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apollyonsdarksecrets · 1 year

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Cold nights, red Flannel

Joel Miller X Afab!Fem!Reader

Summary: when the power goes out in your building Joel is more than happy to let you have his bed, but when his already sore back flares up in the middle of the night he’s given no choice but to share with you. Things play out differently than expected when he wakes up in the morning tangled up with you in between the sheets.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI) 18+ only, slow burn, dead child, dead people and the fire pit, cussing, age gap (reader is in their thirties), alcohol, Joel gets a ✨massage✨ thigh riding, teasing Joel, Dom!Joel, fingering, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, Joel is… big, slight breeding kink, raw p in v (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk.

Joel Miller Master List

Word Count: you’ve read my other stories right? This is long, buckle up butter cup.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The worst jobs earn the most money, it was something you were quick to pick up on, and if you wanted to live the best, you had to do the worst.

The burn pit was busier than usual, truck after truck with what seemed like no end in sight. Everything from your hands to your feet ached, clothes covered in the grey ash irritating your lungs, and the smell was unforgiving. You’ve already added your second bandanna, the lack of clean air nearly suffocating.

“You’re slowin’ down.” The man beside you notes, Texan accent laces his words as he crosses his arms over his chest, voice gruff from being here as long as you have.

“Coming from the man who has taken a water break every thirty minutes.” You snip back, lighthearted in your accusation, looking over to find your ‘coworker’, Joel Miller, tilting his head, brown eyes glaring under salt and pepper eyebrows. He points to the truck behind you, silently telling you to get moving.

You smile even though he can’t see it and turn on your heel, heading for the last body, but your cheeky attitude slips away. You swallow thickly, eyes scanning over the hooded and bound body. They are small in stature, an old cartoon character printed on the back of their white, clean shirt. They look so out of place on the blood and mud stained truck bed.

Only a child.

Joel is quick to notice your sudden hesitation, his own small smile falling as he follows your gaze.

“I’ll get ‘em.”

“No, it’s fine.” You stomp down your emotions, scooping the kid up, to light and frail, and walk them over to the fire. You whisper a prayer, like you’ve done with every child before and toss him over the wall. Soot blows up into the air, orange and red embers dancing among the cloud and you’re forced to pry your gaze away as the flame swallows their body.

“Last one!” A driver yells, the screeching of the reverse alarm cutting through the air. Relief washes over you, closing your eyes momentarily, the day was almost done.

“Son of a bitch.” You turn then, Joel’s looking at the truck in disbelief and when your attention lands on the man in the bed your jaw physically drops open.

The man before you is a literal beast, his height alone impressive but the muscle on him makes you thankful you never ran into him when he was alive.

Had to of been some kind of enforcer.

“Hey, yo, can we like get a horse or something? This guys fucking huge!” You call out to the truck driver who only sneers before disappearing back into the cab.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it.” Joel shushes you, steeping up and dragging the guy by his thighs closer to the edge of the bed, huffing and grunting looking for the best leverage point.

You laugh slightly, steeping back. “Sure, whatever you say cowboy, he’s all yours.” You cross your arms, excited to see how this pans out as Joel tries to position the hulk. To your surprise he’s able to lift the guy onto his shoulder with a strained groan. “Oooo okay, you’ve been working out.” You let out a sharp whistle, his eyes glancing to yours as he stumbles for the fire, giving you a playful wink.

The banter is cut short with his next step though when he cries out in pain, nearly crumbling under the weight as something in his back spasms. You rush forward, grabbing onto the body, helping carry him the rest of the way and over the wall.

“Fuck!” Joel barks, face pinched as he hunches over, hand pressing into his back.

“What happened?”

“My back… I’m fine. “ He grits out between clenched teeth, sucking in a few breaths before trying to straighten up.

Someone blows a whistle, signaling the end of the day and people start to rush past you both for the pay out line, ignoring Joel’s insistent cussing.

You offer your shoulder for him to lean on but he waves away your concern, telling you he just needs a minute to collect himself before you both make your way to get your ration cards.

Instead of signing up for another shift you decide to give yourself the next two days off, hoping to sleep as much as you can before hitting the next work period hard. You walk off to the side, waiting patiently for Joel out of habit as he goes down the list, rubbing at his spine.

Being this far from the fire you realize how cold it is, the setting sun the only indication that it’s about to get colder, and you know spring is still a few months away.

You glance to Joel as he haggles with the enforcer, probably over the shortened pay. Over the last five years you and Joel have worked together on numerous jobs, and he’s never shy to insist the right pay for the services you both provide. Though at first never coordinated, you both realized how effortlessly you worked with the other, always fast and to the point with whatever resources given, both searching for the most money.

You recall noticing him when you arrived at your first job at this QZ, his hair a little less grey back then but eyes just as intense. It wasn’t until your fifth job did you say something to him after catching him watching you for the first hour of your shift at the pit.

With whatever confidence you had, you’d walked right up to him, hands on your hips and chin tilted up with a sarcastic smile. “Does my stalker have a name?”

The notion had been so wildly outlandish that after he stared at you for a minute, mouth open and eyebrows raise, he barked out a laugh. A true belly laugh that had everyone turning their heads in shock and confusion.

It was the talk of the job.

Some new girl got the old grump to laugh.

From that moment on Joel decided to stick close by, your fiery attitude attracting him just as much as your smarts. He taught you how to play the system, which officers were more lenient than others, and when he grew to trust you he began taking you on contraband runs. You picked up on the trade quickly, surprising him when you started going out on your own and Joel knew he’d chosen well.

Joel now limps over, pulling you from your thoughts. “Ya know I have this stuff that can help with that.” You state, turning and walking with him towards your apartments.

“Got some icy hot, I’ll be fine.”

“20 year old icyhot? Yeah that most definitely will do the trick.” Your sarcasm isn’t lost on him as he glares done at you. You raise your hands in surrender, walking the rest of the way in silence as the street bustles with life around you.

Parting ways at your building you watch for a moment as Joel limps along, shaking his head back and forth, a clear sign he’s talking to himself. You snort, grabbing for the door handle only to have it ripped away, your next door neighbor nearly knocking into you as she storms from the building.

“Woah, Joanne, maybe next time you can just run me over and we will call it a day.” You snap, glaring as she turns at the sound of your voice, she’s the buildings ‘manager’, a lose term for someone who takes your money and doesn’t fix a damn thing unless it involves her apartment directly.

Not much has changed since the end of the world.

“The entire building is out! I’m trying to get someone to fix it!” Her wrinkled face is red with anger, greying hair disheveled like she’d been pulling at the roots all day.

“Wait what?”

She rolls her eyes, exasperation clipping her words. “There was construction going on next door and they clipped a line or something. No lights, no heat, no fucking water to the entire building.” She turns on her heel, not bothering for what you have to say next and stomps down the road.

You throw your hands up in frustration, groaning at the sky, mentally cursing whatever was out there when a thought comes to mind. You bite your lip, weighing out your options before you are rushing down the street in search of Joel.

Luck seems to finally be on your side as you round the street corner, finding him leaning against a light post, talking to a man you recognize but can’t place with a name.

Jogging over the shaggy haired man’s eyes flicker to you, his posture becoming rigid before he quickly dismissing himself. Joel turns, expecting an officer or worse, and his expression softens as you slow to a stop beside him. “Heya Sunshine.”

When Joel decided to take you in, he made it very clear to others that ran around in the same under ground circles that you were not to be fucked with, being one of the few in his inner circle gave you a type of immunity not so sparingly given out.

“Hey… shit… my power is out.”

“Did ya forget to pay?” He’s mocking you only slightly, concern still underlining his tone.

“No, it’s the whole building, Joanne said someone must have cut a wire or something… I was wondering if maybe… we’ll I’m still covered in all this…” You hesitate, hoping he will fill in the gap as you gesture to yourself but he only stares. Joel always made you use your words. “I was wondering if I could borrow your shower, I’ll be super quick, I swear.”

Joel nods, looking down the road towards his building. “Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem, give me about an hour to soak my back first and then you can come over.” You’re washed with relief, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug, catching him by surprise.

“Thank you, thank you so much!” Before he can reply you’re sprinting down the street and around the corner, he stares after you blinking slowly before looking around, a blush staining his cheeks.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Having only been to Joel's apartment a handful of times, it took you longer than you would of liked to admit to find his door, and there may have been the help of an elderly man along the way.

This time though, as the door opens, Joel is on the other side. His greying hair slicked back and still damp, he’s dressed in a long sleeve shirt with matching black sweats. “Well, don’t you clean up nice.” You make a point to look him over as you step into his apartment, breathing in the warm air.

Joel only snorts. “Yeah, sure. Bathrooms that way, should still be plenty of hot water, I rigged my heater a few months back.”

You smile at that, “What a naughty boy you are, Joel Miller.” You wink following his direction, closing yourself in the bathroom.

Joel leans against his front door for a moment, appreciating this side of you that is rare to see, as much back and forth as you two give each other at work you personality blossoms when it’s just you and him. And damn was it flirtatious. Some way or another you’ve kept a spark of life through the last 20 years that has Joel hooked like an addict, even if he could never bring himself to say so.

In the bathroom you’re pulling out your bath products, setting them next to his and the contrast of them makes you laugh a little. Pinks and purples next to dull grays and blues. You have the fleeting thought to look for something special just for Joel on your next run as you twist the shower nob. The pipes groan before sputtering to life, you wait until the waters just a little to hot before undressing and stepping in. You hiss involuntarily, skin blushing under the heat before you relax.

This was the hottest shower you’d had in years and you might just have to start lying about your power being out to get more of this. You allow yourself to relax for a moment longer before you begin to wash away the day.

*~*~*~*~*~*

You emerge thirty minutes later, steam following behind you, you’re dressed in your better winter clothes, but even that’s a stretch. Your sweater hangs on your frame, three sizes to big and moth eaten, your sweatpants in much the same condition.

Joel glances up at you from his rickety table, two mix match glasses and a bottle in front of him. “Is one of those for me?” He simply pours you a shot, sliding the glass across the table as you take your seat, curling your legs up under yourself. You lift the amber liquid in cheers, Joel mimicking your actions as you down the shot. It burns your taste buds, dropping into your stomach like a lead weight.

Coughing you turn the glass over, face scrunched in disgust making Joel laugh as he pours himself another. “Can’t handle your liquor?”

“Was never much of a drinker before all of this, haven’t acquired the taste just yet.” You manage to wheeze out, rubbing at your chest where it still burns. “Thank you again, it would have really sucked to of gone to bed still covered in that shit.”

Joel stands, chair scrapping across the floorboards. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. Don’t need the whole building knowing I’m giving out free showers.” He gathers the glasses and takes them to the small sink, before opening his fridge, “How do you plan on staying warm tonight?”

“Um, probably throw on a extra layer and pray I wake up with all my toes.” You drum a rhythm on the table, watching him as he pulls a container from the fridge, grabbing two forks and walking over to you.

You attentions stays on the container as he drags his chair closer, setting it on the table. Inside is beef and rice and your stomach grumbles at the sight of it. Your eyes jump to Joel and he give you a smile, handing you a fork. “Eat.”

You know not to look a gifted horse in the mouth, splitting the container down the middle and enjoying the cold food as much as you enjoy the comfortable silence.

Joel suddenly lifts his head, sniffing the air before turning his gaze on you, stopping you mid bite to stare back.

“What?”

“Do I smell… cookies?”

Your face lights up with a grin. “Oh yeah, I was baking in the bathroom.” He doesn’t look amused and it adds to your enjoyment. “Sugar cookies, specifically. You have your contraband, and I have mine.”

Contraband consisting of feminine products you’ve scored over the last few years, keeping nearly 70 other women fairly stocked and your pockets lined.

“Where ya hiding them? Under this?” He plucks at your shirt, distaste written across his face making you laugh, a sound Joel likes a little to much.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Miller.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively earning an eye-roll, his foot nudging your chair.

He slides you the rest of his food as he stands. “You can sleep here for tonight, I’ll take the couch.” He’s talking over his shoulder as he walks into his joined bedroom, leaving you to shovel the rest of the food into your mouth.

“Wait… your back, you should really sleep in your own bed Joel.” You can hear drawers opening and closing before a soft grunt of satisfaction as Joel finds whatever it is he is looking for. “I really don’t want to inconvenience you any further.”

“It ain’t an inconvenience, and my backs fine, the icy hot did the trick, just like I said it would.” He comes back into view carrying a very large red button down flannel, tossing to you. It’s thick, the fabric soft to the touch and smells clean with an underlying musk that’s unmistakably Joel. “That’ll keep you warm, a lot better than what you’ve got on now.”

“Really? Are you-.”

“Don’t argue with me. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to. Okay?”

A light blush tints your cheeks, glancing up at him through your lashes with a sweet smile that has his stomach tightening. “Thank you Joel.”

“You’re welcome.” He rejoins you at the table, watching you pick at a loose thread on the shirt.

Maybe it’s the fact you don’t know much about Joel, or maybe it’s the fact that this is the very first time you’ve been alone with him, no one else in the room, no traders. Curiosity sparks and it’s a hard flame to put out.

“Do you… are there things you miss about before?”

He glanced at you, your eyes still trained on the garment. “What do you mean?”

“Well like… I use to do kickboxing, I miss that a lot… I miss going on coffee dates with my girlfriends… things like that.” You shrug, refusing to meet his gaze incase he thought this was silly, ridiculous even. You were never good at small talk.

Joel is silent for a moment longer, biting at his lip. “I miss football with my brother.”

You smile. “Tommy right? My daddy loved football, he wasn’t going anywhere on Sunday night.” You laugh softly, resting your chin on your knee. “I miss mall Chinese food, they always loaded up so much on those plates and I could never finish it.”

“That was about the only thing I liked at the mall, we didn’t go there much though. I miss my guitar, I don’t even know if I could play it now if I remembered any songs…” Joel chuckles, “I loved the SNL show, tv in general I loved to stay up at night with…” His voice fades off, fist clenched slightly out of your peripherals and though you don’t know much you know at some point during the start of everything he had lost a child.

Clearing your throat you jump to change topics. “Do you like wine?” You lock eyes with him then, his expression a little more retreated.

“I haven’t found one I’m a huge fan of, but I never turn down a glass.”

