couldn't be sure, but you swore you heard a faint curse as the man kicked the water, turning on his heel to clomp back to his fellows while barking out orders too muffled to be understood.

As Johnny rejoined the group, the three of you mentally took stock of the situation and everything that was now lost at the bottom of the Nile. At least you'd ended up on the western bank and didn't have to deal with the headache of crossing again. But you still had a long journey to go.

"So what happens now?" You spoke up from your spot still within your cousin's hold, glancing between them with such uncertainty and hoping for some reassurance. "Where do we go from here? The next port is at least twenty miles away and I can't cross the Sahara looking like this."

"We'll stay here for a bit longer while you get your strength back, maybe camp here for the night. Then we'll head south along the river where we will hopefully stumble across a caravan and get our missing supplies sorted out." Kyle's words were helpful and gave you some confidence that there was enough experience between the two of them to get you out of this debacle in one piece.

You could only trust that whatever bit of bad luck you just endured was the worst of what this expedition would bring.

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Pulling Strings

Astarion x F! Tav

18+ consensual body control, intimacy aversion/exploration, sub/dom, total control, body caging, restraint, rough sex, p-in-v, vulnerability, crying after sex, aftercare, tenderness

Tav has caught on that her favorite vampire doesn't enjoy touching or being touched by others. But she has a suggestion to possibly help that piques his interest...

Masterlist

-

As Tav talked to the merchant she felt two cold finger taps on her wrist.

She smiled, turning her head to give him a nod, returning to bartering.

The signal that he wanted to initiate their scenario.

After the tiefling party, she had asked if he had actually wanted to bed her. She had her suspicions, and ever forward, had asked plainly.

He tried to dance around an answer, but she knew him too well by then. Eventually relenting, he had said that he had done it out of obligation. Explaining that he needed protection, and bedding her was a fast track to devotion. Or, at least, was supposed to be.

That conversation led into more, delving into his aversion to intimacy and touch itself. Tav was not upset, if anything she wanted to help.

"Well, do you want to be intimate with others?" She offered curiously on one of those late nights they stayed up talking.

"I don't know, maybe?" He scoffed, flicking his hand up in annoyance. "It's something I'm going to have to get over eventually, if I'm ever going to be a functioning member of polite society."

"Not necessarily," Tav mused, taking the wine bottle he offered to her. "There's lots of ways to get around things like that and still be around others."

Her eyes lit up in thought. "You could wear gloves, or even hire an escort to practice with."

He gave her a withering look. "Darling, though I was one in some respects, I'm not going to trust my comfort with a sex worker I don't even know."

He threw his hands up dramatically. "I would much rather have someone like you if there was to be any 'practice' to be had." His pointer and middle fingers curling at the word.

"That's not a bad idea, actually." Tav suggested, tilting her head slightly.

He looked at her, his own head tilting opposite hers. Mouth pursing up to the side in consideration.

"Go on..." He drawled.

"Well, I could be like a puppet. You steer me where you want me and I stay there." She mused, leaning back on her side. "I wouldn't move unless you moved me, something like that."

"Hmm." He lilted. Pausing, seeming about to say something. Then just offered another thoughtful "Hmm..."

"Sleep on it. You don't need to decide now, and I'm fine with whatever you need." Tav shrugged, taking another swig from the bottle.

"If you decide you want to try, just give me a tap." She demonstrated on her wrist, two fingers lightly tapping.

Three nights later, she was at the firepit. Her hands clasped behind her back, leaning over to inspect the soup Gale was excitedly explaining. Two little strikes against the inside of her wrist brought her eyes back up.

She gave him a warm smile and a near imperceptible nod, turning back to Gale to give him her undivided attention about the intricacies of beef broth.

That night, she asked at the entrance of his tent.

"Come in, sweet thing."

"Where do you want me?" She asked, stepping inside. Already leaving her limbs loose and comfortable.

"Here..." He waved his hand at the space next to his bedroll.

She sat down, legs crossed neatly beneath her. Hands resting palm down in her lap. Waiting for his direction.

He hovered across from her at first, uncertain.

"You're in control. I'm your marionette. Move me." She encouraged, turning her wrist face up on her knee. Letting her hand fall open, relaxed.

He looped his fingers around her wrist and lifted experimentally.

True to her word, she kept her arm limp enough for him to puppet. Steering it around in a circle.

This seemed to give him more confidence, pulling her wrist down to the floor of the tent.

She followed, laying her head down. He adjusted her legs into a slight curl on her side. Pulling her arm up into a natural resting position.

He reached behind her and grabbed a small pillow, lifting her head and sliding it beneath.

He came to lay down next to her on his back. A good distance still between them, but not so far as to feel cold.

"Good?" He whispered.

She nodded, settling into the form he had set for her.

He leaned up and blew out the candle.

"Goodnight, darling." He hushed, laying back down in the dark.

That first night, that had been it. Just her laying in the dark next to him. His impressed eyes appraising her the next morning when he found her in the same position he had left her in. Breathing softly in her sleep.

As the nights went on, and as they grew closer outside of this arrangement, he got more curious.

Bringing her closer to him, touching her. Experimenting with angles and positions.

He had explained after that first night that he didn't want her to be entirely still. 'Too much like a corpse...' He had shivered. He still wanted her to interact with him, just in small movements that he could lead.

If he led her hands to his chest, she could circle her fingers softly there. If he led to his ear, she could massage it gently.

And, if at any point he no longer wanted that touch or found it uncomfortable, he would simply lead her hand away.

If he felt he wanted to be done entirely for the night, he would tap her wrist again, and she would get up and go. No questions asked.

Those nights, oddly enough, were the ones she felt closest to him. That he felt safe enough with her to end touch that he had initiated without fear of retaliation.

It was endlessly exciting for her when he found a touch or position that he really enjoyed.

One of his favorites being her chest to his back, leaning into her in a seated position. One of her arms loosely wrapped around his waist, her legs bent at his sides. Her other hand scratching gently along his scalp.

He leaned into her like this, head tilted back, legs nestled between hers. Practically purring as her fingernails traced lines along his scalp.

His hands would rest on her thighs, sometimes still, sometimes trailing back and forth. Her hand around his waist stroking his side softly with her thumb.

He would even fall asleep in this position, head turning into her neck. Occasionally pulling her down to lay with him, but sometimes falling entirely asleep against her chest.

She never moved from anywhere he put her, unless he gave her the signal that he was done for the night.

It even started proving beneficial outside of their little experiment. In battle he would see a blow coming over her shoulder and pull her out of the trajectory. She moved like water with him, they could almost dance through skirmishes together.

Of course, blood drinking came with the territory. He would always ask before he imbibed, and she almost always said yes.

His favored position for that was her sat on his lap, facing him. Legs hooked around his hips, arms draped loosely over his shoulders.

He would slot into that cup, resting the side of his head on her shoulder while he drank. Her hands comfortable on her forearms, her head softly falling against his.

Last night, he had initiated something that had surprised her.

Sitting down across from her in her usual starting position, he had picked up her wrist and led it to his chest. Trailing her fingertips in a dragging motion down the opening of his camp shirt.

Her surprise must have shown on her face as he smiled almost sheepishly at her.

"I'm feeling indulgent tonight." He purred. Lifting her hand to cup his pec gently. "Seems like a good night for exploration."

She smiled, nodding in agreement. Giving his pec one cheeky squeeze.

He continued to lead her hands across his body, pulling her closer to get a better range of movement.

Her puppeted hands sliding up over his hips, across his ribcage, over the curve of his shoulders.

His eyes had grown dark, chest rising and falling a little more strained.

It didn't go beyond that, with him eventually settling her into another favored sleeping position. Her head on his chest, arm draped across his ribcage, one leg curled up on his hip. His hand kneading and circling little figure eights into her thigh.

This was one of her personal favorites. One of the positions where she would often find sleep first. She wondered if he initiated this one so often cause he could tell.

So when night fell, she naturally wondered where tonight would take her.

He had absolutely had one-off tries that he decided didn't work for him, never bringing her back to them again. But his direction of her had been gradually more sensual. Something that made heat settle in her pelvis.

When they settled in for the night, she was surprised when he hadn't started leading her at all. Just running his hands over her body.

This wasn't entirely new, he did have areas of her that he enjoyed touching for tactile reasons. Particularly along her waist, under her ribcage and her upper thighs. He had remarked just how soft her skin was there, and how he was very glad she wasn't ticklish.

But the touch he drug across her now was more insistent. Needful pulls of her hips, her ass. Cupping her breasts.

She didn't move without permission, but her head fell back slightly. Letting out a soft moan.

He pulled up on both of her hands, urging them to his ears. Groaning in the back of his throat when she traced and massaged into them.

His hands pulled her legs open, hooking one up around his hip as he slid forward. Angling in between them, one hand pulling her thigh for leverage as he slowly started to grind into her.

His body pushed her onto her back, fingers digging into her propped thigh. Hand leaving it, his leg sweeping it up and open against him.

He caught her mouth in a kiss, hips fluid against hers. A hardening length pressing down into her.

For the first time, she moved of her own accord. Hand leaving his ear to cup the back of his head.

She realized her transgression and was about to move back, but his hand laced over hers.

"Please," He breathed against her mouth. "Touch me more."

This was the ultimate test, giving her free reign again. Under the suffocating wave of lust, she was determined.

"Are you sure?" She whispered when she could get a breath in.

"Yes, I trust you." He murmured, moving down to her neck.

She used the touches she had learned he enjoyed, fingers trailing along his chest, cupping over the bone of his hip, dipping into the curve of the base of his spine.

He shivered all over when she would stroke these desired places. Eyes fluttering up into his lids.

When her fingers traced the v-line of his hips something snapped in him. Needing control again.

He took hold of her wrists roughly, his legs twisting into hers and encouraging her to flip onto her belly.

She went limp again and followed his unspoken command, chest against the floor of his tent.

Pinning her wrists against her lower back, he hiked her hips up high to meet him with a grunt. In one motion he pulled her dress up over her ass, bunching up at her waist. Pulling her underclothes down roughly to her knees.

She moaned into his pillow, clasping her hands together in unholy prayer.

He unhooked her fingers far enough to slip his own in, curling into her. The rustling of fabric behind her, then the feeling of his cock teasing against her entrance.

There was no more questions, no more clarification. Just his voice low and dangerous behind her.

"You will take me."

She nodded into his pillow, pushing her legs wider for him.

He pushed inside of her without mercy, her cunt stretching deliciously to accommodate him.

She mewled into his pillow, and he fisted her hair into a ponytail. Pulling her head up.

"You will sing for me."

His hips rolled into her in hard thrusts. Rocking her body forward with each strike. It was slow and animalistic. Savoring and vicious.

He pushed her legs back together with his own, her ass seated higher, her cunt tighter around him. He groaned, caging his body over hers, forcing her chest further into the bedroll.

This new angle stroked directly against her g-spot. She moaned out choppy cries with each thrust, pushing her ass up higher into him.

"Is that good, little songbird?" He smiled, biting along her shoulder blades.

"Yes," She shuddered. "Harder, please."

"Fuck," He hissed, losing his composure. Releasing her hand to grip both sides of her hips. Slamming into her ravenously.

Her eyes rolled back into her head, already starting to clench around him. Clasped hands white knuckling.

He could feel she was close, a wide smile crossing his face when he realized she was waiting for his permission.

Teasing her for a little longer, he stayed silent outside of panting with exertion. He wanted to watch her come more undone.

She was writhing in small movements under him, trying to hold back the wave that was cresting. Whimpering in her effort.

Begging was out of the question, this was his call. But she was getting to her breaking point.

As soon as it became unbearable, he spoke.

"Come. Now."

Her whole body shuddered, shoulders arching back into still clasped hands. Release ripping through her from deep in her core, forcing near agonizing pleasure in an arc up from her pelvis. Her voice was entirely out of her control, pleading whines pushing into indignant near shrieks from her throat.

Her cum coated him in a slick veil, pushing out onto his thighs. The sight of it sent him over, the clenching pulls of her cunt further demanding.

He laced his hand back into hers, gripping his fingers into her knuckles. Crying out as his body tremored. His hips sloppy, bracing his other hand on her lower back as he filled her to the brim. Her fingers pulsed reassuringly into his as he fell apart over her. His unrestrained sweet sounds making her heart sing.

He collapsed into her lower back, pushing her clasped hands above him. Pulling them apart to lace into both of his along her sides. Still nestled inside of her. Both of them laying flat on the bedroll now.

He panted hard against her, sending little waves of cool air along her side. He unhooked his fingers high enough to tap twice on her wrist. The signal that he wanted to stop their scenario.

"Do you want me to go?" She hushed, rubbing her thumb inside of his palm.

He shook his head against her lower back, not moving from their joining in the slightest.

She smiled, twisting gently underneath him. Bringing his slack body onto her.

"Come here to me." She purred, bringing his head down to her chest. Running her fingernails in arcs along his scalp, holding him around his waist.

He melted into her, body fully relaxing. Quiet tears falling onto her sternum. His arm holding her side strong against him. His grip almost fearful, as if he was anticipating someone trying to take her from him.

She only hummed softly, a slow tune she had heard in a passing tavern. Fingers leaving her love in lines through his hair.

His breath slowed, eyes fluttering shut, his long lashes tickling her chest. Body warmed and pliant, he fell under her spell. Blessedly asleep.

She smiled, continuing to stroke his curls. She would often stay awake just to hold him like this. It felt sacred, a rite that only she got to partake in. The guardian of his rest.

"Oh, my starlight..." She hushed, kissing the top of his head.

She felt his sleeping smile against her chest. The nightcall of insects her hymn, the high moon her witness. His body her holy duty.

Letting her head turn on his pillow, she allowed herself to fall with him.

~

[luveline]

Hey my lovely, could i equest a blurb where reader seeks one of spencer's hugs and he's all soft and mushy about it!! I just think he'd give really warm hugs and want one so bad!

shy!reader + post!prison Spencer have a hug

Spencer understands why you might find him intimidating. He did go to prison for a few weeks, and even if the idea of his being a potential felon didn’t scare you, there’s nothing wrong with being nervous around the unknown. You’ve had a few more weeks to get to know the others on the team. He tries not to take it personally that you’re closer with some of them than you are him. 

Plus, you’re awfully shy. 

Spencer’s been trying to communicate that he’s an idiot. He was shy, once, and he tends to be shy about things now, too, even if he’s taken to hiding that. He hides a lot, these days. 

But things aren’t hopeless with you. You’re inarguably his best work friend now that Morgan’s not around, taking the desk next to his —through coincidence or insistence, he has no idea. 

“What flavour do you have today?” he asks. 

You show him your bag. The convenience store outside of work has the strangest sweets from all sorts of places. You’ve been bringing in a different bag each day, and you always share. “Today is apricot and peach ‘millions’,” you tell him, shaking the bright pink bag like a rattle. 

Inside, the millions bounce against each other like miniscule polystyrene balls but with a heavier weight. 

“Awesome!” he says, holding out his hand. “Please?” 

You rip the corner and tip a generous helping of candies into his palm, doing the same in your own hand. “Ready?” you ask. 

“Three, two, one.” 

You both tip your heads back at the same time. Apricot and peach are similar flavours, and Spencer can’t tell the difference when they’re both in play. He can also taste apple juice and the sharp citric acid flavour they put in every candy. 

He can’t tell if you like them. He quite enjoys it, will happily eat the leftovers if you’re not interested, but your attention isn’t on the candy when he looks up. You’re staring straight at him. 

“What?” he asks, perturbed. 

“Nothing, just. Had a rough morning. Thanks for trying the candy with me.” 

He frowns. “I’m sorry. Let me know if there’s something I can do to make you feel better. I can make you a cup of hot chocolate?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Spencer’s sure that to an outsider, he and the team appear to travel to a hundred cities a month. In reality, cases aren’t as densely packed, especially with the government expanding their profiling teams, and the majority of Spencer’s day is spent answering emails and giving advice to agents, law enforcement, and his colleagues. He doesn’t see much of you (where you’re forced to work ViCAP calibration as newbies usually are, almost like a hazing) but he does take you that hot chocolate around lunch time. Just to make sure you have the option. 

It’s sometime past four PM when you appear again. 

“Hey,” he says, turning to you where you’re paused behind your desk chair, “you're finally done?” 

“Not yet. So many case files to transcribe, opinions to cross check, signatures and…” You wince. “It’s a lot. You already know.” 

“I don’t, actually. I only ever had to do ViCAP as punishment, and I was extremely well-behaved. For a while, anyway.” 

You hesitate with something heavy on the tip of your tongue. You’re like every profiler wherein your tells are self-identified and quelled, but you’re still so new, and Spencer’s an expert. You want to ask him for something, but you don’t think you’re allowed. If he presses the issue you’ll shut down, and if he offers you another cup of hot chocolate you’ll simply drink it without letting him in on the real secret. 

Spencer waits. 

“Spencer, you don’t have to say yes, just… You’re the nicest friend I have, and you always know what I need to hear. Um, I know you don’t like touching people and I wouldn’t ask you to if you don’t want to, but it’s been a really long time since someone hugged me, and…” Your voice gets quieter and quieter, until you’re whispering, and then fizzling out. 

“You want a hug?” he asks, surprised. 

“If that’s okay.” 

“I give really good hugs,” he warns, climbing from his chair immediately, arms opened, an unmissable invitation. “You’ll never get over it.” 

“Really?” 

He can’t believe you came to him specifically for a hug. He’s gonna lose his mind. Gentle, Spencer ushers you into his arms, head quick to duck down, his thumb on your shoulder. 

