#words were starting to blur haha

[lostbo0]

Nothing I Had Planned… (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: After four months of blissful marriage, you fear that new realities may introduce challenges you had not anticipated or prepared for.

Genre: Spencer x Fem!Reader, Angst with comfort, happy ending

Content: Mentions of pregnancy, periods, relationship doubt, nerds in love.

Word Count: 1.8k

~~~

The confession you had made that evening was not one marked of a particular grandiosity, and yet it grew a welling in your heart so strong, you felt as though you could fall in love a thousand times over.

your afternoon seemed to slip from your fingers, watching time crawl between the cracks of the blinds, sunlight dragging across the wall of your freshly inhabited living room. Spencer had not long departed to pick up forgotten work materials, insisting on your relaxation for the evening. You mindlessly clicked the remote button, eyes glossed over the tv you had no idea what to do with. Admittedly, you had hopes to escape the confines of your empty home for a small while, yet when you saw the sparkling glow of matrimonial duty glinting in Spencer’s eyes, you rescinded your desire at once.

The TV screen flashed with cop and forensic shows, too familiar to enjoy as you lazed about your unworn couch. You abandoned the idea of TV all together, instead walking to the bathroom, deciding that a warm shower might occupy your time. You shuffled through cabinets, hunting for a spare bottle of shampoo, when, behind nicknacks and more often used supplies, a small case of period products flashed across your vision.

When was the last time you had used one of these?

Your period had never been regular. In fact, it had been far from the word, but you had never missed one completely. At first, you thought that you had simply been “glowing with marriage” as Penelope suggested, your body not finding the time to worry about menstruation. In hindsight, the notion seemed silly to you, but at the time, all you could think about was the fact that you had married the love of your life.

Maybe a change in environment, you had foolishly told yourself a month ago. It just now struck you how long it had been.

Your mind did not immediately resort to conception. In fact, your hypochondria suggested more inevitable death than anything else. Yet, as you sat in the bathroom, shower long discarded, you began to wonder. A baby? It didn’t even feel possible. Of course it had been possible, but you had not even considered it to be a likely reality.

The idea of children had danced upon your tongue, slipping in to conversations laced with playful sincerity, but you never thought it to be a near future. Nothing in the past 4 months had even felt real. You just loved and danced and laughed and sent sparks flying, no consideration of permanent consequence. You found yourself dragged by a ghost of yourself towards the door, simply sliding on shoes and going.

~~~

You jammed the keys into the ignition, stalling for just a moment, hoping for a sign — for your period to magically start “haha you weren’t pregnant, really got you there!” Or perhaps waiting for an angel to descend, delivering the message that you were in fact not with child. But the angel never came. Not yet.

Street lines blurred across the windshield, reminding you to slow. All you could hear was your breath. No radio, no revving, no sirens, not even the rain on your window, just the inhale exhale of your lungs, breathing a silent plea. You weren’t prepared for this, and it scared you. All your life you had spent preparing: seven, the talent show. Twelve, state testing. Sixteen, SATs. Twenty-two, FBI training. Never once did you sit down, read a book, talk to a friend, talk to your mom even! The sound of your breath was loud. Louder, you thought, until it became rhythmic. A rhythm of no count, no time, it was filled with gasps and choking cries that mixed with the patter of rain crawling down the windshield. The line between raindrops and tears began to blur as your own tears pooled in your eyes and ran down your cheeks in hot puddles. You felt foolish — an adult woman crying at the result of her own actions. Yet you didn’t feel like the adult woman that you were. All you could see was a scared teenage girl, faced with the fear of a lifetime in front of her. But you didn’t have a parents to disappoint, not a boyfriend or a teacher, just your poor loving husband that you were scared to death of hurting.

Spencer was the only person who made you believe that the world still had some good left in it. He was the most gentle and tender hearted human you had ever laid eyes upon, and the idea that you could even scare him in any way, sent your stomach twirling like a centrifuge. You knew he loved children, that was not a fact lost on you, but you were also aware of the horrors you both faced each and every day you stepped into the bullpen.

Your entire line of work was comprised of lunatics and monsters and horrors beyond normal comprehension, and you were also well aware of how much of a danger it posed. Spencer had been kidnapped, Penelope had been shot and stalked, and every day you were afraid that you could be next. It almost felt selfish and wrong to bring a poor sweet child into your tainted world. How could you do that to something so innocent?

~~~

You parked your car with recklessness reminiscent of chasing an unsub as you set your vehicle spanning multiple parking spots. You slammed the door shut harder than you had wished, catching a glimpse of your swollen, red, and sordid face. The tears felt sticky on your fingers as you quickly wiped them away.

The fluorescent lights dug into your skin as you walked to the back of the drug store. You knew in your heart that no one there had a care in the world about what you were doing, and yet you had never felt so exposed. Aisles blurred together as you dragged yourself to the shelf, hastily grabbing the most expensive test you could find, hoping the price would reflect upon its accuracy. You checked out and made your way to the car, rain still beating, pooling in the pavement. The car ride back felt just as long as the arrival, thoughts speeding across your vision as quick as the road signs. How would he react when he saw you? How would he react when he saw the results? Would he hug you? Would he cry? Would he slide a hand into yours only to pull the ring off with the words “I’m sorry, I’m not ready?” You felt guilty for even considering it. That was the man that loved you, and he made the promise to love you, no matter what, so faced with these facts, why were you so scared?

~~~

The bathroom tiles were soaked with tears and rain water as you waited tirelessly for the minutes to drag by. No matter how warm your thermostat was set that morning, you couldn’t help feeling cold. These next few moments would decide your future for the rest of your life. But it wasn’t the moments that decided your fate, but the two prominent lines that spoke millions of words all at once. After all the crying you had done, you found it shocking that no tears rolled down your cheeks. In fact, you didn’t make a single noise. You were certain that you hadn’t made a sound. You didn’t know how long you sat there on the bathroom floor staring into your hands. You didn’t know when Spencer would return, but you wanted terribly for it to be soon. No matter how afraid you were of telling him, you wanted nothing more than to feel the familiarity of his arms around your body, building the warmth in your soul that you so desperately desired.

~~~

You were on the couch when Spencer came home. Hearing the door open, you shot up from your seat and stood there in the middle of the room, waiting for him to walk inside.

“My love, I’m home!” He paused where he stood when he saw you, seeing easily through your tight-lipped smile. “are you ok?” He dropped his bags and rushed to you, large hands holding your shoulders with gentle firmness.

“Yeah…” Your voice was quiet, hoarse from crying.

“Baby,” he moved a hand up to your cheek, heart pounding in hopes that you were ok. “Your eyes are red and puffy…”

“I was crying.” You laughed softly at your admission.

“Why sweetheart,” he brushed a thumb across your cheek, feeling dried tears soaked into your reddening skin.

“Um, well…” you wiped your face with your hand. You could feel the tears building in the cracks of your eyes and the familiar clenching of your throat. Spencer peered down at you with those sickeningly brown eyes, prodding for an answer.

“I’m pregnant…” The words scratched out in a whisper, you could barely hear the words yourself, questioning if you even spoke them. He only looked at you, unease growing in your stomach as you fear the worst. “I took a test and I know that sometimes results can be inconclusive but, my period is weeks late and I just-“

“I love you so much-“ His warm arms pulled himself to you, breaths coming out in choked gasps, hot air on your neck as he grasped your body. For the first time all day, you felt safe. A sigh fell from your lips like a waterfall, the tension releasing from your body in one choked out breath. You could feel your arms crawling up his body like a magnet, against your own will and at the same time exactly what you wanted. Your fingers grabbed at his sweater, pulling at the fabric in earnest attempt to hold him forever.

“I was so scared-I, I love you-“

“I love you too. I love you so much.” Your tears came out in hot puddles, soaking the shoulder of Spencer’s shirt. It was silly to even think that it mattered. His body engulfed you, tearing at the seams that held your fear in place, ripping apart any hesitation.

“I’m-I’m sorry I didn’t plan anything special to tell you, I just, I didn’t want to wait…”

“No, Sweetheart, this is perfect.” He pulled away from you, holding your face in his large hands. “You’re perfect.”

You could have spent an eternity basking in the comfort of his arms. In fact, you weren’t sure if any more words were spoken.The truth was, you hadn’t prepared for this. At the time, you hadn’t even wished it. And yet, in that small, careful, tender moment, you realized that if everything you hadn’t planned for turned out just like this, you would throw caution to the wind, following the tides of your love instead.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Requests are open if you have any ideas!

[nhaaauyen]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ The Ghost of You ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)

PART IV: TONIGHT, I WALK AWAY

zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.

series masterpost: part I // part II // part III // part V

wc: 7.8k cw: violence, angst, major character death author's note: Honestly I'm starting to get why TWD writers do what they do after writing this chapter... I also apologize for taking so long for this chapter, my classes are starting now so updates will be a bit a slower </3 **also some eastereggs but the sonnet 73 quote I have is mentioned in the scene where Grayson talks about love. It's pretty much the translated modern English definition of the quote! The make a wish dialogue is also from the movie Dangerously Yours (1937), that scene always gets me so I had to include it haha

You drift in and out of consciousness, the world around you a hazy blur of pain and disjointed voices. Through the fog, you catch glimpses of three figures engaged in intense discussion.

Sevika's there, her face etched with worry. Beside her stands a tall, bald gaunt man and a mask covering the lower half of his face. His eyes are sunken, giving him an almost skeletal appearance. The third figure is shorter, with slicked-back dark hair and a prominent scar running down one side of his face, his right eye a striking shade of green.

Their voices filter through your muddled thoughts:

"...low on medical supplies for a procedure like this," the masked man says, his voice muffled and clinical. "There's no sure chance she can make it."

"I'll go to the hospital."

"It’s too dangerous." The scarred man's voice is sharp and skeptical.

"We've been low on supplies for too long," Sevika argues. "It's time we do it now. We cannot lose any more people."

Their words fade as you slip back into darkness, only to resurface again as you're being moved. You have no idea how much time has passed, but you're on some kind of gurney, the ceiling passing by overhead. You try to move, but your limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. Glancing down, you see your wrists are handcuffed to the sides of the bed.

Panic surges through you as you realize you're being rolled into what looks like a makeshift operating room. The masked man and the scarred one are there, now wearing blood-stained surgical gowns. You try to fight, to call out, but your body won't cooperate.

The scarred man leans over you, his mismatched eyes boring into yours. "It will be over soon," he says, his voice oddly soothing despite the circumstances. Then he's lowering a gas mask over your face, and the world fades to black.

When you wake again, your mind is clearer, though your body feels like it's been run over by a truck. The scarred man is sitting in a chair beside your bed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

"Ah, you're awake," he says, leaning forward. "Good. I was beginning to wonder if we'd miscalculated."

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, raw. He holds up a hand, silencing you.  

"No need to strain yourself. I just wanted to... observe you.” He pauses. "It's been a long time since I've had to perform a procedure like that. It’s quite a reminder of what still lurks beyond these walls. How we’ve grown complacent."

Your eyes drift to his face, lingering on the scar that runs down the right side, bisecting his eye. The eye itself is a startling shade of green, almost luminescent against his pale skin. You must have been staring, because the man chuckles, a dry, humorless sound.

"Curious, aren’t you?" A sardonic smile twists his features. "It’s only natural - people always wonder. But few ever ask. It’s a souvenir from when Zaun was still crawling out of the muck. When men I called brothers tried to drag me back down for a piece of land." 

His finger traces the scar slowly, almost lovingly. "This... this was their parting gift." He trails off, then continues in a near-whisper. "Have you ever felt pain so exquisite it becomes transcendent? For days, I danced on the knife's edge between genius and madness."

His gaze refocuses on you, sharp and penetrating. "But pain, you see, can be transformative. It stripped away my naivety, my weakness. It forged me into something stronger, something capable of truly leading Zaun."

“I think I understand why Sevika is so fond of you." His lips curl into something that might be a smile but doesn't reach his eyes. "There's something in you, just like her. That part that's willing to sacrifice."

You furrow your brow, confusion, and wariness warring inside you.

"Some sacrifices are necessary to be made. But they're also weaknesses," He stands, smoothing down his shirt. "Something to consider."

With those cryptic words, he turns and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. You're left alone, your mind racing with questions. Who were those men? What exactly happened to you? And how much time had gone by?

The weight of uncertainty presses down on you, and exhaustion soon follows. Despite your churning thoughts, your eyelids grow heavy, and you drift into an uneasy sleep.

When you wake again, its by the sound of shuffling feet and the creak of a door opening. The haze of sleep still clings to your mind as you slowly become aware of your surroundings.

Sevika enters, holding a plate of food. Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

"Hey," she says finally, her voice softer than you've ever heard it.

"Hey yourself," you reply, unable to keep a slight tremor from your voice.

Sevika sets the plate on your bedside table, then stands awkwardly, as if unsure what to do with her hands. "Thought you might be hungry," she mumbles.

You nod, a thousand questions bubbling up inside you. Where has she been? Why didn't she visit sooner? What happened after the surgery? But looking at her now, seeing the dark circles under her eyes and the way she holds herself - tense, guarded - you decide those questions can wait.

Instead, you pat the bed beside you. "Sit with me?"

Sevika hesitates for a moment, then complies. As she settles beside you, you feel the warmth of her presence, so familiar yet somehow changed.

"I missed you," you say simply.

Sevika's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of emotion crossing her face before she schools it back to neutrality. "I... I'm glad you're okay," she replies, her voice gruff but sincere.

As you and Sevika sit together, you try to maintain a casual conversation, but there's an undercurrent of tension you can't ignore. Sevika's responses are clipped, her gaze never quite meeting yours. It's like she's looking through you, not at you.

"Hey," you say softly, reaching out to touch her arm. "What's going on?"

She turns slowly, her eyes finally meeting yours. But there’s something different in them, something that makes your heart clench. It’s infuriating, this distance she’s putting between you, this wall she’s building brick by brick.

“Sevika,” you say, trying to break through that wall. “Talk to me.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Nothing can happen between us again,” she says, the words falling heavy between you like a death sentence.

You stare at her, disbelief mingling with hurt. “What?”

Her gaze flickers, something like pain flashing in her eyes before she steels herself again. “We can’t do this,” she says, her voice low and strained. “We can’t keep pretending this… whatever this is… can last.”

You feel the ground shift beneath you like the world is falling away, leaving you teetering on the edge of a precipice. “You’re really going to say that after everything?” Your voice cracks, the hurt seeping through despite your best efforts to keep it at bay. “How do you kiss someone, make them believe there’s something real, and then just—throw it away?”

Sevika’s jaw clenches, and she looks away, as if unable to bear the sight of your pain. “You can be mad at me, hate me if you want,” she says. “But it has to be this way.”

“I’m not mad,” you reply, your heart breaking with every word. “I’m hurt, Sevika. I’m hurt because I care about you, and you’re pushing me away like none of it matters.”

“I know,” she whispers, her voice so soft it’s almost lost in the hum of the machines. 

“Then why?” you demand, your voice wavering as you struggle to understand. “Why are you doing this?”

She finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the anguish in her eyes is like a punch to the gut. “Because if I let myself love you,” she says, her voice breaking on the word, “I know we’d never have enough time. ”

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, drowning you in the despair that’s been brewing in your chest. “But isn't some time better than none at all? I'd rather have a handful of precious moments with you than spend the rest of my life wondering 'what if.'” The tears you’ve been holding back now streaming down your face. 

“Even if it hurts, even if it's brief – at least it would be real.”

Sevika shakes her head, her expression a storm of anger and fear. Her words come out in a rush, like she can't hold them back any longer.

"You don't understand. I was okay before you. I was okay with the idea of dying, of existing day after day without purpose until my time ran out. But now?" Her voice hardens. "Now I'm terrified. I'm not okay with losing you. I'm not okay with the thought that you could walk out that door and never come back."

“I didn't need this. I didn't need you to come along and give me a reason to call this godforsaken place home. I didn't need you to make me want to survive instead of just exist.”  She’s practically pleading now.  “Don't you see what you've done to me? Needing you means I have something to lose."

The weight of her confession crushes you, the finality of it sinking in. She’s not just pushing you away—she’s tearing herself apart to do it, ripping out the very thing that might make her feel alive, all because she’s so afraid of the pain it could bring.

“I’d shatter every bone in my body again if it meant keeping you safe,” you say, your voice trembling. “I’d do anything for you, Sevika, and it hurts so bad that you won’t let me.”

She turns her head away. “You’re too stubborn,” she whispers, her voice resigned. “You won’t stop, and neither will I, and it’ll kill us both in the end.”

“You look at me like I’m already dead,” you say, your voice cracking with the weight of your grief. “Like I’m a ghost you’ve been carrying around, waiting for the right moment to bury me.”

She flinches, the words cutting deep. “Because that’s what it feels like,” she confesses. “I feel like I’ve already lost you, and it’s killing me. I’d rather lose you now when we still have a chance to walk away than lose you out there, where I can’t protect you.”

The following silence is deafening, the air thick with everything neither of you can bring yourselves to say. You reach out, your hand trembling as you gently caress her cheek, trying to offer comfort in the only way you know how. She leans into your touch for a moment, her eyes closing as if she’s trying to savor it, to hold onto it before it’s gone.

“Are you doing this to protect me, or are you protecting yourself?” you ask softly, the question hanging in the air like a lifeline, offering her one last chance to admit the truth.

She opens her eyes, and the pain you see there nearly undoes you. “Both,” she admits. “I’m protecting both of us. I’ll never survive the day I lose you. And I can’t—” Her voice breaks, and she swallows hard, her eyes pleading with you to understand. “I can’t live.”

Your heart shatters as the reality of her words sinks in. She’s already decided, already convinced herself that this is the only way to keep you both safe, even if it means tearing herself apart in the process.

“Can I be alone?” you ask, your voice small and broken, the words barely escaping your lips.

Sevika nods, her expression tightening as she takes a step back. “Yeah,” she says. “I’ll go.”

She turns to leave, but before she can take another step, you reach out. “Sevika, wait,” you say, your voice filled with desperation. “Can you hand me my bag?”

She hesitates, her gaze flickering to the bag and then back to you. After a moment, she nods and hands it to you, her fingers brushing yours for the briefest of moments, sending a jolt of longing through you. You rummage through the bag, your heart pounding as you pull out the familiar fabric of her shawl.

You hold it out to her. “This belongs to you.”

Sevika stares at the shawl, her eyes widening as she realizes what it means. For a moment, she just stands there, looking at it like it’s a lifeline she’s too afraid to grasp. Then, she takes it from you.

She looks at you, and in her eyes, you see all the things she wants to say, all the things she’s too scared to admit. And then, without another word, she turns and walks out of the room, the door closing quietly behind her, leaving you alone with nothing but the ghost of her touch and the scent of her shawl lingering in the air.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

You didn’t accept any visitors for days, under the guise that you were too tired and needed the rest to recover. But as tempting as curling in bed and crying over a woman that you never even had a proper relationship with was, you knew you couldn’t hide away forever.

Blinking, you see a group of people piling into your room.

Vander's deep voice rumbles, "Easy now, let's not overwhelm her."

Caitlyn is standing over you. "How are you feeling? Any pain?"

Before you can answer, Powder chimes in, "Bet you feel like you've been hit by a truck. Am I right?"

"Something like that," you croak.