Your smile does that thing to his stomach again and he can’t stop his gaze falling to your lips for the briefest of seconds. “Well good, there’s this lady I trade with in my building and she makes wine. I’ll have to bring you a bottle one night.”

The corner of his mouth twitches up, “trying to wine and dine me, Sunshine?” A blush creeps up your cheeks turning your smile sheepish.

“Maybe, only if you pay for dinner.”

Joel scoffs, the ease returning to his features as he tilts his head to the side. Your heart hammers a little faster under his gaze. “What a cheap date you are.” He mumbles softly, resting his elbows on the table leaning his head against interlocked hands.

“The cheapest.” You breath back, mirroring his posture. He smiles warmly butterfly’s erupting under your skin giving you that giddy school girl feeling that takes your breath away and turns your brain too mush..

“I’ll look forward to it then.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

You’d only been asleep a few hours when your name reaches your ears, startling you awake. You sit up mattress squeaking under your weight as you peer into the darkness.

“J-Joel?”

His sleep riddled voice bounces back to you. “I need help.” Instantly your scrambling out of bed, flipping on a light as you round the wall to find Joel looking up at you from where he lay on the couch, red faced and defeated.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t get up… I gotta take a piss.” Joel hasn’t felt this level of embarrassment since throwing his back out working with his brother and had to be carried down to the hospital. The feeling only digging deeper as he watches your face fall padding over to him, extending your hands.

“I told you to sleep in your own bed, Joel.” You abolish gently, pulling him to his feet. His grip tightens on your arms, hissing as his back straightens out, taking the moment to get his bearings before he releases you, grumbling something under his breath and limping to the restroom.

You sigh, going to your duffle bag and rummaging through its contents before you finally come across a small bottle of chamomile and lavender.

Joel comes out a few minutes later, eyes trained on the floor. “Sorry.”

“Hey it’s okay, I tore my shoulder apart when I was in highschool and could hardly use it for a year. Had to have people help me all the time.” You try to sympathize with his situation, your expression soft and warm as his eyes find yours. “But, luck for you, I think you only pulled a muscle. And I have something to help with that.” You lift the little bottle shaking its contents.

Joel eyes it suspiciously, crossing his arms over his chest, “I ain’t taken that.”

You scoff, grabbing his bicep, pulling him towards his bed. “You don’t take it, now lay down and lift up your shirt.”

Joel turns on you, looking horrified like you’ve grown two heads all of a sudden. “Excuse me?”

“Just trust me.” You pull him again, squeezing his arm, Joel hesitates, glancing from the bed then down at himself. “I use to be a message therapist. I’ve seen a thousand naked backs, yours isn’t going to be any different.” You encourage, smiling at him as he glances your way.

Sighing Joel relents, kneels onto the bed, pulling his shirt over his head and laying down, folding his arms under his head.

Okay.

Maybe you were wrong.

Joel’s back is defined, scars littering in various stages of time, some more purple compared to others. Shaking your head you swallow your sudden nerves, kneeling beside him. You open the bottle, the smell instantly filling the room and dump it into the palm of your hand, the oil slipping between your fingers, soaking your sweats and you curse silently, setting the bottle onto the night stand.

“Tell me where it hurts the most.” You instruct, rubbing your hands together to warm the oil before placing them on Joel’s lower back, his hips twitching slightly at the sudden contact.

“A little to the right.” His skin is warm and he hums softly under your touch, shifting his shoulders and head, wishing he could see your face. “There.” You set to work, finding the knot in his muscle and kneading the area, digging your thumbs and palms into his flesh.

Joel groans, long and drawn out and a thrill works it’s way down your spine at the sound, “To much?” Your voice is softer than you initially intended it to be, much to sensual sounding.

It’s just a back rub. Nothing more, be more professional.

He shakes his head, his body relaxing fully. “You weren’t lying.” He’s muffled slightly by the pillow but you can hear his smile.

“Yeah I went to school and everything. It’s like riding a bike, you just never forget.”

“Get an A from me darlin’.” Your heart swells with his praise, staying quiet as you continue messaging his back, traveling up to his shoulders and back down to his hips, the silence interrupted occasionally by a soft grunt or groan coming from Joel.

It’s only when he goes quiet, his breath turning even and deep do you stop, whispering his name. When he doesn’t reply you ease away and into the restroom, washing your hands and shedding your oil soaked pants.

Joel’s soft snores are all that can be heard as you stand at the foot of the bed, chewing on your lower lip trying to decide what to do from here. The couch is now free, but there is only one blanket, which is now trapped under Joel. There are enough pillows to maybe set one between you both, make a little barrier of sorts…

Would Joel be mad if he woke up in the same bed as you? You shift your weight from one foot to the other, mind racing with every possible reason as to why he would be mad, before you finally take a deep breath and tiptoe to the other side.

Without giving yourself time to talk yourself out of it you climb under the covers, setting a pillow in between you, praying that Joel won’t be upset in the morning as you drift off.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Joel wakes up slowly, conciseness coming to him little by little with the early morning sun lighting the room. He’s warm, body heavy and mind sluggish from what has possibly been his best sleep in years. Selfishly he wants to hold onto it a little longer, screw whatever he thought he needed to get done today and bury himself back into his dreamless sleep.

It’s only when he shifts, his chin bumping something firm, does he feel the weight on him. Blinking slowly he lifts his head, looking down to find himself tangled up with you. Your head is resting on his shoulder, leg slung over his hip while his own is slotted between your thighs, and you’ve seemed to have lost your pants; Joel being granted a perfect view of your black panties that hide little to the imagination.

And all of the sudden he’s overly aware of you, of how soft your waist is under his callused palm, of how you still smell of sugar cookies and lavender, of the little puffs of air leaving you full lips ghosting across his neck. Then there is how his flannel has morphed to your curves, twisted around your body showing the pudge of your stomach and his blood is rushing somewhere… South.

All he can think about is how damn good you look wearing only his clothing. Joel’s heart rate picks up, his fingers drifting to your hair on their own, carding themselves through the soft strands, “Sunshine.”

You hum in your sleep, grip tightening around him as you nuzzle closer, lips brushing the column of his throat making him hold his breath as you settle again.

I’m going to hell.

It’s all he can think, his body so readily responding to you and you’re not even aware of it. You’re in your thirty’s for fucks sakes he shouldn’t even be considering this… but…

Tentatively, his grip tightens on your hair, pulling your head back so he can finally see your face. You look so peaceful, your features soft and delicate in your sleep he almost hates to ruin it. Almost.

“Honey … sweet girl wake up.” Joel’s voice is firmer, cutting into your sleep, rousing you with a small grumble.

“What…” You voice is horse, rolling your head to the side as you yawn, sleep holding on tight.

“It’s just me.” He can’t stop himself, seeing the length of your neck exposed like that, he leans down, gently kissing the delicate skin and you gasp, body tensing slightly. “Just me.” His thigh shifts up, pressing between your own and he can feel the heat radiating off of you through his sweatpants and it makes him feral.

“W-Ah… what are you doing?” You whimper, eyes pinching shut, fingers digging into his ribs as he finds that soft spot just under your ear earning another small gasp.

“Repaying you… For last night.” His grip on your hair disappears, finding your hip and rolling you onto your back. Your eyes snap open, breath trapped in your throat at the intense look of lust etched into Joel’s face. Now that you can fully see him your stomach tightens, need zipping down your spine as your eyes drink him in.

Just like his back his chest is defined, shoulders broad with a light dusting of hair that runs down to his stomach, and just past the waistband of his sweats where you can clearly see the outline of his…

You swallow audible, causing Joel to snort. Your eyes dart back to his and you swear you can feel your body melting with the fire in his gaze. He dips his face closer, bumping his nose against yours and smiles as you nervously squirm, thighs clenching around his where it still rests pressed against your mound.

“This okay?” As he speaks his lips just barely touch your own and you already feel your thoughts emptying out one by one as you nod slowly, eyes never leaving his own. “Tell me, need to hear your sweet voice.”

“Th-this is okay.”

With that he’s on you, restraint snapping as he finally kisses you, rough and hungry and desperate. Teeth, tongue and spit, forcing a moan from your throat with the intensity of it all, that Joel is all too happy to swallow up. His thigh presses in closer, your hips bucking involuntarily, dragging a moan from low in his chest.

Your hands slide up to his shoulders, gripping anything you can find for leverage as he sinks you into the mattress, drowning you in the covers, the pillows, and him.

Arousal consumes you, sparking in your stomach and traveling through your veins making you light headed, having not felt this type of high in many, many years. You grind yourself up against his thigh, your slick wetting your panties and soon creating a darker spot on his sweats.

You moan as he pulls away, attacking your neck again and pulling at your shirt, trying to expose whatever skin he can. “J-Joel… m… what’s.. what’s gotten into you?” Your losing your breath, the hand he isn’t propping himself up with traveling over your body, down your thigh, up your side, fingers sliding along the other side of your throat making goosebumps raise the hairs on your skin.

“Just want you, been wanting you since I laid eyes on you.” He admits, your face flushing with heat. “D’ya know how many times I’ve fucked my hand thinking about you? All laid out and pretty on my cock.” A filthy moan leaves your lips, grinding against his thigh to relieve the ache building between your legs.

Joel sits back, both hands finding your hips, encouraging your movements. “That’s right sweet girl, just like that.” You whine into the air, hands dropping to the bed gripping the sheets. He stares down at you, lust darkening his brown eyes as you grind against him. “Make all those pretty sounds for me, it’s just us.”

You nod, chasing after your building pleasure, breathy moans falling from your lips. Joel ruts against the back of your thigh, hands bruising your hips in the most delicious way. “J-Joel… need more… please…” Your clit throbs painfully, the angle you’re at restricting you from rubbing it how you want against his thigh.

“So greedy, go ahead play with yourself baby, wanna see you cum on my thigh before I fuck you, senseless.” Your fingers find your clit and rub harsh circles through the damp fabric of your panties, flying to that familiar peak, teetering right on the edge as you moan his name, hips frantic, but you need more, you want more.

Joel coos softly, enjoying your struggle. The pinched look, the wobble of your lips, as you search for that last little something. “I know you can do it baby, cum for me. Show me how good you can be and soak my thigh.” His words are your tipping point, sending you spiraling into that void of dark bliss as your orgasm rips through you.

The noises that leave your delicate throat consume Joel, and he’s whispering soft praises that you don’t hear, watching your legs tremble and hand still. “There it is, did so good for me baby.” You go limp underneath him, chest heaving with each shuddering breath, eyes shut and mind to far gone.

“Let me get this off of you.” He takes his time, slowing down to let you ride your bliss, undoing each button of the flannel. “Sit up.” You hardly have to, just lifting your shoulders and head before he throws the flannel across the room and you’re sunk back into the pillows.

Your panties and his sweats follow shortly after. His lips back on you, kissing between your breasts his beard scratching your skin in the most delirious way. “Joel…”

But his fingers are finding your slick heat, a groan reverberating through his chest and into yours. “So fucking wet, you liked that baby? Like getting yourself off on my thigh?” Warm embarrassment fills your belly, reigniting that fire. You nod slowly, keeping your eyes shut to avoid his intense gaze. “You getting shy on me now? Just a second ago you were fucking my leg.” He smiles against your skin watching the red tinting your cheeks grow darker, turning your away from him.

“J-Joel don’t… Don’t be mean.”

“Not bein’ mean.” Two thick fingers are suddenly sinking into you, a shrill cry retching itself from your throat. “Just given ya what ya want.” Your brain turns to mush with each pump of his fingers, hands scrambling to find any perches, a set of nails digging into his shoulder, the other tugging at the sheets. “Fuck… you’re so tight, gotta get you ready for me.”

His thumb finds your clit, working the bundle of nerves making moans echo through the room. Those thick fingers press against that gummy spot inside you that makes your hips stutter, your moans a little louder and he smiles in triumph, teeth nipping your breast watching the skin bloom with red marks. “S’that the spot?”

“Mmhmm…” it takes everything you have just to hum out an answer, mouth hanging open, thighs trembling as you’re brought back to orgasm, again. Climbing that mountain, no running it, to your tipping point.

“Can feel you squeezing my fingers baby, you gonna cum again so soon?” Joel doesn’t need your reply, even if you could give him one, your hips rocking to meet the rhythm he’s set. He doesn’t ease up, watching you come undone below him with a few more expert swipes of his thumb across your throbbing clit.

You make him feel young again, his body thrumming with pure, carnal lust. Something he hasn’t felt in years as he draws his slick coated fingers to his mouth, tasting you for what, hopefully, will be the first time of many. “Mmm… So sweet baby, I could spend hours just eating you.”

You whine pathetically, shaking your head back and forth, hair clinging to your face with sweat. “C-can’t…” Joel shakes his head, laughing darkly before tapping your cheek with the pads of his fingers.

“Look at me, Sunshine.” The timber in his voice makes you obey instinctively, finding his steady gaze. He grips your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks making your lips pout comically. “I know you’ve got one more in ya, I need to feel your cunt squeeze my cock. Think you can do that for me? Hmm?”

Joel shifts closer as he speaks, settling himself between your shaking thighs. His cock brushes against your puffy lips drawing a small whine from the back of your throat. You nod, Joel letting go of your checks as arousal washes through you once more, almost painfully so, as he rocks forward, the underside of his cock slipping easily through your damp folds, coating himself in your cream.

He hunkers over you, forcing your legs wider and rests on one elbow as he guides his cock to your opening, nudging in. “Relax darlin’, don’t wanna hurt you.”

Before you can even comprehend what is being said Joel thrusts forward, sinking in a few inches with a grovel moan. Your toes curl, eyes squeezing shut with a whine, the stretch hurting in a way you never want to stop.

“F-fuck Joel… s-so big.” A hand slips into his hair, tugging harshly causing him to gasp, a wicked smile pulling at his lips.

“You haven’t seen nothin yet, little girl.” He pins you to the mattress with his weight, thrusting until he’s fully seated inside you, heavy balls pressed to your ass. Your pussy squeezes him tightly, pain mixing with the pleasure intoxicatingly. He’s big, bigger than any man you’d been with in years, and as he pulls out only to thrust back in, the head of his cock kisses your cervix.

