#happy World Soil Day

[wintrwinchestr]

an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can’t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on. 

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression. 

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand. 

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it. 

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state. 

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap. 

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows. 

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you. 

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lave your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you–” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches. 

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against. 

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can. 

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain. 

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…” 

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is. 

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #daddy!joel miller #joel miller smut

[woso-dreamzzz]

Sorry

Leah Williamson x Reader

Summary: The aftermath of the World Cup

The celebrations were crazy.

The champagne, the shots, the drunken phone calls to your mother.

It all came to a close as you got back on a plane and flew home to London. You were riding the high all through the flight but you lost it all as soon as you stepped foot on English soil.

Your World Cup medal suddenly felt heavy in your bag as you slipped into the house. It was still quiet out, the moon still high in the sky.

Leah was a lump in the bed, still awake. You could tell even though it was stupid o'clock in the morning and she usually slept like a log.

You knew Leah like the back of your hand and you knew when she was feigning sleep.

You also knew not to push, flipping open your phone and sending a quick text to Codi assuring her that you made it home safely.

A similar one appeared from her a few minutes later and you got to work slipping into your pyjamas.

You hadn't said anything to Leah.

She didn't say anything to you.

You slipped into bed next to her. Usually, you would throw your arm over her waist and pull her closer but just like you knew not to talk, you knew not to touch as well.

Sleep came easier to you than it did to Leah. The late-night flight combined with Codi chattering in your ear the whole time had you exhausted and you fell into a slumber very quickly.

You didn't know what to expect when you padded downstairs the next day.

Leah's spot in the bed was empty and cold. You could hear the coffee machine whirring in the kitchen and stood to go meet your fate.

"Hi, amor," You said, lingering in the doorway.

"Hi." Leah didn't turn around to look at you, staring out the window into the garden.

Her hands trembled around her mug, raising it to her lips and sipping.

The tension was palpable. It was thick and heavy like wading through a bog.

It was silent for a beat and then-

The most awful noise ripped from Leah's mouth and you flinched. She turned to look at you, tears falling from her face as you looked at each other.

"Amor...I'm sor-"

"Don't apologise," Leah choked out," Just...don't apologise. You've nothing to apologise for. You won the World Cup, don't say sorry about that."

"Amor..." You reached for her, wary in case she rejected you but she didn't.

Her head rested on your shoulder as she sobbed and you gently rubbed her back, letting Leah curl up in your strong arms while she cried.

"Don't apologise," She said again," Don't you dare. It was the best moment of your life. Don't let me ruin it."

You apologised anyway. "I'm sorry it had to be against England."

Leah hadn't played in the tournament, not with her acl tear but she had been in the crowd for the final. She had watched as Spain outclassed England at every turn.

She watched the fluidity between you and your teammates, reminded just why Arsenal had headhunted you straight from Barcelona. You would have never realised that you had been playing away from your childhood club for years at this point.

It was annoying to watch. Leah was proud of her country, she loved being the captain but...

"You won the World Cup," She choked out," And I love you and I'm proud of you and happy but..."

"I know," You said," I know, Leah. I get it. It's okay, amor. Let it out. Let it all out."

You stood there with her for nearly fifteen minutes, rocking her back and forth in your kitchen as her coffee mug was left forgotten on the counter.

"I'm sorry," Leah said as she wiped away her tears, stepping back from you with a little awkward laugh," I had a plan last night. You were going to come home and I was going to reward you with awesome sex."

That surprised a laugh out of you.

"Somehow, I think that would have freaked me out more then you just ignoring me."

"Shut up," She said with an eye roll, recapturing her mug," We have great celebratory sex. We do it all the time!"

You laughed again. "I think you're lucky preseason doesn't start up again until next week. I've got a gold medal in my bag that I really want to see you in."

"Just the medal?"

You nodded. "Just the medal."

#woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

[considernature]

Happy Earth Day!

We share this beautiful planet with over two million other species, from wasps the size of a grain of dust to whales larger than an office building. Yet, many of these species now face extinction due to the ways in which we humans have modified the planet to suit our needs. According to the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN), 13% of birds, 21% of reptiles, 27% of mammals, 37% of sharks, and 41% of amphibians are currently endangered, and some estimates suggest that 28% of all species on Earth are at risk of extinction in the near future. Imagine you woke up tomorrow and more than a quarter of every plant, animal, and fungus, from the elephants at the zoo to the earthworms beneath the soil, simply vanished, never to be seen ever again. If we choose to continue treating our planet so poorly, this will become a reality.

Here at Consider Nature, we believe the best way to protect our planet is to arm ourselves with knowledge! Over the years, we have written many articles on some of Earth’s coolest, weirdest, and most-endangered species, in the hope of inspiring readers to step up to the plate and protect biodiversity. I hope you will spend a few minutes of your Earth Day today reading about some of the species we believe are worth saving.

Zacaton grasslands in central Mexico, home to the Zacatuche, or volcano rabbit. Image credit: Jurgen Hoth

The Succulent Karoo, one of the most biodiverse ecosystems on Earth and home to the Karoo Padloper. Image credit: Tjeerd Wiersma under CC BY-SA 2.0.

The Gulf of California, home of the critically endangered Vaquita. Image credit: Natural World Heritage Sites.

#animals #nature #science #biology #wildlife #conservation #environment #earth day #endangered species

[tteokdoroki]

✩࿐TRACK 01: RIGHT HERE. katsuki bakugou (2K)

about. leaving katsuki bakugou was the hardest thing you’ve ever done. pretending that you no longer love him every time he calls is even harder.

warnings. minors and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, slight angst, fluff, hurt-comfort, happy ending, break ups, mentions of harassment, exes to lovers, pro hero + fem!reader, pro hero!bakugou.

things to note. yay !! the first fic of the series !! idk im really excited about these and they were super fun to write. i hope you guys enjoy <3 - masterlist / series masterlist / playlist ✩

leaving katsuki was probably the hardest thing you’ve had to do in all your years of living. 

being one another’s first loves, you feel like you owe a piece of yourself to him. the relationship that you founded together leaving high school had taught you so much, about yourself, about him and about how the world worked. it was comfortable with katsuki, he knew you liked the back of his own hands — what made you smile the way he liked, what made you laughed in the way that made his stomach twist with a joyous emotion he didn’t even know he was capable of, what made you squirm and what made you pissed off, too. 

and as you navigated the challenges of adulthood, grew into your lives and yourself — stretched the skin around your bones to spread your wings you realised that overtime, katsuki made you sadder than he made you happier. you made him feel angrier than he made you feel calm.

neither of you were prepared to let go, holding onto frayed ends of a love that had built up your confidence and set you on the course for the rest of your lives. but to say it ended on good terms would be a lie too. you needed an out and took the first one you saw, a friend on the other side of the country was starting an agency on their own and needed a partner. you knew it would hurt bakugou more than anything, so perhaps, that’s why you did it. 

you left in the middle of the night to fulfill the dream you and the blonde had come up with together — with someone else. 

of course, leaving him behind wasn’t easy and it still isn’t. cutting katsuki completely out of your life wasn’t a viable option and at least not for long, three months after your big move he came across your agency on the news following a huge rescue and shift in the hero rankings. katsuki was proud of you, he missed you, dialled up your agency to tell you himself and for some reason you found yourself clinging onto his every word not knowing that he felt the same.

you couldn’t forget about him, your golden boy and his golden smile that made heat spread through all four chambers of your heart and blood rush through your ears to the point where you were dizzy. bakugou was your day and he was your night, each of you taking turns returning from patrolling shifts that ran late for two semi-pro heroes like you — practically running into one another’s arms.

in another universe, it would still be that way for the both of you — but katsuki was bad for you, and you inevitably worse for him. even if you’d found new soil to settle your roots in, you secretly hoped that bakugou would come find you in every single timeline, every single world either of you existed in. 

maybe that’s why you kept in touch despite the dates you went on to get over him. maybe that’s why emails turned to texts and texts turned to phone calls that centred around reminiscing the past — the songs that you shared and the plans that you made. together. 

“how’s that boyfriend of yours?” bakugou grunts absentmindedly, the gruffness of his voice evened out by the static on his end of the phone. from the corner of your eye, you watch on the screen  as he slips through your old kitchen easily — knowing where everything is, knowing that he used to pin you up against those counters, knowing that he used to corner you while making coffee and...

you shake your head, popping it into view so that the blonde can see you roll your eyes in mock annoyance. “he’s not my boyfriend… just a friend from work.” you still have no idea why you lie to bakugou like that, actively pretending that your dating life isn’t flourishing. you tell yourself that it has nothing to do with the fact that you still want him. even though it never works out when you lead each other back into bed whenever you get the chance. “what are you making?” you ask, to distract yourself. 

“he likes you though.” katsuki returns from the fridge and steps into frame to show you the pack of tofu you know that he likes to cook with. you could have probably found it in your local convenience store with your eyes closed at this point. but you didn’t want him to know that you still remembered all of the little things about him. his likes, dislikes, hopes and dreams. “s’that tofu recipe fuyumi gave me back in high school. the one that makes ya—“ 

“the one that makes me shit my guts out, yeah. thanks for the reminder, bakugou.” you huff, glaring at the phone and wander into your own kitchen, subconsciously. probably to feel a little closer to your ex. “he doesn’t like me. how would you even know that?” 

“hah? bakugou? what happened to katsuki?” 

“don’t change the subject.” 

the swell of bakugou’s lush lips press into a thin line and you can just about make out his pout as you set the phone down to make yourself a fucking drink because you really can’t do this. you hate that you still seek him out in your darkest hours, when you’re alone in this city and it feels like the world is slowly turning against you. 

you’d turned off your television hours ago to avoid hearing the news. deleted the social media apps off your phone, too. called bakugou to fill the silence of your home with something soft, familiar like the deep depths of his voice. he provides a distraction that the chaos in your brain recognises, watching katsuki cook in that same old flat you rented right after going pro soothes the tensions in your body. 

his tatted arm with the sleeve flexes as he skilfully wields the sharpest knife from the set you gifted him on his twenty first. his crystallised ruby eyes squint and his nose scrunches in that adorable way as he reads the cooking instructions on the tofu even though you know that bakugou knows how to prepare it off by heart. 

all of these little things about katsuki make you feel at ease even though you’re worlds apart and taking your lives into different directions. 

“what happened today wasn’t your fault,” his timbre voice was over the line, grasping at the straws of your attention. you hadn’t realised you’d been zoning out when katsuki snaps his fingers at you. “quit that. ‘m talkin’ to you.”

“don’t snap at me, i’m not your dog.”

katsuki looks like he’s about to make a comment, but refrains when you scowl at him over the FaceTime call. “yeah but you weren’t listening to me, i know why you called me. saw it on the fuckin’ news, but i wanted you to hear from the resident fuck up that this’ll all blow over. the media is just shit.” 

even through bakugou’s brashness he still helps you lick at your wounds like you’re still his. “i hope so,” you sigh quietly and pick up your phone so that you can get a closer look at his expression, concern etched into his features. “being a pro hero decking a fan in the face doesn’t exactly instil confidence.” 

“he was a creep who’s been stalkin’ you for months. he fuckin’ deserved it. if you hadn’t,—“

“dynamight would’ve, my hero.” even though your tone is sarcastic, bakugou can tell that you’re thankful, that you mean it. he never liked that you were always one to suffer quietly, let the world walk all over you as if you weren’t worth standing tall and being proud of yourself. in some ways, the blonde wanted to be your hero — not the world’s. he wanted to stick up for you where you couldn’t even if he was defending you from yourself. 

you hated him for it, he loved you through it. perhaps that’s why your relationship was always falling from grace.

bakugou knows that you’re struggling to keep it all together, lock up all your troubles and throwing away the key with the hopes of never seeing them again. he knows that you carry that weight and that you’ll collapse if there isn’t someone to help you bear the burden. 

so he tentatively reaches out, metaphorically crosses that line you’d drawn after ending things, because you’re in need. “yanno, if you need me, i’m right here.” 

it’s like his words have snapped you back into reality, and you shoot him a look over the call. “katsuki, you shouldn’t say that.” 

“why not?” he quips — you almost miss it over the sound of his food sizzling as he begins to cook.

“we’re not together anymore… we’re broken up. it’s weird.” 

“it’s not weird to look out for friends.” bakugou snarls gruffly, though he’s all bite and no bark — mostly embarrassed by your rejection. “you think just ‘cause ‘m not callin’ you mine and giving you head every night anymore, i don’t wanna be here for you?” but of course he still finds a way to make the conversation go lewd, to fluster you. “i told you that wouldn’t change. broken up or not...what? what’s with that face. don’t make that face, sweetness.”

a hand comes up to mindlessly touch at your face and brush over your lips, you don’t even realise that you're pouting. 

“katsuki i’m serious.” you say, whining like a child. 

“and so am i.” your ex mumbles right back and you can see his tongue running over his teeth from behind his plump lips — just barely holding back a cocky smirk. 

“you’ll only make this harder.” 

“we’ve never been easy.”

“we’re supposed to be moving on from each other.” 

“you’re the one who called me, sweetness.” 

“that doesn’t mean—“ 

“you miss me.” bakugou has always been brutally honest but that doesn’t mean you’re prepared for him to hit you with the truth. it’s like a punch to the gut that makes the world start spinning and your heart stop beating. you do miss him, you always will — he’s all you’ve ever known even if it’s been years since you last embraced his love. what you have now has teetered on the blurred line of friendship and love, it’s far from normalcy. but tonight you feel like letting yourself fall a little harder, return to your old ways. “s’okay. i miss you too.” 

static echoes between your phones during the call, breaking the pocket of silence yourself and katsuki find yourself basking in. 

“you mean it?” you question the blonde tenderly. the world has been so tough on you lately, you’re not sure if you could handle bakugou breaking your heart again. or you breaking his. “you’re not just…playing with me like you used to.” 

“i’m being serious, sweetness.” you can tell that he means it, genuinity etched into his voice as it reverberates through your kitchen. “i’m by your side through everythin’, thick ‘n thin just like i promised.”

“yeah well so am i.” you mock his little quip from earlier and it makes him smile — brightly, the corners of his lips just touching his ears and the red in his eyes shimmering with a familiar affection you truly have missed so much. promises were easily broken, but bakugou’s made good on every one that he’s ever made for you. including this. “katsuki…” 

he tests the waters, dipping into your old routine with an air of hope about things. “yeah, baby?”

“will you come see me?” you bleat, picking up the phone as if it’ll bring you any closer to him. “i need you.” 

“if you need me, i’ll be there.” bakugou whispers without missing another beat. 

he doesn’t care what he has to do, what either of you have been through — you called because you needed him, because the world had put you on your knees and you were losing yourself in the mess of it all. 

katsuki bakugou books the next flight out to see you, intending to keep his promise to you.

no matter what, for you, he’ll always be right here. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst #bakugou imagine #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo imagines #bakugo drabble #bakugo fluff #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki fluff #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagines #bnha angst #mha x reader #mha x you #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

[randomdragonfires]

If The Sun Ever Rises | Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 | To See You Again

SUMMARY | After narrowly escaping the Battle Above God’s Eye, Prince Aemond is now a hidden fugitive within the very kingdom he once ruled. Driven by vengeance, he plans to usurp Aegon III and avenge his family. His rage-blinded path to the throne begins with getting rid of Cregan Stark and the men who support his nephew’s rule. Having nothing to lose, he recklessly kidnaps the Northerner’s betrothed - his own niece - hoping to lure him and his men out to fight.

Soon, Aemond finds that memories of a first love are strong, and that he cannot steel his heart against the woman he has loved all his life.

WARNINGS | 18+; Smut; Canon Divergence - Aemond lives (but barely); Violence; Stockholm Syndrome; Mental and Physical Trauma; Angst; Canon Incest; Manipulation; No Happy Endings In This House YAY

WORD COUNT | 2k

Text Divider by @saradika

They had been running for three days now.

Slivers of moonlight pierced through the dense canopy above. The twisted and gnarled branches of trees, like skeletal fingers grasping for the Seven Heavens, cast their eerie shadows across the forest floor. The tangled roots snaked across the damp earth and moss clung to the ancient trunks like a dark shroud.

The air was heavy with the scent of damp soil and decaying leaves, mingling with the sweet aroma of wildflowers that dared to bloom amidst the darkness. Faint whispers seemed to echo through the tangled undergrowth, as if the very forest itself held secrets long forgotten.

As they ascended the hill, the terrain grew steeper, the path narrow and treacherous. Each step was a struggle against the relentless pull of gravity, the earth slick with dew beneath their feet. Aemond held onto her hand as tightly as she could - she hadn’t allowed him to touch her initially, having been in shock at being abducted from the arms of her betrothed - but there was only so much a defeated, tired princess could do on her own.

She panted from exertion. The blood on her face was dry now – he’d needed to hurt her to get her to comply. She looked at him with all the anger that he knew she was never capable of, and a forgotten corner of his mind yearned for an easier time when she’d held different feelings for him.

In an ideal world, there would have been no war. He could have married her, just as he’d promised in the protected darkness of the nights in hidden chambers and intimate correspondences. They could have been happy.

Though his thirst for vengeance was screaming at him, a small part of his mind wished for a quieter time; a time that would never come.

His family was dead, and he needed her to balance the scales. He owed Helaena that much. He owed Aegon that much. Mother, Daeron, Criston, sweet Jaehaerys, and Maelor - all his kith and kin. He had failed them all.

He would be damned to all Seven Hells before letting their deaths mean nothing.

At the hill's summit, the forest parted, revealing a precipice that loomed over the land below. The distant glimmer of moonlight danced upon the surface of a winding river, its waters black as night. He let go of her, and she fell to her knees, relishing the feeling of a flat surface and slower breaths as she bid her heart to slow down. He watched her ears perk up as she heard the crunch of his boots over the dry leaves, stalking towards her in that catlike stealth that he had taught himself to have.

He took her by surprise as he tightened his arm around her chest and grabbed her by the neck, making her body twitch in fear as she rose involuntarily. At the edge of the abyss, he turned her around to face him as he let the cold steel of his blade kiss her skin and travel over her frayed white dress from neck to navel.

How did we come to this?

She did not recognize the man in front of her.

He was the boy who had brought her books when her brothers teased her to the point of crying; who had kept her company in her grief of being a dragonless Targaryen; who had held her hand and promised that he would marry her; the one who had come rushing to her the night he claimed Vhagar, promising to take her on a ride.

He was the man who had taunted her and her brothers' parentage at a family supper; who had kissed her senseless in a lone passageway the very same night when he found out that Rhaenrya had no intention of letting him have her. He was the man who had killed sweet, mischievous Luke; the one whom she had left behind when she had been sent to the North; the one whom she had hoped would come and take her away, against all odds.

So many memories tied to him, inexplicably. And yet, she did not recognize the man in front of her.

As a boy, he had had such striking eyes - in color, but more so in the volatility of their regard. Always flitting about, looking for things to imbibe, to brand into his memory. His functional eye had grown different since she had last seen him - distant, devoid of the charming curiosity that would shine in his violet orb.

The eye of a war-worn murderer. He had probably brought her here because he wanted to kill her too.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” she whispered the words, almost uncertain. The coldness of his Valyrian steel dagger made goosebumps rise up on the planes of her skin, and yet, she surprisingly found that she was scared, not in the least.

He smirked and leaned in close to her, the leather strap of his eyepatch grazing her temple as she let the warmth of his breath bloom over her face. He raised the blade to her neck and teased her, being so bold as to let out a throaty, exhausted laugh that sounded more maniacal than anything else. She shut her eyes closed, hoping that if she could keep her world dark, she could pretend that this was all a nightmare.

She had often dreamt that he would take her away. She had hoped and hoped and hoped, and now that he was here, she couldn’t fathom how wrong she had been to wish for it.

Silly little fool.

“Sharp, sweet niece.”

His tone made her flinch. His voice was rough and predatory - so much so that she couldn’t tell if it was him or the situation itself that made her feel that way. “You’re supposed to be dead. Daemon….”

Her voice was lost in the air as he raised his eyebrow, a menacing smile in place as he pressed the blade into her skin - just enough to make a few blood red spots bloom. “I killed him. He thought he was better than me, the old fool. I stabbed him in his right eye, the very one that I lost. Vengeance, dear niece…” His thumb collected the first drop of blood that dripped from where he had made his mark, “... makes for the sweetest of spoils. And I intend to taste more of this victory…”

It happened on instinct, her reaching out to hold his wrist tight through his shirt. The irony of taking the hand of the man who wanted to hurt her and counting on him to not let her fall was not lost on her; but if she didn’t, she was sure she would faint.

“...With you.”

The last words confused her, having her mind scrabbling to piece the puzzle and figure out his intent. “Me?” She leaned her head back to breathe and put some space between her and his blade, but that only spurned him more as he pulled her to him by the back of her neck.

“Aegon, Helaena, Criston, Jaeherys, Maelor, mother…vengeance for them all. When he comes for you, to save you… I’ll kill him, and then I’ll kill the little boy that you call a King. Take what is rightfully mine and avenge them.”

The Aemond she had known was too calculated, too weary to tell anyone anything at all. But this, this wasn’t her Aemond. This was a different man - a mad killer, a stranger; one that intended to use her in his rage-filled path to regicide and revenge.

When he comes for you, to save you… I’ll kill him. 

She could only think of one man who would come looking for her. Her betrothed, Cregan Stark - the same man who had shown her Northern hospitality and shared his home and hearth so she could be kept safe away from the bloodshed of the war.

And Aemond wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill them all and take the Iron Throne.

“Gods…”

She had always felt compelled to help during the war. She wasn’t a skilled warrior, nor was she a bold woman. Dainty little sweetheart, her mother used to call her. How can I manage to keep you safe and sound?

She had always wanted to help her mother - be a good daughter and play her part in helping her sit the Throne, as was her birthright. When she had been sent to the North as Cregan Stark’s betrothed, Rhaenyra Targaryen had told her that this was her duty, her contribution to the Blacks’ victory.

You will help me win by keeping my mind at ease about you, child, she had said. You will help me win by staying safe and bringing the Northerners’ allegiance to our cause. 

That had been her contribution, but it hadn’t been enough. Daemon, Luke, Jace, Joffrey, Rhaenys… they’re all dead. She had done what she could, and it was not enough.

And now, Aemond wanted to kill sweet Aegon. Her beloved brother, the little one who held the weight of the world on his shoulders. He would make a fine king, she knew - but not if Aemond was going to lure Cregan out to fight and make him vulnerable to attacks.

She’d be damned to all Seven Hells if she let him win.

He had been observing her, it seemed. As she let her thoughts sweep her away, he had taken to watching her, reminding himself of every inch of her. She raised her hand to his warm dry cheek, bony from what could have only been a lack of proper food. How long has he been staying here, amidst the trees?

“You don’t have to do this, uncle. Let me go now, and it’ll be like it never happened. There’s been enough bloodshed.”