Your attention is drawn to the doorway where Grayson stands, little Ren in her arms. The child is clutching Grayson's yellow armband tightly.

Grayson sets Ren down gently. "Go on, little one," she says softly.

Ren doesn't need to be told twice. She rushes to your bedside, her small hands gripping the edge of the mattress. "Miss, are you okay?" she asks, her voice shakes slightly. "Will you be like Sevika?"

The innocence in her question tugs at your heart. You reach out, ignoring the twinge of pain from the movement and the mention of Sevika, to pat her hand. "No, darling," you reply softly. "Sevika is unique. I'll be just fine."

Grayson moves closer, her stern expression softening slightly. "That was brave," she says. "But also very idiotic of you."

You frown at the comment, the words too similar to Sevika’s at the prison.  

Vander's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "You gave us quite a scare," he says. "But you're tough. You'll pull through."

Caitlyn nods in agreement. "We've managed to replenish some of our medical supplies thanks to the hospital mission." she informs you. 

Vi adds with a smirk, "And don't even think about trying to get up and be a hero again anytime soon."

“Yeah… I wouldn’t dream of it,” you respond hoarsely.  

Over the next week, your family comes and goes, their visits being the highlight of your monotonous days.  Grayson usually stopped by with Ren, the two were closer than you expected but Marcus had flitted in and out of Ren’s life so often that Grayson stepped up as a parental figure.  You offered to take care of the kid while you were still bed-bound, and Grayson only reluctantly agreed when you assured her it wouldn’t obstruct your healing process.

You find yourself sitting up in bed, Ren cross-legged beside you. Math worksheets are spread out between you.

"If an apple cost three dollars and you needed to buy five apples, how much would that cost?"

Ren's brow furrows in concentration. "Um... fifteen dollars?"

You beam at her. "That's right! You're getting good at this."

A knock at the door interrupts your math lesson and Vi pokes her head in, her red hair slightly disheveled.

"Hey, time to get moving," she says with a grin.

You turn to Ren, giving her a warm smile. "Let's do this again tomorrow, sweetie?"

Ren nods enthusiastically, gathering her papers. "Alright! Bye-bye, miss! I hope you feel better!"

As Ren scampers out, Vi approaches, offering her arm for support. You wince as you stand, your body still protesting the movement.

“Easy,” she murmurs, her tone softening as she watches your struggle. “Take it slow.”

You grit your teeth, focusing on her voice, on the feel of her arm supporting you. Slowly, you manage a few steps, each one a little less painful than the last. 

“How’s it feel?” Vi asks, keeping pace with you, her gaze never leaving your face.

“Like hell,” you admit with a shaky laugh, though there’s a small sense of victory in the simple act of standing on your own two feet again. “But better than yesterday.”

Vi nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Progress,” she says. “You’re getting stronger.”

As you slowly make your way down the hallway, Vi starts chatting about her day. "You wouldn't believe the shit from yesterday. We were chasing some survivors that tried to steal our shit through an alley, and then Sevika shows up out of nowhere and--" 

The moment the words are out, Vi winces, realizing her mistake too late.  You feel a sharp pang in your chest at the mention of Sevika's name. 

"Uh, anyway, we got the guy in the end.” she says.

“She… was?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Vi looks away, guilt flashing in her eyes. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“It’s good,” you say, though the words feel like a lie even as they leave your lips. “It’s good that she caught them.”

Vi nods. “I’m sorry.” 

You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “It’s okay. It’s just… I miss her.  It’s stupid, we weren’t anything.”

“I know,” she says. “But it’s not stupid.”

There’s a long silence, the kind that’s filled with all the words neither of you know how to say. “If you didn’t have Caitlyn, would you be okay with all of this? Would you be able to live with everything we do?”

She’s quiet for a moment as she considers your words. “Do I have a choice?” she finally says, her voice tinged with a sadness you’ve rarely heard from her. “I have Powder. I have you, Vander… my family. I’d feel incomplete, sure, but I don’t have a choice. I have to keep going.”

“We’ll keep going, together.” She adds.

“Thanks, Vi.” Despite your gratefulness, her words feel like they’re coming from a distance, muffled by the grief you’re still trying to process. 

Your family helps you through it all, they talk to you about everything and nothing, filling the silence with stories. The days pass, and slowly, you begin to reclaim small pieces of yourself. You walk more, the physical therapy sessions become less of a struggle and more of a routine.

And each night, when the room is quiet and you’re alone with your thoughts, you think of Sevika. It’s not easy. Some days, the weight of it all feels unbearable, like you’re drowning in a sea of what-ifs and lost chances. But you keep going, step by step, knowing that it’s all you can do.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting session, you lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling as your thoughts drift. You think about Sevika, about the last time you saw her, the pain in her eyes as she walked away. And you wonder if she feels the same weight, if she’s struggling just as much to move on.

You close your eyes, and for a moment, you imagine her here, standing by your side. And as you drift off to sleep, you could swear you hear her voice, soft and broken, whispering in the dark.

“I failed you.”

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The pantry is filled with the scent of canned goods and the faint rustle of paper bags. You’re focused on stacking cans of beans when your grip falters, and one slips from your fingers.

Before it can hit the ground, a hand darts out and catches it. You look up to see a man with a cocky grin. He’s tall and lean, with slicked-back hair and piercing teal eyes.  You don’t know why, but he looked oddly familiar.

“Well, well,” he drawls. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing down here? Are we that understaffed that we’re making the injured work now?”

You snatch the can back from him. “Not that it’s any of your business,” you reply curtly, setting the can back on the shelf, “but I wanted to do this.”

He chuckles, leaning against the shelf with a casual arrogance. “Looks like supplies are running a bit thin,” he comments slyly, his eyes flicking to the half-empty shelves. “Maybe you should take it easy before you use up what little energy we have left.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your patience wearing thin. “I’m not interested in your opinion.”

Before he can retort, the door to the pantry swings open with a loud creak, and Sevika steps inside. The air changes instantly when her gaze zeroes in on the man. 

“Finn,” she growls. “What are you doing here?”

Finn straightens up and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just making sure our friend here isn’t overworking herself,” he says innocently.

“Get lost,” Sevika snaps. “Now.”

With a lazy shrug, Finn backs off, giving you a final, lingering look before sauntering out of the pantry. The door closes behind him, leaving you alone with Sevika. 

Sevika turns to you. “I was told you’re working here again,” she says, her voice sharp with disapproval. “Are you stupid? You’re barely healed.”

You bristle at her tone. "I needed to do something."

"Yeah, like babysitting Ren," she snaps. “Not this.”

"Why does it matter what I do?" you challenge, your voice rising.

For a moment, Sevika doesn’t answer, but then her eyes widen.

“You’re bleeding.” 

You blink, confused. “What?”

You look down and see a trickle of blood seeping through the bandages on your side. The pain hits you a second later, sharp and burning, but you grit your teeth, refusing to show weakness in front of her.

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, trying to downplay it. “I can bandage it myself.”

But Sevika is already moving toward you, her expression darkening with worry. “You’re not going back to your place like this,” she mutters. “Come on. My place is closer.”

Before you can protest, she’s already scooping you up into her arms. The world blurs around you as she carries you through the streets and you’re too shocked to resist.

When you reach her place, she sets you down on the edge of her bed, her touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary before she pulls away.

“Just sit,” she instructs as she moves to grab a first aid kit from a nearby drawer.

“I can do it.” 

Sevika shakes her head, her expression set in a way that leaves no room for argument. “I have experience with this,” she says quietly. “Let me.”

You watch in silence as she works. Her hands, usually so strong and rough, are gentle as they press a fresh bandage against your skin. There’s a tenderness in the way she handles you, in the way she refuses to meet your gaze as she focuses on the wound, that makes your chest ache.

Finally, Sevika finishes. She stands, the distance between you growing once more as she busies herself with putting away the first aid kit, her movements stiff and mechanical.

“Thanks.” You want to leave, not to be any more inconvenient than you already were but Sevika replies before you can say anything.

“You should rest,” she says, her voice flat, devoid of the warmth that was there just moments ago. “Don’t push yourself like that again.”

You reluctantly agree to stay and the tension in Sevika's shoulders eases slightly. She mumbles something about bringing dinner later and leaves you to rest.

Left alone, you take in your surroundings. The room is sparse, almost impersonal. Unlike the chaos in the other rooms, this space feels hollow. There are no personal belongings, no knick-knacks, nothing to suggest that she even uses this bed. It's as if the room itself is holding its breath, existing in a state of perpetual temporariness.

Exhaustion soon overtakes you, and you drift off to sleep. But you soon wake again at the sound of muffled voices.  Through the haze of half-consciousness, you hear one of Sevika's people inviting her to a party, but she declines. 

"Nah, I'm staying in today," you hear her say.

The voices fade, and you slowly wake up, disoriented. You stumble to the doorway of the living room, blinking sleep from your eyes. Sevika is there, dressed in casual clothes – a grey tank top and worn jeans with her hair down, falling in messy waves around her face.  She's cleaning up, a pile of bottles in her arms when she notices you.

"You're awake," she says, startled. "Shit, did I wake you up?"

You shake your head, your voice still rough with sleep. "No, you're good... Do you need help with that?"

"No. Fuck, sit down. What are you doing walking around?"

Still groggy, you comply without argument, sinking into the couch. Sevika dumps the bottles in a bag and turns back to you.

"I'm making dinner," she says, washing her hands at the sink. "You're okay with instant noodles and spam?"

The domesticity of the moment catches you off guard. "Sounds delicious," you manage to say.

Sevika nods and turns to the small kitchenette. You watch her move around the space. It's surreal, seeing her like this – relaxed, casual, making dinner for you both. For a moment, you can almost pretend things are different between you.

Sevika settles on the far arm of the couch next to you, the small distance between you both feeling more like a chasm. 

"Chopsticks or fork?" she asks, holding out both options.

"Chopsticks," you reply, and a ghost of a smile flickers across her face.

"Good choice," she murmurs, handing them to you.

You eat in comfortable silence, stealing glances at her when you think she's not looking. When you finish, Sevika collects the empty bowls.

"Want dessert?"

"Sure," you nod, watching as she retrieves an apple from the kitchen.

She settles back on the arm of the couch, peeling the apple with a small knife. "How's the physical therapy going?" Sevika asks, breaking the silence.

You shrug. "It's... going. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless."

She nods, placing slices onto a plate. "That's good. Don't push yourself too hard."

"Says the woman who never knows when to quit," you tease gently.

A wry smile tugs at her lips. "Do as I say, not as I do."

As you reach for the last slice, Sevika’s hand brushes your cheek. You freeze, the touch unexpected, and you look up at her, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest.

“There’s an eyelash,” she says softly, her voice gentle as she carefully removes it from your face. She holds it up for you to see, the tiny, delicate lash resting on her fingertip. “Make a wish.”

You stare at the eyelash, your mind racing with all the things you could wish for, should wish for. But the words stick in your throat, and you find yourself frozen, unable to think of anything that could possibly fix what’s been broken.

“Did you wish?”

You shake your head slightly, the corners of your mouth turning up in a sad smile. “I... I didn't get the chance.”

She raises an eyebrow, her gaze piercing as she studies you. “And there’s something you wish for?”

“Yes,” You hesitate, the words coming slowly, painfully, like pulling them from some deep, hidden place inside you. “I was wishing… that we were two other people. Two people who didn’t have to say goodbye.”

The silence that follows is thick, charged with the tension of emotions neither of you can afford to express. Sevika’s expression tightens, her jaw clenching as she absorbs your words.

“You know, if you say it out loud, it doesn’t come true,” she says, her voice rough, like she’s fighting against the vulnerability of the moment.

“Do you believe that?” 

She looks down at the eyelash, still resting on her finger, before blowing it away into the air. Her gaze follows it for a moment before she looks back at you. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unmovable, like a finality neither of you can escape. 

“We should sleep,” Sevika says finally. “It’s late.”

You nod, knowing she’s right. There’s nothing more to be said, nothing that can change the way things are. 

“Thank you,” you say softly.

Sevika looks at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nods, just once, and steps back, letting you go. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you echo, your heart heavy as you turn and walk away.

As you reach the end of the hallway, you glance back, just once. Sevika is still standing in the doorway, watching you, her figure framed by the dim light. There’s something in her posture, something in the way she’s holding herself that makes you think she might be wishing too—wishing for something that neither of you can have.

But then she steps back, closing the door behind her, and you’re left standing in the cold, empty hallway, the echoes of what could have been ringing in your ears.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the makeshift shooting range. You and Grayson stand side by side, both of you facing a row of targets at the far end of the field. You’ve been practicing your aim for a while now, but your focus has been off, your shots missing the mark more often than not.

“You haven’t said anything about my shit shot,” you mutter, glancing sideways at Grayson, expecting some form of criticism.

She shrugs, her eyes on the distant targets. "You're injured. Why would I?"

You snort. "Liar. Weeks ago, you'd have torn me apart. What's different now?"

Grayson doesn't answer, instead gesturing to a nearby bench overlooking the community below. You follow her, settling onto the worn wood with a sigh.The elevated view makes the world seem vast and small all at once.

Grayson passes you a canteen, and you take a long drink before speaking again. "You snitched to Sevika about me working."

Grayson raises an eyebrow. "Snitching? Are we ten?"

"She didn't need to know," you mutter, avoiding her gaze.

"You were going hurt yourself," Grayson says softly. "And you needed to see her. For closure, at least."

You fall silent, not wanting to delve into the complicated mess of emotions surrounding Sevika. Instead, you change the subject. "How's Ren?"

“Ren’s sleeping in today. She’s been up late these past few nights, working on that puzzle I gave her.”  Grayson’s face immediately brightens at the mention of Ren.

“She’s got that stubborn streak. Wonder where she gets it.” 

“Must be the company she keeps,” Grayson replies, her voice laced with affection. “Marcus is at the walls today, keeping an eye on things. It’s been quiet, for the most part.”

You nod, your gaze drifting back to the field. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” you muse. “Every day is the same. We do the same things, see the same faces… What makes it worth living?”

Grayson leans back on the bench, her eyes scanning the horizon as she considers her answer. “You make your own reasons,” she says finally, her tone thoughtful. “For me, it’s taking care of Ren. Making sure she has something to hold onto, something good in this world.”

There’s a pause, and you can tell Grayson is choosing her words carefully. “I never thought of myself as the maternal type,” she continues, sounding almost wistful. “But with Ren… It’s different. She’s taught me more about love than I ever knew.  In whatever time I got left here, I want to continue it with her, to see her grow up and prove there’s still something more for us here.”

You feel a pang in your chest, suddenly remembering Sevika and her belief that there would never be enough time for the two of you. But where Grayson found strength in loving deeply despite that, Sevika chose to close herself off, to protect herself from the inevitable pain.

Grayson looks at you, her eyes filled with a quiet understanding. “Sometimes, the hardest thing is to keep loving, even when you know it won’t last. But that’s what makes it worth it. Knowing that you made the most of the time you had, that you loved fully, even if it hurts in the end.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the truth of them resonating with a painful clarity. 

“It’s hard,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “When you know it’s not going to last.”

Grayson nods, her expression gentle. “It is. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it. You have to find your own reason to keep going, to keep loving, even when it seems like everything is falling apart.”

The conversation settles into a quiet lull, the words lingering between you as the sun dips lower in the sky. You take another sip from the flask, the burn of the alcohol doing little to numb the ache in your chest.

“You’re always looking out for us, making sure we’re okay.” you say after a moment, your voice tinged with admiration. 

“I’m satisfied  – knowing that I’ve done what I can to make this place a little better, to take care of the people who matter.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, the words carrying more weight than you intended. “For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she replies gently. “We’re all in this together. And besides,” she adds with a small, teasing smile, “someone has to keep you in line.”

You chuckle, the sound lightening the heavy atmosphere just a bit.

But the peaceful moment on the hill was brief, the tranquility shattered by the sound of rapid footsteps and panicked crying. You and Grayson turn to see Ren running towards you, her face streaked with tears and her small body shaking with sobs.

Grayson immediately drops to her knees, catching Ren in her arms. "What happened, sweetheart?" she asks, her voice calm but laced with urgency.

Ren tries to speak through her tears, her words coming out in broken gasps. "Daddy said... we were going on a trip... but the monsters... they blocked us and he couldn’t close the gate... now they're coming to get us!"

As if on cue, screams erupt from the direction of the community. You and Grayson exchange a quick glance, both reaching for your weapons without hesitation.

Ren clings to Grayson's yellow armband, her eyes wide with terror. "I want to go with you!" she cries.

Grayson cups Ren's face gently, her voice soft but firm. "Darling, listen to me. I will come back, I promise. But right now, you need to get to safety. Can you be brave for me?"

Ren nods, her lower lip trembling. You know without words what needs to be done - get everyone to safety.

You both sprint down the hill, Grayson carrying Ren. As you near the community, the chaos becomes more apparent. Gunshots ring out, mixing with screams of panic and pain. People are running in all directions, fear etched on their faces.

Vi appears beside you, her red hair wild and her eyes blazing. "We're seriously underarmed right now!" she shouts over the noise. "Sevika's crew is out!"

"We have to make do," you yell back, scanning the area. You spot Caitlyn and a few others on the walls, their snipers picking off threats in the distance.

You, Vi, and the handful of armed residents form a protective line, herding panicked civilians towards their homes. "Get inside! Lock your doors!" you shout, your voice hoarse from the effort.

Children cry for their parents, the elderly struggle to move quickly enough. You see a young mother stumble, her baby wailing in her arms. You rush to her side, helping her to her feet and guiding her to safety.

Everywhere you look, there's movement – people running, fighting, falling. 

The air is thick with the stench of death and the deafening cacophony of gunfire. You're shoulder to shoulder with VI, both of you firing relentlessly at the endless wave of walkers. Sweat stings your eyes as you shout, "Vi! On your left!"

She pivots, taking down three walkers in quick succession. But for every one you drop, two more seem to take its place. The situation is rapidly spiraling out of control, and a sinking feeling in your gut tells you you're fighting a losing battle.

But suddenly, powerful headlights cut through the darkness as a convoy of trucks roars onto the scene. Your heart leaps – you'd recognize that cavalry anywhere.

As if materializing from thin air, more trucks appear, effortlessly mowing down walkers and clearing streets. One screeches to a halt in front of you, and then there she is.

A familiar figure vaults from the truck bed – Sevika, her red shawl billowing behind her. She swiftly unslings a shotgun from her back and starts blasting walkers left and right. Her face is composed, every feature carefully controlled, but when her eyes find yours, a fleeting shadow passes over them—a trace of fear and concern.

"You okay?" she shouts over the din, closing the distance between you.

You nod, breathless. "A lot are injured. I don't know, there's too many – I think they're coming from the west gate. Ren said something about Marcus not being able to close it."

Sevika's jaw tightens. She yanks out a radio, barking orders to dispatch teams to the west gate. In seconds, she's handing out weapons, her voice ringing with authority. "Split up! I want a team grabbing as many injured as possible. Anyone bitten, take them out."

As you move to join the fray, Sevika's hand clamps on your arm. "No," she growls. "What the hell are you doing? Get to safety with the others. You're still injured."

"Fine," you concede. "But I'm finding Grayson first."