“Oooooh fuuuck!” You cling to his shoulders, his neck, his back, legs locking around his middle; anywhere to pull him closer as his pace evens out, fucking into you roughly. The old bed squeaks, headboard tapping the wall and above it all are the sounds leaving your lips to mix with his.

“Feel so good baby… been dreaming about this pussy.” Joel huffs out between thrusts, pressing his forehead to yours. The farther he slips into his arousal the thicker his accent gets, words dripping onto your nerves like honey.

“Wanted you to… so long Joel .” You pant, rocking your hips to match what he’s giving you. That glorious pressure building again in your body, cunt fluttering around his cock. “Don’t stop… oh fuck please don’t stop.” You can feel every ridge and vein rubbing along your walls in just the right way, his mushroom head bullying that sweet spot making your eyes roll.

“Not gonna stop, baby. Not gonna stop.” Joel groans, one hand gripping your waist to steady himself as he bullies his cock into you.

Your fingers slip between your bodies, finding your clit with a soft moan, rubbing tight circles. “I’m… im gonna cum…” you whine against his lips, noses bumping, breathing each others air.

“Come on then… cum on my cock baby, let me feel it.” Joel knows he won’t last much longer his thrust starting to turn sloppy. “Fuck… wanna fuck you full of me, watch it drip out. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Let everyone know who fucked you so good huh?” You thighs squeeze his hips in response to far gone to acknowledge him as you topple over the edge, crying his name as the pleasure blinds you momentarily.

Joel cusses burying his face in the side of your neck, your cunt sucking him in . “Fuck baby, fuck baby, fuck!” He pulls back, cock twitching and jets of cum landing on your stomach and abused lips. He fists himself, grunting against your shoulder as he comes down, body relaxing and dopamine flowing through him.

“J-Joel…” You breath, feeling his weight more and more.

“M’ Sorry…” He whispers, rolling himself onto his back, your stiff legs dropping to the mattress. You’re both panting wildly, chests heaving and sweat coating your skin.

You blink at the ceiling slowly, the neurons in your brain starting to fire again. “Well…” A small laugh bubbles out of you, Joel lazily looking over at you confused. “I’ve never been woken up like that before.”

Joel scoffs loudly and your giggle turns into a full laugh, lifting your head to look down at yourself. “Do I at least get a rag?”

“Better, ya can come get in the shower with me.” Joel groans as he sits up, giving you his hand. “Gonna need another one of those messages after that.”

#smut #apollyonsdarksecrets #joel miller #the last of us smut #the last of us #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #Joel Miller breeding

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alyakthedorklord · 1 year

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Welcome to Danny’s

Danny making a cafe/restaurant/whatever named Danny’s, in gotham, while on the run from GIW. A bunch of ghosts visit bc danny also makes ecto snacks from the secret menu in a side room. Due to this, it has the same liminal feeling and insane shit that happens in denny’s parking lots. (It’s like the fun sized and feral au by @nutcase8691 but i have a funny name.)

Sometimes Danny’s holds concerts for a famous rockstar (ember). Sometimes suspicious patrons walk right through a wall (into the ghost section). Sometimes there’s a frankenweenie outbreak if Danny is sleep deprived. It’s always freezing and yet somehow no one ever really gets uncomfortably cold. There’s ice sculptures. Plants that twitch and wave even if poison ivy isn’t around. Astrology maps on the walls that sometimes shift into occult symbols and hieroglyphics. Sometimes, after closing, (which is at the weirdest times honestly its open all night but closes random hours of the day) if you look through the slats in the window blinds it’s like you’re staring into the cosmos.

If you set up a fight (meet me in danny’s parking lot, 3am) there will be a referee even if you didn’t communicate it with the shop. The ref gives weapons, knows first aid, and stops fights if they get too rough. The second the fight is over they vanish into thin air.

Danny’s is neutral territory. Sometimes bad guys try to claim it but danny sets them straight. He doesn’t care if its a gang or a rouge, if they mess with his shop, or with anything/anyone too close to his shop, the Man Himself will emerge with a baseball bat, knock people out cold, stand over their groaning bodies and announce, “welcome to danny’s.” He’s never lost. He took out bane once. The Joker he didn’t even use the baseball bat he came after him with his fists. The joker doesn’t even have to be doing anything if he comes near danny will hunt him down. It’s like he has a radar around the shop. Once a really tired Red Robin herded him into the radar with a confused Red Hood’s help bc he just didn’t want to deal. Danny takes the clown out with a spectacular flying tackle before joker even realizes he’s wandered too close.

Jason goes to check it out later. Comes up to the counter to order and the tiny wayne bait guy behind the counter takes one look at him and goes:

“let me grab the secret menu”

“Uh… no, i just want a-“

“Trust me.” The guy says, eyes turning Lazarus green. “You want the secret menu.”

Part 2 of my ramblings (NOT a proper fic)

#dp x dc prompt #dc dp #dennys #danny has issues with clowns #the secret menu is glow in the dark green #food is the exact same but ecto #dp x dc

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clockwayswrites · 8 days

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*writes 800+ words of Another Red but not the part I'm supposed to*

Jason breathed in the heavy clove scented smoke, taking comfort in it. He didn’t smoke often anymore, but if Bruce and Alfred hadn’t gotten him to stop, he didn’t think he ever would. Somethings were just too much part of a person. The smoke swirled up into the night air, caught in the constant breeze a harbor city like Gotham had.

“You don’t have to do this kid, put yourself in danger like this.”

“No, I do,” Rabbit bit out. Jason was pretty sure if he could see the kid’s teeth, they would be bared in a feral smile. “What I can’t do is let people get hurt when I can go and help them.”

“Yeah, and what about your safety? You could die.”

Rabbit laughed like that was some sort of big joke and Jason felt himself bristling at the reaction. Jason knew how dangerous this was— more than anyone else in his family. He’d felt that fear and pain and—

“Yeah, well, Hood, sorta too late for that.”

Jason’s anger left him so suddenly that he felt cold in it’s absence. No—

“Do you know, it’s not the death itself that’s bad,” Rabbit drawled, almost lazily. He finally lit his gifted cigarette. He didn’t take his mask off, like Jason had hoped he would, but ducked his head down and pushed the mask up just enough to take a slow drag. He looked so small like that, hunched over on himself with the bright ember dangling from his fingertips. “The body stopping everything… it’s sorta of quiet. All those functions we don’t think about going on all the time— breath’n and blink’n and beat’n… it’s quite without all that going on. Nah, it’s not the actually dy’n that’s so bad, it’s the fear that comes with it.”

“Yeah.” The admission almost hurt Jason to choke out.

“Yeah,” Rabbit agreed. He took another drag from the cigarette. His free hand was curled over his head, likely to keep his face hidden from Jason, but it just made Rabbit look all the more like a scared kit. “And that fucking fear? That worst part? I live with that all the fucking time, Hood, so nah, I’m not so ‘fraid of dy’n‘gain.”

“At least let me help you avoid it,” Jason said. He didn’t mean to plead but fuck if he wasn’t.

Rabbit snorted and took one more drag before he snuffed out his cig and stood. “Yeah? And how do you plan to do that?”

All traces of the drawling accent was gone and that hint of Gotham was back in Rabbit’s voice.

Jason wondered which was more real.

He reached into his belt instead of pressing the matter— instead of pressing the accent or take on death or talking Rabbit out of this life. Jason knew in every shattered bone of his that it wouldn’t do any good. This life already had the kid by the neck and there was nothing to do about it. It would choke Rabbit out one way or another, just like the rest of them.

The red fob was innocuous against his glove, could hardly even see it in the dim, yellow light of th Narrows. Red on red on red—

“Take it.”

Rabbit didn’t.

“What is it?” he asked instead, leaning forward just a little.

“A panic button.”

Rabbit snorted and flicked the remains of the cigarette at Jason. “I’m not taking a fucking tracker.”

“It’s not a tracker until you activate it. You press and hold the button on each side for two seconds and only if you do that is it a tracker. I can’t activate it remotely on my end or anything,” Jason said. “It’s the same one I give some street kids and sex workers. There’s nothing special about it, it’s just a tracker.”

Rabbit watched Jason with an eerie stillness. “Swear it.”

“I swear, it’s just a panic button. It’s only a track if you turn it on.”

Rabbit still didn’t move. Jason sighed and started to pull his hand back before Rabbit darted forward and grabbed the panic button. The little fucker was quick.

“I won’t press it just for anything,” Rabbit said with a defiant jut of his chin.

“Wouldn’t expect you too,” Jason said with an honest, easy shrug.

Rabbit watched a moment longer before he pulled out a keyring without any keys and put the button in. It hung between a battered food shelter tag and a library barcode that Jason was sure was counterfeit.

“Yeah, whatever. Now go on and get, Hood. Don’t you have a whole city to look after?”

“Fucker,” Jason said fondly and stamped his own cigarette out before he tucked the butt away in a pouch slot. The small part of him that was still very much a Bat wanted to do the same with Rabbit’s so he could try and pull some DNA. Instead he flicked Rabbit off and leapt off the roof to the kid’s laughter.

#another red #dp x dc #batpham

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suppose-i-was-worm · 1 year

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Iceberg Siren pt 1

**based on a prompt by @purple-goo-writes about Danny getting a job as a club singer for Penguin- I hope y'all like it!**

Oswald Cobblepot watched as his lounge’s newest acquisition crooned on stage, the crowd transfixed by the young man’s stunning voice. The Penguin was beginning to notice that the Iceberg’s profits went up by twenty percent every night this particular new hire was singing, and he had plans to promote the kid. Daniel Nightingale lived up to his name.

He’d stumbled into the young man in an alley, starving and beaten, and offered him a cleaning job. Daniel had taken him up on it, after his sharp blue eyes searched Oswald’s face like he could see his very soul. One of his bartenders had heard the young man singing while he worked a few weeks in, and soon enough, Daniel was the Iceberg’s crowning glory, even if he didn’t know it himself.

Oswald would make sure the young man knew how valuable he was to the Penguin and never left.

Danny gave a short bow to the crowd after his last song, and they all made noises of disappointment as he slipped off the stage through the door in the back. It had been several months since he’d started singing at the Iceberg, and he was thriving. Penguin had started paying him more for less work- Two nights a week he sang, enchanting the denizens of Gotham’s underworld.

It was probably cheating, that he was using some ghostly tricks picked up from Ember, but it’s not like the GIW existed in this universe to track him down.

“Siren! Boss wants you in the VIP lounge before you take off.”

Matt, his security detail, was waiting for him outside his dressing room.

“Sure! Walk me up?”

Danny winked at Matt, who just rolled his eyes.

“Happily married, Siren. Let’s go.”

With a laugh, Danny turned to head up the back steps to the VIP area, swinging his hips a little to make Matt sigh in exasperation.

He wasn’t truly interested in Matt- nor anyone else he’d met in the dimension, but as he began to be fed on a regular basis and filled out more, he found that people thought he was attractive, and he enjoyed the attention. It was far different from being reviled as a nerd or even as the local menace. The attention of people who wanted him felt easier to control even than the attention he received from the ghosts as their king.

The door to the VIP balcony swung open as he approached, and he was waved through. Plastering a sultry smile on his face, he slunk through the tables, winking at patrons as he made his way to his boss.

The Penguin was sitting in a comfortable chair on a raised dais, across the table from a man Danny hadn’t seen in the Iceberg before. The stranger was wearing a domino mask, and had a streak of white through otherwise black hair.

“Thank you for coming, Siren. Please, sit!”

An attendant melted out of the shadows with a third chair, placed beside the bossman. Danny smiled gratefully at the attendant and settled into the chair.

He wasn’t sure what Penguin wanted- sometimes he called Danny up just to show him off in his glittering dress that clung to his skin, and sometimes he called Danny up to read whether a person was trustworthy or not.

“Siren, Mr. Hood here was suggesting a possible business deal- why don’t you hear him out and tell me what you think?”

Ah, reading. Danny could do that.

“I don’t have time for nonsense, Cobblepot.”

The man’s growl raised goosebumps on Danny’s arms, and he had to take a moment to collect himself. Damned if that wasn’t sexy as hell.

“Oh, but Mister Hood, I’d love to hear about your business proposal! What my employer does with his money affects us too, you know- if the business proposal falls through….” Danny batted his eyelashes at the man. “I’m sure you know what happens to the bottom line.”

Red Hood sighed, and then began to explain himself.

Danny didn’t listen to the actual proposal more than he needed to make the appropriate noises. Instead he listened to the tone and cadence of the crime lord’s voice, the way his body moved as he spoke. Everything screamed sincerity, even the small, half-formed core pulsing in the man.

Wait. Hold up. Turn around, go back. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. A core? Here? In someone so clearly still living?

He would have to investigate, but later. His employer was beginning to look to him for a verdict.

“Wow! That sure does sound interesting,” simpering, Danny stood and wrapped an arm around Penguin’s shoulders. “I think you should hear him out, boss- he seems pretty up-and-up to me!”

Penguin smiled sharply up at him and then waved him away.

Danny could feel the stranger’s eyes on him as he left, swaying back to where Matt was waiting at the door.

Look. Danny didn’t intend to get into this situation on his day off, but things just happened to him that didn’t happen to other people. Sam and Tucker would call it the “Fenton Luck”.

Danny didn’t think luck was involved at all.

If luck had been involved, the weird clown wouldn’t have attacked him with a crowbar. If luck had been involved, Danny wouldn’t have responded like he would with a ghost. If. Luck. Had. Been. Involved, the clown would not have flown back into a brick wall and then slumped like a marionette with it’s strings cut.

Stepping forward, Danny leaned down to check his victim’s pulse, but reeled back when he got a good look at the man’s face.

The Joker’s sightless eyes stared back up at him.

Ancients.

“Whatcha got there, sweet thing?”

Luck had nothing to do with anything in Danny’s life, ever. He was cursed somehow, that had to be it.

“A bagel?”

Harley Quinn hopped off the roof and came to investigate Danny’s dead body.

“Sure looks to me like an ex-boyfriend of mine, and not at all bagel shaped. You didn’t even leave a hole in him!”

“I’m…. Sorry?”

Harley grinned up at him, all teeth and a fierce light in her eyes.

“No need, sugar, you did a good thing. What I wonder is why the gas hasn’t triggered?”