You could’ve asked anybody in the office for a hug. Penelope would have hugged your brains out. Emily, Unit Chief and secret sweetheart, would’ve taken you off of ViCAP and given you a loving pat on the back. But you didn’t ask Penelope or Emily, you asked him. 

“You don’t have to ask me first,” he says quietly. 

“You don’t like touching.” 

“That’s more to do with germs, and I’m not worried about yours,” he says. “Unless you’re about to tell me you have a headache.” 

“It’s like this pounding behind my eyes,” you say with a laugh. 

Spencer smiles, his mouth and nose to the side of your head. He gives you a good ten seconds of quiet, his palm warming your shoulder, before he murmurs, “Any better?” 

“You’re really warm,” you murmur back. 

Spencer resists the urge to squeeze you. “It's the oxytocin.”

“Or you’re just really, really warm.”

[cameronspecial]

good morning, good afternoon or good night depending on the time you see this . Excuse my English, I'm using the translator.I wanted to ask for an imagine about dad Rafe, where his son (Theo/Luca or whatever name you prefer) besides being jealous of his mother (not letting Rafe give him kisses, pushing him so they don't hug, etc.) at his young age He starts calling Rafe "Rafe" instead of "Papa", I think it would be a nice imagine

Oedipus Rex

Pairing: Dad! Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Jealous Rafe.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

A/N: This is a great idea and don't worry, your English is great!

Masterlist

Theo is the love and entire world of Rafe’s life, along with Y/N of course. However, right now, all Rafe wants to do is force his son to stay in his room. Not because his son is being bad, but because Rafe is jealous of the child. Y/N’s eyes are on the TV while Theo is snuggled under her arm. For the past three minutes, Rafe has been trying to sit on her other side so he can watch with her, but every time he steps closer, Theo’s eyes narrow at his dad. Deciding to ignore his son’s judgment, he plops down beside his wife and leans over to kiss her. Theo has other plans though, leaving Rafe’s lips to fall on his hand. Rafe’s eyebrows knot together and he groans, sitting back up to continue watching. 

———

Y/N has just returned home from work and Rafe goes to greet her. Before he can kiss his wife, tiny footsteps patter past him and Theo throws himself into his mom’s arms. She leans down to pick him up in her arms. Theo peppers his mom's cheek with kisses. The boy pulls back and Rafe goes in to try to kiss his wife; however, Theo’s tiny hand places itself on his dad’s shoulder and pushes him away. “No, my mommy,” he protests, wrapping his arms around his mom’s neck. Rafe looks to her for back up and she only shrugs, “I think he is probably just hangry. Why don’t we get him something to eat?” “Okay. I just think it is unfair that he gets all of your cuddles,” he grumbles, following his family to the kitchen. 

———

Rafe has to set his foot down at some point and it is definitely going to be now. When he got out of the bathroom after he finished getting ready from bed, he found Theo in bed with his wife. His son is pressed up against Y/N, cuddling at her side. “I thought he was supposed to be sleeping in his own room now. He’s six. That’s old enough to be sleeping by himself,” Rafe complains. He gets into bed and tries to bring his wife to his side, yet Theo stops him. “No, Rafe. I can only cuddle Mommy.” Hearing his son say his legal name crosses his line. “My name is Papa to you, Theo. I’m your dad, not your friend,” he criticizes, crossing his arms over his chest. Theo ignores his father and falls asleep instead. Once he is sure his son is sleeping, Rafe leans over to whisper in Y/N’s ear, “I don’t like how possessive he is of you.” She giggles with a shake of her head, her fingers lacing through Theo’s hair. “I can think of two reasons why he is acting like this. One. He is going through the phallic stage of Freud’s psychosexual stages, which means he is experiencing the Oedipus complex. He sees you as a threat and wants to replace you. But I think that one is creepy, so my favourite is number two. He is just modelling your possessive behaviour. I told you it was going to bite you in the ass one day,” she rattles off, reminding Rafe of the fact that she has a doctorate in psychology. Annoyance flashes on his face, “Ugh, why does my amazing wife have to be so smart? You did tell me so and I didn’t listen to you, so I’m sorry. If I had known I was teaching him to be a little asshole, then I would’ve listened to you.” She giggles with a shake of her head. “You didn’t just call our son an asshole,” she baffles. Rafe shrugs, “Act like an asshole, get called an asshole. It’s okay though. I’m going to stop being possessive and he’ll stop acting like an asshole. I promise.” She rolls her eyes. “I highly doubt that is going to happen, but whatever you say,” she says, turning to turn the lights off. Rafe copies her actions and lies against his pillow. “Goodnight, I love you,” he bids her. “I love you too, goodnight.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

[surielstea]

Caretaker

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Reader is sick & Az being the best bf ever

Warnings: slight suggestiveness, tooth rotting fluff

A/N: Literally wrote this when I was sick asf and high on cough medicine so I hope this makes sense 😭😭

2.2k words

My body tremors as another weak cough racks through me, my throat pulsing at the feeling. Watery eyes form tears, sliding down the bridge of my nose and dripping onto the plush pillow beneath my head.

I stare out the floor to ceiling window, marveling at the way the sidra morphs starlight into rainbow refractions. I sniffle, one of my nostrils completely closed off and making it a challenge to breathe. It was late. I didn't know the exact time but from the moons position in the sky I could guess it was far past midnight.

My mate hadn't come to bed and I debated clambering out of this all too hot bed to go and find him, wrap my arms around his waist and guide him back to our bed. But I can't expose him to whatever virus plagued me, in turn getting him sick, no matter how badly I missed his touch. It was already a risk to share the same bed, I couldn't push it.

Madja stopped by earlier and gave me a tonic to help ward off the cough but there was nothing she could do beyond that. I took the tonic minutes ago, the effects still settling in, I just hoped the cough would cease long enough for me to be able to fall asleep.

It's been days, my mate was convinced I was getting worse. He surveyed me like usual, but his gaze turned soft and pitiful every time a raucous cough came over me. Shadows kept me company, swirling fluidly against my back in a reassuring manner, the chill touch of them making me cool off from my heated state.

There was a soft knock at the door and I didn't have to look to know who it was. I adjusted under the covers, using my strength to sit up and lean against the headboard, teary eyed but making eye contact with the large winged male in the doorway. "Az." My voice was practically a whimper, a feeble excuse at calling for him.

"My love," He drew a long exhale, my sickness seemingly weighing on him as well.

"You can't be in here." I murmur, wiping my tears and wishing it was his hands instead of mine doing the act.

"I miss you." He offers me a soft smile as he tilts his head against the frame of the door, his silhouette from the hallway light made him look like some sort of angel.

"I don't want to get you sick." I shake my head, holding my arm out as if to shield him away but we both knew I held no power at the moment.

"It wouldn't be so bad," He tries to lighten the mood with a shrug. "I'd be off work, we could quarantine together. We'd read and cuddle and I could actually go within a ten feet radius of you." His words were convincing, and the idea has a smile tugging at my lips. That is until a croak of a cough rattles my body and I remember how irritating this illness is. I wouldn't want him to have this, ten foot radius or not.

"It's hard enough to stay away from you, don't tempt me." I sigh, allowing my bones to sink into the large matress.

"Worth a try." He mirrors my smile. "Do you need anything? Tea or soup?" He asks and I twist my lips to the side as I ponder what he could give me that would ever amount to how badly I want him and him alone. "A good book perhaps?" He arches a perfect brow. It pains me how well he knows me.

"A book would be nice." I hum and he pushes from the doorway, excited to accomplish a new task. His gaze lingers on me before he closes the door and his silent footsteps recede down the hall.

I look back out the window while I wait, fiddling with the mating ring around my fourth finger. My cough seemed to have settled, I'll have to tell my brother to increase Madja's salary for her admirable work — or maybe I'd pay her directly myself. As soon as I'm better I will, whenever that might be. I release a long sigh and allow my eyes to shut for a moment, I must've slept for half the day earlier but that didn't stop the rest from weighing at my heavy lids.

Before I dared slip into a sleep the spymaster opened the door with a multitude of items in his hands. I couldn't help but smile. The night courts intimidating Shadowsinger was at my door, with soup and tea and a book, taking care of me. He had one of the world's deadliest knife's at his thigh and he probably used it to cut open my tea bag.

"Az, I'm gonna cry." I warn. My already watery eyes verging on tears as I think about how much he does for me.

"No don't cry." His brows crease as he sits on his side of our bed, placing a bowl of soup down on my nightstand. "I tried to follow your mom's recipe but it won't be as good." He frowns and there's nothing more I want to do then kiss the pout off his perfect face. "And this is hot, so don't drink it for a few minutes." He places a steaming cup of tea beside the soup. "And this," He holds up a worn paper back book. "I went to Nesta and asked her for the best romance novel she could think of and she gave me this so." He places it on my lap. "Hopefully it's as smutty as you hope." He mutters beneath his breath and I flush hot but blamed it on my fever.

"Thank you." My voice was a rasp, he looked to my eyes. Hazel laced with love and admiration, the emotions reflecting on the golds and greens of his irises.

"Get some rest after eating, you have to get your strength up so I can get my sparring buddy back." He placed a hand on my forehead to check my temperature, something on his expression falls when he doesn't notice any difference from the last time he checked my temperature.

"Is Cassian not good enough anymore?" I scoff.

"He's not you." He huffs and an upside down smile spreads over my expression.

"I know you're sick but I really want to kiss you." He admits and just the idea makes me feel warmer inside. I grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him into me, his upper half hovering over me as I plant my lips onto his. I grin against the sensation, it's only been a few days but gods, how did I forget how perfect it felt to have his mouth against mine?

He pulls back first and I debate chasing him back but he pecks my forehead and I settle for it, leaning back onto my headboard yet again. "I'm going to finish up an assignment then I'll come to bed, okay?" He gets up from the bed and my eyes follow.

"Mhm." I nod tiredly.

"If I find you reading that book when I get back I'm taking it away." He warns and I bite my bottom lip mischievously.

"Goodnight lovely." A shadow tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as I watch him make his way to the door.

"Night Az." I muse in reply, already reaching for my bowl of the nostalgic meal.

—

About an hour later I had finished my entire bowl of soup and cup of tea. Both of them reminding me of my mother humming her favorite songs as she sewed her dresses, of Rhys teaching me how to fly before I could even walk, of Cassian brawling with my brother when he first moved in, and of Azriel's warm embrace.

I was curled into a ball with a mage light over my head, flipping through the pages of the romance novel Nesta lent me. It was a fantasy with just the right amount of erotica, the kind that would make any female flush. There were a few times when I'd have to close the book and take a breather before opening it back up, which meant it was perfection.

The door opened with a creak and I slammed the book shut the way a teenage boy might with a nude magazine. Azriel crinkles his brows at me and I look at him guiltlessly. "Evening handsome." I greet and he blinks at me like I'm crazy.

"Why are you being weird?" He utters, coming further into the room and closing the door behind him. I fold my lips inward to keep myself from laughing or possibly exposing that I was reading absolute filth just moments ago.

"Just reading." I shrug innocently and he narrowed his gaze in on me but seemed to let it go when striding over to the armoire to change. I watched him shamelessly as he stripped off his shirt, golden tan skin inked in swirling black. He shuffles through the drawers, giving me a full show of his muscular back and those large wings. My breath hitched as I stare without caution and a small chuckle sounds from him. He knows I'm watching, and at this point I can't find it in myself to care.

"Are you flexing on purpose?" I ask him as he discards his leathers for a pair of lounge pants.

"I'm not flexing love." He confesses and my stomach does backflips. Cords of muscle rippled from his shoulders down to his bulging arms, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little turned on. And he was just standing there. He turns to look at my tinged cheeks and it only makes me blush more. The eye contact just might kill me. The nonchalance and causality of it made my stomach churn, as if he wasn't standing there in front of me shirtless.

"You're teasing." I set my book on the nightstand and sink down into my pillows.

"How so?" His question is half a laugh because he knows what he's doing.

"I can't have you right now." I whine like some sort of child, pulling the blankets up and over my head so I don't have to look at his chest that seemed to be sculpted by the gods themselves. The bed sinks and I know he's now beside me. I can't help but gravitate towards him only to stop myself because I know cuddling would get him sick.

His strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls my back to his chest.

"No, Az I don't want to get you sick." I protest, pulling away with the weakest strength since the predicament at hand wasn't all too bad.

"I already told you I don't care if I get sick." He brings me in closer and who was I to deny my mate's embrace?

It was nice to lay beside him, nice to have his warmth radiating onto me. I missed him even if it's only been a few days, even if he still sleeps beside me every night. I missed the physicality of it. Azriel's never been one for touch but sometimes I go through phases where if I don't have my hands constantly on him I'd collapse.

So I allowed myself to lean into his chest, matching my breathing to his and intertwining my hand with his scarred one. "I love you." He hums into my shoulder, placing gentle kisses to the crook of my neck and a soft smile spreads across my lips.

"Would you still love me if—" I begin but he doesn't let me finish,

"Yes." His tone is confident and didn't waver for a beat.

"You don't even know what I was going to say." I pout and I feel him shake his head against me.

"As long as you're still you, I love you." He professes and I flip around to look at his golden eyes that the stars themselves were outmatched against.

"I love you too." My voice is a mere whisper but a wide grin takes over his face, revealing his dimples. His smile was so bright I thought for a moment that sun wouldn't rise in fear of rivaling it. "And I'm totally getting you sick." I threaten but he doesn't seem to mind, especially not when I lean forward a few inches in order to kiss that grin.

"Sleep, love." He coerced and pulls me into his chest, his wing draping over me like a blanket, blocking out any seeping light from the moon outside. "I'll be here in the morning." He muses, smoothing a scarred hand over my hair. He continues to play with the strands until I'm drifting off into that touch, his warmth inviting me to sleep.

Azriel was quick to follow, once he noticed my breathing even out. Shadows settle around us as his lids grow heavy and his weight falls into the bed. With me in his arms it was easier for him to sleep, the comfort of knowing I'm safe while in his hold pushed him further into that sweet relief of rest.

[indigosunsetao3]

You Have A Few Minutes Before You’re Missed

How do the COD men use that time?

Female reader perspective

NSFW - Minors DNI

Idea came to me because I took a quick weekend trip and have only had a few minutes here and there to sneak away and write. Excuse typos/grammar, literally been writing this in ten minute spurts over a few days.

Alex

“They’ll never miss us.”

You grin as Alex leads the way down a deserted hallway, his hand tightly gripping yours. His body is tense with anticipation and need but he keeps the boyish grin on his face as he walks. His steps only pause to check a door, which is locked, before moving on.

“Alex, maybe we should…” you start as he halts at another door and tries the handle. Locked.

He curses under his breath, breaking the calm exterior look to show the desperation underneath. His eyes cut to you standing there, still holding his other hand and smiling so prettily.

“One more?” He asks, his voice a slight plea as he tugs you closer to him. “If it’s locked we’ll go back and I’ll just suffer,” he grins and gives you a chaste kiss because if he does anything more than that he’ll combust in the hallway.

You had been teasing him all night, knowing he had to keep it together. It was an award ceremony after all and that required decorum. But fuck, seeing him in his dress blues all cleaned up and decorated did something to you. So when he sat next to you at the table your hand wandered a little too high up his thigh. And as he leaned over to pour you more wine you had whispered how badly you wanted him to fuck you while wearing this specific outfit he almost spilled the red liquid all over the table.

“One more,” you agree with a laugh as Alex all but jogs to the last door, dragging you behind. Your heels click on the tile and despite playing coy you’re also hoping he finds an unlocked door. The way he’s desperate for you has only added fuel to your own fire.

Making a show of it Alex grabs the last door handle, pauses for dramatic effect, then twists. It’s unlocked. He doesn’t waste another second as he drags you into the long abandoned office and slams the door shut by pushing you up against it.

“What was that about me in my dress blues?” He asks as one hand grabs your thigh through the slit in your floor length dress and yanks your leg around his waist. He’s already hard and pressing into you, causing you to gasp at the friction as he rolls his hips. “Don’t get all shy on me now,” he chastises as you blush and whimper at his ministrations.

“I want you to fuck me while wearing them,” you gasp out, one hand sliding up his chest to gently tap one of his medals. “You look so fucking good in these,” your hand slides to play with one of the buttons.

“I’m always eager to please,” Alex answers as he gathers the rest of your dress and shoves it out of the way, allowing you to undo his pants for him. When he springs free your hands are instantly on him, pumping him quickly as he shudders and gasps against your lips. Alex is a vocal man in bed and you would do anything to keep him panting and groaning in your ear.

“I need you,” you demand after a few minutes of rushing him toward that edge. “Now,” you add sliding the head of his cock through your folds and laughing at the look of shock on his face that you weren’t wearing any underwear. “I didn’t want the lines,” you answer with a gasp as you line him up with your entrance and he pushes just the tip in.

“How do you want me?” Alex asked, ever the gentleman giving you what you needed first.

“Fuck me against the wall Alex. Hard and fast,” you demand, grabbing his hand that was braced in the wall and guiding it to your backside. He knows what you want and gently grabs you to lift you up so you can wrap your legs fully around him and lock your ankles.

Alex gives you one second to get ready, your hands braced on his shoulders, before he follows through with your command. He takes you hard against the wall, the filing cabinet a few feet away rattling with each thrust, the medals on his chest tinkling as they knocked into one another.

Your perfect soldier and fiancé always took care of you without hesitation. He was breathless and sweating as you hit your climax but he made sure to ride you through it before letting himself release into you. His hands grabbing hard at your ass to grind you down onto him and keep you filled up with him, not wanting to waste a drop.

“We’ll have to go back eventually,” you say as he rests his forehead against your shoulder, still fully inside you. He always liked to stay connected for a bit. Enjoyed feeling your flutter around him in the after shocks of your orgasm and to make sure he doesn’t drip down your leg too fast.