Sevika gives a curt nod before sprinting back into action. You catch a glimpse of Vi, her red hair unmistakable as she leaps into a truck bed. 

You weave through the chaos, dodging walkers and searching for Grayson. Gunfire echoes off buildings, punctuated by the revving of engines and the sounds of walkers being dispatched. 

A scream to your left – you spin, firing instinctively. A walker drops, inches from a couple. You quickly wave to them to follow and you sprint to the safe house together. Your leg protests, but adrenaline keeps you moving.

Your heart pounds as you finally spot Grayson, but she's going the opposite direction. 

"Grayson!" you shout. "Sevika and her team are here. We need to get everyone to safety!"

She doesn't slow down. "There's someone stuck in a car!"

That's when you see it - a vehicle surrounded by a writhing mass of walkers, their decaying hands clawing at the windows. Inside, you catch a glimpse of a terrified face.

Without hesitation, you sprint after Grayson. The two of you work in tandem, picking off walkers. When you reach the car, Grayson covers you as you wrench the door open. A young boy, no older than seven, practically leaps into her arms.

"We've got to move!" Grayson shouts.

You guys run, the child clinging to her as you lead the way.  You’re clearing the path, and you’re halfway to the safehouse when you hear the dreaded click of an empty chamber.

"I'm out!" you yell.

Grayson turns, her eyes flashing with a decision you can see forming before she even speaks. "Take the kid. Go!"

"Wait, we can make it together!"

She shakes her head, placing the boy into your arms. "Sevika's crew is here, remember? I'll be okay. Get everyone to safety!"

Before you can protest, she's shoving you toward safety, using her body as a shield for the child. You run, every step feeling like a betrayal, but knowing you have to trust her.

You make it to a house, handing off the child to waiting arms. Your lungs burn as you gasp for air, eyes scanning the chaos for any sign of Grayson.

Suddenly, Sevika's there, her face smeared with grime and blood but her eyes alight with fierce triumph. "We closed the gate. Got them all."

Relief floods you for a moment, but then reality crashes back. "Wait, where's Grayson?"

Confusion flickers across Sevika's face, but before she can respond, a heart-wrenching wail cuts through the air. You both rush outside, joining a growing crowd.

The scene that greets you turns your blood to ice. Caitlyn is on the ground, her body wracked with sobs. Vi kneels beside her, arms wrapped around her shaking form. "I couldn't save her," Caitlyn chokes out between gasps. "I couldn't shoot them fast enough."

Her sniper lies discarded in the dirt, and that's when you see her. Grayson.

The world seems to tilt on its axis. You stumble forward, unable to process what you're seeing. Grayson, who was just beside you moments ago. Grayson, who sacrificed herself to save a child. Grayson, whose quiet strength held your community together.

She now lies on the ground, her body wracked with violent coughs, blood staining her lips. Her breaths had grown shallow, each one more of a struggle than the last, and when she reached for Sevika’s hand, you knew what she was asking for. Sevika’s fingers trembled as she grasped Grayson’s hand, and when Grayson whispered, “Do it,” you saw a flash of something break inside Sevika.

She obeyed.

The gunshot echoed in your ears, louder than the chaos around you, but it was the sight of Sevika gently closing Grayson’s eyes that broke you. Sevika had always been unbreakable, she seemed immune to the horrors of this world. But as she knelt beside Grayson, you saw the cracks forming.  She closed Grayson’s eyes, her hand trembling just for a second before she stood up, towering over the body like a stone sentinel. 

You could barely breathe, the grief suffocating you, making it impossible to think about anything other than how many bodies that needs burying tomorrow. How many families would be broken by the news? How many children would cry for family and friends who would never come home? 

“Grayson?” Ren’s voice was barely a whisper, filled with innocence and confusion. The kid was supposed to be inside the safe house but instead, she stood there, eyes wide and uncomprehending, staring at the lifeless form on the ground. “Why is Grayson sleeping? Tell her to wake up… We won, didn’t we?”

You wanted to tell her something—anything—but the words choked in your throat. Ren dropped to her knees beside Grayson, her tiny hands shaking as they touched the cold, lifeless body.

Sevika finally moved, her expression unreadable, her walls up higher than ever. Without a word, she reached into her pocket and pulled out Grayson’s yellow band. She knelt down, her massive frame suddenly so small beside Ren, and gently placed the band in the child’s trembling hands.

Ren looked up at Sevika, eyes full of questions. But before anything could be said, Silco emerged from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity. He was flanked by his men, their faces grim and cold, and at the center of it all was Marcus.

He was barely recognizable—his face a mangled mess of bruises and blood. He was dragged forward, forced to his knees in the dirt where Grayson had fallen. The sight of him brought Sevika to her feet, her fists clenched tight. You could see the battle raging inside her, the desire to end him right then and there, but she held back.

"Look at him," he began, his tone soft, almost conversational, as if he were discussing something trivial. "A man who betrayed the very community that kept him protected him fed and protected. Who left nothing but the ashes of his own cowardice."

He walked slowly around Marcus, like a predator circling its prey. "This is the price of betrayal, the cost of thinking you can stand in the way of what must be done. You all know him," Silco continued, addressing the crowd that had gathered, their eyes fixed on the broken man at his feet. "You know his face, his uniform, his lies. But you must also know this: in a world where there are no second chances, there are no second thoughts."

Silco’s voice grew harder, colder, as he leaned down close to Marcus’s ear. "Your cowardice, your betrayal, a mistake that cost how many lives today? And now, you will pay the price for that."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final, and Marcus’s body shuddered, knowing what was coming. Silco straightened, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Let this be a lesson to all who would think to cross us, to cross me. There is no forgiveness in this world, only retribution."

You don’t know what happened next, because you’re taking Ren into your arms and you’re moving – away from the crowd, away from the punishment that you know her father will face.

Ren clings to you, burying her face in your chest, and you hold her close, wishing you could shield her from all of this. "What’s happening to Daddy?" she asks, her voice muffled by your shirt. "And Grayson?"

You didn’t have an answer. The only thing you could do was hold her tighter, trying to block out the screams, the fire, the blood.

Time passes, the night dragging on in a blur of grief. Inside the house, the silence was deafening. You had scrubbed the blood from Ren’s skin, but it still lingered in the air, the scent of death refusing to leave. Grayson’s face kept flashing before your eyes, her last breath, her last words, the way her body crumpled in Sevika’s arms.

And now, as you stared out the window, you saw them—Silco’s men, forming a straight, omnious line as they marched out into the night. At the center of it all was a giant wooden cross, and tied to it was Marcus. His head hung low, his body limp, but he was still alive.

Your breath caught in your throat when Sevika looked up at the window. For a moment, your eyes locked, and you saw nothing in her gaze but a cold, empty challenge. The Sevika you knew wasn’t there, but replaced by someone who had buried whatever was left of her soul beneath layers of survival and duty. She turns away, breaking the gaze as she climbed into the backseat of a vehicle.  You watch as the trucks disappeared into the night until the only thing you could see was the small form of the cross.

The night presses in around you, heavy with loss, and you wonder if anything would ever feel whole again.

taglist:

@mirconreadzztuff22 @lils-1979 @veoomvroom @schmoni

@poxismind @kittykatz1227 @archangeldyke-all @abbyssgf @ivorydevil

@lez-zuha @iamastar @jellyfishrnice @anemoxlys @l0vel3tterl0ver

@lavendersgirl @h0pe-scotch @lia-winther @kittykatz1227 @dontknowwhenispawned

@sevikitty @sarahduke @raphaellearp @cewl-casper @crying-lighting443

@sodavrr @sweet-lover-girl @love-sevikalove @pinkyykisses @glass-apothecary

@mulan-but-gay @lesbnrock @hyuckiesoftie

[leftoverpages]

Underneath the Steel

Pairing 𓅪 Benjicot "Davos" Blackwood × Targaryen!reader

Tags 𓅪 angst, brief character death mention, sleep paralysis, fluff at the end, reader uses she/her but no physical description, romance if you squint really hard

Notes: request by @ithilwen-aranel !

I need a fic where reader is a Targ princess and dragon rider and a known fierce warrior, like Visenya reincarnated level warrior but nobody knows that she has sleep paralysis. So she's marching with House Blackwood to Harrenhal and it's nighttime so they're in tents and her and Benji's tents happen to be next to each other. So that night she gets an attack/episode and he hears her muffled cries and sobs and he helps her get out of it and he finally sees the girl inside the warrior and he comforts her by showing that he has vulnerable sides too and stuff. (sorry if it's messy and chaotic haha but l WANT MORE FLUFF)

Wordcount 𓅪 1.4k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

The cold wind swept through the camp as the soldiers of House Blackwood settled for the night. Tents dotted the landscape, bathed in the pale light of a crescent moon. Among them was a tent marked with the sigil of House Targaryen, on it, a dragon standing tall.

Inside, the Targaryen princess sharpened her blade, her mind a battlefield of its own. Known to many as a fierce warrior, she was often compared to Visenya Targaryen, a legend reborn. She had led her dragon into countless battles, her swordsmanship and ferocity unmatched.

But, as night fell and the camp quieted, a darker struggle loomed. Under her strong exterior, she had a secret as old as her lineage, a shadow that haunted her dreams-sleep paralysis. She had fought countless ennemies on the battlefield, but none of them were as terrifying as the darkness that gripped her in the night.

Benjicot Blackwood, the young lord of House Blackwood, laid restless in his tent. The march to Harrenhal stayed heavily on his mind. His thoughts drifted to the princess, their tents stood side by side. Her reputation preceded her, but Benjicot had seen glimpses of something beyond the warrior facade—a quiet sadness in her eyes.

As he drifted to sleep, muffled cries were heard in the night. Benjicot sat up, his senses sharp. The sounds were coming from the Targaryen tent. Frowning, he woke, moving silently.

Inside her tent, the princess was trapped. Her body laid motionless, her eyes open, her breath uneven. Shadows stood at the corner of her eyes, mocking her. She struggled, her heart pounding in her chest. The nightmare always started the same: she was in a big and empty field. Her dragon was nowhere to be seen. Panic rose up inside her as she realized she was alone.

Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet began to tremble. Shadowy figures emerged, their forms indistinct, as if they were made of smoke.

"You're weak," they hissed, with their chilling voices. "You will fail them all."

She tried to take her sword, but her body refused to move. Her limbs were turned to stone. She was desperate as the figures approached her, their cold fingers brushing against her skin, leaving trails of ice behind.

Her breath became faster. She could feel her heart pounding. The shadows wrapped around her, tightening their grip, almost suffocating her. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but she was unable to move, a silent plea for help left her lips.

As the nightmare continued, the shadows began to transform into faces she knew - friends, comrades, and family members, with twisted expressions.

"Why didn't you save us?" they cried, their voices full with anger. "You are supposed to be our protector!"

The guilt crashed over her as she could feel herself slipping, the line between reality and nightmare blurring. The faces closer, their features more distinct, their voices louder.

"Help," she managed to whisper, the word barely audible.

Benjicot pushed aside the tent flap. He saw her, tears streaming down her face.

Instinctively, he knelt beside her, his voice soft yet urgent.

"Princess, can you hear me?"

She did not respond, her eyes locked in a terror. Benjicot hesitated, then gently touched her shoulder. "Princess? You need to wake up."

The warmth of his touch broke through her. Slowly, she regained control, her body shaking as the paralysis faded. Her sobs flowing freely now.

She looked at Benjicot, her fierce demeanor shattered. "You saw..." He nodded, his eyes filled with understanding.

"Aye, I saw. And I see you, the real you. It's all right."

She wiped her tears, frustrated. "I hate this. I'm supposed to be strong."

Benjicot sat beside her. "Strength isn't just about physical strength or riding a dragon. It's about facing your fears." She looked at him.

"Do you ever feel like you're drowning in expectations?"

A bitter smile touched his lips. "Every day. The burden of leadership, the pressure to protect my people... it's overwhelming."

He reached out, encircling her in a gentle embrace. He held her close, offering his presence. "But in moments like these, you have to remember that we are not alone. We have allies who will stand by us, who will fight beside us."

She let herself breathe deeply, the tension slowly fading away. A reminder that vulnerability did not equate to weakness.

Their eyes met, a silent understanding between them. In that moment, they were no longer just a Targaryen and a Blackwood. They were two souls, each bearing their own scars. She took a deep breath as she sat there.

"I've fought battles, slain men twice my size, and ridden my dragon through storms of arrows. But this... this is different."

Benjicot nodded, his gaze steady. "It's the battles we fight within ourselves that are often the hardest. But you don't have to fight them alone."

She hesitated, vulnerability warring with her warrior's pride. "It's... it's been like this since I was a child. The shadows, the paralysis. I've learned to mask it, to be strong. But some nights..."

"Some nights, it's too much," Benjicot finished for her, his voice gentle. She nodded, grateful for his understanding.

"Yes. I fear that one day it might break me."

He squeezed her gently, his embrace a shield against her fears. He reached out, his hand covering hers.

"It won't. Because you're stronger than you know. And because you have allies who will stand by you, even in the darkest of nights."

She squeezed his hand, finding solace in his words. "Thank you, Benjicot."

"Always," he replied, his smile reassuring. "And if you ever need someone to sit with you through the night, you know where to find me."

"Thank you," she whispered.

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. She looked up at him, a silent plea in her eyes.

"Will you... stay with me?" Benjicot nodded without hesitation.

"Of course."

He settled beside her, his presence a calming presence. She lied closer to him, finding comfort in the rhythm of his breathing. In the safety of his arms, she finally allowed herself to drift into slumber, the weight of her fears lifted for the night.

As the first rays of sunlight broke over the camp, the princess took a deep breath, the remnants of her nightmare dissipating with the morning mist. Benjicot remained by her side, his presence a steady anchor.

As the camp stirred awake with the dawn, they lay intertwined. They were warriors, yes, but in each other's embrace, they found a refuge from the shadows that haunted them both.

As they walked under the dawn's embrace, they stood united, ready to conquer both the battles ahead and the shadows within.

[luvyunjinxo]

college roommate ; giselle

A/N: long awaited fic after about seven months :( hope u remember me haha

CW: red flag giselle, bondage, usage of the word slut 😭, slight choking, face riding, edging, friends with benefits, somewhat proofread, lmk if I forgot anything!

you were starting college in august & they let you start moving into your dorm a month early. with all the moving boxes going around through the dorm halls everyones face was kind of blurred out.

though your roommate in particular,, she looked straight up hot and straight from Japan. you only had to share a room with one other person (thankfully) and it was her. was it a friend crush? or crush?

you had to wait a month to actually talk to her but honestly did you forget about her?? no.

you waited a month for you to actually talk to her and when you finally did she was a total bitch.

"hey do you need help with unpacking?"

"no fuck off?.." as she would shove your shoulder and walk straight out of your shared room.

she would rarely talk to you but I mean it still happens. like if you were in the bathroom for too long, or if you were gone for too long.

she was very possessive over you and you never got why? whenever she saw you with someone else she would start asking a whole bunch of questions.

what was worse is that your dorm wasn't even that big. your beds were right next to each other almost converting into one bed thats how close they were.

so annoying. she would have hookups with girls almost every weekend leaving you no choice but to go out every single friday, saturday, and sunday. what did you spend your time doing?

spending your nights with ning yizhuo or better as ningning.

she was your situationship, or just talking and you wished it would be more but its really not.

it was your time to walk home but ning decided to walk with you.

"so how do you like your new roommate?" ning asked.

"I mean shes okay but it feels like there's tension you know?" you said while grabbing nings hand to hold.

she smiled at you as you guys skipped all the way to your dorm.

meanwhile, aeri uchinaga was taking out the bedsheets from her last hookup session which was not even twenty minutes ago..

messy hair, all sweaty, no shorts on, only an oversized t-shirt and underwear.

you unlocked the door with your key walking up to your bedroom with ning thinking you could go lay in bed with her i dont know,, or maybe just sleep.

you held her hand running to the room just to see a half naked giselle on her bed taking pictures with her phone, probably sending that to her hookups. ugh, you hate her so much.

"ning wait outside the room for a minute please?"

"oh no problem! just tell me when to come back in." she sat on the ground outside of the room trying to listen what the hell is about to happen in there.

"bro did you even change the sheets?!"

"what the fuck you knew I was coming home around this time why didnt you have shorts on?"

"shit aeri, i hate you youre such a slut." you kept throwing words and screaming at her like there was no tomorrow until ning knocked on the door again.

"hey I think I should go?" you pulled her inside to introduce her to giselle who was in shorts, quiet, and annoyed.

"aeri, this is ningning, ning this is giselle my roommate"

"whatever, are you guys a thing?" aeri questioned while motioning for you both to sit down.

here we go again, shes gonna interrogate her.

"uhm yeah? you could say so" ning responded.

"well did little y/n tell you that were dating and that were talking? so I don't know how you are"

what. the. fuck. is all can go through your head right now.

ning looked at you in shocked with no words and just left. I just know she was broken.

the worse part is all of this weren't even true? you and aeri barely talk and now you just wanna be a bitch to her forever.

"what the fuck is wrong with you? you're such a fucking slut you even wanted me to be dragged into your girl fantasy."

aeri was tired and exhausted but there was so much rage in her eyes. how many times was y/n gonna call her a slut?

suddenly you were being pushed onto the bed, leaving you on your back. both hands were being tied and lifted up to reach the headboard.

"whos the slut now? youre practically weak at this point."

she was trying so hard to get your shorts off but you would kick your legs trying to stop her yet her grip was too strong for you to even move your legs anymore. "why are you doing this to me?" you said with such attitude.

"trying to put you in your place because your such a brat?" she said while sliding your underwear off. she spread both of your legs one to the left, and then to the right.

she walked around the room scolding you, and saying how much of a bad girl you were when you did nothing. or you thought you didnt?

you never really realized how much her words were turning you on. all you could feel were the cold air reaching your core. the ac was on making you especially chilly.

wet slick was running down your thighs and of course you noticed. you felt so bothered you just wanted to be touched already. you weren't the type to always touch yourself, you were more inexperienced. but this time, you felt extra needy you just needed some relief.

"aeri this isn't funny anymoree" you whined.

she crawled up to your core and started kissing your inner thighs making you start to start to arch your back and move uncontrollably. she barely even started.

she moved her finger up and down your body, teasing you in every way. you felt so helpless and you couldn't resist her touch anymore. you needed her,, right now. she started squeezing your chest swirling each bud with her tongue and flicking the other with her slender fingers.

she continued to do the same motion but moved her head up to your neck leaving marks and wet kisses along the crook of your neck.

"youre enjoying this way too much, are you sure im still the slut hm?"

she pressed her knee up to your soaked core, adding pressure to your sensitive spot.

"answer."

you suppressed your moans so in order for you to hide it, you could not answer nor say a word.

one hard slap to your core was made leaving an echo in your shared room.

"im sorry!" you whined & your brain was foggy so of course you didn't know what to say except sorry.

your slick was covered on the bed,, you were so messy at this point.

two slaps.

"answer,, whos the slut now?"

"me oh my gosh aeri .. fuck! just do something, anything! please I just need to come so bad."

she started eating you out, cleaning the mess all over your thighs. she switched between small licks and full on devouring you.