She thought she imagined it, but she knew it was true when she felt his grip on the blade falter for just a moment. She made good on his momentary lapse and kicked his knee to fold under him with all her might. He fell, and she took hurried steps away from him as he grunted in pain.

Her skirts swirled as she turned just slightly, sneaking a peek off the edge of the hill. If she jumped, she would fall into the waters that ran below - but would that be enough? She’d have to die. She had to. She would not let him use her; she would not let him kill them.

This was her contribution to the war. Her deceased mother’s victory lay in her daughter’s ability to keep the rightful king alive. This was her chance, and she was not going to fail her. He stood up with panting breaths, and she looked him in the eye as boldly as she could, knowing very well that she might as well be living her last and final moments.

She had always wanted to fly - and if she wasn’t going to do it now, then when would she?

She closed her eyes and threw herself over the edge, seeing the sky become a fading memory as she made the steep drop. Halfway through, she opened her eyes and saw him leaning over the edge, panicked, watching her free-falling figure from the hilltop as she flew, flew, flew.

She fell into the water, making contact with sharp tree branches and thorns on the way down in her descent. The blood on her face and body mixed with the water that surrounded her, and blood-red ripples muddled her vision as she closed her eyes.

Water filled her nostrils, and her vision went dark in a matter of mere moments.

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A/N: Got so inspired by the S2 poster, I managed to finish this damn thing hehe. This was a lot more fast paced than my usual writing style, and I'd love to hear what you guys think! I've been really out of touch with fic writing, and feedback is always welcome :)

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#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond smut #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond fic #aemond #pro aemond targaryen #aemond stannies #aemond angst #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fanfiction

[neoarchipelago]

Just saw a TikTok where a kid send their favorite stuff animal to his dad who's deployed. Just imagine this happening with 141 🥺 (I'm actually sending this to my favorite writers hoping I can get a cute scenario 😅)

That sounds adorable... I melted at the thought. Sorry it got very angst with Ghost but I'm feral for this man and I'd give him babies any time he wants.

Warning: slight NSFW, f!reader, angst and comfort

Price:

Price would frown but have a little smirk, watching the recruit hand him a cardboard box. His smile spreads when he notices figures of who it is from.

He wouldn't mind opening it in front of the team. They'd be busy bickering anyway.

He swears his heart stops for a second and he sees the soft thing. He could recognize it in the middle of the battlefield, the awful thought putting a ping of anger in his heart.

He'd be silent for a moment, looking at the round pink thing, his mind instantly wandering home, to you and your daughter.

He took the tiny note, scribbled a bit. "Keep you company daddy. Love, mom and me"

He swears he could cry right now.

He keeps it in his barracks, hidden so well no one ever glanced at it until he left. He wouldn't dare taking it with him, not wanting to soil it with he horrors of the battlefield.

He hugs it at night, until the day he returns, his daughter running to him as he holds the stuffed animal who kept his sanity strong.

He makes sure to worship you that night, thanking you silently for making him the happiest man on earth. In the morning you're sore but oh so happy. He whispers sweet nothings as he helps prepare breakfast, thanking you for giving him a daughter and home to come to.

Soap:

Soap would be thrilled to see the box for him. He wouldn't even wait to open it, under the amused gazes of the team.

He'd smile brightly at the sight of the little shark, immediately taking the note to read it out loud "to help you fight daddy!"

He run around the room, holding it up in the air, voicing to his team how happy he was, how proud of his son and how he absolutely loved you for giving him such a gift .

He'd keep it at all times at base. The round thing on the table in front of him during meetings.

He calls it Sergeant Sharky, everyone starting referring it by the same name.

At night he hold it tight, it's more intimate. He can let himself feel the way he misses home, almost tearing up. He knows you're waiting for him at home, probably preparing for his arrival.

He swears he's the happiest man alive.

When he gets home he tells stories of Sergeant Sharky on the battlefield (never anything gory) his boy being in absolute amazement over how his favorite stuffed animal was a hero with his dad.

He absolutely ravages you that night, almost begging you for another kid, begging to make him a daddy again. He just praises you for being the best mama, the best wife. He has you limping by morning as he holds his son, running around with him as he winks at you, subtly hinting to his son to ask you for a sibling.

Gaz:

I feel like gaz would open it with the team too. Though he'd be much more hidden and private about it.

He immediately smiles when he sees the little white bear inside of the box. He can't help the sadness and yearning he feels almost immediately.

The images of you, laughing in the morning as his son jumps on the bed to wake him up makes his throat burn slightly.

He found the indulging gaze of Price who noticed the fluffy thing.

He'd read the note to himself, hiding it from anyone's gaze.

"to take care of you daddy" he has to blink away the blurriness.

He'd be more secret about it, but as soon as his in his tent the toy is with him at all times. He finds himself sometimes talking to it. "Yeah... I miss home too. We'll go back to them."

He finds himself with a new strength, the battle almost feeling less heavy on him. He's doing it for you. For his son. To try and make the world a better place.

He almost runs home from the airport, throwing the front door open, bags dropping to the floor as you see him. Your mouth opens slightly, shocked, but he sees the relief in your eyes. He kisses you deeply, the sound of tiny running footsteps from the hallway making his heart stammer in his chest.

He's home. That night he makes love to you, lovingly, sweetly and with such love that you find yourself crying and clinging to him. He finds himself absolutely loving the way your son runs into the room by morning, waking him up. He doesn't give a shit how tired he is.

Ghost:

Oh god... Here I go...

When he's handed the box, he frowns. He immediately retreats to his tent to open it. He freezes when he sees the white and brown bunny.

He's scared to touch it. His gloves feel disgusting and tainted with horrors. He rips them off his hands, putting the box down on his bed to rush to wash his hands. They're clean, albeit sweaty but he just can't seem to shake away the feeling of blood on them.

When he finally let's himself touch the soft thing he holds it like it's the most fragile thing he ever touched. It shouldn't be here. So close to him when he's a monster right now.

The note breaks him. "Come back to us" it's your writing, she's too small to write. But there's a tiny sun scribbled in pencil next to it.

He rips off his mask bringing the bunny to his forehead as his head bows down, closing his eyes. He's crying. He feels guilty from being away from you. From his daughter. From home. Home that you allowed him, after he had thought he'd never be worthy of it.

It stays in his things. Hidden. He very rarely takes it out. Tries to not look at it too much. He's almost protecting it from even witnessing the base. Keeping it away from Ghost. That he tried to keep at the front door every time he came home.

When he gets home he needs time. It's always the same. He calls you, announcing that he is back. He takes 24h to remain on base, letting himself split from the battlefield. He needs time. You know it. You understood it.

When he gets home you notice something else this time. His eyes look at you with such adoration that you catch yourself almost hyperventilating. He often looks at you with love and care. But right now he looks at you like you were his goddess, his air and life essence. The same look he gives your daughter, like she's the only thing that ever matters to him.

He sits on the couch later, handing the bunny to his daughter who beams at the sight of her bunny back. He softly thanked her for sending the bunny to him. Softly explains that she should keep it home, it'd get dirty with daddy. You noticed the subtle message underneath his words. You want to hug him. But of course she understands. Such a clever girl.

He fucks you passionately and hard. He marks you with hickeys and bites, he gets lost in you, lost in your scent, the soft sheets are freshly clean. Your moans anchor him to his new found paradise.

He's got a small need to breed you again. But he'd talk to you about it. Beg on his knees if necessary, hoping that you'd be merciful to grant him another miracle. (As if he needed to do anything else but simply ask. Like you weren't the one who'd kneel for him if he asked.)

If you were the one to start the conversation, about, perhaps, maybe, if there was a chance, at some point "just spill it out love" "I want a baby... Again"

Absolutely feral. Literally throws your pill to the trash. It's on.

Doesn't let go of his daughter for days. She's in heaven as daddy holds her whenever she wants, reads her stories and plays with her. He keeps bending you over the nearest surface if she's napping or playing at a family's house (extremely rare, he's a protective wolf over her)

Spoils her rotten, he feels so guilty for leaving for such long periods of time. Spoils you as well.

#fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod #cod mw2 #captain price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley smut #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #gaz #soap mactavish #soap #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #soap mactavish x reader #ghost simon riley #captain john price #john price #price mw2

[charliemwrites]

Fields of Elation

Part 1

Rating: E Warnings: Dubcon if you squint

The garden has become a riot of color in the last week.

Native blooms in every vibrant color you could find, praying for pollinators to watch from the reading nook. The first butterfly fluttered in yesterday morning while you sipped tea. You could have squealed with excitement, aching to tell someone and denying the twinge in your chest when you realized who “someone” was.

You’re not thinking of him now. No. Absolutely not. Gardens are not for blood-soaked, violent men that smell like gunpowder and smoke – and neither are your thoughts. Your thoughts are to be as sun-soaked as the flowers, bleached out by warmth and light. Depthless, shadowless.

There’s soil dusting your fingers. You kneel in the flossy grass to plant wooden dowels, support for drooping stems growing too tall, too fast. You’re endeared by them, that they’re exploding with so much life that they need a helping hand. Perhaps you’re anthropomorphizing them a bit too much. This little recess you’ve carved out of the world is beautiful but lonely.

You hum a soft tune as you bow twine, some happy new pop song about summer. Heard it on the radio in the grocery store and haven’t gotten it out of your head since. The back of your neck prickles.

“Missed your voice, bonnie.”

You yelp as big, rough hands scoop you from the ground. Strong fingers grip your thigh, a wide palm supports your ribs, tugging you close to a thick, muscular body. The rough fabric of tac gear sands against the exposed skin of your stomach. You flail until your arms loop around broad shoulders, a chuckle rumbling into the hollow of your throat.

“Missed that noise specifically.”

You gasp air for another shout, but get jostled up into a fireman’s carry, wind knocked out of you. There will be no screaming for your distant neighbors this time.

“Put me down,” you wheeze instead.

“In a mo’, love.”

You grunt indignantly as the ground blurs beneath you, tools left behind as powerful legs tread the path back to your little house. Spend the disconcertingly short journey thinking of new things to call him, since you’ve been running out.

There’s a heavy wooden thump.

“Don’t kick my door!” you screech.

“I’ll fix the damn door,” he growls back.

Your head spins as you’re dropped to your bare feet on the wood floors, just inside the back door. Steady yourself on corded forearms to catch your bearings, then open your mouth to give him a dressing down he hasn’t had since recruit days.

But a hot, wet tongue slides against yours, curling expertly into your mouth. Dry, warm lips pressing hard. That same arm curls around your chest to gather you close; the breadth of him steals your coherence as much his kiss. Your venomous words are superseded by a soft noise, one that you’ll deny is the admission of pleasure he takes it as.

When he pulls away, you find your fingers curled in the muted green of his shirt, knuckles pressed against his beating heart. Its pace matches yours.

You flutter your eyes open, find summer blue gazing back. Softer than the grass you just knelt in, warmer than the sun in your hair. You swallow back surrender, blink away admissions.

“I was in the middle of something, you bastard,” you snap.

John MacTavish grins back, crooked and arrogant, the scar beneath his eye pulling. “It’ll keep.”

“Then so will dinner.”

His eyes light up. You curse as you realize your mistake.

“You gonnae cook f’me, love?”

“No.” You back away, but it’s like trying to outrun the wind. He manages to make your deliberate retreat feel like a choice he’s making, hedging you deeper into the house. Back, back, unerringly corralling you towards the bedroom. You know it, but you’re helpless to stop it.

“S’alright, you’ve been cookin’ enough, I reckon,” he drawls. “Don’t mind makin’ somethin’ fer you.”

If by “cooking” he means cobbled together snacks that level out to something like nutritional balance, then yeah. You’ve been cooking for yourself.

“Not enough ingredients for two,” you snark, eyes sliding away in a show of dismissal. “You’ll have to starve.”

He smirks, balancing you with hands on your waist when you bump the bedroom door ajar. Your stomach clenches up like you’re on a rollercoaster. Know what’s coming next but dig your heels in anyway.

“Nah, just gonnae eat now.”

Your mouth drops open just as he pounces, squealing as your back hits the mattress. The ceiling is decorated in fairy lights you forgot to turn off this morning. They twinkle brightly as John wrestles your dirty cotton “work” shorts off your thighs, leaves them hanging off one calf.

“Goddamit!” you shout as he tears through yet another pair of underwear. Nothing special, mind, but it’s the principle of the thing. They’re not his to rip.

“Gotcha more ‘fore I came home.”

That doesn’t make it better, you try to tell him. What comes out is a warbling moan as he buries his tongue in your pussy. Licks from your shamefully leaking hole to your already-throbbing clit. He grunts in reply, deep and rough in his wide chest. Drops himself onto the floor for better access, pulling your thighs over his shoulders.

Eats you out like this really is his first and last meal. Sloppy and wet and loud, audible over the sounds you try to stifle behind your forearm because your hands are still dirty. Get away with it for all of a minute (being generous) before he’s pulling back just enough to speak – even if it’s right into your cunt.

“No, no, no, we have a deal,” he growls. You whimper as his hands clamp down on your squirming hips. “I’m home now, you’re mine. This pussy, those noises, they’re all mine again.”

Your hands fly to his hair as he dives in again, tangling in dark, course strands as he laps at you like a dog. If you could rally the brain power to speak more than unintelligible sounds, you’d mock him with that imagery. But knowing him, he’d revel in the comparison. Would bark just to prove a point.

You can’t stand that you know him.

“That’s it,” he rasps. “My goddess.”

You arch as he sucks your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over the bundle of the nerves. Thumbs massaging into the plush of you. Stubble prickling a bit; you’ll have to remember to tell him off for that later.

“Missed me too,” he continues, flat of his tongue licking a long stripe up your slit. Strings of your slick web between his mouth and your pussy. “Dripping like you missed me, anyway.”

“D-didn’t,” you whine.

He chuckles, the absolute devil, humming as he curls his tongue inside you. Doesn’t believe you, doesn’t even deign to challenge it. Just keeps fucking you on his mouth, groaning when your twitchy fingers tug at his hair. Doubles his efforts, any semblance of restraint crumbling as the time and distance overwhelm his usually infallible patience. Overwhelm you too.

It’s been so long – since the night before he last left. You’re oversensitive and touch-starved and John is a feast for your body and soul. Lose everything to the tides of lust, the current of ecstasy. Washed out to a sea of bliss, floating on awful need. Tilt your hips into the next swipe of his tongue, back arching, thighs tightening as you shudder.

“John,” you keen, “John, Johnny.”

He makes a gutted noise. One hand jerking from your hip to slide two thick fingers into you. Tears gather and rebel down your cheeks as he zeroes in on that sweet, achy spot inside of you. He is a man for whom mercy is scarce and he has none to spare for you, stroking and tapping relentlessly. Your peak rushes up frighteningly fast, voice lost in the shock of it as you clamp down.

He works you through it, savoring your orgasm like the first inhale of smoke in his lungs. Keeps licking and rubbing until your sobbing with overstimulation, trying to scramble away.

“No, John,” you warble, “t-too much, please!”

The sound when he pulls away is utterly obscene. If you had any room in your empty brain for embarrassment, you’d wish for the mattress to swallow you whole. You flutter your eyes open and stare blankly at the fairy lights as you struggle to breathe.

John’s kissing your trembling thighs like he didn’t just ruin everything all over again, whispering devotion into your beard burn.

When you manage to sit up a bit on shaking arms, you find him kneeling there. A supplicant to the alter of your pleasure. Ruthlessly handsome, war-torn. His chin glistens with your slick. You reach to wipe it away, but he catches your wrist in a deceptively gentle hand. Keeps his blown-out eyes on yours as he presses a slow kiss into the center of your palm.

Words bubble in your chest, too honest, even for you.

“My hands are dirty,” you whisper.

“Never.”

You curl your fingers around his jaw. Tell yourself it’s not a caress, no matter how he leans into it. “When did you get back?”

“Eighteen hours.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Gather your scattered wits. “You wore your damn boots in the house.”

He huffs with amusement, leans his forehead into your stomach. “I’ll mop.”

“You’ll shower first. You smell like travel.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“I have to finish in the garden.”

He scowls even with his eyes closed. You tap-tap-tap absently at his shoulder, where your hand has naturally come to rest.

“I’ll come out with you,” he grumbles.

“You’ll scare the birds.”

“Fuck the birds.”

You tsk, but there’s no force on earth that will keep him inside. “Mean bastard.”

He grins against your stomach. “Darling wife.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #hades john mactavish #captain john mactavish #persephone reader #hades and persephone #hades/persephone au #sort of #fields of elation fic

[stormhearty]

Parings: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 2k+

Triggers: angst, mentions of war and death

Summary: The after-effects of your death hit Prythian hard, the loss of your light indefinitely, leaving the world less bright, and the loss of your power echoed throughout the land. Azriel now has to cope with the loss of his mate — the hollow feeling of the mating bond leaving him nothing but a shell of his previous self. The Inner Circle have to rebuild the trust they had with the other courts along Prythian — especially concerning Day Court. Helion, acting as your father, has to bury your body within the warm soils of Day Court as his people pay tribute to the loss of the Seer of Prythian.

Note: The epilogue to “Pushed to the Edge”! I am very happy to be ending this one-shot-turned-series! Thank you guys so much for supporting this!! This epilogue also included a little insight on the reader’s POV of the last section of part 3. I hope it sheds some light on why she decided to do what she did. Also, I am always happy to write more about Seer!Reader if anyone would like more. But please do enjoy the epilogue.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

The dark wind bellowed through your hair, a deathly chill running down your spine as you watched the shadows guide Azriel through the streets of Valeris. You stood on the hill that you had winnowed to, watching him wreak destruction against the Death-God’s army. Feeling a slither of shadow against your arm, you looked down and gave a tiny smile — a rare one that tugged on your lips after your resurrection — as you brought it to your lips and pressed a kiss against the flutter of shadow, “Take me to him… It’s time…”

You had known of your connection to the Death-God the moment you had been resurrected from Death. The feeling of the ancient, tattered cord that connected your two beings — one that was hollow and empty. You were unaware of what that bond meant, whether it connected your souls to eternal servitude or something else, you kept that bond a secret — weaving shadow and darkness around that cord, hiding it from the Death-God.

The only time you realized the importance of the connection was during a vision — the only vision you ever had since your revival.

One that would take not only your life but the very life of the Death-God — one that was by the hands of the person that had broken you.

You kept that vision close to your heart, hiding it within shadows from the Death-God, using it as an arsenal against him. You watched as destruction and death seeped through Prythian and you felt the distress bite your very soul.

This isn’t what you had wanted, you never wanted Prythian to be destroyed — all you wanted was revenge against those who struck against you — those who had betrayed you. Not all this loss of life.

Not against Helion, or Thesan, or Tarquin… not against the rest of the High Lords.

No… you had to put an end to this.

You had used the bargain with Azriel to your advantage, using him to fight for you — the vision you kept so close to your heart started to sing alive as if you were walking down the correct path to end this destruction.

And so when the shadows winnowed you to where Azriel stood, the shadows cloaking his body, the Truth-Teller rightfully in his hands, another smile tugged on your features.

This had been it. The vision that came to pass — that last vision — of you and Azriel, finally ending the rein of darkness that Kosechi planned to coat your world in.

You had stepped closer to him, watching his body stiffen, his Spymaster instincts taking over his form. You heard the whispers of the shadows in his ear and you couldn’t help but look down at your chest, the shadows finally unraveling themselves from the last piece of light in your soul — the final mark where Azriel would strike.

Lifting your head, you watched the Shadowsinger lunge for you, the Truth-Teller stabbing you in your light, the shadows around it shrieking in agony, pain, and sadness. A gasp escaped your lips at a vision passed behind your eyes — the same pain rushing down the now open bond between you and Kosechi, the same wound inflicted on his immortal body.

It has been done.

Your knees buckled and you felt the shadows slip from Azriel to your own body, feeling the whisps chill on your skin. Eyes looked up at Azriel, seeing the disbelief and agony in his features. It was satisfying to see… to see him in so much pain.

Everything passed in a blur, not knowing that the Death-God had come and gone. All you can focus on is your mate — former mate. You felt his hot tears on your cooling body and you just stared up at him, pouring all your emotions out — inflicting as much pain as you could with your final breaths.

It was done. It has ended. And your time as Prythian’s Seer, its unknown Seer, has finally come to pass.

Your duty is done.

Helion felt like he couldn’t breathe.

He felt as if his whole world was being taken away from his very eyes as he watched the Spymaster hold your dead body, howling at your loss. The Day High Lord felt his body shake as he took a step forward, looking around at the piles of corpses — of Kosechi’s followers on the ground — before focusing back on you.

He heard the winnowing of Rhysand and the rest of the High Lords, as they surrounded the breaking Spymaster.

“… Azriel…” Rhysand’s voice cracked, trying to call his brother out of the agony he was feeling.

The Spymaster looked up, seeing all the High Lords before going to his knees, continuing to clutch your body close to him, “Please… I beg all of you. Please bring her back… the kernel of life…” He begged, tears dried on his cheeks, determination in his hazel eyes.

Rhysand’s face pinched with pain at the request and Helion’s hardened.

“How dare you, Azriel…” Helion’s was hard as steel, the Spymaster’s body flinching, “To plead to bring her back to life when you had been the one to break and hurt her… Forcing her hand to kill herself…”

Azriel shook his head, pressing his forehead against your own, your body cool, devoid of life, “I know… I know. Give me a chance… give me a chance to do everything again. To make things right with her. Give her a chance to live again. That’s all I ask. I’d do anything, give anything for her to be alive again.”

He wailed, pleaded, and whispered against your skin, hoping that the High Lords would listen to his request. All he wanted was to feel your heartbeat again, bask in your light, to hold you in his arms again. To love you again. He knew it was possible, the High Lords have done it twice — with Feyre Under the Mountain, and with Rhysand after Hybern. Using that kernel of life to bring you back from the dead — to bring you back home, bring you back to him.

Azriel waited, but all he heard was silence, the blow of the wind loud in his ears. He heard footsteps towards him and he looked up to see Rhysand, his features pained as he kneeled to his brother.

“We can’t… Azriel…” he confessed, his voice pained as he saw the light dim in Azriel’s features, “She has already been resurrected once… Twice is against Mother’s will. There’s… nothing we could do…”

“No… that can’t be. Please, Rhysand!” he looked up at his High Lord, “I’d do anything… anything to bring her back…. Take mine! Take my life, to give to her! A life for a life…! That will work right?” He was frantic, thinking of anything… any way to bring you back to living.

“Stop, Shadowsinger…” Helion’s voice ordered, the command echoed through every fae in that spot. Rhysand closed his eyes, fighting back every urge to follow that command. The High Lord of Night stood up and stepped back, feeling Helion’s presence behind him.

Azriel growled and looked up at Helion, instinctively wrapping his arms tighter around your body.

“You had multiple chances to make it up to her. You watched as she begged you to listen, to listen to your mate. But you ignored it, you pissed off your chances for her. You do not get another shot, not in this life… and probably not in any other lifetime you will have with her.”