“Just another minute,” Alex answers as he twists his head to kiss at your neck.

Gaz

“This skirt is a goddamn tease. You wore it on purpose just for me, didn’t you?”

You had, in fact, worn it on purpose. It seemed decent enough when viewed in a proper manner that you were careful to display around the other men. But the moment you knew only Gaz was watching from the bar, the rest of the men busy with a game of pool, you bent over at the waist to grab a drink from one of the tables. Felt the slide of the pleated material up your legs to reveal the lacey tops of your thigh highs. If you bent and leaned much more he was going to get a pretty view of your matching lace panties.

He had seen through innocent look you gave him as you stood up and walked over. Gaz’s eyes seemed to be ablaze as he spun to face the way of the game you were pretending to watch as his hand slid up just under your skirt without missing a beat.

He was subtle and slow about his movements to give you the chance to bat him away but you didn’t. You’ve been pining for this for weeks and when you don’t push him away you feel his fingers slide under the lace tops and pluck one to snap the elastic against your skin. The movement elicited a small groan from you that had you sipping on the beer to cover it.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Gaz stated as he let his fingers trail to your other leg, careful to not let on to anyone else what he was doing. If Gaz was anything, he was great at playing casual. “Did you wear this on purpose for me?” He pinched the back of your thigh at that and you nearly dribble your drink down your chin, causing him to laugh lightly.

“Maybe I did,” you answer sounding bolder than you felt. It was one thing to playfully flirt from a distance, playing the game you two did to rile one another but never quite getting to the next step. But when he was this close with his hands so dangerously far up your skirt in public where anyone could see if they looked hard enough it was different. You felt meek and maybe a bit self conscious despite being the one to start the whole thing.

“And why did you? There had to be a reason you thought of me when you put it on then gave me a little show. What is it that you want?” His voice is silky smooth as his hand slides up the curve of your ass to toy with the barely there lace. You haven’t dared to look at him, your eyes locked on the game of pool that Price is dominating without even trying. But you know he’s got a smirk on his face as he continues to run his hands over you.

“You,” you finally say with a smirk around the beer bottle. “I had to get your attention somehow.”

“You’ve always got my attention,” Gaz replies simply as he sets his drink down on an empty table next to him. “You should know that by now,” his fingers are dangerously close to sliding between your legs and you huff lightly. “Anytime you’re around I can’t take my eyes off you,” he pauses in his words pretending to be interested in the pool game as his fingers dip down and you instinctively shift to open your legs a bit more for him.

“Then what took you so long?” You ask a bit breathless as his fingers barely ghost over your center. This was dangerous. The bar hid your lower half from view of anyone unless they came around the back but it doesn’t hide your face and you have a terrible poker face. “I was a bit worried you weren’t interested,” you tack on, hand squeezing the glass bottle hard to keep from squirming.

“The best part is the anticipation,” Gaz answers, still sounding completely unbothered. “I never meant to seem disinterested, just wanted you to pant a bit,” he grins and dares to reach a hand out to turn your face to look at him. “And I think you’re finally there,” he smirks watching your face as his fingers slide up to gently rub circles over your apex through the panties.

Your lips part at that and he quirks an eyebrow as he slides under the lace. His neutral face slipping a bit as he feels the wetness on his fingers and he slides them back to your entrance to gather more.

“Fuck love, maybe I had you waiting a little too long,” he says as he continues to rub his fingers over you, watching you squirm. “The game is almost over,” he breathes out as he pushes just one knuckle into you, causing you to bite your lip and shut your eyes. “They’re going to come back over here and I’m going to have to take my hand away,” he slides his finger a little further in and you hear his appreciative groan as you shift your hips back toward his hand.

“Then buy us more time,” you answer not wanting him to stop as he pushes his finger fully in so his palm is resting on your skin. You whimper and bite your lip as Soap looks over, oblivious as to what is happening, to ask Gaz if he wanted to play next.

“I’ll catch the next game,” Gaz answers simply as he slides back out and runs his glistening finger back up to your clit to rub it gently. He knows you’re struggling to keep it together as he plays it cool with the guys. Soap nods and turns back to rack up the game again, Price heading to get another round of beers and Ghost picks out his cue to play.

“We’ve got about ten minutes before Ghost wipes the floor with him,” Gaz says as he shifts a bit in his chair. “I bet I can have you come all over my hands before it’s my turn to play.”

He’s not wrong.

Ghost

You’d been working a tail for three days now as a pair. Following them wherever they went and it seemed the guy really enjoyed hole in the wall dive bars and lounges. These three days with Simon had only amplified the desire between the two of you and you secretly thought Price assigned this task to you both to finally get you both to act on it.

The touches and banter had been casual and subtle at first. Ones you could pass off as just friendly interactions between colleagues. But the more and more alone time you spent together the more obvious it was that this wasn’t coworkers friendly. There was more. More in the way Ghost watched you work, more in how he always insisted on sitting next to you and how you always felt the need to touch him. Even if it was just a leg brush under the table or arms resting comfortably against one another on the couch.

It had come to a head this evening at the little jazz lounge. The dimly lit floor made it easier to touch and feel one another, using the excuse you were portraying a tourist couple on their honeymoon. Maybe you had been a little to handsy that evening, leaning on him in the velvet booth, draping your legs across his lap or whispering in his ear so your lips brushed the skin there. You needed to sell your cover though and Simon hasn’t pushed you away and even played into it as well. His hands running over your shins and chalves, up to the back of your knee, fingers playing over the nape of your neck as you talked.

When you insisted on another drink Simon followed you to the bar and stood behind you, his hand resting on your hip as he looked around the club. When more people walked up to the bar while you waited Simon gently moved you to lean back on him to make more room. His fingers holding your hips a bit tight so you could feel his length pressing into your backside as he held you close. You swallow as the bartender continues to work taking drink orders and they still hadn’t come over to you yet.

“Mark is on the move,” came a voice in your earpiece. They were meeting someone here and Gaz had infiltrated the club staff so he could monitor the exchange. Effectively giving you and Simon a little reprieve from babysitting duty. “I’m moving in,” Gaz answers a moment later,

Leaning your head back you look up at Ghost who is watching you with an intense look as if waiting for an answer to his silent questions. His fingers are flexing against your hip bone and when your gently roll your hips back into him he takes a sharp breath. He doesn’t wait after that. He all but drags you from the bar, knowing the rest of the team will be busy watching Gaz for a few minutes. Ripping his ear piece out to end the chatter he drags you toward the coat closet that the attendant had abandoned and pulls you inside.

It’s too dark to see anything but you don’t bother with the light switch as Ghost snatches you up and kisses you roughly in the dark. He isn’t slow about it as his hands find your backside and he lifts you up to wrap your legs around his waist. The air leaves your lungs in a rush as he pins you between him and the wall, his mouth never leaving yours as his hands slide down your sides to find the hem of your shirt.

“Fuck,” Simon breathes out as his hand finds the soft skin of your breast. He completely bypasses your shirt and bra and is incessantly kneeding the skin, hard enough you know it’s going to bruise but you groan in satisfaction, not pain. “I’ve wanted you like this for goddamn weeks,” he grounds out as his other hand grabs your waist to grind you down on him. The whimper you let out feeling him pressed against the thin fabric of your leggings is pathetic but it only seems to push him along.

“Then don’t wait any longer,” you breathe and Simon laughs a bit against your lips as he lowers your feet down to the ground. He doesn’t give you a chance to orient yourself before he flips you around so your stomach and chest is flat against the wall. You can hear the rustle of his pants and belt and your move to pull your own pants down, practically shaking with anticipation, before he pins you again.

You can feel his length prodding at you, demanding and a bit slick now that it was free of his clothes. Your mouth is dry as Simon kicks your legs open with precision, even in the pitch blackness of the closet, and his hands slide around your front.

When his fingers find your aching core you moan loudly, arching your back against him as he literally slips between your center. If you weren’t so fucking needy for him you’d be embarrassed by how wet he made you. You can feel the appreciative twitch of his cock against you as he starts working you up into a frenzy of little pants and moans. His fingers are quick to get you to that edge, right as you’re about to come he stops, pulling his hand away and grabbing your hips.

You whine as the loss of contact but it turns into a filthy groan as he notches himself at your entrance and slides into you without hesitation. You can hear his cocky chuckle at your reaction and how easy it was for him to seat himself fully in you without resistance. He rolls his hips once, twice, for you to get used to him before he starts fucking you at a brutal pace. His hands gripping hard to leave matching bruises on your hips.

Your hands are pushed against the wall as you arch to him, begging him to keep going while whining from the pleasure. At one point you hear someone outside the room and you quickly shift as if to pull away from Simon to get him to stop, hissing that someone is outside and what if they hear you? But he doesn’t take well to that. He shoves you harder against the wall so you have nowhere else to go and can’t get away as he rocks his hips into you.

“If you keep making those noises then, yes, they’ll hear you,” Simon answers as his fingers slowly, lazily, play with your clit. You shudder and push back into him to get him to move again. This was the second time he had pushed you toward that blissful edge then stopped. “Think you can keep quiet?” He asks as he leans down to kiss at your ear, “or are we going to have to wait to finish when I can get you alone?”

Fuck waiting, you’ve waited too long. Your hand scrambles to grab at his ass and pull to get him to move. He takes the hint and picks up his pace again, your hand moving to cover your own mouth to drown out the noise but his hand gets there first. His palm and fingers close tight around your lips as he bends your head back and continues to fuck you against the wall not caring about the obscene skin slapping sounds that fill the room.

There is movement and sound outside the room still but you don’t care. He’s got you right on that edge and a final, brutal, thrust combined with him biting down on your shoulder you fall apart. You come hard around him, your hands grabbing at the wall for purchase as you clamp down around him and all but scream into his hand. You can feel the telltale twitch of his cock in you as he finishes, his hips still working to ride out his high and fill you.

You stay locked together for a little bit, breathing and trying to stay standing as you come back down. Simon peppers your neck with kisses as he gently pulls out and right as you’re pulling your pants back up a voice comes in your earpiece.

“Where are you guys? Deals done and they’re leaving,” Gaz’s voice sounds a bit pressed.

“We’ll be there in a moment,” Simon answers as he grabs your hand and yanks open the coat closet door. “Got a little tied up with something,” he finishes looking back at you still red faced and sweaty.

Price

“What’s the use in being in charge if I can’t break the rules?”

You smirk as he slams the door shut to the blacked out SUV in the parking lot. It’s parked between a few other vehicles in a neat little row, inconspicuous and easy to look past.

“True,” you answer as he settles himself in the middle of the bench seat and motions you over. “But you’re a Captain, you’re supposed to be setting the example,” you continue as you shimmy your way over and throw a leg over either side of his lap. “And you’re supposed to be presenting your findings here soon,” you tack on glancing at his watch.

“If I’m supposed to be showing them how to behave, I’ve failed miserably from the start,” Price answers as his hands run up and down your side and legs. “I’ve got time before all that,” he mutters before sliding a hand up into your hair and pulling you down for a heated kiss.

You knew his resolve had snapped the moment you walked into the meeting and your hair was down by your shoulders. Price always loved running his fingers through it when he got you alone, and pulling on it hard as you sucked him off at his desk.

It had been a secret affair for months after you had met him when MI6 and the 141 had teamed up. He had taken a shine to the quiet analyst and while it wasn’t forbidden to have relations, it was frowned upon. So it was just easier to meet in private and steal moments away here and there.

Price had been away on a mission for over a month this time and the need was so strong you nearly threw caution to the wind when you saw him sitting there at the table. Watched him shift in his seat at the sight of you.

“Not too much time,” you counter as you roll your hips onto him making him groan. “Maybe fifteen minutes before everyone realizes the guest of honor has disappeared. That’s what you get for being so…” you don’t finish as Price captures your lips again and grabs hard at your ass.

“Stop analyzing everything,” he counters as he bucks up into you, “and do something else with that pretty little mouth.” He bites at your lip and pulls it gently between his teeth.

You know what he wants and you’re more than happy to oblige him. You’ve missed him. The feel and taste of him and of course the sounds you can elicit from him. He’s not shy with what he wants or how he wants it, and always shows his appreciation.

“Move over then,” you instruct as you slide off his lap and shift as he puts his back up against the door. Price is a big man so it takes some shuffling but you end up kneeling on the floor, thankful for the fact the rest of his team was also huge and required ample leg room.

He’d already helped you remove his pants and you nearly hum with excitement as you see how hard and fucking swollen he is for you. Without much warning you’re on him, you mouth already drooling in anticipation as you take him deep to the back of your throat. He huffs letting you set the pace before his hands brush away the hair from your face, gently pulling it into a ponytail wrapped up tight in his hand.

“Fuck you look so pretty,” Price compliments as your eyes flick up to his to watch his face. Your hands are like vices on his thighs that only tighten at his praise. “Even prettier than when you walked into that meeting room all done up. I like you on your knees for me, drooling and gagging,” he smirks as you whine, moving to slide your hand from his leg to give yourself some relief in the ache between your legs.

He stops you and grabs your wrist and you whimper as he pulls the hand back to rest on his thigh.

“Not yet,” Price admonishes, “that’s my job.” He smirks as he pushes you down on him until you sputter a bit for air and he releases bobbing your head on him at the pace he wants now. “These seats will be ruined by the time I’m done with you,” he smirks as you twist your legs a bit to rub your thighs together for something. Anything. He lets you get away with that because he knows it’ll just make it worse not better.

His moans and bucking tells you he’s close and you move faster, your hand moving to cup his balls and squeeze lightly. Just how you know he likes without him even having to say it. His restraint is gone as he grabs the back of your head with both hands and he spills into your mouth, straight down your throat. You swallow it without hesitation, satisfied with finally tasting him again.

“Fuck,” Price breathes as he watches you lick your lips and roll back on your heels. “You’re already wrecked and I haven’t even touched you,” he teases as his thumbs wipe away some remnants of himself from the corner of your mouth. “How much time do I have to get you out of those pants and screaming?”

Just as you’re about to answer your phone buzzes. It’s your boss and they need you urgently before the next meeting starts and your face falls. “Shit my boss,” you mutter quickly wiping at the makeup you know is running down your face, disappointment all over your expression. “I have to go,” you breathe as another message comes in from a different coworker asking where you disappeared to.

“Now who’s more important?” He asks before helping you clean up and smooth your hair. “Get through this meeting and I promise to make it up to you,” he prompts obviously feeling a bit guilty but still smug as hell that you got on your knees for him first. “I’m still going to get you to make a mess on this fucking bench. Even if my team has to walk home,” he promises as his hand roughly reaches down to rub the seam of your pants for a moment just to get you to whine pitifully before he’s helping you out the door and off to the next meeting.

Soap

“I can’t wait to get home, now shut the door.”

You laugh as you shut the door to the bedroom behind you, doing your best to ignore the fact it’s Price’s. He had invited everyone to his house for a bit of fun bonding and Soap wasn’t about to waste his quick leave with you to just sit with the boys all night. He had dragged you along and despite the fact the other men were keeping him engaged and you chatted along as well, his eyes were boring into you all evening.

“This is your Captain’s bedroom,” you hiss though it’s not a real fight as his lips find the soft skin above your pulse and his hands tug at the thin little straps on your sundress. “What if he walks in?” You ask as the cool air hits your breasts for a second before his calloused hands cover them.

“Then he’ll get a show,” Soap answers with a small chuckle as he nips at your shoulder. “I know you’ve been thinking it all evening. And it’ll be rude to leave before Price’s nightcap,” he explains before tugging harder at your dress to get it bunched around your hips. “And I’m tired of knowing what’s been under this dress and unable to touch it.”

“You barely let me out of bed this morning,” you answer, the ache still pleasantly sore even now as you had sat on the hard picnic chairs. “You’d think you’d have some more restraint,” you continue to tease as you help him out of his zipper hoodie and yank hard on his belt buckle. You currently had no restraint either as you stared blatantly at his chiseled chest and arms, unable to get enough of him even after all this time.

“I think you were the one that dragged me back before my shower,” he answers with a quirk of his brow as he grabs your hips and walks you backward until his knees hit the bed allowing him to sit and pull you to stand between his legs.

“That’s besides the point,” you answer before dropping your head back with a satisfied sigh as he sucks a nipple into his mouth and bites down just enough to send a shock of pain through you that you enjoy. “You had already pinned me down twice before that,” you manage before his knee pushes its way between your legs and he drags you down to sit hard on it. His jeans are rough against the sensitive spot behind your light cotton panties and you shudder as he pushes up and rubs.

“You weren’t complaining when you came all over my face,” he states, smirking as you roll your hips to get more from him. “And I don’t think you’re truly complaining now,” he adds as you continue to ride his thigh without his help, your hands gripping hard on his shoulders.

“You’re just a bad influence,” you answer a bit breathlessly as the bed creaks at your movements. You freeze for just a second realizing you are riding your boyfriend’s thigh on his bosses bed. There has to be some sort of explanation for how fucked up you were both being, especially since you weren’t stopping. “Johnny, maybe we should head back,” you groan out as his hand slides up behind your head to tug a bit at the hair there to pull your head back and making you arch on his leg to hit that sweet spot longer.

“Mmm no lass,” Soap answers as he watches you rock backward and forward chasing a release. “I think you need to ride me until you come and we’ll go from there,” he states though his tone is a command that you’ve grown to love and crave. “Don’t you dare stop,” he orders, eyes flicking to your breasts to watch them bounce with your movement, “until you soak my jeans.”