Danny laughed nervously- he couldn’t help it, his fear response was laughter!

“Gas?”

“Mhmm! Had his body rigged, the bastard. Joker gas should have spread for six blocks or more when his vitals stopped.”

“Oh. I- you won’t tell the bats, will you?”

“My lips are sealed! I don’t owe Batsy anything!”

With a sigh, Danny shrugged.

“I’m a meta. Joker gas preys on fear, and so do I. The gas must have triggered, but I’m close enough that I filtered it pretty fast.”

Harley put her hands on her hips.

“Batsy doesn’t like metas much.”

“The Bat can suck it.”

She laughed and slung an arm over his shoulder.

“I like you, kid! Let me call my body disposal squad.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Ten minutes later, Poison Ivy and the Red Hood walked into the alley, looking around cautiously. Harley had talked Danny into braiding her hair, and was chatting amiably at Danny.

“-And that’s why Bill owes me a trip to Cabo. I don’t plan to collect, though, he’s just a henchman. Ives! Thanks for coming!”

Red Hood put his hands on his hips.

“I get why you called her, Harley, but why me?”

Harley tilted her head, pulling her hair out of Danny’s hands carelessly.

“You deserve to see him before he disappears, kid. The whole of Gotham deserves that, but we can’t risk it.”

“See who?”

She pointed at the body, and Red Hood went to inspect it. While he did so, Ivy walked up to Danny, peering down on him.

“I know you.”

“Hi, Dr. Isley.”

“I was right! You work for Oswald. Almost didn’t recognize you without your getup. I take it this was your doing?”

“Yes ma’am, although entirely on accident.”

She laughed, and Danny smiled too.

“One we’re all glad for. Thank you.”

There were stomping footsteps, and Red Hood was suddenly in front of them. Harley stood up from the box she’d been sitting on, shielding Danny with her body.

“You did this?”

Danny the angry pulsing of the Hood’s half-formed core. It felt similar to the way his own core had felt when he was forced away from Amity Park. He slid out from between Harley and Ivy and held out his hand.

Hood took it, whether on purpose or unconsciously.

“Hi. Danny Nightingale. I just avenged thousands by accident. Please don’t kill me.”

The pulsing turned from anger to relief, and the Red Hood laughed. It sounded odd through the modulator in the helmet, but Danny smiled along nonetheless.

#dp x batman #dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #danny phantom #dead on main #jason todd #harley quinn #poison ivy #Arctic Siren AU

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nelkcats · 10 months

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Captain Phantom

Since the ghost invasion of Amity stopped, Danny had become close to many of the ghosts he was once enemies with, so it was not uncommon to find him attending Ember concerts or competing with Johnny.

Then, it was also not uncommon to find him playing with Youngblood, who was always up for playing pirates. The halfa knew that the ghost boy was lonely and not all ghosts paid attention to him, so he made sure to play with him whenever he could.

Of course, he and Youngblood noticed that they could no longer play in his home dimension (too much risk; as much as the adults didn't see Youngblood, Danny preferred not to risk creating a second GIW), so they chose a random dimension to play pirates. The halfa even invited more ghosts to be each other's "crew."

When everyone agreed to the proposal, they traveled through a natural portal to the new dimension, they wouldn't stay too long for it to matter.

Happy with the arrangement, no one noticed how the people in the "new" dimension freaked out at the sight of two pirate ships floating in the sky, everyone on the ships were too busy having fun to notice. Batman grunted at the thought of another magical stupidity in Gotham.

Determined to explore the strange phenomenon, Red Hood and Nightwing offered to use the Jet to get to one of the ships, to which Batman agreed. When they reached the first ship, they found a fierce fight between...aliens? spirits? None of the brothers were sure, but they all glowed in a familiar green. It seemed that the pirate ships were clashing.

Jason was about to speak to draw the attention of the people in the battle, but before he could a boy with bright green eyes, white hair and a Captain's hat on his head came, he immediately noticed them and shouted, "Argh! Intruders!"

Dick swore he saw a boy in a Captain's hat (the rival ship?) pouting and about to complain about something but he couldn't pay any more attention to the event because the "crew" circled them and before he knew it they were tying them up with ropes (also glowing?) and calling them "prisoners". Dick wondered if he would have to jump off the plank, while Danny hesitated about what to do with his "prisoners", Youngblood didn't appreciate people interrupting their games.

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surielstea · 2 months

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Midnight Meetings

Based on this request.

Pairing: Eris x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader and Eris are secretly mates and refuse to get caught, despite being deep in love.

Warnings: MINORS DNI | 18+ | smut | P in V | Fingering | praise | rough sex | pet names | overstimulation ||| lots of fluff :)

6.8k words

A/N: not proofread!

I knocked on the dark green door in front of me before backing away and hugging my navy blue cloak tighter to my body, my hood covering my face entirely as I stared down at my feet.

The door quickly swings open, revealing a curious red-headed male. I smile and even if he could only see the bottom half of my face, he'd recognize my grin anywhere.

"You don't look suspicious at all," Eris drawls as I welcome myself into his apartment. "Well, it's not like you can come visit me." I shrug off my cloak and hang it on the coat rack. "I would winnow right into your bedroom if you allowed me to." He states and I shake my head incredulously. "I have no doubt you would."

I whirl around, looking up at my mate with yearning eyes. "I missed you." He sighed, his large hands coming up to cup my jaw. "It's only been a few days." I excuse and he presses a kiss on my forehead. "A few days too long." He corrects, moving down and kissing the tip of my nose. "I'm here now." I remind and a smile curves his lips before I rise onto my toes and connect our lips, my chest pressing against his as I wrap my arms tighter around the back of his neck.

When I back away he looks at the clock on the wall, nearly a quarter past midnight. He knows I have to leave at dawn, less than six hours from now I'll be out of his grasp and back in my Court. "I'm so sick of these secret meetings." He grumbles, hands traveling from my jaw, past my shoulders, to my hands where he intertwined our fingers. I nod in agreement, tired from the amount of winnowing it took to get here.

"We should just tell your little group." He suggests as he pulls me over to his couch. "Are you kidding? They'll burn me at the stake." I snort and he plops down onto his sofa, I waste no time straddling his hips as he leans his back against the armrest, staring up at me lovingly. "Fire's such a horrible way to go out." He states, holding up his hand and I marvel as a small flame emits from the center of his palm. I grin wildly, the small fire flickering as I cup my hand over it, but it doesn't burn, it almost tickles with the way it dances along my skin.

"I love it when you do that," I murmur and he makes the flame slightly larger, illuminating my face and I can't help but unabashedly stare. "I could set entire forests to flame but you like this, a fire no larger than a candle." He observes and my eyes flick up to his, the fire reflecting in them. "Well anyone can have power, it takes control to do this." I cup my hand over the flame entirely and it goes out, his fingers curling around mine.

"You can thank my father for that." He grumbles and I shake my head. "It's different, more gentle." I smile. "Setting worlds to burn is all your father's doing, but this, you get this from your mother," I explain and he blinks, his cheeks staining with color. He swallows thickly before replying, "I love you." Is all he can get out and I giggle at the idea of making Eris Vanserra's mind go blank. "Love you too." I cup his cheek with my other hand before leaning in and slotting our mouths against each other.

The kiss alights like an ember, sparking flames to run down the line of my spine, his hands coming to my waist to keep me still, hugging me to him as if he needed me so much closer. "I missed you too," I whisper onto his lips. "Missed you so much." I wrap my arms tighter around his neck, burrowing into his warmth— afraid it would disappear and I'd be left in the cold, as well as the dark without his fire.

His hand comes to my cheek and he pulls away, thumb running over my bottom lip as he does so. "I don't want to waste our whole time having sex." He muttered and I smiled cheekily. "You think it's a waste?" I tease, hands coming to his shoulders.

"No. I just, I like talking too." He explained and I smiled before leaning in and pecking his lips. "Only teasing Eris." I hum in between kisses. "We can talk as long as you want," I flip off of his lap and cuddle into his side, head coming to rest on his shoulder while my leg hooks around his torso. "Well, you can talk to me until dawn." I correct and he releases a long sigh at the limitation, his hand tracing up and down my arm, absentmindedly drawing hearts and spelling out his name.

"What do you have going on tomorrow?" I ask, my hand slipping under his shirt in craving for his warmth. "Lashing from my father, brothers trying to kill me, the usual." He lowly whistles and I frown, propping my chin up on his collarbone, staring up at him. "You don't even have any... General stuff going on?" I ask and a small smirk pulls at his lips.

"General stuff?" He mocks and I bury my face back into his chest. "Shut up, I don't know the terms," I murmur with embarrassment as he chuckles. "I'm the General of armies, there's no war ongoing at the moment." He informs and I roll my eyes. "Isn't there some preparation you need to do?" I flip back into his lap. "Are you calling war on me?" He arches a perfect brow and my other hand slips under his shirt.

"No Sir." I shake my head, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He lets a low grunt slip from his lips at the nickname and I giggle, wrapping my arms around his middle and propping my head up on his sternum, staring into his amber eyes as he watched me through his lashes.

"You just love to tease me don't you?" He hums, his hands coming to my waist and I nod brightly. "Because I'm the only one who can get away with it." I croon and he fights back a smile because he knows I'm right. "How so?" He tilts his head as if he doesn't already know he's head over heels. "Making you stumble over your words is so cute." I hum, nails lightly dragging along his toned abdomen. "I do not stumble over my words." He states it as if it's a fact. "Sure you don't my lord." I jeer, the nickname has his ears perking up, the casual intimacy making his body unsure how to act.

Eris had never gotten the love he deserved as a child, his mother gave him a peck on the cheek every now and then when he got to see her, but after his brother was born all of her attention quickly went to him. Eris understood, he was in his twenties by then, helped raise each of his brothers, and made sure they got the necessary love he didn't receive. Some of them were poisoned by their fathers' words and manipulations, the horrid male pitting his brothers against him, the boys he raised only for them to try and stab him in the back in foolish desire to become the sole Heir.

That's why when I met him, actually met him, I gave him every bare inch of my love, force-feeding it down his throat if I had to, in need to make him feel as cherished as he should've as a child. It pains me to know his father still has control at times, to think about the main reason I wasn't allowed to publicly love him.

My family was one thing, they truly loved me and would eventually understand why I was with Eris, but Beron, he'd use it against him, threaten me at every chance he got and it'd work on Eris. No matter how safe I was, if Beron somehow got his hands on me Eris didn't know how he'd act, doubted he'd even think beforehand, which scared the ever-living hel out of the prince.

"Have you gone quiet because you're afraid of being too tongue-tied?" I smile at him, my hand now running through his auburn hair. He nods silently and I giggle, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I love you." I hum and he pales, the light dust of freckles along his cheeks coming to show. "My gods—you can't— it's mean of you to just say that." He stutters out and I snicker. "So flustered over a few words." I taunt and he releases a huff of defeat.

"How is it mean?" I ask, pushing the hair away from his eyes, and combing my fingers through the soft locks. "You say it so casually," His large hands drag up and down my waist. "It's odd how easily you say it." He explains and I smile softly at him, lifting from his chest so my face is hovering above his. "But it's how I feel." I reason with him and he looks up at me, his dark lashes fanning over his eyelids. "I mean it, I do love you." I reassured, remembering the first time I said it to him, how he carried me straight to the closest bedroom and didn't let me leave in the morning, said I had to stay another day as he held me to his chest and forbade me from leaving until later that night.

"I love you too." A genuine smile coming to his features, one of his hands reaching up to cup around the back of my neck, his thumb stroking over the line of my jaw. He pulls me down and I allow it, slotting my lips onto his. Warmth blossomed in my chest as his silken lips met with mine yet again, my mouth molding to his like he was made for me, made for kissing me only.

It doesn't take long until we're out of breath, his tongue in my mouth as I part my lips for him willingly, his hands running over any point of my body he could reach, hand on my thigh, pulling me higher up onto him. Sighs of devotion filled the silence of the room, his scent enveloping me, warm cinnamon and campfire embers surrounding me as I pressed my chest to his by arching my back.

He smiled into the kiss, using his hand on my cheek to guide me away from his lips, which I reluctantly pulled away from.

"What happened to talking?" He says and I frown. "I figured we had a better use of our mouths." I shrug and he sighs contentedly, wrapping both his arms around my middle and pulling me down onto him, flipping onto his side so we could lie facing each other, heads resting on the same pillow. "I don't want you to leave." I frown and I mirror it. "I don't want to either," I mutter. "And I'll have to leave a little earlier so I can shower the 'you' off of me," I add and he rolls his eyes, leaning down and stuffing his nose into the crook of my shoulder. "I like when you smell like me," He mumbles into my skin. "Tell those bastards who you belong to," He hummed, his tone determined and I let out a quiet laugh. "Mine." He mumbles into my neck, pressing soft kisses to my neck, up the column of my throat then back down to my shoulder. "All mine." He whispers, hugging me impossibly closer. "All yours." I soothe, scratching his scalp and he groans at the feeling, burrowing deeper into my shoulder. I smile and press a kiss to the top of his head.

I allow silence to settle over us. I knew he was tired, he had a meeting with his father and all his advisers today, which would drain anyone. He wrote me a note saying he needed to see me, that he didn't want to talk about what happened, just that he wanted me in his arms. I showed up as early as I could, which was midnight. The Night Court stays up late, making it far too difficult to sneak out.

His fingertips traced random shapes along my waist, then his name over and over again.

"Hey, Eris," I call. "Hm?" He mumbles back tiredly, fighting off the sleep in hopes of spending more time with me before I disappear in the mornings. "Do you want to get married?" I prompt and his ears perk up, eyes peeling open as he backs away from my neck so that his attention is entirely on me. "If that's what you want," He murmurs, eyes watching mine as if trying to get a read on my emotions. "It's just that, Rhys said the other day that you need to prove your loyalty to the Night Court since that whole Nesta thing didn't work," I explain and he's now fully awake. "What are you asking?" He runs a hand down my spine and I swallow. "Why haven't you proposed to me?" I frown and a small smile spreads across his face. "Because you're not a battle strategy my fawn." He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips. "I don't want to marry you just because Rhys said so, I want it to be authentic." He hums, hand intertwining with my smaller one. "But I do, want to marry you." I reason with him and he grins childishly, kissing me again. "Then we'll get married." He whispers. "During the meeting next week Rhys is going to ask you what you want," I mutter and his head comes up to my face, rubbing over my cheekbone. "And I'll ask for your hand," He nods, understanding. "Exactly." I smile excitedly, hopeful that others will assume we fell in love after marriage.