With a snap of his fingers, your body was winnowed from Azriel’s arms to his own, Helion gently holding you in his arms as he looked down at you with so much sadness and regret.

The Shadowsinger tried to scramble back up, to want to fight the High Lord, only to be held down by Cassian and Rhysand, “Don’t…” Rhysand commanded him, “…We have no right to her anymore. Not after everything we have done…”

“What did you do?” Azriel snarled at his High Lord.

“Your High Lord made a bargain…” Helion disclosed as he turned his heels, stepping back from the Inner Circle, “You and the rest of Night Court have no claims over her body, not when (Y/N) was originally from Day Court. Her body will be buried in Day soil, where she rightfully belongs. And you, Shadowsinger, are banned from entering my Court. And so will the rest of your family… The only person that I will allow to visit her body will be your High Lady. As Night Court’s emissary…”

Azriel felt his heart drop to the ground. No. He already lost you, and now he cannot visit your grave, to mourn for you.

“I will have no bargaining with you, Shadowsinger. Not when your High Lord was the one who allowed it,” Helion looked over his shoulder at the three brothers, “No matter what you do, this bargain will be the last with the Night Court. You have lost all my trust with this matter…”

And with that, Helion winnowed away — with your body in his arms.

Azriel stared at the spot that Helion winnowed away from as he felt hands come off his body. He collapsed, pressing scarred hands into the dirt. He felt his whole body continue to shake, the sadness, the anger not leaving him — he felt as if his anger was never-ending; anger at Helion for taking your body from him, anger at him for banning him from Day Court; anger at his High Lord for creating the bargain in the first place; anger at you for dying in his arms, forcing him to be the one to take your life.

“Azriel…” Rhysand called his name before he stepped back away from his brother when a growl escaped Azriel’s chest.

“Why… Why would you make that bargain, Rhysand…” he murmured, tilting his head up to look at his High Lord with a glare, hazel eyes blazing with that anger he felt throughout his body.

Rhysand sighed and knelt once more to be eye-to-eye with his brother, “I had to, Azriel. I couldn’t argue with Helion, not after everything we did to (Y/N)… She was originally from Day Court, she is tied to Helion’s Court — - “

“But she’s been with us for five hundred years, Rhysand… She had a home with us… She was my mate…” Azriel tried to reason with his High Lord, hazel eyes shifting from anger to absolute despair.

“— - You have no right to claim her as your mate… Not anymore. Not after cheating on her with Elain…” Rhysand reprimanded his brother, “I have no claim to her to be under my Court after I had failed to protect her. We have lost her, Azriel. We lost her the moment we had failed as a family to notice her pain… We had failed her entirely. I regret immensely on how we have treated her the last moments of her life… I regret every moment since her death on how I treated her as her High Lord, as her friend, as her family…”

There was so much pain in Rhysand’s voice and Azriel let out a painful cry, one that echoed so deep in his soul.

“I let Helion take her body to let her body be at peace in her home, her real home, Azriel. A place where she is not in pain, one where she isn’t surrounded by those who had betrayed her. Your banishment from Day Court was part of that bargain — I didn’t want to do that to you, brother — -” he placed a hand against Azriel’s trembling shoulder, “— - I didn’t want to separate you from her, but I had to… For her.”

Another sob escaped Azriel’s lips as he dropped his head, his forehead resting against the cool ground, “How can I continue to live?” he whispered, “My whole soul is breaking, Rhysand… The echo of that bond hurts so much. I never knew how much it would hurt… If I knew, if I knew this would be the outcome of my infidelity towards her, I would never have done it. If I knew my infidelity would cause her to die in my arms, I would have never done it.”

Rhysand sighed and looked up to Cassian, the General looking at his brother with so much sorrow. The two looked at one another before reaching toward Azriel to heave him off the ground. All Azriel wanted to do was collapse, but he knew he couldn’t — he didn’t have any right to do so. He was the cause of this, he was at fault.

“You will continue to live…” Rhysand urged, “You will continue to live and mourn and regret. We all will. That’s all we can do for (Y/N)…”

Azriel looked at Rhysand, before glancing at Cassian, who nodded, “We all will continue to live with our betrayal. Live and regret.”

And all Azriel could do was tilt his head back, looking up at the gray sky as raindrops fell — as if the universe knew how he felt at that very moment.

Feyre stood in the back of the ceremony, watching as Helion lowered your body into the ground — one decorated so beautifully, in a simple white tule dress and on top of your head a halo that mimicked the sun. You looked gorgeous, lying in the casket as if you were just sleeping.

The High Lady listened to Helion’s speech — the love and admiration evident in every word he spoke about you; on how he had found you, protected you — he told your story, every happy moment but also every sad and devastating moment.

She could see how Helion held back so much anger when he brought up your time at Night Court and Feyre couldn’t help but pang of pain in her chest. She regretted every moment of listening to it all over again — Feyre knew she could have made a difference. She tried to help you, tried to reach out to you — but her effort wasn’t big enough. She could have tried harder, to fight for you — but she failed at that.

Everything was a blur after the speech, people had slowly filtered out after they had paid respect to the loss of your light, the loss of your life. Feyre felt her feet bring her to your grave. She looked at the statue that stood at the head of your grave, one was a mirror of your body that was now in the ground. That same dress, that same crown on top of your head.

You were like a goddess that glowed under Day Court’s sun.

Feyre felt a figure next to her, turning her head to look at Helion who looked up at that statue with sadness.

“… That was a wonderful speech, Helion,” Feyre complimented, her gaze returning up at the statue.

The Day High Lord did not say anything back to the High Lady.

And Feyre continued, “… — - I know that no matter how many times we apologize, you will never forgive us. And I understand… (Y/N)… was the best thing that you had given us, the best thing that Azriel had in his life — “ Feyre watched from the corner of her eye that Helion’s hand fisted tightly against his side at the mention of the Shadowsinger, “— - We will do our very best, to gain your trust again. We will mourn for centuries for what we had done to her, we will continue to regret.”

Helion let out a broken chuckle and shook his head, “… I don’t think I can trust any of you again, Feyre… Not when you had taken her away from me. This child was the best thing that has happened to me, besides knowing that Lucien is my son… (Y/N) was my daughter, I raised her as my daughter… And it hurts, knowing that she passed before I did. You… never want to bury your children… And that’s what I had to do today. And I will never forget how that feels…”

He turned his head towards Feyre, “… Be glad you were able to be part of this ceremony, High Lady of Night Court… It was for (Y/N), she would have wanted you to be part of her burial. If it was me, I would never let you in my Court again, but this is all for her.”

Feyre nodded her head, “And I am, and forever will be, thankful for your kindness…”

Helion gave a stiff nod of his head before looking back up at the statue for a moment before turning on his heels and walking away.

The High Lady sighed and looked up at the statue as well, “I hope you are at peace, (Y/N)…” she whispered a prayer one more time before turning as well, walking out of the wards of Day Court before winnowing away, the echo of a sad lament for you singing through the lands.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar angst #azriel x reader #( .one shot : pushed to the edge ) #azriel angst #azriel

[biteofcherry]

Entwined

Leshy!Steve Rogers x female reader; Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: You enter the woods hoping to gain the ancient being's mercy and help. However, you hadn't expected how truly powerful he is, or what price he will ask of you.

*Leshy is a deity of the forests in Slavic mythology. He rules over the forest and hunting.

warnings: sort of monsterfucking (though Leshy isn't exactly a monster, more of an eldritch entity); consensual, with a slight dash of dub-con; tiny bit of manipulation; smut;

Author's Note: This is a story written for Aspen's (@buckets-and-trees) Enchanted Birthday Festival. Early happy birthday, love! ❤️ I've been toying with the idea of Leshy!Steve for a bit and Aspen's challenge was the perfect opportunity to work on it. Especially since she loves forests, plants and all things wild nature 💚 Also a special shout out to @vonalyn who listened to me ramble about the hotness of Leshy!Steve when the idea first came to mind!

“Are you willing to sacrifice?”

His voice echoed with the power of a booming wind, rattling your bones and swishing up your skirts.

The trees surrounding you seemed to grow out their branches, weaving into thick, green walls closing up. Sunlight, just moments ago filtering through the tree crowns, had disappeared; but the dots of luminescent fireflies flickered on, filling the space with a deceptively warm glow.

You looked around, seeking for a path, or entrance through which you might escape, if you chose to. There was none. Within seconds you found yourself trapped in the depths of the ancient forest, with a being whose mercy you came to beg for. 

When about an hour ago you stepped into the woods, you were bracing yourself for the sense of being watched, perhaps hunted. You haven’t considered how closely in contact with the powers of nature you’d come. 

Your steps never faltered as the soft carpet of juicy grass beneath your feet seemed to grow more resilient the deeper into the woods you went; green straws springing back from being crushed under your shoe. The further you went, however, the dewy emerald grew sparse, shrinking into rich soil scattered with shards of bark, little leaves and pillows of moss.

Rays of sunlight filtered through the branches, casting glowy direction into the sacred altar hidden in the belly of the wilderness. It felt so peaceful, so relaxing, that you’d gladly sink into the shades of green and speckles of gold. 

If not for the pounding of your worried heart, which knew that you were searching for more than reprieve. 

Had you known what awaited, you’d listen to your heart’s anxious patter and run away.

But you were determined. Though your grandma would probably call it simple stubbornness. 

You didn’t enter the woods to forage, nor to roam it to fill your soul with happiness. No, your feet carried you forward to face the greatest of dangers and beg for mercy.

Not only for yourself, but for the village and people who lived in fear, but still refused to abide by the ancient laws. Proud and focused on ways to increase wealth, they forgot there’s more in the world than just gold and war. 

Powers mightier than any army. Beings greater and more dangerous than any king. 

When wolves ripped to shreds one of the lumberjacks, everyone thought it to be a tragic accident. When two other people disappeared in the woods, never returning, others came up with ideas of them running away. Then a mother was seen screaming as wolves dragged her body into the forest. The child that followed, crying after its mum, disappeared. A day later a small fawn started prancing around the garden by the empty now household.

Still, people refused to bow to the entity that could be behind all of this, or at least held the power to end this madness. Or so you hoped. 

Having packed a big wicker basket of offerings - jars of golden honey, cheese wrapped in paper, strings of colorful beads and pearls, folded silk, dried exotic fruit you got from the market - you carried it deep into the woods, to place them on the long forgotten altar where your ancestors paid their respects to the guardian of the forest and nature.

Leshy.

You expected to find the ancient, stone altar, with a deformed statue overgrown with moss. The plan was to lay your offerings there, spend some time bowing down and praying for mercy, then returning to the clueless village.

For a few beats it went like that. The birds still chirped, leaves rustled softly in the wind, your offerings laid motionless on the slab of stone.

Then, suddenly, ivy vines weaved up, covering the stone and your produce in a thick cocoon. The earth rumbled and melted, swallowing the altar whole. 

Startled, you took a shaky step back and lost your balance, falling onto your butt. A split of a second when your gaze looked up at the darkening sky and when you returned it forward, he was already standing in front of you.  

Whenever you thought of Leshy, no particular image came to mind. You always thought the creature to be an entity beyond human imagination. 

He was that, but also… not.

He reminded a human man, but only at first glance. 

Much taller, with shoulders broader than the blacksmith’s (whom you always thought to be the biggest man alive). His complexion was fair, but the veins in his arms were jewel green. His hair and beard seemed cast from various shades of gold, intertwined with russet bronze and chestnut reddish. Delicate, tiny vines crawled up his cheeks and along his forehead; like intricate tattoos. 

From the thick mane of his silky looking hair sprouted majestic antlers. Thick and sturdy, their dark color with filaments of gold shining through. His eyes, when you met them, were a striking shade of blue-green. Rare and iridescent, like ponds bathed in the light of dawn. 

“It’s been a while since a human has come to me.” 

The entity’s voice was deep and low, both dangerous and soft, like a purr of a bear or a jungle cat. 

“Are you Leshy?” You swallowed nervously.

“I’ve been called that, yes.” When he grinned, amused, the filigree vines on his body glowed luminescent. 

“And you are?” He asked, courtly. 

When you whispered your name, he leaned forward, bending slightly and outstretching his hand for you to take. As you slipped your shaky fingers into his palm, you felt the pulsing warmth seep through you. It reminded you of the sun-heated earth beneath bare feet. 

As he helped you stand up, your gaze drifted up his body. You noticed that while most of his skin looked like any human’s flesh, a stripe along his left calf and thigh seemed textured like bark. A combination of moss and vines formed a fitting coverage around his narrow hips; yet you still caught the sight of a green vein slithering down his chiseled abdomen. 

More gold-glowing, floral-like tattoos appeared ingrained into the skin along his ribs. Skin on top of his right shoulder looked to be made of bark, just like on his leg. 

As much as he looked unworldly, you also found him majestic. 

Beautiful, as nature itself.

“Those who know me, call me Steve.” He said, holding your hand in his and not letting you step away. “It's a shortened and funnily deformed version of Svyatobor.” 

Lost in his eerie blue eyes, it took you a longer moment to realize what his name meant. 

Breath hitched in your chest, your pupils widened as you stared up at him. All this time you believed Leshy is a creature brought to life and given a purpose by a god. That’s what all the legends suggested. It didn’t occur to you, it's a deity itself.

A god of the forest.

After a moment of complete stupor, shock gave way to a flash of fear. You bowed your head and started to fall onto your knees, to pay proper respect. However, his hand still holding yours pulled you up.

“None of that is necessary.” He assured you. 

Though when you tipped your head up to look at him, Leshy’s gaze slid down your body in a slow, assessing study. 

“At least not in that sense,” he murmured, licking his lips. 

His eyes flicked back to yours. The stark blue pulsing with more green specks than before; as if his body came to life the same way nature sprung back as the snow melted away. 

You felt a rush of heat through your veins at the suggestive implication of his words.

“What have you come here for, little fern?” 

“To beg for mercy for my village.” Once again, you lowered your gaze. “People have been disappearing and being hurt. Swallowed by the forest or its creatures. I plead for no more blood to be spilled.”

Steve’s face betrayed no sign of irritation. For a split of a second you thought you saw a flash of sunlit amusement in his irises, but no mockery followed. He studied you for a long moment, not saying a word.

When he moved, it was slow and nonthreatening. You still startled, though perhaps it was at the loss of contact as his hand gently released your fingers. 

He walked over to where the ground swallowed the altar with your offerings. It was only then that you realized a thick carpet of clovers had filled the space where the table had been. Delicate leaves tilted toward Steve’s legs, brushing against him with the softest of rustles, as if they were purring for him.

“You brought me honey, which you poured out of the goodness of your heart. But don’t you know that our wild bees’ honey is sweeter?” Steve asked, walking barefoot through the small field of clovers back toward you. 

He stepped even closer this time and you felt the unique warmth radiating from him. A little stifling, like the humidity of the forest soaked in rain that was evaporating in the high summer sun.

It was making you dizzy in a very pleasant way.

“You gave me expensive fabrics, but nothing feels as soft and luxurious as petals of early spring’s flowers.” He circled you, like an animal may circle its prey. “None of your colorful beads shine as bright as drops of dew in the moonlight.” 

“I-” What were you supposed to say? You didn’t have much and what you gave away was a big sacrifice in terms of your day to day survival. 

You also didn’t think Leshy would be pleased, if you brought seasoned meat. He was, after all, a protector of wild animals. That sort of disrespect may have killed you on the spot.

Suddenly, you felt his hand brush along your waist. A light, fleeting touch, but enough to send a jolt down your spine.

“Moreover, you try to barter a single basket for dozens of lives.” Steve stopped in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” You lowered your head in shame, feeling the burning tears gather beneath your eyelids.

He was right and you didn’t think of that when you were packing your basket. It made you feel helpless, that you had nothing else to offer. 

“Don’t be.” Steve tilted your chin up with the pads of his fingertips. His gaze was soft, glinting sincerity.

“You still did more than any other human has for decades. I’m just pointing out that a life can be compared in cost to another life, nothing else. No riches equal a heartbeat.” 

You understood the value, agreed with it completely. But it made the situation look unsolvable. The fate of your village was doomed to go through horrors, since there was no other way to barter for it. 

Then you registered the warmth of Steve’s fingers still holding your chin. His thumb angled to rub along your lower lip. You were in the hands of a powerful deity. Steve may have appeared nonthreatening, but he was still an ancient entity demanding a sacrifice. 

No riches equal a heartbeat. You had a heartbeat. A rapidly fluttering one, at the moment; bouncing against the bars of your ribcage in fear of being ripped from it.

“You mean-” You swallowed a bile rising in your throat. “My life for theirs?”

You wanted to help your village, to help people in general. That need to care and nurture have always been so deeply ingrained in you. But you wanted to live! You wanted to experience feelings and wonders, joys and losses. You weren’t ready to meet the end so soon, so unexpectedly. The two needs - to help and to survive - were clashing in violence. 

Steve’s hand moved from your chin to cup your cheek. Since he was the only comfort available at the moment, you leaned into his touch. A soothing shush spilled from his lips as he caught your panicked gaze and locked it with his. 

“I’m not thirsty for blood, little fern.” He assured you. “I long for company.”

Somehow, looking into his eyes and sinking into the warmth his closeness provided, you felt the fear subsiding. Slowly, still leaving instinctive distrust, but it eased away.

“You want a friend?” You blinked, a little confused. 

Of course you understood what he meant the moment he said it, but a voice of reason wouldn’t accept the fact this beautiful, powerful being wanted to bed you. Out of all the things a deity may demand, fucking an unimpressive mortal like you shouldn’t be on the list. 

Steve laughed at your question, genuinely amused.

Instantly, choirs of birds joined his mirth in a tinkling melody that carried through the forest. 

“No.” Steve shook his head; smile-caused crinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes and the filigree vines along his skin curled. 

“I’ve got friends. You would meet them, if you stayed.” It surprised you, teasing your curiosity about what other beings roamed these forests. 

Your thoughts didn’t stay focused on the matter for long. Not when Steve’s hand slid down the column of your neck, his other arm weaving around your waist and pulling you close to his body. 

Very close. Even through the fabrics of your skirts and corset you felt the hard planes of his muscles against the softness of your body. Your hands landed on his chest, at first in an attempt to brace yourself to perhaps fight him off, but any force to push away dissipated. Instead, your fingertips were tingling. 

Steve’s breath teased your skin as he leaned down, trailing his lips along your jaw. 

“I want intimacy. Passion. And devotion.” He murmured, gripping the back of your neck as his other hand dipped lower to squeeze the flesh of your bottom. 

Abruptly, your whole body tensed and you gasped when something coiled around your ankles. Thin and tickling, possibly an ivy vine. It curled along your legs, reaching upwards. Teasing your skin with a brush of leaves and forcing your legs slightly apart.

Steve’s lips grazed the shell of your ear.

“I wish to splay you on the moss and have it soak up your sweet juices as I play with your pretty cunt.” 

You jerked in his embrace, but your core ignited. Heat pooled low in your abdomen, spreading down in a quick wave and filling your folds.  

“I want to stretch you on my cock and have you call me your god not out of fear, but the pleasure I give you.” The vines that weaved around your legs didn’t reach far up your thighs, but if they had, your wetness would coat the delicate leaves. 

“I want to fill you, until you bloom flowers and berries.” 

Breathing became hard as the images filled your head; though you doubted it was a trick of his, more your own imagination eagerly supplying possibilities Steve words enticed. 

When Steve unexpectedly released you and took a step back, you shivered as if you were dropped into a cold cave. Deprived of light and warmth.

He appeared more inhuman as he stretched to his full height and loomed over you. 

“Are you willing to sacrifice?” 

His voice echoed with the power of a booming wind, rattling your bones and swishing up your skirts.

The trees surrounding you seemed to grow out their branches, weaving into thick, green walls closing up. Sunlight, just moments ago filtering through the tree crowns, had disappeared; but the dots of luminescent fireflies flickered on, filling the space with a deceptively warm glow.

Shaken from the daze Steve’s proximity and dirty words have caused, you faced the deal he was proposing with a clearer mind. 

You’d be bound to the forest as long as Steve wanted to keep you, having to abandon your human life and plans. But you would be alive. And so would the villagers, some of whom were your friends. 

You chanced one more look at the wall of branches and vines, briefly wondering if he’d let you go had you refused. Probably. But it was uncertain what awaited your village, or any other, if you backed out. 

Taking a deep breath, you turned back to Steve. You gripped the fabric of your skirt to cover the nervous shaking of your fingers. 

“Yes,” the word rolled out on your tongue like a faint whisper, but he heard it. 

His eyes shimmered with tempting joy, like the reflection of sunlight on the rippling sheet of a lake. In a blink of an eye he was right in front of you, his hands on your hips.   

“I’ll be good to you, my little fern.” Tip of his nose nudged along yours, warm breath softening your lips into compliance. 

When he kissed you, it felt as if berries burst on your tongue, filling your mouth with sweet flavor. 

Your hands traveled up his arms, clutching his shoulders. The one covered in bark provided a new, unique sensation. It grazed your fingertips, but also felt grounding. He didn’t have to pull you closer, your body turned pliant on its own volition. 

Steve swallowed your gasp, gripping your hips tighter, as thick vines of ivy rapidly wound around you. They covered you whole, like they had that stone altar before. It felt scary and suffocating, but as soon as the cocoon of greenery swallowed your forms fully it burst apart; leaves scattered around in a fountain. 

You broke the kiss, tipping your head away and looking around. You were no longer in the same spot. You were in no recognizable place, to be exact. 

If you could find a name for it, the heart of the forest would be it. 

Light green grass spread around in a thick carpet, with patterns of bluebells and lilies of the valley. Graceful, tall birches circled the place, their silvery leaves catching chunks of sun rays. By a spot where wild rose bushes weaved an intricate arch stood a big bed. Easily high at hip height, woven tightly of green moss and periwinkles.

Steve didn’t give you much time to admire. With a firm push of his hand he tilted your head back towards him. Kept cupping your cheek as he kissed you again, more urgently this time. Demanding. 

He released you to tug on your clothes, doing a swift job with layers of your skirts, but grumbling a bit when trying to untie your corset. 

“Won’t need that anymore here, little fern,” he purred as your breasts spilled out. 

Then he was picking you up, big hands gripping the back of your thighs and hoisting you easily. He sat on the bed, slowly easing you down until you were standing between his spread legs. 

It was only then that you realized the coverage around his hips was gone, leaving him exposed in all his glory. 

You couldn’t help peeking down. Your pussy clenched around nothing as you stared at the impressive size of him. Your mouth filled with the aftertaste of berries and your own saliva as his cock twitched upwards.

Steve’s hands roamed over your body, exploring your curves and lines with utmost fascination. He didn’t hesitate leaning forward to capture a stiff nipple into his mouth, sucking eagerly. His antlers gave you a scare as they brushed so close to your skin, but not once did his movement cause you pain. 