You whine, feet digging into the floor to give you better leverage as you move on him. He’s not helping you, just watching you use him to work for your own pleasure which makes you bite your lip. You loved when he watched you, how his eyes devoured you when he demanded you touch yourself while he stared from the bedroom door. Or how he requested videos of you for his long trips away, wanting to watch getting yourself off while moaning his name anytime he pleased.

“That’s it lass, I can tell you’re close. You get that cute little hitch in your breath as you’re about to come apart,” he states before gripping your chin gently tilt your head back to look at his face. Your mouth is slightly open as you pant, the release right there and when Soap gives you that crooked cocky grin you explode.

He helps you ride through it before lifting the edge of your skirt up to find a small wet patch. You flush crimson at the sight but Soap seems so proud of himself as he gently helps you off his leg.

“If you’re done, Price is waiting for us,”comes Gaz’s voice from the other side of the door causing you to jump. You can hear him laughing as he walks away back down the stairs and you are mortified right out of your climax high as you look back at Soap.

“It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before,” Soap explains as he gently pulls your dress back up and sets the straps correctly. “It’s not like the tents we stay in have walls, and you’re not exactly quiet on those videos,” he explains at your shocked face with a smirk, “I think they like hearing your little breathy voice as much as I do. Gets a little lonely out there just the few of us.”

“Have you…shown them?” You ask curiously though the excitement is evident in your voice. The thought almost thrills you a bit, that enjoyment of being watched seemingly not limited to just Soap.

“No,” Soap answers with a small tilt of his head. “Do you want me to show them?” You don’t answer feeling suddenly shy and he presses on, “because I will if that gets you excited. I don’t mind showing off what is mine. Making them wish you were theirs but knowing only I get it.”

“Show them one we make when we get home tonight,” you answer before you can back out with a small smirk, the thought already making you ache again.

Expansion on this one here

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Oh dear sweet god

Why do I do this to myself

This goof has such a chokehold on my heart I just CANNOT

Working on P is for Public of ABC's of Kink, but it's getting split into two. Part one is SFW, part 2 will be very much NSFW. Already working in it and planning to have it up tonight.

And awaaaaay we gooo—

I lied part 3 will be NSFW don't hurt me

Blacksmith's Daughter

Part 1 of 3

Part 2 here

Series: ABC's of Kink

Letter: P is for Public

Wordcount: 2.7k

Tags: SFW, NSFW (part 3 only), fluff, hurt/comfort other stuff maybe

LA!Shanks X AFAB!Reader

Dear gods I loved writing this one

To say you were in a pickle would have been a grievous understatement.

You and a close friend had been caught sneaking around a Marine base after getting the bright idea to break into their treasury vault. For a few years since your father's death you had been down on your luck, and it had seemed a quick ticket to dragging yourself out of the gutter. You had become over that time a particularly skilled thief, and the training you had recieved from your father in blades, not to mention the pair of cutlasses he had smithed for you, didn't hurt your chances.

And you had been forced to give yourself up after your friend was killed while resisting arrest.

Thrown onto a Marine ship bound for Impel Down, locked in the brig with your hands and feet bound in irons. No family, no friends, set to rot for at least the next few years in prison, if not for the rest of your life.

You were fairly certain your situation couldn't possibly get any worse.

The officer guarding the brig was leaning against the desk across from the stairs that led up to the main deck of the ship, polishing his rifle with a rag and gun oil and whistling to himself. He had an easy enough time of it—you were the only prisoner there, and you weren't bothering to give him a hard time. You had been aboard the damnable ship for three days, stiff and sore from your limited range of movement in the heavy shackles clamped around your wrists and ankles, the gravity of your situation weighing heavily on you, and there really wasn't any fight left in you.

Sudden shouting from the deck overhead made him pause and look up the stairs, his brow furrowing under the brim of his cap as you both listened.

"Open fire!"

"Pirates!"

"All hands! Man the guns!"

The officer glanced into your cell, shouldering his rifle as he tossed his rag on the desk and pointed at you.

"Not a peep, wench."

You just leaned back against the wall of the cell with a sigh. "Yup."

So your situation could get worse. Wonderful.

The ship rattled and shook, the cannon fire making your ears ring. Bits of the ceiling fell into the cell around you. You flinched when a hole was blown through the wall of the cell next to your own, the cannon ball rolling across the floor and clanging against the bars. Rather than rotting in prison, you were just flat out going to die.

A fitting end for a miserable few years.

And then all at once, you heard another voice call for ceasefire. The cannon fire stopped first, and slowly the sounds of fighting on the deck above your head fell into relative silence, peppered with animated chatter and laughter.

That could only mean one thing—the Marines had lost.

And your suspicions were confirmed when, a few minutes later, one of the senior cadets on board burst through the doors and sprinted down the stairs into the brig in an outright panic, whimpering, attempting to draw his pistol with shaking hands—but not before he was followed by a broad-shouldered man with a long black ponytail, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, holding a large rifle with one hand and leveling the barrel between the young Marine's eyes.

The pirates had won. You weren't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Oh, don't shoot the kid, Benn, just get him restrained."

You watched another pirate stroll down the stairs and lean into the wall at the edge of them, bright red hair framing his face, a long black cape hanging around one of his shoulders, and a pair of cutlasses slung over his shoulder—your cutlasses. He set them lightly on the desk and patted his crewmate on the shoulder a couple times as he passed.

There was only one man on the Grand Line that matched his description, and even having lived in a town too far inland to have had much experience with pirates, you had heard of him—Red-Haired Shanks, captain of the Red Hair Pirates, who held one of the highest bounties in the world.

"Be quicker to shoot him." Benn shrugged a shoulder. "Or just coldcock him over the head."

"Kid's probably already shit himself." Shanks grabbed a coil of rope from the wall and tossed it across to him. "No use adding injury to insult."

Benn rolled his eyes over toward his captain...and then his gaze flicked back a bit, landing on you as you glanced warily between him and Shanks. Benn gave a nod toward your cell, and your heart went from racing to ceasing entirely when Shanks turned his head and locked his gaze with your own.

He lifted his eyebrows a bit, his dark brown eyes glinting.

"Well, hello there." You swallowed as he approached the cell slowly. He wrapped his hand around one of the bars, leaning forward. Evidently your anxiousness was written all over your face, as he said next, reassuringly, "Don't worry love, we don't bite. Unless you make the idiot decision of opening fire on my ship," he added, raising his voice just a bit and tilting his head to look back at the Marine cadet, who was putting up absolutely no fight over having his hands tied behind his back now.

Shanks directed his gaze back over to you, flashing a charming grin. "So what're ya in for, sweetheart?"

You took a deep breath, and forced yourself to speak. "I—I, er—"

"She snuck into the base in Nanohana and attempted to break into the treasury vault," the cadet chimed in, and flinched as Benn shoved him down to sit against the wall.

He then grabbed the gun-oil rag from the desk and stuffed it in the cadet's mouth.

"Nobody asked you, kid," he said, leaning against the adjacent wall and crossing his arms, his rifle propped up against the wood paneling beside him.

Shank's grin only widened at that. "Did you really?" You nodded shortly, and he chuckled. "God, what a horrible crime," he went on, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Everyone knows the World Government is horrifically impoverished and doesn't have a single Berry to spare." He leaned a bit closer, resting his head against one of the iron bars. "How far did you get?"

"W...we had just gotten the vault open before we were surrounded," you said quietly. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his, as they widened and his eyebrows shot up toward his hairline, completely taken aback.

"Impressive," he said, his eyes passing over you slowly. He bit the corner of his lip thoughtfully, before his eyes returned to yours. "You said we. You have a crew?"

You shook your head. "It was just me and my friend. Well...more like my brother, really." Your eyes dropped to your knees for a moment. "He didn't make it," you said quietly, still not quite able to process it. Your best friend, your only friend, who you had known for twenty-three years, since you were a toddler.

Gone.

When you lifted your eyes back to the red-haired captain, his expression had softened considerably, mouth turned down in a small frown, his amusement replaced with genuine concern. "I'm terribly sorry to hear that, sweetheart," he said gently. He drew in a deep breath, and let it out as a slow sigh, before flipping his cape out of the way and taking a seat on the floor—and you noticed with a bit of shock as the cloak shifted that the left sleeve of his loose white shirt was empty.

He rest his elbow on his knee, leaning his chin into his palm, hand curled over his mouth for a long moment.

"Arabasta is around three days from here," he said finally. "Provided the wind cooperates, and honestly we could do with making port. We'd be more than happy to take you home."

You swallowed, your heart still pounding, still anxious, but for a different reason now. This man, who didn't even know your name, who was gazing at you with a gentle compassion spread across his handsome features that you were entirely unaccustomed to, offering to go out of his way just to get you home—this man had a bounty of over three billion berries?

After a moment, you shook your head. "Wouldn't be much use," you said, shrugging a shoulder. "I don't exactly have a home."

"Any family?" You shook your head—your father's death had been wholly unexpected, and led ultimately to the closing of his smithy, where the two of you and your "brother"—his apprentice—had also lived. Within less than a month you had been on the streets. "Friends?"

His face fell a little more every time you shook your head no. He ran the pad of his index finger over the top of his lips, glancing briefly at Benn.

Back at you, looking at you almost like you were a poor, abandoned puppy he wanted to take home.

He glanced at Benn again, longer this time, until his first mate sighed, straightening out from the wall. "I'll figure out who's got the keys," he said, already starting toward the door.

"Good man."

From the slam you heard, you were fairly sure he kicked the door open at the top, and his voice boomed over the loght chatter on the deck.

"Alright, you assholes. I'm gonna ask one of you who's got the keys to the brig. I don't get an answer in ten seconds, you're getting an extra hole in your head, and I move onto the next guy."

Your eyes widened a little as you looked toward the stairs, moving back over to Shanks as he laughed a little.

"Has a real knack for subtlety, doesn't he?" he said with a crooked grin. He leaned back, planting his hand on the floor behind him. "Seems you have two options, love. You can stay here, with a bunch of tied up Marines who want to take you—where, Impel Down?" You nodded, and he returned the nod. "Or..." He cooked his head slightly to one side, his grin widening a little. "We can break you out of here and you can come with us."

You blinked a few times. "And...go where?" you said slowly.

Her shrugged a shoulder. "Wherever the wind and the waves carry us."

He was asking you to join his crew. You felt your eyes widen a bit, and Shanks laughed softly when he saw his meaning had sunk in.

"I'd choose the latter option, personally," he said. "Never hurts to have another good thief on board."

"You...can't really say I'm a good thief, given..." You glanced down pointedly at the iron shackles around your ankles. "Well, circumstances."

"Ah..." He waved his hand dismissively. "Everyone makes mistakes early in their career. How long have you been thieving?"

"Two years," you said. "Since my father died. Mostly just...pick-pocketing and sneaking money pouches off vendors. This was the first actual break-in."

His eyes widened a bit. "Your first actual break-in," he said slowly, the corner of his mouth curving into a smirk, "was into a Marine base in a major city?"

You shrugged a shoulder, and nodded. He huffed out a sigh, shaking his head.

"Oh, I like you," he said in a low, flirtatious tone, his eyes making a slow pass over you that made your heart speed up and blood rush to your cheeks. "So tell me, princess...." He finally leaned forward again, resting his arm across his knee, and went on with a debonair grin. "Is there a pretty name to go with that pretty face?"

You managed to stammer out your name, your eyes wide as saucers. His smile softened as he shook his head a little, his gaze locked firmly onto yours as he spoke one word softly.

"Beautiful."

You jumped when the door opened, and both of you looked over as Benn descended the stairs, flicking a spent cigarette butt at the Marine cadet still seated in the corner. He tossed a ring of keys over to Shanks.

"Already informed everyone we have a new thief on the crew," he said flatly, tossing a ring of keys over to Shanks.

Shanks swiped them out of the air, grinning. "And how do you know that? I don't recall telling you."

Benn gave him a look equally as flat as his tone.

"Oh, lighten up, you grumpy old bastard," said Shanks jovially, pulling himself to his feet. Your eyes were glued to the keys as he flipped one out and tried it in the cell lock.

It didn't open.

"So what're we doing about this?" said Benn, gesturing broadly. "Caravel full of tied up Marines. Sink her? Just leave her adrift?"

Shanks shrugged. "Might as well just leave it. Take anything that isn't nailed to the floor."

There was a muffled sound of protest in the corner, and both men turned their gaze to the cadet.

Shanks tried the second key, with no success, as the cadet managed to turn his head and tug the cloth out of his mouth with traction from the shoulder of his coat. "Y—you can't just—there's no telling when another Marine ship will come by!"

Shanks snorted. "Or another pirate ship." He flipped to the next key, smirking. "So you'd rather I sink her?"

"W—well, no, but—but we—"

Benn had evidently heard enough. He rolled his eyes as he stooped down to pick up the cloth, and the cadet's jaw snapped shut immediately. Sighing in irritation, he grabbed the kid by his nose and held his nostrils shut until he was forced to open his mouth to take a gasp of air.

And Benn immediately shoved the cloth back into his mouth, and pointed a finger an inch from his nose. "Do it again and it'll be the last thing you ever do. Got it?"

The cadet nodded quickly, his eyes wide circles of terror.

The third key turned, and the lock clicked. You expelled a heavy sigh of relief at the sound. Shanks chuckled lightly as he watched you lean your head back against the damp wall behind you. "No need to worry, love," he said, kneeling down at your feet and flipping to the attached set of smaller keys for the cuffs and shackles. "I can pick a lock when I need to." He freed the first one, leveling his eyes with yours, and a small shiver coursed up your spine as he reached out and brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear, his thumb briefly caressing your flushed cheek. "I'm not letting a few iron bars and chains keep me from you."

"Oh dear god," Benn grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes, and you almost giggled a little, biting your lip. The guy wasn't wrong, Shanks was laying it on pretty thick.

Though you weren't really complaining.

Shanks glanced back at him as he set to unlocking the second shackle, feigning surprise. "Oh, are you still here?" he said with a sarcastic smirk. He turned his attention back to the irons. "I fear I forgot there was anyone else in the room for a moment."

He glanced up and gave you a little wink before tossing the shackles away, and touched your shoulder lightly to indicate for you to lean forward so he could get to the cuffs wrapped around your wrists.

Benn leveled his eyes with yours, glancing at his captain, and gave a small snort of laughter. "Good luck."

And with that, he headed back up the stairs.

"Oh, don't listen to him, sweetheart."

Shanks chuckled, leaning over you to quickly unlock the shackles, so close you could feel the heat of his body, smell the leathery scent of his cologne mingling with a subtler hint of spiced rum. Your heart raced as he stood back up, dropped the cuffs, and held out his hand, smiling.

You hesitated for the briefest of moments, before placing your hand in his. He pulled you to your feet...and then flush against his chest, grinning as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

"I promise I'm perfectly harmless."

[reverie-verse]

I would love to see pregnant!reader x Azriel fic where she gets kidnapped and Az goes crazy cause not only are they mates, but she’s also very close to being due, and I love angst, i love worried but caring Az, and I love happy endings. 🤍🤍

Azriel Shadowsinger x Reader: His World

I’m letting you decide if it’s a boy or girl and the name because I couldn’t decide😩.

Baby Gender = Y/B/G

Your Baby’s Name= Y/B/N

It’s kinda lengthy, I got really invested 😂

Beware there is some torture-ish stuff. If you get triggered please DO NOT READ THIS FIC.

Last thing, I just wanna say, I have no idea where I was going with this plot, I am so sorry if it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t even go with what’s going in the books 🤷🏽‍♀️

My requests ARE OPEN!!!!!!

———————————-

Most of the entire inner circle had stationed themselves downstairs in the living space of the Town House. Rhys and Azriel were nowhere to be seen. Everyone had cringed in discomfort as they heard your vicious scream tear through your throat from upstairs. Mor shook her head as she paced the room. “ They should be back by now” she practically whispers but everyone hears her.

Feyre sighed, rubbing her forehead “ I tried to reach through the bond, but it’s quiet. Azriel has no idea she’s giving birth”

“ One of us needs to go up there and check up on her.” Cassian says.

Amren stood up from the couch, “I’ll do it, she’s been there for me more times than I’d like to admit “ She leaves the living space quickly rushing up the steps. She opens the door only to find you standing at the edge of the bed, one hand gripped onto the comforter, the other hand gripping your stomach. Your hair was pulled back but sweat rolled down the side of your face. You cried as you pushed like Madja had told you to do. You shook your head. “ I can’t, I can’t-“ You were trying to catch your breath.

“ You must Y/N!” Madja encourages you. You shook your head as you wailed. “ You have too”

“ Y/N” Amren rushes towards you. “ What are you doing?!”

Your head shook again “ No, No please I don’t want you to see me like this. Please just get me Azriel, bring my husband to me.” You sobbed. Amren's heart broke into a million pieces while swelling with joy and sadness. You were suffering but you were also bringing a beautiful soul into this world. Amren not one for sentiments, but this moved her in ways that she normally never considered, and still might not. But to each their own, she passed no judgment but she understood you wanted your love with you.

“ I’ll do what I can Y/N” she says as she exits the room, Mor stood at the bottom of the stairs hands fidgety.

“ Anything?”

“ She wants Azriel” Everyone sighs and groans.

“ Feyre you need to try the bond again” Cassian says as he crosses his arms. “ Either that or we get Elain to look forward into the future”

“ That won’t be necessary, I’ll try again” Feyre stood up looking around for a piece of paper to write on. In the midst of her search the home rattled as two figures appeared in the room. Rhys and Azriel trying to catch their breath, their clothes ripped, skin cut and bruised. Feyre rushed to Rhys’s side, but Azriel’s eyes scanned the room and you were nowhere to be found. Everyone rushed to their sides, with an instant the bond that was quiet during his time on the prison island was loud and clear. You scream echoed through the home again, Madja tried to shout over it urging you to keep pushing.