He stuffs his face back into my shoulder, his embrace around me like a fireplace, reminding me of cuddling beside the hearth with a cup of tea just as hot.

My hands return to his hair, nails scratching his head lightly, sending him into a comfortable slumber, sleep finding him in the best of places with me in his arms as if he's never felt more secure than he did now.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The hewn city always gave me the shivers, I hated being in this place, hated every inch of the Court of Nightmares, my birthplace, my childhood home. It was cold here, the feel of a cold spider crawling down my spine was at a constant.

Eris stood in front of the entire inner circle like an interrogation. We were discussing the peace treaty Rhys has been working on for quite some time now. Seated at a meeting table made of solid black marble, the chair I sat in was a matching color that ate up any light around it. Azriel stood behind me, his hands resting on the headrest of my seat, refraining from pouncing on the Heir at any given moment.

"If you think for even a moment that my father will sign your little settlement you've either been brainwashed or you truly are the brute I thought you to be." My mate hums towards the high lord and I mentally curse him. Can't you just act civil towards them for a moment? I ask and a smile curves his lips, which is all the response I need. The spymaster lets out a low growl behind me, his hands digging into the material at the back of my chair. I reach behind my head and set my hand atop his scarred one, calming him down. Eris noticed the couch and watched as the spy master's fingers intertwined with mine, the future high lord noticeably grinding his teeth. I flashed him a pretty smile that mirrored his previous one.

"We don't need your father, we need the High Lord of the Autumn Court." Feyre stared and everyone's head whipped to her. "Would you sign it? If given the title?" Feyre asks and Eris tilts his head with a sloppy smile. "Perhaps," He shrugs, I have to physically hold back from rolling my eyes. Always one for the dramatics.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cassian bristles. "Well once I'm in power you can't be sure of where my loyalties lie, and after you rejected my proposal—" He says pointedly at Nesta. "There's no knowing who I might turn to after becoming High Lord." He lets on and my stomach twists anxiously, despite knowing where this was going Eris had such a way with his words that had even me believing he'd betray us if given a better offer.

I'm starting to second-guess this plan. I confess to him, something warm breezes over me, flames spreading across my mind to calm me. There's nothing to worry about my fawn, it'll go as intended. He reassured but the fear on the edge of my mind remained.

"You can't have her." Cassian grits out, crossing his arms over his chest and I'd never seen him look more intimidating, even on a battlefield that fierceness was nothing compared to the pure loathing in his eyes. "I don't want Nesta," Eris scoffs at the Illyrian, lazily looking at him. "Then what do you want?" Nesta leaned onto the table, narrowing her gaze on him.

Eris looked at every set of eyes at the table before lastly meeting mine. His stare doesn't falter for even a moment, so confident when he looks at me like he's got no fear in the world. "Her." He states, voices steady and certain.

"Absolutely not." Azriel rules from behind me, I look to Rhys who seems to have the same opinion as the shadow singer. "Find something else, you can't have her." Rhys orders in a voice that reminds me solely of the most powerful High Lord. "You were so eager to sell Nesta off, when I asked for her hand you gave her the decision." Eris reminds and Rhysand's jaw clamps shut, muscles feathering along it. He releases a breath of annoyance, looking at me. It's up to you. He says into the chambers of my mind I have sectioned for him and him only, not allowing him to see my thoughts of Eris, I won't let him find the mating bond, gods forbid the memories.

I remove my hand from Azriel's and fold my hands in my lap anxiously, Rhys has just put the fate of this court in my hands, but more selfishly, the outcome of my relationship with Eris. I swallow thickly, my eyes flicking up to the Heir to Autumn. I can feel everyone watching me, intently staring as if trying to read my answer before I even reply.

"If Beron dies and you come to power, if you promise to sign the treaty I will marry you," I say meekly as if this wasn't my idea. I can practically feel Azriel seething behind me. He's always had issues with his temper and I wonder if he'll pounce on Eris yet again depending on what the Prince says next. "A bargain then." He smirks and I nod. My eyes flick to Rhys as I stand, Eris does the same. We meet in the middle, his left hand reaching out. The hands that have felt every inch of me, the hands that have cradled me as well as fucked me.

I set my palm into his, the familiar feeling has them slotting together perfectly. I look into his eyes and a searing pain etched itself onto my left hand. I don't look away from his eyes. I wanted to feel the burn, relishing in the feeling of the bargain marking me, making it clear to my family that I am his and he in mine, in one way or another.

The pain ceases and I'm hesitant to pull my hand away, I haven't felt his warmth in a week. He takes his hand away first and I follow the action, looking down at the tattoo that tainted my hand, intricately designed lines and patterns running along the back of my palm, coming up and looping around my ring finger like a wedding band, his to match exactly. I look to my family across the table, all the way on the other side now that I stood by Eris, it felt like some kind of metaphor that I couldn't shake.

"Settled then?"

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"What an absolute bastard." Rhys groans, flopping down onto the couch. I anxiously watch the Inner Circle as they all settle into the sitting room. "I wouldn't have accepted the proposal if he had ill intent," I mumble, coming to his defense as much as I could without raising suspicion. "You shouldn't have," Cassian says, taking a seat in his designated chair. Nesta went back to the House of Wind, Amren and Mor went back to their respective apartments, and Feyre had gone to bed early, leaving me with the three winged males.

"This Court was at stake," I argue. "This Court would've been fine," Rhys states. "We could've found something else, anything else." The high lord sighs. Azriel was utterly silent, which frightened me. "Eris always has an ulterior motive, whatever he wants with you scares the shit out of me," Cassian explains with a soft expression and a frown rugs at my lips. "I understand your point, but you let me have a choice and I made it," I say, still standing, facing all three of them staring at me like overprotective brothers.

"What does he want with you?" Azriel narrowed his eyes on me. I pale, unsure what he meant. "You know something we don't." He stated, his voice certain. "I— I'm not sure what you mean." I crease my brows, the other two Illyrians look at the spymaster confused. He stood, leveling his gaze with mine as he towered over me. "What are you hiding?" His eyes analyze every movement of my body, taking a step back as he steps forward. His eyes were dark as he walked towards me.

"Az," I mumble, utterly passive under the shadow singer's gaze. "Nothing, you would know if I had secrets." I try to play it off with a soft laugh but it's futile. "Would I?" He grits out and I blink rapidly due to what felt like fear, not towards Azriel, never towards him. But what would he do if he found out? "Az, you're scaring me," I mutter, purposefully making my voice shake. It was a low move, but I knew it'd make him stop.

His eyes run along my features then back to my eyes. "I'm sorry," He places his hands on my shoulders. "I just, you're sure there isn't anything I should know?" He creases his dark brows and I swallow down my word vomit. The tenderness in his voice has me wanting to tell him everything. I take a deep breath, looking into his hazel eyes, and realizing the silence has stretched on for far too long I speak. "Nothing." I square my features and his hands slip from my shoulders. "I understand." He hums, backing away and brushing past me towards his bedroom.

I look at the two males still in their seats staring at me with raised brows. "I think I'm going to go to bed as well, it's been a long day," I mumble, eager to get out of there, and get to my apartment. "Of course, get good sleep," Rhys says, I look to Cassian and he gives me a nod. I return it before winnowing back to my apartment.

I release a long sigh, walk into my office, and shuffle through my drawers until I find a piece of note paper and a pen, I quickly scribble onto it.

Are you still here? I write, watching as the paper disappears from thin air, impatiently I wait for a reply, rocking on my heels until the paper appears again, fluttering down onto my desk with familiar handwriting on it.

Miss me already?

I roll my eyes at the words and quickly jot down my reply with the neatest brand I can muster.

Maybe just a little, will you answer my question now? He's quick to reply this time.

I am. Want to come back?

Why don't you come to my apartment?

I watch the note disappear and I anxiously click my pen repeatedly as I wait for him to reply, taking longer than it should've.

Oh? Now look who's trying to get caught?

Eris, will you come or not?

Give me a moment Love, I'll be there.

I smile at the note, allowing it to rest on my desk as I walk into my bedroom, shuffling through my nightgowns. I find my softest one, a pale yellow chiffon that ends at my thighs. I strip from my heavy dress, pushing it down my hips before hopping out of it. I had the gown back up into my large closet, placing it on the rack for later wearing, then moving back to my bedroom where I left the nightgown on my bed.

My brows crease when the yellow fabric is no longer fanned out on the bed. "This is awfully short," A voice hums in the dark room and I jump, my head whipping to a familiar silhouette holding up the pastel dress. "Don't you think?" He flicks his eyes up to me and my ears perk up as a cheeky grin spreads across my face. "Want to put it on me?" I suggest, taking a step towards my mate. "I'd rather be the one taking it off." He intones and I roll my eyes, sauntering over to him until we're nearly chest to chest. "I'll let you do that too." I raise my arms up and he smiles, slipping the dress over my arms, passing my shoulders, bending down, and pulling the pretty dress past my hips. He looks up at me from his knees and I smile down at him, my hand going into his hair.

"My pretty fiancé." I tease and he presses a kiss to my thigh, his bright eyes never leaving mine. "I love this," I say, hand coming down to caress the side of his face. "Love what?" He arches a brow curiously, my fingers coming under his chin and tilting his head higher up. "Love that I have Eris Vanserra down on his knees for me," I mutter, bending at the hips and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I think I love it too." He confesses as my hand leaves his chin and cups around the back of his neck.

He stands up, my head tilting with him, lips never leaning as he places his hand on my waist and walks towards me, guiding me with him until the backs of my thighs hit the plushness of my bed. I smile, detaching our lips before hoisting myself onto the bed, crawling further up until my back is resting on the headboard.

He wastes no time in mounting over me, arms coming to either side of me as his lips slot against mine yet again.

I arch my back as his hands press against my waist, my chest pushing up against his. "It was a mistake to put this dress on," He murmurs into my mouth and I sigh breathlessly. "Whys that?" I mutter. "Because now all I want to do is see it on the floor." He purrs and a smirk curved my lips. "Then what are you waiting for?" I taunt. His fingers make quick work of slipping the thin straps from my shoulders.

He tugs it down my thighs, forcing it past my hips and throwing it off onto my floor, exactly as he promised. I was left in nothing but my undergarments, feeling particularly bare I began to work on the buttons of his shirt, pulling them undone as I worked lower and lower, as soon as I reached his waist where his shirt ends, I began unbuckling his belt.

He does the rest of the shirt for me, not daring to break our kiss, his mouth staking claim on me like a ravaging beast needing to feed, and I was the only sustenance around. I get his belt off, the rattling of it familiar as it clatters to the floor.

My arms trail up his arms that framed either side of my head, feeling up the Heirs biceps, nails clawing down his back as his hips drag along mine.

"Eris," I pant out. "I know." He nods, understanding exactly what I was feeling in my chest, the bond between us growing every time he touches me, that tether, impossible to ignore, glimmering between us as his left hand roams every inch of my bare skin.

I breathe a sigh of satisfaction once his palm finds purchase at my breast, groping the sensitive flesh.

I moan into our kiss at the feeling, our kiss that was all tongue and teeth, hurried passion with a hunger I knew well. His hand leaves my breast much to my dismay, instead, he shucks off his pants. I smile excitedly as two of his fingers dip down past my pantie line, pinching the lacy undergarment between his fingers. "This is okay?" He whispers breathlessly against my lips and I nod with a needy fervor. "More than okay," I murmur and he wastes no time, lips crashing back down onto mine and he's pulling off my panties, discarding them along with the rest of my clothes on the floor.

"Touch me," I beg as soon as the cold air hits my wet core, clenching around nothing at the sensation. "Eris, please," I whine and he presses a kiss to my forehead, hand raking down my body. "Tell me how." He hummed and my brows creased in perpetual need. "Your fingers, inside," I murmur out with creased brows and a corrupting smile curves the Heirs lips, his thumb finding my clit.

A gasp racks through me at the intense feeling, two of his long fingers dragging through my soaked folds. "You're soaked." He observed and I nodded, showing him just how much I'd needed him all day today, knowing he was in my court, in my grasp, but I couldn't have him, not until now.

"Fuck, feels good." I sigh contentedly as his thumb begins circling tightly around my puffy clit, sensitive to his stimulation. "Yeah?" He hovers over me and I nod with my eyes clenched shut, reveling in the way he lathered his fingers in my slick.

His fingers enter me, two at once. My breath hitched and my heart rate doubled at the intense heat that overwhelms my body. He doesn't wait for me to adjust, and begins pumping his fingers in and out of me at a rapid pace, hitting deeper every time— he finds that spongy bundle of nerves deep inside of me and I scream his name, hands feeding into his hair as I grip his hair between my fingers, whining as I beg for him to abuse that spot.

He does as told, palm resting against my clit and pushing down onto it, allowing me further friction as I begin grinding down onto his hand, fingers scissoring inside of me, doing wicked things that have me pulling his hair and moaning ridiculously loud.

"I'm close," I mumble out, tears welling in my eyes at the immense pleasure. "Yeah? Gonna cum on my fingers pretty girl?" He asks and I nod, opening my eyes to look up at him. He looked like an angel from this perspective, his hair hanging over his eyes as I ran my hands through it, pushing it back so I could see his lust-blown eyes.

"Eris— I'm cumming!" I confess and he smirks above me, thumb flicking over my clit, causing my legs to jolt as I reach ecstasy, finding that high and grasping onto it for dear life, riding it out as my grinds come to a stop and his fingers, slowly, slip from my entrance. I looked at him with a fucked-out expression, watching as he took his fingers into his mouth, licking every drop of my release off of his own hand.

I clench my legs shut, whimpering as my orgasm lingers on the edge of my mind, another one would quickly be approaching if I got any form of fraction between my thighs.

"Wanna, make you feel good too." I blink up at him helplessly and he sloppily grins down at me. "Want your cock." I mumble, already knowing what he wants of me. His eyes practically glow golden at my behavior, his member straining against the last remaining fabric between us and he removes it, his sex springing up against his abdomen, precum seeping from his tip. My mouth waters at the sight of it, hand coming to it and swiping the pearl of white away, bringing it up to my lips and licking it away.