Feeling a little bolder, you slipped one of your hands between the roots of his antlers and into his hair. They felt soft and silky. Your other hand gripped the top of his shoulder; the one where bark printed into your palm in a sensation you were finding more and more pleasant. 

As Steve pulled back slightly, you slipped your fingers from his hair and across his face, mapping out contours and scratching through his beard. He gripped one of your legs under your knee and pulled it up, placing your foot on the bed and spreading you obscenely. His eyes darkened, something wolfish glinting in them as his gaze settled on your puffed, wet folds.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he demanded in a raspy voice. 

The hand on your calf kept caressing and squeezing your flesh, while his other fisted his cock as your fingers dipped between your thighs. 

None of your lovers ever expressed desire to see you pleasure yourself, but Steve’s gaze was so heated you didn’t feel shy. Quite the opposite, somehow it felt so easy and natural; even more arousing as Steve licked his lips in unmasked hunger.

“Let me taste you. I bet you’re sweeter and richer than any honey.” 

You moaned, pushing two fingers inside and pumping them in and out a few times. When you brought your glistening digits to his lips, Steve licked them in a broad stroke of his tongue then took them into his mouth. His greedy sucking had your clit pulsing wildly.

“Delicious,” he hummed in delight, “and so ready for me, aren’t you?” 

Swiftly, he grabbed your hips and pulled you over his lap. Your gasp at the sudden movement and the feeling of his cock against your inner thigh combined with Steve’s loud groan of pleasure, when you gripped his antlers to steady yourself.

“That’s it. Keep touching them.” He urged you on as he slid you down his shaft. “It’s as if you were gripping my cock.”

“Nghh!” You keened, tightening your desperate hold on the antlers as your walls stretched around Steve’s girth. 

“Too big!” You whined, yet your hips followed the command of Steve’s hands as he guided you down. 

“Shh, my little fern. Take it. I know you can.” He was mercilessly forcing you down, moaning as your tight, hot walls enveloped him. “All your sweet holes will learn to take all of me.”

By the time he was buried to the root, you were shaking in pleasure. Your cheek was pressed to Steve’s, your breath coming out in jagged, hot puffs. Where your breasts were squished into the hard planes of Steve’s chest, it felt as if the filigree vines pulsing beneath his skin moved to tease your nipples. Steve’s hands were splayed on your hips, holding you in place as he savored the feel of your pussy around him. 

After a moment, he began rocking up into you and a few heartbeats later started bouncing you up and down his length. Soon your whimpers stretched into moans. Despite feeling boneless in his powerful hold, you also felt a surge of need to take from him as much as he was taking from your pliant body. 

You held Steve’s gaze as you straightened your back and started riding him; your fingers squeezing his antlers. 

When your climax hit, it was intense and unworldly. 

The first burst of it felt like falling into a cool mountain streak, only for the next tremors to fill you with heat and glow. Your head spinned and your moans and cries intertwined with small gasps of laughter. It was everything at once! Running with the wolves, picking fresh raspberries, twirling around in summer rain. 

And when Steve followed soon after, cumming with a loud roar, each spurt of his seed seemed to immerse you in hot springs. 

It was a rush of sensations; overwhelming, but addictive. 

When you met Steve’s gaze - both of you breathing heavily and still rocking into the continuous rhythm of aftershocks - you had no idea your irises bore first specks of inhuman green. All you knew was that you wanted more.

And so you demanded it.

Steve’s grin at your responsiveness was near predatory. He pinned you beneath him on the soft mossy pillows, placed your ankles over his shoulders and plunged into you in a hard thrust that had your scream echoing through the woods. 

Soon you’d be bound to him and the forest with every cell of your changing body. 

#aspensenchantedbday #buckets-and-trees #Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x you #Steve Rogers x female reader #Steve Rogers imagine #Steve Rogers fic #Leshy!Steve Rogers #leshy!Steve Rogers x reader #entwined

[mariasont]

hi!! I have a spencer reid x fem!reader request, how about emily plotline but it's spencer instead of emily and reader totally falls apart after she thinks he died, to the point of self-destructive behaviors. she simply can't cope. i totally understand if you're not comfortable with writing something like that, though.

i hope you're having a great day <3

Beyond the Grave - S.R

a/n: angellllll thank you so much for requesting !!!!!! <3 i hope you have the BEST day ever!

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: angst, spencer dead for a hot sec then he's not, reader using alcohol to cope, weight loss briefly mentioned, unhealthy coping methods, happy ending!

wc: 1.7k

The knocks were there again, a stubborn sound you chose to ignore as you smothered yourself with your pillow. You willed yourself to drown out the noise and fall back asleep, to forget that your existence now had shrunk to the four corners of your mattress--a fact that didn't necessarily bring you any pride.

When it first happened, you were in a constant state of disbelief. The harsh truth that Spencer had died, leaving a void that you were powerless to fill, seemed to a cruel joke. You found yourself caught in an endless loop of denial, half-expecting him to stroll through the door or wake up to the realization that this was all just a bad dream.

But that never happened so you spent your days imprisoned in your own home, a shell of your former self, devoid of anything that once animated your being. You distanced yourself from everything that once brought you happiness--your family, your friends, your gardening.

You had just introduced Spencer to it a couple months before it happened--when to plant each flower, how to prepare the soil, the schedule of watering. But now it all felt very meaningless, and the once-tended garden became a forgotten space, overgrown and disregarded.

Each morning at work, you were met with a twisting, angry sickness--a gnawing reaction to the collective failure of everyone in that room. You had all let him down, and now the weight of never seeing his smile again was a blade that kept twisting deeper. It was excruciating.

The blow landed on you with a severity that others seemed spared from. You couldn't simply erase the memory and move on. It wasn't an option; it was etched into your very being, monopolizing every thought and sensation.

The team had attempted to piece you back together, but eventually, their help felt like a stabbing reminder. You were beyond repair, a lost cause--you skipped meals, you never slept, you drank too much. With every look in the mirror, you saw the reflection of someone slowly crumbling away. 

Finally, you were angry, a scalding feeling that spread through your veins. You were furious at Spencer leaving you, at the unsub for taking him away, and at yourself for failing to save him, for arriving too late, for watching him struggle against the knife, for watching him disappear into surgery and not come out.

The incessant knocking persisted, an annoyance that finally drew you from your bed. Your limbs were heavy with sleep, a thick haze still clouding your mind. You dragged yourself toward the door, a string of mental curses directed at the uncivilized disturber--likely Penelope with her usual invites for a girl's night out.

But as you swung the door open, the familiar world upended itself, flipped around, and splatted to the bottom of the universe. Dryness clung to your throat, your hands rendered numb at your sides.

And there he was--Spencer, not a ghost, not a figment conjured by your overwrought imagination, but flesh and blood--alive. You fought the urge to pinch yourself. You questioned your sanity briefly, but those eyes--his eyes--were indelibly seared in your memory. You would know them anywhere.

You can't breathe, can't form coherent thoughts. This moment is the very one you've replayed in your dreams, a thousand different ways, and now that it's tangibly here, you can't breathe.

Spencer's heart squeezed at the sight of you. Your eyes were swollen and tinged with the redness as if you'd been crying or just woken up or both. Your hair was shorter than he remembered, ending just shy above your shoulders. You face was washed and hollowed out; the color sapped away as if the sun had become a stranger to you.

"Hey," his voice floated to you, soft as though he was worried you might vanish at any louder sound.

A hesitant hand reached out, trembling as if half-expecting it to pass right through him. But when your fingers brushed against his--solid and warm--reality intensified to an almost unbearable degree, too visceral to be anything but real. 

"B-But you're dead," you choke out, a tremor in each syllable. Your fingers find their way to your lips, the ground seeming to spin in a disorienting whirl. "Spencer, I watched you die."

"Can I come in?"

He didn't wait for an answer, stepping around you into the room. His eyes swept over the cluttered space--the litter of empty alcohol bottles, the stacks of dirt dishes. His heart plummeted, a sinking stone to the pit of his stomach.

One of the first things he noticed about you was your near-compulsive need for keeping things clean, orderly. Your desk had been organized to an almost surgical degree, and Morgan took a secret pleasure in disrupting your system, shifting your pens just to get a reaction. But Spencer had memorized the exact coordinates of your things and discreetly corrected each item before you could notice.

So, this, the sight of your neglected home was something he never thought he'd see.

"Maybe we should sit?" Spencer suggested, more firmly. "I have explanations for everything."

With a nod, you make you way to the couch. His gaze lingers on you, taking in the way the clothes that once hugged you, now draped over your frame in loose folds. He noted the strained swallow, the constant bobbing of your knee, and the startled wideness in your eyes, as if you weren't really sure how to process the sudden influx of information.

He told you everything--why he faked his death, what he had been doing this whole time, why it wasn't Hotch's fault for keeping it from you, and why you had to be kept in the dark. 

His expectations hadn't included you jumping up and down at the sight of him, but the coldness he encountered caught him off guard. Brows knitted downward, knees angled away as if his presence was unbearable, you offered no words when he spoke, an occasional vacant look washing over your features.

"Did you even think of me once, or was I out of sight, out of mind?"

The words surprised him, your tone casual, but your balled fists resting on your knees betrayed you.

"I never stopped thinking of you," Spencer's response was immediate, his hand reaching towards yours.

But you recoiled immediately, shaking your head.

"No, no," you stammered out, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to speak. "You can't just...leave me and come back and act as if... as if...it's all okay."

Your voice broke with every word and so did his heart.

With a quick motion, you're on your feet, nearly tripping over the disorder that's invaded your space. Spencer's instinct is to reach out, to steady you, but he knows better.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, standing to follow your movements. "I didn't have a choice. Believe me, if there was any other way, I'd never have left. I couldn't--"

He paused, a hand brushing through his hair as he blew out a breath.

"But that's just it, Spencer, I don't believe you," you snap, voice trembling with indignation. "You were my best friend, the one person I relied on, and you disappeared."

He started to speak, but you took a step back holding your hand out to stop him. 

"No, you died Spencer. I went to your funeral. I stood over your grave, and now you're here." Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you turned away, hiding your face. "How can you just stand there after all of that?"

Spencer moves closer. "You're being unfair," he says cornering you against the wall. "Why are you being like this?"

His eyes search yours, probing for an explanation, and you give it to him, raw and unfiltered.

"Why am I being like this? Maybe because I'm in love with you."

Spencer's steps falter, retreating as if struck. 

"Oh, come on, don't act so surprised," you blurt out, already wishing you could take back the words. "I know you know." You're rambling now. "I mean, in team briefings I always save you a seat, in meetings I'm always the first one to back your theories, and for crying out loud I got you a copy of the first edition of On the Origin of Species by Darwin for your birthday, like do you know how hard that was to find? What platonic friend would--"

Your admissions pour out unchecked until Spencer's hands are on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours, stopping the flow of your confessions. 

Your breath hitches, a startled sound muffled by Spencer's mouth, a rush of surprise coursing through you. For a heartbeat, you're frozen, but as quickly as it comes, it fades into a warmth that blooms deep in your chest, and you're kissing him back with a desperation that matches the pounding of your heart. 

The world narrows down to the sweet pressure of his mouth moving with careful ease against yours, your hands finding their way to his hair, tangling with the soft strands as you melt into him. 

You pull back just enough to see his eyes, your breaths mingling, foreheads still touching, softly panting. 

"I'm still so upset with you," you whisper, your eyes glistening. 

Spencer's hands are soft on your skin, brushing away the tear. "I know. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

You nibble on your lower lip and give a small nod. Spencer responds by wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer. "Promise?" you ask, heart in your throat. "I don't want you to leave me again."

You had never felt so vulnerable. 

"Promise," he replies. "I'm not going anywhere, baby."

You let out a shaky breath, the reality of his words setting in. In a moment of boldness, you reach up to trace the lines of his face, memorizing every detail. 

Spencer's eyes soften, and he whispers, "By the way, I love you too. From the very first moment I saw you."

It's like a key turning a lock. You don't say anything, you don't need to. The silence is enough--the quiet understanding that you'll heal, you'll grow, just like the garden waiting for your return.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fic

[theohnocorral]

December 5th is WORLD SOIL DAY!!!!!

Happy birthday dirt!

#shitpost #world soil day #dirt #soil #i took a whole class on soil in college #i got to use boric acid and a light spec #it was fun #kinda miss the lab

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 10]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Words: 4.2k

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

When Minnie was six months old, you used to sleep on the couch so you wouldn't wake her up trying to get ready for bed. It would hurt your back - your couch was not very comfortable to sleep on - but you would sacrifice your comfort so she could sleep. No one in their right mind would wake a sleeping baby - even one that was always happy to go down for a nap. 

As your mind begins to stir, you become aware of the familiar ache in your lower back and the unfamiliar one pulsing around your eyes. Your hand slowly snakes up from where you had curled it against your chest and press your fingers along the bridge of your nose and up to the curve of your eyebrow, testing to see if the throbbing was sinus related. Nothing is triggered but your memories of the night before creep into your consciousness. 

Minnie with her tantrum and Matt with his amazing senses. 

You groan into the cushion as it all falls into place. Your eyes hurt from crying, not your sinuses, and you must have fallen asleep on the couch after your breakdown. 

Shame and embarrassment course through you. You hate crying and you hate that someone witnessed it. You can't imagine what he must think of you now - losing it like that. You should have been able to handle the news far better than you had and you're going to promptly apologize the next time you talk to him. You had acted so selfishly when it was clear he had control over the situation. 

But you don't have time to sit and wallow in your wretchedness - your daughter needs you to get up and be a capable adult, so you will your aching body to sit up. 

Your phone is sitting on the table in front of you, so you grab it to check the time. It's half past seven and your daughter has probably been awake for at least an hour. More shame courses through you - you always try to wake up before her so you can take care of her. You can only guess what state she is in. 

Your head spins as you stand, but you try to ignore it in favor of heading towards the bedroom. You prepare yourself to find a soiled bed - you didn't bother to change her into her night clothes and a pull-up and she is still mastering waking up when she needs to pee at night. 

The door is partially open and as you near it, you hear her tiny voice talking nonsense as she plays with something. You take a deep breath and push into the room, ready to face the start of your day.

Your mind short-circuits at what you encounter.

Both beds are clean and made, far tidier than you usually make them, and Minnie is sat on the floor with Scooby and some of her other stuffed animals, having what looks to be a tea party. To your absolute confusion, she is already dressed, and her hair has been put into pigtails with mismatched bows. You know for a fact she can't reach where you keep her hair supplies - you put them on a high shelf after she got into them to play salon before and managed to get her hair tangled so badly you had to cut things out. 

It doesn't even take her half a second to notice you and her little face breaks into the biggest smile, “Mommy!”

Still very much confused, you step forward to join the tea party circle and kneel down to be level with her. “Hi, sweetie,” you greet, trying your best to not alarm her. “Did you get dressed all by yourself?”

“Not-uh! Mister Matt helped! We watched lots of videos about hair and he made me pretty!”

You frown at that, “Mister Matt helped?” Had he stayed the night after you fell asleep? If so, where is he now? Your apartment isn't that big, and the bathroom door is open. Had he left before you woke up? You don’t like the idea of him leaving Minnie unsupervised.

Your daughter nods as she turns back to her toys, pretending to pour you a cup of tea and handing it over. You automatically pretend to take a sip.

“He helped make me pretty,” she confirms after putting her tea pot down, “now he's getting foods. Bagels!”

You turn the statement over in your mind - there is a bagel shop around the corner Minnie loves and if Matt is right about her also having enhanced abilities, maybe, just maybe, he didn't leave her unwatched. 

You bite your lip, then dare to push.

“Mouse, do you think you can tell me where Mister Matt is right now? Can you hear him?”

She doesn't acknowledge you right away, fussing with another piece of her tea set. You wait, allowing her to process what is being asked of her and watch as she slowly starts to move her head in minute movements, like she's tracking something. It's terrifying and fascinating to see a look of concentration come over her face and after about thirty seconds, she breaks into another big smile.

“He's talking to a frog!” 

“A frog..?” You ask, wondering if Matt was wrong about Minnie having heightened senses and she's playing pretend again.

“Yeah, he says…he says.. He's telling froggy he can't go to work. He's gonna stay with us!”

It clicks instantly. Matt isn't talking to a frog. He's talking to his business partner, Foggy Nelson, and as far as you know, Matt hasn't mentioned him or Karen yet by name to Minnie. 

“Can you tell where he is?” You ask again, being sure to be gentle with your question. 

“Outside,” is her response, like it is the most obvious thing in the world. “Froggies can't come inside. Do you want sugar?” She holds up her toy spoon and you offer her your tea cup.

“Yes, please.” 

She pretends to scoop sugar and you watch her in amazement. You are of course going to have to confirm that Matt was talking to Foggy, but it is so hard to believe your little one can hear that. You can't hear what is going on in your own living room, let alone outside your apartment. You cannot imagine how loud everything must be, how much input Mouse must be getting - but she doesn't seem bothered by it at all right now. 

She seems to be completely over her tantrum from yesterday and you want to ask her about it, but you aren't sure how or if she has the ability to express it. You know there are days you get overwhelmed and upset and you can't think of another way to explain it other than “too much”. You can't expect a three year old to articulate it better than you can. 

She's got a sweet little smile and part of you fears if you bring up her previous upset, it will spiral right back into a meltdown. So, you watch instead - watch as she goes back to playing make pretend with her toys, seemingly unbothered. You sip at your tea, making up a list of questions for Matt when he returns from his errand. 

Minnie plays for about five minutes before she perks up, beaming up at you, “Mister Matt asks if you can open the door, please thank you."

Her statement throws you for a moment and you aren't sure how much you like the idea of her being able to tell you all these things. It scares you - her knowing things you don't and not knowing what she does know. 

Maybe it is one of the things you and Matt can talk about - then talk about it with your sweet Mouse. You are going to have to get used to it, either way.

You push yourself into standing and motion for Minnie to come along. She scrambles up and runs out of the room, delighted laughter following her.

You are still in your clothes from the night before and you wish you had taken a moment to check your hair or even brush your teeth. You try to tell yourself it is fine, but your anxiety just argues back, and you feel like a complete slob by the time you get to the front door.

Your stomach and heart both do a funny clench at the sight of Matt, who is still sporting his borrowed shirt. You don't know if you want to fall into his arms or throw up or go hide under your covers so you can pretend all of this is a dream. Instead, you step aside so he can come inside and silently beg your mind to stop collapsing in on itself. 

“Breakfast delivery,” Matt says as a greeting, his entire face lighting up with a smile. He's holding a bag from the shop around the corner in one hand and a drink carrier with two large drinks along with a small one in his other.

You can feel your face starting to heat up and force your eyes down to the ground, mumbling, “you didn't need to do that.” 

He shrugs as he toes off his shoes, “I wanted to, and someone,” his voice turns teasing as he directs his next comments to Minnie, “wouldn't stop talking about bagels.”

Your daughter erupts into giggles, then turns and runs back towards the kitchen. Matt gives a pleased laugh, and your stomach flips again. He follows Minnie, and after you relock the door, you join them. 

They are sitting at the dining table, Mouse watching with a big smile as bagels are laid out on the table. Matt narrates for both of you, “Three egg bagels with plain cream cheese, two large coffees, and one kid’s hot chocolate. Now, is that the right order or was someone taking advantage?”

Minnie giggles more and that relaxes your shoulders. “No, that's right. Thank you, you really didn't -” You cut yourself off as you realize the table is clear of any mess from the night before. There are no plates on the table or in the sink, there's no lasagna stains on the floor, there's no leftovers sitting out. Your eyes drift to Matt. 

He must have cleaned after you had fallen asleep. Guilt courses through you - he shouldn't have to be dealing with your messes, especially in your own living space. You are going to need to not only apologize but return the favor somehow. You aren't sure how you'll do that - no one has ever done this much for you before, and Matt has done so so much in such a short time. 

You're dragged from your thoughts as a coffee is placed in front of you. 

“It's just black, I didn't know how you took it,” the kind, handsome lawyer says, and your heartbeat is so loud in your ears. It beats harder when you remember that not only can he hear your body and mind freaking out, but so can your daughter. 

Your instinct tells you to panic at the idea of someone knowing that much about you. You always try to stay calm on the outside while having a meltdown, but that doesn't matter with him. He'll know you're a mess. You can't hide it. 

You hear Matt ask Minnie something about her tea party and watch as she skips away from the table, but it's like your mind doesn't process it. You feel completely frozen because you don't know how to act - you don't know how to hide yourself from the man in front of you. You don't know how to hide yourself away from your daughter. 

How can you protect her from yourself? Your own body?

Suddenly, Matt is in front of you, cupping your cheeks with his large, warm hands and whispering your name. He's practically right on top of you, gently rubbing his thumbs over your skin, “Hey, hey, it's okay. It's okay. Everything is okay. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

“What?” You ask, so confused about what is going on. You don't understand why he's saying it's okay. 

“A deep breath, sweetheart. Can you take a deep breath?”

Your mind will not wrap the reason for the instruction, but you do as you are told. You inhale through your nose and that earns you a soft smile. He continues to pet you, gently instructing you to exhale after a moment and you obey. 

“Again?” He prompts and you nod. You feel shaky as you try to focus on breathing. You've always hated these exercises - they've never worked for you and have only served to frustrate you, and now you are just trying to make sure you are doing it right. How embarrassing would it be to fuck up breathing in front of Matt? 

“That's it,” he says so calmly, “Just breathe. I know it's a lot. I know. One step at a time. Let's have some breakfast, okay? Let's sit and have coffee and we can all talk. How's that sound?”

It sounds good, it sounds like the right thing to do, but your throat is clenching and not wanting to produce words, so you nod instead. 

You close your eyes to try to center yourself and somehow calm down. Matt lingers, keeping a hold of you until you hear Minnie coming back to the kitchen. It seems like he waits until the last possible moment before pulling away. 

Seeing your daughter looking so happy helps to reset your mind. She's fetched Scooby and Pig and runs up to the table to put them in their chair. You smile at the sight.

She really does seem like she's perfectly fine and maybe Matt is right and everything is okay. For now, at least. 

You force yourself into action, moving to set one of the bagels in front of Mouse, setting it on a napkin. You're going to need to transfer the hot chocolate into a mug or Mouse will spill on herself.

“Thank you, Mommy!”

She practically dives into her bagel, picking it up and taking a big bite and getting cream cheese on her cheeks. She is completely engrossed with her food.

“Thank Mister Matt, he got us breakfast,” you advise before going to get a napkin. While you are in the kitchen, you grab your creamer from the fridge.

“Thank you, Mister Matt!” she chimes before barreling on. “Mommy, did you know Mister Matt can braid hairs!”

Guilt courses through you and you remind yourself you need to thank Matt for everything he has done for you. But you tell yourself to not think of it right now - you are terrified of Minnie sensing your panic and that somehow shuts your mind down and you go into parent mode. 