Azriel’s eyes widened his gaze snapping towards everyone “ Y/N?- she’s-“ His voice rasps. Your crying and sounds of moans through your gritted teeth as you pushed were heard through the bond and from upstairs. “Y/N?!” Azriel takes off running for the room, his head boots hitting the floor. There you were hunched over Madja trying to help the baby. Your eyes shut closed, your hair starting to fall into your face. “ Push Y/N Push! I can see the baby’s head!”

The weight of your body and attempting to further push out your child was beginning to weigh down on you, your legs were beginning to buckle you gripped onto the bed until your knuckles started hurting, the material starting to rip. Azriel’s heavy boots pounded against the ground until he got to you. He slid his hand over yours, his other hand wrapping around the one that held your stomach. He stood behind you and off to the side. Warmth comforts your body, and your mind, it seeps around you and practically through you. You lean into him, “ Az-” You turned to look up at him noticing all the cuts in bruises.

“You asshole“ You winced “I told you not to lehhheaavvee-aaaahhh fuck!” You screamed as you felt Madja reach for the baby’s head and shoulders. Azriel couldn’t focus on your words, as he was amazed and awestruck. He couldn’t have been more in love with you right now at this moment. He knew you would be mad at him but right now he didn’t care, he was here with you, with your child who happened to be making its way home.

“Forget about that--I’m here now-“ Azriel shook his head, kissing your head and shoulder, his fingers intertwined with yours, you at this point gripped his hand with all your might. His other hand did the same with yours as you held onto your belly. Your body sinking further towards the ground, at that point Azriel held most of your weight.

“-You gotta keep pushing, I know you’re tired. ” He tells you softly, the baby was half way out of your body, from what Azriel could see. An indescribable feeling bubbles in his chest so many words, and phrases but nothing could truly convey what it was.

You shake your head “ We are-so not- having another- Kiiiihhhhdddddd-” Your body moves to squat as you push your words cutting offer as your breath completely leaves your lungs.

Azriel smiles “ That’s it! One more push, just one more. I can see the babies legs” you nodded hearing his words Madja sharing the same smile. You gritted your teeth hissing out in pain as you pushed one more time. Your eyes widened, you let out a breath of relief, when the baby exited your body. Your tears slowing down, a tired smile graces your lips. Madja stood up with the baby in her arms, a servant rushing over to give her a towel to wrap the baby in. Azriel who’d still held you in his arms, tears filled his own eyes as he caught a look at his new world. The sweet melodic sound of a baby’s crying filling the room letting you both know the baby was there.

You hummed at the reassuring sound, Azriel switched his gaze instantly, his heart leaping out of his chest, your body had given out in exhaustion. He quickly threw your arm around his neck, grabbing both of your legs carrying you bridal style back to your shared bed. “I wanna hold our baby, Az” You sniffle.

“ I know” He whispers as he leans down, capturing your lips with his for a quick kiss, a much needed kiss. He pulls back an inch or too resting his forehead against yours. “ The baby Az” You giggled tiredly letting him know you wanted them.

“ Your baby Y/B/G needs a name” Madja says as she walks towards you both with the baby in her arms. By this point Azriel made the effort to sit directly behind you, your back to his chest, so he could hold the baby and you in his arms. The two of you stared down at your beautiful baby, cooing at it, talking about the features they shared between the two of you. By the time the two of you decided a name for the baby, the entire inner circle rested in your bedroom, they couldn’t wait anymore, they wanted to see their new addition to the family. It was sweet really. A moment the two of you kept sacred and cherished.

———

It was dark, the moon's light shining above the frozen ground. It's been six months since you’d given birth, and here you were running with your child in your arms. Your breath could be seen floating in the air as you ran. Your boots crunching through the snow. Your baby wrapped in thick clothing, their wings shielded hidden from sight and the cold. You were trying to get to the cabin, the only cabin that you knew would be safe. It was the only place you could escape to, the one that only privileged people could get through. Someone would get your child back to Azriel wherever he was at the moment. Either that or he’d find them here…

You were nearing the home as the tiny cabin began to grow in size the closer you got, “ Come on, come on come on,” you say through gritted teeth will your legs go faster. You barely make it to the front entrance of the door, the creature behind you swiping at your legs. You fell to the floor, the baby still in your arms. You landed on your knees, you didn’t waste a second quickly scrambling back up. You were lucky that your baby wasn’t really fussy or easily startled, rather they were quiet, instead an amused smile could be seen. You knew then the baby would take after Azriel and maybe some of their uncle’s tendencies too. Tears filled your eyes, you grabbed the basket that was once used for flower picking. Placing your child inside of it. As if in slow motion the creature behind you roared, you gave one final push to the basket past the threshold into the safety of the home. Brief whine of relief leaves your lips, the smile slipping from your baby's face a little scream sounds off as you are yanked back into the white snowy abyss…

——

Azriel lands down into the ground hard before taking off into a sprint. He practically smashes through the front door “ Y/N???! Y/B/N???!!” He stops about halfway into the living space; Mor holds his baby who cried profusely as Feyre attempts to soothe the little one with warm milk. His brothers and Amren search the entire cabin. Rhys however walked out of one room rushing to his brother's aide placing his hands on his shoulders. Azriel’s chest was tight and his heart ached, tears filled his eyes. He forces them away, he’s a spymaster, he has the ability to command shadows and darkness. He took on various opponents, ranging from different statuses. Yet he still managed to get his wife, his mate, kidnapped. He thought he’d done a better job at hiding the both of you, you had only barely given birth six months ago.

“ I need to find her” He growled, the wailing babe still calling out for their mother and father. But Azriel was distracted. Mor tried to rock the baby, the milk was no help, Feyre tried to find another blanket to wrap the baby in.

“ I know, and when we do we make them wish they hadn’t taken her.” Rhys responded as clenches his jaw.

Cassian moved towards his brothers, his nose flared, “Whoever took her will pay for it.” He growls.

Amren stepped towards the group, “ Do either one of you have a plan? Hmm? “

“ We don’t even know who took her” Feyre says as she stood with Mor, still the baby wailed, nothing could get them to settle down. Azriel couldn’t neglect his duties any longer swiftly walking to Mor. He gently took the baby in his arms holding them, the way you would, he leaned towards his baby’s head placing a small kiss. It’s beautiful big eyes that resembled yours, stared up at him, a sad smile graced their features. The wailing had come to a stop, instead little sniffles were heard. Azriel’s heart, though already broken and panicked, yielded a deeper pain, a pain for his child who witnessed the kidnapping of their mother.

Everyone had remained quiet watching the moment unfold and it was then that Azriel cried for the first time in front of everyone. He was good about hiding his pain, but not after he met you, not after he fell in love with you, not when the bond snapped in place, not even when he watched you birth the other half of his world. All those times you saw every emotion, every thought, all of it. At one point the group moved to grasp Azriel in a hug, and it did nothing for him. He only wanted your touch and your love. He wanted to be held by you. Azriel moved out of the way searching the home himself with his restless child in his arms. He couldn’t wallow in his feelings if he was going to find you. He needed to be the spymaster now, the Shadow singer. It was then did he call for his shadows to search other areas. Of course as they approached, they caressed the baby's face before disappearing. The baby in between shut their eyes, falling asleep finally. Everyone at that could relax just a little bit easier.

Azriel knew that you would’ve brought the baby here for this exact reason, that they all would come here. You trusted that by doing this, he would find you. The question was who took you. Azriel stepped into his room looking for anything that you might’ve left in there but you didn’t. A shadow reappeared dancing along his shoulder sneaking back towards the sleeping babe. His eyes followed the movement, the shadow quickly slipped through the blankets of the babe pulling out a note. Azriels eyes widened. How could he have missed that. He took the note, unfolding it. Ianthe. His breath caught in his throat, anger bubbling up the surface, the note in his hand crumbling the paper. He stormed back to the living space quickly handing Mor the baby. Rhys and Cassian stand up straighter.

“You know where she is” Rhys says.

“ Ianthe has her, the only place that could remotely bring her refuge is Hybren campsite. But I highly doubt it, the travel is distant, and winnowing can only get you so far before you become exhausted” Azriel replied.

“ You think she’s somewhere close by then?” Rhys suggests

“ She has to be”

“ So what are we waiting for? Let’s go get her!” Cassian retorts, his fists clenching into a fist ready to fight for his family.

“ We can’t until we know her exact location, I can’t feel her through the bond, we need to track her” Azriel moves forwards towards the door, grabbing the things he needed amongst that he ordered at least two or three of his shadows to remain with the baby. He was bringing you home.

Rhys looked at the group before deciding who stayed and went “ Amren stay here with Mor, Feyre I need you to come with us, you’re the only other person who might be able to save her” Amren gave a curt nod, Feyre moved next to her husband quickly, as the little group takes off and into the cold sky.

——————

You were thrown into the hard ground of a temple you’d never seen before. Your hands attempted to catch your fall before you were yanked back up by a soldier. You were breathing quickly and you struggled against the hold. Ianthe shook her head. “ I used to come here to pray, to find peace and solace. Now it’s ruined and destroyed, taken from me.” Ianthe clasps her hands together.

“ What does that have to do with me?” you say through gritted teeth, trying to wiggle out of the soldier's hold again his grip on you tightened.

“ I’m so happy you asked, boys, would you do me the honor and bring her up to the altar” She’s smiles, though to anyone else it looks sweet and meaningful, but in between you could see the malice behind it. You tried to fight off the soldiers as they dragged you up towards the altar, a slab of stone placed in the center. Another soldier had reached for the chains that were placed on the edges.

“ No-No-No!” You shook your head doing everything you could to get out of there to go back home, to your family, to your loved ones. But it was too late, two soldiers grabbed your legs and arms lifting you up, and placed you on the cold stone. Each soldier took your wrists and ankles, chaining them down.

“I am so delighted to tell you the reason you are here. You see, you are a sacrifice, you’re a librarian no? You know what is to come of these next few events. We will take all of Prythian and to do that I need my priestesses to be fully powered and well” She tells you as she takes steps closer to the Altar.

“ That has nothing to do with me!” You yelled. One of the soldiers back handed you and another socked you in the lower stomach. You yepped in pain, everything was still tender from when you’d given birth.

“ Oh but it does. You gave birth to an Illyrian baby, you are a lesser fae whose kind has never done such a thing. How you were capable of holding his child is beyond me. Which makes you my most unique sacrifice. You’ve read the sacred texts, books, poems, you know this is a rare occurrence.”

“ I don’t know what you’re talking about” You spit in her face.

Ianthe moved out of the way, the same malicious smile on her features“ Hmm but you do, you know as well as I do, that lesser fae can bring life force back into this temple. Your kind is known for its sacrifices, and we thank you for it-“She sighs happily as she takes a step back. “ -You may proceed with the preparations. I must retrieve my book, Sister, I need you to perform a blessings” As she walked away, her heels clicked against the concrete floor, another silent priestess walked in her place. She gave a simple nod to the soldiers, hands placed on your shoulders pinning you further into the stone. Your head was pushed to the side exposing the side of your neck. A hand pressed smashed your face into the stone. Your body shook, as you kicked your legs and yanked at the chains around your wrist. Another soldier walked in, a hot branding iron made its way towards you, to mark you.

“ Please don’t do this, I have a family” You begged, as the silent priestess sang her prayer. All you could think about was your family, your mind drifting to each person. You could see all of their smiles, you could hear their laughter echo in your mind. Your mind tracked back to sweet tender moments you shared with each person. But one you found yourself replaying was Azriel. You thought back to the moment you met him, you thought back to the time your baby was born. Your baby. Oh your baby, your little world- The soldier moved closer you could feel the heat of the branding iron making your skin rise. The hot burning metal pierced your skin. Your flesh burned, white hot pain shot through your whole body. You screamed at the pain, tears slipped down your cheek, your voice becoming raw. The symbols of various shapes of the moon branded into your skin.

The priestess continued her melody of prayer, the soldiers removed their hands and iron, Your wrists and ankles still chained. The sound of grinding gears and rotating drums echoed in the room. The slab of stone shook, shuddered and vibrated as it began to lower. You turned your head looking around you, water started to fill the slab you laid on. Your- Azriel’s tunic that you wore is becoming wet. The water is ice cold, you start to hyperventilate, to the point you could even think or speak. You didn’t get the opportunity to scream again for help as the water completely submerged you, you couldn’t focus, your oxygen was running low, you were starting to choke. You fought at least a few more times for air but you could feel yourself slipping, you were trying to hang on but you couldn’t. You could see shadows flying above you, maybe Azriel was sending you comfort, you weren’t sure, maybe you were imagining it, maybe this was it… peace…

A loud boom could be heard, the door to the temple blown to bits, voices boomed across the space, soldiers yelled and the priestess sang louder. Your eyes fluttering, you were close..The shadows above panicked as they scurried from one end to another. Swords and knives clashed. One flew past the water that swallows you whole. It hit the priestess who must’ve fallen onto the floor from the wound. More sounds emitted around you, death, death had come for you, this was not how you planned to die, but maybe this was the wish of Mother.

Azriel ran to the stone altar jumping into the water “Y/N?!” He called out to you. As he landed in the water, he could see your eyes had closed, you looked as though you were merely sleeping. Half of your neck is marked in those moon symbols. “ Fuck, Y/N?!! Cass?! Rhys?! I need one of you to help me get these chains off of her!” He kneels down into the water pulling on the chains. Cassian and Rhys run to the other side working on your ankles. Once you were free Azriel lifted up your body carrying you bridal style out of the water. He dropped down to the floor with you in his arms. His one free hand caressed the side of your face, tears painted his cheeks with stains. How could anyone do this to you, you deserved none of this. “ Y/N come back to me please” He whispers to you.

Your body limp and cold, Cassian had to look away from you, this memory would haunt him forever. His heart and soul shattered, and for someone who had seen so much death, this was one he wished he’d never witness. Azriel shook you, talking to you, trying to wake you up. He hadn’t thought to ask Feyre and Rhys. But the two were skeptical, they weren’t even sure they could bring you back. Azriel turned to his brothers and his high lady.

“ Do something!” He yelled. “ Anything please! Bring her back to me! I can’t live without her!”

Rhys frowned deeply, his heart aches for his brother, he walked over placing a hand on his shoulder. Feyre had turned away, wiping the tears from her eyes. She wasn’t ready to give up either just like Azriel, but she wasn’t sure if she could bring you back. Rhys knew it was too late for you to be saved. Azriel looked away from his brother and down towards you. His sobs ripped through his heart, mind and soul, as he lowered his head towards you. His forehead touched yours as he cried, a raspy scream left his lips and throat. Feyre and Cassian both moved toward each other, tears falling down their own faces. Rhys bowed his head, his silent tears dropping to the floor.

An unusual occurrence had taken place, Azriel’s shadows swarmed around you and Azriel both. Rhys took a step back, Cassian and Feyre grasped onto one another. Your eyes opened as you sucked in a breath of air choking on the water that was still in your lungs and you turned to the side spitting out the water. Azriel moved his head away from you, giving you a moment to breathe, couldn’t believe his own eyes. You looked around the room, your eyes finding Feyre, Rhys, Cassian, and then Azriel. The bond that was once quiet is now loud again. Azriel smiled, his glistening tears free falling once more. His hand gripped the tunic of his you wore. Your hand grabbing onto his forearm, he leans downward, his forehead touching yours.

“ Az-Azriel-“ You whispered breathlessly. He nods his head. “ My-My he-hero” you shivered from the cold.

“ Don’t-don’t you ever leave me” He tells you as his hand slides upwards to cup the back of your neck and intertwine in some of your hair.

“ I won’t” you whispered softly, he leaned down capturing your lips with his for a brief moment or two, the kiss sweet and languid.

“ We need to go Az” Rhys says, interrupting you both. Azriel sighs, his thumb running along your cheekbone. He removes his hands, one rested against your back while the other went under your legs, he carried just like he had when you gave birth. He walked out of the temple with you in his arms, taking off into the sky…

——-

When you arrived home everyone rushed to your side, Azriel refused to let you walk but you didn’t care. You forced your way out his hold, but his arm stayed wrapped around your middle holding onto you. You greeted everyone and told them you were okay. The mark imprinted on your skin permanently told you that you were a survivor, you didn’t want Madja to take that away. Azriel didn’t agree with that idea much, but it’s what you wanted.

You eyes searched the room for your baby, who to your surprise Amren held closely. Tears filled the brims of her eyes but as stubborn as she was, she never let them fall. Amren walked towards you placing the little babe in your arms. The babe had woke up from its slumber, a sweet smile spread across its face. Silent tears rolled down your face, as you leaned down to kiss your baby’s cheeks and nose. A giggle sounded off causing the group to grin from ear to ear. Everyone huddled close together wrapping their arms around you. That night everyone stayed in the cabin. Too worried about what might happen if they left. As cassian said “better with numbers”.

Azriel had walked you to the bedroom, helping you clean yourself up. You wanted to lay down with your baby and your mate. He respected that wish, it was the same wish he had. He laid down on his side, you tucked into his chest, the babe laid front of you both. You wrapped your arms around the baby, and Azriel wrapped his arms around you.

“ I love you” He whispers into your ear.

“ I love you too” You replied, you could feel Azriel tug you impossibly closer to him. That night he slept with both eyes open. Never again will he underestimate his enemies, and never again will he leave you and your baby defenseless. You, both were his world after all.

[grandlinedreams]

Hi sugar! I hope you’re doing fantastic! ya know Nickelbacks song Animals? But with our Ace boy. Just something about him and that song fit like a glove in my little noggin’.