He presses his core into mine, his heavy cock dragging through my folds, lubing himself for my pleasure. I hum in want, in pure need, for more. He strokes himself once, then twice. His tip red and angry as he aligns it with my slit and I bite my bottom lip, forcing myself to stare as he pushes in, inching himself deeper and deeper.

"So, big," I mutter incoherently, too cock-drunk to recognize anything else. The stretch was far from foreign but gods did it feel good, my walls hugging his thick shaft, pushing inside of me further and further. My breath quickens as he presses against that bundle of nerves— then goes further.

Tears spring to my eyes at the pleasurable pain, nails digging into his shoulder as his hips finally hit mine and I release a gasp of relief.

He looks at me reassuringly, my eyes catching contact with his. "Hard, go hard," I beg. "Want you feral," I mumble. "You're so good for me." He mutters, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead as he pulls all the way out to his tip, and without warning— slams back in, moans ripping from my throat at the sudden change of pace, his thrusts becoming animalistic as he hits home, every single time.

"Fuck," any brows crease together, nails now making red marks down his back that rippled with muscle. He drives into me with sheer fervor, not letting up for even a moment as I contract around him with a sharp breath, feeling every ridge and dip of his member as he uses me like a sleeve, molding to him and him only.

"You're so fucking tight," He grunts out, hips rolling over mine. Tears roll down my face but he doesn't care, he continues fucking me with an unmatched speed. "Eris, too much," I whine out, gripping his back, attempting to find purchase anywhere I can manage. "Be a good girl and take it, yeah?" He hums, lips finding mine again, shutting my complaints up and hammering into me.

"I'm gonna— I'm so close," I mumble into his mouth and he nods. "Me too baby," He reassures over the sounds of his tight balls slapping against my ass, hips clapping against mine. His tongue slips into my mouth, finding every crevice it can manage and I just allow it. Let him take over my entire body, reaching a headspace that made me entirely passive, just wanting his hands on me, anywhere, everywhere.

"You going to cum on my cock my girl?" He asks and I nod earnestly, tear-stained cheeks flushed pink from the exertion. "Please, can I?" I wasn't above begging, I was ready to get down onto my knees if it meant I could have that sweet release, so close I could almost taste it— feeling that knot tighten in my core. "You can," He allows, and with another thrust of his hips, grinding them down onto mine and rolling over that perfect spot inside of me I'm reaching that

Warmth blossoms in my abdomen as I feel my orgasm crash over me like a wave of pure pleasure. I clench tightly around him, walls fluttering around his cock and then his warm seed fills me, letting out a groan of my name as his release pumps into me. He lets out a shaky sigh as he works himself down from the intense high, slowly removing his heavy shaft from my entrance and flipping down beside me.

Pants for air fill the room, the cold bedsheets feeling like heaven on my hot skin, still, I burrow into Eris. Flipping onto my side and resting my head against his chest. His hand comes into my hair, dragging his fingers through it as we regain our breath, my hand on his abdomen, tracing random shapes on the muscle.

"Do you want to stay the night?" I ask after a stretch of comfortable silence. "You have to be gone by dawn but, a few hours of sleep couldn't hurt." I excuse and his hand in my hair halts. "You have no idea how enticing that sounds." He sighs. "Then stay." I look up at him, blinking slowly as exhaustion took me full throttle. "Okay." He nods. "Okay." I smile, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips, soft and sweet— contradicting the events that just took place. "Let's get you cleaned up first."

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

I woke up to the birds outside my window cooing their morning song, I released a soft sigh and noticed a heavy weight around my middle. I peek my eyes open, looking down at the familiar arm that belonged to my mate. I mumble a chain of incoherent sounds, my hand sliding from my forearm up to his large bicep, the feel of his muscles having my body set to flame. I flip around and look up at the pretty male, his red hair cascading over his eyes messily. I drag my fingers through it, pushing the strands away so I can look at his features.

The sunlight seeped past my sheer curtains, shining softly down into his sharp features. He seemed so at peace with his head on my pillows, his arm around me. I move my hand from his hair down to cup his cheek. In the sunlight, I can see each one of his freckles so clearly I swore I could lie here and count them all day.

I wonder why I don't admire him more in the mornings, he truly was meant to be admired during sunrise.

I quickly realized I never saw him during the mornings because I was too busy collecting my things and rushing out of his apartment to get back to my house before anyone noticed.

"Eris." I spring up, shaking his shoulders. "Eris, wake up." I urge. He peeks one eye open with a grimace. "Everything's okay," His hands come up to the sides of my face, his immediate response to comfort me even half-asleep. "No, Eris you have to go," I say clearly and he mumbles something I don't understand. "What's wrong?" He asks, rubbing his eyes, clearly confused. "You fell asleep, you need to go back to Autumn." I reason with him and he groans, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me back down onto the bed. "Does anybody come to your apartment in the mornings?" He asks. "No," I say muffled with my cheek smushed into his chest. "And do you need to leave anytime soon?" He adds and I shake my head. "Not until late afternoon," I explain and he pulls me so much closer. "So what's the rush, Fawn?" He prompts and my ears perk up, realizing there was no real reason for him to leave so early. "I suppose there isn't one," I mumble, allowing myself to return to admiring his features, his auburn eyes not halfway open to stare at me back.

"Good morning." He says and I smile wildly, not realizing how badly I wished for him to still be around the morning after. "Morning my love." I press a kiss to the corner of his lips, he smiles at the feeling. "My betrothed is so pretty in the mornings." He hums his morning voice something I've rarely heard, the deep sound of it having my ears perk up. "Your betrothed?" I arch my brow and he nods tiredly, intertwining our left hands that were designed in tattoos.

"Mhm, now go back to sleep beloved." He pulls the blanket over our heads and I giggle, now enveloped in the dark with him. "I love you," I whisper like we're about to tell scary stories. "Love you too." He leans in blindly and somehow finds my lips, as if he knew where they were, and presses a gentle kiss to my lips, letting the blanket go in order to bring his hand into my hair.

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punkeropercyjackson · 1 month

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Jaysumm posts because i am down horrendous

@ammomancer @theautisticcentre @mayameanderings @asmashed-papaya @jellyjays @jellyfilledeyes @nogender-onlystars @someallpowerfulforce @willieoo

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jasontoddssuper · 5 months

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When you and your childhood best friend turned girlboyfriend swap character arcs,you know it's a real superhero story

(Jason skin tone edit by @theautisticcentre !!)

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sprout-fics · 7 months

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Rotes Mädchen: Chapter 7

(Werewolf! König x Red Riding Hood! Reader)

(Art by the lovely @zwienzixes)

(Masterlist)

Word count: 5k Rating: Mature Tags: Werewolf! König, Fairytale AU, Monster Hunters TF141, Traditional German Fairytale setting, World Building/Lore, F! Reader, Domesticity, Literal sleeping together, Bed sharing, Angst/Comfort, (Brief) Fluff, Cuddling, Love bites/Hickeys, Claiming bites, Emotional Angst/Comfort, Cliffhanger Warnings: None A/N: New cover as we head into the finale!

The sun dawns on the final day before the full moon.

You awaken gently, feeling the cold grip at your limbs as you snuggle deep into the covers. The motion disturbs your bed partner, who makes a small sound of protest before adjusting to drag you closer against his chest. You happily snuggle into the warmth of him with a little whine, willing yourself back into blissful dreams. The cage of his arms provides steadfast protection against the waxing moon as it hesitates beyond the horizon, counting the hours until sundown. It feels as if König senses your thoughts, for there’s a low, purring growl that vibrates his chest against your cheek. Defensive, a warning to the shadows that lurk in the woods.

There’s a heavy set to your limbs that forces you into limpness against his frame. It drags at your senses with drowsy intent, makes your head loll against his collarbone with a happy sigh. Grey, misty light washes over you both, a gentle baptism of dawn that you wish would suspend both of you in time, caught here forever in his embrace.

It’s your stomach that at last rouses you, and even as you try to ignore it the sharp pang of hunger eventually gurgles low in your belly. König answers it merely with a huff, arms caught around you a little tighter, preventing your escape. You smile at him, at last opening your eyes to see him.

He replaced his hood sometime while you were asleep, and though you mourn the chance to see his blissful, sleeping expression, you’re grateful for the simple grace of seeing his eyes closed at such a near distance. You can see his brow slightly scrunched, as if trying to ignore the pull of wakefulness, and you resist the urge to poke at it just to hear him grumble in his sleep. Instead you settle for observing what little of his sleeping expression you can discern, memorizing the way his eyes flutter in dreams.

Eventually you lean forwards, gently bestowing a kiss upon his masked mouth before delicately wriggling from his hold. It takes several attempts, and eventually you manage to avoid his grasping, heavy hands so you rise to your feet. König curls around the warm space you’ve left, murmurs something you cannot hear before he goes still. You smile fondly down at him, try to ignore the way anxiety pierces your heart as a morning lark declares the dawn.

You coax the dying embers of the fireplace back to life and set water to boil above it, tucking a loaf of bread above the hearth to warm up by the time it is done. You ignore the shake of your hands as something whispers that this could be the final day you ever live this mundane routine, that your life could be stolen from you tonight by dripping red claws and gleaming fangs.

It takes effort to shake off the thought, and instead you focus on washing yourself with water warmed by the fire. You pause as you look in the mirror above the basin, blinking in surprise at the marks painted across your skin. Love bites, gentle bruises, places where his lips descended to your skin with a scarcely contained growl. There’s an ache to your hips that remains where he split you on his cock over and over again, as if he were possessed by the feast of your flesh. You’d barely been able to crawl from bed long enough to eat and relieve yourself for the entirety of yesterday before König had decided you’d been gone for too long, had pursued you just so he could carry you back and press you into the sheets once more.

He seemed almost crazed with lust, your beloved, consumed by the act of defiling you. Growling, pressing, hauling you to him, holding a leg aloft just so he could sheath himself back inside you with a growl. He’d mouthed dragging endearments into your skin, had followed them with sucking teeth and apologetic kisses when you’d whined at him. Lost as you were in the buttery haze of lust and warmth, it still became quickly clear to you that his attempts to mark you seemed almost like a claim- an attempt to ward off others, to ensure you remained his, only ever his. Territorial, possessive, gorging himself on the sounds of your desire as you begged for more.

You trace the smattering of love bites that adorns your collarbone and chest, tilting your head to reveal the full indent of his teeth on the arch of your neck. It makes you blink in surprise, as you twist to reveal more marks along your bare back and shoulders. König had left no inch of skin untouched, it seems, and you silently shudder to think how you’ll explain this to Laswell.

Nevertheless you wash and dress yourself, once more donning your red cloak before you carefully step outside towards the well down the lane. You’re grateful that your long layers hide the marks, consciously tugging your hood up to conceal the bite on your neck. The last thing you need is more neighbors and village folk accusing you of being some type of seductress, or asking too many questions about who spent the night in your home.

As you draw water from the well you look to see the misty forms of others bustling about morning chores. There’s sounds of wood hammering against shutters, trying to barricade windows and doors for the coming darkness. Animals that would normally be escorted to pasture now kick at their stalls, safely shut away for the coming sunset. You’re scarcely noticed amidst the distractions, and you pause to watch your neighbors conduct preparations for the full moon that will rise above the forest tonight.

You wonder if the wolf watches even now from the trees. Silent. Waiting.

You make yourself scarce as you dart back towards the direction of your home, ignoring the passing stares of others as they see you pass by. The reminder of the hunter’s son, of the accusation levied against you and Laswell forces a heavy weight down onto your ribcage, an imminent danger that follows in your shadow.

"I bet you're a witch too! Just like her! You probably brought the wolf here yourselves to kill us all!!"

You need to tell her, to warn her.

A thin frown of worry presses your lips as you slip back inside, trying to plan your options. It will be difficult to slip from the village unnoticed before nightfall, especially when you’ll be trailed by a huge, scarred, hooded figure on your heels. You’ve not yet told König of your plan to retreat to Laswell’s by nightfall, and you know you’ll have to convince him of the safety she and the others provide. You’re not sure you can, not with the way Price and the other witchers are tensed, ready for battle, vigilant of threats. They may see König as a monster not unlike the one they hunt. For all you know, you could be walking him into the jaws of a greater beast than the one that lurks in these woods.

To stay here, however, to do the same as the other villagers and barricade yourself inside, knowing now that your neighbors see you as a potential source of their misfortune...

You see a vision of yourself, tied to a pillar in the center of the square under the full moon, listening to the howl of the werewolf, watching as they force König to his knees and screaming for help-

He said he’d protect you. How are you supposed to protect him, when you can’t even keep yourself safe?

The woods press in on you from all sides, arching above to tangle into a thick entanglement of branches with you trapped inside like a small, scared creature trying vainly to escape. You stare up through the brambles and thorns to the dark sky above, where the moonlight casts pale light against your eyes of despair.

You’re so caught in your thoughts you nearly miss the figure that lurches into your view right in front of you.

You startle, and in doing so the bucket of water you have sloshes lopsidedly, spilling across your boots. You hardly notice it, staring instead at one of the older village women who has suddenly seized your attention. You recognize her. She’s one of the few that often comes to Laswell in search of tonics for her weary bones, a persistent cough she’s never been cured of. You’ve arrived at her doorstep many times over to deliver remedies, and she’s always returned the favor with a soft smile, a gentle pat to your shoulder or an apple tucked into your pocket.

Now, you try to catch your breath, settle your heartbeat as she squints at you with a narrow gaze.

“You don’t belong here.”

You blink in surprise, mouth pressing into a frown. Shock, hurt blossoms in words across your tongue. Yet before you can respond she steps forward, jabs a finger against your chest insistently.

“You need to leave these woods.” She intones with a creaky voice, staring up at you with displeasure. “You’re no longer welcome here, girl.”

You can feel the other villagers pause now to observe the dispute, their wary eyes looking on as you’re harassed by someone who had once been kind to you.

“T-this is my home-” You try, taking a step back, but she only presses forward once more. You feel your heartbeat claw at your throat, and your eyes flick past her to the path up to your cottage, where familiar smoke curls from the chimney in a beacon of sanctuary.