later, she found your clit teasing that spot over and over again leaving you twitching. seeing how the way you move she knew that you were the most sensitive down right there. she was def gonna tease you with that later.

"mmh! fuck" you would let out endless curses.

you gripped onto the pillow above you knowing that you cant take this much pleasure. it was all to much yet you were eager to let go.

"if youre close, hold it. im not letting you come yet."

she entered two fingers in, not caring if you weren't fully adjusted yet. all the pain later then converted into pleasure. she gripped your neck lightly but not choking you, more like just holding it.

"s-shit im gonna come,, aeri dont stop please!" you screamed yet she pulled her two fingers away and licked it,, not letting you reach your high.

"on top of my face."

"excuse me? is this what people really do?"

"put your cunt on my face is that a problem? i'll break ningnings heart telling her how her talking stage is fucking with her roommate now and that your never coming back to her."

you completely forgot about ning. your brain was messed up at the moment. like a spell under giselle. she later then united your hands

you carefully put your cunt onto her as she pulled you down more, allowing her to get more access to you. she swirled her tongue around your clit like how she did with your chest and tried to enter a finger into you.

"f-fuck keep hitting that area!"

"right there? hm?" as she started to play with the exact spot and you swear you were about to let go.

"im g-gonna come! aeri please!" you let go and you collapsed back onto the bed exhausted and still trying to catch your breath. she just giggled and you guys agreed to be friends with benefits.

"call me if you need someone to fuck, dont call your hookups anymore im done with that."

she laughed and shook it off,, but on the other hand you still went out with ning.

aeri wasnt too fond of it but whenever giselle was around ning and you she would pay close attention to you both making sure things wouldn't go to far.

college roommate ; giselle.

[melkintoyou]

Parking lot shenanigans

pairing: mark x fem!reader

genre: churchboy!mark, smut, shy mark in front of the elders, car sex, some fluff, not suitable for minors

word count: 1,558

"Oh Mrs. Park, I gotchu, don't worry" Mark runs to the stairs to help the elderly, Mrs. Park by giving her his hand and guiding her up to the stairs. He tucks her arm under his, for a steady grip and he takes her to her seat.

"Oh Mark, you're such a good boy" she compliments him. "So caring and handsome, you have a girlfriend yet?" Mark's face turns red as he blushes, looking away.

"Uhh no, haha I don't know how to talk to girls Mrs. Park." Now acting shy, "Plus.. none of them are as pretty as you Mrs. Park." He wiggles his eye brows at the lady, making her laugh.

She slaps his arm playfully, "Oh goodness, charming too! I don't believe for a second you don't have a girlfriend" He helps her sit down and laughs, dodging her comment.

Walking up and down the aisle, he helps everyone that he can. Collecting compliments left and right about being such a "good boy" and getting pats and pinches on his face. Although shy, Mark loves the attention. His shy, charm seems to be working on every elderly woman that comes to church. They absolutely adore him.

As he's helping the last lady settle down, he catches you standing at the back, screw-facing him with squinted eyes. He lightly jogs to you with a big cheeky smile. "Hi"

"WhaT a GoOd bOy.. oH GIrLs DonNt TaLK TO mE" You mocked him, making him poke his tongue to the side of his cheek.

"Dude you know my parents can't find out about us. They said no dating until after exam season." He whispers, looking around before tracing his fingers along your arm to hold your hand and kiss it.

"Whatever" You smack his hat so it slides down his face.

Seeing Mark all innocent and shy like this, around everyone in public does something to you. He's so respectful and wholesome. Helping ladies by opening doors, holding their hands and using his charm to make them giggle. You wonder, what they would think of him if they only knew, what he's like behind closed doors.

"Open your mouth for me baby" His hands constricted around your throat, voice low with rasp as he slowly spat in your mouth. You clenched around him, making him moan. "Fuck baby" slowing down his strokes, taking his time. He admired your faced. Mascara ran from the tears, hair a mess from being in his fist, he made a mess of you but loved every bit of it. He let go of your neck, caressed your cheek with his thumb until he let his hand wander down to your clit, rubbing circles around it. Eyes still examining your face. "You scrunch your eye brows, like you're trying to figure something out.. like you're confused" he chuckled before pecking your lips. Slowly, speeding up his strokes. "It's such a beautiful face.. when you cum.. cum for me baby" He kissed you once again and your tongues met.

"Mark.."

"yeah?"

"pull my hair again?"

"Anything for you princess" He slid out of you, flipping you over, on your stomach, before re-entering you. "God, you're so wet for me" Dragging his hand up your back, he grabbed your hair and wrapped it around his fist. Pumping into you, both of your moans got louder. "You so nasty for me, baby" He smacked your ass with his free hand.

You started to meet his rhythm, making him groan and whimper. "I'm gonna cum inside your pretty pussy, baby" he pulls your hair harder, making you get louder. "So nasty.. so pretty.. what a drooling mess..." He whispered in your ear through gritted teeth, fighting his own climax.

"Mark... gonna.. cum.."

Snapping out of your flashback, you laugh as he fixes his hat. "Stop playing around y/n. I have to be a good boy, remember." He teases you as you both take a seat in the back. Everyone knew you were best friends, but no one knew when you both blurred the line and started being something a little more than that. When those late night study sessions turned into Mark being trapped in your leg lock.

Sitting next to each other, you both can't help but laugh at stupid jokes. "No but, why does this man look like Nigel Thornberry" you say under your breath and Mark loses it. Wheezing, trying to cover his mouth, his face goes red from holding his laugh in. His dad shoots you both a look of annoyance, before you both shut up and sit back in silence.

It's when you've both calmed down, you elbow Mark to look at your phone and lo and behold, it flashes him a picture of Nigel Thornberry which makes him CRY. Not being able to keep it down, he gets up and walks out the church and you follow him straight after.

You both walk towards his car and burst out laughing. "You're such an asshole y/n" he playfully punches your arm, before lifting you up and sitting you down on top of the back of his car. Standing between your legs, he kisses your lips. "You're so bad, you gonna get me trouble baby." His voice softens.

"Oh cos you're so good? One lady called you a good boy and now it's gotten to your head, look at you." You laugh as he rests his head on your chest, palming your ass.

"I can be good, for you" He looks up at you with his doe eyes and a smirk, making your heart beat faster and you clench around nothing.

"Yeah?"

"Come be good for me in the back seat then" you run your fingers through his hair and he brings you to the ground. He bites his lip, unlocking the car and you both get in the back. Luckily, the sun sets early in the winter time so it's dark already. You both thank the stars in your mind.

Settling down in the back seat, with you on top of him. You leave airy touches all over his body. Your voice changes, a bit authority in your tone.

"You like it when I touch you like this?" You hold his jaw and kiss behind his ear, taking his lobe between your teeth and lightly pulling it. All he can do is, nod. You kiss him once again, a deeper kiss now as you grind your heat against his core. Feeling him slowly get hard.

"I couldn't focus back there you know" you kiss down his neck and his hands squeeze your thighs. "Kept thinking about, how much I wanted you inside me" he twitches in his sweats, making you whimper into his neck. Fanning your hot breath on his wet, skin.

"Stop teasing.." He can barely get out his words, lust making his head dizzy.

You remove yourself from his lap and get down on your knees, in the limited space behind the passenger seat. You slip off his sweats and boxers down to his ankles, with his help. His dick slaps across his stomach.

"Aw what a good boy" you leave a peck on his tip, mocking him.

"Y/n..."

"Shhhh, be good for me" grabbing the base of his dick, you lick a strip from the bottom to his tip, gathering the precum on your tongue. He hisses at the contact.

"Baby.." His hands now holding your hair back for you, so you can continue without disruption. "So pretty.. like this"

You take the tip in your mouth and slowly suck on it, as his head falls back on the head rest and he groans. Wrapping your lips around it with suction, you twirl your tongue all around the tip, making circles. Making Mark lose his mind with each movement. Letting your spit drip down his length, you start stroking him with your hand.

Soft whimpers and curse words leave his mouth, as you slowly take him all in until he reaches the back of your throat. He lets out a loud moan, as you start bobbing your head and hands in a rhythm. You look up at him through your wet lashes, his face in a pout, eyes closed, breath heavy as he tries to hold himself together but is so evidently weak, to your touch.

You now feel your arousal pool between your legs and you moan into him with frustration, sending vibration through his dick.

"I'.. I'm gonna.., cum.." you continue stroking his length, now using both hands.

"Come for me, Mark.. like a good boy" and you swallow him again, his hips start to buck forward as he pushes your head down, chasing his climax. Your eyes water as you feel him throb inside your mouth and you, continue to suck around his head.

Mark whimpers loud, as if he's going to cry, filling your entire mouth with his warm seed. You let it all drip back down on him as you continue you suck and stroke, making his legs shake. "Ahh.. Baby.. st-.. Uhh, Fuck" he can barely get the words out as you, lean up into his mouth and kiss him. Now laughing at the mess you've just made, knowing he's going to go back into public with sticky boxers.

"You're so bad, you know that.." he kisses you one last time.

__________________________________________________

special thanks to @markonthemoon for her great ideas and our conversations !! <3

[kurokens]

Everything I Love Will Make Me Cry | Satosugu

anime/manga: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru & geto suguru

words: 1.5k

pronouns: they/them

request: none

notes: part 3 of In The Middle, my first satosugu piece. trying stg new by including some texts in the middle but idk if i'm a fan, just didn't know how to convey it better than this way.. don't judge the quality of the text this is an app i used to use back in 2020 and i didn't want to try and find a new one. also thank u to 🪼 anon, ur message helped me get out of writer block, this one for u!!

not proof read

song rec: Everything I Love Will Make Me Cry - Movning

genre: hurt comfort, fluff, slowburn, a little bit angsty, poly?

warnings: satosugu are in a loving relationship, misunderstanding, pinning, a lot of pinning on satosugu's end, reader is so oblivious, insecure and self conscious reader

Taking all of your clothes and getting out of the apartment was probably one of the hardest thing you ever had to do in your life. Especially what forced you to do it. But what else could you do? You no longer were welcomed there, and you knew it, the longer you stayed and the worse it would hurt. So you took advantage of both of your roomates being gone for the day to pack your essentials, write a note and get out of there. Not without your vision blurred by your tears. You didn't really plan your next moves but it felt like an evidence to just go and crash at Shoko's, such an evidence that you refused to do it. After all she was just as close with these two as you were, well, as you used to, so it would be quite an awkward position for her, and you refused to impose this on her. That's how you found yourself at the door of an old friend of yours, looking like a kicked puppy. "What are you doing looking like a sad little puppy?" Namami said after opening the door.

"Please don't, I already told you, and I don't want to cry any more than I've already did." You replied in a whine, to which he just gave a roll of his eyes, stepping aside to let you in.

"Haibara is in the kitchen, he is making some food for you. He thought you could use a warm meal right now." The blonde man told you, leading you towards the kitchen.

"M'not really hungry though..." You sighed, following him without another complaint.

"Ah! Don't say that, I've poured my soul into this meal. You better eat and appreciate it!!" Haibara exclaimed, popping his head through the door after hearing you two coming his way. "I made your favourite!"

"It smells wonderful Yū, I'll eat it, just for you. And enjoy it, that's for sure." You giggled, seeing his enthusiam and the effort he put into this, pulling the younger boy in your arms.

"You can stay here as long as you need. And I promise I won't say a word to Satoru and Suguru about your whereabouts." Nanami chimed in, a soft smile on his face at your interactions.

"Haha, you don't have to worry about that. They're probably not gonna look for me at all, on the contrary." You whispered the last part, tears starting to well up again.

"Just, don't rush yourself to find a new place okay? You're more than welcomed to stay there. And I'm sure all of this must be a big misunderstanding." He gently answered.

"Thank you so much. It means a lot, even though I do doubt your last words." Was all you could muster as an answer.

To say the lovers were frantic was an understatement, they need to find you, they needed to tell you what they felt and how all of this was a misunderstanding. There was no way they were about to lose you over this, no not like this, not before you knew what you meant to them. It couldn't end with you thinking they hated you, lord, it was so far from the truth. They would never forgive themselves.

"Try calling them!!" Satoru shouted, pacing around your empty room.

"I already tried Toru, they're not answering, I go straight to voicemail." Suguru replied, his heart sinking at the potential meaning of his calls going straight to voicemail.

"No, no, no... You have to try again, please Sugu, try again!" The white-haired man begged, his voice breaking as the tears made their way up. "Sugu, this can't be it. Sugu we need to find them, this can't be it, please this can't be it."

All Suguru could do was take his lover into his arms, letting him break down and cry on his shoulders. Words stuck in his throat, as his own tears made their way down his cheeks. He never felt this helpless.

"Maybe..." He began slowly, "Maybe we should try and text them. So they can read it whenever they feel like it and not feel pressured to answer right away."

"Let's do that." Satoru grundgingly said, his pout never leaving his face.

Both of them let out a breath seeing your answer, it wasn't really positive one but at least they weren't blocked, and right now it meant already a lot for them. They would give you all the time in the world you needed, they were ready to wait an eternity if it meant that you would come back to them in the end. Well, at least Suguru was ready for that, Satoru was a whole other story. "M'gonna die Sugu. M'gonna disappear from the face of the earth if I don't see them soon." The youngest whined, holding onto his lover for dear life. "Why don't we call Shoko? I'm sure they're with her. Even better, we could just go there and tell them how this is just a misunderstanding, and we can tell them how much we love them and how we want them in our space forever, and never out of it."

"Baby, we have to wait and you know it. We don't know what they heard, and why they're so hurt. It made them leave our place Toru, it's not something we can fix that easily. We probably lost their trust, and winning it back won't be an easy task. That's why we can't force this on them. We have to be patient, and wait for them to come to us, no matter how much it hurts." The dark-haired man explained, not fully convinced by his own words, but one of them had to be rational in order to mess this up further.

"I know you're right, but knowing we hurt them and that we can't make it better is so hard. I never wanted to hurt them in the slightest, and now we drove them away. At least, I'm glad I have you in all of this." Satoru confessed, hiding even further in the crook of his lover's neck, hoping this wouldn't last too long.

You couldn't help the small smile that made its way on your face after reading your conversation, but it didn't stay for long. After all, you heard what you heard, and there was no way you could have gotten it wrong in any way, it was pretty clear who they were talking about, so this all misunderstanding thing seemed like a lie to you. But why would they lie about that? What was the point in hiding the truth now that you knew about it? Wouldn't it be easier for them now to get rid of you? Not having to go through the burden of telling you directly to leave and everything?

You were confused, a part of you wanted to believe they were telling the truth, that all of this was a misunderstanding, and your best friends didn't hate you. But at the same time, another part was scared because what if they really did hate you, and they were doing all this just to be able to humiliate you even further, and have the satisfaction to tell you in your face how much they wanted you out of their life. You were kind of used to be the odd one in friend groups, and ultimately being left out, so why would it be different this time?

"You realy should hear them out." A voice suddenly said, making you jump.

"Gosh Kento you scared me." You squeaked, hand on your chest in a futile try to appease your beating heart.

"I'm sorry, but really. I'm not the biggest fan of these two, and I think that's why you decided to come here, but I know they would never hurt you." Namami chuckled softly, sitting down next to you.

"Well, look at that, for once in your life you're wrong." You tearfully laughed.

"I've been wrong a lot of times in my life, but not on that. I promise you, they would never intentionally hurt you, especially not with their words." Your blonde-haired friend affirmed, and the look in his eyes told you there was no convincing him otherwise, almost as if he knew something you didn't.

"I don't know, I need time, I don't think I can face them yet." You explained, curling into a ball next to him.

"Take all the time you need." He simply replied, petting your hair as if to comfort the crying child you were. And for now it's all you needed, some time and a comforting friend, you would deal with all of this later, maybe.

oki here it is!! sorry im not quite satisfied with this part, i wanted to make it longer and have them maybe meet to talk it out but i also didn't know if it was the mood of this part or not... also, yes, don't worry there will be a part 4! part 4 here!!

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen react to their s/o falling asleep during pillow talk

requested by anon : "hii how do you think svt would react if you were talking in bed cuddling before sleeping and (pillow talk one of my fave things ever omg) and they were rambling and suddenly they look at you and you're asleep?"

notes: haha this one really is so adorable

masterlist

seungcheol

he's in the middle of trying to give you tips on how to get through a tiring day bc you'd told him you've been having an exhausting week, but when he looks over at you while talking about conversation tactics he sees you've fallen asleep on his shoulder, snuffling quietly in your sleep. he just smiles, soft, putting an arm around you and adjusting you so that you're in a more comfortable position, kissing you on the forehead goodnight

jeonghan

definitely wakes you up. not in a 'startling you awake' kind of way, tho. he just shakes your shoulder gently, whispering that you fell asleep while he was telling you how much he loves him. laughs softly when you murmur blurrily that you didn't mean to, and just kisses your forehead and tells you that it's okay, that he loves you anyway, that he's always going to love you no matter what

joshua

doesn't wake you up, but pretends that he is. pinches your cheek, brushes the hair out of your face, smiling down at your relaxed expression. whispers scoldings to you for falling asleep while he's talking—he's not that boring, you brat—before snuggling next to you and closing his eyes, drifting off to sleep too, the 'i love you' on his tongue and whispered in his dreams

junhui

carries on talking. if he talks for long enough then his voice and what he's saying can enter your brain and it'll influence your dreams right?? he doesn't exactly know the logistics of that, but if he holds you in his arms and keeps talking mindlessly about the random things you did today that made him smile, then hopefully he can make you smile in your dreams too

hoshi

is whispering all "hey >:((( you fell asleep >:(((" even though you literally are, like, asleep. like he said. rambles about how heartbroken he is, bc literally he's here talking about how incredible his day was and now you're asleep??? drifts off with you sleeping on his shoulder and blurred words of "i just really love you okay" on his lips

wonwoo

he's been watching you the entire time, of course he saw when your eyes started drooping and you fell asleep next to him. just smiles and gently gathers you in his arms, closing his eyes against you and preparing to fall asleep too. it's not like you both were talking about anything that important, anyway. 

woozi

he wanted you to fall asleep tbh. he came back from work really late and was surprised to find you up, waiting for him. talked to you quietly for a few minutes, but after a moment passes where his question hangs in the air unanswered, he knows you've drifted off. some part of him is touched you stayed up when it's obvious you were so tired, and the other part is exasperated that you stayed up when it's obvious you were so tired

minghao

he's explaining some new philosophical idea he learned that day when he feels your breathing slow beside him, no longer humming in acknowledgement when he pauses. he doesn't say anything about it, just letting his voice peter out naturally, his hand finding your cheek in the darkness to rub a thumb over your cheekbone, soft and fond, making a mental note to tell you about the theory of solipsism later

mingyu

probably falls asleep before you tbh. one minute he's spooning you and telling you about his day, and the next minute, he pauses to take a breath and then suddenly lets out a quiet snore. it makes you laugh, a little, at how suddenly he fell asleep, but you just close your eyes too, his gentle snuffles warm on your neck, his arm a comforting weight over your waist. 