Anon I need you to know that this has been rattling in my head for like the last two days so bless you but also OUGH some spice from Salem two days in a row?? I do have intent to write a follow up to this along the lines of save a horse ride a cowboy iykwim

[Heads up!: uhh we all wanna wear ace's hat, a little suggestive, ace gets a lil handsy, making out]

It starts because you swipe Ace's hat.

You're quick about it, his hand a few seconds too slow to keep you from taking it and plopping it down on your own head before you turn and promptly run.

Of course Ace gives chase, playful shout of your name and heavy clomp of his boots behind you. The flat, skull-faced cord lock bounces against your chest as you dart ahead, breathless with laughter.

"Give it back you little thief!" There's laughter in Ace's voice too as you spin to avoid slamming into a crewmate, shrieking when you narrowly avoid Ace's outstretched hand.

"Gotta catch me first!"

You round the corner and leap down the handful of steps, hoping to make it to your room ㅡ

Ace's arm snags your waist as you throw the door open and you tumble in with a peal of laughter. Ace's laughter rings in your ears, the shake of his body against yours before you both calm, breathing hard.

Ace squeezes at your waist. "Gotcha," he murmurs, "can I have my hat back?"

"Why?" You squirm out of his grasp to turn towards him, reaching to tip the angle of it aand peer at him from beneath the brim. "Don't I look good with it?"

Ace watches you for a moment, contemplative even as he nears you to pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb, tipping your head back further. "Yeah," he finally answers, "you do."

And then he's kissing you, press of his mouth demanding against yours as he drags you flush against him. Warm hands span your hips before sliding down to coax you up, legs wrapping around Ace's waist.

He groans at the drag of your nails against his back, nipping at your bottom lip to deepen the kiss as he takes unsteady steps towards your bed.

The mattress coils creak in protest at the sudden weight and you gasp, breathless as he settles himself between your legs. His mouth is hot against the skin of your throat, sucking marks at his leisure while you squirm, whimper leaving your lips at the way he finally has mercy and starts a slow, rough grind of his hips against yours.

"You know what?" He pauses his onslaught, eyeing you with lust-blown pupils. "Keep the hat on for me. I have an idea."

[courtingchaos]

Dangerous

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: Ooo, aren't you the little viper at Rick's party. Eddie want's to see how hard you bite.

A/N: Look, I'll never write fuckboy!Eddie like @newlips or @carolmunson, and this isn't even truly fuck boy Eddie. This is like hand wavy, vaugly fboy!Eddie. Anyways, I got rip roaringly high last night and busted this out, honestly kind of proud of myself for getting it all out in one go? 3k and I was barely awake for it. Anyways, enjoy!

Warnings: Drug use, alcohol use, blow jobs, general douchbaggery from both reader and Eddie. (18+ NSFW)

The black Audi pulling around the front of Rick’s is thumping loudly, testing the limits of the bass in the trunk. There’s an ever so slight rattle of metal and Eddie hides his laugh behind his cigarette. The car stops with a jerk and the under lighting shifts from purple to white when the driver door opens, deep bass pouring out. 

“Just get out of the fucking car then!” The woman who gets out yells and slaps the roof of her car. Eddie rolls his eyes at the jostling vehicle, the shadow of bodies inside shifting around until the back passenger door opens and two girls spill out laughing. They’re adjusting their dresses where they’ve hiked up high on their thighs and clutching their phones. The driver points at the house, party in full swing inside and makes a face at them. “Get the fuck inside!” 

Eddie would know Lisa’s voice anywhere, the shrill yell a constant out of Rick’s girl. The two that fell out of the Audi keep giggling and flip her off. Lisa looks like murder but her passenger window rolls down and there you are giving the giggle twins a cold stare. It seems to sober them up a little when your long green claw points at them intently, gold rings glinting on your knuckles. “Get in the fucking house and find a fucking seat.”

“Okay red, damn.” 

Eddie watches you slap a hand on the outside of the car door and the two girls scatter inside, rushing past him where he’s partially hidden behind a pillar on the porch. Lisa gets back in and starts to drive off but not before he catches your eye and you wiggle those talons at him. He refuses to admit he's interested.

Danger danger danger

It’s not the fullest Rick’s has ever been but there’s too many people for Eddie to be comfortable. He didn’t even want to come tonight but Steve had some girl here and Rick had asked him if he was coming which meant he was supposed to be there. And now you’ve shown up with Lisa and it’s just feeling like the night could go sideways fast. 

Eddie has seen you around a few times but he’s not even sure what the fuck it is you do here most nights. You’re not one of Rick’s girls, you aren’t pushing and you don’t seem to be with any of the other guys. Watching you walk up the driveway, head buried in your phone while Lisa talks at the side of your head, he thinks you might just be here for moral support.

“-and they’re just gonna start fucking each other in my backseat? I just got that fucking thing cleaned I don’t want pussy all over my fucking leather!” 

“They know to stay out of trouble.”

“They are trouble. Hey Eddie.” Lisa all but purrs at him and it makes his skin crawl. It’s not that she isn’t hot, but the idea of getting caught with her would mean a lot of bad, bad things for him. She’s also too god damn loud for his liking. “You hanging out in the shadows like a ghoul?”

“Waiting on Steve.” He doesn’t move from his post, leaned against the column. Smiles at Lisa and then slides his eyes over to you where you’re still typing furiously on your phone. “Busy night?” That gets you to look up at him, all long lashes and gold liner around big eyes. They look black in the dim light out here and he feels like he’s staring into a viper tank. Your all curvy lines under your tight black dress, gold accents glittering against your hands. Gold hanging from your ears. Gold around your neck. It all feels like a warning to him. 

“You saw those two assholes. Gotta babysit.”

“Is that what you do around here?” He asks, hears Lisa laugh before she walks in, leaving you two in the doorway. 

You shrug. “Not all I do.” You look him up and down, taking in his outfit. He’s tall, lean under his torn jeans and tight black shirt. It’s hot tonight and you can see where the fabric clings to his chest; all his rings and necklaces and bracelet glint under the porch light. His curls hang in the humidity, skin luminous under all the black ink on his arms and neck. 

“What is it you do again?” A sarcastic tilt of your head and now you’re both smirking at each other. You know Eddie, you’ve heard about him, seen him around. You're about to make another jab when a loud commotion kicks off inside followed by the unmistakable sound of Steve’s laugh. 

“Babysitting.”

Eddie pushes off his post to go find out if Steve is in trouble and leaves you to click away at your screen, watching him retreat into the deep thrum of the party inside. 

Eddie was intending on convincing Steve to leave but he’s been too busy watching you move around the house. Never too far from Lisa and keeping an eye on Brittany and Becca, the troublemakers. One of them has already tried to get at him and he cut her off, doesn’t even look down at her. “Absolutely not.” 

He watched you laugh from across the living room, dark red lips that match your dyed hair, cutting into a smile when you tapped Lisa’s shoulder to tell her. The short black dress you’ve got on clings tight and inches up your thigh when you lean to whisper in her ear. He follows the curve of your thigh up to your hip and over your chest, neckline low where your tits are pushed up and almost over. The thin gold chain hangs low and shimmers against your cleavage, skin glowing with a sheen of sweat in the humid house. 

Eddie rolls his eyes and sighs at himself. His phone has been going off all night, Dani blowing up his notifications and he hasn’t cared. Doesn’t want to give you the time of day, knows you’re just gonna be another pain in his ass like Dani and Kim and Theresa and whoever the fuck else he has saved in his phone. 

Busy trying to scroll through all the ‘wyd?’ texts he doesn’t notice you sneak up beside him until you’re leaning on the same wall, candied almonds and rose rushing up with you. 

“Hey Nosferatu.” The ice in your drink clicks around the plastic cup. You smile at him like you’ve got a really good secret to tell him and he can’t help the little curl of his lip in your direction. 

“You done babysitting?”

“Eh, they’re somewhere around here.” You chase the straw in your drink, pink tongue poking out to pull it between your lips. “I was waiting for a good time to come bother you anyways.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah! You’re all broody over here for most of the night. Steve fucked off and it looks like you don’t have any other friends to hang out with.” Another sip. “I can be your friend.” Sharp eyes under sharper eyeliner. He knows better. Should. 

“I have plenty of friends.”

“Aww.” You pout, leaning into him, body pushed fully up against his side. “Who doesn’t need more friends?” Your hand rests on his bicep but you walk your fingers down his arm till you hit his hands holding his phone. Pinching the corner of it you tug once and he relents. You grin up at him quick and open his contacts to ‘add new’. Before you hand it back he watches you scroll through the names. 

“Dani?” A gasp of mock disbelief. You lean closer to whisper, “she’s got a big ol’ boyfriend don’t you know?” He just raises his eyebrows at you. Before he puts his phone away he looks for your contact, ‘Red’ with fire emojis around it; flashes the screen at you. 

“Clever.”

“Mhm.” You suck up the rest of your drink and shake the ice around for a second. “I’ve been told I have a very clever mouth. Lotta me is clever.” He knows better. He does but he still keeps his eyes on yours. Still reaches out and takes your cup to set on the table. Still matches his grin to yours when you ask if he wants to smoke. “Let’s go be friends somewhere quieter.”

The basement is quiet except where the music bleeds through the ceiling. You’d thrown yourself on the worn couch and unbuckled your heels from your ankle. Eddie had watched in rapt fascination while pulling out his pre roll and fishing around for his lighter. 

“You gonna share?” A giggle that doesn’t belong to you, you’re not a giggling woman. 

“You’re really good at this.” Eddie says around the joint. Lights it and gets a deep pull while you sit and have the audacity to look confused. 

“Good at what?”

“Getting what you want.” 

“Oh yeah.” You laugh for real then, pretense dropped for a moment. Holding your hand out for him to pass the joint over, he just takes another drag. Another pout and you sit up ready to snatch it out of his hand when he closes the short distance between the two of you. Grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks, leans down and blows the smoke over your painted lips. He can feel your face pulling into a smile under his fingers. Hears you breathe deep, watches your tongue poke out again to lick your lips and he spots the gold stud. 

“You’re dangerous.”

“I don’t have to be.” An arch of your manicured eyebrow and honestly, fuck it. He’s gotten this far and you haven’t gutted him yet with those claws. In fact he can feel them creeping up into his hair, pulling it back away from his face so you can move up and kiss him hard. He’s stuck kneeling over you, holding out the joint over the back of the couch and balancing himself on the other hand while you hold on to the back of his neck. It’s all tongue and teeth until you bite his bottom lip too hard and he rears back. “What the fuck?” 

“Sorry, just wanted a taste.” 

“Seriously?”

“Oh come on Eddie.” You surge up into his space making him rock back on his heel. “You look like the type that likes a little pain.” You’re mocking him a bit, but your hands are trailing down the front of him to hook your fingers in his belt. He’s finding it a little hard to care about you being a bitch right now. Staring him down while you slide the buckle open slowly, watching him take another hit that he blows in your face again. 

“Are we fucking or fighting I can’t tell.” His hand is up under your jaw quick. A tight hold that doesn’t quite hurt but he’s keeping you in place while he places the joint gingerly in the middle of your lips. 

“Please shut the fuck up.” A real smile from him when you don’t reply and just suck on the smoke. You get the button on his jeans undone, pull the fly down and he shifts, pulls your face with him when he leans back against the couch. Guides you around and you get what he’s doing when you climb off the couch and kneel between his spread knees on the cold concrete. Eddie let’s go of your face to pluck the joint away and the last puff trails out of your lips after it. He sees you ready to say something and cuts you off. 

“Don’t.” Turns his head away for a moment and you tuck your lips in to your teeth and grin to hold in a laugh. 

He slouches down further when you run your hands up over his thighs and pull down on his open jeans, nails running over the black ink peeking out between his rucked up shirt and the band of his boxers. The weed is starting to settle in, feels it in the droop of his eyelids. He watches you through his lashes while you run your hands over him, squeezing his cock through his jeans. A hiss around a mouthful of smoke and you pull at his boxers so you can get your hands on him. 

His cock springs free and hits his stomach and you’d almost say he’s pretty. Pale like the rest of him except the head, flushed dark pink like his lips. When you run the tip of a finger up the underside his head lolls back and you see his hand flex against his thigh. 

“I’ve heard about your work from Kim.” He lifts his head to stare down his nose at you. “My work.” He says flatly. 

You glance down at his dick. “I’m impressed so far.” 

He huffs a laugh and brings his hand up to your hair that you slap away quick. 

“Don’t fuck up my hair, it took me forever to get it all up.” You scowl at him and that and the slap sets him off. He doesn’t move for a second before reaching up and finding the hair tie in the mess of your bun and pulls it out. Flings it across the basement floor and buries his fingers in at the crown of your head to pull at your hair. There’s a fight in the back of your throat that’s taken over by a gasp. You reach your hand up, lick a long stripe up your palm before grabbing his cock and giving him a few lazy strokes. There’s a rumble in his chest and he pulls your head closer, can hear the wet of your mouth when you open to run your tongue over the flushed head. Your tongue is soft and when the bar catches on the underside ridge he bucks up into your hand. When he drops his head back again you finally wrap your lips around him fully, bobbing your head down to meet your fist. You know he isn’t going to give you the satisfaction of sound, but the flexing of his hand in your hair is enough to tell you everything. 

“Fuck…” he whispers to the ceiling when you roll your tongue around him, sucking hard and pumping your hand. The scratch of your acrylics distracts him with goosebumps, enough he doesn’t hear you pop off of him, letting a line of spit fall onto your fist, wet sound louder than the party upstairs. When you lean down and suck one of his balls in your mouth his leg jumps and he feels the vibration of your laughter in your closed mouth. His hand pulls harder at your hair and you moan, rolling your tongue around his sack and pumping your hand faster along his length. He almost crushes the joint in his hand, moves it to clutch it between his lips, muttering around it while you work him over. 

“If you wanted to suck my dick you just had to ask.” You hum around him before coming up for air, hand still stroking his cock. “Didn’t have to do that whole dance up there.” He lazily points up toward the living room. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Your mouth is wet, eyes watering slightly but none of your makeup has budged. He’s also impressed. Nudges you forward again and you open wide, sticking your tongue out to tap the fat head of his cock against it. Between the sound and the feeling of that little bearing hitting him the heat creeping up his abdomen moves faster. His hand tightens in your hair again and you speed up your hand, switching between running the pad of your thumb and the tip of your tongue over the sensitive spot just under the head. 

“Don’t fucking move.” He mutters. 

You settle down right up against his thighs, tits pushed up against the cushion under him, free arm thrown over his thigh hugging him close. You flutter your lashes at him and the last few strokes you squeeze him, running your tongue up the underside of his cock and the only warning you get is the impossibly tighter grip on your hair holding you in place. His eyes squeeze shut and he comes in long spurts, hitting the back of your throat, low groan breathed out from deep in his chest. You slow your hand down, pulling at him till he taps the back of your hand; wait until he opens his bleary eyes to close your mouth and run your thumb up along your chin where a dribble of his come leaked out. Eddie watches you suck on your thumb and make a show out of swallowing. You smile at him like a cat that got the canary. 

Danger Danger Danger

“Well,” you stand up slowly and pull your dress down a little, “that was fun.” Lean forward and take the roach out of his mouth and kill it, stubbing whatever is left of the ember out on the side table. You pull his own move on him and the let the last hit trickle out from between your puffy lips across his own bitten ones. 

“I really hope you text me Eddie.” 

He’s quiet for a beat, watching your eyes flick between his own. 

“Depends on when I’m free.”

“Who else is gonna suck your balls, huh?”

He laughs out loud, breaking the weird tension finally. 

“Well then what did Dani do to get a new purse?”

“Not that.” Eddie says while tucking himself back into his underwear and buttoning his jeans. You’re putting your shoes back on and his eyes linger on your ankle where you do up the small buckle there. The search for your hair tie is fruitless and he almost feels bad until you start to shake your hair out and he gets to watch you flip it around, tits bouncing with the movement. You run your fingers through it and lean down to get your phone from between the couch cushions, shooting him a wink before heading back up the stairs to the party. 

“I guess I’ll just have to try harder next time.”

[moonlightspencie]

tolerate it

Description: listen to the song by taylor, that’ll tell ya

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Warnings: it’s just angst lolll, hotch is kind of a dick, age gap relationship (hotch in his early forties, reader in mid twenties)

Word Count: 2k

a/n: based on the song obvi, but also this post from @greg-montgomery bc that idea had been rattling in my brain and ouchie but i’m glad other people had the same thought 👹

also: jack doesn’t exist in this universe for the sake of my brain

Befriending an FBI agent didn’t seem like a plausible next step when I decided to take a job as a barista. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was luck, though whether it was good or bad was hard to decipher.

It started out good.

We sat across from one another after my shift was over. I wouldn’t tell him that hanging out at my job after I was done wasn’t my number one choice purely for the fact that he smiled soft and sweet when he asked. We needed to talk anyways.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, to be honest,” he mentioned, a shy smile on his face.

“Why is that, do you think?” I questioned.

“I have… A past. There’s been so much that’s happened to myself and my family. I have a demanding job. Dating, even the concept of it, has been hard since—“

He stopped, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he looked down at the drink in his hands. I could tell something heavy was weighing on him, and it hurt to see him looking so down. Granted, we hadn’t known one another for long, but he’d become a close friend. I knew some of his tells, at least.

He looked back up at me, finding nothing but sincerity when he saw me looking back at him.

“My wife, uh, she,” he paused, clearing his throat. “She didn’t just… pass away. She was killed. It was by someone my team was hunting down, and it was hard. I haven’t been looking to date since then.”

I nodded. “I understand, and I don’t want to pressure you. But, if you decide that you do feel ready, I’ll be here.”