“Not anymore it isn’t.” The old woman hisses, and you feel your face contort in a returning snarl. Yet then the woman softens, the sinister sneer from her face easing into a look of concern.

“You need to leave.” She whispers hastily, eyes wide. Suddenly her voice is once more that of a friend, one with grave worry and urgency in her words. “You and Madame Laswell. It is no longer safe for you here.”

You freeze in surprise, trying to form words past the veil of shock that colors your eyes. Cold air seizes your lungs, an uncomfortable prickle of awareness raising goosebumps on your skin as the other villagers pause to watch the fear dawn across your face.

“The others, they think you brought the wolf here.” She adds, a wrinkled hand grasping at your sleeve in a touch much harsher than her words. “I heard them. They think you and Madame Laswell are witches, that you summoned the wolf to kill us.”

She gazes up into your eyes, this unexpected ally, and even though her mouth is set in a grim frown, her eyes portray fear.

“They plan to kill you both.”

You jolt away as if scalded, ripping your arm from her grasp, heartbeat hammering wildly against the cage of your ribs. The ground under you seems to shift, and the trees that had once been your home now seem to slowly creep to your shadow, ensnare it with tangled thorns so they press into your skin and yield red warmth. In your mind's eye you see the figure of yourself bathed in moonlight, clothes ripped and hands bound to a pyre that alights the sky in a wicked red haze. You see Laswell struggling as she watches below, held by the villagers, screaming for Price and the others as they chase the wolf who howls dangerously at the moon.

and König...König...

His blood soaks the earth, a sacrificial lamb to an unknown, evil god that reigns in madness over the village you had once called home.

The bucket in your hand drops, and the water sloshes out to seep into the cold earth, just as his blood will come nightfall.

You don’t thank the woman as you run, but her voice chases after you anyways, feigning sinister intent.

“Run, girl! Leave these woods and never return!!”

Your cape flares out behind you as you sprint for the cottage, racing up your garden and to the heavy door which shuts behind you with a thundering clank of the lock. You brace on it, hands pressed to the frame, chest heaving and eyes wild. You can’t contain the shaking of your limbs, and even the warmth of the hearth at your back does little to alleviate the icy grip of terror that seizes in your chest.

They plan to kill you both.

You try to reason with yourself. Price and the others, they’d never let the villagers touch you or Laswell. They know you both, know that no matter what accusations the villagers levy against you, that you will never be what they say. You know you’ll be safe with them. If you flee now, you can make it to Laswell’s cottage by sundown, tell her all that you’ve learned. You know Price and the others will protect you from the promise of a pyre, from the misplaced wrath of those you once called neighbors.

But...König...

You shake your head. It doesn’t matter now. You cannot stay. If you stay, if the villagers come for you, they’ll no doubt find him as well, will wrestle you from his arms and restrain him like a wild beast even as he snarls, tries to fight his way to you. They’ll see him, this stranger you’ve kept hidden, take his hood and reveal the terrifying visage he keeps hidden and they will fear him. If you stay, it will be a death sentence for you both.

The woman is right. You need to leave. Now. Daylight be damned.

“König-” You breathe as you race to your bed, lay your hands on his still slumbering form and try to wake him. “König, we need to leave. We have to go-”

König stirs, but it’s with a groan that sounds almost painful. You freeze, hands stilling, before you once more try to rouse him.

“König, wake up, please wake up.” You urge him, swallowing down a gasp of fear. He seems to hear at least that much, because he rolls over only slightly, echoes your name in a groggy slur.

“Rotty?” He asks, voice cracking with something that sounds weak, almost ill. His eyes flutter open, glassy gaze turning to you as he tries to focus. The confusion softens into something fond, and you feel affection flutter in your chest at the way his eyes melt upon seeing your face. “Rotty...”

You force a smile despite your trembling hands. “Yes, love. It’s me.” You whisper, and he sighs at that, eyelashes fluttering before drowsiness claims him once more. You swallow down the growing panic in your throat, forcing yourself to not imagine the footsteps of the villagers pounding closer to your door.

“König.” You insist, shaking him now with rising franticness. “We must leave. It’s not safe here. We need to go to Laswell’s, the villagers-”

“No, no, not the witchers...” He interrupts with a groan, and you frown at that, fear tugging sharply in your stomach.

“König we need to leave.” You tell him again, leaning full over him now so your cape drapes partly across his form. Your arms bracket him on either side of his broad, bare shoulders adorned with thick, coarse hair. “The villagers-”

You pause at the abrupt whimper that bubbles up his throat, unexpected. It sounds not fearful but hurt, as if rousing him from dreams forces him to endure an affliction you cannot see. You feel your brow crease with worry, a hand tracing over the bare skin of his scarred shoulder, and he flinches.

“König...” You breathe, and with a worried urgency you begin to try and pull away the covers, at last noticing just how damp they are. It’s as if he’s sweat through them while you weren’t paying attention, and as you reveal his bare form you see a thick sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. You don’t know how you didn’t notice earlier, curled in his arms as you were. He feels too hot to the touch, shivering under your palms, eyes stubbornly scrunched shut as if he’s trying to block out a phantom pain.

A different type of terror grips you now, as you lay a palm to his damp, clammy skin, hearing him groan at the touch. He reaches up to clumsily bat at your hand, and you’re not entirely sure if he’s trying to chase you away or drag you closer.

“König.” You repeat again, swallowing the dryness in your throat. “König, what’s…”

“Rotty.” He whines, and you ignore him, reaching for his hood. Before you can touch it König arches with a wet gasp, his large hand seizing your wrist. His head lolls towards you, hazy gaze focusing on the acute worry plain on your face. He blinks, as if trying to focus, and you see his brow pinch for a moment before it relaxes.

“What lovely eyes you have, Schatz.” He sighs, head drooping once more. His hand goes lax around your wrist as he melts back into the bed. When you try to sneak it under his hood to feel for his forehead however, he tenses with a growl, the sound rumbling low and deep in his throat like some wild, feral animal.

“Shh, it’s alright.” You coax despite the tremble in your words, and your palm lays flat against his searing, damp brow.

“König, love.” You breathe, hands shaking. “You’re burning up with a fever.”

König groans at that, pulls your hand away and rolls to the other side of the bed. You try to follow him, but when your hand lands on his shoulder König growls at you again, this time deeper, almost savage. You pull away as if burned, but your missing touch prompts a whine instead, as if his body can’t figure out what to do with itself.

“König.” You try again uselessly. “Please, get up. I- I can take you to Laswell’s. She can help you. We can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”

“No.” He slurs again in protest, and you feel frustration and panic rise hotly in your veins as you resist the urge to bang on his broad back with your fists in your vexation. Instead you once more soothe a hand across his bare shoulder so his muscles unwind under your touch.

He relaxes then, sighing in relief before he turns part way back to you. His eyes are gentle as they regard you through his strange delirium, and you hold his gaze, unable to hide the mounting fright in your stare.

“The wolf won’ hurt you, Rotty.” He tells you, words low and jumbled. He reaches a large hand out, and you wonder for a moment if he’ll drag you back into bed. Instead he strokes your cheek with his knuckles, tilts his head wearily to regard you. “I’ll protect you. I swear it.”

You suck in a sharp breath at that, feeling the building terror, the grief, the panic and the confusion of the past few days finally overwhelm you. Hot tears flood your eyes, and you try to swallow them to no avail. A hiccup forces its way up your throat, and you clutch at his hand, holding it desperately to your face as if it’s a lifeline.

“How are you supposed to protect me when you can’t even stand?” You cry, feeling your voice crack in your throat with despair. “I-I’m supposed to protect you, I’m supposed to keep you safe from them- from the villagers, from Price and the others, from the wolf, I-“

You sob, a broken sound pouring from your chest as you’re no longer able to contain the rush of emotions wash over you. It cracks in your bones like the snap of wood in an evening hearth, a sharp sound that disturbs the peaceful silence you long to share with him. The embers alight across your skin, force a cry of hurt past your gasping lips and into his palm.

“I’m scared, König.” You confess in a raw whisper, eyes wide, staring into a vision of the pitch-black forest where the object of your nightmares awaits. “I’m trying so hard to be strong, to keep us both safe, but I’m scared.”

You swallow, but it does little to stem the words that come tumbling forth, first as a trickling stream and now as a raging river.

“I’m terrified. I wake up every morning thinking you’re not going to be here anymore, that this was all just a dream. I’m scared you’re going to disappear, that the wolf is going to hunt you alive, that the villagers will find you and hurt you, that Price and the others will refuse to protect you. I’m scared that the final thing I’m ever going to see is fire or the fangs of the monster. I’m scared of living a tomorrow where you no longer exist.”

You sob openly, words hiccupping desperately into his knuckles entwined between your palms. You can no longer stop it, the untamable tide of desperation that seizes your chest, your heart, your limbs. König makes a little noise of distress as he watches the tears roll down your face, land on his worn hand.

“No-” He tries again, and you see his expression pinch as he tries to find the words. “Don’t cry, Rotty. It won’t....won’t hurt you.”

“Please.” You beg him again, gasping and bowing your head into his hand. “Come with me. We can go, Laswell can help you, I can explain to the others. They’ll keep us safe. They’ll kill the wolf, and then we can leave the village like you asked me to. We can go and never have to look back, like you wanted.”

You hunch forward, eyes closing shut, sending up a prayer at the same time your words form the plea.

“Please.”

König pauses, and you feel him hesitate before he gently draws his hand away…

Only to push you so you topple backwards onto the floor instead.

“I’m sorry, Rotty.” He whispers, voice cracking with pain, clearer now. “I-I can’t come with you.”

You sit, sprawled and stunned at his words. You feel the air in your chest pause, gripping tightly to your lungs as you try to understand, trying to make sense of his sudden rejection. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears, face open with confusion, distress. The world seems to suck into a silence that is unknown to you, words absent as the desolate wind howls in your thoughts.

“K-König…?” You ask in a small, fragile voice as you try to understand. It only makes König hunch further into the bed, as if your words are a slicing wound that carves into his turned back.

“Go, Rotty.” He tells you, growling low with warning. You flinch. “To the captain and the others. They’ll keep you safe.”

You stare at him with hurt, shock warming your eyes with fresh tears, trying to understand, trying to unravel the riddle of him you’ll never find the answers to. He’s retreating into secrets once more, and you watch helplessly as he walks into the dark, misty woods ahead of you, vanishing beyond your reach as the echo of a wolf howl rattles your bones.

“Don’t do this.” You tell him in a voice that’s hardly a whisper. “Don’t…don’t make me leave when I’ve already fallen in love with you.”

König tenses at that, form curling further in on himself before he goes still once more. He doesn’t speak.

You want to scream at him, to cry, to beg and plead for answers you know he won’t give you. You want to throw yourself into his arms, apologize for whatever transgression you’ve committed, for the sin of loving him if he did in fact never love you in turn. Yet you do none of those things, instead frozen on the floor, tracing the rigid rise of his spine, the way he shivers as the fever grips at him.

“Please.” You try once more, voice raw with emotion, a desperate entreaty that he stubbornly ignores.

The moon rises on the horizon. You’re running out of time.

You gather yourself, stand and scrub the tears from your face, stand over him at your bedside. Your fists curl with resolve, expression grim as you stare down at his curled, shivering form that tries to ignore the shadow of you cast by the fire.

“I’m leaving.” You tell him resolutely. “and I’m coming back. I’ll bring Laswell, and I’ll bring Price and the others to protect us. She’ll cure you, and we’ll stay here until the night passes, until the wolf is dead.”

You swallow the urge to hurl yourself onto his form, drape yourself across his chest and will time to return itself to the moments after wakefulness only a mere hour ago.

“Then. Then, once it’s over, we’ll leave these woods. Together.”

He doesn’t shift. You try not to fracture with the hurt that lays bare across your skin.

“You can’t push me away. Not when you allowed me to keep you for so long.” You finish and turn before you can stop yourself.

It takes effort to stride to the door, to lay your hand upon the iron latch. You feel your face pinch, tears once more obscuring your vision as you glance one last time at him.

“I love you.” You whisper. You’re not sure if you can hear it.

Once more, you walk into the woods, and you pray to the Gods that in the next dawn, you’ll walk them together.

----

He waits until you leave.

He waits until after the lock has shut, until your footsteps have faded, until silence settles over the cottage in your absence. He waits for the pain of betrayal in his heart to be quieted by the sickening, feverish hunger that grips his limbs.

“I’m sorry, Rotty.” König whispers in the solitude of the cottage. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep you safe.”

Soon now, he knows. Soon the sun will set, the moon will rise, and he’ll no longer be able to control the ravenous hunger, the desire to feast on flesh, the instinct to hunt, kill. The fever of bloodlust grips his limbs, and already he can feel his bones try to crack, reform, strengthen into monstrous size until he lifts his muzzle to the moon. He’s tried a hundred times to stop it, to refuse to gorge himself on the blood of beings only known as prey. He’s watched a hundred times as his victims scream, trying to flee from his outstretched claws.

He remembers each face, each final, breathless plea before his fangs snap through skin and bone.

You’re among them in his dreams. He sees your face the first time he saw you on the back of the captain’s dark mare, holding tight to his waist as your red cape fluttered behind you. He remembers seeing your eyes shining brightly in the moonlight, and thinking to himself not of prey, but of something delicate, fragile, beautiful.

Little did he know you’re a creature of the woods as well.

König had long ago resigned himself to this fate of his. It is his destiny to be cursed in the way he is, to roam the earth endlessly in search of blood to quench his wild, savage hunger. He’s long since stopped praying to the gods to free him, resigning himself to his imminent demise at the hands of humans for the sin of his existence- for being a monster that he cannot control.

He’d expected to die the night he first saw you, the strange creature cloaked in red, cradled by the trees as if they were your ally. The witchers had pursued him through the forest relentlessly, chasing him into one of their many traps. He’d barely escaped, and even now he wonders if he should have simply accepted the slash of a sword to his neck, breathed in his last as he gazed up at the beautiful autumn moon.

Yet you’d found him.