“No, I didn't. Did you ask him to braid your hair?” You ask as you move in to wipe her face. She obediently tilts her face towards you and closes her eyes as you clean away the cream cheese. In the corner of your eye you see Matt sip from his coffee, a smile forming in his lips.

“She wanted puffs,” he advises, “I learned a lot of new hair terminology today. Minnie is a very good teacher.” 

Your daughter preens at the praise before taking another bite of her bagel. More cream cheese gets on her face. You decide to wait until she's done eating before tidying her up again. It will be pointless otherwise.

Instead, you start to fix your coffee, removing the lid to add creamer. You eye your daughter as you do, letting yourself finally take in her appearance. 

“You're a good stylist,” you tell Matt, and it is true. Her pigtails look even and as smooth as can be expected for a toddler. You don't see any tangles and if Minnie is happy, you have no grievances with the outcome - only guilt that Matt was the one who dealt with it. 

“I have some experience,” he hums, before taking another sip of his coffee. Then he directs his smile to his daughter, “my best friend used to have long hair. He has little nieces and they used to do his hair at Christmas, and I got roped into helping. I'm told I do a pretty good French braid.”

Mouse giggles before gasping and pointing at you, “do Mommy's hair!”

Embarrassment floods you - you don't think anyone has done your hair since you were Minnie’s age, and your current hair is a gross greasy mess and you don't want anyone touching it. 

Matt hums as he tilts his head towards you, “I think Mommy is better at doing her hair than I would be. But maybe next time?”

“Maybe next time,” you agree, hoping that will be enough to deter your daughter from this path. 

Luckily, she quickly parrots, “Next time!”

You offer her a smile and take a much needed drink of your coffee. It not only warms you but helps to ground you back into reality. 

You remind yourself nothing has actually changed - you are just more aware of the world. To Minnie, this is the same as any other day and you need to get yourself back on track. 

Which means you need to confirm some things with Matt. 

You set your coffee down, then pick up Minnie’s hot chocolate and bring it to the kitchen to transfer into one of her kid-friendly tumblers. You clear your throat, then dare to try, “Minnie said you'd be spending the day with us?”

“You told the froggy!” Mouse happily adds.

Matt looks confused for a few seconds before it must click, “Foggy, sweetheart, not Froggy. Foggy is my best friend - the one who had long hair.”

“Froggy!” Is the defiant response and you know better than to argue. Once something is named, the name sticks. But of course, Matt doesn't know this and you decide to let him learn.

“Foggy,” he tries. “Like a cloud. Not a frog.”

“Froggy!” 

“Fog. Foggy. No ‘r’.”

“Frog. Froggy! Froggy! Froggy!” Minnie bounces in her seat, starting to giggle. You return to the table, securing the lid to the sippy tumbler before placing it down.

“Ribbit ribbit,” you add and that gets you a delighted burst of laughter.

“Ribbit ribbit!”

Matt practically pouts but seems to realize he isn't going to win this. “But yes, I… told Foggy I wanted to spend the day with you. When I was in the phone, outside.” His dramatic sad face turns into something soft as he tilts his head towards Minnie, “Did you tell your Mommy you heard me?”

“I, uh, asked if she could,” you say, feeling silly for admitting it. But you know this is the path you need to take to start understanding what enhanced senses mean.

“I can hear everything,” your little one proudly says, and you've heard her say it before - but now you know she isn't just playing pretend.

“Yes, you can,” is Matt's soft reply. Unlike your underlying panic, his voice seems to carry a fondness about the whole situation. He is the one with the experience and you want to trust him with the lead on this, but it's still absolutely terrifying. 

But you know you need to set the ball up, so you gently push, “Did you know Mister Matt can also hear…everything?” You know it's not everything, at least by what Matt said, but you aren't going to get technical with a toddler. “Mommy can't, though. Mommy’s hearing isn't as good as yours and Mister Matt's.”

Mouse looks between the two of you, pursing her lips up as she thinks, then she reaches out and pats your arm comfortingly, “I'll tell you what I hears, Mommy.”

Your heart soars with so much love and you turn your hand so you can take hers and give it a gentle squeeze, “Thank you, baby.” 

“I can hears a bark-bark dog and a woofy dog,” she starts, “and there's a puppy going ‘yip-yip-yip!’”

Matt laughs a little and your focus is ripped away from Minnie and over to him. He absolutely beams at you, looking proud as can be. You wonder what this like for him - having someone else who can hear what he can.

“There's a doggy day care about two blocks north,” he informs, and it is so hard to wrap your mind around the fact your daughter can hear that far. “Clients are starting to arrive, and they are lively.”

There's a flash of brown and Minnie is waving Scooby at Matt, “Bark bark bark!”

“Is Scooby a barky dog?” He asks, leaning forward towards her and putting his elbows on the table. “Not a woofy dog?”

“Bark bark!” Is the response before Mouse makes him growl. You finally allow yourself to sit and watch the sweet interaction. Everything still feels like it's too much and swirling inside you, but seeing Matt and Minnie bond is soothing - even if it's over something you can't understand yet.

“What about Pig? Does he go bark-bark or woofy?” 

His question gets Minnie to gasp as if she's scandalized. “Pig isn't a doggy!”

“Oh, he isn't?” Matt teases, “I can't see him. What is he?”

“He's a piggy!” She snatches up Pig and clutches him to her chest beside Scooby. You hope she doesn't have cream cheese on her fingers because cleaning her toys is always an adventure. She hates when they have to get washed and now, you guess, you understand why. They probably smell different after being washed or the texture is off. It's something you'll have to explore later.

“What type of noises do piggies make?”

“Oink-oink-oink!”

“Oh, that makes sense,” he hums, then hunches forward more and lowers his voice, like he's talking in secret, “And what sounds do little girls named Minnie make?”

You finally get to take a bite of your bagel as you watch her contemplate the question. Her face screws up in thought before lighting up when she decides her answer.

“Ooogie-boogie-boo!” 

Matt throws his head back with laughter, which makes Minnie dissolve into happy giggles. The sheer joy between the two of them pulls a smile out of you and the heaviness in your chest starts to lighten more. 

“Ooogie-boogie-boo?” You question and your daughter giggles more. 

“Ooogie-boogie-boo! Like Scooby!”

You don't understand what that means but you just let the positivity continue. 

“What about Mommy? What sounds do I make?” You ask, curious what her response will be.

“Bumbum-bumbum.” They aren't words, but you instantly get it is supposed to be your heartbeat. You feel yourself start to flush. Matt had told you that Minnie listens to your heart to ground herself, so of course that is what she associates you with. But hearing it from her mouth and getting that confirmation still rocks you. 

“It's a good sound, isn't it?” Matt asks Minnie and you can imagine how red you are turning. You try to hide behind your coffee.

“The bestest,” Minnie agrees before adding, “After Scooby Song. Scooby Dooby Do! Where are you!”

“We've got some work to do now,” you half mumble, half sing with her.

“I've never heard the Scooby song,” the man beside you says and that triggers Mouse into action. She slides off her chair, and still clutching her toys, hurries across the room to the television. She knows how to bring up what she wants, so it only takes a few seconds before there is an episode starting to play on screen. 

She drops her toys and the remote before running back to Matt and tugging on his - technically yours - shirt. “You gotta listen!”

He barely gets to stand up before being pulled into the living room. He does not resist in the slightest to being directed to sit on the ground and you watch as Minnie begins to explain the intricate lore of her favorite show. To your wonder she describes each character by their voice first and you can tell Matt is completely enthralled by what he is being told. Scooby gets moved from laying on the floor to being shoved into Matt's lap so he can hold onto him. 

You realize without fanfare that you can barely hear the television. It is still on low volume from last time you had it on, and it dawns on you that you never really have it turned up too loud. Minnie can probably hear it just fine and doesn't need it blasting throughout the apartment. You never got to really watch television as a kid, and you wonder what the normal volume for watching things is supposed to be. 

You sip at your coffee, watching as Minnie plops herself next to Matt on the floor, going on excitedly about mysteries and different sounds. Both of them are smiling and laughing like they don't have a care in the world. 

This is what you want your life to be like, you decide. 

You want your family to be full of love and joy and you have fought so hard to get to this point. You've climbed your way out of a cold and distant household to make your own little corner in the world and right now you need to enjoy it instead of letting your mind be taken over by darkness and despair.

So, you set your coffee down and move to join your daughter and her father in front of the television, asking in a teasing voice, “So who is the blonde man again?”

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

@

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @ astridstark13

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock

[papipedroo]

Rupture (Joel Miller x Reader)

Part Five of Whiskey Tears

Rated: Angst | Sexual Innuendos | Assault | Mentions of Rape | Violence | Torture

Summary: You, Joel, and Ellie have been a trio from the start. You were a family, but you find your relationship with Joel withering when he starts to pull away. Now a new comer makes her way into Jackson and into Joel’s heart…

Joel was drowning. Not in the metaphorical sense that he has experienced from time to time, feeling as if the weight of the world was pressing down on his lungs… No. Actual drowning.

“Again.” Heather had four men shove him backdown into the river.

There was barely any time to gasp for breath with each shove back under the icy frost. It was as if he grew numb to the freezing temperatures each time his head went under water. He was going to start getting hyperthermia soon.

“Bring him back up.” Heather ordered and once again he was brought up to the surface from the icy depth.

Joel coughed up water, finally able to catch his breathe. His clothes were soaked to his skin and the rim of his eyes were rimmed red.

Heather crouched in front of Joel. A long sigh left her lips as she spoke, “We’ve been at this for a while… Are we going to talk now or do I have to bring Ellie out here? Tell me Joel, have you taught her how to swim yet?”

It was a known fact by anyone that Joel’s looks could kill any threat in his path. There was a promise looming in his gaze, one that only told of impending murder. Two of the men had tightened their grip on his arm and shoulder from the way Joel tensed.

“What.” He stated as if he wasn’t trying to catch his breath moments ago.

She crouched in front of him. Three steps and his shotgun was the only thing between them.

“It took three days and now this town and everyone in it, is mine.” She stated.

“Good for you.” Joel gruffed out, the least bit interested.

“You know what I want, Joel.” Heather was becoming irritated now, “I want your allegiance. I want your loyalty. I want you.”

He didn’t dignify her with a response, his glare the only thing keeping her from feeling empowered.

She sighed, “You know that your brother and his wife refuse to cooperate… For days now, my friends have talked about shooting them… They make a good point that it would put your family out of their misery from living in the way that the world is now. Especially with a new life that will be coming soon.” Her gaze flickered to the gun as Joel began to struggle against the four men in an attempt to ring her neck.

“I decided against that though. I knew it wouldn’t make you happy so I locked your family away instead. I promise you that they are safe…” Her hazel eyes looked past his glare and into his broken soul, “If you cooperate that is.”

Joel didn’t like the way her mouth curled into a condescending smile. She knew that she got him.

The warmth of the fire did little to create a comforting warmth in your body as you cried out into a soiled cloth from the overwhelming pain. Mikel’s hands worked to clean out and stitch the wound he caused to your leg as you faded in and out of consciousness.

“Just a little more, love.” His tender words did nothing, they were nothing, and he would never be anything to you.

You wanted Joel… You wanted your little Ellie… You wanted to go home… You missed your family and you regret that the last words spoken to Joel were of anger. You regret that you couldn’t see Ellie’s face that morning. You regret not having tea with Maria. You regret not helping Tommy surprise Maria with a baby crib.

“Why won’t the bleeding stop?” Mikel’s voice held panic, “I need to cauterize your wound.”

I shook my head faintly at that, but it meant no difference as he left and returned with a blade scorching hot from the fire.

There were so many regrets that you couldn’t amend and now… Now you might die without seeing what could have been.

“This is going to hurt.” Mikel said as he gently place a cloth in your mouth.

You screamed as soon as the blade touched your skin. It hurt more than the pain of the gunshot as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your body shook before slacking against the bed.

Your vision blurred as your mind went dark.

It took two days before you were able to gain your bearings. The pain in your leg was dull as long as you didn’t move it around too much. Your eyes tracked the motion of Mikel’s shadow pacing just outside of the cabin door. His words were set in a hush whisper as he spoke to someone else. Someone you didn’t recognize. You strained your ears to listen to what they were discussing.

“So… Jackson has been overtaken.” Mikel asked, “Are the townspeople alright?”

“Yes.” It was the voice of another man, “Heather did what she said she would and it…” You strained your ears to hear, but missed part of what he said. You did however hear him say the word, “Success.”

“That’s good.” You could hear Mikel’s sigh of relief, “I hope that with time my love and I can return. I want us to be able to live peacefully…”

“We are glad to have you apart of our group. I will see you and your girl soon brother. Let the red dawn rise.”

“Let the red dawn rise.” Mikel repeated and a pair of footsteps traveled away from the house.

You quickly lied back down and pretended that you weren’t eavesdropping on their conversation. Mikel stepped inside the hut, snow falling off his coat as he removed the cowboy hat from his head.

“I know that you’re awake little pisi.” He said. The sound of his boots traveled across the room as he walked closer.

You weren't sure if the last word was an endearment or not, but it made your stomach twist in knots. You felt nauseated at how quickly he tell into the role of a lover with the high expectation of you doing the same. You wondered if that could be your safest way out of here.

Maybe playing along with his delusion will help let his guard down before making your escape. It was the only option you had being as you were wounded and he had the antibiotics to help you and if you just shot him that would do you any good.

Yes, you would have control over yourself and medicine, but how long would you need antibiotics for your leg to heal and with Jackson being overrun… How were you supposed to get more? No... This was the safest option. You just had to play your cards right… For now at least.

"Who was that?" You spoke with a scratchiness to your voice from being in and out of consciousness these last few days.

Mikel's quick observations had him getting you a glass of water before you even had the chance to ask for some. It seemed he was a little too observant. Something that you had to be wary of.

"A new friend from town." His answer was vague, something that you had already expected. Of course he didn't trust you enough to divulge any information from the que that was staged.

"They've taken everything haven't they?" You asked another question or more of a statement.

He looked away from you and towards the fireplace, "It's better this way."

"For who? For you?" You scoffed before taking a sip of water. You didn't realize how thirsty you were until the cup was empty in less than a second. You continued, “Clearly you have gotten everything that you desired.”

"I did this for us." He snapped back, a glare held in his blue eyes as he got up from his stood as stormed to the fireplace to place some more logs in, “This is better for us. This place will be our home until you have settled in to our new life. Everything that we have and will receive soon is a happiness more than we can ever imagine.”

"How?" You muttered, "Everything was fine before. The townspeople were happy… I was happy. We were all comfortable and at peace in our own way. There was no reason for any of this. You took my choice away from me."

"But there was a reason." You could see the way his fingers gripped around one of the logs. You could tell that you were pushing his temper, “He was not good for you. Everyone could see that. He hurt you, discarded you, betrayed you. He did everything that I will never do to you…” Mikel gently traced his fingers over the bandage on your leg, “Again. I promise.”

You kept your mouth shut, afraid to set him off. He was clearly trapped in his own delusions of what could be and saying anything towards the two of us would clearly make him angry. Instead you focused on talking about the people who took him in. Who he once considered friends.

"How could you betray everyone?" You spoke quietly, "The people who took you in and gave you a home? You took their trust and ripped it to shreds Mikel."

"I didn't!" He threw the log across the room. The wood crashed against the wall before knocking over a crooked picture frame, the two crashing to the ground.

At least that was better than him crushing your leg.

"Tell that to the ones whose corpses litter the streets.” You replied, your voice still soft, but making its point across.

The room filled in a deafening silence.

Light flickered in through the cracks of the jail, creating enough light for Ellie, Tommy, and Maria to see. The raiders didn't care enough to turn any of the lights on for their prisoners, but at least they remembered to bring food and water.

"Bitch." Ellie exasperated as she pulled against the old bars of the jail.

"Language Ellie." Maria sighed as she rested against the back wall.

"I think this predicament calls for a little language sweetheart." Tommy murmured as he check the strength of the cell bars on the other side.

"Those bars were made to hold, you know this." Maria explained.

“I know sweets. I just want to make sure we’re not missing anything.” Tommy explained gently.

Maria nodded, "I know dear, it’s just… You both need to save your strength. We need a solid plan to get out of here."

Tommy thought for a long moment as he concocted a plan to safely get out of here.

"We'll wait till one of em lets their guard down." Tommy spoke quietly once a plan formulated in his mind

He stepped back from the bars, his military training kicking in as he spoke, "I've been watching their movements. They only care about how much damage they can inflict with the biggest weapon. They don't seem trained or vigilant. Their shift changes are every twelve hours. Group B is more docile, they’re tired from the day and are easily deceived. We can make our move towards midnight when they are exhausted.”

He looked at Maria, “This is where you come in dear. I need you to pretend that you are going into labor. Scream as loud as you can. Ellie, I need you by her side at this point and I need you to be loud and panicked. Once they opened the cell, I can get one of their guns. Then it'll be easy to get out of here. We have four hours left until shift change so we just have to be patient and don’t set off group A." He looked towards Ellie.

She raised her hands up in surrender, "What?"

"Ellie." He pressed.

"Okay okay." She sighed, "No setting them off. Got it."

And there it was. It was small and had barely a percentage of working, but it was a plan that could just as save their lives. As long as they played their cards right that is… Tommy sat next to his wife, wrapping her in his warmth to keep her from the cold. At least these raiders kept the blankets in here. He watched as Ellie curled into one to try and get as much rest as she possibly could. Tommy made a silent promise to himself that no matter what happens, he would keep his family safe.

He could only hope that his brother had everything under control on his end... If he was alive for that matter.

"My family." Joel huffed as he was shoved with the tip of a rifle.

"Follow me." Heather walked through the streets.

The snow was gently falling now making it easy to see, "You'll see them when I can trust you again."

“You’re the one who broke that trust.” He pointed out.

Heather of course didn’t like that as she huffed, “I did what I had too.”

No. You really didn’t.

Joel didn't reply as he quietly assessed the four men that were guarding him. He knew that Heather could handle a gun, but he can take her easily. The two to his left looked to be brothers with the way they mirrored each other, they were both to upbeat as if they enjoyed this kind of work. They would be easy to take down. The one on his left was skinny with a shaky hand and a frightened look in his eyes. Joel knew that if he took the two out on his left first then that one would go off runnin. Now the one behind him with the crooked nose and a nasty snarl... He was going to be a problem.

"You will be kept under guard here.” She said.

“My. Family.” Joel repeated. His was a man of few words, but he was persistent.

“They will be able to live here with you once I know that you can be trusted. Wouldn’t want you to get the band back together and ruin my entire plan, would we?” Heather gave him a look, “No more talk of this. Now get inside and change. I have plans for you and I don’t want you dying from hyperthermia.”

With that, Heather left and the four guards remained. One of the upbeat brothers shoved him inside the home. The three young men headed inside with Joel while the tough looking one kept guard just outside the door.

“I reckon don’t need to show ya where the shower is.” Link laughed as he took off his coat.

Joel didn’t give him an answer and began to make his way upstairs.

“Oh! And we found all yer weapons so don’t even think about looking old man.” Link’s brother Preston said as he pulled off his beanie, his short dirty blonde hair tussled.

Joel had an urge to punch that kid in the face. But he resisted as he reached the top of the steps and out of their sight.

“Don’t even think he’d be able to reload the damn gun even if we gave him one.” Preston laughed.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that Link.” The younger, scrawny looking one spoke.

“What?” Link wrapped his hand around the back of his neck that was covered by his shoulder length brown hair, “You scared of an old man Mathias?”

“All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t get too comfortable.” He said quickly moving himself away. Joel could hear the three of the shuffling to the living room.

“Yeah right.” Link rolled his eyes, “I could kill that old man with one hand tied around my back.”

The sunlight was beginning to drown in the dusk and Joel knew that if he wanted to get to his family alive then he would need to be smart in his next moves.

Joel carried himself up the steps, worn out and tired, but a plan formulating in his mind. He walked past each room, all of them open and ransacked. The bedroom to his door was wide open, the same chaotic mess dawning his floor.

A floor that hadn’t been tampered with. Maybe the heavens were on his side. He hoped that this same luck would stay on his side.

Joel only halfway shut his door. He didn’t want to make any noise for what he would do, but he also needed them to hear the creak of his door. He made his way to the bathroom, his boots hitting the floor rougher than usual to have them think that he was an old man, one that made noise wherever he went.

He turned on the water to his shower before silently walking back to his room. With the stealth of someone even a clicker wouldn’t hear, he retrieved a 9mm pistol and a tactical knife from under the floor board. It was the weapons that he got for his firefly and he silently thanked her for keeping them hidden here. He checked to make sure it was loaded before heading back to the bathroom to take a much needed shower.

He needed the cover of night to exact his plan.

“How did an old man like that even pull someone like her?” Preston wondered as he took a sip of the whiskey he swiped from Joel’s cupboard.

“I don’t know man, but I went by Mikel’s cabin the other day.” Link said.

“Mikel has a cabin?” Mathias wondered, “He’s a new member like me right? Does this mean we all have the choice to leave if we want to?”

“Mikel’s barely apart of this group and I ain’t tellin you where that cabin is.” Link shook his head, “You get any ideas of leaving, you know where your body is gonna be.”

“Dude, he has the life out there. I got a peak of her before he closed the door and let me tell ya, even half dead she’s a peach. I swear either he railed her so hard that she couldn’t move or that gunshot wound is really getting the best of her.” Link laughed with his brother chuckling along with him.

“Romanians man, they sure know what they’re doing.” Preston replied as he and his brother clinked their glasses.

Joel wondered if his favorite color was red with how much he has been seeing it lately. He silently creeped along the hallway and down the staircase, not one creek in the floorboards as he drew closer to the laughing hyenas in his living room. He wanted to kill them.

“You shouldn’t talk about women like that.” Mathias interjected, “That girl could be seriously hurt you know.”

“What would you know, you virgin?” Preston scoffed as he poured another glass of whiskey, “I bet you haven’t even seen a woman naked before.”

Mathias continued over stuttering words, “Just because I haven’t seen a woman naked before doesn’t mean I don’t know right from wrong. It’s not right to disrespect them.”

Joel briefly thought about sparing the kid. It seemed to him that he had no idea what he was doing with a group of blood thirsty raiders. If Mathias played his cards right then maybe he could survive.

“Sometimes… You really show your age kid.” Link shook his head.

“How about you come talk to us like real many when you’ve got your cherry popped alright?” Preston’s voice boomed in laughter, “I’m going to go take a leak.”

The other two though… There was no mercy left in Joel. He wanted to tear them apart until their guts painted his carpet his favorite color… But he thought against that because his firefly picked out that carpet and she would hate it if it got ruined.

Preston was easy as Joel waited in the hallway by the stairs. He was covered by the shadows that Preston didn’t even have a chance to scream as Joel dragged his into the darkness, a hand around his mouth and a knife imbedded deep into his neck.

And then he waited as patiently as he watched his next victim fall right into his trap.

“Yo Press! You get lost or somethin?” Joel heard Link yell.