dokyeom

pouts to himself, bc he's not that boring is he??? kisses your forehead and promises himself that he's going to sulk and whine the next morning but you wake him up with such a lovely smile saying that you're sorry for falling asleep on him last night :((( and it's so sweet that instantly all thoughts of pouting and whining are out of the window as he just squishes you into a hug

seungkwan

listening to seungkwan talk is just so… relaxing, actually, so it's happened a lot while you're in bed after a long day and he tells you in a soft voice about everything that's happened. he holds you on his chest, arm around your shoulders, and pillow talk with him is basically just him talking you to sleep more than anything else

vernon

hansol is probably the type of guy who wants to hear about your day rather than rambling about his, so you end up falling asleep on him while telling him about the weird thing that your friend did today. your voice gets drowsier, taking longer to continue after you pause, so he just laughs softly and gathers you in his arms, telling you it's okay and you can tell him later, but now it's probably a good idea to go to sleep

chan

notices it the second that you're no longer making little humming noises whenever he takes a break in the middle of what he's saying. looks over to see you, head half buried in the blankets, in deep sleep and just sighs fondly. strokes the hair out of your face, goes "what am i going to do with you?" all sweet and adoring before settling into bed himself, whispering "sweet dreams" before he closes his eyes

request guidelines

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[blackhairedjjun]

love flew away - k.th

pairing: kang taehyun x gn reader | genre / tropes: soft angst, amicable breakup, boxer!taehyun | word count: 1.1k | warnings: mentions of food and alcohol, pet names (love), heartbreak

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompts - OVER?: after a mutually reluctant (and unwanted but necessary) break-up, the sender calls/visits the receiver and tells them that they’re still in love with them. + VOICEMAIL: sender leaves a voicemail on the receiver’s phone after failing to get through to them, and reveals their love for them. (requested by @probably-too-obssessed - "Also the prompt says mutual break up for Over but can it be tweaked to Taehyun breaking up with Reader for some unavoidable reason instead? Tysm and I'd be happy with whatever you write! Congrstulations again!")

author's note: hello!! i'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, taehyun is the one who initiates the breakup with the reader but it's still friendly on both ends...? so yeah haha. also i listened to love flew away by laufey & adam melchor as inspiration for this and i got carried away and wrote 1k, oops. but i hope you enjoy!!

taehyun took you out to dinner on your last day as a couple.

had it not been for the breakup he had decided on a week ago, it would have felt like just another blissful date with him. he ordered all your favorite dishes and asked about your day as you waited for the orders, his wide eyes shining with affection while you chatted on. his hand rested on top of yours on the table, warm and inviting, his slender fingers intertwining with yours halfway through the meal. and when he smiled that adorable little smile of his in between his silly remarks, you felt your heart growing light in your chest. 

the evening finished off with a little wine, and you drank just enough to keep your senses while bathing the rest of the evening in the haze of a dream. and with taehyun squeezing your hand and gazing at you with shining eyes, you really did feel like you were in a dream that you couldn’t wake from.

he wrapped your jacket around your shoulders as you left the restaurant and waited for a cab. he linked his arms around yours and stood close by to keep you from swaying too much, and the warmth of his side kept you grounded. 

“my flight leaves early in the morning,” he said.

“i know…”

you turned to him and were surprised to see tears brimming in his eyes. taehyun didn’t cry much, but he looked at you so solemnly that the gravity of everything began to crash down on you. you met his gaze and when you touched your cheek, you realized that your own tears were starting to fall too.

“y/n…” he grabbed both your hands in his, giving them a firm squeeze. “i’m sorry i had to do this.”

you attempted to croak out another “i know,” but your voice broke before you could get the words out. your tears flowed so much that your vision blurred, and you choked back a sob.

he moved forward and held you close, one hand patting your back gently and the other still grasping onto your hand. you buried your head in his chest and sobbed as you inhaled his scent for the last time. he wore the cologne you had gifted him for his birthday, fresh and musky but a little sweet, and the memory of the gift made you sob harder.

the two of you said nothing for several moments. taehyun repeated another “i’m sorry, love” into your hair and squeezed you a bit tighter. the top of your head felt damp as his own tears fell more freely.

you had remained calm in the week since he announced the breakup; it had been a perfectly rational decision that suited the both of you. taehyun was moving overseas to continue training for his boxing career, and he knew that you had no intentions of moving with him when your own career was starting to take off. he hated the thought of a long-distance relationship that neither of you wanted, and just imagining the loneliness and the arguments that would result from it made him shudder. so when he proposed that you two break up while you were still on good terms, you agreed.

it makes perfect sense, you told yourself; if you had stayed together, you both would have been unhappy. but now, sobbing in his arms and feeling his heartbeat for the last time, a different kind of unhappiness wrapped around you. already you could feel the cold of not having him by your side, the silence from not listening to him chatter about something he had read, the emptiness of losing the man you loved with your whole being for two years. you held onto him tightly, as if doing so would keep the future would coming and let him stay.

when your tears finally subsided, you lifted your head to meet taehyun’s eyes. his forehead rested on yours and he lifted a hand to brush away a lingering tear from your cheek. you closed your eyes, savoring the small act of affection, and he leaned in for one last kiss.

his lips felt gentler on yours than they had ever been.

一

you barely slept that night, and in the first hours of the morning you and taehyun exchanged your last texts goodbye before he was due for his flight. he had left for the airport with his training team, no outsiders allowed, so you wished him farewell from the solitude of your room. 

your emotions came in waves in those hours. just when you thought you were finally at peace with the end of your relationship, the ache in your heart would start up once again, and the pain filled your senses so much that it would keep you from sleeping. the flood of emotions subsided for good only later that morning; your energy crashed and you fell asleep in an instant despite the bright sun outside. when you awoke it was already well into the afternoon.

you lifted your head from the bed and reached for the phone on your nightstand, barely getting up to do so. taehyun usually sent you a text as soon as he arrived somewhere new, and though it made no sense to expect one from him 一 as of today, he and you were no longer a couple 一 your heart still jumped in expectation out of sheer habit. maybe, just maybe, he had sent one last text... one more “one last”...

what you did not expect was an unread voicemail. 

you pressed to listen, and the sound of taehyun’s voice alone was enough to bring you to tears.

hey, y/n. so i finally landed here... i tried calling you but you didn’t pick up. i just wanted to tell you thank you for these last two years. i wish we had more time together but... (a sigh.) i was happy, i really was. you have no idea how amazing of a person you are... you’re incredibly caring, you brighten people’s days, you always listen to me and you work hard not just for yourself but for the people you care about. including me... and i hope that you, well, you stay the amazing person i fell in love with. no, i know you will be. and i hope you’ll be happy always. um, that’s all... (his voice breaks.) no, that’s not all. i love you, y/n. i love you.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

prompt8: urge ! I Love the way you describe all the Feelings in your stories :DD ( and keeping It gn so i can at least have my mxm Imagine haha xDD)

Hiiiiii so sorry it took so long, wrangling that muse is difficult. I did, however, manage to subdue it with the help of this post, much thanks to OP.

You feel it well up from deep within you. A barely contained fury, a dark sinister urge to rip apart those responsible for the scene before you. Orin smiles from her perch above Astarion, who is bound upon a slab whilst Orin's dagger rests just above his heart.

"Come to save your beloved?" She smiles at you eerily, twirling her dagger. You say nothing, mind clouding with anger as you walk down the steps towards the stage upon which Orin will perform her final dance. She laughs, eager to get the ritual started but your gaze remains cold.

You don't need a Slayer form to kill her.

What happens next is but a blur. All you know is that at the end of it all, Orin lies in a puddle of blood at your feet, gasping her last breaths as she reaches out to you. The Urge within you howls victoriously, eager for the feast and your ears ring, the shouts of your companions muffled. All you can focus on is the dying traitor in front of you. Blood roars in your ears, the beast inside hungrily calling for you to take your place as Bhaal's true chosen but when you deal the final blow, it's to save the man you love from Orin's clutches, not to become what your father wants you to be.

As your dagger tears through skin and flesh, ripping away Orin's final breath, the pained cry that slips past her lips sounds familiar, almost as though it were…

Astarion.

You blink and the scene before you changes. Astarion lies before you, bloodied by your blade, your magic, you, while the monster Orin laughs from her place upon the sacrifical stone slab. Your mind goes blank, arms falling to your sides as you crumble to the floor.

"Star." The word feels thick in your throat. Bile floods your mouth, making you sick and you resist the urge to gag. Blood bubbles from Astarion's lips as he tries to speak but all that comes out is a gurgle. His crimson eyes glare at you, as if blaming you for being unable to differentiate your lover from your sister. He's right to blame you, all this is your fault, all because of your inability to see past Orin's illusions. You can vaguely hear Orin cackling as your other companions fight their way to her, and then everything falls silent, save for the dripping of blood onto the stone floor. She's disappeared, leaving only a mocking thanks for your sacrifice to Bhaal.

"Star." The word comes out as a sob, your greatest fear now realised. Tears stream silently down your cheek but no one's there to comfort you. You've killed the one who was always there for you, gentle whispers of reassurance lost forever because of your bloodstained hands. Overwhelmed with grief and self-hatred, you scream.

And then you wake up.

Sweat clings to you like second skin, drenching your clothes. Your chest heaves with each gaping breath you take, your hands clammy and your face sticky with tears.

Astarion.

You whip around wildly, eyes frantically searching for your lover in what is slowly registering as your shared room. The vampire is peacefully trancing in the bed next to you, a singular crimson eye cracking open at your wild movements.

"Darling? Some of us are trying to sleep, you know."

Relief floods you at the sight and you collapse back onto the bed, nearly bursting into tears yet again. Then laughter takes over, your abdomen hurting from the effort.

Orin is dead. Astarion is alive, as alive as an undead can get.

Astarion rises to get a better look at you when he realises you're acting weird, concern colouring his face when he sees the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. The snarky facade quickly fades, giving way to genuine worry. His cold fingers send tingles running up your spine as they run along your cheek, gently wiping away the stray tears that roll down.

"Orin's dead," you gasp out between the laughter. "Orin's dead."

"She is." Astarion is unnaturally quiet. His eyebrows are furrowed in worry, lips tentatively hovering over your forehead. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You reach up, cupping his cheek, feeling the skin beneath your fingers. Your beloved is right here, in front of you, unharmed. Orin lies somewhere in the bowels of Baldur's Gate, carrion for the rats that lurk there. You exhale sharply, closing your eyes as you try to bring your heart rate under control once more.

"You're here." The words leave your lips in a shaky whisper. "You're here."

"I promised I'd always be, love. And I'm not one to break my promises." Astarion slips an arm around your waist, an invitation that you gladly take. You bury your face into his chest, muffling the sobs that you choke out and feel him curl around you, holding you tightly. You feel the kisses he presses to the top of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he holds the back of your head. The silver tongue from which honeyed words usually flow remains quiet, the only sound in the room being your sobs.

"I didn't kill you. I didn't sacrifice you to my father." The words are but a whisper, and yet his sharp ears catch each and every single one.

"Bhaal has no hold over you anymore, no more than Cazador has over me. You're no longer his captive, you're free. Free to do whatever you want without that Urge taking over, free to be more than just a creature who slaughters for the sake of it. I'll kill whoever tries to convince you otherwise." His grip on you tightens, fangs peeking out at the mention of killing.

You sniffle, clinging onto him as though he would suddenly disappear and nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder. His underlying undead scent pokes through your clogged nose, a comforting scent, much to your amusement. Taking a deep breath, you dive into your still fractured mind, searching for the bloodthirsty Urge within but find nothing. Instead, a stillness you weren't aware of before resides where the Urge once lay, waiting to be filled with something else.

Astarion presses a kiss to your forehead, crimson gaze still resting on you. In his eyes you find a fondness he reserves only for you, an unwavering loyalty, and most of all, an undying love for the one he calls his significant other. Maybe the void within you can be filled after all, bloodlust replaced with gentleness, murder replaced with love. Your hands will never be clean, that much you know, but perhaps they needn't be stained with more needless bloodshed, not while you remain free of your father.

You tilt your head up, pressing your lips against his and savour the moment. You're free, truly free, and this is proof of that.

[whalesforhands]

god! gojo

warnings: minors pls dni, smut in some parts, fem! reader, inspired by the anime ‘Is it wrong to pick up girls in a dungeon?’

thank you for 1k! and here is the option that won the poll, i hope you all enjoy.

In a world where gods live among humans, they form guilds (Familias) and are able to grant ‘followers’ blessings (Falna), enabling them to gain powers beyond the average human’s capability. Each Familia is always led by a god who commands, helps their members grow stronger to build up their guilds.

With that said, being part of the Gojo Familia is extremely tough. Tough in the sense that… Nobody else wants to be part of the Familia known to have such an annoying God.

Gojo Satoru, a god born in the new age; he who precedes over Infinity, the one with the Six Eyes, the revered one throughout the Heavens and the Earth; The Honoured One. His power is absolute, his orders undisputed; yet, when he descended to the human world to live among these beings that he was meant to love—

He found it hard to do that. A little too hard… Especially for a god known to excel at anything he tried his hand at.

His riches from the heavens don’t translate to anything down here, his power restricted to only his innate abilities. Nobody wanted to revere a haughty god with no love for his subordinates despite the power that be boasted, a god that was too arrogant to accept any of his ‘beloved’ humans into his yet-to-be-set up Familia.

Even the fanatics that revered him were looked down on in disgust, the god turning his back on them and shunning what he deemed ‘repulsive, manic love’.

So he’s left without a penny to his name, shunned by the people and only the clothes on his back and his unfaltering will. He lived out his days lazing about the home of a minor deity named Masamichi Yaga, playing around within the trading Familia that specialized in the export of toys.

“Satoru.” Yaga is usually quite lenient with the younger god, usually allowed the deity to frolick around his cottage and mess with the multitude of unfinished stuffed toys within the home.

But even he knows that he was merely wasting his time here.

“You’re wasting your time here.” A click of his tongue as he gently pats down the ears of the fluffy plushie. “Find a purpose.”

“Tch! Yaga, y’er so stingy…!”

A glare from behind those telltale darkened shades shuts him up.

Yet, Gojo Satoru found no purpose. No meaning, no depth to these lowly humans. He considered them below him, considered them a nuisance. He only came down for one reason, he refuses to return until he’s learned exactly what was likable about those damned humans.

Until… He found you.

Fatally wounded and barely even able to maintain your consciousness, your breaths were unsteady and shallow, a slight breeze probably capable of killing you right then and there as you laid uselessly against the dingy brick wall.

Maybe it’s just a representation of how you’ve lived even until now.

“I guess—“ You smile, despite it all, clutching the bleeding wound in one hand and sighing. Your expression is soft, sad. A meaning to it that he never would’ve thought humans could possess even if he tried to imagine it. “I messed up… Haha…”

It’s pitiful to look down at.

“That’s it? Ya ain’t even gonna try to fight it?” He crouches down, legs bent and a hand on his cheek when he stares at you head on.

It hits a nerve, if you’re being honest. You’re trying to say your last words to probably the last being you’ll probably see in this lifetime.

“Would there be—“ A grunt of pain as your eyes squeeze shut, your sweat starting to sting against the open wound as you take a breath in. “A meaning to that?”

Huh? What? That’s not the answer he expected.

“Ya don’t value your own life, human?”

Don’t you? You’ve tried all this while. You’ve tried, you really did. Maybe it could be enough now.

“I-I think it’s enough that,” You think your vision is starting to blur as you try to smile. “That… I won’t die alone.” For a god who was known to lack love; he was certainly the kindest you have met, to be able to have the honour to know.

“Thank you.”

You heard that he was terrifying, that he would glare down at lesser beings with scorn and nauseating ego— And yet, here he was.

Looking you right in the eye in your final moments as he scrunches his nose, simply just watching as you try to fight the fading consciousness enough to hear the last bits of this life.

You can see him ponder, something unreadable flashing through those gleaming blue that practically glittered with the universe’s stars that begged you to count every single last one of them as you finally decide to give yourself peace, to let yourself—

“Tell you what,” A sparkle of blue and a flutter of icy white as the wind starts to pick up, a breeze so nostalgic that it makes your heart clamor and your hands tighten. It felt like a caress of summer against your cold face, an off feeling of wanting to look at the blue sky once more despite your wish to disappear.

“I’ll give ya a once in a lifetime chance.” The wind felt like it was chasing after you, stroking your cheek with the softness akin to dried-out clouds and sunlight that kissed you so softly.

Maybe you didn’t truly want to go.

“Join my Familia.”

——

“Satoru-sama, please wake up.” You’re trying to shake him awake, trapped in his embrace as he snores into your chest, his toned arm wrapped tightly around your midsection as you only hear a whine in return.

“Noooo…! You can’t go to the dungeons…” A spot of drool lolls onto your skin, his words muffled from pressing his face against your upper body, where he had ridden the fabric up to ensure that he had direct access to the softness of your body.

“S’ dangerous…”

You sigh.

“But Satoru-sama,” You start stroking his hair as you hear another whine, taking it as an opportunity to poke at one of his cheeks. “If we don’t go, we can’t pay rent here.”

Silence, followed by the feel of his fingers sneaking up your sides to grope at you. For someone who was meant to be a revered god, he certainly acts like a spoiled child in the mornings.

“Hmph… Make someone else go so you can stay here with me…”

“There are no other members in your Familia, Satoru-sama.”

Two months. That’s how long you’ve been bound to your Gojo Satoru, the glyph on your back evidence of his mark as you smile down at the half-awake deity.

Well, it’s not like you mind.

“Only ten minutes more, okay?”

Gojo Satoru was a selfish god. He indulged in whatever he felt like, acted upon every whim he had and never hesitated to say what was on his mind.

Yet, he was benevolent. Only to you, that is.

“Huh? Don’t ya want a reward for all the work you’ve done?” A raised brow as he stuffs another spoonful of stew into your mouth,

“I don’t think,” You chew, swallowing the creamy soup down before speaking once more, your hand reaching up in attempt to wipe at the remnant of liquid at the corner of your lip. “I have anything I particularly want, Satoru-sama.”

“Ahhh- You humans are so picky.” He’s back to poking at your stuffed cheek, making it a point to prod at your skin and trying to get a rise out of you as you succumb to his whims.

“Satoru-sama, being with you is enough payment for me.”

“Haaah… Can’t even decide anything for yourself can ya—“

He stops all of a sudden, your words striking a chord within him as he suddenly perks up, his chair screeching back from his sudden movement.

“Hoho. I think I got something you’d like.”

It started small. Hugs goodbye whenever you had to go pick up more ingredients for dinner, contrived pecks to your hand whenever you reached out towards him— Until physical contact became the norm in the humble little Familia that you both created.

You feel lucky that he indulges you so much.

“Say,” His cheek rests upon your head as he takes another inhale of your scent, his nose brushing against the sensitive nape of your neck from behind as you attempt to make dinner. “You love me, don’t you?”

“Of course, Satoru-sama.” A pat to the arm wrapped tight around your waist as the potato peeler sits still on the countertop. “I love you.”

It’s not just for show. Of course you love him. More than you could ever love anything else. Your god, your saviour, the only person who believed in you when you had given up on yourself.

You’d never pick anyone, anything over him. Even if he was stubborn, haughty, egotistic, provocative and possibly even exasperating at times; he was kind. He cared, he loved, he worried, he was simply him.

Your beloved Satoru. God or not, there was no other being like him.