He smiled, taking one of my hands from across the table. I swallowed down butterflies, trying to ignore the softened look on his face when he watched me.

“You deserve better. You should be with someone less busy. Younger.”

“I don’t mind a busy working schedule, and everyone has baggage. If you don’t want this, that’s okay. But I do,” I confessed, noting the blush on his cheeks as I spoke. “It’s all about communication, isn’t it? Making sure that if things are hard or messy or frustrating that you talk it out?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I just—“

“Hey,” I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. Again, if you change your mind, I’ll be here.”

He let out a breath. “Thank you.”

I watched him for a while in the silence. He still had that cute frown on his face.

“I think the problem now is that I don’t want to wait,” he said at last.

I smiled back at him, taking his hand as he pulled me out of the little cafe.

Things started out so well. He’d give me a shy smile every time he showed up at my door to take me out somewhere. He’d call each time he was able to on cases. His sweet demeanor and hidden soft heart stole me over.

It was an easy ‘yes’ when he asked me to move in.

It was easy being with him for so long. But things always change. Sometimes for the worse.

A kiss hello and goodnight became the only times I’d feel his lips on mine. He’d work on what he needed to, sure to tell me any time I asked about what he was doing that I wouldn’t understand it.

I’d stand around, waiting for a drop of attention like a kicked dog. It never mattered. Conversations always turned into short arguments shut down by his cool, even-toned voice telling me I was overreacting. Who was I to think that I knew anything?

“You’re throwing a tantrum,” he huffed, annoyed.

I paused, staring at him in confusion. He stared back at me blankly. Of course he couldn’t be bothered to show any kind of emotion outside of a snap in his voice.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t have time for this,” he said, shaking his head.

He continued packing his thing to head to the bureau, and I once again stood alone, watching him. A mere inconvenience in his morning routine.

“If this is all in my head, just tell me,” I said quickly. “But it feels like you’re intentionally ignoring me. Like I’m some kind of child to you.”

He stared at me for a moment, his face indecipherable.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“You didn’t ask me a question. If you want to know something, all you have to do is ask.”

He left after that, leaving me speechless in the living room, staring at the door of the apartment. I busied myself all day, trying not to think about it. Days when I was at work while he was felt fine enough. Not good, but fine.

Days when I was alone while he was out working though… I felt like a kid waiting for a parent to return.

I was in the kitchen with a glass of wine when he finally got home. He silently walked around the space. I’m sure he took off his jacket. Undid his tie. Set down his things and locked up the gun. Usual routine that I had no part in and probably never would.

He finally walked into the kitchen behind me, not bothering to say a word as he got a glass of water. Of course, I’d be the first to speak up.

“Are we going to talk about today?”

I turned, finally looking at him. He sipped at the glass of water, simply raising his brows in question. I furrowed mine in response, sick of him trying to shove away any semblance of communication.

“What about it?” he asked.

“What about it? We were kind of in the middle of talking when you left.”

“And we finished it.”

“No, we didn’t.”

He sighed hard. Quiet again. Brooding and stoic Aaron Hotchner. Never having time for anyone’s bullshit.

I wouldn’t have guessed my feelings were more shit on the pile to him. Guess I should’ve known better.

I looked at the plates that remained in the drying rack. Pretty and clean. I’d spent all afternoon doing the dishes, making sure they’d sparkle. If I couldn’t catch his eye anymore, maybe if he saw his own reflection in the plates, he’d realize I did something for him. It might remind him I was still here. In fact, the silverware was even cleaned and polished until they absolutely gleamed. I could probably blind myself with a spoon if I angled it from the sun just right. And I’d do it if he asked me to. Just to see him smile at me as I blinked back at him, trying to see correctly again. Three hours I’d spent on such a small task. Three hours while he sat in his office. I didn’t even know what he did in there, but I knew he’d been finished with what he actually needed to do for the day. I hoped that he might at least come home to see if I was still in the apartment. Would he even miss me if I had decided to leave? I didn’t know. I knew I could at least make him miss having clean dishes.

I moved swiftly, reaching for one of the plates. I held it in my hands, letting the weight of it weigh me down a little. I noticed how the kitchen light bounced off of the surface. Then, I looked at him.

He still had that stupid frown on his face.

Usually a moment like this would require that the person holding the glass wasn’t thinking straight. An accidental drop, leading to scary, sharp edges of glass all over the floor. Shock. Maybe embarrassment. A jump backwards. I did none of the above when I tossed down the plate onto the kitchen tile. It hit the ground with force, sending shards all across the floor in between us. The pieces shone up at his bewildered face as a taunt. They sparkled in my direction like a gleam of light in playful eyes that were daring me to do it again. And it was fucking cathartic.

I took another, ignoring the call of my name trying to stop me, and slammed it on the ground right on top of the remains of the first.

“Stop,” he said, voice raising just below a full yell.

I smiled to myself, holding the third of four in my hands. I couldn’t stop staring at the wreckage I’d already caused, but I let my eyes wandered in his direction.

“You want a tantrum?” I asked, holding the third plate just above my head. “I’ll give you a tantrum. What was it that you said to me? Uh… Oh! Right: ‘all you had to do was ask’.”

I let the plate drop, debris flying all around my feet, thought none of it was sharp enough to do harm. Maybe that was a part of the fun. The plates were thick and heavy. They weren’t made to break. But when they did, it was loud and hard and didn’t hurt me one bit. In any sense of the word.

As I reached for the final plate in the rack, he started circling to get behind me. He grabbed my arm, trying to stop me from letting it hit the floor. He turned me towards him.

“Stop. You’re acting like a child.”

I merely nodded. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Fuck off, Aaron.”

I whipped my hand hard enough to send the final plate flying. I wrenched myself from his grip after I heard the satisfying crash, stalking past him and out of the kitchen.

He stomped off after me, catching me as I started putting a few things in my bag in the bedroom.

“What are you doing?”

I laughed humorlessly. “Right. Like you care.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

Silence again.

“You’re everything to me, Aaron,” I said, staring straight back at him. “You were everything and your feelings were everything and what am I to you? Huh?”

“You’re my girlfriend.”

“And that’s it? Just a commodity. Someone who sits all nice and quiet when you get home so that you don’t feel completely alone. Someone who’ll light the candles and wash the dishes and try over and over again to love you. All for nothing.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s more than fair.”

“You’re acting so—“ he stopped himself, voice raising again.

“So what, Aaron? Immature?”

“That’s not—“

“Sorry, I totally forgot about the age difference. It’s not like you remind me every single time we get into any kind of argument,” I argued back, venom in my voice. “You’re so much older and wiser. You must always know better.”

He scoffed. I stayed for a moment, still squared up emotionally. I finally went back to packing a few things when I realized he wasn’t responding to me. He watched quietly as I went, fists balled up at his sides, almost convincing me that he actually cared.

He called my name again, this time much more quietly. I ignored him, zipping up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. He said it again, a little louder.

“What?” I snapped.

“Where are you going?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe my sister’s place.”

He sighed. “Are you coming home?”

I paused, looking at him as I stood in the doorway. He dropped his shoulders, finally letting his guard down.

“I don’t know. What happens if I don’t? If I were to pick up and leave and never look back?” I asked, steeling my face again. “I don’t think it’d make much of a difference to you.”

“Yes, it would.”

“Then figure out if you really want me in your life. Then I’ll give you an answer. Until then, I’m done giving everything to you all for me to turn up completely drained.”

“I love you,” he said, trying to convince himself just as much as he tried convincing me.

I nodded, heading for the door. I was done trying to convince myself I didn’t need him. I didn’t need empty words anymore. I had the truth: I found it in a neatly packed bag and a pile of broken dishes on the kitchen floor.

[grapejuicestyless]

No One Wants To Die In The End.

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: United through grief, Harry and Y/n have to navigate the same fates they witnessed as young children as understanding adults. After all, no one wants to die in the end, we can only hope death comes easy for us.

“Has anyone ever survived beyond the death rattle breathing?”

I hear my mother ask in a hushed tone, the nurse who came to send my grandma away giving her a tight lipped smile.

I sit on the bed pretending not to be able to hear them, pretending the sound of my grandma choking on her own saliva is normal and the staggering of her breathing between heavy wheezes isn’t concerning while I tell her all about what I learned in fourth grade.

She doesn’t remember me, not much anyway. Ever since the illness started taking pieces of her brain, I’ve been stuck in time. She only knows my name now, and my mom warned me on the way here today not to cry if she couldn’t even remember that. It was her illness forgetting, not my beloved grandma.

Mom says she loved me with all my heart, and that once the illness passes through her, she’ll remember me again fondly. I’ll get to tell her all about my life and growing up and she’ll understand what I’m talking about. She won’t give me the blank stare she does now while I hold her hand, and her skin won’t be so frail.

“We usually recommend getting everything in place by the end of the day. Gather her papers and say your goodbyes. We can’t guarantee anything with how much longer she’ll hold out for.” The nurse says, and though my mom doesn’t cry, I can see her skin hugging her throat constricting it and the soft fluttering of her wet eyelashes.

My mom pulled me away soon after, telling me to say goodbye. This time felt different though, even at age nine I knew that. So I told my grandma I’d be back, even if I wasn’t sure just because it always made her smile, and I promised to keep dancing around in my pajamas before breakfast like she loved.

That day at school, the one after I left my grandma with hundreds of promises to live freely and trust with my heart, I found my mother sat out on the front steps by our old white porch with her head in my hands.

“Hi mama. Can I go to Megans?” I had asked her cheerfully, excited about seeing my best friend, my neighbor and my sister.

Mom had this sad look in her eyes, one that told me to come close without her having to say it. And as I stood between her bent knees and felt her hands on my hips, I saw her shake her head.

“Y/n/n, grandma didn’t make it, baby.” She declared softly, and at the time I didn’t know how to process it, the idea of someone being gone forever. As mom told me how she had only left for a minute to go home and shower and came back to my grandma unresponsive in her sleep, I didn’t think about the fact that my grandma’s laugh would fade with the years, but rather how sad it was that she had to go alone. I prayed selfishly under my breath that I would have someone’s hand to hold when I went, that my rotting body would mean more than any shower ever could.

I didn’t tell mom this, my feelings on the death of grandma, the death of her mom, so I did what I knew how to do best, and I ran, begging softer this time to be able to go across the street just until dinner.

When I got there, I was greeted by Megan, and she looked sad. That’s how most people in my life seemed to look these past few hours, ever since the way my grandma breathed changed.

She pulled me into a hug and cried on my shoulder, promising to be there for me always, that it would get better. At the time I didn’t get it, why my best friend as a child would feel so much grief for a woman she barely knew, how she could feel so much more than I did, but grief hits differently in every person, I wished that someday I’d be able to process it openly instead of suppressing it somewhere I’d never find it. I wished that someday I’d learn how to cry.

Grandma didn’t get a funeral, they stuffed her ashes into a pretty vase with golden birds and her favorite flowers and held the wake early in the morning. Most of her friends I’d never met. It was a small service, a slow one. I spent most of my time playing hide and seek with my cousins and stealing the mints the funeral home left out for guests while my mother cried shaking each guests hand.

“How should we send out the letters?” My mom whispered to my father quietly, like it was something she didn’t want her children to know about.

“What’s the difference? Word spreads fast about people like him.”

People like him, that’s how my dad worded it. People like him, veterans who fought in a war they couldn’t even remember by the end of their lives and refused to replace the old wood paneling on their living room walls from the eighties.

My grandpa was the definition of people like him, he had lived enough lives to grow in white hairs by fourteen years old. Fighting alongside Elvis in the war and dancing with his dying wife in the afternoon.

I never met grandma, my dad said cancer took her before I was born, he says that’s why my name is the way it is, she picked it. But, I did meet grandpa.

He had white hair and a soft stomach from all the Swedish meatballs he made in his spare time. War does funny things like that to a man, make someone so against cooking love the simplicity of it, the safety of food consuming him.

I never really liked his Swedish meatballs, I didn’t like how he made them without sauce, when I was ten my world revolved around marinara sauce.

When I was twelve years old, I remember missing the softness of my grandpas stomach when he hugged me and the lingering smell of Swedish meatballs in his kitchen at dinner time. Which was weird because I never liked it before, but maybe my nose had changed while grandpa was changing in his own ways.

Cancer seemed to run in the family, something that was so small nobody ever suspected it was invading their bodies until the doctors became frantic to get it out.

My grandpa has bright white hair before his treatment, and small silver glasses perches on his swollen nose while he sat in his old brown chair and watched his grandkids school plays through the CD’s my parents would send him.

What a lonely life to live as he got older. The death of his wife and the absence of his grandchildren as they became less and less interested in family time and more focused on running outside freely with their friends.

I was so sidetracked I didn’t even know when grandpa died right away. Not until my father sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch where I laid with my mother rubbing his back slowly, a heavy look on his wrinkled face.

“Grandpa passed last night, Harry. He loved you very much.”

I didn’t cry as my father spoke, simply nodding before walking to my room to toy with my baseball cards and gameboy. I didn’t cry thinking about his passing, which confused me because I was twelve. I understood what death meant and how there was no one who had the power to reverse it, but I felt incapable of crying.

I went to school the next morning like my parents hadn’t told me the news, and my history teacher pulled me out into the hall during second period. He looked sad for me, his hands on my shoulders as he told me he would give me all the time I needed, not to try snd jump back into normalcy during such a tough time.

It made me feel embarrassed, which felt weird considering the context. I felt fine, completely indifferent to something I should have been breaking down over. But I guess grief is weird like that, and I wish I had the strength to be weak.

Grandpa had a big funeral, open casket with formal attire. He didn’t look like grandpa with all that makeup on him. I wanted to open his eyelids to see the colors in his eyes one last time. But that’s unacceptable to do, so I simply kneeled by the casket and prayed for him.

A big black limo took us from the boiling hot church to the graveyard where uniformed men loaded their guns and fired at the sky in honor of my grandpa. The smoke smelled like the low tide at the beach, and some people I’d never seen before sobbed a few rows behind me.

A lot of people showed up for grandpa, veterans from around the country and school friends from when he still had all his youth. Looking around at the crowd, I hoped I too would be able to make such a big impact on so many people. I selfishly prayed under my breath that one day I’d too have a large funeral. That people would care enough to come and cry for me because I would matter that much.

“When did you find out?” Harry asked softly, his large hand capturing mine in a paw-like grip over my knuckles.

I swallowed, wondering when I suspected it in comparison to when I finally got the guts to ask someone for help.

“I’ve known for a while, probably since I was nine. It runs in the family, you know? All these health issues that eat away at our brains?” I laughed, but neither of us found it funny, not when I ran my fingers through my hair to calm down and chunks cane out between my knuckles.

“I just thought I’d be gifted more time, thought biology would be kinder to my bones.”

Harry looks at me with a broken stare, one that hits me in the heart. We both tear up, but neither of us cry. We are our parents, we are the spitting image of them sitting us down to break the news. But at least they went peacefully, right? I know no peace, but still I don’t cry for myself, I feel too pathetic to even try.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, looking bitterly at the youthful green eyes in front of me, how his curly hair seems even more vibrant than nearly a decade ago. He ages backwards and I am already one foot out of the door.

Harry shakes his head.

“You did everything right.” He tells me, fingers pulling the hair from my hands to hide it behind his back.

“Then why do I feel like I have?”

“Nobody wants to die in the end, Y/n/n. It’s a game of chance, each day we live we gamble on how long we have left. Some people search for that end and others stumble on it accidentally, it’s just the chances.”

When he puts it like that, it makes me feel even worse, knowing how quickly I’ll be gone. How I’ve failed my future children I’ll never get to have, my husband who would have loved me I’m sure, and my poor old dog who waits by the food bowl only to find it empty each day I’m gone.

“I don’t like these chances.” I laugh with tears in my eyes, hands holding onto his as our forehead touch, my best friend holding me like no one ever has, not even Megan, who had long grownup into a woman I barely knew, a friend who drifted from me when we were thirteen and cried to her mother about how she missed me when she was sixteen.

Megan held me when my grandma died that day when I was nine, and I was confused as to why she was so sad, but with Harry holding me now, I understand it all better.

“I’m only twenty nine, Harry. At least my grandmothers dementia took away the intense pain of remembering what she was leaving behind.”

“And she lived not knowing who her daughter was for the rest of her life. She must have been so alone.”

I look down at my lap, my palms still pressed against his.

“I’d never forget you, even if my memory starts to go. I’ll never forget you because you’re too important to forget.” Harry smiles when I say that, pulling his hands away from mine to tap his chest quietly.

“And I’d never forget you, even when I’m old and crazy. I’ll keep photos of us on my walls and talk to them when I get bored.” He promised me, the dull light from the sun making the once lavish room feel less like a clean living room and more like a cold hospital.

As the months pass, my hair has been traded for one of Harry’s favorite hats. My shirts switched out for backless gowns with blue dots on the paper like material. My arms are not decorated with the same ink as Harry, but wires and tubes that come from the table beside my hospital bed.

I am twenty nine, but I must look about sixty now with how tired I am from simply trying to steal back the life that was ripped from me unfairly.

And as I fight to keep up with the beeping of the monitors hooked up beside me, I feel my throat rejecting my saliva and my sick coughs stuck behind my teeth.

I heat the same cracking sounds that my grandmother made when I was nine, and I feel relaxed knowing now that it doesn’t hurt to breathe this way, not right now anyway.

And in the silence I can hear an echo of my mother’s words from outside my door, her feminine voice exchanged for the deep one I’d grown rather fond of.

“Has anyone ever survived beyond the death rattle breathing?”

Harry asks in a hushed tone, the nurse different but her answer just the same.