When Link didn’t receive an answer from his brother, Joel knew he got him. He heard Link stand up as fear rippled down the raider’s spine. Link’s hands quickly grabbed his rifle as he called out again, “Preston!” And he listened intently for the response of his brother.

“You don’t think…” Mathias’s voice trailed off as he gulped.

“No. We would have heard that old man walk down the stairs if he were up.” Link shook his head, “He probably just can’t hear me, the drunk bastard. Go take a look.”

“What?” Mathias’s eyes widened in fear, “Why do I have too? He’s your brother. You should go see if he’s alright.”

“Because I’m the one with the gun and what I say goes.” Link pointed it towards the kid, “You want me to remind you of the last time you disobeyed me?”

Mathias shook his head in fear.

“Good. Now go take a look.” Link motioned to the hallway.

Joel listened as he heard Mathias trudge slowly to the hallway. Joel noted the kid didn’t have a gun, leaving him to believe that his was most likely by the front door.

“Preston?” Mathias stuttered out as he ventured further into the hallway. He was terrified, his hands shaking because he knew that something had happened and here he was being sentenced to death by a mad man.

“Please—” Mathias thought it would be best to try and plead for his life, but before he could finish, Joel’s hand was wrapped around his mouth.

“You don’t want to die right?” Joel spoke low, barely above a whisper.

Mathias struggled to shake his head no from the tight grip that Joel had, but he got his point across.

“Then go out there and distract him. Keep him from looking towards the hallway.” Joel commanded, “Do as I say and you live to see another day kid.”

Mathias gulped as he nodded. Joel let him go and watched as the kid tried to get his footing. Mathias straighted out as he tried his best to look normal.

“Anything?” Link asked as soon as Mathias appeared.

Mathias walked around him and waited till Link’s back was facing the hallway before he explained.

“I found your brother passed out in one of the guest rooms.” He lied. From the corner of his eyes he could see Joel creeping out from the shadows so he continued, “He probably thought that you and I could handle the rest of the night on look out.”

“Like hell I’m going to stay up. You and that big oaf out there is going to keep watch. I’m heading to—“ Before Link could finish speaking, Joel hit him across the head with the blunt end of his gun.

Mathias blubbered his words as he looked between Link and Joel.

“The man outside. He loyal to your cause?” Joel asked.

“Yes.” Mathias answered truthfully and he knew that he just condemned another one of his squad members to death.

“You gonna run?” Joel asked.

“No sir and…” Mathias spoke quickly, “I’m not loyal to them. I just want to survive, I swear. I barely know this group.”

“I know.” Joel took his knife out of his belt loop, “Tie him up in the kitchen. Ropes in the closet.”

With those orders, Joel left out the back door with one mission in mind. Embed his knife as deep as he can into the skull of the raider outside.

That left Mathias alone and he listened to Joel’s orders. He found the rope where Joel said it was and dragged Link to the kitchen where he heaved him up on one of the dining chairs and tied him to it.

“You know you deserve this.” Mathias muttered whether to convince Link or himself, he didn’t know, “I’ve sat by long enough as I watched you and your brother pillage, rape, and torture to get your way. You deserve this.” He made sure to tighten the ropes.

Joel rounded the corner of his house, his eyes focused on the man who stared straight ahead. He was alert as he sat in his chair, gun held securely in his hand. Joel prepared himself for an altercation as he veered closer.

With his knife raised, Joel took one more step just as the man clocked in on his position. The large man popped up from his seat as soon as Joel embedded the knife into his shoulder. With a grunt the man charged, trying to lift his rifle to aim, but the gun was too long and Joel was too close. Joel quickly grabbed the gun as they tussled on the front porch. Thankfully the tall muscular man didn’t try to yell or scream for help. I guess he figured he could take care of Joel himself.

Oh how wrong he was…

Mathias could vaguely hear the sounds of Joel and Kent fighting outside until suddenly it was quiet. He wondered with a racing heart who had won and if he should run? If Kent had won then maybe he could play victim? Say that Joel was the one who tied Link up. Should he hurt himself too? Try to make it seem more convincing? Before he could make a decision, the front door opened and in walked Joel who dragged Kent in behind him.

“He awake yet?” Joel asked calmly as if he didn’t just kill another man.

Mathias shook his head, “No.”

Joel set the lifeless body by the other one, both in sight of where Link was knocked out. Joel didn’t have time however, to wait for Mathias to wake up. He needed to find out just where this cabin was. He had enough, lying low now that he had all the information he needed about his family.

Joel stuffed a dish towel in Link’s mouth before shoving the knife deep into his leg. That was the quickest way to wake him up.

Link woke up with a scream as he felt pain rippling from his leg and throughout his body. His head was pounding and the world seemed fuzzy, but he could make out Joel leaning over him like a monster you would tell your children about.

“You’re going to tell me how to find my girl or you’re going to end up just like your brother over there.” He pointed towards the lifeless body, Preston’s shoes barely peaking of the hallway. He took the gag from Link’s mouth.

Link raged as he struggled against his ties, now he was fully awake, “You fucker! I’ll kill you!”

“Answer.” Joel twisted the knife.

“I ain’t tellin you nothin.” Link spat with venom.

Joel glanced over to Mathias, “Get me a bucket of water and another towel.”

Link’s gaze followed Joel to Mathias who was standing in the archway, “You’re with him? After I took you in? You dirty fucking little traitor. After all I’ve done for you, I should have skinned your ass when I had the chance!”

Mathias ignored him as he went on to collect the things that Joel asked for.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me.” Joel drew his attention back to him with the twist of this knife causing Link to groan out in pain. Joel spoke slow so that every word could sink in, “I am going to drown you. It’ll be slow and it’ll be painful. Or you can tell me where my girl is. The choice is yours.”

Link glared at him as anxiety and fear rippled through his body. He could see it in his eyes that Joel’s words rang true, “I don’t know.” He stated quickly as Mathias returned.

“Well now we both know that is a lie.” Joel placed a towel over his face, “Lean the chair back.” He ordered Mathias.

“You should tell him.” Mathias suggested.

“Fuck you.” Link spat back at him.

Mathias leaned down close to his ear, “You already did that, remember? Against my will.” Link shuttered from fear at Mathias’s next words, “You deserve this.”

Mathias leaned back up and nodded towards Joel, “Do it.”

The night was long with each pour of water, with each gasp for breath. Joel felt no remorse drowning a man with no morals and no regret.

“I don’t remember!” Link gasped as soon as he was allowed breathe.

“Try again.” Joel stated before dumping water on him as he struggled for breath against the soaked towel.

“Okay!” Link gasped, “Just please. Please stop! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!” Joel held out a map and a pen, “You’re going to point to where it is on the map.”

Mathias set the chair back on the ground. Link’s breath was ragged as he took the pen between his teeth and marked a spot a few hours away from Jackson. Once Joel was satisfied with that answer he glanced towards Mathias.

“He’s all yours.” Joel took a step back and motioned to the knife.

Link looked between them with wide eyes before settling on Mathias, “No. No. No. No. No. Wait. Please! Wait. I’m sorry! No! Please! Don’t!” The last words that fell from his mouth were blubbering pleas as Mathias shoved the blade deep into Link’s heart.

“Now you can’t hurt anyone anymore.” Mathias whispered as he watched the light fade from his eyes.

Mathias stood still for a moment as he tried to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. He felt numb, but he also felt free. He had a choice now as he turned to Joel.

“How old are you kid?” Joel asked as he grabbed the whiskey bottle from the table. He took a long sip as he waited for Mathias to answer.

“Nineteen.” Mathias answered as he looked away from his once abuser.

“I…” Joel’s words felt empty as he struggled to say them, “I’m sorry for what happened to you.”

Mathias didn’t give him an answer and Joel understood why, “Where are we going next?” Mathias asked instead.

Joel’s eyes widened slightly from Mathias’s question. He didn’t really understand why the kid wanted to tag along with him, but he didn’t refuse. Joel set the empty bottle down before handing over Kent’s rifle, “We’re going to get my family back.”

“Okay.” Mathias nodded as he took the gun. His green eyes shined bright with determination. It was as if he finally had a true purpose now and it felt exhilarating.

#joel miller x y/n #pedro x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel tlou #pedro pascal #joel x reader #pedro is daddy #pedrostories #whiskeytearsseries #whiskeytears #joel miller angst #joel and ellie

[kisses4kaia]

in my feelings - tommy shelby

summary; you hate tommy shelby. tommy shelby hates you. from the way he walks to the way he talks, you hate him. and from the same things, he hates you, too. infinitely. imagine your dread when you are put in a position where you are forced to gain thomas’ help.

warnings; smut, angst, enemies to lovers, angry sex, rough sex, piv, and all around dirty fucking filthhhh, oh yeah and a shit tom of cursing☺️

a/n; angsty enemy’s to lovers with tommy shelby?? me thinks yes

PART TWO OUT NOW -

as your father tells you that he has to sell the farm you grew up on, the soil that held so many memories, the land that raised you to be the woman you are today, your heart broke into a million pieces.

because, see, without the land, there would be no places for your horses or other beloved animals to go, meaning you would have to sell them, too.

when the tears began taking a seemingly permanent residency in your eyes, he pulls you into a hug. “no, no, there has to be another way!”

and as the tears stained your fathers coat, he spoke. “there is one thing,”

and that is exactly how you got here. sat across from your mortal enemy since your schoolgirl days, tommy shelby, in his office.

he had that stupid, smug, annoyingly hot, smirk on his face.

“so, you’re telling me, that you need to marry me,” he practically laughed in your face.

“i don’t need to marry you, the farm does. if we get married, then a portion of your income goes to my family. and then, after saving enough, if everything goes right, we can get divorced and we never have to speak again.” you explained.

he nodded. “okay. say i do accept this outrageous proposal, what’s in it for me?”

you figured he may ask that. “my late mothers brother is the chief of police in birmingham. i can make a few calls, get them on your payroll, only without the pay.”

“but i am paying, aren’t i?” he furrowed his eyebrows and nodded once, making a statement more than a question.

he’s a smart man, so you figured he may say that, too. and here came the most humiliating part.

with a sigh, you spoke. “as my husband, you can… have me whenever you want,” you memorized what you were going to say earlier when it came to this, and only spoke from that script.

your voice was low, static, the humiliation of having any emotion in your voice would be too unbearable.

you honestly couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth and apparently, neither could tommy.

you weren’t so bothered by the prospect of fucking thomas, as much as you hated to admit it. it was just knowing that he would definitely hold it over you to the worlds end.

“you’re so desperate to save this farm, that you would let me fuck you whenever i want, however i want? if i pay you? you do realize that’s the definition of whoring?” he was genuinely amused at your proposition.

you scoffed, in disbelief kf his immaturity. “yes, i do realize, thomas. and yes, i really am desperate,”

he seemed to be in thought for a moment before speaking. “and what makes you think i want to fuck you? you’re really so narcissistic?”

you genuinely laughed at this. “you’re one to talk about narcissistic. and you’ll fuck just about anything that moves, i can’t imagine i’d be much of an exception,”

thomas chuckled lowly at this, his face seemingly challenging you. you wouldn’t let yourself be bullied, so you straightened your posture and finally asked. “so?” your voice was flat, almost disinterested.

he stared at your face for a few moments, like he was trying to break past your stoned demeanor.

“alright. we have a deal.” he confirmed. you nodded, fighting back happy tears.

as he held his hand out to shake, you glanced at it once with a silent decline.

“what, you’re ok with letting me fuck you like a whore whenever i want but you don’t want to shake my hand?” he stood, and because you wouldn’t let him have power over you- ironically enough- you stood, too.

“i didn’t realize you were so sensitive, shelby,” you spoke up.

“and i didn’t realize you were so headstrong, shelby,” he enunciated the last word, letting the epiphany set in for you.

oh god, you were going to be a shelby. for at least a few months, you were going to be a shelby.

you tried to make peace with the fact, but the it was just gnawing at you that all of this was plain unfair.

nonetheless, you shook his hand.

—

“what’s she doing here?” arthur’s thick accent sounded throughout the room.

tommy decided it’d be best for you to be there when he informed his family of the arrangement.

“well, brother. that is because she is my soon-to-be wife,” he cut straight to the chase and your eyes widened at his directness

polly nearly spat out her tea, john bursted out laughing, and the whole room was generally in an uproar.

ada, too, was puzzled, but quickly sedated the energy in the room with a loud “shut the fuck up and listen to the man!”

you were sat on a chair next to thomas’ standing body, not speaking.

“you two are getting married? you two? has hell frozen over? can pigs now fly?” john joked, but was serious in his disbelief. and he was right to. it wasn’t a secret that…

it all started in year nine. tommy was a 10th year and obnoxiously ‘cool’. he would hang out with the secondary school boys, sleep with their sisters, and torture anyone who’d let him, and most people did.

he was smart, but so were you, and you would not let him.

you were the only 9th year at the top of a predominantly year 10 class, tommy being a close second.

see, the shelby boy wasn’t used to anybody being better than him in any sense, but you made him get used to it.

he couldn’t stand you. from your way-too-short plaid skirts, to the way your hand would shoot up at every question asked.

he hated how he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you in class when you had your hair tied up in a pretty ponytail, gnawing on the eraser of your pencil, your eyebrows twisting in confusion when you couldn’t figure out an answer on a test.

just looking so innocent.

and most of all, he hated the nights he spent with his hand wrapped around his aching cock, whispering your name to himself like a prayer until he came hot strings of cum all over his heavy chest.

tommy rolled his eyes at his family’s immaturity. “it’s an arrangement. she needs money, and her uncle is the chief of police. we can take the coppers off our payroll,”

he left out a small detail but you weren’t complaining.

“after a few months, we’ll get a divorce and we can forget we ever crossed paths.” you spoke for the first time in the meeting.

the transaction seemed simple enough to most people in the room, and they all seemed to accept it.

“anyone have a problem with it? speak now or forever hold your peace,” he called out to the room, waiting for a potential objection.

and one never came. “alright, family meeting adjourned,” tommy waved everyone out of the room.

—

the weeks leading up to the wedding felt like they went on forever.

polly dragged you by your wrist to what seemed like a million different modistes and boutiques, dress shops and spas.

it was exhausting, but in bad there is good.

ada became your closest friend. she was the only person who knew about the other condition to you and tommy’s matrimony.

you were friends even as schoolgirls, despite you and thomas’ disdain for each other.

and now she was your best friend, and you felt inclined to make her your maid of honor.

the hours before the wedding were the worst of it. at least six women were in the room at all time, scrutinizing you to the moon and to saturn. they studied and judged every crevice and line on your face and body.

after being poked and prodded at for forever, it was finally time to walk down the aisle and see your soon-to-be husband.

you were in an over the top, yet elegant gown, the purest color of white you’d ever seen, with a sheer veil covering your face.

you did look quite beautiful, you thought as you looked in the mirror. but you couldn’t help but begin to cry.

you cried because you thought the day you’d see yourself in white would be under much different circumstances. you wanted to marry someone you loved, and for that someone to love you, too. and lord knows, thomas shelby did not love you.

even despite your own feelings for him.

ada came up from behind you in the floor mirror and rested her head upon your shoulder. “you look beautiful,” she spoke, noticing, yet disregarding your tears.

“thank you,” you sniffled. “it will all be okay. i spoke to tommy, he’ll treat you well, i promise,”

her words provided some much needed console to you. “thank you, addy. i wouldn’t have made it had you not been with me. thank you, and love you,” you turned to look at her face.

she just smiled and hugged you. “in less than an hour, we’ll officially be sisters. that should prove some motivation to get your ass down that aisle!” she exclaimed, already tugging on your arm to leave the room and enter the chapel.

you laughed and allowed her to pull you away, long since forgotten your woe.

—

“with the power invested in me, i now pronounce you man and wife. you may now kiss the bride!” the priest announced, signaling for you and tommy to get off of your knees and kiss.

as you both rose to your feet, thomas brought his face to yours in a seemingly disinterested kiss, it almost seemed practiced.

it caught you off guard, and caused a deep sadness in your belly, but you shut it down as ada, polly, esme, and all of the female shelby’s came to congratulate you.

you and your new husband were dragged outside to the car, destined for tommy’s estate, where festivities would begin.

the drive was short, and your patience was thinning, as you just wanted this all to be over.

you knew you were in for a long night as people began flooding into your new home.

and like every shelby-hosted event ever, an all-out rager-like party commenced.

thomas would not speak to you. unless, of course, somebody who was none the wiser to your contract would mention how in-love the two of you seemed. then he could not stop smiling at you, holding your waist tight, even sometimes kissing you.

you had never wanted to die more.

you must have drunk atleast eight glasses of champagne by the end of the night, just trying to get through it.

and that is how you spent the rest of the evening. you got through the first dance, you got through the kind old women talking about what an attractive couple you both made, and you got through seeing tommy flirt with other women at his own fucking wedding.

and at last, it finally came time for the party to end. you practically shoved people out of your door, ready to sleep in your no-doubtedly own bedroom.

you knew it was an arrangement, it was a tale as old as time, and yet you still couldn’t help but feel disappointed. nothing went the way you wanted, nothing. and at the end, all you had to show for it was a farm. it was actually kind of hilarious.

a maid hurriedly showed you where you’d be sleeping, and as you walked into the room, you realized it was indeed thomas’, with the way papers were stern all over the desk and the whiskey on the tray beside the bed.

she was gone before you could turn and ask any questions.

you groaned and sat down on the settee across the room from the bed, your dress making it impossible to see your feet as you tried to remove your heels.

your hair was next, pulling the many pins out of the intricate hairstyle.

you were almost out of this nightmare of a dress, before your zipper got stuck. “fuck,” you groaned.

“couldn’t wait for me before you started undressing?” your heard thomas’ deep voice from the door. he was teasing you, obviously, but you really weren’t in the mood for it.

“thomas, i’m tired. you try spending 8 hours in a dress of this size, then see if you want to tease me for trying to get out of it as soon as i can,” you quickly snapped back, and also quickly getting frustrated with the zipper.

he seemed to understand that you were not be messed with at the moment, so all he did was approach you, turn you around by your shoulders, and tug the zipper down until the dress pooled at your feet.

you hurriedly stepped out of it and sighed, feeling like the weight of the world was off of your shoulders.

“thank you, thomas,” you said contently, rubbing your shoulders, not realizing your compromising position.

you were half naked, only covered by your meticulously created and tailored white lingerie, and knee-high white socks.

apparently, thomas’ eyes could not force themselves to your face, because even as you realized his gawking and called him out for being so materialistic, he wasn’t seeming to follow what you were saying.

instead, all he did was walk over to you, place his hands on your waist like his life depended on it, and kissed you deeply, the kind of kissed you yearned for at the alter.

you almost got lost in it, before all the horrible memories of this past night came flooding in. you quickly pushed him away and slapped him right across his perfect cheekbones.

“fuck was that for?” he’s asked as if he was taken aback, yet made no effort to move away from you.

you scoffed with a laugh, but nothing was funny. “you know, i would be surprised had i not known you,”

“what are you talking about?” he seemed as though he was getting mad at you being mad, which you caught and fueled your anger further.

you got up in his face, sticking your finger in his chest and spoke condescendingly to him.

“you know, you could at least wait until after the fucking wedding to start to begin practically sticking your dick in every woman you see!”

“we never agreed on loyalty! that wasn’t part of our arrangement!” his voice began to increase in volume as well.

you glued your eyes to his piercingly blue ones and leaned closer to him. “i hate you, thomas shelby.” you whispered, yet your tone was anything but gentle.

“yeah? well, you can bet i hate you more,” he stood straighter, his height forcing to you look up at him.

the two of you stood there, waiting to see who would break eye contact first. he did, looking down at your lips, but just as quickly, he was right back onto your eyes.

“fuck it,” his thick accent almost growled, grabbing your face and smashing his lips unto yours.

this one was different from the one earlier. that one was a feigned love, a lust. this one was angry, hateful, and sultry.

oh, how you hated him, however his aggression intrigued you, making you kiss back even harder, forcing your tongue into his mouth.

your lips stayed connected as tommy walked you back to his desk.

your tongues fought for dominance and only disconnected for air. he fumbled with his belt before sliding off his jacket and removing his shirt.

he roughly pulled down your panties and unclipped your bra with one hand.

“jump,” he muttered into your mouth. you do so and he catches you, preceding to sit you on the desktop.

tommy runs his middle finger down your slit, collecting the embarrassing amount of wetness from you.

he chucked lowly before gripping your hips and lining his cock up with your entrance. “hate me, huh? i don’t think this cunt quite agrees with you,” he teased, but you were quick to rebuttal.

“i don’t think your dick agrees with your supposed hatred for me, either,” and you were right, his cock was painfully hard.

he suddenly decides he’s tired of teasing and pushes his full cock into you, bottoming out when he feels his tip prod at your gummy wall.

a choked gasp was emitted from you, and it sounded like heaven to thomas. he groaned as he pulled out almost all the way, then slammed into you again.

his speed is relentless, showing no mercy for your unprepared pussy. as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t deny how good it felt.

you wrapped you legs around his hips and tangled your hands in his hair before whispering in his ear, “i fucking hate you, hate you so fucking much,”

his growls were animalistic as his thrusts became more determined. “fuck you,” tommy gritted, right before a long since held in moan fell from his lips.

as much as you hated to admit it, you found your orgasm building in your stomach, the heat becoming unbearable.

“oh, shit, i’m gonna cum, oh my god,” you moaned loudly, your pussy tightening around him.

your release came to you in a hot white flash, your back arching impossibly more, your chest pressing against his, and you were on the very edge of the desk now.

a string of curse words and moans flowed from your lips like chords from a song tommy never wanted to end.

you whined at the sensitivity of your cunt, tommy not ever slowing down. “sh, sh, shhh. i know, i know, doll. i’m almost there, just hold on a little longer,”

soon, his hips met yours in one final, deep, long, thrust as he released bands of warm hot cum into you.

“fuck me, y/n,” he let out an exasperated laugh as he pulled out of you, watching the both of yours ecstasy pour from your abused hole.

“i believe i just did, thomas.”

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #cillian murphy #tommy shelby fanfic #oneshot #kaia writes! 💌 #this was sooo fun #i need to write more for him #send asks you guys !!!! #kaia writes tommy

[enmi-land]

✶ৎ OUR UNIVERSE

──── 𝗐𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾

AU pairing. poly!ot7엔하 x fem!member oc cw. kms jokes, mentions of murder and violence, not completely lorea accurate (some changes made to og universes - don’t kill me) note. happy birthday to mila! 🎂 this chapter was inspired by ree’s connect, and the universes used in this fic belong to their creators respectively! 🤍 ❨ go back to LIBRARY ?! ❩

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY OUR MILA, happy birthday to you...”

Mila smiled as a cake was set before her, the flames of the candles flickering slightly with the movement of her members around the table, all watching her with adoration in their eyes. The sounds of their voice in harmony as they sang the birthday song slowly came to silence as they reached the end, and a hand found itself on the back of her head, patting it softly.