There’s silence, the sound of his heart beat against your ear from his sheer height and tight hold. You feel his hand slowly trail over the skin of your midriff, making its way downwards to fiddle with the hem of the largely oversized tunic of clothing you donned as his eyes close.

“Would you be willing to do anything I say?”

You should hesitate when it comes to these types of questions. Should prepare to think it over if it were anybody but the one who granted you more than a Falna. He granted you a home, a place where you belonged.

He gave you peace. So there wasn’t any reason for you to deny him.

“Anything for you, Satoru-sama.”

Yet, even when he was inbetween your thighs, your legs carelessly thrown over his shoulders as your hands so thoughtlessly gripping at the bedsheets in fear of doing harm to your God— You could feel that he just wasn’t there with you.

“Saa— Sator-ru-sama… Hah…” Your trembling thighs squeeze harder around his head, hands practically losing their colour from how hard you had to grip on just to gain back enough to even speak.

“Shh…” He’s finally pulled his insistent tongue off of your clit, licking his lips of the essence dripping from his mouth as he smirks up at you, before he let his tongue lick up the length of your thigh.

“Ya feel good, don’t you? Just sit pretty and let me eat your sweet cunt out.”

And when you both were so intimately connected, his fingers so lovingly entwined with your own, your lips sharing; indulging in the taste of each other, experiencing the same blinding pleasure as he allows your head to tilt back, his chuckle and a kiss to your cheek as your eyes are blanked out—

He just seemed so far away.

Don’t get yourself wrong, don’t let yourself be tricked. There was adoration in his every caress, every brush of his lips against your skin and every tender, sweetened coo that slipped out of his mouth and into your ears.

“See? Told ya you can give me one more.”

“Hmm? Can’t hear you at all, honey~ Don’t babble your words.”

“My adorable little follower…” He pauses to press another chaste, sweaty kiss to your lips as your ankles press against his lower back, your arms wrapped tight around his neck as your eyes seep more tears from this overwhelming pleasure.

It felt hot, scalding even— Was celestial being semen meant to feel like this inside of you?

“Sa-Sator-Satoru…!”

“Oho— Hngh…” You can feel his cock spasm inside of you, twitching against that little, specific spot as your vision practically dot with searing white. “Forgetting— Your honourifics, huh?”

“But don’t— Hah— worry,” His playful fingers pinch at your nipples, head leaning down to kiss at the bitten, marred skin once more before those beautiful blue eyes peek up at you. “I’ll forgive my cute little devotee for anything…”

You think you’ve finally regained conscious when you awaken on top of a sturdy chest, your god’s hand tenderly stroking the back of your head, both of your legs tangled together as the sheets of your shared bed swirl with the fragrance of freshly aired out, perfectly dried and washed sheets.

You could ask how he managed to change them, how he managed to wash the both of you of sweat, how he managed to make the pot boil with the savoury scent of stew at the fireplace—

Yet, the first question that pervades you was none of that.

“Satoru-sama.” You can feel the way your naked chest was pressed against his, those blue eyes closed, hidden behind white-lashed eyelids as he continued to pet your head as one arm was settled behind him to act as a pillow.

“What were you thinking about?”

You know he knows exactly what you’re speaking of.

“Nothing much, sweetheart.” A playful pinch of your cheek as you feel the beginnings of a pout start to show on your face. “But starting to get curious about me, huh?”

“I— Wish to know, Satoru-sama.” You watch as one iridescent iris peeks out slightly from behind a closed eye, that mischievous smirk on his pretty face so infuriatingly cute.

“Do you now?”

“Please don’t tease me too much, Satoru-sama…”

A loud laugh that allowed your hands to feel how his chest vibrated beneath you, let your eyes watch how his face curved into that rich smile and gorgeous carelessness that you wanted to admire for hours on end.

Yet, you can’t help but sense the bitter, sour sweetness in his voice.

“A long time ago,” He pauses to brush a strand of hair out of your eyes as his own eyelids start to blink open. “I had a best friend.”

You hear him take in a breath, eyes shifting up towards the ceiling before they flickered back down to your curious gaze. “He was my one and only.”

You stay silent at that revelation.

“He loved you humans, you know?” You’re shifting your naked self up, adjusting the blanket that covered the both of you as his hand pulls your head forwards so that it was resting upon his chest. “It was weird to hear him talk about you all so much.”

You can see how lovingly your Satoru-sama spoke of him, how his tone dropped to such an earnest, yearning want. It felt like flowers that were fluttering in the summer wind, scattered and quiet; but so gentle and frail.

It makes you afraid of what you were about to ask.

“What happened to the both of you, Satoru-sama?”

It’s tense. Your body, pressed so vulnerably against his with your head against his chest… Could pick up on the way his heart rate picking up.

“I killed him with my own two hands.”

masterlist

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Personal Time

Steven Grant X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Personal Time Series Masterlist

Summary: You're helping Steven to find his reading glasses when you accidently find his personal toys instead.

A/N: Okay, so I have sat on this for a while. I wrote it while I was a little out of it late last year with a fever, and, erm, yes. Here it is. I obviously have a think about people saying 'please' (we don't have time to unpack that) and amazingly the fucking actually takes place on a bed for once. (We definitely dont' have time to unpack that - literally just realised earlier that so much smut I write happens on a settee?)

Warnings: Oh, haha, where do I start? Anal fingering, anal sex with a dildo, dry humping, reader thinking about wishing they had a dick so they could fuck Steven with it, pegging (sort of, it's with a dildo and not a strap), swearing - so much swearing, Steven has a praise kink, kinda sub!Steven? typos I am sure, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning.

Word Count: 3071

________________________________

You hadn’t meant to go snooping. You really hadn’t. 

Steven had asked you to look through the drawers. He had misplaced his reading glasses and was frantically scouring the flat for them, or his spare pair - whichever he found first. 

That was when you asked if you could help and he had directed you to the large chest of drawers near his bed. Hoping his spare pair was in there ‘somewhere’. 

You searched the top drawer first, with no success. It was only on the third one from the bottom that you found something. But obviously not what Steven had intended on you finding. 

There was a battered shoe box jammed in on the left hand side and you had innocently taken the lid off, hoping for a glasses case. Instead you found a collection of items that were of a more… personal nature. 

You paused, the lid in your hands, your eyes trained on the objects inside, your lips pressed together in surprise. Your mind had short circled just a little bit. Were these Steven’s? Did he know that they were in there? 

Maybe you should just put the lid back on and pretend you hadn’t seen anything. That would be the best thing, wouldn’t it? The sensible thing. 

It wasn’t like you and Steven hadn’t had sex, and you didn’t have a problem with him (or Marc or Jake) owning toys and using them. It just seemed a bit… impolite. It wasn’t like he had shown them to you himself. After all, he might not want-

“I found them love, they were…” Steven’s voice made you visibly jump. 

You spun around too quickly to face him, heat rising to your face. The shoe box lid still clutched in your hands. 

Maybe he didn’t realise, maybe you could-

He swallowed, his throat bobbed as he made an audible gulping noise that could have been almost comedic if you didn’t feel like a rogue sniper taking you out at that very moment would be the best thing in the world. 

He was obviously looking at your hands. “I-”

“I didn’t mean to,” you blurted out, rushing the words so that they blurred together. “I’m sorry, not that there’s anything wrong with it, I mean, I didn’t see anything, I just thought your glasses… could… be…” You slowed as Steven gave you a lopsided smile. 

He ran a hand through his hair, “yeah, erm, just a couple of things in there, really. For, you know, some alone time.” There was a little flush in his cheeks and running up his neck.

“So they’re yours?” You spoke before you could actually think about what you were saying. 

“Oh, er, yep,” he smiled a little nervously, the thought of pinning ownership on Marc or Jake hadn’t crossed his mind. “All mine.” 

You nodded, chewing at your bottom lip for a second. Steven shifted his stance ever so slightly, the smallest action. But it was something you recognised, and you were suddenly very sure that the heat in his face wasn’t from embarrassment. 

“Do Marc and Jake ever use them?” 

He shook his head quickly. His breathing had gotten a little faster. 

“But you use them on yourself?” You lowered your voice ever so slightly, taking a step towards him. 

He nodded, his fingers fiddling with his shirt sleeves. 

You took another step so that you were nearly touching. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, see how wide his pupils had grown. “Do you like using them on yourself?” 

He swallowed again, his voice barely a whisper. “Yes.”

“Would you show me?” You brushed your lips over his jaw, feather light in your touch.

Steven breathed in sharply. He was watching you intently, mesmerised by your movements as you began to slowly slide your hand up his chest. 

“Would you show me how you use them?” You blinked heavily at him and he groaned, grabbing hold of your face and pulling you into a searing kiss. All teeth and tongue as he moaned into you, whimpering as you nipped at his bottom lip and trying to chase your mouth when you moved away.

You didn’t have to ask again.

“Yes, yes, please, I’ll show you.” He sounded wrecked already, his heart beating so fast as he kissed your mouth again hurriedly before trailing down to your neck to run his teeth over your pulse point. 

You let out a little surprised gasp and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulder, holding him against you. 

“Are you sure?” 

He moaned an affirmative into your neck as he sucked at your skin. 

“I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to.” You managed to say through a moan. 

Steven glared at you, kissing you roughly before taking your hand and pressing it against his trousers. 

He was painfully hard and aching. His cock twitching under your touch as you palmed his erection. 

“Fuck,” you muttered, breathing heavily. Heat began to pool between your legs. 

“Want you to see love,” he murmured against your ear as you stroked him through his trousers. “Want you to watch me.” 

You nodded furiously and managed to drag yourself away from him. 

He whined a little as you stepped back, lamenting your closeness. 

Quickly you grabbed the shoe box, throwing the lid haphazardly into the still open drawer, and pushed it into his open hands. 

You took a few steps backwards, leaning against the chest of drawers and watched Steven intently. 

“I want you to do it as if I wasn’t here.” 

Steven moaned quietly as he bit his lower lip, his eyes were hooded and dark. He nodded once before he put the box on the bed and pulled off his clothes, leaving them as a pile on the floor before climbing back onto the bed completely bare. 

You let out a shuddered breath. You’d seen him naked before but you’d never grow tired of it. The slight flush to his skin, the way he curled his toes against the mattress, his hard cock smearing precome over his stomach. 

He pushed himself further onto the bed until he was laying on his back with his head on the pillows, his dark hair fanning out around him. 

He breathed heavily for a moment, trying to settle the spark of excitement that was running through his limbs. He hadn’t thought you watching him would arouse him so much. 

With a practised ease, he fished the bottle of lube out of the box and flicked it open one handedly as he planted his feet firmly on the bed and spread his legs. If he was honest, it was a little wider than he usually did, his movements a little slower and more precise, trying his best to put on a bit of a show. 

A small pinch of panic worried his chest, what if you didn’t like this. He glanced over to you and relief flooded over him instantly. His dick twitched. You were watching him with rapt attention, your chest rising and falling as you tried your best to control yourself. 

He kept his gaze on you as he coated two fingers with the cool liquid and slowly sunk them into himself. 

Steven moaned loudly, and truthfully a little louder than he would have if he was alone, at the sensation. The stretch. 

You groaned as he entered himself, rubbing your legs together to try to ease the growing ache. 

Steven moved his fingers slowly in and out of himself, thrusting his hips up ever so slightly when he sunk them in as far as he could reach. It was never quite far enough, no matter how hard he tried he was never able to hit that special spot inside with just his own fingers. 

It still felt good though. He moaned again, whimpering as he sisscored his fore and index fingers and felt his body try to resist. The tension boiling along his skin and adding to the pleasure building in his belly. 

He threw his head back, forcing his fingers as wide as they could go as he picked up the pase and fucked himself mercilessly.

You let out a whispered “fuck.” Wetness soaking your underwear, you couldn’t help yourself as you slid your hand underneath your clothes and ran your finger over your clit, circling it in time to Steven’s movements.

Your little moans and whimpers went straight to his cock, how eager you were to watch him, how much you wanted to, it was all too much. The tension in the base of his cock was building far quicker than it normally did. He couldn’t wait any longer. 

Slowly he pulled his fingers out of himself with a wet pop, and, with his other hand, grabbed his purple dildo from the box. It was thick and realistically shaped with a sucker on the bottom to presumably attach it to the floor or walls. 

The sudden thought of Steven sticking it against the tiles in his shower and harshly fucking himself against it as hot water ran along his back filled your mind.

He took another sneaky glance at you and you caught his eye, biting your lip as he squeezed another generous amount of lube over the length of it. 

He couldn’t help but watch your hand as you touched yourself, lost in the movements. 

“I usually,” he swallowed, his mouth dry. “I usually just sit on it and wank myself off.” 

You bit down hard on your lip as you moaned, the image of Steven sitting up in bed rocking back ever so slightly on the dildo so that it ground into him as he worked on his weeping cock was too much. 

“But,” he paused for a second, “maybe, only if you want, you could-”

“Yes,” you blurted out, pulling your shirt over your head as you rushed towards him. You flung your clothes off hastily until you were as bare as he was and then joined him on the bed, kneeling by his side. 

Steven looked up at you with lust filled eyes, as he drank in every inch of your naked body. 

“Maybe you could,” he bit his lip, his voice low, “put it in me?” 

You wined, rubbing your legs together again to ease the ache and nodded. 

He handed you the dildo and you took the end, holding it still as Steven poured and spread more lube over it. 

God, it was thick. Your mouth went dry, how did he even fit all this in himself? The thought was meant to be a concern and guilt settled in your stomach as you felt a fresh wetness against your thighs. 

Would you really like that? To fill him up so much that he didn’t even remember his own name? To fuck him so hard that he was screaming yours? The flutter of your walls answered the question for you. 

He nodded and you moved between his legs.

“Will you tell me if I do it wrong?” 

Steven smiled. “You won’t. But I’ll tell you, don’t worry love.” He reached out to you and you gave him your free hand, he lent up a little to press a kiss against your knuckles. 

Carefully, you moved the tip of the dildo against him. Some of the lube from his earlier actions was slowly leaking out and you had to practically bite your tongue in two to stop yourself from groaning. 

WIth your free hand you cupped his balls, massaging them gently in languid strokes. 

“Oh fuck,” Steven threw his head back again, aching his spine ever so slightly. 

“Okay?” You asked teasingly as you lightly pressed the tip of the dildo against him.

“Hmmm, uh hummm, more than okay, more than, please love, ah-” he cut himself off with a low rumbling moan as you leisurely eased it inside of him. 

Your movements languid as he swallowed more and more, the dildo splitting him open. His thighs tensed, shaking with the press of it, his insides clenching against the silicon and how you wished you could feel it. Feel how tight he was and how hard he squeezed. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, ah love, so good, so good, please, more, I need it.” He was blabbering, not even fully registering what he was saying. 

You continued to rub his balls as you pushed further in. “You’re such a good boy Steven, so good taking all of this.” 

“I am, I am,” his eyes were screwed up tight, his hands fisting the bed sheets in an effort to control himself and not come straight away. The fact that it was you doing this to him, controlling the speed and pressure, forcing him to take it made him drown in pleasure. 

“So good.” You purred, unable to choose on whether to watch his achingly beautiful face as he moaned, his weeping cock jump as you pushed further in, or his greedy hole taking everything you gave. 

“Your good boy, fuck,” he groaned especially loudly as you filled him completely. The silicon balls at the base hitting against his skin. 

“My good boy.” You whispered as you were unable to resist pressing on the suction bottom, ever so slightly changing the angle. 

“Shiiit!” Steven bucked upwards, his body seizing like he had been electrocuted as molten pleasure ran up his spine. 

You flinched your hand away, worried for a second that you had hurt him. 

“Again, again, oh please, that was the right spot, please,” he rambled, all his words running together. 

You pushed against the bottom of the dildo again, not letting up on the pressure this time as you wiggled it a little from side to side. 

Steven moaned so loudly you were sure half of London heard him. Rocking into your movements with a frenzied vigour. A constant string of expletives and nonsense words falling out of his lips. 

“Tell me I’m good,” he managed to stammer out between gasps, sweat beading on his forehead and sticking his hair to his skin. 

You leant closer to him, keeping up your pressured movement on the dildo. “You’re good Steven, so good. Letting me fuck you like this, letting me fill you up. Taking it all for me.”

“All for you.” He gasped again as you continued to hit his prostate. He moaned your name loudly, and then wined, “I need you to fuck me.” 

It took you a second for your brain to catch up with his words, to focus on anything but his face as he moaned. 

A second too long for Steven’s liking. 

He sat up, grabbing hold of your hips and pulled you towards him until your clit was pressed firmly against the base of the dildo inside of him. He groaned loudly at the pressure as you gasped at the sudden sensation, before he fell back onto the mattress. 

He bucked his hips, rubbing the base perfectly against you. “Please, fuck me.” His voice was completely wrecked, his eyes pleading and it was as if your body simply took over. 

You grabbed hold of his thighs pulling them over your hips and pushed your pubic bone against the dildo’s base, rutting against him. 

Steven gasped, rocking upwards to meet your movements as he started to become truly lost in the sensations. 

You rubbed against him relentlessly, hard and fast. Your clit grinding against the base, catching deliciously against the edge with every roll and thrust. It was like it was your dick inside of him, like you could almost feel him twitch and squeeze against you as you moved like you were possessed. 

Pleasure was building so quickly in your stomach, wetness leaking out from your pussy and coating your thighs. Your legs burned from the position, but it just was too good to change. Every rub against your clit bringing you closer, and closer to the edge.

Steven’s eyes suddenly shot open, “oh fuck, love, I���m going to-” his moan cut himself off as he came suddenly, spirting hot, thick come all over his stomach and chest. 

You growled and thrusted harder, fucking him through his orgasm for all you were worth. Wanting to fuck every single drop out of him. 

He rolled his hips back at you, his head thrown back exposing his neck and your orgasm hits you hard. It punches the air out of your lungs and for a second you can’t see anything, can’t feel anything except for the pleasure overwhelming your senses. 

Your hips slow and stop as you nearly fall forward on top of him, managing to catch yourself at the last second. 

Steven is watching you, his expression dreamlike as he breathes heavily. 

You kiss him roughly, forcing your tongue into his mouth until he is moaning against you, pulling at your shoulders for more. 

He kisses you back with equal energy, working his tongue against yours as if he could make you come again just from a kiss. 

You finally pull away to breathe, your legs are jelly like, shaking as you move to the side and grab some tissue from the box on the bedside table. 

Steven smiles at you as you turn back and carefully wipe up most of the cum from his skin. You’ll both have to shower, that was for certain. But that could wait for a minute. 

“Do you want me to take it out?” You ask, surprised at the exhaustion in your voice.

Steven shakes his head. “Not yet, but can you hug me please?” He asks a little shyly, as if you both haven’t just come so hard that you saw stars. 

You quickly fall into his embrace, wrapping your arms around him and kissing all over his face until he laughs. 

“Was that,” he swallows a little, not looking at you as anxiety creeps in. “Was that okay?” 

“Steven,” you touch his cheek, urging him to move to look at you before you kiss him lightly. “More than okay, fucking amazing.” 

He grins. “Okay, good, aces.” 

You chuckle, laying your head down to rest against his shoulder. 