“We usually recommend getting everything in place by the end of the day. Gather her papers and say your goodbyes. We can’t guarantee anything with how much longer she’ll hold out for.”

It’s happening again, the spirit leaving my bones to join everyone I’ve ever loved before, my father and my grandma. My mother and my old cousins. I only wished I didn’t have to leave Harry behind, I wished I could dance with him in our college dorms just one more time like we used to, and set fire to the box mac and cheese just one last time.

I remember everything about Harry, the nurse warning that my image of him might waver as my blood begins to slow under the skin. She tells him not to worry when my skin gets cold, it’s natural for people to cool down as their heart gives out.

Harry comes in and holds my hand, pretending the sound of my breathing doesn’t bother him and the sound of me choking on my own saliva is normal and the staggering of my breathing between heavy wheezes isn’t concerning while he swears to every single higher power he can think of that I’ll be okay.

And I believe him.

Because while he holds my hand in death, he’s fulfilled the one wish I prayed so hard for a a kid. The one selfish wish I made for myself in a time of need.

When I was nine, standing between my mothers legs with my nails between my teeth I prayed selfishly under my breath that I would have someone’s hand to hold when I went, that my rotting body would mean more than any shower ever could.

And here Harry was nearly two decades later, holding my hand and promising serenity in the afterlife.

What he doesn’t know is that I am one of the lucky ones. Even after my heart has stopped, I am given one last gift as an apology for such a short life. I am given an extra second of my brain living on, the soft cries of “I love you’s” from Harry the last thing I hear as my dying gasp is cut short from my death rattle breathing.

I have a small service, Harry and some college friends standing in line shaking the hands of the few guests who walk by to look at my body. My nephews and nieces place hide and seek with each other until the ceremony was over, mints stuffed deep in their pockets as they filed out of the funeral home like nothing had happened.

Being famous is weird, especially after a loved one has passed.

We send out prayers to the families of those affected, the media says, but how has the death of this person affected Harry? How has Y/n’s slipping away crushed him beyond belief? Will he dedicate his next album to her?

They don’t care about Y/n, they only care about how she makes a good headline for their companies, and it makes me sick to think about. How they profit off of my grief while I try to stop memorizing the sound of her broken sigh as she went.

I wonder if I was enough for her during her final days. If my touch was enough to cure her for just a brief second.

It’s no wonder I turned to move-on pills. Ones that lift me up and break me down further until I am face up on the bathroom floor we once shared, my eyes wide as I choke on my breathing and count how many times the lights multiply as I look up to the sky.

It’s not a shock that the headlines are out by the end of the day, the sirens enough to alert all of Hollywood of my dying dreams and my perfect execution.

My family stands in a line while they put my casket into the hearse, makeup on my face like they put on my grandpa, I dan barely recognize myself as I watch the funeral service from another space.

And as they bury me under the ground, the media announces their grief and well wishes to all that attended and the millions watching from their televisions.

As a kid, I hoped I too would be able to make such a big impact on so many people. I selfishly prayed under my breath that one day I’d too have a large funeral. That people would care enough to come and cry for me because I would matter that much.

But now that it’s happening, I only care for one thing, I only asked for one thing in the letter I left behind. Lay me beside my best friend, so I can keep holding her hand through death, and we can laugh in the afterlife like we did when we were healthy, happy, and together.

[tinfairies]

Cannot stress how much Coriolanus thinks about the "boyfriend #2" joke. What does it mean? How serious are you? How far back does it go? You would think he's trying to get a bachelor's degree in understanding it by how much he thinks about it. His mind races at the idea that it means that you prefer Sejanus. That he's your favorite. Certainly wouldn't surprise him by how much you cling to Sejanus' side in public. Laughing at his ridiculous jokes and slapping his arm. Coriolanus can hear you call Sejanus nicknames but you never call him Coryo. He thinks back to how you whine about how Coriolanus never stays with you like Sejanus does. Sejanus always stays, you whine, he always cuddles me. While Coryo gives you great sex and uses your body like his personal toy. Then rolls off of you and quickly zips his pants up. 

What if it isn't that he's your favorite but that he was your first? Coriolanus thinks that would be worse. You weren't a virgin when the two of you first slept together. He wasn't sure how long your relationship with Sejanus had been going on. He'd never cared to ask. He just assumed it was as long as the rumors have been going on. But what if it was him? What if it was Sejanus who saw you in the flesh for the first time? Him who got to take off your clothes and let his hands wander your body. Got to make you sigh with pleasure and grip onto bedsheets for the first time. What if it was him who got to slide his cock inside you and feel your walls flutter around at the new sensation? 

He can't stop his mind from raging on about it. What was it? Coriolanus doesn't think he can rest until he knows. It'll drive him mad.

Some snowman lore, I don't currently write. Trust me I try, I have 80 drafts. I don't know why but I can't get my mind to work the same when writing something on my own versus writing an ask. I had a decent-sized blog years ago (like pre-p0rn blog ban) but since it, I've only put out a couple of fics. Now I just lurk in the shadows and send in whatever is rattling in my head lol.

-☃️

Coriolanus is stressed to the max about being "boyfriend #2"

I can see him being so pouty about it. Whenever you want his attention he'll hiss "Why don't you go find Sejanus, since you love him so much."

He has the audacity to her jealous and act like a bitch even though he's the one keeping you at arms length. He doesn't do PDA and he hardly even gives physical affection in private. Fucks like an animal, it's satisfying but you can tell that your pleasure isn't his goal.

Coriolanus acts like boyfriend #2 and is a little bitch when he's treated exactly how he acts.

Also I appreciate that your brain can function enough to bless me with your ideas

[the-s1lly-corner]

Sir Pentious fluff alphabet Q-Z + bonus prompt

I love finding new jack stauber songs its like finding a little secret. Same with tally hall songs. Always nice to find good songs, esp since music is such a huge part of my daily life.. love finding a bunch of will wood songs too, aikido and Willard make me feel things

QUESTION

He asks a lot for reassurance. Hes a little insecure.. sometimes his eccentric personality can irritate or drive others away so I hope you can give him some confidence and security when you two get together... oh and also get ready for him asking for a lot of your input on his machines, from functions to aesthetics

RISK

Unless you've been taken away by someone else, hes going to try to get you back even if it means the end of him. Hes going to be bringing out the big guns just to make sure you're returned safely. As pathetic as he can be in battle, hes not totally incompetent.. though it's hard to say how successful he would he when hes not totally level headed..

SHH

Hes bad at keeping secrets, if he doesnt end up spilling to you his secrets are going to get out through his egg boiz. A lot of the stuff he hides tends to be innocent and light hearted, like a crush or a surprise.. I doubt hes ever let in on any big secret plans given that he has a history of... failing... besides he doesnt like hiding things from you if it concerns the two of you or your safety

UPSET

TUNES

Something stupid - Frank Sinatra

I'll never smile again - Tommy Dorsey

Another believer - Rufus Wainwright

Hello hello - Elton John

When you're upset he let's you tell him exactly what he needs to do in order to make you feel better. Need time alone, hes gonna leave you alone. Need cuddles? Hes already wrapping himself around you. Need a distraction? Hes rattling off immediately. When hes upset he let's his frustrations seep out before seeing you out, slumping against you in an attempt to initiate a cuddling session. He mumbles into your back

VALENTINES

WARRIOR

Already did it!

Hes not willing to take many risks with you, he would never.. EVER.. forgive himself if you got hurt in a crossfire for him. Even if he didnt ask for your help hes going to let that guilt eat him alive. Hes going to be thinking about everything while patching you up. He doesnt think your helpless, he just doesnt want you to fight his battles for him.. even if he is a little touched that you would fight for him

XRAY

He gets better at reading you over time, he does struggle a little in the beginning.. he does try to match tohr energy, though if you're excited he might overplay it. He promises hes not trying to make fun of you, he just wants to be as hyped as you are!

YEARN

He does not handle separation all that well. If you need to go out for a day or two, he can handle himself.. it's when its longer than that, that's when issues start. He busies himself with his machines and drawing up ideas. He visits the hotels bar more frequently and whines to a rather annoyed Husk..

ZZZ

Hes a little cold, so it's going to take some time getting used to sleeping in bed with him. He also sometimes tosses and turns but it's nothingttoo crazy.. sometimes he likes wrapping his tail around you in his sleep to bring you closer to him.. probably gently snores in his sleep..sleeps like a rock

♡

He can be a little shy when it comes to PDA.. Hes modest, for lack of better wording! Hes still going to hold your hand, but it's a safe bet to say that hes not going to do much more than that... maybe a cheek kiss here and there as a little treat, but other than that he enjoys being private.. pet names, though, tend to replace your name so long as you're around

[ctitan98official]

@idcjustletmescroll : do you have any HCs for how the Resident Evil 8 ladies would react to being saved from near death? I feel like Cass would be pissed tbh she just gives that vibe

I love this. Let’s get into it!

Alcina:

She cries. 100%. She’s just a HUGE crybaby in my opinion.

She can’t believe that you love her so much that you would sacrifice your own safety for her wellbeing.

She’s never had someone who would do such a selfless act because of how much they loved her. It’s a bit overwhelming.

Best believe she would have saved you if the situation had been reversed.

Now, Alcina likes having you close as like an emotional support person. You can calm her more than anyone and you make her feel safe. She likes the idea of not having to be the only one to protect those she loves. You take the burden off.

Donna:

You saved her? Why would you do that? Surely it was a mistake and you didn’t really mean it.

These are the first thoughts that trickle through Donna’s mind after she realizes she is no longer in danger.

Sure, you two have been dating a while and she loves you, but there was no way you could feel the same, right?

You just breathe out a sigh of relief knowing that she’s safe. Donna is so important to you. You don’t know what you’d do without her.

You quickly walk over and give her a kiss.

Donna is shocked, but not mad, about your strong act of affection.

Miranda:

Miranda has never had someone truly put her first before. She’s honestly unsure what to think.

Of course, feeling like someone was looking out for her felt good, but, knowing that it was you specifically who saved her gives the priestess this warm and fuzzy feeling that she can’t identify.

Could it be gratitude? Well, yes, but she’s just really smitten right now… More so than usual. Seeing you jump in to save her was kind of hot.

Miranda gently guides your face to hers and places a kiss on your lips.

She promises to return the favor if it ever comes down to that.

Bela:

Bela is kind of stunned at first. The whole situation has her rattled.

Once she calms down, she bursts into tears and falls in your arms. She is so thankful.

You hold her and gently whisper reassurances and promises in her ear.

Bela’s tears eventually slow down and she takes a deep breath to help steady herself.

She looks up at you with adoration and wraps her arms around your neck before kissing you.

She thanks you and lies her head back down on your chest.

You tell her you would always save her, no matter what. Bela feels so safe and secure in your arms.

Cassandra:

Once Cass has a chance to take in what’s happened… She’s kind of embarrassed that you had to save her.

You come over and give her a hug, but she pushes you away at first.

She pouts and grumbles about how she could have saved herself and you laugh.

Yes, Cass was would always be the type to be too proud to accept help.

Later on, she tells you how thankful she is for what you did. She gives you a kiss and lets herself be wrapped up in your arms.

Cass secretly feels so loved. It makes her realize that you would do anything for her and she likes that idea.

Daniela:

She finds it so romantic. She grabs your face and kisses you repeatedly.

You would say that you could get used to this behavior, but to be fair, Dani is always so affectionate.

Dani has a couple of nightmares about what happened, but you are always there to reassure her and soothe her nerves.

Dani offers you a lot of… Well, appreciation (In bed).

You are just so relieved she is still here with you. You would have been absolutely lost without the fun redhead by your side anymore.

This makes you and Dani’s relationship even stronger and she now knows how much you really love her.

Masterlist

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Domestic Main six moment cause you seemed to love that other one and this is the stuff i live for.

How would the main six react to accidentally stepping on the MC's familiar? Like stepping on it's tail or paw while it's asleep? What if the familiar flinches from them for the following hour like some pets (coughs and looks at my dog) may do to be dramatic?

Unrelated, do you think the main six might trade familiars with their MC? Like if they're going to be away for a while MC might take Chandra and vice versa so they still have a part of eachother?

Anyway, hope you're having a nice time!

The Arcana HCs: When MC accidentally steps on M6's familiar

~ @alilbitlesbian I can't begin to tell you how much I like this idea XD I really hope you like this, and if you'd like more of MC and the familiars I have some previous headcanons linked below ^.^ Enjoy! - brainrot ~

MC with M6's familiars

Julian

It happened while Julian was frantically dragging you down a back alleyway after getting into a barfight. Malak, that protective raven, had alerted you to the guards and you were making a break for it

As Malak continues to act as your bodyguard, he swoops down in front of you, skimming over the uneven cobblestones

And that's how the tip of your shoe lands on the tip of his tail and plucks out a couple of his tail feathers

Fortunately for both of you, Julian manages to pull you into an empty lot as the guards go clamoring by. You have all of ten seconds of silence before the raven perches in front of your face

To say he's upset is an understatement. His feathers are ruffled, he's shuffling indignantly up and down his branch, and he is nonstop scolding you with angry caw after furious screech

About two minutes in of vainly apologizing, you look over to Julian for help

As far as you can tell, he's just relieved it's not him for once and has no intention of stepping in and suffering the wrath of his raven

If you bring Malak something shiny for his nest he will forgive you

Asra

It feels earlier than it is. It's one of those mornings that you'd happily sleep through if you didn't have a shop to run, but you do, so you regretfully escape Asra's sleepy cuddles and get out of bed

You're padding barefoot across the sunlit floor, trying to get the hair and sleep out of your eyes, when you step in a warm patch of light. Onto a pastel purple tail. Which flinches immediately

Faust's startled Pain! rattles through your head and effectively jolts you awake. She's curled up by your feet, giving you the most pitiful look she can manage, and you feel your heart twist

She spends the rest of the morning on your shoulders

Asks for scritches? She gets them. Asks for squeezes? She gets them. Asks for treats? She gets them

And if you say no, oh dear, if you even think of saying no, she's giving you those big, cute eyes again and forlornly asking Friend? and you have to give in, you have to

It's not until Asra joins you around lunch that they pick up on what their sneaky little familiar has been up to

He's very amused, and he quickly tells her to stop guilt tripping his MC

Nadia

You're chatting with her as she goes through her morning stretches (you would join her, but you pulled a muscle yesterday and don't feel up to it)

You have a cup of tea in your hands, absorbed in your conversation as you slowly back towards the open window to take a seat

You see Nadia's eyes widen in alarm as you sink onto the windowsill, but it doesn't register until you hear Chandra's strained hooting and feel the tip of a wing being tugged out from under you

You're immediately shooting back up, putting your tea down to make sure the owl is okay. It quickly becomes clear that she's fine, if a little startled, and very capable of giving you a disdainful look

Behind you, you can hear the beginning of Nadia's amused chuckle as Chandra continues to fix you with her imperious gaze

How dare you, you can almost hear her hoot, how dare you be so mindless of my presence

You'll have to make the most respectful, thorough, heartfelt apology for her to stop looking at you so sternly

And it will take a treat to get back into her good graces

Muriel

You're bustling around the hut, tidying things up after a hectic day

The sun is setting, which means it's not dark enough yet to build up the fire, but the shadows are certainly getting deeper

Occupying one of those shadows is Inanna, silent, still as stone, the only sign of her presence being the twin green eyes blinking at you from the corner under the shelf

Which means that, when you go to put a stack of bowls on said shelf, you fail to spot her tail and step on it

Her startled yelp nearly makes you drop the bowls you're holding and fall over, but you're too busy trying to check her tail to be very worried about it

She's not mad ... she's disappointed

Cue her sitting in the middle of the room, giving the occasional heavy sigh, sending you a reproachful huff every time you pass by

If you let it get to you and convince her that you're sorry and feel guilty enough, she'll forgive you

Muriel walked in for the last ten minutes of it and he's so conflicted, he doesn't know who to side with

He's not going to try to mediate though, because the standoff is oddly adorable and he's curious about how it'll be resolved

Portia

You and Portia both agree that it's entirely Pepi's fault

The mischievous little cat noticed the tray of food you're carrying to eat in the garden, and decided that that means she needs to be right where you are about to step so you don't forget her

With the tray blocking your view, you don't know she's in front of your foot until you accidentally kick her

After the sudden feeling of a small, soft, fuzzy tummy against your foot, you hear an ear-piercing yowl and see her dash away

She's playing fully into her betrayal, as though you went out of your way to hurt her and she was never near your foot to begin with

Will walk up to you like she wants pets and then give an exaggerated flinch as soon as you reach out

Waits until you sit down to eat with Portia so she can sit two feet in front of you, fixated on the food on your plate, and dive fully into the character of a starved, abandoned stray

Portia's too done with her antics to care

You eventually follow her example after apologizing multiple times. Suddenly, Pepi wants cuddles again because how dare you stop giving her attention

Lucio

You're on the road again, on a three day trek to a lair you've been commissioned to clear out

Mercedes and Melchior have just been possessed with the dreaded zoomies and are having the times of their lives careening recklessly through the trees and terrorizing every small creature in their paths

Until they both circle back around to your path, slamming into each other with you in the middle to make a slobbery MC sandwich

Between Mercedes hurtling into your knees full tilt and Melchior achieving a new doggy air time record to tackle you square in the chest with a flying leap, it's impossible to stay balanced

Fortunately, the dogs are already close enough to break your fall

Unfortunately, they don't take kindly to becoming an animate landing pad

They spend as long as they can whimpering and howling as soon as you look away from them, and faking a limp as soon as you turn back to check on them

They will forgive you as soon as you pet them and give them treats

Lucio was too absorbed in trying to understand his new map to notice