“Make a wish,” Kiara said gently, her hand on the phone to record the moment her dongsaeng would become another year older, another year away from the young girl she was when they first met.

Mila looked around the room, taking in the sight of her boyfriend's and their love-filled gazes. Just what did one wish for, when they already had everything they could possible want or need? She felt like there was nothing that could possibly make her happier.

Well, except for one.

Mila shut her eyes, her hands linked in front of her, as she wordlessly recited her wish inside her head.

I wish that— no matter where we are—we'll always find a way to be together.

#01. XO KITTY

“THERE’S NO SUN IN THE BUILDING, what’s with these?” Mila swiped the pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses from Minho’s face using her superior height. She inspected them under the light of the corridor, raising an eyebrow with an impressed hum. “These are pretty cute.”

“Naturally,” Minho replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the lockers next to Mila’s. He watched with a smile as she tried the glasses on, looking in the mirror on the inside of her locker door, which was surrounded by Polaroids and cute stickers.

Sharpay Evans, much? were the first words he said about her. He saw her on the first day of KISS Academy, bedazzling her locker with an excessive amount of pink and whispered it under his breath in Korean as he passed by her, not expecting her reaction.

Mila simply turned to him, flipping her long (and enviably silky, though Minho would never admit to out loud) black hair over her shoulder, before giving him a distasteful look from head to toe. And in flawless Korean, she had retorted, Last season Vogue magazine cover, much?

Yeah, Minho had decided, right then and there, despite being stunned into shock. I like this girl.

He had even forgone his usual tradition of pretending not to speak English on the first meeting. (Although, that was because she had an unusual talent for his mother language, despite being from China and supposedly never setting foot on South Korean soil before. To this day, Minho considered her excellency at languages to be an eighth wonder of the world.)

Mila suddenly gasped before hiding behind her locker door, shoving her face so far into the locker one would think she was an ostrich trying to bury her head in sand. Minho raised an eyebrow at her sudden movement. “The police finally caught up to you, have they?” he drawled, ready to list all the felonies she had committed since moving to Korea.

This included, but was not limited to: being way too pretty, way too cute, and way too lovable for her own damn good– not that Minho was keeping track, or anything. That would be ridiculous. He was simply tired of hearing it all the time from his peers.

Mila looked at him with those same wide, doe eyes that had wrapped so many boys and girls around her finger without knowing it. “Worse,” Mila hissed. “It’s them.”

Minho looked up at the end of the hallway, his mouth parting in understanding when he spotted a group of seven familiar boys gathered in a group around the locker of his (self-proclaimed) rival. Minho eyed the Korean-American’s outfit, disdained when he noticed the boy wearing a new pair of shoes that were only just released recently in the new fall collection for Prada. “There’s no way Park Jeongseong is wearing the new shoes I’ve been waiting weeks to order! Oh my god, I’m going to lose it– I’m going to throw up– where’s the bin?”

Mila slapped the boy on the shoulder. “Now’s not the time, Minho! This is a matter of my pride at stake here– I can’t let them see me!”

Minho rubbed his arm, marvelling internally at the amount of strength the girl in front of him held in her body. “Why can’t they see you again?”

“Because they made a total fool of me? And I look like a mess right now– I can’t let them think they’re the reason I’ve been lacking beauty sleep these days.” Mila suddenly got right up to Minho’s face, pulling down his sunglasses from the bridge of her nose. “Have you seen my eyebags recently? They’re horrendous!”

Minho blinked, his face calm as he stared into the abyss known as Mila’s eyes. If he were completely honest, there was nothing in this world that would possibly make Mila unattractive– least of all towards the seven boys she was so scared of making eye contact with. But he didn’t blame her for being insecure. It wasn’t as if they gave her reason to believe that they could feel anything for her… Not when the reason they approached her in the first place and acted so sweetly toward her was because of a bet.

“Why did Kiara and Kitty have to be away today of all days?” Mila whispered under her breath with a pout. “I need girl power, I need validation, I need support– all the things you’re not giving me!”

Minho was affronted when Mila suddenly pointed a manicured finger (My Melody themed acrylics? Really?) at his face. “Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t know how to apply concealer over your dark circles properly.”

Mila shot him a watery glare. “Jerk.”

She aggressively grabbed a bunch of books from her locker, and– Wait, Is that Russian? Minho squinted at one of the titles of the ridiculously thick books in her arms, wondering when Mila had even learnt that language. The eighth wonder, this girl and her brain. I swear.

“If I don’t show up to economics later today, it’s because I buried myself out of humiliation and no longer wish to be on the face of the earth.”

Without another word, Mila scurried her way down the hall like a mouse fleeing before a cat. But she neglected to notice the seven pairs of remorseful eyes following her.

“She’s still avoiding us,” Jungwon noted with a frown, dimples all too prominent in his disappointment. A disappointment reflected across the faces of all seven members of his friend group.

There was an unspoken, lingering regret hanging over them like a guillotine. It had been a week since they were last able to see her smile directed at them, the way her eyes lit up like Seoul at night, galaxies and city lights reflected in the dark depths of her irises. But this was what they deserved. After the way they betrayed her trust, they knew better than to hope that they would be able to be with her like they did before.

To think all of this was because of a stupid bet they made to satisfy their own egos.

Did you hear? Sunoo looked up from his phone to look at the rest of his friends on that fateful night before the beginning of the new school year. They were gathered around a campfire lit in the backyard of Heeseung’s family’s holiday estate, which they spent their summer break in together. Apparently we’re getting a new transfer student this year. 

I heard that, Jake said, bringing a bottle of beer to his lips. The daughter of some supermodel from China. My mum keeps talking about how she wished she would model for our agency.

Won’t know until I see her face, Sunghoon replied. It was just like him: Jay always did give him grievances for his lack of awareness when it come to the fashion industry, despite his own stepmother being a designer herself.

To this, Jay turned his phone on before typing something into search. When he was done he held his phone out for his childhood best friend to see the images that appeared. Riki, who was beside Sunghoon, also leaned in to take a closer look. She’s been going viral ever since she went to the Versace anniversary event with her mum.

Riki smiled as he looked at the photo of the young girl, not much older than him. It was a candid shot that captured her delicate features in a soft smile as she observed the models on the runway with her mother whispering something into her ear. He couldn’t help but think she was the one who was most suited to be modelling the clothes, and yet she was simply a spectator.

Pretty, Riki said, before leaning back in his seat. And he wasn’t the only one to think it. I should get her number.

Too bad for you, she doesn’t go for younger guys, Heeseung said with a smirk. She did a Vogue interview, and she said she prefers older guys… So if you think about it, I’m the one with the highest chance of getting close.

That’s what you think, Sunghoon said, his inner competitiveness coming out to play. Wanna bet?

Looking back now, that was the single most foolish thing they’d ever done. To this girl, who treated them with nothing but kindness and genuine care since meeting them, did nothing to deserve being treated like a prize to be won. And yet, that was exactly what they did. 

You’re real pieces of work, Mila said, as she stormed into Heeseung’s dorm rooms— the one he had given her access to for less than pure intentions. She didn’t even look angry, nor was she sad: her face was stone cold, nothing at all like the warm girl they came to know her as. I hope you had fun playing me, but too bad for you, none of you are going to win the bet. I won’t be seeing any of you again.

And with that, Mila had thrown the necklace from her neck — the one the seven of them had bought together for her birthday — onto the floor before Sunghoon’s feet, before storming out before any of the boys could make a move to stop her.

“We should have told her sooner,” Riki said, his fist clenching by his side.

Sunoo shook his head. “No. We just shouldn’t have made that stupid bet in the first place.”

They had made the bet to win her heart, thinking it would be all fun and games. But little did they know that like the way, they would be the ones losing their hearts to her — and by the time they realised it, she had already gotten to far for them to reach, leaving them defeated and yearning for something out of reach.

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive us?” Jake asked quietly.

The group fell silent.

“Well don’t you guys look positively miserable.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes at the familiar voice fork behind him. Minho always did annoy him— but he had to admit, he couldn’t help but be jealous of how close the other boy was to Mila. The fact that he could still tease the girl and see her cute reactions, the same way he used to before everything went south.

“What do you want?” Heeseung asked diplomatically. (He wasn’t fooling anyone, though— everyone could see the way his fist clenched at his side.) “It’s not as if we’re friends.”

Minho smirked. “You’re right. We’re not. But you know who is? Mila and I.”

Jay clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to walk past the cocky male and bump his shoulder, he couldn’t give the other satisfaction at knowing he got on his nerves.

“I can see you still haven’t changed,” Jungwon said, jumping to his friend’s defence.

He narrowed his feline-like eyes, trying to read Minho’s body language. But he genuinely seemed unintimidated by the seven of them, not caring for a second that he was outnumbered. (Because he knew there was nothing the seven of them could do to him, Jungwon’s inner voice reasoned, though he desperately tried to ignore it. Because he knew if they raised a hand against him, Mila would only hate them more.)

 “You always did try to one up Jay-hyung at everything,” Jungwon continued. “Too bad you never could.”

“Except when it comes to treating your girl right, you mean?” Minho taunted. At this, Riki lunged towards the male, all too ready to talk with his fists instead. But Sunoo was quick to intervene, holding the younger by the shoulder.

Minho put his hands up in surrender seeing the deadly look in the Japanese male’s eyes. “Hey. No need to get angry. I didn’t come to start a fight, believe it or not.” He fixed his blazer jacket before looking at the eldest of the boys. “Listen… I don’t like you guys, and frankly I don’t think I ever will— especially with that shit you pulled with Mila.”

Minho got closer to Heeseung, causing the latter to cross his arms and raise his chin in defiance. Minho narrowed his eyes.

“But here’s the thing… If you feel sorry at all for breaking her heart, you’re going to make it up to her properly like men instead of hiding like a bunch of cowards. She deserves that much.”

The group was silent as they witnessed the uncharacteristic seriousness of the usually nonchalant boy, and even more so at his words. But before they could say anything, Minho was already stepping away from Heeseung, before getting ready to leave. 

“There’s gonna be a party at Kiara’s place later this week for Mila before she flies back home—“

“Mila’s flying back home?!” Sunghoon said in shock, his cold facade melted in place of his heated desperation.

Minho hummed. “She’s going to be leaving for the summer break… But who knows if she’ll be back?” He shrugged. "Anyway, I've done my bit. Whatever you do with that information... Well, that's none of my business."

Minho turned to leave, but was stopped by a hand on his wrist.

“How do we get into the party?” Jake asked desperately. This would be their only chance to meet with Mila if they could pull it off— their last chance to make things right before she left on the plane to China. They couldn't leave things as they were. Not when there were so many thing they had to say.

At that moment, all seven boys were thinking the same thing: They needed to show her that despite the fraudulent circumstances that brought them together, the boys’ feelings for her were true.

#02. JUJUTSU KAISEN

THERE WAS NOTHING NORMAL about two teenagers swinging weapons at each other in the lawn of a high school. But Seoul Jujutsu Technical College was no ordinary institution; nor were their students any ordinary teenagers. For this was the trianing grounds for a generation of future Jujutsu Sorcerers – protectors of society against sentient manifestations of negative emotions known as Curses.

The sound of steel clashing with steel rang throughout the air as Riki and Sunghoon continued to swing at each other, the former wielding dual blades and the latter wielding one. They sparred like they were mirror reflections of a choreographed dance: attacking in time for one of them to deflect, and lunging when the other withdrew. Each blow came in the span of seconds — barely enough time for the average human to register.

But their spectators were anything but average.

“Did your parents mention it already?” Kiara asked her childhood best friend — and only other fourth year at the school — beside her, not once taking her eyes of her sparring juniors. Heeseung wordlessly quirked a brow in response to her question, prompting her to continue. “The main clans in China have been in a mess recently.”

“Ah, that,” Heeseung said, resting his chin on his palm. “The thing about the Bai Clan, right?”

It was a hot topic amongst Jujutsu Sorcerers in South-East Asia, where news between the different countries — especially Japan, China and South Korea, the so-called Big Three of the East for their production of top tier sorcerers — often travelled fast due to their close connections with one another, dating back to ancient wars fought between allied forces of Jujutsu Sorcerers from the respective countries against legendary Curses.

One of the strongest clans in China, the Bai Clan from Shanghai, had a history of powerful sorcerers since the Ming Dynasty. But lately, the Bai clan has been at the centre of controversy: their most dangerous and treasured artefact, the Emperor Jade, had recently gone missing — stolen right beneath their noses. 

“Apparently they suspect the Zenin clan… but it seems pretty far-fetched to me.” 

Kiara couldn’t care less about the matters of the Bai or Zenin clan. She hated them almost as much they hated each other, as the both of them harboured a tradition of misogynistic treatment of women born in their clans. But this was a matter of safety of innocent lives that could be harmed in the crossfire of their feud if the rumours were true, so she had no choice but to feel concerned.

“It is far-fetched.” Jake leaned forward from his seat on the stair above Heeseung and Kiara, intrigue laced in his voice. “Because I did some sneaking around and overheard my dad talking to someone yesterday… Apparently, it’s here in Korea right now.”

The two eldest students looked up to Jake with curious expressions. “Here?”

They knew they could trust any intel gathered from Jake and his family. Despite being based in Korea, they were also known for having roots planted all over the globe through intermarriage with foreign clans, making them a spider web catching all sorts of information.

Jay, who tuned into their conversation, nodded in agreement. “It makes sense. The Bai clan requested to send out some of their Sorcerers here for a ‘diplomatic’ event — but it seems a little suspicious, especially given the timing. Why would they send their best sorcerers away from their home, when they should be focusing on finding their lost Object first?”

“At any rate, I doubt the thief is gonna get far with it,” Sunoo chimed in from where he sat, on the stair closest to the lawn where Sunghoon and Riki were starting to reach the end of their battle — the younger being backed into a corner.

Heeseung hummed. “I’m more interested in how they stole it— and for what reason.”

“Everyone, gather around.”

The students all stood at attention hearing the sound of their teacher, Rain, who stood at the top of the staircase, overlooking the eight of them below. But what caught their attention wasn’t necessarily the man himself. It was the girl who stood beside him, one they’ve never met before, and who was wearing their uniform: a black military blazer with a pleated skirt and knee high stockings.

“Teach,” Riki greeted. He and the students gathered around the teacher, all curious about the sudden appearance of this stranger.

“Who’s this?” Sunoo asked, eyes scanning the girl up and down.

She was pretty, was the first observation he made. She had long blonde hair (dyed, he concluded) and looked like a princess out of a fairytale, with the way she stood with her hands folded neatly in front of her. The way she carried herself was too poised, too proper to match the average teenager. Sunoo couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about her just seemed… other.

“This is Mila,” Rain introduced, “your new classmate.”

“New classmate?” Jay asked with a quirked brow. 

It wasn’t as if he was opposed to the idea, but it was rather sudden. Still, he couldn’t say anything to question the choice before the girl bowed, as if on cue, smiling in a way that had her eyes crinkling endearingly. “Nice to meet you all,” she said. “Please take care of me.”

For as long as Mila survived, anyway.

Mila already knew she wouldn’t be able to last long before her clan finally found her. Running from them was the most reckless choice she could have made. But just once in her life, she wanted to rebel against them — to pay them back for all the times they belittled her, casted her aside simply for the fact that they couldn’t accept the sole heir to their clan after the passing of the previous head was a girl.

Just like the clan took away everything that was precious to her — her freedom, her autonomy, and most of all, her mother — she too had stolen the one thing most precious to them. The green jade ornament that hung from her neck like the yoke of an ox. The Emperor Jade.

She hadn’t expected to be spared by the Korean sorcerers who found her. Instead of releasing her from this mortal life which was both woeful and wonderful, they integrated her in their society and promised to hide her as best as they could from her clan. But she supposed it was only natural: She had a weapon that could be of great use to them, especially with their growing rates of suicide and declining mental health that attributed to their abnormally high levels of Curses on a global scale. It was better to keep her close than to give her away.

Whatever the reason, though, she fully intended on embracing this new chance at life she was given. 

“So…”

Jungwon glanced awkwardly at Mila. He was just absolutely adorable, his round face and dimpled cheeks making it nearly impossible for Mila not to reach over and pinch his cheek. His shyer personality only made him all the more endearing to her. And for once, she thought she might be smitten for a boy she just met. 

“You’re Rain-seonsangnim’s niece?” the redhead asked.

Mila resisted the urge to frown. It was true in a sense: her aunty, who had left the clan years ago with her older cousin, ended up remarrying, with Jung ‘Rain’ Jihoon as her husband. Still, the man was a stranger to Mila until yesterday. Calling him ‘uncle’ was more difficult than she would like to admit. But she had to, since it was part of her cover story on why she suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

“Yeah,” she said with a small smile. She changed the subject in case anyone asked any questions of why she didn’t go to their school until now. “Uncle Jihoon told me about how you were the new student before I joined… So I guess that makes you my senior.”

“Eyyyy, that can’t be right!” Sunoo denied with a laugh. Mila really liked the sound of it, and the way it wrapped her in a similar warmth to the sun that shone above them. “We’re the same age, so you can’t let the younger ones be casual with you, otherwise they might do the same to me.”

Mila giggled. “Really? Okay. But since I’m not really your senior…” Mila hummed before smiling at Jungwon. “Instead of ‘sunbaenim’, you can call me ‘noona,’ instead.”

Jungwon’s face burned, his face now the same shade of red as his strawberry-coloured hair. “O-okay.”

So cute! Mila internallly cooed.

“How good are you with weapons?” Riki, the youngest student at the school, asked curiously.

He was a cutie too, even if he towered over Mila with his insane height. One would usually use the word ‘cool’ to describe someone like him, but for some reason, Mila had the urge to pat his head — a very odd feeling for her, considering she wasn’t the affectionate type.

“I’m decent,” she said vaguely, not giving the younger the satisfaction of a straightforward answer. “I’m better without them, though.”

Jake, who had the looks and aura of a typical Hollywood heartthrob, flashed a captivating grin. From the moment they met, Mila could tell he was a flirt — and she wouldn’t be lying if she said he was a good one, at that. “Oh, so you’re good with your hands, are you?”

Mila almost choked on her spit. Both because of the comment, and the way the only other female student, Kiara, had slapped the boy on the back of his head with a resounding echo that made the other guys cringe in second-hand pain. (Or was it embarrassment? Judging from the side eye coming from Sunoo, it was probably the latter.)

“Well,” Riki cut in once again. “If you’re that confident, you wouldn’t mind giving us a demo, right?”

Jay sighed, bringing a hand up to massage his forehead. It was amusing that he had such a macho appearance, and yet he was the most well-mannered among the boys as far as Mila could tell. It was unfair how he was just her type: not only was he drop-dead gorgeous, he was a gentleman too. 

“She’s literally just started her first day, and you’re already trying to make her a training dummy.”

Mila pouted at the insinuation that she would be lose. “What makes you think he wouldn’t end being my training dummy?”

Beside Jay, Heeseung chuckled, his voice causing Mila to blush despite herself. “That’s not what Jay meant,” Heeseung assured the girl, a warm smile on his face that would melt any girl on the spot. “Riki just has a bad record of starting fights whenever he meets new people.”

Mila laughed when Riki looked affronted. “What? I’m just trying to get to know our new classmate better?” He turned to Sunghoon behind him, who had been standing a bit more distantly from them than the others. “What do you think, hyung?”

Sunghoon crossed his arms over his chest, Mila’s eyes drifting slightly to the way the black shirt he wore for training outlined his muscles perfectly. He cocked his head to the side, a glint in his eyes. “Riki’s right,” he said coolly.

“See!” Riki said with a smug smirk while Sunoo rolled his eyes. “Besides, we have the Goodwill Event coming up with the sister schools in Japan. We need to make sure everyone’s in shape, right?”

“Well you don’t need to worry about me,” Mila said, mirroring Sunghoon’s pose with his arms across his chest. “I’m perfectly in shape, thanks.”

“Definitely,” Jake muttered under his breath after giving her an appreciation once-over, earning yet another slap from Kiara.

Sunghoon smirked, sensing the challenge in Mila’s tone. The girl swallowed thickly, unable to deny his attractiveness. She almost didn’t catch the blade that was being tossed in her direction – but she had spent too much of her childhood learning to evade assassinations and attacks to have missed it.

“If that’s the case,” Sunghoon said, after tossing her the weapon with a cocky grin on his face. “Prove it.”

The air was silent as eight pairs of eyes fell on Mila. She bit back a laugh, the corners of her lips turning up in amusement.

She had a feeling she would like it here.

#03. AVENGERS

ALMOST A YEAR NOW. That was how long Mila spent wandering the globe with her head low, her guard up against any enemies who may one day attack her when she least expected it. Or so that was how she justified it.

Mila stopped before the television screens in the display window of the media store, her eyes trained on nine familiar figures being portrayed in the news. Her eyes traced over each and every one of them, blocking out the words of the news reporters. All she heard were the words: ‘Avengers,’ ‘missing,’ and the name she was given when she made her first appearance in public wrapped in the embrace of red magic. ‘Scarlet Witch.’

She missed them so much it physically hurt. But this was for them. The whole reason she ran from them in the first place, without so much as a word except a letter she wrote in a haste to get away.

It was selfish. She knew this. But she wasn’t a hero like they were – she was just a lab experiment who lost everything she ever loved, before they came into her life and gave her another chance at life. She wasn’t selfless, wasn’t humble, and she definitely wasn’t good. But if protecting the people she loved was a bad thing… then she would accept the role of a villain, if she had to.

“Long time no see.”

Mila gasped as she whipped around, long strands of hair whipping around in the wind. Her eyes widened at the familiar face staring back at her.

“Eonnie,” she breathed out in shock.

Black Widow smiled, that same maternal look in her eyes as when Mila last saw her. “It’s been a while.”

Mila gaped, her eyes blinked as she looked around the street. They were alone. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. At least it wasn’t one of the boys. Kiara, at least, could be reasoned with – but she knew she wouldn’t be so fortunate if it was anyone else who found her tonight.

“I thought we agreed to keep in contact,” Kiara said with a scolding tone as she pulled Mila into a nearby alleyway.

Mila sighed. The night she decided to run away, she coincidentally ran straight into Kiara, who immediately connected the dots seeing the bag on Mila’s shoulder and the cap covering her head. A single call to SHIELD would have had every agent on sight, ready to stop Mila from taking even one step out of their sight. But Kiara let her go. And Mila owed her for that.

“I know,” Mila said. “But I’ve been getting visions, and—!”

“Visions?” Kiara repeated incredulously. “That’s even more reason for you to keep in contact! You said the Mind Stone was fine the last time we spoke— which was a month ago.”

Mila lowered her head, looking like a wet puppy in the rain. “I know… And I’m sorry but I just— I just didn’t want to worry you…”

Kiara sighed before bringing a hand up to her head. “Well I am worried, okay? Worried because even though I agreed to let you do this, that doesn’t mean I like it. Every day I wonder if I did the right thing by letting you go that night…”

Mila gasped. A feeling of dread pooled in the pit of her stomach. “Eonnie… Please.”