There is silence for a moment as you both hold each other, sweat cooling on your bodies. 

“Maybe we could get you a strap on?” He asks, with such genuine sincerity. 

You laugh again and nod eagerly. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” he squeezes you tight and mumbles into your forehead. “I would too.” 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[rubylace]

jake — latenight drives

wc! 4,285

song recommendations night trip w/ jake <33 :

| Bruno Mars - just the way you are | Justin Bieber - anyone, come around me | Daniel Caesar ft.H.E.R - best part | Sabrina Carpenter - nonsense | Lauv - never not, paris in the rain | Ed Sheeran - photograph | New Hope Club & Danna Paola - know me too well | Rihanna - we found love |

It was a typical Friday night, and you were lounging around in your apartment, scrolling through your phone aimlessly. Suddenly, a message popped up on your screen. It was from Jake, your boyfriend.

"Get ready, I'm picking you up in 20," it read. You were surprised but excited.

You quickly got dressed, opting elegant outfits. Just as you were putting on your high-heeled shoes, you heard a car honk outside. You peeked through the window and saw Jake's car parked in front of your building. You grabbed your bag and rushed out.

"It wasn't even the weekend yet but he was already making plans." You thought in yours with Jake's invitation.

As you slid into the passenger seat, Jake greeted you with a warm smile. "Hey, pretty," he said, his eyes twinkling under the streetlights. You smiling and greeted him back.

"Where are we going?" you asked, curious about his sudden plan and enthusiasm in your mind while looking out the car window. "It's a surprise," he replied, starting the car.

The city lights blurred past as Jake drove through the quiet streets. You loved these late-night drives with him. The world seemed to slow down, and it was just the two of you, lost in your own little universe. You turned on the music and a soft melody filled the car. Jake hummed along, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel in rhythm.

But after 30 minutes you realize that he turned around and returned to the previous path. "Looks like someone is disappointed huh."

Smiled mischievously, he knew what was happening and what he was doing.

"Don't you like it when you travel aimlessly like this? You like to waste my gas, honey."

I just-" your face immediately pouted, for some reason Jake's words hurt your heart.

Jake pulled over at a secluded spot overlooking the city. The view was breathtaking. The city lights twinkled like stars, and the cool night breeze was refreshing. Jake turned to you, his eyes reflecting the city lights.

"I just wanted to spend some time with you, away from the hustle and bustle," he said, taking your hand in his.

"..that's why you dress up so neatly? You don't need to do anything to yourself, you already look so beautiful. It's not just in my eyes, maybe guys out there think the same way. So don't turn away from me."

"No way, not all guy can I use up their gas." smiling with a feeling of not wanting to lose even you're not upset with him anymore, you joke back to him.

That way your relationship will not feel bland.

You felt a warm feeling spread through you. You looked at Jake, his face illuminated by the city lights, and you knew you wouldn't want to be anywhere else. This was your perfect late-night car date, just you and Jake, under the starry city sky.

Followed by some a little karaoke and looking at the beautiful night together.

"No matter where you are, I'll always be with you~" Jake said in a rhythmic tone.

"Haha what song is that?"

"This is my own song hehe, it just came to mind."

You just shook your head at his increasingly absurd behavior but nevertheless you still loved him.

As you sat there, gazing at the city lights with Jake by your side, a wave of emotions washed over you. You couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability, as if there were so many things you wanted to say but couldn't find the right words.

Jake noticed the change in your expression and gently squeezed your hand. "Is everything okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. You took a deep breath and turned to him, your eyes meeting his.

"I just... I've been feeling a bit lost lately," you confessed, your voice barely a whisper. "Life can be so overwhelming, and sometimes I don't know where I'm headed."

Jake's face softened, and he leaned closer, his voice soothing. "I understand, honey. We all have moments like that. But remember, you're not alone. I'm here for you, always."

His words resonated deep within you, and you felt a surge of gratitude for having Jake in your life. With him by your side.

The night grew darker, Jake turned on the car's interior lights, creating a cozy ambiance. He reached into the backseat and pulled out a small picnic basket. "I brought some snacks," he said, a mischievous grin on his face. "Let's have a little midnight picnic."

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of his gesture. You opened the basket to find an assortment of your favorite treats. You both laughed and shared stories as you indulged in the delicious snacks, creating new memories together.

Hours passed, and the sky began to lighten with the first rays of dawn. Reluctantly, you and Jake realized it was time to head back home. But as you drove back through the waking city, you couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of hope and excitement.

You turned to Jake, a smile playing on your lips. "Thank you for tonight," you said, your voice filled with genuine appreciation. "You always know how to make me feel better."

Jake reached over and gently brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "I'll always be here for you," he whispered, his eyes filled with love.

Kissing your lips gently with affection. Jake covered your body with a comfortable blanket. Accompanied by songs that suit the cold night also the air conditioner in the car becomes warmer by his attention.

[ssa-dado]

7 - Cogito, ergo Sum

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader

Genre: slow burn, sad just sad stuff, angst

Summary: On a train to Riverhead, you confront buried memories of your father’s death and the complex emotions stirred by Peter’s welcome back party, where Hotch’s past with Haley left you feeling like an outsider. Hotch, haunted by memories of his abusive father and first love with Haley, grapples with his choices and regrets. Meanwhile, Hotch and Peter clash over your safety and personal boundaries on the job, discovering the next target of a series of poisonings. Warnings: Grief, domestic violence, emotional abuse, anxiety, CM case. This is quite sad

Word Count: 4.5k

Dado's Corner: Not me sobbing like a kid while writing this haha. Poor Aaron you deserve a hug. That said, I experimented a bit with the style of this chapter - it's quite cinematic. I drew inspiration from Suits' 2×08 where Harvey goes to visit his father's grave and the narrative interlaces flashbacks, present and the characters' point of view so beautifully. Also - this has a sister chapter coming up next so don't worry.

previous chapter ; masterlist

The train rattled gently as it made its way toward your hometown, Riverhead, each passing mile pulling you deeper into a past you had long avoided. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the tracks was a steady, relentless metronome, marking each second that brought you closer to face your father’s grave.

You glanced up to see a little girl holding her father’s hand, her tiny fingers wrapped tightly around his as they made their way to a seat just past yours. The sight was simple, ordinary - something that happened every day - but today, it felt like a punch to the chest.

Watching them, you felt the train become a catalyst for everything you’d been trying to bury; the pain surged, raw and unfiltered, hitting you all at once. The easy affection between them, was a reminder of what you could never have again. Your throat tightened, and tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill as you stared at the floor, trying to swallow the ache of everything you’d lost. In that fleeting moment, the emptiness of your own hands felt unbearable, as if the absence of your father’s presence echoed a thousand times harder in the quiet hum of the train.

You stared out of the window, but the passing trees and fading buildings blurred into the background, their muted colors mingling with the fog of your thoughts. You’d taken the rare step of taking a day off to make this journey, a day that was supposed to be about finding some semblance of closure, or at least confronting the loss you’d tucked away behind your work.

But you hadn’t been able to think only of your father. Your mind kept drifting back to Peter’s welcome back party the previous week. Where you sat at the table, Gideon’s words lingering in the air, the concept of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis feeling painfully apt in that moment.

“Everyone, this is Haley,” Hotch said, his voice carefully controlled. “We… we go way back.”

Only now you could clearly see at how Haley smiled, but her eyes were constantly on Hotch, her presence radiating a sense of ease that only came from years of knowing someone deeply. “It’s been a long time, Aaron,” she said, her tone gentle but layered with unspoken memories. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You watched the interaction with a heavy heart, feeling like an outsider in your own team. The connection between them was undeniable, and for a moment, you felt a pang of jealousy, a sharp twist in your chest that you hadn’t prepared for.

You had just started to let your guard down with Hotch, to allow yourself to see him not just as your stoic coworker who would crack a joke every once in a while - but as someone you could trust, someone who understood you. And now, here was a piece of his past that you hadn’t been privy to, thrown in your face without warning.

As the evening wore on, you tried to engage, to laugh at Rossi’s jokes and nod along with Gideon’s stories, but your mind kept drifting back to Hotch and Haley. You couldn’t help but feel the sting of not knowing this part of him, of realizing that no matter how close you’d gotten, there were still walls between you.

At one point, Hotch caught your eye from across the table. His expression softened, a silent question in his gaze, as if he could sense your discomfort. But before he could say anything, Haley leaned in, pulling his attention back to her, and the moment passed.

Gideon, ever observant, leaned closer to you, breaking the awkward silence that had settled over you.

“You know, Y/N,” he said thoughtfully, tapping the cover of the book you’d bought for Hotch, “Hegel’s all about finding balance. Sometimes, the only way forward is to let go of what you thought you knew and embrace the contradictions.”

You nodded, but the words felt too close to home. You weren’t sure how to find balance in this moment, how to reconcile the sudden wave of emotions crashing over you. All you could do was hold on and hope that, somehow, things would make sense again.

Now your mind was buzzing with a mix of emotions: shock, confusion, and a sinking feeling of being completely blindsided. It was in the way Hotch and Haley exchanged glances, the comfortable proximity, the shared history etched in every small gesture. It hurt more than you’d ever thought it would, making everything sounded distant, muffled, like you were underwater.

The gathering had been a lively affair, full of laughter and shared stories, but a specific moment kept replaying in your mind: Haley’s warm smile as she said goodbye to Hotch, “It was really good to see you, Aaron, I’m glad you’re doing well. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.”

Hotch nodded, his expression warm yet tinged with a hint of sadness. “Yeah, Haley. Take care of yourself. See you around.”

With that, she gave a small wave to the table and headed back to her group of friends, leaving Hotch standing there, momentarily lost in the past. As he returned to his seat, you could see the way he was grappling with the emotions stirred up by the unexpected reunion. He caught your gaze briefly, offering a small, almost apologetic smile that only deepened your sense of uncertainty.

As she walked away, Rossi had thrown a smirk Hotch’s way, raising an eyebrow as he quipped, “So, old flames burning bright again?”

Hotch rolled his eyes, though there was a faint, embarrassed flush to his cheeks. “Rossi, don’t start,” he warned, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

“Oh, come on, Aaron,” Rossi continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Haley’s quite a catch. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a little lovestruck.”

Hotch sighed, but there was a softness to his demeanor that hadn’t been there before. “It’s not like that, Dave. We… had our time. It just didn’t work out. She wanted a family, a stable life. I was too caught up in my career, trying to make it into the Bureau. We were just… heading in different directions.”

There was a pause as the table absorbed his words, the rare glimpse into Hotch’s personal life catching everyone a little off guard. You could see the flicker of understanding in his eyes, the acknowledgment of choices made and paths taken, and it resonated deeply with you. It wasn’t just about Haley; it was about the sacrifices, the regrets, and the constant pull between duty and desire.

You had stood on the sidelines, listening, and telling yourself it wasn’t jealousy you felt, but something else entirely. Hotch and Haley’s history was full of things you couldn’t touch, memories you couldn’t rewrite.

The ease between them that felt unreachable, at least for you. It highlighted your own struggles, the way you and Hotch danced around each other’s guarded edges, each too closed off and too stubborn for way too much to admit the walls you’d built were anything but necessary. You had worked hard to break through those barriers, inching closer to something that resembled real friendship with Hotch, but seeing him with Haley made it clear how far you still had to go.

One of your coworkers, ever the instigator, smirked and raised their glass, turning the conversation light again. “Ah, first loves. We’ve all been there, right? High school sweethearts, college crushes, and then… life happens.”

They nudged Peter playfully, their grin widening. “I bet you’ve got some stories, too. You and Y/N? Seems like you two have your own history.”

The comment, though playful, struck a chord. You could feel all eyes momentarily on you and Peter, the unspoken insinuations hanging in the air. Peter chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a casual ease that belied the tension simmering beneath the surface. “Oh, come on, let’s not dig up the past. Y/N and I? We were just kids. We studied, we got into trouble, and then we grew up.”

Rossi, always enjoying a chance to stir the pot, raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? ‘Just kids,’ huh? I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. Seems like more than just studying to me.”

Peter shot you a sideways glance, his smile both teasing and sincere. “Well, you know me, Dave. Always mixing business with pleasure.”

You forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to your ears. “Please, don’t encourage him. Peter was more like the annoying older brother I never asked for.”

The table erupted in laughter, and for a moment, the awkwardness eased. But underneath it all, there was a thread of unspoken tension, a reminder that you and Peter’s relationship, much like Hotch and Haley’s, was layered with complexities that no amount of jokes could untangle.

Hotch watched the exchange quietly, his gaze lingering on you longer than necessary. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—was it understanding? Regret? You couldn’t quite tell, but it was clear he was processing his own thoughts amidst the lighthearted teasing. The parallels between his past and what was unfolding now weren’t lost on him.

Then memories shifted, drawing you deeper into the party’s ambiance: the clinking of glasses, the chatter of old friends reuniting, and Peter’s infectious laugh as he moved through the crowd.

You remembered the moment he found you in the corner of the room, handing you a glass of wine with a casual, “So, are you ever going to let me take you out on that date?”

You had laughed it off, deflecting with a joke. “You’d have to catch me when I’m not buried in case files.”

Peter’s smile had softened, and he leaned against the wall beside you, his eyes searching yours in that disarming way he had. “I’m patient. You know that.”

There it was, an offer that seemed perfect on paper. Peter was kind, funny, and someone you could talk to for hours without feeling the need to perform or pretend. He had always been a constant, someone who understood your messy family dynamics and never judged you for them. Yet, for reasons you couldn’t quite name, you had hesitated.

It wasn’t just fear that a relationship might ruin your friendship, though that was part of it. No, this hesitation was something deeper, something that had started to shift within you over the months you’d been at the BAU.

The job had changed you, had made you see the world differently, and maybe that change had rippled into the way you saw Peter, too. He was familiar, a comfort you could rely on, but when he looked at you with that earnestness, you felt a strange dissonance, like you were two notes that no longer harmonized as they once did.

You shook off the thought and turned back to the scenery, trying to refocus. The landscape outside shifted, becoming a blur of rolling hills and scattered houses, but all you could see were memories of the afternoons you’d spent with Peter.

He was a piece of your past that felt safe, steady, and uncomplicated. You remembered the day he’d chosen your mother as his thesis supervisor, the excitement in his eyes as he explained why.

“She’s brilliant,” he had told you, sitting at your kitchen table, his hands animated as he spoke. “I mean, I’ve read everything she’s published. Working with her is like… I don’t know, getting to play with a master.”

Your mother had smirked from the kitchen, where she was brewing tea. “I’m not sure if ‘play’ is the word I’d use,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “But I’m glad you’re eager. I could use someone with your enthusiasm.”

Those afternoons felt like moments frozen in time, filled with academic debates that stretched into the evening. You would sit with Peter, surrounded by books and papers, discussing everything from human behavior to obscure psychological theories. Your mother would occasionally join in, her sharp insights cutting through Peter’s eager optimism, and you would feel an odd sense of belonging, of being seen and understood in a way that was rare. You and Peter fit so easily then, like two pieces of a puzzle that made sense together.

So why now, when Peter had finally asked, did you feel that familiar comfort turn into something that almost felt suffocating? It wasn’t fear, not exactly. It was something more complex, more tangled.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but whatever it was, it had kept you from saying yes. Part of you wondered if it had to do with the person you’d become at the BAU, the person who had learned to live in the shadows, to thrive on the unspoken and the unsolved. There was a distance between the you that Peter knew and the you that existed now, and you weren’t sure how to bridge that gap.

As the train chugged closer to Riverhead, you let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of your own thoughts settle in your chest. This trip was supposed to be about your father, about facing the memories you’d buried along with him. But as the scenery continued to blur outside your window, you realized it wasn’t just him you were here to confront. It was yourself, and all the tangled, unresolved things you’d left behind.

.

Back in his apartment, Hotch stood motionless in front of his closet, the faint hum of the city outside barely reaching his ears. It was supposed to be a simple, mindless task: changing out of his work clothes, slipping into something comfortable to signal the end of another long case. But that morning, the weight of the past lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating, refusing to be ignored. Seeing Haley again had shaken something loose inside him, memories that he had tried to bury beneath layers of duty, responsibility, and the unyielding armor of his carefully crafted stoicism.

He stared at the closet door as if it were a portal to another time, a past version of himself that he had spent years trying to forget. His hand hovered over a hanger, hesitating before he finally pulled the door open. He reached for a pair of sweatpants, the movement automatic, but his fingers brushed against something unexpected, something soft and familiar. He pulled it out, holding it up to the dim light of the room. It was an old pirate hat, worn and faded, buried at the back of the closet like a forgotten relic.

The sight of it was enough to send a rush of emotion coursing through him, his heart tightening with the weight of memories long left untouched. It was a small, silly thing - a costume piece from a high school play - but it held the echoes of a time when life had felt simpler, when love had been a lifeline rather than a distant, unattainable dream.

Hotch turned the hat over in his hands, his thumb tracing the worn edges. It felt lighter than he remembered, the fabric frayed but still holding the shape that had once made him feel like someone else - someone braver, someone who didn’t wake up every day terrified of what the morning might bring.

Holding it now, he was transported back to those days in high school, when he had first met Haley during their school’s production of The Pirates of Penzance. He could still remember the nerves that twisted his stomach into knots as he stepped onto the stage, feeling every bit the awkward, shy boy who never quite knew how to fit in.

His father’s presence loomed over every aspect of his life, a dark, volatile force that made every day feel like a minefield. Mornings were the worst; he’d wake up before dawn, his heart pounding with the dread that his father would already be up, the stale stench of whiskey on his breath and anger simmering just below the surface.

Every morning, Hotch would lie still in his bed, his ears straining to hear the slightest sound - a creaking floorboard, the clink of a bottle, the unmistakable thud of something heavy being thrown against the wall. He’d close his eyes tightly, his breath catching in his throat as he braced himself for the inevitable: the harsh sound of his father’s voice, slurred and laced with venom, cutting through the stillness of the house like a knife.

“You worthless piece of shit,” his father would sneer, eyes bloodshot, fists clenched. The insults were always the same, a relentless barrage of contempt that felt like punches to the gut. And sometimes, they were. The bruises left behind were easy to hide, but the fear lingered, seeping into every corner of his mind.

But then there was Haley.

Haley, with her bright smile and infectious laugh, had entered his life like a beam of light piercing through the darkness. She was everything his world was not: warm, kind, and unafraid to be herself. He could still see her as she had been that first day, standing backstage with an easy confidence that seemed to light up the entire room. He had been fumbling through his lines, tripping over words as he tried to keep his hands from shaking, feeling the familiar grip of anxiety clawing at his throat. But then she had turned to him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Not bad, Hotchner,” she teased, her voice light and teasing, breaking through the wall of his self-doubt.

She nudged him playfully with her shoulder, her touch gentle but grounding. “But if you’re going to be a pirate, you’ve got to look the part.” She reached up and tilted the hat on his head, adjusting it with a flourish. “There. Much better.”

He had laughed then, a rare, unguarded sound that felt almost foreign to his own ears. It was a laugh born of something deeper than humor - it was relief, joy, and a sense of being seen in a way he never had been before. That moment had been the start of everything: the stolen glances, the whispered secrets shared between classes, the way she’d lean in close, her eyes bright with something that made the whole world seem less terrifying.