In the hollow where he’d licked his wounds, had shuddered against the cold, you’d come to rescue him from his own wretched existence.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You’d whispered, and he had believed it, had allowed himself to deceive you just to feel the warm touch of kindness he’d forgotten. He’d allowed you to take him to this, to your home, to tend to him. He’d allowed you to burrow into his heart, into the empty hollow that had resigned itself to the terrible ending fate had divined for him.

He hadn’t intended to fall in love with you.

How could he not? How could he not be mesmerized by the captivating, beautiful strangeness of you? You with your wistful eyes, with your lonely smile, with the way you were so kind despite everything, despite the suffering, stifling solitude that he could see haunt your gaze? How could he possibly ignore this creature that was like him in so many ways, one who filled the emptiness of his aching soul?

Your smiles, your laughter, the brightness of your eyes and soft greetings, the way your bare skin was cast aglow by the fire- sights, sounds, scents that had forced him to forget who he was, the feral creature he was born to be. He’d gone willingly into your palms, had sheathed his fangs just to nuzzle against your delicate touch.

He should have left sooner. Perhaps then this fate would not be so cruel.

At least, in the end, he was loved. If only for just a while.

König waits until the ache of your final words has subsided, rises from the bed that still smells like you and gathers the clothes you’ve made for him. He drinks in the scent of you once more, remembers what it felt like to have you safe in his arms, in his den, in the place where he loved you too.

He hopes that you’ll forgive him for this someday.

König staggers from your home, down towards the edge of the forest.

And once more, he vows to keep you safe.

Safe from himself.

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#konig x reader #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x you #könig x f! reader #my fic #fic: rotes madchen #werewolf x reader

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moonage-gaydream · 10 months

Text

What up gaymers! What I got here for y'all today is my bestie @supermansbisexualson's DC self-insert, Summer Kent, aka Ember... in Lego DC Super Villains!

Here's Ember, lookin' super cute as usual in their superhero costume (they're part of the Superfam, so I tried givin' them a Superman emblem, but the only one available in the character creator cannot be colored differently, so I gave them a heart emblem)!

Here we have Ember chillin' with their significant other: Jason Todd, formerly Robin #2, currently the Red Hood!

Here we got Ember spendin' quality time with their adoptive parents, Superman and Lois Lane!

Here's Ember and Superman in Metropolis!

And last but certainly not least, we have Ember havin' some fun with my DC self-insert: Pepper Jackson, of the Star Sapphire Corps!

(I'll post more on Pepper at a later time.)

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starlight-starwrites · 3 months

Text

the closest approximation

astarion x bard!elf!reader

summary: you find yourself having trouble falling into your trance, so you seek out what comfort you can in the wilds of faerûn. wc: 2.5k warnings: we deal with self-doubt the good ol'fashioned way: with bad jokes and praying that your crush likes you as much as you like him! note: this is written with my tav in mind, but reads as a reader character. i basically wanted to do a bit of a character study of what would go on for those long rests and how the astarion romance would progress in act 1 post sleeping together, pre tiefling party

The fire burns low, a glowing flicker that barely warms you through the blanket you have wrapped around your shoulders.

You sit upright on your bedroll, tired eyes burning as you stare at bright orange embers. Lae’zel is as peaceful as you’ve ever seen her, eyes closed and head turned aside. Karlach breathes deep on your other side, sleeping just as soundly. You wish you could sleep as they did.

The stars are distant, but you had counted each one as you lay. Still, your trance escapes you. Each time you close your eyes, they slide back open to dart across the night sky just as thoughts dart through your mind.

It wasn’t the tadpole’s fault. Nor your injuries or the sounds from your companions. Not this time. No. The one time it was a quiet, peaceful night, your doubts crept in.

Even sitting here, keeping watch wasn’t enough. You run the rough material of the blanket through your fingers, itching to move—or rather, itching to slip unconscious and not move at all.

With thoughts like this, you don’t want to be alone, but you don’t want to wake anyone. They deserve their rest. As you rock back and forth in debate, you know there is only one person you really want to talk to at all.

You’re on your feet in a moment, moving silently away from the fire, blanket cloaked around you. The action is the one thing you don’t doubt, and you wonder if that should concern you. He’s hardly a good influence, but it’s easy talking to him. It’s the reason why you part the blood red drape to his tent and step in.

“Oh,” you pull up short as you catch his figure in the candlelight. He’s up and standing, adjusting his clothes with his back to you. “Are you going hunting?”

Astarion started to turn the moment he heard you, and you notice the flicker of surprise, maybe even fear on his face before it melts into his familiar smirk. He keeps a careful mask, and you allow it.

“Just got back, darling.” Stiff shoulders and rigid spine melt into the familiar lean of his hips and tilt of his head. He means to be welcoming, and you step further in, letting the curtain fall behind you. “Need something?”

He looks pleased that you’re here, maybe even teasing - like he knows something you don’t. Too tired to care, you wrap the blanket tighter around yourself and stand at his side. The edge of it brushes against his boots. Mud is caked on the toe, and when you lift your head to look at him, you catch sight of little blood splatters on the collar of his shirt.

“Just restless,” you answer. Your body drifts, swayed by fatigue or the comfort of another, close enough to touch if you wished.

His eyes are hooded as he looks down at you. “Can’t sleep?” He hums, the bottle he was holding set to the side and the same hand placed at your waist. You feel the weight of his palm, his long fingers though the blanket. “So you come to me.”

It could have been a question. Him testing the waters to see exactly what you came for even though he’s likely already made up his mind. You have come to him before, after all.

You don’t know what is different this time. Maybe it’s that you haven’t been resting easy for days now. Or maybe the way his touch is gentle. Or maybe the fact that despite you and Astarion being the closest at camp, you still haven’t truly been open with each other.

“I can’t…I can’t keep doing this.” It bears down on you all of a sudden, all of the doubt and worry and fear. It grips your heart now the same way it rattled in your brain the entire time you lay on the dirt ground, warmed only by the fire and the presence of your companions.

You lean back into the pressure of Astarion’s touch, feeling guilty for not holding it together better. His hand twitches at your side, and you sense his confusion. “This—ugh, this stupid adventure. Abduction. This cruel twist of fate.” Your fisted hands twist the blanket, and you pull it tighter to your chin as though it’d help you disappear. “It’s nothing like the stories. Nothing like the ballads I sing.”

You laugh, looking to the ceiling of his tent. How ridiculous it was. You sometimes dreamed of it, some great adventure. The little quests you were hired to accompany in your past paled in comparison to this.

This wasn’t you. You weren’t a fearless leader or some highly skilled adventurer. You had barely any idea what was happening to you, let alone what to do about every new villain that haunted each of your companions. “I’ve never done this before. I’m no leader. You all look to me like…like I have answers. Or I can do these things,” you talk of the goblins’ attack on the enclave, when you watched the dead rise in those old ruins, or how each of your companions have these dire needs you promised to solve all while you had parasites in your heads… “Well I can’t! I can’t. I can defend myself enough to get out of there and that’s it. I hate confrontation. I’m not trying to start these fights…I’ll talk my way out of anything, I swear, but,” you swallow, a thick feeling slowing your words, “I’m not meant to be here. I’m nobody. I can’t even trance. I’m trying so hard to keep us together, so hard.”

Your face falls to your hands, the blanket flutters open. You want him to know this, you realize. It had been a fear of yours, the way the others saw you. Astarion especially. You’re a musician, not a warrior. An entertainer, not a protector. You’d do everything you could for them, but surely that wasn’t much. Your next words are quiet, a smaller admittance of what you’ve been wanting since that Nautiloid crashed on the beach.

“I just want to make sure we survive this.” You want to go home.

When you look to Astarion’s face, you see the pinch in his brow and the turn of his mouth. He tries to hide his concern so often, but your rant seems to have broken through. He’s been worried enough, between his scars and the vampire hunter—gods, and now you’re dumping this on him. You told him you’d look out for him, and you’re all but admitting you’re an incompetent fool.

Your shoulders slump. He is your traveling companion, a friend, a little more than that. You think of him as a lot more than that, and sometimes he acts as though he is. But he doesn’t…well he doesn’t…

You let out a laugh, small and with an exhale, and move your head to break his gaze. “Sorry. I think the lack of sleep is getting to me,” you smile in his direction but don’t meet his eyes. “I don’t mean to worry you, or anything…just needed to, well—to talk I guess. I’ll be fine, really.” You turn a bit, and notice his hand had begun to slip. “We’ve gotten through so much already, what’s a camp full of goblins and cultists, hm?”

You try to relax, try to ease the tension from him too. You punctuate your glib question with a nudge to his arm. You and Astarion had always teased each other, falling into a comfortable rapport since he first held that stupid knife to your throat. It’s easy with him, and your touch prompts him to hold fast to your waist once again.

You said what you needed. He knows how you feel now, whether or not it’s for the best. He tsk’s at you. Your eyes flit to him, but you don’t face him yet.

“Darling, really, you almost had me worried.” His other hand comes around to your back and you have to step closer, your body held to his. He tilts his head. “After everything we’ve been through together? You’ve gotten us this far, honestly even I am surprised—”

You smack him in the chest this time. The blanket slips a bit from your shoulders, but the offended look he gives makes you stifle a laugh.

“Oh, my sweet, here I am trying to be kind—”

“You are not.”

He pulls you closer, both arms winding around your waist, and you feel his hands begin to wander, even over the course material of your blanket cloak. His eyes drop, lidded and dark. “Fine. I know what you need. What you really want.” The change in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, fades your smile. His face is inches from yours, a cool breath on your cheek. “Let me distract you.”

You’re not surprised by his offer, but you are surprised by your disappointment. It actually…isn’t what you want. Maybe if it had been any other night, if had been offered under different circumstances. Tonight, his seduction only subdues your mood.

His lips brush your cheek, and you almost do it. You almost let him. Astarion always does this to you—make you melt into him, give in to every little touch. You’re not sure you’ve refused him anything.

If he kisses you now, you know you’ll follow wherever he leads.

It’s why you dip your head, look to the old blankets he has for a bedroll. His lips miss their mark, and you tense. You feel his surprise. It’s not quite a flinch, and you can’t stand to see his expression.

His hold is stiff, he doesn’t move. You know he’s about to pull away, to play off what happened or tease you for it. You need to salvage this.

“I’m…too tired for that,” you say apologetically. But the small smile you offer does nothing to ease the rejection.

His hand slips away, and you see something flash across his face. “I see,” he quips with a wave of his hand. His body shifts back, and you feel the space between you grow. “I must say between the two of us, I may be the undead, but you are starting to look it.”

Ah, yes. There it is.

He adjusts his posture, one hand coming to hold his elbow while he gestures wildly. “Well, if you’re so tired you don’t even want me to help you, I can’t imagine what you’re here for.” He sniffs, and you see right through him. It’s meant to look casual, show his disinterest.

Your face pinches, brows raised up. Is he serious?

Do you tell him that just his presence helps? That the brief rant you went on already eased a weight in your chest, even if you worry it wasn’t well received? Do you tell him that you like to talk with him? That every little joke or comment makes you laugh, and that he somehow makes the abnormal seem normal?

Your lips part, and the blanket no longer stays over your slumped shoulders. It’s late. You’ve made him defensive, and these damn feelings have made you feel like a child again. But you can’t bare to go back out there without him.

“I suppose I wanted to ask if it’s alright I stay?” You shrug, voice soft, and watch the tension slowly bleed from him again. “If I could sleep here for tonight,” you clarify. “You know I don’t like to give undue compliments, but it seems I enjoy your company.”

Your dig succeeds in making him laugh. Well, it’s a snort, really. But a smile is a smile, and you feel better for seeing it on him.

“Since you’re so nice, how could I say no?”

“You could quite easily, you know. I’m not doing much besides inconveniencing you.”

His face softens as he passes by. You stand shoulder to shoulder, you facing his bedroll, him facing the door to his tent. “I’d hardly think of you as an inconvenience.”

“No?” You pause as he does, looking up at him with eyes just as soft. “Not even when I make you wait for me to loot everything?”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, no longer leaning in. “Tedious, darling, but no.”

“Not even when you had to carry me back after we fought those gnolls?”

“Ugh, yes, alright.” He moves past you, and you laugh, letting your blanket fully slip from around you. “Never do that again, that was more than just bloody inconvenient.”

You lay the blanket down, lining it evenly with Astarion’s. The shared space is smaller that your bed at home. You sit on the covered ground, watching quietly as Astarion extinguishes the small lamp at the entrance before lounging beside you. The sleeves of his faded white shirt stay rolled, his forearms bracing against his blanket as he adjusts. You can smell the faint aroma of his perfume. He scootches closer, centered on his roll, hair splayed on a sorry excuse of a pillow.

Would he like your bed?

After nothing but dirt and rock, he could hardly be picky. But he did love to complain, surely he’d find something.

“Change your mind, love?”

Astarion is watching you too, you realize. You’ve been staring too long. His hooded eyes roam over you, and you lie back quickly. Caught.

“No.” The ground is hard at your back, but you relax your arms at your sides, still looking at him. “Just thinking.”

He hums. “What about?”

His eyes glint scarlet, even in the dark. You can make out the planes of his face, the line of his jaw. The curl of silvery hair over his forehead. His shoulder is close enough to brush yours.

Laying here fully dressed, barely touching, watching the other before falling into trance somehow feels more intimate than the night you shared deep in the woods.

Open sky. Cloth tents. Danger lurking. You realize what has been preventing you from resting all this time. You are a creature of comfort, after all. You want your home because you want to feel safe. For some reason, here with Astarion, you find the closest approximation. So, you don’t hesitate to tell him.

“A four poster bed. Satin sheets. Wayyy too many pillows for a single person. Velvet red drapes that block every drop of light. Piles of blankets, soft to the touch. A warm hearth. The faint smell of rosewood…”

You watch the curve of his smile. Not teasing this time. It’s wistful. “Sounds exquisite.”

You didn’t share the last part of your thoughts of the very real room back in Baldur’s Gate. Thoughts of curling up, not alone, but next to a pale-haired elf more comfortably than you do now.

Exquisite.

You smile, eyes drifting closed.

It’s slow, but you slip into your trance, Astarion at your side. The brush of a shoulder, the faint touch of a hand on yours remind you he’s there. And you imagine a distant future, a quiet night just you and him. Safe. No longer alone. And home.

#astarion x reader #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion ancunin x reader #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav

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