Kiara shook her head. “I’m sorry Mila, but I can’t let you do this alone anymore.”

Shit.

Mila needed to get out of here. Fast.

Without letting Kiara say another word, she wrapped herself in a cocoon of crimson light, her eyes glowing the same shade of red as she took to the air, ready to flee the sight as soon as she could. But it was too late. Before she could turn — somewhere, anywhere — she was stopped by a wall of iron. A startled gasp left her lips as a familiar suit of armour rushed towards her in a flurry of red and gold.

In her shock, she didn’t even register that she had been swept right out of the air and into a pair of arms. 

“Jay?!” Mila blurted. She stared wide-eyed at his mask as if she could see his face through it — his angular features, contrasted by the soft look on his eyes. She wondered what expression he was wearing now, if he hated her for what she did to keep him and the others safe.

He carried bridal style as he flew through the air at the speed of a fighter jet plane, her hair whipping around in all directions as she grasped onto him for dear life. She could push him away, if she wanted to. She could overpower him easily with her powers and fly away to a corner of a world where no one could ever find her.

But she didn’t. She missed him too much — she missed them too much — to stay away when they were near. And they took full advantage of it to corner her and bring her right back, using Kiara as bait.

“Wait, where are you going?!” Mila asked, her voice muffled as a hand pressed her head closer to his neck, where her arms had wrapped around subconsciously. “Let’s talk about this, okay?! Just stop for a second—?”

“I can’t do that, Angel.” Mila froze at the familiar pet name, a warmth filling her stomach at the sound of his tone. Even though his mask, it held so much emotion in it, amplified only by the desperation with which he held her. “I’m not giving you another chance to get away. Never again.”

Mila’s breath caught in her chest. Damn it. They really were her weakness… For better or for worse.

Mila didn’t even register when she was on solid ground again. But before she knew it, she found herself on the landing platform of SHIELD base in the middle of the Yellow Sea, held to Jay’s chest as he landed in the middle of rows of airships.

Mila bit her lip as Iron Man’s mask retreated, allowing Mila to see the face she so missed seeing when she woke up in the morning. She swallowed thickly at the intense look in his eyes as they traced her every feature, so full of love she didn’t even know if she alone was enough to hold it all.

“You can put me down now,” Mila whispered weakly. 

“And if I don’t?” Jay asked, his voice low.

“Then I’ll make you.”

Mila and Jay both turned in the direction of the new voice. Mila’s lips parted as Sunoo came into view from the shadows, a quiver of bows strapped to his back and black uniform shrouding his figure like a phantom as he appeared before Mila. His hair was a new shade of wine red that she hadn’t seen on him before, making his foxy features even more harsh as he stared at her without emotion.

Mila felt cold as Jay reluctantly let her down from his hold, her legs weak as she stood on her own two feet.

“You have a lot of guts walking away with the Mind Stone like that,” Sunoo said with narrowed eyes. “If you were anyone else… I would have shot you down without a second thought.”

Mila pursed her lips. Of course. She knew as well as anyone that even if he didn’t have any powers, Sunoo was not one to be underestimated. His arrows could hit an apple from a mile away — least of all a 5’8 girl walking away without soaring a single look over her shoulder.

She deserved his coldness, she thought. She didn’t deserve the smiles he would share with her and they visited her favourite cafe, trying all the sweets to see which one was the best. She didn’t deserve his warmth, or his loving smiles. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“Cut it out, Sunoo.” Mila’s wide eyes turned to look behind her. His mechanic falcon wings were spread out behind him as he landed behind Jay. He spared a nod to the man before his eyes landed on Mila, a conflicted look on his face. He clenched his jaw, which Mila could remember tracing loving kisses along whenever he would fly up to her apartment window in the middle of the night. “So you’re back now…”

Mila swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yeah.”

Jake nodded, his eyes slowly trailing down her body, as if trying to figure out whether or not she was real. If it was actually her in front of him. “Yeah?” he asked uncertainly.

Mila nodded. And before she could say a word, she was being pulled away from Jay’s protective hand on her waist, and right into Jake’s chest, his head burying itself into her neck and his hands holding her lower back and her head to him, trying to feel her as closely as possible.

“I missed you so fucking much,” he whispered into her ear. She raised her hands to return his embrace, just in time to hear his next words, which burned themselves into her skin. “But you’re in so much trouble when we’re alone, you hear me?”

Mila didn’t even have time to register the Falcon’s words before she was pulling away by the hips. One second she was looking at Jake’s annoyed expression, and the next she was staring straight into Riki’s eyes before his lips crashed into hers.

“Brat,” Sunoo said from behind the tall boy, his foxy eyes narrowing on him.

But Mila barely heard a thing. She was shutting her eyes and letting herself fall into the familiar pattern of her lips moving against his, their chests pressed against each other. The feeling of her hands threading their way through his hair in a desperate act to keep his mouth on hers. Just like the first time they kissed, that day he thought he lost her for good when she fell from the top of the Tokyo tower.

“You better not do that ever again,” Riki said as he leaned her forehead against hers, his breath heavy as he stared into her eyes with a sense of desperation just like that day. And Mila felt guilt eat away again for making him relive that same fear again. “I’ll never forgive you.”

“And neither will I.”

There was a flash of green before Jungwon appeared before them, the Time Stone hanging around his neck and his sentient cape lifting a corner and giving a small wave at Mila’s direction. Mila smiled. It reminded her of all the times Mila would pretend to run from his kisses, only for his cape to chase her and pull her right back into his arms again.

The only time Mila escaped its grasp was the night she ran away…

“Jungwon.” Mila sighed as the younger looked down at her, his eyes firm in their disapproval. 

“I have a lot to say to you,” Jungown said. “But that can wait until later. We have more important things to do.” Mila cringed internally, but didn’t disagree. “Heeseung is probably waiting for you in his office… I trust you have the Mind Stone with you?”

Mila lowered her head. “I do.”

“Good.” Jungwon turned on his heels without another word. The corner of his cape lifting to look back and forth between Jungwon’s leaving figure and Mila’s crestfallen expression, before expressing a sigh. 

A flash of lighting appeared in the night sky, and Mila shivered. She looked up towards the sky. “Where’s Sunghoon?”

“Don’t know.” Sunoo shrugged. “He hasn’t been here for a while.”

Mila sighed. Riki lay a hand on Mila’s back. “Come on,” he said. “You can’t delay it any longer.”

Like that, Mila walked into Heeseung’s office to see him leaning against his desk with hands in his pockets. The space felt crowded as Mila and her men (were they still hers, though?) gathered in the room.

“It’s been a while,” Heeseung lulled, his expression not betraying a single thought. His eyes scanned her in a similar way to Jake. “You look well.”

Surely not, Mila thought. She felt anything but well.

Heeseung looked towards the others. “You guys can leave now.”

They exchanged looks. But none of them disobeyed the orders given to them, and they slowly exited the room one by one, some of them giving her pecks before they left, and others not sparing a single glance. But in the end, Heeseung was the only thing on Mila’s mind. Especially when he marched up to her the second the door closed, before lifting her like she weighed nothing and placing her on the tabling in the middle of the room, his lips devouring hers like they were her last meal on Earth.

Mila gasped as he pushed her down onto the table, her back laying on scattered paperwork as he hovered over her, his figure cocooning her like he was trying to hide his favourite doll form the world, to keep anyone from seeing or ever going near her. And really? Mila liked it. She always did. She loved the fact that she was the only one who could make him snap like this, lose all his composure.

She didn’t know how long she was lying like that before Heeseung was pulling away, his silver hair shining under the light of the full moon.

“Do you remember?” Heeseung asked all of a sudden, not even giving Mila a chance to catch her breath.

“Remember what?”

“Remember when I told you, I wouldn’t let anyone take you away from me.” Mila bit her lip, nodding at the declaration he had made when he and the others first rescued her from the scientists experimenting on ner. “If I knew you were the one that would make you leave…”

“I’m sorry,” Mila whispered.

Heeseung closed his eyes before leaning his chin on Mila’s shoulder. “You should be. I missed you so much, baby…” He brushed a kiss to her cheek, before nipping at her earlobe, causing Mila to whine. “Don’t ever leave me like that again. Whatever the reason for it was, we’ll figure it out.” He moved away and brushed a strand from Mila’s face. “That being said, we have to talk about—”

Before Heeseung could even finish his sentence, there was a series of shouts from the other side of the door. Neither Mila or Heeseung had time to register what was happening before the door flew open to reveal an absolutely pissed Sunghoon. 

All of a sudden, Mila was reminded of the first time they got into an argument, and Mila ended up giving him the cold shoulder for a week before he blew it and dragged her back to her place where he sat her down and stared at her for five seconds straight with those piercing eyes of his before she crumbled and gave in. Those same eyes landed on Mila and Heeseung now, before narrowing on the former. Mila blushed at the fact she was caught in this position, but realised that there were more important things to worry about. 

Heeseung lifted himself off of Mila to address the man. “Sunghoon.”

He didn't get a reply. Instead of greeting him back, Sunghoon was brushing past Heeseung and storming straight towards Mila before grabbing her arm and hauling her off the desk, wrapping an arm around her waist to bring him to his firm chest.

“Wait, Sunghoon,” Heeseung said placating as he realised what was happening. “Let’s talk about this.”

Mila’s eyes widened when Sunghoon began to swing his hammer in his hand. “Stay out of it,” Sunghoon said. “I need to talk to my girlfriend.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mila protested, “I don’t want to hurt you, Oppa, so let’s talk this ou— Agh!”

Heeseung was left to stand there with a tired expression as Sunghoon’s hammer carried him out the window, breaking the glass as he escaped into the horizon with his girlfriend in his arms. Heeseung dropped his head when the rest of the boys flooded into the room, all in equal disbelief.

“We just got her back, and already she’s been kidnapped?!” Riki asked.

Heeseung sighed. They didn’t have time for this. Thanos was on his search for the infinity stones, and he wasn’t going to let his girlfriend get away alone with one of them ever again — not if it meant leaving her vulnerable. And the others agreed on the same thing. For just ws much as she wanted to keep them safe from leaving them, they wanted to keep her safe by keeping her by her side.

So it went without saying, they as soon as Kiara caught up with them, he was suiting up, ready to lead the mission to retrieve his — their — girl from Sunghoon.

“Avengers… Assemble.”

#04. HARRY POTTER

AMORTENTIA. The potion of love.

Mila didn’t think she would ever need such a thing — nor did she want it, either. It was a fact that the effects caused by Amortentia were closer to lust or obsession more than anything else, and for that, Mila wished to stay well away from it. But as it happened, today’s Potions class happened to be brewing that exact potion.

Hooray, Mila mentally noted as she stirred a pot of pink boiling liquid, being sure to stand at arm’s length, with a hand on her nose, least her yellow Hufflepuff robes would smell of a very interesting combination of mint chocolate, bungeoppang, tiramisu, ramyeon, corn and… strawberries with chocolate?

Mila tilted her head at the scent profile. What was that about? She knew that the scent of Amortentia changed according to who smelled it, and served as an indication of the person one felt attracted to… But wasn’t this combination a bit too odd?

“If you lean back any further, your hair is going to become another ingredient in my potion.” Mila whipped her head around to stare blankly at the Slytherin behind her. She gathered her hair and threw it over her shoulder with a glare. “Happy?”

Park Sunghoon rolled his eyes, before looking down at his potion again. Mila didn’t know when it started, but for as long as she could remember, she and Sunghoon had always been at each other’s throats — exchanging short and clipped remarks, bumping into each other’s shoulders when they passed each other in the hallway, and glaring whenever they made eye contact.

She really didn’t know why he disliked her so much. But well, it wasn’t as if she cared…

Sunghoon took a sniff, before his thick eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Mila didn’t bother to ask about it, before turning to face his potion again. It was none of her business what it smelt like — everyone knew what type of girl he liked, anyway. A pretty, popular girl like Jang Wonyoung, who seemed to be the only one he ever smiled at.

Not that Mila was keeping track, or anything. But Mila pouted at the thought. Because, seriously, why did he hate her so much? (But perhaps, if she didn’t turn away so quickly, she would be able to see the way Sunghoon’s eyes lingered on her back after smelling his potion.)

“How’s your potion going?” Mila snapped to attention when Jake, her seatmate, leaned over to check her cauldron. Briefly, Mila could catch the scent of grass and rain, attributed to the fact that the boy was on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. 

“It’s going okay?” Mila asked. “I mean… it does smell pretty funny, though.”

Jake tilted his head, looking like a confused puppy. “What do you mean?”

Mila laughed, shaking her head. “That the person I’m attracted to has a lot of different tastes in food.”

Jake laughed. “Yeah?” His smile softened as he watched Mila stir the cauldron, eyes holding an unbridled amount of affection that everyone except her seemed to see. “Well mine happens to really like chocolate — Lindt, specifically.”

Mila hummed pleasantly. “Really? What a coincidence! So do I!”

Internally, Mila despaired. She couldn’t tell why, but it really bothered her to know about the girl who stole his heart. It wasn’t her right to be, and yet she couldn’t control her feeling of disappointment. He had been telling her for a while now about a girl that he had his eyes set on, since the first day of school. And Mila didn’t know how to react when she found out, because she could have sworn that he seemed so much more affectionate around her than others, with the way he always had a hand around her shoulder or how he would lean closer to her when they were speaking…

But maybe she was imagining it.   

Jake laughed, shaking his head in fond exasperation. It made more sense the more he knew her, the reason she wasn’t in Ravenclaw — as smart as she was, she missed some of the most obvious signs around her. And yet, it only made her more endearing to him…

“I think I need some more flasks,” Mila said, as she looked at her bench. “I’ll be right back.”

Mila skipped towards the table at the back of the room to grab a glass flask before turning to head back to her desk… only to bump straight into a firm chest. Startled, Mila jumped backwards, only for an arm to grab her by the bicep to steady her before she fell over. She looked up in bewilderment, to meet Jay’s concerned eyes.

She couldn’t say anything except, “Oh.” 

Because no way the Park Jongseong was holding her by the arm right now, his face only centimetres away from her. Her face flushed a similar pink as her love potion, before she cleared her throat and stapled away from the boy’s touch, despite her body screaming not to.

She always had somewhat of a puppy crush on Jay since they first met. She was lost and couldn’t find her next class, and he, being a Prefect for Slytherin, offered to help her find her find her way.

“Sorry,” she apologised.

Jay chuckled. “It’s okay.” The boy resumed grabbing his ingredients from the table, allowing Mila to turn around and calm her beating heart. All of a sudden, it started racing again when Jay called her again. “By the way… Your potion…”

Mila blinked at the handsome boy. “Yeah?”

“Just wondering how it smelled, that’s all,” Jay said. Contrary to his usual mannerisms, he wasn’t facing her, his back instead turned as he checked the labels of several bottles on the table. Mila spotted a twinge of red on his ears, and wondered if he usually got embarrassed when talking about affairs of the heart.

Mila smiled. “Hmmm… There was quite a few distinct scents… But I do remember there being something like corn in there? Which was really random.”

Jay froze, his back rigid like stone. “Really?”

Mila hummed. “Yep! So I guess I have to give my future boyfriend some corn when I ask him out, huh?”

Jay didn’t say anything afterwards, so Mila took it as a cue to end the conversation there. She bid the boy farewell before making her way back to her desk. She was completely obvious to the crisis he had put him in with her words, as Jay stood there for the next five minutes replaying what she said to him like a broken record.

Shit, Jay cursed mentally, when he couldn’t contain the smile on his face. I’m down bad…

But to be fair, he wasn’t the only one.

When class finished and it was time to go, Mila found herself walking side by side with her best friend Sunoo who, as always, took the books from her arms and carried them in her own, looking like the textbook Ravenclaw that he was.

It was strange. When they first met, he was a library part-timer scolding her for folding the spine of her books while she looked like a child who had just been caught doing something they shouldn’t have. Who would have guessed that from that day onwards, they would form a lasting friendship?

How did your potion go?”

Mila hummed. “It was okay. Don’t know how well it would work… but it had a interesting smell.”

“Like what?” Sunoo asked, a little too eager. Since they didn’t sit at the table together (because of assigned seat mates) they didn’t know what the other was up to in class.

“Yeah, like what?”

Mila jumped in surprise when an arm flung itself over her shoulder. She looked up and groaned when she made eye contact with Riki, the resident prankster. To this day, she still hadn’t forgiven him for putting pink hair dye into her shampoo, thinking it belonged to her roommate — who also happened to be Riki’s sister. 

At that moment she noticed who was beside him and smiled brightly. “Wonie! How are you?”

The younger boy smiled, his dimples poking from his cheeks. And it was so hard to believe that he — a Prefect for Gryffindoor — would be friends with a troublemaker Slytherin like Riki.

“You didn’t answer the question,” Sunoo said impatiently.

“Oh right,” Mila said. “Hmmm, well, it smelled like a lot of different things…”

Sunoo pouted at the vague answer but didn’t get to press the girl before Riki was steering her towards the Mess Hall and changing the subject. “Let’s have lunch together today.”

“We’re in different houses,” Mila pointed out. “We sit at different tables, remember?” 

Riki shrugged. “So? We can just sit with you — it’s not like you have any friends.”

Jungwon discretely elbowed Riki in the ribs. He for one wouldn’t let the tall boy get away with teasing Mila too much. Riki cringed in pain, before glaring at the boy, but neither Mila nor Sunoo noticed it had happened — after all, who would expect sweet and adorable Jungwon of doing any harm. As Mila said when Riki accused the boy, “That’s funny. Your best joke yet.”

Riki pouted as he followed the girl to her seat, despite his protests, planted himself beside her. Sunoo followed his example and took the next seat over, while Jungwon sat across from the girl so that he would be able to look at her when they spoke. People around them began to stare at the combination of colours before happening along each other, causing Mila to giggle.

“I can’t believe you guys are actually sitting here,” she muttered. She then looked at Jungwon. “Are you really approving this?”

Jungwon shrugged. “There are no rules saying we can’t sit at another house’s table.”

Mila shook her head. At that moment she felt a hand on her head. She looked up in surprise, when she saw Heeseung staining above her, his handsome face smiling warmly at her. She then noticed Jay, Sunghoon, and Jake with him, and remembered that they were close friends with each other

 “Then in that case, it should be alright if we join you, right?” Heeseung asked.

Riki glared. Why were there so many boys around Mila? “Actually—”

Before Riki could say anything, Mila delivered a elbow right into the same spot that Jungwon had. “Of course you can!” Mila said eagerly.

The older boy was actually one of the first that Mila got to meet here at Hogwarts. It was on the very first day of school, when she saw him charming origami paper cranes in the courtyard. She complimented him with sincere awe, and he gifted her one of them in return. Somehow, Mila always found herself smiling at him whenever they crossed paths.

Heeseung smiled, patting the girl’s head. “Thank you.”

Jungwon scrunched his nose at the adoration in the older boy’s tone because was he seriously baby-talking her? Sunoo had the same thought, and eyed him with disdain as he took a seat next to Riki, while Jay sat next to Sunoo, and Sunghoon and Jake joined Jungwon.

The eight of them became the centre of attention as whispers began to float among the Mess Hall, scandalised by the prospect of students from different houses sitting together. But Mila couldn’t care less. She found that being with them, she was more at ease than she ever was alone.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on over here?” Mila watched as Kiara, her older sister figure, appeared with a glint in her eye. “Is this a Mila’s fan club meeting or something?” 

Mila didn’t know why, but she was shooting out of her chair like a rocket, her face a bright pink as she shushed the Slytherin girl. “What do you mean? We’re just hanging out.”

Riki smirked at her reaction. “Then what has you so flustered then?”

Mila looked around the table and saw the same amused looks on all the boys’ faces. She cleared her throat before slowly sitting back down again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

And yet, Mila’s heart skipped a bit when the boys laughed at her expense. The sound of their laughs overlapping each other, bouncing off the walls of the Mess Hall like a chorus in a church… It was nice. Being with them was nice.

And when Kiara found herself joking later on that Mila must have caught a few crushes during lunch that day… She didn’t deny her.

She didn’t know what it was, but something about them together felt right — and somehow, she had a feeling that they felt the same way too.

NOTE. finally the au chapter has come 😭 dark moon ended up being left out bc well we kinda already know what enha would be like in that au… ☀️ but anyway! funny story, my planni for this fic was so bad- i was supposed to write one au each day starting on Monday so I could post this first thing today…. but procrastinated so I needed to just writing around 7k words in or day 😭 it’s now 9:27pm tho so at least it’s out before mila’s bday ends 🥹 anyway! hope you liked it! yhank you guys for a wonderful year with mila and enha, and hope to continue to celebrate more milestones to come — dia 🌸🩷

#◌ 🌸 ˴ milana bai . ˚◞ ★̶̲ ꒱ #enhypen 8th member #enhypen female member #enhypen fem oc #enhypen added member #enhypen extra member #enhypen eight member #enhypen female oc #enhypen x oc #enhypen female addition #enhypen addition #enhypen oc #enhypen poly

[apoemaday]

A Brave and Startling Truth

by Maya Angelou

We, this people, on a small and lonely planet Traveling through casual space Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns To a destination where all signs tell us It is possible and imperative that we learn A brave and startling truth And when we come to it To the day of peacemaking When we release our fingers From fists of hostility And allow the pure air to cool our palms When we come to it When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean When battlefields and coliseum No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters Up with the bruised and bloody grass To lie in identical plots in foreign soil When the rapacious storming of the churches The screaming racket in the temples have ceased When the pennants are waving gaily When the banners of the world tremble Stoutly in the good, clean breeze When we come to it When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders And children dress their dolls in flags of truce When land mines of death have been removed And the aged can walk into evenings of peace When religious ritual is not perfumed By the incense of burning flesh And childhood dreams are not kicked awake By nightmares of abuse When we come to it Then we will confess that not the Pyramids With their stones set in mysterious perfection Nor the Gardens of Babylon Hanging as eternal beauty In our collective memory Not the Grand Canyon Kindled into delicious color By Western sunsets Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji Stretching to the Rising Sun Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor, Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores These are not the only wonders of the world When we come to it We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace We, this people on this mote of matter In whose mouths abide cankerous words Which challenge our very existence Yet out of those same mouths Come songs of such exquisite sweetness That the heart falters in its labor And the body is quieted into awe We, this people, on this small and drifting planet Whose hands can strike with such abandon That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness That the haughty neck is happy to bow And the proud back is glad to bend Out of such chaos, of such contradiction We learn that we are neither devils nor divines When we come to it We, this people, on this wayward, floating body Created on this earth, of this earth Have the power to fashion for this earth A climate where every man and every woman Can live freely without sanctimonious piety Without crippling fear When we come to it We must confess that we are the possible We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world That is when, and only when We come to it.

#poetry #maya angelou #a brave and startling truth