Haley became his first thought in the morning, replacing the dread that had once greeted him when he opened his eyes. Instead of the anxiety that his father would be there, ready to strike, his mind was filled with thoughts of her: the way she smiled, the sound of her voice, the softness of her lips whenever they kissed, the easy way she’d tease him about his nervousness on stage. She was his anchor, the one person who made him feel like he wasn’t drowning in his own fears.

Every morning, instead of waking up with his heart racing at the thought of his father’s rage, he’d wake up thinking of Haley. He’d think of their rehearsals, of the way she’d roll her eyes when he messed up a line but would always follow it with a grin that told him she was proud of him anyway. She had made him feel safe, like maybe, there was more to life than the fear that had defined his every waking moment.

Hotch hadn’t just fallen in love with Haley; he had clung to her like a lifeline. She was the first person who had shown him what it felt like to be cared for, to be valued for who he was, not for what he could endure. She was his sanctuary from the storm that raged inside his home, and for a while, she had made him believe that he could have something good, something real.

But as he stood there now, holding the hat, those memories were tinged with the bittersweet realization of what he had lost. The love that had once saved him had crumbled under the relentless weight of his ambition and the demands of his career.

He had chosen the Bureau, chosen to bury himself in the pursuit of justice, thinking that if he worked hard enough, if he dedicated himself to the job, he could finally be free of the shadows that haunted him.

But in the process, he had lost Haley. He had lost the last piece of innocence that had made him believe he could balance it all: love, career, and a future untangled from the pain of his past. Now, the hat felt like a symbol of everything he had tried to bury, a reminder of the boy he used to be and the love that had once made him feel whole.

Hotch closed his eyes, a wave of grief and regret washing over him as he placed the hat gently back in the closet. The memories of Haley, of the warmth she had brought into his life, were still there, but they were shrouded in the painful truth that he had let her slip away. He had spent so long running from the fear of his father, trying to replace it with something brighter, but in the end, he had pushed away the very thing that had saved him

The shrill ring of his phone cut through his thoughts, jolting him back to the present. “Hotchner,” he said, masking the turmoil beneath his usual calm.

Gideon’s voice came through the line, urgent and clipped. “We’ve got a situation. A series of poisonings in Long Island, targeting public spaces. Libraries, parks, shopping centers. It’s escalating, and the unsub’s leaving messages. We need you here, now.”

Hotch glanced back at the pirate hat before slamming the closet shut. “I’ll be there in twenty,” he replied, shoving the memories aside as he grabbed his coat and headed out the door. There was no time to dwell on the past; the present demanded his full attention.

At the BAU, the team gathered around the conference table as Gideon outlined the details of the case. The poisonings were strategic, each attack aimed at places where people gathered, spreading panic through the community. The unsub’s taunts came in the form of cryptic messages, each one hinting at the next target.

Hotch’s jaw tightened as he scanned the crime scene photos, feeling the familiar pull of duty override everything else.

“We’re splitting up,” Gideon said, his gaze sweeping across the room. “Hotch, you and Peter will head to the latest crime scene. Rossi and I will cover the first.”

Hotch nodded, his face impassive as he gathered his things. He was already mentally mapping out the approach, compartmentalizing the emotional weight of the morning. But as they drove, Peter, clearly uncomfortable with the silence, tried to break the tension.

“You know, about that bet I won,” Peter began, glancing over at Hotch with a hint of a smile. “The date… with her. I’ve been trying to figure out how to make it special.”

Hotch’s eyes stayed fixed on the road, his expression tightening at Peter’s words. The mention of you - the team member who had started to break through the cracks in his own carefully guarded exterior - sent a surge of conflicting emotions through him. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Have you really thought this through?” Hotch asked, his voice low, almost a growl. “You and her, both in the field, both seeing the worst of what people are capable of… it’s not as easy as you think.”

Peter shrugged, trying to maintain his casual demeanor, but there was a defensive edge creeping in. “We’ve always been good at separating things. She gets it - she’s smart, one of the smartest people I know. We can handle it.”

Hotch’s frustration boiled over, his tone sharpening. “It’s not about being smart, Peter. This job… it changes you. It gets into your head, your heart. And you’re fooling yourself if you think it won’t affect you both. What happens when you’re forced to make a choice - her safety or the job? How do you keep that from clouding your judgment?”

Peter’s smile faltered, and his eyes flicked toward Hotch, the beginnings of anger flashing across his face. “You don’t think I know that? You think I haven’t thought about it every damn day since I realized I wanted more with her? At least I’m honest about where I stand. I’m not hiding behind this job like it’s the only thing that matters.”

The tension between them was palpable, the car’s interior charged with unspoken words and unresolved conflicts. Hotch’s gaze remained fixed on the road, but his mind was racing. Peter’s words hit closer to home than he cared to admit, scraping against wounds that had never fully healed. Peter’s willingness to embrace his feelings, to take the leap Hotch had always hesitated to make, stung in a way that was hard to articulate.

“You don’t get it, Peter,” Hotch said finally, his voice quieter, more resigned. “You have no idea what it’s like to live with the consequences of those choices. I’ve seen what it does to people, how it tears them apart. This job… it doesn’t let you have a normal life, no matter how hard you try.”

Peter stared at him, searching for something in Hotch’s expression that he couldn’t quite find. “Maybe not. But I’d rather take the risk than spend my life wondering what could have been.”

They lapsed into silence, the argument left hanging between them, unresolved. Hotch felt the weight of Peter’s words settle heavily on his shoulders, mingling with the guilt and regret that had been simmering beneath the surface since seeing Haley again.

He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know if he even had the right to. Peter’s defiance, his willingness to fight for what he wanted, was a painful reminder of the choices Hotch had made and the things he had lost in the process.

When they arrived at the crime scene, Hotch pushed all of it down, shoving the emotions into that familiar place he rarely let himself go. The crime scene was chaotic, with officers milling about, evidence markers scattered across the library floor.

Hotch’s keen eyes scanned the room, piecing together the unsub’s method, the subtle clues left behind. But something caught his attention: a bulletin board crowded with flyers and notes, too chaotic at first glance, but hiding something.

He moved closer, pulling back layers of paper until he found it: a cryptic message, written in neat, deliberate script. As he read the words, his blood ran cold, the implications settling like lead in his stomach.

The riddle painted a clear picture of the next target. Hotch’s hands trembled slightly as he stepped back, the reality sinking in.

Riverhead.

The place you were right now.

Without a word, Hotch turned and sprinted out of the building, his heart pounding with a fear that went far beyond the professional. This wasn’t just another case. It was personal, and every second mattered.

[mysteryanimator]

ANIMATION BREAKDOWN PROCESS OF THIS LETS GO (Sorry for any grammatical errors!)

SCRIPT/STORYBOARD: (you can watch here)

Now THIS. The script was very weak because I wanted to board immediately, so it started strong then fell off at the end (also generally I'm not a stronger writer, which haha fics my beloved). Now I know this, spending more time simmering with the script will genuinely only 1) stronger compositions for storyboards 2) it will be so much faster to board. Like I can board fast, but I can board fast AND well if I sit with the idea a bit longer. This will be a massive running theme how I like my shots earlier rather than further in.

side note I LIKE PANEL 11 A LOT, I just feeI didn't translate it well enough into animation which sucks because its a pretty panel and you get a softer moment from Olrox which I found was important to get across.

Also at some point, the 180 rule (which keeps characters on like one line behind the camera... not sure if I worded that right) gets broken and it bugged me for AGES but decided I had to just move on LOL.

These are my thumbnails b4 I go to animatic/cleaned storyboards which are SO MESSY (I'm a lot better at annotating my thumbs now LOL). The original prompt was top service blood bag x powerbottom vampire and i don't think i portrayed that well enough throughout BUT i think the intro did a good establishment. Which fun fact, this was scrapped but there was actually 20 seconds of Mizrak eyeing Olrox "What is it like? Blood?" Then Olrox leans down and commences the thigh glide.

These backgrounds are a mix of texture-bashing (walls/floors) along with some good ol' painting materials from scratch. Also, these are olddd and I can do a lot better yay, but was a good test to see how to make a consistent-ish scene.

ANIMATION: (You can watch the rough anim here)

I'll be super upfront how I don't like most of it AHHA. From starting this in July to posting this in September, I've improved a lot since then.

Since this was a bit ago, I don't remember too much but I remember going ham onto learning material from Dong Chang and animation servers. However in all honesty I think this was only really applied to the earlier shots. I got super frustrated with my "slow speed" so I tried to jump ship and do cleans super early on, which like lets be honest- pumping out two rough anims a day with uni on top is not slow idk what I was on about. This ended up giving me MORE work during the line/colour stage PFFT because I would end up correcting my mistakes in my roughs. Like Myst stop, this is for fun and you're learning, please take it easy LOLOL.

COMPOSITING:

Working on compositing this time around was slightly different, and I'll also admit it is not my favorite composite I've done (and again, I like my earlier shots then my later shots). My after-effects layers looked insane keeping track of the highlight glows on their clothes BUT it definitely paid off. Skin tones however were SO DIFFICULT (mostly in part to the fact I decided to experiment with how I approached it, so it definitely skewed how I worked with this)

I also definitely struggled between the dreamy look and keeping it clean and crisp, and while the dreamy blurred aesthetic does work in some cases, I opted out for the sake of clarity.

Beloved edge light my friend. It's making me learn SUPER late into it how I probably should have planned out a third shadow pass since edge light at the point is a crutch and I think planning it out ahead would get nicer more precise shadows LOL.

Because I brain rotted so hard for this animation I actually commissioned two people to help me work on this! I'll briefly talk about their stuff but please check out their work!

MUSIC: Astralbardkeep

Due the fact I don't have voiceactors, and I had a very specific vision in mind, I decided to go "you know what, let me be super self-indulgent". I had a lot of notes and inspirations for the music, BUT i wanted to have Olrox's theme from the original games peek through, which you will notice happens at the bite AND at the end.

TITLE CARD: Hataui0

This might've seemed overkill, but this friend of mine is very talented at making graphics/typography to suit the requirements of each individual project. (Also a secret ploy to make him make nocturne fanart /lh). So that entire end bit, he illustrated it along with that title, in which the themes I bestowed him were Mucha and Gothic art.

Thank you for reading if you got this far! Suffice to say this was supposed to be a compare and contrast between the animation I did in February, and while I may not quite find this body of work up to my normal standards, it substantial amount of improvement, which is the most important thing here! With the ten billion other things in my life going on, I can only be happy with the progress thus far :D

February on the left/September on the right

[luvscnarios]

PaIII. Sensation ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

Pairing :: Acheron x gn!afab!reader

──★ Synopsis :: 964 words of straight-up dry humping with Acheron 💀 MDNI !!

Notes :: wouldn't it be so crazy that the first people i come out to would be random people on tumblr before my close friends and family ?!?!? haha yeah thats totally not happening rn guys 😀 also if I spelled things wrong just tell me because i wrote this at 12 last night :| and ignore how the pic or the tittle (vocaloid song) don't really match the fic :(

You had planned for tonight to be slow and tender. Nothing too extravagant, just some lavender candles lit up on your dresser and your body clothed in nothing but a silky purple robe. Acheron’s signature color. You draped yourself on the bed as you waited for her arrival, like a porcelain doll that waited to be faithfully played with. But, those thoughts of a slow-paced night lasted about thirty seconds after Acheron walked into your bedroom because she wasted no time practically tearing you out of your robe. 

Not even a word in before she gripped you by the arm, tugging you forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss. The feeling of the harsh leather and cold bite of metal from her gloves brought great anticipation to your body, making you tightly wound like a spring. There were no words, just a fervent and insatiable desire for the warmth of your mouth and the softness of your curves. You reciprocated with an embarrassing enthusiasm but there was no shame with Acheron since everything you felt would always be laid bare by her. No time was wasted before you were manhandled on top of her, legs spread wide enough so your cunt was pressed against her own clothed pussy. 

This wasn’t exactly what you wanted from Acheron but there was no room for protest, especially when she was offering such passion with the sensation of her hands clawing at you. It has been too long since you’ve been apart from her and you were in no position to refuse what she gave you. Casting aside any scraps of hesitation left in you, you whined into her mouth as you started to rut your hips against her. Your hands made their way around Acheron’s neck, tugging her impossibly closer as she tore her lips from your mouth and down to your neck.

Everything became a blur, and both of you were too needy to situate yourselves properly. All you concerned yourself with was rubbing your drooling cunt against the rough fabric of her shorts, forming a wet patch with your slick wetness. Every nip and suck against your neck and collarbone made you gasp, you’ve been caught in a daze like no other. Your body is ablaze, your hips ache from your frantic humping against her, and yet all you could do was whimper for Acheron to take pity on you. Her grip faltered from your arm to grasp the back of your head and land a rough kiss on your forehead, that ever-so-familiar groan resounding from the back of her throat. 

“Relax. Let me do all the work.” If there was one thing you adored about Acheron, it was the fact she made promises that she could keep. One hand stayed tangled in your hair as she forced you into another brash kiss, the other grabbing you by the hip and dragging your weeping pussy back and forth against her crotch. It was all too much and too little with your clit raw and sensitive from grinding on her, your leaky hole clenching down on nothing, and your hips stinging from the metal of her gloves leaving pinpricks on your skin. 

Every whine, every moan, every cry wretched from you was swallowed up by her, never letting your lips stray too long from hers. You could barely catch your breath and your hips and thighs burned from moving back and forth against her, but you could feel your orgasm rapidly creeping up on you. You couldn’t even stop if you wanted with the way Acheron’s grip guided you so cruelly, your desire to get off melting your discomfort away. 

Any words you wanted to say dried up on your tongue, broken off into little pieces by the pleasure and carried far away from your mind. You picked up the pace and rolled your hips against her back and forth like an animal in heat, babbling incessantly in her ear. Another gentle kiss was pressed to the apple of your cheek and you squealed as she kitten-licked any stray tears in your face. Her breath was ragged and her hold was punishing, but the stuttering of her hips showed she was just as close as you. 

“Cum for me. I know you can,” she rasped the words into your ear and as if her word was law, your body shuddered as you tumbled over the edge, nails raking down her back as you came. Slick and cum stained on the inseam of her jean shorts, creating noises that were downright sinful to your ears. Acheron followed right behind you, overstimulating you as she chased her high. You went limp against her and whined as her hips gave a few final rolls before a strangled groan left her lips, eyes shut, and face scrunched up as she came. Her grip on your body finally subsided and her arms went slack, allowing herself to fully lay flat on the bed. There was no rush to part from each other and for a moment. No rush for her to push you off her body and rid herself of her now soiled bottoms. Instead, you lay together in a tangle of limbs and bodies sheen with sweat.

You plastered yourself atop her body, heaving deep breaths as your orgasm left you spent. As you gazed at Acheron’s face, you couldn’t help but giggle and rub your nose against her cheek. Finally, you’d get to say what you wanted a while back. “Hi. I missed you.” Your voice is low and breathless, but there’s still a hint of a giggle towards the end. And as Acheron’s eyes snapped open and softened upon seeing you, that left you so shamelessly giddy. 

“I missed you too, love. I really did.” 

[rain0tes]

first of all, love the art <33 (keep up with the good work!! You are doing great!) ❤️❤️❤️

and may I make a request on how Hacker!Reader might react to Sir Pentious and Adam getting stabbed brutally by nifty?

no words can explain how much I love this

— 🦊 Anon

Hi 🦊 nonnie! It's so good to see you again! How was your day? Did you drink enough water? Also, your ask really made me stop and think for a while, haha. (I'm only gonna do Lucifer getting stabbed, tho. mb)

Warnings: angst (kinda), canon typical violence, mature language, character death

Part two to this alternate scenario.

Everyone was on edge after hearing the news of what happened while Charlie and Vaggie were in that meeting in heaven. After hearing about what will happen.

You all had one month.

Despite everyone else's resolve to stay and fight, you were hesitant. You had no real skills in fighting. Hell, you'd be more of a burden than help if you were out on the battlefield.

"So what if you weren't?"

Pentious, bless his soul, was the one to suggest it. Gesturing at the android of you that the two of you had made.

You start working on another droid right there and then, although this time with tougher steel and better articulation. Pentious helps you with the more rigorous parts of building the battledroid, having more experience actually building something (this man can weld and he's damn good at it).

It took a while to configure, and then a bit more to get used to controlling it, but by the end of the month, you're well ready.

The night before, everyone was gathered at the hotels lobby, the smell of alcohol heavy in the air as you tried to gather your thoughts despite the chatter.

"Don't go sulkin on us now, toots. Come on, enjoy yaself." Angeldust laughs, pushing a glass into your hands.

"You know I don't drink." You chuckle along, shaking your head no.

"Come on, just for tonight. You look like you're about to self-destruct, and the angels aren't even here yet."

"Fine." You relent, squinting your eyes at the glass before drinking it down as fast as you could. Much to your dismay, the bitter taste still lingers on your tongue.

"Blegh. It's bitter." Angeldust laughs loudly, and you laugh along.

The rest of the night is a blur.

By the early morning, everybody was already up making preparations. Last-minute recalibrations were in order to check if everything was functioning properly.

While everybody else waited for the battle outside, you remained inside, holographic screen in front of you showing you what the droid was seeing. Two specialised controllers in both your hands, reminding you of the times you used to play vr games.

This wasn't the time for that.

As the portal to heaven opened, the battle started.

Sometime in the middle of the fight, you hear something crash from above, and you take that as a sign to leave.

Just before you can make your exit, part of the rubble falls onto your leg. After a bit of struggle, you manage to get out, but now, with a limp to your step.

Charlie sees you hobbling out of the hotel in her peripheral.

"Are you alright?"

You nod, looking around at the mess and carnage.

The smell of blood is nauseating, but the adrenaline keeps you from emptying your stomach.

"Where's Pentious?"

Almost like she had just realised that he was gone, she looked around as well, then pointed upwards.

"There!"

You turn to follow her gaze, your heart dropping to your stomach when you see just what Pentious was up to.

Adam turns to the giant war blimp, vaporizing it in a blink of an eye.

There's a ringing in your ear, the world slowing down around you.

What?

It took an embarrassingly long time for you to process what happened, especially since you were in the middle of a life or death situation.

Fighting back your tears, you summon the droid to where you are just in time to block an angels attack.

When Lucifer joined the battle, you knew that you were saved. After a bit more destruction, all was fine and well.

The angels have retreated. You can finally relax, your body a bit battered, but that's something that can be fixed later.

A strangled yelp catches your attention, turning to look at Lucifer, blood pouring out of a new wound you're sure wasn't there earlier.

Nifty dangles on with a knife in her hands.

You move before you can realise it. Wires wrapping around the small sinner, throwing her off to the side as you scanned through Lucifers wounds.

"No, no, no. Not again." Your voice cracks as you cradle the king of hell close to you. You already lost a friend tonight, you're not going to lose another.

You look at the still bleeding wound. Placing a hand over it, you mutter an apology before using your electricity to cauterize the wound.

You purse your lips into a thin line, hands trembling as you check Lucifers pulse.

It's slow, but there.

You let out a big sigh of relief, a chuckle escaping your throat as tears freely flow down from your face. You can't tell if they're from happiness, grief, or both.

Vaggie pries Lucifer out of your trembling hands while Charlie places a hand on your back, trying to console your sobbing form.

(masterlist)